A/N: This story was born after I found out that Terrance has blue eyes, watching The Tutor videos. If you haven't seen them, I recommend them, they're mildly entertaining. His eyes don't show up as blue in the movie or in the interview on the extras, and of course, I have not yet been lucky enough to be physically near him, so a fun little factoid I fixated on. Besides, who doesn't like writing GR? It smacks of my fic Denial, but think of it as an expansion.
I've been observant of his ways. He comes and goes in the night peddling his wares. Well, he only has one thing that he sells, though he takes many forms of payment. He'll barter, if you have something of interest; his interest, to be more specific. Sure he hangs out around the alleyways, and dumpsters, and isn't so low that he won't inhabit one for a time being.
I've been asked to track him, in a manner of speaking. I volunteered for the assignment. He's confident and sure. I like those characteristics, especially in guys. I myself have always been more of a wall flower. He has a way with people and will make you do something even if you don't want to. He's has an influential nature, so to speak.
He's tall-ish with multi-colored strands in his hair, much the way a male peacock is colorful, so is he. I know I have fallen for him. It makes me biased, but I try not to let it shade my work. It's funny to watch him run this way or that to avoid oncoming trouble. Watching him is highly entertaining. I wonder if he wasn't busy passing out his poison, what his other professions might be.
I watch them go to him for product and bring it to market. They beg, and plead, and bat their eyelashes. If they're pretty enough, and plump enough (i.e., not on the verge of looking like a skeleton) he'll go around the corner with them, out of public view, but he makes no secret of what had been going on. The customer still lay in the alley once he's done, zoned out on Zydrate.
I long to make myself known, but at the last minute I dodge out of his path. I am conflicted, but at present, I am not my own boss. I have reports to turn in at the end of the day.
"Psst, " I hear one day. I jerk my head sharply to the left.
"Pardon?" I inquire.
"Isn't he dreamy?" the voice is looking for confirmation. The shape is in the dark, indistinct. They keep to the shadows, and I am unable to make out a face.
"Yeah, in that lowlife, scum-of-the-earth sort of way," I demur. I won't admit my attraction out loud. I, at least have aspirations for a better life, not addicted to Zydrate, that's the most one can hope for these days, if one is not busy dying of organ failure.
"His eyes are the dreamiest shade of blue, ever," the voice continues. We observe the object of our mutual affection in silence. Huh? Blue? Not that I allow myself to be so close to him. I've never noticed his eyes before, just his manner, his state of being; the confidence, the smirk, and the swagger and of course, the look of the cat that stole the canary. I'd have to indulge in an experiment which would require making myself known to him. I think I could handle it. Quick in/out blend in with the crowd of worshippers and slip away again. No problem. I'd need a different set of clothes, however. All black would stick out in the rainbow of colors that Graverobber surrounds himself with every day.
I remembered suddenly, the girl in the alley, I'd start there. We were of a similar size and shape, in addition, he's already conducted his 'business' as it were, and my concealment would be complete.
I wordlessly switch clothes, with some effort on my part. Her leggings and hot pink tutu are a bit much, but I manage by inhaling shallow breaths.
Now my mission turns to slouching by a dumpster and waiting until he makes his rounds.
It turns out my wait is shorter than I expected. The hour is late, nearing sunrise. We'd all have to hit the dumpsters, and in my case an actual bed, soon, to sleep away the sun that could burn our pale skin. We weren't vampires, we just kept the same hours they did, and most of the time Graverobber was only around in the dark. The results of the late hour are this: there are but a few of us adoring the most prevalent dealer on the block. They must have gone to different dealers and gotten their high somewhere else. That is the persistent is the nag and crave of Zydrate.
I try and slouch nonchalantly, to be just this side of seen, but my heart feels like it's beating out of my chest. I may have to risk a conversation. He smirks as he comes near.
"Back for more?" His hand comes up next to the side of my head, his voice has a slight lisp, I notice. My senses seem to be heightened. Clearly, he's recognized the outfit. Oops. His breath smells of tobacco, and unconsciously, I turn my head to the side, my dark curls covering my face. My knees go weak and brings his own knee and places it between mine, suggestively.
"I-uh. . ." I stammer, I don't know what sort of words they did or did not have before their transaction. His proximity is having a profound effect on me. He brings an index finger through my hair and tucks it behind my ear. Suddenly, I am captivated by a pair of the bluest eyes I'd ever seen, and freeze. He has also, frozen, and then he gives that cocksure grin, may as well be his signature.
"So you've decided to come near, at last. This is quite a get."
"What are you-?" My voice is high and thin, I bring it under control "What are you talking about?" I manage in a lower register.
"You're The Spy." He states simply, his thumb running down my right cheek. I blush furiously, out of control. My torso feels like it's on fire. He brings his mouth close to my ear "I've been waiting for you. I wondered when you would come, "he whispers."I see you night after night, studying, and note taking. I do look forward to seeing you. There is something reassuring and comforting, that you keep coming back. And I see I gambled correctly when I placed a spy of my own near you." He begins to rain kisses on my cheek and down my neck, his flood of words temporarily halted. He stops on my pulse point and licks my neck, in the same way I imagine a vampire would. I get goose bumps when he blows on that very same spot, and shiver, though the night is warm.
"I wondered what it would take to bring you near," he states a little more audibly, "Now I know. A little bit of pride in securing every last detail, my lovely." My mind is swimming. He's noticed me before, he's wanted me to actually come near, and set his own spy on me. I've been double-crossed. I don't know whether or not to be flattered, so low are his standards. I shake my head defiantly; this isn't how it was supposed to be. I try and state professionally,
"Look, I've got work to do, reports to turn in, that sort of thing..." I trail off. He lets the silence eat at my resolve and quirks an eyebrow, "Uh, much as I'd like to stay. . ." my voice is quavering, and I'm surprised my heart hasn't given out yet. Still he doesn't say anything, he merely looks at me with those hard, blue eyes, I had become lost in a short time ago. He fiddles with my hair, and runs is gaze the length of my rather short body. I get the feeling that he wants me to come to him willingly. I try and make it known that now is not the time.
In a flash, all of his interest disappears, so capricious is his nature. He removes all contact from my body and turns his back on me. My own body can't help but feel devastated by the loss. He pretends to study his nails. "That's fine, my lovely. Run, go and make your reports, and all that boring mumbo jumbo. You'll be back."
The relief in me was so overwhelming; I crouch to the ground, leaning on the brick wall, giving my knees a much-needed break. When I am able, I walk away, not looking back, but knowing he's right. At some point I'd probably return, much as the proverbial moth to the flame. I didn't know when, but I would be. I walked home, forgetting about my outfit, letting my muscle memory lead the way. The last thing I remember before falling into a restless sleep is being lost in those eyes, being lost in blue.