Oooweeeoooooooooooooo.......

Hopefully the distinction between Ruth Smith and Emily Burns is a bit clearer now.
I'd also like to point out that the section at the beginning is a flashback of when Emily/Ruth was 14. She is now 15. It's hard to tell because I don't know how to italicize the words on Polyvore, which is why I prefer DeviantArt.
 

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"How did it go?"
 
Emily glanced up at her mentor as she entered his house, her cheeks flushed with red from the cold, "Not bad for my first night by myself, I suppose." She sat down on the sofa that was opposite of his chair, removing her blue jacket and staring at the flames in the fireplace.
 
He raised an eyebrow at her, noting just a hint of concern in her features, and a strange lack of her usual enthusiasm. "What's bothering you, Emily?"
 
With a small sigh, Emily ran her fingers briefly through her black hair, shaking out the stiffness, "I'm a bit worried, Al. If I do become successful at this whole detective thing...then what will the repercussions be?" She looked up, her eyebrows arched in concern, "I don't want to make life for anyone around me dangerous, but then..." Emily rested her folded hands on her knees, turning her gaze back to the fire with a reluctant shrug, "I guess that it just comes with the job."
 
Al put down the newspaper he was holding and leaned forward, pressing his fingers together and resting the tip of his nose against the side of his hands, "You want anonymity."
 
"...anonymity." Emily repeated, keeping her eyes on the floor for a few seconds while she pondered his words, then glanced up, "How am I supposed to do that?"
 
"Well." Al began, lowering his hands to his knees, "Where you're starting from is very basic; just a few simple street crimes that people need help with, correct?"
 
The aspiring detective nodded slowly, keeping eye contact with her aging tutor to keep herself focused.
 
Smiling, Al continued, "You only go out at night, and it's difficult to distinguish a person's face at night. Don't give your real name; call yourself by something else. Keep your voice quiet when you talk, and don't give away personal details. You'll be almost a shadow; no one will realize you're there unless they're looking for you."
 
"But..." Emily frowned, "It shouldn't take too much for someone to find me if my only defense is a lack of lighting and a fake name."
 
Shaking his head, Al gave a sharp tisk with his tongue, "No, Emily. You won't be just using a fake name. That would be too easy. You need another alias." Al tapped his fingers on the small coffee table lying between them, "Emily Burns is not a detective; Emily Burns is an average, 14-year-old girl with no secrets and a simple life."
 
It was a bit difficult for Emily to absorb that statement, since she had grown very comfortable with her deduction abilities over the last year and a half of training with Al, and she attempted to reject it, "But I'm-
 
"Emily, this is necessary. You can't just pretend the part; you have to believe it, or else the whole idea is pointless." When Emily conceded with a nod, Al continued, "Now repeat. Emily Burns is an average, everyday 14-year-old girl."
 
Giving an inward sigh, Emily repeated the words, feeling reluctant.
 
"Good. And now, I want you to think of a name." Her mentor leaned back in his chair, watching her as she thought a moment.
 
"Ruth?" She offered.
 
"Is that the name of a friend, cousin, grandmother...?"
 
"No. I just thought of it myself." Emily responded.
 
Al nodded, "Good, then there won't be any obvious way to trace you. Now, surname."
 
"Smith."
 
"Excellent. Very common. Perfect, in fact." Al rested one elbow on the armrest of his chair and pointed at Emily, "Now we have an alias to fill. Because although Emily Burns is just any girl, Ruth Smith is not. Ruth Smith is a nocturnal creature with the most acute senses, the toughest nerves, and the sharpest mind. People run to her for help with their cases, and she solves them in the blink of an eye." Al raised an eyebrow, "Now, how does that sound?"
 
She listened as he talked, a smile growing on her face as the idea began to win her over, "It sounds good to me."
 
"Good!" Al grinned, then leaned forward, "Tell me, miss. What's your name?"
 
With a small, quirky smile, she extended her hand in greeting, "Ruth Smith, amateur detective."
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Half-closed eyes suddenly flickering open, Emily sat up as she was shifted out of her memory to the sound of the bell ringing, announcing the end of her first class. Shaking her head, Emily pushed back her seat and gathered up her books, heading for the hallway. For once, she actually felt rested, and it was a refreshing feeling. After she'd gotten home she knew there would be no way that she could sneak out of the house; her mom was far too excited, asking questions and taking pictures...there was no way Emily was escaping for the night. And so she actually went to bed at about 10:30pm, waking up around 7:00 for school.
 
'That's about 4 more hours than I usually get.' Emily thought, smiling to herself and humming casually as she flipped the dial on her combination lock, preparing for another average day of school.
 
"Hello again."
 
Emily nearly choked on her own tongue as an unexpected and strangely familiar voice greeted her from behind. She turned quickly, fumbling her grip on her books as she found herself meeting the gaze of none other than Alexander. He gave her a cocky smirk as her papers and textbooks fell onto the ground with a loud thud that drew attention from at least five other people in the hallway.
 
"Well, you certainly know how to draw attention to yourself." He mused, couching down and picking up a few of her scattered items.
 
Hesitantly, Emily knelt onto the floor and began getting her things together as well, "What are you doing here?" She asked, taking the books from his hands and standing back up.
 
The boy frowned innocently, "I thought it was obvious; I'm in school."
 
It didn't take more than a few seconds for Emily to connect the pieces, "You...you go to school here now?"
 
Alexander smirked, "Excellent deduction skills, Emily."
 
It was heavily sarcastic comment, and Emily struggled to repress Ruth's acidic response, "But, why?"
 
"Oh, I figured it would be more...interesting." He chose the word carefully, giving a small shrug as he did so, "You know, a change of scenery."
 
'Lie.' Emily's lips twitched briefly into a frown at Ruth's inner accusation, trying not to look panicky as she turned back to her locker, shoving her books haphazardly inside.
 
"Yes, well that's...that's good. I um...I'll just be getting to my class now-" She shut her locker door and tried to slip past the Alexander.
 
Stretching out his arm, Alexander gently pushed Emily back a few steps, "Well, well!" He scolded, "How is abandoning me here being a good guide?"
 
Frowning, Emily glanced up at him, "What?"
 
With a mischievous smile, Alexander explained, "Oh, did I neglect to mention? The school secretary assigned me a student guide, and I requested you." He flashed a charming grin as he watched the new information sink into Emily's mind, "It appears as though we'll be spending a lot of time together this week."
 

Emily sat down at the lunch table in her usual spot, her patience nearly completely exhausted. She didn't even glance up as her best friend Mark took a seat in front of her. Naturally, he quickly noticed that she was looking quite distressed.
 
