Chapter Text
Alex Reagan had spoken to Ruby seventeen times on the telephone. Yes, she had left eleven messages, but in between those calls she’d called to check in to see if he’d gotten the messages. Her and Ruby had begun talking then about bosses and deadlines and just generalized chatting about things. Talking to people about the things that they liked was a good way to get them to open up about themselves, and Alex was quite good at getting people to do that.
More than that, she’d shown up at the offices of the Strand Institute three times, and two of those times had ended with her taking Ruby out to lunch. The first time, Ruby picked a place nearby so they could get back to work, but their second lunch was far more leisurely, and Ruby offered to show Alex around Chicago a little bit. Of course, Alex was more than a little taken back by how Ruby looked; when she’d spoken to her she’d expected her to be older and more professional. She definitely hadn’t expected someone younger than herself with shockingly pink hair and multiple facial piercings and wearing ripped jeans at the office. Ruby had explained once: Mel handled most things, but Ruby was Strand’s personal assistant.
According to Ruby, she was handed the problems that Mel couldn’t handle, and Alex didn’t know if she should be surprised, amused or alarmed at the fact that she was getting to be considered such a pain in the ass that she’d been given to Ruby to deal with.
In the end however, Alex had won Ruby over, which was how she’d managed to score an invitation to a party the girl was throwing over the weekend. With no movement on getting closer to Strand, and having exhausted the possibilities of Emily Dumond, Alex was leaving on Monday, so she didn’t see the harm in going to a party as a way of saying goodbye to Chicago and it’s weather and the asshole who had refused to see her even though she had been her persistent, charming self.
When the uber pulled up at the address that Ruby had given her, Alex texted the other woman twice to confirm it. This definitely didn’t seem like the sort of neighborhood that would host a wild party. The houses were large and there was a far amount of green in the yards, and it seemed quiet. For a minute, Alex definitely thought Ruby was fucking with her, and it was only when the uber driver told her in or out that she actually left the car.
“Above the garage.” The text message said. Alex could see the garage, and she could hear music as she got closer to it, and for the first time she wondered what was she doing. Alex Reagan was no stranger to parties. Her best friend since college was Nic-I-never-found-something-I-couldn’t-smoke-Silver, and the PNWS parties were known for their drunken debauchery, but this felt different. Pulling out her phone, Alex already had the uber app open to call the car back when light spilled from the open doorway and onto the stairs.
“Reagan!” The voice was quick, and the pink-haired girl was impossibly fast as she came barefoot down the stairs and caught Alex’s arm. “I thought you were going to chicken out on us. Come on.”
“Nope, I never chicken out,” Alex countered with a grin, even though she had been only a few seconds from actually doing it. She climbed up the stairs into an apartment that was surprisingly well furnished and taken care of (if Alex was honest, she would say it would put her own apartment to shame, but given how little time she spent there of late it didn’t matter.) Even before Alex could take her coat off, she was handed the traditional red solo cup with it’s traditional way too sweet smelling drink in it.
Way too sweet smelling drinks normally meant a rather large amount of booze hidden inside and this one was no exception. Ruby shouted in Alex’s ear over the din of the party. “Cheers!” Before she clinked the two plastic cups together. Pulling a face, Alex took a sip of the drink and caught Ruby still drinking, from the cup. With a grimace, Alex followed suit until the whatever the hell was inside the Hawaiian Punch was gone. Yep, this definitely was hiding some 151 inside of it; Alex would always remember that from her college days.
Following her hostess through the party, Alex was handed a shot and she just stared at it before she did it, and followed it up with another solo cup of the ‘jungle juice.’ Apparently, that was what kids were calling it these days. The scent of pot was heavier inside of here, and the music was loud, and Alex honestly didn’t even need to take a hit to get a contact high. However, she did end up with an edible in the form of a brownie and her third (fourth?) glass of punch and a conversation about sexism in horror stories before someone handed her a fourth (fifth?) shot before she realized how warm it was in here. And how long she had been here.
It had been the intention of Alex Reagan that she only take a minute outside to cool off and to catch her breath and to get out of the din. But even on the landing of the staircase, the music was still too loud and Alex almost felt like she couldn’t catch her breath. She knew she was drunk, but she had forgotten how it felt to be drunk and high at the same time. Honestly, she would have called for her uber again, but she’d left her phone with her purse and her coat and her cardigan on the couch in Ruby’s living room.
Wandering down the stairs, Alex found herself standing before an ornate looking wooden gate. She tested it for just a second before she pressed it open and stumbled into a well manicured backyard. A dog barked close by from it’s dog house, and it was all Alex could do to say “puppy!” Dropping onto the ground in front of the dog, she opened her arms up to it, because in Alex’s experience dogs always loved her and she loved all of them and the golden retriever was not an exception as it moved into her lap.
“Good boy. Who’s a good boy? You’re a good boy!” Alex was definitely not using her podcaster voice for this. Instead, she was using the voice that many women used for small children and dogs. The dog wagged his tail furiously, and moved in for belly rubs and Alex was far too engrossed in what she was doing to notice that the backyard was suddenly much brighter, or to hear the sound of the french doors opening onto the patio.
“Such a good boy! What’s your name, good boy?” Alex asked the words quickly, the dampness sinking into her jeans and shirt without her even noticing them. Nor did she notice the rather large amount of goosebumps that all of her skin had turned into. Her lap was fine and warm and full of fur, so basically nothing else mattered as she got lower and lower to the dog, finally sinking her chilled cheeks into that warm fur.
“His name is Occam.” There was a voice behind her, and she didn’t notice how annoyed he sounded, or about the fact that it was sexy, or about anything really other than the dog’s name.
“Aren’t dogs the best?” The last word was drawn out into a slur. “I swear, they are so much better than people, don’t you think?” Sure she was asking a stranger a question, but it was what she did for a living, so it didn’t bother Alex in the slightest. It was only after the next question that was asked of her did she even realize that this might have been a very. Bad. thing. To be doing doing at three in the morning.
“Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my yard?” The voice sounded annoyed and tired, and Alex tried to move to her feet but was met with very little success when she tried to turn around. She hadn’t felt this drunk before, but the world was completely spinning at the moment and when Alex got to her feet, she stared at the man in the lights that he’d turned on.
Wow, she really was a lightweight now, wasn’t she?
But the first thing out of her mouth was: “oh my god, you’re Richard Strand!” She recognized him from the pretentious picture on his twitter and she barely managed to look towards the garage and the party before the second thing came out her mouth and she couldn’t stop it. Instead, Alex Reagan of the eleven calls vomited rather forcefully onto the shoes of eleven messages ignorer Richard Strand.
And that was the last thing she remembered before her world turned black.