The warehouse smelt of freshly cut timber. Once where the business of Miss B thrived with illegal industries. It was rent asunder through the wicked flame, lit by her own hands - to hide the evidence, to burn her history away so that nothing of her remained. All of her posessions - photos, clothes, everything up in smoke. Who now had taken control of her old stomping ground, they had yet to build the roof. There was no need for a light, for the moon's shine lit the table centered there and the bucket full of ice. The wine bottle there nicely chilled with the two glasses waiting to be filled. The stars above shine, they sparkle like never before. Little diamonds, against a giant moonstone would be their scenery, the back drop for the dance to come.

Dressing to kill is tricky business, and no easier when it's no one you really want to kill. After checking the Great Hall on an impulse, this warehouse is Alain's second stop. He's wearing a long overcoat, a fedora, blue shirt, blood red tie, charcoal slacks... and, of course, his revolver in a police-style shoulder holster. Is that music he hears? He doffs his fedora and tugs off his leather gloves as he steps inside. His heart drops - not from any single moment of despair, but the constant weight of it, his heart so heavy that with every beat, it plummets like iron. He's clutching a small bouquet, tulips among the flowers in there.

The music came from an unknown source, though upon looking hard enough you would spy it in the far off corner, out of the way of the table and the blank canvas of that fresh wooden flooring. Miss B. - Tulip - stood there wearing cream silken dress that clung to her body and revealed that the heartless killer in a female's body, had indeed a figure that was simply drop-dead eye catching. It hung low to her ankles, revealing the strapped ruby red high heels. The cut in the skirt reaching up as far as her thigh, revealing a smooth leg that seemed almost as juicy as the rest of her. It was sleeveless, the straps holding it to her thin and almost thread-like, revealing slender arms and shoulders. Her hair was blonde, wavey and so perfect that it was almost swept across her left eye. She did not face him, in fact, she stared upwards with her back to him. The right hand clutching a yo-yo, bouncing it up and down to pass the time as she waited for her partner.

One thing the detective never forgets are the perfect curves of a femme fatale, and his deadly ex-lover is no exception. But at this point, what would have become lust a year ago now just twists its way into cruel black heartache. "Clear sky tonight," he says at last, approaching and likewise looking skyward. He places his hand in his coat pocket and runs his fingers over cool glass, and it has the nerve to talk to him about destiny...

The hand clutched the yo-yo suddenly, stopping its enchanting dance. "Yes." She whispered softly, "I've become fond of the night sky." Tulip turned her head to him, and what he might have seen was in fact a strange perversion of her face, but someone else's. It worked. She looked different enough to be mistaken from afar, but when up close - those eyes... They were the same. Tulip had little scarring on her face, save for the faint line running down her jawline, indicated surgery had taken place no too long ago. A ghost, perhaps. But she looked like Tulip and Chastity combined. She didn't smile, she didn't frown, she just looked upon him, and stared.

"Me too," he says, and when she turns to look at him, he's staring at the sky a little while longer. Then he looks down at her, quietly studying her face. What she's become. An amalgamation of two women he couldn't save, and he'll have to put them both to rest tonight. He stares and stares, and there's nothing he can find to say, so he tilts the bouquet gently towards her and says, "I brought flowers."

She eyes then, and manages a rather grim smile. For what reason, who knows. She takes the flowers in her arms and turns to walk and place it down upon the table, and pauses as she settles them of his choice of flora. Her smile turned softer, "Strange, I've always dreamt about you turning up at my doorstep and offering me flowers... Dressed up." Tulip turned and gave him a good once over, "You look handsome, not that it is I'm saying the Detective isn't normally finely dressed."

"I didn't dress like this when you met me," he says with a bit of a grin. Every expression feels strange, and every pleasant one aches. He walks over towards her and takes his hands out of his pocket. His eyes travel down her dress, and flicker right back up to her eyes. "You look beautiful, as always. The dress suits you." He wants to reach out and apologize, again and again, do it until she cries and he can put a gun to her head... but instead he reaches out, to pull out her chair for her.

Tulip smiled at the chair being pulled out, and she glanced up at him as if he were trying to do something typical. Like trying to get her in for a quick session. He's being too nice. Too formal. This wasn't Alain at all. She sat though, and placed her hands into her lap so that both gripped the yo-yo. The original, yo-yo. "Thank you, and you're right, you didn't. But that doesn't matter, now..." She glanced aside at something, but the truth was nothing was ever really there. Not to anyone else. Her right eye squinted without her knowledge. Her smile was sudden, and pointless.

