Disclaimer: I still do not own Watchmen or Alan Moore.
Author's Notes: Well, I did intend to write an Eddie fic, but he wasn't co-operating so I decided to try my hand at Rorschach x Silk Spectre II again. Originally I wanted them to have some banter going on, some fun exchange of witty lines, etc. -- you know, some nice dialogue. I still don't understand how it turned into smut. I certainly wasn't planning on it, in any case. I'm still kind of floored. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy!
Rorschach groaned as the bunched muscles in his neck began to twitch from the position he held. He had been watching the clock for what seemed like the last three centuries and the large hand was indicating that barely eight minutes had gone by. He was aching to pace the room but he didn't want Dan to see how agitated this was making him.
Rorschach looked up as he sensed movement out of the corner of his eye. He recognized the newcomer as Ozymandias. He had seen pictures of him before in newspaper articles and similar sources but his costume had never seemed so flamboyant as it did now. Maybe it was his bearing. Rorschach snorted audibly, enough so that Ozymandias gave him a curious glance as he passed by him. Rorschach stood his ground, shoulders square and chest lifted in a defiant pose. Ozymandias' acclaimed crime fighting prowess or not, Rorschach wasn't going to back down if he had to stand up to the man. Ozymandias didn't seem to notice the silent challenge issued to him and instead turned to stand politely in the corner with his arms folded before him. Rorschach scoffed.
The Crimebusters. Dan had convinced him to go to the damn Crimebusters meeting. They had argued over it for a week, Rorschach adamantly refusing to attend while Dan insisted that it would be good for them to interact with other vigilantes. Rorschach tried every approach he could imagine, from ignoring Daniel to threatening him physically, but Dan had persisted. Rorschach had come along at the last moment when Dan told him he would rather go alone than not at all. Rorschach had attempted to give Dan the impression that they would never fight crime together again if he went, but even he couldn't convince himself that this would be the case. Dan cheerily led the way to their appointed gathering place, acting as if they had never had a disagreement and that Rorschach had wanted to go with him all along. Rorschach had not spoken to Dan since then, resenting him (naturally) and even himself a little for being so needy. Rorschach couldn't decide if it was just that he had lost the ability to fight crime on his own or if he really just felt obligated to stand by his partner's side even when it came to trivial matters. They had to stick together, despite blasted Dan and his love for all things unnecessary. Rorschach shoved his hands in his pockets and silently glowered at Nite Owl II who blissfully ignored him.
Rorschach growled in his throat, twitching again as he quietly tried to get Nite Owl II's attention without seeming as if he were. Nite Owl II turned to Ozymandias and the two men exchanged nods. If Rorschach grabbed a nearby chair and smashed it over the back of their heads they wouldn't see it coming. Rorschach snickered silently and shifted his weight from one foot to the next, pulling his hands out of his pockets to rub them together but stopping in mid-gesture when Captain Metropolis entered the room. The man looked different from the photos of years past. He looked older, fatter; weaker. Rorschach cringed in embarrassment for the man as Captain Metropolis twisted uncomfortably in his now ill-fitting outfit. Mounds of flesh strained against the sides of Metropolis' costume, threatening to spill off of his waist and onto the floor. Rorschach stared at the offending love handles and grimaced. He wondered if the man jiggled when he laughed. Rorschach started to turn to his partner to share the joke then checked himself at the last minute, glaring at Dan as if he had somehow just replayed the conversation that made Rorschach angry at him to begin with.
"Dr. Manhattan is unable to join us, I'm afraid," said Captain Metropolis as he cleared his throat weakly. "He said he had some issues at home."
The Comedian made a snorting sound as he looked up from the newspaper he had been casually reading.
"Is that speculation on your part, Nelly, or is that the truth?" he asked as he folded up the newspaper and lifted his feet from off the desk in front of him. Rorschach cocked his head towards the Comedian. The man had the advantage of being the youngest of the Minutemen, of course, but he had certainly kept in shape. Captain Metropolis should feel ashamed standing next to the Comedian.
"No," Nelly replied, looking a little startled. "That's exactly what he told me, actually -- word for word."
"Figures. The 'Super Man' has domestic problems." The Comedian rolled his eyes and relit the cigar in his mouth.
The others shifted nervously. Captain Metropolis cleared his throat again and began to illustrate his plans for the city. Rorschach turned away in an attempt to avoid the cigar smoke that was wafting in his direction. That was when he realized she was looking at him.
