Ronald's Apartment

[Ronald]

'She gets to hungry for dinner at eight; she loves the theatre and never comes late...'

Normally, Ronald Berkshire didn't mind the sound of his idol's voice on his clock stereo. Ol' Blue Eyes was the end-all, be-all for this copper; the King of Cool. Martinis, fedoras, good jazz...but after indulging in a few too many of those martinis the night before, Ron was just plain irritated, no ifs, ands or buts about it.

'That's why the lady is a - ' WHACK!

"Sorry Frank," Ron slurred from beneath a creative pile of blankets and pillows, otherwise known as a mess. "But I jus' need five more minites..."

[Ronald]

Two hours later...

The tinny, obnoxious ringing of his cellphone pierced through the cop's consciousness, forcing him to wakefulness. Ron groaned irritably and shoved a hand outside his protective nest of blankets. It knocked around on the bedside table, bumping off a book and an empty glass before it finally landed on the phone. A few choice words were uttered from the cocoon of comforter as Ron flipped the phone open and brought it to his ear.

"What?" he snarled.

"Hey, sunshine," the amused rumble of his partner's voice sounded in his ear. "You plannin' on comin' in for work today?"

"...Wha?"

"You're late, douchebag; get your ass outta bed."

"...Ohhh, fuck me sideways."

Much swearing and stumbling was had while Ron extracted himself from his blankets. He dressed in a rush, too frantic to bother with trivialities like matching socks, and after knocking back one of those instant breakfast smoothies, bolted out the door. Two minutes later, he returned, cursing the universe, and snatched up his coat, gun holster, badge and ever-present fedora before he slammed the door, locked it, and raced down the hallway.

Continued in: Parking Garage

[Ronald]

POST-TIMESKIP

"Becky, baby, come on -- "

"Ronald, no," the luscious brunette was currently in the process of retrieving the clothes that she had worn over; so far, she'd had very little success past her undergarments. Which was fine by Ronnie. "I really have to get in to work -- my boss'll flip his shit."

The redheaded cop sulked for a moment, visibly wilting against the rumpled bedsheets. It'd been a damned good night in, that was for sure -- he just didn't understand why it had to end so abruptly. "So call in sick," he reasoned. "C'mon... you really want to go in and serve martinis to drunk businessmen?"

She glared at him and decided not to dignify him with a response, which simply would not do. Ron finally sat up, sheet about his waist, and snatched Rebecca by the wrist as she went by. His grin was lopsided; boyish and only a little bit suggestive.

"Dollface," he crooned, tugging her down to his level. "Just this once. You really want to cut this night short?"

He received another glare, to which he responded by dropping a kiss into the palm of the brunette's hand. And then up her arm, across her shoulder... until Becky gave a groan and shoved him back onto the mattress. "Christ, Berkshire," she growled. "You are out of control."

Ron just grinned. "Who loves ya, baby?"