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last online Apr 20, 2024 7:16:09 GMT -7
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Aug 30, 2018 18:55:09 GMT -7
Post by Deleted on Aug 30, 2018 18:55:09 GMT -7
IF THERE WAS ONE THING FOR CERTAIN, ELLIOT was a stone cold professional. He just... didn't always look like one. More than once, he had been mistaken for some low level intern. Or worse, a courier. But, that was just because he didn't believe in suits and ties. People who wore them always gave off the overwhelming impression of over-compensating. Like, those fancy hooks with engraved broomsticks, but apparated in to bed at night.
No matter the occasion, one would often always find Elliot in a ratty jumper, and jeans that were split at the knee - and not for the purpose of fashion. Even at work, while chided to begin with, they had long since given up on Elliot's 'personal image'. He was already a senior assistant, so his stubbornness was obviously apparent. He still stayed late every night, still looked over each and every article that passed through his desk. Recently, however, Elliot had had other reasons to stay late. He checked articles once, twice and three times. Setting aside the ones that might be useful. And every time he did, he felt guiltier and guiltier. It was fair to say, he wasn't sleeping well.
With a sigh, Elliot pushed away from his desk, pulling his headphones from his ears and shucking his hood off the top of his head. The office was dead, so quiet he could hear his own heartbeat, Everybody had left, even the Chief. Or, so it appeared as he stacked his papers, setting some in the to-go bin and others in a locked drawer in his desk. The key lived around his neck, so warded that it didn't even swing when he walked.
Exiting his office, Elliot pulled out his wand to kill the lights when he saw a singular lamp set over a desk on the main floor. It was in a familiar spot, one he had walked by almost every day. Beatrice Holmes. Quidditch extraordinaire. Ruthless bitch. Elliot made a beeline for her desk as he made to leave. The room was massive, rows and rows of desks, he could have gone many other, simpler ways. No, he had to pass her desk.
"What could... possibly be so pressing in the Qudditch community?" Elliot murmured, ducking his head to catch Beatrice's eye as he stopped to lean against her desks edge. "Did someone... insult the umpire...?" He asked, looking up at the ceiling as if in thought. "Hand ball, maybe?" He misconstrued the intricacies of Quidditch on purpose, hoping for a reaction when he looked down and smirked at her expectantly. This was what they did. What they had always done.
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last online Apr 20, 2024 7:16:09 GMT -7
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Aug 31, 2018 10:41:51 GMT -7
Post by Deleted on Aug 31, 2018 10:41:51 GMT -7
Beatrice was lost in a world of Quidditch and classic rock. Being the only witch in a family of Muggles, Bea had always embraced some of the past times of her parents that some of her fellow witches and wizards didn’t understand. Today for instance, she had been in a Rolling Stones mood, so she had snapped on her noise-cancelling headphones and jammed out while compiling all of her research into one notebook. Her piece on the pre-season had been well received both by her editor and the public, and she was excited to be back in the swing of writing her game recaps. Today’s match had been the Wimbourne Wasps vs the Appleby Arrows, bitter rivals whose hatred dated back decades ago. The match had gone on for almost three hours, with about thirty fouls in between. It was almost like she was back watching Gryffindor versus Slytherin at school, with a certain boy whose name she refused to think of racing around on his flashy broomstick, spotting her in a crowd and winking at her before he was off again in a flash of green. No, she wouldn’t get distracted! She was already here late enough as it was with the late finish of the game. Not that she technically had any plans after this; it was a Tuesday after all. Likely, a glass of red wine and some television awaited her in her loft flat in Southeast London.
