hardboiledcandycorn-deactivated asked: You don't like them?

Not that so much as that I don’t believe you had them the last time I saw you.

hardboiledcandycorn-deactivated asked: Hi Snowman! You smell really good.

I what?  Well then.  Now if you don’t mind me asking, what’s with the ears?

>PS: Get away.

hardboiledcandycorn:

You pause when she demands who did it to you. You’re pretty sure it’s Droog who did this to you, though the memories still aren’t clear. You bite you lip. “Don’t remember, they gave me a shitload of drugs.”

You won’t tell her about Droog. They’d probably end up killing each other. Droog’s insane, and Snowman… well, if she’s anything like her darker counterpart she’s a handful of fantastic sexy bitch.

“Resting isn’t really my thing. I don’t get paid enough to afford leisure time,” you mutter, but don’t try to get up again. You’re paid on commission and it’s never very much.

He avoids your question, or at least in your somewhat rash and angered state of mind that’s how you interpret it.  He had been doing a very bad job of placating you though, this time bringing drugs into the picture.  You are ready now to begin a full scale investigation to find who hurt your Sleuth.  You stop though.  You realize he’s safe now and that’s what counts.

You sigh and shrug off your tension; you’re wound far too tight to be of any more help in the situation.  You move to the chair next to him and close your eyes.

“You can rest now, and I’ll be the one to foot that bill.  If it’s really that bad then you should join the force.  We could use a strong mind like you.”

>PS: Get away.

hardboiledcandycorn:

You pass out as soon as you’re in the car seat. You don’t know how long you’re out but when you come to someone’s touching you in places you don’t want to be touched (namely all of your cuts). You groan and squeeze your eyes shut and maybe everything will go away.

Nothing does.

When you open your eyes you’re staring at Snowman, and you’re conscious enough to make something out of her question. You hesitate before speaking. You don’t know if she realizes you’re awake and with how close her hands are to that gash on your side you really don’t want to scare her.

Can Snowman even be scared?

“I.. think torture was involved?” It comes out more as a question than a response. You’re not sure. You were drugged, but only to make all of your memories of the past 24(?) hours fuzzy. It feels like you had a terrible dream but you can’t remember what it was about exactly when you think about it.

You try to sit up but fail miserably. You are the exact opposite of hard-boiled right now, and you don’t really care. You suppose the drug is still floating around in your system.

You notice as Sleuth grimaces a little, and try to lighten your touch just a bit. You notice that he’s beginning to regain consciousness.  His eyes open and he seems alert enough.  He doesn’t speak at first and that had you worried slightly, but sure enough he answers your question.  Not that that really helps your mood.  It’s these cases that really disgust you and try on your faith for humanity.  And to have happened someone so dear to you.  Unconsciously your hand balls into a fist without you even realizing.

“Who?” is all you manage to say before Sleuth tries and fails to get up. “It would probably be better if you stayed down for now anyway, don’t want to reopen anything.”

>PS: Get away.

hardboiledcandycorn:

You barely hear Snowman when she calls out to you. In fact, your first instinct when you feel her touch is to reach for a knife and stab her. So you do. Except you don’t have a knife and the minute your hand is off your wound you nearly face plant into the sidewalk (you would have but Snowman hold you up). It’s around that point that you recognize her (as Snowman, you don’t exactly figure out which one just yet) and decide to go along with her. Whatever she has planned for you, it’ll be less worse if you don’t fight.

Your hand is back on your side again, and it feels like your holding in your own guts, though the wound isn’t nearly that bad. It’s deep, but not fatal. None of the cuts and gashes on you are fatal (on their own, you could bleed out if you don’t get anything treated).

It’s strange. You get the feeling you weren’t fighting when you got any of these. There’s bruises on your wrists and neck, but that’s it. You don’t remember what happened, other than Diamonds Droog as involved and you feel a little guilty for being where you are now. You don’t know why. If he was torturing you (which he probably was, not that you quite recall) then wouldn’t you be relieved to get away?

You don’t want to think so much about this anymore. Your head is killing you. You’re made aware of how incredibly warm Snowman is, and how incredibly cold you are. You try not to lean too much of your weight on her, but you do rest your head against her shoulder near her neck. She’s taller than you, and for once you’re actually happy about that. This would be so much harder if she was shorter.

Sleuth struggled at first, but he didn’t have the strength to do so.  You kept going, knowing time could be of the essence here.  You hadn’t gotten a chance to look at the wounds to see how bad they are. You hardly even noticed when Sleuth placed his head on your shoulder and your heart began to beat faster. 

You made it back to your car and got Sleuth situated in the passenger seat.  You look him over to get a gauge of the severity of the wounds.  None of them are too terribly serious, not anything worth bothering the ER with besides they ask questions.  Questions you don’t have the answers to.  You’re going to have to take care of him yourself.

You have him in on your couch and have begun tending to his injuries in no time.  As you’re dressing them you find yourself wondering aloud.

“Just what the hell were you up to?”

>PS: Get away.

hardboiledcandycorn:

You don’t remember much. You remember Droog, and then a lot of pain, and that’s pretty much all. Your head is pounding, and you’re pretty sure you’re high as fuck right now (though on what you have no idea, Droog probably has every drug under the sun). You’re also very aware of your clothes being soaked and sticking to you.

You’re also aware that it’s not raining.

You’re not sure how you got away. He probably let you go as a game to find you again, but for now you’re stumbling along an abandoned street with only two working street lights.

Your vision is clearing a bit now, and when you glance behind you you can see a trail of red paint—no that’s not paint. You’re pretty sure that came from you, though you can’t think of anything to do about it. You don’t even know where you are.

There’s a sharp pain in your side, followed by aching, and you realize you’ve been clutching it for the last who knows how long. When you look at what’s under your hand you feel your whole body sway and it takes a few minutes of blinking and leaning against a wall to regain focus.

You’re not going to pass out on a shady street, though you really wish someone would come help you. Too bad you don’t have any way of contacting anyone.

You were working the beat.  Just an average patrol.  Of course in this city an average patrol entails far more than one would assume.  It’s no surprise when you come across the blood trail.  You followed it expecting to find only the most recent cadaver killed in cold blood for whatever petty cash was in their pocket.  So you weren’t ready to find Sleuth looking like death warmed over, but alive.

Sleuth.  When you had been away from him you’d been able to rationalize.  It was the magic anons.  That was why you cared so much about him.  It wasn’t anything real.  That rationality was out the window when you saw him though.

"Sleuth, are you okay?"  You don’t even bother to wait for a response.  You’re under his shoulder supporting him in no time, leading him back to your car.  "Come on.  Let’s get you some help."

Oh Damn it.  Okay we can work through this,  Just have to avoid anyone undesirable.

Oh hello there, Sleuth.  What was that you said?  I couldn’t hear it over, the sound of my beating heart.

Anonymous asked: Writer: Does Snowman fancy anyone? Would she ever admit it?

Snowman doesn’t have a romantic interest at the moment, but if she did, she’s not one to deny her feelings and is very open about this stuff.  If she’s in love she’s in love, and if you have a problem you can take it up with her.