She’d been alive for almost a month. It was pretty great, actually. She had most of her memories and it felt like she was doing well in that life. It was a great, rare feeling that needed to be cherished.

But what did she do instead?

Waste her time on investigative work, that’s what.

Charlie stepped carefully on the fire escape that scaled the building she was supposed to be targeting a client in. She didn’t typically get that close, but trying to use her long-range camera from across the street hadn’t been working out well. The target’s apartment had too many strange angles to get anything good out of.

The metal contraption beneath her feet wobbled slightly and made an angry noise, but she grabbed it after a second or two, stopping any sound. With any luck, her mishap would have gone unnoticed.

She continued along the same path, intent on making it up the building both alive and undetected. It was a long shot, but she was willing to try it. Hey, it wasn’t like she was going to lose anything, right?

Eventually, she reached the apartment that she needed to look into. It was a nice place, really. There were so many games, though. Games everywhere. Charlie didn’t know what one person could do with that many games. It wasn’t like you could play them all at one time… or could you? She couldn’t remember. Something to look into later.

Focusing on the task at hand, she brought her camera up to her eye and zoomed carefully, crouching with her back to the wall so that the target wouldn’t be able to see her unless she strained her neck a great deal. Her camera, however, was slightly visible.

The target was playing a game. Just one, so Charlie figured that maybe she was on the right track the first time around. Brown hair, pale skin, in her mid-twenties, and in relatively good shape. According to her client, Vanessa Bookman was a professional gamer. What a life.

Carefully, the blonde began to edge slightly closer to the window.

Despite all Vanessa’s claims that it would not, life moved on and got easier over time. Friends and family, (and by family, she exclusively meant Booker,) helped break the gamer girl out of her post-Becca funk. There was still progress to be made, and bad moods would strike her when she was not expecting it. Finding out Booker was still going with her ex to a convention did not make her the happiest camper, but Booker claimed the unfair moral high ground, reminding Vanessa of the ex-girlfriends, plural she dated after him. As upset as she was, she knew when a fight was unwinnable.

Even with the struggles, Vanessa was going back to work daily, making good content again, and even doing enough to fake the idea of a social life. She was not overcompensating or going out more to get over Rebecca; at her core, she was still an introvert. Being out with people was fun, healthy, and necessary, but it could be exhausting. It was just as important to her mental health to have days where she could stay home alone and entertain herself. Since Vanessa’s work required her to play video games for several hours a day, one might assume she wound be turned off from occupying her free time in those virtual worlds.

One would be wrong. Vanessa got into streaming because she loved video games, and her love had yet to show signs of having a cap. Moping around for a while detracted from her gaming time, and David back at work was joking that he was going to earn past her trophy collection if she didn’t get off her “whiny ass.” It was the kind of line he got away with by being overtly British, and that was just how everyone at the office interacted. She was glad they were not coddling her.

Vanessa was sitting in front of the couch in her living room, looking up at the television screen hanging on the wall. She was playing a recent release out of Japan that was an odd blend of RPG, dungeon crawling, and a school simulator. Very Japan, and very up Vanessa’s alley. Booker had been warned to ensure she did not forget to eat or sleep during her day off, so she felt confident getting absorbed into the game until she heard her phone go off or the door open.

One noise she was not anticipating was the creaking sound of metal coming from the fire escape. Nessa flinched, but did not look right away. Multiple possibilities popped in her head, but two stuck out. In theory, Rebecca had, in the past, accessed their apartment through the fire escape with her magnetic abilities. It was a thought Vanessa was not going to entertain. Rebecca was not coming back, and if she was, she would come to the door; after an incident with Booker and his adapted field standing too close to the window, Rebecca had no interest in suffering an unexpected free-fall again.

More likely, there was a potential intruder outside. They were on a higher floor, but there were ways it could happen. The notion tensed Nessa’s body up.

Or it could be a fat pigeon. She had to consider the more realistic answer. Occam’s Razor and all that. She peeked out of the corner of her eye to quell her paranoia.

Unfortunately, she was pretty sure she saw eyes in her window. Human eyes. ****.

The window was still intact. The intruder was not making a move, but why would they delay? Was this a stalker? Peeping tom? It was possible, given Vanessa’s career and Booker’s dating record. Calmly, Vanessa stood up and walked toward the hallway, outside of the field of vision of the window, acting like she was none the wiser to her uninvited guest.

Popping into Booker’s room, (which was only an even remotely safe idea when he was out of the house,) Nessa found a replica Warhammer propped up on the floor. She lifted it, but it had fair heft to it, even as a knock-off. Good.

