Sweet Dreams & Real Nightmares

[Ezra Huntington]

Tag: Emmeline Denford

you can run

BUT YOU'LL DIE TIRED

It was cases such as this that truly gave purpose to the word Runner in their official titles. Ezra had been chasing this man down for blocks, and he refused to let the target go. Perhaps it was his own obsessive need to close the case. One that was not too intense but strong enough that he refused to give up. Some might call it noble determination. He called it annoyance that he had not yet apprehended him. Even when the chase led them to the roofs. Running along it and jumping from the closely positioned houses, adrenaline coursing through both their veins but surely . . . there would be a point where the houses ended.

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Fortunately, Ezra did not have to wait that long for the criminal slipped a bit causing his speed to close and for Ezra to gain the advantage. He threw his body over the man to tackle him, reaching for the handcuffs in his pocket and using his weight to hold him down. The chased was clearly a fool -- or desperate to escape -- or perhaps both, for he saw it fit to attempt to wrestle Ezra. This would have been futile had they not been on a roof with a slight slant so instead of shifting Ezra's weight off of him, he instead caused them to roll down the rest of the roof and land on the ground. Hard. Had the roof been any higher, they would have been dead. A couple other Bow Street Runners hastily caught up to them and quickly arrested the man, while the others attempted to help Ezra.

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"I am fine," he grumbled dismissively, trying to sit up but everything felt dizzy and he felt the intense throbbing in his chest. Mostly likely bruised or broken ribs. Perhaps broken, for walking seemed to be rather difficult at the moment. Unfortunately, the ruckus caused by all this alerted enough people that someone was already making arrangements to transport him and another called for a physician. Before Ezra knew it, he was lying in the bed of his home, having been examined, treated and tended to, given medicine for the pain and under instructions to remain on bed rest for the next several days . . . and to not sleep for the night. This did nothing to help Ezra's already agitated mood. Little did he realize, it may very well get worse.

[Emmeline Denford]

For a woman how had began this folly as a way to bring down the villian, she was now rushing toward his front door with her heart beating so hard she feared she'd be ill. She had been looking for ways to prove he was ruthless, and was not the pristine hero others thought them to be--and she had ended up coming to know the man and . . . and even come to see that not everything in the world was as simple as she had once thought.

Pushing past the door to his flat, she followed some of the runners to the bed room. Emmeline did not have a moment to think about being in a man's bed room for the first time. Walking quickly into the room, her eyes found him on the bed, and her hand moved to rest on her belly were the fear had turned to lead, while her feet slowed and she stepped to the side trying to find her balance.

Pausing to catch her breath, she knew there was no real reason for her to be here--other then she had to be here. Yet she had heard 'fallen from a roof' and 'too injured to walk' and had taken off running toward his flat. Even now, she wanted to walk over to him and make sure he was whole.

The saw bones was asking if anyone else lived here and was able to make sure he could stay awake. "I will make sure he does not sleep!" Her words rushed out. A few other runners snickered, and she wondered why that was funny? Looking at them and then Mr. Hunt, and the doctor.

Still breathless from running she continued, "I work for Sir Throne, and with Mr. Hunt. I will make sure he follows whatever orders you have for him." Though it might kill them both.

Ezra Huntington

[Ezra Huntington]

Tag: Emmeline Denford

you can run

BUT YOU'LL DIE TIRED

Ezra's eyes went to the door when Emmeline Denford practically burst through it, out of breath yet . . . eager as ever to intervene. Now this was just the perfect. The ideal finish to this already maddening circumstance where he could not move. Now he had Emmeline here to keep him company. Though, had Hunt truly delved into his mind and heart . . . he would have realized that there was a part of him that felt a strange sense of comfort in that. But alas, stubbornness gave way to any emotion and it left him rolling his eyes at her remark that prompted the others to chuckle. He then sharply looked at them, the gaze enough to abruptly silence sounds of amusement. He glanced back at Emmeline for the briefest of moments before looking up at the ceiling while she spoke of making sure he followed orders.

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"Exceptional," he mumbled with a hint of sarcasm, clearly not looking forward to her asserting any form of authority upon him. It was one thing when he was able to walk away -- though that did little good. But now, she was going to remain here for he trusted her words. While the other Bow Street Runners started to slowly leave the room, offering words of encouragement and hopes of a swift recovery, Ezra kept his gaze to the nothingness above him. His words meant to address her. "You do not need to be here," he told her. "Go home, Miss Denford." Surely, she had better things to do than to nurse his recovery. And yet . . . he had not failed to recognize the haste in which she had arrived, evidenced by her shortened breath and determination. What was this woman up to?

