See Spot Run [M]

[kleineklementine]

Now it was Spot’s turn to stare at Jarrett. Here she was, covered in blood, stuck full of glass, sprawled out on the floor after Mr. Creeper Creepyface tried to slice her, holding her arm together, bleeding her guts out, and he couldn’t even let her feel like her life was expensive? What a jerk.

“You really know how to make a girl feel special, you know that?”

Kicking some of the glass away, Spot tried to pick herself up without using her arms. She was much too afraid to stop holding her arm together; as much as she hated it, Spot was a bit queazy about these things. And that was what did her in, because all the blood was making Spot awfully light-headed and her attempt to get up just resulted in her crashing back to the floor.

Already on the floor, Spot flopped her back down on the floor in a grand gesture of ‘oh-fuck-this’. Staring up at the ceiling, which she only now realized was painted with a map of the stars, Spot gave a loud, melodramatic sigh. (Well, did it count as ‘melodramatic’ given her current state?) This was not Spot’s day!

[visualspice]

Jarrett just stared at the woman, who was cut and bleeding on the floor. The glass shards around her sparkled like diamonds and rubies- rubies because of the blood mixed with the twinkling shards. His gaze eventually followed hers to the ceiling, but he only stared at it briefly before glancing back down to her.

"Do you need help getting up?" Maybe she could use a hand, but he had a feeling she needed more help than just that. And as he examined her, he frowned. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a kerchief and crouched beside her.
"Here, you can tie this around the deeper wounds. If you don't, you'll bleed out all over the floor."
And though she was a mark, he didn't want to kill her like this- you know, if he was going to kill her. It wasn't really his style.

Then again, did he really have a style? But she also, from what he could see, wasn't really like any of his other marks, too.

[kleineklementine]

Spot didn't pick up her head, just turned it to look at him. She still had the distinct look of 'nope-fuck-this-situation this is all just too exhausting' in her demeanor. Spot stared at him for a moment, before asking flatly, "How am I going to tie anything around my own forearm?"

Spot sighed again, turning her gaze back up to the ceiling. The irony that the only person she could turn to for help right now - and she needed help - was an assassin, who coincidentally was also trying to kill her was not lost on her.

Then, belatedly, she answered his first question. "No," she answered glumly, "I think I'm just going to stay here. I guess if you're not going to kill me, I'll get arrested in the morning. That's not the worst. They might patch me up, at least."

[visualspice]

Jarrett still stared at her, and still stared, crouched down and careful how he did so (as there was still a dangerous sea of glass all around them), he just silently took her resignation as tending to the arm himself. And carefully pressed the clothe to the wound, and began to tie it into a tight bow. Then once he was done, he continued to stare at her. She looked rather pathetic just lying there on the floor. And if the guards were to come find her like this...

Without a second thought, or even asking if it was okay, he suddenly scooped her up into his arms, glass shards tinkling as they fell off of her form and he held her against his body.
"The least we can do is get you patched up," he told her plainly, and began to move her away from the scene of the crime. And holding her this close, she'd be able to smell the fresh cigar smoke off of his body, and also an exotic scent of river reeds mixed with his own natural musk.

[kleineklementine]

Spot watched sullenly as Jarrett began to tend to her arm, only hesitantly daring to remove her firm clamp from the wound. For some reason - perhaps due to her new exhausted resignation - she decided she may as well trust him. Lifting her hand up, she looked at the sticky dark red blood covering it while Jarrett bound up the wound. Until a drop of her own blood dripped down onto her nose, that is, and she looked back at Jarrett and her wounded arm. All the time unmoving.

"I like the bow," she told him flatly.

But she didn't have time to say anything else (if she'd had anything else to say) before he scooped her up in his arms. Spot made a small noise of surprise, but didn't protest. What the hell, she figured. Instead of struggling, she just let herself be carried like a little girl, or a limp little rag doll, resting her head against his chest as he carried her out of the room, not even to bother questioning where they were going. She'd never really been able to feel, like a child does, that she could just rest on someone else and that they would take care of everything. Not even as a little girl. But there was, Spot figured, no time like present. She still had an entirely, utterly sullen, morose, resigned air about her until...

"Wait a second." Spot turned in his arms, just a little, and reached out with her good arm towards the floor. "I want that," she said plainly, grabbing at the air not unlike a toddler. Anyway, she felt like a toddler. "I can't leave my trusty ol' Death Tooth behind!"

[visualspice]

Jarrett paused and gave a subtle tilt of his head. He stared at the 'death tooth' for what seemed like an eternity, before bending over and fishing it up. He then handed it over to her, sort of like a mother would a rattle to it's babe, except Jarrett was no mother, and she no babe (except maybe the hot, adult kind) as he peered down at her, face unchanging.
"Here."
He couldn't carry her and it- besides he had to pick up the dead body, too. So as he moved forward, he paused over the bag containing Mr. Allendale and hefted him up and slung the bag over his shoulder before proceeding onwards to who knew where.

