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Sandy brows lifting, J.J. stared at Destiny, her smirk pinning his grin in place. Had that been another glimpse of a sense of humour? More strikes in the pro column for a boss who didn’t spend their days perched on the pointy end of a stick. Whether or not she’d stay that way once he’d started to stretch his wings here was another matter but she had time before he really did that. The LG’s lessons to at least be cautious at first had stuck if nothing much else had. You toed that line a bit before you dashed straight over it. J.J. held his hands up for a second. ”I started it, love,” he assured her, giving a faint chuckle. ”If I had heard about ‘em I might not’ve run straight here. Got a bit of an allergy to wildlife.” And a healthy dose of paranoia – rightly so, thank you very much. He was happy to be a Doubting Debbie if it got him to the truth.

He was a man who’d do what he had to in order to get something front page worthy. The pizza was the lesser of those evils, a little wiggle of cold mozzarella and pepperoni. J.J. grunted faintly, glad to see her tucking into it anyway. ”And that’s why I’m probably clueless about it,” he quipped. He peered at Destiny past his fingers, his smile growing as she fired one at him – hers dosed with that colour rising in her cheeks again. ”A woman after my own heart. Maybe next time it’ll be those on my desk, wouldn’t be a pay-off then, would it?” More a shared indulgence between boss and minion. Fuelling up for her picking over the story he’d likely be lurking here in the office until 2am pulling together.

J.J. frowned at his screen as he filled Destiny in on the possible story. Rumours had been swirling thick as fog about the good professor. If there was one thing he was sure of it was that Damasca had definitely disappeared. There wasn’t much of a difference between him and the brother – bloody identical twins were always sticky that way – but there’d been no definite sightings of Theo while he’d been lingering around the last couple of days questioning anybody on campus who’d talk to him. ”Fucking tragic if the whispers are right and the Prof was killed out in those woods.” His brows beetled further as he sighed and dropped his hand back into his lap.

The smile was back momentarily, his thumb drumming lightly against his thigh. That decency shining out of her as she met his eye. J.J. clucked his tongue, flipping the box open to grab himself another slice of pizza. His last. After this it was gonna be all focus as he tried to get something out of the video he might justa talked out of the security guard. ”You ain’t gotta worry about that,” he promised, tipping his slice up towards her. He chuckled low, toasting her with her slice of pizza as she went from not really tooting her own horn to definitely giving his a good squeeze. ”Don’t you worry boss, if I start going down, I ain’t gonna torpedo you with me. I been through this circus before and I always take care of the ring master, ‘specially when they’re willing to cheerlead me that way.” Another wink at her as she stood. Usually it was the editor chasing him off with the pitchforks and torches, raging about him.

J.J. laid the slice of pizza on his chest, not bothered by the grease marks that’d likely be left. He kicked his heels back up on the desk, tugging his keyboard into his lap. ”You do that, boss,” he said with a wink back. A squirm, a wiggle and he was back into the groove he’d started working into what was his seat here. ”And you tell that mate of yours to bring you some lunch next time he comes by. Can’t have you starving to death in there, eh?” Picking the pizza slice back up, he toasted her with it before he shoved the slice back into his mouth. The swipe of faintly greasy fingers down the thigh of his jeans and he began rattling noisily over the keys again.

Tagged: DESTINY BACCARI (Finished?) * Word Count: 718

Like they were the heavenly host and he was some soul knocking on the doors asking to be let in he’d sat before the big wigs before. A semi-circle of them around him at the Beeb, solo editors behind desks that looked like they’d been dragged in off the street, head honchos who wouldn’t know a headline from a foot note and treated him like he was definitely the later. J.J. hadn’t let himself be intimidated by a single one, even though he knew his career was in their manicured hands. He mentally shrugged, feeling faintly skeevy even now about the whole thing. How the hell were you meant to be produce something good when the one picking it apart was someone who’d never written a word or even snapped a photo in their lives?

He returned Destiny’s grin, blue eyes sprouting lines at the corners as he did. A man not unaccustomed to the expression. J.J. dipped his head, winked one of those blue eyes at her in acknowledgement of the gratitude. Being a journalist who questioned everything he’d done his homework on her. Destiny Baccari wasn’t a journalist who’d cut her teeth in local media with boring stories about local fetes or the town’s new street lights, but she wasn’t one of those limp fingered manager sorts either. She’d worked here first before she’d taken that giant step most didn’t have the balls for. She was solid.

And he gave her more kudos for not giving him a bollocking in front of everyone for his walk of ‘I couldn’t care less what time is it’. J.J.’s smile turned innocent at the nod, fingers drumming on top of his head lightly. Ooops. Suspecting it might still be a nudge towards you’ve gotta get with the programme. Be in here at 8am, dressed like you work in an office like everybody else. Stiff shirts, ties a noose. Spit shined and polished.

Not him.

