Title: Post-It: Text Message
Author: A Crazy Elephant
Summary: Companion to Post-It; the Reapers come for Kutner
Category: Humor/Drama
Spoilers: Season Five: 'Simple Explanations'
Disclaimer: Alas, it is not mine. *sniffle*
Author's Notes: Also, base loosely on Dead Like Me. You don't need to have read Post-It to understand this one, but if you have, you'll see some familiar faces. Remember- everybody dies. ^^
Post-It: Text Message
"I really should be preparing a defense." Elizabeth mused to her Blackberry.
"We ain't gonna get caught." Cal assured her.
"This is coming from the jackass who's had to run like hell out of the last three apartments he's squatted in." Elizabeth snorted a giggle as she leaned against the doorframe. The younger reaper was on his knees, working the lock with a hairpin and a credit card.
"Some of us don't have big fancy day jobs!" Cal snapped indignantly. He was a scrawny little thing; sandy hair, blue eyes dressed in a worn leather jacket, dirty sweater shirt and concert t-shirt with baggy jeans and worn sneakers. Ordinary and perfectly out of place next to Elizabeth's crisp business slacks and pea coat.
"Some of us don't try hard enough to get day jobs." She shot back, punching a response into her phone. "How we coming along there, Master Criminal? I'm meeting Billy for breakfast and then I've got to be in court by ten." Cal snarled and gave the door a quick punch for good measure. It worked and the door broke free. "Bravo." Elizabeth was unimpressed.
"Come on, let's find the poor bastard." Cal got to his feet.
"You find the poor bastard! He's your reap!" Elizabeth snorted. "Charlie just sent me along to make sure you got here on time."
"Oi! L. Kutner! 'Mhere!" Cal called into the apartment.
"Smooth." Elizabeth shook her head and followed him in. "And you wonder why Charlie thinks you're a fuck-up."
"Oh, shit Lizza."
"Oh shit what, Calvin?" Elizabeth looked up from her Blackberry.
"I think Charlie gave us the wrong time." Cal nodded to the bedroom, where a pool of blood was seeping across the hardwood.
"Fuck!" Elizabeth swore and shoved his shoulder. "Pop the soul, I'll wipe down the door for prints. Think you can get out the window?"
"Yeah," Cal said, carefully creeping towards the very still man on the floor. "I'll throw the deadbolt and meet you round back by the dumpsters." He said, as Elizabeth's phone announced the arrival of a new message with a short dull tone.
"Don't forget to wipe the window- son of a bitch; this is two hours late!" She handed him the mobile.
FROM: Charlie
L. Kutner
4:37 AM
Same address; don't be late children
SENT: 4:05 AM
STORED: 6:30 AM