Hoisting the hammer until it was propped on her shoulder, she returned to the living room, but stuck close to the walls so she would not be easily spotted from the window. She sidled along the wall until she was right next to the window frame. Finally in position, she poked her head in front of the window, her large hammer proudly on display. Deadpan, she asked, ”Enjoying the view, pervert?”

Charlie took a good look at the apartment from her seemly safe spot. She took a few pictures, too, just for good measure. It was hard to know what she would remember if something went wrong.

Her target, however, was being a little camera shy. Charlie knew that she was in there, but she couldn’t see her from the angle that she was at. She could see the game that she was playing, and the evidence that someone was living, breathing, there, but no actual people. It was exceptionally frustrating.

With a quiet huff, she leaned back from the window and took up a squat against the brick wall of the apartment building. If she wasn’t going to show herself yet, then Charlie would give her a little while to make herself more obvious. There was no rush; she was being paid for her time. She could wait. She flipped through some of the pictures as she did so.

>>”Enjoying the view, pervert?”

Ah, so she’s sociable.

From the sounds of things, she had not done a good enough job of hiding. The window was clearly not even a little bit soundproof, meaning that her cover was blown. Very blown, from the sounds of things. That was it; she was sticking to long range stalking and following people in cars from then on out.

With a sigh, Charlie tried to decide how best to get herself out of the pickle she had just gotten herself into. There weren’t many good options. She could run back away, but then she would have nothing and the police trailing her, or she could run with it. Make the most out of a bad situation.

The blonde composed herself and put on the best scared face she could possibly muster. Then, she slid her camera into her bag and turned so that she was facing Vanessa through the thin window.

”I-I’m sorry,” she managed to muster, taking a good look at her target and the hammer she was holding. That would probably hurt to get your head bashed in with. Less than a brick, though. ”I didn’t mean to scare you, really. I live a few floors up, and I forgot my keys, so I can’t get into the building. I was trying to see if anyone was home here to let me in. It was stupid. I’ll just go call the super, or something.”

Vanessa would not call herself an inherently distrustful person, but she did claim to be a realist. There was no realistic way the blonde woman on her fire escape had climbed down from a higher floor because she lost her key. For one: how did she get on the fire escape in the first place if she was unable to get into the apartment? The details did not add up, regardless of how convincing her delivery was.

The story was also hard to accept because the intruder’s eyes told a different story. She must have been a talented liar; all the good ones never shied away from eye contact. Dodging glances was a nervous tick of someone telling a lie they are not okay with telling. Her blue eyes were confidently steady, and her posh voice had the right amount of panic and apology mixed in. Liars always locked in on Vanessa’s chocolate brown eyes, negating all their well-trained wordsmithing.

Buy it. Buy it. Please let me in.

People in the right did not want people to “buy” their story. They wanted to be genuinely believed. Vanesa considered locking the window and returning to her games, but then the woman might just find another way to snoop. More than anything, Vanessa needed to know why this woman put forth such an effort to get to her window in particular.

It was a questionable decision, but Vanessa was hoping “the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t” applied to her situation as she unlatched the window for her attractive blonde devil. ”Understandable,” she replied, half-heartedly. ”Come inside, then; you’ll bake out there.” That had some truth to it, if her fair skin was expectedly weak to the early summer sun.

Vanessa backed away to give her new guest some space to come in through the open window. She kept her eyes on the woman, and the hammer was still hanging at her side. If she was there to hurt her, it would be dangerous to lower her guard. Dangerous like letting a weird stalker in through the window.

”So… do you have a name? Cute stalker chick has a nice ring to it, but I figured I’d ask.” A little harmless flirting. If the blonde had some plan, Vanessa was hoping to poke and prod her, maybe even throwing her off her groove. Unexpected flirting could be invaluable, and in Vanessa’s direct tone, it was usually unexpected.

Charlie wasn't really one to brag, but she was a decent liar. In all honesty, she wasn't all that surprised when Vanessa bought her story, even if she seemed a little suspicious. She could deal with suspicious; it wasn't all that difficult to clear up if you knew what to say, which Charlie often did.

>>”Come inside, then; you’ll bake out there.”

The woman snorted, "is that your way of calling me pale?" A good way to get someone comfortable with you was to throw in a little bit of lighthearted humour. Yes, Charlie knew that she was, in fact, quite fair, but that didn't mean she couldn't feign hurt at the comment.