Annoyingly, she was jared from her work by an irritatingly familiar voice, somehow penetrating through her headphones. With a scoff, she lifted her headphones off of her ears and glared up at the source of the intrusion. Elliot Nader, the worlds’ biggest prat. He was a year younger than her, and somehow HE had been promoted to Senior Assistant Editor! Fortunately, he was not her specific editor, or Bea might have quit on the spot. “Only the match of the two hottest, and biggest rivaled teams in the entire league,” she told him sardonically, rolling his eyes as he got the terminology incorrect. He was doing it on purpose to annoy her, of course, as he always did. She never let him get fully under her skin though….well, not in THAT way at least. “The match had a total of thirty fouls over the course of three hours, forgive me if it doesn’t take me thirty seconds to write up,” she added with a sarcastic smirk. She eyed him; was it just the dim light playing tricks, or did Elliot look more exhausted than usual? “What about you - did your investigative skills finally dig up a personality for you to convey to your minions?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at his late presence.
@elliot
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last online Apr 20, 2024 7:16:09 GMT -7
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Sept 5, 2018 17:36:57 GMT -7
Post by Deleted on Sept 5, 2018 17:36:57 GMT -7
PERCHED EASILY ON THE EDGE OF BEA'S DESK Elliot pretended to nod his head emphatically. Of course she had something serious to attend to. And of course it sounded as pressing as her tone valiantly conveyed. Except it definitely didn't. Elliot had never understood the need for a sports section at the Daily Prophet, he'd told Bea that the first time he'd ever met her. That was, perhaps, the definition of 'starting off on the wrong foot'. He didn't dwell on it much.
"Sounds absolutely riveting..." He replied, reaching over to snatch a paperweight from her desk, he tossed it in to the air easily, catching it one-handed. "Spare me the details," He said, brows pulled together as he made a show of waving her off. "I'll be sure not to read it in tomorrow's addition." It was quite rude of him, but he never meant it to be as such, and perhaps he was using her a little bit. His days felt far less longer these days if he had some kind of distraction. Bea was his best work-related distraction yet.
Tossing the paperweight up again, Elliot watched it sail so close to the ground that he had to bend and catch it at the last minute. It brought him dangerously close to Bea's face, her sweet shampoo itching the inside of his nose as he smiled at her thinly. "Jury's still out on that one," He said snarkily, straightening as he dropped the weight back on to her desk with a careless thud.
"Though, I hear there's a ground-breaking discovery about the broom handle stuck up your arse." Pushing off from Bea's desk with an insolent grin, Elliot turned to stroll a step backwards, in no hurry to leave all of a sudden. "C'mon, Bea, your wee eyes are turning square." He said, and this time his voice was much softer. "Get the fuck outta here before the sun rises." He cocked his head impatiently, untucking one hand from his pocket to wave behind him theatrically, but he was still waiting on her. "C'mon, before I change my mind."
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last online Apr 20, 2024 7:16:09 GMT -7
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Sept 6, 2018 12:27:04 GMT -7
Post by Deleted on Sept 6, 2018 12:27:04 GMT -7
Beatrice knew Elliot had about as much interest in Quidditch as she did in politics; less than zero. Still, he always liked to annoy her, especially when she was hard at work. “Pity,” she responded, scratching out a sentence she had written a few minutes ago, deciding it didn’t fit with the angle she was going for. When she looked up, his face was mere inches from hers; with just one swift move she could lean forward and decidedly make him stop talking. She refrained however, and glared at him as he brought the paperweight up. “I’ll thank you to not play with that, my mother gave it to me as a present when I first started here,” she snapped, snatching the paperweight away and setting it down far away from his reach. Bea could feel her temper flare as Elliot insinuated where a broomstick was shoved up; her fingers clenched into fists as she glowered. “Funny, I was hearing one was shoved up yours in the break room the other day,” she shot back, unclenching her fists as she breathed heavily inward through her nose, then out through her mouth. She was thankful Nova had reappeared in her life as her best friend had reminded her to breathe whenever she was feeling angry. Which, around this particular Junior Editor in Chief, happened a lot.
Bea took her eyes off him when she noticed his voice go soft. She hated when he did that; it made him seem much more human than she believed he was. Not responding right away, she wrote down a few more sentences in her recap before finally raising her gaze up to meet his. “No,” she said flatly, jerking her head towards the paper in front of her. “I’m on a deadline to get this in for the morning edition. Something you’d know if you actually recognized how fast paced the world of Quidditch was.” Really, he used to be an investigative reporter; didn’t he remember how deadlines worked? “Or are you too good for deadlines now?” she taunted, her voice raising a challenge to him that she knew he’d likely accept.
