[center][url=http://fontmeme.com/handwriting-fonts/][img]http://fontmeme.com/embed.php?text=Okay%2C%20Let%27s%20be%20Detectives%20III&name=ASafePlacetoFall.ttf&size=20&style_color=90C2AA[/img][/url][/center][center][sub]Collab between [@Bozo] and [@Narcotic Dollie][/sub][/center][hr] [hider=Alessandra Goretti] “I don’t know.” Oliver shrugged. “Never really was one for soft drinks.” He was really more into fitness, and didn’t like to fill his body up with trans fats and sugar. Maybe that was why his fridge was so barren. He only ever bought vegetables and lean meat. But, considering this was a little social between the two of them, and that he had just agreed to take her in as his new roommate, he supposed he would indulge just this once. “Give me that soda from Australia, ‘Bloke’ I think it was called. Apparently it’s made with real koala bear blood.” “...what?” Nori blinks, dumbfounded, but sure enough there is a six pack of sodas in the fridge called ‘Bloke’ with the words, “Now with Actual Kola Blood!” advertised in bright red lettering over the front of the can. “...is that even legal?” She asks, but she retrieves the can anyways and sets it down in front of Oliver before plopping back down into her seat. “So, do you have any sort of house rules I should know about?” Nori questions as she pops the top on her rootbeer and takes a sip. “Well, considering I had been living on my own up until today, I’ve never really given any thought about it.” Oliver replied, resting a hand beneath his chin. “Nothin’ ridiculous, but if I had to create one it would have to be to just clean up after yourself.” He cracked open his can of soda, taking an experimental swig of the concoction. “Well, it tastes like cherry.” He smacks his lips together. “Damn, I should’ve been an Australian vampire.” “Really?” Nori leans across the table and takes the soda, giving it an experimental sniff before she takes a swig. “Oh,” she says, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “That's sweeter than I thought it would be. Koalas everywhere should be terrified. If the general public finds out about this they’ll go extinct overnight.” The DJ slides the can back over to the detective and opens the box, pulling free a slice and taking a quick bite. A string of cheese doesn't quite get severed and it’s strung out between her and the pizza for a second, but Nori takes her off hand and breaks it, stuffing it into her mouth as well. “S’good,” she tells him around the mouthful. “Glad you like it.” Oliver chuckles, reclining in his chair as he takes out his phone. “I’m gonna have to go back through some old records, find out if there was something I missed.” He tugs on the collar of his shirt, turning to her. “We’re gonna have to go get you a key for this place. If you really wanna help, go get me the green file from my office cabinet. Passcode for the lock is 6969.” There was something that didn’t stack up. The Weatherman he knew killed people using a sledge hammer in the rain. This time it looked more like a crazed arsonist. Perhaps his methods were changing? “Or I could just keep the one you kept under the mat,” Nori retorts, finishing her slice and licking the grease from her fingers. She was still kind of hungry, but decided it was probably best to hold off on anymore pizza for now. Both her and Dangermouse had their monthly measuring coming up and if either one of them was so much as an inch over their hire on size they could be terminated. Mr. Beauregard was a firm believer that love handles don’t belong on DJs. --- A little while later Nori is settled down in the middle of the living room with various stacks of paper scattered around her. She's got the case files separated between gender, then sub categorized by cause of death. There are more female deaths, but not by much, and most of them die from blunt force trauma. But there are the occasional one-offs. Strangulations, stabbings, and one particularly gruesome drowning. The case she’s reading over now is the murder of Alessandra Goretti. Nori undoes the paper clip that holds the case file together and pulls the photographs free, gingerly beginning to leaf through them. The top one shows the victim when she was still alive, a sweet smile on her lips and her doe like eyes shining with good humor. [i]’What a lovely woman,’[/i] she thinks, trailing a finger over it before flipping to the next one and visibly recoiling. This one was taken right after Alessandra was discovered and the beautiful woman is almost unrecognizable due to the brutal beating she must have endured. “I’m haunted everyday by those files.” Oliver murmured, leaning up against the doorway. “It’s like a list of every mistake I’ve ever made, all the failures conjured up over a lifetime of misery and regret. The file you’re looking at right now, well, every day I die a little inside when I look at it.” He sighed. “That was my best friend’s fiancee. I can’t face him anymore. I’ve been drowning the experience with alcohol and cigarettes, trying to fill the cracks that she left in my life. We were good