i tried to find lyrics

[connate]

WHO: NICK BURKHARDT and LYDIA MARTIN
WHERE: A shifty back alley!! The usual.
WHEN: Evening, 06/04.
WHAT: Introductions via corpse-radar.
WARNINGS: Currently none!

[ It's not like Nick prefers getting called in for murders, but— actually, yeah, he kind of does. He put in due time with minor complaints and being dragged out at odd hours of the night to follow up on "disturbances" years ago, and falling back into the old routine takes some getting used to.

It's easier to remember why he bothered when he speaks to the woman who made the call. While he's 90% sure there's nothing to it, her concern's real enough; speaking to a cop (an import, no less) helps ease it, and he leaves her with the reassurance that he'll make sure the neighborhood's clear. He's checking the last alley in the row of houses when he hears something and freezes, breath going shallow while he listens, hand hovering just over the holster of his gun.

While he's focusing on the sound, his pulse slows. Slows enough to stop, if only for a few long seconds; his temperature drops with it, skin going white. The loud clatter of a raccoon knocking the lid off of a trash can snaps him out of it, pulse skipping back up to speed and color settling back into his features. His deeply annoyed features, of course; good news for the woman, obviously, kind of a joke for a cop who's used to dealing with legitimate homicides.

The second sound registers half a second after he drops his guard. Nick turns quickly, glancing down the alley, and this time he does draw his gun. It's an instinctive gesture, but the barrel's kept low, aimed towards the ground. ]

Who's there?

Comments

[immuno]

[ the awareness comes like static. at first, it’s a steady background noise, barely noticeable, hardly distracting, but after a few minutes of doggedly trying to focus on calculus and inability to shake it off, unintelligible radio calls click and mumble in the back of her mind.

she slams her pencil down on the table and stands suddenly, looking pressed. ]

We’re done for today.

[ when the students evacuate, she turns towards the window and watches dusk settle in. her lips purse, worrying, and she inclines her head, a begrudging acceptance of what she knows she isn’t going to be able to just ignore. ]

This will go well.

[ sarcasm aside, she dips out of the library and grabs the janitor’s walkie-talkie from his abandoned cart. she opens up the back and starts adjusting the settings, tuning it in an attempt to break into a coded frequency. finally, she hears voices coming through. a woman’s voice—making a complaint, giving an address.

that’s her first clue that this is … abnormal. it’s not the freaking police scanner she’s supposed to tune into, but looking around, she realizes that the walkie talkie hasn’t actually done anything. no one else is hearing what she’s hearing. it’s just … if there’s already a call to the police, what is she supposed to do about it? that’s not close to death, that’s already dead.

but she scribbles the address down anyway, holding the torn piece of paper as she comes to a stop at the other end of the alley. she shoves it into her pocket. ]

Where is it? [ she turns, marching down the alley towards the next row of houses. navigating around garbage bags works well for a moment, hidden behind a dumpster, but then she knocks some huge plastic—whatever. something off hsn—off a pile of bags when she stumbles, and she looks up just in time to be greeted with a man holding a gun. lydia’s hands shoot up in a gesture of surrender. ] Wait! Don’t shoot!

[ she misses the days she wasn't kicking around through garbage, hunting down dead bodies and running into people with guns. goddammit, scott mccall, this one's on you. ]

[connate]

[ There's a flash of incredulity in his expression as he realizes it's a young woman, then a quick warring of instincts — he's met plenty of women capable of killing him with a look. Plenty of kids, too, and the grimm instinct says caution's the best approach. The hesitation's clear, but the human side wins out anyway; he holsters his gun a moment later and takes a quick glance around the alley, half expecting to see someone else with her.

When his gaze settles back on her, he (somewhat belatedly) remembers to retrieve his wallet from his jacket and flip it open. The badge catches the dim light of the nearby streetlamps, and he holds it steady while he speaks, giving her a chance to process it. ]

You're out here by yourself?

[ Why is what he wants to ask, though it's not like there's anything strictly odd about it. Ill-advised, maybe, but not illegal. ]

[immuno]

No, I brought my boyfriend: nothing says romance like a dark alley.

[ delivered with wry sarcasm, she doesn’t even try to register it as honesty. she straightens, smoothing her skirt and flipping her hair so she can regain her dignity from … panicking. throat cleared, she moves on to something more honest. ]

Yes, I’m alone. [ let’s state the obvious. she looks him over, taking in the badge, considering him, and then it clicks. the static of the police scanner. he’s the one she’s looking for. ] Who are you?

[connate]

[ He doesn't hate the sarcasm, actually, though it just earns a small, brief sarcastic smile in response. He closes his wallet a moment later, returning it to his pocket without taking his attention off her. ]

Nick Burkhardt. I'm with the police. [ Speaking of stating the obvious. It's autopilot at this point, showing the badge and stating it clearly. He steps forward as he's speaking, though he doesn't close the distance between them— he pauses a few feet off, gesturing towards the alley behind him that leads back towards the main road. ]

We should get you home. And if you're planning on taking more evening strolls, I'd stick to somewhere with better lighting.

[ There's a patronizing element to it, well meaning as it is. It's clear that he's used to people following his lead without asking questions, though; kind of comes with the territory of being a cop. ]

[immuno]

I’m not the one in danger.

[ she says it in a hurry, but she doesn’t expand because she certainly doesn’t feel like figuring out how to say i just have this feeling you’re going to die to a police officer. that sounds like a good way to get arrested—or worse, committed. ]

And I’m not going anywhere. If someone wanted to assault me, I doubt a street lamp would stop them. [ get that behavior policing shit out of here lydia is having none of it. ]

[connate]

[ The second part isn't surprising. He's given enough of that same tired advice to have gotten enough people telling him the precinct needs to update their playbook; been there, done that. It's the first response that's got his attention, and not because it reads like a threat.