"Thank you, though. I really didn't think that this would work. It's really sweet of you to let me in like this," she commented, opening the window and manoeuvring her way into the apartment. Vanessa was still holding that hammer thing, so she had to be careful not to raise any more suspicion than what was already there. Thankfully, she was pretty, and she could play that fact up. While she was sliding into the apartment, she let her shirt raise just a little bit more than normal. It didn't reveal anything, but it sure as heck did hint.

After a minute, she was standing in her target's apartment. Really not the best plan, but she'd had worse. At least, she was pretty sure that she had. It was a little hazy.

She did her best to try to get a good look at the place without being too obvious about the fact that she was surveying it. She only met Vanessa's eyes again after another minute had passed.

>>”So… do you have a name? Cute stalker chick has a nice ring to it, but I figured I’d ask.”

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. I get ahead of myself sometimes. I'm-" Charlie "-Cece. Cece Jacobs." Charlie was used to using fake names when people asked. Usually, she picked something close enough to her real name that she would still recognize when someone was trying to get her attention if she was distracted.

Absentmindedly, she held her bag at her side, careful not to let her camera peek out. "So what about you? Should I call you Hot Chick With the Hammer, or do you have something a little more personal?" She really was hot. That wasn't an act.

The blonde allowed Vanessa to lead her in through the window, joking about her baking accusations. She rolled her eyes, but she was grinning; it was important to make an effort to smile or grin, because Vanessa rolled her eyes so often, people might get the ludicrous idea that she was a bitch. ”It’s my way of saying it’s getting warm out these days. Also yes,” she admitted. Obviously, the intruder was pale, and there was no way she was oblivious to that fact.

If those blue eyes were to be believed, her new guest fancied herself quite the liar. She knew she was a pretty little liar, and unafraid to flaunt what she had working for her. If Vanessa were not so concerned about why she had a stalker, she would have been enjoying how badly the woman was unintentionally playing into her hands.

The blonde called herself Cece, but her thoughts betrayed her. Charlie. Whoever Charlie was, she was comfortable with casually slipping into an alias. Fake names, questionable stories, and impure motives. It seemed like too much effort to be a stalker fan. Who was she dealing with?

Vanessa eyed the bag at Charlie’s side, wondering what could have been important enough to bring onto the fire escape. She returned to the lovely blue eyes, but Charlie was not thinking about the bag. She was thinking about how hot Vanessa was. Of all the things she decided not to lie about, at least the mystery woman genuinely thought she was attractive. Little victories.

”Hmm, I dunno.” Vanessa looked over the kitchen counter to watch Charlie. ”Hot Chick with the Hammer does have a nice ring to it,” she faux-contemplated. Finally, she put the hammer down on the countertop and offered a hand. ”I’m Vanessa.”

Turning back to look in her fridge, stocked with juice, pop, and beer, she chose to be a hospitable host as she studied Charlie’s intentions. ”You must be hot, too. Would you like a drink?”

Hot girl Vanessa didn't seem to have any qualms about giving Charlie her name, which was a good sign. Of course, Charlie already knew that and more about her, but she wasn't about to admit that. She had to find out her name the old-fashioned way, through words, and stuff. Social media really was one of the best inventions of the modern world. (It was one of the worst, too, but she was focusing on the positive.)

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, kindly Vanessa. I can still call you Hot Chick With the Hammer if you'd like, though."

Easily, Charlie met Vanessa's eyes again and slipped her hand into the target's. She grinned as she gave a firm handshake in response, thinking only about the layout of the apartment. It was nice; it made sense. There were also lots of things to look at. What was that term? Nerdgasm?

>>”You must be hot, too. Would you like a drink?”

Charlie's attention snapped back and she smiled. "Sure, thanks. Whatever you have would be awesome." She really didn't care what she drank at that point. Really, anything tasted better than that cyanide she'd tried that one time. It was hard to be picky after that.

Back to looking at the apartment. What she needed was information on the woman's life. She wasn't just looking for the simple stuff, though. No, she needed to get deeper than what she had listed on her MyFace page. She'd been hired to figure out what state of mind she was in. What she was doing with her time. Whether or not she was happy. 

Easier said than done.

"So is it just you living here?" she inquired casually, looking down at the edge of the couch she was leaning against.

”Call me what you’d like,” Vanessa said directly. She added a wink, because a long life of being her taught her that her tone was easy to misinterpret. Winking and smirking were key elements in combating her “resting b**** voice,” so not everyone who met her immediately hated her.