He had barely given her notice the first time. Rorschach had seen Silk Spectre II saunter in a few minutes late, trying to look casually around her though Rorschach could sense the apprehension just by her stance. He could imagine why -- dressed like that, how could anybody not be self-conscious? He had tried not to look in her direction and instead let his eyes wander around the rest of the room, though he could still feel her standing there a little to his right and slightly behind him. On second glance he couldn't help but gawk in spite of himself. Her attire was entirely inappropriate and he wondered at the credibility of a crime fighter who walked the streets dressed like a common prostitute. Seeing her form-fitting clothes gave him chills. More disturbing than her state of dress, however, was the physical reaction he had towards it. He shuddered a little and grimly clamped onto his own will, directing the more primitive side of his mind elsewhere. Such thoughts were only left for his nightmares -- and even those came less and less now. It was better to direct his energy into thoughts of anger. Against Dan. Silk Spectre II sighed behind him and Rorschach was distracted again. Damn her.
Rorschach turned his head slightly, straining his eye to see Silk Spectre II just a little better. He wondered if she was even listening to Metropolis. He himself was only half-aware that the man was still talking. He noticed she was glancing over the others once more; first Captain Metropolis and the Comedian with a sort of veiled awe (probably in respect for their crime-fighting predecessors) then to Ozymandias and briefly over Nite Owl II before she set her sights on him again.
Rorschach wanted to kick her. She would know why. She was making him uncomfortable and she must know it. Rorschach stretched his shoulders a little, trying to get his cramped neck to relax as her eyes bore down on him. The sensation was enough to make him want to writhe out of his costume. He momentarily considered turning and asking her in a polite and quiet voice if she would be more keen on keeping her sights to herself if she were to see what was under the mask. Rorschach paused in the middle of his own thoughts. That had to be it -- everyone else had a face to make out except for him. She must be curious about his face, that was all. Rorschach calmed a little, looked towards Silk Spectre II and gave her a small nod. Just a fellow crime fighter, nothing else, madam, now please look elsewhere as your stare is quite bothersome. Might I also inform you that your attire is hideous and entirely unwarranted?
She was staring directly into where his eyes should be, as if she had been studying his mask and calculating the proportions of his face to determine where exactly his gaze stood. Rorschach had expected a look of apology or even embarrassment. Maybe he would even find her eyes dull and impatient as she turned without purpose in his direction; her glance just a coincidence, nothing more as she stood engrossed in Captain Metropolis' lecture. Rorschach stared right back, scrutinizing her face and grimacing until his eyes were half-shut, hoping in the resulting blur of his vision she would look more unappealing. No, not only was she still attractive but now that he was looking at her, he knew she wasn't listening to anything the man was saying. The fact that her eyes met his was no coincidence, either. Suddenly he felt defeated and unable to even explain the source of his deflated mood. Her face lit up at that moment as if she knew what he was thinking, flashing him a bright smile as he felt himself burning. He shook his head at her and turned back to Metropolis, deciding that he would focus intently on words and nothing else. He was mortified when he felt something move next to him and found that she had joined him at his side.
Rorschach fixed his gaze straight ahead. Maybe if he ignored her she would move back to where it was more convenient for him to pretend she didn't exist. He thought he heard Dan say something so he raised his head to look in his direction. Dan was talking to Ozymandias. Silk Spectre II was still eyeing him. His own eyes fell on her again only for the briefest of instances but she caught it somehow.
"Hi," she said, in a breathy voice that made him shiver.
Rorschach tried to turn himself away but he found that he was unable to move. He felt as if a spotlight was on him, that he was being analyzed and if he moved one bit she would know all about him -- all about how his mind worked and what he was really thinking.
"Can you talk?" she asked him, stepping just a little closer. She had already been far too close even before that move.
Rorschach nodded. Of course he could talk, just not to her. The things he would say if only he could get his mouth to work. In fact, he was certain she wouldn't be so interested in him if he could manage to talk. The women never were. Rorschach contemplated on pouncing on her; actions spoke louder than words and if he attacked her she was bound to get the message. No, that was ridiculous. Rorschach almost started to laugh and even surprised himself when he wanted to let her in on his amusement.