@elliot
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last online Apr 20, 2024 7:16:09 GMT -7
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Sept 12, 2018 10:12:49 GMT -7
Post by Deleted on Sept 12, 2018 10:12:49 GMT -7
THOUGH ELLIOT'S EARS WERE IN PERFECT WORKING order, he still pretended not to hear as he dropped Bea's precious paperweight back on to her desk, the only indication that he'd heard her being the slight roll of his eyes and shake of his head. Bea was the sentimental type, with pictures and knick-knacks on her desk. Like she wasn't in an office filled with other people who could see that rubbish.
"What I do and don't do in the break room is none of your business." Elliot said, tenting one brow as he cast her a challenging look. "Or, maybe you're just jealous nobody invited you along." Kissing his teeth, he stood up from her desk. But, this was how things always were between him and Bea. They bickered, it was their thing. That didn't mean he wanted her to walk out of the building on to the streets in the pitch black. What if something happened to her? With a huff, Elliot almost turned and left. Though, he was half way around when he changed his mind.
"Fine." He said, retreating for a moment to his office where he grabbed a roll of paperS and his easy-ink quill. He stopped at some nameless journalists desk on his way back, looping an ankle around his chair leg and dragging it loudly across the floor to Bea's desk. "I can wait." With a shrug and a little smile, he didn't break eye contact as he licked the end of his quill and unrolled a small piece of parchment. "I have some owl's to answer, anyway." With a solemn nod, he pressed the tip of his quill to paper. "Wouldn't want the riff-raff thinking I'm too good for a deadline."
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last online Apr 20, 2024 7:16:09 GMT -7
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Sept 24, 2018 12:53:30 GMT -7
Post by Deleted on Sept 24, 2018 12:53:30 GMT -7
Beatrice sniffed haughtily. “I am perfectly well aware of what you get up to in the break room Nader,” she said huffily. Obviously, she knew what went on back there; she had been privy to it much to her surprise on more than one occasion. It was as if in that room, she wasn’t Beatrice Holmes, star Quidditch reporter, always perfectly on her deadlines even if it meant writing and editing until the wee hours of the morning. She’d never admit it to Elliot, but it usually helped release the tension she carried in her neck and upper back. If he ever asked, she’d credit it to her weekly yoga class her mothers best friend taught by her parent’s home. Besides, what happened in the breakroom stayed in the breakroom, and she wasn’t about to bend that rule - especially not for HIM. Thankfully, he seemed more than happy to adhere to this agreement.
Beatrice outwardly rolled her eyes at him. “Do I really look that delicate to you?” she demanded, furrowing her eyebrows at him and fixing a pointed glare in his direction. “I may be short, but I do pack a mean left hook.” Bea cracked her knuckles as if to prove a point. Granted, she had never been in the situation before where she needed to defend herself, but she did take a krav maga class for a few months last year. Or was it the year before? Either way, Beatrice was a skilled witch, and could easily handle a would-be mugger, in her opinion. “You just keep quiet over there so I can concentrate,” she told him sternly, before turning back to her article. As if to drive the point home, she stuck her headphones back on and went back to work.
Thankfully, Beatrice had honed her practice of laser focus over the years, and was soon done with her recap. With a wave of her wand, she sent the article to the sports editors desk, and meandered her way over to Elliot’s desk, her headphones still on. Now it was her turn to annoy him, she thought smugly as she hopped onto his desk, crossing her legs as she looked down on him. “What is the great editor answering so late at night? Are you secretly the advice columnist as well?” she asked, smirking at the idea.
