Okay, for some reason, I was having a hard time uploading this post into document manager and then I discovered that the divider problem from last week still isn't fixed. Enough complaining though. Here I am with your weekly instalment of Of Gumshoes and Moonlighters. I do hope you enjoy it. In the summary - when it says mild RaeRob - it is because romance isn't my strong point. I'm working on it and trying to bring you a teeny bit of fluff without destroying the integrity of the writing but it's not easy. My beta reader went to town on about half this post with the simple remark "Richard should be awkward, not the writing." I think I fixed it. If you read this entire thing, great. If not, yeah...

Disclaimer: Balkoth does not own the Teen Titans. I am borrowing them breifly so that I can practice writing. I hope that readers enjoy and that rightful owners do not file a legal suit as I have very little of value and little free time now that school has started again.

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The lighting wasn't the best in the world. The few windows were well-kept, bright light filtering through them and lighting the corners that would be dark during the building's more trafficked hours. Still, the natural light was the only light to speak of.

Every table had two candles, currently unlit, perched in ornate silver candlesticks, melted wax forming small stalactites over the edges. The tables were a deep chocolate brown with only the occasional wad of bubblegum on the bottom to mar them. The chairs were straight back and just as well maintained as the tabletops.

"And, she was like, 'oh, no you didn't' and I was like, 'oh, but I did.'" Richard almost turned around and walked back out when he heard that. Was it so hard to only use like when it actually made sense?

The speaker was a woman with dull red hair in her twenties. Her eyes held the same dullness, making the emerald color less like a precious gem and more like smog. Her skin was pale in a bad way and her nametag labeled her as Jessie. She was currently yapping to either a friend or boyfriend. Richard blocked her out as best as he could for his own peace of mind. Richard was carrying three books loosely by his side. Garfield would probably have told him that he shouldn't have brought work but Garfield wasn't here.

The tables didn't really have a specific layout. There was no shape nor was there a pattern. One may have gotten the feeling, on first glance, that the layout lent the room a claustrophobic or cluttered feeling. In reality, it felt good. Each table was surrounded, creating a sense of community and no isolated pockets. Still, there was enough room for private people to not feel crowded. It was a small touch but it was the small stuff that sometimes made all the difference.

Richard sat down in one of the corners next to a window and spent a moment looking at the other people in the room. Jessie was the only one. Apparently, this club wasn't a big place this time of day.

Richard opened one of the library books to the index and started to look for anything that could be useful. He didn't expect to find anything and he was not disappointed. Richard didn't know how much time passed but he was broken from his research-induced trance when the door swung open and a light bell signaled a new patron. Richard glanced up and saw Rachel walking into the building, looking irritated.

"And then, she completely went ballistic on me. I mean, it was, like, totally not a big deal and she went crazy," Jessie said while rubbing the ends of her hair. It extended to around what passed for her biceps and looked like it was a new hair cut.

Richard saw Rachel's eyes go straight to Jessie and Jessie seemed to sense them. "I'm gonna have to call you back, kay?" Jessie hung up the phone and clasped her hands politely behind her back – a child caught steeling from the cookie-jar and hoping that puppy eyes would save it. For some reason, Richard doubted that would work.

"Jess, what have I told you about talking on the phone while you're working?" Rachel asked with obvious disinterest while shrugging out of a gray windbreaker jacket. This was a conversation that was so old and repetitive that it would take Hollywood's best to bring it to life.

"Oh, come on Ms. Roth. There's nobody here," Jessie protested gesturing at the empty room and freezing when she saw Richard sitting in the corner.

"Really?" Rachel said while turning to see the room. She also stopped when Richard came into view. "Jessie?" Rachel sighed, disappointed.

"I'm, like, gonna go drown myself in the toilet now, kay?" Jessie deadpanned while her left hand started rubbing a few strands of her hair between her fingers.

Rachel nodded absently while walking over to Richard and Jessie vanished into the bathroom. "Sorry about that," Rachel paused once she got in front of Richard. Richard recognized the pause as something he often did when he had forgotten somebody's name.

"Richard Grayson," he supplied.

"Richard. Is there anything I can get you?" Rachel asked while pointing out a small card on the table that looked like a menu. The selection was limited but still, it was something.

"No, thank you, Ms. Roth. And please, call me Dick. I hope you don't mind if I stay here and read a little?" Richard chastised himself as soon as he finished speaking. Why couldn't he have just said; "I was looking for you" or anything else along that line. Something – anything – to communicate that he was interested in getting to know Rachel. Garfield always made this look so easy.

