┏ a quick witted
private investigator
is hired to catch a
mischievious culprit
on the run. with the
rogue's virtuoso and
nefarious plays, it
became a game of
cat & mouse for the
two. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: ┛
❝ drop your pistol, swift.❞
...
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┏ ❝ sweet creature we're running through the garden oh, where nothing bothered us. ❞ ┛
RIGHT AFTER THE INCIDENT from last night, Harry ignored Taylor. He's tired of her acting like some ignorant and naive child.
Ice cream? What the fuck? Is she insane? We're talking about serious issues here.
He drank the coffee from his nightstand, the sunlight peeks through his curtains and glitters on his verdant eyes. He was tired.
He tried to cooperate with her-but this irritating woman kept playing games which he isn't fond of. Fucking Ice cream. He had no other choice then to ignore her and give her silence.
It's been just weeks since they met, they just knew each other-yet the little lovebirds fought like a married couple fighting over the simplest of simple things.
Ice cream.
He decides to sneak into the interrogation room. The blonde was surely still asleep, as heard from the silence. He slowly opens the door, just a very itty bitty peek.
He smiles as soon as he finds her sleeping on the mat he gave her, her face softly laying on the pillow as she dreams of who knows what in her sleep. Her hands still binded together by the handcuffs, sure, he still doesn't trust her.
He decides to stay a little while to just watch her.
Well, he can. Right? Maybe..
The sight was somehow too admirable for him. A soft blush of red lying on her cheeks, a natural display of her innocence and beauty. Her lips were partly open, cute small snores escaped from her mouth. Her gold hair like honey was shimmering under the white lights.
"Taylor, love."
Her eyes flutter open, flinching from the lights blinding her eyes before the view of a gorgeous man appears above her.
Am I in heaven? The blonde probably thought, until she abruptly rolls her eyes, remembering it was the cop.
"Never dare to wake me up again, you filthy british man." She seeths with annoyance in her voice. Harry smiles-making it his habit to irritate her.
"Is that an insult?"
"Filthy isn't a compliment, detective."
"No, I meant british."
"Oh yes, you brits talk annoying. Always talking like a posh, forcing an elegant accent-and it ends up sounding like you're about to sneeze." Taylor says with disgust, staring down at Harry as if she's belittling him.
The man felt a flicker of resentment. "Oh, just say you're envious of us because you Americans don't have any accents."
"Oh, shut up. I used to." Taylor says as a defence, but soon regrets that as embarassing memories quickened inside her mind. She still remembers faking a southern accent back when she wanted to be some country hometown girl.