[Emmeline Denford]

He was well and truly as annoyed at the sight of her as he always did, and there was both a comfort to that and a bit of disappointment. On the comforting side, it meant he was not dying like she feared. On the other . . . well, she wasn't sure about that yet, and nor was she going to allow herself to think on it right now. She had the job to make sure he did not sleep since he could not wake up if he did. How hard was it to keep a man awake for a bit?

"Nonsense, Mr. Hunt, you fell off a roof." She said, but it lacked her normal Candace and tone. Normally she was direct, and (in her own way) commanding. Now it was slower, and off. "One would think you thought yourself to be a ally cat, rather than a man."

Needing something to do, now that everyone had left, she moved over to a blanket that had been knocked or kicked, or dropped to the floor. Lifting it, Emmeline began to fold it while she talked. "Though it appears you have as many lives as one, after falling and and still being able to glower at me. You know you need my help while you are injured. You know that your grumpy disposition will not thwart me. You might as well spend another of your eight lives left and just let me help you."

Walking over to put the folded blanket on the foot of the bed, she looked down at at him and stole his own words from before. "I promise not to compromise you." Then she had to fight back a little smile at her own wit.

Ezra Huntington

[Ezra Huntington]

Tag: Emmeline Denford

you can run

BUT YOU'LL DIE TIRED

Ezra had to fight the urge to watch her, instead focusing on something -- anything -- else other than her. The way she was moving about, folding a blanket seemed like such a simple gesture. At yet, there was something that felt so natural and domestic about it. As if she fit right in. Which, was unsettling for it was his bedroom. In his home. The place not having felt a woman's touch since . . . since the passing of his wife. The thought of relating the two rather dangerous in his mind, so he need fight any urge to give way to this. Even if it was just a subtle look of softness in his direction. He therefore kept his eyes upwards, using it to feign annoyance at her presence as she explained that he had fallen, speaking of how he thought himself a cat and comparing the lives to one.

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"You are in my bedroom," he told her, now looking at her, his words holding a tone of accusation. "This far exceeds a boundary of professionalism," he further told her, once again, using that as an excuse. For it was easier to speak of work, to speak of their professional relationship than anything beyond that. Though in saying so, he also recognized that something was different in her tone. In the way she was speaking to him. In her, entire demeanour. That coupled with the clear haste she had come . . . was indeed a curious thing. When she set his blanket at the foot of the bed and looked at him, speaking words of promise to not compromise him -- a mirror to ones he had said earlier -- Ezra found his lips title in a smile. A very small one; a very brief one.

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But none the less, it had formed in the shortest of moments and slightest extension of his lips. But knowing her, she would have noticed. And he inwardly cursed for it, deciding to play the opium in his medicine for relaxing him far too much. Trying to shift away focus from it, his eyes went back to hers, a seriousness to them as he made his next inquiry. "Why are you truly here?" He always felt as if she had ulterior motives -- even if it was just to annoy him. Be it his paranoid mind or whether there was a crumb of truth. He surely, believed there was another reason that she was here rather than plaguing herself with his company as he recovered.

[Emmeline Denford]

There were many things she wanted to comment on from his words. There was his reminder that she was in a man's bedroom. Her eyes moved around the room to take in the . . . manliness of it all. She would have commented on it, called it a cave of grumpiness, or the devil's layer--however his face did something odd and she couldn't look away. Did . . . did he almost smile!?

Stepping closer, Emmeline tilted her head and pretended to squint at him. "Mr. Hunt, I do not mean to alarm you but your face seemed to have tried to smile." With that her own lips tightened as she pressed them together to hide her amusement. That action alone had helped ease some of the awkwardness in the moment. It made her want to do it again, though she was not sure how.

"I want to help a friend in need." She told him, standing beside the bed and looking down at him. She glanced around the room again, feeling odd and unsure what to do. "I heard you had fallen from a roof and they were not sure the state of your person. So I strolled over to be of use. It is what friends do." She had never called him a friend before, but she had used similar titles to tease him and try to get him to like her enough to open up about the work he did. Now that seemed to matter little. "You need not fear that I want anything from you. Your person, and your coin, are safe. I . . . I worried about you." And the admittance came both ease and hard. Easy to say but hard to accept. He was not the monster she had needed him to be in order to paint him a villain. He was something different.

Ezra Huntington