Author's Note: Inspiration strikes! A little bit of light-heartedness :3 Last chapter was a bit heavy.
Disclaimer: I own lil' Lottie, but Trace and the boys belong to Joss.
Half an hour later, I sat hunched in a booth in a small café, opposite the interesting specimen that was Officer Trace Benedict. Staring at the coffee mug that rested on the table, I clasped my hands in my lap. My coffee lay untouched. I had showered, my still-damp hair tied up in a simple ponytail, I had no make-up on, and I had stuck to plain jeans and a plaid blouse. On top of that was Trace's Police jacket - I'd been shivering since we'd left the motel, and he had wordlessly passed it to me in his car. Modest. A first. Before I'd left, I'd checked in the mirror for yet another time, and I could see the bruises wind up the side of my neck and my face. I was a disgrace. I couldn't be more embarrassed.
"Charlotte." Trace's voice was soft, and caused me to lift my gaze from the mug to his eyes. They were sad, and, not able to bare that, I dropped my eyes back to mug. He was off duty now, I'd heard him call in and give some awful excuse, and the top couple of buttons of his navy uniform were undone. I could see the collar of a white top underneath the blue. "Charlotte, I'm Trace Benedict." He tried again, introducing himself properly. I nodded, not able to muster the strength to do much else. "Do you know what we are?" Trace's words were gentle, trying to get me to say something. I hadn't said much since I'd let him into my motel room. He sighed and took a sip of his coffee - black, I noted, no sugar. Simple. Easy. "Are you okay?" Another nod on my behalf. I don't think he meant me to hear, but he groaned softly and leant back a bit.
"I'm sorry." I managed, finally lifting my hands from my lap and reaching towards my mug. I couldn't be more shocked to see the limb shaking, and I was happy when I hooked my fingers round the mug as it hid it.
Trace tried reaching for my hand and I jerked back, my eyes flitting to his face in time to see him flinch. "There's nothing for you to be sorry about, Charlotte." He left his hand outstretched on the table. "When did you last eat?" I kept quiet. My dear Trace must be getting really annoyed with me by now, so I shrunk back in my seat a bit. I knew what happened when people got annoyed with me. Occupational hazard.
"Can I get you anything else?" The waitress appeared by our table, aiming it more at Trace than myself. When we'd walked in here she'd given me a once over and dismissed me, turning her attention to my companion. Trace seemed oblivious, however. "It's nice to see you again, Trace." She flirted, resting a hand on the table and finally putting her back to me. I bristled slightly, a little jealous that she was flirting with Trace. He might be a complete stranger, but he was supposed to be my soulfinder.
"Yes, it's really nice, Kaylee." He smiled at her, before glancing at me. Chuckling slightly, he ordered waffles with ice cream and chocolate sauce for him. Startled, I realised that he must be more observant than I gave him credit for. Kaylee must have seen how disinterested he was, as she huffed and walked away, clutching her pad in a death grip. "I have a sweet tooth." Trace gave in way of explanation about the food. A bit mad about the fact that he hadn't ordered anything for me (it seemed rude), I shrugged, pretending not to care. "Charlotte..." Another sigh.
"Lottie." I said quietly, not looking at him, but rather past him to the clock on the wall.
"What?" He sounded confused, so I settled my gaze on him.
"Lottie, not Charlotte."
"Okay then, Lottie." Trace nodded, and leant forward again, resting his forearms on the table. "Lottie, we're supposed to be Soulfinders. We should probably get to know each other a bit. Do you mind if I asked you some questions?" When I didn't reply, he groaned again, more audibly this time. "Lottie."
"I didn't say anything. I was...waiting." I added, "Waiting for a question."
He looked slightly eager, and I managed a hesitant smile. Today had dragged on for a long time - it was only about one in the afternoon. "What do you do?"
My smile turned bitter, and I asked, "Do you really want to know?" He shrugged, and I continued with, "I'm a prostitute. Well, I was - I kind of lost work when I met Carlos. He's the jealous type." When he stared at me in surprise it was my turn to shrug. "Not where I thought my life was heading, I promise."