@elliot
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last online Apr 20, 2024 7:16:09 GMT -7
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Sept 30, 2018 12:49:49 GMT -7
Post by Deleted on Sept 30, 2018 12:49:49 GMT -7
BEATRICE WAS SO STUBBORN SHE COULDN'T even look at Elliot as she sniffed, nose in the air. To any outsider, she looked like a miffed, prim little woman. Elliot knew otherwise, because there were a few reasons Beatrice knew exactly what Elliot got up to, but usually it was because she was there. He smirked at her mask of judgement and decided just then that he wasn't through with her tonight.
Scraping the chair across the floor, Elliot threw himself in to it and began arranging the pieces of parchment the desk. He shot Bea a funny look as she spoke, looking back at his parchment with an easy shrug as he replied, "Sometimes." He licked the end of his easy ink quill and began scribbling, laughing under his breath as he imagined her left hook. Though, he wasn't sticking around because he thought she was delicate. "I know you do." He said quietly, smiling down at his papers as he wrote a reply to a wizard due to be featured in an upcoming piece.
Eventually, Elliot set his quill down in his lap and looked up, his cheeks creased reluctantly as she shook his head at her in disbelief and gestured with both hands, "Hey, I'm not the one who keeps talking." And then he tilted his head, shook it at her in challenge and then went back to work. The sound of his quill scraping and the soft buzz of her lamp was all he heard for quite some time. He was rolling up his last note, an encrypted message for Ouroboros, when he heard the soft patter of feet.
Swiftly, Elliot sat back in his seat and watched Bea approach his desk, finishing the notes roll with a tie and tucking it in to his pocket. He cocked a brow at her when she slid on his desk this time, though there was something a lot more provocative about the way she did it. He squared his shoulder, tonguing his cheek as he ran his eyes from her primly crossed legs, up at her smug little smile. "Something like that," He smirked, leaning forward in his seat. Unable to stop himself, he instinctively reached for her, a hand wrapping around the soft curve of her calf as he narrowed his eyes at her. "Why, have you got a question for me?"
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last online Apr 20, 2024 7:16:09 GMT -7
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Oct 3, 2018 8:57:13 GMT -7
Post by Deleted on Oct 3, 2018 8:57:13 GMT -7
Beatrice eyed the hand on her calf, trying to ignore the unintended shiver that shot up her body from it. “No, merely curious as to why on earth anyone would ever come to you for advice,” she said with a slight scoff. Elliot was a damn good journalist, not that Beatrice would ever admit that out loud, but she never really saw him as the advice giving type. No, he was more the type to give orders, adhere to the deadlines he so meticulously set. He was very much like….well, her in the professional sense. She tucked her shoulder length brown hair behind her ears and sighed. “Well, now that I’m finished, I don’t want you to be left to your own devices from the things that go bump in the night outside,” she added, flashing him an award-winning smile. Her ex used to say her smile could melt a thousand hearts, and she happened to think it was a pretty decent one.
Hopping off his desk, Bea straightened her skirt before turning back to face him. “I think I left my coffee mug in the sink of the break room. I’d best go wash it before I leave,” she said with a small smirk. She turned slowly, her hips swaying side to side as she knew Elliot was watching her retreat towards the small break room. Opening the door, the lights automatically came on. Her coffee mug was in the room as usual, but it was by the sink, already perfectly washed and dry. Bea was quite meticulous when it came to washing dishes, as it had been her assigned household chore as a child. Her mother had hated piles of dirty dishes in the sink, so after dinner Bea had hopped up onto the bright pink stool her father had crafted for her and helped her mother dry all the dishes. Many people found dishwashing to be a nuisance, but Bea found it rather soothing. She stood by the sink, drumming her fingertips against the formica countertops, her ears straining to hear any noise of approaching footsteps.
@elliot
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last online Apr 20, 2024 7:16:09 GMT -7
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Oct 20, 2018 14:06:50 GMT -7
Post by Deleted on Oct 20, 2018 14:06:50 GMT -7
LOOKING AWAY, ELLIOT COULDN'T HELP BUT laugh. Bea had an answer for everything, it was actually quite impressive. She was better at answering than questioning, Elliot thought her skills were far better suited in politics instead of ditty little Quidditch articles. "Beats me," He muttered, rubbing a smile from his face without success. He watched her keenly as she sat back and pushed her brown hair behind one ear, almost chasing it with his own hand but abstaining.