"Whoa." He raised his eyebrows as she glanced up, her expression showing suppressed anger, "You've looked...better."
 
Gladly, Emily let her nighttime persona take over, and she dropped her daytime alias, "You saw that boy that I was being constantly followed by all day, right?"
 
Mark nodded, "Yeah, I was going to ask about that..."
 
Scowling, Emily (now Ruth) explained, "His name is Alexander Knight; I'm almost positive he's a member of the underground system." She poked at the leaves of the salad on her plate, "Unfortunately I didn't have time to do any of my usual investigating last night because of...well." Ruth shrugged her shoulders and shook her head in disgust.
 
"Right, that dance thing. Sorry I missed it." He apologized, picking up his fork and trying to start on his food without Ruth noticing.
 
Unfortunately he wasn't quite sneaky enough, and she reached forward and knocked the utensil out of his hand, "Pay attention, Mark!" She ordered, her eyebrows narrowing, "You need to listen to this."
 
Giving a sigh, Mark rested his hands on the table and looked up at Ruth, "I feel like I don't get enough to eat anymore."
 
"Listen!" Ruth repeated, ignoring his comment, "Even though I don't know much about Alexander, I know that he's potentially dangerous. So you are not, under any circumstance, to go near him. Just stay out of his way and avoid contact altogether."
 
"Alright." Mark agreed, having figured out awhile ago that arguing with Ruth (or even Emily on a bad day), was pointless, "But what's he got to do with you?" His expression suddenly turned serious, "Does this have anything to do with Ruth?"
 
Ruth shook her head, "He knows about R.S, that's it. He hasn't made the connection between R.S and Emily." She paused, "However..."
 
"'However' what?" Mark's eyes widened in concern; nothing that followed a statement like 'however' was ever good.
 
Lowering her voice, Ruth leaned in, her expression very serious, "He told me that he knows R.S goes to this school, or at least he's highly suspicious; and he says he knows that R.S is a girl."
 
"So..." Mark frowned, "Not good."
 
It was too hard to resist the temptation to roll her eyes at Mark's obvious statement.
 
"Okay, but wait." Mark held up his hands, "If he doesn't know you and Emily are...wait, I mean...why is he following Emily? If he doesn't know that she's you..." He paused, then shook his head, "Sorry, this whole duo-alias thing is kind of confusing me still. Uhm," He thought a moment, "right. Why is he bothering Emily if he doesn't know she's Ruth?"
 
Ruth felt her face heat up, and she pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing, "I'm afraid I might have been a bit careless with Emily's interaction."
 
"In what way, exactly?" Mark asked.
 
Running her hands down her burnings cheeks, Ruth gave Mark a brief recounting of everything that had happened between Emily and Alexander at the banquet last night.
 
"...and then he asked me for the time, kissed me on the hand, and left."
 
Mark was silent for a moment, then he began to chuckle, and suddenly he was choking as he tried to dislodge the piece of sandwich that he'd managed to sneak of bite of. A few moments later, he was coughing and slamming his fist against his sternum, trying to get the last pieces of bread out of his windpipe while Ruth watched him with an unamused glare.
 
"I don't see how this is funny!" She snapped.
 
"It's hilarious!" Mark giggled, "It mean, if anyone's unknowingly going to catch the eye of the person that's actually trying to catch them, it would be you."
 
Her eyes narrowed sharply, "I could potentially be in danger here, Mark."
 
Clearing his throat, Mark's expression immediately lost it's light-heartedness, "How much danger?"
 
She gave a shrug of her shoulders, shaking her head and biting down on her bottom lip, "I can't tell. Not yet. I'll definitely have to do some looking around tonight to determine the exact position that I'm in right now."
 
Noticing that Ruth was becoming apprehensive and worrisome, Mark attempted to get her mind off of the subject, "So," he began, pulling out his usual small notebook and pencil, "do you want to go over any of your case notes? Re-examine some facts? Go over a statement again?"
 
Normally this routine was like dangling a piece of string in front of a kitten, but Ruth didn't dive in this time. Quick as lightning, she slammed her hand down on the case notebook in Mark's hand, pressing it against the table, "No. No cases!"
 
It was hard not to be startled by the abrupt action, and it made Mark flinch, "What? Why not?" He questioned in alarm, consenting and putting the notebook back in his pocket
.
Ruth frowned, her eyes showing a clear, desperate longing as her case notes disappeared, "I can't risk it." She told her friend, "As long as Alexander is hanging around me like a pesky fly I can't risk it. He's looking for R.S, remember? The last thing I need is to make myself suspicious by solving cases right in front of him, small as they are." It pained Ruth to even think about not doing any sort of deduction for what could be any amount of days or weeks, and it only made her more irritated with her new and unwanted 'friend'.
 
"Why would he suspect you?" Mark questioned, "I mean, Emily is a shy, awkward, average 15-year-old girl, just like you made her out to be."
 
She sighed, "And Alexander appears to be a charming, clever, promising child who is really someone who's managed to track down R.S to her school, and who knows what else he could really be..." Ruth allowed herself a small sip of milk before she continued, focusing her gaze past Mark on some distant object, "I think he knows appearances can be deceiving."
 
Mark glanced over the tables of students in front of him, "But what if someone has a case?"
Picking up Mark's pencil, Ruth poked him in the forehead with the tip of the eraser, "You'll solve it."
 
The boy's eyes widened, "Wait, what?" Raising an eyebrow, Ruth nodded, admittedly amused by Mark's nervousness, "Okay, I can list about 20 reasons why that's a really, really bad idea."
"And I can list about 21, but that's not the point." Ruth counted, sitting up and tapping the pencil on the table, "You can either take on a case or ignore it, but either way I'm not going to be able to help you inside of school until Alexander loses his lead." She released her grip on the pencil and leaned back, waiting for Mark's decision.
 
Stretching out his hand, Mark picked up the object and rolled it around in his fingers, "Great." He murmured.
 
"You'll be fine." Ruth assured, not quite confident in her own statement, "Possibly."
 
Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Mark was about to give a sarcastic retort when Ruth caught sight of someone annoyingly familiar walking towards them.
 
"Go scour around for some cases." Ruth ordered sharply, giving Mark such a look that he didn't even hesitate in leaving. She watched him hurry away towards another table, then turned back to find his vacant seat now occupied by Alexander.
 
"It's not very nice to abandon new students right before lunch." Alexander stated coolly, neatly setting his lunch tray down on the table.
 