It's not the Alain she knew, for sure... He sheds his coat and sits across from her, that little vial now hidden in his left hand. "A lot has changed... since then." He can't take his eyes off of hers.

"Alot." She echoed, and then leant forward to dip her hand into the bucket to draw out the wine bottle, "It's red I am afraid. No whiskey for us, tonight." She stared at the label, then put it back into the bucket, "No idea about wines, so don't ask me what it tastes like. I can't even pronounce the name."

He reads the label while she examines it, and then puts it back. "It's a red Bordeaux blend. Chateau Angelus St. Emilion." He smiles. "Solange always wanted me to learn my wines, but vodka and whiskey have always been more my speed." He looks at her, and though he tries to maintain it, the smile fades some. "And yours."

"M'mmm," She agreed, nodding her head again. Lifting up a leg, she crossed it over the other at the knee, allowing the flesh of it to be exposed from the parting. "This is nice." Tulip mused softly, smiling still. "How are things with you? We haven't talked in a while."

"I'm... okay, all things considered." He can't help but look at her leg, and feels sick because of it, knowing that part of her, and the rest of her, may be dead very soon. "I'd been thinking about it since your 'restaurant'... opened my own pub." He does a quarter of a shrug, barely a shrug at all. "Helps take my mind off the other work - and it turns out I'm not half bad at brewing beer."

"Beer?" She tilted a finely plucked brow, "Pub? My you've been busy while I was away." Tulip chuckled at that, "There's no need to call it my restaurant." She looked around, "Looks nothing like what it used to..." All things considered, of course it wouldn't.

"You know, I was actually kind of hoping you'd opened a proper restaurant when you invited me." He looks around the warehouse... ah, the memories here... "I'd have gone. For the service, and fine wine at gunpoint. Most places won't give you that."

"Who wouldn't...?" She mused again, "Yes... My 'restaurant' - a good idea at the time, though, seems like I lost in the end. You blew it open pretty quick, didn't you? Though, then I didn't expect anything less." She started to sound like Miss B, "I regret none of it."

"There's a few things I regret," he admits. He frowns slightly, eyes lowering from hers - not downcast necessarily, just staring at the far edge of the table. "The rest could've gone a lot differently with just a few things..."

"Yes. A lot differenlty." Was that a little bit of a bite to her tone? She almost sounded like she wanted to snap his head clean off his shoulders for a moment there. Luckily, it was controlled. A sudden smile - again, and she stood slowly as the record's pin touched the center of the wax disc, crackling ensuing. "I should have bought a CD-player." Turning, she made her way to it, crouched down, and turned the record over to the other side.

He doesn't race for it, but he suspects she'll figure it out all the same - he pours two glasses of wine. "And let the Nexus make it play children's music? Funny thing, you go fifty years back with the tech, and the Nexus screws around with it a lot less."

Plopping the pin down on the record, a few minutes of silence ensued. Turning during this she returned back to the table, smiling at him as she had suddenly found some kind of inner happiness. "Yeah, you're probably right. Alain... I... Would you like to dance? I promise I won't do anything funny." She glanced downwards, a touch of faint red rising in her cheeks as she reached out to grab up the glass of wine. As if on time, the music kicked in. A slow dance, a fusion of jazz and blues, with soft guitar, lightly played drums, and a saxophone.

He takes his glass up. There's a few things he thinks of saying, but instead he says, "Tulip... I'd love to." He takes a long, slow sip, sets the glass down, and stands. His heart twists again.

She tilts her glass to her lips, and she smiles at him. Really, truely smiles at him. Love to... Her heart fluttered - her mind numbed, there was the urge to slap him for saying that word, for making her blush deeper. Used to whiskey, she takes a gulp. Sets down the glass, licks her lips, and frowns. "Now I remember why I don't drink wine." She made a face.

"It's a waste of money." He offers his hand to her and forces himself not to listen to the blood pounding in his ears, but to the beat of the music instead.

"So am I." In regards to the flowers. Taking his hand, she tilted her head and waited for him to lead her.

"I'd tell you I stole them from someone's garden, but I really don't feel like lying to you." He dances with a slow, easy grace. Nothing complicated, just moving with her to the music, his hand on her tiny waist. "You like tulips, don't you? I've never thought to ask - I just assumed."