"I do have a few enemies..." Elliot said with a smirk, though it had nothing on her 1000 watt smile, but he saw past it. She was good at painting on the perfect face and he thought himself impervious to her charms, but he of course was not. He just liked to think as much as he watched her hop from his desk and back out with the kind of swagger that begged to be followed. He almost told himself he wouldn't. This time he would just let her walk away thinking she was a winner.
Though no sooner had she turned the corner away from his office was Elliot on his feet, forcing himself to follow her slowly as he locked up the owl's he was yet to send and commanded the lights off before locking the door behind him. It was all about privacy these days. But, it was all forgotten as he entered the break room, lingering by the door as he watched her rear, the tinkling of a glass in the sink the only sound.
When he closed the space between them it was like tightening the tension on a rubber band. The closer they were, the thicker the atmosphere. He could hear his own breathing. He stopped at her back, reaching out to grab the counter close enough that his arm flexed at her side. His chin dipped to press against her shoulder, just the lightest brush as his other hand landed on her hip. "You done?" He said gruffly, though not at all in a rush to leave.
Without waiting for an answer, Elliot spun Bea towards him, the space between them non existent as he dipped his chin, one hand reaching up to palm her cheek as he pulled their lips together swiftly, not giving himself a chance to second guess himself. It was a familiar dance they had done many times before. In the break room, the office dead around them, just the smell of her sweet perfume and the ink on his fingertips. He pressed them against her pulse as he pulled her in to him.
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last online Apr 20, 2024 7:16:09 GMT -7
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Oct 23, 2018 9:28:12 GMT -7
Post by Deleted on Oct 23, 2018 9:28:12 GMT -7
Beatrice was beginning to wonder how long Elliot would make her wait - she was not a patient person after all - but then heard the door open behind her. “Finally, I was…” she began impertinently, but she wasn’t given a chance to answer. Elliots’ lips were on hers and words no longer mattered. Digging her fingers into his back, Bea hopped up on the counter and wrapped her legs around his waist. This was the time for their alter-egos to come out; nobody (to their knowledge) knew that what was happening was even a possibility, and certainly not how often it happened. Beatrice didn’t quite know exactly how it began, but she did know it made her feel....wild, something she hadn’t realized she was capable of feeling. That was what Elliot did to her, and as they became one Bea let herself give into the here and now, where nothing else mattered. She was just glad there was nobody else in the building.
Later, Beatrice smoothed out her grey sweater dress, tying back her hair that had become damp with sweat. No marks could be seen by the naked eye; that had been agreed upon after the first time this had happened, when Bea had to wear a scarf around her neck for a week after. “Well you certainly put up a good argument,” she commented after she had regained her breath, letting out a bark of a laugh despite herself. She inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. “Right, I think I coud use a drink,” she declared, letting her eyes flick back over to Elliot. “There’s a Muggle pub down the street, makes a good stiff gin and tonic,” she suggested lightly. Beatrice was a regular at Muggle owned public houses and distilleries; she kept to her Muggleborn roots and this way she was less likely to run into many wizards who may ask questions, about her job, her teams’ players. Or her coworkers.
@elliot
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last online Apr 20, 2024 7:16:09 GMT -7
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Nov 14, 2018 11:59:34 GMT -7
Post by Deleted on Nov 14, 2018 11:59:34 GMT -7
THIS WAS NOT THE FIRST TIME ELLIOT AND BEA had made good use of the break room. It wasn't even the second. The supple feeling of Bea's thigh was familiar to Elliot as he slid a familiar hand up and under her skirt. It wasn't supposed to happen, they rarely stopped to breathe between bickering arguments, but Elliot never complained. Every once and a while their differences were set aside in favour of the snapping tension between them. And for a short while, they were equals.
