dartwright

[dartwright]

// splatoon's got me by the ear, but i'm free from ranked battle hell and i get to do replies tonight <3

[dartwright]

COMMANDER REINEL·:

He’s definitely taking in the sight of the old injuries, even if it’s just from the corner of his eye while he takes something else from the duffel bag on the floor and shoves it beneath the pillow where he’ll be sleeping.

The country’s strict gun laws didn’t keep officers from being shot at, he knew that much, but the amount of healed scars littering Blaine’s form, ones that looked to much like his own, was surprising and had him wondering about the detective even more.

Was he unlucky or too slow?

“That’s about the only thing Sasha is good for, seeing as he didn’t care much about your, ah, entrance then.”

His accent jumps out with the name, said more traditionally, and he allows himself to wonder how badly said dog was bothering his neighbor right then.

“You aren’t handsy in your sleep, are you?” he remarked, back into the air of lighthearted teasing, standing up to pull on the matching sleep pants.

Heh, what a nice dog. Sasha was a change of pace from a guard dog or two recalled in Blaine's memories. The Agonni family owned large hounds dedicated to protecting their family from potential hits, but that was a time where Blaine needed to sneak around. He's no longer in his prime, so he quietly thanks Sasha for minding its business.

Blaine sits back down in his chair after getting fully clothed, stretching his legs out.

He silently gasps, narrowing his eyes. "What do you mean by... No, of course not! I tend to keep my hands to myself, thank you very much."

He'll never admit to blanket-hogging, a coldblooded detective needs his warmth.

[dartwright]

@s-pecter

"How disappointing, though I suppose it wouldn't do for you to be spreading fingerprints."

"Tch, certainly. I can't be mistaken for murder during an investigation."

[dartwright]

[ re: rumor meme ] I've heard a rumor that you don't actually have hands, under those gloves. While far-fetched, if it's true I'd love to take a gander at your prosthetics.

the rumor mill - [ ill add the link here later ]

"Ah, ah, ah. That's wrong. They aren't prosthetics, I like to stay clean and it wouldn't help if I dirtied my actual hands with grimey detective-work."

[dartwright]

COMMANDER REINEL·:

The choking scent of Blaine’s cologne had flooded the room like a wave the moment he’d entered before, mingling with the smell of a freshly lit cigarette that clung to Bronev; all in all, a bit nauseating- he had half a mind to light another, but this wasn’t a smoking room.

He’d keep to that moral until stress or annoyance pushed him past it anyway.

With the comment, he paused, just briefly, the muscles in his back coming to a still to show that despite his age, he was very physically fit, and he had definitely heard Blaine’s whispered exclamation.

“Forgive my presumption this was fine; I’m unused to sharing quarters.”

He slipped the sweatshirt on over his head, brushing his hair out from the collar, and glanced back over his shoulder at the detective as if he was expecting something else.

Wrinkling his nose, Blaine hunches over and fidgets with his gloves while sparing a glance at Bronev. 

“Good grief, you’re alright. I was simply caught off-guard.” And he was wrong to. He’s participated in his own fair share of gang wars and criminal violence, but the amount of collateral done to this old guy’s body over the years shows. He’s not messing with Bronev, period.

He’s careful to stand up and remove his suit in a swift manner, but his movements are messier than in his early youth. Blaine’s skin has some blots, healed gunshot wounds, and leftovers from experiencing the underworld. Most of the damage shows in his arms with clean slash marks and bullet grazes.

His gloves are never coming off.

Blaine changes into his striped Chanel pajamas, clearly bought firsthand, and folds everything onto the chair.

“It’s unlikely that I’d be sleeping with a loner. Do you even count as one? Ah, then again - you do have that dog.”

[dartwright]

COMMANDER REINEL·:

The irritation bleeding from Blaine’s voice only succeeds in eliciting a larger smirk. “Try not to miss me too much, when you depart.”

The clothes he sat on the bed were plain, a gray sweatshirt and soft matching trousers. Sure, it wasn’t exactly on par with the outfit the detective produced, which earned him a snort, but it looked comfortable enough.

Bronev unbuttoned his vest, apparently not seeing any value in excusing himself from the room to do so, and the dress shirt he wore underneath quickly followed, exposing the expanse of his back he kept turned to the other.

Deep scars littered his shoulders, mauled skin that looked as if it had been burned in a few places even, and his upper left bore the titular icon of Targent, a two-faced bird with one eye. If a gaze was on him, he didn’t notice- or didn’t care.

“As if.” 

He needed to cool off after a hard day’s work of examining a corpse and sorting through evidence. Motherfucker stank, but Blaine’s wearing five layers of vanilla perfume to mask the scent of death. It was for his own sanity to spray a lot of it around.

(Now, he’s down to five bottles compared to the seven that he started with today.)

Catching sight of Bronev’s marks and the exposed brand boring down into him, Blaine stares and finally blinks once he’s understood what he’s looking at. He bites his lower lip, side-glancing over to the room’s wallpaper in the high hopes that things wouldn’t get awkward.