friends.” He smiled, his cerulean orbs moist. Yet he didn’t cry. “She used to read palms; those we happier days.” Nori turns her head, glancing back at the detective in the doorway. “I’m sorry,” she tells him before looking back down at the case file. “She seemed like an accomplished women, from everything I've read here. A professor of any sort at such a young age, let alone one of Nuclear Physics, is pretty impressive.” Nori gathers up the case file, clipping the pictures back in it and laying it gently into her ‘Female--Death by Blunt Force Trauma' pile. [/hider] [hider=The Other Case Files] “So far his MO mostly seems to be bashing people up with a sledgehammer. But there are a few that don't seem to fit together at all, like that one,” Nori explains, pointing to her lone drowning case. “Atlas Ashgrave, thirty nine years old. They found him face down in the toilet with both of his ears removed and stuffed into his mouth.” “Plus, he was covered in bite marks,” the blonde adds, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Why is this one so different? Are we sure that the Weatherman had something to do with it?” “Well, for one it matches the rest of the cases in the same regard that it was raining at the time. Whether or not this is purely coincidence is something yet to be seen. I’m starting to wonder if maybe he’s beginning to catch on to his predictability and is changing his methods as a result, or just wants to kill people in different ways to break up the monotony.” He took a sip of ‘Bloke.’ “I’d place my money on the former option any day of the week. By the way, did you ever test whose blood it was on that message of yours? God forbid there’s a corpse rotting on the street somewhere at this point.” “Also, do you have a vehicle to get from place to place? If not, I have an old scooter you can use for back and forth shit if you need it.” “I just took the picture. I thought the police were gonna take me more seriously, so I didn't figure I needed to do anything else,” she admits, shooting the detective an apologetic look. “By the time they got there the rain had already washed it away, so there wasn't anything to collect.” The thought that maybe the blood on her door had been from a victim and not from The Weatherman made Nori feel sick. The DJ rearranges herself so that she is sitting cross legged and pondered Oliver’s offer of the scooter. “I haven't been on one of those since I was a kid,” she admits. “I guess it might be nice though, for when I have to get groceries. And it'd be cheaper than taking a cab.” He's being so kind to her that Nori begins to wonder if she's taking advantage of him a little bit. He was giving her a lot of freebies. “I could pay some rent, if that would help you out. You probably haven't worked at all this last week, you know, because of the whole going into shock thing. I don't mind.” “Hell, most my money goes to vehicles.” Oliver chuckled, grabbing another slice of pizza. “And no, I'm fully aware that I'm giving you a bunch of stuff. Don't worry, you won't have to pay a dime except for the groceries you get. God knows what kind of food you eat. I like filling my tank with protein shakes, mostly. But seeing as I've been out for a couple of days I really need the carbohydrates.” He stood up, cracking his neck. “Your boss sounds like an asshole, so I can help you with keeping fit if that's what you aim to do. Gotta a little gym with some weights and a punching bag down the hall, have a treadclimber too.” “As for money, I'm always given a weekly stipend by the government for tracking down illegals and tax evaders. So I'm never hungry or homeless. The big money comes from cases, so I might take another one of those while I'm helping you out.” “Hey, I don’t eat junk food!” Nori defends, sticking her tongue out at him as she picked up another case file and started to filter through it. “Just a lot of fruits and vegetables. And coffee,” she explained. [i]’You’ve got to have money to buy crap food,’[/i] she muses, eyes shifting down to the next case file. ‘Arsenia Slaughter,’ was her name, which was sort of funny in a twisted way, considering how she died. She had been nineteen and one of the best female soccer players in Japan. She had just been recruited to the national team, but got caught in the rain one night on her way back from practice and that was that. She had apparently fought back, her knuckles bruised and some off her nails ripped free from her clawing at him. The rain had washed away everything by the time they found her. Nori adds it to the pile. “A home gym will be nice, since I’ll be using your scooter. The hours of dancing work pretty well for keeping me from getting too chubby,” she tells him, looking up from the files. “Could you train me?” she asks suddenly, meeting his eyes. “Just in case I ever meet him and I don’t have a gun, y’know?” “Well that all depends if you can handle the pain.” Oliver replied flatly, crossing his arms as he pointed behind him, down where the hallway ended and the gym began. “What do you feel like you need