Post by Lt. Vic Valentine on Apr 17, 2012 18:06:22 GMT -5
Vic was an early bird, indeed. She had slipped up and out of bed every morning at about six or seven depending on what kind of night she had. Today she was up at seven, respectively. She and Harvey were usually at work by eleven and going home by seven in the evening, unless they were swamped, called in, or simply busy with something.
She let Harvey sleep as she got up, got dressed, ran by her own apartment. Her car had been driven back by Gordon to the station so her keys were at work, so she just walked, it wasn't far. Her neighbor, an elderly woman named Francis who had a poodle, had a copy of her apartment key.
By 8:30 she was back at Harvey's. She had taken his apartment key so she could get back in. Upon returning she went into the kitchen. She had brought back a few things to make breakfast at Harvey's. She cooked up bacon and fried potatoes in the bacon grease. She had her phone charging and had found Harvey's radio. She had one of the local doing their news report gently playing to listen to. She had started a pot of coffee when she started frying up the eggs in the remaining bacon grease. . She found the toaster and toasted a few pieces of bread. She had already set the butter out from the fridge earlier so it would soften. Vic always appreciated anyone who bought real butter instead of the fake stuff. Fat free butter was the dumbest thing she'd ever heard of.
As the aroma of the coffee and bacon lingered through his apartment, eventually making it to the bedroom, Vic was hopeful that would wake Harvey from his slumber versus her have to actually wake him up herself. It was now nine' o' clock in the morning. Just as the time changed the radio station went into music, the news was over. "Hot In The City" by Billy Idol came through the apartment as the DJ was talking about today's weather promising to be a hot day and night. Vic reached over and turned up the volume a little bit.
Vic smirked and began pouring two cups of coffee as the eggs finished frying. The song had been well placed on this particular morning. Vic took a sip of her coffee and looked back to the eggs.
She was wearing black wranglers, black and white boots, a black and black shirt with white vest and silver pocketwatch chain hanging from one of the buttons to the pocket of the vest. Her duster was hanging on the coat wrack, it was black. She had traded her black bandero from yesterday for a crisp white stetson today. that matched her vest and the white in her boots. Even her holsters were crisp white leather. Her guns were all on her as she cooked, but she didn't know where Harvey had hid her ammo the night before so she grabbed more from home. Her hair was pulled into a messy looking bun with a strands of hair hanging down in the right places to make it look as though on purpose or a happy accident. Her Stetson was also on the coatrack with her duster. The small tie coming down from her collar down between her vest and shirt was a bright and vivid purple, her favorite color. Even her belt for her hip holdsters was checkered black and white like all the kids liked to wear.
This was usually what she would wear to an opera or play.
She let Harvey sleep as she got up, got dressed, ran by her own apartment. Her car had been driven back by Gordon to the station so her keys were at work, so she just walked, it wasn't far. Her neighbor, an elderly woman named Francis who had a poodle, had a copy of her apartment key.
By 8:30 she was back at Harvey's. She had taken his apartment key so she could get back in. Upon returning she went into the kitchen. She had brought back a few things to make breakfast at Harvey's. She cooked up bacon and fried potatoes in the bacon grease. She had her phone charging and had found Harvey's radio. She had one of the local doing their news report gently playing to listen to. She had started a pot of coffee when she started frying up the eggs in the remaining bacon grease. . She found the toaster and toasted a few pieces of bread. She had already set the butter out from the fridge earlier so it would soften. Vic always appreciated anyone who bought real butter instead of the fake stuff. Fat free butter was the dumbest thing she'd ever heard of.
As the aroma of the coffee and bacon lingered through his apartment, eventually making it to the bedroom, Vic was hopeful that would wake Harvey from his slumber versus her have to actually wake him up herself. It was now nine' o' clock in the morning. Just as the time changed the radio station went into music, the news was over. "Hot In The City" by Billy Idol came through the apartment as the DJ was talking about today's weather promising to be a hot day and night. Vic reached over and turned up the volume a little bit.
Vic smirked and began pouring two cups of coffee as the eggs finished frying. The song had been well placed on this particular morning. Vic took a sip of her coffee and looked back to the eggs.
She was wearing black wranglers, black and white boots, a black and black shirt with white vest and silver pocketwatch chain hanging from one of the buttons to the pocket of the vest. Her duster was hanging on the coat wrack, it was black. She had traded her black bandero from yesterday for a crisp white stetson today. that matched her vest and the white in her boots. Even her holsters were crisp white leather. Her guns were all on her as she cooked, but she didn't know where Harvey had hid her ammo the night before so she grabbed more from home. Her hair was pulled into a messy looking bun with a strands of hair hanging down in the right places to make it look as though on purpose or a happy accident. Her Stetson was also on the coatrack with her duster. The small tie coming down from her collar down between her vest and shirt was a bright and vivid purple, her favorite color. Even her belt for her hip holdsters was checkered black and white like all the kids liked to wear.
This was usually what she would wear to an opera or play.