Emily tried not to cringe, feeling intimidated by his presence, "Sorry, I...lost you." She stated, tongue-in-cheek.
 
He raised an eyebrow skeptically, and Emily did her best to avoid his gaze by keeping her eyes on her tray as she shifted the food around, too nervous to eat.
 
"Perhaps I should have mentioned," Alexander began, dipping a fry into a pool of ketchup, "I can always tell when someone is lying."
 
'Touché.' Ruth murmured.
 
She chanced a glance upwards, instantly making unexpected eye contact and noticing something different. Before she could stop herself, Emily blurted out an observation, "Your eyes changed."
 
"Oh?" Alexander raised one eyebrow, smiling, "I'm flattered you noticed."
 
The girl lowered her gaze, silently cursing her stupidity, "Were you wearing contacts?"
 
"Yes, I was." He answered, "For personal reasons." Grinning, he asked her a question, "Which do you think looks better, green or dark brown?"
 
Looking up, Emily stared at him, unsure if she should answer or not, "I don't really...I mean both look fine."
 
Shrugging, Alexander moved onto the next topic, "I suppose it's hardly important. But what I'd like to know, Emily, is why are you finding it so difficult to be my guide?"
 
"You make me nervous." Emily muttering, wincing as Alexander began to laugh.
 
"I suppose that's understandable, but not for a girl of your temperament." He frowned, "What happened to the Emily Burns that I met Saturday night? She seemed to be a bit more confident."
 
Emily grimaced, narrowing her eyebrows just slightly, "I am confident, I'm just...I'm less stressed on weekends."
 
"Shh!" Alexander said suddenly, holding a finger to his lips and cupping a hand behind his ear, "Can you hear that?"
 
Frowning in confusion, Emily listened for a second, but she couldn't hear anything besides the usual cafeteria noises, "Hear what?"
 
"That's my B.S detector." He whispered, "You've set it off again."
 
Leaning back suddenly, Emily pressed a fist to her mouth and gave a mild glare in Alexander's direction as he sat back, grinning, "I told you I can tell when people are lying to me."
 
The boy leaned forward, resting his elbows on the tabletop beside his tray and giving Emily the most serious look that she'd seen so far, "Honestly though, Emily; I'm not that different from any other boy here. You can trust me."
 
'Liar!' Ruth hissed.
 
"Whatever you say." Emily murmured, stirring around the food on her plate with her fork. It was going to be impossible to pretend she thought Alexander was 'ordinary' when she knew that he was far from it.
 
Alexander sat back again, knowing perfectly well that Emily was unconvinced. "You'll see." He promised, giving another grin, "You'll have plenty of time to get to know me this week, Emily. That's plenty enough time for you to learn to trust me." He gave a small chuckle and turned his attention back to his food, "It always is."

I was going to draw a cover picture for this, then I decided I don't care that much.
 
So this is the first short chapter of the first Ruth Smith book. I don't know whether or not this is going to get published. Maybe but maybe not, you know?
 
And I guess it's normal to be a little confused, but if you think confusion has reached the point where it's unacceptable and you wouldn't keep reading, then please tell me. I like being critiqued.
On a separate note, don't be a leech. If you read my stuff then at least let me know by liking this or something. Just so I know I'm not writing for the choir, mkay?
 

 
Emily Burns rolled her eyes as the lights in the rented dance hall were dimmed, doing little more than reducing everyone's decency in sight with the action. It was annoying that they tried to make a freshman banquet so romantic and memorable. Anyone with half an ounce of sense would realize that it was a one in a million chance that any of these couples would even last past the next few weeks.
 
Leaning back against the wall, Emily slowly sipped her punch. To be honest, it was a disgusting drink, but to get to the fountain she'd have to slip past these dancers. It seemed better to risk vomiting up the pitiful excuse for a refreshment than to have to get in lost in the crowd of people before her.
 
Her throat tightened, and she spit the offensive liquid back into the cup the moment she picked up the taste. Maybe it wasn't quite worth it after all, if she wanted to quench her thirst. Grimacing, she tossed the almost completely filled cup into the garbage and grabbed an empty one. It looked like she would have to maneuver her way through her classmates anyway.
 
With a sigh, Emily tucked in her shoulders and began weaving her way through the students. Normally, she wouldn't doubt that she'd do an okay job avoiding any sort of physical contact, but the low lighting made it difficult for her to see. By the time Emily had gotten past the largest part of the crowd, she'd bumped into and irritated at least five people.
 
'At least I can get a decent drink now.' Emily thought to herself as she filled up her empty cup with water from the fountain. Smiling a little as she took a few grateful swallows of water, she turned around and began to retrace her steps.
 
'Now to get back to my corner to wait out this stupid-oh geez!' Even her thoughts sounded frustrated and embarrassed as Emily somehow managed to run directly into yet another person. She couldn't help wincing as her water splashed onto her dress and undoubtedly onto her hapless victim.
 
Quickly Emily stepped back, raising a hand to her clenched teeth and flushing cheeks. "Oh my gosh...I..."
 
He glanced up, and she instantly fell silent as she began taking in physical observations. His eyes were dark green, his hair was short yet slightly ruffled, and dark; his attire was a pitch black tuxedo with a bright red bow-tie, and a small rose pinned to his lapel. And needless to say, his expression looked quite irritated, although he repressed it quite well.
 
That wasn't necessarily what Emily was focused on, though. What had caught her attention mostly was that he wasn't any classmate of hers. In fact, Emily had never seen him before in her life.
 
"...sorry." Emily eventually got out the apology, now subconsciously taking in every minute detail of his person that she could manage.
 
The suit he was wearing was definitely nothing cheap, and he'd taken time to brush out and slick back his hair. Another interesting aspect was that he'd managed to keep himself in order for an entire hour, something Emily hadn't seen in any other male students. His manner and his hold on his temper told her that he had a different upbringing than most. Emily could confidently say the other boys would have tried to rip her head off if she'd spilled water on them.
 
Reaching his hand up, the strange boy wiped off a few drips of water from his suit. "Perhaps I should have gotten a tux that was water proof." He commented coolly, rushing his finger across his cheeks, "Clearly a person of my age can't wear one without running into some sort of mess."
 
Quickly Emily grabbed a thin stack of napkins from a nearby refreshment table and began dabbing at the dark stain on his clothes. He looked mildly surprised by her actions, but he didn't pull away or offer any other sort of resistance. Instead, he gave a minimal reaction of raising his eyebrow slightly.
 