to work on? Is it cardio or weight training? Are you looking to tone or build muscle? That’s all the questions I need answered. I don’t need you dying after running a mile, nor can I have you messin’ up your back because you lifted the wrong way.” He paused. “As for teaching you how to fight, well, I suppose it couldn’t hurt. Although with a guy that size, you’d want to run the fuck away until you find a gun.” Reaching downwards, Holland picked up another file, this time going over a politician by the name of Atasuke Kishimoto. He was a high profile city official from Tokyo who had visited Shine City in order to discuss green energy with the Mayor. Needless to say, his limo got caught in the rain as he was leaving. They found it a few days later , empty, blood splattered across the leather seats. “I won’t go easy on you because you’re a girl, Miss Haywood.” “It's been a long time, but I did grow up on a wheat farm, Detective Holland. I know a little bit about manual labor and pain,” she responds, wrapping her flannel shirt a tighter around herself. It really was like an ice box in here. “So I'm probably not gonna throw my back out. I guess cardio would be my weak spot. You can help me come up with a routine, yeah?” She asks, raising up onto her knees and swiping the case file from Oliver, putting it into her, ‘No Body’ pile. “And of course I’ll try to run first, but...,” Nori pauses, swallowing before continuing, “...just in case, it would be better to be ready.” “...and I don't expect you to go easy on me, Detective Holland. I'm sure The Weatherman won't either.” “Good.” Oliver nodded. “We’ll start soon. I have to figure out which route to take so that we’re not tripping over traffic cones and cracks in the sidewalk.” He rubbed his fingers together with the hand the file used to be, blinking blankly at his empty palm before turning his attention to the DJ on the floor. Well, the girl certainly had an assertiveness he hadn’t been expecting. She reminded him a lot of himself back in the day. Hell, he would bet money that she doesn’t take no for an answer. “Anyway, as you can see, the Weatherman doesn’t seem to be sticking to just rain anymore. He’s getting bolder, doing higher profile crimes and murders to see if he can get away with it. Yet still, he manages to leave and get away without leaving a single strand of DNA or piece of evidence. It’s quite impressive, really. What do you think about it?” “I can't tell if he’s really smart and always covers his tracks, or if he's just lucky,” Nori remarked, humming as she glanced over her completed stacks. The amount was staggering. Twelve victims over the last three and a half years and it seemed like The Weatherman was becoming more brazen each time. “I think the change is good. He’s perfected the sledgehammering ones at this point, but these,” the blonde gestures towards the miscellaneous death piles, “He’s not as good at those. You're proof enough of that. You're the first victim to survive, after all.” [/hider] [hider=Roadtrips, Tattoos, and Cigarettes] “He’s gonna mess up soon, I think, but I'm sure neither one of us wants to wait around for that,” Nori says as she pulls out her phone and checks the time. “It's getting late and all my clothes and stuff are still at my place,” she informs, flicking her golden eyes up to meet his blue ones. “I don’t suppose you could give me a ride?” “Oh, no problem at all.” Oliver replied, retrieving his keys from his pocket. “We’ll take my car.” As the two of them entered the garage of his apartment, he couldn’t help but strike up another conversation, pointing the keys and unlocking his vehicle as he did so. “So, what’s with the face tattoo? You trying to be like Mike Tyson or something? It’s actually kinda...cool.” He enters his car, patting the seat next to him. “So, where ya headed?” “My place is on the south side of town, down on Mare Street,” Nori explains, tugging the door open and plopping down into the passenger street. Once she's settled the blonde brings her hand up to her left cheek, letting her finger trail over the flowing design that adorned it. “I've always wanted to be a DJ, even when I was little. I got my first set of turntables when I was seven,” she explains, dropping her hand. “I thought it was gonna be easy to get a job at the radio station or the club, but I was wrong. Turns out Shine City is full of aspiring sound mixers.” Nori chuckles, slipping her toes out of her flats and putting her bare feet up on the dashboard. “Mr. Beauregard was the only one that honestly considered me, but he told me I needed something special, to set me apart from all the other applicants. So I went out and got this.” “I was really lucky, actually. I just gave the tattoo artist free reign. She could have royally fucked up my face,” Nori admits, her toes flexing as she gives Oliver a sheepish grin. “But a lot of people like it. Well, except my dad, but that's just because he's a stick in the mud. The next time I went to see Mr. Beauregard he hired me on the spot.” “Do you have any tatt--oh,” Nori stops