There was sweat still beading on Elliot's brow as Bea smoothed down her hair. He smirked, satisfied that it had been his hands that had ruined her sleek arrangement. He buckled his belt one-handed while leaning back against the counter. "I usually do," He drawled, snorting lightly, his teeth poking over his bottom lip as he ran them across it roughly. He could still taste the wax of her lipstick.
Reality was beginning to seep back in to their bubble of peace and Elliot expected Bea to disappear before it truly popped. She had a way with exits. "Mm," He said, containing surprise when instead she declared that she could use a drink. Elliot had to admit, it was a pretty good offer, but it wasn't typical one and he couldn't help the slight narrowing of his eyes.
"Just can't get enough of me, eh?" He said with a salacious grin, pushing off from the counter and stopping beside her. "Lead the way then, first rounds on you." He winked at her, the distance between them odd and a little cold after being so close just moments before. Especially when he could still taste her on the tip of his tongue.
Holding the break room door open for her, Elliot let it close behind him and thought again about the various owl's he had waiting for delivery. Important owls. "You go ahead," He said biting the tip of his thumb as he lingered in the hallway. "I'll meet you at the door." Hands stuffed in to his pockets, no offer for her to come along with him. "Just got to grab something from my office."
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last online Apr 20, 2024 7:16:09 GMT -7
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Nov 19, 2018 9:53:20 GMT -7
Post by Deleted on Nov 19, 2018 9:53:20 GMT -7
Beatrice scoffed and rolled her eyes. “In your dreams, Nader,” she said disdainfully. She made her way back to her desk and packed her things into her tote bag she carried day in and day out. Buttoning her peacoat to the top, she stuffed the ends of her scarf into her collar, wincing slightly at the fresh marks Elliot had made during their liaison. Bloody idiot, she thought to herself. They had agreed to not leave marks on each other when this tryst had started all those months ago, but it appeared today that Elliot had been unable to help himself. Thank Merlin for magical ointments.
He mentioned needing to grab something from his office and Beatrice threw back that she’d give him three minutes before leaving. Already she was starting to regret the idea of inviting him to join her for a drink. This wasn’t their thing; their thing was to argue and snip at each other and losing themselves in purely carnal pleasures every once in awhile when nobody else was around to bother them. So why had she done it? Why had she suggested they go get a drink after? It wasn’t as if Beatrice had ever gone out on her own for a drink after - in fact, it was a bit of a ritual for her. It must have been something in the way he said he didn’t think she should go out on her own after dark - yes, that had to be it. News of the Muggles being killed mysteriously had likely not gone unnoticed by the young senior editor, and there was a rumor the editor himself had received a letter from someone claiming to be the killer. If Elliot knew about that, then she supposed it was in her best interest to listen to him.
Beatrice checked her watch and saw that four minutes had passed. “Are you ready to go? It’s dark out and I know you don’t want me walking around on my own,” she called in the direction of his office, trying not to gag at the idea of being a damsel in distress. Bea was quite capable of handling herself in spots of trouble, thank you very much. She tapped her foot impatiently; what on earth was so important that Elliot had to handle it at this time of evening?
@elliot
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last online Apr 20, 2024 7:16:09 GMT -7
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Dec 20, 2018 14:53:41 GMT -7
Post by Deleted on Dec 20, 2018 14:53:41 GMT -7
CAREFULLY TUCKING A FEW CODED RESPONSES in to a pocket on the inside of his jacket, Elliot wondered briefly if it was smart to allow himself to be side-tracked by Beatrice. She had a way of muddling his brain, and he really couldn't afford to be anything but in top form as of late. In a moments notice he could be discovered, or something could happen. Those were the kind of trying times they had entered, and it was sobering.
And yet, Elliot still jogged to catch up to Beatrice at the door. Her voice drawing him out, bringing him back from the brink of changing his mind. "Are you going to beat that gag until it's dead?" He sighed, slowing at her side at the mouth of the elevator. "We both know the scariest thing on those streets at night is you after a double." He quirked his brows and reached up to flick her nose as he pressed the button to pull the old, brass gate back so they could step inside the elevator.