[kleineklementine]

Spot had to hold on to Jarrett with her good arm in order to not tumble onto the floor when he bent down and picked up her beloved Death Tooth. But she snatched it happily when Jarrett offered it to her, at first holding it up in front of her.

"Who's a good Death Tooth?" she cooed at the ancient, giant tooth. "Who tripped that Awful, Nasty, Creeper? That's right! You-ooooOH!"

Spot was cut off by Jarrett bending over to also grab Mr. Allendale and throwing him over his shoulder, forcing Spot to hold onto Jarrett again and stop talking to her lovely tooth. She decided, this time, to just keep holding on. Spot thought about saying something cheeky - "Onward, Oh Eccentric Assassin!" - or something, but given that he was an assassin and she was, quite literally, in his hands now. So instead Spot just shifted her weight so she was leaning her weight against his body more and once again rested her head on his chest.

If the whole thing took a turn for the worse, anyway, at least she had her trusty Death Tooth again now!

[visualspice]

It seemed like a bad idea, or perhaps, it was just down right terrible that Jarrett shifted the weight of the injured girl in his arm, death tooth in hers, while doubly shifting the weight of the bagged corpse over his shoulder as he began to make his way towards the front door- acting so casual in his strides as if nothing was out of the ordinary- or if nothing bad could happen if they walked out through the front an no guards might be waiting-

Yet behind them was a terrible crime scene,a nd in the bag... naturally, a second one.

[kleineklementine]

Spot was busy turning the Death Tooth over in her 'good' hand, running her fingers over its serrated edges. This had not turned out to be her night. Though she'd spent most of her life up to this point as a criminal - though she'd never really thought of it that way - before all this business with Kui and Jack, she'd kept her hands pretty clean of violence. And not by accident. Spot didn't have the stomach for it. Inflicting it or sustaining it. Now she seemed like she was stuck in a spiral of it. In a way, she killed that man. Sure, he was a Creeper out to slice her up, but Spot wasn't sure she'd ever been responsible for someone else's death before. He'd tripped on her Death Tooth, after all. And now she was letting herself be carried off by a combustible and rather strange assassin, while there was a price on her head, so it didn't seem like things were going to lighten up anytime soon.

All these things were going through Spot's rather glum head while Jarrett carried her out, so she didn't notice how they were leaving the library until the last minute. The main entrance! Was he crazy?! "Hey, maybe we should-" she began, but it was too late.

The library had a guard stationed inside the front door on a little velvet-lined stool. Spot sucked in her breath. The man looked a bit old for a guard and a loud snore emitted from him. Well, that explained why he hadn't already been alerted to all the noise they'd made, Spot thought, but still! But the approach of the odd little 'trio' caused the old guard to startle, and he snorted awake.

"Wha-! Er-! You there!" he finally burst out, fixing his eyes confusedly on Jarrett, Spot, and Mr. Allendale. "What is the meaning of this!? The library is closed! Er-" he rubbed his eyes, looking at Spot again, who was covered in blood. "What is going on?! What are you doing in here?"

Spot knew better by this point to think that Jarrett might say anything clever. Or, who knew, say anything at all! So Spot rattled off a story as quick as it came to her. "Finally! A guard!" she cried. "I was calling and calling for one. There was a man in the library! He- he attacked me. I think- I think he was trying to take me," Spot blurted out with a suppressed (and fabricated) sob. "He- he tried to..." now Spot started the waterworks, sniffing loudly as big tears rolled down her cheeks. She was telling the tale in a quick, tearful stream now. "He grabbed me and I tried to escape and we crashed into the display case and I don't know what I would have done but he," she nodded at Jarrett, "chased him off but I think he's still back there somewhere!"

"Hey, hey, hey," the guard said, looking confused and, even more, worried that something important had happened on his shift that he'd missed! "Slow down, sweetheart. Who attacked you? What are you even doing here?"

Spot sniffed loudly again, (mostly) fabricated tears still falling freely. "I- I wanted to stay late and study," she said guiltily. "I don't know who the man was. I didn't even get a good look at him. I think he got away- I- I was so scared!"

The guard frowned, sleepy and uncertain and still worried about his job performance. The girl, though obviously the victim of some kind, was babbling nonsensically. "So you hid here to study late in the library? Then a strange, unseen man attacked you? But was chased away by..." He looked up at Jarrett then. "And who are you? What are you doing here?"

"He's the janitor, of course!" Spot blurted out quickly before Jarrett could answer. Given his track record so far, he'd probably say, 'I'm an assassin who just dropped in because this girl has a price on her head.'

