drear | open post ▾

[ this sort of thing always seems to happen around him.

well, no, crowley amends: he always seems to be around when this sort of thing happens.

which is more convenient than inconvenient, in the grand scheme of things. he has more 'fortunate deaths' on his chart Below than he'd care to admit — not for the sake of modesty, but because... well, there are so many nice things here, he does feel a smidgen of pity for the poor bastards who don't get to stick around to enjoy them.

but first, he figures he should take a look at this. getting into the crime scene isn't much of a problem — just a step through the yellow tape and through the front door of the now-empty house.

or at least he's pretty sure it's empty. flash bastard that he is, crowley doesn't bother to check. ]

[it's sunny out, the miami heat blaring down right on his back. he's used to the heat by now, but some part of it still managed to bother him. maybe he should have put sunblock on.

he frowns as he looks down at the mess that still hadn't quite been cleaned up. that's how it was -- they had a crime scene and it stayed dirty for a few days, especially if it was out of the way.

now, dexter isn't here to take pictures, he's done that, he's here to find something that the killer left behind, something that he'd distracted masuka from and -- somehow -- the rest of the crew as well. it had been a part of a weapon, and he was absolutely positive there had to be a print on it. he had hidden it under a rock.

it would have been an easy job, walk in and out of the scene with no questions asked, but he hears footsteps and he freezes, not out of fear, but to listen.

why is there someone here?]

[he doesn't call out, ask if it's a member of his team because he knows it's not. instead, he moves slowly towards the wall, pressing his back against it to peek around the corner.

come out, come out, wherever you are.]

[ at least in this place crowley's sunglasses don't really stand out. as he glances out the window, though — americans really love their extraneous lights on their cars, don't they.

though crowley makes noise, he walks without making any indentations, even in the rug (pushed out of its normal resting place by the previous struggle). not a pretty sight in the other room, he thinks, sliding through a doorframe and raising his eyebrows. geez.

this is more of a casual visit than anything for crowley, and he doesn't notice the other visitor until he makes it all the way into the other room. by that point, it's too late.

he doesn't entirely see the other man, but he knows by now that he's not alone. so with a nonchalant roll of his shoulders he takes a step back towards the doorframe and clears his throat. no chance to back out now. ]

[instincts tell dexter to reach into his back pocket and slip some m99 into this guy's system, but his mind tells his instincts to back down. maybe the man is just an idiot.

dexter straightens, but his demeanor, no matter how cool, has a touch of darkness beneath it.]

What are you doing here?

[naturally defensive over a crime scene, of course.]

[ oh.

oh, yes, there's something there. crowley recognizes it immediately, the faint hint of something slick and black as oil.

he smiles. ]

Talking a walk. Indoors, of course. The sun doesn't really agree with me.

And you?

[ he talks with a slither of his tongue behind his teeth, without bothering to change his accent to blend in. ]

[recognition hits him. he sees crowley likes he sees him. who are you, crowley, and what are you really doing here?]

I don't believe that. This is a crime scene.

[he doesn't look him over so much as he does scan the other man. and no, he's not answering that question.]

What, you don't believe that I'm taking a walk?

[ he could be even more obnoxious and take a few steps, but he doesn't bother. this is someone he'd like to talk to before getting into an argument with. ]

That'll apply to you, too, hm? This crime scene isn't open to the public.

I'm with the Miami Police.

[his tone is calm, proud. if there's anyone going to be backed into a corner for information, it's the man trying to turn all questions on him.]

[he even takes out his badge, laminated, but it's still a badge, and he's certainly going to use it to his advantage.]

[ people like him do have a tendency to find places of power. isn't that right, dexter? crowley catches his name from the badge, even though his eyes only go to it briefly. faces tell more than words, generally speaking. ]

But this doesn't seem like strictly official business.

They sent me here to do another check. I like to be thorough.

[and oh, is he thorough.]

[but he seems to relax even more, and he offers a smile. maybe kindness could get this ass out of here.]

I don't know if you're from out of town, but it would be appreciated if you would leave, unless you'd like me to call the police.

All on your own? Pity. I would have liked some more company.

[ crowley's definitely from out of town, if his accent doesn't give it away. ]

And who'd appreciate it if I told people what you've gotten yourself involved in?

