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This is our lovely little roleplay.
Do not disturb, though you can probably take a peak.

DNP unless you're myself or:

Patricia fumbled with the key in her hand, inwardly cursing the fact this place so far behind technology that they hadn't upgraded to electronic card keys instead. Of course, this was a remote area and the guy at the counter had maybe half a dozen teeth in his mouth that were his naturally, so really this wasn't too surprising. The thought had passed her that maybe he'd do in a pinch but he hadn't seemed that interested in her, had hardly looked at her at all when she counted out the bills, so she didn't see much use.

Someone's watching, you fool. Get your act together.

The keys dropped from her hands altogether as Patricia turned her head, seeing a woman just a few years her senior standing not too far off, eyes locked on her. A quick once-over said there was no way she was undercover or a plain-clothes officer, not with the way she was holding her foot and the expression on her face. She was lovely in her own right though the vain side of Patricia proudly announced inwardly she was, by far, more so.

Bending at the knee she scooped up the keys, turning her attention back to the lock and finally finishing the job. That done, she stuffed the keys in her bag and breezed icily on past to walk to the diner where she could hopefully score a better idea for her next meal.

The reason Patricia didn't even consider this woman was plain and simple: she didn't pick on women. Having a past full of patriarchal oppression she refused to harm any woman that didn't lay a finger on her first.

Getting to the diner she slid in to a booth and within seconds was brought a cup of weak tea without her even having to ask anyone. She'd been coming here a while now, having been staying at the hotel at least two weeks, and had in that short time become a regular in a few places. Her face was known because she was such an unusual sight, especially in an area like this. Patricia sipped the tea politely, scanning the diner for anyone who looked promising. Monetary-wise she didn't expect much out of these yokels but a few twenties was better than nothing. Anything else, well, she wasn't exactly picky.

[[Totally okay. It's hard to keep up with guild stuff.]]

Patricia watched with eerily observant eyes, probably enough to make the hair on the woman's neck stand straight up, as the woman walked in to the diner and went to the counter looking frazzled and maybe slightly embarrassed. The waitress, a woman with smoker's teeth, bad breath, and hair fried from too many applications of cheap hair dye, seemed to be all too interested in chatting with her as most around these parts did. Upon arrival she had fed the woman some sob story about a bitter divorce between her parents and was on her way to visit daddy dearest without mommy's permission because she was such a good daughter.

The waitress, whose nametag said Darleen, had eaten the story up like bon bons and had taken the young woman's unusual request for Earl Grey and bought a packet of teabags which she steeped at the wrong time in tap water instead of filtered at lukewarm temperatures. This she would serve her every day and Patricia drank the crime against tea politely, having been taught gratefulness despite proper execution.

At one point the two looked her way and money was exchanged, the brunette unable to hear but getting the gist of what was going on anyway. This caused her lips to purse as though she'd sucked on a wedge of particularly revolting lemon.

In her world, no favor came without a price. Usually it was men paying her meal bills, looking for a little touching and thrusting in return as though she were incapable of doing much else. Did she fancy women? It wouldn't be the first encounter. Patricia had no problem with the sort and would turn them down gently but the implication she could run in to someone with such taste in such a ridiculous corner of the world seemed, well, improbable.

So what was the deal?

The woman left and like that the waitress came over, serving up another cup of the ghastly tea with a grin and twinkle in her eye that said she wasn't going to hold her tongue over the matter. “Oh Honey Sugar,” started Darleen, “you made a friend, I'm so glad.”

“Who wasth that?” She asked quietly.

“She said her name is Rune, if you asked. Unusual name. Do you want anything else? It's on her.”

Patricia held up her hand in response, giving a sugar-sweet smile. “Jusht the tea, thanks.”

Darleen waddled off and she quickly gulped down the tea in both mugs, feeling the ghost of a ruler on her wrist for such sour manners, and grabbed her bag to head back to the motel. Forget grabbing dinner, she was going to figure out what this woman wanted and, if she had to, dispose of her in the proper manner.

When she reached the motel she started to her room to grab the gun, a .9mm Ruger lovingly named “Grief”, she'd hidden but heard noises coming from the room next door. It sounded like a woman in distress.

Thinking she just might get a palpable meal after all if there was an assailant, Patricia picked a rather nasty looking bobby pin from her hair and worked at the lock until she heard the tell-tale click and let the door swing open by itself.

Damn it to Hell and every level of it. It's just her.

Patricia hid her disgust and disappointment, instead putting on an expression of embarrassment, surprise, and concern for the scene before her.

“O-oh. I'm stho sthorry... I heard... Are you alright?”

”How did you open that door, it was locked? Did you lock-pick my door?”

