I Fought The Law...

[Nayt]

"Well, I'm glad you aren't," Eri responded with a smile and a nod.

Eri was tiny, compared to Cyril. She wasn't much taller than five feet and five inches tall, and was effectively skinny as a twig all around--a hundred and fifteen pounds soaken wet. The way her dress clung to her form left no mystery to how thin she was. Thin, yet curvy. The type of woman everyone wanted to be, be with, break, or scorn.

As such, she should have been intimidated by Cyril Shariph's size, especially when he was sitting next to her on the park bench. He was an intimidating man, but while she gave him a brief look over when he first sat down, she didn't seem remotely shaken or perturbed by him--while anyone else, especially someone of her size, would have eyed him a little and tried to determine what to think about him first, to figure out if he was malicious or had any sort of harmful intent, to be intimidated by him or think of him as nothing more than a soft spoken, albeit somewhat bitter, fellow.

"For two reasons, too," she held up her index and middle finger indicatively, "First, I'd hate for anyone to think I'm easy. In any kind of way. And second . . ."

She paused. It was intentional. It had to be. No one took a breath after stopping at a sentence like that and let it simmer for a full second without actually meaning it.

". . . you've been following me around pretty intently, and I'd hate to kill the suspense so soon," Eri dropped her hand down to fold her arms over her diaphragm again, as she smiled innocently enough. It'd be clear enough by now that her cheery smiles, while intoxicating to a man of lesser character, were far from innocent.

[Ramlock]

Cyril looked over at her smile, cracking a small smile of his own. The game was on, it seemed. This was the real fun of it. Conversations, and hidden meanings... At appropriate times, that was. She was curious about him, and he was curious about her, but they were on even ground, now. Just words and minds opposed: practically a romance...

"I can stand the suspense, too. You're here, after all..."

Following her around was a bit of an overstatement, perhaps. At best, he had been following a sort of scent; places Eri had been and was no longer. He hadn't even caught a glimpse of her until she had come and sought him at his own office. It was a dangerous game, maybe. He hadn't been particularly careful as a detective. He let plenty of things get out. Eri had been curious to come see him herself, but she might just as well have left town...

"I can promise you, no one is going to think you're easy. You seemed to go to an awful lot of effort to not be found..."

Cyril's tone was without judgment; neither disapproving or approving. There were two sides to every story, and being moral meant getting both sides before working for either... Even if only one side had money.

[Nayt]

"Well, can you blame me?" Eri responded.

She looked over to him with a smile still, but accompanied by a curious glance. It was brief, vague even, before she averted her gaze intentionally and leaned forward just a bit, resting her elbows on her knees and leaning so that the small of her back was distinctly arched.

"It's a different kind of life as a woman, you know," Eri continued, "If you like to go out a lot and a creeper happens to see you at the same place a lot, he's bound to ask about you. All kinds of crazies can look for you. The last thing you want is for the dangerous kind of crazy to show up at your doorstep."

All kinds of crazies--she could have been talking about anyone, perhaps even indicating that she thought Cyril was a crazy man when she first caught wind of him. But clearly, Cyril's problems with trying to find her wasn't the first time someone had tried to sniff her out . . . for whatever reason. Perhaps she was talking about that very thing, a dangerous kind of person looking for her, and her narrowly evading trouble. Or worse. Or perhaps she was alluding to something else? One couldn't be totally sure, really.

But it was likely she wasn't going to stop it, if she kept up these rounds. Even in a different city, she could probably do the same. She had such a distinct image, but she still blended in like a chameleon, seen only when she wanted to be seen, found only when she wanted to be found. She was good at it--and anyone with such a trained skill wasn't just going to stop it on a whim.

[Ramlock]

"Well, the easy solution is to not frequent the places the creepers do..."

Eri apparently had quite a reputation, from what he could gather... And did no small share of leading people on as well. That was her business, perhaps, but it didn't exactly make for a convincing excuse. She was hiding something; of course she was. Cyril was, too. It was a fact. It was Chicago, after all...

"Here's a question maybe you can answer, though. What is it you think I'm after? You've been hiding and I've been seeking, but I finally caught up with you, even if it was you who came to me..."

Knowing what Eri expected could tell him volumes about the situation, if she shared. Cyril was a large man who carried a gun, knew a lot of people, and lied a lot. Eri may have done her homework, or she may have simply pursued him the same as he had pursued her... Blind, for the most part. Just knowing the other person was out there...

[Nayt]

He was a big man, he carried a gun, he told his fair share of lies, and he knew a lot of people. That meant one of three things. One: he was a made man. Two: he was a cop. Three: he actually was a private detective. Considering his appearance and demeanor, it could've been any one of those. He advertised his services as a private detective, but in this city, that could've been nothing short of a ruse. A private detective hired to investigate a murder, for example, was an asset to the police, not a suspect. So if that private detective was actually the murderer himself, a hitman for one of Chicago's infamous gangs, he could cover up his and his allies crimes and pin them on someone else without a hitch. That was a dirty job, but it was likely.

