Ye Olde RP Archive

doorstep
[Note from Q: Hey, if you're reading this and you like what we play, you can PM us to ask if we could participate in YOUR RP idea(s)? We're generally bored and open to requests and small group play! (Or more 1x1s)]]


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Jaden, Jade for short, is a 20 year old engineering major. He worked hard to get where he is today- his own apartment, going to college. He's a fairly typical person, if a bit more talented than most when it comes to schoolwork. Openly gay, Jade has been going steady with his boyfriend, Cory.

That was until a girl from his past showed up on his doorstep.

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Hannah. Only 18, she suffers with bipolar disorder. Jade and Hannah used to be close friends, but when Jade moved away to college, they didn't keep in touch.

Having run from home, Hannah needs help with understanding life and why she should live it, and there is no one she trusts more than her old friend Jade, who seems stable and perfectly happy. Successful, even. Why can't she be like that...?

But the reality of the matter is, can Jade handle such a huge responsibility out of the blue? Will his normally happy demeanor change when Hannah is increasingly pessimistic?

How can I decide on what's right
When you're clouding up my mind?

I can't win your losing fight all the time.


[[this will probably change when I come up with a better way to summarize it.]]


D e l i r i o u s wrote: "Hannah I am not going through this again. And for goodness sakes look at me when I'm talking to you."

Hannah skulked in her window seat, trying as hard as she could to ignore her mother in the doorway. She pulled her hat down over her ears and eyes, blocking out the world. The depression was kicking in, and the last thing she needed was to zone out from some pills. She had been a zombie all through early high school. Hannah wanted to be clear for the end of senior year, even if it meant being manic. Her mother, on the other hand, was not having any of this.

Her mother shook the bottle for emphasis, like the noise would attract her daughter. She had a meeting she needed to get to, and once again Hannah was making things difficult. "You are sick! You need medicine. Your father and I pay a lot of money for your therapy and medi-"

"Fuck off, mother."

Hannah was greeted by a swift, hard slap to the face. She felt her cheek sting roughly as the medication bottle was flung at her feet, followed by her mom slamming the door. Sighing, Hannah picked up the bottle and examined it. 'You don't make me feel better. I should just jump out the window right now. I bet Mommy would be very happy to not have to pay for my fucking medication anymore. And Daddy too. Nobody wants me here anyways.'

Her eyes flicked to the computer screen; Jade's Facebook profile. Hannah hadn't spoken to him in months, maybe even a year. He moved away to college and they lost touch, after being friends since they were in elementary school. But she felt the overwhelming desire to see him now. She heard a car door slam, and watched her mother leave for work. Hannah stood up, shoved some necessities like clothes and her laptop into her backpack, and bolted out the door.

Jade had his address typed out on his information page. He lived a few cities over, and it took Hannah a two hour bus ride (with money stolen from her parent's dresser) to reach it. Within fifteen minutes, she was ringing his doorbell. 'Please..'


A young man with short, cropped blonde hair went in to kiss the laughing brown-haired Jaden, who immediately calmed himself and gave a warning look to his boyfriend, easily avoiding the kiss.
"Come on," Jade played, trying to be easy-going about it. "You know I don't like PDA."

Cory, the boyfriend, grumbled and ruffled Jade's hair as he got up from his seat at the table.
"One of these days, man. One of them, you'll loosen up."

"Sometimes I wonder if you're even gay at all," Sam, a schoolmate laughed as she threw her head up.

"Hey!" Jade slapped his hands on the table as he pushed himself up as well. He shoved a fork into Sam's face. "You know better then that!" Jade played.

"I know, I know." She chuckled, remembering the times when she'd gotten the couple drunk. She knew fully well just how gay Jade could be.

"Well anyway, it's time to call it a day," Cory intervened, cutting the friendly meeting short. "We've got a lot of homework to do."

"What, building robots?" Sam chuckled. They were all engineering students, but none of them were in the more advanced classes that warranted cool things... Such as, but not limited to.... Building robots.

Jade threw up a hand, giving a haphazard wave. "Something like that." He smirked and began to walk off. "Thanks for the dinner."

Jade and Cory had been dating pretty much since the beginning of Jade's college career. It had been a pretty lucky find, and they'd hit it off very well. It'd been almost a year, and they did almost everything together. As they walked back to Jade's apartment - which was rather close to the restaurant they'd been hanging out at, and where Cory's car was parked - they made smalltalk. It was friday, and they were debating on skipping their saturday class.

But when they came close to the apartment, Cory noticed something was up.
"Who's that?" He asked, motioning to the form sitting at Jade's doorstep. They were still a few yards away.

Jade quirked a brow, a look of confusion overcoming his face. "I dunno. I wasn't expecting anybody..."
As they both walked closer, Jaden finally realized who it was. "I think it's... Aw.. Man.. I'm sorry, Cory. I think you can't stay at my place tonight."
He turned to his twenty one year old companion and put a knowing hand on his shoulder. "I'm really sorry, but this is something I've got to handle myself."

Cory tilted his head, a bit confused himself as he watched Jade's expression.
"What? Old girlfriend or something?"

Jade frowned, hesitating. "No, just uh... Childhood friend I guess. Just trust me, ok? I'll call you tomorrow."

Cory gave a disappointed sigh and gave his boyfriend a quick hug before diverting his path from Jade's apartment to his car instead.

In the meantime, Jade shoved his hands in his blue hoodie's front pockets and walked over to his apartment.
"Hey," he said softly, looking down at the figure crouched on his steps.

Nobody from his past knew he was gay.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: 'Please..'

Hannah rang the doorbell, biting her lip. A minute passed. Then two minutes. Then five minutes. Either Jade wasn't home, or he wasn't answering his door. Deflated, Hannah sunk down to the step and shook her red hair into her face; it was her way of separating herself from the rest of the world. She sniffled quietly, desperate to hold back tears while sitting on the step of a forgotten friend. 'What was I even thinking?' She slammed the palms of her hands against her head three times, 'Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!'

Hannah didn't hear the two boys walking up, talking to each other. She didn't see Jade hug the other boy. She didn't know he approached the doorstep until she saw the tips of his shoes below the edge of her hair.

"Hey," he said softly.

Hannah blinked, and felt the hot tear slide down her cheek, "H-hey." She glanced upward at him through the strands of hair, amazed at how tall he was now. "Surprised to see me here?"size=50


Jade shrugged his shoulders a bit.
"Yes and no," he said.

He spoke softly to her. Not quite whispering, but not as loud as he would speak normally. He didn't want to appear too overbearing, and plus to be honest... He was a bit disappointed she was here. Part of the reason he'd left town to go to college was so he could get away from the people of his past.

It wasn't as if he didn't like Hannah. He had nothing against her. He just wanted to hang out around different people, now. He remembered her having problems once she entered highschool- the typical emo girl thing. He didn't recall ever going through teen angst as hard as she did, but maybe he just handled it differently.

He was always there for her. He cared about her.
But he'd be lying if he didn't admit that when he was with her, she tended to weigh him down.

"What's wrong...?" He asked. "Are you crying...? Are you okay?"
He took his hands from his pockets and kneeled down, bringing his eyes down to her's. Then he just sat next next to her, instead.

"Tell me what happened."


D e l i r i o u s wrote: "Yes. No. Fuck.."

Hannah wiped the tear from her face, and could feel more forming. She didn't want to cry, not now, not in front of Jade. His empathy seemed to make her feel worse. 'Nobody wants me here anyways.' She inhaled, and it all came tumbling out.

"I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder freshman year. You know that. My mom went from being the nicest woman ever into an uncaring cunt because therapy and medication costs a ton of money, especially after a failed suicide. She got worse after that. My dad worked more and more until he was barely home because he couldn't deal with a sick daughter. My mood swings are getting shittier and occur more often. I don't want to eat. Meds make me feel like a fucking zombie. You left for college and became Mr. Awesome. And I want to fucking die. Shoot my brains out dead."

The tears were flowing by this point, nothing that she could stop anyways. Sarcastically, she finished, "Long story short. No, I'm not okay. What's new with you?"


Jade let out an obvious sigh, then reached out and grabbed Hannah, bringing her to his chest in a comforting hug.

"I really don't think what's going on in my life matters right now," he said, running his fingers though her hair, as if he were comforting a small child or a scared puppy.

"Why did you come here? You don't seem like the runaway type..."


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Hannah gasped softly when Jade pulled her into him. She finally relaxed when she felt his fingers go through her hair, and nuzzled closer. Hannah craved physical contact, something she had been denied by her parents after the attempt. Like they were afraid of touching her; that being manic-depressive was something that could be contagious. But now, in Jade's arms, she felt alright.

"I couldn't stay there anymore. It hurt, physically and mentally. I was clicking through Facebook before my mom came in, and I found yours. It just felt right to come here, to get out. You got out.."


Jade gave another sigh, but this time through his nose. He pulled at her hair slightly, before gently pushing her away from him and getting up.

He climbed the rest of the stairs and put his key in the door, unlocking it and opening it.
"Come on," he urged, pulling it open and walking inside, waiting for her to follow before he went to the kitchen area and pulled a TV dinner out of the freezer and popped it into the microwave.

He didn't remember her trying to commit suicide. Was he there for that?
He didn't remember being her friend on facebook either, but he didn't use it much these days, so it was possible...
Well, there were more important things to think about right now regardless.

"What do you want to drink?"
The TV dinner was going to be for her. He'd stare at her and make her eat it if he had to.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Hannah stood up and followed obediently, not wanting to irk Jade since she just got here. Her eyes glanced around the apartment; it was on the small side, but he was in college. It was a far cry from the apartment on Friends. She set her backpack on the floor near the couch - possibly her bed for awhile.

She watched as Jade put the TV dinner in the microwave, remembering she hadn't eaten today. Her stomach never grumbled for food as of late so it was hard to tell when she was hungry. "Sprite or water is fine," Hannah said helpfully, taking a seat at the couch

There were a few pictures around of people she didn't know. 'College friends,' Hannah thought. Many included a boy with short blonde hair. She never noticed him on Jade's Facebook - Hannelore actually had his status feed hidden on the homepage, and never took the time to look deeply into it until she looked up his address today. Her eyes went right to that, completely overlooking his relationship status.

"Do you live here by yourself, Jade? It seems expensive to live in an apartment in college," Curiosity was setting in now.


Jade opened up the refrigerator and got out the filtered water, pouring a glass.
He put it on the coffee table in front of the sofa and went back to the microwave, which beeped right after Hannah asked her question.

As he pulled out the dinner and got a fork, he answered her. "I'm by myself."
He turned and brought the dinner over, laying it too on the coffee table in front of the eighteen year old.
He sat in a chair beside the table, not wanting to sit right next to her at this moment in time, preferring to be across from her, so he could watch her, maybe convince her to eat by simply eying her.

"I got a job, my parents pay for the tuition, and I just have to pay for the apartment and food."
He had a job when he was in highschool too. He had quite a lot of money saved up, actually. He'd saved almost everything, so he could get away.

While he considered himself fairly easy-going, one of his goals was just to get away from highschool, and everything related to it. His parents. His fake friends. He liked where he was now, separated from them. Where they couldn't hold him back. His parents, mainly. There was nothing wrong with them, he just felt burdened by them most of the time.

"Please eat."


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Hannah's eyes followed the food as Jade placed it on the coffee table, and unsurprisingly there was no reaction from her stomach. No grumbles, no salivating, nothing. She picked up the fork and carefully picked around the food; turkey breast, mashed potatoes with some gravy, and corn.

She raised her head to meet Jade's eyes when he spoke about his finances. Even if she didn't want to eat, Hannah did want to be involved in the conversation. Before everything went to hell, she had a job for a short while in a video game store. Some days she missed work, and others she didn't. Money was always nice though, and she remembered there was still $10 in her jeans pocket. "What kind of job is it? I remember you were working in high school, you worked a lot man."

Unlike her life, Jade's life went well. His parents were always nice, at least when Hannah saw them. Her's just yelled at her or flat out ignored her most days; she was almost sure they wanted her to get well, and that they loved her. They had a funny way of showing it though. Hannah stabbed a kernel of corn. Jade had a job, something she couldn't keep once she got sick. If he was Mr. Awesome, then she was Ms. Pathetic. She stabbed another corn kernel.

"Please eat," Jade asked her. It was probably more of a straight command, but Hannah took it as a suggestion. The fork scraped under the corn, and she took a bite. She made a mental note to eat at least half, and slowly worked on the meal. "Thank you, by the way."


"It's because I worked that I'm able to be here now instead of living at home," he explained.

His green eyes watched her pick at the food. This was going to be hard.
"But I'm just an office monkey now. I file things, pass papers around, make coffee. That sort of thing."

He clasped his hands together, his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward.
"Your parents don't know you're here.... Do they?"

His eyes went to the bookbag. Was she planning on staying here?
He didn't want to be rude. He didn't want to kick her out, but...
Her problems weren't bad. They weren't horrible. Her parents weren't abusive or anything. She just took everything too seriously.
Why couldn't she just get over it?
He had.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: "Oh," she replied. Taking a bite of turkey, Hannah contemplated making a banana joke, or even a gopher joke. She decided that would be stupid, and resumed chewing.

Hannah swallowed, "No. Although they would probably be relieved. No more payments to the therapist. I dunno... they'll probably call my phone or something," Mumbling, she added, "Fuckers."

She could see his eyes dart to her backpack, and it sunk that spontaneously showing up in Jade's life may have not been the best course of action. A little late for that revelation now. Hannah wanted to be him though, wanted to have that okay life. She couldn't go back. Not when she found somewhere she felt alright.

"I.. uh... It was stupid of me to come here, wasn't it? You have a nice job, probably great friends and a good girlfriend, an education. I'm just going to fuck it up." She let the fork drop back onto the plate, her tiny appetite diminished.


He immediately averted his eyes, his right hand scratching the back of his head.
"No, I don't have a girlfriend... And. It's okay..." He said, hesitantly, somewhat embarrassed.

"I just. Didn't expect you.." He had to think of his words. He was probably upsetting her.

"But you can stay if you want. If I had known you were coming, I would've.. Made the place look nicer.. Or something." He forced a smile, and looked back to her, quickly coming back to reality.

"Why did you try to kill yourself, Hanners?"
He put his elbows back on his knees, watching her.

Why would she unless something happened?
Were her parents really that bad?
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D e l i r i o u s wrote: She giggled as Jade stumbled for words, swearing she could see a hint of pink in his cheeks. Even when they were kids, she found it amusing to make people slightly embarrassed. Her dad would tell her she had an uncanny knack for it. Hannah realized it was the first time she laughed in weeks. It was a relief.

Hannah gained control of her giggling when Jade started talking about the apartment. "When I'm on my upside I can clean, and even cook. I don't really have money, and I'm not sure how well I can hold a job, but I can help in other ways. When I'm high and manic I don't wreck things. I just get a ADD and jump from thing to thing. I do my best cleaning like that, actually."

His last question hit her like a punch, and she visibly retracted into the couch. Her therapist would ask her that from time to time, and every time she would freak out. She resisted the urge to snap, and settled for biting the inside of her cheek.

My tea's gone cold I'm wondering why I..
got out of bed at all..

"I.. was raped. At a party that someone in class had," Hannah started sobbing, "I... tried to... overdose. Sleeping pills and whiskey."


It was good to see her smile. Even he could realize that was an accomplishment.
Even though he couldn't understand why she was so down, it looked like she was definitely worse than she was when he had left.

She started explaining what she could do. Clean the apartment, get a job... Really, she must've been intent on living here. What was he going to do? He couldn't keep Cory at bay forever. He wasn't sure he could have a flatmate for too long. Cory practically lived with him here.

Jade couldn't go over to Cory's... The guy, although older than him, still lived with his parents. It made Jade anxious, even though they were accepting of their relationship. He wasn't entirely convinced it would be okay to be there. Though, Jaden had never actually met Cory's parents. He just trusted Cory.

He was thrust out of his thoughts when she told him why she'd tried to off herself.

I... Was raped.

That got his attention.
He stared, unbelieving. Why would anyone want to rape her?
Not because she wasn't attractive, but it was just... Unreal. He didn't picture any of that actually happening to anyone he knew.

"Who was it?" He pressured. His voice was vindictive.
"Do I know him?"
I'll kill the bastard, he thought.

Jade may have been gay, but he certainly wasn't effeminate. Hannah and he had been close when they were together. Though it was touch and go, he sort of saw himself as an older brother.

While he may not have been the strongest kid in school, he had played soccer. He could kick the kid's face in.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Hannah shook her head no, trying to bury into the couch. She had never said those words out loud before, and they were wrecking her. Her body was shivering. It was similar to a drug withdrawal.

"I don't know.. I don't.." The words escaped between sobs, whiny and pathetic. "Drink.. was drugged.. football player? No one.." Her fists clenched around the edge of the cushion, ".. saw.."

The night was hazy in her head. Hannah had been standing near a door, possibly a bedroom door. The girl who was throwing the party said her parents were gone for the weekend and the whole class was invited over. Hannah's mom was happy her daughter was being social with what she called a 'good group of kids'. Not that Jade wasn't good, but he was older than her. A few guys came up to her, one handed her a drink. She blacked in and out, until she felt herself on a bed with one of the guys screwing her, calling her names. He put a Halloween mask on before he started.

Hannah became a recluse after that, and didn't speak a word about what happened. A few days later she swallowed a handful of pills and downed the bottle of whiskey. Her mother found her on the floor.

The only think she clearly remembered about that week was her stomach being pumped.


Jade didn't know if he should go over to comfort her.
He hesitated.
This was for real, though. She wouldn't make this up.
There was no doubt in his mind that she had been raped.
Why?

"I'm so..."

He came over to her anyway, kneeled between her and the coffee table, and hugged her.
"I'm so, so sorry..."

He didn't know what else to say.
He held her for a while. Let her cry. He pet her head, combing his fingers through her hair.
After a few minutes passed, he whispered the next question.
He had to know.
"Do your parents know...?"


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Hannah felt Jade's arms wrap around her, heard his apologies in his ears. All she could do was cry into his shoulder as he finger combed her hair.

She wanted to say it wasn't his fault. He wasn't there, and even if he was there was little he could do. Even the police couldn't find the kid; he didn't finish in her and they claimed they didn't have enough of a DNA sample. Hannah was out of school for a month, and returned later when she was "okay enough".

But she couldn't say anything.

She heard him whisper the question. It took a few minutes, mainly to get her crying under some control, before she could answer. "N-no.. they think it was stress from school. I... tried telling my mom once, but she didn't want to hear more drama from me."

Her mother. The woman was more upset at her reputation being ruined when they pulled into the therapist's office than her daughter attempting to commit suicide. Hannah didn't know why her attitude suddenly switched.


Jaden squeezed her harder.

"When?"

He didn't know how to handle this stuff. This sort of thing had never happened to him before.
He didn't know the right words to say. He didn't know how to make her feel better, other than to just... Be there.

"I'll tell her. I'll tell your mom. They have to do something."


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Jade could have squeezed her to death and Hannah still would have felt safe. Was it sad that she craved someone's touch this much?

"November of freshman year," she mumbled.

It dawned on Hannah that perhaps Jade was not the best person to be unloading on. Frankly, she didn't know who to tell. Her therapist was only helping her because her parents were paying him. At least, that's how she felt. Her parents didn't want the drama. The little friends she had probably wouldn't understand, or thought she was a freak for trying to off herself. Hannah didn't really hang out with them much outside of class anyways.

She was lost.

I'll tell her. I'll tell your mom. They have to do something.

"No!" Hannah pulled away from him with a scared look in her eyes. "Please.. not yet. I'm..." 'I'm not sure they'll believe me.' ".. I'll figure something out."


Jade pulled away when she did, looking up at her from the floor.

Freshman year. That was almost three years ago. Had she been bottling in that long?
Three years a go. What was he doing then? Was he at that party? Could he have done something?

It seemed pointless to tell her parents now, three years later.

"Why didn't you tell anybody, Hannah?"

He brought his hand to his face, fingerbrushing his hair anxiously, debating what to do.

"Why did you keep it bottled up?"


D e l i r i o u s wrote: She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Hannah stared at the seat cushion. 'Why did I keep it a secret? Why?' She was still crying, but not as loudly now.

She swallowed hard and shrugged her shoulders, "Honestly.. would anyone have believed me? You remember the popular kids there. They were rich, probably could pay their way out of anything."

Anger was boiling inside her, but it didn't show physically.


He snorted. "That's no excuse..."

He looked away and got up, going back to the kitchen.
It was evident she was staying here, whether he liked it or not. He wouldn't be able to throw her out. Not even if she was overreacting to something stupid - which she wasn't. It was somewhat of a delayed reaction, but it was warranted at least.

He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a beer, unscrewing it and taking a drink. He didn't know if Hannah knew he drank, but.. Well. He hoped she really didn't care. It's not like he was getting drunk or anything.

He stayed in the kitchen, eying his bottle. Trying to think of something witty to say. He scratched his head.
"I only have one bed, but.. I can go buy an air mattress or something..."
He valued his own sleep too much to offer to sleep on the couch himself, but he didn't want to make her sleep there, either...


D e l i r i o u s wrote: That's no excuse...

"No.. excuse?" Hannah couldn't decide if she wanted to run over and punch him or.. she didn't know what. "Jade, don't be a fucking idiot. What did you want me to do? Shout it from the rooftops?" She crossed her arms and looked away from him, "You were too busy with what's-her-face anyways."

It probably wasn't the best idea to get mad at her host. Jade probably had a point, but Hannah wasn't going to hear it right now. She glanced over when he took the beer out of the fridge. Her therapist forbade her to touch alcohol after what she did. Right now though, Hannah wanted one.

"I'll sleep on the couch. You don't have to buy anything for me."

She chewed on her lip for a moment, trying to make herself sound less angry. "May I have a beer?"


Jade tapped his beer on the counter, holding back a groan.
"And what do you want me to do, Hannah? It's not like I've ever dealt with this type of thing before. I'm a guy."

That probably wasn't the wisest thing to say, but he really wasn't sure how he was supposed to react in this situation. If it had just happened, he could've taken her to the cops, got her tested, things like that. But this was three years ago.
Yes, it was serious. But it was still crying over spilled milk. What were they supposed to do?

He scratched his head, pulling at his thick hair before taking another sip.
"No, you can't," he said boldly.

He looked up from his selected vision, across the way at her, and the coffee table still with the mostly untouched TV Dinner on it.

"Not until you finish the dinner, anyway," he begrudgingly added.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Hannah couldn't help but be sarcastic when he said that. She in her seat to face him, "I'm sorry your lack of a vagina prevents you from completely understanding my predicament. There is such a thing as male rape. Try it sometime."

Obviously, she wasn't serious about that. Humor did make for a good defense mechanism, even if it was rather dark. She could feel the anger ebbing. She inhaled and sighed deeply.

Her eyes flicked to the food on the coffee table when he mentioned dinner. It was probably lukewarm by now. "Alright. Although what was my alternative? Your bed? Heh." Hannah picked up the fork and resumed eating slowly.


He hmphed, not thinking it funny at all.

"Your alternative is me calling your parents," he said, rather seriously.
He brought the bottle up to drink from it, but decided against it and dropped it back on the counter.
"I'm pretty sure you don't want that, right?"

He looked at his watch. It was 11pm already. He really should be heading to bed soon. Unless he was going to skip that saturday class afterall. Maybe he should, considering his new house guest.

As if on queue, the phone in his pocket vibrated. He stood up straight, and took his cell out of his pocket.
So are you going to class or not?

Ha, Jade thought. Cory was on the same wavelength, it seemed.
Jade gave a cursory glance toward Hannah, then bent over, elbows on the table, and quickly texted the man back.

I don't know yet. friend came over. kinda difficult to explain. shell prolly be here a few days tho.

He put the phone back into his pocket, standing up straight again and grabbing his keys from near the sink.
"I'm gonna go buy that air mattress," he said.

He walked to the door, opening it slightly before looking back. "Do you want anything? Like a certain type of food or drink or something? I don't have much here."

He thought a second.
"Chocolate, maybe...?"


D e l i r i o u s wrote: "No," she said begrudgingly.

Hannah went back to poking her food again, hoping Jade didn't notice. She heard his phone buzz, but didn't pay much mind to it. Probably one of his friends that he would rather be with instead of listening to her whining.

Do you want anything? Like a certain type of food or drink or something? I don't have much here.

Hannah tilted her head back to look at him, "No, I'm alright.. thanks."

She returned to her food, stabbing corn kernels again. Every few moments she would eat one, but most were just murdered by a fork.
doorstep 3
Jade sighed, watching her.
He was a little worried, but decided to leave anyway.
"I'll be back in about thirty minutes," he said, walking out and closing the door behind him.

He held the keys in his fist so they wouldn't jingle as he went to his own car, quick to jump in and start it. Not even two minutes later, he was at Wal-mart and going inside to get an air mattress.

What's wrong? You're normally not this vague. It's a girlfriend, isn't it?
Another one of Cory's texts.

After Jade found the air mattress, he quickly replied back.
No. its this girl from highschool. emo problems. im kinda like her brother.

He grabbed the box and went to the register, quickly buying it and heading back to the car. After he threw it in the back seat, he checked his phone again.

Old girlfriend? Cory played.

NO!! lol please stop bugging me about it! Jade texted back, chuckling a bit.
He got in the driver's seat and headed back. He had been gone a total of maybe 20 minutes.
He grabbed the box and twirled the keys on his finger, in a slightly better mood thanks to his little conversation with Cory, and walked back into his apartment, placing the keys back on the counter near to the sink, air mattress box under his arm.
"I'm back."


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Hannah waiting until she heard the car start to get up. She did somehow manage to eat close to half, but didn't want the rest. If she just tossed it in the kitchen garbage Jade would know, and although she didn't want to lie to him, he would be upset if she didn't attempt to eat it all. As stern as he sounded, Hannah knew Jade did care about her.

She peeked out the front door and saw the garbage can by the sidewalk. Making sure not to toss the fork and plastic plate, she ran over and dumped the food. Back inside, she washed off the fork and left it on the counter next to the sink and left the now-empty plate in the regular garbage.

Remembering her backpack with her cellphone, Hannah went over and checked it. Two missed calls and a text. Both parents.

Where r u?!
Her dad, sent an hour ago.

Won't be home for a few days. I'm ok. Hannah typed back.

The phoned chimed softly as he replied. Where? Ur mom is mad.

She sighed, debating on telling him her location. Probably would be better if she told the truth instead of ignoring him or lying. Although she was already lying to Jade about eating, so why not lie about her location? Friend's apartment. Tell mom sorry.

There was no answer. Hannah hoped they weren't doing something like calling her therapist or the police. She just wanted to get out of the house for awhile. And Jade seemed to want to help, even if it was unwillingly. Not like she gave him much of a choice when she showed up. She changed into shorts to sleep in and put her phone on silent for now.

I'm back.

Hannah smiled at Jade, "I finished my food. Like you said."


Jade set the box down on the coffee table, looking at her.
"That's good," he said, genuinely. Unsuspecting.

He went down the short hall to his room, pulling out a pocket knife and a small bike pump.
He opened the box easily, a few quick stroked with precision, as if he had profound experience with a box cutter. It was partially true.
He flicked the knife closed and stuck it on the back of his jeans for now, taking out the mattress and tossing out the roll as if it were a beach towel about to be used for a picnic.

He laid it all out on the floor, then took the bike pump and attached it, beginning to pump the mattress with air. It was going to be a while.

After a minute or two, he stopped, looking over to Hannah.
"You want to try?"

It would give her something to do, at least. If she finished, maybe that would give her some form of accomplishment to be happy about...?

Plus, being active in general seemed to lighten people's moods.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Hannah felt bad about lying to Jade after he said that, but it was too late to go back on it now. Maybe next time she would actually eat more food. Maybe.

Her eyes followed the box cutter for a moment when he returned from the hall, and she was almost scared at how quickly her thoughts settled on it. She shook her head quickly, and instead focused on the inflation of the mattress. Hannah had never cut herself before, but before she settled on pills her mind did think of that method.

She had taken her seat at the couch when Jade initially rolled out the mattress. Pumping was going slow, and he probably had stuff to do tomorrow.

You want to try?

Hannah perked her head up, "Sure. Not that hard, right?" She slid off the couch onto the floor and scooted over the foot to the pump, taking it from Jade and resuming. If anything, she could zone out while inflating her bed.

"Thank you. I don't know how many times I can say that."


He let her take the pump, and he went back to his beer. He took one sip of it and then screwed the cap back on, tossing it back in the fridge, instead going over and drinking the water Hannah hadn't touched.

"Don't worry about it," he answered. "I guess I owe it to you."
He probably should've seen that something was wrong when she was raped. Or something.
He couldn't even remember what he was doing back then.
Her freshman year was his junior. And he had had that girlfriend for a while.
Maybe he had been too preoccupied with fucking that up to notice anybody else's problems.

He took the glass to the sink once he was done and set it there, sitting on the couch and watching Hannah as she pumped the mattress the rest of the way.

"I have class tomorrow," he said suddenly, unsure if he should even be bringing this up.
"It's not really that important, though. So I could skip if you want."

He frowned slightly, hesitating.

"...It's your choice."


D e l i r i o u s wrote: "You don't.." Hannah started, but dropped it. "Thanks."

She was still pumping up the bed, but looking at him now. Hannah forgot about the water until Jade picked it up and drank it. All well, she could get another one herself if she wanted.

The mattress was inflating faster than she thought it would. Hannah felt a little sense of accomplishment at that, not being utterly helpless was always a good thing. Once it was finished, she scooched up and sat on the mattress, amusing herself by tilting around.

"You don't have to skip class for me. I brought my laptop, so I can amuse myself while you're gone. Although, I am going to need a blanket for now."

((omgdelihasminicontrolforawhile.))

Jade seemed relieved to hear that. He got up and retrieved a blanket from the closet, and grabbed one of the couch pillows for Hannah. "Good night, Hannah."

"Night, Jade." Hannah watched him walk down the hall to his bedroom, then reached over for her backpack. Inside was were the clothes she grabbed (enough for a few days), her laptop and cellphone, the pills, and some basic toiletries. Luckily, the only thing she needed right now was the laptop.

She opened the lid, thankful for Jade's open wifi connection, and clicked the Firefox icon in the dock. Jade's Facebook was still open, and she clicked to the general News Feed.

What's on your mind?

Hannah sighed, and typed into the box: All I can do is keep breathing.

Earlier that day, Hannah was grateful that she had added Jade as a Facebook friend before he left for college. Shortly afterward she hid his updates on her Feeds page, knowing he was doing well upset her. Not because she didn't want him to do well, but because she was jealous that he was having a great time and she was a miserable mess.

It was almost midnight by now, but she didn't really care. She exited Facebook and kept herself amused by silly flash games until nearly 3am when she passed out on the bed.

----

It was almost noon by the time Hannah woke up, and it took her a few moments to remember where she was. Sleepily she called out, "Jade? Jaaaade?"

'Right. He had a class.'

Hannah stretched then stood up. She grabbed her toothbrush, new clothes, and found the bathroom after a quick search. After getting ready for the day, she returned to the living room and deflated the bed, taking care to fold the blanket and place everything in the corner of the room. She had added Jade's phone number to her phone when she looked up his address, but she debated on texting him. Finally she settled on doing so.

It's Hannah. Got your number on FB. I'm awake and gonna make lunch. Cleaned everything up.
Ok. Thanks.

She left the phone on the coffee table and went over to the kitchen. The fridge was well packed for belonging to a college student. She found some cheese slices and bread, and made herself a toasted cheese sandwich. Grabbing the sandwich and a freshly poured glass of water, Hannah returned to the living room area and turned on the tv. Some B-comedy movie on Comedy Central.

Her phone lit up. Hannah un-silenced it and opened the message. Sorry? Sorry doesn't cover this. You're mentally ill, you can't just disappear. Her mom was texting her now. Apparently Dad relayed the message.

I needed to get out of there. Look, I'm sorry, but I'm trying to do what's best for me. Please just trust me on this one. Hannah typed back, hoping her mother wouldn't call her.

After a few minutes the phone chimed again. Ugh! I cannot deal with you right now. Hannah rolled her eyes, "You're the one that texted me, remember?" I'm canceling your therapy until you return to your senses and come back, since we both know you won't get a job to pay for it. Nice to know I'm loved enough for you to realize what you're costing me. Goodbye. She groaned loudly, hating to admit her mother was right.

Hannah furiously typed back, I apologize for being such a fuck-up in your life. You never want to deal with me, ever. Glad to see I'm loved enough for my problems to be taken seriously and not just pawned off on a shrink and drugs. Bye. She slammed the phone shut and dropped it on the seat next to her.

She could not wait for Jade to get back from class.
Hannah curled her knees up to her chest, burying her face in her arms. Her mind was racing, and her limbs felt twitchy, like she needed to get up and dance or something.

I'm not sick but I'm not well
And it's a sin to live so well


After Jade went to his room, he pulled off his hoodie, shirt, and pants, sleeping only in his boxers. His left shoulder had a purple/blue outline of a tribal tattoo that would work its way down toward his elbow when fully colored in. But for now, it was only an outline.

He grabbed his phone and gave a quick text to Cory: Going to class tomorrow. See you there?

He put his phone on silent and went to bed, not caring enough to wait and see Cory's response, which when he woke up at around six am, he found to be Will do.

He was out and in class by seven, wearing a collared long-sleeve white dress shirt with faint stripes over jeans. He met his boyfriend there and gave him a high five with a smile, slapping hands together as if it were a great way to start the day.

They didn't speak to eachother until they got a break.

"So how's the girlfriend?" Cory prodded, mischievous smile apparent.
"I told you, man. She's not my girlfriend. Never was. She's just a friend- we lived in the same neighborhood. That's all," Jade griped.

"Oh come on, Jade," he continued to pry. "Everybody's had a fag hag at one point. It's like a process."

Jaden rolled his eyes. "I did," he groaned. "This girl wasn't her. I really don't want to talk about it, Cory. Stop bringing it up."

Cory frowned, a bit disappointed. After a moment of silence, he asked "...Can I meet her...?"
Jade set his hands on the table. "No!"

Class resumed and around twelve they got out, Cory and Jade doing a taco bell run before parting ways. Jade came back to his own apartment, a bag of bean burritos in tow.

Once he was inside the door, he lifted them up, trying to be happy amidst the atmosphere of depression already heavily seated in his flat.
"Delivery for the big H!"


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Not content to just sit still and panic, Hannah got up from the couch and found Jade's dusting supplies. She did mention yesterday that she was an excellent cleaner while in this state, and she wanted to continue to prove to Jade that she wasn't completely helpless.

She was in the middle of dusting the insides of the bathroom cabinets when Jade walked in the door with food.

"I'm in here!" Hannah yelled out, leaning her head out of the doorway. She stood up, grabbing the supplies, and headed back into the kitchen. "I dusted everything, literally. Except your bedroom, I wasn't sure if you wanted me to go in there. What's for lunch? And how was class?"

Hannah's mind was still racing, but physical activity certainly helped.


Jade was a bit confused. She seemed rather hyper all of the sudden. Why would she dust everything...?

"It's, er. Taco Bell," he answered. "Thanks for cleaning, but you really didn't have to do that..."
He set the burritos on the counter and watched Hannah.
"Class was okay. Just a lecture. Like I said, it wasn't that important."

He scratched his head for a moment, then yawned a bit.
"Feeling better, I guess?"

He didn't really understand how her disorder worked.
He wasn't even entirely positive she had one.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: "I needed something to do, so I dusted." Hannah seemed overly cheery, she was almost scaring herself with how happy her mania was. She wondered if it was normal to be this euphoric.

She placed the supplies back where she found them, then went over to the counter to get some food. Picking out a burrito, she sat down at the table to open the wrapper. "Im feeling alright now. Jittery, mind racy, but I'm not being emo."

Hannah's stomach attempted a tiny grumble, so she started to eat.

"What do you want to do today?"


"Well that's good," he replied to the not being emo part.

He put his elbow on the counter, leaning against it as he watched her eat.
Well, at least she was eating.

"I don't know," He said, finally. "I hadn't really thought about it. There's nothing around here to do, really. Just a bunch of bars. And a movie theatre. We could play video games? I have a playstation and a dreamcast. I don't think I have many multiplayer games though... I could watch you play?"

He stood up and walked over to the coffee table, bringing the taco bell bag with him. He had no real dinner table, so those who wanted to use the coffee table had to sit on the couch, chair, or floor.
He chose the couch to sit, though he had already eaten himself.

He wanted to say something.. Like, how he had planned to go out with his friends today. But, he decided against it, instead looking out the window near the television. There was an awkward silence. He really didn't want his friends meeting her.
While it might be good to get social interaction, he wasn't sure he could trust his friends to not make a gay joke or tell her about his and Cory's relationship.

It wasn't as if he didn't think Hannah would react well- she probably wouldn't care - it was that he was afraid of it getting back to his parents.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Hannah scarfed down the burrito, and her eyes were wide in surprise. No doubt Jade noticed her appetite was actually there, and she hoped he didn't think she was just fucking with him about the lack of eating. It wasn't something she would joke about though, especially given the circumstances.

"Well, I don't really drink. And I'm really not supposed to anyways.. considering.." She bit her lip and looked to the side. Jade knew what to consider, she needn't elaborate.

She watched as he brought the bag over and sat on the couch. It was highly possible, no, definitely possible that Hannah's arrival fucked up his weekend. Jade didn't make any mention of it though, 'Maybe he didn't have anything planned after all?' She played with her hands while thinking, since the burrito was gone now.

"Do you have a Sonic game by any chance? That's really the only thing I know on Dreamcast. We could pass the controller back and forth or something."

She wanted to ask who the people in the pictures were. But she didn't.

"My mom texted me today. She wants nothing to do with me until I come to my sense. Nice, huh?"

No need to tell Jade the entire contents of the text, he had enough to deal with by her just being here.


"There's another one, if you want it." He motioned to the bag which still had another bean burrito. He'd brought two. "I already ate," he added on, knowing she'd probably ask that next.

He turned to her about sonic. He liked sonic games as well.
"Actually, yeah. I have Sonic adventure one and two. That's kind of the reason I bought the Dreamcast. I've already beaten them both, so I can just watch you play, if you want. Let me go get it."

He left the common room and went into a closet in his bedroom, digging out the box with the console and games inside. His apartment was actually pretty clean, considering. That was, until you went into his bedroom. Then it was just mounds of clothes and circuitry, papers and solder equipment everywhere. There weren't any dirty dishes or anything like that- so he was just messy, not unclean.

He took the box out of his room and back into the common room, taking it out and hooking it up to the TV. He hadn't gotten this thing out in ages.

Soon, it was all hooked up and ready to go- he put opened up his CD booklet and turned the Dreamcast on, the lid opened.
"Which one do you want to play?" He asked.

He had intentionally ignored the comment about her mom.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: "I'm actually kind of full from the first one," Mostly true. Hannah's stomach had shrunk from not eating very often, nor large amounts when she did. "Maybe I'll eat it later."

Hannah watched Jade disappear down the short hall into his bedroom. She had never seen the inside, but given the cleanliness of the rest of the apartment, it was probably just as clean inside. She almost wanted to take a peak before when she was cleaning, then decided against it. Somehow, Hannah figured he would know if she did.

Which one do you want to play?

In Hannah's childhood, she never owned a Sega system. Her older cousin did though, and they would spend long afternoons playing Sonic the Hedgehog 2. That was the only Sonic game she played though. "Uh.. One I guess. Probably should start from the beginning. Is it like Sonic 2?"

---

Outside of the apartment, Jade's friend Sam was walking by. She hadn't intentionally meant to go over to Jade's, actually she was heading downtown to pick up some groceries for her and her roommate. Her mind changed when Cory texted their group saying Jade was being anti-social today, something Jade never was. He mentioned something about a girl being at Jade's place.

'Weird of Jade to have a mystery girl here. Maybe Cory was right.. secret girlfriend?' Sam laughed, Jade was pretty into men, and it was highly unlikely he was hiding a girl.

Laughing at the absurdity of Jade having a girlfriend, Sam walked up the steps and knocked on Jade's door. "Jaaaaaade. I know you're in there. Come out with your hands up!"


Jade chuckled as he got out the game of the booklet and put it in the dreamcast, closing the lid.

"Sort of. Everything's in 3D and there's a lot more exploring. Less of that super fast sonic going across levels thing," he explained, unwrapping the cord from the controller and handing it to Hannah as the familiar Se~ga~ start up sounded.

Jade got up to go to the refrigerator, but was interrupted by at knock at the door.
Jaaaaaade!

Shit, Jade thought to himself. It was unmistakably Sam. Did Cory send her? That would've been a very Cory thing to do.

He went over to the door and opened it only enough for his body to fit through, so Sam couldn't see inside.
"What is it?" He said, then stuck his head outside the door and said so only the two of them could hear "Why are you here?"

He didn't mean to come off as rude, but he had made it pretty clear to Cory that he wanted to be left alone. Did the message not get relayed?

doorstep 4
D e l i r i o u s wrote: Hannah was about to reply when the door knocked and someone, a girl, yelled Jade's name from the other side. She turned her head toward the door as Jade rushed over to it, noticing he was physically blocking either side from seeing in or out. 'Weird..'

Sam tried looking around Jade to no avail. "Well hello to you too Mr. Anti-Social. Cory said you were avoiding everyone today. You never avoid people, especially Cory. What's going on in there?"

She placed her hands on her hips, irked that Jade was not going to let her inside. "It's pretty warm out here you know."


Jade sighed and walked outside, closing the door behind him.
"Look, whatever Cory said, it's not true. She's a friend from highschool, is all. She's staying over for a while. She has some sort of emotional problems, so she's staying with me for a while. That's all."

His green eyes looked passed Sam and took in what a beautiful day it was. He frowned, his shoulders sagging.
"It'll only be for a few days," he was really trying to convince himself of that than Sam.

"She's just a teenager that needs to figure some things out..."


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Sam sighed, "Cory didn't tell me anything different than what you just said. It just seems odd that you're hiding her for no apparent reason. You're acting like the girl is green or something."

She could tell that Jade wasn't completely happy with the situation. "Jade," Sam started sympathetically, "You aren't acting like you right now. Obviously something important is going on in there and you're trying to handle it yourself, which doesn't seem to be going that well. Please let me help. I'm a girl, she can probably relate to me somehow."

Sam, who double-majored in engineering and psychology (the group joked that she was a glutton for punishment), always tried to help people solve their problems. It was kind of a fault with her, but she hated seeing people upset.


Jade appreciated the effort, but grimaced.
"Nobody from my hometown knows, or even suspects, that I'm gay. That's the only reason. I just... I mean, no offense, but I really don't think you guys are able to keep that sort of thing secret. And if my parents found out, I'd be dead. I'm only so open here because I am away from them."

He sighed.
"Otherwise, I really would let you in. I swear. But I don't want to risk something like that."


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Sam leaned over and touched Jade's arm, "Alright, fine. But please call me or something when you feel like I can come over." It bothered her that he seemed so uneasy.

She turned to go, and added softly, "You know, I do know how to keep secrets. See ya, Jade."

As she was walking away, her phone buzzed in her pocket.
Did you find out what's his deal? Cory.

We both know he's telling the truth Cor, you're not doubting him. He really doesn't want to see people right now. Just let him be.

K. Sam sighed again. 'Boys..'

---

Hannah couldn't hear the conversation, or see Jade's facial expressions. She sat quietly on the couch, having plugged in the controller herself when Jade first went to the door. The TV was playing the opening theme of Sonic Adventure on repeat.

Finally, she decided to speak up. "Jade? Is everything alright?"


Jaden exhaled heavily through his nose, watching Sam leave before closing the door behind him again as he re-entered his own apartment.
He looked rather down, but Hannah awoke him from his thoughts.

"Yeah," He said, straightening up and looking to her. "That was just a friend of mine... Asking about some homework," he lied.
He went over to the refrigerator and grabbed the beer he didn't finish last night. He had originally intended to get something else, but now the circumstances had changed and he needed some alcohol.

With the beer in hand, he sat down on the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table.
"Ready to start?"


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Hannah couldn't hear the conversation, since Sam and Jade were talking so low. The music from the game was too loud anyways. She also didn't see the sad look on his face, and if she did it probably wouldn't have dawned on her that she was the current source of his frustration.

"Ah, ok. You should have invited her in or something, I don't bite." She watched as he took the beer from the fridge, remembering she asked for one last night. Hannah started to ask for one, but quickly closed her mouth. It wasn't illegal for her to drink, according to the law. Her therapist would have something to say about it though. 'Except you're not seeing him now. You're getting yourself better, remember?'

Her fingers realigned on the controller, ready to start the game. It felt awkward at first, she never held such a large controller before, and she wasn't sure what the hole at the top was for. Memory card or something?

"Mhm," she smiled back at Jade.

The beginning of the game was easy enough. It took Hannah a bit to adjust to this 3D Sonic. It wasn't a new game by a long shot, but Hannah never owned any of the later consoles since she got an NES in 1st grade. She was a champ at Duck Hunt though.

"Hey Jade, who's the blonde haired guy? You have a lot of pictures of him around," Hannah asked innocently.


Jade sat and watched her, sipping at his beer. Ever now and then he'd point out something, give a hint of what to do, what controls she may have to use.

Then she finally asked about Cory.

"Uhh..."
He wasn't the best at lying. Especially when he had already lied once today.

He looked at one of the nearby pictures of them together, both at the park. Cory was being retarded and throwing up some sort of gang sign, while Jade was just trying to take a picture of the two of them, so his arm was at the bottom of the frame. They both looked like they were about to fall over.
If he remembered correctly, they did fall over afterward.

Looking around, he did have a lot of pictures of them around the apartment. It made sense, he guessed. Cory practically lived here half the time. They shared a bed, of course.

"That's Cory. He's sort of my best friend. We do everything together," he finally said.
It wasn't a complete lie.

He couldn't help but smile thinking about it. "We're kind of like brothers."
Cory made him happy.

The 21 year old was Jade's first real relationship, and it still had that sort of euphoric feel to it. He didn't want it to end.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: "That's great," Hannah covered up the disappointment in her voice. She figured when they started to lose touch that he found something else - a girlfriend perhaps. It seemed sadder to know Jade picked up a new best friend. Hannah found silly pride in being his 'little sister'.

She focused more intently on the game, trying to keep Sonic away from the killer whale chasing him. Sonic, against her wishes, kept dying though. She cursed him under her breath.

Hannah glanced over at Jade, still enjoying his beer, "Am I going to get to meet him at some point? He seems like a really nice guy." She did want to meet his friends, see how college kids were in comparison to high school kids. Not like Hannah had the best experience with the high school crowd anyways.


Jade sighed, unsure of how to answer Hannah's question. He didn't want to insult her and say no, she couldn't meet him outright.

"Well I think it's more important to focus on you, right now," he said finally, putting his beer on the coffee table and walking over to Hannah, taking the controller from her. "Let me try," he said.

He stayed standing, restarting the stage where the killer whale chased sonic. He went over the bridge, collected the rings, went through the stage and got past the whale with what seemed like ease. He hadn't played this game in a while, but he'd played it enough that it was second nature.

He handed the controller back to Hannah. "There."
He put his hand on her head, messing her hair up as if she were a child.

"I had a hard time with that level just starting out too," he offered, going back to his seat and resuming his previous stature- feet on table, beer in hand.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: "Mkay."

She watched as Jade guided Sonic through the level effortlessly. If this were any other circumstances, this would just be two friends hanging out. Hannah wished it was just like that, instead of focusing on herself and her problems.

Hannah tried ducking to no avail when Jade messed up her hair. "Hey, no fair!" She stuck her tongue out at him playfully. Moments like that Hannah could swear that Jade was actually her older brother. Those moments were nice.

"Well," Hannah said in mock defense, "This is the first 3D Sonic I've ever played. Although running away from a whale in Sonic 2 would have been hilarious." She was picturing a huge pixelated whale scrolling across the screen sideways, bobbing up and down as Sonic ran through.

The thought amused her, but only until she refocused on Jade's first sentence. Well I think it's more important to focus on you, right now.

That was why she fled here. But now that he was isolating and babying her, she wondered if maybe she should have altered her original action. "Maybe I should have waited on telling you," she mumbled, unaware that she was saying it out loud or that Jade could hear her. "Would be nice to go back to how things were with us."

It took a few moments for her to snap back to reality, and Hannah panicked, "Oh fuck.. I said that out loud didn't I? Shit.."


Jade laughed at Hannah's reaction to the hair mess, and finished off his beer after she started with her emo comments about how it 'used to be'.

"I don't see how it's any different," he offered. "Alone, playing video games. What's it matter, really? Would you really want be hanging out with a bunch of college kids? I mean it's not like my highschool friends were very nice to you."
He didn't mean for that to come off as offending, but it was true- the guys he hung out with in high school never really liked Hannah. She was always the annoying younger one.

But then again, Jade hung out with mostly jocks and other sports player when he was in highschool. His crowd had changed massively since then. He was with much less... bigoted people now.

He sat up, placing his feet on the floor and his now empty beer on the table.
"I don't understand why you have to over-think everything."


