NOW:
"You have horses?"
"We have horses," Jaime corrected with a lip-biting grin, and a firm pat of affection on a white palfrey's hindquarters. "This beauty is Honor." He pointed to the other three in quick succession: "That brown mare is Glory, the brown colt Dancer, and that beast," he pointed to a black gelding that seemed to be glaring at her with the burning hatred of a thousand suns, "Is Stranger."
Brienne warily stared at the large horse, and Jaime caught it. "I'd stay away from that one. The only asshole that beast seems to like is Clegane." He cinched the saddle atop Honor a little tighter, as he shrugged. "Perfect pair, if you ask me."
She inched herself closer to Glory, who introduced herself by pressing her cold muzzle into Brienne's neck.
"She's taken a liking to you," he unnecessarily pointed out as he hauled himself atop his steed. He quietly observed his new partner as she ran a wide hand down the horse's neck.
I wonder how that hand would feel running down me.
He cleared his throat in discomfort at the unbidden thought. "Well, get your tack together O'Tarth, and mount up. We've got a park to patrol."
Where the hell did that thought come from? I must need to get laid.
"You don't have to say my name quite like that," she muttered back as she pulled away from the mare, and turned toward the equipment hanging on the wall.
"Hm?" Jaime perked a golden brow up. He hadn't been listening to her, but rather staring at her firm backside. The black button-up seemed comfortably snug around her shoulders, if he did say so himself. He leaned forward in his saddle, and Brienne couldn't help the brief flash of thought: what if he straddled me like that?
"Like what?"
"Like what?"
"I'm confused," Jaime confessed as she had volleyed his question back to him in a slightly panicky tone. If he looked adorable in his confusion, with his brows drawn together and his eyes downcast, she would never admit it unless sworn to truth in court.
She pulled herself bodily atop of her horse, and shifted her hips until the horse felt comfortable under her weight. "You seem easily prone to confusion," she japed a little too harshly. She had embarrassed herself, and lashed out to salve her wounded pride.
His frown of confusion deepened into a scowl. "And you seem prone to flattening poor mares underneath your girth."
Glory didn't seem to be in the least bit bothered, but Brienne felt her cheeks burn in a mixture of anger and hurt anyway. She jerked at the reigns of the mare, and set off at a decent trot away from him. She had managed to put several yards in distance between them before she heard him casually call out her name in that annoyingly drawn-out way he did.
"O'Tarth."
Another yard. And another.
"O'Tarth!"
"What!?" She guided the horse into a sharp turn, and stared down at him.
"You're going the wrong way."
They had arrived at the park without speaking to one another, but eventually Jaime couldn't bear the silence anymore, and began to drone on about how the CRD managed to acquire the four horses currently in their care.
"Most units have downgraded or done away with mounted police altogether. A sign of the times, I suppose." He sighed wistfully. He was older than her, true, but not that much older. She would have guessed he was at least forty if she hadn't already known the answer: forty-eight. "Anyway, we were gifted these beauties out of pity, really. CRD being the runt of the litter, and all that. The park patrol, what we're doing now, usually gets to take them out for a spin. But they're mostly for pomp and show at this point."
"I'm sure you're used to it," she intoned in as bored a voice she could manage. In truth, she was interested in learning more about the CRD, and her new partner...but "what we're doing now." Really? Did he think her stupid or something?
He ignored the comment, and continued on as they got further into the park at a leisurely pace. "I'm sure Baratheon told you that we're not a 24/7 operation. There's two shifts, with four-man teams, and one sergeant to babysit. We close up the station at 10 PM, and open right back up at Satan-o-clock." When she didn't laugh at his joke, he sighed. "6 AM."
They entered a clearing in the park, where a wide expanse of bright green grass greeted them. The paved path they were on twisted around it, but left the center open for a plethora of activities. There was one woman lying on her back, a book raised in the air; a father-son duo tossing a baseball; another woman completing strange yoga poses atop a purple mat, and not too far away from her, a man that leered in her direction.
Brienne straightened up in her saddle, and trained her blue eyes on the suspicious-looking man.
"We're a small unit, so we usually alternate duties. You could be patrolling one moment, and riding a horse the next." She didn't point out that they were the same exact thing, just one happened to be within the confines of a car, and the other atop of a steed. "But rest assured, there will always be paperwork to complete at the end of the day." He groaned at the prospect.
"You're right," she said when he seemed to take a breath. "Captain Baratheon did tell me all of this." Before he could open his mouth to retort, she maneuvered Glory closer to his side, and leaned forward to ask, "Does that man look worrying to you?"
Then Brienne took in the beautiful transformation of Jaime the blabbermouth to Officer Lannister, the focused and driven individual she could only imagine he had started out as so many years before. The mirth dissipated from his eyes, his lips pressed together, and his back straightened.
God, but he's unfairly good-looking.
"I see him," he affirmed in a clipped voice.
"He hasn't done anything," she admitted, "But I don't care for the way he's ogling that woman. I don't even know what he's doing."
"Well," he canted his head in the direction of the man, the sun catching the burnished gold of his hair. He urged Honor into a trot, and called over his shoulder, "Let's go find out."
They were nearly upon the man when he finally took notice of their approach. His eyebrows shot upward on his forehead as he scrambled to his feet. He stumbled in his haste, and dropped something metallic to the ground. The glinting silver of a dagger glared from between the blades of grass.
"Knife!" Brienne called out as she kicked Glory into a run. The man took off towards the park's sole tunnel. The path was even and sure under her horse's hooves as she bore down on the fleeing man.
"O'Tarth!" Jaime called out after her. "Stop, O'Tarth! God damn it!"
The tunnel wasn't very long, but it was also not particularly well lit, and she wasn't familiar with the layout of the park just yet. If he reached the tunnel before she stopped him, he could escape. Her choices were to either have the horse stomp the man down into the ground, which could very well kill him, or to leap from atop her horse and onto his back like a Dothraki warrior from folklore. Which could also very well kill him
She chose the latter, and dove off with an ugly grunt of exertion.
They tumbled to the pavement in a flurry of limbs, and cacophony of grunts and groans. She shook her head hard, trying to settle the world into a static image rather than a mess of green and blue blurs, and settled her larger frame on the small of the man's back.
"I haven't done anything!"
"Then why did you run?" She pulled his arms behind his back, and proceeded to cuff him.
She could hear Jaime's approach, and could practically feel his anger emanating from his pores. He smoothly dismounted the horse with all the grace a lion would possess, and marched the last few feet toward her in righteous fury.
"That was quite impressive," an effeminate voice murmured from the shadows of the tunnel. With one knee still pressed into the downed man's back, she smoothly twisted her body around to face the voice, her hand automatically falling to the butt of her service pistol.
Jaime was at her side in an instant, although his weapon was already drawn.
Still trigger-happy, Lannister? That's concerning.
The figure stepped out into the sunlight. Upon sight of the heavy-set, balding man dressed in a weird set of what could only be called ceremonial robes, Jaime heaved a deep sigh, and holstered his weapon cleanly.
"It was stupid," Jaime snapped in response. He ran a hand through his sweaty, close-cropped hair. "If not rather fucking impressive," he added almost in spite of himself.
"As I said." The oddly dressed man smiled. "Officer Lannister, good to see you again." He inclined his smooth head towards Brienne. "And a pleasure to meet you, Officer...?"
"Uh, O'Tarth," she supplied warily, but she removed her hand from her weapon.
"Yes, O'Tarth," Jaime drew out once again. He so did seem to enjoy saying her name.
The blond motioned towards the stranger with a casual wave of his hand.
"Meet Varys. Our most treasured informant."
TBC...
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