Anything was likely in Chicago.

She rolled her shoulders into an intentionally drawn out shrug, as if she were going to follow through with a laugh. All you had to do in this town was know a name. Cyril Shariph stayed at one place, worked in one place, and had his hand in a lot of work, much of it was unaccounted for--on the record.

"Well, a private detective's got to make a living somehow, right?" replied Eri, "Even if that means hunting down poor and defenseless li'l old me."

Her assessment was clean, too. It only took a few right questions to a the right people to figure out that what Cyril did for a living was honest.

"Someone wants to find me, and you were hired to do the dirty work." Eri nodded along with what she was saying, as if absolutely convinced she was right.

[Ramlock]

"Poor and defenseless... Sure..."

Eri had provided the easy answer... Of course someone had hired him. Cyril had put a fair amount of work into finding her, after all. It would be almost insulting to assume anything else. What, he saw her picture and was instantly in love? Had to find her and had to know her? Not at all... As to what type of work... Well, it had been nothing particularly dirty. An idea where she was, a few pictures off the street...

"You don't seem very surprised that someone should want to find you... Ah, but I've got a terrible habit of mixing business and pleasure. Maybe it's just impatience..."

As if to prove a point, Cyril would look forward at passing people, practically ignoring his companion and speaking no further. He'd let the silence go until it reached the level of awkwardness... Or at least, awkwardness for Eri. Cyril wasn't going to be perturbed for the silence; he never really was. Anything that could throw Eri off her game was good for him. There was perhaps the risk that she would walk away, but she had gone to the trouble to seek him out in the first place...

[Nayt]

The silence didn't seem to bother her that much. There were people passing by, which were all easy enough to catch Eri's attention. She seemed to watch the passive goers passing their bench, however distant they may be, with a subtle smile--an investigative smile. A deeper stare than one might give her credit for. It was so subtle, yet so invasive--just a single glance, just a glance, but one that could be taken as the longest of stares if eyes were to meet in some fated moment, something which rarely, if ever, happened.

Everything about a person told their life story. Their clothes, there walk, their hair, the way they moved their faces when they breathed, if they looked at the ground at their feet or several yards in front of their feet or not at the ground at all. You could conclude so much from so little . . .

Indeed, the silence didn't bother her a bit. She seemed perfectly content to remain where she was, leaning back upon the bench, simply people watching--coincidentally, something Cyril seemed to be doing, too, but perhaps to a lesser degree? Or, no--he was a private investigator. The both of them probably had the exact same idea of people watching.

"Do you smoke?" she asked at last.

[Ramlock]

Cyril watched moods, more than anything. So many tired faces, or sad... And the occasional liberating happiness of youth. The carefree smile that was such a luxury... And perhaps it was why Cyril entered the business he had. There were the clients who came in with money, and had important business... Like his current employer. Cyril would do the job, take the money, and support himself. But it was so much more satisfying to take cases from people who couldn't really repay you except perhaps with a smile...

"No, I don't..."

Cyril replied without really considering whether the information was useful to Eri. It certainly didn't seem to be... In any case, he was willing to give her the answer, for whatever reason. On thinking about it, he didn't really understand, unless she was perhaps going to attribute certain qualities to him as a result. Still, it couldn't hurt to know...

"Why do you ask?"

[Nayt]

He didn't smoke. Eri didn't react to it initially, which could mean one of several different things, really. She could have been disappointed, disconcerted, impressed, ambivalent--any number of things. It would be clear, however, as soon as she began to explain:

"That's good," she replied by the time Cyril asked why, "Smoking's just a waste, you know. I dated a guy once-- he smoked all the time."

This was kind of an iconoclast ideal, that smoking was a waste of time and money. In this day and age, it was one of the most popular vices in the world--hell, it wasn't even a vice. You woke up in the morning, you had a smoke. You got a coffee later on, you got a smoke to go with it. Smoking wasn't a vice, it was a way of life. Eri, remarkably, seemed to have doubts about that way of life.

"I could outrun him morning, noon, and night," Eri noted, "No way that's a coincidence."

[Ramlock]

Cyril wasn't exactly sure why Eri had asked, still... Unless it was her style, maybe. She seemed awfully fit; maybe she scoped out other people in the same way. And to a certain degree... Well, who knew? Maybe she was trying to get him off-guard for some reason. After all, there were certain facts to consider. Eri had found him, after all. He hadn't been particularly careful about protecting his identity, but Eri still must have been watching her back, and was likely thinking some of the same things about him...

"Allright. Well, what are your vices, then, if you don't smoke? We've all got them, after all..."

In truth, Cyril didn't smoke not for any moral reason or anything like that. He just didn't handle smoke very well, and didn't care to spend the money on the habit. He didn't drink for similar reasons... His size was enough to keep him out of most trouble, and Cyril thankfully didn't have a habit of getting into confrontations during cases. Jobs that led to physical confrontation, he generally avoided...