"I'm not usually this clumsy." Emily murmured apologetically, flipping his jacket open slightly so she could get at the water on his shirt. "But I can't see anything with this ridiculous lighting."
 
A charming grin crossed his face, "I take it you aren't a fan of these high-school get-togethers."
 
"What was your first clue?" Emily muttered to herself, brushing the napkins briefly under his chin.
 
'Clive Christian, 1872 cologne.' Instantly she identified the smell that was sprinkled lightly around his neck, quite familiar with the top brands in men's perfume. Emily had always taken advantage of the free samples that came in her mother's magazines. Clearly this boy was no stranger to wealth.
 
"Your dress, for one thing." He said nonchalantly, glancing down briefly at her attire. "Not the kind of thing a young lady would usually wear to her first high-school dance. A short blue dress over denim jeans, with tennis shoes. Barely any makeup on."
 
Emily kept her eyes focused on her hands and her task as he listed the reasons for his deduction. Admittedly, she was a bit impressed by his observations, but not too terribly much. It wouldn't take an expert to realize that she didn't want to be here.
 
As she finished up wiping the liquid off of his suit, she realized the entire time he was watching her face. His dark green eyes glimmered with just a faint hint of bemusement, and he kept his hands folded behind his back at all times, not even flinching once.
 
She tossed the napkins in the garbage can and wiped her hands off on her jeans. "You seem to have the exact opposite opinion of 'get-togethers'. I'd name you best dressed without having to even glance at any other boy." The girl remarked, not exactly intending a compliment or even humor.
 
"Well, this rather interesting spot right below my right shoulder blade seems to be a bold statement." He commented drily, glancing down at his suit in disgust.
 
A frown crossed her face, but Emily decided to refrain from retaliating. "What makes you dress up so fancy for a school you don't even attend?" She responded with another question, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyebrows just slightly.
 
He grinned, "It's like you said. I just love parties." Removing his hands from their folded position behind his back, he extended a hand to her. "I don't believe I know your name."
 
"Emily Burns." She told him, taking his hand and giving it a loose shake.
 
Smiling slightly, he returned the introduction, "Alexander Knight."
 
Emily's eyebrows quivered slightly, "Have we met before?" She questioned, frowning. His name sounded familiar.
 
"I don't believe I've had the pleasure." He purred, cocking an eyebrow and smiling.
 
'That's suspicious.' Her inner thoughts murmured as Emily blushed outwardly, 'I know I've heard that name before during my investigations.'
 
Alexander glanced up as the song changed into another of a slower rhythm. He offered her a hand, "Care to dance?"
 
Emily stuttered at the response, staring at his hand and trying to think up a quick excuse, "No, thank you. I don't...I don't know how."
 
He gave a bit of a pouty frown and tilted his chin slightly towards the floor, staring up at her, "Oh it's simple enough, I could show you if you'd give me the pleasure." A smirk crossed his face, "Plus, I do believe you owe me one." His eyes drifted to the stain on his suit.
 
With a repressed sigh, Emily gave a polite smile and consented to taking his hand. A gleeful expression replaced the smirk, and he led her to the edges of the dance floor, at least respecting her badly hidden desire to remain out of the spotlight.
 
A few minutes later, Emily found herself receiving some basic dance lessons from a suspicious, unknown student who had just invited himself into her banquet. Even now she was debating whether or not this was for real; if boys of her age liked dances so much to go barging around into any banquet they could find. She tried to pay attention to the dancing, but Emily couldn't help but try and remember where she'd heard his name before.
 
'Alexander Knight...I believe I've heard his name whispered about in the underground system.'
 
Emily quickly switched her attention back to Alexander, just avoiding stepping on his foot.
 
"...it's really quite simple once you look at it. Just step with me to the beat; I'll lead." He put one palm gently against Emily's back and with the other he laced his fingers through her right hand.
 
The nervous girl glanced around the room at the other students. No other couples were dancing like this; this was practically 1900s style. Everyone else had their hands on their partners hips or locked around the back of their necks.
 
Alexander tisked disapprovingly as he glanced at them, drawing Emily's attention back to him, "Savages." He muttered.
 
It was too difficult to hold back a smile at the comment.
 
When Emily chanced a glance upwards from the floor, she realized he was watching her again. Emily couldn't call it staring, really, since it was more of an observing sort of thing than just plain looking. Unintentionally, she felt herself blushing, even though her stronger, calmer self did her best to repress it.
 
"How do you get in, since you don't go to this school?" Emily practically blurted out the question, desperate to get some sort of conversation going.
 
Alexander gave her a cheeky grin, "I have my ways of getting in to all sorts of places. Think of it as a sort of natural talent of mine."
 
"You mean charisma?" She asked, faking confusion.
 
He chuckled, "If you'd like to call it that."
 
That probably meant he had a friend on the inside to invite him; maybe a class officer.
Shrugging her shoulders, Emily gave her head a small toss to get a strand of hair out of her face, "Well, our staff lets practically anyone in. I guess I should be more surprised that there isn't more than one intruder."
 
Emily realized that her comment could be a sort of insult, but Alexander brushed off the potential acidity of the statement.
 
"Not everyone appreciates dances enough to go through the trouble I did."
 
"That, or they can recognize a poorly-funded reception when they see it, and know to stay away." Emily countered, recognizing that her nocturnal self was attempting to gain control over her vocal chords.
 
Alexander cocked an eyebrow, encouraging her silently to elaborate.
 
"The punch is just awful." She muttered.
 
Laughing, he shook his head and smiled at her, "You're funny."
 
"...thanks." A nervous smile played over her lips, "But, seriously. What's the real reason you're here? A guy like you could get into any party that's going on tonight, and this has to be the worst option."
 
He looked thoughtful for a moment, then his expression turned slightly serious. "Emily, have you heard of R.S?"
 
A feeling equivalent to having a rock drop into her stomach made Emily's gait wobble a little, but she fought to keep it firm. "Yeah, a bit. It's some sort of signature the police keep finding, I think." Swallowing, Emily turned her gaze upwards, "Why?"
 
Shrugging, he glanced to the side at the other students, "Oh I just thought I might have been close to finding her."
 
"Her?" Emily repeated questioningly, her heart racing furiously.
 
Smiling, Alexander turned them in a gentle spin, "I've done a little digging to at least determine the gender of the mystery 'detective'."
 
While on the outside Emily was trying her best not to look panicky, inwardly, R.S was quite calm and thoroughly curious.
 
'How strange...' She pondered, 'He must be very interested. I wonder what makes him go through all this trouble to find me.'
 