Patricia blinked her large eyes innocently, hiding the bent bobby pin by sticking it back in her hair using a casual gesture that looked as though she was merely sweeping one side of her long bangs from her face. “Cheap placthesth like thisth alwaysth have sthome trick to the doorsth.” She winced at her own voice. “I heard sthomeone in trouble. I thought I could help.” And that wasn't a lie. That it turned out to be utter bull was aggravating, but at least now she had the woman where she could not run away. She'd get know why her tea had been paid for.

”You're so young, why are you in a place like this?”

Wool over your eyes must be itchy, my dear.

“It'sth a long sthory.” She replied rather vaguely, following Rune's eyes to the door where two men passed, watching them with rubbernecker's curiousity. One she recognized as a man who'd been staying here almost as long as her and had hovered a few times in choice places. Maybe later she'd see what his dinner plans were.

About to leave, Patricia was stopped as Rune went to the door, looking as though she were to shut it. She tensed but it didn't last long as she was reassured no harm would come to her.

Ghosts of the past in her eyes, smell of regret on her skin. This one's got a tale or two to tell. Bed time stories are ever so much fun...

We're not here for story time. I just want to know why she bothered with me.

Well hurry it the hell up, Dolly, or else.

“You paid my bill at the diner; why?” Final Jeopardy, ladies and gentlemen. “What isth it you want?” Her tone was calm but had a hard edge to it, a natural defense mechanism. She wasn't worried about carrying a weapon here. Though Rune looked very strong Patricia had her small frame and limber body at her disposal and years studying hand-to-hand combat. And besides, bobby pins had more creative uses than a thief's cheap tool.

Patricia felt the unintended sting of Rune's answer, turning her head away and staring toward the back of the room where the bathroom was located. She had grown up spoiled rotten, money never being an issue for her and her father, the dear fool he was, wrapped around her little finger. Her mother less so, but still neither had been able to deny their only child anything, especially when she could beg so sweetly. For six years she'd been living off other people's money. Well, alright, other men's money. Her husband's accounts had frozen pretty quick even with her precautions and with her feigning her own death in a Romeo et Juliet manner, she was now heiress to nothing.

Still, pity was an unwelcome emotion and Patricia had half a mind to let her know it.

“I don't want anything from you, can't a girl be nice?”

Ah, so the offense was mutual. Well, good. Common ground was a good thing.

Taking no notice of Rune's nervous behavior and the way she seemed just the least bit uncomfortable about something, Patricia looked about the room, tensing noticeably when her eyes settled on the uncovered mirror hanging above the writing desk that was twin to the one in her room.

To anyone else, her reflection would seem normal. To her, she saw the face of pure evil. In her eyes she saw her own reflection twist and writhe, pressing against the other side of the glass and clawing until blood streaked from broken nails. The eyes of the reflection were covered by a sweep of hair and a malicious grin showed the gap in her two front teeth.

Little pig, little pig, LET ME IN.

Before she could stop herself, Patricia let out an ear-splitting scream and threw herself backwards against the wall so she could no longer see properly in to the mirror. Sweet, dark laughter rung in her head like the chiming of church bells and she clawed at her lovely hair to get to her ears, though she knew covering them would not silence her.

She collapsed to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. “Leave me alone!” She cried out.

Aww, poor little Dolly making a scene again... Watch out, you have a witness...

Suddenly she stopped, head jerking up to look at Rune, eyes wide and red-rimmed. Ice replaced her blood and shakily she stood.

“I—I'm stho sthorry...” No, no, no! She should have realized there were mirrors here. Why had she looked? She'd ask questions, and what would she answer with? 'I'm possessed'? 'I have a bad side'? 'I'm haunted'? Even she didn't know what this was. At first she'd been grateful for something that fueled her dark nature but with the evil she'd been battling for years long gone and buried deep, things were getting out of control. This was something people were put in rubber rooms for. She was too beautiful to rot like that.

Knowing nothing else to do she tried for the door, feeling her appetite subside.

Body shaking, Patricia was almost out the door when the two men from before returned, brought back by her terror. She frowned heavily at this, about to break her ruse and bark at them to move out her way when one shoved her back through the doorway and promptly shut the door, sliding the latch in place to make it harder to just run for it. The other went for Rune but the first stayed with her, throwing her harshly against the nearest wall. The very breath was knocked from her lungs but before she could slide to the floor her was upon her, holding her up by her throat and squeezing menacingly.

He brought his nasty face close to hers, grinning maliciously. “That you that screamed?” He asked. “Well I can give you something to scream about sweetheart.” His free hand roamed her knee, pushing up her skirt to her bare thigh which sent off warning bells in her head. “You'll look so pretty with something stuffed in your—Oof!”

