[center][h1][color=82ca9d]"Emerald"[/color][/h1][/center]
[center][h2][color=82ca9d] Gilded Heights Apartment Complex, Room #67[/color][/h2][/center]


[center][img]https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/d8/c4/85/d8c485e30ddf7f408cfb21d7e1baca22.jpg[/img][/center]

[i]“Let’s start from the beginning, then.” He said wearily, but relieved. At least for now it seemed she was being honest with him. “I’ll put on some coffee while you collect your thoughts.”[/i]

The silence that filled Ashley’s apartment was broken solely by the quick staccato of Emerald’s tapping heel and the hissing of the coffee pot that Ashley dutifully attended to, keeping his back to Emerald. She figured it was his way of relieving the pressure of the situation as she recounted her tale of the mysterious silhouette that had been haunting her for the past couple of weeks. 
Admirers were not uncommon, especially with her status as ‘belle of the ball’ so it were. As the clubs dubbed leading lady, she found nothing suspicious about a repeat customer there to see her and only her-- she appreciated it even, and yet…

Something had struck her as odd about the man. He never helped himself to the other services of the club. There was never a drink in his hand nor a seat beneath him. He occupied only the smallest corner of the club, as if he were afraid to take up space. The only times he would make his way into the shining lights was when she was on stage. He’d stand, enamored below her, watching with hooded eyes and a pensive expression.

As soon as her performance ended, he would be gone.

She never spoke to the club about it, figured there was no reason to. If he had malintentions then why act so suspicious? If anything they would have chastised her for potentially scaring off a repeat customer. No… not worth it. She figured she might as well enjoy the attention, however peculiar its form. 

In a display of attention that Emerald had never felt so deeply, Ashley listened intently as she spoke of the man, a thoughtful furrow in his brow as he considered. It was one thing to be watched on stage and seen. It was quite another to be actually heard by someone. It was intoxicating. She fancied she would have spoken all night were it appropriate, about anything, if it meant getting to be truly heard just a little longer. Sadly her tale came to an end. She watched him, watched the features of his face tense and relax as the gears of his little detective mind clicked and turned behind that pair of brown eyes.

“Now I can’t say that sounds all too strange or suspicious, but you say it felt strange?”

She nodded gently.

“That’s enough for me, doll. You think he’d be at the club now?”
“I’m not too sure, what interest in the club is there if it’s shining star is absent?” She batted her eyelashes pointedly. “I’d be surprised if it was even drawing half the attention it was before.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, a body is a body.” Even so, she felt his appreciative gaze as she stood, as if he in that moment realized the lie in his words. After her soft scoff and a beat of silence he spoke once more. “That settles it, we’ll go to the club tonight. You’ll be my guest, it wouldn’t be safe for you to perform, too much attention.”

“Oh? What a foolish plan, I would expect better from you, detective. Would it not be horribly suspicious for a dancer to show up on the arm of a detective? Particularly if he is looking for me? And what would the club think?”

“The club will think you’ve brought protection. If he’s there, I want to see his reaction when he sees you offstage.”

“Oh detective,” She bemoaned, “I have not a thing to wear! It wouldn’t do for me to be seen as a guest in my own club in this little old thing.” She gestured to her casualwear, wrinkled from time and movement. In truth she was looking for excuses not to leave her newfound safe haven. She wasn’t sure what being back at the club would feel like, and she couldn’t have anyone, especially not the detective, witnessing her losing her cool.

“Not a thing to wear-- for God’s sake woman.” He gestured exasperatedly at her before disappearing in his bedroom. 

[center][h1][color=8882be]Ashley Gallagher[/color][/h1][/center]
[center][h2][color=8882be]Gilded Heights Apartment Complex, Room #67[/color][/h2][/center]


“Not a thing to wear…” Ashley mumbled angrily under his breath. Women. What did it matter what she was wearing? If her life was a stake, would it not be all the better to blend in? Regardless, he had thrown open the doors of his dusty old dresser before he even considered what he was doing. He paused, huffing a sigh before shuffling to the very back. A dull ache struck in his chest as his eyes fell upon the soft purple chiffon. How fitting. He pulled the dress out with much more grace and ceremony than he did anything in his life these days, running a calloused hand over the deep plum colored fabric. He could almost see it on her, see her eyes light up as she spun in the mirror all those years ago. 

[i]“Oh Ashley, it’s marvelous isn’t it?”

“Yes, I daresay she is.”

“You clown of a husband! Get over here and give me a kiss to match.”[/i]

He sighed. Such a beautiful thing should not be doomed to a lifetime in the back of the closet. 

	Emerald’s eyes widened when she spotted it in his arms, red lips parted in a soft ‘o’. The surprise quickly turned to an inquisitive expression that burned holes into his forehead as he refused to meet her eyes. How odd it must be, that a bachelor such as himself is in possession of such a thing.

	Thankfully, no questions were asked. She slowly took it from him as if it were the most delicate piece of china, holding it up to her frame. “This should fit, give me just a moment. Say, you wouldn’t happen to have more where this came from, hm? It would be a crime to not accessorize such a piece.”

	“Don’t push your luck with me, woman. Try it on.”

	“How defensive of you, detective. I suppose I’ll just have to make do with what I have.” Her tone was distracted as she admired the dress in her hands and disappeared into his room. She emerged moments later. He cleared his throat and averted his eyes.

	“Oh detective, it’s absolutely marvelous. What’s a man lacking taste such as yourself doing with such a lovely thing hidden away, hm?”

	In an effort to change the subject he met her gaze once more. Lovely was the word for it, for her, and that, he decided, was all he’d think or say on the matter. “It suits you.”

	“A compliment? From you? Perish the thought.”

	“Are you quite done? I’d like to make it to the club before it closes.”

	She stepped towards him, and he flinched as she looped her arm around his. Damn it, Ashley. “Lead the way, detective.”

	[center][h2][color=8882be]Club Carousel[/color][/h2][/center]

	Despite the tragedies that had happened within, the club was lit up and boisterous as ever. Emerald seemed stiff and uncharacteristically quiet, though Ashley wasn’t sure he could blame her for that. The hostess had been absolutely delighted to see Emerald, and that seemed to cheer the Emerald up a tad, a genuine smile gracing her features for what Ashley assumed was a friend. The redheaded woman insisted on them having the best seats in the house, and Emerald complied before Ashley could say a word. He shook his head but remained quiet, a hand at the small of her back as if to guide her through the club.

	Interesting. Dressed like this, he realized he almost forgot that this was her element. He reminded himself of her origins, of her class… or lack thereof, and it helped cut through the mist that had clouded his mind since she had emerged in the dress.

	She was a client, and a dancer, and he was here to catch a perp, nothing more.