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Hannah stopped, and so did Sonic on the screen. "Yes, maybe I would really want to hang out with college kids. Although if they're anything like your old friends, they probably would be pricks to me too. It wasn't a secret that they hated me." Hannah probably wasn't meant to take offense to that statement, but she did regardless.

Symptoms of mania, beyond an intense feeling of euphoria, is increased irritability and hostility. Hannah's euphoria was giving away to that now. She dropped the controller in Jade's lap unceremoniously and stood up.

"Excuse me for fucking over-thinking everything, it's not like I have a mental disorder or something. I don't understand why I have to stay locked up in here all damn day. Isn't part of getting better adjusting to society?"

It wasn't Jade's fault for his behavior and responses, at least not entirely. Hannah, as usual, had the oversight of realizing Jade didn't know how to deal with this situation. Going over to her backpack, she nicked her knit hat and the bottle of pills, and promptly locked herself in the bathroom.

If Jade didn't want to deal with her anymore, then ta-da, she was gone. In his bathroom, but still technically gone.


"You're using the disorder as a crutch--" Jade got cut off when she took the pills and went to the bathroom with them.
His mind immediately went to dark places.

It would be stupid of her to try and kill herself for something this... Trivial.
There really had to be something wrong with her if she thought this stupid argument demanded her to end her life.

He got up, dropping the controller and following her to the bathroom. "Hannah, wait--"
The door of course slammed in his face.

He tried to open it - locked.
"Hannah, what are you doing in there?! Come out!"

He grit his teeth and waited, listening.
He really didn't want to break the door down. Maybe she just needed some time to herself?
Maybe she was just doing this for attention?
He'd done stupid things for attention.

But what if she was actually... Going to do it...?


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Hannah, wait--

Slam!

"No!" she yelled back. The bathroom was small, much like the apartment.

Hannah climbed into the bathtub, and pulled down her hat over her ears and her knees up to her chest as she tried to block out Jade's voice. The pill bottle was forgotten in the sink, dropped in there when she slammed the door shut.

Hannah, what are you doing in there?! Come out!

Weeks ago, Hannah and her father had a similar incident where Hannah stormed into the bathroom with pills; she grabbed ibprofin instead of her mood altering medication. Her dad banged on the door for an hour before leaving to grab the toolkit. He unscrewed the knob, picked up Hannah, practically shoved her into the car, and drove her to her therapist's office.

She was livid and depressed simultaneously. Her hands were tightly gripped around her arms, her hands clawing at her upper arms. She could feel the pain of the scratches.

"Go away!" She choked out in a half-sob/half-scream.

She buried her head into her arms, moaning over and over, "Go away.. go away.. go away.."
doorstep 5
Jade bonked his forehead on the door.
"Hannah, don't do this." He said through her 'go away's.

"Think about what you're doing, it's not what you want."

She kept talking, kept repeating 'go away'... So that seemed like a good sign?
Generally speaking, if they were popping pills they weren't chanting.

He decided she wasn't really killing herself.
He closed his eyes as he leaned up against the door, still overwhelmed anyway.

He had no idea what he was supposed to do.
Obviously, she had some sort of problem.
If she was like this all the time, no wonder her parents had gotten so stressed out.
He'd only been with her for a few hours and she was already doing this...?

Maybe Sam had some insight?
He opened hie eyes, pushed himself off the door as he took his cell phone out of his pocket.
I need help. he typed, Shes bipolar and completely overreacting to everything; locked herself in the bathroom. I dunno what to do.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Sam was sitting outside on the lawn of her classroom building, reading a book while killing time until glass. It was a perfect day for it; not windy, mild temperature, and plenty of shade amongst the trees.

She was in this peaceful stupor until her phone chimed. "Hmm, Jade." Unlocked it, she clicked 'View' on the screen.

I need help. Shes bipolar and completely overreacting to everything; locked herself in the bathroom. I dunno what to do.

That's why Jade didn't want to let Sam inside to meet her. "Fuckin' A. Jade, what kind of people did you used to know?," she muttered while typing her reply.

On my way over now, be there in five. I'm at Sparks building. Sam shoved her belongings into her messenger back and rushed over to Jade's apartment. Ten minutes later she was pounding on his front door, panting from the sprint to his apartment.

"What happened?" Sam asked quickly as Jade opened the door.


Jaden kept knocking his forehead on the bathroom door off and on until he heard the knock at the front door.

Not too soon, he unlocked it and let Sam in, closing the door behind her.

"I don't know," he answered Sam.
"She was down yesterday, seemed okay today... I got her to eat, we were playing a video game, then I guess I said something that upset her. I said she over-thought things, I guess? And she just grabbed a bottle of pills and locked herself in there."

He walked over to the bathroom door with Sam.
"But I don't think she's doing anything... She kept chanting go away before... Too often to actually take the pills..." He said softly, putting his hand on the doorknob and trying it again, as if it would magically be unlocked this time.

It, of course, was not.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Sam exhaled, after Jade's explanation. He seemed desperate and confused, Sam couldn't blame him.

"Okay, okay.." Sam pinched the top of her nose bridge, thinking quickly what to do. She could hear Hannah inside chanting. "Unless she swallowed some as soon as she got in there, it is unlikely she took them. And she didn't take anything else in with her.. Do you know what kind of pills they are?"

Jade shook his head no in response, "No. Sorry." Sam nodded, assessing how bad this was.

The door was still locked, unsurprisingly. "I'm going to try something. Just, stay quiet for a few," Sam gently pushed Jade away from the door. "What's her name?"

"Hannah."

"Alright," Sam gently knocked on the door. "Hannah? This is Sam. I'm one of Jade's friends. Can you talk to me for a little bit?" The chanting subsided, and it became quiet inside. Sam swallowed, waiting for a response. "Hannah, sweetie?"

A minute passed before Hannah responded. "What do you want?," she whimpered. Sam could hear soft sobs through the door.

"I just want to talk to you for awhile, is that alright? Jade is really worried about you." Sam's plan was to keep Hannah talking until she would come out. If Hannah had to keep answering

"Jade doesn't care! He thinks I'm acting like a big baby!" Sam could hear Hannah slamming her fists against the sides of the tub. "Wah wah wah!"

Sam knelt closer to the bottom of the door so her voice could be heard better. "No one out here thinks you're being a baby. Jade is just scared for you, and he isn't sure of how to help you at times. And you want him to help you get better, right?" Sam's tone of voice was similar to a motherly coo.

She heard sniffling from inside, "I'm not overreacting.. why are you here?"

"To help you. I have some more experience with this than Jade does, and I'm trying to help him help you. But to do that you need to help us understand why you're so upset right now. Why did Jade's comment make you upset?"

Hannah was still clenching her arms, realizing she was causing pain to herself. She loosened her grip, looking at the scratches on her arm. "Ow.. He doesn't think my problems are serious and thinks I over-think everything, because I'm mad he shut me out of his life. I'm not just being emo and dramatic. I'm fucked up and.. and.." Hannah was crying again.

"I know your problems are real. I'm not sure what caused this initially, and its up to you if you want to share, but we're here to make it okay. I'm going to guess you haven't been taking your medication, which is fine right now," Sam was greeted with silence again.

"Hannah, I need to know, why did you take the pills with you to the bathroom?" Sam could hear her mumble something. "You need to speak up, sweetie."

"I dunno.." Hannah mumbled louder. "I just did."

Sam didn't want to ask the next question, but it needed to be asked. "Were you planning on doing something bad to yourself with them?" She held her breath, waiting for an answer.

Inside, Hannah looked over at the sink from the bathtub. She hadn't really contemplating suicide again since she stopped taking her medication, and only when she was in a deep depression. "No," she whimpered.

Sam sighed with deep relief. She looked at Jade, then back to the door. "Hannah, can you open the door for me?" More mumbling came from under the door. "Hannah, sweetie, you're mumbling again. I can't hear you."

"I don't wanna come out. Jade's gonna be mad at me and say I'm being irrational or something," Hannah repeated a little more clearly.

"No one out here is mad at you. We just want you to to come out here so we know you're okay." Sam rested her head against the door in thought, listening to Hannah sobbing inside. Even though Hannah wasn't planning to take them, Sam still wanted to separate her from the container of pills in case she decided to do something irrational. An idea sparked in her head, "Will you come out if Jade said he wasn't mad at you?"

"Maybe."

"Alright," said Sam. She looked up at Jade waiting for him to speak.

((edited because I did something before that I didn't want to do yet.))


Jade stepped back, watching Sam talk to the door. When Hannah started acting like a baby, Jade sighed heavily and leaned against the wall near to the door, putting a hand on his face.

He felt like a father already. He felt guilty that that was her impression of him, but the more she and Sam talked, the more he just didn't understand why she thought like this. It was irrational; unreal. He guessed psychology wasn't his strong suite.

He shook his head silently, the guilt overriding his other feelings.

When Sam called him out, told him to say he wasn't mad, he wanted to look at her and say 'but she is acting like a baby.'
What gave Hannah the right to act like this when normal people in society would be treated horribly for the same? It was behavioral therapy for everyone. Just because she took a little longer to learn it didn't mean she was incapable and needed special privileges.

"I'm not mad at you," jade finally said, flatly.
He wasn't too enthusiastic about this.

He looked to Sam, wary.
Jade was concerned, guilty, but he still didn't understand why they were coddling Hannah.
You treat babies like babies.
You treat eighteen year olds like adults.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: "Liar!" Hannah spat back. She picked up the closest thing around her - a bar of soap - and flung it at the door. Chunks of soap stuck to the middle of the door.

Sam groaned, "Do I really need to counsel both of you?" She stood up and faced Jade, "You do realize we're trying to get her out of the bathroom, right? Not make her even angrier and more upset."

Sam's gaze wandered around, "Well, this isn't working anymore. Uhhh, plan B, plan B.." She had expected her original plan to work, and now it had no chance. Her classes taught her to make a suicidal person feel safe and comfortable, take away the means, and then go from there. People suffering from manic-depressive disorder often made irrational decisions and, to use Jade's line of thinking as far as he told her, to over-react.

Plan B.

"I need a screwdriver," Sam commanded.


Jade flinched when the bar of soap hit the door.

Really?

He thought to himself, holding back yelling at her.

He didn't need her damaging his place. Unless she figured out how she was going to pay for it.

He crossed his arms over his chest and continued to lean against the wall, watching Sam like a hawk.
"No," He said. "I think we should leave her in there until she calms herself down. If she wants to be alone, then fine. Let's just leave her alone."


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Sam rolled her eyes and grabbed Jade's arm, roughly pulling him back into the living room area. "Come here, now!"

"Leaving her alone is the absolute worst thing we can do right now. Regardless if she's in a manic or depressive state she is still at risk for killing herself. Even if Hannah says she is not going to do anything with the pills, she can change her mind and swallow a whole bunch on impulse. It is going to be a lot easier to clean up soap and reattach a door than it is going to be dealing with a dead body," she whispered harshly.

"This isn't a petty temper tantrum she's throwing. If you wanted to just leave her alone you shouldn't have called me. I am going to get her out of that bathroom one way or another, and you need to help me do that."

Her hand pointed toward the closet, "Screwdriver.. now, Jade."


Jade was uncharacteristically pulled from him place into the common room, where he was scolded by Sam.

"Maniac depressed or not," he said, clearly not understanding any of the pathology behind the terms, "if she decides to kill herself we'll take her to the hospital then. I doubt she's going to do anything. This looks just like a temper tantrum to me. If she wants to kill herself over nothing, then let her get her stomach pumped. Maybe the reason she acts this way is because people coddle her too much, eh?"

Jaden hmped and ran his hand through his hair.
"I called you because I was confused. I'm still confused. But I doubt she'll kill herself now, so I really don't think we should entertain her tantrum."


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Sam snorted and dropped her arm, "How can we take her to the hospital if we can't open the door, genius? If that was Cory in the bathroom I bet you wouldn't be acting like this."

Realizing she wasn't going to get help from Jade, Sam left him in the living room and went into his bedroom. Jade was probably going to protest her being in there, but that didn't matter to Sam at the moment. Her eyes flicked around until they found a toolkit on the shelf in his partially opened closet. She grabbed it and headed back to the bathroom door.

Sam quickly snapped together the screw driver and knelt in front of the door knob, unscrewing the screws holding the knob together. Once they were free and both sides of the knob fell down, Sam opened the door.

Hannah was staring at her in shock. Sam noticed the pills in the sink and the soap on the floor, 'Well, at least mess she made was clean.' She leaned her one arm onto the tub, extended a hand, and addressed Hannah. "Are you going to get out now?"


Jade rolled his neck on his shoulders. "I'd knock the door down if she actually took the pills."
If that was Cory in the bathroom I bet you wouldn't be acting like this.

"That's not true. I'd be doing the same thing-- Hey!"
Sam, at that point, had left to go to his bedroom.

Jade had thrown a lot of parties in his time here. Having his own apartment, that was kind of a must in college. So it was no surprise Sam would know where everything was. It wasn't exactly as if Jade had kept things private from people. It was more so the ethics of the thing.

We went to follow her, to protest, but she'd already found what she was looking for and was on her way out. He glared over her shoulder as she unscrewed the doorknob, saying in a low voice "I really don't think this is a good idea."

Jaden brought his palm to his face and grumbled something.
"Clearly you're more suited for this..." he said afterward, referring to Sam.

"I'm going to go take a walk."

It was moreso that this situation was out of his control, and he was completely lost that he was agitated, rather than the situation itself.

He grabbed his keys and walked out the door, heading to his car.

He unlocked the door and sat in the passenger seat, pulling out his phone with a loud sigh.
He ran through his contacts, debating if he wanted to call Cory or just text him.
He decided to call.

He hit 'send' and put the device to his ear, waiting for the other side to pick up. It only took a few rings.
"Heeeey! So the turtle comes out of his shell!" Cory said from the other end.

Jade couldn't help but give a small chuckle. "Something like that."

"You sound down. That thing with Sam not pan out?"

Jade exhaled loudly. "I don't know. I left her there. I think I wasn't supposed to do that, but I was getting really annoyed. I just don't understand any of this... I mean. Do you know anything about bipolar disorder?"

On the other end, Jade could hear Cory sitting down, readjusting himself to take this conversation a bit more seriously and give it his full attention.
"Just that they have huge mood swings and it can't be helped," he replied.

"But if everybody else can calm themselves down from fits or whatever, why can't they? She's being really childish."

"I don't know, Jade. I don't know how it works. One of my mom's friends was bipolar. She seemed okay, but I think it's because she had pills she always took. Is your girlfriend taking her pills?" Cory said.

"She's not my girlfriend. Why can't you lay off on that?" Jade argued. "And no, I don't think she's taking them. But I really don't know. I didn't ask."

"Can I come over?" Cory pleaded.
"I wish you could...." Jade sighed again, rubbing his forehead.

"And why not? You're being really weird about this. If it was anybody else, you wouldn't care if I was there."

"She doesn't know I'm gay." Jade mumbled.

"So? Why does that matter? You've gotta come out of the closet sometime. You've been completely open at school. What's the difference?"

"I just... I can't let it leak back to my hometown. To my parents. They would kill me. Literally, Cor. It would be in the paper. They're all about hating gays." He rubbed the back of his neck, then leaned his head against the window. "I really do wish you were here, but I... I can't."
It was obvious Jade was hurting. He was sincere in his words.

"I'm sorry, man." Cory said, unsure of what else to say. "Air hug?"
"Air hug..." Jaden replied. That was their version of hugging eachother when they physically couldn't.

"I'll see you on monday?" Cory asked.
"Yeah. Monday."

"Cheer up, Jade. Don't let some girl get you down," Cory said.
"I'll try..." Jade took the phone from his ear, and looked at it for a moment before bringing it back to his face. "bye." And then he hung up.

That wasn't awkward at all, he thought to himself sarcastically.

He looked to his phone again for a few moments before sitting there and closing his eyes, trying to calm himself down. Talking to Cory had helped, but he still just felt... Completely helpless.

He waited a few more minutes, just breathing with his eyes closed, before he mustered up the will power to get out and go back to his apartment, wondering what had transpired while he was gone and hoping the worst of it was over.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Sam, in her flurry of activity to break into Jade's bathroom, did not see Jade's glare in her direction nor hear him leave the apartment. The only thing her mind focused on currently was the small red-head sitting in the tub who was staring at her wide-eyed.

"Are you going to get out of the tub now?" She repeated, still holding her hand out to Hannah.
Hannah, having no other choice at this point, took hold of Sam's hand and exited the tub.
With her free hand, Sam grabbed the pill container, and together they left the bathroom. 'I'll clean up the soap in a few minutes..' Sam noted.

"Jade? She's came out.." Sam called out. The front door was ajar, "He left. Fantastic. Sit on the couch for a moment, please."

Hannah obeyed quietly, unsure of what to make of the situation that she started. Her eyes were red from crying, and her upper arms were scratched up from her gripping them so hard. She hardly resembled an eighteen year old currently; she looked more like she was some frightened twelve year old. Not more than fifteen, maybe twenty, minutes had passed since she first ran into the bathroom, but to Hannah it felt like forever. Funny how episodes seemed to fuck with time.

While Hannah was on the couch silently reflected, Sam took stock of the situation. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Jade sitting in the car on his phone - probably talking to Cory. Sam couldn't hear their conversation, but Jade looked agitated, and then outright sad.
'What has this girl done to him?' This wasn't normal Jade behavior. Whatever was going on, it was pretty important.

Remembering the pills in her hand, Sam looked down to examine the bottle. Lithonate, a mood adjusting drug that mainly helps with mania episodes. 'Lithium. They prescribed her the wrong drug. She needs one that helps more with depression, not mania.' Well, now she knew what she was dealing with.

Sam walked over by the couch and sat on the coffee table in front of Hannah. "How are you feeling now?"

"Shitty. Where's Jade?"

"Outside on his phone. I noticed what kind of meds they have you on. Does it help?" Sam started planning; if she could take Hannah to her head department on campus, they may be able to refer her to get the correct medication. It was a long shot though, considering she wasn't enrolled in this school.

Hannah shook her head no, "I'm still depressed after I take it, and when I'm not I feel.. dead inside. Like a zombie. If I don't eat enough, I feel sick."

One of the side effects of Lithonate was possibility of lithium poisoning by over-dosing. It is meant to be taken after a full meal, and given how skinny Hannah was, Sam deduced it was rare when Hannah actually had a full meal.

"I'm going to try to pull some strings in the psych department, see if maybe I can get you some better help, or just even better medication. Your doctor prescribed you the wrong thing. You need something more like-" Sam was interrupted by the return of Jade. "You need something like Elavil. That actually treats the depression side of bipolarity."

Sam's attention turned to Jade, "The only destruction in the bathroom is a broken bar of soap and some chunks stuck to the door. I can clean it up for you if you want."


Jaden closed the door behind him, tossing his keys into his pocket rather than putting them on the counter like he normally did.
"No, it's fine. I'll get it," he replied to Sam before actually looking at everything.

Hannah was on the couch, looking defeated and weak. She had obviously been crying the entire time she'd been in the bathroom. Jade's shoulders slumped. Great, he thought.
He'd made her have some sort of anxiety attack.

He looked back to Sam, choosing to talk to her rather than directly to Hannah, who seemed to be spacing out at the moment. "Is she okay?"


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Hannah heard Jade enter, and she curled up into the couch pillow she grabbed while Sam was talking to her. She felt horrible, and wanted the previous events to just go away. She decided not to say anything when Jade asked if she was okay, even though the question wasn't directed at her. Instead, she closed her eyes and started to zone out, quietly mouthing song lyrics to ease her mind.

Everything's gonna be alright,
Rockabye, rockabye
Everything's gonna be alright,
Rockabye, bye bye
Bye, bye..

Sam stood up, rubbing Hannah on the shoulder before walking over to Jade, "She's.. okay for the most part. Anxiety attack," confirming what Jade had thought without realizing it. "Her medication is wrong for her, and I want to see if I can fix it. It seems like she is just going to quietly chill on the couch for now."

She looked back at Hannah, then returned to Jade and dropped her voice. "How are you doing though? This isn't exactly a normal occurrence for you."


Jade put a finger and thumb to his forehead, squeezing for a moment as he grunted.
"No," he said in reply to Sam's question.
"Seems like this thing is contagious."
doorstep 6
D e l i r i o u s wrote: Sam gave Jade a hug, the kind of hug one gives to a friend when they seemed so lost. She released him, then added, "Well, luckily it isn't. Once she has the right medication episodes like this will hopefully become a rarity. Assuming the psych department wants to help some random kid, anyways."

She sighed and glanced back at Hannah, "I don't know what happened to her in the past, but it must have been huge. I feel bad for her."

"Right.. so.. who wants ice cream? Maybe it will make us all feel better." Sam smiled; someone needed to cheer this place up.


The twenty year old sighed and begrudgingly hugged back, relishing the touch. She was like a replacement Cory for now.

When they broke away from eachother, Jade swallowed.

"Only if you drive," he remarked.

Then he looked over to Hannah, forcing a smile.
"Chocolate peanut butter, right?" He said, walking over to her and offering a hand so she could get up.

Chocolate Peanut butter had been her favorite before. He wondered briefly if that flavor was still her favorite.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: "Yay I get to drive the Jademobile!" Sam said jokingly. While she had her license, Sam didn't have a car here; she had to walk, get a ride, or nab a bus if she wanted to go anywhere. She always took the chance to drive if someone offered.

Hannah looked up from her pillow at Jade. He was smiling at her, but something didn't feel quite right. Regardless, it seemed like he was willing to make this work somehow. "Y-yeah," she replied. She took Jade's hand and pulled herself up, suddenly aware of how nice it felt to have her hand in his.

Sam was already waiting by the car when Hannah and Jade exited the apartment. She waited for Jade to lock the doorknob before begging for his keys.


Jade helped Hannah up and mused with her hair a bit.
"Sorry for being weird before," he said softly to her.

Then he walked to the parking lot, making sure to lock the door behind him after taking his keys out of his pocket. On his way back over to his car, he tossed the keys to Sam, who was waiting near the driver's seat.

Jade opened the back door, and went in first, casually shoving things like books, bags, and some stray clothes to the floor to make room for he and Hannah to sit. Once all was clear, he scooched in behind the driver's seat and waited for Hannah to get in so they could go.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Hannah blushed slightly, hoping her messed up hair covered most of it.
"Sorry for being.. well, you know. But, thank you."

Sam observed the two of them as they left the apartment. They seemed more comfortable with each other now, which was good. Leaving them alone for a minute or so was intentional on Sam's part.

She grabbed the keys and unlocked the car before Jade opened the backseat, adjusting the driver's seat and switching on the radio. She looked in the rear view mirror and noticed Jade pushing things aside. At first she thought he was doing it for just Hannah until he sat in the back. 'Driving Miss Daisy now? Heh, cute.' Once everyone was settled, Sam gassed the car and they were heading towards the Coldstone downtown. It was a quick trip, around five minutes depending on traffic and how fast she could find a parking spot.

Hannah trying her hardest to avoid blushing out of the amount of.. well, niceness, Jade and Sam were exhibiting. Especially Jade, since she had really done nothing more than frustrate him when she arrived. She smiled and relaxed, finally noticing how nice it was outside.


"You're welcome," Jade said.

The trip was short, and soon they were at the Coldstone. Jade had been quiet the entire trip, looking through the window, not noticing what Hannah was doing.

When they arrived, he opened the door and got out, then waited for Hannah to come out if she chose to come out through his side, and closed the door after her.

They went in and got in line, and Jade really had to concentrate to figure out what it was he wanted. He hadn't had ice cream in a long time and wasn't particularly fond of it - especially since he just had Taco Bell, and it was an odd mix - but he figured it would make him feel better so he should order something anyway.

He finally settled on a mint chocolate waffle cone, which he ordered at the register, then turned to Hannah. "Know what you want?" He said, wondering if she was going to get a cone or a sundae or something else entirely.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: When they arrived, Hannah climbed over the seat after Jade, since he was holding the car door open for her. It was the first time she had been downtown in the daylight; the bus stop she arrived at last night was closer to the edge near his apartment, and she took everything in in the moments it took to enter Coldstone. College kids roamed the streets. Well-adjusted kids.

Hannah looked over the vast menu and the amount of toppings and ice cream behind the glass case. It was almost overwhelming. "Just a.. uh.. small waffle cone in a cup. Chocolate peanut butter," she replied.

Sam was behind Hannah, and watched with amusement as she, literally, looked like a kid in a candy store. After Jade and Hannah ordered, she did as well - birthday cake waffle cone with sprinkles. Minus the events from earlier, this was turning out to be a good day. Once they had their ice cream, Sam lead them to a table near the window so Hannah could see more of downtown.

"Really, this isn't a bad day so far," Sam said absentmindedly.


"It is nice," Jade agreed after they had sat down. He looked outside, seeing everyone out and about for the weekend.
"We should do something outside. Go to the park or something."

He licked absentmindedly at his ice cream as Sam agreed it was a good idea. They could go for a walk across town, admiring the scenery.

They all finished their ice creams, and went outside, Jade eating the last of his waffle cone as he walked out of the store. Jade and Sam then worked together to point out all the things about downtown, or 'the square' as they called it. The old antiques store, the place people hung out to smoke, the theatre, all the sorts of culture things.

Eventually they walked the whole place and wound up back at the car in coldstone's parking lot.
Jade took the keys from Sam and drove back, dropping Sam off at her place and thanking her for the help before going to his own apartment again.

Once he reached the apartment and parked, he got out and opened the door for Hannah again, waiting for her to get out before closing the door, locking the car, and heading back to the apartment.
"I'm not a total monster, see?" he said as he came in, closing the door behind Hannah and locking it.

He chuckled a bit and placed his keys on the counter, going over to the bathroom and getting the screwdriver, working on screwing the doorknob back into place.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: After eating the burrito earlier, Hannah was slightly worried she wouldn't be able to finish her ice cream. Jade's suggestion of going around town -something she had been dying to do earlier- made Hannah's light up. Knowing that, she had no problem finishing the small cone.

After they had finished their ice creams, Jade and Sam led Hannah around for a tour of 'the square'. Hannah, due to severe lack of money, had to resist the urge to dash into various shops as they passed them. She giggled as Sam repeatedly suggested they go into the hookah lounge, to which Jade kept denying.

Hannah was sort of sad to see Sam leave, although she was sure that Sam would be by again - she did want to get Hannah new medication, maybe have someone look at her.

She followed Jade into the apartment when they got back, almost bouncing in her steps.

I'm not a -total- monster, see?

Hannah bit the inside of her lip for a moment before rebounding, "Gross misjudgment on my part. I'm sorry about the shit I said earlier. Most of it was out of my control. Besides, you're definitely not a monster - monsters don't buy people ice cream," she jested.

As Jade went to the bathroom to fix the door, Hannah decided to get changed into more comfortable clothes. It wasn't late yet, but she liked lounging in comfy clothes as opposed to jeans. Her shorts were on top of her bag; Hannah quickly ducked behind the couch and changed into them. She stuffed her jeans loosely into the backpack and flopped on the couch, resting the back of her head on the arm. T-shirt and small cotton shorts were definitely the way to go in terms of comfort.


Jaden laughed at her reply about total misjudgment.
"I guess you're right," he said as he finished the job on the doorknob, going inside and picking up the bar of soap from the floor and placing it back near the sink.

He took the towel and wiped the door free of soap chunks, scrubbing a bit and getting it all quickly off before he forget and became too lazy to do it later. When he was done, he tossed the towel in his bedroom in the pile of dirty clothes already there.

When he came back to the common room, he noticed Hannah in short shorts and a small t-shirt. He quirked a brow. "Did you just change?" He stated the obvious.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Hannah tipped her head backwards, looking at Jade upside down. "Heh, you look funny from this angle."

"Oh" She started at his question, "Yeah. The jeans were kind of bugging me. What, are shorts not allowed now?" Hannah laughed, unaware of the interesting viewpoint Jade had of her at the moment.

Back when they were growing up, Hannah never payed much thought to how attractive Jade actually was. Short, messy brown hair, well-toned thanks to his life as a jock, green eyes one could get lost in. A lot of the girls in school thought he looked fantastic. Hannah, who was practically his sister, brushed off their comments and never noticed.

But now? Now those comments were flooding back to her, and Hannah could very distinctly feel her heartbeat.

It wasn't like Hannah was unattractive. Many people were jealous of her long, wavy red hair. She was little underweight, yes, but curvy in places were it counted. With a little work..

Hannah realized where her thoughts were heading, and blushed red, ducking her face down. She didn't really think about.. certain actions.. since prior to that night. Her eyes glanced at her lap. Damn, her shorts were pretty short. And thin. And..

Oh boy.


Jade just watched her, a bit confused. Then her face turned red and he chuckled.
"Yeah well you look funny with a red face," he said, walking over to the TV, which had carelessly been left on from when they were playing sonic.

He changed the input so he could watch cable, and turned off the dreamcast, picking up the tv remote and moving to the couch, where he leaned back and placed his feet on the coffee table, flipping through channels. He was on the left side of the couch, Hannah was on the right.

Remote in right hand, Jade's left hand went over the back of the sofa.
"You want to watch anything?" He asked, looking for anything interesting.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: 'Shit he noticed!' Hannah winced. Because fiercely blushing was a great way to start.

Wait. Was she going to actually start something?
That would be insane.
That would be stupid.
That would be.. interesting.

Her feet were near his leg. If she reached, she could touch him with her toes. She poked the side of his right leg with one, "So not funny." Her face toned down to pink, but she didn't really care now.

"Anything is fine by me, whatever you want to watch."

Hannah amused herself by poking Jade with her feet.


Jade was pre-occupied with the flipping of channels, and didn't realize his feet were being touched at first.
So not funny, Hannah had said as she poked his legs with her feet.

Jade looked down at his feet for a moment, but thought nothing of it. Hannah used to poke him all the time to try and get his attention.
It never let up, however, so he eventually put the remote aside and pounced on Hannah.

"Is this funny then?!" He proclaimed as he laughed, his fingers going straight to the girl's sides and stomach to tickle her, make her loosen up.
When she started to struggle and try and get away, he pinned her down on the couch, straddling over her legs with his knees on the couch, his feet hanging off the end, almost as if he were sitting in her lap.

"Can you DEAL with the JADE?" he joked.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Hannah shrieked with laughter as Jade assaulted her side with his fingers, shimmying around trying to get away from his touch. On the off chance she was in a tickle fight, whoever was tickling her had the advantage since she was so poor at retaliating.

She almost succeeded at escaping until he hopped into her lap, pinning her in place.

Hello.

Through the thin material of her shorts and underwear she could feel the pressure his crotch applied, even without arousal on his part. It wasn't quite as obvious on her part. Hannah could feel her face growing hot again; she hoped Jade thought it was because of the tickling, since he was still tickling her.

Can you DEAL with the JADE?

"Depends, can you DEAL with THIS?" Hannah joked back. She leaned the short distance forward and kissed Jade.

Well, that was one way to end a tickle fight.
doorstep 7
Jade immediately stopped tickling her when she kissed him.
He was shocked at first, and so didn't pull away immediately, but he didn't return the kiss at all.

He debated with himself- brush this off or take it seriously?
On one hand, she was his childhood friend. She looked up to him. So this sort of thing was probably natural.
On the other hand.. She was at his apartment. She was sleeping here. She had access, and he wasn't interested in the slightest. A line needed to be drawn if she was serious.

"Are you okay?" he blinked.

It was all he could think of to say, really.
Of all the things he could've expected, this situation was not one of them.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Like most things today, what only takes a small time to happen seems like forever.

Jade pulling away and blinking at her was one of those things.

"Yeah, surprisingly," Hannah replied in half-disbelief. Partly because she didn't think she would actually kiss him. Partly because she hadn't expected that reaction.

However, Jade was still straddling her.

Her pulse was racing, her face was still hot, and her chest bobbed up and down as she regained her small loss of breath.

"Should I not have done that?" Hannah bit the corner of her lower lip. She did that a lot when she was worried. Even though he didn't return the kiss, she could still slightly taste his mouth.

So much for regaining her breath.


The twenty year old looked down on Hannah, his hands to either side of her shoulders on the couch. He watched as he breasts moved with each breath, and she bit her lip.
It would've been insanely attractive.
If she had been male.

"No..." Jaden replied quietly, still unsure of what to say or how to say it.
He didn't want to upset her like last time, but he didn't want to give her the wrong impression either- there was nothing between them but a friendship, and that friendship was arguably dying right now.

Very slowly, Jaden took his knees off the couch and placed them on the floor. He backed away from her so he was not straddling her anymore and then placed himself back on the couch, on the far left side, where he had been sitting before this situation started.

"Let's just... Watch TV, okay?" he said, hesitating. He waited another moment before taking the remote and flipping through channels again.

Something in the back of his mind said this wasn't going to end well.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Hannah sat very still for the moment, perfectly unmoving when Jaden told her no.

She didn't move when Jaden placed himself at the opposite end of the couch.

Nor when he suggested just watching television.

It was plainly obvious he didn't want to set her off again, not after what happened earlier. Hannah glanced down at her hands, which were rested on Jaden's legs until he pulled away. Now they were on the couch cushion, twitching ever so slightly.

Hannah was eerily calm and in control of herself, extraordinary given her condition.



Fuck television.


Before Jaden had time to react Hannah leapt from her side of the couch over to his, now placing them in reverse position from before. She had Jaden by the shoulders.

"Why," she gritted through her teeth, her face very close to his.
"Do you have a girlfriend you're sleeping with? Or is there something else? Afraid of damaged goods? Why?! Tell me damnit!"

"Why won't you fuck me?"


Jade stared blankly at her. He was completely unresponsive for at least a second before realizing what sort of situation he was in.

"Listen to yourself," Jade threatened. "You're 18. You were raped. Why is it so important I have sex with you? Listen to yourself!"

He grabbed her shoulders with his own hands and tried to push her off him.
"We're childhood friends. We're like siblings. Brothers and sisters don't have sex, Hannah. They don't kiss!"


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Hannah felt herself being shoved back, and she adjusted herself last moment to land on the floor instead of the coffee table. She landed hard on the side of her ass; gravity having more to do with it than Jaden's push.

"We're not that anymore!" She spat back. "We stopped being siblings when you went to college because of some pressing desire to never speak to anyone from home again!"

Everything Sam had done this morning was unraveling, Hannah could feel it. It was inevitable at this point. One way or another, this was ending.

"Fine," Her eyes were unblinking, "You want to know why it's so damn important? Because maybe I want to feel fucking NORMAL for once." Hannah's voice was breaking, "I'm fucking terrified of sex, Jade. Terr-i-fied. Mentally I'm all sorts of fucked up. But physically? I can't stop it if someone straddling me like that gets me hot. I am listening, and that's what my body is telling me."

In a smaller voice, she added. "And if there was anyone I felt more comfortable with, it was you."


Jaden wanted to yell at her. Scream at her to get out. But despite what Hannah said, he still thought of her as a childhood friend; a sister.
So he clamped his mouth shut, he held back his tongue, and he waited for his turn to speak.

She had lowered her voice, admitted to wanting sex with him so she could be normal.

"You don't need to have sex to be normal," Jaden said quietly, reassuring. Sympathizing, even. T
This was something he actually had experience with.
There were countless times guys in the locker room got him hot and he couldn't do anything...


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Hannah waited to be thrown when she stopped speaking. When nothing like that happened, and Jade started speaking again, Hannah felt a tiny bit better. He cared about her more than she gave him credit for.

In a calmer voice, she responded, "Need.. no. But not every rape victim is turned off sex for life. And, Christ.. if I was don't you think I would have tried killing myself again after realizing I still had urges? That I still wanted something that was forced on me at an age I could barely understand what was happening?"

Hannah's mind was scrambling. There was too much she wanted to do.
She could just bolt out the front door like at home. Lock herself in the bathroom again and drown. Jump on Jade and force him to do it. Grab the box cutter on the counter and slice her throat. Steal Jade's phone and call Sam. Overdose on pills. So many things could go wrong, and all she wanted to do was die.

She grabbed her head like it would block out her thoughts, eyes closed.
"I'm not normal now though.."


Jade took a deep breath, slowly exhaling as he leaned forward, to get his face closer to her's without actually moving.

"No.... You're not normal..." he whispered, but not in a chastising way.
He wanted to pet her head again, tell her everything was going to be okay, but he was afraid that would be sexual to her, so interlocked his fingers to prevent himself from reaching out to her.

"...But everybody has something wrong with them, Hannah. Nobody's perfect. We all have problems we try to hide. We can become normal by identifying our problems and working through them... Some people have a harder time than others..." He looked away at that particular line, thinking of her, but also of himself and his forced closetedness when he was in his home town.

"...But we all eventually make it through. That's what being a teenager is all about. When you get older, it gets better. Trust me."


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Hannah lowered her hands and opened her eyes slowly as Jade was speaking. By now she had adjusted herself to a kneeling position, her butt sitting on her feet. She was sitting in a town full of people that already made it through. And, if Jade was right, she would to eventually.

There was one thing she needed to do first, though.

Her eyes intently focused on his, Hannah slowly reached her hand up to his face, faltering once or twice before finally making contact with his cheek. Only the lower half of her legs made contact with the floor now.

"I already do. And now I need you to trust me."

Slowly, carefully, Hannah leaned forward and brought her face to Jade's, her right hand rested on the couch arm for balance. "Please.." Hannah pleaded. She rested her forehead on his, letting their noses touch, before placing a gentle kiss on his mouth. She let her mouth rest there, waiting to see if he would reciprocate.


Jade watched Hannah.
He was making progress. She was calm- wasn't freaking out. He'd said the right thing. Right?

Then she slowly brought her hand to his face. He did nothing.
She brought her lips to his.
He did nothing.
She pressed his face closer to hers, wanting him to reciprocate.
Jade closed his eyes, but otherwise, did nothing.

When she pulled away slightly, Jade opened his eyes and whispered, "I thought we just went over that you didn't need to do this..."
It was as if he was pleading. Jaden was making no moves to protect himself, to get away from her.
He was stronger than her, and easily could take control of this situation, but he wasn't doing so.
He didn't know why.

"Please, just do this," Hannah begged, kissing him softly. "Prove you trust me."

Jade brought his right hand up behind Hannah's head, running it through her hair before cupping her head and finally returning the kiss she seemed to be dying for.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Hannah melted.

Jade was so adamantly against this minutes ago. Now he made no move to protest.
Whatever stopped him before didn't affect him now.
Something bigger than Hannah.

She reciprocated the kiss, carefully at first, and then getting more into it as she moved her body closer to his. As late as it was, she was afraid of overwhelming him. No, both of them.

Her hand was still on his cheek, her thumb caressing his face. She brought her other hand up onto his thigh, starting in the middle and slowly sliding it up towards his waist. Her fingers made contact with warm skin; she swore she could feel goosebumps on him from the touch.

Most her knowledge of sex, apart from her previous experience, was from movies. Hannah tried to watch porn once, but couldn't go through with clicking 'Play'.

The hand on Jade's cheek moved to his ear, repeatedly brushing his short hair behind his ear and gently rubbing the edge of his earlobe.

She could feel her body getting aroused, and they were barely doing anything.


Jade felt so... Tired. So guilty.
He had a horrid feeling in the pit of his stomach. He was cold, and he knew what he was doing was wrong.
But he didn't want Hannah freaking out again.
He didn't want the truth behind why he wasn't into her to come out.
Those two things made him break, made him give up.
He'd been whipped into submission by his own fears, and he was giving in to what Hannah wanted because of those fears.

Her movements were... Jagged. She was new to this, obviously. But she was trying. And it was working to some degree. Jade was very slowly, much against his will, beginning to feel it.
He tried to pretend she was Cory instead.
That didn't work. That felt even more wrong.

So he went back to his highschool days, when He had had Elizabeth. His first- and last- girlfriend. Some cheerleader that didn't know any better. They had never actually had sex, but, Liz had educated him pretty well on how to at least please a woman.

She'd grown agitated with him, and tried so many things to get Jade into it, and he just... Couldn't. He was, despite being a pretty normal guy who liked guy things.. Irrevocably gay. Much to break the fairy stereotype.

But he at least had some sort of experience.
Maybe he could get through this, without actual sex, if he just... Took care of Hannah's needs... Like he had taken care of Liz's?

Jade spread his legs, and brought his hands to Hannah's waist, scooting her closer toward him, so she was spread on his lap. He kissed her again, lightly on the lips, playing.
It was the kisses more than anything that got him started. It was mostly his work, and her breath, but still, it helped...
The closer he could get her to elation without his pants coming off... the better.

His hands crept up from her waist, his fingertips lightly dragging across her skin as went for her chest. His thumbs played above her bra for a while, before he grunted and forced them underneath, wanting the flesh to flesh contact.

Yes, he was feeling it now, but he still wanted to get it over with. He kissed her hard, then changed his game, turned to the side. Brought his hands to Hannah's waist again, pushed her to the side of the couch, made her lie down on it. His hands went up her shirt again as he towered over her, his knees on the couch. He kissed her again as he fondled her, eventually working his kisses down her neck, between her breasts after he pushed her shirt up, slowly down to her navel, breathing cooly over his trail of saliva. He'd obviously done this several times before, though to be fair, it was with his own sex, not normally females.

His left hand went to the side of the couch, to prop himself up, and his right hand went to Hannah's thigh, first caressing her outer thigh, than moving to her inner thigh, finally running over the space in between her legs, outside the shorts.
If he made it out to be a game, maybe he could get through this.
If he could feel that she was ready, he'd sneak his fingers under her shorts, try to finish her off. If she wasn't throbbing just yet, he'd start over, and try again.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: A moan was building in the back of Hannah's throat, brought out when Jade pulled her closer to him. She wasn't aware of how, but she left the floor and was now on his lap.

She gasped when he slipped his fingers under her bra. One hand weaved itself into his hair, gently pulling near the base of his scalp. The other moved along Jade's waistband, tracing the skin gently. Hannah could feel the excitement in his pants steadily building, almost resistant. Before she could do more with it, Jade pushed her into a lying position on the couch.

Being in a submissive position put her mind in darker places, and she forced herself back into the moment. When Jade started down her front, she could feel her hips involuntarily buck upward. She was ready, she could feel the wet material pressing against her, but she didn't want it to be over yet.

Jade's hand slide around her leg, then over her crotch. "Ah.. ah!" Hannah cried out. Everything Jade did was gentle and soft, but she needed to be out of this position. Before Jade could sneak his hand any further, Hannah leaned up and cupped him.

"Not so fast.." Hannah was going on pure instinct now; she gently applied pressure to the area, rubbed her hand upward to the button of his jeans, then back down again. Regardless of ohow Jade was feeling right now, pleasure was pleasure. And Hannah planned on taking advantage of that.

She leaned upwards slightly, nibbling on Jade's neck while her hand worked below. Breaking off for a moment, Hannah pulled Jade's shirt off with her free hand, then resumed kissing his neck and shoulder.


Jade shirked back when she called out. It didn't sound like a pleasant yell.
Then, she forced herself back ontop of him, and began to mirror what he had just done to her, with better than expected proficiency.
Jaden's face became hot. A blush was creeping from his cheeks to his neck and parts of his chest.
He wasn't that aroused, though it was certainly enough to do things with, but this situation was all wrong, all sorts of fucked up.

First, it was a girl. Second, he was taken. And heartbreakingly monogamous.
Third. This was like his sister.
Fourth. He could stop this so easily... But he wasn't. Why?
Was it because she was like his sister? Did that somehow make it more acceptable?

She began kissing his neck, and his breath staggered.
No, no. He had to do something.

"Stop," he breathed.
Up until this point, when she'd pinned him he'd done nothing.
Now, he grabbed her and sat her back down on his lap, her back to his face. He sat up, and even if she resisted, he'd hold her on top of him, his left hand around her waist, pinning her on his lap, where she could clearly feel what was in his pants.
But that wasn't the point.

His right hand now free, stopped being gentle, and went under her shorts, searching for the sweet spot that would make her flinch, get her pre-occupied with her own pleasure rather than his own.
doorstep 8
D e l i r i o u s wrote: Hannah was becoming more confident in her abilities; out of the corner of her eye she could see Jade's upper body turn redder with blush. It was nice to see she wasn't the only one turning red.

Hearing his altered breath encouraged her more, and she softly moaned again. It was cut short when Jade stopped her short.

Stop.

She froze for a second before Jade pulled her straight onto his lap, onto the bulge in his pants that Jade was trying so hard to ignore.

She gasped sharply when his hand slipped into her shorts. Outside and inside the shorts were two different worlds; Hannah wasn't sure if she wanted to flee or stay in it. Her breath was short and panting. Both of her hands wrapped around Jade's neck, laced into the edge of his hair, steadying herself. "Jesus christ.." she muttered under her breath.

She gave Jade a series of short kisses, not trusting her breath to allow her to give longer kisses.


Jade continued his work, feeling much more comfortable now that he knew the 'danger' was over.
He returned every short kiss of her's, as well as added more. He was like a teacher, guiding his student along the right path, even if they were scared.

As she seemed to react more and was coming closer, he held her tighter, leaning forward and putting his chin over her shoulder, cuddling her in the last moments before she finally reached the end, his hand becoming covered in her personal scent when she was done.

He kept his hand down there for a few seconds, waiting as she went through her final convulsions before letting out a relieved exhalation from his nose and pulling out.

He gently guided her off him, pressured her to stand, gave her a final kiss on the cheek and then went to the bathroom to wash his hands.

He was relieved it was all over. He'd given her what she wanted without him sacrificing a huge part of himself. But he still felt incredibly ashamed, like he shouldn't have participated at all. After he wiped his cleaned hands on his pants, he went back to the common room to check on Hannah, sort of doubting she'd somehow suddenly have a problem, but making sure she was all right anyway.

"Are you okay?" He asked.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Hannah could feel muscles tightening all over, her toes curling tightly. She was closer and closer to finishing with every movement of Jade's fingers, amazed at how fantastic it all felt.

She was guided to his shoulder as her body started to jerk around. Her movements weren't her own at this point; it was strange not being in control of her body. Her mouth opened wider, wider, but no sound escaped saved for sharp intakes of breath.

Pressure, pressure, pressure, sweet release.

Her body trembled from the aftershock, she held onto Jade tightly until they passed. Afterward, Jade coached her off and standing, kissed her, and went to clean up.

It wasn't exactly sex, Hannah was aware of that. But something had Jade so bothered that he prevented anything from happening to him. Hannah quickly blinked back tears before Jade came back into the room; had she been used?

No, don't be ridiculous. You're the one who started this.. but..

Hannah's thoughts were interrupted by Jade reentering the room. "Y-yeah.. I'm going to go change and sit outside for awhile, if you don't mind."

Without waiting for an answer, Hannah grabbed her backpack and headed into the bathroom to change.


Jade watched Hannah, who seemed to feel just as awkward as he did.
He opened his mouth to reply to her statement, but before he could formulate a word, she ran into the bathroom.

His shoulders slumped and he sat himself on the couch.
Where they had just done something horrible.

He grimaced, feeling disgusted, and walked over to the chair and sat there instead, so now he was facing the couch. Looking at it. Imagining what they had just done.
What Cory and he had done on that couch several times before, but somehow only now was it tainted.

He put his elbows on his knees, and brought his head down, his hands grabbing and pulling at his mane of dark brown hair as he fought back what seemed like an anxiety attack.

He hoped Hannah went outside soon, so he could just... Cry. Or something.
He wanted somebody to hold him and tell him everything was going to be okay.
He didn't need to look after someone else. He wasn't equipped to be this girl's backbone, and that much was stupidly apparent.

He was incredibly disappointed with himself.
Words couldn't even begin to describe how ashamed he felt.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Inside the bathroom, Hannah was fairing no better than Jade. She closed the door and dropped her things, catching herself in the mirror. Her hair was wild, and her face flushed. Tears were forming at the corners of her eyes, and she wiped them away furiously before they had a chance.

"Stupidstupidstupidstupidstupid.." She muttered under her breath, fists balled against her temples. Her shorts were still wet from herself, her stomach had Jade's dried saliva on it, and she felt disgusting.

That didn't make her feel normal. At all.

She quickly stripped out of her bottom garments, changing into clean undies and jeans. She pushed her shirt up with her hand, wet her other hand, and quickly wiped off her stomach.
Nabbing a hair-tie from the front pocket, she tied her hair into a loose bun.
Nope, she still looked like she just had.. whatever that was.

Hannah sighed; she needed to get out of here but she had to pass the couch.. and Jade.. on the way.
"Fuuuuuuuuuuck," she groaned.

Pushing everything back into her backpack, Hannah left the bathroom and dropped her backpack right outside the door. She rushed out the front door, quickly mumbling something about being on the front lawn.


Jaden was too preoccupied with himself to notice Hannah leaving. That was until the door closed behind her. Then he looked up, his eyes a bit red.
When he finally realized that she had actually left, he hit the chair's arm with his right hand, then went back to sobbing to himself.

He debated calling Cory. Or Sam.
He wanted to be with Cory right now. But he had just done something incredibly stupid to avoid Hannah knowing about him... So if he called Cory now, it would mean he had done all this for nothing.

Jade stayed in the chair, pulling at his hair and sobbing, for a good ten minutes, just letting everything out. Why had he brought this on himself? He should've just said no and dealt with the annoying consequences. It would've been better for the both of them in the long run.