Reaching into the fridge, Vanessa pulled out two long-neck bottles of some grapefruit beer. With summer in full swing, fruity drinks hit the spot on sunny days. Quickly using the bottle opener from her drawer, Vanessa handed one of the bottles over to Cece (Charlie) and smiled, gesturing the neck of the bottle in her direction. ”Cheers,” she said enthusiastically, taking a sip.

Charlie asked about her living situation, but she was also looking at the couch instead of meeting Vanessa’s eyes. Without eye contact, she was going to have a hard time getting answers to her own burning questions.

The answer, Vanessa considered, might be to play hard to get. If Charlie could ask more purposeful questions, perhaps something might hint to what she was digging around for. ”Well, I have no live-in girlfriend around, if that’s your worry. Otherwise, I might struggle to explain how I stumbled across another woman on the fire escape.” Playful, but not very helpful.

”Someone else is living here temporarily, but I have the place to myself today.” Intentionally vague. Vanessa wanted to know where Charlie might proceed from there.

With Charlie taking up a perch leaning against the couch, Vanessa slipped out of the kitchen area and leaned against the wall opposite her guest. Her eyes were trained on Charlie, even as she took another sip from her bottle. She wanted to ensure she did not miss any potential eye contact. ”So, you been in the city long? Based on your accent, I’m guessing you aren’t a New York Native.”

Vanessa was forward, blunt, and just a little bit playful. Charlie quirked her eyebrow at the wink and then accepted the bottle of grapefruit-whatever. People were too callous with their alcohol in the twenty-first century. She missed the days when the flavours were what they were and people didn’t complain about what they got. Ah, prohibition…

”Cheers,” she replied eagerly, meeting Nessa’s eyes again. She realized as she was speaking that it might have been too enthusiastic, but she was hoping that she was selling it well enough. She felt like a cheerleader with all that pep.

>>”Well, I have no live-in girlfriend around, if that’s your worry. Otherwise, I might struggle to explain how I stumbled across another woman on the fire escape.”

Vanessa certainly liked to be mysterious. She wasn’t making it especially easy for Charlie to get information out of her, which was a bit of an issue. She would have liked to have gotten in and out with no trouble, but it was shaping up to look like she would have to be there for a while. At least the sights were enjoyable.

Girlfriend. She said girlfriend, which meant that she was gay. Something to add to the mental notes. Physical notes would be too obvious.

That also meant that whoever else was living there was not a significant other, so it had to be someone else. A roommate, maybe? Someone crashing for a while? Charlie needed to get a bit closer.

”And would… someone else mind that I was here?” Charlie inquired, stepping closer to the brunette. Her eyes trailed up her body, her mind focused on figuring out who else lived there… and maybe a few other things.

>>”So, you been in the city long? Based on your accent, I’m guessing you aren’t a New York Native.”

Charlie paused, her mind flashing to various points in her life, most of which were from previous centuries. ”I’ve been here a while. I’m from London originally. What about you? Always been a Yank?”

Charlie was too excited to receive her beer, and her eyes proved it was an over-compensation. She was trying to sell herself as a friendly neighbor. If Vanessa were anyone else, it might have been distracting, with the blonde hair and gorgeous looks and pep-rally enthusiasm.

Vanessa took a sip of her beer, tasting the sweetness of berries against the hoppiness of… well, beer. With her sip savored, she returned her eyes to Charlie. The blonde was taking in as much as she could, which meant it was only fair for Vanessa to follow suit. She was sure someone like Charlie would kill to have her power; whatever her job here was, mind-reading would help things along, surely.

She was so curious! Her mind was trying to piece together her living situation, which was a small cause for concern. Who would want to know about the residents of her apartment? Maybe she was casing the place for some heist? But who the hell would come to her apartment, of all places, to steal anything. There were video games, some recording equipment, and nerdy collector’s items. That made no sense.

”No one would mind that you’re here,” she answered, still looking to give nothing solid away. Charlie had to be getting frustrated with the run-around, which only seemed to loosen more thoughts for her to peek into. ”I’m a big girl who can have whoever I want over. Even on school nights,” she joked.

It was Nessa’s next question that caught intriguing memories. Old dresses, speakeasies, and if she was not mistaken, the tie-dye era of the sixties? Who was this woman?

She tried not to give away the surprise on her face, though he eyes may have gone initially wide. ”Oh, I’m a New Yorker, born and bred. Just lucky enough not to have the terrible accent.”

