Ho-hum. Here I am again. Umm…….I may be putting yet ANOTHER fic up soon. shuffles feet sheepishly I have SO MANY IDEAS!!! Don't blame me….please?
Er….Kel's going to be a, uh, REALLY SLOPPY, LAZY, SNOOTY, BITCHY….BITCH!!!
I'm going to make her so OOC……in fact, I'm going to make sure she didn't even finish college. How's THAT for OOC?
::is insane::
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"Now, do you know what he looked like?"
Keladry glanced carelessly at the tall black woman donned in a police uniform. She was small and plump, with a no-nonsense aura about her - Lalasa, she said in her name was, or Lollipop. Lalasa brushed a thick lock of dark hair out of her stern doe-eyes and waited patiently for her to answer.
"Not particularly," she shrugged, balancing herself precariously on the legs of the weak chair. Nealan Queenscove, her roommate, often warned her that one of these days the chair would break…she never listened to him. Never did.
Lalasa sighed, her mouth pursed in stark frustration, and said through clenched teeth, "Did you see any markings at all?"
A calico cat, Piper, leaped gracefully up onto her mistress's lap, stretching elegantly and prissily resorting to licking its paws. Kel ran slim fingers through the mottled fur absently.
"His eyes were dark," she mused thoughtfully. "I could tell because he was in the moonlight just right. He was dressed in a black tank, too, and I could see a tattoo on his left, no - right arm, up near his shoulder."
"Good girl," the black woman said approvingly, scribbling something down rapidly in her small notepad. "Did you see the shape?"
"It was a dragon," Kel said abruptly as yet another cat (a tabby this time, named Bo) leaped up in her lap. "Or was it an eagle…no, definitely a dragon, because I could see the fire coming out of its nose or mouth or whatever. Unless it was a deformed squirrel, then it was a dragon."
Shaking her head silently, Lalasa scrawled once more in her notepad. She peered at the woman through her lashes, watching as she fiddled with her tiny nose stud and idly ran her fingers along the arching backs of her cats.
"You say there was nothing taken?" a man asked - Detective Merric Hollyrose - curiously as he exited her room.
"I thought that's what he was in here for, but…I looked around, and nothing was taken." She decided not to mention the bra. That was too embarrassing.
The very redheaded detective rested a hand on Neal's doorknob. "Mind if I take a look inside?"
"I wouldn't, but enter at your own risk," Kel said, smiling wryly.
Merric hesitated, staring at her with slight unease. "Why?" he asked suspiciously.
"It's my roomie's room," she explained. "Neal'll keep on sleeping - that's what he does, eat and sleep and check out Playboy and watch football - but you might want to watch out for Jump-the-Bitch, or just Jump."
"Jump-the-Bitch?" Merric squeaked. "What the hell?"
"Oh, he's harmless enough, unless you wake him up," Kel said offhandedly. "Great Danes don't like being woken up." Jump had gotten up, grumpy and snippy, when the officers arrived, and skulked into Neal's room.
"Er…then, I'll let him sleep," the blue-eyed man mumbled nervously, edging away from the door.
"Oh…too late, Jump's awake," the brunette said.
Merric yelped as the dark demon slipped out of the room. He threw the man a mistrustful glare before plopping gracelessly - and protectively - in front of Kel. She smiled apologetically at Lalasa and Merric while she roughly rubbed his ears.
"Don't mind him," she told them. "He's really just a big teddy bear."
Though he highly doubted that, Merric wisely chose not to reply.
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Later, after the detectives all left and she walked Jump (or rather, Jump walked her), Kel kicked open her best friend's door, wrinkling her nose at the masculine smell, and yelled at the top of her lungs,
"NEAL!! VERALIDAINE SARRASRI IS IN OUR KITCHEN WAITING FOR YOU!!!"
At the sound of the world-known model's name Neal screeched and sat up with a jolt. Kel couldn't resist a grin at the sight of Neal's dopey expression and his disarrayed hair.
