There was a grumf as the couch was stumpled upon, a rather abyssal gaze forced free of its cover to stare blandly at the blond in a moment of incomprehension.
"Talkin’ too damn much," was all Silas could initially manage, rolling and trying to toss an arm back over her eyes. The light hurt. Everything hurt.
"I need coffee…"
Hazy images lingered at the back of her mind, the Judge trying to bat them away mentally for just a few more moments of rest that weren’t coming.
With the sensation of something digging into her ankle, Silas kicked it free and glared where the offending digger should be, and stared.
She was wearing heels.
Why was she wearing heels?
And why were they obnoxiously pink?
… Someone was going to die.
"Ugh…" Telyssa rubbed her fingers into her forehead temples, trying to soothe out the pain in her head. "Why are you wearing my shoes? Does that mean you have tiny feet or that I have large feet?"
Telyssa was full of questions, it seemed, and she stumbled her way into the kitchen. “Do I still have coffee? I don’t drink it often…” She rummages through her cabinets. For some godawful reason, she opens the wrong cabinet and an array of pots and pans tumbled out LOUDLY onto the floor. Telyssa fell down to her knees, almost sobbing in pain.
There were a lot of clothes in the living room. There were dresses, slips, gowns, jeans with hearts stitched on them, blouses, all in all manners of colors, bright, neon and pastels. Blues and pinks, mostly, but some creamy off-whites and dark charcoal and blacks mixed in. Also several empty bottles of wine, overturned empty glasses, and cracker crumbs everywhere.
Silas cringed at the assaulting clangs from the kitchen, burrowing back into the nest of blankets that she had made on the couch. All that was left, were a pair of bleary eyes glaring at the offensive shoes on her feet.
… She couldn’t kill Telyssa, their owner.
It wasn’t judgely.
Brooding, she nudged them off to flop into the floor, sore toes flexing before snaking back into the comfort of the blankets as she peered at the explosion of… frill.. and scowled.
"… Did we even get the asshats at that casino… bar… thing?" she asked, remembering being particularly in a mood for having to play infiltration and gussy up.
The morning would be made better if she recalled whether she got to shoot anyone for it.
"Ugh… hard to say… damned Lopp Casinos get me everytime! Fuzzy little cute crooks, all of them…" She stood up, face in utter pain as she stared over from her kitchenette to the living room Silas crashed in. I remember lights, I remember drinks, I remember…" her ears perked as she looked for her purse. "I remember winning some—" She opens her purse to see beads pour out. "—disappointment apparently…" She dumps her purse of the brightly colored glass baubles. Her brows furrowed. "Right… retrace our steps… we met, we made our disguises, fabricated the story…" She paused. "Right right. Right. Fredericky. Goddamned hired gun. I think you did shoot him. He grabbed your behind…"
She went back to find the coffee and start the slow drip machine going. It was cheaper coffee than Silas was used to, but Telyssa imagined that, whatever, it’ll taste like shit no matter what at this rate.
"I think we may have kissed. I just want you to know, right now, that was undercover. You’re pretty, but I’m spoken for and I don’t need that kind of drama. Besides, I don’t have enough time to keep one person happy, much less two…" She continues this over explanation for many minutes longer than necessary, seeming to work through her own headache much faster than the poor human Judge. "…besides that perp was an absolute pervert, that’s why we did that anyway. Well, it worked, something so hilarious how some crooks so easily toss sense aside for the promise of a menage a troi.”
The splendid news that she had shot someone allowed Silas to melt back into the comforting abyss of her nest, a lazy cat-smile hitching faintly over her lips.
Only to squint open an eye at the mention of likely liplocking with the Aurin, which turned her expression immediately dour.
"Yeah, yeah. Part of the job. I don’t swing for tail," she grumfed, squinting out of the nest to the treacherous world. The gentle, distant drip-drip of the coffee brewing soothed further the dark seal on her soul.
"The job got done, at least?" came an eventual murble, words managing to slip around a yawn.
Telyssa’s first instinct was to be offended that she wasn’t good enough, but that was silly and the throbbing in her head gave her enough reason to not question it any more.
"Best I can tell, we squeezed him for info, he got handsy, you damn near atomized his genitalia, he’s dead, and I think we were smart enough to at least record the conversation because I don’t remember a word of it.” Telyssa looked for a mug, and giggled, immediately followed by a groan of pain. She had other mugs, but Silas was getting this one: a vind shaped mug, in which the coffee was poured into an approximation of an inflated vind body, it’s tail curled up into a handle, and heads and wings came from the other three sides.
"You take it black, I assume?" She asks, already pouring the drink as she asked.
"With cream and sugar," came some offhanded reply. The caterpillar of blankets that she lurked within shifted, and wriggled slowly into what may have been a seated position.
"Helps sweeten my disposition to the world," Silas drawled, nuzzling free her face to show just how gaunt and bedraggled she was. "But if you don’t have either, don’t worry about it. I’ll deal."
"Either way, case closed. If Whitey," she groused, freeing up a hand to smudge it firmly over her face, "wafts any other cases at me involving lopp again, I fuckin’ quit."
"I have milk and brown sugar, will that work?" she asks, digging out what she had of sugars, which was a varied mix of brown, white, pink sugars. She scooped in some of the brown, and poured in some milk from her fridge. "Hopefully I don’t screw this up."
She carried the obscenely ridiculous mug in front of Silas, and grinned ear to ear. “Here you go, sunshine.” She giggled facetiously.
"And hopefully we won’t have to go to that casino again… lopps talk too fast to be dealers."
A long, hard stare was given to the inflated vind mug as she took it, the same expression then rolling up to its provider.
Then and there, Silas was made fully aware of one thing above all others:
Aurin were sadistic little critters.
Taking a sip, a long exhale followed, Silas’ head tipping left and right to sound several rather unpleasant cracks along her neck. Eventually, a wry half-smirk curled over her lips, the sniff of a laugh pushing through the human Judge.
"Go team," Silas mused, lifting the mug in a semi-salute. "Through frills and thrills."
Okay, so maybe it had been a kind of funny case to work.
Amazing what a sip of Javalakapooey’s blessed brew could do for a gal.
Telyssa flopped down beside the pile of blankets sipping coffee, and laid her head over the back of the couch. She looks up to the ceiling, and tilts her head. “Why—is that your bra on my ceiling fan?”
She tilts her head over, and then to Silas. “Look, I don’t know what happened last night after the job, I’m just going to assume that me waking up upstairs and you downstairs is a positive sign…”
Silas glanced up, a brow hitching faintly.
Why, there was a bra up there, wasn’t there?
"No… I don’t have a reason to wear them," she admitted, frowning.
"Besides that, I wouldn’t wear anything like that."
Pink, frilly lace shit? With polkadots? No-fucking-thank-you.