Small talk was going well, and it was finally natural enough for her to introduce the question she was really looking to use to her advantage. ”So, what does a pretty thing like yourself do for work, Cece?”

"Even on a school night? Wow, you are a big girl indeed," Cece Charlie teased. It had been a long time since she'd even thought of school, much less attended. When she was growing up, girls weren't sent to school, but she went when it was more acceptable. Actually, she was pretty sure that she went several times... enough to equate to something like a Master's degree, anyway. Just no certification.

They were standing close now. Close enough that if Charlie reached out her arm, she could touch the other woman. It was in that proximity with that kind of drink that bad decisions were typically made. She would have to be careful.

She raised an eyebrow and stepped back, righting her course. She was there to gather information, not to have fun, even if Vanessa looked like she would be a lot of fun. Damn, it was always the pretty ones that she was sent to investigate. Usually, anyway. The prawn had been a bit of an eyesore.

>>”Oh, I’m a New Yorker, born and bred. Just lucky enough not to have the terrible accent.”

Charlie had moved to the other side of the apartment, feeling more comfortable to move around in the space. It felt like her lies were beginning to see like truths to the brunette, so she didn't feel like she had to keep her eyes on her at every moment. Casually, she looked at the personal effects that were scattered throughout the surroundings. There were many pictures of her and a very attractive man. A family member, perhaps? If so, they clearly had good genes.

"So your family's here, then? Do they live close?" Charlie inquired directly. Hopefully, she would have a more difficult time side-stepping that one. Maybe it would give her a little bit of insight into who the man in the pictures was. Because, well, damn. Nerds really were in in the twenty-first century.

>>”So, what does a pretty thing like yourself do for work, Cece?”

The blonde shrugged, pulling from one of her many aliases that she had practised backstories for. "This and that. I'm in finance right now, but it's kind of boring," she paused to look at another image before turning back to Vanessa. "Maybe one day I'll actually do something interesting. What about you?"

Vanessa’s eye contact was bordering on “suspiciously consistent” because she was trying to figure out what to do with some of the odd thoughts she was finding. Charlie did not look old enough for school to be as distant a memory as it apparently was, and she was sure there was something about girls not going to school “when she was growing up.” How old was the gorgeous blonde in her living room?

The thought of Vanessa being pretty would be notable in its own right, had it not been paired with the word “investigate.” That was a very particular word, because everyday people did not investigate strangers. Even stalkers did not “investigate.” They stalked. There was a notable difference, mainly regarding professionalism.

Charlie looked around at the framed pictures sitting on an end table, which included at least one great picture of Vanessa and her brother at some beach party. Booker as good at getting Vanessa out of her comfort zone and into social activities, and the party and impromptu volleyball tournament had been a fun memory. Now, the photo served to give Charlie more insight into Vanessa’s life. ”Yep, all the family I care about is nice and close,” she answered. Her parents were probably still in New York, but she had no confirmation of that. They could be in Peru, and it would not matter to Vanessa.

She was more interested in “Cece’s” profession, and another word popped up as she hoped it might: “alias.” Investigations and aliases. Vanessa was starting to get a better idea of who Charlie might be, but it only raised further questions about why she was in her apartment of all places. Game time was coming to a close.

Vanessa sauntered over to the spot where Charlie was looking over a photo. Her pace was casual, like anyone who would walk toward an acquaintance to bridge the gap for a handshake. Nothing stopped Nessa, however, and she did not stop when she knew she was breaking Charlie’s personal space bubble. Her progress only stopped when she had a hand pressed against the wall, her body almost against Charlie. Their eyes met easily since they were only inches apart now.

”I work in entertainment,” she answered matter-of-factly. ”Is that specific enough for whoever sent you here?”

Vanessa was a tough nut to crack. She was either suspicious of Charlie or she was just the most needlessly secretive person on the planet. It was getting a little frustrating, but Charlie was trying not to let that fact show. She had nothing to do that day, so as long as she could stay there, she had an in. It was clear that she wouldn’t get another chance after that one.

Her questions were answered in as little detail as possible, giving Charlie almost nothing to work with. What was she supposed to return to her client with? She lives in New York with all the family that she cares about and is single. Sure, they were definitely going to pay her for that. Ugh.

She was going to have to go harder than that. Either she wasn’t doing enough, or she was doing too much. Either way, she definitely had to change course and rethink what she was doing. Maybe she could just-

Oh. Vanessa was suddenly very, very close. Charlie really hadn’t been expecting that, but she could certainly roll with it. Her eyes shot downward to look the woman up and down at that proximity before trailing back upward. Yeah, she could roll with that. She smelled amazing.

