on a steel horse I ride

She had noticed. He knew it. Had he ever truly believed she wouldn't? It had been foolhardy of him, perhaps, to believe she might merely overlook his late return yesterday and his abnormally early rising today. Would it be too much to ask, for once, that some crisis might occur that would require her attention so much that she wouldn't notice his slinking back into Syn through the back door and attempting to return to his work as if he had never been gone? Lorelai's near horrified look upon discovering his missing fang destroyed but any hope the Southern cowboy had of his lover simply not noticing his new aesthetic predicament. His own words came out in a veritable growl, the young waitress hurrying away- no doubt to spread the gossip throughout Syn. Within the hour every vampire and WereCreature alike would know of his dental detriment. Darcy's tongue brushed momentarily over the tips of his fangs, that gap where his missing canine was seemed all the larger as he made his way towards Risque's office. A piece of paper, listing their newest shipments, clutched firmly within his hand. Darcy's knuckles rapped briefly agianst the silver lined door before he reached for the handle, omitting himself into his mates office. The vampiric cowboy, in that moment, was nothing if not entirely...calm in his demeanor. As if nothing at all was amiss- save for the piece of paper he pretended to be all but engrossed within. That flimsy scrap doing a decidedly excellent job of hiding his mouth as he spoke- his words an attempt to distract his lover's mind near instantly from whatever thoughts of suspicion he suspected rested (and rightly so) within her mind.

He could feel her gaze upon him. Those hypnotic blue eyes all but burning into him and yet Darcy had grown almost...accustomed to that stare. The vampire, for now, is hardly daring to squirm beneath that scrutiny. The faintest hint of his own guilt, after all, would be akin to blood in the metaphorical water. She suspected him, that much was clear and yet she lacked evidence- for now. Darcy's own mismatched gaze rose to meet her, that paper lowered. The Southern vampire content to commit to his charade as Risque seemed to muse idly over his words. Her free hand reached to stroke the feline nestled in her lap, her long, talon-like nails seemed to part that silken fur with ease and yet Darcy hardly dared focus upon her hands for long. His gaze instead content to watch her with a distinct...wariness. Even if his features betrayed little, save falsified calm. After all, how many times had they played this game? How good they had both gotten at it even if Risque, as always, held that upper hand. His mistress seemed to lament her displeasure in their suppliers. A meeting with them, she was certain, was required. Darcy's head nodded in a firm, ready agreement. It would be painfully easy to accuse one of those suppliers of overcharging them. Risque would so hardly care so long as she had a target and yet- her perfectly manicured hand lifted towards him. A silent request for the paper he held. As if, for the first time in years, she desired to check his numbers for herself. Her accented words implying just as much.

That hesitation seemed to last but a moment longer than it should have. A single heartbeat and no more and yet- how well he knew she would notice it. To hesitate, after all, was an equal implication of guilt. A noose drawing tighter around his neck. He had little choice but to relinquish that paper, loath as he was to do so. Disobeying her command, after all, was perhaps a greater sin. Darcy's lips drew into a near frim line as he strode forward, holding that paper out towards her by its very tips. Did she truly think he was foolish enough to bring himself within range of her reach? Darcy waited only so long as it took Risque to take that paper from him before withdrawing his hand. The southern vampire content to remain before her all the same and yet so perfectly just outside of the range of any immediate lunge. She hardly seemed to glance at that paper, the devilish woman so clearly having desired to merely remove it from him as she seemed to consider her words before offering them near serenely. As if they were no more than another idle musing. She had not felt him come to bed last night. How long could he truly go without speaking? Before she commanded it of him? To feign a cough would be ludercious, to look away from her a disrespect he had no intent of committing. Whatever words he had considered, however, were abruptly caught within his throat at her sudden insistence she had a question. Her voice was near honeyed in its sweetness and yet how readily it seemed to allow a slither of...wariness to coil within Darcy's own chest. She knew. His gaze met her own levelly once more. What was he hiding from her?

The very sound of Darcy's fangs grating over one another echoed but momentarily within that silent room. How very few options he had left. The moment he spoke she would notice that missing canine. An imperfection she would not permit. Not in her own mate. That silence between them seemed to persist and yet her gaze hardly wavered. Could he reach the door before she could? Hampered by her heels, the cat in her lap and the desk she would be slower off that mark and yet- she was capable of locking that office door with a mere button beneath her desk. It would be her first reaction. How readily those thoughts turned within the ever cunning gambler's mind and yet- how very neutral his features remained. No hint of anxiety playing upon them. His poker face, as it were, so utterly...flawless. Perhaps- this time, it would be better to do the unexpected. To play a game she did not anticipate. How readily Darcy's figure seemed to relax. The southern vampire offered his lover a closed lipped simper of sorts before a sudden burst of speed saw him appear behind her. She could not, after all, see his teeth if he was out of her view.

"I ain't 'idin nothin', darlin'. I ran into some trouble last night, when i went out ta 'unt. A 'unter found me. We got into it. Da bastards dead an all but..."

His arms folded, Darcy leaning on the back of that chair behind his lover. His head very near resting on her shoulder as he allowed it to turn just slightly, pressing his lips was affection to the sensitive skin of her poreceilin neck before allowing his lips to trail downward in a teasing, tender affection.

"I got 'urt. Ain't nothin' much. He was an older 'unter dough, much older den most, he 'ad dis armor like I ain't never seen 'efore. I left early dis mornin' to get meself fixed up. Didn't reckon I needed ta worry ya."

Those words were decidedly true, mostly, even if they misled his lover to believe he had rectified that issue. Darcy, for now, merely seeking draw Risque's suspicion away from himself as his lips pressed just below her ear. He was aware, dimly, of her free hand brushing near seductively across his own jaw- sweeping downward and over his neck. The vampire satisfied, for now, that he had distracted her thoughts. At least until he felt the vaguest of tugs on that chain around his neck. Darcy was aware, far too late, that she had taken that opportunity to grasp it. That reaction was near instantaneous. Darcy, in that moment, reacted like a wild colt whose halter had been grabbed for the first time. The southern vampire abruptly, instinctively, pulled backwards. The chair his lover sat upon toppled backwards, the cat upon his lover's lap sent flying with that action before Risque managed to grasp her desk with her free hand. The vampiric queen balanced precariously upon that chair as it wobbled on its hind legs alone, one hand grasping the desk, the other eald firmly to Darcy's chain. To pull herself forward she would need to release him- else drag him with her. Any further effort on his part to pull back would send her tumbling to the ground and off that chair entirely. The vampiric pair, in that moment, caught in a distinct stalemate. The very look upon his lovers face some obscure mix of confusion and...outrage.

"I..."

How readily he realised his mistake too late, that single, uttered word prompting his lips to part. Risque, glaring towards him, was offered a distinct view of that missing tooth before her own pale, piercing eyes widened at the discovery. That silence that persisted between them, this time, held an entirely different note.

"Da dentist said it ain't grow back till he pulls out dat bit still dare but ain't no one pullin' a fang outta me 'ead."

How distinctly difficult his mate was to read in that moment, hanging from the chain at his neck as she was and yet- he felt her grip upon him tighten.

"Darlin', I say dis wit love, but I will knock yar outta dat chair if I 'ave ta."

Darcy

I'm wanted, Dead or Alive