herself, cringing at having asked the question out loud. Even if he used to have tattoos, the fire probably erased them. “Sorry, Detective Holland, I didn't think that one through.” “Actually, Miss Haywood, I do have tattoos.” Oliver quipped, giving the DJ a quick glance before returning his attention to the road ahead. “They are…,” He paused, shaking his head as if recalling some embarrassing memory. “Quite ironic.” “I can show you them once we get back.” Oliver offered, smirking behind his bandages. “My arms are pretty fucked up, but you can probably still see em’.” [hider=Oliver's Tattoos] [img]http://41.media.tumblr.com/efca8bd977198ede016c71ab60ecef90/tumblr_ndqbi9lveh1qa8jaho1_500.png[/img] [/hider] “I’d like to see them,” Nori answers, glad that she hadn't offended him. “I do love a good tattoo.” He notices her feet propped up against his spotless dashboard, but doesn’t say anything. After all, he did fail her and let her house get burned down. Call him a pushover, but he felt an obligation to let her do as she pleased for the time being. “So, I’m sure you miss that Kyle friend of yours.” He began, keeping one hand on the steering wheel as he reached for the pack of cigarettes in the cup holder. “You sure you’ll be okay without him?” He placed a cigarette in his mouth between the bandages, resting the carton down before turning his head. “Can you light this for me?” He mumbled through closed lips. “It’s for the best,” the blonde replies, referring to Kyle. “Would I like to see him? Sure. But him not being a target is more important than that,” she finishes, running her hands up and down her thighs to try and warm them up. Hopefully the heater would kick in soon. “Do you think it's a good idea for me to see anyone right now?” Nori asks, turning her head and raising her brow at him. The DJ sees that he’s got a cigarette in his mouth and is murmuring for her to help him light it. The blonde reaches for the lighter in the cup holder and leans over to try, but the car is drafty and the flame keeps going out. Nori gives it a few more tries before eventually getting frustrated with it and pulls the cigarette free from his lips, placing it gingerly between her own. The tattooed girl gets the lighter started, cupping her spare hand around the flame and inhaling, successfully starting the cancer stick. She grimaces and her nose scrunches up in displeasure as her mouth is flooded with the taste of tobacco and nicotine. “Here,” she coughs, leaning over again and holding it out for him. “Those things will kill you, you know.” “Uh…” Oliver starts, at a loss for words. “Thanks.” He takes the cigarette from her, placing it back between his lips and taking a nice long drag. “Much better than breathing in smoke from a fire.” He chuckles, exhaling through the slight crack in his car window. He turns, and, noticing her discomfort, cranks the dial for the heater all the way to right, hot air quickly blasting through the vents and warming the car. “What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger.” The Detective states flatly, shrugging his shoulders. “I mean, if I can get cooked like a fuckin’ steak in a burning building, then I’m sure I can smoke all the cigarettes in the world.” He looks at the GPS displayed in the centermost console, his eyes narrowing as he peers out the window. “Are we in the right place? Seems kinda...run down.” Absentmindedly, he places a hand on the gun strapped to his hip, making sure it’s secured in it’s holster and hadn’t fallen out. “I’ll get out with you.” The heat starts to fill the cab of the car and Nori sighs, letting her head fall back against the seat, her eyes slipping closed. “Thank Christ,” she murmurs, already feeling much warmer. “I was positive that I was gonna get frostbite.” The DJ doesn't fight him anymore over the cigarettes. He was a grown man, after all, and it was his business. She just hoped he wouldn't do it too much in the apartment, or he’d at least crack a window. “Yeah, we’re in the right neighborhood,” Nori confirms, tapping on her window and pointing at an especially seedy apartment complex. “That's it there. You can tell because most of the windows are out on the top floor. They haven't gotten around to fixing them yet.” “I’ll get out with you.” “Oh, you don't have to do that, Detective Holland,” Nori reassures, unbuckling her seat belt and putting her flats back on. “I really don't have much, it won't take long at all. You can stay and keep warm, if you want.” “Nonsense.” Oliver replied, getting out of the car and adjusting the holster on his hip. “Let me just turn these on, and I’ll let you grab your stuff.” He leans into his car, flipping a switch on the dashboard, blinking as red and blue lights suddenly flash to life on the front and rear view mirror. “Alright, now you can go. I’ll wait outside as to not invade your privacy. I’ve seen places like these. Punks stay far away from the crimson and sapphire comin’ down the highway.” A smirk formed on his lips, and he stared at Nori, smiling at her with his eyes. “Plus, I told you I’ll protect