TARGET ACQUIRED // HEIGHT RESTRICTION 🔫

Christ, she’s fit. For a solid five seconds thosethree words encompass the entirety of John’s mental capacity. Because she is fit, and even that description doesn’tdo her enough justice. It’s been a long, rotten evening for him. Custodysergeants generally don’t really like to be hurried, and punching the ChiefSuperintendent comes with obvious consequences and formalities. Fingerprints.Charge sheet. His presence required in magistrate’s court a week from today.And a sodding ASBO attached to his name. Still, he doesn’t regret it one bit,would do it again. And the evening isn’t over yet, is it? Not when he comesacross a woman like this right outside the Yard.

… Even ifthere’s something about her that makes him want to glance around and prepare forthe sudden appearance of a sleek black car. Swear to God, if her presence isMycroft’s doing John is going straight home. He’s bloody well done for theevening if that really is the case. But there’s no car, and she’s not handinghim a mobile, so maybe this time… Yeah. Maybe.

He laughsat her question, soft and brief, but a muscle unmistakably jumps in his jaw, andthere’s a certain guarded quality in his gaze as he continues to watch her. “ Didn’trealise there was a height limit in place. And what sort of work do you do, then?When you’re not busy standing about looking all mysterious? ”

LORRAINE STARES BACK BLANKLY at him as he looks on, finding her cigarette interesting enough to let the silence prolong itself. She’s never been much for conversation anyhow. She’d even been told it was something to work on. Whatever that fucking meant. She’s only here to file for her sidearm while on holiday – new PM and a whole sodding lot of new rules. No more was her licensing enough. She’d just planned to forego all formalities, but C was decisively adamant that she follow every letter of the law. We don’t need one more sodding disaster with one of ours attached to it – Well if you ask her the only bloody disaster is the state of affairs. What she wouldn’t give to be anywhere else but here. 

She smirks when he finally speaks, noting the ever-so-slight change in his demeanor. Must be a touchy subject, she notes. Still giving ample time to pass between her acknowledging of him, she finishes off the cigarette, and tosses it down, grinding it into the dirt with the toe of her shoe before digging another out from her purse – incidentally the only other thing inside of which is her gun. ❛ Classified, ❜ she answers simply, lighting the next cigarette and keeping her cool gaze upon him as she blows out the smoke. There’s a hint of a smirk in her gaze as she watches him still – 

❛ You don’t really strike me as the type prone to violence, ❜ she comments, voice low and even, relatively void of any emotion or inflection at all; if anything she sounds condescending. Perhaps even ever so vaguely amused at his expense. ❛ Did he sleep with your wife? Notice all your lack of height? ❜ The smirk returns, curving up the corners of her pale lips, but is soon masked by them curling around the cigarette once more.