Why didn't he just throw her out? Why couldn't he just tell her the truth of why he couldn't have sex with her? Why did he have to deal with this? Now he knew why her parents hated her. They had to deal with this sort of thing every day.

After going through the emotional turmoil for the full ten minutes, he managed to wipe his face, get his act together, and calm down a bit. He grabbed his keys and went outside, uncharacteristically slamming the door behind him and leaving it unlocked.

He looked for Hannah.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Hannah's original intentions was to just sit on the front step and think.
Outside was beautiful, even more so as dusk was approaching.
What happened in there was a far cry from that.

I failed you and I fail

The tears from before were falling down her cheek, she tried to wipe them away so fast she was practically slapping herself. Hannah was so tired of crying.

She needed..
Christ, what did she need?

'Dying would be a good start,' Hannah thought to herself, then bonked her forehead with the palm of her hand. 'No! Bad Hannah!'

She looked down at the stoop, remembering last night -why did that feel so far away?- when Jade hugged her telling her everything would be okay, that he would be here. Even though they both knew that hugging never solved anything.

There's no understanding in miracles

Down the block there was a fraternity house, with a large group of Greek kids on the lawn with the characteristic red cups of alcohol - all the visual signs needed to know there was a party going on. She took a deep breath, and walked towards them.

About halfway there a few girls started to call her.
"Hey! Hey! Redhead!"

It took Hannah a second to locate the three them; across the street from her. They were stumbling and giggling - already drunk. Hannah waved.

"You goin' to the party?" The tallest one asked.

"Yeah."

When the worst, it always comes true

"Oh my gaaaaawd! You should come with uuuus!" She beckoned Hannah to come over excitedly, like it was the best thing to happen to her all day.

She shrugged her shoulders, crossing the street to meet them. Introductions went around, but their slurred words were hard to deceiver once she was closer. One of the girls pulled a Molson out of her purse and shoved it at Hannah, excited about 'pre-gaming' it. Kind of hard to pre-game when they were now arriving at the party.

This was a terrible idea, but Hannah refused to acknowledge it even though it lingered in the back of her mind. A flash of the mask that kid was wearing during the rape flashed in her mind, and Hannah quickly swallowed the rest of her beer.

I am the nothing you have saved

It never occurred to Hannah that Jade would go look for her, or that he was even upset at all. She believed he would just stay in the apartment until she came back in, although what would happen she didn't know. Probably yell at her if he knew she was at a college party and half-knowingly recreating the circumstances in which she was raped. Part of her hoped he would just forget about her.


When Jade first came outside, it already was after sunset.
He didn't see Hannah in the lawn, and he didn't see her on the street nearby.
Jade frowned.
"Hannah..?" He he said, loudly, walking around courtyard.
Shit, he thought to himself. Did she run away from me too?

He walked around his complex, and he didn't see her at all. He was growing worried, almost given up and hoped she would come back when she felt like it, and walked back to his own apartment in defeat when he thought he saw someone that looked like Hannah across the street at the frat party.

"She wouldn't," he growled to himself, watching the partiers. He realized who he saw wasn't Hannah, but that still didn't get rid of the horrible feeling he currently had.

He swallowed, then worked up the courage to actually go across the street and into the party. He could be wild at times himself, and a lot of the people probably knew him or would recognize him, but he usually avoided frat parties as a whole. They were generally full of jocks that didn't take kindly to fags. Or they abused drunken fags. Either way, not a good environment for his kind at a party, assuming they knew. And if they didn't and he got liquored up enough, they'd know pretty quick.

Not everyone at Frat parties were horrible, of course. But when these things got devolved into drinking contests, it went to mob mentality fairly quickly, and it seemed like they all hated fags.

As he walked through the scores of people, some cat-called, some complimented him on his last soccer game, others said some version of 'fancy meeting you here'.
Most offered him drinks, but Jade wasn't concerned with them.
The longer he stayed here, the more certain he was sure Hannah was in this group, even though he didn't want to believe it.

Oh, how disgusting parties seemed on the outside looking in. This was not a scene he wanted to remember or re-enact for quite some time, if ever again at all.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Hannah was beginning her fourth beer when Jade arrived at the party, although she was still using the original red cup given to her. The tall girl, Melissa, had her arm looped through Hannah's as they wandered around the party. Somewhat knowing at least one person made Hannah feel a false sense of security.

"So.. wait. you're visiting who here?" Melissa slurred. They were at the tap, refilling Melissa's beer for the seventh time.

"Jade. Down the street," Hannah less than enthusiastically answered.

"What's he look like? C'moooon. Is he cute?"

Hannah sighed, "Tall, brown hair, green eyes.. do we really have to talk about it?"

"I know him!" Melissa cried, "Yeah.. he's not bad lookin'. Taken though, shame."

Hannah took a deep sip of her beer to avoid saying anything. 'That's why he didn't want to do anything with you, you dumb bitch.' She scolded herself mentally. The alcohol was hitting her pretty quickly - according to Melissa she was a 'three beer queer'. Hannah didn't bother to explain that she hasn't had any sort of alcohol in four years. Melissa slurred something that Hannah didn't catch. "Huh?"

"I said.. I think I see him. He looks like he's looking for someone," Melissa was looking somewhat in Jade's direction, "S'hard to tell though."

Hannah pulled Melissa away from the tap, and from Jade, "C'mon, lets go find a game of beer pong or something. Anything." 'Anything to get away from him right now..'

"Yay! I love beer pong!"

Hannah was glad that Melissa was easily distracted.


Jade pushed by yet another guy telling him to drink something when he thought he caught a glimpse of Hannah's pink beanie. He tried to push through a crowd of people watching someone do body shots when someone grabbed his shoulder and turned him around.

"Jaaaaade!" It was a Cory, a huge smile on his face, obviously already plastered.
"CORY?!?" Jade shouted, completely baffled.

"That's weird of you to be here! I thought you didn't like Frathouse parties? How's the girlfriend!"

"Cory, I really can't talk right now, I'm not here to party, I gotta--"

"Shut up!" Cory played, kissing Jaden on the lips and hugging him tight.

Jaden pulled away, wiping his face. "Jesus christ, Cor, how much did you drink?! Lay off!"
This was no time to be pulling that type of shit.

"Ooooooo!" Some girl let out, pulling her friend by the shoulder.
"Yaoi~~!"

Jade grimaced.
Japanese majors.

Cory tried to sneak in another kiss. "Oh Kaman, J, you've left me hanging all weekend. I know you want it too..."

Jaden growled, shoving Cory away from himself. "Not now, man!"
He was finally able to get away, and jogged toward where he saw Hannah last. He stopped, looked again, and there she was near the beer pong tables.
He dashed forward once more.

"Hannah!"


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Hannah glanced over when Jade yelled Cory's name, catching them in the crowd. So that was the Cory that Jade refused to introduce Hannah to. All she could see was flashes of their faces in between people's heads, talking to each other.

And then the crowd parted just enough for Hannah to see Cory kiss Jade square on the lips.

"Ooooooo!"
"Yaoi~~!"

Hannah stopped breathing for a moment, her feet frozen to the floor. Jade was.. is.. Jade, who ignored his entire hometown, who fooled around with her before, who was getting turned on by her actions as far as she could tell, was taken by.. a boy?

Her mind registered that Jade was running in her direction, calling her name.

"Hannah!" Jade caught up to her finally after dashing over, "I found you.."

Jade was met with a cup's worth of cold beer to the face.


Jaden caught up to Hannah and was immediately greeted by a cup of beer splashed in his face. He turned away, gasping, shaking his head and wiping the liquid from his eyes as best he could.

"What's your problem??" He shouted at her, immediately ignoring everything else and grabbed her hand, running off with her away from everything and everyone else.
He had to separate her from the rest of the crowd.

"Whoo! Yeah! Jaden's gonna get a GIRL tonight!" Some obnoxious jerk hollered. Jaden simply snarled in reply, pulling Hannah behind some building, away from the party.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Hannah opened her mouth to retaliate, but was jerked away by Jade. She waited until he had pulled them behind the building to continue.

"What's MY problem? I'm not the one lying about the fact I had a BOYFRIEND. You could have said that before we did anything dumb-ass!" She crossed her arms and glared at him.

She looked away from him, back towards the party. "Was that your big stupid secret?"

"I bet Cory doesn't even know where your hand has been," she added with a snark, turning back to him with the same glare.


Jade glared at her. He ignored the 'secret' part and went straight for her attack on Cory.
"I did it for YOU, Hannah!" He shouted at her. He was tired.
He had feelings too.

"You're the one who wanted it! I said no, but you still wanted it anyway! I'm sorry I care about you! I'm SORRY I can't read your mind and make you feel better in the most perfect way you want! I was just trying to make it so you wouldn't kill yourself!"

He threw his hands down in fists, wanting to hit something, but administering enough self-control to not indulge himself.
"The world doesn't revolve around you, Hannah! I gave up my weekend for you, I was willing to give up more to make you feel better, but if you're going to keep treating me like shit when I am TRYING, go back to your parents!"


D e l i r i o u s wrote: I did it for YOU, Hannah!

Hannah listened to his well-deserved tirade on her, how everything he's done was because he cared about her. She remembered when they were younger, and how he would protect her from his friends and other people who made fun of her for being small or quiet.

She watched his hands ball into fists, fully anticipating his punch. Instead, just more yelling. She bit on her tongue, trying not to cry. A copper taste hit her taste buds, she bit too hard.

Waiting until he was done speaking, Hannah looked back to his face. "Did you ever think that maybe I just came to say good bye? I realized that now, it's why I've been so shitty."

She looked down; Hannah didn't want to see his eyes for this. "I would leave here, like I left home. And I would kill myself, but succeed this time. I was thinking about finding a bridge," her voice lightened up, "I always wanted to fly."

Her eyes met his again, "You can go back inside, go back to Cory and forget I was even here. Tell Sam I went home or something."
doorstep 9
Jaden took a deep breath, then expelled it all through his nose.
"No. No, we're not going through this. You're not doing this."

He grabbed her arm and dragged her back to his apartment. He opened it, dragged Hannah inside, then slammed the door shut, the walls practically shaking. He went to the linen closet, and chucked her in there, closing the door and leaning against it so she couldn't get out.
Towels and shelves. Seemed safe enough. Who could kill themselves with a towel.

He grabbed his phone and dialed Sam.
"Hey. You better not be at some damn party."

"No," Sam said on the other end. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"She ran off into the frathouse, and now she wants to kill herself." He left the whole being found out thing out. She didn't need to know. Hopefully Hannah was drunk and wouldn't remember.
Hopefully.
If God existed.

"I locked her in the closet but I am about THIS fucking close to calling a hotline Sam. You better have something GOOD on your sleeve because I can't deal with this."


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Hannah protested as Jade dragged her back to his apartment. Even more so when he shoved her into the closet.

"Hey! What the fuck? You can't just put people in closets!" She looked around her, nothing but shelves and towels. "Let me out of here! Jade!"

She shook the doors, letting up when he dialed Sam. 'Ughhhhh..''

"Jaaaaade. I will sit on the couch until she gets here, I swear. I don't even have room to sit down in here!"

---

Sam was in her room when Jade called her frantically. "You locked her in the closet?! Alright, alright. I'll be right over."

Two times in one day?
There was more to this girl than Sam first thought.

She grabbed her car keys and drove over. Locking the car, she stuck the keys in her pockets and rushed into the apartment, since Jade left the door unlocked. She could hear Hannah yelling from inside.

"Sheesh, I leave you two alone and this happens?" Sam hadn't meant it as a joke.
 
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bullet number one
They'll never see;
I'll never be;
I'll struggle on and on to feed this hunger
Burning deep inside of me.
http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii10 ... ySmall.jpg
"You taste like heaven, but God knows you're built for Sin."



'Q', a rather unknown sniper-for-hire in the great scheme of things, is a mysterious man with a full head of silver hair and bright green eyes almost always covered by sunglasses.
One night, he kills a cop named Isiah. Nothing was different about this gig from the others; the deed was swift and Q could move onto the next town for his next job.

Little did he know he was being followed by Isiah's girlfriend, Isabella. On his trail for months, she had hired a private investigator to figure out who this mystery grey-haired man was and why the police had never done anything to stop him or reconcile her for her late lover.

Approximately four months later she finally catches up to him in Bloomsdale, where she ruins a potential gig for the assassin, scaring his employer into canceling the deal, and leaving the man-- actual name Quatre Bornes, or Bornes for short-- unable to make money in the town, forcing him to move on.

But Isabella, wracked with survivor's guilt, has to know why. Why this man killed her mate, what Isiah had done to deserve this, why Q was not being searched for himself for killing many other police officers like Isiah. Determined to take care of the problem herself, she relentlessly confronts the man over these whys until she receives the answers she wants.
But will she get anywhere with a man who clearly has no home or attachments?





....................."I will never forsake you."



But through my tears breaks a blinding light,
Birthing a dawn to this endless night.
Arms outstretched, awaiting me--
An open embrace upon a bleeding tree.


It was in the middle of a thunderstorm. People were trying to get home, rush out of the water and into shelter from the unexpected rain.

Despite this, cops were still on duty. In this city in particular, they were quite plentiful, in fact. So many black and white cars in an area where there was no nearby police station.

Through the rain, a man with premature grey hair covering his face walked by himself, a black leather jacket over his untucked red dress shirt the only thing trying to futilely protect him from the downpour. His entire six foot tall form was soaked from head to toe, his black boots slowly stepping through already well established, plentiful puddles.
Still, even through all this, the man did not change the speed in his gait, nor did he seem affected by the fact that he had become about five pounds heavier from the water soaked in by his clothes.
His black pants clung to his legs as he walked, but the jacket went just over his hips-- slightly too big for him, thus covered his waist and buttocks.

The cops were here because of a car accident. As the grey-haired man walked, a green eye watched the scene across the street-- a three car pile-up, probably due to the unexpected conditions.

Most of the police officers were talking with the ambulance personnel. One or two of them looked his way, but paid no attention, as bystanders were rather common here.

"You know I just got off that drug bust a few days a go," said one cop to another. "I don't understand why I can't take time off!"

"Isiah," the second cop urged. "We all know how stupid dealing with traffic is, but everyone agrees that this is the best place for you. You don't get special treatment just because you stumbled over something big."

"But I didn't!" Isiah, the first cop argued through the rain, a fountain of water coming from the brim of his hat as he moved in anger. "It was planned, I'm telling you-- Management is up to something,I--"

"Isiah, jesus. You've been complaining about this all fucking day. I've had to listen to you bitch about this my entire shift. Why don't you just get back in the car and cool off," the second cop demanded, pointing to the squad car that was parked quite a ways ahead of the accident, underneath an overpass.

The cop named Isiah threw his hands up and began to jog toward the patrol car.
At that time, the grey-haired man had just reached the overpass, and began to turn to walk toward town. The nearest building was a McDonald's, which it appeared the stranger was headed to.

Isiah opened the passenger side door, and was about to get in when he saw the passerby and looked toward him. He didn't say anything; didn't even really care. It was just that innate, human curiosity of wanting to know what was happening around them.

The grey-haired man made eye contact with the cop. Deep green eyes shone through the tufts of hair, almost as if they were faintly glowing in the darkness. A hint of a scar was visible across the stranger's face, and as the stranger named Bornes caught the tired blue eyes of Isiah, he took his gun from the holster at his back and pointed it to Isiah, quickly firing-- one shot, to the head. No hesitation, no time to think.

The shot was only slightly muffled by the correctly timed thunderclap, and as Isiah fell to the ground, it only took moments for the other cops to notice.
Too many moments however, as Bornes replaced the gun in his holster and quietly went on his way, never changing speed, never changing the look on his face.

He reached the McDonalds before the other patrollers knew where to look. Bornes shook his head like a dog's inside the restaruant, afterwards finger-brushing his hair so it was parted over one eye.
He took a look at the occupants of the place, and nodded toward one man in particular before walking out the opposing door of the mcdonald's. Out of sight, out of mind. Quietly disappearing into another alleyway which held a motorcycle-- his way of escape.

Isiah had seen something he shouldn't have. What that was posed no interest to Bornes, just that it had been his job to eradicate the problem.
In no more than ten minutes, Bornes would be leaving this town and heading to the next, looking for the next place he could stay, next city rat he could make happy by doing their dirty work for them.

[[I listen to music when I post, so for shits and giggles and mostly my own benefit, I'm goign to list what song "inspired" my post:
Evanescence - Lies]]


KimiisforLovers wrote: Isabella had just gotten home, to the apartment she had just moved into. She had just moved in there two weeks ago. Immediately, she walked to the bathroom, connected to the master bedroom, grabbing a towel to dry her hair. Wet, it hung in glossy waves halfway down her back, appearing black. Her emerald tank top had wet spots dotting it from the rain - her black pea coat didn’t really help keep dry. After all, it was a city, and she, like everyone else who lived nearby, had to walk every once in a while. Her boyfriend didn’t have his own car - he simply drove the patrol car everywhere he really needed to go.

She had received a call while she was at her part-time job. Isiah had said he needed to take an extra shift due to some three-car pile up in the city. It wasn’t anything too special. Although she was looking forward to going out for their two-week celebration of Ily, Isabella’s nickname from Isiah (Said it was cute how it was ‘I love you’ and fit so well with her name.... It was within the first six months of them dating, and Isabella thought it was stupid, but cute) moving in.

The girl was twenty-two, finishing up her last year at the local university, majoring in Classic Literature and Italian Studies. They had met Ily’s freshman year. He was called in on some robbery at the university - He had been twenty-five, and she had just turned nineteen.

She kicked her shoes off in the doorway. If Isiah came home and saw her walking around in shoes in the house, he would’ve thrown a hissy fit. It was a pet peeve of his. Usually Isabella just obeyed it, but her hair was cold and wet and was really starting to bother her. Her green eyes looked over at the clock, then the window. Like always, worry gripped her. She was always concerned about Isiah, especially in the rain. She sighed, half-smiling. It was a stupid reason to worry. He had been on the force since he was twenty-two, which meant he was twenty-seven now. Ily smiled to herself as she walked into their bedroom. She quickly changed into her everyday pajamas - a pair of red and black plaid fleece pants and a black camisole.

A familiar noise started to play from the living room. Pulling her wet hair back into a high ponytail to keep it off her back, she walked into the living room, going straight over to her black purse. Her personalized ringtone for the police station started to play louder as she rummaged through her purse. It was more than likely Isiah, saying he was either about to come home, or he was going to stay later. Regardless, Ily was excited to hear his voice.

”Hello?” she said excitedly, smiling as she flipped the phone open. Slowly, her smile started to drop, and now a new feeling gripped her heart. ”Wait. What?” Her eyes started to well with tears, and she shook her head. ”No..... I mean, I....” The brunette flipped her phone closed. Her knees collapsed beneath her, and she hit the wooden floor hard. She stared at the window, then took her phone, throwing it viciously against the wall, watching it break into a hundred pieces.