Elliot hopped inside before Beatrice could retaliate, a devilish grin on his face. It was easy when they were trading barbs. That way he didn't have to think about the fact that they were screwing on company property. Or, about the letters burning a hole where he'd tucked them close to his heart. "C'mon, stop wasting my time, Holmes." He teased, beckoning her with a tilt of his chin, leaning back against the faraway wall of the elevator as the doors pinged closed and shot downward to the ground floor.
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last online Apr 20, 2024 7:16:09 GMT -7
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Jan 2, 2019 13:40:38 GMT -7
Post by Deleted on Jan 2, 2019 13:40:38 GMT -7
Beatrice rolled her eyes at his approach. “Who says it’s going to die?” she retorted as she stepped quickly into the elevator before the door could shut. “And have you seen yourself after just a single shot? It’s maddening how close you get to people when you talk,” she added as the doors slid shut. Her stomach felt the slide as the elevator jolted to live and brought them down towards the ground floor. She had never told anyone, and she certainly wasn’t about to divulge this to Elliot of all people, but her biggest fear was being stuck in an elevator. It was completely irrational, especially because she was a witch, but it still lingered within her.
Bea looked over at Elliot, eyebrow raised. Oh, wasting his time was she? Well, there were no cameras in the elevator. With a smirk, Bea slid over to Elliot and pressed herself up against him, so his back flattened against the wall of the elevator. Her hands traced the waistline of his pants as she leaned in, so close she could see each lash clearly. “Would you say this is wasting your time?” she whispered softly, biting her lower lip and looking him straight in the eye. The door dinged, and Bea stepped back, no sign of what she had just done. “The place is round the corner,” she called over her shoulder as she left the elevator.
They walked outside and down the street before entering the pub Beatrice had decided to go that evening. It was crowded, but they were able to manage snaking two empty seats next to each other, as someone was getting up to leave as they walked in. Beatrice wouldn’t have minded just one seat; Elliot could stand just fine. Tossing her hair over her shoulders, she ordered a gin and tonic before looking at the man sitting next to her. “This first rounds on me, but anything else you’ll have to get yourself,” she told him primly, crossing her legs and accepting the drink from the bartender graciously.
@elliot
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last online Apr 20, 2024 7:16:09 GMT -7
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Feb 4, 2019 9:04:43 GMT -7
Post by Deleted on Feb 4, 2019 9:04:43 GMT -7
DESPITE HER ATTEMPTS TO HIT BACK AT HIM, Elliot knew his tolerance was better than hers by a mile. They'd already done that race before and it was one he felt comfortable she'd lost. "Aye right!" He snapped, barking a loud and disrespecting laugh. "You wish." He retorted childishly, nudging her with his arm as they settled in to the elevator. It sizzled with tension, as any room often did when they were left alone. Or, maybe that was just Elliot. He got off on their petty little arguments, and as much as he knew she'd deny it, so did Beatrice.
Though it shouldn't have surprised Elliot when Beatrice sidled up against him, he still caught his breath. She was brave in private, and he liked it, a growing smirk on his face as her mischievous hand wandered across his waistband. "Maybe," He said softly, leaning down just as she pulled away from him and left him cold, punctuated by the elevator doors pinging back open. "Tease," He hissed in her wake, his face scrunched up as he surreptitiously readjusted himself and she left him behind in the elevator. He followed after her, as he was often left doing.
The pub she led them to was unfamiliar to Elliot, which he preferred. He suspected Beatrice would clam up if they were caught doing anything but bickering, but he didn't mind so much. Shrugging out of his coat, he laid it on the back of his seat and sat with a small laugh. "Generous," He quipped, crossing his arms as he ordered himself a pint of pale ale and turned half-way towards her. "So..." He said, his brows lifting as he smiled at her slightly. "Guess I'm not that bad after all."
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