Blaine whispers, adjusting his cuffs. “... Oh, damn.”

He’s audible enough to be heard, though, Blaine’s not saying anything else.

[dartwright]

COMMANDER REINEL·:

“Oh, you’ve dropped the mister? I didn’t know we were that close, Dartwright.”

No more ‘detective’, it seems, and Bronev looks more than amused by it.

In his own bag, that he kept zipped and nudged halfway beneath the bed until he proceeded to search it for a change of clothes, he had the overnight necessities similar to Blaine, though buried at the bottom was the same gun he’d threatened the man with a few weeks prior.

“How long are you booked for this room? I myself have 3 nights- simply curious if we’ll need to be in each other’s company longer than just tonight.”

Blaine puffs, annoyed. “Stop it. I’d rather die than consider you my acquaintance, or even so, a friend. I’m only tolerating your presence, that’s all.”

He can’t pity the elderly when they’re in charge of a massive organization that’s stronger in power than the Yard. He yanks out his pajamas, proceeding to remove his fancy, leather shoes. They’re in need of an early morning cleaning, but that’ll be dealt with after waking up.

His eyes dart to the clock, then back to Bronev. “Only a night. I’ll be departing later after waking up. I’m on the move a lot, it’s needed as I’ve investigated a crime scene for the past few hours.”

Stressful, stressful work.

[dartwright]

COMMANDER REINEL·:

“I believe you think yourself more important of my time than you really are.” This was said laced with humor, though he was sure the detective wouldn’t take it that way- not that he particularly cared.

The room was finely decorated, a nice choice for the night if neither of them had to share. He claimed the left side of the bed, sitting his bag down next to it.

“What would those at Scotland Yard have to say, knowing the detective inspector was rooming with the Targent commander?” He seemed almost smug.

Blaine scowls at the old-timer, stretching out his arms. His own duffel bag is settled next to the chair he’s sat in, hands reaching down to unzip it. Necessary items such as his toothbrush, lenses cleaners, sleepwear, and everything needed to keep Blaine secure is right inside. He’s keeping the brass knuckles buried underneath everything else, that’s for emergencies.

“I wouldn’t test your luck tonight, Reinel,” he retorts. “If you’re set on humiliating the Yard’s kindest detective, it’s best to do so outside of the hotel room.”

[dartwright]

@ccmmander​ - continued from [ x ]

“Excuse me? You’re not going to slit my throat in my sleep, so there’s nothing to worry about.” 

There’s no way in Hell that he’s rooming with Bronev, but he’s rooming with Bronev. Blaine already spent his hard-earned cash on the hotel room - he’s not uncomfortable sharing it with an acquainted stranger. At the same time, he doesn’t know if he should keep the gloves on or off when asleep.

He shrugs, sitting down on a chair. “Me neither. Fate has it out for us.”

[dartwright]

// 技 if you'd like! i don't mind drawing urs in exchange, too <3

drawing muses | accepting

ok i. admittedly don't actually know your muse or his canon <<;; but i have to say his design was still fun to draw

also you don't have to draw mine in return, but i certainly won't say no to it if you really want to! `v`

[dartwright]

METEOR·:

“No need! I merely spoke truth!” Meteor admitted, keeping the joy present. He took his time to study the stranger’s reaction to the place itself, and him. It was as if he were confused, as if he found himself in a place he didn’t actually know about. Odd, as he didn’t seem like an adventurer.

“Uh, it’s… It’s in the North Sh- wait... Are you from Sharlayan, perhaps?” He did look like a man who’d like to read books and be diplomatic… or something. Maybe Alphinaud and Alisaie would recognize him! “That would explain your confusion! Did you arrive a few bells ago? I could help you set your footing!” Meteor was quick to extend his hand towards the other. 

“My name is Meteor! It’s a pleasure, sir!” 

This man’s kinder than his subordinates, maybe, he doesn’t have to completely understand someone’s intentions. Nothing ulterior, just... kindness. Blaine raises an eyebrow, clasping his hands together over his lap.

“Sh... Sharlayan?”, he asks. “Ah, no. I’m not from Sharlayan, good sir.”

The foreign word rolls on his tongue, Blaine doesn’t know if Sharlayan’s on Earth’s map - of course, it isn’t. He hadn’t studied geography past his secondary classes, but he’s educated enough to know this is... absolutely not his country.

(Or his world, for that matter.)

“I’m from London, England. It’s all the way in Europe, the large island sitting in the ocean. Regardless...”, he accepts Meteor’s handshake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Meteor. I’m Detective Blaine Dartwright.”

[dartwright]

“We have books.”

Though, Blaine couldn’t read any Hyuran scripture - almost, but barely. It resembles the Latin alphabet back at home, he wagered that it’ll take a few hours for him to completely learn how things work here. “Aether? I have no clue what that is. Back where I come from, magic is a fictional idea.”

