bakerstreet | To put it plainly:

Entry tags:

[warning] violence

To put it plainly:

the film noir meme

-Post with your character and fandom, as well as any preferences.
-Go here and generate a random number between 1-10 for the setting
-If you want, you or the person tagging you can roll a number between 1-8 for relationship as well!
- You know what to do next, honey. Do hurry up, the night's not getting any younger.

Possible settings:

1. Crime Scene: Dead body? Burglary? Whatever the crime, the area's been sectioned off for officers to investigate this nefarious deed, and you're getting front row seat.

2. Bar: There's always some hole-in-the-wall frequented by all sorts. The bartender keeps an eye out for trouble, and other things. Of course he keeps an ear to the ground, but it'll cost ya. Perhaps a cop or two will show up demanding answers, but no one ever takes that seriously.

3. Docks at Night: The breeze caressing your face, the sound of the water, the boats passing by...maybe you were called here, or maybe you just like the peace it brings.

4. Alleyway: There's only one way in and out of this little corridor, and what happens in it is up to you and the other character. Just watch for the shadows, if you can see through the fog.

5. Detective's Office: Not too clean, not too messy. Just perfect for the person that's needed to get this mystery cleared up.

6. Rooftop: The wind dramatically blowing about, it's the perfect place to get that person to come and meet you so you can tell them what you want. Or if you're evil, why not kill them up here? It'll be hard to escape you.

7. Dressing Room: For some reason, you're backstage after a performance, and you've gotten into one of these. The mirrors, the costumes, the flowers from fans and the various personal affects...all are present and will be your silent witnesses to whatever occurs.

8. Hideout: You've gotten to the antagonist's spot of choice. Is this a glitzy nightclub with a private room, or is this an abandoned warehouse where they-or you-carry out their plot? The choice is yours.

9. Nightclub: Someone's showcasing their talent tonight, and you may or may not care about it. But it's classic, dimly lit, and it's easy to hide in here.

10. Free choice

Possible relationships:

1. Friends: Maybe you're an unstoppable team, or perhaps your relationship is getting strained. But whatever the situation, you know this person, and you'd be there for them.

2. Coworkers/teammates/classmates: You might not be friends, but you know this person well enough to remember their name. And right now you're being thrown together for a reason.

3. Lovers: This is the one you wanted to stay with for now. Married, dating, or maybe an affair, but you two care about each other enough.

4. Enemies: Utter hatred flows through your veins when you hear this person's name. This is the one you want to take down, and you just might stop at nothing to achieve your goal.

5. Family: Perhaps it's a sibling you're meeting. Or your parent, or some form of relative. Remember that phrase "blood is thicker than water"? It just might apply here.

6. Mysterious Stranger: Someone's been eying you from across the room, or you've been eying them. Will you two speak, or shall they float out of your life? Do they hold information you seek, or do they want something from you?

7. Femme Fatale: You are or have encountered a mysterious and seductive woman, whose charms ensnare her lovers in bonds of irresistible desire, often leading them into compromising, dangerous, and deadly situations. Watch out, you might just get yourself into a real mess of trouble, hot stuff.

8. Free Choice

Originally from

easycompany, with minor modifications.

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[ He doesn't advance. It's enough for now to be in front of the door. Even if he doesn't look like much of an obstacle, he likes knowing that Stiles knows he is. No need to be overtly intimidating. ]

Anybody following your career would have to, don't you think? Maybe you ought to talk to Miss Monique. When they take your badge you're gonna need a back-up career.

Walking a beat and paperwork, I'm sure it's all the rage in performance art these days.

[ Pleasant conversation, they can certainly have one.

Their positions makes him twitchy, and he fiddles with a stray curl of ribbon behind his back. ]

As for a job, they have a tendency to come and go. Sometimes, it's as simple as walking from one street to another.

Anyway, everyone knows the tradition of presenting flowers stolen from a graveyard on opening night. Glad none of these were.