”Noooooooooooooooooo!!!!!”

~~~~~~~

Isabella ran a hand through her brown hair. It was much shorter than it had been four months ago. It reached just slightly below her shoulders. A pair of small black sunglasses shielded her green eyes from the looks over other people. Even now, Ily felt as though people were looking at her with looks of sympathy, even though she was in a new city, one she had never visited before. No one there knew her, and she was far away from the people who knew her, the cops who tried to help her with her grieving.

But, no one seemed to help. The only lead they had had to do with the huge drug deal that Isiah had busted right before his death. The police got almost nothing out of them, except for one potential murderer. But Isabella knew that it wasn’t him. After all, she had hired a private investigator. The only thing the PI could tell her was that it was a hired assassin. The very idea crushed Isabella. She tried to speak to the force about it, but they wouldn’t hear it. Instead, Isabella dropped out of college, one month short of graduating, using the information the PI had supplied her with.

So she had her own leads. The only one, however, lead her to this city. And, from here, she found nothing. She leaned against the bar she was sitting on, elbows on the wood, face being held in her hands. She couldn’t just let Isiah’s death go. His fellow police officers told her to just let it go, but she couldn’t. Ily didn’t have real parents. Up until she was fifteen, she was in a home. She was adopted by a caring couple, but they needed a child, not a teenager. And when she turned sixteen, they got just that, though they never treated Izzy (their nickname for her) any differently. But, honestly, Isiah was the only person she had left.

Frustrated, she slammed a ten on the bar. It wasn’t that much, but she didn’t feel like sitting around waiting for change. She shoved her arms through her black pea coat, grabbing a small duffel bag that sat on the floor. Inside were a few outfits and her wallet, a report from the PI, filled with pictures who they thought the assassin was. She bit her lower lip, and left the bar. Her flare, and torn denim jeans made a swishing noise as she walked. Under the coat, she wore a red tank top. Around her neck was a necklace that Isiah had given to her on their two-year anniversary. She kept her green eyes low. The sun had just set, so the lights were just coming on. The streets she walked on were empty of pedestrians. It was, what, Tuesday, Wednesday? Days just combined together for Ily. She looked up, yawning. But, that was when she stopped.

His profile looked familiar. It had to - she had studied that picture for four months intensely. It haunted her dreams, along with Isiah’s face. She stood in the middle of the sidewalk, watching him from a block away. It was him. It had to be him. Should she call the cops? She started rummaging in her coat pocket for the prepaid phone she had bought just recently. However, she stopped, then started walking again. They didn’t do anything before, why do something now? Ily’s steps quickened, as did her heart beat. ”Hey...” she said softly as she watched him turn down the alleyway. She wanted to run and scream at him to make him stop, to face her and answer her questions. She wanted him dead.

Ily stopped at the end of the alleyway. He went down this way. She knew he did.

[[OoC: Shit. Hope that's not too long. xD Uhm... I hope that's okay....?]]


Dressed in a raggedy pair of jeans and an unbuttoned blue dresshirt over a white wifebeater, Bornes looked much younger than his 23 years, despite his full head of grey hair.

The man pushed a pair of dark sunglasses up his nose to cover his eyes as he took the last drag of a cigarette at the street corner before walking toward the alleyway. Dusk was the time he normally did business. Dusk, night, and rainy days.

Not too far into the backalley, Bornes met a crunched over man who appeared to be afraid for his life.
"Y-you're the guy, right?" the obvious junkie scratched his arms and frantically looked about. Probably some homeless man his new employer hired as an in-between.

"Yeah," Bornes stated, holding out his left hand. His voice was a soft tenor, although grated by years of awful habits. Talented people would hear a french accent almost completely worn away by practical english use.

The junkie looked around again, and seeing no one, turned around and sifted through a backpack, checking for something. Some ruffling around later, he pulled out a manilla envelope and handed it over to the foreigner. Just as Bornes's fingers touched the paper, however, a cellphone rang, startling the addict. He dropped the envelope and scuttled to the phone, in a rush to answer.

"Y-y-yes??" The junkie hurriedly answered, as if his life depended on it.
A moment passed.
He held the phone out to Bornes, just as the man had stood back up from picking up the dropped envelope of his supposed next target.

The 23 year old cocked a brow behind his glasses, and with a hmph, took the phone.
"What's the purpose of an in-between if you're just going to--"
It's done, The voice on the other end interrupted. Why did you bring someone. I thought you worked alone.

"I do--" Bornes was a bit confused, for one of the first times in a long while. He looked over to the opening of the alley, where he saw a girl.

"Shit, I'll take care of it, we'll--"
Bornes was cut off yet again.
Not the deal. You're dead to me. The phone clicked off.

Bornes knew that wasn't good. He didn't know if this man had his own muscle, but if he did, then they were definitely trained on him, right now.

"What's going on?" The junkie asked. "Hey!" He had finally noticed the girl. "She's not supposed to be here. Did she come with you??"

Bornes grimaced and looked to the envelope, wondering what to do with it. In all his years, he'd never actually been caught in the act before. He looked to his left, a dead end. Great. To his right, the girl.
Should he kill her? No, then he'd have to leave town. But he already had to leave town now that this deal was ruined.
His covered orbs looked back to the junkie, who'd already run off at the first chance he had.
Bornes growled and threw the cellphone to the ground. "Damnit!"

He stared straight at the girl. "I hope you're happy with yourself."
He knew to an outsider this probably just looked like some sort of drug deal. So he swiftly walked toward her, intending to pass her and get out of this death alley and go some place inside. Some place with few windows and less openness so he could be less worried about someone trying to off him.
He knew it probably wouldn't happen, but he had a fair reason to be paranoid about it.

[[Framing Hanley - Built for Sin]]


KimiisforLovers wrote: She felt a lump start up in her throat. What was she going to say? She had gone over it multiple times in her head before. However, when his eyes landed on her, all reason left her head. Everything she wanted to say left her. She suddenly felt weak. This was him, the man who had killed Isiah. She kept saying it over and over again in his head, that he killed Isiah. She had to do something, had to say something. She opened her mouth a little, but nothing came out.

He didn’t look as scary as his pictures made him out to be. He looked younger, probably her age. But his hair caught her off-guard. She would try to ignore that - she couldn’t get distracted. ”Ha... happy?” Ily stuttered, a small smirk finding its way to her pale lips. She felt as though her legs would collapse under her, and there was a dry feeling in her throat, and she felt light-headed.

Quickly, before he had even taken a few steps, Ily was rummaging through the small bag against her hip. She removed a black folder. She ripped a paper out and let it fall onto the ground. The wind carried it a few feet from her. It was a crime scene photo of Isiah, a pool of blood surrounding his head. She moved her sunglasses to the top of her head. Tears were forming in the corners of her eyes, seeming a darker green than they had in the past.

”How could I be happy when someone does that?” she asked, nodding to the picture that laid in the alleyway between them. She narrowed her eyes against him. ”Making another deal to kill someone else?” she asked, feeling as through she finally found her strength. She swallowed once, clutching the folder against her chest. She took a step to be more in the middle of the alleyway, taking a few more steps in, closing the open space between them to less than ten feet. She didn’t want anyone else to see.

In her back pocket was a box cutter, though she had the feeling it would do nothing to this guy. Maybe give her some time to run if he tried to do something to her. Isabella bit her bottom lip, harder than usual. Although she had no idea what his name was, she knew well enough a codename of sorts for him.

”’Q’, right?” she said, swallowing again, trying her best to hide the dizziness that flooded her head. Nausea filled her stomach now as her eyes landed on the crime scene photo again. She forced herself to bring her dark green eyes up, away from it. ”His... his name was Isiah. Wh.... what did he do to you? He was a good cop! He only did his job ever!” She couldn’t care less if this guy decided to kill her now. Ily finally felt some strength within herself. ”Why... why would you do something like that? WHY?!” The last one was practically a scream. the folder started to show a few tears where her nails were digging into them. A few tears lost the fight and slid down her narrow cheeks, narrow as if she hadn’t eaten in a few days. ”Isiah was a fucking good cop! What the hell did he do to you?! What is wrong with you?!” By now she was screaming, and she had thrown the folder to the side in anger, papers flying everywhere. But Ily managed to keep her green eyes on the man who stood in front of her.


The man frowned. This girl wanted to make conversation? Was she serious?
He intended with every ounce of his being to push her aside and keep moving, however when she said 'Q', he stopped, and finally looked down at the photo that had slipped.
She started screaming not long after that, throwing a fit even. At this, he winced. She had a rather high-pitched shrill, and he had sensitive ears.

His eyes would've showed a hint of empathy had they not been covered by his own dark sunglasses. It would not have lasted for long however, as he ran through all the responses he could've said in his head.

He decided to go with trying to appear bigger than he was.

"If you know who I am, then what's to prevent me from killing you too?" His voice had a slight hint of guilt, though it was clear he was trying to act indifferent. It was almost cinematic, given the pictures of various other dead people Q had been paid to kill floating between the two of them.

He remembered the man in the first picture-- the Isiah. But only because Isiah was an interesting name. The job was in a city where he couldn't shoot through a scope, and as Bornes's particular specialty was as a sniper, he hadn't spent much time watching his victim. He just went for it at a pre-determined time and date. Under normal circumstances, he would've known a bit more about the person than their five minutes of fame.

[[Framing Hanley - Built for Sin]]


KimiisforLovers wrote: His question hit her. Hard. He wouldn’t stop if he felt endangered or threatened. Ily knew that much. She swallowed, and lowered her eyes, unable to find the right words. She wanted to say that she didn’t care if he tried killing her. She wanted to say that he took the only thing away from her that even mattered a little bit. Her eyes shot back up, fear obvious through them.

”I... I don’t doubt that you wouldn’t stop if you had to....” She gripped the strap that held her bag close to her body. Her red nails dug into the strap, and she was breathing a bit heavier than before. Her heart felt as though it was going incredibly fast, like she might go into cardiac arrest. Isabella was trying so hard to seem strong.

”I.... I don’t care anyway,” she said almost suddenly, bringing herself up a bit more taller, taking a deep breath.

Fear gripped her entire body as she kept her eyes narrowed on him. It definitely was him. It was definitely the person who killed Isiah. If there was any doubt that it wasn’t him, it was gone now. Although there were no sobs coming from her, tears still continued to spill from her eyes. ”Why?” she asked again, ignoring the urge to stamp her foot like a child. She felt as though she had every right to know the answer.


Bornes snorted. She was just here to make him guilt trip over something that wasn't even important.
It was impressive she had gotten this far, but it would not help her.

"Because I don't care, either," he replied dryly, taking his free hand and pushing her aside to walk past.

He continued to walk on without looking back, and on his way to nearest bar, shoved the unopened envelope into a public trashcan. It wasn't long before he opened the door to the bar and ordered a scotch, his sunglasses still on despite him being inside and the sun set outside.

The day would've been beautiful if the mystery woman hadn't ruined it.
He sat down once he got his drink, and eagerly began drinking it, motioning for another.

He doubted that woman would be scared enough to just let the encounter go, despite the look on her face and shake in her voice. She'd probably come in here too, or wait for him outside, or... Something.
And that was something Bornes didn't want to deal with sober.

[[framing hanley - built for sin (this one was on loop for quite a while. shhh.) Assume all the posts below are the same until the next footnote.]]


KimiisforLovers wrote: Isabella, due to the lack of strength in her legs, almost completely fell over when he lightly pushed her. She caught on to the building, watching him walk away. She wiped her face with her coat while he continued on his way. She frowned, looking her eyes on his back. He had walked right into the bar she had come from.

Annoyed, she walked over to the picture of Isiah that laid on the ground. She knelt down to pick up, the feeling of sickness flooding over her again. She turned her head to the right, and threw up the alcohol she had just put into her system not too long ago. She wiped her mouth, shaking her head, picking up the picture, shoving it into her bag. The others, she just left there.

It only took a few more minutes to walk into the bar Q had stepped into. The bar tender raised his eyebrow and looked at Ily, who simply shrugged. She went to stand behind Q, hands on her hips. She had the feeling that he wouldn’t do anything in such a crowded place. ”Just tell me why and I’ll leave you alone.”

It was a flat out lie. She refused to leave him alone. He took away the only thing she had going for her. She couldn’t just leave him alone. Why shouldn’t he have to suffer? Ily crossed her arms, flipping her brown hair over her shoulder.


Bornes had downed the second scotch and dropped the glass on the bar with a thud, turning to the woman who was now behind him. She was acting like quite the wanna-be momma.

"Why don't you tell me why?" Bornes shot back, the alcohol already beginning to take affect.

Before she even could answer, Bornes took out his wallet and tossed a twenty dollar bill on the bar.
He then proceeded to get up and start walking off again.

She was going to be a nasty thorn in his side on the entire walk to his motel, he bet.
On his way to the door, he had already lit a cigarette, trying to drone out her annoying voice.


KimiisforLovers wrote: She winced, feeling like a child who had angered a parent. She was scared now, but she couldn’t let it go. ”Tell you why what? I’ll tell you anything! Seriously, I’ll do anything if you just answer me!” she pleaded, following him out of the bar. Tears started to fall from the corners of her eyes again. She muttered something under her breath as she wiped her face again.

”Please!” she said, her voice completely desperate now. She reached out and grabbed the back of his shirt, not even caring anymore of his reaction. ”You... Q.... whoever you are. Please!” She released his shirt, continuing to follow Q. Ily had an idea of which hotel he was heading to. It was the same one she was considering to stay in until he found him. If he really wasn’t going to talk to her, then she came here for no reason, and the last four months and all that money had been wasted.

Money.

”I’ll pay you! I’ll pay you anything if you just tell me!” she said suddenly, her voice sounding frantic. She didn’t care about revenge. Ily wanted answers. She was getting to the point where she didn’t care about anything, all she did was want to know. But after this, what was she going to do? To be honest, Isabella had no idea. She had nowhere to go back to. She had immediately sold the apartment, and she lost her scholarship when she dropped out of school. And her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Derrico..... There really was nowhere for her to go.


Bornes groaned, taking out another cigarette as he had too quickly finished the first. Why hadn't he killed her yet? She was an annoying pest.
He didn't even understand himself sometimes.

He shoved her away when she touched his shirt, and it was ten more minutes of this shrieking torture before he got to his extended stay hotel, which wasn't very extended considering his stay had now been cut short.

He pulled out his wallet again, searching for the key card. Once he was able to pull it out, he stuck it in the card reader/lock on the door, but stopped before pulling it out to deactivate the lock at the sound of 'money'.

He turned his head around, blank sunglasses glaring at her in the now darkness.
"You don't have enough money for me. You look like you hardly had enough money to get this far."

He grit his teeth, tossing the butt of his second cigarette onto the street.

"Look, I applaud you. You found the great" --he said that word with seething sarcasm-- "Q. I am sure that took a lot of effort, considering law enforcement doesn't seem to care."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes, to reach for yet another cigarette. He was getting dizzy from the alcohol. Perhaps he had drank it too fast? Or perhaps this woman was just so annoying she was driving him slightly insane.

He put the cigarette in his mouth, and made a move to get his lighter.
"Why can't you leave while you're ahead?"


KimiisforLovers wrote:
Ily stood there, feeling defeated. ”I have plenty of money,” she said, looking down. She didn’t think it was smart to explain how much she had. After selling the apartment and everything, and most of clothes, she had a pretty large lump sum. Most of it was meant for food, and hotels if need be. But, she was willing to give it all up anyway. She didn’t need any of it, really. She looked down the road, then up at the hotel. She needed a place to stay. But the idea of staying in the same hotel where Isiah’s killer was staying made a wave of guilty flood over her.

’What makes me ‘ahead’?” she asked, bouncing on her feet, biting her lower lip, keeping her eyes low. ”I have nowhere to go. I gave up everything to try and find you and get answers.” She felt as though she literally couldn’t cry anymore. She kept her eyes low, and shifted her weight from foot to foot. ”I sold my apartment I shared with Isiah. I dropped outta school. I have no family. So what makes you say that I’m ‘ahead’”? Ily choked back on a sob, since no tears came to her eyes.

A sigh left her mouth, and she shook her head. Without another word, she turned to her side. Isabella was tempted to throw money at him, and ask if that was enough to take his life with. After all, didn’t he just kill to earn some money? How much was his life worth? ”How much did you get for him?” she asked simply, her eyes darting up the completely darkened sky, dotted with a few stars here and there. It was difficult to see them in the city.....


And yet you still have tons of money, he sardonically thought to himself.
He heaved a sigh and looked around after lighting his third cigarette and putting his lighter away.

This wasn't some some junkie or mob boss, or horrible piece of scumbag that wanted somebody dead. This was just a normal person who'd gotten mixed up in the wrong things, and wanted answers.

Some part of him felt for her. It was an incredibly small part, but he remembered being a normal person, once. As normal as he could be, anyway. And it was that infinitesimally small part of him that sympathized.
He knew he'd regret it later, possibly even immediately, but after his initial look-see for anyone potentially watching him, he turned back to the door and re-inserted the card key, waiting for the familiar green light to come on and faint click of a deactivated lock before winging open the door wide enough so the woman could follow him through it.

Inside, there was one twin bed, a small kitchen area with a mini-stove and a large bath. The bed was unmade and atop the mini-stove was a crockpot that was cooking some sort of meat. It looked about a day old, and had a somewhat dirty bowl and fork near it.

Otherwise, the place seemed rather well kept, despite the fact that Bornes wasn't paying for the maid service.

In the far corner were two bags. One was a large, dark-green duffle-looking bag known as a seabag. It was about two thirds full and locked shut at the top.
The other, leaning next to it, was a guitar case. Anyone could guess what was inside it.

None of the lights in the hotel were on, and as Bornes walked in, it appeared he wanted it that way. Even still, he turned around and waited for Isabella to follow him inside, arms across his chest after having put the card key in his pocket.


KimiisforLovers wrote: She couldn't say she wasn't surprised. Ily expected that he would simply say something nasty and unhelpful, go into his room and lock the door, leaving the brunette there to figure out what to do next. So, she couldn't help but feel a tiny bit of gratitude for allowing her to go in. After all, she had no idea what to do otherwise. It seemed as though once she was in the room, the last two nights, completely sleepless, caught up with her. It once again felt like it did a week after Isiah's death - the police always had her being watched in case the killer went after her next, she didn't sleep at all, didn't eat. But, after a week and no sign of anything, the police left her alone. She had slept for three hours one night, woken up by a horrific dream with Isiah in it. It was after that dream that she went to meet up with a private investigator.

She couldn't help but feel guilty. Would Isiah really be okay with her going into this room with his killer? If must've wanted the answers as badly as she did, didn't he? She shut the door behind herself, backing up against it. She wanted to have the ability to get away if it came down to it. Though, where she'd be running to was completely unknown to herself.

Her green eyes found his face, and once again, she found herself contemplating over his hair. It was said that gray hair came with stress or life experience. Maybe he grayed earlier because he was a hired killer and killed more people than he thought he would? A shiver ran right up her spine, and she shrugged the feeling away. "Are you actually going to answer my questions?" she asked, her green eyes darting around the dark room. She was begging for a light, though she wouldn't say it out loud. She didn't appreciate it being so dark in a room with a hired killer.

bullet number one 2
The light switch was near the door, should the woman want to flip it. Bornes made no move to, and instead went to the ministove as he took his sunglasses and places them atop his hair.

When he took the lid off the crockpot, steam rose into the man's face. he gave a brief, stifled cough and reached for a nearby towel, wrapping it around his fingers before taking the ladle from inside the pot and stirring it around a bit.

He set down the lid of the crockpot and said blankly, "Cops start at fifty thousand and go up depending on rank." It was a practiced line, one that had obviously been said multiple times before now.

He didn't bother to see her reaction before beginning to spoon the smoked sausage into the bowl nearby. He knew it wasn't an answer she wanted to hear, anyway.

"How much did it cost to find me?" He wondered how much he was worth.
Probably nothing.

[[Paramore - Decode]]


KimiisforLovers wrote: As soon as the guy had turned to look at the food, and scrambled to find a light switch. It was probably like every other low-class hotel room, with one light and one switch. She found it along the wall somewhere and flipped the switch up. The light did the room little justice - although it was slightly brighter in lighting, the room was still dull and boring.

She couldn't help but smirk when he looked inside the crock pot. She hoped the steam burned his face. too bad he was smart enough to use the towel before grabbing whatever was inside it. The smell that filled the room probably wouldn't usually appeal to Isabella, but her stomach only had water and alcohol in it for the past few days. The moment her stomach started to make noise signaling it's hunger, Ily placed her hands over her stomach, trying to flex it under the clothes.

The price caught Ily off guard. Her stomach dropped along with her jaw. She quickly regained herself, though she couldn't find the right words. "Fi... fifty?" she repeated, shaking her head. It was... a large amount, yes. However, was a human life really worth only fifty thousand dollars? Tears started to form in her eyes again, but she only shut her eyes and wiped them with the sleeve of her jacket.

"Like I said, I sold my apartment to try and find you." She placed her right hand behind her back, under her jacket, between herself and the wall. She could easily feel the box cutter that was tucked idly in her back pocket. "I received two-thousand for that. Plus my savings and college funds... right now, I have at least five thousand, possibly six?" Ily stayed completely still, her heart beating a bit more quickly than it did. "Though it cost me much more than simply monetary value to track you down." Her green eyes were glued on his back. He was a hired killer.... She was certain eventually someone would kill him just as easily. Maybe she could hire someone herself?

She ignored the idea, pushing it out of her thoughts for right now. Ily was never one for murder or killing. She wasn't big on capital punishment and she thought the death penalty was a ridiculous idea. At one point, the girl even tried to become a vegetarian (but her lack of will power against steak and cheesesteaks got the best of her). "Who hired you? And why?"


When the light turned on, Bornes winced slightly, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again, his pupils adjusting to the light. Luckily, the lighting here was rather dull. Just dull enough to not warrant putting his sunglasses back on. His eyes were sensitive to light.

After her response, he frowned. Normal people were worth around ten thousand. But he supposed a truly normal person with no ill intentions or know-how to work the system would never have that amount.
He briefly arched a brow at hearing her stomach rumble, but he wasn't going to be generous with his food just yet. He'd already let a stranger into his personal space, no sense in sharing food as well. It was still possible this girl wasn't who she said she was, though the possibility of that was slim. He doubted undercover cops went for the suffering spouse come to hunt you down angle.

He put the ladle back in the crockpot and replaced the lid before tossing the towel back on the stove and picking up his bowl, idly stirring the stew with the metal fork inside as he finally turned to look at her, his pupils of a bit odder shape than a circle, though most wouldn't notice. He'd been told he had beautiful green eyes before, but it had been the chatter of whores and waitresses, so who was to know if the sentiment were legitimate. Bornes didn't really care too much about his looks for himself. He only made an effort before going into a club to attract women. He hadn't been planning on going to a club anytime soon, so obviously he was rather disheveled.

"I never know real names. Nobody goes by real names."

He shrugged and took the third cigarette butt from his mouth, placing it in an ashtray near the sink before turning back to her.
"He hired me because wanted the guy dead. That's all I know."

He shifted his weight a bit uncomfortably, beginning to stir the stew in his bowl again, debating on whether to actually begin eating or not. This whole conversation was making him rather uneasy. This was one of those situations where he hadn't thought ahead again. Something bad was bound to happen, especially since he didn't have the answers he knew the girl was looking for.


[]


KimiisforLovers wrote: Isabella felt defeated, and it showed right through on her face. She leaned against the door, her shoulder pressed against the wall, but her hips and lower back slightly away so her body created a very subtle angle. Her eyes followed his cigarette as he smashed it into the tray. She rolled her eyes, ignoring that horrible nagging feeling to lecture him on the dangers of smoking. After all, it wasn't as if Ily really cared what happened to him.

"So you don't even know why whoever it was wanted him dead?" That hurt the most. Perhaps she'd be able to deal with it more if she knew why. She sunk down onto the ground, bringing her hands up to her head. She laced her fingers over her head, putting her forehead against her knees. A couple silent sobs escaped her, and she felt her shoulders shaking.

Ily was so angry, so hurt. She felt like there was nothing more she could do. Tears streamed down her cheeks in heavy waves, but she kept quiet, keeping her face low. Even though she was certain Q knew she was crying, she refused to really show that she was crying. She felt like it was a private thing, something to be kept to herself and loved ones. He was neither, obviously.


The twenty three year old watched her crumble before him as he said his answer.
"In a field like this, you learn to not ask questions. But my best guess is he saw something he wasn't supposed to see. It happens."

His lips began to form a slight frown as she began to cry. Bornes wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. He'd seen people crying before, but it was normally from several yards away through the scope of his rifle. Now that it was straight ahead of him, it was almost too real. Like his entire life had been a dream, and now he had awoken into some unpleasant world.

Rather than say anything more, he averted his eyes to his stew, stirring it once more before actually beginning to eat it to give him something to do rather than just stare at the girl crying.

When he finished his bowl, she was still sitting there quietly sobbing. He went back to his crockpot and repeated the whole process of refilling the bowl and replacing the lid, stirring it a few times before he slowly walked over to her, offering the bowl.

He half-expected her to toss the bowl back in his face, but was hoping she wouldn't.
He already had one scar running diagonally across his nose he attempted to hide by parting his hair to the side. He didn't need a burn ontop of it, though he doubted the stew was hot enough now.

[[Tryad - Mesmerize]]


KimiisforLovers wrote: Isabella looked up through dark eyelashes. The little mascara that she had worn today had clumped together and smeared a little bit under her eyes. Dark lines ran down from the corners of her eyes. At first, she turned away, rubbing her face on the back of her sleeve, smearing make up even more down her olive skin. As a burning feeling started in her stomach, she reached up for the bowl, stirring it absent-mindedly. She frowned, staring at the lumps that stirred around the large spoon.

"I'm sorry. This is all so strange," she murmured, placing the bowl beside her. Her stomach continued to churn with hunger, but she simply flexed it harder, shaking her head. "I just... I don't understand." She continued to shake her head as she picked up the bowl, stirring once again, finally bringing herself to eat the soup.

It was almost as if the first bite made her realize how hungry she was, and that she hadn't eaten in a couple of days. She started eating quicker. There was nothing special or fantastic about it. But, it tasted good and really filled her up quickly, probably due to the lack of sustenance in her body. As she finished the last bites, Ily looked up at Q. "How did you start this? Don't you feel sad or guilty or anything?' she asked, raising an eyebrow, frowning sadly, before allowing her green eyes to travel back down to the bowl.


When she took the bowl, he stood back up, and simply watched her, eventually crossing his arms over his chest.

He was quiet, his mind wandering for most of her words-- he was trying to figure out what to do with her. It almost seemed stupid to kill her now. But wasn't it just as bad keeping her around?
It hadn't even been an hour-- was he already attached to her?
Was he really that starved for personal contact?

How did you start this? Don't you feel guilt or anything?

Bornes snapped back to reality, green eyes once again focusing on the woman. He debated with himself on how to reply to that.
Did she really think he'd go into his whole life story just because she asked?
He opened his mouth, hoping for something smart to come out of it.

"We purposefully overlook what we don't want to see, sometimes."

He let out a sigh and sat down, back against the wall, right beside the woman, as if in an effort to comfort her. She'd probably move away, he assumed. Maybe.
He'd never really been in this situation before. But this getting close thing seemed like the right course of action.

"Why would you come after some mystery guy that killed your boyfriend when the cops wouldn't? Why confront a killer with a bunch of paperwork and questions? Seems like most people in your position would've at least brought a gun for a little retribution. Not answers."

The twenty three year old faked a slight smirk. "Some things, nobody was meant to understand," he replied quietly.

[[Saliva - Always]]


KimiisforLovers wrote: Her own green eyes lowered to look at the bowl. They focused for a few moments on the spoon, her eyes reflected, upside-down, in it. When he spoke, she looked up through her eyelashes, before shrugging and lowering them down once more. She couldn't figure out what to say. If it was her, Isabella would've certainly felt completely guilty, and it would've chewed at her everyday.

Her face traveled up, and she started to open her mouth to say something. She had a response for his series of questions, but he spoke before she had the chance. She shrugged, and placed the bowl beside her, drawing her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. "If you really wanna know.... It's cause he was all that I had." She didn't mind telling him anything, really. More than likely she would just go on her way the next morning, questions answered or not.

"And I know a lot of people say that when they go into a serious relationship. But, I can't go back to the Derricos." Again, she shrugged, then rested her chin on her knees. "they already got a little child like they wanted a few years ago. And they only really contact me on holidays and my birthday." A small smile cracked her lips. "I mean, I guess they tried to keep a relationship, maybe." She looked up, her eyes feeling heavy themselves. Ily sighed, and she shook her head, placing her forehead against her knees.

"I mean, I literally don't have a home anymore."

[[OoC: Sorry. due to all the rain and snow and my sickness, I've been super ridiculously busy. Hopefully I'll be on a bit more now.]]


[]

Bornes snorted.
She had nothing because she gave it all up looking for him.
"Isiah didn't have life insurance? You couldn't live in that apartment by yourself? Tons of people learn how to cope with death every day."

What makes you so special? He wanted to add, but decided against.

"Well, you got what you wanted, did you not? I am here now. I am your boyfriend's killer. Sitting right next to you." He looked at her, cocking a brow.
"What now? Kill me? Keep looking for answers I can't give?"

He looked across the hotel room, at the bed.
"My name is Quatre Bornes," he said softly, unsure of why he bothered.
She probably already knew anyway, with all her fancy detective work.

[]


KimiisforLovers wrote: Ily looked up at him and shrugged. "Live insurance? I didn't check," she said, looking away. He did, but she didn't want it, nor needed it. She didn't want to roll around in money because her boyfriend died. It didn't sit in her well. She shrugged and forced a small smile. "I suppose I could have, if I was a strong enough person. Truth is, I'm very obviously not." Again, she shrugged.

"People cope with it every day, but we all cope with it differently. Some people can move on, some people replace their loved ones, some turn to suicide. I wanted answers." A sigh escaped her lips, and her eyes traveled to the ground again. "I wanted to kill you. After I got my answers of course. I wanted you dead, by my own hands. But, I don't even see how that would give me any closure. You're just..... a normal human." It almost sounded as if her voice was a bit disappointed.

A small smirk crossed her lips. "I knew that. But, thanks. I'm Isabella Dericco," she said, a small laugh rising in her throat. She shrugged, and wrapped her arms around tighter around her legs. "I figured you'd be scarier. It's so... strange... to think that Isiah was killed by a normal human being." She ran a hand through her hair, then, as if realizing just now that she had her coat on still, she shimmied her arms out of the sleeves, allowing it to fall behind her. "I mean, you're rather... large. But, I just... I don't know." The entire time, Isabella made sure to keep her eyes low, almost on the ground.


Bornes let out a single laugh at him being normal.

"Well, we're all just people doing our jobs. This just happens to be the one I chose for myself." He got up, taking the empty bowl with him, and went back to the crock pot to give himself seconds.

"I'm only intimidating when I want to be. It's just an act like everyone else." After putting the stew in the bowl, he immediately began to eat it again, finishing it off before continuing. "And I wish I were as normal as you see me. I'm as normal as I can be, I guess." That had obviously hit somewhere close to his heart. His voice had regret in it. Bornes hid something about himself from most people. He deeply longed to be normal. Saw himself as just a normal person, normally.

But he'd never had anyone come out and call him normal. It was like an insult now. He had to prove he wasn't, yet in the same vein, didn't want to because he relished being on the same level as somebody else.

He put the bowl down on the stove, wiping his mouth, only to take the bowl over to the sink and wash it out haphazardly right afterward. When he was done, he placed the bowl to the side and went back tot he crock pot, picking it up and moving to the bathroom with it, dumping the rest of the stew into the toilet. After he flushed it all down, he went to the sink to clean the crock pot out as well.

"I have to leave town," he said over the rushing water as he worked at rinsing out the pot, grabbing the towel from before to wipe out any leftover stew and dry the device a bit.

"You sort of made me a target now. I can't get any jobs here since you tailed me. Too dangerous for my would-be employers to trust me."

When he was done, he went over to his large green sea bag, unlocking the combination lock and tossing it on the bed before going to grab the things he just cleaned and dump them in the bag. There were a few dirty clothes lying about on the floor, which were also picked up and thrown in the bag, save for a button-up dress shirt with a red torso and long black sleeves. That one was set aside.

Q unbuttoned his blue collared shirt, his back to the girl as he took it off and shoved it into the green bag. Underneath his white wifebeater, he had a large golden ankh tattoo that went from the nape of his neck down to his waist. It had been colored gold, and attempted to hide a lot of scars centered around his spine. He turned to pick up the red and black shirt, putting that on and buttoning it up before locking the sea bag back up and turning to her.

"I doubt it matters now," he said, straightening his black collar, "but did anyone else come with you? I mean, you didn't turn me into the cops, did you?"

[[The Fray - Some Trust]]
 
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dexterity

It appears I took the original thread and split off it to create this one. This one doesn't finish.
Mental note to copy the original thread over here (28 pages!!)

Dexterity. A "thriving metropolis". Its borders are adorned with walls. Broken down and riddled with decay, but walls nonetheless. Dexterity was the city in times past where the cruelest of the cruel were thrown and imprisoned. Since those times, the culture here has been different. Outsiders can come in, but they don't often get out. Murders are an everyday occurrence and the Bill of Rights has a disclaimer. Standard law does not apply here.

Most of the population is comprised of visitors, as no one with a healthy mind would settle down and have a family here. Full of crime, Dexterity is probably the worst place to live and an unsafe place to travel to.
So why is the population of this city not sparse? The black market. It is not only the drug dealers and outlaws who come here to buy and sell. It is also government officials and corrupt businessmen. Dexterity has the latest and greatest technology, wares, and services. The cruelest of the cruel reside here and the most wanted list is often the same as 'best customers'.

Because of this, many bounty hunters come to Dexterity. Many do-gooders and vigilantes try to "save it". But this place can't really be saved, can it? Many would say it's too far gone.

----------------

This will probably be more of an info post later.

Next post begins RP.
v------------------v


It was a dark hotel room, situated at the edge of the building. All the lights were off, the curtains were all closed, and sitting on the floor behind the scope of an M40 sniper rifle were two people.
Aside from a few whiskey bottles and open flasks, the hotel room had not been touched.

Of the two people, one was male, the other female. The male had grey hair and bright green eyes. A silver locket hung from his neck, with a green jem inside it. Normally it was hidden inside his collared, button-up, black-sleeved and red-torso shirt. But it had found its way out earlier, as the girl had been playing with it. It glinted slightly in the dark room as the man adjusted the aim of the rifle. His hands wore fingerless gloves. It was clear this man had no sense of fashion. But, compared to the girl, he was well-dressed. His dress pants were black, as were his boots. Aside from his premature grey hair, the only thing that could be awkward about him was the fact that, below his belt, a dark brownish-grey, almost black tail of a dog waved about haphazardly in a semicircle.

The woman, her skin so pale it probably could reflect moonlight, swatted at it playfully. The both of them were drunk, but the man - Q - seemed to be holding himself much better than the girl. The girl was an albino; so her eyes were an ugly pink. She claimed to be a zombie, and worked at a night club for exotic fetishes. She was off for now, however. Her hair was a wild forest green, and cropped to just her ears. It was almost as if she never bothered to brush or wash it. The bright green didn't stop at her hair. She wore a grass skirt and strapless bra, as well. Both the same shade of green. One could only wonder what her favorite color may be? Her name was Meru.

Q sat up, holding the rifle in place. "Here," he said. His voice was raspy. He was young, but anyone who heard his voice could tell he had been smoking profusely for the better part of his life. His alcoholism probably didn't help matters. He turned his head to face Meru's. He had tanned skin, black "whisker" tattoos on the bottom of his cheeks, and a diagonal scar across his face, which he attempted to hide by having his grey hair cover one eye.

"What?" The girl was giggly but still hesitated, putting a hand to her chin. "But I didn't think you were serious!"

Q grunted slightly. "C'mon. I said I'd let you come with me since you bailed me out. I brought you. I have aimed for you. It is all ready. All you have to do is pull the trigger. It will be fun." It was as if he were talking to a child, almost. "You will see his brains splatter everywhere. Isn't that what zombies like? Brains?"

Even though Q was smirking, he was still all business. He exhaled loudly through his nose and let one of his hands wander from the gun, waving Meru over. She obliged, sitting herself behind the butt of the rifle. Q carefully made his way behind her, guiding her hands to the right places.

"So, look through the scope. What do you see?" he urged her.

"Uhmm..." Her high pitched voice was almost annoying in contrast to Q"s prickley deep one. "Two men in suits. One has a hat. The other one's bald." She giggled at the word bald.

"The two lines that meet in the middle, they're crosshairs. When that is on the head of the guy with that hat, just pull the trigger." He leaned into her back. "But take your face away from the scope before you shoot, or else you'll hurt yourself."

Meru nodded, breathing loudly. "Will I really get to see brains?"
Q narrowed his eyes, trying to see into the scope from the distance behind her. He couldn't see much. "Yes. But pay attention. If you wait too long I'll have to do this for you." His voice was stern, as if he were becoming annoyed. "She'll mess up the shot before too long," he thought to himself.

"Then no brains?" She asked, putting her face to the scope once more.
"No brains," Q repeated dryly. He placed one of his hands on Meru's left breast with a snicker.

She pulled the trigger, the knockback frightening her to a point where she jumped and gave out a small shout, falling back into Q, who laughed.
The window in front of them shattered, and with any luck, Meru had just killed the mayor of a neighboring town who had come to Dexterity for 'business'.
Q gave Meru's naughty bits a slight squeeze before grimacing and pushing the girl aside, making sure she had killed the target. They would have to pack up and move quickly either way, but he had to be sure.


The wandering mind... wrote: In every rotten hole of a town like Dexterity, there was a particularly large rodent. A rat or roach that feed on the disease and decay of the world around them, growing fat off it's consumption of others' dreams and riches. Power to match size. With a string of nests that infested the entire city, holding it's occupants under his control. The name of Dexterity's vermin was Louis Marino. A foul man of every sort, unfamiliar with the word, much less concept of morals, Marino was still an incredibly intelligent man. While a figure more befitting of the pudgy man waltzing beside him would better suit his position in this world, he had a lean figure, the bulk on his body consisting more of disguised muscle than indulgence in the fats and sweets of the world. He was a man that feed on something even more delicate. Money. Even so, he didn't over display his wealth like the fat mayors and 'gentlemen' around him, wearing only a large emerald in a gold ring on his left hand and gold pocket watch in his right pocket. The man just reached six feet, pushed by the slight raise of the shined shoes he wore. Everything was of course black, color not fitting of a man of his occupation. He had a sharp face, deep emerald eyes, competing with the gem on his ring for depth, though obscured by a heavy brow, from years of serious expression. His hair was a dark black, lightly peppered with earned grey.

He was in the middle of a business transaction with the man beside him, a mayor of a local town, who barked more than he could back up, and thought he had the balls to pull something over Marino. A foolish mistake, and as he was considering a method to dispose of the problem the man was causing, it seemed to take care of itself as the gentleman's head exploded in a red confetti next to him. In less than an instant men that were moments before unseen appeared around the now crimson speckled man, words not needed in exchange as he nodded at the tall thin figure that appeared directly in front of him.

Within seconds the figure was racing toward the building the shot came from, the shot gun strapped to the back of brown duster she wore made it's way to her hands by the time she burst through the door. The occupants of the room would have to move fast to not be caught, for as she headed up the stairs, two burly men also in Marino's employment were quick to follow.

With that business being handled, Marino turned now to the girl who'd shared in his shower of brain matter. Pulling a white cotton handkerchief from his inner breast pocket, he dabbed at the red fluid as if it was as everyday as sweat. Once his brow was clean, he smiled, though it was ill looking, and offered the cloth to the young woman.

"I'm sorry miss. It seems my companion here has made a mess of himself." His voice was low and smooth, flawless, and the way he spoke seemed to flow. He was a man who knew how to speak and speak well.[clear]


Q looked through the scope, noticing that the mayor had, in fact, been killed. There were brains, and most importantly, a woman looking straight at him. Or was that the most important part? Q could see something at the edge of the scope move quickly. He couldn't tell what it was from sight, but he could guess. "Shit," he grumbled.

The woman looking toward the scope must be one of the bald man's goons. They were both standing together, though he didn't see her before this had gone down. Not even moments later he could hear stairs being climbed at a speedy pace. Q wasn't all human, the things that came with him allowed him slight advantages. Such as, good hearing. Although it helped he didn't blow out his eardrums like most others from loud music.

Regardless, that didn't matter right now. Q had to pack up his things and leave. He quickly began dismantling the removable parts of the rifle, and tossing them into the gun case. Meru looked worried. "What's going on?"

"Killing's the fun part. Running's the working part," Q hastily replied. The things were all in the case. He slammed it shut and clipped the two locks. He couldn't tell how many people were running up the stairs, but he was sure one was enough.

"Running?" Meru questioned. "Q, why are you--"

Q turned around, the case in one hand, and slapped her with his free hand. "Shut up and just follow me," he growled. "I guess I underestimated his guards,"

Q grabbed an open flask, closed it and shoved it in his pocket before rushing out the door to the hotel room. Not the wisest exit, but he wasn't about to jump down three stories. He didn't have seven lives, here. Just one.

Meru was already lagging behind, and they weren't even completely out of the room yet. It was a mistake bringing her. Obviously this wasn't as easy an assignment as he had previously thought.
He stopped momentarily to look at her, then made the administrative decision and left her there. She couldn't run fast enough anyway.

The stairs were at the end of the hall, after the elevators. He rushed to the elevator and pushed both the up and down buttons. Whichever one came first would be fine.
It looked to the stairs, then the elevator.

"Fuck, I am an idiot!" he cursed to himself, kicking the elevator and running back down the hallway to his room, just as he could see out of his peripheral vision some shadow coming through the fire stairs' door...

He wasn't a cat, he was a dog. Dog's didn't have as good reflexes as cats. But he had no other choice at this point. Inside the room he went to the bathroom. He threw the gun case at the window with all the force he had, the window shattering outside. After kicking the wooden frame out he threw the case out the window. Climbing atop the toilet, he let himself go feet first out the window as well.
"Q, what are you doing?!" Meru screamed. She obviously didn't follow his reckless behavior, and stared at the window. It really was a mistake to bring her. She'd already said his name twice and she'd probably just look dumbfounded at his point of exit. What a stupid girl. She wasn't worth the money she was paid.

His feet hit the ground first, and immediately collapsed, rolling on his back with a groan of pain. He'd be surprised if his legs weren't broken. They didn't feel broken. But they did hurt like hell.
He grunted, trying to roll to his feet again before the others on the street noticed he had jumped from so high. He managed to get on his knees but the shock of the fall prevented him from doing much else. His legs felt like tree trunks. They just wouldn't move.
"This is what I get for not being born a cat," he mused to himself.

He'd have to hope he could recover before the others thought to look at the street corner.


The wandering mind... wrote: Her name was Cassandra. She was Marino's top guard, and most trusted of all his crew. She was tall, taller than the man himself, and thin, her figure only barely female, a hint of breasts, a hint of hips, made less by the leather she wore binding her body. She was incredibly agile though. She was a close distance killer however, if you were twenty feet or more away from her, you were safe, but an inch less and you were dead a hundred ways before you realized. Or so her reputation went, of course such things were exaggerated, but it fell close to the line of truth, she'd been killing from the time she could walk. Braided back, brilliant orange hair bounced behind her as she took the steps two at a time, hitting the door with enough force that it swung open in a spectacle. Her eyes sharpened on the case the man at the elevator held, too familiar for it's meaning to miss her. This was the man she was after. He darted back through the room and she went after him, shoving the strange looking woman out of her way. The men following her would take care of her. Instead Cassandra followed the sound of the crash of the window. As she moved across the room, her hands moved as smoothly as her feet, shotgun sheathed again with one hand, the other slipping under duster to the back of her waist, producing a small length of rope. Three stories was not a terrible drop, however the initial shock would delay her, more of course than the time it took her to quickly tie an end of the cord around the plumbing before tossing herself out the window after him. The rope ended two thirds the way down and with a smooth movement she landed on her feet, bending her knees to distribute the shock of the landing, recovering easier than the man she pursued.

Drawing the gun again, she pointed it straight at the man's head, now taking a moment to look him over. Silver hair, but a young face. A peculiar fellow. She wondered if he'd get to live long enough for her to learn more about him. "Your move." She pulled the hammer back, mostly for effect, as the action was unnecessary.[clear]


Q's legs quivered involuntarily beneath him. He looked to the woman who now had a gun to his head. Then from where she came form.
"A rope," he thought. "Why didn't I think of that?"
This would be the last time he would underestimate such a mission. He shouldn't have drank and brought a whore along with him. He should've guessed that would be his downfall. For the second time, he mused. Oh, he couldn't do his business without his pleasure, could he?

His attention went back to the girl, who had him cornered. Q put his hands up slowly. "Ah, Sorry; sorry," he mustered. A genuine, thick french accent came from him. He hoped she would believe he knew little english. Sometimes, people pitied foreigners. Innocent contractors, foreigners were. They did their deed and they left.


The wandering mind... wrote: "Come, come Cassandra." The woman's name rolled smoothly off the man's tongue, as Marino, still dabbing the last of the blood spray and bits of bone off his collar, stepped up.

"Let's not be too hasty. Our guest isn't going anywhere." He tossed the soiled cloth away and left his hands in a gentle spread, indicating the group of six or seven men that appeared around them in a circle, brandishing a variety of automatic weapons.

Cassandra eased at the sound of his voice, and relaxed her finger off the trigger, pulling the gun back, resting it over her right shoulder and stepping back.

"Yes sir. But if he moves, let me have the pleasure?" She cocked her head, looking down her nose at the silver haired man, just as the two that had followed her appeared dragging his freak of a partner from the hotel room.

"As you wish Cassandra, but only then." Marino merely glanced over his shoulder at the approaching men and the albino they carried. It wasn't important enough to warrant turning his head, and he was more interested in the dog they'd caught. For he wasn't completely human. Marino almost never missed anything, and even if he tried to keep attention from it, Q would never be able to hide his tail from those piercing eyes. If there was one thing Marino'd gulp up with the same enthusiasm he reserved for money, it was information.

"For the moment, I'd like our little french friend to tell me what he was doing interrupting my business meaning, and why I shouldn't let you play with him." Marino crossed his hands behind his back and walked in a slow circle around Q, coming around to face him from the front.


Q stayed where he was, his legs screaming beneath him. The more time that went on, the harder he grit his teeth. He wanted desperately to reposition himself, but he was too worried that may constitute being shot at.

"Have mercy," he mumbled in french. He didn't know what to else to say-- he couldn't let on that he actually understood what they were saying. He was, afterall, trying to play the ignorant immigrant who didn't know much english.
If they knew french, then he was still probably screwed, but they may go easy on him. Who knew? He had to play on anything he could get.

Q watched the man walk around, and heard Meru, the albino, being pulled out. She was struggling of course, confused as to why this was happening. Q briefly wondered if her feeble mind could even comprehend what was going on.

Rather than his green eyes meeting anyone else's, he looked down. It was daylight, and his eyes didn't play well with the sun. He closed his eyes and tried to not focus on the pain in his legs, his hands slowly coming down to squeeze his thighs in an attempt to stay silent.

As the man circled around him, Q pushed his tail into his leg. He didn't know if this man liked hybrids or not. Many people were rather racist, and his black tail against black pants was rather easy to hide. While Q was intimidated, he was still grasping, hoping for some sort of opening to come up for him to run, or do something.. To get out of here.
If his legs would even allow him to stand.


The wandering mind... wrote: French? Marino was curious, and Cassandra was just confused. What the hell was this guy trying to pull? Even if he didn't understand English, he just blew the head off the guy standing next to her boss. Cassandra was frustrated, and while she hid it well, Marino wouldn't miss it. Hell he'd probably even figure out why. If this damned frog could of blown away the man next to him, what would of stopped him from blowing away her boss? Certainly not her, and that pissed her the hell off.

"Mercy?" Marino pulled the little he knew of the french language from the back of his mind, recognizing the word. "And I wonder why I should give you mercy, for ruining my meeting. Maybe I should let Cassandra here have some fun with you. Dogs like to play, do they not?" Marino had nothing against interspecies, hybrids, mutants, you name it. They were all tools or sources of money in some way, equal parts of the overall plans. However, he did suspect that if this man spoke more than just french, the insult might pull that side out of him.


Q began to shiver, the pain in his legs growing to insurmountable proportions. He was ready to scream. He needed to reposition himself.
He'd just have to go for it. If he got shot, so be it. He'd probably be shot the way this whole meeting was going anyway. If he did, well, it was a good life. Blood and whores and alcohol for everyone.

With a loud groan, he brought his weight up, as if to stand, then with a brief yell of pain, he fell right back down on his ass, tail tucked beneath one of his legs, which were now outstretched.
His eyes were closed tightly, his teeth bared as he tried not to call out any more.

"Please, I am obviously stuck here. I cannot use my legs!" he forced back.
There were so many other things he wanted to say, but even though the horrid cramping his legs, he didn't want to give off the impression he knew english any better than the man knew french.


The wandering mind... wrote: Cassandra trained the shotgun back on him with a flick of her wrist as he moved, her finger itched on the trigger, waiting, daring for him to make a move, but he just winced in pain and fell back to the ground. She noticed the tail now, but thought nothing of it aside from the advantages that some hybrids have... as well as weaknesses.

Marino frowned, not that anyone would notice the slight change in his expression. Either this man was a decent liar, or really was a Frenchman that had no clue what he'd intruded on. Very well then, that made the decision for him.

"Cassandra, I can't think of any uses for a man who doesn't even speak our language. Can you?" He turned away from Q and faced the woman.

"No sir." Cassandra grinned and her left hand pulled away from the shotgun and found a knife strapped to her belt. "No use other than a bit of blood letting fun. Same for the whore." Cass nodded over her shoulder at the albino. "Can I kill them both boss?" She asked, plucking the blade loose from it's holster.


Well, this was bad.
They were talking about killing him again.
That was never good.

Q grit his teeth so hard, it felt as if he were going to bite right through his jaw and crack it when he opened his eyes again to watch them. When the girl turned her gaze toward the albino and the man, Q gathered all his willpower and made his move with zero hesitation. It was now or never.

As Cassandra asked for permission to kill him once more, Q grabbed the case of the M40 that was still on the ground near to him from his window escape, and threw it at her knees in hopes she'd collapse from the force.

After that, he pushed himself up with a rather loud yell and made for the nearest exit in the circle of men, all of whom would hope would be too startled to make a shot at him.
As he ran, he took out a handgun from his shoulder holster and shot the albino whore in the center of her head.

That would turn her body into some heavy dead weight to the two cronies holding her. As they were fussing over that predicament, it broke the circle, and Q shoved his way through.

He thought he was doing rather well, aside from the mind-numbing, nerve-splitting pains shooting up his legs at every step he took. That was-- until he reached the street.

Q had run toward the street, was about to turn the corner, but in his turn, must've tripped or twisted something the wrong way. He found himself falling to the ground on his stomach, his arms only barely able to shield his fall. He'd dropped his gun somewhere along in the process-- it was the only weapon he had on him.
As he went down, he roared in pain, his whole upperbody shivering with whatever had just happened. Obviously the fall from the window had impacting him much more than he imagined, and trying to run had only done him more harm.

He knew his legs were useless now, and he knew he'd be in even worse shape than before with the two "captors". He had no time to think smartly, anymore.
He knew this was the end. Tears started to come from his eyes, a combination of pain, sunlight agitation, and emotional distress.

They'd surely kill him now, and this was not the way he wanted to go.


The wandering mind... wrote: Cassandra was not happy. Marino was amused. She'd barely dodged the case, cursing that she'd turned her head away for that moment. She figured he'd be in too much pain to try something like that. If she wasn't so pissed, she'd probably give him credit for pushing through it. Right before she killed him that is. So she moved out of the way, and gave chase. She could kill him now. Shoot him from behind and end it all now. But that would be too easy.

Cassandra's face turned up in a cruel grin as she watched him fall from just a few feet behind him. She could tell by the way his body shuddered that he was down for the count now, and she'd have all the time she'd want. Slowing and standing over him, she hit him in the legs with the end of her shotgun, throwing it over her shoulder and back in the holster. Kicking him in the side with her leg, she righted him onto his back and pinned him down, just to be sure. She pushed the blade of her knife against the man's throat, drawing a thin streak of blood across the skin.

"This is going to be fun..."

Marino watched the botched attempt to escape unfold, curious by the actions of the man. It was obvious now that he understood enough English to figure out at least the jist of things. But Marino was intrigued by the man. He shot the whore, (from her dress and character, it could be assumed she was a whore, but he was sure the title fit no matter what her profession). Probably cause she knew his name. And he had some guts to try and take off through what must be intense pain, and from a group of armed men. Marino could use a man like that, and one that could get off a shot like he did without being detected. (As that was what impressed him, the shot itself wasn't too difficult for a trained man, but to have been able to set up something like that and none of Marino's eyes detecting him, this man was either lucky, or very skilled. Or maybe both.) Either way, that was a man that Marino wouldn't mind having on his payroll.

"Hold on Cassandra." Marino approached, hands still behind his back, taking his time to reach them. "Let's see if the man has a reason why I shouldn't have him killed right now." He stood over the two of them, looking down at Q's face.

"I admire your attempt to escape, but it won't work again, not that I think you could stand if wanted, much less move an inch with that knife on your throat. So I figure it won't be a waste of time if we just chat a little. I take it you understand more than you've let on, so why don't we start with names. You've met Cassandra, and well, I am Louis Marino."

A lesser man would of rubbed in the name. Thrown in a "perhaps you've heard of me", but Marino wasn't so arrogant, no his was a different kind. One so assure of himself that he knew just his name would do the talking for him.

"And you are?"


Q called out when she put the pressure on his legs, and then grunted as she turned him over. He He sucked in his breaths through his mouth, eyes shut tightly as the saline tears dripped from his face.

The blood now letting from his neck was no pain in comparison to his legs. He opened his mouth to take heavy breaths, it being hard to pay attention to what was going on around him. He'd already accepted his fate, as it was. He wished he'd simply pass out, and have it all be over. But could he pass out from pain? If he could, he would've thought he'd done so by now.

He took in a deep breath and held it when the man came over and started talking.
Marino. Marino.
He'd heard the name before. He was the big wig in this town. He was someone he'd heard all about, and was supposed to be staying far away from.
It seemed only appropriate that someone would lie and get Q to kill his business associate.
Hardly anyone knew what Marino looked like.
Or at least, that was what Q was led to believe.

Cassandra's foot on his ribs made everything all the more uncomfortable, but that didn't matter as much as the shooting pain that was still going through his legs. He briefly wondered what God he had pissed off to deserve pain that didn't fade in a situation such as this.

"I didn't know it was you," Q gasped, trying to keep a hold of himself, but not really able to restrain the volume in his voice.
He could only imagine that this is what people in wheelchairs might feel like if their legs weren't numb.

"Why would I lie about not knowing it was you!" He shouted and sucked in another breath, hissing.

Begging was beneath him, but he had to take advantage of... was this sympathy? He didn't know. Almost didn't want to.
"Please, I'll do whatever you want, but my legs hurt so bad," he rushed, swallowing, his adam's apple scraping painfully against the close knife as his throat.

