Motor City Burning
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Before Bees, Booze

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Before Bees, Booze

Post by Tehrat on Sat May 21, 2011 1:30 pm

Upon arriving at Donahue's place, Sara shed her coat and sank gratefully into the sofa. "You got a beer?" she paused. "Or two? Y'know, this is the last fucking time I eat out. Some shit always goes down." She half turns, without giving Donahue a chance to respond. "Do I have a sign anywhere on me saying 'get me to kick your ass'?"

"Yeah, there's always beer in the fridge," Donahue snorted as he limped out of the kitchen, holding a cold bottle. "And not the last time I checked. What the fuck happened to you, Lawrence? You sounded like you were seriously fucked up on the phone." He eased himself into the chair with some effort and lit a cigarette.

"No, fucked is what happened afterward- well, more fucked more like." She moved from the couch into the kitchen and grabbed a beer, cracking it as she walked back into the living room. Sara took a long swig first, relieved to sate her parched throat. "...Someone got a bit too frisky with someone, and I stepped in to sort 'em out..."

"As you do, yeah," Donahue breathed out through his teeth. "So, what, barfight, some guy hitting on a girl, what?" He picked up the bottle and swallowed more of the sweet, sweet booze, the cigarette hooked between his fingers.

"More like...the pimp getting pissed with his hooker. Anyway, another fight broke out once the cops left with the pimp. Some douche got himself kidnapped in front of me," Sara added darkly, and took another swig of the beer.

Donahue grimaced. "Shit, that's a fucked up day," he said, inhaling off the cigarette. "But... that don't sound to me like the sort of thing to send a Special Forces, Black Ops, Son of a bitch Captain into my doorway."

"It seemed like a good idea to...lay low for a few hours," Sara remarked as if it was the most casual thing in the world. "They were prepared, and it leaves me a little bit suspicious."

Donahue frowned. "You think maybe they were after both of you?" The scarred, slightly underweight man looked concerned.

Sara paused, uncertain. "Yeah. Maybe. They seemed pretty eager, s'all I'm saying."

Donahue grimaced. "You wanna watch yourself Lawrence. Sounds like some organised crime shit you've stumbled into, and you're no good to anyone wearing fucking cement shoes." He ran a hand back through his short-cropped hair.

"I'll be sure to stay away from cement," Sara grunted in response. Truth was, she was concerned. She had the meeting with the priest tomorrow, and the near-miss lady. Hopefully this Chris guy was on the level, or she was going to need to get rid of a body.

"Yeah, you do that, Lawrence. I don't wanna see you on the news at ten," Donahue shook his head. "You gonna get the cops involved? This sounds like something you should be reporting the fuck out of."

Sara paused, but ultimately nodded. "Unlikely. These are toes they don't want to step on," she answered meaningfully. It was mostly the truth. She was quite sure Donahue wouldn't believe the actual truth. It was just too fucked up.

Donahue wondered if this was the edge of something supernatural, or if this was just a glimmer of organised crime in Detroit. Either of them seemed likely. "Fuck. Bent cops? I fucking hate people who do that sort of shit." He growled, knocking the rest of his booze back. "Well, you're always welcome here, Lawrence. Any time."

Despite her pemt up frustration, Sara gave a quick smile and nodded. "Thanks," she answered and raised her can. "You didn't need to. I know you need your beauty sleep."

"Yeah," Donahue said a little sourly. "You try sleeping with my Goddamn roommates. They think they're in a fucking frat-house, I swear. Well, the guy does. The girl never leaves her Goddamn room. She's up there right now, playing on some Nintendo thing."

Sara gave a quick smirk. "Nintendo...thing? Eh, maybe you should take 'em out to the shooting range," she grinned wickedly.

"What, are you fucking kidding me? The girl'd be all 'Uhhh, this ain't realistic, everyone knows guns don't have recoil, gawd.'," Donahue said, in a passable valley girl accent, his thin lips curling in a sneer. "As for the guy, he's too fucking drunk to be anywhere near a gun. I'd be glad to get rid of 'em, but they do pay their rent." He felt a sting of guilt at slagging off his team, but they weren't supposed to be a team, and he couldn't tell Sara a thing about TFV. Which meant Mike and Laura were just his annoying housemates. Which meant he didn't like them. Anything else would've been suspicious.

