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Vaughn heard Roxanne speaking and paused in the hall. Pills.. What did she have to take? After he waited a moment longer, he walked out into the kitchen.
The Stranger in the City. (Romance/Crime) (One on One) (Closed, Stalkers Enabled)
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"Any problem a person has can be solved with a high enough dosage of the right chemicals." She muttered, running her hands through her hair.
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“You’re right,” Vaughn spoke up. He had kept his distance, not wanting to startle her on accident as he stood at the other end of the kitchen.
She chuckled bitterly. "Glad to know someone agrees with me." She turned to face him.
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Vaughn hummed in response. He glanced past her, where the black silhouette was standing behind her, its hands resting on her shoulders. It nodded towards the cabinet. In there. Pop a couple. Get numb again for a change, it mused.
She leaned back on the counter, folding her arms over her chest. "Also, don't go through my pill cabinet. I don't need other people seeing what I have to take to keep me alive."
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The silhouette cackled and made a gun sign with it’s hand, acting like it was shooting her in the side of the head. Vaughn tensed and forced his gaze away from it. “I’m not going to. I wouldn’t need it.”
"Your sudden tenseness says otherwise."
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Vaughn gave a shrug. “I have plenty of reasons to be tense- being handcuffed in a strangers house and all,” he stated.
"Just come here, I'll take them off." She sighed. "I'm exhausted and my meds are kicking in so, to be honest, I don't even care anymore." The hardened stone walls that everyone saw were slowly crumbling.
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Vaughn seemed hesitant but he stepped over to her and held out his wrists to be uncuffed.
She unlocked them, swinging them around her finger. "I'm calling in for some food, you want something?"
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Vaughn looked at the skin on his wrists that was red from the tight handcuffs. He then looked back at Roxanne. “I’ll wat whatever, I’m not picky.”
She shrugged. "Cool." She placed an order for delivery Chinese takeout and opened the fridge, taking out a bottle of red wine and a bottle of whiskey. "Wine? Or whiskey?"
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Vaughn wondered if getting an alcoholic drink was the best idea. But he thought that just one drink wouldn’t be too bad. “Whiskey will do,” he responded.
"Good because that's what I would've gone with anyway." She put back the wine and took two glasses, pouring a generous amount of whiskey into each.
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Vaughn nodded a bit. He brushed his hair back and leaned against the counter, taking the glass once Roxanne was done pouring.
She sipped on her whiskey, looking tired and mentally drained. This was her after work, looking the exact way she felt all day.
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Vaughn took a small drink of the whiskey. “You’re being strangely nice to me after what you accused me of,” he hummed.
"It's the pills. They turn me from workaholic machine to the actual exhausted 24-year-old behind the buttons and wires."
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Vaughn nodded his head slowly. “So you still think that I’m the serial killer?”
(Sorry, had to shower)
"I believe anyone can kill if given a good enough reason to."
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Vaughn thought about that for a moment. “I suppose you’re right,” he said slowly.
"I would know." She sipped her whiskey. "Being wanted in three different countries isn't fun, let me tell you that."
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Vaughn arched a brow as he looked at her. “Wanted in other countries?” He repeated. He hadn’t been out of the country since his second foster family when he was 15. But the whispers told him to break their other sons arm for making fun of him. They dropped him off at the agency and left him there that same night.
"Mom was a travel agent, Dad was a private assassin. Let's just say that Mom was less than pleased when her daughters took after her husband."
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Vaughn gave a hum in response, bringing his glass that was still a bit full to his lips. He tipped it back, finishing with what seemed like ease. An alcoholic and a killer, hm? Just like your daddy, the whisper mused by his ear.
There was a knock at the door and she opened it to reveal her food. She paid and took it, closing and locking the door. "Food's here. Finally."
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Vaughn set his glass down in the sink. He wasn’t an alcoholic. He just liked to drink a few glasses of the old gas station liquor each night. He looked over at Roxanne and nodded his head.
She took out the food, grabbed a fork, and dug into her food. She didn't speak, she didn't have anything to say.