- "Woah, when did you get that?"
- "Who did this to you?"
- "How many time have I told you to be more careful?"
- "You’re saying this was an accident?"
- "What a shiner!"
- "If you look like this, I’d hate to see the other guy."
- "I’m not buying it, you don’t walk into a door and get a bruise like that!"
- "Does it hurt when I touch it?"
- "Let me kiss it better."
- "If you don’t rest, you won’t heal."
- "Another fight?"
- "What happened to your face?"
- "I don’t think your arm is meant to bend like that…"
- "Let’s get you to bed."
- "Let’s get you to the hospital."
- "Why are you so calm about this?"
- "You’re bleeding!"
- "What are friends for, ey?"
- "So, instead of helping you, they ran off the moment they saw what was happening?"
- "You need to look where you’re going."
- "I’m not accusing anyone, I’m just saying it looks suspicious."
- "Do you want to tell me what really happened?"
- "Don’t move! You’ll faint!"
- "I’ve got some bandages, wait a sec."
- "You’re the clumsiest person I know."
- "I won’t let you be on your own, not when you’re like this."
- "How could you be so careless?"
- "I can’t even look at you, you promised not to get into any more fights!"
- "H-how many of them were there?"
With Moran, she could be a little less careful. Irene could allow herself to drink a little more, laugh a little more than she would around someone such as Moriarty. However, that didn’t mean that the two of them were friends, or that she somehow trusted him in any way.
He just wasn’t a threat, really.
Irene threw back the last of her glass and grinned cheekily at Moran, who was currently sat opposite her. She leaned back in her chair some, regarding him for a moment before raising her eyebrows. That grin was still stubbornly stuck on her face, refusing to go away.
She reached for the bottle, shaking hands pouring herself another glass. Some of the wine slopped over the sides, but she didn’t seem to notice. “Still don’t kn-know wha’ to think of you,” she said casually, words slurring. Irene lifted the glass up to her lips for another drink, staring at him as she did so. And as she put down her glass, she shrugged.
"Bu’ you proba—" Irene was having difficulty articulating the word. "Prob—pro-ba-bly want to fuck me. And tha’s it." She had had to sound out the word, articulate through syllables, and now, she shrugged again. "Ev’ryone does."
Severin suppresses the urge to roll his eyes - this was the usual “peacocking” he went through with many a man in Moriarty’s employ before Adler. Typically, he’d puff up himself in return, but right now he wants to represent no explicit threat to her. The dominatrix needed to be a bit more relaxed in his company.
As typical as the display is, however, it does give Moran a sense of the woman’s colour pallet. At this point, mostly dark reds and violets. He could work with that, he knew that side only too well. They used to reign his life in his younger days, until it all turned to the darkest of blues, verging on blacks. The assassin didn’t need to sound threatening to be threatening. The lack of feeling in his tone did it for him.
Cocking his head a bit to the left, Severin meets her words with an icy coolness, “Harming you would be counterproductive to my plans, Miss Adler. Last time I checked, one can’t conduct business with a corpse.” He licks his lips, “Now, I’d like to think that you’ll return this courtesy. I’d rather not eat a bullet tonight, mm? I’ve been told you’re a professional.” Flatter her,make her feel special, make her feel important. Make her feel like she’s more of a threat that you consider her to be. Currently, Severin is wary, but hardly on edge. She knows nothing of him, while he’s reviewed her files extensively. There’s less information about The Woman than anyone else, but his employer had managed to scrape up this and that, painting a picture of a confident, ambitious, weary woman. But nothing he couldn’t handle.
Pausing for a few moments, Severin lets her process what he had said, before starting up again, “May I come in? I’ve a proposition that I’m sure you’ll find intriguing.”
I’ve been told you’re a professional. Irene knew exactly who must have told him. The more the man spoke, the more unsure of this Irene became, the more defensive. This man seemed, already, to be attached to James Moriarty. Irene Adler wanted absolutely nothing to do with the man now, for as long as she lived.
She didn’t relax. Irene stayed on the alert, on the defense, and in control. Thankfully, Moran hadn’t caught her off-guard: as she had been preparing to go to a client meeting before the knock on the door, she was dressed professionally, wearing a black sheath dress, her hair tidied up into her usual up-do. She kept her head up, her posture perfect, her lines long. The only splashes of color on her were the red of her lipstick and the red of the bottoms of her heels. This encounter, like anything and everything else she did, was a performance.
Irene stared him down for a moment, eyebrow raised, before opening the door fully and gesturing him inside. As soon as he was inside the foyer, she locked the door once again, doing up all three locks and making sure each was in place. Didn’t want any further unexpected visitors. One, and a brother of Sebastian’s at that, was absolutely more than enough.
She didn’t speak as she led him into the living room. It was cozier than the kitchen, anyway—and there were far more places to hide syringes and guns. Irene mentally took note of all the places she could reach to should the meeting go sour quickly—gun in the drawer beside couch, syringe hidden in the plant in the corner. Those two would be her best bets.
"Please, sit down," Irene said, though she made no motion to sit down herself. The words weren’t a suggestion as much as they were a command. The ‘please’ was simply there for show. And her expression, earlier dangerous and foreboding, had now twisted into a smirk, one that should have looked gracious and hospitable on any other woman. But this was Irene Adler, and they were in her home, on her turf.
- [text] Are you safe?
- [text] Are you home?
- [text] Are you hurt?
- [text] What’s happened?
- [text] Please text back
- [text] Where are you?
- [text] Why are you in the hospital?
- [text] Why didn’t you tell me sooner?
- [text] Come back
- [text] Stay with me
- [text] I can’t feel my legs
- [text] Are you sure?
- [text] I feel sick
- [text] Please come over
- [text] I need you
- [text] I need you to listen
- [text] I need to look after you
- [text] It’s urgent
- [text] Help me, please
- [text] You’re not listening! This is important!
- [text] Please be careful
- [text] Stop showing off, you’re not impressing anyone
- [text] You worry me so much sometimes.
- [text] I’ll wait for you to get back
- [text] Please wait for me
- [text] I don’t want to live without you
- [text] I don’t know what to do
- [text] Don’t touch anything
- [text] I’ll be there right away
- [text] What do you mean?
- [text] Accident? How is that an accident?
( I no longer wonder if monsters do exist.
I find myself wondering if I am one, instead. )
- "Now hold still…"
- "Stop screaming or I’ll use duct tape."
- "They had it coming, they were too friendly with you…"
- "There, that should keep you quiet."
- "No one will find us here."
- "You’ll be mine forever."
- "I’m going to kill him/her."
- "I don’t like people touching my things…”
- "Don’t bother to struggle…"
- "Did you think I wouldn’t notice?"
- "Your friends are too close with you… I don’t like it..”
- "It’s for your own good."
- "I won’t take no for an answer."
- "Keep running, I like the chase!”
- "It’d be a shame if your friend was hurt…"
- "If you promise not to scream, I’ll remove the gag."
- "Oops, did that hurt?"
- "I know who you love."
- "I’ll beat you within an inch of your life!"
- "I know what you’re scared of."
- "I’ll tickle you until you’re blue in the face!"
- "I’ll turn you into shoes!"
- "Wouldn’t it be a shame if they found out your secret?"
- "I’ll tie you up, get you hot, and leave you there, begging for more."
- "You’re more helpless than you think. I know that."
- "I’m going to have to take a look at your pancreas."
Irene Adler. Professionally known as the Woman.