[Nayt]

"Conversing," she replied without a second thought on the matter.

She didn't even give it a moment of thought. Eri was a harlot for conversation. Granted, she probably wasn't going to go so far as to actually be a harlot, sexually, just for the sake of having a good and long conversation, but she might rope a guy in with her looks alone, and get him into a conversation. One that ends with just that, a conversation. The very fact that she was able to reply so quickly, with such minimal thought about it, suggested that Eri had this vice, if it could even be called a vice, for a long, long time.

Incidentally, this might actually have said quite a lot about Eri's person. Cyril chased her scent around town, essentially, and got numerous clues about her personality--and this might very well cause a few of those clues to make just a little more sense. Just a little . . .

"If there were a cat-house for conversationalists, I'd be the loosest cat of them all," Eri concluded shamelessly, before looking to Cyril with the same curiosity he had about her: "What about you? What're your vices, hmmm, Mr. Shariph?"

[Ramlock]

"Conversations with pretty women."

It was true, much as it was for most men. For most men, conversations with pretty women always bore the hope of further fruit. For Cyril, it was more that it tended to throw him off-balance. He had trouble making heads or tails of most women, and if they looked good, so much the worse for correctly estimating them. Eri, for example... He was still having trouble figuring her out, and exactly what she was looking for...

"That, and always trying to get both sides of a story..."

That was a vice that made his job a little more difficult. When he couldn't convince himself a job was right, he just had to live with it... And lucrative jobs tended to be crooked jobs...

[Nayt]

"Oh?" she asked.

It was interesting, actually. Conversation was a regular thing, but rarely a vice. Seeing both sides of a story also happened to be a regular thing, especially in Cyril's business--but again, it was never any sort of vice. However, both she and Cyril turned these two everyday likes into vices, little obsessions of theirs which they weren't content living without. They didn't drink, smoke, or gamble, and if they did, they didn't do it in such excess that it became an addiction or anything close. Instead, they took the normal, everyday deals and turned those into obsessions.

Dangerous obsessions, perhaps? Dangerous for themselves, maybe. It was possible to over-investigate a story just as much as it was possible to talk to the wrong person at the wrong time.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Eri began as an initial disclaimer, "But a girl can't help but be curious: what do you think both sides of my story are?"

[Ramlock]

"Hmm..."

Cyril frowned a bit as he thought, toying with the idea in his head. Chances were, Eri knew who had hired him. She had left New York to avoid him, it seemed. He wasn't exactly sure why, aside from the mention of betrothal... Not that it really mattered. He didn't necessarily believe she was the good person (he didn't have the facts yet), but he could imagine situations in which she was... After all, she was the one who seemed to be having no more to do with his employer, while his employer was trying to force contact between them.

"Well, let's take a hypothetical. Suppose a girl got in over her head, or made a mistake, or had things arranged for her... One way or another, she winds up engaged to a man with New York with a lot of power and a lot of connections. And she decides, for whatever reason, that the wedding isn't right. And this man, he isn't used to taking no for an answer, and has the money and power to keep people from saying no. So she leaves, and goes halfway across the country to hide. Then, word gets back to this man, and he hires a local small-time Chicago detective to track her down, based on a brief sighting..."

Hypothetical, was, of course, literal. Of course, Cyril's answers were awfully vague; his minor bits of detective work supplemented by whims of logic. There was more he didn't know than he knew, at the moment. Fortunately, people, or least most people, loved to talk about themselves. All you had to do was present a favorable attitude, and an interest in their lives, and they'd gladly tell you anything and everything about themselves, despite hardly knowing you...

"Am I warm?"

Cyril would actually turn to look at her, making eye contact if she was also facing him at the time. In either case, though, Cyril's whole demeanor would change to take on a warmer tone in an instant. In fact, it would briefly appear as though he was no longer a detective at all, perhaps a hint of the vice he had only implied: getting too involved in his cases...

[Nayt]

"A little, maybe . . ." she replied softly.

Eri was looking at him, too. The bench wasn't too large, and could only fit two people, really. Between Eri and Cyril was a small space of about two feet. Without looking at each other, it was hard to acknowledge that the bench really was that small--but when Eri looked up at Cyril's face, an expression bordering between complacent and curious, she couldn't help but realize their proximity . . . not that it mattered too much. If she went to a "legit" establishment, men bought her drinks and sat real close to her all the time. That was kind of common place. Cyril, though, wasn't buying her drinks. In fact, he didn't have any malicious intentions with her at all.

It just added a little something else to this conversation. What, she wasn't really thinking of. Maybe it was awkwardness? Discomfort caused by proximity? One might never know.

"But that's just one side of the story though, right?" she remarked.

She didn't sound like she was trying to bait him into continuing, and still carried a somewhat soft tone of voice. Rather, Eri just sounded curious. Perhaps it was the same deal as her curiosity about the other side of the story as Cyril gathered--nothing more than raw curiosity, and a fairly enjoyable thing to talk about.