"Not at all, Dick. And, please, call me Rachel," Rachel responded while glancing at the spines of the books. "If you don't mind my asking, where is your partner?"

Richard was wagging a war with himself. It wasn't that he couldn't use first names but they were so… personal. A last name was a part of society, a necessary cog that made everything work. A first name, a first name made a human being with feelings. "Gar's off doing whatever he does when he runs away from research," Richard managed to say while shrugging in what he hoped looked like a natural movement.

"Garfield runs away from research often, then?" Rachel asked with a trace of laughter in her voice as she sat in the chair opposite of Richard. Good. Richard could make her laugh. If she laughed maybe it would dispel the awkwardness that had invaded his body and penetrated to his core. Everything seemed dream-like, drug induced, clumsy, unnatural.

"That's right, Rachel," Richard said, fighting not to stumble over the name. He closed the book on ancient Egyptian artifacts he'd been flipping through along with his eyes. That wasn't so bad. She was Rachel now. Rachel was a real person with hopes and dreams and family and… too much.

"Gar doesn't like research. Any chance he can get to avoid it, he'll take." Richard opened his eyes again and saw Jessie walk out of the bathroom. While the girl looked mortified, there was no evidence of an attempted suicide.

"So what were you researching for? Or is that confidential?" Rachel asked as Jessie came up behind her. Jessie bent down to whisper into Rachel's ear. Rachel cocked her head slightly and soon after Jessie started speaking, Rachel's face drained of what little color it had. This wasn't the pure alabaster skin that added to Rachel's natural beauty: this was ghostly white. Looking into Rachel's eyes, Richard saw that there were shutters over them. Empty eyes with no person behind them.

Jessie left to man her post behind the counter and her voice drifted across the room as she started talking on the phone again. Rachel didn't move to stop her. "Well," Richard started, trying to end the unpleasant silence; "it isn't classified. This case is for the police department. I'm researching different artifacts."

"Hmm," Rachel nodded. The color returned to her face and Richard realized that it was from pure force of will. Rachel was massaging her left wrist. She was nervous. Or scared. Or both.

"So, what's up?" Richard pressed in an attempt to get Rachel more comfortable. It was bad enough when he was insolating himself. If Rachel clamed up, the meeting would go nowhere. Though, if Rachel's reaction to Jessie was a current thing it may have been the wrong question.

"You want my life story?" Rachel's eyes opened again into the tunnels that Richard found so fascinating. Violet tunnels that traveled deep into the very heart of her soul.

"No, not really. Life stories are often not enough to capture who a person really is. I know that you're name is Rachel Roth and I'm pretty sure you own this club. There has to be more." Richard stopped here and waited. One beat, then two.

Rachel's lips curved up in a small smile. "Really? You sure about that Dick?"

Richard didn't answer in favor of staring down Rachel, silently urging her to go further. "Okay." Richard said evenly after Rachel met his gaze. "You own this club. How is business?"

Rachel closed her eyes and shook her head. "Business isn't very good. This is a popular place for college students but, between rent, bills, and food, they don't make the kind of money I need to charge to get repairs done or pay for my own bills."

"And as a result, this is a popular place that is slowly, but surely, losing money," Richard finished for her. "That explains why you got worked up earlier." Richard could have kicked himself after seeing Rachel's reaction. He wanted to befriend Rachel, and here he was, obviously making some very stupid mistakes.

"I'm wasn't worked up about anything." Richard noted how Rachel's shoulders tensed up and her right hand moved over to her left wrist again.

"Sorry, my mistake," Richard said while spreading his hands out over the table.

Rachel seemed to let the matter drop. Richard had definitely hit on a soft spot but Rachel wasn't to the point of shutting him out completely. Richard hadn't screwed up that completely, yet. "Why did you think I was worked up anyway, Dick?"

Richard was going to lie until he remembered one of Garfield's many forced lessons about how to date. "I don't know how they do it, but woman can always tell when you aren't being sincere and honest."

Richard cleared his throat and tried to come up with an answer that didn't make him sound like a stalker. He wasn't a stalker. Just too observant for his own good. "You looked stressed when you came into work and you were really pale after Jessie talked to you. Just a little guesswork. Sorry if I was wrong."

Rachel chuckled silently, most likely to relieve stress. "Garfield wasn't lying when he said you guys were the best, was he?"

"We both have our own strengths. Don't call Gar that to his face," Richard added as an after-thought. "I tend to be the more book smart one of us and Gar is the biggest people person to ever live. So, if you have a little time, I was wondering if you would maybe like to grab lunch with me?"

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Next Update: Wednesday, August 30, 2006

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