"Silly boy. Fell for it again."
It took him precisely thirty-six seconds for his brain to process this, and when it finally clicked his emerald eyes darkened with spite. He tumbled out of bed, stark naked, mumbling obscenities under his breath and shooting dark looks at her as he pulled on jeans and a shirt. She was not the least bit fazed by the cruelly uttered curses nor his nudity. Granted, once you roomed with someone for as long as they had - exactly two years and three months and two weeks today - you sort of threw modesty out the window.
"In the kitchen," she ordered. "Now."
"Yes, Mother," Neal groused, jostling her crankily as he shuffled by.
"Don't snap at me," Kel reprimanded half-heartedly. "I cooked breakfast for you -"
"Please, Kel, you just fixed a bowl of Frosted Flakes," Neal interrupted.
"- and I had a hard time this morning," she continued, ignoring him.
He snickered, cramming a spoonful of soggy flakes in his mouth. "What happened? Forgot how to make coffee?"
Kel glared at him. "I'll have you know, Nealan," she sniffed, pointedly using his detested full name, "that a man came into my room last night and robbed me."
The spoon halted midway to his mouth as milk dribbled from the corner of his mouth, his eyes wide in shock. "Ye gods, Kel, are you okay?" Anger blazed. "Did he hurt you? What the hell happened, woman?!"
"No, he didn't hurt me," Kel said, noisily pouring Frosted Flakes (the cereal which, Neal noticed with a wince, made her unreasonable and temperamental and horribly hyperactive) into her own bowl.
"Then what did he take?" Neal ushered.
Kel paused dramatically, then said, "My bra."
Neal blinked. "Your bra? Your bra?"
"Oh shut up, Meathead," she said sulkily.
He shook his fist at the ceiling. "Damn you, cousin of mine, for revealing to her my childish nickname!"
"Shut up, Meathead!" came a muffled reply from the room above them, in which Neal's cousin Domitan Masbolle, a talented architect who sent half his money to six girlfriends who claim to be "pregnant", resided. He failed to notice, as was the Masbolle and Queenscove way, that one of the girlfriends had been "pregnant" for about two years.
Hell, it got them money. In fact, Kel had done the same thing several years ago to a handsome hotshot lawyer named Cleon Kennan before he found out about the ruse and sued her for the sort of-stolen money and then some.
Neal dropped his glare from the ceiling to fix it on his younger foster sister. She looked harried and sleepy, and he felt bad for her.
"Why don't you go back to bed, Kel, and I'll do the laundry and wash the dishes and vacuum," he told her kindly.
"Neal, you do all that anyway."
"Good point, but go back to bed anyway."
Kel shrugged. "If you say so."
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When Kel disappeared into her room with Jump-the-Bitch, Neal went into his own, his intent to brush his long hair. Reaching for his brush, his eyes fell upon a letter. His brow furrowed, and he tore it open untidily.
My dearest Keladry,
Oh how I long to touch your beautiful face, to kiss those rose petal lips, to run my fingers through your beautiful thick hair. Alas, I must be content to watch you from afar. Many a day I must be content to look at you through your window and take pictures of you during your daily jog through the park. I know you like admirers - in fact, I know everything you like - so I will not sign my name. Only, I will say that I love you so very much, and that you are the only woman I could ever have. We are soul-mates, my love, even if you do not realize it yet. I hope you like this letter, my sweet, and remember: I'm always watching you, looking out for you, always ready to protect you from those evil aggressive men. Goodbye, my love, for now.
Forever yours,
Your Prince
Neal blinked, once, twice, as a cat entwined its slinky body around his legs.
"Kel," he finally managed to call, "I think you might want to see this…"
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Next chapter - JOREN!!
Er, my computer's crashed, so I'm using my mom's laptop. Her "C" key is kind of loose, so if you spy a word missing a c or something…that's why.
You know what, Kaz? I may put you in this story too… ::evil grin::