Disclaimer: I don't own these characters anymore than I own the painting. (I don't own the painting. In case, you know, that needed clarification).
"What is it, Vic? I got stuff to do." Mike's voice was muffled by static.
"Did…where are you?" She tried to disguise the slight urgency in her voice.
"The station. Why, something wrong?" She braced herself and took a deep breath.
"DidyoubreakintoHenry'sapartment?" Whoosh. There was silence on the other end, and Vicki couldn't help but wonder if that was good or bad.
"Why…why would I do that?" He finally stammered, though he sounded less than totally serious.
"I mean…" While still on the phone, she looked up at Henry. His eyes were wide and he began to wave his arms front to back, No, no, no, no, NO
"Never mind. Sorry. Just wondering." She hung up.
"What?" She asked.
"Firstly, it couldn't have been Mike. I'd have smelled that a mile away." He openly showed his mild disdain.
"Are you sure you aren't just used to him?" She smirked. The situation wasn't exactly urgent, after all, not requiring total seriousness. In fact, for once, she had the upper hand.
He ignored her. "I don't need him knowing this. It'll only give him more ammo. Secondly, it couldn't have been a person. There's nothing here that's new." She glared at him.
"You sure?"
"Would you like to take a whiff?" She put her hands on her hips and waited for realization to dawn. It didn't.
"Henry…"
"Yes?"
"Who did you have for dinner yesterday?" He looked at her in a mixture of guilt and dread, but didn't answer.
"What, you're telling me you've stopped playing with your food?" He winced.
"She didn't take anything."
"Oh-ho!" she cried triumphantly. "So the whole night, you weren't distracted in the least?"
"Anytime I was distracted, she was more so." Vicki made no effort to mask her disgust.
"Thank you for that mental image. Are you sure there wasn't a moment when she was alone in your studio?"
"I don't remember." Before she could add yet another snide remark, he cut her off:
"Even if there was, I doubt she'd have been able to get away with such a large…colorful painting without my noticing." Vicki snorted.
"Could you check it out, please? That is, of course, assuming you remember her name or what she looks like. Then again, I suppose you could track her down by blood type." She grinned.
"Victoria, there is nothing amusing about someone managing to break into my home undetected. This could be dangerous." He stared at paintings on the hangars, pursing his lips. It had always amazed Vicki how he could go from playful to melodramatic in a matter of mere seconds. Like a pouty Superman.
"Do…do you even remember her name?"
"Yes, Vicki, I remember her name. But it wasn't her, the only people who were in this studio recently were me, you, and…" He paused, sniffing the air. "And some exceptionally fetid Chinese food. Well, I hope that was Chinese food." He looked at her pointedly.
"Well, we can't all live off hemoglobin, Lestat. Are you sure the smell of my eating habits didn't cover up anything else?"
"Are you suggesting there's something wrong with my olfactory senses? I assure you, I may not be a bloodhound, but I can smell better than one." He turned and stalked off to his kitchen, not seeing the face she made at his back.
"Ha. Didn't smell that, did you?" She muttered, her voice just above mouthing the words.
"No, but I heard that." He called back. She followed in the direction of his voice.
"So it was either some scentless wonder…or a fangirl with an agenda. Gee, ever heard of Occam's Razor?"
"Vicki, I'm telling you, it was here yesterday. It couldn't have been her."
"You got a better idea?" He stared at her for a second…Then another second. Then another.
"…I'm calling Bettie." She tried to hold back a girlish giggle.
"Oh, that's great, that's just great, Henry. No, no mortal creature could get past the great Henry Fitzroy! If someone stole his painting, it must have been supernatural! The occult takes a special interest in you, does it? Aren't you jumping to conclusions?"
"You asked me if I had an idea. This is my idea." He picked up his phone.
"I said a better idea, Henry." Her mouth twitched. Just as he was dialing, her phone rang.
"This is Vicki." She answered it promptly.
"Vic, tell your stupid leech to get his punk-ass down here NOW!" She had to hold the phone away from her ear for fear of temporarily being rendered deaf.
"Mike, what are you talking about?" She looked at Henry nervously. He hadn't been playing some magnificent joke on her, had he?
"What am I talking about? What am I TALKING ABOUT? I'm talking about his fucking portrait of me getting eaten by glorified puppies being nailed up on my bedroom ceiling!!" Her eyes grew wide and she gave Henry a glare that would have scared a snake into blinking. He just stared back at her, clueless, mouthing the word What?, eyebrows raised questioningly. Still, he couldn't keep from grinning a little as a stream of Italian profanities erupted from Vicki's phone.
"Mike. Mike. MIKE!" She had to shout in order for him to hear her.
"WHAT?!"
"I'm going to call you back, okay?"
"No, no, not okay! Vicki, get him down here NOW. I'm going to kick his stupid teeth in! I'll stuff his head so far up his ass it'll come back out the top again! I'll – " She hung up.
"Henry. Did you or did you not nail the painting to Mike's bedroom ceiling?" He shook in silent laughter. He was almost doubled over.
"Henry?!"
"No, no, I didn't. I wish I had, though, judging from his reaction it was a wonderful idea."
"Right. Sure, you didn't."
"I didn't!"
"Who besides you would want to –" Suddenly there was a flash of movement behind him.
"What was that?" Vicki asked, shaken slightly. That had looked like…
"A dog?"
A/N: Anyone who can guess what it is based on that description gets a cookie. Or, if you don't like cookies…you get a…carrot, or something. Just to clarify, it's almost impossible to guess what it is based on that description [and get said cookie unless you are insanely lucky, or…no, no, that's pretty much the only way to get it. It isn't necessarily a supernatural thing. Also, don't actually expect an update everyday, because right now the only other part I have figured out is the semi-sort-of-for-lack-of-a-better-word climax, and that was just because I woke up with it this morning. (I know, right, everyone's terribly disappointed because you were all anxiously awaiting part four. snorts and rolls eyes).
Reviews feed plot bunnies! Good or bad (or grammar or spelling, because believe me that stuff bugs me too).
