>part five<
Jill�s eyes traced the shadow now thrown over her desk, her hands falling away from the keyboard and into her lap. She finally looked up, smiled.
�Excuse me,� D smiled back, he attempted to continue but Jill�s head shook from side to side. The small movement enough to force him back into silence.
�He hasn�t come in yet. Can I ask you something?� She pushed away from the desk and turned to him completely. The Count nodded, glanced around at all of Leon�s co-workers, and realized that a good few of them were intently watching him. Jill seemed oblivious, or used to the prying eyes.
�Whatever�s wrong with Leon�It involves you?�
D smiled minutely, �Is that such a surprise?�
�No,� Jill laughed quietly, �Leon always comes in bitching about you, but this time he�s serious. He won�t even talk to me about it.�
�He has . . .reached a level of uncertainty in his life� *Or I have pushed him there* �And perhaps he is seeing things as they are, instead of how he believes they should be.� *He is finally beginning to see the reflection in the mirror . . .the truth can be beautiful, if you don�t place on it a crown of lies*
Jill stared at him, studied him. �I think I get what you�re saying. And he fled, didn�t he? He said he hated you---But you know he doesn�t.� Jill reached up and took the Count�s hand, mildly surprising him. �You know he doesn�t?�
The noise of the office seemed to rise around them for a moment, but D nodded, lightly patted her hand as it curled around his. �I have learned to translate the Detective�s words.�
Jill withdrew her hand with a polite smile, though the lines of worry could be read in her eyes. �I wish I could just hit him upside the head and *BAM*---it�s a miracle, the boy�s got a little sense!!� she presented a grin that contained only a lame imitation of good cheer. And then her expression descended, she sighed. �Tried that . . .he�s still certain that he�s got the whole world figured out when he hasn�t even figured himself out.�
�One can never honestly define themselves,� D smiled down at her, attempting to smooth over the bitter tints that were coming into play in her voice. Jill played Leon�s sister so well, in every aspect of the character---from constant aggravation to a love that forgives. D liked to believe that she was the anchor that kept Leon from going adrift. *Well, completely adrift . . .*
�To tell the truth, Count---Leon *won�t* be coming in today. I�m worried about him. He�s always so loud, but now he�s quiet and contained . . .and Leon just can�t hold things in for long, he�s bound to break.�
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Leon was staring at a rather voluptuous pair of breasts, his blue eyes falling over golden hips and a tiny strap that was not too convincing as a bathing suit. His arms stretched beneathe his head, blonde hair coiling into a thin pillow---he turned on his side and away from the penthouse pet that was gracing his ceiling. Eyes coming to rest on yet another playmate, he sighed and let his lids fall. For once, he was sick of all their smiling faces. He was even sicker of the ones that pouted---they seemed to be mocking him.
At that he scrambled from the bed with a burning growl, started ripping through various �bedroom eyes�, provocative hands, and inviting thighs. In some ways he felt the pressure easing from his nerves, but it wasn�t enough. He couldn�t think of why he was so upset, why it felt as if something kept bursting within his skull. The state that had descended on him like a curtain suffocated all linear thought. He paused, rested against one wall with a flat, crumpled brunette still clutched in his hand. It took him a moment to realize that it was not his own heartbeat echoing in his ears . . .but knocking. He glanced up through gold strands, eyebrows slanting in contempt and concentration.
Throwing the brunette down, he fell into a tight stalk toward the door. Knowing nothing could derail him if it was a certain Chinese man with too smug eyes.
He wrenched the door open, then watched in stony silence as Gracie Delmonte fell back a step, mouth forming a perfect �O�.
�Detective . . .� she panted momentarily, with a bearing of one scared witless. �I was beginning to think you weren�t home.�
�What do you want?�
�I�m concerned, Detective Orcot. Have I done something to upset you?---�
�Actually, yes.� And then his eyes narrowed, he leaned against the door and stared at her. Golden hair and a tight little body, she was better looking then any poster-girl. His reasons for turning aside such obvious advances were beyond him. She was every fantasy he had constructed when he pictured the most appealing partner. Letting his head fall back against the door, he sighed. �Would you like to come in, Delmonte?�
Her head cocked to the side curiously, �Are you inviting me?�
Leon stepped away from the door and shoved his hands deep into his jean pockets. �Yeah.�
Gracie immediately stepped forward and closed the door, silently noted the bits of glossy paper strewn about with shifting eyes. �Not a fan of the female species, I take it---�
�What is that supposed to mean?!� he snapped, spinning on her abruptly. She raised a soft, pleading hand before her, as if the mere movement could ward of demons.
�I mean,� she threw an obvious glance around, urging him to follow. He did, catching bits and pieces of the female body staring up at him from various places on the floor. Jagged strips of paper hung from and curled against the wall. He sighed.
�I�ve been meaning to take them down for awhile,� was all he said before turning back. Gracie took his lack of hospitality towards her as a nod to help herself. She retrieved two beers from the refrigerator, noting its lack of anything that would resemble real food. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she crossed her legs and watched her host curiously. Leon stared blindly at the cold drink she shoved into his hand, then shrugged. Decided he probably needed to be out of mind for awhile.
�If you talk about it . . .maybe you�ll feel better,� she whispered, seemingly entranced with the colour of her long fingernails. If eyes were swords, Leon would have cut her down to her high heels. But his stare fell on her burgundy nails then away as if the action had burned him. The Count had danced into his mind again, at that precise moment. He hadn�t come with her words. No, he had come with her nails and that particular shade of plum . . .that he should think these things frightened him. But he was no good with fear, so he promptly redefined it as an �intense displeasure�.
�Nothing to talk about,� he took a swallow of his beer, but didn�t taste it. He glared down into the bottle, willing it to become some kind of anesthetic.
�O please, you�ve been on edge so much lately! But, Orcot . . . if you�re standing on the edge---should you really be pushing everyone away?�
Leon shook his head, loose gold hair slipping against his shoulders. �Now you�re starting to sound like Jill. And I,� he glared at the blonde with thinning lips, �don�t want to hear it.�
Gracie nodded, a simple up and down motion that spoke all her understanding of his words. It didn�t satisfy him, but he figured that only unconsciousness could fill that need. Gracie smiled sweetly, ran a finger down the length of one of his gold tresses. Her faceted emerald eyes wove spells of warmth and soothing.
�Delmonte . . .�
She shook her head, placed her drink on the floor. �What you need, Leon, is some distracting . . .� She leaned in and he watched quietly, emotionlessly as her mouth moved up even to his. Her long fingers snaked around his neck and into his hair, she urged him to move with her but he remained unresponsive. And then something broke through his empty eyes like a fish breaking the surface of the water. He shoved her away and propelled himself up, left his apartment in such a blind fury that the door slammed into the wall and bounced back.
Gracie stared after him, sighed. *The boy is almost more trouble than he's worth.*