bakerstreet | ( affectionate physical contact )

the affectionate physical contact meme

you love spending time with your significant other. but sometimes, just "spending time" with him/her isn't enough. you need to have your hands on each other every now and then.

➝ post your character below, with your character's name and series in the subject.

➝ tag other people, using an rng with range 1-8 to roll a scenario.

➝ roll as many times as you want, play out whatever you want!

one; hugging. you just want to give your loved one a warm embrace. be it out of happiness, to comfort them while they're down, or just to give them something warm to latch onto, you just want to wrap your arms around them.

two; kissing. whether it's a peck on the cheek or a deep kiss, a kiss good-bye or a romantic kiss, you find yourself compelled to kiss the other person! be as tender or as passionate as you so choose.

three; holding hands. it's a simple gesture, really -- to reach out and take someone's hand. but that one simple gesture can convey any number of sentiments. what the sentiment is, is up to you, but you find yourself reaching out to take your significant other's hand.

four; carrying. is your loved one hurt and needs a lift? do they want a piggyback ride? or do you just want to spare them the effort of walking? whatever the reason, you're now itching to pick up your partner and carry them to their destination.

five; i love you. you've said it before or maybe you haven't but now you have to say it again or for the first time.

six; dancing. kick up the music, because it's time to dance! but no lone dancing allowed -- you need to have a partner! you can do whatever dance strikes your fancy. personally, i recommend the slow dance, but you can do whatever you want!

seven; massaging. did your significant other have a rough day? did they get hurt? or do you just feel like doing something really nice for them? whatever it is, you're giving them a nice massage now. they'll feel wonderful in no time!

eight; flirting. the easiest way to break the ice or maybe you're just an overly flirty person.

nine; cuddling. sometimes there's just no better feeling than curling up next to each other on a warm sofa. hold each other, lie next to each other, fall asleep on each other -- it's all good here.

ten; wild card! reroll, pick an option, or come up with something else!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Anna is used to traveling; she spends at least half her year in and out of Los Angeles while training various SWAT squads in how not to turn into her. The fact that she's an LAPD sergeant will be painfully obvious, though, as she steps out of the Ford Raptor dressed in a department polo and a pair of jeans. Even when she's not working, she's always kind of working.

"What happened here?" she asks, glancing over at him. It seems like today has gone spectacularly wrong for him, but as a police officer, she's always there to help in any way possible. "I've got some supplies in the back of my truck, but trying to put that thing back together might take me a while."

Oh. Cop. A flicker of hesitation ghosts over Marcus’ features and is gone. He grew up too mean to trust authorities, and these days his job involves a lot of things that look and sometimes are illegal.

But that’s an LAPD insignia, and they’re pretty far from LA here. He relaxes a little. Help is help, and he won’t turn it down just because he’s twitchy around the law.

Anyway, he’s got his own distinguishing uniform and signs of authority. He doesn’t often wear the tab collar anymore — he’s not technically a priest, not since what happened in Mexico City — but it’s useful sometimes. For getting favours, earning trust, hitching rides. So he’s wearing it now, a flash of white in his dark collar, kind of unexpected alongside his buzzcut and boots.

He doesn’t get up from where he’s sitting on the hood. “Might take a miracle.” He kicks it affectionately, heel swinging into the front tyre, and he pats the hood next to where he’s sat. “To be honest, she ain’t worth the scrap. I’m amazed she got me this far.” So, onto his next question: “Where you headed, Officer?”

"New Orleans."

Anna says it slightly distracted because she's evaluating the car at the moment. As a former action sports athlete, well before she put the uniform on, she knows her way around most things with an engine and a few things that don't. But he's right: this one is pretty much toast. She sighs and turns back to him, trying to figure out how she can help him and not just get him to the next place he'll end up screwed.

"Where were you headed? I can make a few calls. I don't want to see you stranded again somewhere in this heat."

Of course, if he knew she was going to Louisiana because she's chasing down the Texas preacher she's in love with, he'd probably laugh. But that's yet to come up in conversation.

"Lafayette." His ears have pricked up at the mention of New Orleans, and he's looking at her with the expression of a man calculating distance very quickly in his head.

"Got a friend waiting there for me. He's expecting me tonight." He hops off the hood, hands in his pockets, gives her a grin that's a little wry. The sort of grin that says I know I'm asking a lot, but look how charmingly lost I am. "...You feeling like a good Samaritan?"

She is less wary about this than most people. For one, he has a valid point; he needs more help than just calling the local authorities and getting them to send a tow truck out. For two, though this is not obvious, she can almost certainly kick his ass if he were to try anything. Not only is she trained to deal with violent criminals, but the prosthetic arm she also hasn't spoken of has the strength to crush in doors, so. She reasons that not only is this the right thing to do, she's also fine with it.

"I got the hint you dropped there," she says, her tone light. "Come on. Take your stuff with you. I can drop you off before I head out and then you won't be left alone."

She walks back toward the Raptor, which is pretty huge as trucks go, and waits for him to climb into the passenger seat. The rear of the cab is still packed up with her work equipment, a suitcase and a duffel bag, while there's a cooler with beverages and snacks nearby. She's clearly on a long trip of her own.

"Should I ask how you ended up out here or not?" is the next quip.

Marcus' stuff consists of an army surplus backpack from Czechoslovakia back when Czechoslovakia existed, and a battered black hat. And that's it. He walks away from the car with a spring in his step and no backwards look.

"You should ask me my name." He's twitchy and nosy, eyes flicking around the cab to take in the luggage and the cooler. "I got here the normal way...drove 'til my car threatened to explode."

But she's doing him a favour, so he can be serious for a moment, glancing at her face and smiling. "Guess I'm on a work trip, technically. Friend of mine that's waiting for me is a colleague. Wants my help with a parish issue." Tapping on the collar for a moment, indicative. "Tell you the truth, I'd have taken any excuse to get on the road again."

"Bad times at the office?" Anna says wryly.

She's lucky that she loves her job and her coworkers like her, because they were extraordinarily supportive of her taking PTO and heading out to find a guy they've barely heard of. Then again, they know how broken inside she is and how much she needs someone to care about her. So they could consider this a public service, as she gets back on the road.

"Sergeant Anna Stafford, LAPD," she says as a matter of introduction. "And you would be?"

( affectionate physical contact )

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