[center][h1][color=82ca9d]"Emerald"[/color][/h1][/center]
[center][h2][color=82ca9d]Outside Club Carousel[/color][/h2][/center]

The club’s doors slammed shut behind Emerald and she hunched her shoulders, her mink shrug doing nothing to ward off the night’s chill, and the delicate fabric of Ashley’s dress doing even less. Goosebumps prickled at the surface of her skin. She sighed, her fingers trembling as she brought a cigarette to her red lips, cupping a hand around its end as she sparked it up. Stupid plan, stupid night, and a very stupid, stupid detective. She rolled her eyes, groaning audibly and tilting her head back in frustration, searching the night sky for an explanation for her downright foolish behavior. It stared silently back at her, answerless. 

Every time she’d bothered to trust someone besides herself, they had let her down. Of course this time had been no different. Now she had nowhere to stay, no way to get out of this part of town. A big, fat ‘murder me’ sign sat above her head in heady neon. She felt her shaking subside as a drag from her cigarette floated sweetly through her.

Emerald squared her shoulders and set down the sidewalk, determined to at least make it a couple blocks before her inevitable end.
	
It was by chance that she spared a glance into the alleyway parallel to the club, and caught the figure, hunched over himself, breathing so heavy she could see the erratic rise and fall of his shoulders. Perhaps it was also by chance that she recognized the jacket slung over said shoulders. “Detective?!”

The figure didn’t move, and she approached, leaning over and gingerly reaching out to place her hands on either shoulder. “Detective.” She spoke sternly, with more purpose, willing him to answer her. He didn’t, but she got a clearer view of his harrowed expression, his skin white as a sheet, as if he’d seen a ghost. Her tone softened instinctively. “Hey, hey, you’re okay. Tell me what’s going on…” She moved to crouch in front of him, ducking so she could meet his gaze. “Ashley, I’m frightened.”

	His eyes finally rose to meet hers and he stilled. After a beat, he abruptly stood, and she followed, pulling her shrug tight around her shoulders with one hand, and leaving the other perched on his shoulder. In a rush of motion, he took her face roughly into both hands, almost pulling her off her feet. “Ashley!”

	“You… you’re… you’re okay.” The detective murmured, almost tenderly, examining her face closely. Life seemed to snap back into him and he unhanded her, clearing his throat and averting his eyes. “Thank god you’re okay.”

	“No thanks to you!” She snapped, but her heart wasn’t in it. “I could have my throat slit upstairs by now and you’d be none the wiser! What could have possibly possessed you to abandon me like that!” Much to her dismay, she sounded more frightened than angry, but she continued, unable to stop herself. “And then I come out here... and find you like this, christ!” She bent and snatched up her shrug that had fallen in the mud amidst the commotion. “No more games, no more elaborate plans, this is my -life- you’re putting on the line!” Emerald couldn’t tell if she was angrier with him, or angrier with herself for placing so much trust in him.

	Ashley held his hands out, as if soothing a spooked horse. “I know, I know, and I’m sorry. Tonight went to shit, that’s all. Ain’t nothing else to say about it. I’ll play it safe from here on out, you have my word, just please…” He gave her an imploring look. “Please don’t go off on your own, let me drive you back.” He was asking her to stay. So be it.

	Emerald stepped in close, her face inches from his, and paused a beat before snatching his keys from his trouser pocket. “You’re such a fool. You’re in no state to drive.” She muttered angrily, spinning on a heel and stalking out of the alleyway. 

[center][h1][color=8882be]Ashley Gallagher[/color][/h1][/center]
[center][h2][color=8882be]Central Police Station[/color][/h2][/center]


	If it weren’t in the middle of the night-- and if he weren’t as sober as a judge, Ashley might have fancied himself hungover. He was dreadfully exhausted, a bit queasy, and nursing quite the headsplitter. The drive back to his apartment had been one of stony silence. He had dropped Emerald off at his apartment, and much to his surprise she offered no complaint when left promptly thereafter. The only way to make up for such laughable, shoddy detective work, was to obsess over the case files until the wee hours of the morning, and that was precisely what he planned on doing. He wondered what Lovegrove would have said if he had witnessed such a messy display as tonight. 

	Ashley rounded the corner of the dimly lit precinct, and as if a devil summoned by the mere thought of his name, Cal appeared. The man was sprawled out, feet kicked up on the desk, sleeping soundly. Ashley cleared his throat pointedly. “Haven’t you got somewhere better to sleep, Lovegrove? This is a precinct, not your living room.”