There was a flash of heat and color and Rorschach felt his attention directed back to the center of the room again. Something was on fire, and he tightened his muscles by reflex, ready to come to the aid though on further viewing it seemed it was an intentional blaze, as nobody made any move to extinguish it. The Comedian made a grand exit and Rorschach felt a little guilty knowing that he had barely heard the discussion that had taken place prior to this moment. Looking around the room, he had a feeling nobody else had really been paying attention, either. Old crime fighter or not, Captain Metropolis just didn't have the presence to demand attention. It was Metropolis' fault for not being more forceful with directing them but the thought gave little comfort to Rorschach. Ozymandias and Nite Owl II had likely been talking business, while he had been making eyes at this scantily-clad temptress who had no respect for boundaries. Rorschach was disgusted with himself.
"I hope none of you agree with him," said Captain Metropolis nervously as he glanced around the room. Rorschach felt sick for a moment; he must have voiced his thoughts to the room and Metropolis was referring to him.
"Uh," said Nite Owl II, who seemed to stop himself from saying anything else. Rorschach realized then that nobody was looking at him. Metropolis must have meant the Comedian. Rorschach let out a soft breath.
"Well," said Metropolis, "It's settled then. We're a team -- like the old days. The Crimebusters."
Nobody seemed to want to argue but if he had asked Rorschach, he would have told the older man it was a bad idea. There were only five of them but still, a group this size was far too unwieldy. Besides, would that mean he had to fight side by side with the woman? Did she really know how to do anything but display her assets to the nearest available male? Why had she attached herself to him, anyway?
"Why are you here?" Rorschach suddenly asked Silk Spectre II. On second thought, maybe the question was rude, but at this point he didn't care.
"What do you mean?" She tossed her head and gave him a puzzled look. The gesture made Rorschach shudder. The fact that she was still smiling at him made him want to scream.
He couldn't explain it. He tried to think of a way to present his idea to her as his eyes ran over her parted lips, perfect white teeth revealed between dewy pink flesh -- taunting him. He was sure that she knew what he implied but she was just playing coy. One look at what she was saying to him with her body said it all: chest pointed at him with that open mouth and those eyes with the dilated pupils. He was surprised that she hadn't tried to proposition him in front of everybody. Rorschach folded his arms at her as if that would tell her everything. Of course he meant, 'Why had she decided to pick him of all people, out of all the other men in the room?', and she knew it.
Searching for evidence that would aid in his protest, Rorschach looked around the room once more. Captain Metropolis was for a certain homosexual, Ozymandias most probably. The now absent Comedian was too old, a criterion that Metropolis would have fit had he otherwise been of a more eligible status. That left him and Dan, which essentially meant that between him and Dan, she had picked him. Rorschach was surprised to find himself gloating over the fact. He wouldn't have cared if she had gone for Nite Owl II instead -- in fact, it wouldn't have even surprised him; he would have attributed it to her being a woman of loose morals -- but there was something about the very nature of her choosing that intrigued him. Perhaps the question of why did not matter so much now under the circumstances. Rorschach won over Nite Owl II. He wasn't about to argue too strongly against that fact.
Rorschach gave Nite Owl II a triumphant look but Dan seemed too engrossed in his conversation with Ozymandias. Both men seemed to love talking about nothing. All Rorschach heard was facts and figures and other useless banter. Feeling a little frustrated again, Rorschach shoved his hands in his pockets once more. He couldn't even remember how he had ended up being in this place. Oh right, it was Dan. Damn Nite Owl II, bringing him here and making women hang off of him while he went off to have fun with other crime fighters, making new friends, forgetting about his own friend Rorschach. Rorschach whipped his hands out and folded his arms. He was surprised to find that Silk Spectre II had left his side. Further investigation proved that she had left the building, even. When did that happen? Good nevertheless -- that meant he could leave too. Dan could go boil his head for a while.
Rorschach left the building and almost ran into the Comedian, who was staring off into the distance as if in shock. He didn't even register Rorschach passing by him to go his own way. Rorschach gave him a curious glance but didn't pry. Hands in his pockets once more, Rorschach walked down the street and into the night, searching for criminals to punish. He decided he wasn't going to speak to Nite Owl II until he spoke to him first. Sure, he wasn't speaking to him before, but he had intended to let up after the meeting had adjourned. Maybe now Dan would appreciate him more -- after all, they were partners before all this Crimebusters business had even occurred in Captain Metropolis' decrepit mind.
Rorschach saw her again the next evening. It didn't surprise him -- she had been on his mind all day so she was bound to appear in the flesh. She certainly had more than enough to spare. He quickly led himself toward the opposite direction and pushed her image back into the dark recesses in his head. He remembered waking up in the middle of the night soaked in sweat, trembling and thinking for a moment he had seen her thighs still wrapped around his waist. He felt dirty. It was worse that he had smiled about it.