"Make it stop and I'll do whatever you want!" he cried, throwing his head to the side, not caring if it cut his throat even more. Perhaps if she slit his throat, the pain would end. Or he'd pass out from blood loss. Either way it would be better than whatever was going on right now.


The wandering mind... wrote: Cassandra remained where she was, displaying little emotion, and moving even less. Marino was doing his thing, and she would behave and wait until he was finished. Though she was hoping she'd get to kill this guy, she was sedated enough by just keeping him in pain.

"So, you can speak English. Wise answer. I don't see much reason for you to lie, but don't take it as trust or belief if I accept that. It's not a smart move to work against me, as you can see. But of course, there's advantages in working for me."

Marino waved a man over, whispered in his ear, and sent him running to fetch something. He then took a step closer to Q and Cassandra and knelt down, enough that he could talk on a bit of a more equal level, though not at. His knee hovered just above the ground, staying out of the dirt that cluttered the pavement.

"Cassandra."

The woman moved at the sound of her name and released some of the pressure she'd been putting on the man.

"Now, I've got someone coming to help with the pain, and if you tell me your name and business here, maybe we can work something out that doesn't end in Cassandra here spilling your blood all over the sidewalk. You see, you actually did me a favor, and saved me the trouble of killing that corpulent mayor myself. It works out, for his business associates will know from what's been seen here that I wasn't the one to put out the hit, our relations might run smooth a little longer. I like to return favors. I've got use for someone that can wield a rifle... my last man... let's just say he got a little too greedy. So not only will I consider sparing your life, but I may even offer you a job. What do you say to this, Mister...?"
dexterity 2
"Q," he said "Like the letter, Q," he forced again. Q wasn't his real name, of course. It's just what everyone called him. His real name was a mouthful, and french. Most people didn't bother pronouncing it correctly anyway.

Not that it mattered at all. Q was really just hoping this person supposedly coming to help him with his pain would hurry the fuck up.

"I do low hits. Nothing over $100,000. Obviously I was lied to. It happens. I didn't know. I'm sorry," he continued to rush his words, taking deep breaths and trying to work through the pain. He wished he'd just pass out already.


The wandering mind... wrote: "Q? Name enough I suppose. You do safe hits you mean." Marino stood back up. "If you want to take my offer, I can't guarantee you the same security. What I can promise is you'll make it to see the rest of this day. What do you say Q?"

Behind them on the street a lime colored van pulled up, and an odd man climbed out, coming around the vehicle towards them. He was short compared to the rest of the group, an inch or two above five feet, and much thinner than the clothes he wore. Wild blond hair framed his face and gave him a bit of a mad scientist look, accentuated by the wire frames he wore on edge of his nose that looked as if they'd fall off at any moment. He toted a black medicinal bag, and looked like one of those old timey rural doctors you'd find in one of those back water towns. His clothes were incredibly out dated and he could easily of been a man of fifty from the style of them. However, as he approached them it was clear he was younger than any of them present.

"What's happened here?" His voice was surprisingly mellow and calm, a contrast to his looks, and gave away his true age more than anything.

Marino tilted his head and acknowledged the man's arrival.

"Ah, Doc, our new friend here decided it was wise to jump out a third story window. Then again Cassandra was chasing him, so I wouldn't blame him. I believe he could use something for the pain." Marino laughed, though the sound was more comparable to nails on a chalkboard.

"Well Cassy, you gonna move out of my way or should I treat him around you in an impromtu game of twister?" The young man grinned, and while his sarcasm was a bit dry, his tone was nothing but friendly.

"Just be lucky I didn't shoot this one Doc." Cassandra rolled her eyes, keeping a stern expression, but moved off of Q all the same.


"Whatever you want!" Q growled back. That didn't quite come out the way Q had wanted it to, but it seemed like over time the pain just got worse rather than better.

He tried to bend his knees, hoping that moving his legs would help take pressure off.. Or something. He didn't know why his legs were cramping up in this way. As soon as his legs moved even millimeters, he called out again, biting it back by clamping his mouth shut and whimpering like the dog he tried so hard to hide in himself.

His eyes still closed and still watering, he didn't know what the "doc" was doing but really hoped he would be doing it fast.. Given any other time, he probably would've laughed at the humor in the new man's voice. But this, of course, wasn't any other time.

When he felt Cassandra move away from him, he opened his watery green eyes, his pupils rather slit, and shoved his upperbody up slightly, as if to try and get away again.
The movements were all too quickly halted, as it became blanket realization that even if Q were not in this much pain he still wouldn't be able to move.
He instead squinted, watching this hippy-looking doctor work over him, as he propped himself up on his elbows taking loud breaths from his mouth.


The wandering mind... wrote: "You ever been high man?" Doc smiled, leaning over Q, close to his face. His tone again was humorous but kind, and he took care to be as gentle as possible when injecting the morphine concoction into his legs.

"You might get a kick from this and soar for a bit. But you won't feel the pain, or at least notice it. When we get back I can get you something a little steadier, that will knock you out, but you'll have to stay off those legs for a while."

Doc waited a few minutes as Cassandra and Marino stepped away, talking to each other. Cassandra kept an eye on Q the whole time, even though she knew first hand what a shot from Doc would do to you the first time. It didn't last long, but it worked fast.

When he was sure the drug had taken effect, Doc carefully felt up and down Q's legs, moving the knee and ankle, testing his reflexes, it was stiff, and swollen, but there were no breaks he could feel. He would check when they got back, but he was sure of it.

"Lucky, doesn't seem like you broke anything, just going to be sore for a long time." Doc looked up and waved over two large men of Marino's. "He's safe to move, help me get him in the back of the van.


Had he ever been high?
"No," Q replied, confused. Then it hit him. "No!" He brought his left hand around, attempting to shove the Doc away from him, but it was too late. The hippy was quick with his needle, and by the time Q's hand met the Doc's shoulder, it just gripped at the other man's coat in disagreement with the action.

The paranoia washed away, however, as the shot was quick to take affect. Q was able to see through his eyes without being bothered by the light, and so stopped squinting. As the realization that he could see without a headache came to fruition, so did the fact that he couldn't feel his legs at all. For some reason, though, that didn't bother him. Normally, he would've freaked out, however.

The pain was gone, that was all that he cared about currently.
Q let go of the doctor's jacket, as if surprised that he'd even grabbed it to begin with, and again leaned back on his hands, watching the young man pat his legs and say some things that he really wasn't paying attention to.

Q blinked a few times, taking slow, much calmer breaths through his mouth as he looked around him, almost amazed at what the city looked like during the daytime. He'd missed this. The smog-ridden streets and skyscrapers may have been ugly to everyone else, but Q had not been able to see them for many years. It was as if his blindness had been temporarily cured.

He stayed silent as the two men with the doctor picked him up by the arms and nonchalantly threw him in the back of the lime colored van that had pulled up earlier.

Cassandra and the so-proclaimed "Doc" clambered in after him, Marino going off to his own, undoubtedly much better looking vehicle.
The doors all slammed shut on the van, and Q seemed startled by the noise at first, his head jolting back a bit. He was quick to recover, as he looked around the van with his mouth still open.
It was not a nice interior, but still Q couldn't help but be in awe. He looked out toward the windshield, watching the traffic in the day- he could see all of it.

For no particular reason, he snapped back to reality, and turned to the people in the back of the van with him. "What about my gun? It's still back there...?"

The twenty three year old brought his left hand up to his neck, wiping away now-dried blood from where Cassandra's knife had been. He brought his fingers up to his face, studying the red, as if it was something he'd never seen before. Slowly, realization was beginning to seep back into his being and he put that same hand to his heart, trying to feel his heartbeat, to see if it was slow or fast.

As he pushed his hand to his chest, he looked down, his grey hair covering his face. He almost appeared to be praying, although after a few seconds, he determined that whatever it was the doctor gave him heightened his blood pressure, and so he had nothing to worry about.

Q had a chronic low blood pressure problem. Should he bleed too much, he'd pass out. But since the blood had already clotted, he'd assume he was fine for now. His black tail began to wag behind him haphazardly when his hand went back in his lap and his bright green eyes came back up, studying the two people in the van. Their faces, the colors of their hair and skin, details he'd probably never see again, so attempted to commit them to memory.

"Where are we going...?" He asked, his french accent thicker than before.
Q didn't recognize the sound of his own voice for a moment, and so brought his right hand to his face, feeling it, his right index finger tracing the long, diagonal scar over the bridge of his nose, before bringing his other hand up to his head so he could part his hair in the same direction as the scar to hide it. Doing so brought his grey hair to cover one side of his face, and therefore, also one of his green eyes.

Although he'd been seeing clearly for what felt like hours now, he suddenly realized he didn't have his sunglasses on and felt rather naked. Although it didn't seem like this gift of vision would ever wear away- he couldn't fathom it doing so- he couldn't help but want for the accessories he normally always had on his face.

He wondered briefly where he'd left them, and then he remembered as his hands went back to his lap. He'd left them on the nightstand in the hotel. He frowned, the black whisker-like tattoos on each side of his lower cheekbones turning in slightly with the expression.

The worry left him soon, as a new thought came into his head. He looked up to Cassandra. She was female.
"Do you have a mirror?" He asked, his accent still thick.
She had to have a mirror if she was female, right?

Q hoped she did. He wanted to see what he looked like.
His normal vision during the day was somewhat akin to an over-exposed photograph. Hard shadows, some faded colors if he was lucky, and lots of bright white.
The sunglasses made everything darker, like someone had turned down the overall brightness, but had done nothing with the contrast.

At night, Q could see much more, but still, it was different. Things always looked different at night.
When he was younger, he could see during the day. His vision problem was something that had grown worse over the years.
He wondered if, with color, Q looked good. Or sexy. Or anything, really. He wondered what the real color of his skin looked like, or if his hair was really as white as it had appeared to him.

"I want to see it," he urged.


The wandering mind... wrote: Doc spent most the ride back giggling as he watched the young man, who went by Q, he learned from Cassy, (Doc was the only one that could ever get away with calling her that). It was always fun to watch someone on their first ride...

"We're heading back to headquarters where Doc will finish fixing you up." Cassandra was glad that the man was high, he'd likely not remember where they were going, and how to get to HQ, which for the meantime, she preferred. She didn't know how much yet she could trust him, not that she trusted more than a select few.

Doc and Cassandra chatted back and forth idly, if their sarcastic taunts back and forth counted as conversation, both kept their eyes on Q for majority of the ride however. Doc was cheerfully observing, amused at the wide eyed way the man looked at everything, and intrigued, having a hybrid before him, especially a canine one. This along with Q's overall appearance perked at his mental curiosities. He wondered if his hair was naturally gray...

Cassandra was more studying him, her eyes accessing the physical features of the man's body structure. His height, muscle structure, playing over their encounter she factored these in and made rough mental estimates on what his capabilities were. She was also still furious with him for getting the upper hand on her, even if for a brief second, in front of Marino no less. She'd hear that later on. Oh he'd never say anything directly, he wouldn't have to, a small side comment would be enough to pang her with guilt. But there was something that stood out even more on Q that she hadn't noticed before. Q's eyes... they were the same as his... and now that she could see them, they had a small hold over her...

Cass was interrupted though by Q's request. "A mirror? Why the fuck would I have a mirror?"

Doc interjected though, fishing something out of his pocket. It was a mirrored steel cigarette case, though the smokes inside were hand rolled and of a different variety. "Will this work?" Doc asked, offering the case to Q.


Q scoffed at Cassandra. Why would she have a mirror?
"Because you're a w--"
It was good he'd been cut off by the Doc next to him giving him the cigarette case. "--Yes, this'll work," he finished, as if it were the intended end to his first statement.

He eagerly took the case and looked at himself in it, bringing it close to his face and tilting it this way and that, looking for the best reflection. He was surprised he could see a reflection in this at all-- he couldn't remember being able to see reflections in metal things, before.
But then again, he'd never actively looked in them.

Bringing the case close to his face, he squinted, trying to make out the details of himself. His skin was... tanned. Definately not what he was expecting, considering he'd been indoors for a greater majority of his time in this country. Or maybe all that walking outside had done it?
Either way, his color was nice. That was good to know.

He tilted the case, quizzically looking at the tattoos on his chin, frowning at how visible they were. They sort of made him intimidating, which he supposed was the look he was going for when he got them. But now he was more or less embarrassed he had them. They definitely didn't hide the fact that he was probably a hybrid. Nevertheless, they sort of accented his chin, making it appear more square, whcih was somewhat of a nice feature.

He looked up his face, stopping at the middle. He took a hand and brushed his grey hair away to see his scar. It was less visible than he expected, but still being able to see it made him wince a bit. It was smooth, and clean, definitely either a one in a million accident or intended. With a scar like this, Q'd guess anyone else would see it was intended. But then, he knew it had been, so his view was biased.

He covered his scar with his hair once more and brought the case above his head, trying to get a better view of his hair. It was more of a dark silver than the white he was used to seeing. It complimented his skin well enough, anyway. He wondered if his tail being grey too would look this good. He turned his head to look at his still wagging feathery appendage.
Nope, still black.

He went back to the cigarette case, bringing it even closer to his face, to look at his eyes. Whores had told him he had amazing eyes plenty of times. He wanted to know if they were just making the shit up, or if there was something to it.
Well, his eyes were green. Q knew that already, but they were a rather nice shade of bright forest green. Like that color one would find in some really ferocious tomcats.
And, similar to cats, his pupils were thin as hairs.
At this, Q squinted in attempt to see more. He didn't know his eyes did that. Why would he have cat eyes? Dog eyes didn't contract in an oval shape.
Maybe it was the oval shape combined with the color that made his eyes so amazing to strangers. Q thought this trait made him a freak. More of a freak than he already was, anyway.
He tossed the case back to the Doc. He didn't want to look at it anymore.

He supposed he'd be a rather handsome... Person.
If he were into hybrids.
He wasn't.

He sighed, his mood dampened and looked back out the windshield of the van as it was pulling into some building, the details of which he was suddenly uninterested in.
He wasn't sure he wanted the gift of sight if it meant anybody could look at his face and tell he wasn't all human. He was suddenly feeling very displeased with his body. His tail stopped wagging and sat idly.

Standing, Q was about six feet tall. His build, muscular enough that he was able to lift a lot of heavy things and walk extremely long distances with them. That was about it. He guessed his clothes made him look more intimidating than he physically was. Or perhaps Q just didn't know how to correctly use his strength in physical combat. He was a long-range fighter, and although he'd had training in close combat, hand-to-hand, it was more or less ten years a go and long forgotten.

Besides, his lungs probably couldn't handle the action for too long anyway, given that the man smelled like he smoked a pack or more a day, at least. Or possibly just didn't wash his clothes well enough to get the smoke and alcohol smell out.

"Are we there yet?" he whined, unenthused. He'd make a conscious effort to avoid making eye contact with any of them, now. He wanted his sunglasses back. Those blocked people from seeing his eyes.


The wandering mind... wrote: Q's narcissistic adventure into the looking glass (or cigarette case as it was) lost Cassandra's attention, and she turned toward the large netted opening that connected the back of the van to the driver, talking to him in a low voice about something menial.

Doc however watched with increasing fascination. It was as if Q was seeing himself for the first time, the way he studied the little details of his face, Doc doing so in turn. It was not beyond him to note mentally that the man was rather handsome, he pulled gray hair off surprisingly well. Curiosity sparked at the scar that split the man's face and Doc hoped to hear the story of how that came about one day. The tattoos on his chin were also intriguing, odd in their foreignness, and added to his accent (forgotten and unwanted past accents always had a ways of slipping out when drunk or high) and tanned skin, he had an exotic feel. Of course the unusual eyes didn't help. Doc couldn't help but notice the pupils were slitted like a cats. It was unexpected in what appeared to be a canine hybrid, and Doc wondered if there was more than just one species mingling with his human DNA.

Being a healer, Doc never limited himself to only the physical, and therefore couldn't help but notice the drastic change that came over the man as he tossed back the metal case. Doc was particularly good at reading people, not that this man presented himself as hard to read, face turning to disappointment. The subtle changes reminded Doc of many a depressive drunk, and he made a mental note of this as well, never a good sign.

Plucking one of the rolled smokes out of the case before slipping it back in his pocket, Doc nodded in response to Q's question.

"Yeah, we should just be pulling up. Good timing to, I wanna get you up to the medical facility and on something else for the pain before this one wears off." Doc chuckled as he lit up, pinching the end of the bud between his thumb and forefinger, as one might a cigarette butt, inhaling before reversing it as he lowered his hand and let the smoke gently billow out through his nostrils. It was acrid and had a strong, unmistakable smell for those who'd experienced it before, and the action drew a small huff from Cassandra.

"Especially since the fun part is getting you inside before your legs lock up entirely!" He laughed again before taking another hit.


Q's eyes began to water again, from the combination of new smoke and the length of time his eyes had been in bright light. Being as Q couldn't feel the soreness, he made no effort to close or protect his eyes, and being as he'd already embarrassed himself earlier out on the pavement, he didn't seem too concerned with wiping the tears away from his face, either.

He turned to look over Doc, waving his hand to waft smoke away.
"Your smell is horrible," he mentioned, making a move to get up when the Van had stopped.

In his brief high, he'd learned so much more about himself, that he really didn't want to know.
He also learned, at this precise instant, that he still couldn't feel his legs and thus his motion to get up moved him absolutely nowhere.

"And I have to walk? I can't feel my legs," he grumbled.
He stared at his worn black boots, as if trying to will them to move. They wouldn't.

When the doors all opened and everyone got out, the two men from before came back in and grabbed him, pulling him out with grunts in a team effort.

Q felt a little weirded out and violated, but he guessed this was all quite needed, considering he couldn't really help himself.
By the time they had gotten Q out of the van and were debating how to get him inside, Doc had walk back up from wherever he had disappeared to with a wheelchair, offering it to the men.
They both hefted Q up from under his armpits and plopped him in the chair with a hmph.

It was a good thing too as the morphine seemed to beginning to fade away. Of course, the first thing that came was not the pain in Q's legs (thankfully), but rather the throbbing headache associated with burning eyes that had been opened for way too long. Q coughed once and brought his left hand to his face, covering his closed and wet eyes with a groan as his rational thought began to slowly come back.

"Fuck, my eyes..." being the first rational thought that came into being.


The wandering mind... wrote: "Sorry." Doc frowned at the comment and ground out the end of his joint. Making sure the end was securely out before replacing it in his case. No sense wasting...

"I'm not that cruel to make you walk." Doc fetched the chair and returned, sighing audibly at the roughness of his help, but not really expecting anything more. He pushed Q inside and quickly headed to his "office" area.

Cassandra hung around long enough to see that their new guest was in Doc's hands before heading up to Marino's office. He would of arrived back several minutes before anyone else and assuredly settled back into his area of the building.

"Fuck your eyes? Sorry my friend, but that's not really physically possible... well the sockets maybe, but that's far too sick for my taste, and you'd be dead, so that entirely goes against my nature." Doc rolled him down the hall and turned into a large room. It wasn't too different from any other medical facilities, fully stocked, sterile, and as drab as could be. Doc hated it, but he really didn't think that throwing up some adorable kitten motivational posters was befitting of the patients he tended here.

The two men helped Doc put Q onto one of the hospital beds, before Doc waved them off. They left the room, however one of the men stayed outside the door in the hall, just in case Q wasn't in the mood for accepting hospitality or thought he could run out on Marino.

Doc pulled the curtain separating the area from the rest of the room all the same and started to set up an IV, and fished through drawers for other items.

"So what's wrong with your eyes exactly? They hurt?" He was racking his brain for reasons why. Sometimes under the influence your eyes didn't dilate properly, but it shouldn't be that intense, but then again, this man didn't possess normal eyes.


Had Q been in any other situation, he'd probably laugh at the joke. This person was way too lighthearted for his own good. Definitely out of place in the atmosphere around these people and Marino.

Q liked to crack jokes every now and again himself, but often was too focused on looking tougher than he was to drop the act to do so around other people.

He groaned and winced as the men put him in the bed, and Q looked away when the IV went in, not being a fan of needles. Normally, he probably would've refused, but right now he was more concerned with keeping his eyes closed. Which still were watering rather heavily.

"My eyes are... Light sensitive," he replied softly. "I have this really heavy sunglasses prescription but I guess I left them at the hotel."
You know. I was so busy trying to jump out of that window and all, he thought. Didn't think about some paltry sunglasses. Despite them basically being one of a kind and sort of detrimental to his well-being when it came to functioning at times the sun was out.
Yeah. Paltry sunglasses.

"So yeah, they burn a lot," he verbally finished.

He winced, the pain in his legs beginning to fade back into existence.
"But I can deal with that. My leg pain's coming back. Fix that first," he pleaded, fear in his voice.

He didn't kno if his leg pain would be better or worse, but just remembering the pain from out in the sidewalk, he didn't want to go back to that and he didn't care who knew that.
Only sick bastards weren't afraid of pain.


The wandering mind... wrote: "Ah, I see..." Doc trailed off a bit, trying to think of just how sensitive this guy's eyes had to be. He first walked over to the wall, and turned off two of the four light switches for the room, cutting the light in half, so that while it was plenty for him to see, it'd take the edge off.

"I'll have someone fetch your things from the hotel room. And I'm already working on the legs." Doc was in the process of adding another bad to the IV machine, this one beeped on a regular interval, but Doc turned the volume down. He added this drip to the IV and turned it on. The pump hummed a little as it kicked on and pushed the saline solution, in addition to a weaker, but longer lasting, more stable morphine. He'd feel a tad stoned, but nothing more.

"I can increase the dosage if it gets too bad, but I want to wait for the first drug to work it's way out first." Doc flashed Q a smile, whether he was looking or not, and then fumbled through a drawer. He pulled out an odd pair of what looked like plastic glasses, only with salt shaker lens to them.

"They look dorky, but these will cut the light down to bare minimum, and you won't be blinded while we wait for your glasses. They're for protecting the eyes after overexposure, used them a few times after someone was too close to a blast." Doc offered them to his patient.

"Okay, don't take this the wrong way, but I need to take off your pants."


Q felt half the lights go off and visibly relaxed a bit, peeking through his fingers when Doc offered him the glasses.
"No thanks, I'd rather be blindfolded." He covered his eyes again with his hand completely and turned away.

"Take off my--" Q growled, his tail making audible thuds as it slapped the sheets between his somewhat spread legs.
"You don't need to do that shit," he argued.
Of course he was going to take it the wrong way.

"My legs are not bleeding or anything, my pants can stay on."


The wandering mind... wrote: "Suit yourself, I think they're kinda cute." Doc laughed and offered a blindfold in case he wanted something more solid than his hand to block the light.

Doc chuckled loudly though, snorting at Q's reaction, he couldn't help it.

"Chill man, if I wanted your pants off for those reasons, I could of drugged you five minutes ago and had you out cold and naked in two. But, I do need to check to for breaks more thoroughly, which requires you taking your pants off. Now I could always knock you out for it you wanted, but then you'd never know what else I checked for..." Doc teased the last of this out, playing into Q's fear.

He rolled a strange camera looking device, attached to an adjustable arm.

"I'm just going to take some pictures as I feel you up!" He laughed again, but then hardened his face enough to make him look serious.

"I have to make sure the bone's not fractured, because if it is, and doesn't get set right before it starts healing, which is surprisingly fast, I'll have to rebreak it, and trust me, that is even more painful than what you've already experienced."


Q took the blindfold, sitting up to tie it around his head, as this were not a new practice. And in fact, it wasn't.

He raised his lip, however, at the way Doc continued to talk. And despite the man becoming serious in the end, it wasn't serious enough for Q to trust him the way he should've been able to.

"I doubt some thin fabric will prevent you from feeling breaks in my legs," he growled. Q was going to be difficult. He didn't care.
"You know what. Yeah. Put me to sleep. I'd rather sleep through it. I don't care," he shot back, laying back down on the bed.

"I'd sleep through the healing too," he grumbled. He sort of wanted that.
dexterity 3
The wandering mind... wrote: "No it wouldn't, but I already felt for fractures in the van after I doped you up. Right now I need to take an xray, and while I could do it with the pants, this is a smaller simple machine, and it'll come out clearer with as little resistance as possible. Plus I would like to check for swelling. If you do have a break, you could have a blood clot floating around, and I really don't want to watch you die cause it hit your heart."

Doc sighed and put a heavy bib over himself, holding a smaller one in his hands.

"I could knock you out, but if I do, I'll be too busy to ensure this stays over your family jewels protecting it and any future generations you wish to have from any stray x-rays. Your choice though." Doc laughed.


Q groaned slightly. He was extremely uncomfortable as it was. He supposed he could live through more embarrassment.
He'd prefer to be knocked out, but... Whatever. Who knew what the doctor would really do to him.

It took a few seconds to realize what the other man was talking about, before Q heard the once familiar sound of lead aprons going over people to take X-rays.
When he realized it, he replied, "I'm probably sterile anyway, so it doesn't matter."

His voice made it clear that he'd given up trying to argue, but probably wouldn't be any help in assisting in the doctors... Needs.


The wandering mind... wrote: Huh... Doc made a mental note of Q's comment. He seemed almost indifferent to the idea of having kids, and something made him think he was already sterile. Another question poking at him from inside his head about this new fellow.

Doc kept professional, at least on the outside. He couldn't help but giggle mentally as he placed a folded sheet over Q's lap after pulling his pants down and off his body. He'd pictured him as a man to wear silk boxers. It just seemed to fit his personality.

Doc worked rather quickly. Positioning Q's legs for the x-ray, stepping back and taking the picture, he also felt his swollen ankles once again, and carefully bent them, watching Q's expression and body language as he checked the tendons.

"Well, you did luck out, I can't find any fractures, don't ask me how. You've over stretched your muscles and tendons, so you're going to be bed ridden for a few days, otherwise you'll tear something and be bed ridden for a few weeks. I'm going to give you something to keep down the swelling, and ice them on and off. I can give you something to sleep if you think you need it, or just let you sleep on your own."


Q turned his face away and tried to sleep as Doc basically stripped away what was left of Q's dignity. He kept silent through the entire thing, a scowl seeming to be a permanent fixture on his face.

After it was all said and done, and Doc gave his prognosis, Q hmphed. "Good to know, I guess."

Doc then gave him what he needed, explaining how to use the ice packs, and demonstrating, which Q wasn't too fond of.
There was nothing wrong with Q's legs, but he still didn't like them nor his arms being uncovered.

Q expressed his discomfort and begrudgingly Doc put the hybrid's pants back on, making a few jokes in the process. After that, Q garnered the doc's help in putting some covers over himself, and Q said he could sleep on his own, without medicinal aid.

Eventually Doc would leave him alone-- or would be so quiet that Q didn't realize he was there anymore, Q'd finally lull himself to sleep, which was apparently surprisingly easy to do on morphine when you were blindfolded.

The days passed by pretty slowly, but constantly being on the morphine helped to take the edge off Q's normally rough behavior. He didn't complain much, and only woke up for eating and putting ice on or taking it off his legs. He often slept with his mouth open, breathing through it instead of his nose. He didn't snore in the traditional sense, but his breath was audible to people bored enough to listen. Every now and then a canine whine or whimper would escape him-- probably from just some passing dream.

Eventually, three days passed and Doc had come to take the morphine drip off permanently. He did this while Q, as per usual, was sleeping. After removing the IV, he gently pulled the covers off Q's legs and checked to see if the swelling had gone down completely, running his hands up and down while the twenty three year old let out some puppy whimper. It had interested him and made him chuckle a bit the first time it had happened days a go, but had become a rather normal occurrence now. Doc almost expected it, as he had checked Q's legs several times each day until this point.

When he was done, he replaced the covers and gave Q's leg a congratulatory pat. they weren't completely healed, but they were well enough to be bearable and heal on their own without being bedridden and on morphine.

At the pat, Q didn't appear to wake up, which Doc cocked a brow at. He walked over to the nightstand, looking at the things some men had brought from the hotel room Q had nonchalantly jumped out of. Just a silver flask and the sunglasses Q had spoke briefly of two and half days prior. The men had said the rest of the room was trash. No extra clothes or anything.
Q probably didn't live and work in the same hotel room. Either that or had way more of a rough edge than he'd let on in the beginning.

He took the glasses from the table and placed them in Q's hand.
"Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!" Doc laughed, forcing a smile on face.

Q awoke, the expression on his face one of confusion. He furrowed his brows beneath the blindfold.
"...What?" he questioned.

"What, your mother never said that to get you to wake up?" Doc chuckled.

"You're weird," Q stated, unamused.
He closed his hand around the sunglasses, trying to figure out what they were. Once he had, a look of realization came over his face and he set the glasses on his chest so he could use both hands to push the blindfold off.

"They got them from your hotel room, like I said," Doc offered.

"Thanks," Q said softly, still tired. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and blinked hard a few times before putting the glasses on his face, going back into a world of dark greys and hard highlights. Better than being completely blind and helpless, he supposed.

Q pushed himself up, looking down at his body and stretching his back a bit with one of those early morning groans before he noticed his IV wasn't in anymore.
He brought his arm to his line of vision and scratched at where the needle used to be, rubbing it a bit, even though there was no visible hole. After fooling with it for a few seconds, he shrugged and pushed his shirt sleeve down to cover his arm.
"So if the IV's out, that means I can walk right?" he asked, looking up to the Doc.

Q almost did a doubletake. It was the Doc, for sure. The bodyshape was the same. And the hair... But Q could remember what he had looked like before. So much better. In color. Of course there were muted colors now, but it wasn't the same. Q was washed over with a slight depression at his loss. He briefly wondered how hard it would be to get high again to see the way he had before.
... But was it really worth it if he had to lose all vision completely for three days afterward?
Q frowned, shoulders slumping a bit before pushing himself off the hospital bed.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Doc intervened, rushing to the side of the bed and trying to prevent Q from getting up. "Take it slow at first, okay?"

Q gave one of his typical scowls, but moved slower anyway, eventually standing, Doc's hand on his shoulder to steady him.
Q took a step or two forward before he pushed Doc away and said he had it.
The hybrid's tail began to wag a bit, and being on his feet again briefly lifted Q's spirits.

"So, where do I go from here?" Q asked. "Do I just go back home, or what?"

Doc laughed again. "No silly, you have an apartment here. Let me show you your room
I had it fixed with red-tinted lights so it wouldn't bother your eyes."

Doc led Q to the room, which was rather nice. Couch, coffee table, tiny kitchen area, bedroom.
"What about my stuff?" Q questioned after flopping down on the couch.

"What do you mean?" Doc questioned. "You just had a flask and your sunglasses in that hotel room."
Q shook his head. "I didn't live there. I have clean clothes and things in a different hotel." He frowned slightly, then shoved himself back up, off the couch.
"It's fine, I'll just go get them," he thought aloud, walking to the door into the hallway.

"No no no no," Doc rushed up again, stopping the hybrid in his path. "You can't leave. At least not by yourself, anyway."
Q cocked a brow at the Doc. "...What?" It was clear the twenty three year old wasn't used to being told he couldn't do something.

"Well, you know, the big man upstairs wouldn't have that. He's just been so worried about your health and all," Doc mused.

Q scowled. "So you mean he's trapped me here."
Doc brought his fingertips together. "Well that's just being a bit pessimistic. I mean afterall, you get free healthcare!" He spread his arms open wide, as if asking for a hug. Q took a step back and Doc laughed at the hybrid's insecurity.
If Q's free healthcare was a queer, he wasn't so sure he wanted it.

"But seriously," Doc stated, standing straight and sobering up, "You did agree to work with him, whether you remember it or not."

Q's scowl turned into a frown as he tried to think back. He remembered screaming something on the pavement while he was in agonizing pain about agreeing to do something.
It wasn't too farfetched to believe.

If he played his cards right, perhaps he could weasel out of it.
"So then I should go see him," Q suggested. "Marino, that is," as if Doc didn't know who they were talking about.

"Well, I suppose he did want to see you when you were healed, but are you sure right now is the best time?" Doc mused.

Q rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses and walked passed Doc, ignoring his comment. "So I'm going to assume he's on the top floor," Q stated as he walked toward the elevator.

"No, here, Geez, you are very pushy, you know that?" Doc commented as he followed after Q, choosing instead to show him to Marino's office rather than let him get lost in the building by himself. While Doc trusted Q's legs to be mostly healed, he couldn't know for sure if they wouldn't just collapse from underneath him. He'd want to stick around for a least a little while longer.

Soon Q came to the office door and walked up to give it a knock, but again Doc tried to stop him.
"Let me do it," Doc suggested, slipping in between the door and the now very disgruntled hybrid.

Q couldn't really pinpoint why the Doc cared so much. He didn't seem the type to be afraid of his boss. Even so, Doc seemed adamant, so he took a step back and allowed Doc to knock on Marino's door.


The wandering mind... wrote: "... so I'm not the only one interested in this scientist? We'll have to do something about that."

Marino's voice wafted through the door as Cassandra answered the knock, opening the door to Doc's face she visibly scowled, as the man jumped her.

"Cassy!" Doc wrapped her in a hug, the shorter man keeping his head back though, so that he didn't get a face full of breasts. He acted as if she returned the hug, even though she grunted and peeled him off with a shove. While it appeared to be a malicious act, her face revealed it was mere annoyance more than anything. Doc always loved pushing her buttons. She was far too serious for her own good. Sometimes the doctor had to prescribe more than just pills and liquids! Doc motioned for Q to wait outside for a second as the two men that were speaking with Marino left the room, brushing past him.

"Doc." Marino's face was flat, and he hadn't looked up from a folder of photos on his desk, pretending as if the scene before him hadn't happened. Doc would never try such fun on Marino, not unless he wanted to pet his fishes, even if the man was too serious for his own good.

Speaking of the fish, Doc shied to the right of the room as he entered, walking too close to the large tank that made up most of the left wall always made him nervous, for the twin tiger sharks kept inside always seemed to be watching his movements.

"Our new friend Q is doing better. Not enough to go into the field for at least another day or two, and even then I wouldn't recommend anything too strenuous on his legs. I figured I'd bring him in to talk to you, refresh the deal made. He was as high as a kite, no, a jet! when we brought him in, and before that delirious on pain." Doc's kind voice had taken a serious tone that made him sound older, the same tone it always took when discussing the well being of his patients. It wasn't that he was afraid of Marino, but that Q was a tad snarky and the type of personality Doc knew tended to clash with Marino, and he was more feared of that.

Marino merely nodded and closed the folder, putting it away in a drawer. "Alright. Cassandra, have him join us."

Cassandra nodded and opened the door again, ushering Q in again. She smirked, watching him walk, it gave way that he was still not up to par. She wasn't surprised. He'd appeared to sleep the last 3 days straight from when she'd checked in on him. Not that she was concerned, but that it was her duty to keep him out of trouble, especially around here. She wasn't Marino's second hand for no good reason, she'd spent a good part of her life earning the position.

"So Mr. Q," Marino liked to play on formalities, even though he still expected everyone to call him sir. Well, everyone except Doc. While he didn't particularly enjoy the quirky fellow's behaviour or attitude, he respected him, because he was one of the finest, most well rounded doctors he'd seen, not to mention his inane skills with both traditional and nontraditional drugs. He helped perfect some of the concoctions that some of Marino's lower employees sold on the streets as one of Marino's various sources of income. He mostly put up with it as his side of bargain that kept the man around. Not that he could go much elsewhere. Marino was well aware of Doc's past, which was specifically why he wanted the man to look after their new guest and not one of the other lesser medical "employees".

"I see your legs are working again, which I believe makes it safe to discuss business. Here's how things work around here, consider yourself under contract, you will be paid for each mission, earning negotiability as you prove yourself, you will be provided with an apartment here and access to food and equipment, clothes, whatever you need or see fit. I like to keep my employees happy, they do a good job, and they make me happy, but more importantly, they make me money. For now, however, you're are to be escorted when you leave, that also, is something you must earn, for we haven't exactly met under the best of circumstances, and quite frankly, I have no reason to trust you." Marino crossed his hands front of him, intertwining his fingers as if to say, 'any questions', and as he did this, Cassandra took her place behind him, off to one side, as if to say 'not that you have much of a choice'. Doc made himself scarce in the back of the room, still by the door, seeming interested in something up on the shelf. Marino could care less what Doc knew about this business, and Doc didn't want to abandon Q, partially because he was still concerned about his legs, partially so he could show the man his new living quarters, and partially to ensure that Q didn't piss off Marino to the point that he ended up in the shark tank. (Doc had seen it happen to someone once, and that was far too many times.)


As Q waited outside Marino's door, he shifted his weight uncomfortably from leg to leg. It was becoming overtly obvious to him that his legs weren't as strong as they should be, and he was already greatly relishing the thought of sitting down.

When the two men came out, Q quirked a brow and stepped away, again waiting his turn to be let in. He could make out who was speaking, through the relatively thick doors, but he couldn't understand what was being said. It didn't bother Q too much, however. He really didn't have much interest in what they had to say about him.

Finally, Cassandra motioned him to come in, and Q did so eagerly, glad to move his legs. He immediately took a seat, although he wasn't very graceful about it. After plopping down in the chair, he looked around the room. There was what appeared to be a moving, lit wall. He could tell by the shapes of the shadows moving along and the the way the light was refracting, that it was probably a fish tank of somesort. He didn't have any time to look anywhere else before Marino caught him out of his thoughts, calling him Mr. Q.
Q probably would've laughed on another day. This time, however, he placed his hands on his thighs and looked straight at Marino through his dark sunglasses.

Q took a serious tone then. One of respect, and without any intended sarcasm. His voice was clean and free of any accent he had had before.
"With all due respect Sir, I don't believe I'm at the level of your other employees here." He briefly looked to Cassandra, though from behind his sunglasses, he knew no one could see the glance.
Q leaned forward, pushing his elbows on his knees and letting his hands hang, fighting the urge to speak with them.

"As a hybrid, I'm severely limited in what I am able to do without impacting my health. I'm mostly useless for the targets who know what to look for..."

Q was being sincere, however it was moreso to try and get out of his situation rather than actually because he cared about Marino succeeding in whatever his goals were.

He changed gears. "What happened the other day was a fluke. A one in a million chance. Hardly ever are my shots that accurate." That there was an outright lie. Q's shots were always accurate. Now he was simply badtalking himself. He was rather proud of the shot he took-- especially considering he'd still made a clean kill when it was the whore who'd pulled the trigger-- but he was extremely aggravated that it had gotten him in this situation with Marino. The man Q had shot was someone worth much more than $100,000.
Marino was right originally in that Q only took safe hits.

"I normally never get in politics," he swept his hands and leaned back, as if that proved he hated politics. "I was led to believe that man was much less important than he was."
Of course, had Q done his research, he would've realized he was being played. Anyone with half a brain would realize that Q was an idiot to be played in such a way. Either that or he was lying through his teeth about not knowing who the man was.

Q crossed his arms over his chest, only to uncross one in a proposed offering. "A man of your stature would be better served by the Russians, or..." Q tried to think of another honest recommendation. A mercenary much more talented than himself. "... Scholvin, even."
Scholvin was one of the best mercenaries Q could think of, though he wasn't sure if he was the best, as Q tended to keep away from the "serious" crowd. He was generally laughed out of the organized black market, left to deal with small drug dealers and people who held grudges who were too chicken to kill for themselves.
Plus, he was a hybrid. A lot of people wouldn't take him seriously as a killer to begin with. Hybrids all had their strengths, but were rather well known for their short life-spans. There were very few hybrids in existence these days, and even fewer who resorted to crime. Most of them went the way of natives, preferring to live in wilderness.

Or at least, that was what Q had heard. He hadn't met another hybrid. Ever. In his entire life, actually. He thought he had seen one or two in his travels, but it was questionable. He'd only heard about hybrids, and everything that was said was bad.

"...Regardless, what I am trying to say is that I do not think I'm up to par. I'd be more of a risk than anything. I am very easy to spot." he motioned to his grey hair.
"I am noticeable. Easily picked out. The police know who I am and I've already almost been caught by them one time before. Staying here and working for you, rather than being a vagrant, would be detrimental to your business."

Q sat up straight and faced Marino once more, his hands on his thighs.
The hybrid waited for his reply, hoping, almost praying, that something in this man's mind would say 'you're right, just go.'
Q knew it was a trillion to one chance. He probably had more of a chance of being taken out back and shot than just being 'let go'. But he had to try.
Somewhere deep inside himself, Q was afraid of getting back into the big leagues.
He'd been there once before, when he was younger. He'd been the Cassandra to the French version of Marino in a faraway town.
But he'd left that, and had moved to a far more secure lifestyle since. Q liked it where he was.
He liked soaking in his superficial happiness with women, cigarettes, and booze. And he liked not having to focus one hundred percent to complete a kill.
He enjoyed not having to worry too much about people finding or killing him. He relished that security. To do what he wanted.

And Marino, with his nice big building and promises of a permanent "safe" home as long as he worked some highball missions with huge risks-- that was a challenge to everything Q had worked hard to earn.
Q had worked to achieve his level of laziness, and he really didn't want to give that up.


The wandering mind... wrote: If Marino was any less of a man, he'd of been insulted that this man was lying to him, trying to worm a way out, and thinking it would work on him.

Of course, Marino believed that he was of the highest sort of man, and simply nodded his head, letting a slight smile curl the side of his lips. If it wasn't for the demeanor of his face, it could almost look handsome, almost. As it was, with the cruelty that slipped through each crack and dent of his face, it looked sinister and disgusting, like his face was split with the cruel edge of a knife.

"I'm afraid you underestimate yourself." From anyone else, it would of sounded kind, from him it sounded insulting. If Q was smart, he'd insinuate that Marino obviously was calling his bluff.

"I've stated the terms of our arrangement, one you agreed to, the level of your pain at the moment was of no matter to me. I assure you that it is much better than your alternatives. Frankly, I don't care why you prefer your lazy life of safety, nor begin to understand why you would turn down a rather well paying offer, and certain level of how shall I say, safety. At least to the point of having work, and a place to stay where no one is going to come back and pay you returns for your deeds."

Marino stood and walked around to the front of his desk, sitting on the corner, one leg pulled up from the floor. Marino preferred to be in the greater height, talking down as he worked out the details of his deals, least they forget exactly who they were working for.

"Cassandra here," Marino nodded in the direction of the woman, who had until then been silently standing, hiding the edge of her smirk with a turn of her head at the way Marino had talked through Q's bluff. "Has been under my employment since she was just a girl. As I said, I pay my employees well, and she has a substantial account accrued thanks to her superior skills. She's also of course earned the most trust and leeway. She came under my wing not too unlike yourself, though. She however has earned the choice to leave my side whenever she wants, yet has not. Do you know why?"

Marino raised an eyebrow with this, but didn't bother giving the hybrid a chance to answer, instead continuing. "Because she does not fit in anywhere else. No one else would appreciate her talents as well as I have come to. Because she would be underpaid, used ruthlessly by anyone else. I like to think of the people under my employment as well as I want them to work for me, and if you haven't noticed by now, I expect the best from them. You are not fooling me, and while trying, not fooling yourself. I doubt you're happy with the shooty work you've been given, probably grown bored with the ease of which you can complete these missions. Empty whores and bottles of bouse only get you so far. I'm here to offer you a purpose and a home. And trust me, it's better than your alternative."

In so many words, without saying it, he was reminding Q that the alternative was not going back to his life from before, even though he spoke of it, but something much shorter and darker...


Q frowned and looked down. He was a little unsure of how to react. On one hand, he was rather proud for Marino recognizing his talents. On the other, he really wished Marino just thought Q sucked and could be let go.

Do you know why? Marino had said, when talking about Cassandra.

Q could think of all sorts of reasons. He was brought back to a few years a go and why he hadn't left his other full-time employ for so long until the final straw. Marino's explanation wasn't too far off from Q's thoughts. And it was true, Q certainly was being underpaid and abused. And he didn't fit in.
But he was aware of it, and liked it that way. So was it really so bad?

The twenty three year old squeezed his knees with his hands slightly, looking down at the floor. Marino had read him completely. Was he really that intelligent or was Q just that easy to read?

"You're right," he admitted, defeated, his voice soft.
"I apologize. It was stupid of me to go against what I had agreed."

He bit back his tongue and tried not to say anything else. He was used to saying whatever insulting shit he wanted to say. It'd been a few years since he'd been against anyone even slightly respectable. Trying to respect authority after he hadn't for so long was almost painful, and was easily read through his posture.
But still, there was a certain familiarity to it. As Q had been in this position before. The underling, following orders.

"If there's nothing else to discuss, I'll be out of your way," Q suggested, his voice near that of a whisper. He felt like he was going to puke.


The wandering mind... wrote: Cassandra uttered the slightest of 'hmphs' before stiffling it. She knew he'd break, but he had tried, and she admired that a bit. Well, admired wasn't exactly the right word, more fittingly, she found it amusing and attractive at the same time. It was always fun to her to break things...


Marino smiled that awful looking smile again and simply nodded, as if the rest hadn't happened and he'd agreed all along. A glance behind Q told him that Doc had been listening, and he'd even dropped his pretense otherwise, and was outright standing, staring at the hybrid. He knew why too, he could read the tension in the man probably better than Marino could himself, and the poor fool was too good-hearted for his own good and wanted to get Q out of that situation and discomfort as soon as he could. He even started to take a step forward, Marino not doubting that Doc was searching his reseviour of medical excuses to get the man out of the meeting as quickly as possible. Doc had seen far too many times what had happened to people spent too long under Marino's thumb in a bad way, and Marino knew that his attachment and desire to protect the man stemmed from just who he reminded Doc of.

Marino decided it'd just best for all involved to cut the meeting off there. He had a lot he wanted to discuss with Cassandra still, that had been turning in the background of his mind the whole time, and he needed the other two rid of him before he could put his attention on it.

"Alright. That is enough for now. I'll summon you in a day or two, I have a project for you," and before Doc could speak up, "And do not worry, it will not be something of strain on his still healing legs." With that Marino returned to his seat behind the desk, his dismissal to be enough for them to leave him with Cassandra.

Doc nodded, putting a settling hand on Q's shoulder to ensure he'd leave, and to steady the man.

"Why don't I show you your new place..." Doc was quick to start walking ahead of the man and lead him out, the situation had made him entirely uncomfortable, and that was not very common for the normally over-relaxed man. Doc couldn't help but read the challenged and hurt of succumbing to authority on the hybrid's face, and wanted desperately to distract him of it.

"It's actually not too far from the medical offices..." Doc said, leading them back a bit in the same direction. It was on the same level of the building as they'd come from originally, though on the other side of it.


Q got up with a grunt, the muscles in his legs protesting and left. As soon as the door was closed behind them however, the infamous scowl was present on his face.

Q wasn't really broken overall. Just that particular situation. He wasn't going to mope about his "poor job". Or prison. Just because he said he agreed didn't mean he truly did.
It only took a few steps for Q to stand back up straight again.

Marino was definitely an Alpha, whether anyone went by canine social status or not. Q wasn't in his eyeline anymore, so what had happened previously really didn't matter.
If Marino didn't trust him, then Q would probably never earn the trust. Not that he wanted it, regardless.

He followed Doc to the elevator, but once they got inside, Q grunted and pressed for the ground floor. He gave a cursory look to Doc. He didn't seem like the one to have any real defense put into play. This was a big building. Q'd just walk out.


The wandering mind... wrote: Doc stared at the elevator button for a few seconds before looking up.

"Heh... do you really think you can just stroll out? There's a lot of money and people in this place, on top of that, Marino. You think everyone can come and go as they please? Unless of course you're heading for the cafeteria to get your grub on..." Doc laughed but he knew better. He didn't really blame him, he'd want to leave too, hell he'd wanted to leave himself so many times, but he had no where else to go. And Doc really didn't want Q to leave... not yet at least, there were so many questions, both scientific, and personal. Doc wasn't sure why, but he was drawn to the mysterious hybrid. Hybrid, if Doc was thinking a bit more clearly, he might of figured out why.

Sure enough, this elevator opened to the main entrance, and not the garage one they'd come through when Q was still drugged up. While it didn't look overly secure, the presence of the men and cameras in the entrance hall were enough to convey the feeling that it could become secure relatively fast.

Sure enough, an overly buffed out man approached them, nodding to Doc.

"Doc, good to see you. May I ask where you and the hybrid are going? Boss has sent strict orders that he is not to leave without an escort..." There was a slight waiver in his voice when he said escort that made Doc think Marino had a few details added on to that order, especially on who the escort would be. Few people in the building would make such a large imposing man quiver, even if ever so slightly...


Q looked over to the Doc.
Do you really think you can just walk out?
"Yes," Q stated sternly, interrupting the other man before he said anything else.

When the doors opened and the security guard walked up, Q straightened a bit. It was unexpected.
He spoke before Doc could get a word in edgewise, however.

He played the fool, looking around a moment. "Oh, this is the first floor? I didn't mean to go down this far." He looked over to Doc. "I thought you were supposed to take me to my room, not here."

He turned back to the elevator buttons, and pressed two and the close door button. "I apologize," he stated before the doors closed and they were on their way up one floor.

Q grunted a bit to himself, determined to not let the encounter dampen his mood. The elevator went up one floor and opened its doors again, and this time, without the heavy guard, Q got out and began to walk toward the nearest window. He was beginning to get a headache, and it was daylight outside, which was probably making it worse, but he wanted to look out the window for a different reason.

Doc of course followed behind him, saying something about how Q should really get to his room. Q wasn't paying much attention. Once Q reached the window, he looked out at an angle, trying to see the exterior of the building they were in. First in one direction, than the other. He scowled at not seeing what he wanted to see, then rubbed his forehead at the ever-increasing headache.

He turned around in his place and scanned the hall for any conspicuous doors. This was designed as a business building. As such, it had to follow certain safety regulations. There was bound to be some sort of fire staircase. He just had to find it. There may be a guard or two posted there, but it certainly wouldn't be as crowded as the front exit.

After looking around like an idiot with his mouth slightly open for a couple of seconds, he noticed a door that was a slightly lighter color than the others. He gave a brief nod and walked toward it, stopping only to examine the door frame. He scowled again.
While he had found what he was looking for, the door to the staircase was rigged to the fire alarm. While it wasn't posted that it would fire off on the door, Q knew what the devices looked like, and he would need the key to open this without having the entire building thinking there was a fire. And despite his lack of thinking forward in most situations, he wouldn't be idiotic enough to go that route here.

He sighed and put his left hand on the wall to lean against it, idly tapping his index finger, debating what to do while Doc gave him some warning about the alarm, not noticing Q had already figured it out.
Q groaned outwardly and brought his other hand to his face, his thumb and forefinger massaging his temples. He felt a bit lightheaded. Probably just from the overexertion of his legs, he mused. Which were already begging for Q to sit down somewhere.

As Q massaged his temples, he let his shoulder fall against the wall, so his full weight was on it rather than his hand. He sighed again and after a moment, begrudgingly pushed himself away and turned back to the elevator in defeat.
"Fine,' he grumbled. "Take me to this room for now."

They went back in the elevator, and Doc led him to the correct level. The entire way, Q felt worse and worse, as if he were becoming sick. Eventually Doc asked him what was wrong while they were walking toward Q's room.
"It's nothing," Q brushed it off and went inside, flopping on sofa and leaning his head back against the wall. It clearly wasn't nothing.

"Is it your eyes?" Doc pressured.
"No," Q growled, annoyed by Doc's consistent caring.
After that, however, Q began to breathe through his mouth rather than his mouth.
He closed his eyes behind his sunglasses, slowly bringing his hand up his pants, feeling for a pack of cigarettes. They weren't there, so he was left with the appearance of simply feeling up himself. He hmphed, and tried his other hand and other pocket. Same thing. His pockets had been emptied at some point.

"I need a cigarette," he grumbled, lifting up his head to look at the doctor.
Doing so made him dizzy, however, and Q was quick to throw his head back again. After a minute of supposedly regaining himself, he laid down on the couch, trying to keep his eyes open so he wouldn't spin around the room.
It was stupid how fast these "attacks" came on. He had been perfectly fine this morning.

... When he was on morphine.
Shit, he hadn't smoked in three days.

".....Fuck, morphine heightens blood pressure, doesn't it," Q groaned softly.
The drug must've worked its way out of his system enough by now that Q'd reverted to his normal state.... Which was one of chronic low blood pressure.

"I gotta smoke or I'll pass out soon," he breathed. "I've really bad low blood pressure, the chain smoking fixes it." He brought his left hand up and rubbed his two fingers and thumb together as if he expected Doc to just produce a cigarette out of nowhere.
It would've have surprised Q if he did.

"Might not be able to smoke in a minute, even," he forced, letting out a small wheeze.
It was rare he'd forget to smoke enough to get him in this sort of state, but when he was in it the last few times, he'd pass out and hope it all sorted itself out while he was unconscious. He wasn't sure how, but it generally did.
Or at least did enough for him to smoke a pack to get on his feet again.

"Told you I was a risk," he smirked, a small a chuckle escaping him before it turned to a wheeze.
He brought down his hand and put it on his stomach, forcing his chin up in hopes the dizziness would go away enough for him to smoke properly.


The wandering mind... wrote: Doc was a bit overjoyed when Q finally gave up trying to find a way out. Especially when he didn't resort to trying to jump out of one of the windows... he'd already done that once too many lately... Though Doc buried his joy, and it was soon replaced with a less hidden bundle of worry as he noticed the change in the man.

"Your blood pressure is low? Smoking... hmm... well do you have any notion of how bad it is now?" Doc fell to his knees and fumbled around in the smaller bag he always carried with him when inside the building, it hung over one of his shoulders, and across his chest, bopping around occasionally on his back when he chose, rarely and only in case of emergency, to move too fast.

"I might have a cigarette or two in here, long stale by now, but it'd still work... But I have something much stronger, it's for shock victims, or severely dehydrated ones, until I can get them on IV, which, no to answer your question, morphine doesn't, in some cases even lowers just a little, but shoving your veins full of fluids keeps the pressure up rather nicely..."

Frustrated with his shoveling, Doc merely turned the bag over and dumped the assortment of junk that filled one of the compartments of his bag. It was really junk too. Strange trinkets, bits of trash, not a lot, but from the midst of the small pile Doc found a two cigarettes, one of which was snapped in half and he tosses aside. He also pulled out a vial and syringe pack from the another area of his pack.

"I confiscated these from a particularly fat man that didn't seem to understand he had to quite all his bad habits or he'd be dead within the week... I also have this drug, as much as I prefer less traditional methods, that'll do the trick if you need something stronger, but uh... well, it can work almost too good, and you won't be able to stay in a position like that..."


Q winced as Doc continued to talk, and then dropped everything out of his bag onto the floor. It almost seemed as if the man were being noisy on purpose.

As Doc hunted through his things, Q shifted his posture, pushing himself so his feet were on the back of the couch and his forehead was resting on the floor. His mouth hung open slightly, as it was habitual to do, before he answered Doc.

"Bad enough," he griped. "..... What do you mean, works too well? I will get a heart attack?" Q closed his mouth, his dizziness only slightly subsiding as he clenched his teeth.

Without waiting for the answer, Q reached his left hand out weakly for the stale cigarette. It didn't occur to him that he needed a lighter-which he didn't have- to actually use it.

He managed to snatch it away from Doc after a few missed attempts, and stuck it between his lips before trying to sit back up.