At her confirmation that she knew what had been going on J.J. shifted, squirmed upright as he nearly brought the place down. Manners had him offering up what was left of the pizza, fuel to listen to. A distraction as much as anything else, for her that was. His eyes narrowed as something pulled at her face as she nodded. ”Another right on the college campus, yeah,” he adjusted. J.J. snorted, lips surrounded by that sandy scruff curling again. ”You must have some real big bloody mountain lions around here if that’s honestly what every dropped body gets blamed on.” But, J.J. thought, sliding an inch towards her as big blue eyes flicking up to him, that wasn’t what she believed. What a bonus it was having a boss whose every thought showed on her face.

J.J. clucked his tongue, giving the pizza box another nudge. ”Sounds like too much fuss to me. You want something when it’s offered, take it. You’re not always gonna get asked again. Honestly, boss, help yourself.” He hadn’t done it as a bribe but when she half called it one he raised his hands, mock defensively. ”So no dropping off a half dozen doughnuts on your desk when I’m late again tomorrow then?” It was inevitable. He sighed, considering one last slice for himself before he nudged the thought aside and sprawled back in the chair, feet on the floor this time. ”It’s the way it should be eaten. No cheese burning your mouth, all that flavour’s had the time to mingle.” And it was perfect for people who trailed home at 4am, fired up chasing a story and too bloody starved to start cooking.

Hands on top of his head again J.J. slumped another couple of inches in the seat. He brushed the thanks off again with a smirking purse of his lips that turned practically vulpine. A faint hum building in his throat before he was tipping his chin up towards his computer screen. ”That it was. Seems like someone – sorry, something – in this town’s got a taste for the good and the virtuous. Most wouldn’t talk to me but some crazy bloke working in the biology department dropped the name of a professor who’s supposedly gone on some last minute sabbatical. Bollocks if you ask me. Professor Damasca was a choir boy by all accounts. Girlfriend, apartment here in town, grew up a military brat somewhere in Japan. If he’s pissed off someone then he’s hiding an arsehole side that I ain’t found yet. Everybody and their mother’s out in those woods poking around. Some a little too …” He narrowed his eyes, poking fingers at his own then flicking them out. ”If you get what I mean. If … say … a security video happened to fall into your lap, would you go trying to clean up what was on it?” That glimpse of the choir boy again. Blue eyes widening, lashes fluttering. Some were too ethical like that, don’t go poking without explicit permission and nothing in that grey area he tended to live in.

Tagged: DESTINY BACCARI * Word Count: 839

The smile was all choir boy. Innocence that barely lasted its way through Sunday services, barely concealed in blue eyes that hadn’t been guileless since he was about eight. That was the last time he’d sat through one of those services too. His mum had continued to go but the Hart men had been conspicuously absent each time. Straddling the seat of his bike, J.J. had watched from the outside, arms propped on the handlebars of his bike, waiting for the other kids on base to emerge. That not so innocent grin aimed at the chaplain as he’d walked out, glad handing the parishioners while shooting him the stink eye.

It hadn’t been that instant suspicion on Destiny’s face when he’d caught her unawares, although, surely with time his boss lady would learn that it was the only way you could be with him. Give him an inch and he’d take a mile without an ounce of shame. Always better to ask for forgiveness than permission and all that, especially when there was a chance your editor would be the one bailing you out. Hadn’t been his editor he’d seen on the bars the last time though. Clinging to the bars like some kid with his nose up against a shop window J.J. had seen his brother swan in instead.

No shock on his face though, not the way it was on Destiny’s. No smile either. Just that deep etched concern that still left him squirming slightly. Later, when the team had all vanished it’d looked like it was some sort of payback for it.

He didn’t wanna think what the boss’ payback for him leaping straight off that path was gonna be. Shoving the thought back, J.J. shot her a sloppy salute, definitely not parade ground perfect. She was shuffling in, brows creeping up as she glanced down at his feet. Oops. He didn’t move them though, just shifted the keyboard on his lap a little as he dragged himself a couple of inches closer again with a tensing of his legs. Unsure if she had to scoot out, J.J. reached out a hand, patted the corner of his desk like he was inviting her to pull up a pew. ”Pfft.” The sound buzzed out of his lips. ”I’d say pretty’s probably overrated but in this business it ain’t. Trust me, you ain’t put out anything that’d have Mystic Falls’ fancy folks turning their noses up at your spread.” Not that they’d know a pretty layout if it curled up and smacked them on the nose.

J.J. hissed out a breath as Destiny propped herself against his desk. Like the grin, the question was friendly enough, but not without that hidden bite of steel that had him thinking maybe there was a decent editor hiding in that curvy little form after all. The chair gave another groan as he leaned further back into it, fingers lacing as he propped them behind his head. ”Is that an ‘I saw you rolling in the door as everyone was leaving, what you been up to’?” Fair point he guessed, but his schedule had never been as etched in stone as everybody else’s. 9-5 was a prison sentence for the minions who didn’t know better than to break free of it. One blue eye winked at her, guile there for all to see now. ”Look at you, knowing exactly where I was. You hear anything about that body dropped out in the woods a couple of days back?” By now it had to be all over town. People here were worse than on the army bases, gossip seeming to be a local hobby.

