Message: VIII

"So, what of this case?" Aria asked five minutes later when they were sitting in Toussaint's silver Aston Martin Rapide. Of course, she needed to have an expensive car. And 'an extra' one. In general, her older partner seemed to be the very definition of 'extra'.

The inside of the car was smelling like some flowers that Aria immediately choked on. Tidied everywhere, so she was almost afraid of getting inside, since she could just leave stains from her soles. Almost, since she would not be herself if she cared for such petty matters. She just packed herself inside, closing the door with loud slam. Toussaint looked disgusted when she glared at her.

"Can you be more careful? And maybe, even a bit, gentler?"

"What, you afraid that this car would break like your perfect world when Rogers decided to assign me to you?" she raised her eyebrow. "If you didn't buy yourself a car for pussies you'd not have to be worried."

"If you were at least pleasant to talk to maybe I'd agree with you." She stepped on the throttle and Aria felt her back pushed to the seat. "But you were asking about the case. Well, we have a body."

"Surprising." Callaghan sounded almost bored. "Something else?"

"If I knew I wouldn't have to take you there to learn about it."

"Maybe you'd be free to leave me where I should be."

"In jail?" Toussaint raised her eyebrow, but didn't look at her passenger. Aria scoffed.

"Yeah, no, give me ten minutes and I will yield myself after murdering you." She stated. "It would be really sad if that..." she made a circle with her hand "...sterile area was sploshed in your blood."

"Bold words for someone who was just moved to a new place."

"You mean for someone who has nothing left to lose?" she snorted, sprawling on the seat and looking outside the window, crossing her arms on her chest. "Yeah, sure. Tell me more."

Chyler gave her a quick side glance. She was wondering what Rogers was thinking in the moment he got the idea of putting them in one team. The person she was in the car with was a polar opposite to her. Almost wrinkly black shirt, opened on the upper part, put inside a bit baggier jeans, for sure that was a men's design. Thick, leather belt with silver buckle, and the badge attached to it. She was certain that Callaghan was never even aware about existence of iron or a tie. She wasn't wearing a blazer, of course not, she had to have leather jacket. Like the edgy teenagers in all those dramas. But, then again, she couldn't be that long after her teens. Twenty two, tops.

And those awful boots. Not combat ones per se, but they were leather, heavy, with very thick sole, high up to half of Callaghan's tibias. Dirty. Awfully dirty. And she could have sworn that some of that dirt landed on the carpet inside her car.

"That sounds almost like a promise."

"Yeah, whatever you feel comfortable with, Frenchie." She waved her hand, dismissing the words. Chyler clenched her hands on the steering wheel.

"Look, I'm just trying to be at least civilized." She drawled. "You're not doing even that."

"What do you want me to do, be your lapdog or what?" Aria huffed, rolling her eyes. "Because I really don't know for what other reason you'd need to talk to me at all."

"At least tell me how can I address you." She sighed, pretty much resigned. Callaghan scoffed.

"Ah, you can call me whatever you want, for all I care." She shrugged. "Not that would change anything, Frenchie."

"Stop calling me that. I'm Chyler."

"Yeah, whatever, Croissant." She waved her hands again, and when Toussaint wanted to say something, Aria pointed out of the window. "Look, I can see from here that there's a lot of blood. Wonderful. Finally something good in this fucking day."