After letting his feet fall to the seat of the sofa, he brought his arms to the floor, to push his upperbody up so he could sit and face Doc again. Part of Q wanted the drug-- was hoping it would make him see colors again-- but the other part of him feared the complications. And it was the fear that would most likely win out.

However, Q didn't have a chance to make that decision, as when he pushed himself all the way up to sit and have this drug chat with Doc, his eyes rolled back and he passed out, body limply falling back on the sofa, unlit cigarette still in his now open mouth.

Q's condition wasn't too bad. Currently, it was just his body trying to re-acclimate itself to being in a constant state of hypotension. Left alone, he'd probably wake up in anywhere from twenty to thirty minutes and be all right, if slightly lightheaded.

The real trouble was when Q tried to do cardio, or if he bled. Only then was it particularly life threatening. The smokes helped with that too, but for normal life, it was more of a comfort thing-- to protect him from "attacks" such as this in extenuating circumstances, and to avoid temporary black outs and/or dizziness when standing up too fast from a sitting or laying position, which was something Q commonly did.

The reason for his hypotension was that his insides had fared worse than his outsides when it came to being a hybrid. While Q looked normal enough, his insides were a fangled mess more suited to be looked at by a veterinarian. His veins in particular were too big for most of his organs, namely his heart, which was the size of a normal human's.


The wandering mind... wrote: "Well.. you could... if you lay down too soon."

Doc fumbled in his pocket for a lighter as Q righted himself, then proceeded to pass out.

Swearing loudly Doc jumped up, made sure the hybrid wasn't going to fall off the couch, then grabbed the syringe pack. With his teeth and left hand, he ripped it open and pulled out the syringe, the other hand finding the vial and bringing it back. Doc pulled back the lowest dose, thought twice, and increased it a bit more, before putting the vial aside and finding Q's arm. With ease he pushed the medicine in, safely capped the needle, and sat Q up. He then proceeded to nudge the man, trying to awaken him.

"Hey, Q, earth to ya man, come on, wakey wakey!" Doc gently patted his cheeks. He had to catch the man and awaken him as the medicine started to take effect, otherwise his blood pressure could rise too quickly in such a relaxed state and that would send him into a heart attack.

"Hey man, you gotta wake up..."
dexterity 4
Q gave a few muffled puppy whines, slowly coming to. He moved his head around, trying to get away from whatever it was slapping him, before he opened his eyes and put his hands toward the Doctor to get him to stop. With a groan, he very weakly made a move to shove Doc away, and with his other hand he took out the cig and tossed it on the coffee table.

"What are you doing...?" Q wheezed a bit, turning his attention back to Doc. Q still had a headache, his dizziness was going away slightly, but otherwise he felt as if he weren't getting any better.

"You trying to kill me?" He said weakly, turning away and lying his head against the back of the sofa. Q knew something wasn't right. He remembered wanting the cigarette so he wouldn't pass out, now while he still felt like shit, he didn't feel like he was going to pass out. He was going to guess that he'd already passed out, in which case... He just spat out the cigarette he still needed.

With an agitated hmph he turned back to the table and grabbed the stupid cancer stick again, putting it between his lips once more. On the table he also found a lighter that had been discarded-- probably got there while Q was unconscious, he assumed.

Q reached for it, grabbed it, brought it to his cig to light it when Doc was all over him, trying to grab the lighter from him.
"Hey. Hey." Q growled, trying to keep his arm away, as if he'd just stolen a lower classman's bag and simply had to hold it higher than the height of the victim.
"HEY!" Q shouted at Doc's face, obviously angered, and finally gathering his strength to actually push Doc aside to light the cig and take his first drag.
Of course, Doc didn't relent with trying to take the cig away from him, the lighter now proving useless.

"QUIT IT!" Q barked, grabbing Doc's right hand with his left and holding it on the seat of the couch.
"My body is a delicate ecosystem, I know what it needs, you trying to fuck it up isn't going to--"

Doc continued to try and snatch the cigarette with his free hand, at which point Q took his own free hand and pinned Doc's also.


The wandering mind... wrote: "No shit Sherlock, I just shot you up with a medication that pushes your blood pressure up, that's the only reason you're awake right now. That little stick of cancer wasn't going to be enough, and you'd of never woke up without the shot."

Doc pushed Q down onto the couch, trying to use his weight to help in keeping Q down. It wasn't much, but at this rate he'd take what he could get. Besides, the exercise for the moment would be enough to keep Q's blood pressure from reaching dangerous levels and him stroking out or having a heart attack.

"But if you smoke that now.." Doc grunted, wrestling with Q, sometimes being short sucked... okay, usually all the time..."you'll probably have a heart attack!"

((I couldn't think of anything to fill the post with, sorry, needs Q's reaction))


Q was pushed down on the couch. Now on his back, with Doc on top of him, he began to connect dots.

"You what?" he said, confused, the cigarette hanging from his lip.
"You injected me with another drug? You couldn't just leave me unconscious?" He turned his head to the side and spit out the still lit cigarette.

Afterward, he looked back to Doc, scowl seeming to be a permanent fixture on his face. "But I still feel like it's low!" He growled and let go of Doc's hands, attempting to free his own and push the other man off himself.

He couldn't. Q was feeling particularly weak. He couldn't understand why, because the dizziness had dissipated and all that remained was the familiar headache. His chest didn't hurt, and he certainly didn't feel like he was having a heart attack. But then again, he wasn't sure he'd ever had one before.

"This isn't one of those drugs that makes you high, is it?!" Q accused, becoming more frustrated the longer he was beneath Doc. It showed on his face-- like a cornered dog getting ready to bite at the next move. Q's brows were creased and his upper lip raised. His eyes, had they not been covered by his sunglasses, would've been seen as full of contempt, currently. And fear.

His heart was beating hard in his chest, and he was trying to figure out if it was the drug or just the situation making his blood rush.
 
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sparx lab


http://i46.tinypic.com/11v6xx4_th.jpght ... hitebg.jpg

Deliliah (Deli) is a 20 year old intern to the biochemist Robyn Sparx, father of Jiden (Jy), an eighteen year old electronics wizkid. One day, Robyn mysteriously dies -- thought to be by spontaneous brain aneurysm, same as Jiden's mother several years prior.

Everyone's in the wrong place at the wrong time, and all signs point to Jy and Deli being murderers. Even worse, Jy now has suspicious ties to a group of thought to-be international spies.

What now?



YOU CAN JOIN THIS RP IF YOU WANT.
PM me with how you think you'd fit (character idea, etc.) doesn't have to be long.
If I like the idea/character I'll work you in.
Feel free to ask questions, too, if you want to be in but don't have a solid idea of what you want to do.

The RP takes place in slightly futuristic real world. Everyone is entirely human, however the genre will be scifi/cyberpunk and may go into fringe science eventually.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Thunk.

Delilah's head hit the steering wheel of her car in frustration. She sat idling in the small parking lot of Sparx Labs, and would have been driving home by now if Mr. Sparx had remembered to take her report for the day. This was the third time this week he had forgotten.

She rubbed her forehead where she made contact, hoping there wasn't a red spot. "I told him five minutes before I left he needed it. No, 'later, later'," Deli complained to no one in particular. Minor annoyances seemed to be a bigger deal than they actually were to her; her mom called it her downfall. Climb a mountain? No problem. Return the report to an office less than twenty feet away? Biggest pain in the world.

Not like she had anywhere to be on a Friday night. Deli's usual routine included coming home, feeding her cat, browsing the forum she belonged to, and eating dinner. Some nights she went out to the bar, pick somebody up, and have an entertaining night. Those were becoming infrequent as her internship became more demanding. For working in a lab connected to someone's home, biochemical engineers do a lot of work.

Deli retied her blonde hair into a loose ponytail before turning the car back off. She grabbed the envelope containing today's report and, after locking her own car, heading back towards the building.

'I swear, if this happens again next week I'm going to kill him,' She thought to herself in amusement. She vaguely wondered if his kid was around.. not that she could come up with his name.. before heading inside.


Jiden sat on a stool and looked into a microscope, watching cells on some slide move around.
He was only eighteen, almost nineteen, and this was the last thing his father had looked at before he died.

Jiden was trying to figure out if it had some special meaning, if there was some secret, or if it really was just a random slide of no importance. Like a homework project of one his father's students, or something. Robyn Sparx, Jiden's father, was a professor at a nearby university so looking over homework wasn't too uncommon.

Jiden frowned, and finally rolled himself away from the microscope, scooting over to the other side of the warehouse, following the long line of lengthy tables.
Half the warehouse was dedicated to biochemistry-- Robyn's work -- the other half was a bunch of electronics equipment. Some mismatch between an electrician and engineer's hideout. It was the remnants of Jiden's long ago deceased mother's profession and what Jiden himself had picked up.
His mother was an inventor, she brought amazing machines to help the medical field and a few nice advancements to the electronic technicians. Jiden was no where near to the intellectual level his parents were, and didn't think he'd ever begin to understand chemistry, but he did love electronics. He could take apart, repair or make better, then reassemble practically anything that ran on electricity.

Once he got to his own workbench, he ran a hand through his long reddish-brown hair, narrowing his green eyes as he made sure his hair was behind his shoulders.
Bending over a circuitboard, he picked up a flathead screwdriver and quickly went to place it over a capacitor when....

WHOOMM!

The warehouse door slid open unexpectedly, Robyn's intern-- Deliliah -- coming inside in a huff.
Jiden's screwdriver slipped, and the capacitor discharged into his arm.

"AUUUGH!" He fell off his stool and onto the ground, screwdriver still in his hand, his back on the floor.
A full second later, he managed to drop the screwdriver and put his hands down, them having been frozen in place before. He took in a few deep breaths, almost certain his entire life had flashed before his eyes and he'd had some sort of mild heart attack.

How much had been stored in that capacitor? He couldn't remember. What a stupid move, regardless.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Deli froze when Robyn's son yelped, and looked over in time to see him hit the ground.

"Oooh.. fuck."

She forgot how loud the door was when it opened. It probably didn't help that she slammed it open either. Robyn would probably come bounding in momentarily to see what the commotion was, and more than likely irked that he was taken away from reviewing his students' homework.

Deli set the folder down on the nearest table and ran over to him, glancing at the capacitor on the workbench before focusing her attention on him. Safety measures that Robyn went over her first week working here ran through her mind, but nothing pertaining to her field really covered electrocution. On the bright side, he was still breathing.

She knelt down next to him by balancing on the balls of her feet, being careful not to touch him or the screwdriver. "Um.. I guess asking if you're alright would be a moot point right now?" Deli bit the corner of her lip; last thing she needed to start her weekend was a lecture from Mr. Sparx.

It dawned on her that he hadn't rushed into the room yet. "Where's your dad?" Deli half-muttered.


Jiden dropped his arms by his sides and sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, ignoring the other's question. After a moment, his heart still feeling like it was beating irregularly, he turned over on his stomach and slowly pushed himself up, sitting on the floor and putting his right hand over his chest to feel his heart.

"He's not here right now," Jiden finally said. It wasn't exactly a lie.
Even still, it was extremely odd for Robyn to not be around. Aside from trips over to the university to teach, he had absolutely zero social life.
But Deliliah probably knew he wasn't scheduled to be at the university today.

Jiden looked down at his chest and his hand. He wore a green shirt with a black long sleeve coat and pants, complete with black boots. He also had a pair of goggles that looked similar to rave goggles (with green lenses) hanging around his neck.
Taking another deep breath, he took his hand from his chest and stood up.

"I think it was just a micro amp or so. Pretty sure I'll be fine...." he mumbled, not really too sure of it himself.

Looking to her again, he finger brushed his hair nervously. "Why are you here so late anyway?"


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Deli stood back up as Jiden rolled into a sitting position, remembering she was wearing a skirt today. Not that Jiden would have seen much anyways, as she mainly wore knee-length swishy skirts that probably shouldn't be worn in a lab environment. But it didn't hinder her work, so Robyn allowed it - but only on Fridays. This weeks skirt was white with a blue/green cityscape on the bottom hem, topped with a plain navy t-shirt. On her feet were low-top turquoise Chuck Taylors.

Fashion aside, she glanced around the lab again as Jiden answered her second question. A questioning look came over her face; it wasn't like Robyn to not be around unless he was at school, and today wasn't his day to be there. "He was here when I left.."

Jiden's mumblings brought her attention back to him. "I came back to give your dad my lab report for today, since he didn't remember to take it when I left." She watched him finger-brush his hair, trying to determine his current demeanor. Shock would be a good guess. But why... oh.

"Oh my god!" Her hand flew up to her mouth, "I'm so sorry you got electrocuted! I don't think sometimes when I do things and I was in a huff and.. ugh." She lowered her hand and offered to Jiden to help him stand. "Sorry."


Jiden waved her off. "It's fine. I'll be okay," he said to her, trying to calm her down. His voice was rather breathless, however.

He turned and picked up his fallen stool, sitting on it again and facing her, feeling a bit lightheaded and not wanting to stand for too long.

"Well, just uh.. Leave it on his desk or something.. I'll make sure he gets it," Jiden replied lying through his teeth. It was pretty convincing, especially considering he didn't remember ever lying about anything before.

He put his hands in his lap and looked down, his arm and chest still tingling.

"Don't worry about it," he tacked on.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Deli sighed, letting her cheeks puff up with air as her excitement calmed down.

She was, for the most part, aware that Jiden had been electrocuted since she walked in the door and watched him fall. But the lack of Mr. Sparx had distracted her, and his son's plight slipped her mind until moments ago. More than anything, she was glad he wasn't unconscious or dead. Explaining to your boss why your son was passed out on the floor was never a fun prospect to Deli.

Speaking of her boss.. She slipped the report folder on his desk after Jiden's suggestion, taking a peek down the connecting hallway as she passed. Still no sign of Mr. Sparx. After depositing it, Deli returned to her location in front of Jiden. "Okay, seriously. Where is your dad? I'm pretty sure he would be concerned that his son was electrocuted," she stated, ignoring the tacked on part of his comment.


Jiden watched the woman slip the folder on his father's desk and turn to leave. He began to relax until she turned right back around and asked him where Robyn was again.

"Everybody gets shocked. That's part of the whole... Electricity thing," Jiden forced a smile, though he still looked extremely tired, as if he hadn't slept in a day or so. Truth be told, he should probably go to the hospital and get his heart monitored, but he was trying not to worry about it.

He looked back down at his lap, his hand now completely numb and his chest still tingling.
"I'm sure he'll be back... Probably..."
Jiden forced a cough.

Robyn was sitting at the kitchen table on the floor above where they actually lived, dead in his chair.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Deli's hands were on her hips as Jiden tried to play off being electrocuted, unconvinced. She could see the ends of his hair were floating from the static electricity, and his hand hadn't moved from his lap in the past minute or so. Despite being somewhat easily distracted and forgetful, Deli tended to pick up on the smaller things occurring around her. Mountain vs. little things.

It dawned on her that the kid just looked.. drained. 'Maybe he did just step out for a minute. I should probably stop harping him about it and make sure.. fuck what was his name?'

She crouched slightly to meet his eye level, "You don't look alright. Although I can't see any burns on your arm so I don't think it was that bad of a shock. Probably not enough to totally mess with your heart. Is your hearing or vision messed up? Feeling any pain, numbness, tingling?" Deli rolled off on a tangent.

She stopped herself before overloading the kid. "Better yet, do you want a drink of water.. uh?" Deli hoped he would supply his name.

All she wanted to do was go home to her cat, as pathetic as it sounded.


Jiden listened to her, and gave a small smirk afterward, forcing a breathy "heh."

"Jiden," he said later.
Jiden was normally pretty easygoing. Either immersed in his gadgetry or cracking some joke with a smile on his face. Given his situation -- father completely overloaded with work and Jiden left to entertain himself -- he had seemed to adapt fairly well and no one ever really wondered about him.

In truth, he was usually praised as being some sort of electrical genius, taking after his mother and bound to come up with something amazing eventually. For that reason, he didn't bother with school. He'd tried it, but like any smart kid, had grown bored and about the age of ten he took the test for his GED and kept to himself in his lab since. Occasionally he'd participate in some engineer forums. He'd made some headway in the hobby battle robots scene, but didn't really fully apply himself anywhere too heavily. Robyn didn't want Jiden to entirely miss out on a "real" childhood, so had never forced his son to go get a job or jump start adult life. Realistically speaking, they had all the money they could've wanted anyway.

It was all this that came through Jiden's mind. It had only been about an hour a go that he was eating cereal in the kitchen when his father came up to make himself sandwich. The man had sat down to eat it in his lab coat, asked how J's day was going and then promptly passed out on the table.

Jiden had turned around and dropped everything, rushing over. He didn't know what to do at first, or what had happened. But when the eighteen year old checked for breath or a heartbeat, there was nothing. Jiden grabbed a defibrillator and attempted to resurrect his father, but blood came out of his ears after a few tries and Jiden knew his father was gone.

It had been sudden, unexpected, completely uncalled for...
His father had been taken away just like his mother had when he was six.
Jiden had no idea what to do. Something snapped in his brain and he simply went back downstairs into the lab and tried to pretend it had never happened.
He didn't want to look at it. He didn't want to think about it.

Maybe if he ignored it, it would go away.
Every fiber of his being knew it wouldn't, but he still hoped anyway. Some sort of teenaged resolve stuck in him. He was stubborn, he didn't want to believe he was suddenly alone in the world with no one to look after him.

But now Robyn Sparx's intern was trying to get him to go up there to the kitchen, to his father, to ruin everything. To absolve him of his unique fantasy that everything was okay.

"Were you and him... You know...?" He looked at his numb hand. "...In love?"


D e l i r i o u s wrote: "Jiden."

Well there's a name not heard every day.

"I'm Delilah... Deli," she replied.

Deli didn't know much about him otherwise, and his father was never really a talkative person when it came to his family. She knew his mother died when he was young, and that his dad never remarried. Jiden, from the various battle robot awards she had seen in Robyn's office, was an electrical whiz-kid who completed school early.

When Delilah started interning at Sparx lab weeks ago, she had noticed him putzing around the lab. He would tinker with something electronic, say a word in passing to his dad about something related to his interests, and that was the bulk of what she could visibly see. He wasn't much of a social kid, and Deli was so busy with her intern work that she couldn't spare much time to socialize anyways.

She just assumed, since Robyn was a workaholic and Jiden appeared to be immersed in his gadgetry, that they had their own dynamic that didn't involve a lot of interaction. Deli vaguely wondered if she had more of a relationship with Robyn than Jiden did.

"Were you and him... You know...?" He looked at his numb hand. "...In love?"

Deli's eyes went wide, "Wah? No no, oh god no. I mean.. no offense to your dad or anything but he's twice my age and.." Well, that took her off guard. "No," she settled on, exasperated, "I'm just his intern."

Curiosity took over her, "Why is there something I'm not aware of here?" She cocked an eyebrow. 'Oh god please don't tell me my boss is in love with me.'


Jiden's shoulders rose as he took in a large breath.
"He's dead," was his curt reply.

His body tightened up a bit, and he closed his eyes.

"In the kitchen," he whispered, trying to make himself appear smaller in his stool.

He didn't really expect her to believe him or anything. But he wasn't sure what else to do.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Deli's mouth went slack.

"Wait.. no.." She whispered in disbelief.
Her eyes flicked around the floor, hopelessly looking for words.

"In the kitchen," She heard Jiden whisper.

When she left work two hours ago Robyn was sitting at his workstation, looking over some cell samples from one of his star student's work. Deli was listing in her report oddities he noticed in the cells. They were developing a new diet drug designed to break down specific fats in the body, and Robyn had assigned some of his better students to provide some lab cell samples with an early test of the drug.

Her last words to him were "Don't forget, report."

Within two hours..
He was perfectly fine when she left.

"D..dead?"


Jiden took a deep breath.

"Dead."

The eighteen year old closed himself off for a moment, but then stood up, forcing a smile on his face.

"But who cares about that, right?? I mean, there's so much to do! Save lives, build bots, have fun?"

He cracked, looking down. "...Shit," he grumbled, a shiver climbing up his spine.

He waited a few uncomfortable seconds before he finally said, "I don't know what to do with the body. Who do you call for that, anyway."
sparx lab 2
D e l i r i o u s wrote: Deli stepped back as Jiden stood up with a forced smile and made an awkward attempt at normalcy.

A few uncomfortable seconds past until he spoke again.

"I.. would assume 911. I guess they transfer us.. er, you, to whoever you need to actually talk to and they send someone out."

She brushed back her bangs.

"I could call if you don't want to. My phone's in my car.."


"You could, uh... Use the house phone..."
He shook a bit, and just silently turned and walked toward the stairs, not looking back to see if Deli was following him.

When he reached the upper level, he walked through the small den to the kitchen, where his father still was. The chair had been pushed back and the man leaned back, his head lolling on a loose neck backward, blood slowly dripping from his ears onto a puddle on the tile floor. The defibalator lay discarded next to the island with a small stove. Jiden gave another shudder and walked passed.

Trying to ignore the scene, he grabbed the cordless phone off the hook and walked back, taking measures to walk the long way, around the traumatic yet calm scene, and handed Deli the phone with his left hand. His right hand was still pretty numb, but the feeling was slowly coming back, so he didn't bother saying anything about his own problem.

Obviously the dead man in the room was a slightly bigger issue.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: She made a quick nod.

Deli silently followed Jiden up the stairs into his house. Her eyes flicked around the den as they passed through.

When they walked into the kitchen Deli stopped short, eyes glued to Robyn's body. Her breath became uneven, and she could feel herself getting dizzy. Deli grabbed the door frame to steady herself as nausea swept over her.

Her eyes focused on the blood dripping from Robyn's ears, following the drops to the floor. She felt the phone being pushed into her hand.

"Oh dear god.." She muttered before passing out cold.


Jiden went to push the phone into Deli's hand when she promptly fainted.

The eighteen year old dropped the phone on the floor and went to catch her. He wrapped his arms around her, but wasn't quite strong enough and so only managed to smooth the fall a bit as she pulled him down with her. He wound up on his knees with her in his arms and stared blankly for a moment before slowly unwrapping himself from her and standing back up again.

He bit his bottom lip and then grabbed Deli's arms, pulling her into the carpeted den before squatting near her again.

"Uh... Deli, right? Deli?" He slapped her cheeks a bit. He could tell she was breathing, but he was still confused as to the whole situation. A little overwhelmed, even. His dad was dead, he had just been shocked, now his dad's intern passed out...

"Deli?" he slapped her cheeks some more.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Deli was taller than Jiden, and it would have been amazing if he caught her completely. He probably could have if it wasn't for prior events.

It took a few minutes for Deli to revive, feeling the stinging sensation in her cheeks from Jiden's slaps. Oddly enough, she still had a grip on the phone.

"Ah, I'm awake I'm awake," She muttered, shoving Jiden's hand away from her face. Her head lolled to the side, giving her a view of the kitchen again. Her eyes focused and settled on Robyn's body again.

"Fuck!" Deli screamed, jumped up slightly and moving away from the kitchen more, hoping she didn't knock Jiden over in the process.

Deli's breath calmed back down after a few moments. "Sorry.." She remembered the phone in her hand, "Right. 911," she muttered as she punched the numbers into the phone.

--

"911, what is your emergency?"
"Hi.. I kind of have a big problem."
"Okay, what seems to be the issue ma'am?"
"My boss is dead," Deli swallowed hard, "I'm with his son right now."
"Alright. What's your names please and the location you're at?"
"Delilah Boyd and Jiden Sparx. We're at Sparx Labs, off the highway?"
"Okay, we're sending EMTs to your location now. Can you tell me what appears to be the cause of death?"
"Uh.." Deli glanced back towards the body, then up to the defibrillator on the island. "I'm not sure. I arrived after.. it happened. He's bleeding from the ears and I think Jiden tried to use a defibrillator unit on him."
"Ok. I need you to stay on the line until the EMTs arrive."


Jiden tried to move out of the way when Deli moved, but wound up falling backward onto his rear on the carpet instead. Once Deli seemed to calm herself and call 911, he bent his legs and put his elbows on his knees, listening to her call.

About twenty minutes later, an ambulance and a patrol car arrived. EMT came in and accessed the situation along with two cops. The EMTs took the body, on a stretcher, back to the ambulance. The cops came over and asked Deli a few questions about what happened, then went over to Jiden, since apparently he had the whole story.

Jiden had moved over to the couch, and simply kept looking down. He liked things that didn't change. Electronics. They were good. People were... Not as predictable. Didn't have defined rules like current or power... Electronics didn't inexplicably die while talking to you.

Jiden eventually told them what happened, although it was similar to pulling teeth.
Jiden was eating, his dad came up and made a sandwich. Asked him how his day went, promptly fell on the table. Jiden grabbed the defibulator, no luck, blood from ears... Give up and try to think about something else until Deli came.

The police seemed incredibly skeptical but they could Jiden was extremely bothered so let it go, and went to Deli again, telling her they'd be back some other time and that she should probably keep an eye on the kid and get ahold of any other family members, if possible.

Soonafter the personnel were gone, left with just a word of the morgue in which Robyn would be delivered.

Jiden put his face in his hands and grit his teeth.
Still clueless.
This was an entirely new feeling.

He'd never been clueless, he'd never had no ideas. He was supposed to be a genius. Smarter than his age. Capable of great things.

Now he felt terrible. Useless. Young. Daft. Dumb.
He wished he had had some sort of warning, something to go on. Maybe they could prepare for this somehow... Say goodbye... Hung out...
Something.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Deli stayed on the line until the EMTs arrived twenty minutes later. Fifteen of those twenty minutes were spent in unbearable silence - broken only by the occasional question by the operator. When the EMTs arrived, she disconnected the line with relief and stood to let them in.

Relief was short-lived. Deli felt largely useless talking with the police, considering she wasn't even around when it happened. She explained she was interning with Mr. Sparx, and had worked earlier today, initially leaving two and a half hours ago. She returned to give Mr. Sparx her paperwork when she accidentally shocked Jiden, then shortly discovered the body upstairs. She fainted, recovered, and called 911. Deli, for some reason, left out the specifics of her work with Sparx.

When the police realized she didn't have much else to say, they moved onto Jiden. They were all in the den still; since Jiden occupied the couch Deli moved to the far wall away from the kitchen. The puddle of blood was still on the floor, too thick to crust over.

After finishing with the agitated Jiden, the officers informed Deli they would be in contact and that she should keep an eye on Jiden. She nodded halfheartedly, selfishly realizing this killed her weekend.

Once they all left - someone thankfully cleaned up the remaining blood - Jiden and Deli were left alone again. She stood against the wall with her arms crossed as Jiden fumed on the couch.

People don't just spontaneously drop dead over a sandwich.

"No such thing as a killer sandwich.." She muttered.


Jiden pulled at his bangs, then ran his fingers through his long hair, clasping his hands between his legs at the end on the loveseat.

"If I killed him I'm sure I could come up with a better story than he randomly fell on the table. But thanks for the faith in me. Really. I mean, it's not like my dad just died or anything."


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Mental head desk.

"I'm aware. But you do realize that you being the only one actually here when it happened does at least make you a suspect, right?" She snapped back. Deli wasn't equipped to deal with this.

Deli's eyes moved from Jiden to the kitchen, then back again. If he really did kill his dad, then he would have come up with a better story.

Robyn's bleeding from the ears was bothering her.
His dying was also bothering her, needless to say.

She bit her lip in thought, "Did he hit his head when he fell? Why would he be bleeding like that?"


Jiden grunted. "I think it was an aneurysm. My mom died the same way."

He sighed. "Can we please leave? I don't want to be here anymore."
He got up and went to his room, grabbing a few things and shoving them into a duffel bag, coming back to the den and looking pleadingly at Deli.

He was eighteen, he was legally an adult. Technically he didn't need to stay anywhere. But maybe she would pity him...


D e l i r i o u s wrote: "I'm.. sorry," Deli immediately responded.

She barely had time to nod yes before Jiden disappeared upstairs to grab his belongings.

Her head fell back and she sighed in desperation. When she left work this afternoon, she expected to just go home to her cat. She never expected to lose Robyn and, essentially, gain his son for an undetermined amount of time. Her apartment only had one bed, but her couch was quite comfortable if he didn't mind.

Of course, this was assuming he chose to come back to her place. Deli couldn't help but let out a unamused chuckle. This would be the first guy coming home with her who didn't fuck her.

Jiden returned, pleadingly looked at her. Yup, he wanted to go with her.
'So glad I decided to clean last night,'

"My car's outside," Deli motioned towards the door, "Hope your not allergic to cats."


Once Deli said her piece, Jiden mustered a "thank you" and followed her to her car, bag in hand.

Once they got to the car, Jiden waited for her to unlock the car. He threw his bag into the backseat and sat in the passenger seat, looking out the window the entire time. The trip was awkward and quiet.

When they got to Deli's apartment, Jiden waited for Deli to get out first before he himself got out and got his bag. He then followed her into the room, keeping his distance. He could tell she wasn't very enthused with the idea of having him over. Jiden wasn't exactly counting on this being a fun time, either, but he just needed a night to get away from it all.

He was hoping to be his usually cheery self by morning.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: The apartment itself wasn't very big; studio-sized with a combined living room and dining room, adjacent kitchen, one bathroom with a bath/shower, and the bedroom containing a full sized bed. Really, you could nearly see the whole thing from the doorway.

Her only roommate was a calico cat named Dr. Sprinkles, who liked to sleep inside the entertainment center and licked out bowls of finished ice cream. Deli had a weird cat.

"So, this is pretty much it," Deli said, dropping her keys on the edge of the table. "The only real place to sleep is the couch, or the floor if you're so inclined. The TV has regular cable, and there's an Xbox 360 and a PS3 hooked up to it."

She felt something brush against her leg, and looked down to see the cat greeting her, "This is my cat. He won't bother you when you do go to sleep, although he might try to lay on the Xbox if you have it turned on. Just shoo him off."

Her fingertips laced and unlaced together as Deli thought of anything else she should add. She turned around to face him, "Anything I could get for you? I just went grocery shopping yesterday."

Deli had a sinking feeling this was going to be a long, uncomfortable night.


Jiden watched Deli. "No thank you," he said when she offered to get him anything.
After that, he went to the couch she'd pointed out and dropped his duffel near to it, sitting on the couch and looking at the Television, which was off.

He looked around for the remote, and upon finding it, turned the television on and flipped through the channels. Seeming in a slight daze, he still managed to say "Thank you for letting me come here."

Once he'd stumbled over a channel he liked, he put the remote back on the coffee table and took the goggles that were around his neck off, replacing them around his skull so they were atop his forehead. He briefly messed with his bangs to make sure everything was fashionably all right to himself, and turned his attention back to Deli.

"What time do you normally go to bed? I mean I wouldn't want to impose or anything..."
Despite how awkward it came off, Jiden really was being sincere.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: While Jiden was picking a channel to watch, Deli went over the situation mentally.
She was going to need to get another job, unless she was lucky enough to get another paid internship. Luckily rent for this month was already paid, but she still had other bills that would be coming soon.
Patents for what was already developed on Robyn's project may have to be procured. Unless Jiden takes it.

She watched as Jiden settled onto the couch and fiddled with his goggles. 'I wonder if they serve a purpose or if he wears them just for the aesthetic appeal. I should ask him that later.'
The kid- Deli didn't know his exact age but knew he was younger than her -looked exhausted. And probably would stay that way until everything with his father was settled. She figured he would be staying with her at least until this is over, and perhaps strike out on his own.
Robyn. It just could have been he had a freak brain aneurysm and died, but that didn't sit right with her. Not that she was going to play CSI or anything, no matter how kind of cool it sounded. Deli bonked her forehead gently with the heel of her hand, 'Bad Deli, bad.'

And on top of all that, the cat needed to be fed.
Grand.

She went briefly into the kitchen to handle that, kicking her shoes off in the process, and was just coming back out when Jiden directed a question at her.
"Whenever.. really. I have an awkward sleep schedule." She sat on the other end of the couch from where Jiden was, "It's kind of hard to impose on an insomniac."

His awkward sincerity was a bit charming, which prompted Deli to mentally bonk her forehead again.
sparx lab 3
Jiden quirked a brow, a bit confused before the statement actually sunk in.
"Oh, yeah, I do too, heh."

His attention went back to the TV. He watched it for about forty minutes before reaching into his bag and pulling out a cellphone. Flipping it open, he pushed a few buttons, then turned to Deli again. "Hey, can I uh, have your number? I think I'm gonna go out for a bit, and in case I get lost or something..."

Deli hesitated at first, then answered "Oh, sure," and gave the number as the eighteen year old put it in his phone.

"Thanks," Jiden said, sticking the phone into his pocket and grabbing a skateboard and what seemed like a wad of clothes from within the bag. He went to the door with them and gave Deli a final half-wave, thanking her for letting him stay again.

He went outside, closing the door behind him. After taking a look at the complex and making sure to memorize what Deli's apartment looked like and it's number, he nonchalantly tossed the skateboard on the asphalt, jumping on it shortly afterward and making his way to the street to see what road he was on.

It didn't take too long to figure out where he was and where he needed to be.
It was about 7pm, the sun in the process of setting.

It took him around an hour to reach his destination- that was another small warehouse just outside of town. Once the kid reached the structure, he kicked his skateboard up against the wall and slid the door open, the familiar sound of generators and electricity filling his ears as he walked into a space filled with shelves and LEDs providing ambient blue and green light.

A young adult, around his 20s, twirled around in his chair from his computer to face Jiden.
"Yo, Jy! Good to see you man! Didn't think you'd make it this week."
The man stood up from his chair and walked toward Jy, Jiden's nickname.
Jiden slapped his free hand into an awaiting one from the man. "Hey Chax," he said not quite as enthusiastic as his partner while their hands clapped together.

"Is something wrong? Tired?" Chax said, bringing his hands back to his sides.

"Something like that. I don't want to talk about it. Anyway," Jy said, bringing the wad of clothes to forefront, "I finished that chip you wanted."

He unwrapped the boxers from what turned out to be a very small circuitboard with a microchip set atop it.

"Interesting packaging," Chax said, perking a brow.

"Yeah well like I said, a lot of crap happened today. No electrostatic protection bags this time. It'll work just as well. It's not that fragile." He forced a laugh. "I mean I wouldn't purposefully drop it of course, but hey! Works all the same, state of the art plastic bag or not."

Chax slapped Jiden on the back and took the board from the kid's hands. "True that. Thanks for bringing it. You tested it? It's fixed?"

The kid nodded. "Yep. Fixed the current leakage and timing, added some flip flops; should work at least five hundred times faster and bring less harm to your system in the long run."
Chax grinned stupidly and turned to take the chip to some shelf in the back when a girl popped out of the darkness, taking stylish headphones off her ears.
"Did you just say flip flops?" she laughed.

"They're multivibrators," Jiden offered, chuckling.

The girl dropped her mouth, "They're what?"
She slapped Chax. "This kid's playing with flip flops and vibrators, Chax!"

"Hey, don't make fun of Jy. He knows what he's doing," laughed the man.

"It's a type of circuit, basically, " Jiden laughed. "I'm just messing with you."
He wasn't really, flip-flops really were bistable multivibrators, but that was besides the point.

"Well anyway," the girl said, cutting them all off, "I got into the database."
Jiden's eyes widened.
"You're a cracker..?"

The girl punched Chax in the shoulder, "Where'd you find this guy, he certainly knows his vocabulary!"

Chax rubbed his shoulder, "Everyone just calls them all hackers now, Jy," he said.
"So what'd you find?" He said, turning to the girl.

"Oh, just access to SIGINT." She seemed rather proud of herself.

"SIGINT-- Signals Intelligence?! What were you doing in that?! Are you out? Unplug your system! Please tell me you have a signal jammer at the very least!"

The girl flipped her hand, "Oh chill out, I got it handled. Can't make sense of the data anyway."

"You idiot!" Chax said, rushing to the back. The girl followed him, yelling about how he shouldn't turn off her computer, screaming when the power went to her monitor went out. Jiden just stood there, jaw agape.

"I.. I gotta get outta here. I wasn't here, Chax, I wasn't here!" Jiden shouted, running out the still-open door and getting on his skateboard, skating as fast as his body could take him right back to Deli's house. He could've sworn he heard police sirens behind him, but who knew if it was really what he thought it was.

He barged back into Deli's apartment, tossing the skateboard on the floor and grabbing the TV remote, standing in front of the TV and flipping through channels to try and find the news. Once he found it, he stood in front of the screen, flabbergasted.

It was just some traffic accident, nothing major, but Jiden's heart was still racing. Why was he in the wrong place at the wrong time twice now? Would the military just up and sweep the hackers off their feet for hacking into SIGINT, or would they not care? Would it even be televised at all? Why had they wanted to go into SIGINT anyway?


D e l i r i o u s wrote: A few minutes after Jiden had closed the door, and was out of earshot, Deli fully stretched out on the couch and groaned loudly. She balled her fists against her forehead, half relieving tension and half thinking.

She wasn't thrilled about giving him her number, but settled on the reasoning that he could get locked out.. or something. The lack of a real reaction of the events today from Jiden bothered Deli; if her father died while she was in the room, Deli would have flipped out and been damn near consolable for a few days. To her, Jiden seemed to go on as normal. He appeared to be more worried about her passing out in the den than his father sitting dead in the kitchen.

After lying on the couch for about five minutes in this state of mind, Deli got up to change into comfier clothing - swapping the skirt for a pair of black shorts. Her laptop was lying on the bed from before work. Curiosity taking over her, Deli opened it up to do some research on her new roommate.

Jiden wasn't nearly as well known as his father; the most she could find on the kid after a half hour of searching was a few blog entries on electrical websites and a write-up in the local paper celebrating his early genius for graduating high school at such a young age. It made mention of his electronics hobby and his mother dying when he was young, but that was about it. Nothing online negatively pertaining to him. Jiden Sparx - genius teen with the cleanest record ever.

"Well, now I know he's definitely 18," she muttered. Now Deli wouldn't feel as bad if push came to shove and Jiden needed to leave.

Closing the web browser, Deli pointed the mouse to a private, locked folder in her documents. The folder contained a portion of the research and notes that Robyn had her keep backups of on her harddrive. She was skimming through the folder making sure everything was still in place and not tampered with, when an IM from one of her friends popped up.

theuntoldstory: heyheeeeeeey. where have you been all day??

Amanda, her usual bar buddy and best friend.

mementovivere: Ugh, terribly long story. Want the full or abridged?
theuntoldstory: abridged. getting ready to go out, you coming?
mementovivere: No. Long long story short; I worked today, brought back the daily report because the boss forgot to take it, found his son in the lab and turns out his father DIED of.. I think a brain aneurysm. We had to call 911, and now the son is at my house.
theuntoldstory: OMG!! that really really sucks. i'm sorry to hear about your boss. how old is his kid?
mementovivere: 18. And a genius, apparently. He graduated HS when he was 10.
theuntoldstory: is he hott?
mementovivere: AMANDA!!
theuntoldstory: i'm just saying!
mementovivere: His dad just died, I think he's a little preoccupied right now.
theuntoldstory: yeaaah. listen, give me a call later ok? i'd stay on now but this pat guy keeps bugging me to come out.
mementovivere: Alright. Later.
theuntold story disconnected from chat.

She continued to browse the web until Jiden came loudly barging back into the apartment, scaring her. Deli ran out to stand in the living room doorway; Jiden's eyes were glued to the TV and the cat was hiding underneath the far chair.

"Uh.. something wrong?" Deli questioned.


Jiden gripped the remote in his hands, staring at the TV, slowly coming to the conclusion that he was completely overreacting.

"One of my friend's friends hacked into SIGINT while I was there so I booked it in case the military or something rushed over there. I'm not a hacker, I know next to nothing about software or any of that online stuff, I don't need to be pegged for some epic crime."

Why he was blabbering off this monologue when just the first sentence would've been a decent explanation, he was unsure.

"I was just giving Chax back his processor; I didn't want to be caught up in some big conspiracy."
He put down the remote and sat down, away from Deli.
"I'm sorry. You probably think I'm a murderer anyway. Maybe we could just go to sleep and forget all about this."

He couldn't pull his eyes from the TV, which still wasn't showing anything important, but hung his arms on his thighs, as if defeated.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: "One of your friends did WHAT?!" Deli flipped on Jiden, rooted to where she stood. The rest of his monologue may have been left unsaid, since she barely processed it anyways. The phrase 'I'm not a hacker' seeped in though. "It doesn't matter if you are or not, you don't hang out with those kind of fucking people, innocent or not! They can't be up to any good if they're fucking with the traffic signals; how do you know they've never done anything worse than that!"

Deli buried her face in her right hand, "And I don't know if I think you're a murderer or not. Jesus fucking God, Jiden..." Sighing heavily, she added, "This isn't the kind of shit you can just sleep off and pretend it goes away."

Her eyes strayed to the coffee table where she left her cellphone earlier.
"I'm calling the police."
"Why?!" Jiden spun around to face her, ripping his attention away from the television.
"Because you just gave hardware to fucking criminals, that's why!"
"I just said I don't need to be pegged-"
Deli made a grab for the phone, interrupting Jiden. He got to it first, since he was standing in front of the coffee and only had to twist around to reach it. "Please.. I'm not a part of this."
"Give me the phone, Jiden." Deli demanded, holding her hand out for it.
"Please.." He pleaded.
"Give me the phone."
Jiden opened his mouth to protest again when the doorbell rang, causing both of them to look towards the door. He quickly pressed the OFF button on the remote, silencing the accident.

-- Meanwhile, at the warehouse --
The girl continued to berate Chax for switching off her station, while he simultaneously lectured her about hacking into SIGINT without any sort of protection. Their screams drowned the wail of the police siren that Jiden did in fact hear.

Of course, neither of them realized what was happening until five armed officers stormed into the open warehouse, guns drawn.
"Freeze! Get away from the computers and down on the ground!"
The girl screamed and backed into the computer in fear. Two of the cops swung their guns in her direction. The officer, Robert, repeated his earlier statement harshly. Chax quickly obeyed the command, colliding with the floor as fast as he could while his partner stood there and trembled.
"I said get down!" The officer said again, coming over to the girl and forcing her away from the computer to the ground. He left a reddish mark on her arm where he grabbed her.

He walked over to where Chax lay, kneeling next to him. "Is there anyone else here with you? Anyone who knows about this?"
"No, no one else," Chax replied nervously. 'Jiden wasn't here.. Jiden wasn't here..'
The officer shifted so he could look at Chax's face better. "Absolutely no one?"
"No sir!"

Unsatisfied, the officer stood back up. "Donny, Mark, cuff them and put them in the backseat. We'll talk with them, and the little trip into SIGINT, at the station. Jeff and Lenny, pack up the computer and anything else you find pertaining to it or the-"
"DON'T!" The girl screamed, struggling to get away from Mark. Mark shoved her arms to silence her.
"Anything else you find pertaining to it or them." Robert spat in her direction. 'Yes sir's followed as his orders were carried out.

"Damn Kids. They're all alike."

-- Back at Deli's apartment --
"Ms. Boyd, Mr. Sparx? This is Officer Salis. Please open the door." The knocking continued.

Deli mouthed 'stay there' at Jiden before moving to open the door. "Yes, officer?"
"I'm sorry to bother you this late, ma'am. I was ordered by my higher-ups to come and claim anything pertaining to the research you and senior Sparx were developing in the lab, including your personal harddrive."
A disbelieving chuckle escaped from Deli's mouth, "You.. want my laptop?"
The officer nodded, "You also need to release whatever passwords or encryption you have on said files."
"You can't just take my laptop; do you have a warrant?" Deli demanded.
Salis reached into his pocket and procured the warrant for her to inspect. "The laptop, please. Otherwise it is an obstruction of justice which you could be tried for."

The warrant was shaking from Deli's hand in sheer disbelief.
"But the data from the research is all highly classifi-"
Salis cut her off, "Anything having to do with Robyn Sparx's death is relevant to his case and nothing will remain hidden. His death was highly unusual, and may have had something to do with the research being done. The laptop, please."

Defeated, Deli motioned back at Jiden. "It's on the bed. Power cord is plugged in."
Moments later he emerged with the laptop and cord, handing it over to Salis. Salis bagged both items in the messenger bag he brought with him. "Password or encryption?"
"Karen1962&," Deli grumbled.
Salis noted it before turning to exit. "It will be returned to you when we are finished with the investigation, I can't guarantee the hard drive won't be wiped. Expect a call in the near future; I'm sure we'll need you or Jiden."

If Jiden had left the television on, he would have heard that two young adults were brought in for questioning pertaining to the traffic accident. Instead, they stood in silence with Deli near tears.

((ooc: Had to puppet Jiden for a bit, sorry about that.))


After the police knocked on the door and Deli mouthed the words 'wait here', Jiden backed away and helplessly sat on the couch as everything went down.

When the police left with the laptop, Jiden looked down at his lap. "I'm sorry," he hoarsed, half expecting to be slapped in the face.

He waited a few seconds before continuing, looking up to Deli in confusion. "What were you two working on that was so classified...?"


D e l i r i o u s wrote: Jiden's question pulled Deli out of her stupor. Her frame slumped against the wall in defeat.
"In short, weight loss pills that actually work and aren't just a load of bullshit. We figured out how to target the unnecessary fat cells and completely eliminate them, making it far easier to loose weight."

She half turned to face him as she continued, "This is the stuff people have been dreaming about for years; a pill that causes you to lose weight. And you can bet your ass that every single weight loss company out there wants the technology to do it. We have.. well, had the technology locked away." Sighing, Deli added "What's on my laptop is some of the more delicate research, completely encrypted by your father before I put it in a password protected folder. It's not big government or military secrets by any stretch, but it is still worth a lot of money."


Jiden twisted his face. He wasn't sure why a pill like that was so important.

At the police department, Chax and the girl, known as Trix, were being questioned in separate rooms. After a verbal smackdown, Trix caved in and said there was someone else there, that she had never met before. Chax called him Jy and he had given Chax a processor of some sort, but was uninvolved with her dealing. She gave a description of Jy, one which the police would later connect to Jiden Sparx through some clever word trickery with Chax's interrogation. Chax had not intended to give up Jiden.

Early the next morning, Deli was called and told they both needed to come in for questioning. Deli drove Jiden and herself over, where they too were placed in separate rooms. Jiden was greeted by Detective Garret Greyson. It started out innocent enough. Where were you, what happened to your father, tell me what you saw, etcetera. Jiden answered them all calmly enough, but then came in the more pressing questions.

"So I heard that afterward, you went home with Ms. Deliliah Boyd," said Greyson. Jiden nodded.
"But afterward you snuck out and went some place else."

Jiden hesitated for a moment. Then he said "No." After a moment, he tacked on "I didn't sneak out."

Greyson stared at Jiden, his left hand on the table over a folder. He seemed to be devising a plan in his head, trying to turn wheels he was used to turning in order to intimidate victims.
Life seemed to snap back into him when he finally continued, "Is that so? Because there's a girl named Trix who says otherwise. She said you gave a microchip to Chax last night. We found a pair of your boxers there, too."

Jiden frowned. "I didn't sneak out," is all he said. Technically, it wasn't a lie.
"I don't know anyone named Trix."

The detective snorted and left the room, leaving Jiden in silence.
The teenage looked down at his lap, absentmindedly playing with his thumbs.
When a different detective came in, a woman, she sat down and did not introduce herself. Jiden looked up.

"I've heard a lot about you, Jiden," she said. "You seem to be an electronic genius. You've won those battle bot things, and years a go you used to do the repairs for the university your father works for. What happened? Did you get bored? I don't see any engineering degree in your history. Just a lot of praise for doing the things you've done at such a young age. Why haven't you done anything with your talent?"

Jiden quirked a brow. "Uh.. I wanted to invent something. But I don't have any good ideas. So I wind up just making things that don't really... Do anything."

The detective didn't even pretend to understand what Jiden said, and instead moved on to another subject. "Jiden, do you know what your dad was working on? I know your specialty lies with electronics, and not biochemistry, but.." He voice softened, as if she was trying to be comforting. She leaned into the table, as if trying to get closer.

Jiden put his hands on the table. "He never told me. But I asked Deli about it when they took her laptop away. It was some diet pill or something, that got rid of fat cells?"

The Detective nodded. "It melts away fat cells, yes. Now, there's a theory that your father had been working on this formula almost twenty years a go. And it's strange that he would die the same way your mother did. And you saw your mom go too, didn't you?"

Jiden winced and looked down at the table. "Yes." he whispered.

"You do realize what position this puts you in, doesn't it?"
Jiden hung his head. "Yes, but I had nothing to do with it. I don't know anything about biochemistry. I was terrible at chemistry by itself. Biology is a mystery too. I barely passed those portions of my tests."

The woman stood up with a heavy sigh. "We'll see. Won't we?" with that she left.

Jiden put his head in his hands, unsure of what to do. A few agonizing minutes later, someone finally said over the intercom that he was free to go.
The eighteen year old slowly got up and walked to the door, walking out to hopefully meet Deli.


D e l i r i o u s wrote: While Detective Garret Greyson was questioning Jiden, the unnamed female was in the process of interrogating Deli. Deli, having never been interrogated by police before, found the whole process incredibly nerve wracking.

"Delilah Boyd. Age 22. Interning at Sparx Labs since early March, paid internship. Lucky, lucky you." The detective stopped to muse on that thought before continuing, "Involved in Professor Sparx's research and development since the middle of March. Good grades throughout school. No criminal record to speak of." She placed Deli's folder on the table before looking up at her silently.

Deli cleared her throat out of unintentional nervousness, "Is there a particular reason why I'm being questioned too? The officer on the phone didn't mention anything."

The detective briefly ignored her question, "You have one of the cleanest records I have ever seen. Not even a traffic violation. That, coupled with the fact you were found at a murder sce-"

"Murder!? I arrived after he had already die-" Deli interrupted, before being cut off by a wave of the hand.

"Irrelevant. Mr. Sparx died in the same fashion as his wife did years earlier. It is too coincidental to be an accident. You returned to the labs after your shift finished at work. Why?"

Deli crossed her arms, "As I told the first police officer I talked to, I was returning with paperwork pertaining to our research that Prof. Sparx forgot to take from me. It is a requirement that I hand in daily reports at the end of my shift, and Prof. Sparx had a habit of being forgetful about minor details like that."

Unsatisfied, the detective moved on. "This research.. From the little we have gleamed from your laptop and the lab, its a diet pill designed to melt away fat cells. Correct?" Deli nodded in agreement, and the detective continued, "Robyn Sparx has been sculpting and perfecting this formula for nearly twenty years now."

Deli bit the corner of her lip, "We were far from perfection. Close enough to run practical tests, but not nearly enough to pass FDA standards and mass production. Almost every medication and health manufacturer has been in contact with Mr. Sparx about it though."

The detective smirked, "Good money at stake here. Knock off the boss, sell the information, retire for life. Seems like a good motive to me."

"I didn't kill Robyn!" Deli growled at her. When it was clear the detective wasn't intimidated, Deli simmered and muttered, "I didn't do it."

Amused, the detective stood and walked towards the door, "Of course you didn't. You're done for now. The kid will be out soon, once I'm done talking to him."

Dejected, Deli rose and moved to the hallway to wait for Jiden. Twenty minutes later, the woman exited the other interrogation room. Jiden emerged a few minutes later. "I do not like that woman at all," Deli stated.

FIN! (finally)
I will put up synopses later (and by "later" I mean "when I get around to it, which could be months)
 
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Dexterity 1. From June 2008

Page 1
Q wrote: Another Private RP. No, you cannot join. Any (RP) posts made in here that were not from invited people will be deleted. Sorry.

Also, since this became a problem the last time I had a private RP, Don't PM the people in this RP to join YOUR RP. 99% of the time we don't want to. But thank you for flattering us.

-----

HERE'S MY SETTING STORY IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT I GUESS YOU'LL FORCE ME TO EDIT IT LATER LOLZ (:stare: @ Ven)

Dexterity. A "thriving metropolis". Its borders are adorned with walls. Broken down and riddled with decay, but walls nonetheless. Dexterity was the city in times past where the cruelest of the cruel were thrown and imprisoned. Since those times, the culture here has been different. Outsiders can come in, but they don't often get out. Murders are an everyday occurance and the Bill of Rights has a disclaimer. Standard law does not apply here.

Most of the population is comprised of visitors, as no one with a healthy mind would settle down and have a family here. Full of crime, Dexterity is probably the worst place to live and an unsafe place to travel to.
So why is the population of this city not sparse? The black market. It is not only the drug dealers and outlaws who come here to buy and sell. It is also government officials and corrupt businessmen. Dexterity has the latest and greatest technology, wares, and services. The cruelest of the cruel reside here and the most wanted list is often the same as 'best customers'.

Because of this, many bounty hunters come to Dexterity. Many do-gooders and vigilantes try to "save it". But this place can't really be saved, can it? Many would say it's too far gone.

----------------

This will probably be more of an info post later.

[align=center]Next post begins RP.
v------------------v[/align]

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
It was a dark hotel room, situated at the edge of the building. All the lights were off, the curtains were all closed, and sitting on the floor behind the scope of an M40 sniper rifle were two people.
Aside from a few whiskey bottles and open flasks, the hotel room had not been touched.

Of the two people, one was male, the other female. The male had grey hair and bright green eyes. A silver locket hung from his neck, with a green jem inside it. Normally it was hidden inside his collared, button-up, black-sleeved and red-torso shirt. But it had found its way out earlier, as the girl had been playing with it. It glinted slightly in the dark room as the man adjusted the aim of the rifle. His hands wore fingerless gloves. It was clear this man had no sense of fashion. But, compared to the girl, he was well-dressed. His dress pants were black, as were his boots. Aside from his premature grey hair, the only thing that could be awkward about him was the fact that, below his belt, a dark brownish-grey, almost black tail of a dog waved about haphazardly in a semicircle.

The woman, her skin so pale it probably could reflect moonlight, swatted at it playfully. The both of them were drunk, but the man - Q - seemed to be holding himself much better than the girl. The girl was an albino; so her eyes were an ugly pink. She claimed to be a zombie, and worked at a night club for exotic fetishes. She was off for now, however. Her hair was a wild forest green, and cropped to just her ears. It was almost as if she never bothered to brush or wash it. The bright green didn't stop at her hair. She wore a grass skirt and strapless bra, as well. Both the same shade of green. One could only wonder what her favorite color may be? Her name was Meru.

Q sat up, holding the rifle in place. "Here," he said. His voice was raspy. He was young, but anyone who heard his voice could tell he had been smoking profusely for the better part of his life. His alcoholism probably didn't help matters. He turned his head to face Meru's. He had tanned skin, black "whisker" tattoos on the bottom of his cheeks, and a diagonal scar across his face, which he attempted to hide by having his grey hair cover one eye.

"What?" The girl was giggly but still hesitated, putting a hand to her chin. "But I didn't think you were serious!"

Q grunted slightly. "C'mon. I said I'd let you come with me since you bailed me out. I brought you. I have aimed for you. It is all ready. All you have to do is pull the trigger. It will be fun." It was as if he were talking to a child, almost. "You will see his brains splatter everywhere. Isn't that what zombies like? Brains?"

Even though Q was smirking, he was still all business. He exhaled loudly through his nose and let one of his hands wander from the gun, waving Meru over. She obliged, sitting herself behind the butt of the rifle. Q carefully made his way behind her, guiding her hands to the right places.

"So, look through the scope. What do you see?" he urged her.

"Uhmm..." Her high pitched voice was almost annoying in contrast to Q"s prickley deep one. "Two men in suits. One has a hat. The other one's bald." She giggled at the word bald.

"The two lines that meet in the middle, they're crosshairs. When that is on the head of the guy with that hat, just pull the trigger." He leaned into her back. "But take your face away from the scope before you shoot, or else you'll hurt yourself."

Meru nodded, breathing loudly. "Will I really get to see brains?"
Q narrowed his eyes, trying to see into the scope from the distance behind her. He couldn't see much. "Yes. But pay attention. If you wait too long I'll have to do this for you." His voice was stern, as if he were becoming annoyed. "She'll mess up the shot before too long," he thought to himself.

"Then no brains?" She asked, putting her face to the scope once more.
"No brains," Q repeated dryly. He placed one of his hands on Meru's left breast with a snicker.

She pulled the trigger, the knockback frightening her to a point where she jumped and gave out a small shout, falling back into Q, who laughed.
The window in front of them shattered, and with any luck, Meru had just killed the mayor of a neighboring town who had come to Dexterity for 'business'.
Q gave Meru's naughty bits a slight squeeze before grimacing and pushing the girl aside, making sure she had killed the target. They would have to pack up and move quickly either way, but he had to be sure.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [align=center]
"A dark night in an even darker town." a quiet female voice coined poetically. "God, this place is pathetic."

A scuffing sound echoed through the empty alleyway as she lifted one of her heavy, black leather boots and kicked aside an empty, rusted can that lay dented on the sidewalk. "A town of refuse, what a perfectly quaint little place you find yourself in this time, Anasti." she goded herself quietly. A soft sound reached her well-trained ears, a sound of footfalls echoing through the alleyway behind her. Two people, both men by the weight of thier steps, and one with a slight limp. Both behind her, both running in an unerring path that would intersect with her own, and neither to survive thier brief encounter. She stopped, turning slowly into the shadows of the alley and she heard her stalkers steps cease.