>>”I work in entertainment. Is that specific enough for whoever sent you here?”

Damn. Well, the jig was up. No use pretending anymore. Besides, it was probably more fun to just admit the truth by that point.

Charlie stayed still and leaned her head back against the wall as she chuckled. ”I see I can list a brain as one of your many assets, then,” she said with the slightest hint of an eyebrow quirk. Her hand had reached around found its way to a spot below Nessa’s hips, where she squeezed hard. ”You must be really good at reading people. It’s not often that people guess that quickly.”

Vanessa had to give Charlie credit; the investigator was not afraid to double-down on her situation. After putting herself in a power position, Vanessa felt the squeeze of Charlie’s hand squarely on her backside. If that was her response to getting caught by surprise, then she was well-equipped for high pressure situations. Vanessa did all she could to keep a severe look on her face, but how could she not have an eye widening reaction to her “assets” being grabbed so confidently.

A little flirting was not going to get Charlie out of the situation she found herself in, but it did not hurt. Yes, Vanessa was annoyed and suspicious. She was also human and very gay and had a gorgeous blonde all but pinned to the wall. There were some mixed signals in her body struggling between fight, flight, or a third “F.”

Charlie was so surprised by her cover being blow, even her thoughts did not give up the name of her employer. It was a flaw of Vanessa’s mind reading abilities that she could not skim further than surface thoughts. She had to focus on getting an answer out of Charlie, whether it was voiced or thought.

Then again, there were silver linings. Charlie was not some crazy stalker, and she had no intention of harming Vanessa or the people in her life. She was just on the clock, looking for information. Creepy, but following her as a hobby would have been far creepier. Knowing Charlie held no ill-will toward her made Vanessa more comfortable with whatever the hell she was getting herself into.

As if trying to prove how unphased she was by the butt grab, Vanessa responded by leaning forward, pressing her body against Charlie. She shifted so, instead of a hand, her forearm was against the wall, steadying her. She only had two inches on Charlie, but she intended to use them to assert control. ”What can I say? I have a way of understanding what’s on someone’s mind.” Well, that was surprisingly honest in a roundabout way.

Vanessa moved forward in stride, knowing she used a common turn of phrase that was not about to give up her mutation. ”I’m starting to think I know what’s on yours right now, Cece,” she said, making sure to use Charlie’s fake name since it was all she should have known at that point. Her dark brown gaze was boring into Charlie’s head through her brilliant blue eyes. ”But first… be a doll and let me know who’s asking questions about me?”

The more that Charlie pushed, the more comfortable Vanessa got. Apparently, all she had needed to do to make her trust her was tell the truth. A weird way of doing things, but Charlie wasn’t about to argue. If Vanessa was more comfortable with her being some kind of stalker than a worried upstairs neighbour, then that was fine by her. Everyone had their kinks.

The brunette had gotten even closer, pressing her arm against the wall and her body against Charlie’s. The blonde quirked an eyebrow and looked her up and down once again, allowing her to keep thinking that she had the upper hand. It was far from the first time that Charlie had found herself in a position like that, and, if she wanted to, she knew how to get out, but she wasn’t exactly rushing toward doing so.

”So what’s on my mind, then?” Charlie asked curiously. Maybe she was a mutant, or maybe she was just very intuitive. Maybe she was even one of those people that believed that she could communicate with the spirits. Whatever it was, it was working for her. If she could guess that Charlie was picturing her with fewer restrictive items, then she would get bonus points.

Brown eyes were staring directly at her, and it was hard not to get a little distracted from what she was supposed to be doing. The goal had been to have an easy watching assignment, not something where she would end up in a compromising position. Then again, knowing Charlie, it was easier said than done. She was well past the point of being able to get out of that situation, though, so all that she could do was roll with it.

>>”I’m starting to think I know what’s on yours right now, Cece, but first… be a doll and let me know who’s asking questions about me?”

Charlie tutted her tongue and slid her hand along Vanessa’s waist, lifting her shirt along the hem. ”You know I can’t do that, don’t you?” she whispered into Vanessa’s ear, her voice slow and soft. She was looking at the wall by that point, trying to clear her mind of all thoughts except inappropriate ones. If the woman really could read her mind, then the best way to distract her was to distract her. It was a good thing that she was easy on the eyes.

The blonde dipped her head and planted a kiss on Vanessa’s neck, trying to show her that as much as she may have wanted to be, Charlie wasn’t about to let her take control.