He saw her two days after the first and he moved away as if out of habit, though he spared one glance behind his shoulder before he rounded the corner. Fortunately the dream hadn't come back but part of him wished that it would (only so he could judge it, no other reason). Her back had been to him and what he had seen would be sufficient material to fuel weeks worth of dreams to come.
The third day he ran into her he couldn't help but grin to himself. It was never this bad with him and Nite Owl II. Before they were partners they would occasionally cross paths but it was never this frequent. He was half convinced that she was following him, but that was impossible. Hunching forward he decided to stalk her in return, slinking along like a predator as his eyes inspected her form from behind. That costume was disgusting. It disgusted him even more that it made him want her. Of course -- that was the very effect she was going for. He was just like any other man who set his eyes on her attire. He was only reacting according to its intended purpose, nothing more. But of course, he wasn't like any other man and it infuriated him that she made him feel this way.
She turned the corner and he followed her, not really surprised when he found her facing him. His heart was pounding as he approached her and he didn't bother to stop his eyes from intently studying her figure. His own legs stopped him of their own accord.
"I was hoping I would run into you eventually," she told him as she walked up to him slowly, each step calculated as her hips rolled from side to side. The sight was nearly maddening.
"Is that because you require assistance?" he asked her, mild tone not revealing the fact that his stomach was rolling in his throat.
"I can never figure out what you're saying," she said with a gentle laugh. "It's as if you're having a conversation with yourself in your head and I only get to hear a part of it."
"I only allude to what you yourself are thinking in your mind," he said. "That in itself is quite clear by your choice of attire alone."
"Oh?" she paused as she glanced down at herself. "What are you saying?"
There, he saw it. He didn't think it would be so easy to spot, but there it was. Silk Spectre II was now looking quite unsure of herself and all it took from him was a slightly veiled and off-handed remark. Rorschach felt a rumbling in his chest as he triumphed. He had found the thread that led to the woman's fragile self-esteem and he had half a mind to pull it. Cruel, maybe, but one look at those breasts and hips and he knew she deserved it. He saw her eyes, though, and couldn't help but hesitate. Honeyed words were more likely to get her to submit to him, but what was he getting at exactly, thinking in this way? Rorschach shuddered.
"Are you saying I look like a prostitute?" Silk Spectre II asked, finally. She had her arms folded in front of her, but it wasn't enough to cover the synthetic nipples on her suit. Why would anybody put false nipples on any form of clothing? Rorschach almost pointed at them, as if showing her this flaw in her costume would somehow let him win by default.
Rorschach shrugged. She had said it, not he, though he held himself in a way that told her that she had voiced exactly what he had been thinking. He found his eyes wandering down her front and felt himself wanting to know what was underneath. Granted, the suit didn't leave much to the imagination, but at the same time it left out enough for him to want to peel away that final layer and face it directly rather than avoid it like he always did, even as he slept in his bed at night.
Rorschach unconsciously stepped forward and froze in place as Silk Spectre II gave a sharp intake of breath. Was he really that intimidating? Surely she must know how terrified she made him, from her deceptively beautiful face to her provocative dress, down to that drunken look in her eyes when she looked his way. No, that would be Walter. Walter would be scared of this woman. Rorschach had no such fear. If he did, he would conquer it. He boldly approached her, hovering dangerously close with the intent to make her uncomfortable. Her apprehension appeared to melt away into something he didn't want to look at directly. She seemed to gain courage from his own proximity as her hands flew out to rest on his wrists. Rorschach paused and looked down at the offending appendages then promptly let out a deep shudder as they slowly trailed up his arms and across his chest.
Her cool fingers grazed against the soft skin of his throat as she pretended to adjust his scarf and he tried not to show how much that made him want to flinch away. Again, he wanted to ask her why, why was she doing this? Why him? It really was him over Nite Owl II, wasn't it? He wanted to think that there was more to it than mere lack of a better candidate, albeit flattered as he was that he had somehow won over Dan when it came to this. Maybe the woman was just desperate.
Rorschach put his hands firmly on her forearms, pausing only briefly as he in all seriousness contemplated the consequences of letting his baser urges take over. He let out a small grunt as his hands tightened on her, not enough to cause pain, but enough to be authoritative as he cautiously pushed her away. She seemed frustrated but she complied and didn't insist on touching him again. He was slightly disappointed.
"Would you like to patrol?" he asked her roughly. She seemed taken aback but she nodded and he promptly turned and led the way out into the street.