That's no way to win a lady's heart. Something should die in the process of obtaining tokens of affection, not before.

[ Despite his focus on the glib aspects of this very pleasant indeed conversation, he's more interested in the other thing Stiles said. It's not a slip, it doesn't reveal anything, but ongoing references to murkier parts of Stiles' life are to be gathered up and stored. Investigated at leisure. ]

But somehow, I don't think you want to talk to Miss Monique. Or let her see you at all. You'd probably prefer to ... I don't know, follow her at a distance?

So it'd be real awkward for the second act to end and us still be standing here talking. Wouldn't it?

I realize that jewellery can cost an arm and a leg, but those prices sound extortionate.

[ He shakes his head, tsking. The question is, would Peter be buying or selling?

No, he wouldn't want to see Monique - not the persona in the limelight with the perfected flair - now Mabel Conway on the other hand...

That's a name with a lot of baggage. Enough that a trip out of town wouldn't be unexpected. ]

Does getting a move on include an escort detail? Because I'll have to pass.

Depends whose arm and leg.

[ Stiles set it up for him, but it's like these comments are obligatory with Peter anyway. He says it cheerfully, with absolutely no indication it's more than the requisite Peterism. Which is not any kind of guarantee, of course. ]

We have time. And if there are encores, well. We may be here all night. How will we pass the time?

[ By now, Stiles probably knows him well enough to understand that anything resembling salaciousness means murder. And that murderousness also means murder. Actually, most of his expressed sentiments mean murder, except for the times when he's joking. He has yet to seriously attempt murder of Stiles, but there are always so many other people around.

Like that woman who said she would be back. A body in the dressing room will definitely sent Mabel Conway on her way. ]

[ Someone's going to find where the bodies are buried one day, and it'll be a headache and a half to sort through. Mark his words. ]

If time isn't in question, then are you much of a gambling man?

[ He keeps things interesting, that is, he'll bait the other man - it would be a waste to kill someone before the whole game is through.

Maybe someone actually attached to the Conway case will work things out for themselves - they're detectives, after all. ]

[ He allows a hint of pleased surprise into his expression, though in fact whatever might loosely be termed their relationship has just about always been contingent on the whole 'entertain me or deal with inconvenient murders' dynamic. ]

What's the game, then? Or is it less about the game and more about the terms?

[ Learning what Stiles really wants out of the situation would help him decide what to do, or not to do. Peter focuses a little harder on what he can sense of Stiles' vital signs. Besides situational ambiguity, Stiles can be more difficult to read than other people — as are many people who play roles, even if he's not on a stage. ]

[ He doesn't roll his eyes, though he wants to. At least one of them are enjoying themselves to the fullest. ]

We're both familiar with the theater, let's say we guess how long the ovation's going to be. Closest time wins, loser walks.

And I don't mean from just this theater.

[ His heartbeat is naturally elevated, stress and nervous tension at the risk making it thump along.

He hates leaving things alone. ]

[ Peter makes a noncommittal noise, only pretending to weigh the proposal while thinking about the situation instead. Stiles seems, sounds, like he's really on the hunt this time. ]

No. [ The rejection is business-like, lacking the usual playful malice, or any stated reason, for that matter. ] How about a deal? You can go first, I'll go before she's back. Without making a mess. If you do one thing.

What?

[ He steps back, as if to get a better sense of the room. Not that there is anywhere to go, with the dressing table behind him, and the wall right after.

That Peter mentioned not making a mess is nearly enough to tip the scales his way.

It doesn't fit with what he expects of the man. ]

[ Putting Stiles off balance is one of a myriad of small entertainments in Peter's life. He has never stopped to think that might be considered petty or weird. Or sad. These kinds of thoughts rarely bother him. ]

To be more accurate, if you let me do one thing to you.

[ Oh, okay. Now this is back on probably horrible track. ]

Nothing fatal. Nothing that will maim or impede you. Nothing embarrassing. Nothing sexual. Just one thing. Yes or no, right now.

