chapter word count: 447

noir heart: ninety-eight

"Well, you look chipper," Aster says, regarding Jack with a coolly bemused eye. The expression he wears reminds Jack of the looks he used to get whenever he'd say, "you know I love you, right?" to which Aster would narrow his eyes and reply, "whatever the fuck it is you want, piss off".

Spreading his hands and shrugging, Jack feigns innocence, only a few stages short of a schoolgirl skirt and a lollipop. "Do I? Wasn't paying attention."

Aster scoffs and leans back into his chair, pinning both ends of his pen by his fingertips. "Yeah, right. Pull the other one. It's got bells on, mate."

Jack pockets his hands and smirks. Too easy. "That's gotta be fun in the bedroom. Do they jingle when you thrust?"

Aster glares at him. "You shut the hell up."

Undeterred, Jack sings. While crotch-thrusting. This is way too much fun. "Jingle bells," thrust, "jingle bells," thrust, "jingling all the way!"

If the detective's unit was quiet enough, he'd have heard the pop of Aster's vein in his temple as the poor bastard jumps to his feet and menacingly brandishes his pen. "I swear to God, mate, if you don't shut the hell up I'm gonna shove this where the sun don't shine."

It's all Jack can do to stop himself from bursting into laughter. First off, it feels weird. He hasn't laughed in ages. Secondly, Aster might actually do it. He throws his hands up in surrender. "Got it. I don't want no rectal penometer application."

"Too bloody right you shouldn't. I like this pen," Aster says, waggling it. He relaxes back into the chair and goes back to pinning it between his fingers again, watching him. "So what's our next move?"

Jack bends down to open the desk drawer and retrieve his notepad and pen. "Gonna go talk to Aurora's parents, then I'm gonna go to her place. I wanna get a feel for what she was like as a person."

"Think the parent's are gonna lie?" Aster says as he rolls onto his hip and plucks his phone from his pocket.

"Lie? Maybe. Everybody lies," Jack grunts, shrugging. "Nobody ever says in a eulogy how Jonny Trick was doing a hundred when he crashed, or that Jennifer Golightly ruined her kids' dreams 'cause she wanted to live vicariously through their dance career. It's only the good stuff. Wanna find out what a person was really like? Go see where they live."

Aster looks down at his phone, frowns, and absentmindedly responds, "Yeah, okay. Meet you downstairs. Wife's calling."

I owe many apologies for having left it so long to update, though there are reasons for it. The first is that I tend to write by instinct. If I don't feel something works, it doesn't get written down, but my brain sometimes has issues working around it. Happens all the time. Second is that NH is a very dark fic. Death, violence, sadism. It means I have to put my mind in a very dark place, and for a while I just couldn't exist like that. Third is that I procrastinate like a pro, and am very lethargic. Fourth: OGaV is about to drop two or three bombshells, so my mind has been pretty much stuck on that.

But it still doesn't excuse me. You've been patient and waited for so long, so it was about time I gave myself a kick up the ass. I still need to get back into the groove, but it shouldn't take long.

special thanks to: doomstone, jpbake, hornedgoddess, stefalove, oninoko, deadbreath, lunasnoir, guest, trapid, mystery, noircorda, waguneru, jackie and zane for the reviews!