The man's words were cut off as Patricia's other knee landed home in his groin, not doing much damage through the thick denim but enough to loosen his hold which gave her the opportunity to grab the arm holding her up and twist it in such a way it tore right out of his shoulder's socket. There was a sick pop when it happened and it was the man's turn to scream, wrenching away and holding the injured arm with the one that had been close to feeling where no man had ever tried going and lived.

“b***h!” He hissed, digging frantically in his pocket to come out with a four inch pocket knife, the kind that had a bump on the side of the blade to pull it out from the 'sheath', which was really the handle, with your thumb. When the cold steel showed itself she grinned widely, showing the gap in her front teeth and licking her full lips with her pink tongue. The man lunged but she caught the blade with her bare hand, just inches from the middle of her abdomen. Vermillion dripped from between her fingers but Patricia gave no indication of caring.

With her free hand she grabbed him by the collar of his Goodwill t-shirt and yanked his face close, licking his cheek provocatively from his jawline to his hairline.

“You'd taste stho good roasted,” she whispered in his ear so only he heard her. “You know what part tasthesth besth? The buttocksth.. Sthweet, tender... Sthome sthay people tasthe like pork but I'd have to sthay otherwisthe.” Her teeth scraped at his cheek, enough to redden the skin.

“W-what are you?!”

“Me? I am Gothic Lolita. And you... are a criminal.”

The hand holding the blade slid up, cutting her palm even more, and grabbed hold of his hand, turning it on himself and shoving as hard as she could so the blade sunk in to his flesh instead. He gasped in pain, eyes widening to show full whites of his eyes before he stumbled backward, flailing.

That taken care of Patricia let herself fall and cry, grasping her injured hand though in reality the pain was a sweet song and the sight of blood was intoxicating, even if it was her own. No doubt this ruined her dinner plans but that was really no matter. Men like this were a dime a dozen in the world and he wouldn't have been anything special to taste. Still it was always disappointing when she had to let her prey go for the sake of her ruse.

[[OOC: 'Gothic Lolita' reference is from the song “Gothic Lolita” by Emilie Autumn, just as an fyi. It's kind of Patricia's theme song.]]

Patricia wanted sorely to go after the second man as she did not like to leave witnesses but he was too fast and Rune was still there so she sat, pretending she was hurting and that she couldn't look at the dead man lying nearby who had bled to death a bit slower than anticipated. Not unwanted, though. Scum like that deserved to think over their sins as they felt the flames of Hell lick at their heels.

Before she knew what was going on Rune had come over with a first aid kit, looking over the nasty but thankfully clean wound. It would be nothing to stitch up herself, in fact she had the kit in her bag and the cream to minimize scarring. This she would not tell, not wanting to answer why she'd have such things on hand to begin with. Instead she obediently let the other woman remove the excess blood and bandage it up before curling it meekly to her chest.

Rune moved away then, asking if she needed to retrieve anything. Patricia thought of Grief, not feeling comfortable leaving the gun behind. It would be safe to say she would not be returning and would probably get Rune to drop her off at a bus station.

While the other woman had her back turned Patricia turned to the body and removed the wallet, swiping every card and the small bit of cash before replacing the wallet and shoving the contents in her bag. Waste not, want not.

She got to her feet, sighing internally at seeing the blood staining her dress. So much for this outfit. She had really liked it too.

"No hosthpital," she said firmly. It wasn't that she hated them, but in this small town and with a witness running about, there was no telling how quickly she'd go from having her hand sewn up to both of them cuffed behind her back. In her bag was enough evidence to get her on identity theft at least. How she got the cards and cash no one would ever be able to decipher as she had become very good at hiding what she did. "One moment."

Patricia moved out and in to her own room, scooping up her cardigan and the weapon from where she'd hidden it, sliding and locking it in to the hidden holster sewn in to the inside of the cardigan. She pulled it on, assured no one would see the bump of the gun. That done she returned to Rune's room, watching her gather her own things.

This woman was strange. Helping others just to help them, asking nothing in return. It was too easy to want to take advantage of such a thing but Patricia honestly preferred being alone. If she had to go about hiding her habits and trying to lie about why she covered mirrors all the time she might go mad. Still for now she saw this as some unforeseen blessing.

"I'm... Patricia." She worked out, proud of herself that she'd managed to pronounce her name without even the slightest hint of a lisp.

[[OOC: If you don't mind I'd like to double and play the man helping the detective go after Patricia. We can still get a third person for that role if you want, but I have someone specific in mind. I'll pen up the profile and put it in the idea/plot thread later for you to look over.]]