[ Augh god what. To make things more confusing, he doesn't seem to be very excited about this; his tone is as business-like as the previous rejection was. ]

That still sounds suspicious as all hell.

[ He puts off answering, and he'll keep that up for as long as he can get away with it. There's something that tells him to run, hide, though all he can do really, is shift in place.

That Peter brought up sex as an option throws him, which might have been the point. There still could be a dozen things that Peter could do which fit the criteria, and that's if he believed him. ]

All you have to do is hold out your arm.

[ If it were someone else, he might press harder with a "so that's a no?" but Stiles has enough grit in him to say no and deal with the consequences, AKA the bodies. Peter would be okay with that, of course. He doesn't propose deals in which one option is unpleasant for him. In some ways Stiles' obvious unease is a good enough result all by itself. If Stiles is nervous, then things are as they should be, and Peter can relax. ]

I'm not going to buy any jewelry tonight, detective.

[ It really comes down to what's worse. People dying, or possibly compromising himself. Seriously - he can't guess at what the other man wants.

He'll might have to call in the former, which brings up the question of how he knew about the murders in the first place. ]

You realize I don't trust you either way.

[ Peter gives him an incredulous look, an expressive mixture of "yes, and...?" and "is this apparent non-sequitur leading somewhere?". ]

One more stall and I'll stop being nice about it.

[ He says it very mildly, which as ever doesn't predict how sincere he is. ]

Aren't you a gambling man?

[ So, it really doesn't change anything, does it? That Peter keeps everything so blasé is perhaps, the worst part about this.

As for gambling - he's never plays for money. And in this case, he's very much on the side that keep people who have no proven connections to anything out of the crossfire.

He bites the word out. ]

Fine.

[ Though he's not going to be offering his arm, agreement doesn't mean he'll make things go smoothly. ]

[ When Stiles doesn't hold out his arm, Peter heaves a put upon sigh. He has been intimidating in the past in using his speed and strength. This time he takes visible, normal steps towards Stiles and reaches for the left forearm. His grasp is impersonal, almost polite, except that Peter is never really polite. ]

You see what I mean about your stage potential? It's endless drama with you.

[ The words are not meant to put Stiles at ease (implausible, impossible), but to return the tenor of the conversation to something Stiles is more familiar with. A distraction from the suddenness with which Peter uses a claw to slice a shallow cut into the arm — through the sleeve if necessary, and away from major arteries, but enough so that it does bleed.

And immediately, he releases Stiles' arm and steps back, out of the way. Claws hidden again, face a pleasant mask. Now it'll be much easier to track Stiles through the city, for tonight. Cities are full of thousands and thousands of smells, but this should make the job simpler. Especially since he knows generally where Monique, and thus Stiles, will go. ]

See? Done. Have a good time. Don't do anything I would do.

[ He pulls back reflexively, checking the wound. It's thin, and the location means that it'll be aggravating as it heals - he'll probably reopen it a couple of times before it fully fades.

Which, there are no thanks for that. He feels a flash of irritation at the way he can't figure out what the cut could mean. As a powerplay - it seems lacking. ]

Oh, I'm sure I'm not going to have any difficulty with that.

[ Wiping his arm along his coat, he keeps his distance as he makes his way out the door. ]

And it's stubbornness; not drama.

[ He adds over his shoulder, letting it close before Peter can get a word in edgewise. ]

[ Without counting, Peter gives him almost a whole, oh-so-generous minute head's start. He checks the note behind the mirror and replaces it just as carefully as Stiles had; he rearranges the flowers neatly on the dressing table; and somewhere within the minute's activity, quite without any reflection upon the action, extends the claw again to lick it clean. Then he leaves, ducking the distracted assistant on the way out.

Stiles should be loitering around somewhere, waiting for Monique. Peter leaves through the theater's back entrance without looking around, trusting his sense of smell instead. Though losing Stiles doesn't mean the night's a waste, he's interested in seeing the guy work.