you. It’s the least I can do, after all, as you said, you have lost everything. I need you to get back on your own two feet.” All of a sudden, he stares hardly, turning around and crossing his arms, the badge dangling from his neck lying flatly on his broad, kevlar covered chest. “Take your time.” He gently speaks, despite his appearance. “Or would you feel safer if I tag along and leave the car running?” Nori stares at his back, a weird emotion churning in her belly. She wasn’t sure what it was. But it was sweet of him, to want to protect her so much. Without saying anything at first, Nori leans back into the car and flips the lights off. “C’mon Oliver, we don’t need that. You’ll scare off anyone that tries to mess with us with that scary look and gun off yours,” she teases, nodding towards the entrance. “Let’s go.” They make it through the front door and she leads them to the stairwell, explaining, “This building is so old that it doesn’t have a lift. Sorry, we’ll have to hoof it.” Eventually they make it up to the third floor and Nori stops, sifting through her purse to find her keys. There is a large man sitting in a wheelchair in front of the door across the hall, staring at them listlessly. “That’s Rahelio,” Nori tells the detective, unlocking the door. “Don’t mind him, he just likes to be out here sometimes. He doesn’t really have much to say.” The blonde finally gets the door open and she lets Oliver go in before her, locking the door behind them. “So this is it,” she explains, scratching at her nose, suddenly embarrassed. It wasn’t much, just a hallway really. But it had a bed and a kitchen, so it worked for her. [/hider] [hider=“...so...you like it when I look like a hooker?” ] “Well,” Oliver began, looking around her apartment. “It’s practical. Hell, it’s got all the essentials too.” He began to pace around, looking at all the little nifty knick knacks and whatever cool stuff she had within the confines of her little apartment. It as just like a college dorm, only it was in the most seediest part of town rather than in the middle of the city with all the nightclubs and high lifers. “Nice place you got here, how much did this even cost you a month? I mean, I’m actually kind of impressed that there’s an apartment that looks like this in this shithole. It’s pretty well intact as well.” He fumbled around with the bandages around his arm, tightening them as he continued. “Take your time. I don’t know how much you have, you know, girly things.” “It’s pretty cheap. Just $450 a month. I paid extra so I didn’t have to share my bathroom with my neighbor,” she admits, pulling her two duffel bags back out from under the bed and beginning to repack everything. “Not a lot of girly things right now,” she answers him, pulling open the drawers and moving her clothes over to the bags. There isn’t a lot there, but it’s enough to get her through a week without having to laundry. She’d have to borrow some clothes from Jen for her work shifts though. Her dad hadn’t bought her anything that was skanky enough to live up to Mr. Beauregard’s standards. Finished with her clothes Nori moves on to her bed, folding up the quilt her mother had made her for Christmas and carefully tucking it away with her other belongings. “Do you think we need these?” the DJ asks Oliver, opening the kitchen cabinets and shaking a stack of paper plates at him. A roach crawls out from the depths of the sink and Nori stomps it quickly. It makes a sickening crunch under her flats. “Bring it all.” Oliver replied, somehow managing to find yet another cigarette, already smoking it by the time she turns around. “You won’t be coming back to this place. Might as well cancel the rent and save yourself some cash.” He watches as she squishes the roach, exhaling a thin line of smoke before looking at her. “Very classy. Just do that to some street punks and you’ll fit right in.” Oliver shrugs his shoulders, heading off to her kitchen and opening her fridge. “Oh, you didn’t tell me you had a bunch of...TV dinners?” He questions, unsure of himself. “I can see why you lack skills and finesse in the culinary arts, Miss Haywood.” He smiles, letting her know he’s joking. “We must find a place to put all this in the car.” Oliver reminds her, wondering if there was more than just two duffel panks. Ah well, he could always make some space. “Yes, ha ha, we get it, Nori can’t cook,” she replies, sticking her tongue out at him cheekily. “The front office left those for me,” explains, motioning towards the TV dinners. “Somehow they figured out my last place burned down. I didn’t realize that meant they'd give me freebies.” “It’ll fit, all the furniture belongs to the complex,” Nori tells him, finished with the packing in this room. She crosses over to the bathroom and when she opens the door another roach scurries out, clearly the brother of the other one. Nori curbstomps him as well. She has no mercy. “They get honry at night,” she quips, flipping on the light switch and gathering her toiletries. “Y’know, you never answered my question earlier,” Nori