They had walked far that night, their shared but unspoken lie hanging thickly between them. He knew she wanted him; he had seen it, yet she denied herself of him. He didn't want to admit that he wanted her just as much. He didn't even know why -- it made no sense in his mind -- in the end he just blamed Dan. It was his fault. If he had come to his senses and talked to Rorschach already, they could be out patrolling as they usually did. If he had never suggested that damn meeting, he wouldn't be walking with an uncomfortable limp because of the way he had to hold his body to keep her from noticing the effect she had on him. He somehow blamed Dan for the empty streets -- since when was there any lack of crime? Dan must have taken care of it and left Rorschach with nothing. Rorschach chuckled bitterly as he had to admit his own idea was pretty outrageous.
It was almost a relief when they came across some thugs spray painting their mark across the wall around the public library. Maybe beating them senseless was a little uncalled for, but both he and Silk Spectre II seemed to have a silently agreed that their energies were better left directed elsewhere. Heart still thundering in his chest, Rorschach triumphed as he stood over the three groaning men who were barely conscious after the beating he had given them. What had he been thinking, objectifying the woman as he had? She was fairly skilled in combat, he had to admit; in the end she was a fellow crime fighter, after all. He admonished himself. He would have to start viewing her as such and get his mind out from between his legs.
Rorschach felt better -- maybe he would even start suggesting more outings -- he would show Daniel that he wasn't his only friend. Rorschach shyly turned to admire Silk Spectre II in their cameraderie. One of the men had started to rise again and she turned to administer a savage kick to his throat. Rorschach regretted ever attempting to sate his curiosity to see how much skin the fabric of her attire covered -- legs splayed as they were in that instant, he saw it wasn't much. She turned to smile at him as if she were innocent of her actions, as if all this was a terrible mistake. Rorschach regarded her with a quiet suspicion, searching her eyes for malicious intent. He found none.
Rorschach wanted to scream. Scream until the word no longer meant anything to him -- whore, whore, whore. Dressed like one, moves like one, even acts it, but only for him. She was taunting him, teasing him because she knew it was too much for him. She wanted to see just how much he could take before he was besides himself with sin. He was dismayed to find that it wasn't much. Goddamn her.
He didn't know when he had finally decided to give in. Maybe he had allowed this to happen by letting it affect him the way that it did. He told himself it wasn't his fault -- he wasn't going to be able to concentrate otherwise and besides, he found himself unable to tear away from her. After all, she was stalking him, Silk Spectre who was all legs and hips and breasts. Damn her and Dan both. Rorschach couldn't stand it. One moment they were walking side by side, chilly silence on his part while she spared a worried glance in his direction once or twice. That air of uncertainty was back in her. Eyes wide and staring, she looked far too innocent to be giving him any signals and yet she had been just moments before. Rorschach stopped and glared at her and she looked away, biting her lip. He wished he could bite her too, bite all her offending parts until they meant nothing to him. Let the blood flow freely and leave the stains behind. He shook his head and vowed to keep a tighter rein on himself. Then she gave him that stare. The next thing he knew, he had clasped her hand in his and led her to a side alley with purpose.
He had only meant to look -- he wanted to briefly sample her flesh and scent, nothing more. In his mind he meant to punish her, show her what happened when her scandalous behavior took her too far. He meant to frighten her a little, but she willingly complied when he buried his face in her neck and inhaled. She seemed all too eager for him to touch her and in the back of his mind he knew this was dangerous but he just didn't care. He was drunk off of her and he silently cursed her even as the layers peeled off of her with such ease under his trembling hands. He grabbed her roughly through his gloves and his heart only raced faster when she threw her head back and gasped.
He didn't intend to take her there. He hadn't intended any of this no matter what their location had been, in fact. It was that way she looked at him, though, as if she desperately needed him. He had never seen that look in anyone's eyes before; not for him, anyway. That look made his mind give away, melting into nothing as if it had stopped functioning. He was sure she had poisoned him, somehow. All he had was sensation and the feeling of her against him was pure pleasure to the core. Inside of her it was devastatingly good, as if he were being torn apart from within. It was better than any dream he could have come up on his own. Even in his dreams she hadn't made the sound she did now, her lips pressed against his ear. He shuddered violently, pressing tightly against her, afraid he'd black out from the sensation. Afterwards they straightened as if nothing had happened, though they avoided looking at each other for a long while.