"Sounds like they need to be kicked into reality," Sara nodded sagely. She wouldn't have been able to tolerate people with that sort of mindset. She had a shortfuse for idiocy as it was, without rooming with people like that 24/7. "I'm surprised you haven't shot 'em already." She stretched languidly and relaxed against the couch.

"Feh, I told you. I need the fuckin' money. And at least they stay outta my way, y'know?" Donahue grumbled as he stubbed out the butt of his cigarette. "Want one?" He offered Sara the packet.

Sara studied the packet of smokes, and reluctantly shook her head. "Nah. I've been trying to quit - apparently it's better for your health." Seemed to her that getting kidnapped was far more dangerous these days.

"Suit yourself. I figure it'll be the stuff they have me on for the hips that'll kill me before lung cancer," Donahue said, shaking out another cigarette and lighting it up. It was a small pleasure, but everyone had to have at least one vice.

"You just need something to grumble about," Sara replied, her tone light. She ran a hand through her hair, contemplating the events of today. "I'll need a ride tomorrow, if you don't mind. To St. Jude's."

"Yeah, I don't mind. I got some stuff on in the afternoon; gotta see my shrink again. Guy needs to find out if I've flipped out and hidden bodies in my basement since last week," Donahue rolled his eyes. "What a douche, right?"

"Yeah-," Sara paused for dramatic effect. "The basement is a very cliche place to hide bodies. You're a lot more inventive than that."

"If I wanted someone dead," Donahue said, pushing the cigarette to the side of his mouth with his tongue. "If I really, really wanted to kill someone, I'd just shoot him from a few blocks away in broad daylight."

Sara nodded. "And that's why it's good to have you on a team." They were both exceedingly good at what they did.

Donahue shrugged. "Nah, I'm retired now. You know how it goes. I'm not an asset anymore," he grinned wryly. "Besides, you're the bigshot musclehead. I'm just a boring Army Sniper, only made Sergeant, no fucking epic decorations here. Well, except my Purple Hearts, 'course."

"Don't knock it," Sara chided, with a swift shake of her head. "And stop being modest, it doesn't suit you."

Donahue raised an eyebrow. "And since when did I need you to rub my ego, you fucking blunt instrument?"

Sara rolled her eyes. "I'm just saying," she stated calmly. She downed the rest of the can, and slipped it onto the coffee table.

Donahue shrugged, and fell silent for a few moments. "How's the transition going for you? You landed a job yet?"

Absently a finger circled the rim of the can, and she shrugged. "Not yet. I'm taking classes. Cooking classes." Sara tossed him a warning glance. "And no wisecracks either."

"Yeah? Good for you," Donahue said with a little shrug. "Everyone likes a chef."

"I happen to be pretty good at it, too," Sara acknowledged, with a hint of pride in her tone. "Only taken a few classes so far, but I have a knack, you know?"

"That's pretty cool, yeah. You planning on setting up your own place?" Donahue said curiously. "The guys down at the VA'd probably want to come."

"Maybe, but you lot aren't invited," Sara said, her expression showing she was clearly joking. "Squaddies, y'know... you guys trash joints."

Donahue snorted. "Same to you, you bitch," he grumbled, shaking his head in faux-outrage."Like we'd want to hang out at your stuck-up place." He blew out smoke.

Sara gave a barking laugh. "Donahue, I'll send you tickets in the post. If, y'know, I ever manage to open up my own joint."

Donahue gave a wry smile and blew out smoke. "It better have a smoking section."

"I'll give you a Goddamn smoking section. You can smoke like a chimney for all I care," Sara said with a grin. "You'll have to come 'round. I'll show you the stuff I've been learning. And if it's terrible, we can order Pizza instead."

Donahue nodded. "Sure. It's a date," he said with a short laugh. "I'll look forwards to the pizza."

Sara nodded. "Cool. Hey, mind if I use your PC?"

Donahue shrugged. "Not at all, knock yourself out." He sat back comfortably, smoking the rest of his cigarette.

"Thanks," Sara nodded, and headed to check out that weird reporter on the PC.


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