"Oh." Emily gave a quick smile, trying to block out her inner thought processes, "So how does that explain why you're here?"
 
"Wellll..." A quirky smirk crossed his face, "I might have reason to believe that this is her school; I was hoping to dig up a few more facts on her. Possibly even be able to identify her."
 
'He's already traced me to my school?' Emily's teeth clamped down on her bottom lip, which involuntarily began to twitch into a smile. 'He's so clever!' R.S gushed.
 
'SHUT UP.' Emily's thoughts yelled. It was perfectly common for Emily to have an argument with her 'other self', R.S, but it always made her feel a little crazy, and she tried to repress it as much as possible.
 
"Any luck so far?" Cocking her head slightly to the side, Emily raised her eyebrows in an expression of interest.
 
With a sigh, he shook his head, "Everyone is completely clueless, not to mention rude..."
 
"You've no idea." Emily laughed at his disgusted expression, "You're just lucky you don't have to actually attend this school."
 
Alexander smiled at her, "You seem to have put up with it very well." He commented.
 
Emily shrugged her shoulders a bit, "I just try to blend in, usually. I'm not here for social stimulation, unlike most people."
 
Bringing both of them to a stop, Alexander drew Emily's arm in towards his shoulder, bringing her face close to his, "You don't seem to be doing a very good job of blending in right now." He murmured, smiling at her nervous expression and cocking his eyebrow ever so slightly.
 
Emily bit down on her lip, narrowing her eyes at him. "I would be if I didn't have the misfortune of having to be with the most skilled dancer in the room." She glanced around the room, inwardly sighing as she realized there were several people watching them now.
 
"How can you be so cold and so endearing at the same time?" Alexander murmured with a light laugh, picking up the pace to match the beat of the next song.
 
"I could ask the same of you." Emily retorted, focusing more of her attention on following Alexander's lead. She was eager to get this dance out of the way, and get out of this suspicious stranger's hands.
 
Alexander smiled, glancing at the other couples as they moved to get out of their way.
 
"I find it more convenient for my particular...social situation." He answered coolly.
 
The suspicion and nervousness continued to grow in the back of Emily's mind at his
statement, "What is that supposed to mean?" She questioned, trying not to sound disturbed.
 
He gave little more than a side-wink in response to the question, then he promptly steered them both to the very edge of the crowd, "Do you have the time?"
 
Ruth freed her hand from his grip and dug into her pocket, "Did you forget your Rolex?" She questioned, playing a joke off of his obvious affluence as she pulled out her cellphone.
 
"Yes."
 
They both glanced up at each other, Emily trying to determine if he was being serious and Alexander being curious as to what she thought she was looking at.
 
Lowering her gaze again, Emily turned on the screen, "9:30." She told him.
 
Raising his eyebrows, Alexander took a step back from Emily and dusted off his suit, "Oh, I'm running late."
 
Putting her phone back in her pocket, Emily looked at him with some confusion, "Late for what? Your next party-crashing?"
 
Giving a charming smile, Alexander cocked an eyebrow and brushed his fingers quickly over his ribs, "Something like that."
 
Emily's eyes widened as Alexander caught her hand swiftly in his grip and raised it to his lips, "Thank you for the dance." He kissed the back of her hand lightly and slipped out of the room, leaving Emily by herself feeling a little flustered and incredibly suspicious.

A collection of my stories.

I went there.
 
I suppose I should point out that this is Ruth Smith and Alexander Knight, and also give a bit of a backstory.
*takes in a deep breath*
Alright...here we go
 
Alexander Knight (the guy, right, blazerish outfit), is basically a criminal mastermind, and Ruth Smith (the girl, left, blue hat and t-shirt) is an amateur detective who does her best to solve the crimes he commits and devotes all of her energy to try and get him put behind bars.
 
I might just write a story for this scene. Who knows? Not meeeeee
 

::EDIT::
Well nevermind. I guess I did know.
Enjoy!
 

 