Nick eyes her for a second, hesitating on a question. Except they're in Heropa, right? Everyone has powers. Secrets are a thing of the past. ] You think your abilities will keep you safe.

[ Not technically a question, but it's meant as one, tone searching rather than skeptical. ]

[immuno]

No. They tend to get me into trouble, not out of it. [ at least she’s being honest with herself, even if she’s slightly huffy about it. there’s a sharp, breathy pitch in her voice, and she cants her head in acknowledgment, glancing back down the alley. ] But someone around here’s going to die. [ she looks back at him. ] I wasn’t just going to wait in the study room.

[connate]

[ That... doesn't make much sense. Still doesn't sound like a threat, either, and Nick looks bemused for a second while he considers her words. ] You're here to save someone?

[ Not what he was expecting. Still no skepticism, though; just a trace of confusion, and even that doesn't last long. ] There's nobody here. I've done a check of the entire neighborhood, so unless you're talking about one of the houses—

[ Rolling with it, why not. He's seen enough Wesen with strange abilities to know better than to argue. ]

[immuno]

[ she looks around to confirm, though judging by her shiftiness it’s not clear if she’s looking for something or someone. finally, lydia tosses her hair in the process of whipping her head back towards him. a beat’s hesitation comes before she corrects him. ]

Oh, there’s someone here. [ she arches her eyebrows and inclines her head. there’s him. ]

[connate]

[ A beat of silence while he stares at her, not catching on, then: ]

You mean me?

[ There's a trace of ego in that remark, the confidence that he's not in any danger. It also crosses his mind that her efforts are a bit too little, too late, technically speaking. There's no humor in the thought, and he quickly pushes it down in order to attempt a reassuring response. ]

I appreciate the concern, really, but I'm pretty sure I'm still alive. [ Assuming she's looking for a corpse, anyway. Except she'd said going to, so after a short pause: ] And I can take care of myself.

[immuno]

That doesn’t mean you’ll stay that way.

[ okay, that definitely sounded like a threat. she cringes, frustrating mounting, evidently holding herself accountable for how flustered she is and how poorly that came out. ]

It’s not wrong, okay? It’s never wrong. Ever. [ she shifts, souring a little bit as she admits. ] They’re just usually not so … alive when it’s like this. I have to try harder.

[connate]

You think it's your responsibility. [ Probably a bit heavy as far as random observations go, but it's a line of thought he's used to dealing with in his profession. It's a dangerous one, too.

He doesn't wait for an answer, and after a short pause his head tilts slightly, eyes narrowing in thought. She's here looking for a corpse. And he's not a corpse, not right now, but his medical charts have been off since... well. ] How does it work?

[immuno]

[ lips pressed tightly together, lydia resists nodding, but she cants her head a little to the side and averts her gaze, which is answer enough. she’d promised scott that she’d find a way to get him enough time to do something about it—it had worked with kira, but she hadn’t managed to keep allison away when it really counted. the reminder of her lost best friend leaves her tired as she answers. ]

It’s just a feeling. Sometimes I hear things. But it’s always the same, always when people are close to death or—or already gone.

[connate]

[ If she seriously thinks he's about to die and she's somehow responsible for keeping it from happening, and he can relieve that worry— he should tell her, right? Except this isn't something you just tell people.

At least not in Portland. Maybe it is something you just tell people in some weird retro America full of superheroes, so after a stretch of indecisive silence: ]

I'm already dead. Or I was, but now I'm not, so— I'm fine. Nothing's going to happen. [ He sounds reasonably unthrilled with how ridiculous that sounds out loud, but there's no hesitation or doubt in his voice. ]

[immuno]

…Excuse me?

[ the assumption she makes is not the right one, nor the most comforting one. she’s heard ghosts before, ok. lots of them. her glance around represents a pressing worry that he's not actually here or something, and she's simply talking to a shade of someone who she was too late to help. ]

[connate]

[ Wow okay that vague reference to his semi-dead status was completely and 500% clear, what's the confusion. His brows furrow in bemusement at her response, though it's kind of understandable. People don't usually talk about that one time they died. ]

I was brought back. I have... [ Gentle way to put this. ] Symptoms, but I'm fine. Completely alive.

[ "Symptoms". He doesn't actually put any stock in it, but he's not going to accuse Juliette of outright lying. ]

[immuno]

You don’t feel alive.

[ That sounds way more sexual than it actually was, which is surprising because usually with Lydia it’s exactly as sexual as it sounds. Her throat closes around the words, and they come out strained and snippy as a result. ]

What symptoms? Are you … falling apart? [ A beat. She holds up a finger, tilting her head and pointing at him, and then off to the side like hmm wait a minute. ] You’re not craving human flesh, are you?

[connate]

[ Slight eyebrow raise at the first comment. Sounding sexual or slightly rude, hard to say. The question about symptoms takes a nose-dive straight into rude, though, and Nick gives her an incredulous smile. ]

No, I'm not craving human flesh. That wasn't even part of... I'm not a zombie. [ He sounds amused, though. ] Just— trust me on this one. I'm not in any danger. [ There's a pause while he considers her, clearly not entirely sure what to make of her. ] Come on. We should both get off the streets before I get another noise complaint.

[immuno]

[ Lydia rolls her eyes—unfortunately, his offer is perfectly reasonable. She glances up at the windows that overlook the alley, then follows after him in the direction he'd come. ]

Fine. But I didn't track you here from the library for you to be vague.