I have been gone for so long! Apologies! I thought I'd make a story dedicated to snippets of Camille and Richard... Because I have so so many! Here is the first! Hopefully updates will be a bit more frequent! I hope you're all safe and well, because my city is about to undergo even tighter restrictions, come tomorrow :( Anyway, these stories are to help us all forget (if only temporarily) the hectic-ness of reality... Enjoy!
Lola xxxxx
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"Come on!" urged his detective seargent. She was standing on the outside porch of the house, curls hanging limply from her head in wet ringlets.
"Camille, I really don't think this is a good idea," replied Richard, worry evident in his tone of voice.
And it wasn't, except they didn't know that quite yet.
The two senior detectives of Honore's police force were investigating a case, and clues had led them to what could be described as a typically cliché haunted mansion, that was situated - quite literally - in the middle of nowhere. In fact, it was isolated enough to prevent them from driving the defender to the actual house: they'd parked a little while away and had trekked through a small expanse of jungle on foot to even get to this point. Furthermore, it had rained on them. Proper Caribbean crazy rain, Richard liked to call it - the kind that lasted only a few minutes but still succeeded in drenching you from head to toe.
Lucky she was wearing a navy shirt, Richard couldn't help thinking to himself as he looked at her doubtfully from the edge of the jungle.
"Come on! We didn't hike through all that-" she waved her hand at their forest-like surroundings "-for nothing."
She sounded like she was enjoying this experience.
Of course, it would be exactly the sort of thing that she enjoyed. Mad, French, crazy, French, bonkers person... thought Richard gloomily.
He was entirely convinced that this was a genuinely perfectly terrible idea.
For starters, they were in the territory of Saint-Marie that was dominated mostly by criminals (criminals that had a perfectly known existence but were all still unarrested - yet another element of island spirit that Richard would never understand). And if that wasn't enough to worry Richard (it was though) then you couldn't forget the fact that it was hurricane season, which meant that the sky had taken on a rather oppressive shade of charcoal, despite it being only 5pm.
"This was your idea anyway!" Camille said, rolling her eyes. She was referring to Richard begging her to let them follow this lead after work.
"Yes well, um, I've changed my mind- EEEK!" Richard let put a petrified squeak as a bird swooped down slightly lower in the sky than usual.
"What now?" questioned Camille, wearing an expression of bewildered amusement.
"Nothing. Just a... you know. A... bird," he replied airily, making a huge effort to contain his horror at the flying creatures of Saint-Marie.
Camille snorted.
"What?" he asked indignantly.
She responded with a light shrug of her shoulders and a frantic gesture beckoning for him to come onto the porch with her.
"I errm- I don't think this is- Surely this is.. Unorthodox, Camille?"
"Wait-" Camille paused, pretending to think.
Oh God. This is going to be good, thought Richard, correctly guessing her next comment.
"-Are you... scared?"
Well we're in criminal territory, it's practically pitch black and this house looks decidedly dodgy. I bet it's STUFFED with dreadful insects that have fatal stings, and rats that have fatal bites, so yes, I am scared, actually, was what went through his mind.
"No! Of course not!" was what came out of his mouth.
Bloody English pride. It would be the death of him.
Camille raised her eyebrows, an indication that she knew exactly what he was really thinking. Like she always did, he added mentally. Good God, the French were awful.
"Look, Camille, I just don't think we should do this without Fidel and Dwayne, you know? What if we-"
"Are you sure you aren't scared because you sound pretty scared to me."
"I am NOT scared," said Richard angrily.
She laughed playfully.
"Then come on!"
And before he could stop her, she'd rammed a log into the front door and walked complacently inside the manor.
He gaped. Oh she looked so attractive when she took the lead-
Oh.. Oh.. He was getting left behind - get a move on Richard!
He darted as gingerly as he could past the splintered wood. "THAT-" he pointed at the destroyed door behind them "-was ILLEGAL and-"
"Hey, look over here!" interrupted Camille. She was squatting, torch in her hand, just in front of a large cupboard, intently looking at something on the ground.
"You are paying for that to be repaired," hissed Richard furiously, walking over to where she was crouched anyway.
"Look."
She spoke in a whisper this time, because what she'd found proved that somebody had been using the supposedly abandoned house. And recently, too.
Richard bent down and retrieved a cigarette butt with the tweezers he always kept in his jacket pocket.
The two detectives exchanged a glance. The end was still smoking. Whoever had been here had been here just before they'd arrived.
Cautiously, Camille stood up and glanced around the empty hallway.
Richard edged closer to Camille, who looked at him sceptically when she noticed his proximity.
"Sorry," he muttered, stepping away.
"No it's fine," she said, smiling timidly. She grasped his wrist, and pulled him closer to her again.
She could see him smile for a moment in the torchlight, before he remembered the awkwardness of the situation and the fact that they were COLLEAGUES.
Richard shuffled away hurriedly, alarmed at how close he'd come to revealing his feelings for Camille. His feelings that were completely inexplicable, not to mention entirely inappropriate and- Thankfully he didn't have to be alarmed for long.
"Camille?"
She turned to face him.
"Look at this..."
The pair turned towards the ominous cupboard behind them. A trickle of something red had leaked out onto the floor. Camille, ever fearless, latched her hand onto the doorknob, and twisted-
A violent shove.
A slammed door.
The unmistakable click of a lock.
"Good Lord-" began Richard...