Save for a few things, such as the Golden Garden or the gigantic bunker located out in the Monte d’Or desert. Those are scientific marvels that border on the idea of magic, in Blaine’s opinion. “We tend to rely more on technologies on Earth. It’s... peculiar.”

Magic exists and much more! @dartwright​ 

“I don’t know what’s got you so riled up!” To him, magic was just part of everyday life… It should be for everyone living in Eorzea and yet, this man was so baffled by his words. Did he come from a star that didn’t have magic, then? It would explain why he was so shocked and, if so, he needed to be careful with his words. 

“Uh… what other things don’t exist back at your… home? Do you have books? I don’t think so. I’m sure books would have told you about magic, if you had any. I suppose you don’t know about aether either, right?”

[dartwright]

“Hague has the wildest imagination, but he is my apprentice and if anything happens to him...”

“... There will be consequences.”

[dartwright]

Send a rumor your muse heard about mine and they will confirm if it's true or not!

[dartwright]

Pretty boy.

"Is this supposed to be an insult? I know I'm pretty. Thank you for the compliment, though."

[dartwright]

MR. REINEL·:

“To the best of my ability, yes.”

It’s very clear that Bronev doesn’t trust Blaine, there would be absolutely no reason to, and the stare-down he was giving him was easily detected, but this was his life’s work they were talking about. He thought he had a reason to be overprotective and the detective before him hadn’t exactly 0toved himself trustworthy thus far.

“Come in whenever you’d like then, Detective Dartwright, I’ll have one of my elites show you around the grounds and answer any questions you have.” Almost sounds too good to be true, but the offer is real, whether it’s poison-laced or not. He drummed his fingers on the counter, then pushed the chair back and stood.

“If you have any further concerns, don’t hesitate to reach out to me- I do believe my new address has been filed correctly with the Yard.” A pause; a sly smirk crossed his features. “But for the love of God, use the door next time.”

They’re not going to lock him in a basement and torture him. They’re not going to do that, Blaine. He deeply inhales, having trouble concentrating. “It’s no big deal, Mr. Reinel. I’ll be sure to stop by when I have a chance to.”

Preferably, during his off-shift hours. Nobody needed to know where he’s heading when he can intrude Targent’s headquarters on his own time. It wouldn’t be up to the Commissioner on whether or not he should leave, nay, Blaine is his own man and a made man, he is no longer.

He gives Bronev a polite half-smile and glances around the room, clasping his hands together. “... Aha, of course. The door. I never dreamt of it. Thank you for looking out for the Yard's greatest detective.”

[dartwright]

HAPPINESS. — being unable to stop smiling. laughter.  bear hugs. happy tears. waving arms around.  dancing. contently sighing. eyes twinkling. laugh lines.  childlike playfulness.   skipping. talking more.  affection.  cracking more jokes than usual.  gesturing more when talking. higher pitched voice.  squealing.  jumping around.  clapping.

SADNESS. — tearing up.   self hugging.  one-arm cross. an aching chest. scratchy throat.  a runny nose. turning away.  deep breaths. quivery smiles. crying. infantile sobbing.  hands gripping each other or an object.  covering mouth. puffy eyes. eyes appear red. voice breaking.  a distant or empty stare.  monotone voice. asking for comfort. faking a smile. crumbling. shaking. whimpering.  depression.  abusing an unhealthy habit. withdrawing from others. big teary eyes. doing something even if it could hurt them.

ANGER. — furrowed brows. baring teeth. passive-aggressive comments. avoiding eye contact. sarcasm.  headache. sore muscles. hiding clenched fists. irritability.  jumping to conclusions. raising voice. going silent. demanding immediate action. keeping it all in until exploding.  body tensing. making risky decisions.  middle finger.

FEAR. — wanting to flee or hide. what-ifs. images of what-could-be flashing in mind. uncontrollable trembling. rapid breathing. screaming. a skewed sense of time. irritability. keeping silent. denying fear. turning away from the cause. pretending to be brave. nail-biting.   lip-biting.   scratching skin.  a joking tone but a voice that cracks. fainting. insomnia. panic attacks.  exhaustion. substance abuse. tics.  rushing adrenaline.  face draining of colour. hair lifting on the back of the neck. feeling rooted to the spot.  making body as small as possible.  staring but not seeing. crying. a shrill voice. whispering.  gripping something or someone.  stuttering. flinching at noises. pleading.

EXHAUSTION.  — eyes.  mood swings.  hallucinations.  calling people by the wrong name.  dizziness.  denying they’re tired. slow blinking.  trouble concentrating.  stumbling.  leaning on a doorframe for support. sluggish movements. falling asleep someplace that isn’t a bed.  becoming irritated by the smallest things.   “i’m awake, i’m fine.”  shaking so bad they spill their drink. fall asleep in their clothes. lay their head on the table because they’re so tired. passing out.

Tagged by: @macrocosmic-star !!

Tagging: i suck at tagging, but anyone who wants to do this!