"The door is right there, you realize."
Alexander glanced up as Ruth's tense, slightly angry tone cut through the silence from her desk, taking his attention away from the evening news. A grin slid over his face, and he leaned back against the couch, folding his arms behind his head, "Of course I realize. But I'm not done yet."
"When will you be done?" She demanded sharply, pausing in her scribbling and staring over her shoulder at him.
"Don't be so impatient." Alexander scolded, propping his feet up on Ruth's coffee table, "They haven't even gotten to the sports center yet."
Ruth frowned, "You're waiting for the crime broadcast?"
"Obviously."
Groaning, Ruth gripped the side of her head and tried her best to turn her focus back to her notes, blocking Alexander from her vision as best she could. She knew perfectly well that Alexander could watch TV at his own house; but this was one of the common yet very irritating instances where Alexander had invited himself into her home, something he did to annoy her. Ruth always changed the lock on all her doors and windows after these times, but somehow he always found a way back in.
There was nothing to be done about it, of course. Ruth certainly wanted to throw the intruder out, and give him a couple holes through his head while she was at it, but as far as violent approaches went, they were at a stalemate. She had her own gun; a small .22 magnum mini revolver, but the problem was that Alexander had one too. Neither of the two were foolish enough to come within a mile of each other without carrying some sort of defense weapon. That was just how things went between them.
Of course, nothing stopped Ruth from attacking with words. Everytime Alexander came over, (so far, never on invitation) she would hole herself away at her desk with her notes, burying herself in her work. Most of the time he would simply let her be ignored and watch TV, doing little harm except for an occassional food raid on her kitchen. He never tried to interrogate her or force any information out of her, and if he did give a threat it carried very little weight. The whole reason he would do this was to prove a point; Ruth was powerless against him. So powerless and unprotected that she couldn't even keep him from coming into her own home.
Alexander had never said this out loud, because he hadn't needed to. Ruth knew it already. No one else in their right mind would ever really want to be in her house. It was a small, one-story little shack that was littered with papers, food scraps, pictures, and newspaper clippings. All of the furniture was shabby and the place had an odd smell to it. But Alexander endured it with no complaint, because he knew that just his presence shook Ruth's nerves.
It seemed, though, that on this occassion, just sitting on her couch wasn't going to satisfy Alexander. He removed his feet from the coffee table and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and staring at Ruth intently. She couldn't see him watching her, since her back was turned to him (purposefully), but at the moment Alexander wasn't trying to catch her attention anyway; he just wanted to observe.
A small smile flickered over his face as he saw Ruth had neglected to remove her dark blue newsboy cap from her head, a sign that she'd had a particularly stressful day. Her fingers were gripping the sides of her head, and her forefinger was tapping against her temple impatiently, causing her black hair to tremble just slightly. Alexander had noted that she'd hung up her dark green jacket in its usual spot, which left her in her usual grungy t-shirt, which had turned a paleish brown over time.
Perhaps Ruth hadn't realized it, but there was a certain reason that Alexander liked coming around in the evening. It was because that, since he kept the gap between his visits a reasonable length, she was never expecting him, and Ruth's evenings were the times when she was in the worst conditions. She was emotionally, physically, and mentally exhausted for the day, and he found it amusing to observe her at this time.
The contrast between them at this point was another perk; Alexander would always make sure his appearance was exceptional before he came to Ruth's, and it made him look so much more professional than her; that was one of the particular things that he knew made Ruth's blood boil. She was sitting around in her sweaty jeans, t-shirt, and boot socks while Alexander was dressed up in his black blazer, tie, pants, white dress shirt, and dress shoes.
Quietly, Alexander got to his feet and walked up behind Ruth, making sure to approach in such a way that his shadow wouldn't fall into her line of sight. He peered over her shoulder at the notes and grinned; she was trying to piece together his own latest crime.
Raising an eyebrow, he scanned over her observations with a critical eye, "What does the fishing boat have to do with it?"
Ruth leapt from her chair and stumbled back away from Alexander, the hair on the back of her neck raised and her eyes wide. Clearly he'd managed to startle her quite badly, and her tense, apprehensive expression quickly melted into one of anger and impatience.
"Don't sneak up on me. Ever." She hissed, narrowing her eyebrows sharply at him.
"Oh but that's what I do best!" Alexander laughed, resting his hands on the edge of Ruth's chair and drumming his fingers against the wood, "Besides, I find it amusing to watch you try and unravel my little disturbances." He glanced over her notes, admittedly impressed with how efficently she was putting the pieces together.
A tint of red touched the tip of Ruth's ears, "If you're going to invade my home, the least you could do is give me my privacy!"
With a scoff, Alexander pushed away from her chair and strolled towards her, his hands wrapped behind his back, "One would think that it would be obvious not to expect too much respect of privacy when one has had their home broken into." He paused, stopping by her side as he took a moment to think back, "For the seventh time."
"It would be nice to at least have a respect for personal space." Ruth retorted, following him with her eyes as he resumed his short stroll around her, halting by her left side.
Alexander glanced at her and smirked; he leaned his head in slightly so his mouth was closer to her ear, "I wouldn't count too much on that either." He whispered.
Shrugging her left shoulder to rid herself of the irritating pest, Ruth stalked forward and reclaimed her seat, shifting the chair forward to a comfortable distance and re-burying herself in her notes.
When he was sure Ruth couldn't see his face, Alexander allowed himself a brief expression of sincere disappointment and frustration. He turned away from her and walked in front of the TV, standing and watching with his hands shoved in his pockets.
Ruth paused momentarily in her writing and chanced a glance to the side at Alexander. While most of her was angry with him and wanting him to leave, it seemed a small part didn't mind him being here. In fact, Ruth would almost go so far as to say this treacherous piece of her mind actually enjoyed his company, even his rather chilly and devious advances. She averted her eyes back to her papers, wondering if he would try talking to her again, or if he would leave now.
As soon as her gaze turned away, Alexander smiled; he'd seen her looking at him from the corner of his eye and knew it was a sign of weakness. All he needed to do now was find a way to approach her in such a fashion that she wouldn't give him the cold shoulder again.
'Perhaps a more unpredictable method...' He mused, turning back in the direction of the desk and walking forwards.