[ he isn't sure what this guy has done, exactly, but nothing quite brings out the heavy aura of darkness as bad deeds. ]

[this is new. a man who thinks he has the upper hand in this kind of situation. dexter shrugs it off, brows going up. if he was going to get this guy out of here, he had to be smooth about it, which shouldn't be difficult.

but he's proving him otherwise.]

I don't know what you're talking about. I don't want to cause any trouble if you're just on vacation. Why don't you leave, now?

Kind of you to work overtime of your accord.

[ crowley raises his eyebrows right back, just over the rims of his sunglasses. ]

And what's a vacation without some fun?

Excuse me?

[dexter takes a step forward. his posture is territorial, if not threatening.]

This is a murder investigation.

True, true. But here's the thing... Dexter.

[ or whatever your name is. crowley doesn't take a step back. he just smiles, tall enough that they're at least eye to eye. ]

This might not be the usual form of entertainment, but you aren't exactly conventional, are you?

[there's three ways to go about this situation: a) play the dumb, blood spatter analyst that has no idea what's going on.

b) act completely oblivious and steer the conversation elsewhere.

or c) own up to it, and admit that he sees crowley, too.

hm. dexter thinks he'll go with c.]

Neither are you.

[his tone is biting. he certainly is a wolf in sheep's clothing.]

[ oh, yes. crowley's good at hiding himself, but not always in places like these (where the smell of sin is heavy and thick). ]

Well, I'd hate to be boring.

[ still not backing up. ]

[he's dealt with people like crowley before. too confident and self-serving that they can't be bothered to think that what they do is wrong. of course, he questions his own actions sometimes; is he a bad person doing good things, or a good person doing bad things?

whatever or whoever this man was, he didn't like him.]

Who are you?

Edited 2013-03-25 19:07 (UTC)

[ fair enough, dexter, but crowley likes you. (and his smile isn't a snake's, but it's definitely predatory, even if his prey might not be dexter.) ]

Crowley.

What do you say we have a little chat?

[oh, no. his control over the situation is slowly spiraling downwards and dexter hates that.]

Interesting. Sure, why not?

[he has to go with it, otherwise... well, things may not end well.]

If you'd like to stay here, I don't mind. But if you have anyplace you'd recommend — I'm all ears.

[ crowley is all sleek smiles and non-threatening body language, but his eyes (if dexter could see them) are almost glowing. figuratively speaking, of course. he's stayed away from the incandescent eye sockets since the 17th century. ]

[there were a few perks to staying in this house. it's empty, the police aren't coming back any time soon and the two of them would be able to stay alone.

then again, dexter would prefer someplace a little more public, perhaps to hold him back and to hold whoever this man was back. it didn't look like the two of them were going to jump at each other's throats anytime soon, though (as far as he could tell) but ... maybe they should stay here.]

Here's fine. Make yourself at home.

Right. I'll just take a seat, shall I?

[ that's a rhetorical question. crowley seats himself, movements easy and casual. ]

So, Dexter. Why don't you tell me a little about yourself?

Why don't you tell me?

[he tucks his hands in his pockets, leaning against a nearby wall. he doesn't want to have the table in his way if he needs to make an attack.]

What, you want me to judge you?

[ he already has, actually. but crowley shrugs, crosses his legs with almost offensive casualness. ]

I could, but I don't like the sound of my voice that much.

I have a feeling that you do.

[his eyes narrow, but he's smiling, as much as he does smile. it's forced, though it looks more natural than his posture.]

Hey, maybe I do. But still, maybe you're more interesting than I am.

[ well, he doubts that. but still. ]

Or maybe you could tell me why you stink of blood.

[ that's a bit of an exaggeration, actually (crowley likes his dramatic flair). it's mostly his aura that smells weird. ]

[dexter makes a face, a mix of confusion and disbelief.]

Someone died in here. The whole place smells metallic.

[his expression relaxes and he shrugs, the question doesn't quite bother him.]

Tell me why you're in here.

Only a little.

[ he shrugs, crosses his legs in a single smooth motion. ]

I'm on holiday.

[dexter sighs, somewhat peeved.]

No, why you're really in here.

[they've been over this. sometimes people confess different things if they've been asked twice.

this guy kept his mouth sealed though, didn't he?]

[ sorry, dexter, crowley has being suave and really annoying on lockdown. ]

When people go on holiday, they like to go sight-seeing, don't they?

[ or something along those lines. crowley's never really been 'people'. ]

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