[color=FFF2D8][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/WHxJd1p.png[/img][/center]
[center][h1][color=7DB9B6]Elodie Ashbourne[/color][/h1][/center]
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[center][color=D9A0B0][b]Location:[/b][/color] The Velvet Bite —> Sean's truck • [color=D9A0B0][b]Time:[/b][/color] Dusk[/center]
[center][color=D9A0B0][b]Interactions:[/b][/color] [@FunnyGuy] Sean • [color=D9A0B0][b]Mentions:[/b][/color][/center]
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Elodie blinked as Sean stood abruptly, his clipped curse cutting through the low hum of the lounge. One moment, they’d been basking in post-chaos banter, the next–he was out of the booth and back in work mode.

She opened her mouth to respond, but he was already halfway to the exit.

[color=D9A0B0]“Right. Okay. Sure. Grabbing the scotch,”[/color] she muttered to herself as she snagged the bottle by the neck and scrambled after him.

Trailing just behind, her voice lifted enough for him to hear, warm and teasing despite the sudden shift in tone. [color=D9A0B0]“You weren’t obvious, by the way,”[/color] she called after him. [color=D9A0B0]“I’m just good at picking up on people. Comes with years of caffeinating the sleep-deprived and heartbreak-ridden.”[/color]

But truthfully, it wasn’t just the barista instincts. It was him.

She’d been watching Sean more closely than she wanted to admit–reading his silences, the tilt of his head, the pause before a lie, the weight behind his truths. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough to know something about the way he spoke of the murder had set his jaw just a little tighter.

She slipped out of the lounge after him, the night air cool against her cheeks. The magic-heavy haze of the Bite faded behind them, replaced by the quiet hum of city streets and the low thud of her own pulse.

Sliding into the passenger seat of the truck, Elodie buckled herself in and set the bottle of scotch carefully between them like a truce offering.

There was something oddly comforting about being in this space with him, even if she couldn’t see his face. She turned her head slightly, gaze drifting to the matte black of his mask, trying to imagine what expression might be behind it.

After a beat, her voice came softer, a little sheepish. [color=D9A0B0]“Hey… be honest.”[/color] She tugged slightly at the hem of her skirt. [color=D9A0B0]“Was Cinnamon a dumb name?”[/color]

She gave a small, wry smile, eyes fixed on the windshield now. [color=D9A0B0]“It was the first thing that popped into my head. I panicked. I bake, I smell like cookies, I…yeah.”[/color]

Her voice lowered again, more thoughtful now. [color=D9A0B0]“And is everything okay? Where are we going?”[/color] There was concern laced between the words, the kind she tried not to show too much, but it lingered all the same.

Because Sean didn’t rattle easy.

And something about the way he moved now told her this wasn’t just another job.[/color]