Without that tendency to whisper he never would’ve caught on to the rumours that were spreading about it. The weird wounds, the professor’s name not mentioned but enough details tossed in that he knew people were trying to connect the dots, even if there hadn’t been some shrieking this time. That he was still trying to work his head around. Frowning about it, he shifted, nearly knocked the pizza box off the table with one boot. ”Where’s me manners,” he muttered. J.J.’s lips pursed as he squirmed upright in his chair, dragging himself close enough to drop his feet off the desk and nudge the box in Destiny’s direction. ”Help yourself. I take it you didn’t get yourself anything. Chained to the big desk and all that.” She had visitors from time to time though, that glossy bloke from the hotel showing up, slipping into the office. Shutters coming down, some sort of meeting going on behind closed blinds.

Tagged: DESTINY BACCARI * Word Count: 769

Tongue worming into the pocket of his cheek, absentmindedly chasing the crumb of pepperoni that’d wedged itself somewhere while he’d eaten his way through the rush of everybody else to get out the office door when 5 o’clock rolled around, J.J. kicked back in his seat. He could still taste of the spice of it blooming on the side of his tongue, a vague distraction his mind kept drifting to instead of focusing on the blinking cursor on the screen.

Scuffed boots moved restlessly under the desk he’d informed was his when he’d had his little welcome to the newsroom tour of the place a handful of months back. It’d been a different big boss then, but like everywhere else in the world the owner’s desk was a personal little empire that would always fall in time. People like that had a tendency to move on, either clawing themselves up from places like this or retiring with hair long retreated to somewhere around the nape of their neck or stomachs eaten out by ulcers. Smart ass journalists under them driving them to a retirement still filled with antacids. The last seemed to have been glad to go out the door – not thanks to him for once, he hadn’t been here long enough for that yet. The jury was still out on the latest one though.

J.J. inched back in his chair, cheap rollers catching on cheaper carpet tiles. Those boots propped on the corner of his desk as he swivelled, the chair protesting under him as he kicked back further. A squirm, another dig of his tongue and that tiny bit of meat was free just as he settled in.

Breakfast at his desk at close to four, the pizza box tucked under his arm as he’d made his way in. A nod and a wink at the receptionist, chin lifted at the other coworkers he’d passed, a beaming smile for the woman herself. A tiny porcelain doll of a thing who didn’t look much like she’d hold her own against a bunch of reporters used to bulling their way into things but he suspected there was a core of steel to her. You didn’t climb the ladder that far without it. He hadn’t dug into her past yet though. That in his book, J.J. woulda argued, was a sign of respect. Until he felt like he had to he wasn’t about to pry into why someone who hadn’t yet hit 30 was sitting in the hot seat. Long as Destiny was on that side of the desk and not riding his arse about the fact that he hadn’t yet turned in a piece that week there weren’t any need to go sticking his nose in. There was plenty of hornet’s nests in this town he’d aimed to stick his nose into first.

Starting with the body dump that had happened in the woods earlier that week.

Humming lightly, J.J. dragged the keyboard up into his lap, propping it against his stomach as he finally began to type. Slowly at first, picking out that first line that could either make or break a piece. No identification on the body yet, not much released by the sheriff’s department but word had already started to spread in town. Crumbs less spicy than the semi-decent pepperoni getting stuck in his teeth as he’d waited for his order at the pizzeria that afternoon, hands in the pockets of his worn jeans, listening in idly, like he wasn’t taking in a damn thing about it but he had.

Like the professor. The one who’d supposedly got stabbed and killed but then was somehow on leave for months, popping up earlier that summer like the rumours of his death on campus and his brother’s finding of him were nothing more than smoke. Twisting in the air until it all just faded away.

Bollocks of course, there was always more of a story than that, but bollocks just weren’t publishable. Even in Mystic Falls.

He was rattling through the second paragraph, laying out the details of what he’d come across in what had come out of the sheriff’s station more thickly when he heard the door snick shut further out in their floor of the building. Not on his own then. Narrowed blue eyes fixed on the aisle that led down one side of the bullpen style desks as he planted the soles of his boots on the edge of his desk and pushed back further. The boss lady herself. His lips pursed, curled. ”Wotcha, boss.” The LG would’ve shuddered at the word, the Queen’s English drummed into him when every accent he’d been exposed to had tried to worm its way into his speak. ”Thought you would’ve been outta here already. No plans or just all hard work and no fun?” Or she’d been determined to be the last one out of the office. There was nothing to show you meant business like being the first one there and the last one gone, a notion he’d never prescribed to with his own random hours dragging him in and out like an errant tom cat.

Tagged: DESTINY BACCARI * Word Count: 858