Letting out a sigh, Ruth dropped her pencil and pinched the bridge of her nose with her left hand as Alexander stopped behind her chair. Clearly harsh, bitter remarks weren't working as a method of getting rid of her nemesis. She would have to try something different.
"What do you want, Alexander?" Ruth murmured, lowering her hand back to the desk and keeping her gaze straight ahead.
"You already know why I come here, don't you?" Alexander questioned, resting his hands on the back of Ruth's chair and staring down at her.
She hesitated a moment, then gave a small nod, "Yes."
"Of course you do." He gave a nod of his own, then let out a small sigh, "Of course. You are brilliant, you know."
Ruth blinked in surprise at the unexpected compliment, and she frowned, not sure how to react. Alexander had given her compliments before, but never in this fashion; never so blunt and forward about it.
"You're the most brilliant person I've ever met, Ruth." He continued, keeping his voice soft and quiet, "Your mind is one of the sharpest I've encountered, and that's why I find you a threat. It's your intelligence that makes you dangerous to me."
Pressing her fingers against the surface of the desk, Ruth tried to think what Alexander might be trying to accomplish by this senseless praise; what was his motive? His goal? There had to be a goal, there always was. She just had to find it.
"And it's such a shame..." Alexander sighed, reaching his hand forward just slightly and running his fingers through Ruth's hair, "Such a shame, Ruth, that you can't see how much we help each other already."
"It's not...you don't help me." Ruth found herself distracted now, and the realization alarmed her; she was losing focus, "I solve crimes, you create them. That's not helping."
A soft chuckle brushed past Ruth's ears, and she fought against a shiver at the sound, "Think, my dear, think. Where would you be if there were no crimes for you to solve? What would you even do if I wasn't here?" Alexander rested a hand on Ruth's shoulder, tracing small, invisible circles with his finger onto her skin.
"I suppose that...that you have a point." The amatuer detective reluctantly admitted, struggling to find a grip in her own thoughts. She was exhausted right now, and her mind was trying its best just to stay awake; she couldn't think.
Alexander smiled to himself as he felt the thrum of her heartbeat increase, "With all the entertainment I've been giving you, I feel like you owe me something..."
The muscles underneath Alexander's fingers tensed, "What?" She questioned, her tone highly apprehensive.
"Nothing important to you, I'm sure." He answered, "Just hold still and close your eyes."
Normally, Ruth wouldn't have let herself be foolish enough to do anything Alexander asked her to, but there was something almost hypnotic about the way he was talking, the flow of his voice. Slowly she let her arms relax and gradually, gradually, her eyes closed.
Slipping his hand over her neck, Alexander placed his fingers against the side of Ruth's head, turning her face towards him. Before Ruth could react, Alexander leaned down and gently yet firmly pressed his lips against hers. Ruth's breath caught in her throat, and her thought process froze. When Alexander's free hand grabbed hers, she did little more than flinch, not able to think clearly enough to know what to do.
After about three seconds of that, Alexander pulled back, smirking wickedly, "Far, far too easy, Ruth Smith."
Instantly Ruth's mind snapped back into action, and she lunged forward, gripping Alexander's tie and knocking him onto the floor, her skin burning hot with anger. No sooner had she pinned him, however, then Alexander quickly rolled them over and turned the tables in his favor. His hand slipped into his pocket and suddenly there was a gun against Ruth's chin.
"Let go...of the tie..." Alexander ordered calmly, his eyes narrowing just slightly.
Gritting her teeth in anger, Ruth released her grip on the fabric and let her arm drop to the floor. Frowning, Alexander brushed out the wrinkles, "Aw, this is my Marinella..." He whined. Then he turned his attention back to Ruth, "Get up."
Glaring fiercely, Ruth got to her feet, still staring down the barrel of Alexander's gun as he copied her actions. As he paused briefly, Ruth dove forward and jerked the weapon out of his hands, only succeeding in letting it drop to the floor. Her own gun was in her jacket pocket, but there simply wasn't any way that Alexander would let her reach it.
Ruth hands next flew to his neck, but he promptly seized both her wrists, tossing her to the side where she stumbled onto the couch. Alexander stalked forward, swiping his gun off of the ground and pointing it at her forehead. Her breathing was hard, and came out in short, harsh intervals.
Laughing at her anger, Alexander walked forward until the tip of his gun was pressed into Ruth's skin, "See how easily you are influenced, Ruth?" Alexander whispered, resting one knee on the couch and leaning in, "With just a few sentences I had completely altered your state of mind. You couldn't even see what was coming."
Clenching her teeth to keep her jaw from trembling, Ruth dug the heel of her foot into the wood floor while a plethora of unfamiliar and intense emotions ran through her body. She didn't know how to react to them all; she wanted to strangle Alexander for tricking her, but she was also frightened at what had just happened. Was she really so easily influenced by him? It was a terrifying thought.
Alexander cocked his gun, smiling. Ruth jolted and pressed her back into the couch, wondering if this was actually it; the moment he would finally kill her. He'd always told her that one day he'd do it, but Ruth hadn't expected it to be now.
"Not yet..." He murmured quietly, "No, I have too many plans for you to kill you now, my dear." Leaning in, he gave Ruth a quick peck on the lips, "And I would hate to ruin it by killing you now."
Stepping back, Alexander slipped the gun back into his pocket and strolled away, heading for the door. Ruth didn't move, but she kept her eyes locked on his every movement.
"I'll see you again soon, Ruth Smith." He promised briefly, before slipping out the door and vanishing from Ruth's sight.
The moment he was gone, Ruth leaned forward and buried her face in her hands, clawing at her scalp with the tips of her fingernails.
'He's gone, he's gone, he's gone...' She forced herself to repeat the thought, trying to slow down her rapid heartbeat. Her tongue felt dry, and her skin seemed to be soaked in sweat. In a span of about two minutes, Ruth had been kissed and then had nearly lost her life. Even though she tried not to think about it, she could still feel the cold metal against the skin of her forehead, and even the sensation on her lips wouldn't leave.
As she thought about it, Ruth realized how stupid it all was. He was just messing with her mind; just screwing around with her thoughts in an effort to confuse her. That kiss had meant absolutely nothing. It didn't count. It didn't count as a kiss.
Ruth wondered if Alexander even knew; if he was aware that she'd never kissed anyone before. He probably was, and that might make it even better for him. Alexander Knight, criminal mastermind, had just stolen Ruth Smith's first kiss.
It wasn't supposed to matter. Ruth had told herself that it didn't matter if she ever used it. But she felt cheated. Now she realized she had been meaning to use it, but it wasn't supposed to be used on him. There was someone else she'd subconsciously decided to give it to a long time ago, supposing she would ever see him again.
Sighing, Ruth leaned back against the couch and focused her attention on the news, letting her evening escapade fade from her thoughts, "Well, I suppose that it's too late now."