But maybe it would have been better for Spot to let the man answer (or not) himself, because her quick answer raised a look of suspicion in the old guard, whose attention now turned to the bag carrying Mr. Allendale. "Eh, what's that there? What are you carrying?"

[visualspice]

Jarrett just stood there lamely and waited for the exchange to be over, but once the man turned his attention to the bag, Jarrett effortlessly tossed it at the old man's feet.

"Eh?" the old man leaned forward, scratching his head.

"There's a dead body in there," Jarrett informed him without missing a beat, and as the man's eyes went wide, Jarrett yanked the death tooth from his accomplices clutches, turned it around and knocked the man over the back of the head- and down to the floor, face first he went- completely unconscious. Lifting back up the bag, Jarrett said nothing as he moved towards the door, but before he could open it, he handed her back her death tooth.

"Here." And then the pair simply stepped outside.

[kleineklementine]

Spot flinched as Jarrett pounded the man over the head. And with her Death Tooth! Was that really necessary? It wouldn't have been too much work to convince the man of their story! Then they could have sent him looking for the mystery attacker, and they could go on their way!

She gave a loud, exasperated sigh as she snatched the Death Tooth back from him. "Why do I even bother when you're around?" she complained aloud. "Why bother tricking anyone when you can just clobber 'em over the head!"

But Spot didn't make any moves to distangle herself from Jarrett and her complaints were a bit tired. The truth was that though the assassin's make-shift tourniquet had stemmed the flow of blood from one wound, it hadn't stopped it altogether, and Spot was getting by now rather light-headed and woozy. She was a little worried about how far she'd even get down on her own two feet.

"But maybe," she suggested, a bit sleepily from her lightheadedness, while she laid her head back against his chest, "we can take a more sneaky route to wherever you're going to chop me up."

[visualspice]

It was hard to discern just how long it had taken for Jarrett to reach his destination, and being that the woman in his arms was barely conscious by the time he had reached the place, he had he secured upon the most biggest and plush bed imaginable- at the fanciest and biggest hotel in the city, a place normally reserved for the most finest and richest of world travelers. It was said the Grand Duke of Connlaoth had stayed in this very room- but thankfully for the pair of them, it was vacant when he broke it, climbing in through the window with both a bleeding woman, and a bag with a corpse.

Mr. Allendale was temporarily forgotten, the lumpy bag discarded carelessly to one corner while Spot was laid out across the bed. Being he hadn't the right supplies and the bed had more than enough sheets on it, the assassin got to work, using a small blade to cut thing strips before moving to clean out her wounds, removing the glass shards with care and setting them into a nearby wine cart. He was solely focused on his task, and when the last bits were removed, he gently cleaned out the wound, applying pressure until the bleeding had slowed before gingerly, but firmly, wrapping up her arms. Though one arm was wrapped up a bit too tight and he had to redo the thing so she could at least bend her elbow, but once his work was done, he peered over it with mild scrutiny, tucking in a loose end to the make shift bandaging before pausing over her, finding his green eyes drifting up her form to her face. And there was something about the serene expression of the mostly unconscious girl that simply made him stare. But he wasn't quite sure what it was. So he just continued.

To stare.

[kleineklementine]

Spot muttered incoherently through her daze of blood-loss-induced semi-consciousness. It mostly had a dark and confidential - though oddly childlike - tone to it. Occasionally, the odd word or phrase would come out clearly, things about "they keep changing their faces," and "but he's dead," and "they won't take my Death Tooth, it's mine." Names were also thrown in the jumble: Zahi, Clarion, Rufus, Kui, but the significance surrounding them was unclear.

The only break in this murky stream of consciousness was when Jarrett carefully removed the glass shards from her arms. Oddly, this caused her to squirm and giggle. "Hey, stoppit, Tag," she protested, "that tickles!" But she fell silent again when he was done, and finally still as she drifted into some form of sleep.

It was some time before Spot finally woke again, but she seemed to sleep peacefully once the mumbling had ceased. Perhaps an hour after Jarrett had finished patching her up, she made the small noises of a slow wakefulness. Had it all been a dream? she wondered. From the incident with Jack on... yes, she must have dreamt it! But then she felt something in her hand. The Death Tooth. And she realized it had, in fact, all been real.

Then she realized what she was lying on! The smooth silk sheets of the giant bed were surely the nicest thing Spot had ever woken up on. By a long shot! Slowly, Spot stretched awake, wincing when the motion pulled at her lacerated arm, and awkwardly fumbled into a half sitting position. And there was the assassin, staring at her. Spot looked at him for a few moments, lookingly mostly dozy and content. Then she looked around the room, and as she did, her expression changed. It didn't turn to fear, so much as it soured.

