Kit (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pryde_and_grit) wrote2009-07-16 06:47 am
pryde_and_grit) wrote2009-07-16 06:47 am
Addictions and Decisions
Kit glanced at the pile of letters and then casually tossed them in a courier's bag on her shoulder. She was making the rounds of her P.O Boxes. They were decoy addresses for anyone curious about the mansion's spending, or the students. She never really expected to get anything good from them, but they did serve their purpose.
Last week she'd gotten some good coupons. Kurt really did go through pizza.
This week she didn't expect anything beyond bills and a few advertisements. Maybe a notification about little Isobel's next round of shots...
Maybe that was why the letter she received was so much of a shock when she got home. It was a heavy envelope, and some colorful pasteboard tickets were folded into the letter, but oh, the contents of it were poison.
Like heroin.
So very...very...deadly...
Kitten,
Did you think I wouldn't find a trace of you? You made me curious when you breezed back into my life. A P.O Box dear? How very paranoid of you...
...or do you move around too much even now? No matter, New York is still a lovely place. Slightly warmer than our lovely Chicago. I wish I could say this letter was merely for pleasantries, but sadly, it's not. You see, I find myself traveling to your city soon, and it is so rude to sample the wares of a competitor.
I'll need a companion for an evening of pleasantries and a ballet, surely you can find it in your heart to oblige me? Given that you've 'given up the trade life' you'll pose no threat on my arm.
We'll start outside the Ritz hotel at six p.m. sharp on February fourteenth. I do know it's cliche, but business is business. Dress to impress; we both know you can.
Forever yours
Daddy
The tickets were for 'A Midsummer's Night Dream' and as much as she loved dance, just seeing the pair, the assumption, made her sick. She didn't want to go. She didn't trust herself with him, just like she didn't trust herself in Chicago...
...but if she didn't he'd start really looking. He'd find the mansion, and he wouldn't hesitate to taint everything within it as long as he got what he wanted. Logan hadn't been back long, and there were the students and little Isobel...had she any right to risk their safety?
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
She'd been cutting back on smoking since the baby came to live with them, but tonight she needed that pack. And the bottle of scotch. And the quiet solitude of a night out on the dock. She'd...figure things out in the morning.
Last week she'd gotten some good coupons. Kurt really did go through pizza.
This week she didn't expect anything beyond bills and a few advertisements. Maybe a notification about little Isobel's next round of shots...
Maybe that was why the letter she received was so much of a shock when she got home. It was a heavy envelope, and some colorful pasteboard tickets were folded into the letter, but oh, the contents of it were poison.
Like heroin.
So very...very...deadly...
Kitten,
Did you think I wouldn't find a trace of you? You made me curious when you breezed back into my life. A P.O Box dear? How very paranoid of you...
...or do you move around too much even now? No matter, New York is still a lovely place. Slightly warmer than our lovely Chicago. I wish I could say this letter was merely for pleasantries, but sadly, it's not. You see, I find myself traveling to your city soon, and it is so rude to sample the wares of a competitor.
I'll need a companion for an evening of pleasantries and a ballet, surely you can find it in your heart to oblige me? Given that you've 'given up the trade life' you'll pose no threat on my arm.
We'll start outside the Ritz hotel at six p.m. sharp on February fourteenth. I do know it's cliche, but business is business. Dress to impress; we both know you can.
Daddy
The tickets were for 'A Midsummer's Night Dream' and as much as she loved dance, just seeing the pair, the assumption, made her sick. She didn't want to go. She didn't trust herself with him, just like she didn't trust herself in Chicago...
...but if she didn't he'd start really looking. He'd find the mansion, and he wouldn't hesitate to taint everything within it as long as he got what he wanted. Logan hadn't been back long, and there were the students and little Isobel...had she any right to risk their safety?
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
She'd been cutting back on smoking since the baby came to live with them, but tonight she needed that pack. And the bottle of scotch. And the quiet solitude of a night out on the dock. She'd...figure things out in the morning.