Yeahhhh this is sort of...not good. Sorry about that. I'm a bit rusty to say the least.

Anyone still following me? I feel like I just left you guys hanging.

Just figured I'd post something for the heck of it, since I never get around to doing anything else on here anyway.
Before you start, I need to give credit where credit is due. The editing has been done by Drace, my sister. I don't know if she's ever done this for anyone else, but if she has I doubt you get it as good as I do. For people she doesn't know as good as me, everything's sugar-coated and you can't take it seriously. For me, every small detail that needs fixing she tells me to correct. Blunt, to the point critisism is provided and it's hard not to know what she's talking about. That's what's so great with my sister's critique. She's honest about it. And she also gives a few humorous compliments and advice along the way.
Enjoy the first, very short chapter of Searching for Emily.
P.S. Just so you know, the person's POV I'm writing from is in fact, a guy. Thought I'd clear that up.
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I opened my eyes and looked up as the sound of footsteps brought me back from my train of thought. They resounded against the wet pavement just loud enough so I could hear them through the pouring rain as they approached the alleyway I was huddled up in. Normally I would ignore the stranger passing by and just sink back into a state of deep thought. But there was something about it this time that made me sit up and pay attention.
Judging by the intervals between steps and how heavy they were, I guessed their owner was about 5'3, average weight, and walking quickly, but not running or jogging.
Raising my eyebrow, I looked up at the dark sky and noticed the brightly lit street lamps. They'd been on for about 5 hours; they came on at around nine o'clock PM this time of year, so it was about two in the morning. My mind mused over the possibilities of one's errands at this time of night; especially someone of their physique. Alone, obviously, since there was only one set of footsteps.
As they came closer, I began to hear breathing – light and quick – as though they had been walking for awhile. There was a feminine tone to it, and I frowned at the thought of a girl roaming about in the streets at this time of night.
Pulling my hood over my head, I shoved my hands in my pockets and leaned as far back as possible into the shadows as she passed. Her long, curly red hair was bound in a ponytail and stood out against the darkness like a torch in a black cave. She was wearing short sleeves and jeans cut off clumsily at the knee-I guessed with a pair of kitchen sissors-and clutching her arms as she looked quickly from left to right constantly. She had no umbrella or extra sweater on her person, and I judged by her actions that she had not prepared for the cold weather or rain. Therefore, she had left her place in a hurry, and yet realized her situation judging by her nervous searchings around her environment. The yellow glow of the streetlamps reflected off of her pale, anxious face and I was only able to grasp this much of her appearance before she plunged back into the shadows of the night.
As soon as she rounded the corner, I straightened up and began following at a slow pace, keeping my head down and my eyes up to follow her. I wouldn't like the idea of someone like her running into trouble on my street.
'And so I'm stalking her like any murderer to keep her safe.' I had to suppress a laugh at the irony of the situation.
I stayed a leisurely pace, stopping occassionally to lean against the wall and gaze around in a lazy manner. But I always kept my eye on her and which direction she took. My footsteps weren't silent, but they were quiet enough to be covered up by the rain as it pounded against the pavement. I stuck close to the walls of the buildings and took what little cover the edges of the roof could give. My hoodie was already wet and I was starting to feel the material stick to my skin. But my situation was hardly an inconvience compared to the red-headed girl I was following, who was drenched to the bone. From a distance I could see her shivering, although some of the tremors could simply be nerves.
I looked down quickly as her gaze turned towards me, and tried to make myself invisible and unimportant. But she wasn't stupid; I heard her pace quicken and she rounded the corner before I could look up.
'Great.' I thought with a small sigh, taking up a quick, steady jog. She was easy to spot, and my eyes immediately found her as I peered around the corner. Obviously sighting me hadn't eased her at all, and she was on the verge of breaking into a run. So I stood there awhile and let her get a few feet further from me before resuming my tailing. This made it so I would just be able to watch her turn corner and change streets before she would vanish. It made things more difficult but she wasn't my top priority, so if I lost track of her it would be a small loss in my case.
A few minutes later, I turned a corner and was surprised to find her pressed against the door of my small suburban house, knocking furiously and pushing against the wall to get out of the rain. I raised an eyebrow in interest and continued walking at my usual quick pace. Now that I knew her agenda, I wasn't so worried about her seeing me anymore. I was about five feet away by the time she noticed me, which she then responded by pounded louder and more urgently at the door to my empty house. It was too difficult to suppress the amused smile on my face, which only made her panic more.
When I was but a foot from her she opened her mouth to cry for help, which I quickly subdued by clapping my hand over her mouth and nose. She screamed into my palm, kicking and punching at me furiously. I grunted as one of her blows landed in my abdomen,
"You're really going to get me some compliants if you wake up my neighbors at this hour." When she stopped screaming to try and take in a breath, I released my grip on her and began digging into my pocket, "Now, what can I help you with?" She backed away a few steps hurriedly, eyes wide with fear and brows narrowed in determination to get away. She was about to run when I pulled out the set of keys to the house and held them up in front of her face, raising an eyebrow. Her jaw dropped as she slowly began to make the connection. I had to actually insert the key into the lock and open the door, however, before she trusted me enough to relax her tensed muscles.
"Come in." I offered, walking into the entryway and leaving the door open for her. She followed cautiously, closing the door behind her slowly and keeping her eyes locked on me. I pressed myself against the wall and let her pass before moving forward toward the couch, quickly snatching the leather wallet protruding slightly from her jacket pocket.
"You're Friday?" She asked as I plunked myself down on the couch.
"That's what they call me." I replied, leaning forward and grabbing a warm can of orange soda from the coffee table. "And who are you?"
"Katie; Katie McKinney." She answered, winding her fingers into her tangled red hair.
"How am I supposed to trust you if you're going to lie to me?" I asked with a sigh when I flipped open the wallet and read her real name from the license.
"I'm not lying!" She squeaked, half furious half scared.
"Oh really, Elizabeth Brocher?" I taunted, scanning the rest of her personal items quickly.
When I first read her name to her, she looked shocked and worried. But as soon as her eyes fell upon the wallet in my hand she snatched it back from me,
"How dare you!" She shrieked angrily.
"I make it a point to know as much as I can about a customer from a reliable source. The wallet is usually the best place, although I only took yours because I noticed it sticking out of your right pocket. Might want to put it in a safer place; especially since you didn't even notice that it was gone until now." The slap that followed my remark caught me off guard, and I merely pressed my wet palm against my stinging flesh.
"You've no right to go through my things!" Elizabeth shouted. She backed a few steps, her eyes occassionally wandering over to the door, as if threatening to leave.
I don't exactly like losing customers. True, it's a rare thing since most who seek my help are too desperate to leave, but it still happens. When it does I try to coax them gently to stay, try to reassure them I can find their missing relative or friend.
What I don't usually do is rush past them to the door and lock it. Probably because it's usually a bad idea. As I turned from the door to look at her, Elizabeth's face confirmed my thought when it contorted from angry to panicked in about two seconds.
'How do I fix this?' I held up a hand,
"Don't scream." Her eyes just widened and she backs away. Alright, that's how to make it worse. My fingers fumbled with the door and I unlocked it and scooted along the wall away from the door, trying to keep a distance between us so she didn't freak out. "I'm sorry about that; I just want to know why you're here."
"Don't come near me." Elizabeth threatened darkly, the tips of her fingers touching the bricks that make up the wall of the entrance hallway.
"Not going to. I just want to know why someone so well off financially would come to me for help." I took a seat back on the couch and sat back, waiting to see if she would tell me anything or just decide to run for it. Truthfully, I woudn't blame her if she chose at this moment to bolt; I'm horrible with people. Especially girls. Actually that part probably isn't my fault; they're a lot more sensitive than guys, and I don't hurry to blame myself when they get offended by dark humor or other little things like locking the door on them.
But the unfortunate part is that for my occupation most of my customers are female, since the males usually rely on themselves or the police a lot more than they probably should.
"What makes you think I'm well off? Or that I need your help?" She challenged, still not relaxed.
"Well, you're still here even though I've scared you repeatedly, which suggests more than you just needing my help; it gives me the sense you're just a bit desperate. And as for well off, you have over two hundred dollars in your wallet and your clothes are of rather high quality for the current state of the economy." I guess I shouldn't have been expecting some sort of amazed look, like such a thing was so difficult to figure out. But I shouldn't have had to expect her to pull out her wallet and count her money.
My eyes narrowed, "I didn't take anything."
"The last time I thought that you wound up with my wallet." She snapped back. I huffed impatiently and waited for her to finish counting her money-twice-to make sure it was all there.
"Now Miss Brocher; I'd like to hear your story, if I can." I motioned to a chair across from me, and she brushed it off quickly before sitting down.
"What do you want to know?" She questioned in a slightly agitated tone, looking at me in confusion. Obviously story-telling wasn't something she was well aquainted with.
"Everything."

Yeah....

shewolfx requested this

I like some of Miley Cyrus's songs, and this is one of them. Although, I have to say it's mainly the chorus that I like. The verses I don't really pay attention to. But oh well.