Hopefully, the audience won't be too enthusiastic. ]

[ There's standing room behind the seats, a space usually reserved for ushers as they escorted guests to their seats. It'll do for the remainder of the play.

Towards the end, he heads out to the car, taking it for a quick spin around the block as a way to avoid the rush of people who would be leaving the theater after the show. He ends up parked a little further down than he had been, by a taxi stand halfway between the main and side entrances.

It does good business after show hours.

It isn't until he starts seeing people leaving the theater that he makes his way back. ]

[ You learn patience when you're a fairly young werewolf in a fairly large pack, which is good because it's a long time before he catches any hint of Stiles. Peter moves past the car screened by a busy and growing busier crowd, completing an unhurried circuit of the theater and its surrounding buildings. Just in case.

And soon, yes, in her assistant's coat and a borrowed dressing room wig, the actress emerges from the side entrance, hurrying for the taxi stand with a battered old valise clutched to her chest. On the verge of hailing one, however, she hesitates, then goes to a phone booth to fumble with a coin. Dialing, waiting, speaking — Peter is much too far away and there are too many people for him to pick out anything, but he can see renewed confidence in her body posture, renewed determination despite having come almost directly off the stage. She hangs up and moves off in quick strides, ignoring the taxis now.

Peter feels a flash of simultaneous irritation and amusement. Is it all off? Did he bully Stiles for nothing other than his own entertainment? But it's not technically something he's really concerned about. Technically, he's here to see what Stiles does. If she's double, triple, or not crossing anybody at all, it doesn't matter to him. Technically. ]

[ So either the meeting is nearby, or there's a car waiting for her. He's hoping for the former - his vehicle's too conspicuous to follow anyone for long.

It's not hard to follow Conway for the first leg of the trip, she looks over her shoulder too much to blend in fully, not really settling until she leaves the bright lights and heavy crowds of the entertainment sector behind her.

He's not going to follow her to the apartment - it's enough to know which complex she's head to though he doubles back to be sure it's the brown brick on Leston road. ]

[ Peter trails them both, running a scenario or two through his head as the woman and Stiles make their decisions and act accordingly. By the time Stiles doubles back, Peter is semi-hidden by a sheltered bus stop down the street. A thin, ghostly blood scent passes by with the car. Or maybe he just imagines it.

'Monique' Conway waits for the elevator in the tiny, spartan, and brightly lit hall, glancing from time to time out into the night through the tall windows. When she goes up, Peter represses a sigh and keeps his ears open. What way is Stiles going down with this? Catch Conway on her way out? Grab the note-writing accomplice, grab the buyer? Take what Conway is carrying for himself? That would be really interesting. ]

[ If by interesting, you mean make a phone call to Mahealani, the archivist at the station from the phone booth at the end of the street. He keeps his voice low, starting with small talk before asking what he wanted to know: who's interested in the building on Leston. It'll either be drugs or burglary.

And it takes a promise of returning all the files he'd hoarded to get some sort of cooperation.

He looks around while he waits for Danny to work his magic, eyes following a couple walking their dog down the street. ]

[ He'd been prepared for downtime and a lot of mundane crap, but as an independent, hobbyist stalker, he had forgotten about bureaucracy. Poor human Stiles, unable to overcome the obstacles Peter can, or use his senses to the best of their ability.

Speaking of which, his attempt to listen in on Stiles' side of the conversation means that Peter spots the dog only about two seconds before it spots him. It's like slow motion — he can see the fur bristle, the ears go back, the back and shoulders tense, the jaw start to open — and he can hardly growl at it with the owners right there. He shrinks as far back into the shelter as he can go, unable to control the flat blue flash of his own eyes. Sometimes that and presence is all it takes, but this is a dog on the prowl, with owners to protect. Even if it can't be heavier than forty pounds.

Barking ensues. A lot of it. ]

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GDI Peter

:')

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