A single pale grey eye pierced the darkness, peering out from beneath a swatch of crimson colored hair. To the left of that single eye lay gullies of flesh, three long scars that crossed her otherwise unblemished visage, leading into and out from a black eyepatch that covered a gaping hole where her left eye had once been.

"You might as well come out. I promise to kill you a bit quicker, if you reveal yourselves, and being that you're after me, you should realize what that means." she spoke softly, barely over a whisper, her voice a drawl of monotony. But her apathetic words had an obvious effect as two bulking figures stepped from the shadows. She surveyed them silently, as they did her, the only sound echoing around them was the flapping of her long black coat as it caught in the breeze. Her right arm moved slightly and instantly a pistol appeared in the hand of the man directly to her left. She laughed then, unable to hold back her amusement at this man who thought he could kill her! The gun dipped slightly, held in a trembling hand as the man cast his associate a terrified look.

The other man stares back at him with bleeding, empty eyes. His mouth worked slowly, chin held tight in the grip of a pale hand with pointed nails painted the same crimson as her hair. "Pathetic." the woman's voice laughed, but it was the other man's mouth that made the movements, jerked about like some macabre puppet. A soundless scream rose up in the living man's throat as she dropped his partner and advanced, the last sight sketched before his dying eyes was a glint of silver and a pair of bat-like wings atop a head of streaming crimson.

Pulling a cloth from her pocket, she wiped the still warm blood from her curved dagger's blades almost lovingly, tucking them back into thier holders beneath her long coat as she stepped from the alley. Two men passed in front of her, one bald and the other wearing an ugly black hat, and she paused so as not to run into them, a small smile still lit on her cheeks. A whizzing noise hit her ears and she instantly ducked. The hatted man was not so lucky. He stumbled backwards, reeling from the shot that had pierced the side of his face, tearing off a hunk of flesh on its way in and exploding out the back of him, showering the woman with a veritable cornicopia of blood and brain matter. He took a step towards his companion and then another, electrical impulses still firing in his dying brain, before sinking to the sidewalk in an ever-growing puddle of his own body fluids. Anasti grimaced, standing up and walking out into the street, ignoring the bewildered screams of the bald man. She ran a hand down her jacket front, wiping away the gore, her heavy boots crunching bits of bone beneath them as she eyed the direction the bullet had come from.

"Dammit. I'm going to need a shower." she muttered. [/align]

The wandering mind... wrote: In every rotten hole of a town like Dexterity, there was a particularly large rodent. A rat or roach that feed on the disease and decay of the world around them, growing fat off it's consumption of others' dreams and riches. Power to match size. With a string of nests that infested the entire city, holding it's occupants under his control. The name of Dexterity's vermin was Louis Marino. A foul man of every sort, unfamiliar with the word, much less concept of morals, Marino was still an incredibly intelligent man. While a figure more befitting of the pudgy man waltzing beside him would better suit his position in this world, he had a lean figure, the bulk on his body consisting more of disguised muscle than indulgence in the fats and sweets of the world. He was a man that feed on something even more delicate. Money. Even so, he didn't over display his wealth like the fat mayors and 'gentlemen' around him, wearing only a large emerald in a gold ring on his left hand and gold pocket watch in his right pocket. The man just reached six feet, pushed by the slight raise of the shined shoes he wore. Everything was of course black, color not fitting of a man of his occupation. He had a sharp face, deep emerald eyes, competing with the gem on his ring for depth, though obscured by a heavy brow, from years of serious expression. His hair was a dark black, lightly peppered with earned grey.

He was in the middle of a business transaction with the man beside him, a mayor of a local town, who barked more than he could back up, and thought he had the balls to pull something over Marino. A foolish mistake, and as he was considering a method to dispose of the problem the man was causing, it seemed to take care of itself as the gentleman's head exploded in a red confetti next to him. In less than an instant men that were moments before unseen appeared around the now crimson speckled man, words not needed in exchange as he nodded at the tall thin figure that appeared directly in front of him.

Within seconds the figure was racing toward the building the shot came from, the shot gun strapped to the back of brown duster she wore made it's way to her hands by the time she burst through the door. The occupants of the room would have to move fast to not be caught, for as she headed up the stairs, two burly men also in Marino's employment were quick to follow.

With that business being handled, Marino turned now to the girl who'd shared in his shower of brain matter. Pulling a white cotton handkerchief from his inner breast pocket, he dabbed at the red fluid as if it was as everyday as sweat. Once his brow was clean, he smiled, though it was ill looking, and offered the cloth to the young woman.

"I'm sorry miss. It seems my companion here has made a mess of himself." His voice was low and smooth, flawless, and the way he spoke seemed to flow. He was a man who knew how to speak and speak well.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
Q looked through the scope, noticing that the mayor had, in fact, been killed. There were brains, and most importantly, a woman looking straight at him. Or was that the most important part? Q could see something at the edge of the scope move quickly. He couldn't tell what it was from sight, but he could guess. "Shit," he grumbled.

The woman looking toward the scope must be one of the bald man's goons. They were both standing together, though he didn't see her before this had gone down. Not even moments later he could hear stairs being climbed at a speedy pace. Q wasn't all human, the things that came with him allowed him slight advantages. Such as, good hearing. Although it helped he didn't blow out his eardrums like most others from loud music.

Regardless, that didn't matter right now. Q had to pack up his things and leave. He quickly began dismantling the removable parts of the rifle, and tossing them into the gun case. Meru looked worried. "What's going on?"

"Killing's the fun part. Running's the working part," Q hastily replied. The things were all in the case. He slammed it shut and clipped the two locks. He couldn't tell how many people were running up the stairs, but he was sure one was enough.

"Running?" Meru questioned. "Q, why are you--"

Q turned around, the case in one hand, and slapped her with his free hand. "Shut up and just follow me," he growled. "I guess I underestimated his guards,"

Q grabbed an open flask, closed it and shoved it in his pocket before rushing out the door to the hotel room. Not the wisest exit, but he wasn't about to jump down three stories. He didn't have seven lives, here. Just one.

Meru was already lagging behind, and they weren't even completely out of the room yet. It was a mistake bringing her. Obviously this wasn't as easy an assignment as he had previously thought.
He stopped momentarily to look at her, then made the administrative decision and left her there. She couldn't run fast enough anyway.

The stairs were at the end of the hall, after the elevators. He rushed to the elevator and pushed both the up and down buttons. Whichever one came first would be fine.
It looked to the stairs, then the elevator.

"Fuck, I am an idiot!" he cursed to himself, kicking the elevator and running back down the hallway to his room, just as he could see out of his peripheral vision some shadow coming through the fire stairs' door...

He wasn't a cat, he was a dog. Dog's didn't have as good reflexes as cats. But he had no other choice at this point. Inside the room he went to the bathroom. He threw the gun case at the window with all the force he had, the window shattering outside. After kicking the wooden frame out he threw the case out the window. Climbing atop the toilet, he let himself go feet first out the window as well.
"Q, what are you doing?!" Meru screamed. She obviously didn't follow his reckless behavior, and stared at the window. It really was a mistake to bring her. She'd already said his name twice and she'd probably just look dumbfounded at his point of exit. What a stupid girl. She wasn't worth the money she was paid.

His feet hit the ground first, and immediately collapsed, rolling on his back with a groan of pain. He'd be surprised if his legs weren't broken. They didn't feel broken. But they did hurt like hell.
He grunted, trying to roll to his feet again before the others on the street noticed he had jumped from so high. He managed to get on his knees but the shock of the fall prevented him from doing much else. His legs felt like tree trunks. They just wouldn't move.
"This is what I get for not being born a cat," he mused to himself.

He'd have to hope he could recover before the others thought to look at the street corner.

The wandering mind... wrote: Her name was Cassandra. She was Marino's top guard, and most trusted of all his crew. She was tall, taller than the man himself, and thin, her figure only barely female, a hint of breasts, a hint of hips, made less by the leather she wore binding her body. She was incredibly agile though. She was a close distance killer however, if you were twenty feet or more away from her, you were safe, but an inch less and you were dead a hundred ways before you realized. Or so her reputation went, of course such things were exaggerated, but it fell close to the line of truth, she'd been killing from the time she could walk. Braided back, brilliant orange hair bounced behind her as she took the steps two at a time, hitting the door with enough force that it swung open in a spectacle. Her eyes sharpened on the case the man at the elevator held, too familiar for it's meaning to miss her. This was the man she was after. He darted back through the room and she went after him, shoving the strange looking woman out of her way. The men following her would take care of her. Instead Cassandra followed the sound of the crash of the window. As she moved across the room, her hands moved as smoothly as her feet, shotgun sheathed again with one hand, the other slipping under duster to the back of her waist, producing a small length of rope. Three stories was not a terrible drop, however the initial shock would delay her, more of course than the time it took her to quickly tie an end of the cord around the plumbing before tossing herself out the window after him. The rope ended two thirds the way down and with a smooth movement she landed on her feet, bending her knees to distribute the shock of the landing, recovering easier than the man she pursued.

Drawing the gun again, she pointed it straight at the man's head, now taking a moment to look him over. Silver hair, but a young face. A peculiar fellow. She wondered if he'd get to live long enough for her to learn more about him. "Your move." She pulled the hammer back, mostly for effect, as the action was unnecessary.

Raine_Hinata wrote: Anasti's predatory eye followed the bullet trail up, her heightened vision being able to catch just a glimpse of glint on a gun barrel before she suddenly found herself face down on the blacktop. Several people had detached themselves from the shadows and she cursed under her breath for failing to notice them as she pulled herself back to her feet. Her mind had still been in its post-killing haze when she had stepped from the alleyway and she had allowed her sense to be confused. A few of the men who had appeared had broken off and headed straight for the building from which the shot had come. One of them had obviously knocked into her and, her mind occupied on stretching her vision to its limits, she had fallen.

As she stood up, she noticed the other man who had been with the mark approaching her, handkerchief outstretched. When he spoke, his words were those of someone who has spent alot of time having people do exactly what he wants. His smile wasn't exactly charming in her eyes, either.
"Thank you, but no." she declined the offer, casting him a wary glance. He looked like the kind of person who worked for the kind of people she was running from. Best to keep a safe distance. "I'll be on my way then, the night's not a complete waste." she drawled in a derigatory tone, making it very clear to him that he wasn't worth wasting her time. Turning away from him quickly, she started to walk towards the hotel, grimacing slightly as she picked a few street pebbles from the palm of her hand.

Her low-brimmed hat had gone flying when she fell, and she spotted it now, a few feet away in a gutter. Picking it up, she brushed it off, casting it a disdained look. "Fuck it." she said softly, throwing it to the ground. She ran a hand through her long crimson hair, careful not brush the pair of black bat-like wings that sprouted from the top of her head, nor the fins which projected from where her ears should be. Anasti Resistalion wasn't quite human either. She skirted the edge of the group, not anxious to draw any more attention to herself then she already had, unconciously heading toward the tall hotel while she peeled off her long black coat, now covered in blood.

Beneath it, she wore a tight, red spaghetti strap shirt which faded into fishnet along her well-toned stomach and arms. A spiked, black belt held up a long black skirt, slitted to her waist on either side. Two perfectly formed holders attached to the belt, each containing a single curved dagger. Beneath the skirt's back hem, seven small pouches were cunningly concealed, each containing a poision more deadly then the last. Her skin was pale beneath her clothes and contrasted well with her blood-red hair which traced down her back in a single, thick braid bound with a long black, silk ribbon. She dropped the now ruined jacket on the ground as she slipped into the alley behind the building.

She was intruiged, and couldn't help getting closer to the scene of the action, so as not to miss anything. A small smile pulled at the corner of her painted lips as she leaned against the brick building and pulled a pack of cigarettes from her shirt. Popping the box open with a flick of her wrist, she extracted a small, red lighter and a single cigarette. Listening to the shouts and thudding footsteps inside the building, she leaned her head back and held the fire to the end of the tobacco.

"Q! What are you doing!"

The scream reached her ears only seconds before the glass in a window a few stories above her shattered and a large case fell into the alley, barely missing her. She stubbed her cigarette along the bricks and slid sideways until she was mostly hidden behind a large dumpster further into the alley. Seconds later, a large figure landed with a thud almost exactly where she had just been standing, and instantly crumpled to his knees. She watched, slightly amused as he forced himself to his knees with a loud groan of pain but didn't continue to move.

Before she could make a move towards him, a second figure dropped into the mix, this time a relatively good-looking woman sporting a nasty-looking gun. This was getting more intertaining by the second, and Anasti couldn't help but enjoy it.

'This is going to be a good night, after all.' she thought, allowing a smile to cross her lips as she unhooked her daggers and soundlessly pulled them into her hands. Sliding out from her hiding place in one smooth movement, she came up behind Cassandra, her pale, thin arm snaking around the woman's neck until her viciously curved dagger pressed into the skin. Her single eye glinted silver in the moonlight as she stepped out from the shadows, echoing Cassandra's words.

"Your move, girly."

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
Q's legs quivered involuntarily beneath him. He looked to the woman who now had a gun to head. Then from where she came form.
"A rope," he thought. "Why didn't I think of that?"
This would be the last time he would underestimate such a mission. He shouldn't have drank and brought a whore along with him. He should've guessed that would be his downfall. For the second time, he mused. Oh, he couldn't do his business without his pleasure, could he?

His attention went back to the girl, who had him cornered. Q put his hands up slowly. "Ah, Sorry; sorry," he mustered. A genuine, thick french accent came from him. He hoped she would believe he knew little english. Sometimes, people pitied foreigners. Innocent contractors, foreigners were. They did their deed and they left.

But a new actor came onto the stage, then. Another woman. This one had fins for ears. He would've snickered at the prospect had he not been trying to pass off as an innocent frenchman.
She put a dagger to the first woman's throat. There was an uncomfortable silence for a few moments. Q flexed the muscles in his legs. He felt he could move.

With a grimace, he swung his arms around, grabbed the gun case, and threw it at the first woman's face(the one with the gun). He didn't wait for her response. As soon as the case left his hands, he sprinted in the opposite direction from the both of them. The gun was inexpensive. Just an M40. He needed better anyway.

The wandering mind... wrote: A thousand curse words ran through her head. Cassandra was pissed. She was the best. She does not get caught off guard. And yet there she was, cold steel against her throat. That girl will die. She didn't know when, but at some point in the future she'd smile as the woman bleed on her hands, gasping for her last breath.

She of course wasn't worried. They were in the middle of a big deal, walking out in the open. Of course Marino had men everywhere. She didn't move. She didn't have to.

Though of course Cassandra had to move when the gun case came flying at her. She leaned back, away from the blade and into the girl that held it, letting it fly past their shoulders.

Marino didn't take lightly to being brushed off, but he, unlike his right hand, was above the need for revenge. Everything was business with him. Money came first. It was without even quickening his pace that the man followed in the direction the strange girl had gone. Another foul smile cracking his face in two evilly as he spotted the situation. A pretty little standoff, his Cassandra with a gun to the man's head, and the girl with a knife on her throat. She had to be good to pull that one off. Still.. she wasn't good enough.

"I believe the move is now yours." Marino stood behind her, hand casually in his pockets as five or six men surrounded them, a range of weapons clasped in their hands.

"Then again, maybe we can all play nice and just chat for a little while?" He smirked, a look worse than his smile. "Of course, I would not think twice dropping you here."

As the silver haired man threw the case and took off, he was stopped by the two men from earlier, who were holding the albino woman between them, ignoring her fussing.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
If legs could scream, Q's would be a shrieking louder than a thousand sirens. The pain shone on his face but for the most part, no where else. He thanked the gods for his legs not breaking; a few strained muscles and tendons were a good substitute. He didn't know exactly where he would collapse, but he hoped it was some place not here.

Two men forced him to stop momentarily. They held Meru. She, of course, was shouting 'let me go' and the like. But once her ugly pink eyes spotted him standing there, gritting his teeth in pain, she did something he'd hate her for, "Q! Help me!" she leaned toward him, trying to get him to help her.

As if he would. Not after she used his name for the third time. Even an idiot didn't need his full name to figure it out. Not many names in the world started with a Q. Even if, by chance, none of these people had heard his name before, they definitely had now. He would've punched her in the face had he not been on the run.

Then he remembered. A shaky leg took a step back, and Q unholstered the glock at his belt. This and a dagger were the only weapons on him. He hardly ever used either. He was a long distance type of fighter.

Before the two men holding the 'zombie' could react, he shot her in the head. She became dead weight, and whether they went down with her, or they let her go to allow her to fall down, Q didn't care. He ran between the two men who had been holding her, jumping over Meru's body.

It would've been a cinematic sequence, if all had gone correctly. The perfect escape route for such a hopeless mission that had gone so awry. The jump was almost picturesque, Q could see his new getaway... Until his feet landed on the ground.

He managed to land running, but by the second stride he crumpled over, his hands saving his fall. He rolled onto his back defensively, panting in a mix of anger and pain. The grimace was apparent on his face, his teeth bared in a silent growl. He wanted to scream in both agony and embarrassment. He knew he wasn't going to be able to stand up this time. Anticipating the men coming back to him, he slid the gun away from his body and forced himself to sit up with a grunt followed by a tired groan.

He interlocked his fingers behind his silver head, and said, "Don't shoot." The french accent was there, but not as thick as before. Q didn't have the energy. What was more apparent was the pain in his voice. Both that and defeat. He assumed a lesser man's face would've turned red, or at least would begin to start trying to barter for his life.

Q just laid himself back down with a sigh, trying to slow his breathing. His hair split and revealed both his eyes. They were squinting, as his pupils were cat-like slits that appeared thinner than a hair. Daylight was not Q's best time for work. He normally had sunglasses, but he wasn't expecting to have to jump out a window today. The scar on his face went over his nose. It was thin and precise; something old that was done years a go by someone who knew what to do with a blade. More learned people would be able to tell it was from a rapier. Whomever had made the wound, had intended for it to scar, not just to injure.
The man himself was six feet tall, and couldn't be older than 28. Truthfully, he was only 25, but his sinful habits had aged him.

He hid his tail near one of his legs as laid down on his back. It was just that and his eyes that would give away he wasn't human. And really, not many people noticed his eyes. He hoped whatever the men were going to do to him would be quick, as he closed them with a sigh.

Raine_Hinata wrote: ((small edit))

[align=center][imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastiheadshot.jpg[/imgright]

Anasti smiled as the girl before her froze. She was intelligent, this one, and she knew that this pretty little dagger would have her head off of her shoulders before she could even think about firing. When the case came flying towards them, she felt Cassandra lean into her and the gun case flew over thier combined shoulder.
She tightened her grip around the woman's neck, but this time her sensitive ears had caught what she should have heard all along, the echoing footsteps of several men coming into the alley and surronding the small group.

Her smile faded. She didn't have time to pay attention to what was happening to her interesting quarry, although her well-trained mind did register the shouts from the same iditiotic voice she had heard inside before a single gunshot silenced them. Even an idiot could put two and two together. But she didn't see Meru crumple to the ground, one pink eye laying haphazardly on her right cheek, brain matter leaking from the back of her head. Nor did she see Marino's two men, temporarily stunned as they released the quickly cooling body and turned toward Q, who had just jumped between them. She didn't see but she heard the thud of of footsteps on pavement as he landed, and groan of pain as his weakened leg muscles dropped him to his knees.

No, all she saw in that instant when she realized she was surronded, was Marino himself. She released the pressure on Cassandra's throat and spun on the spot, dagger flying from her hand in one smooth movement and embedding itself in the skull of man nearest Marino, spraying his jacket once more with a fine spray of blood.

"Don't shoot." the voice, rippling with the obvious vestigaes of a French accent floated over his shoulder as she gave Marino a small smile before lacing her fingers together behind her own head of streaming crimson and dropping to her knees.

"Don't shoot." she echoed. Even now her voice held the echo of a taunt, of a challenge, somewhere in the traces of a russian accent that popped to the surface when she was angry. She cursed herself silently for allowing herself to become distracted by these events and so captured. Without her coat and hat it was impossible to hide the fact that she was anything but human. Her red fin-like ears protruded from the sides of her head, and two black bat-like wings jutted from either side of her forehead, normally expanded but now they had curled into themselves and lay flat. Her single eye flashed silver in the fading darkness. She had an inkling that this might make her more interesting to this man, Marino, standing before her. At least it might keep a slug from making a permanent visit to her brain...at least for the time being. "Don't shoot." she repeated, echoing Q's movements and laying on her back on the sidewalk. Her well-toned and pale body gave away nothing of her age,as she stretched out her full five foot seven frame, but her face betrayed her. Her eye, scars, and skill spoke of someone with years of training, heartache, and death. Her slender face revealed her youth, a woman of twenty-three.

The single silver eye that marked her as what she was even more clearly then the fins and wings on her head shifted sideways to look at her quarry. She wasn't sure why she found this whole situation so interesting, but at the very least Q owed her a new coat. She'd rather liked her old one.[/align]

The wandering mind... wrote: Though the action had initially stunned them, after working for a man like Marino long enough, nothing gets to you for long. They were not about to let the man get away, turning for the chase, only to find to their delight he'd incapacitated himself. It's great when your prey makes your job easy for you. The taller of the two, though both were giants on their own, pulled the man up and to his feet with ease, more dangling him above the ground and letting his feet drag as he brought him over to his boss, while the other shoved a gun in the man's back. Just in case the asshole decided to pull something funny again.

Marino didn't flinch as yet again someone next to him met their untimely end, probably deserved several times over. With a grace that seemed alien in the grimy alleyway, he once again removed his handkerchief from his vest and dabbed at his face. The blood barely shown on his clothing, no need to address it for the moment. He would change in his limo.

Cassandra smiled as the tables turned back in her favor. She turned her shotgun now on the girl laying down, not missing the tone of the girl's 'Don't shoot.' She cocked her head to the side and looked at her as if she was some pathetic sick puppy, whimpering for someone to put it out of it's misery.

"Please... give me an excuse to." She grinned, not as foul as her employer's, more mischievous than anything. She'd love to show this girl just how much she pissed her off. Though using her gun was her nice way to do things, strapped to her legs were a dozen or so throwing knives, and in her tall mid-calf boots were two six-inch blades. She was one to not understand the concept of under packing.

Marino shook his head at his first mate, she just had that sort of charm to her. Dramatically he placed a hand on his brow as in thought as his goons brought over the other prisoner.

"Now now... what to do..." He turned his site first to the silver haired man. "You see, that man whose head you burst a few minutes ago was a business associate of mine. I tend to not appreciate having their brain matter split on my good coat." He brushed a bit of skull off his shoulder in emphasis.

"And as for you," He turned to the girl on the ground, nothing in his head her strange looks, though his expression didn't let it slip."I appreciate it even less when it's someone who works for me." He placed his hand back in his pockets and took a few steps around them, looking toward the sky as if it had the answers. "So please, tell me why I should let you two live?"

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q grunted as he was picked up, a hmph escaping him as the muzzle was pierced into his back. Well, at least he didn't have to walk.

When Marino asked his question, Q hesitated. He tried to think of what to say, and looked over to the fish-for-brains woman to see if she would answer first. After confirming she wouldn't, he looked back to the ground and closed his eyes again, squeezing them shut. The light was getting to him; he had a headache now. Just one more pain to add to his woes. He briefly hoped the goons wouldn't drop him down to his knees. That would probably make him scream at this point.

"I do small claims," he finally mustered, his pains apparent. Still, he struggled to hang onto the french accent. It wasn't fake - Q was French, but he hadn't spoken anything but English for a very long time. "If I had known who I was dealing with, I would not have accepted. My contractor will be reprimanded."

Q didn't know who the man in front of him was. He knew of Marino, that was for sure. But Q had never seen his face or heard his voice. All Q knew was that the man in front of him was someone who was out of his league. He wasn't expecting this, and if he had, he wouldn't have taken the job. Or at the very least, charged much more. The contractor would have a lot of explaining to do if Q survived this. Did he think he could squeeze money out of Q just because he was a hybrid? That ass...

Although it strained him, Q still attempted to hide his tail against one of his legs. It was easy to miss, since the colors of his pants and tail were nearly identical. He didn't know how racist this man was, and considering the position he was currently in, Q didn't want to push the wrong buttons.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [align=center][imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastiheadshot.jpg[/imgright]
Anasti gave Q a sideways look as he was carried over next to her. She ignored Cassandra's taunts, knowing better when to kepe her mouth shut. However, her body did do the smallest of double takes when Marino insuinated that she worked for him. Her? Work for him? The idea was hillarious at the best of times and rather annoying at the moment. She glared darkly up at him and bit her lip against a smart-ass retort which most likely would have landed her very dead ass in the gutter right next to Mister Silver Hair, here.

She even went so far as to let him have the first word when it came to saving thier scrawny hides. It was, how you say, his party. These man was obviously some sort of local kingpin and she had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

'More like STUCK yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time, sweety. You could have just left.' her irritating, and yet truthful inner voice goaded her. It was right. She could have just left. But life had been boring as of late, and this all seemed MUCH to entertaining to pass up. And when she saw the mystery man's tail, although he had tried to hide it, she thought that there must have been a reason why she had decided to hang around and even go so far as attempting to save the guy's neck. It had been a long time, years even, since she had seen another one even remotely like herself. And now, here in a dark fucking alley that stank like fish guts, at the point of a gun that WASN'T friendly, was another one.

And he was a fucking merc. Thats just lovely.

"Look." she spoke up suddenly, leaning up on her elbows but making no move to attack. " I don't know who Mr. Fucking Silver Hair here is. I don't know who you are either, buddy. And I most definetly don't work for you." she grinned sarcastically, the wings on her head flaring out. "I came. I killed. I'm leavin'. So if you'll just be so kind as to hand my dagger, Lil' Miss Stick up Her Ass..." she addressed Casandra with a pausing glance. "..I'll be on my merry way. Off to kill things another day. Besides..." she cast a look around at the circle of armed men that surronded the two of them and uttered a low chuckle.

"...I've got some nasty people after me and you really don't want to get caught in the middle, Mister Suave." she grinned.

The wandering mind... wrote: "Small claims?" Marino repeated after the man. "I'm interested in who signed your check. Though maybe I should write you one myself." He laughed, a short 'hmph' with a pitch above his voice really, too cold to be called laughter. It got a smile out of several of his crew, as hopefully Q would get the joke. "You're a lucky boy," He chose his words purposefully, the man before him long past such a term, but he wanted him to think, no, wanted him to know that he was a man with power enough to call him anything he wanted. "I was going to waste the rat myself. But now that you've done me this little favor, maybe I'll do one for you, and not make the last memory you have this filthy little alcove."

Marino turned his attention to Anasti as she spoke. He merely lifted an eyebrow at the girl. It seemed like those scars across her hidden eye, should she still have one beneath the patch, ran rather deep, and harmed more than just her vision. Work for him? She must be dense.

"My dear, I meant the man whose cranium you rudely misplaced your knife through. He works for me, and do you understand what that means? You owe me a body. Now despite your..." He paused and stepped over to her, a hand lightly tracing the edge of a wing and down a fin, "...differences, I'm sure I could find several ways for yours to repay me." He of course meant in selling her off. Not to himself, no, he never mixed pleasure with business, that was just bad ethics.

There was a small huff as Cassandra thought of what she could do to the little bitch's body. It of course involved various tools and levels of pain, but then again, so did many things in her world.

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Raine_Hinata wrote: [align=center][imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastiheadshot.jpg[/imgright]

She cocked her head back and listened as Marino explained that her new alley friend here had actually done him a FAVOR by knocking off that guy! It was too much, she couldn't help but let lose a laugh.

The pig turned to her next and when he explained that he had meant the man she had stabbed, she gave a shrug. "You talk to sophisticated for my puny brain." she drawled scarcasticly, and was blatantly ignored, as she had expected to be. But when he leaned down and ran a finger along the edge of her wing and fin she fought a growl that rose deep in her throat.

"If you want that hand to keep its digits, I'd keep it off of me. Filthy human." she spat on the ground next to him, her remaining eye flooding with rage. "I don't owe you shit, seeing as how your men were the ones trying to kill me! I was protecting myself! God knows what Silver Hair over here was up to, and there's suddenly a bunch of guys with guns around?" she ran a slender hand through her hair, brushing her wing gently as though to wipe the trace of his passing off. "As far as I knew, you guys were with fucking Renegade, and I'll be damned if I'm going down to his sorry ass without a fight! You're less one mook, big deal. You try to fucking touch me again without my permission and I swear I'll cut your dick off, shove it up your ass and twist before I die!" she growled, her eye flashing dangerously as she sat the rest of the way up, crossing her arms over her decently proportioned and well-displayed in her tight tank top, chest.

"Now. Either hand me my dagger and tell your little prick bitch to get that gun away from my head and get out of my way, or make it worth my while to stay! I don't need my blades to kill you, you skinny bastard. I've got nerve toxin and I'm being chased by fucking Renegade's mafia. You wanna mess with me? Be my fucking guest! " she growled in challenge. [/align]

The wandering mind... wrote: Marino tossed his head back and laughed, loud and long this time, several deep chuckles that were to say the least unsettling as he listened to the inhuman girl squeal like a stuck pig. She talked big for a girl with a gun to her noggin, surrounded on top of that. A lesser man than him would of been impressed, Marino however, was not. To him it was more like watching a spoiled child throw a tantrum when they didn't get that hundredth toy they'd never deserved.

Making a motion of wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, as if she was just to hysterical to handle, a real comedian, Marino returned to standing, not even bothering to look at the girl anymore as any hint of good measure disappeared from his face.

"While I'm not sure who this Renegade fellow is, I assure you, his men enter my town and I will know. You may not know who I am little one, but let me put it in simple terms, so your fragile mind doesn't break under my vocabulary. I own this town. I own the businesses in it. I own the people in it. And if I don't, I own someone or something they want, and soon enough, I will own them, or at least the more important factor, their money. My name is Louis Marino, have you not heard it, you've not resided here long, but when you are in my hands, you're as good as untouchable. Besides, should you try to, what was it again? Remove my dick and shove it up my ass? Well, should you try to do it dear, I'm afraid my dear Cassandra would have smeared the blacktop in front of you with what little there is in that head of yours. You may have gotten the slip on her once, but I assure you it would not happen again. And should we of even been alone in this little predicament, I would like you to think for a moment on how a man like me would end up in a stature like the one I possess. You see it took a little more than a rich vocabulary to get me this far, and you'll find I'm not as defenseless as you think. So I leave it up to you. Sit and behave, and see how we can work your debt off, or pay it now in your blood. It doesn't matter much to me. Business is business. Though I would like to hear a little more about your peculiar linage...," He tried to politely refer to her demonic background. "I have no problem ending my relationship with you in a fondle of your cold dead bits as I hand feed you through a meat grinder for my two pet Surus oxyrinchus." (mako shark, he has two babies in a tank in his office.)

Cassandra's finger twitched on her trigger, but her eyes were on her boss. No man could hold more respect in her eyes. Her love for him was nothing physical, and not some fairy tale mushiness, but merely a loyalty so strong, that she would die for him in an instant. Just in case the girl chose the more fun of the two options presented, her free hand found it's way to her right boot and she handled the knife within it.

With his little monologue done, he did let himself indulge in a little pleasure at hearing his own voice now and then, he strolled over to Q, as if he had not a thing to worry about in the world. Which given the way the situation was at hand, he really didn't. There were plenty of people around him in his care and under his pay that were willing to do his worrying for him. He took a moment to look the man over. He had to admit he liked the silver hair, despite the young face, it gave him a classy sort of look, something a man could learn to respect, as long as the person it belonged to earned it. It didn't take him long to notice the strange facial tattoos, the scar, or even the tail. Though the man's eyes were shut, so he did not notice Q's eyes.

"So...have you ever thought about a long term contract?" He didn't skip around, the man before him as basically his to do what he wanted with anyways, given the situation. He hadn't done much but ruin his coat, but Marino was bound to do that himself anyways. Besides, the man was a hell of a shot it seemed, and it was always better to hire a gun now that might one day later be pointed at your own head.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q didn't get the joke when it was said, and thus stayed silent all throughout Marino's dialogue with the fish-for-brains. He had an urge to say the woman was not with him, but given Marino's new interest toward Q, the sniper figured the bossman already knew.

When Marino introduced himself, Q's eyes bolted open. "Marino?" he shouted to himself. "Marino?!" That bastard who had hired him was going to get the shit beat out of him. If Q had known his target was talking with Marino, he wouldn't be in such a sorry situation right now. His shoulders wouldn't be hurting from being held so awkwardly, his legs would still work, and he wouldn't have the stinging headache. Everything made it hard to think. That was, until Marino directly spoke to him once more.

Q opened his mouth to give out a slew of apologies, but quickly thought better of it. He shouldn't beg for his life in front of a man like this. If anything, that would probably incite him to kill for laughs. Q's eyes squeezed shut again as he tried to think of a more proper answer.

"Small claims is nothing over one hundred grand," Q tried to calmly muse. His accent had dropped. No point in trying to act with a superior. His voice still shook from his obvious discomfort. "If I were skilled enough for you, I would not be in this situation."

The wandering mind... wrote: Marino smirked, having caught the drop of the accent, he'd known it was being pushed by the fluctuation in it before, not faked, just.. out grown. This man unlike the mouthy girl obviously had some knowledge of his reputation and this pleased him. He drank in the respect now in his voice. "Not the best, no, but not every man could pull off that shot. Besides," seeing no reason not to be frank with Q, "I'd rather have your gun in my arsenal than that of my enemy. Not to mention, if you work for me, you'll have better equipment to fill your hands." He waved a hand around the group, as if to display the fine display of armory his crew wielded, the tops of the line, all that money could buy.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q would've smirked if he had had the advantage. Marino just called him a good shot. And he hadn't even done it. It was Meru, who was being guided by him. So that meant Q must've been 10x better, and a man like Marino had noticed. He would've smiled were he not so worried he'd get a kick in the gut for it.

Q's eyes were still squeezed shut, and he kept his head angled toward the ground. He decided not to humble himself. "Your enemies have no interest with me. Everything you associate with is above my level."

Really, Q was flattered by the opportunity, but he didn't have such faith in his abilities. Good shot? Sure. Q knew he was an excellent shot. But he didn't like the level of risk involved in working with Marino. He didn't like the risk involved with killing anyone larger than small fry. Still, simply being offered the job was good enough to boost Q's ego.

The wandering mind... wrote: Marino paused in front of him, his face growing grave almost. "I sense a hinting no, and I don't like that. You see, you did me a favor by killing off that rat I was going to dispose of, so I'm doing you a favor here, and I'm sure you're a smart enough man to see what a bad move it would be to let this opportunity pass you."

Cassandra lifted an eyebrow. She was someone that knew Marino well, and could catch the small hints as anger built inside him. He was not a man to take no lightly, and decisions with him, were usually between something and death, and the way death worked with him, it was never the better of the two.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q was indecisive on the matter, and had to try and think of something to say. 'Yeah sure, let's do it' wasn't exactly the best way to handle a situation such as this one. Marino was a big wig. You didn't brown nose a big wig.

"I am only suggesting someone of your caliber could do much better than I," Q said softly.
He fought the urge to try and reposition himself. His shoulders were getting weak. These goons had one of the strongest grips...

The wandering mind... wrote: Marino nodded his head at the men holding Q, who then proceeded to not so gently drop him like a sack of potatoes. It was almost his way of warning him.

"Regardless of your opinion on your personal caliber, I would like to see you in my ranks. I can't force your hands however. There is nothing for you to lose on your end really.. nothing you have not already put at risk the moment you pulled the trigger." Marino had made his way to the case and opened it, handling the piece inside.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]When Q was dropped, he let out a shout of pain. It was quickly shortened by Q's clenching of teeth, the latter half of what would've been a yelp in pain turned into a guttural growl which faded off of its own accord. His eyes still closed, he tried to put most of his weight on his hands. It didn't work out.

"Well, it was delayed," he mused to himself, "But I guess this is the restitution for deciding to jump out that three story window."

"Sir," he breathed, still trying to catch his breath from the fall. "You flatter me." Merely saying the words made Q feel sick to his stomach. "If you are so insistent, I cannot refuse."
Q wanted to kick himself. But, Ha! His legs didn't work.

How cruel was this? At least he was bowing to Marino, and not some other lowlife.

The wandering mind... wrote: Marino's eyes sharpened on Q, their green color suddenly darkening. The tone the man was using might as well been mocking, the way he spoke. He was really doing this man a favor, offering him such a position after what he'd done. But this attitude he had in accepting it.. this bullshit about flattery..this man was merely playing sudden modesty, now knowing just who it was before him. It did not lay well with Marino, and Q was soon made well aware as the butt of the rifle was thrust against his throat.

"You're mine. You work for me now. Fuck up and I kill you... Hell.. I might just do it anyways, but doing a good job gives you better odds."

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q's chin was forced upward. With that, his face was more toward the sun, its light leaking through his eyelids. Q squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, baring his teeth in a silent growl. He'd dare not make it audible; he was already in a sensitive enough situation. He'd probably be smacked for not looking at Marino in the eyes, but he couldn't help it - not that the man knew Q's condition.

"Glad to be of service," he grumbled through his clenched teeth, a hint of sarcasm leaking through.

The wandering mind... wrote: Marino smiled that sickening smile of his again and pulled the gun away, allowing the man to rest. He tossed it carelessly to the ground.

"Good dog..." He relished the sarcasm, the knowledge that the man was in defeat. It was like a fine wine to him. He turned his back to the man, waving a hand over his shoulder.

"Someone see that Doc checks on his legs and injuries. And please, someone get the trash." His hand waved at the body of the albino, her blood coagulating nicely in the oxygen rich environment outside her flesh. He headed back over to the girl with the fins on her head, curious to see now what her decision was.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [align=center][imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastiheadshot.jpg[/imgright]


Anasti allowed herself a soft chuckle as Marino swaggered above her, but this time she bit back the sarcasm, as much as she wanted to laugh in the man's face.

'He sounds just like Renegade. He thought he was the big shit too...' she thought. She kept silent, mulling over the decision in her head as he turned his attention from her to Mr.Dog Boy.

The prospect wasn't an unattractive one. With Renegade after her, she would do better working for someone like Marino. Hidden and partially protected by his ranks, she'd become much harder for the clan to find. Plus, there was the added bonus of being able to make some coin on the side, and regardless of her obvious joy in killing, it was always nice to be paid for it.

'Besides...' she thought to herself, her single eye raking Q's form appraisingly. 'If I get to work with Mr. Silver Hair here, that might just make it worth my while...' she fought the urge to lick her lip. She repressed a delighted smile as Q finally accepted the offer that he really had no choice but to accept. That would make this much easier.

As Marino came towards her, once again focusing his undivided attention on her, she smiled up at him. "We don't need to be on the opposite sides of the stick here, Marino baby." she drawled, looking up at him with an almost sexual grin. "I just so happen to be looking to pick up some more steady work. And since you are a man short now because of me, I just might consider coming onto your payroll. Unlike Silver Hair here, I think I more then fit your resume. It might have only been once, you'll pardon me for sayin', but I did get the drop on your best girl, didn't I?" she tilted her head back and looked up at Casandra, giving her a saucy wink because she knew how much it would infuriate her.

"So long as we've the understanding that nobody gets between my legs that I don't want, you start taking payment and I'll kill anybody you want." She paused, casting Q a quick glance and jerking her thumb over her shoulder towards him. "Hell, throw in dog-boy as a partner and I'll do it for HALF!" she laughed. Throwing her hands down to the pavement, she pushed herself to her feet in one smooth, sliding motion. Adopting a more humble look on her normally sarcastic visage, she gave a little a small bow, bending at the waist, before straightening and extending her pale hand toward him.

"It would be my pleasure to work for you...sir." she added, her face a mask of seriousness.

The wandering mind... wrote: "No, we don't." Marino pulled a hand from his pocket and waved it in front of him. "But what we do need..." He knelled down next to her. "as you said, is an understanding." He lowered his voice. "You many be confident in yourself, but you see, that only goes so far. You have only two hands. As you've seen I have a few more than you." He waved his hand again, referring to the group around him.

His eyes narrowed on her. "You will not get the drop on anyone here ever again. You try, and the least of your worries shall be this Renegade fellow. In fact, I might just find him out myself and see how badly he wants you. What you put between your legs means nothing to me. You kill on my command, you get paid, we both are happy. As for partners, I find letting people chose their own works best, and you are the one owing me. At least he has started off on my better side."

The right side of Cassandra's mouth twitched and twisted up. She could wait. She had to wait. Wait until the moment this loose bitch slipped up and Cassandra would have her chance to kill her. It would not be quick, long, painful.... wonderful...

Marino stood before she did, taking a step back, utterly relaxed throughout all his transaction. When she extended a hand however he merely looked and it and laughed before turning around and walking away.

"Do not give her weapons back until I say."


Marino's men moved quickly. Two men disappeared to a vehicle somewhere, only to come back with a large plastic sheet, that soon served as the albino's shroud. It was really just taking out the trash, no one would go after Marino or any of his men. He had no need to hid the work, but bodies had a place for bodies to go.

Q soon found himself in the back of a van, being handled roughly by a short, thin man, whose hair looked like it hadn't seen a brush in the last decade, and it was a few more decades from his last fashion update. He wore thin square glasses much too far down the end of his nose to be of any use, and kept muttering to himself as he felt up and down Q's legs, checking for breaks and fractures. While he looked old, closer inspection showed him to actually be younger than Q. "Idiot.. three stories.. you'll just be sore from the shock of it for a few days..."

Raine_Hinata wrote: [align=center][imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastiheadshot.jpg[/imgright]

She gave Marino a sideways glance as degraded her a little further. She was actually, physically biting her tongue to keep back a smart-ass retort, and a few drops of blood slid down her chin from the force of pressure.

'That arrogant little snot rag...' she snarled internally, fuming at the man's words but forcing herself to keep control of her emotions. She had to shove the contempt from her eyes rather viciously and it gave rise to a headache almost immediatly.

The dull thudding echoed in her ears as she dropped her unshook hand at her side and wondered vaguely if this had been such a good idea. She watched, momentarily detached, as Q was dragged over to a van and placed inside, a wiry man stepping over to him almost immediatly. No one came forward to offer her direction, so she stuck her hands under the waistband over her skirt and headed over to where Q was getting a once-over. She still had one of her daggers safely clasped in its holder at her side, and her array of poisons hidden carefully under the hem of her skirt. Obviously Marino didn't know who Renegade was, and she hadn't employed her poisons against him or his men. There was really no way he could possibly know that they existed, but the way he looked at her made her slightly uncomfortable, even after all the years she had been in the business, and she shifted her body so that she leaned against the van on her backside, squishing the tiny pouches between the metal and her skin. It was an uncomfortable position to say the least, but she covered her discomfort with an arrogant grin, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she looked down at Q and the doc.

"Wasn't the smoothest exit, was it Mr. Silver Hair?" she goaded, a smile playing on her lips, but her voice and one void of its normal, demeaning laughter. The doctor took a step closer to her while looking over Q's injuries and she instinctively took a step backwards. Now that she was close to him, she realized that he had rather unpleasant smell about him. Her senstive nose wrinkled as the pungent aroma assaulted it. Casting a glance at Marino and the men who were working to remove the albino's still leaking corpse, she decided that where she was currently was the best place for her to be. The less she had to deal with Marino himself, the better. So she was faced with dealing with the smell, pulling in small breaths through her mouth as she spoke to save her nose the abuse. She was extraordinaryly curious about Q, about who he was, what he was, and who he was working for. But she wasn't so dense as to ask him about such things now. No, there would be time for that later, she hoped, giving him another one of her body-raking glances.

"Got a name, puppy? Or should I just stick with Mr. Silver Hair?"

Page 3
Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q kept his mouth shut as he was dragged to the Van, and again for the most part until the Doctor started feeling him up. Q growled slightly from the pain, but managed to bite it back enough to shove the doctor away. "Don't touch me!" he ordered, a bead of sweat dropping down his face as his muscles shook.

"If I had known I was going to be caught anyway I obviously wouldn't have jumped that far. It's a mistake I won't make again." His tail thwapped against the floor, alternating sides in agitation.

His green eyes glared to Anasti. "Your smart mouth will get you in a lot of trouble, you know that? I'm surprised Marino didn't kill you as you stood there."

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc frowned at the man and pulled away from him, crossing his legs and leaning back as he fished various things out of his pockets.

"Suit yourself, but if you don't do something about the swelling soon the pain will grow unbearable. That is unless you lose feeling first, though that would be the worse of the two. And to think, I was going to offer you something." He smiled, a weird cockeyed expression that split his face in two and made him appear even younger. He would be a good looking, almost charming man, that is after a hair cut and in some sharper, better fitting cloths.

He quirked an eyebrow at the chick who'd approached the van and butted in. Another hybrid or something... these two really perked his curiosity, though he didn't let it slip. He noticed the thin line of blood near her lips. "You hurt or do that yourself?" He nodded at her, vaguely motioning to it.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [align=center][imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastiheadshot.jpg[/imgright]

She gave the doctor a smile that almost could have been considered warm as he mentioned the small trickle of blood still oozing from her split lip. She wiped it away with the back of her hand and shook her head.

"Lets just say I find your boss....our boss..." she corrected herself, hating the bitter taste that crossed her tongue as she said that. She hated to be under anyone's command, and she hadn't been since the clan had fallen. But desperate times called for desperate measure, and she was more then a willing to work for Marino and make some coin doing killings that she highly enjoyed. Besides, there were perks to the job, Mr.Silver Hair here for one, and being less easy to trace for another. "...difficult to deal with at time.." she finished smoothly.

Her head wings caught a momentary breeze and stretched, extending to thier fullest length from her head before folding back down on themselves. They weren't used to going uncovered this long, she spent most of her time with a hat covering her rather obvious abnormalities. She cast a glance at Q that was both pitying and resentful at the same time. His abnormality was realitively easy to hide, and she both envied that and despised it. She disliked immensly having to hide who and what she was, but it did make life on a whole a hell of a lot easier.

She had ignored the man's comment about her smart-mouth orignally, but chose to readdress it. "My smart-mouth may be exactly that, but if you notice, I'm not the one lying flat on my ass, am I?" she smirked. "I'm suprised Marino didn't kill you for your obvious ineptitude. Three stories straight down while your whore screams your name at the top of her lungs, Q" she stressed the last word. "You're not the most intelligent merc, are you?" Without waiting for a response, she turned back the human.

"Got anything for a headache, Doc? I've got a migraine forming from all this idiocy and I need something a little stronger then Tylenol to take the edge off."

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q growled again. If his legs worked he would've pounced on that woman like the sack of meat she was. Food was all she was good for.

"Do what you want," he addressed the Doctor first, turning his face do his green eyes could glare at Anasti, "Just don't go feeling me up."

His eyes narrowed at Anasti's response to him. "I do small claims," he stressed. "This particular contractor outright lied to me. I didn't even make the shot, that was how easy it was supposed to be. I let the Albino do it. If I had known it was Marino, I would've taken precautions. That contractor will be getting the shit beat out of him soon enough."

His tail angrily thwapped against the floor behind him twice more before subsiding and curling against his leg. Q's eyes looked down to his lap.

"I take small claims because I enjoy fucking around while being paid. I suppose it wouldn't matter to you, though. You probably couldn't get a job unless it came up and smacked you in the face--" He stopped himself. "Oh wait." He forced a sinister laugh to himself, then braced himself for a smack.

The wandering mind... wrote: "Feeling you up? Fine, you go running around on a broken bone. Still don't know how you didn't fracture anything. Besides, who said I'm into boys?" He half growled, purposefully calling someone who was his elder a boy.

"But so be it. Take this." He threw a small vile of green liquid at him. "If you can't handle the taste of that, you seem to be a smoker, I could find something else to take the edge off. Though at least take a sip of that whenever the pain gets too bad."

He turned back to the woman. "Ah, you just got to get used to him. He ain't so bad. Well he is, but not if you stay on his good side and all." He fished a few more things out of his pockets, viles of more strange liquids, a few pastes, and several different ones with pills. "Take your pick love, but watch, there's a few side effects." He winked at her.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q turned to the doctor, "It's not broken!" he snapped. The combination of embarrassment, Pain, and annoyance at fish-for-brains made him lose his temper. The Doc was an easy target for it.

Q almost missed catching the vial. It slipped through his fingers once, but he was able to catch it afterward with a growl of annoyance. He uncorked the vial and smelled it, grimacing. That was when the doctor told Anasti about side effects. He corked the vial with a hmph.

"And what sort of side effects does this have?" he stared at the Doc, trying to gauge if his answer would be a lie. His voice was softer, now. He would've apologized had he not been in front of Anasti. He already hated her.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [align=center][imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastiheadshot.jpg[/imgright]

She grabbed one of each of the pills from his hand, gracing him once again with the tiny smile that might be construed as warm. "I'm sure I can handle it." she pointed to her fins. "Blowfish." she said simply before tossing the pills into her mouth and swallowing them dry. It wasn't the smartest move, she realized, but she she was counting on her advanced resistance to most poisons to protect her. She wasn't immune by any long shot, but being who she was and what she had dealt with most of her life, she had built up a decent barrier that staved off most side effects.

'I've never dealt with green liquid, though.' she thought, eyeing the vial he handed Q with some apprehension. She turned her single eye towards Q once again, the slightly less-then-chilly smile on her face fadding into an agressive frown. She pulled herself off of the side of the van and pushed in next to the doctor, reaching one pale hand into the back of the vehicle and grabbing the front of Q's shirt. She leaned down as she pulled until she was staring him directly in the face, her silver eye locked with his own green ones.

"Don't talk about what you have no idea, little puppy." she addressed him, although it was obvious that he was several years her senior. Her tone was flat, almost monotone, all of the sarcasm and arrogance gone and the edge of her words was decidedly clipped, a faint russian accent breaking the surface. "I've been playing the majors for years while you've been getting your dick wet in the minors. You've just stepped up to the big leagues, boy, and i'm probably the only thing thats going to be standing between you and faceful of lead, and even thats only because you're like me and you like you've got a nice pair between those scrawny legs of yours. Now shut your trap, take your goddamned voodoo potion, and thank your lucky stars that you weren't born human, or I never would have taken any interest in your ass, no matter how nice of one ya got." She seethed softly, eye flashing dangerously. She let go of his shirt then, straightening up and resuming her lean against the van door. She closed her eye and pulled in a deep breath. Her headache was fading, which was positive.

"These things are fast." she muttered without opening her eyes.

The wandering mind... wrote: "No real effects, you just have to be able to stomach the taste. That's my best, it's why I gave it to you versus her. Your pains a bit more serious. Got something in it too that'll speed up your recovery if you stay off your feet."

He leaned back and watched the two of them for a few moments, not really reacting all to much, just lifting an eye, like someone who just really observes the world. "Well.. you see they aren't poison, just odd side effects, you know, like your skin turning an odd shade of purple." He gestured at her exposed skin, as the hue changed on it.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q let the fish-for-brains grab him, but he gave a warning growl regardless. There was no use truly fighting with her. She was a stupid broad who, no matter how much intelligence was slapped in their face, would continue to spout stupid shit as if they knew what they were talking about.

When she let go of him, he grinned, and looked to the vial first, then to the doctor. He chose to play on Anasti's nerves.

"Sounds like the woman has a bit of a crush, doesn't she?" he chuckled. "If I didn't know better I'd say she couldn't wait to get in my pants." He gave a heh, uncorked the vial once more, and poured the substance down his throat, quickly chugging it down.

His face contorted not much after, a cough escaping him in between gags. "Jesus christ," he managed. It really was the the worst thing he'd ever tasted. Something like dead carcass mixed with tartar sauce on wasabi bread. Though that was hardly a comparison.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [align=center][imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastiheadshot.jpg[/imgright]

She heard Q's words and cracked her eyelids, looking sideways at him as he poured the green liquid down his throat, choking back a laugh as he gagged on the nasty stuff.

"Don't go getting a bloated head, pup. I ain't willing to desecrate my body with those filthy humes...no offense." she said to the doctor, casting him a half-lidded glance. "As long as its been since I've seen another one of us, I'd take a brain-dead street dog at this point....oh wait..." she broke off, letting out a shrill laugh, her hand covering her mouth as she tittered.

She yawned, stretching her arms over her head and it was only then that her eye opened and focused on her rapidly darkening skin tone. Her face grew red....er....purple with rage as she turned on the doctor with fire in her eye.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO ME?!?"


The wandering mind... wrote: Doc turned his head away from her, squishing up his face.

"I didn't do anything. They always start blaming me. I said be careful, but you went ahead all fool headed thinking you'd be fine. What's it like missy? Not everything plum being the way you want them to be?"

He stifled laughter. "Aw, don't get your panties in a bunch, it'll wear off soon enough. Maybe now you'll think twice."

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q looked to Anasti, snickering to himself at her skin changing colors. "If blowfish stay true to their name," he gave another snicker, "Than I'd be willing to overlook your constant name-calling, fish-for-brains."

He was 25, he didn't need someone who probably wasn't even 18 yet calling him a pup.

He turned to the Doctor, laughing to himself. "You know I like you already, Doc? You and I should go drink together some time. How long till I can walk again?"

Raine_Hinata wrote: [align=center][imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastiheadshot.jpg[/imgright]

She huffed at the doctor's mark, an almost pouting look coming across her face as she leaned back against the van door. "It better..." she threatened without much conviction, absentmindedly rubbing at her arm.

When Q made mention to a blowfish, however, her eyes took on a more interested gleam. "I'd rock your world, hunny." she grinned, turning around to face him, her arms crossing her chest. "Don't call me that, pup....er...Q" she stretched out the letter making it sound almost like 'ke-yew'. "My name is Anasti. That's Ah-Nah-Ste, and it'll sound real good when it comes screaming from your throat later." she gave him a wink as she leaned against the van, this time on her side facing him.

