While I was pleased with what I'd written, I hadn't edited it. I had only written in additional information to assist in seeing inside the characters. I didn't use much in terms of atmosphere and even in this revision I didn't. I stuck with strictly changing some of the things I wasn't pleased with...repetitive word use, etc. etc. *grin* Insert big thank you to Roget's online thesaurus!
Here is the conversation exercise revised. I am certain I will try my hand at revising it again to add more elements as I learn about myself, my style and my voice, and of course my characters.
'It's your job.' He said it so matter-of-fact, almost snotty, that it cut
and cut deep. Who was he to judge? Who was he to think that her job didn't
matter, to her or to others?
'It isn't just a job.' She spat the words back at him with extra sarcastic emphasis to justify her positioning. Her work was important, she worked to keep her community safe. 'It's my life, what I live every day. I can't see my life without it. And I certainly wouldn't work at another job that didn't give me as much satisfaction and self gratification as this does. '
Passion. Billy liked that in her. He hadn't meant to get her riled up, but it suited her. If she was this passionate about her work what was she like about things that affected her on a more personal level? Maybe now was his chance to discover how to make that passion boil over.
'Why do you like it?' It wasn't a question it was a demand. He wanted to get inside her, make her justify her choices, to find out what made her tick. It wasn't going to be easy. She would see to that he was certain.
'Why do I like it? I don't like it, I love it. I was born for it. You like what you do, I can tell. You were born for your job too. Some of us are you know. There's nothing else that would suit either of us.' She found it easier to turn it around on him and find out more. Elizabeth knew just enough about Billy Bodine to know he'd follow up, maybe spill something that would give her some insight into that nasty secret he kept locked up in that gorgeous head of his. He couldn't let her get the upper hand. Let's see what kind of chauvinist you really are Detective Bodine. That was something. She picked up a pen from the desk and jotted down a line on the note pad. Possible chauvinist. Needing to be in control at all times. Hmm, she touched the pen to her forehead and moved her eyes over to look at Billy. Sounded familiar.
That was something about her he had been able to learn over the last few days. Elizabeth accurately read people and she was always making notes - he noticed a small note pad in her purse that she would use to jot down things as she worked. A grocery list maybe or things she forgot to take care of. He moved his head a bit to try viewing what she'd written, but her handwriting was flowery and the words seemed to flow together. Reading upside down really wasn't his strength. Maybe he should work on that. He squinted and made out the word CONTROL. At least it looked like control.
Glad for the break in conversation, Billy let her write her notes while he thought of how to explain that he loved his job, his resonsibility to the community his duty to his family and to himself. At least she was talking to him. He wanted her to talk, not give him the painful cold shoulder she'd treated him to at the school yesterday. He tried not to wince at the shots she took. Her aim had been dead on.
'It's a career not a job, not just something to do to pass the time. Every day I get to live the fantasy of an average man.' He smirked at the look that came over Elizabeth's face. He liked the way her brow furrowed when she was thinking something through, how she steered the conversation away from her again. She had a habit of doing that, but he would find out what he needed. It would just take some time.
'Is that why you refer to it as playing?' She toyed with the cap, replaced it on the end of the pen then tapped it lightly against the desk. Yes, he had referred to it as
playing. 'What do you mean?' Billy cocked his head sideways and looked at
Elizabeth over the monitor. She put the pen down and danced her fingers
over the keyboard. The light from the screen made her hair glow.
She bit her lip as she concentrated on finding the information online.
It was sexy, her mouth, her lips, her hair. Everything about her. He fought
the primitive urge to grab her and kiss her. He wanted to taste her, she
looked good enough to eat.
Glancing up from the screen Elizabeth saw the lusty look but wrote it off as zealous reminiscing. She remembered what he'd said to his partner earlier, and how he'd said it.
'You and Red. You told him to, let me see if I get this right, "saddle up and
let's go play".' She grinned knowing she'd mimicked him pretty well.
'Yeah, it is like that.' Oh her smile could melt the coldest heart. He sobered quickly
with the thought- it could be his next. Was he ready? 'You know when you
were little and played cowboys and Indians? Or you pretended to be Wonder Woman, since I really don't see you much as a gunslinger.' She'd make one hell of a
Diana King, and her butt would look great in those little red shorts.
She snorted a bit under her breath. He had a sense of humour. What would he say if
he knew she liked to be Annie Oakley and pretend to shoot pop cans in her back
yard?
'And I bet you were always the cowboy, in a white hat saving the damsel in distress.' She pictured that and he looked delicious. This was no time for daydreaming. To keep from drooling at the thought of him riding a horse in the Old West, and to reign in her imagination, Elizabeth directed her attention back to the computer, to reality.
'Nope, you got me all wrong. I was always the Indian.' She seemed surprised at that and it pleased him.
'The Indian?' Now that was interesting. Usually children would shy away from the perceived notion of the underdog. The image Elizabeth had envisioned changed to Billy in leather chaps riding bareback.
'Saving my village and winning the beautiful Indian Princess.' With a sly sideways smile, he winked, stepping outside the safety of his hard exteriors he performed for her. Pleased with himself that he'd surprised her again.
'Hmmph. Figures.' Uncomfortable with the detail of her imagination, she let the image she held shatter as she pressed the keys to print the document she'd been searching for. It was time to get back to work. Playtime was over.
