Chapter Text
Wind blew through the cracks along the sides of Daniella's dorm window, creating a faint whistling that sounded entirely too close. Her eyes opened against her will, and she was up at once, her heartbeat spiked over a boundless imagination. She sighed, pushing herself out of bed and pulling on a set of sweats while cursing her own skittishness. The poor girl slept like a rabbit, ready to jump into full consciousness at any moment, which always annoyed her roommate (who turned and huffed with squinted eyes as Dani slipped on a pair of sneakers.)
She managed to make it outside into one of the dimly lit hallways of her apartment building, looking about for any sign of life. There wasn't any, of course, it was the dead of night. There weren't even any people on the street. No one sat slumped over on their stoop, no shimmery stockings standing impatiently under the streetlights, no clusters of drunk and drooling men on the corner. It was peaceful, decidedly so, but it only made Daniella that much more nervous.
It was a bad time to be outside. She knew it. Too late for the night owls, too early for the morning risers. She wondered if she could manage to stay out long enough to catch the first sight of a sunrise jogger. Probably not the best idea, she thought to herself, laughing softly while still watching her surroundings.
It wasn't that she lived in a particularly bad neighborhood.
In fact, she lived right in the heart of this old town, on the corner of Everett and Anderson, in a tall beige box that was purely utilitarian in its style. It was a new addition - and obviously so, to the small grouping of student housing on Anderson Street. And it clashed something awful with the little buildings that surrounded it.
Still. It was a beacon in the dark for Daniella, and she kept looking back at the dear beige box with a watchful eye, as if she'd be shocked if she went too far. She thought herself foolish. Paranoid even. But then again she knew all too well about how depraved people could be. She'd stayed up countless nights reading case after case, trying to craft the perfect report. The world had grown so oversaturated with senseless killings it took a serious effort and skill to get through to the masses. It took someone with a point of view. Dani always hated it when people tried to reduce their reports to silly ghost stories, or cautionary tales about heartless monsters. A real journalist knows just the right angle to go about it, just how to finagle their way inside the mouth of the beast to get the very best shot of the bite.
But, God, she was getting distracted. Before she knew it, Daniella had walked clear across town - her steps finally stopping at the edge of the riverfront. She took a moment there, just to breathe, gripping the railing and watching the dark, murky waters run downstream. It was in that very brief moment she wished she had a pack of cigarettes on her, just for the experience. She could imagine the peace one would find while lighting up on the boardwalk, letting the smoke fill your lungs while the streetlights danced on the sun of the water.
Then, as if on command, she began to smell smoke. She briefly wondered if she was being tricked by her own mind, but the smell was too strong to be her imagination - as wild as it could be. She looked over, left and right, only to be greeted by the endless stretch of wrought iron fencing and lampposts that framed the river.
Then she looked down; and there she was. Or he, Dani couldn't tell. All that was available to her was a small cloud of dark curly hair, a bob that framed the person's head quite nicely. Of course, Dani wouldn't know. She'd worn her thick curly hair in a French crown braided around her skull since she was in middle school, and she preferred it that way, out of her face.
But she knew at once this person had style.
They wore a long suede coat in fuchsia, a pair of black riding gloves that looked entirely out of place, a pair of long flared slacks that appeared to be green, but Dani couldn't tell. They were covered by the coat. Did they dress up just to smoke a cigarette on the boardwalk? She found herself thinking, already making her way westward towards the little set of stone stairs that led to the pier. Before she could even think it all the way through, she spoke up, (and risked her damn life in the process).
“You think you could spare one of those?” She asked, her voice smooth despite the frantic beating of her heart. The stylish stranger turned their head, and suddenly there was a pair of striking brown eyes staring right into Dani’s soul. Honeyed almonds, her startled brain offered up - absolutely no help whatsoever.
The stranger smiles, thank God, and reaches into their coat pocket to extend their little pack of Kools with an air of nonchalance that made Daniella want to roll her eyes - and maybe get stabbed in the process. She slid one out carefully, smiling in return, and waited awkwardly for the stranger to put the smokes back and offer up a lighter. What she hadn't expected, however, was for the honey eyed stranger to step forward, to stare right into her eyes with a lilting grin, to hold up a red-streaked Zippo to her lips and light the damned cigarette for her.
“Armani.” The stranger speaks. A soft, deep voice that was too rich to be human. Too mesmerizing to be walking about unsupervised with the rest of us poor mortals. Daniella still couldn't tell if they were talking to a She or a Him, but she realized then she didn't care. They could be both. Or neither. And she'd still be theirs.
“Daniella…” She whispered back. “Pleasure.”