Lockjaw
A/N: Whoops, spent a lot of time on this chapter to get it perfect, and then completely forgot about it. What a twit am I? Never mind, it's here now. However, one person I must thank is Scorpicus, my into a semblance of order, as they have done with the other chapters of this travesty of a story. Have fun!
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It was a cool evening in Rubacava, and Olivia was sitting composedly at her balcony, making the finishing touches to yet another piece of poetry. It had been a reasonably busy evening at the club, but next week brought with it a poetry reading evening, and, of course, someone had to warm up the microphone, didn't they?
Putting down her pen and observing the last stanza with relish, Olivia took a long drag of her cigarette, and peered over the balcony just in time to watch a figure in a suit go flying off the trellis climbing up to the veranda, and hit the ground with a sickening crunch.
"My spine…" Charlie moaned from the pavement below. Amused, Olivia leant over the railings and watched him writhe on the tarmac.
"Well, you're no Romeo, are you? He didn't fall off the balcony." As Charlie got shakily back up to his feet, she lounged on the metal barrier and took a mouthful of smoke, before blowing it in his face.
Spluttering, Charlie began to climb again. Sadly, although a con man, he wasn't a cat burglar, and fell backwards onto the tarmac again.
Once fully able to get up again, he decided it might be a good idea to explain why on earth he was attempting to scale the building. "Miss…. Miss Ofrenda," he stuttered, "I have information that you wouldn't want your boyfriend to find out!"
Olivia sighed melodramatically before answering. "What information could you possibly have on me?"
"Maybe… maybe that you're… you're with…" Charlie's nerve had left him, and although he wasn't able to finish his statement, Olivia was only too willing to fill in the gaps.
"Oh, you think that I'm with someone else, and you've come to get a payout so you don't tell Maximino, aren't you?" Charlie nodded enthusiastically, glad she had got the point (sadly, not catching the hint of scepticism in her voice, or the underlying tone of 'no way in hell will I be giving you anything, moron.') Olivia, once more, blew cigarette smoke in his face, before proceeding.
"But, you don't have any evidence, do you?" Charlie shook his head. Olivia idly wondered what she'd done to deserve having to talk to this Neanderthal, imagined rolling her eyes (well, you couldn't exactly roll your eye sockets,) and continued.
"You see, I'm not going to give you anything, because even if you did go to Max, you wouldn't get anywhere, darling," she told him, sarcasm and patronisation dripping off her voice as she spoke to the somewhat slow diminutive con. "He won't believe you, and we'll all get on with our deaths, me, with my boyfriend, you, in a gutter somewhere in the pouring rain." Without gauging Charlie's reaction, she dropped her cigarette stub in his general direction and walked composedly into the top floor of the Blue Casket, where Nick was waiting for her.
"Who was that?" he asked, almost accusatorily.
"Just a moron out to get my money. It's nothing, he's dealt with now." Nick realised who she'd meant- remembering with a slight shudder the bright pink and mint green pyjama episode. Chowchilla Charlie.
"I had a visit from him this morning. Threatening to tell…"
"He won't get anywhere. Max loves me. He wouldn't believe him whatever he was told, not without evidence." Nick nodded, somewhat reassured, before crossing the room and flicking the light off.