starts, coming back to the bed and dumping her toothbrush and shampoos into her bags. “When I asked if you thought it was a good idea for me to see anyone, I mean.” “Well, if it were me, then I’d try my best to keep in contact with them.” Oliver finally replied, turning his attention away from yet another dead roach. “After all, even if a killer is after you, it’s not like he’s going to systematically hunt down and kill every single individual you see on the street. No, he’ll go after the one’s that love you the most.” He lifts up his arm, giving it a light stretch. “And by that, I mean texting and whatnot is fine, but actually seeing them in person? Big no no.” Another roach scurries out from underneath the sofa, abruptly stopping as if looking up at Oliver with beady black eyes. He stared at it. It stared at him. He stared at it. It stared at him. [i]Crunch![/i] “So like I was saying,” He continued, wiping off his boot, “If you think it’ll be okay to contact them, then I’d do so. But coming from personal experiences, I’d say stay out of it completely.” “That’s what I thought too,” Nori answers Oliver, a little sadly. She leans over her bed and grabs the picture of her mom and dad off the nightstand, carefully packing it away as well. “I’m not sure if it would be fair to text him. I don’t know how long it’s going to take to work out all of…[i]this[/i],” she continues after a moment, gesturing to herself. “It’s wrong of me to ask him to wait. I shouldn’t lead him on.” Her eyes are hot again. She wipes them on her shirt sleeve and gets back to packing. “Is it alright if I change into something else? These are falling off of me,” Nori informs him, tugging at the pair of pajama pants Oliver had loaned her. “I’ll be quick, I promise.” “Of course.” Oliver nods, his gaze softening as he notices her wiping her tears away. “You can change into whatever you want. Take as long as you need, make yourself as pretty as you want too.” He exhaled, flicking the rest of the cigarette into the sink and washing it down the drain. “Of course, I don’t think that’s possible.” He smiled at the little quip of his. Sure, it was very unprofessional, but she looked so upset. “I’m sorry, I’m joking. You shouldn’t dwell on the past.” Oliver patted her on the back. “The first rule of being a detective is to be unreadable. It’s not your fault if your emotions get the better of you. Sometimes, it’s okay to cry. Do you know what I mean?” Nori snorts at his joke, but gives the Detective a timid smile as he reassures her. “Thanks, Oliver. For everything.” She goes to give his shoulder a gentle pat but stops herself, barely letting her fingers brush over his kevlar vest. [i]’Best not,’[/i] she thinks. [i]’I might hurt him.’[/i] The pale girl brushes past him so she can get to the bed, sorting through her bag and selecting her clothes before going over to the bathroom. “So, this is a little janky,” Nori informs, gesturing to the door. “You can close it if no one is inside, but there isn’t enough room to do it if someone’s in there. So, don’t peek and all that cliche shit,” she finishes, waiting for the older man to turn around. “Whatever you say, Boss.” Oliver sighs, turning around and crossing his arms. Women these days. They take these things sexually all the time. Come to think of it, it was always about sexual tension during his most recent experiences. The Casino, that raven haired lady Rokomoko (or whatever the fuck her name was), and agreeing taking the case to wait in Nori’s apartment. Oh yes, these sort of things always had a habit of landing him in sticky situations. Speaking of sticky, he was feeling a bit peckish. Sure he had just eaten dinner, but he was out for days. [i]‘I wonder if that donut place downtown is still open.’ [/i] He wondered, placing a hand underneath his chin. He’d have to find out later. “This isn't so bad,” Nori starts, shrugging out of her flannel shirt and folding it, before moving on to the borrowed undershirt. “You're not trying to peek at all, are you? It's like you're a mannequin!” the blonde chuckles, wadding up the shirt and chunking it at him. Nori shimmies out of the pajama bottoms and pulls on a beat up pair of blue jeans that she usually left on the farm for when she visited, along with a long sleeved cream colored top. The DJ gave herself a once over in the mirror and scowled when she realized she was still wearing the makeup Amity had picked out for her. “Alright, I'm decent, but give me a minute to wash this gunk off my face, alright?" [hider=Nori’s Outfit][img]https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/95/fc/12/95fc121bebf0bd9fb293e37153f309c2.jpg[/img][/hider] “I like it.” Oliver mumbles under his breath. “Really? I thought the lipstick kind of looked whoreish.” “Exactly why I like it.” He responded, a shit eating grin forming in his lips. “...so...you like it when I look like a hooker?” She asks, blinking owlishly. “Hah, no. Clean yourself up.” Oliver smirks, placing yet another cigarette in his mouth. “Whoever did that deserves a punch in the throat.” [/hider]