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Cold Hot Chocolate

Funny how if you want to kill a monster you only have to cut off its head. And with a woman, the fastest way to do so is to give her beautiful one

"So..." the lieutenant looked at Kendra, "how long have you and your sisters been detectives?" he asked with a smile.

"Almost five years," answered Kendra curtly, shutting down not his fourth, but fifth attempt at conversation. She then lapsed back into silence. They had been walking for five hours now, on their way to the Central Train station. From there they would take the train to Elwood where they'd look for the boy under the protective spell. The lieutenant stared at Kendra. He'd never met a woman so difficult to decipher, so difficult to...love. He had past lovers, great girls. One a Sally Belvedere: a hearty young woman with a large bust and hearty laugh, a country girl with freckles and long dirty blond hair. Her cheeks: full and flush, warm like the warmth she created around her wherever she went. Completely unlike Kendra.

Kendra: an ice queen, a black hole sucking the warmth out of life and replacing it with a nebulous void.

To Chadwick, Kendra seemed small in many ways compared to Sally. Smaller imagination, smaller personality. Some of the women Chadwick had loved had been gorgeous, true lovely maidens of various waist sizes. Waist size: a way to categorize women. Chadwick didn't really notice, not something he concerned himself with.

Chadwick, being around Kendra for around half a day, had already started to question whether he'd ever loved anyone ever in his life. Love. It's easy to love someone who displays their heart, someone who cares about something so much they become oblivious to who notices. Chadwick thought Kendra had potential to care, and perhaps she did care, but about what exactly? That part was invisible to him.

Well she didn't really care about this mystery. He'd asked her about it and detected an emotional range of a rock. She really needed to solve this case—that's all. Also, she didn't really care about her sisters. He'd received curt answers to questions about them as well. The Lieutenant ran his fingers through his messy hair and took a deep breath, preparing to try talking to Kendra again.

"So what do you care about?" he asked bluntly, at the end of his proverbial rope. Kendra didn't look up as she walked.

"Um......honor," she said. Then she thought about that answer, almost believing it for a second. She nodded and repeated her answer, "Honor." That's what she cared about in her heart anyways deep down there, somewhere. But caring about honor never really manifested itself in her, like, actual life. Much easier to care about being thin and beautiful, at least these attributes had physical manifestations one could see, everyone could see, admire and love. She contemplated this as Chadwick looked at her. Had they been in a city or a pub he'd have promptly left her to the gods—moved on to some smiley, good-natured toasty woman—but as it happened, Kendra was the only person to talk to for miles.

Chadwick nodded, "Good choice. So you're a private detective who cares about honor. I think you're a beautiful person," he concluded, his voice hardly escaped its teasing tone.

Kendra smiled and laughed, Chadwick very glad to see her do so. "Why do you ask? What do you care about?"

"Honor."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I adore my fellow Bendigo detectives more than kings. Take detective Sneath for instance, I'd follow him anywhere. Our crew, we all fight for the same thing—justice for the community. And we all have different backgrounds and we're all so different but what's important? That's the same."

"What's that?"

"We all believe in working together to achieve justice!" He sighed, and then continued with awe and admiration, "Ever since I was a little boy I wanted to be a part of the Bendigo Guards. To defend such honor? It's such a glorious position."