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02 March 2008 @ 11:44 am

So he came in with this huge black eye and mood to shoot at. Or, y'know, shoot at us with. Even Spike knew better then to say anything with just one look at Wes. Then again, coulda been the way Wes threw Spike's feet of the desk and gave him a look that might just have killed him on the spot if Wes has like-- voodoo power or whatever. Wow, someone must've not gotten laid in a while.

Ouch. Yeah. If he'd been Spike? I'd have joked about it. A lot. And I'd have fun doing it. Wes? Not so much. He's not known to be one of them lady killers, you know? Hasn't had a girlfriend since I've gotten to know him and started working for him all them years back. Never talks about a lady, never mentions a lady, never is seen with a lady. Except me when I manage to drag him out of the office.

He talks about a guy though. And everytime he does? Spike gets that look in his eyes, tucks his chin to his chest and pretends to be way interested in whatever he's reading. Yeah, doesn't take a genius detective to figure that one out. Hell, all it takes is knowing the guys. And I think after five years? I *know* the guys. Spike and his womanizing, trying to hide who he really is ways. And Wes and his deep, dark secret.

Not that he ever said. But I know. You can only rant and curse about 'that idiot police officer' so many times before the penny drops, you know?

This morning though? This morning was totally different. Spike and me both felt it, and neither of us even tried to joke about the nasty looking black eye. After a while Spike stomped out of the office to do who knows what. And I was left staring at the closed office door. Damn. This can't go on. I like my boss, I love Wes like my best friend. Okay, he is my best friend and how pathetic is that? Geeze. But this can't go on, and he's gotta know about the rumors that have been going around.

So after taking a deep breath, I nod to myself and stomp over to his office. I'm kinda shocked to see a bottle of whiskey on the desk, - some glasses missing already - and Wes sipping it. At this time of day? Whoa. So not of the good. "Okay. What the hell happened to you?" I blurt out with my usual tact.

He just looks at me with those dark blue eyes -- or one of them at least. Guy never heard of ice or what? "Nothing happened," he growls.

"Oh you just woke up with a black eye huh? Come off it, Wes. And what's with the mood, and geeze, the drinking? And the coming in later then us? Wanna try that 'nothing' again?"

He just sips his whiskey and I can see his eyes straying to the bottle. Contemplating taking another glass are we? With one step I'm in front of the desk and take the bottle away, putting it out of reach. Hands go to my hips while I tap one of my feet. He can do the glaring thing, but I can do it better. Hah!

"Look, Miss Chase," he starts. And oooh, nerve hitting, it's Miss Chase again. "It's none of your business, and you wouldn't understand at any rate." Which translates into he wouldn't tell me voluntarily at any rate. Yeah, no kidding, if it is what I think it is? I wouldn't either. Ew. I mean... geeze.

"Try me," I say, putting both hands on his desk to lean forward and catch his eyes even better. Eyes that don't even stray to my cleavage. Nuff said huh? "And didn't you ever hear about ice? Geeze, that one nasty eye, who did that? No, lemme guess. That 'wanker of a cop' you were ranting about when you came in?"

More staring. He shooting bolts at me. Me shooting fire at him. It's a battle of wills but I know I got him when I tell him totally seriously, "I know, Wes. I know everything. You're not as careful as you like to think. So spill the beans already, before you choke in them." Some of those are a total lie. But as he sits back in his chair?

I know I won, and it wont take long till I officially know what's the what. To bad I can't go and kick some *other* detective's ass. Cause he's a cop, and you can't assault cops yeah? Damn. In the end though? Wes is tipsy and emotionally upset enough (as much as that guy can be anyway) to blurt out the whole story. Leaving me reeling, even though I totally expected half of that shit.

But as I walk home later that evening? Yeah, I wanna kick some ass. Some cop ass. And some detective ass. But he can't keep doing this, you know? It's not just gonna destroy his job, it's gonna destroy him. There's gotta be something I can do. Hmmm.... I guess I'm gonna spend this evening thinking about that, instead of going out. Not that it matters, end of the month, running out of money and all that.

Besides, I keep thinking I'm seeing things. Like my not so ex-husband Wilson. He gives me the creeps. Maybe I should ask Wes and Spike to find out if the jerk is really in town. And, you know, run him out. But for now, I have a bigger deal to think about and find a solution for. Which might be way more easier then all of us think.
Current Mood: contemplativecontemplative