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#FINCH & GEMMA┊THREAD 01; LETHAL PASTS. ( griim )
fatherofmachine-a · 2 years
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@griim​ gets a Plotted Starter!
After Harold received GEMMA HARDING’S number, he considered her the runner up for the most MINUSCULE digital footprint he’d ever seen. However, what he was able to find ... it allowed him to make some reasonable guesses as to her home life, her childhood. Mostly that something had CLEARLY been very wrong from the first glimpse—she’d only been given a name, a social security number, a proper identity when she was two years old and the person who’d given it to her hadn’t been either of her parents. Her mother hadn’t been listed, but ... what Harold did find about her father, well ... it WASN’T difficult to assume that he may be the reason she was in danger.
There had already been ONE attempt on her life thus far and Harold had managed to cut off their comms—but not without a loud, SCREECHING noise that pierced through their ears, which was more than distracting enough to aid in Gemma’s escape. CLEARLY they were running out of time and Harold couldn’t keep protecting her from afar, so ... he’d tracked the phone she had on her to a motel.
It was immediately obvious that she was DEEPLY shaken, on edge; a feeling Harold understood all too well. He knew approaching her would be ... challenging. She was like a wounded animal, ready to STRIKE at the first thing that moved toward her that she didn’t recognize; it made his heart twinge painfully in his chest. This young woman had gone through MORE than her fair share of hell and here she was, still tangled up in it, trying to evade the traps. Harold had anticipated some kind of defensive response, but it didn’t stop the IMMEDIATE spike of anxiety that pierced through him when she drew a knife on him. Her gesture was loud and clear— stay back, unless you want a knife lodged into you.
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Harold froze where he stood, blue eyes wide and brows lifting sharply in alarm; slowly, CAREFULLY, he spread his hands out, indicating that he was unarmed. “Miss Harding, please—you don’t know me, but my name’s HAROLD. All I wanna do is help you,” a quiet, wavering breath escaped him as he briefly glanced down to regard the knife, then back up to meet her eyes. “I know you’ve got no reason  to trust me, but I’m afraid we’re running out of time.”
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