"Actually... I don't like flowers much." She smiled up at him as she moved a hand clenching the yo-yo in her fist to rest against his shoulder, "Though its very thoughtful of you to buy those flowers. Sort of cheesy, didn't know you had it in you." She moves with him of course, easily led along.

"Come now." He tilts his head forward and smiles gently down at her. "The gun-toting, go-it-alone gumshoe being cheesy?" He can't quite laugh, though. He quietly sighs, and his fingers play with hers a little. "That yo-yo. The first time I saw you, you had that thing, and I didn't know what to make of you..."

Her smile fades. "You regret it, don't you." Tulip's head became downcast, her eyes on his feet as they move. She moved her fingers and twined hers with his ever so tightly, gripping his hand like she would a lover.

"What I regret is not doing right by you," he softly replies, and he squeezes her hand in return. He means it. He sways gently with her, and his fingertips move thoughtflly on the small of her back.

Tulip just laughed at that bitterly, her fingers clenching tighter around that yo-yo, "You did nothing wrong, Alain." She glanced up at him, "It was me..." For a moment, she lost her balance, and swayed on her one foot, crashing against his chest, arms moving up to move around his neck to prevent her from falling. "Sorry, not used to these heels."

He gasps very softly at her words, breath catching in his throat, eyes a little wider as he stares past her... and then he catches her. He is silent a moment, both his arms around her now. "I could've done better..." He turns his head to look her in the eye. They're so close now... He can feel her breath on him.

"I could have just..." Tulip closed her eyes, turning her cheek his way so that she could not look at him in the eye. She couldn't. "... I wanted to make you hurt so much. For hurting me..." She shook her head, suddenly feeling a little but more dizzy. "I'm sorry for the things I have done... But I, cannot really deny... That this is all my fault."

He shakes his head slowly, and his fingers push her hair back from her face. "Tulip..." He knows she's slipping. Her healing words still hurt in their own strange way... "I forgive you." His eyes drift shut, and he touches his brow to hers. Stroking her hair slowly.

"N-no... No... You don't." Tulip up struggles to see. Things were quickly getting blurry. She blinked to try and push away, to try and clutch onto life. Ironic that she right now she was in the arms of her death. "You can't..." She managed a smile, "The last hostage..." She whispered, her legs weakening, she nearly fell right onto the ground if it wasn't for the clutch of her arms around his neck, "She's alright..."

He tightens his grasp around her to keep her upright. Cradling her, his hand coming up onto the back of her head. "Thank you, Tulip... for her life." His chest feels like it will burst, insides twisting in anguish, and he hopes her poison is as it should be - that she doesn't feel a thing.

Tears fly down her cheeks, her bottom lip quivering, releasing the yo-yo that clattered to the ground, rolling away from them. "I'm alright... Tulip is free... Now. The wine. I knew, what you... Did to it." Her arm around his neck fell to her side, the power in it gone, Alain having to now hold up her entire weight, "I'm afraid. I'm afraid..." The confusion of death. She wasn't sure what was going on. "I-I... C-can't feel..." She starts to shake in his arms, her head fallinng back slowly, "Alain? Alain?"

He swallows, and after a couple tries, he finds his voice. "I'm here, Tulip..." He keeps her head cradled against him, still stroking slowly. "I'm right here..." He backs into a wall to keep her supported, and leans down, kissing the top of her head. Shushing her quietly and soothingly, his thick arms tightening around her.

"Wh... Why...?" She whispered. "Why... This ... I... Why this... W-way?" Through strength of will, through the battle of staying alive as her organs shut down bit by bit. "Want... See your face..." Tulip forces her head to face him, staring at his eyes. "I love you." She whispered. "I'm... So sorry..." Her body suddenly becoming frozen, she relaxed entirely in his arms, and the last bit of breath left in her lungs touched his face. It was her last. Yet still, her eyes stared and her tears dropped. Like her neck muscles were so stiff it refused to drop her head.

He sucks in a sharp breath at her exhale... and then bows his head. She's dead. Really gone. He feels an emptiness open up, and suddenly feels like he's falling into it, tugged in and tugged down by much more than gravity. He shakes silently, unable and unwilling to stop the tears flowing, until they stop all on their own because he's got nothing left. He raises a trembling hand to drift over her eyelids and slide them shut, and breathes into the silent room, "I love you, too."