Rorschach couldn't even remember if he said anything to Silk Spectre after that. He recalled standing awkwardly with his hands in his pockets as she collected her clothes and put them back on, slowly, as if she half-expected him to turn on her again. He tried not to think too much about what had taken place and even feigned acting as if they had patrolled without incident and nothing more as they parted ways. The hold he had on his own desire was poor, however; at night he would lay in bed and think of her ragged breaths and the way she clenched, unyielding around him in those final moments. All the while he thought why as the days crawled by as he agonized over his actions. A week went by as if they were years when he finally ran into Nite Owl II who didn't even seem bothered that they had been out of touch for so long.
"There you are," Dan told him, cheerfully. "What have you been up to, Rorschach?"
"Silk Spectre," Rorschach replied. He stopped himself from revealing more, as if somehow his mouth would run away with him and he would suddenly find the details of his indiscretions hanging in the air with Dan's mouth open as a result.
"Been cheating on me, have you?" he joked. Rorschach gave him a dirty look.
"Yes," Rorschach said in a cruel but matter-of-fact tone. Nite Owl II apparently didn't know what to think of that comment or the way he had said it. He just scratched his head and they moved on. Dan's usual approach was to leave things be, and it worked quite well in this case. Rorschach would have been happy if they had never spoken again.
It wasn't hard to figure out where she lived. Though he had moved as if he had gone his own separate way, the night of their coupling he had followed her home. He convinced himself that he was only curious, that he wanted to find out more about her, but he had been a little worried. Of what, he had no idea -- if it was for her safety he knew very well that she could handle her own. Some part of him felt as if he owned her now; every night he had stood outside facing the house, suspiciously surveying the area as if someone would spot him skulking around (not that it mattered) or even steal her away. A week later, the same night Dan came back, he found himself finally approaching the house, lurking around the back and looking for an open window. He saw one on the second floor and scaled the wall. Nite Owl II would have flipped if he found out what he was using his grappling hook for, but who cared about that right now?
She hardly seemed surprised when he came in. He thought she might scream when she saw him slinking in through the open second-story window but she sat still in a well-worn armchair with a bemused smile on her face. For a moment he observed her in her private environment, feeling apprehensive. He thought she would make it difficult with her accusations (maybe that would be easier in the end, because then he could just break away from this; from her) but she just smiled wider and gestured towards her bed. He left hours later reeking of her scent and enjoying it.
The second night he realized she didn't live alone. For a while he was angry, though at what or whom he couldn't figure out -- he refused to believe he was in denial though the idea had come to him that he was -- then he noticed it was just her mother and it didn't seem to bother him as much. Though, if Silk Spectre lived with her mother, just how old was she? Did it matter at this point? She didn't seem to mind so he pushed that thought away too. He just focused on her as she tried to muffle her cries so that her mother wouldn't hear them. Some part of him wished that she would. He had only caught a glimpse of the older woman and he despised her. He could only imagine the look on her face if she opened the door and saw what he was doing to her daughter.
Unable to contain herself, Silk Spectre II -- God, he didn't even know her real name -- let out a strangled sound and he couldn't help but look up from his administrations. Her eyes were downcast but they were most certainly open. She was looking right at him, mouth wide and chest heaving as her hands clenched at the sheets. The sight made him shiver. Lowering his face between her legs he resumed pleasuring her, hands pressing down on her thighs to open them wider, digging his thumbs in sharply with intent to leave his mark and claim her. He was strangely satisfied when she arched her back into him and moaned. If only Dan could see them now.
It was all Dan's fault, after all. Rorschach left her still panting, sheen of sweat covering her exposed body and making her look all the more vulnerable.
"Will you be back again?" she asked him, sitting up as he turned towards the window. Strange question to ask, considering that she hadn't bothered the night before when he left without a word.
Rorschach inclined and their gazes met. Her eyes were effervescent in the dim light and they looked almost pleading. He felt amused, somehow.
"Maybe," he told her as he grabbed the window sill and flung himself out to climb back down.
Probably was the more appropriate word, but he didn't want to get her hopes up, or maybe even his own. Anything could happen -- she could grow bored of him just as easily as she had become interested, even. He would much rather bail out now than get too caught up in something that could be damaging to him but he told himself that he would not invest any emotions into the situation. Just blame Dan -- after all, that was the most logical approach -- and his own inability to control his desires.
Rorschach placed two gloved fingertips on the brim of his hat, adjusting it to fit lower on his bowed head before he left the neighborhood behind him.
Yes, probably was most likely.