Ok, it's my 4,000th post. I've not put anything up for critique for one of these before, but there's a couple of sentences in this bit which are a bit dodgy so I thought I'd put it up. 
Brief backstory: When Ambrose touches someone he feels their emotions and then usually passes out. He's an actor.
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Ambrose had given the police his full cooperation in the investigation of the murder of Justin Pinkerton. He had been, they informed him, most helpful and he knew that when the murderer was caught it would largely be because of his help. He wondered if he could add it to his CV: ‘Bringer of Justice.’ Or maybe simply: ‘Hero.’
He smiled to himself and shook his head. Hero was a little OTT, if he was ever to write a CV he should sound modest; he was, after all, a modest kind of guy. Bringer of Justice would cover it.
He opened the email Celia had sent him and read it through twice, just to make sure he’d got everything. He looked over the laptop to Jenn, who sat on his sofa reading a book. Since it was safe to return home (according to the police, at least), he had moved both Jenn and Mercer into his house - deciding that Mercer’s flat was too small, too dark and too dirty, and the hotel was too far away and going to fetch Jenn every day was a pain in the arse.
“She wants me to do some voice acting,” he said.
Jenn didn’t look up from her book. She turned a page and said, “That’s nice.”
“It’s more than nice,” he replied. “It’s brilliant. It means I’ll have some money coming in again. Have you any idea how much my electricity bill is now that I’ve got you two here? A lot more than when it was just me, let me tell you. And, in case you didn’t know, voice acting means I don’t have to touch anyone.”
Jenn folded the corner of the page and put the book down by her side. “Celia’s got you a job?”
“Yes, Celia’s got me a job.” He wondered if he was just talking to himself half the time. “Voice acting.”
“You’ve been able to touch me for a week now and you’ve not passed out once.”
Ambrose turned back to his laptop and tapped out a reply for Celia. “What we do isn’t touching,” he said. “It’s more like vague skin contact. When one is acting, one has to touch. Properly. With tongues sometimes.” He closed the laptop. “When do you have to go home?”
“Whenever I like,” she replied. “It’s not like I have a job to go back to.”
“You’ve been fired?”
“Yeah.”
“Since when?”
“I told you yesterday! My boss rang yesterday morning.”
Ambrose couldn’t remember, though when he’d touched Jenn he’d felt a strange resignation. “Oh,” he said. “You didn’t want to be a housekeeper forever anyway.”
“I didn’t,” she said, getting to her feet. “But now I can’t afford to pay my rent or my bills or… anything. I can’t afford anything.” She snatched her book off the sofa and left the room.
He sat for a moment, thinking. Then he ran a hand through his hair, opened the laptop and started a new message to Celia. Jenn was right. He was too good for voice acting.
Brief backstory: When Ambrose touches someone he feels their emotions and then usually passes out. He's an actor.
----
Ambrose had given the police his full cooperation in the investigation of the murder of Justin Pinkerton. He had been, they informed him, most helpful and he knew that when the murderer was caught it would largely be because of his help. He wondered if he could add it to his CV: ‘Bringer of Justice.’ Or maybe simply: ‘Hero.’
He smiled to himself and shook his head. Hero was a little OTT, if he was ever to write a CV he should sound modest; he was, after all, a modest kind of guy. Bringer of Justice would cover it.
He opened the email Celia had sent him and read it through twice, just to make sure he’d got everything. He looked over the laptop to Jenn, who sat on his sofa reading a book. Since it was safe to return home (according to the police, at least), he had moved both Jenn and Mercer into his house - deciding that Mercer’s flat was too small, too dark and too dirty, and the hotel was too far away and going to fetch Jenn every day was a pain in the arse.
“She wants me to do some voice acting,” he said.
Jenn didn’t look up from her book. She turned a page and said, “That’s nice.”
“It’s more than nice,” he replied. “It’s brilliant. It means I’ll have some money coming in again. Have you any idea how much my electricity bill is now that I’ve got you two here? A lot more than when it was just me, let me tell you. And, in case you didn’t know, voice acting means I don’t have to touch anyone.”
Jenn folded the corner of the page and put the book down by her side. “Celia’s got you a job?”
“Yes, Celia’s got me a job.” He wondered if he was just talking to himself half the time. “Voice acting.”
“You’ve been able to touch me for a week now and you’ve not passed out once.”
Ambrose turned back to his laptop and tapped out a reply for Celia. “What we do isn’t touching,” he said. “It’s more like vague skin contact. When one is acting, one has to touch. Properly. With tongues sometimes.” He closed the laptop. “When do you have to go home?”
“Whenever I like,” she replied. “It’s not like I have a job to go back to.”
“You’ve been fired?”
“Yeah.”
“Since when?”
“I told you yesterday! My boss rang yesterday morning.”
Ambrose couldn’t remember, though when he’d touched Jenn he’d felt a strange resignation. “Oh,” he said. “You didn’t want to be a housekeeper forever anyway.”
“I didn’t,” she said, getting to her feet. “But now I can’t afford to pay my rent or my bills or… anything. I can’t afford anything.” She snatched her book off the sofa and left the room.
He sat for a moment, thinking. Then he ran a hand through his hair, opened the laptop and started a new message to Celia. Jenn was right. He was too good for voice acting.