"And...Carlos? Who's he?"
"Trace, you sound nervous." I mocked, my sass returning a bit. Being quiet was really not my thing. I sighed though, all jokiness leaving my body in that single breath. "Carlos is...was...my sort of boyfriend."
"How long?" I wasn't sure what he meant by 'how long' - it could mean a variety of things.
"How long what? The bruises? Or how long I've seen him?" I was serious now, and poor Trace looked overwhelmed.
"Um, both." He decided, looking a bit sick. Wow, it's taken me this much time to break his cool, calm, exterior?
"Been seeing Carlos for the past...four years, maybe? The bruises...almost as long. But never this bad..." Finally, I took a sip from my coffee, and almost spat it out. It was stone cold.
We were interrupted by the arrival of Kaylee and the slam of the plate on the table in front of Trace before she turned on her heel. My mouth watered as I looked at the waffles. I could see the ice cream already melting from the heat of the waffle, and the chocolate sauce drizzled all over the top. It looked delicious. "That long, huh?" Trace asked, breaking me from my reverie. I nodded before I looked down at my hands (once more in my lap). "Any siblings?" I didn't reply to this one, shaking my head and refusing to answer. "I've got six younger siblings." He told me, rolling his eyes.
"Six?" I asked him, surprised. I knew Savant families could be big, but I didn't realise that in this day and age they still had up to seven kids.
"Yeah." Trace looked pretty happy, probably thinking about his family. "As I said, I'm the oldest. There's something like twelve years between me and Zed. I used to hate it, you know? I was always relied upon to look after them. It was a nightmare. I rebelled a bit in my teenage years, started driving a motorcycle and was always in detention at school." He smirked. "Uriel's the second oldest. He's the golden boy, you know? Perfect student. He played football, I think, and was the perfect gentleman. At least, that's what my mom keeps saying. Vick's number three in the family. God, we got into so much trouble together. Will's the calm one, y'know? Everyone needs one of those in their life. I'm incredibly close to him, but he's always travelling. He can never sit still It's infuriating." I nodded along, listening intently. Anything to take my mind off everything that's happened to me today.
"Xav." He laughed at some memory his next brother's name arose, and I genuinely smiled. "He's the joker. I think that's all I need to say." Trace winked, and I giggled slightly. "Yves is boy genius. The only one of us that's never done sport. Poor kid. And Zed. He's a senior, and I swear to you that he's worse than both me and Vick when we were at school. I'm pretty sure he has death wish."
It was at the conclusion of Trace talking about his family that I realised that I'd been eating his waffles. Embarrassed again, I dropped my knife and fork, and pushed the mostly empty plate back to him. He, however, returned it to me. "Trust me, you need it more than I do."
"Why did you let me eat it?" I asked, confused.
"Well, mostly because I know your type. If I'd offered to get you something, you would have declined and stayed hungry. I distracted you. Hence you ate." Trace winked again, and pushed the plate further towards me. Hesitantly, I picked my cutlery up and finished the last three bites, feeling guilty.
"You can't go back to that motel." Trace told me as Kaylee returned to take the empty plate away from me.
"Why not?" I challenged. "It's my home."
"That guy will come back. I know his type too. You won't be safe, and I don't want you to go back to that." Trace spoke matter-of-factly, as if everything was clear-cut - as if he had decided that I wouldn't be leaving him.
"Look, we might be soulfinders, but I have a home." I told him, making sure that I rolled my eyes when he was looking at me. "It's not as if you have the right to make me stay with you."
"Humour me." He said flatly, but then sighed again. "Lottie, I have a spare room. Just for a couple of nights, please? Then I'll leave you alone, if you want."
I sighed too, and nodded, returning my gaze to the mug full of cold coffee. We returned to silence - though this time, it was no longer awkward, it was somewhat comfortable.