"Oh, fuck no," she finally said aloud, more complaining than fearful, "is this some sort of weird sex fantasy thing?"

[visualspice]

Jarrett stared at her in silence for a good long while before he blinked and his eyes changed a bit, seeming to register her a little more. Though at her question, he seemed to frown.
"I bound your arms, removed the glass."
Then with a more casual shrug, he informed her, "And if this was a sex fantasy, I would be drunk."

[kleineklementine]

"Hm." It was a doubtful sound and Spot regarded Jarrett with a look both suspicious and defiant for a few moments. She was not going to be the center of some sicko's weird I-saved-you-now-I'm-going-to-make-love-to-you-then-slice-you-up perverted fantasy! Spot had been born poor and penniless and pretty, and the idea that she would ever end up anywhere like this for any other reason clearly didn't come quickly to her. But the nearly blank stare she got in return wore her down, and her expression softened to something less defiant, until finally her expression and her body relaxed and she slumped a little. As if to check his claims, she looked down at her arms. They were, indeed, free of glass and neatly cleaned and bound.

But instead of saying 'thank you,' as she ought to, she gave a resigned sigh, as if to say, 'Fine, you and your weird blank staring win!' Then she flopped back down onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, and got off her final retort, "I guess you would have to be drunk."

But she looked around the room, a bit wide-eyed and trying not to seem too impressed, all the same. Finally she gave in again. "Where are we, anyway?" She almost asked if they'd broken into the palace, but decided that might end up embarrassing for her, so she didn't hazard any guesses.

[visualspice]

"The King's Inn," he informed her, dryly. "It wasn't too far from where we were. And I saw this room was vacant. So I broke in."

[kleineklementine]

"Looks like it," Spot replied, purple eyes still scanning the room from her prostrate position on the bed. "Nicer than anywhere I've been before, that's for sure."

If she was going to say anything more, it didn't come out, because just then her eyes stopped on something Very Interesting. At the foot of the bed, laid out on fancy white linen and a silver tray, was a pyramid of cookies. "Hey!" Spot suddenly exclaimed and bolted into an upright sitting position. Too quickly, though, for the motion made her head swim and her vision fade for just a moment. But it passed and Spot scooted over to the delicious looking tray, not leaving the bed, and grabbed a handful of the cookies.

"Do you think," she asked through a mouthful of cookie, "it's okay for me to eat these?" She grabbed another handful. They were delicious! "To make up for all that blood I lost?"

It was a fair point! Spot'd never make a proper recovery if she didn't get something to eat! She'd just keep passing out, right? But she was very unladylike, eating the cookies by the handful, as though she'd never seen food before.

"Anyway," she asked, still chewing, "how come you're doing this?" Nom nom nom. "Not very assassin-like of you."

[visualspice]

Jarrett watched as little pieces of cookies kept falling out of her mouth as she talked, simply staring at those puffy, squirrel like cheeks and wondering how she was managing to both speak and gorge at the same time. But once he was able to digest her question, he looked up from her cookie filled mouth to her eyes.

"I think the cookies are fine."
Though by now, she had almost gobbled them all down.
"I doubt they're poisoned."

Then he paused, still staring at her before telling her,
"And I'm not here to kill you."
Of course, he had no idea why he even did this at all. It made him frown.

How strange.

[kleineklementine]

Now it was Spot's turn to stare back at him. Cheeks full, she paused chewing when he said, 'They're probably not poisoned.' Well, it was too late now if they were, so Spot went ahead and swallowed. The cookies were gone now, and she turned her attention to Jarrett, returning his gaze. Though hers looked more like she was trying to decipher him than just... observing him. Or whatever he was doing to her.

Spot scooted further on the bed to get a little closer to him, looking curious and still just a little suspicious. "I believe that by now," she responded. "But why not?"

[visualspice]

Jarrett blinked slowly as he stared back at her, not certain what he was looking at- or for.
"I don't know."
And it was the truth. He had no idea what he was doing, but here he was doing whatever this was. Perhaps he had no idea he had a natural knack for rescuing 'damsels in distress'- or perhaps it's something he didn't realize was intuitive. Either way it was peculiar to him as he continued to find himself staring at her face. She had a pretty face. But then again, most women you found in a bed like this were. And the foggy memories of a bed, that face..
her face made him blink and move away, tearing his eyes from Spot and looking down at the floor.

For a second he thought he was with his mistress again, but as the reality of where he was sunk in, his eyes went over towards the bag containing Mr. Allendale, then drifted back towards the room. He still stood near the bed, and realizing he was stressing again, for whatever reasons that be, he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a cigar. Frowning, he realized it was the last one, and placed it up against his lips.