"You are legal, right? I'm no pedo, horny or not."

The wandering mind... wrote: "The tension is killing me." Doc muttered to himself. He reached over and lifted Q's leg, quirking an eyebrow yet again, a favorite reaction of his, not that he knew he was doing it.

"Well, lay off them completely a few hours, and keep the stress down a few days, and they'll be as good as new." He fumbled around again and pulled out a flask. "As for drinks though, who says we have to go anywhere?" He sipped from the flask then passed it to Q.

"And for pete's sake, both of you are in your twenties, I'd say you," He nodded at Q, "Are about two or three years her elder."

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Henh. "Alright, fish-for-brains. Sure."

Q looked to the Doctor, wrinkling his brows expecting to feel pain when the Doc lifted his leg. He didn't.
"It doesn't hurt anymore?" Q was bewildered. "Thank you!"
His green eyes widened at the introduction of a flask. "What is it?" He graciously took it and took a sniff. His nose was one of the ironic things he wasn't above normal with.
The only reason he was interested in what it was was because he had drank not too long a go. He didn't want to get sick later. He'd been through enough commotion already.

After The Doc had mentioned Q's age, he laughed. "I'm 25," he corrected. "But good guess."
Smirking, he eyed Doc playfully. "We both could take her at the same time yeah? You don't seem so human." He forced another laugh.

This doctor guy wasn't so bad.

Page 4
Raine_Hinata wrote: [align=center][imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastiheadshot.jpg[/imgright]

Anasti hissed through her lips almost playfully as Q once again called her 'fish-for-brains'. She watched in amusement as the men tossed a flask back and forth and joked about taking her at the same time. She scoffed quietly and snatched the flask from Q's hand as he moved to hand it back to the doctor. She didn't bother with a premptive sniff, the scent of alcohol rising to her sensitive nose long before it reached her lips, and she took a deep draught of it. Licking her lips appreciatively, she handed the flask back to the doctor and held her currently purple hand up in front of her face.

"I hope this fades soon. I look like a fucking grape." she scowled, dropping her hand to her side and rubbing her skin furiously. "I'm 23, so Q-pup here isn't that much older then me. Besides." Anasti remarked, casting Q a obviously smug smile. "When it comes to experience and well...skill....I'm sure I surpass you by a good deal, hun." she almost laughed.

She pushed herself off of the van leaned in towards Q, snaking a slender (albiet purple) hand down the nearest of his legs. "Got to stay off your feet for a couple of days, hmmm? I'm sure I could think of something to keep you busy..."she let the sentence dangle, grinning suggestively. Mr. Silver Hair was most decidely, a perk.

The wandering mind... wrote: "And it is just as I said..." He shook his head laughing. "In your twenties, with our friend.. Q?" He was recalling the name from the conversation, not actually being properly introduced, not that he minded. "Being the elder by two years. See, I'm not a doctor for nothing!" He laughed even louder and took a large swig from his flask as Anasti handed it back. He himself was actually barely 20, but it was harder to tell with him.

While he didn't respond with more than a laugh to Q's prospect of the two of them taking the girl together, it was not that he didn't behave in such manners ever. His particular group of society were well into the love everyone prospects, and as Anasti increased the tension once again he piped in.

"You know, we could always tie him down so he doesn't injure his legs more..." He paused, waiting for Q's look of response, "Naw, naw, I'm just kidding, besides, you don't seem the type of fellow into being on that end of things."

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q was about to take a sip from the flask without conformation from the Doc about what it was, when Anasti stole it from him. He hmphed.

When Anasti brought up their experience differences, he was about to reply, but instead was interrupted by her hand in places where... If he were in good health, probably would've wanted it - regardless if she was the most annoying broad he'd ever met or not.
He stuck a glove hand out and grabbed her wrist with strength greater than her own. At least for the time being. Q glared at her for a moment before tossing her arm away.

"Not here," was all he said sternly, before he tossed her arm to the side. He wondered if she was as annoying now as she was in bed. Ha, that would be a thought.
"Our fields of study are completely different. Much as I probably couldn't kill someone with a knife, you couldn't kill someone from 200 yards away." The fun had left his voice. He was getting too annoyed to play around, now. The doctor's comment about tying him up didn't help too much either.

"And no, I'm not that type of person." he said in answer to the other man. Although he didn't show it, Q played with the idea in his head anyway. Maybe in another life, he would've liked it. Maybe.

"My name is Quatre Bornes," he finally introduced himself to the Doc, trying to ignore Anasti. "So yes, it is Q for short. Though you can call me Quatre if you'd like. My full name is a mouthful." He mentioned that 'Quatre Bornes' was a mouthful because the phrase was his first name. His last name was relatively easy by comparison, but he wouldn't offer it.

"So...." He tried to change the subject. "You wouldn't happen to know where this van is taking us?"

Raine_Hinata wrote: [align=center][imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastiheadshot.jpg[/imgright]

She opened her silver eye widely as the amusement drained from Q's voice. He grabbed her roaming hand and threw it to the side, biting back a snarl and, oddly enough, a pout. Both of which threatened to rise from her as she drew the hand back towards her and settled down onto the van floor. "No, I wouldn't be able to do that." she conceeded thoughtfully, stretching her fingers before her eyes and staring at them. The maroon hue was beginning to face, albeit slowly. In a few hours, she would be completly back to her normally pale complexion. When the silver haired man questioned the Doctor as to thier destination, she looked up, catching Q's eyes with her own.

She had fallen into her own trap again, her ease in being too fully focused on one object to notice all of what was happening around her. She had been distracted by the pleasurable thought of taking the new puppy to bed. A thought which, while still more then pleasurable under the surface, now rose to the level of annoyance.

She fished out her remaining dagger and toyed with it, tossing it back and forth from hand to hand, which was no easy feat considering its curved nature and the fact that it was dual bladed. She kept her eye on Q and the doctor but, for the first time since the silver haired man had caught her attention, she remained silent and watchful.

The wandering mind... wrote: "Quatre.. I like it." He made a decision there to refer to him with his full name, it was something too unique and pleasant sounding to go unspoken so often in place of a mere consonant. This coming from a man called Doc...

"I'd introduce myself in return, but to be honest, I'm not sure I can recall my name! I've been Doc so long, it's just who I am." He laughed again and offered the flask to Quatre again. "It's just a mix of a few things you'd find on any bar. Cooked down a little, makes it strong. You won't feel pain for a while." He paused before answering his question, knocking on small window to the front.

"HEY! WHERE WE GOING?"

"Home, where else?"

Doc laughed yet again, it was something he truly enjoyed doing. "Guess you're already going to see headquarters. Boss has got this big building right in the middle of downtown, it's all his for everyone. You know, those in his crew. He's got all the good rooms given out already, but it sure is a nice place."

Doc chatted up the two passengers, the ride wasn't too long, 20, 30 minutes or so before they arrived. Now Doc was not exaggerating when he said it was nice place. They'd pulled around when arrived, so when Doc open the back doors the two got a great view of the bottom half of the tower, about 30 stories tall, a sleek building, more modern than those around it, but nothing fancy. Marino wouldn't waste money on such things. Doc hopped out and turned to Quatre.

"Now I know you can walk and all, but this'll be more fun!" Doc grabbed the man and pulled him onto his back carefully, piggyback style almost. "This way you ain't putting pressure on them while they're all swollen like that." That and he got a kick out of doing it to the fellow, not that he didn't like him, but Doc was the type of guy that when he found a friend in someone, he liked to yank their chain a lot.

As they headed inside, lead by a few silent goons of Marino's, Cassandra appeared, obviously gone ahead with Marino, who was no where to be seen at the moment. She merely rolled her eyes at the sight of Doc carrying the hitman, while not even looking at the girl. She wasn't too pleased of course with this new arrangement.

"Come on, I'll show you to your rooms. Girl, you're on the 13th floor. Boy, you're coming with me upstairs to talk business. Well.. I guess Doc is coming with you, doesn't make a difference."

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Once they had reached the tower, Q was pulled out of the car and onto Doc's back. At first he was taken by surprise, and for a moment there would've been a hint of enjoyment in his eyes, if they had been open. Once the daylight hit his irises, he closed them once more.
He should've mentioned something about sunglasses.

"Hey! HEY!" Q shouted on Doc's back. "Put me down! How is this fun at all?!" Q's words were quite misleading to his actions. Although he was uncomfortable, he wrapped his hands around Doc's neck to hold himself in place. The last thing he needed was another fall, even if it was only three feet down.

When Cassandra spoke, Q's head laid on Doc's shoulder, his tail drooping. Business.
"All work and no play for you people, isn't it," he grumbled, mostly to himself.
What kind of business was he supposed to be doing while he couldn't use his legs.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [align=center][imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastiheadshot.jpg[/imgright]


Anasti gave Casandra a withering, but silent look as she pointed her towards the stairs. Pocketing her remaining dagger in one smooth motion, she ticked the first two fingers of her left hand off her forehead in a saucy salute to Miss Crams-Apples-Up-Her-Ass. "Catch ya later, Quatre." she tossed him a wink, turning her salute into a small wave as her hand came down. Turning towards one of the bulky goons, she made a forward motion with her hands. "Lead on, Jeeves!"

20 minutes later, she was casting the same silent man a sideways glance that oozed hatred, and contemplated poisoning him in his sleep. When they had reached the elevator doors, he had told her in no uncertain terms that the elevator was "broken" and that they would have to walk the 13 flights to her room. Twenty long, sweaty minutes later, she was glaring at him and imagining ripping his gallbladder out through his left nostril. When they reached the room, he pulled a key from his pocket and tossed it to her. She caught it with the grace of the assassin she was and stuck it in the door. She flung the door open and went inside, slamming it behind her in her frustration.

Moments later, she swore she heard the ding of an elevator and an accompanying chorte of laughter. Prick.

Flicking on the lights, she spotted a long couch a few feet away, and the corner of a decently sized bed in the next room. Proximity overruled quantity in her mind, and she collapsed on the couch, one slowly fading arm tossed over her head. God she was tired. She'd been running for so long, her boy was exhausted. Renegade's face flashed before her closed eyes, a pallid face with eyes so pale they were almost colorless. She bite her lip in anger as she began to drift off, that face still floating before her.

'Renegade. You bastard...' the last thought that passed through her turbulent mind before she drifted off to sleep.

The wandering mind... wrote: "Aw, come on, you'll be fine. I doubt we have any wheelchairs around here, but if you'd rather that I can go fish you up one." He laughed again, then noticed his shut eyes. "Pocket right under your left hand, probably not your style, but they'll do until I can find you something nice." He nodded his head toward the pocket, which held a pair of large circular sunglasses, very dark, and a little oversized, but they would protect Quatre's eyes from the light outside, as well as the fluorescent lights within. "I'll have them put red soft lights in your room while you talk with the boss. They barely give off anything, and the red color isn't as harsh. Besides," He lifted a hand and ruffled Quatre's silver mane, "It'll look good with your hair." The alcohol he'd consumed on the way had loosened him even more than his usual behaviour, and he didn't think much about the fact that he was invading Quatre's personal space, otherwise he'd of held back more.

Cassandra strolled on ahead, basically ignoring the antics of the fools behind him. She had spent time with Doc of course, being in the line of work she was in, but she never really grew to like his carefree nature. Though a hint of a smile tugged at her lips when Q protested. She lead them into an elevator that took them to the top floor, opening up directly into Marino's office who sat across the long room behind his desk, going over some papers.

The walls were a dark maroon color, everything leather, smooth and suave to say the least, just as Marino himself. Several large bookshelves took up one side of the wall, while the other was taken up by an extremely large tank, in which two moderately sized mako sharks swam idly. Amazingly they were just babies. A few couches and chairs were spread out by the elevator, and down in front of his desk was a long couch, with a chair at either end. Doc walked Quatre to the couch and gently plopped him down. "My recommendations sir, the less stress on them now, the quicker he can get back up." He said with a serious face, which looked surprisingly good on the man. However he of course ruined it by turning to Quatre and winking. "I'll be back for you in a little bit." With that he left to take care of the room arrangements and to bandage some lackey that got in a knife fight up. In a place like this, Doc's work was never done.

Cassandra didn't sit, instead stood on the right side of the large maple desk. She didn't move much, just waiting silently until she was needed to speak.

Marino took his time of course, shuffling around a few pieces of paper, several with pictures on them. He looked his new hire over a few moments before speaking up.

"Now I know you'll need a while to recover, and Doc would be on my case if I didn't give it to you," He had a soft spot in that place where his heart was supposed to be for the wacky fellow, "But I want to let you know what is in store for you, then you can do whatever you want." He leaned back, folding his hands over. "There's a man and few hires of his that I need you to take care of, and I need it done so that it won't leak back to me, our mutual associates wouldn't be too happy about it, and frankly, I still have need for them still, and don't want to kill them off quite yet." He pulled a stack of papers off the desk and lifted them in the air. Almost as if she was trained, Cassandra walked over and picked up the papers, walked them over to Q, then returned to her spot.

"You'll be working with Cassandra on this. She knows them better than anyone else. I figure two days of observation and then you can pick your time to take them out. Do this well, and you'll be paid a lot more than any of your small claims." The other point in having Cassandra around of course was to keep on eye on the new guy. She and Doc were about the only two still alive that Marino had any amount of respect for.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [align=center][imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/sheaheadshot.jpg[/imgright]

A door slid open in the smooth wall behind Marino's desk, and what appeared to be a large serving tray with legs stepped into the room. A tuff of black hair pulled tight into a ponytail appeared from the left side as the tray moved steadily across the room towards Q. About halfway there, one of the legs snarled its foot in the maroon carpet and the tray began to tip forward and fall. A long, lanky arm reached around the front and steadied it, only just barely keeping the teapot that sat steaming on its surface from spilling to the floor. As the tray set down carfully on a small desk just to the side of Marino's larger one, it became possibly to see the very small girl who had carried it. She was about 4' 7" tall and suprisingly lanky for her size. But perhaps the biggest suprise of her physical stature was her very unproportionate chest, that made her look rather top-heavy. Her thin body was wrapped in what appeared to be a very form-fitting maid's dress made completly of black leather, that scooped indecently low at the neck, and stopped indecently high on her long, thin legs. She turned quickly, almost stumbled again before bowing low at the waist to Marino, her back facing Q who, if he cared to look, would be able to see straight up the bottom of her dress. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Marino, sir! Would you like your coffee or your tea, sir?" she asked, in a pleasant voice that was obviously used to servitude as it dripped humility. She straightened up, cocking her head to one side and smiling a pert, but pleasant smile towards her boss and his guests.

Her name was Shea, and she had been working for Marino as long as she could remember. Her mother had been his assistant before her and it was as though she had been born to do her job. Sometimes she secretly wished that she could have a more interesting job, that she was a spy or whatever it was that Mr.Marino's guests always did! It seemed exciting, the prospect of getting out from the building and stepping away from her current duties, which were simple enough but tended to get boring. Many of the lower ranking members of Marino's organization liked to tease her that she was too much of a klutz to be a very good maid. But Mr.Marino had told her that she was his most 'special' maid once! That her skills lay elsewhere, somewhere a little more inclined to his bedroom...or the bedroom of his more high paying clients that he often lent the adorably naive girl too. She understood what her job meant, although most people who saw her would probably think she was too stupid to realize it. She was happy with her life, however. She had been born to do her job, and she did it well. Bending over to grab the teapot, she once again gave Q a panty shot as she poured him a cup of tea. Walking over to the couch, she handed it to him and gave him a warming smile.

"Would you like sugar, sir?"

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]As Q was on the doctor's waist, he was offered some glasses. Q hesitated, but grabbed them anyway. He opened his eyes briefly to look at them. How they were 'nit his style'.
The doc hadn't lied. Q immediately scoffed.

"I can deal with normal lights," he said calmly. "It's sunlight I have the most problems with. But thanks."
He dropped the sunglasses back into Doc's shirt pocket, as if they were something not worth his time.

Q shirked away as best he could without falling off the Doc's back or loosening his grip when the other man messed with his hair. Doc really was messing with his space, and he didn't like it. But Q wasn't in the position to fight it like he normally was. He felt sort of cornered, but tried to brush it off. "You know you're a lot smarter than you look," Q mused. He forced it.

Q did like the Doc. He seemed like he could make a great friend, and Q didn't want to lose the opportunity to make one. However, it was still clear he was uncomfortable by all this. Establishing boundaries would have to wait until Q healed up. He'd just have to suck it up for now.

Once they exited the elevator, Q loosened up, and took in the atmosphere of the place. It was amazing. More suave than Q was expecting. He had to make an effort to not keep his mouth agape in awe. As soon as he was plummeted down to the couch with an 'oomph', he tried to keep his green eyes on Marino and nothing else. It would've been bad for Q's image to be taken surprise by someone's office.

Q put an elbow on the couch's arm and leaned his head on the hand that connected. His eyes were narrowed slightly, but that was mostly due to the lights. Q was used to interior lighting, though. While he was squinting, it really didn't bother him that much as the sun itself. For the most part, interior lights seemed to be dimmer. If anything, the most annoying thing about them was that they made a high pitched buzzing sound most normal people couldn't hear. It grated on Q's nerves after a while, especially when he tried to concentrate. The light itself, however, as long as he wasn't looking up, he could deal with it.
Q let out a slight hiss as the Doc left with a wink. Q was having conflicting feelings about the character. He looked away for a moment, grumbling a "what a fag," to himself.
Probably not the wisest decision, if Marino held Doc in high regard.

As Marino began to talk about business, Q kept eye contact, nodding slightly at appropriate times. His head remained leaned against his hand, however. He didn't sit up straight until Cassandra handed him the papers. Q looked them over with a deep sigh as Marino finished the part about the woman being with him, and the two days of supervision needed before the kill.

Q looked over each paper, studying each picture of each person he was supposed to hit. Each one of them were high profile, he had at least heard of each name before. All were above his selected skillset. He opened his mouth to make some BS excuse about small claims and why he liked only doing those, but that was when some servant came in with tea.
She was quite possibly the shortest woman he'd ever seen, though there were a few who rivled her height at the exotic fetish club Meru(the Albino) had worked at. Dwarves weren't really Q's taste, but when she betn over he couldn't help but look. And it was overtly obvious he would be looking to Marino.

He didn't care if he was reprimanded for it later - the look was well worth it. Q couldn't hold back a snicker, but tried to cover it up with a cough, doing so into his fist as the maid asked Marino if he wanted Coffee or Tea.

The woman later turned her attentions toward himself, and Q tried to decline. Of course it would've been rude to not have anything, so he decided to just have his coffee black, and not bother drinking it. He would if he were asked by Marino, but Q had never liked hot drinks.

He busied himself by looking down at his paperwork.
"Sir..." Q tried to choose his words carefully. "...With all due respect these people are..." He decided to change where he was going, and stacked the papers up in his laugh with a slight cough. It was obvious he didn't like the situation he was in. All the odds were stacked against him.
"She's a short-distance fighter, yes? I fail to see how she and I could possibly benefit from being partnered together. She'd mostl ikely be stuck in a small room with me for hours of boredom while I stared through a scope," He shooed his wrist as if there were a slow moving fly. As if the hand motion somehow helped to prove his point that he didn't need Cassandra.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright][[this is rushed; sorry. I may edit later]]

A week passed as Q healed up. He managed to con some people into moving his things out of his other apartment into his new one with Marino while he couldn't walk. The visits with Doc, though brief, were fun.

Once Doc said it was safe for Q to go to work again, Q and Cassandra had gone off to another farr-off building to look down at the streets below for the people Q was supposed to be killing in two days. Q hated stake outs. They were boring. It showed as he looked through the scope of his brand new Parker Hale M85(sniper rifle), a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

Q's sunglasses, a thin kind resemble Gucci, sat on his head. The hotel room's light were out, as wer usual, but this time, he had the sunglasses on him at least. If he had to jump out of a window or something. Although, he was at least ten stories up this go round. So having the sunglasses probably wouldn't make death any fancier.


"What do you do all day?" he asked aloud, to Cassandra. She was just standing there. He didn't know how she could do it without being bored to death.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [[timeskip. and this thread had been dead too long, so...]]

[align=center][imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastiheadshot.jpg[/imgright]


Renegade. That bastard. He thought he was the big, bad shit back in good 'ole Lacostia, her hometown. And he was, he had everyone in his pocket. She had never dealt with the man personally, Anasti had her own clan to run with. The Restitalion Iron Claw assassins. But when Renegade would toss some work thier way, he was always generous with the coin, and so life was a peaceful coexistence between the two groups. Renegade stayed on his side of the fence and the Iron Claw stayed on theirs. That was until, of course, he got the fucking urge to do a little hybrid-hunting for sport. And a couple of his mooks just happeed to find, rape, and murder her mother and younger brother. And a few days later, she just happened to spike Renegade's kids' birthday cake with Botulinum. He's been after her ever since. Most of the mook's he sends aren't too bright. Hell, she had gutted two of them in the alley behind where Q's mark had fallen and started this whole mess, without breaking a sweat. But good 'ol Mom had been the leader of the clan and, after her death, most of the others had gone over to Renegade's payroll. And if there was one group of people you most decidely did not want on your proverbial tail, it was the Iron Claw. Only one of them had caught up with her so far, and she had dispatched him eventually, but he had taken one of her eyes with him to the grave....

Anasti woke with a start, passing a hand over her dripping forehead. Why was that dream haunting her now? She had thought she had put it behind her...

It had been a week since they had first arrived at Marino's compound, and she had settled in after the first few days rather nicely. She still had her reservations about working for the man, but alot of her swaggering smart-ass attitude had ebbed away. Her change in attitude had wrought a change in the behavior of others around her. When she had first arrived, there had been alot of incidences of trickery such as the original elevator one. But as time had progressed, and she had stopped letting herself getting worked up over such trivial details, the pranks had stopped.

It probably helped matters that she hadn't been here much. Marino seemed to like sending her out almost every day after small claims kills that weren't much of a challenge for her advanced skills. But, she had a feeling that the jobs he was sending her on were more of a test for her then for her skills, so she resolutely handled them, if she was a bit bored. The only unfortunate thing that had happened so far, was the revealing of her truest skill on the course of a job were another of Renegade's mooks had caught up with her and she had been forced to employ one of her poisons to silence his mouth. Then the proverbial cat was out of the bag that she was a poison assassin. Marino had called her for another job, the first one since that tidbit of information had been disclosed, and she had a meeting with him in an hour.

Standing up, she walked quickly across the room, not bothering to put on clothes as she headed towards an early morning shower, and the small shimmering tattoo between her shoulder blades glistened with sweat from her nightmare. The tattoo depicted the letter 'R' in an Old English font being held by large, iron-tipped claw. It was the branding mark for the Restitalion Iron Claw's, and had been inked there by her own mother.

Half an hour later, she was freshly showered and dressed in her normal 'work' clothing and heading up to Marino's office, an orange held in one hand a half-finished cigarette in the other. As she reached the top level, the elevator opened with a 'ding' and she snubbed out the cigarette, remembering that Marino didn't like her smoking inside the building. She walked causually through into his outer office and settled herself down in a comfortable chair. The secretary behind the desk was a very short girl with long black hair and an uncomfortably large chest. She wore a nametag that read 'Shea' pinned on her collar. She gave Anasti a small bow. "One minute please, I'll let Mr. Marino know you are here." she said, casting the hybrid a smile before disppearing through a large, mahogany door that led to Marino's inner office.

Shea knocked softly on the door before sliding into the room and waiting to be addressed. "Mr. Marino, sir? Miss Anasti is here to see you."

Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
"Where are you going again, Ven!? You know I need your help today! Get your ass back in here at once!"
A young man who stood in front of a small repair shop rolled his eyes as he heard the hoarse voice of his uncle call out for him.
He had short, black hair and wore light brown pants which were stained with oil.
Two silvery dog tags dangled from a thin chain around his neck, goggles were shoved up onto his head - and apparently his name was Ven.
The most unusual part about his appearance were two blue horns sticking out of his hair. They were about 6 inches long and slightly bent backwards.

He took a last drag on his cigarette before flicking it away.
"Sascha's here. He can help you," Ven replied grumpily and turned around to mount his bike.
That "bike" was a construction he was very proud of.
He had built it all on his own in his uncle's garage, using old pieces of broken motorbikes and some modules of airship wrecks.
It was hovering about two feet above the ground and did indeed look like a mix between a motorbike and a tiny airship.
Of course it wasn't able to fly any higher than that.

Ven started the engine of his bike and sped down the alley.
He heard his uncle shout something after him but he had more important things to do today than to help him repair some old bikes.
His twin brother Sascha was way too lazy anyway, he could help out this time.
They were no identical twins but they shared one similarity: The horns.
But unlike his own horns, his brother's were a light shade of orange.

A few weeks ago Ven had discovered huge ruins of an old temple in a valley which was located about 50 miles from the city.
They were the destination for his trip today.
But before he could head out of the city he had to go on a small shopping tour since he had just run out of cigarettes.

The wandering mind... wrote: Cassandra stood behind Q, to his right, watching him. She was actually a rather patient person, and would just stand next to Marino as he went through business and meetings for hours. A lot of it came from her past, but she didn't really get into it. It was no horrible, cliche traumatic childhood or anything but it was something she was just plain used to was all. She was quiet most of the time, but could get loud quick when it suited her.

"I do what I need to do." She smirked at him. It wasn't that she didn't like him or anything, she just enjoyed a bit too much giving him vague responses and irritating him even more. She had spent the last day watching him, only going out for a few minutes occasionally, and mostly when he wasn't paying attention. It wasn't hard for her to stand still so long. She was good at keeping herself occupied in her head. It was amazing what one could do in there. Marino knew there was no reason to sit for so long before killing them, but the whole thing was of course Q's test, just as the smaller missions had been for Anasti.

Marino lifted his head from his papers only long enough to wave at Shea, not even bothering to speak. She knew this meant to let her in. Though the thought did occur to him to tell Shea to put on a tighter shirt later. He had a few clients coming in, and she was good at getting the gentlemen comfortable. He was a pig of a man really, and didn't treat the poor girl with a lot of respect. Though he was never so horrible directly to her. It never did any good. You treat an object like trash, and that's what it becomes. She was one of his better possessions, and like his investments, he took good care of them.

As Anasti appeared at the door, he didn't even pause, just spoke above his thoughts.

"Come in. Have a seat please, I want to talk to you about something." He nodded forward a little and waited for her to make her way across the long room.

"So I hear you have a few talents I wasn't so aware of. This is good news, I've actually needed someone with your.. specialties for a while now, and it makes me so happy to find I have you." He pulled some papers aside and leaned back in his chair, looking her up and down.

"Hmm, this is going to take a little work though. We'll have to get a good wig to hide your features. And hide your lack of an eye with some prosthetics. Hmm... how do you look in an apron?"

Raine_Hinata wrote: [align=center][imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastiheadshot.jpg[/imgright]

Anasti gave Shea a friendly wave as the girl bounced back out into the secretary room, waiting for Mr.Marino to call her. She knew he had some gentlemen business associates coming in later, because she did his scheduling. She was more then willing to do whatever Mr.Marino asked her. She loved her job, and she looked up to the boss.

Anasti gave Marino a hard look. The wig, she could understand, as could she the prosthetic eye. Her overly obvious hybrid features could be advantages at times, but could also be a disavantage. She couldn't help blinking a little bit when he mentioned an apron.

"Probably about as good as I look in my skirt." she replied simply, without thinking about it much. "An apron would be beneficial, it has several pockets and thick seams which make hiding poisons within quick and easy reach possible. The wig could double as a dagger holder, providing that it was a decent length, and the prosthetic eye could be used for a number of things. A bit of liquid latex to cover up the scars will also be needed." she added, peeling back the eyepatch to reveal a jagged and gapping hole through which the three scars on her face both entered and exited. She ran a finger along the edge of the hole and winced slightly. It was almost three years old, that injury, and yet it still had not healed the whole way. She wondered if it ever would, laying the eyepatch back down across it.

"What kind of job are we talking? Big or small group? High or low risk of detection? What kind of poison are you looking at employing? I tend to favor Botulinum, Anthrax, Ricin....but those are if you want someone dead...and painfully. there's also Soduim Amytal as a hallucinogen, great for interrogations, and I find that Temazepam makes the best truth serum. Some other assassins might use
sodium pentathol, but i've found that that tends to dull the sense of pain, making further interrogation useless." Anasti was in her element, no longer trying to hide her skills and personality though a smart-ass visage. There were only two things she wanted to know now. What was the job and how much did it pay?

Page 5
Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q let out a low growl. That woman had hardly known him and already figured out what most of his buttons were. His eyes stayed trained on his scope for now, however. The men were getting out of their car, right on schedule, and going into the hotel across the street. If they had the hotel room Cassandra said they would, then Q would have a perfect view inside.

But, as the men came out of the car, one of them looked around, then up. Right at him. Q held his breath, and waited for the man to turn around to presumably tell the others before he kicked the gun down and rolled to the side of the window.

After he growled for the second time, he glared over to Cassandra. "This is why I don't like high-end deals," he grumbled. "They know what to look for. "Augh."

He stubbed the cigarette out on the ash tray seated on the floor, where many other butts lay from hours that had already passed. This was the second day of the surveillance. He hated every minute of it. He brought his hands to his head and took a few slow breaths.

His work was supposed to be fun, not stressful. And Cassandra wasn't much of a coworker. She just stood there, judging him. He gruffly snorted. He was surprised she didn't shut herself in the bathroom with him while he pissed, with how she followed him everywhere. Why would Marino give his best worker - as he had so proclaimed - to Q?

Q slowly removed his face from his hands, peeking a glare over to the woman.
"You're Marino's best man, right?" Rhetorical question.
"Why aren't you protecting him? He's in more danger than I am."

Q combed his fingers through his hair. He'd managed through the first day okay. But he was going to go crazy if he had to sit there and voyeur for the entirety of today too.

The wandering mind... wrote: The edge of Marino's thin lips curled up at her reaction. This was going to be fun.

"Well you see, we're going to be playing a game of pretend. There's this great Italian restaurant, that you're going to pretend to work in. Don't worry, I've already got people inside, it'll be easy to get you in. I've got three people I need you to poison. Now.." He paused, leaning forward onto his desk now. "Poison isn't exactly my specialty, but I need something that won't effect the gentlemen for a few hours, something that's not real detectable either. Of course the restaurant will be suspect, but immediately after these.. gentlemen," He almost snickered, using the term loosely, "dine at the lovely establishment, they go and have drinks and dessert, along with a little companionship, at a place down the street, my actual target." He put his hand together, smiling that wicked smile of his now.

"You see, I actually have nothing against the targets. I could care less if they live or die, though killing them and setting up the real target is just so much more convenient than a direct attack. Besides, who are they going to come to? Their previous business partners just are no good any more, and probably dead by then." His brilliance was almost too much for himself sometimes.

Q's question only make her laugh.

"Sir, in danger? You haven't really been around long enough. No one in this town has the balls enough to go after him. Not to mention he's very good at making it so no one wants him dead. Half the people he has killed don't know the order came from him. He's a smarter man than you'll ever hope to be. "

Besides, Q was actually in no danger. This was in truth a fake job. Marino wanted to see how well he would get along with Cassandra, and how well he'd preform for him. He would never have them stake someone out for so long, it was a waste of time he could be spending having more heads split apart. No, Marino had future plans for Q, but he had to be able to play nice, and it was obvious to anyone, especially a man like Marino that Q was more of a lone wolf.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]"People like him usually are," he groaned. It was to the smarter than Q comment.

He leaned his back against the wall, stretching his legs out, running his fingers through his solver hair again. This had to be a test. But he wasn't sure what kind of test it could be. Patience? Sanity?
He was a sniper, not a stalker. "I've had perfect shots one hundred times over now," he complained. "Why do we have to wait two days?"

Q looked over to Cassandra, his hands falling in his lap. "He's just trying to make this job harder on me isn't he?" Is this about stealth?
If he had to wait two days, then they'd be more on their guard. The targets were already more attentive than they were yesterday.
Q wondered if he'd even get any good shots tomorrow. He'd made a living out of doing his job only half-right. He didn't put int he effort needed because he knew he didn't have to. Marino was making him actually work, and Q was lazy by nature.

Q combed his fingers through his hair for a third time. Obviously it was a nervous habit. He let out a sigh and looked toward the window. He really didn't want to look through it again. Not if he couldn't do anything. Q hmphed, pulling a knee up close to him.
"We can off some of them now before they get too suspicious tomorrow," he tried to play it off as a suggestion but it really was more of a whine.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [align=center][imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastiheadshot.jpg[/imgright]


Anasti echoed his happiness, a smile splitting across her face. She had to hand it to him, it was an elegant plan. She milled over the possibilities in her head for a moment before smiling. "I've got the perfect thing. Its a blend of my own creation 1 part ricin to 3 parts cynide with just a pinch of botolinum. Ingestible, odorless, colorless, tastless. Takes two to three hours to kick in. I'll have to make a batch, meaning that I'll need access to your laboratory. Should take me two days to make the poison, is that enough time to secure a disguise and placement?" she asked Marino, giving the man a grin. She reached behind her, pulling the black silk ribbon that kept her long hair in its customary braid loose. Her crimson hair fell around her like a silk curtain and still smiling, she lifted the top most layers and easily covered the wings and fins. The excess amount of her hair kept the bulges created by them from being even remotely noticable. "I'd prefer not to wear a wig if at all possible, my wings tend to get cramped if they have to stay pressed tight against my head. A hat should do. And a uniform of course. I'll need the apron right away so that I can make the neccessary adjustments to the seams in order to store the poison once created. Also, am I going to be needing a safe house for this one? It would probably look better if I wasn't coming back here every night? And, of course, I'll need the usual mark profiles, photos and all. But what I really want to know, Mr.Marino..." she listed off all of the things that would be needed for the job and then gave him a smile, almost sensual smile.

"...Is how much this particular bit of espionage is going to pay?"

The wandering mind... wrote: Cassandra laughed again. She knew the comment would make him groan, that's why she said it in the first place. This boy was just so much fun. She wondered if she could make things more fun. She turned away from him for a moment as she continued on, stripping off her long duster. Underneath she wore tight black pants, all leather of course, and all she wore for a top was a red corset, the first thing she'd worn since Q showed up that didn't hide her figure. She wasn't built thing like the secretary, but she was in great shape and had one of those perfect, just fit in your hands, chests. Her bright orange hair was pulled up in a braided pony tail, so despite it's length, it didn't had an inch of her ass. Part of working with her involved respect between the two.

"Because Marino said so, that's all you should need." She winked at him and bent over to adjust the knives in her knee high boots, giving him a nice shot of her cleavage. "Besides," She spoke, still adjusting things, "That just gives us more time to get to know each other." With a laugh she stood up again and walked closer to him. "We'll off some when it's needed, but until then, we keep busy and wait."

Marino kept his grin. This girl had been growing more bearable, and was certainly down to business. He admired the hair on her, having not quite how much it covered.

"Fine, no wig needed. We'll see about finding a hat for you. Probably basic black ball cap, with the restaurant name on it. Just make sure you have the hair loosely pulled back, you are working with food, wouldn't want anything to contaminate it." He paused to laugh at his own joke. "As for the lab, have Shea walk you to it, and ask her to stop at Mario's. He may be a bit flamboyant at times, but he'll get you outfitted nicely. He'll even make the adjustments for you, a man shouldn't be as skilled with a needle as he is. I've never seen someone make such tiny stitches. Just send word if you need anything else. You'll find the profiles already in your room. I didn't expect you to turn this one down. Especially after this."

He reached under the desk and brought up a large briefcase, opening it to reveal it stuffed with stacks of cash. "There's another for when it is done, if things go smoothly. Just don't go thinking you can take payment and run. When I see fit that you've paid back your debt in work, you can take all your earnings and buy yourself whatever you want."

Raine_Hinata wrote: [align=center][imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastiheadshot.jpg[/imgright]

Anasti reached both hands across Marino's desk, one closing around the handle ofthe offered briefcase and the other to take and shake his hand. "No worries, I think i'm actually starting to like it here. Besides. I don't ditch and run. Its not in my nature." she smiled, pulling her hand from his powerful handshake. She left her hair unbraided as she walked out of the room, and the cascase of crimson complimented her curving figure nicely, falling down to her ass, but accented it rather then covering it. When she reached the door, she couldn't resist giving him a backwards look over her left shoulder, and ticking a saucy salute off her forehead with a broad grin.

She walked out into the main office and approached Shea. The girl was already waiting for her, which might have unnerved her in any other situation, but she had come to expect that from Marino's seemingly naive secretary. She had a feeling that the girl held a good bit more intelligence then she let on, behind that bubbly smile.

"I'll take you down to Mario, Miss Anasti. His studio is on the way to the lab, right this way." she smiled, gesturing forward. They walked down to the elevator and took it to the 5th level. The doors opened on a lush hallway of what appeared to be crushed velvet. Two doors down on the left, Shea paused, reaching up to knock a little melody against the door.

"He's a bit eccentric, but Mario is the sweetest man." she told Anasti as they waited. "I absolutely adore him!"

'Of course you do, sweetheart.' Anasti thought, giving Shea a quick, slightly demeaning grin. 'Every gay man needs a good fag hag.'

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]When Q saw the woman turn around, he looked away. He knew she was playing her. But once the Trenchcoat flopped on the ground, Q's tail flinched. It had completed some semblance of a wag before Q forced a cough and leaned his left hand ontop of dangling hairs.

Q could control his tail's movements, but it took a lot of effort. Effort that currently, was being used to resist all urges to look at his 'partner'. His tail was the most emotive part of him. If he was trying to act cool but really felt some other emotion, nine times out of ten his tail would mark that. And he was positive that anyone with half a brain would be able to figure that out. He was a dog, after all.

Q snuck a few looks as she was adjusting her daggers. For a brief moment, he felt ashamed of himself for playing into this girl's game. Q's tail flinched slightly, trying to wag at the current excitement Q really wanted. His hand, luckily, kept it in place. Though someone with skill would be able to tell that each time the hair was pulled on Q's tail it caused the man brief physical pain. Q's tail was the weakest point on his body, in more ways than one.

Q didn't hide his tail, in hopes that most wouldn't catch on if it was in their face. Luckily for him, no one had yet. Then again, women didn't usually play games with him. Every woman he met had wanted him in some way. And part of that mental play ebbed into him now.

Perhaps it wasn't a trick. Why else would Cassandra stay with him for two days?
It was obvious. She wanted him like the others. A smirk escaped Q, and he stared at her, taking in her athletic form. Q wasn't that picky, but Cassandra did seem to be one of the hotter ones.

With an almost inaudible grunt, Q pushed himself up to stand, his tail jerking once before settling with its haphazard wag, brushing itself against the back of his pants at each methodical pass it made.

"Oh really?" he questioned. "I know of several ways we could... 'keep busy'..." he gave a 'henh', and stepped forward, to put his hands on her hips. Q would hold her close, kiss her gently at first... If she allowed him.
Q pegged Cassandra as more of the domineering type. It didn't really matter to Q how she rolled, as long as she did. Sex was one of his favorite hobbies, and it was something he knew all women loved to do as well.

Who could resist a man like himself, afterall?

The wandering mind... wrote: It didn't take an expert to catch his tail movements, though of course, that was what Cassandra was. Oh was it fun for her to watch him trying to hid his peeks and excitement at first, though she didn't quite expect his mood to change, well, not this fast at least. She knew how men could be.

She played along like a good girl, her lip pulling back as she bit it, giving him a strong look over as he stepped up to her. Seductive 'oh?' to his suggestion. She didn't pull away as his hands found her hips, letting one of hers find it's way around his side, clutching the small of his back. Though she also didn't give any hint of movement as her other hand wrapped itself around a dagger from her belt. As he leaned in to kiss her, she let her mouth open ever so slightly, as if frozen there in a gentle gasp, just waiting for his. Of course, the second his touched hers, he found his bottom lip stuck squarely between her teeth and the dagger pressed into his back. She pushed him away with a forward jut of her hips, only letting go of her grip at the last possible second, tugging hard on his lip as she did.

"Haha. Oh man are you a trip. You actually think that's where this was going. This was a test you fool, to see if you could work with me, without that dim little bitty head in your pants getting in your way. Guess who just failed!" She laughed, tossing her head back, the knife still pointedly prepared at his back.


Mario was the man to see if you needed something to wear. He clothed 80% of the people in the building, and knew just what everyone's style was. He'd even made almost all of Cassandra's outfits, loving the girl's choice in clothes. He was a tall black man, incredibly thin, and it didn't take a genius to figure out what side he batted for, as the swing in his hips told it all. He even carried the slightest lisp, and had 'the hand' down pat. No one knew fashion better.

"Oh darling," he exclaimed, seeing Anasti come in. "Your hair... AB-SO-LUTE-LY GOREGOUS!" His smile never left his face. "I wouldn't let you put a wig on it if you begged me. We'll have to change the color real temporary, don't worry, washes out and you wouldn't know a thing, we just can't have anyone recognizing you in the future. Now let's see... " He ran around fishing in drawers and closets, his workshop was messy, but he knew exactly where everything was. "I'm thinking some nice brown eyes, so no one pays too much attention, the fake one won't be perfect, but they'll need to look real close when I'm done with your make up, trust me. And oh, right, here, these are of course just window pane glasses, but they'll pull more attention away from your eyes as well, plus they just look so cute with your cheekbones darlin'." He handed her a pair of thick rimmed square glasses, with small lens. Then dashed away to pull more things out of odd places, in a just a moment or two having found an outfit, hat, and apron, all in her size, even shoes. "Now now, just tell me what you need sewed in and it's done, you'll need your time to get your work in the lab done sweety, besides, Mario gets you what you need!" He snapped his finger with a little short laugh before going right back to work stitching the name into the hat.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q exhaled loudly as she bit his lip, his tail speeding up slightly in anticipation. It then rose in surprise when he was pushed back into the dagger. Q's first instinct was to put his hand to his lip, which was now bleeding, as he bared them both back to reveal all his teeth and release a guttural growl. Q did not like being taken advantage of. Not when it wasn't intended as play.

The man wiped his lip, trying to figure out what he should do next. He knew she was an expert at close-combat. Q wasn't. He simply glared at her, his tail still and unmoving as she proclaimed him a failure of the real test at hand. Wonderful.

It was not three seconds before Q shoved his left hand, two fingers extended, aimed at the center of Cassandra's collarbone. That nice fleshy spot that if jabbed, makes one lose their breath. Regardless if it did much or not, or if it even hit, Q would duck under Cassandra's arm immediately after, and drop to the ground in a kick to either of her knees. If it should connect, it would likely make her knees buckle. And if she fell because of the drop kick, Q would step away from the woman and draw the glock from the holster at his side, aiming it to her head and clicking the safety off. He'd release two curt pants then, his tail slightly furled.

The wandering mind... wrote: Cassandra sidestepped, catching his extended hand and twisting his arm, pulling him so his back was to her, and slamming him against the wall, his kick clipping her knee at the last second, which only made her fall against him, pinning the both of them there for a second. She suddenly locked up at the tension the position gave her, face now a mere inch or two from Q's, whose was turned to the side and pressed against the wall, because of her small advantage in height, she was perfectly paired up with him, pressed against his ass as leaned into him. She didn't think, just reacted... the biting before, though repressed, was a turn on to her, and when he fought back.. she'd always got a kick out of fighting that was almost sexual in nature, and she leaned in, smashing her lips against his in a hard kiss before realizing and letting him go, stumbling a few steps backwards.

"I..." She was at a loss of words, she never lost control like that, but staring at him locked up for two days together and then their play only moments before had got to her.. not to mention it'd been a while since she'd last relieved any tension. "Fuck.. not good... damn you Cassandra..."

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q let out a yelp at his arm being twisted, and a grunt as he was smashed into the wall with her against him. He was both dazed and confused when she kissed him, so he did nothing in return.

Once Cassandra stepped back though, he figured it out. He couldn't place exactly what had happened, but he knew she didn't intend to kiss him. Q's shoulders rose as he took loud breaths, but he quickly drew his glock from its holster at his side and aimed it at her while she was lost in her own thoughts.

He took a halfstep forward so he was no longer against the wall, his tail hanging to one side, his head slightly cocked to the opposite as the glock remained aimed at her chest with his left hand. His right hand was a fist as he panted slightly. He wiped his bloody lip on his long black sleeve once more, his left outstretched arm shaking lightly, as it hadn't yet fully recovered from the twisting it had gotten previously.

Q was a fairly strong man. He wasn't weak by any means. However, his body language frequently betrayed him. Especially so when it came to pain. Even if the pain wasn't that bad, he'd usually show it unless making an express effort not to.

Q's lips were still stretched back in a snarl. "Marino would be very displeased with you," he growled. Q, at the time, was thinking moreso of the intended injury than the kiss. That danger wouldn't dawn on him until later.

With an anxious huff, Q clicked the safety off.
"Give me one reason why I shouldn't shoot you," he warned. "And Marino killing me doesn't count."

The wandering mind... wrote: Behind her back she fingered a dagger, mouth pulled back in a snarl. This son of a bitch... He knew he had her... but she'd be damned if she'd just let him hold that over her so easily.

"Look... " She stepped forward, until the gun was pressed against her chest, right between her bosoms, her face softening. "Maybe we can work something out..." She pushed into the gun, trying to get closer. "I can't help it... I'm so attracted to you..." She ran her hand down his arm, bending it to close the distance between them again, seduction sliding into her voice. Her eyes darted down to the side, as if she was ashamed.

"I'm not supposed to feel this way... I just.. I can't help it, I want you Q..." She leaned her head on his arm as enough distraction to bring the knife to his neck with her right hand, the snarl returning.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q's snarl left him, and he licked his lips to be free of blood before closing them tightly.
Q watched the woman, his eyes narrowed as she tried to seduce him. His arm softened slightly, but became rigid once more as her head came down. He sidestepped and shot between her feet as he backed away from her once more. He wasn't intending to hit her, and he wouldn't. It was a warning shot.

"Same trick isn't gonna work twice," he growled, his snarl coming back.

In the distance, he could hear people in other rooms reacting to his shot. It was Marino's problem, now. Fake mission? Fine. If that asshole was going to waste his time, Q'd waste Marino's and make some damages.

Q wouldn't deny he liked this girl and wouldn't mind laying her, but his pride was something much stronger than that.

The wandering mind... wrote: "GOD DAMNIT!" She threw her dagger at the ground in anger. "You fucking came onto me! What the fuck did you want me to do?" She gave up trying to pull anything over on him anymore, swearing a storm up, revealing unfortunately to him how much he'd got to her. It was more her slip than anything, which she made somehow his fault.

"Do whatever you want, but you better kill me, or I'll make you scream in so many ways..." She pushed images out of her mind that weren't screams of pain coming from him. It wasn't that she hadn't been attracted to a man before, it was the fighting... she was a violent person, and he might be able to keep up, that attracted her.. that and his eyes, but she'd never tell him that in a million ears. But oooh did he piss her off. She didn't look at it directly, but she got a layout of where she'd left her gun. If that was how he wanted to play, she was game...

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Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q smirked at his victory over her. A woman like Cassandra giving up and losing her temper seemed like an oddity. Her words slightly disturbed him. He wasn't sure if she was still playing him or not. He decided to ignore them for now.

He gave her a stern stare, his eyes trained on her's like the eye of hawk. His lips loosened agains o his mouth was closed and no teeth showing. His tail, once partially upright, slowly began to fall down between his legs.

Q attempted to stare through her, simply to intimidate her. He did so for the awkward silence of several uncomfortable seconds before he clicked the safety back on and holstered his gun, loosening his posture and heading for the door.

"We're leaving," he said.

Q intentionally left his mess, and his new sniper rifle there. Fuck Marino. A day and a half of doing nothing. As if Q would clean up after himself for that bastard now. People had to earn their respect.

Q didn't know what Cassandra was doing, and it probably was a mistake to turn his back to her, but once he exited the room he slammed the door behind him carelessly, and began to walk toward the elevator. He'd go back to Marino's building whether or not she followed.

Though, if by the time he reached the street and she wasn't with him, he'd go solve other business. Like his former contractor. That man had a scheduled beating for this whole Marino situation in the first place.

The wandering mind... wrote: The hell? He was just leaving? All that and he is just going to walk away? She grabbed her stuff and followed him, staying behind several yards. Though as she realized where he was headed she speed up, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him around and pushing him against the wall again.

"Look, we can't just go back like this." She'd fucked up basically, and really did not want to get on Marino's bad side. "I'm not getting my ass chewed out over the likes of you." She snarled at him.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q had slipped his sunglasses on by the time he exited the elevator, and almost as soon as his first steps were taken outside he was ambushed again, pushed into the wall by the woman. He couldn't help but laugh.

After he was done with his chuckles, he grinned. "I'm sure a man as smart as Marino would know the risks of hiring a hybrid," he sneered.
"Unlike you, I am not afraid of him." He gave a heh, his grin changing to more of a smirk. His tail would've wagged if it were not blocked from doing so by the wall. He was enjoying her pleas.

"In fact, I'm quite excited to see what sort of punishment he'll dish out for this; if any."
Q slowly brought his left hand back up, wrapping it around Cassandra's. He wanted to slowly push her away from him. He knew she physically had the upperhand, but mentally and emotionally, he did.

If she backed up, Q would continue his way to Marino's. If only to piss the woman off more.
This was becoming quite a fun game. He was glad he had come out on top.
Then again, men always were on top, weren't they? He laughed inwardly at his own joke.

The wandering mind... wrote: Her eyes narrowed at him, as if they could pierce right through his sunglasses and to his. Cassandra couldn't believe the nerve of this man. The way he talked to her.. and about Marino.. it was.. was so aggravating. Her mind was always a destructive one, but whenever she thought about what she'd do to him... she had to stop herself. He'd gotten to her in more ways than one.

"I'm not afraid of him. I'm not afraid of anyone." She ignored his effort to push her off and instead shoved Q harder against the wall. "Besides..." The edge of her lip curled up in a small snarl. "Who do you think he's going to believe... some mutt he found on the street, or his second hand?" She leaned back a little, enjoying her blow. Marino would never believe anyone to get the upper hand on her.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
Q grunted briefly as he was shoved against the wall again. He took a moment to think. How to win this girl over?

"You are mistaken," he slipped into his softer french accented voice with a coy smile. "I did not mean his punishment for you; I meant me..." He reached his right hand forward to touch her hips. If she allowed him. If she did they'd slink elsewhere to rub against more sensitive parts of her body.

"If you really think we should wait," he'd move close to her if he could, his face to hers, "Then prove to me you meant what you said back there," he breathed. Of course, he was referring to her having feelings for him.

The wandering mind... wrote: Cassandra's body seemed to tense and relax at the same time, a shudder running down her spine. Damn him... And his accent.. she had a soft spot for accents. Everyone seemed to talk the same way around here, something foreign would always catch her attention. She tightened her smile, not foolish enough to stop his hand. This could play her way.

"Why go to Marino for your punishment?" She pushed him harder against the wall, pinning his hand where it was, and her body against his. "I know how to take care of bad boys..." She tugged on his lip with her teeth. "Besides, we're not expected back until tomorrow." Not that he had to come back with her... not all the ideas in her mind were ones he'd enjoy, she would though.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
His move came right back to bite him. The moment she mentioned bad boy and pinned him against the wall he was taken. His anger with Marino instantly evaporated. Q was all Cassandra's. Damn women.

A small, wanting whine came from Q when she bit his lip. Oh god, was he her's now. But if she crossed him again... Well, that wasn't in his thoughts. His blood had already redirected from his brain.
"Oh..." Was all he could think to say. Except it was more of a breath, really. It was hard to form words. The fact they were still in public made it all the more exciting. Q shuddered slightly from anticipation. Even for Q, public display of affection was a little out of his league.

His knees weakened and he felt as if he would just melt. He had to take actual effort to stand. He still didn't know what to do, however. He was nervous. Though that stemmed from being outside, rather than the mere act itself.

"Please do," he begged.

The wandering mind... wrote: She felt him crumble in his hands and damn did it feel great. Cassandra brought her knee up between his legs, pressing against him and holding him up against the wall as she reached behind her and grabbed a dagger, running it across his neck slightly, not enough to pierce the skin, but enough that he felt the bite the steel held at his skin.

Oh did it feel good to have him putty in her hands.. and it was a great opportunity at the same time... her other hand found the steel cuffs at her side and she made a show of putting them on his wrists.

"Bad boys need to be punished..." She closed them tight around one wrist, biting at his neck as she slid his arm over and hooked it to the other before pinning his hands above his head. Then she shoved against him again, before pulling the dagger and stabbing it hard between the bricks in the wall behind him, right through the chain of the handcuffs. She then took a few steps back, Q now temporarily stuck.

"But first you have to show me you deserve it. Can puppy find the master?" She ran her tongue down his cheek bone before laughing and taking off. It was time for a new test.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
Q hissed slightly at her shoving up against him. It hurt slightly, but he still liked it. Rarely did he allow women to overpower him. Only women he trusted, and he didn't fully trust this one. But then again, he wasn't thinking clearly. He was still nervous. There were people around him. Stage fright?

He took curt, loud breaths, holding them in as he didn't want to pant. Q was extremely vocal about what he felt in one way or another. Perhaps more than normal for a man. He sucked down a breath through his nose at the dagger, briefly wondering if she'd try something on him, but let a moan through clenched teeth when she bit his neck.
When his hands were lifted above his head, he leaned into her for more, but that was when she slammed the dagger to pin him there and ran off. He winced briefly at the loud noise of metal on brick, and a whine of disappointment escaped him when she left. If he had dog ears they would've wilted.

But his disappointment was short. Hide and seek was something Q was best at. He wasn't a wolf, in fact he descended from sighthounds, so while he sense of smell wasn't that great his sight and hearing more than made up for it. Plus, what dog didn't like finding things?

He watched her run off before he attempted to free himself. Pushing his back against the wall he shoved his hands forward. She'd stuck the dagger in the mortar pretty well; the action only resulted in Q's wrists being bruised. He winced briefly, and bore his teeth, shaking his head as he tried again, the metal of the cuffs only digging into his wrists more. It was becoming less fun, but he wasn't going to give up. This was a challenge he would overcome.

He resorted to panting through his mouth of course; he was still excited but now he was becoming impatient. He looked up, his mouth open. Q he finally thought well enough to contort his hands in a way so they at least somewhat held the hilt of the dagger(though it wasn't comfortable in the slightest) and with a beastly growl pulled it out of the wall with one shot, dropping it at the end of his arch and bending over to pant and recover.

The hardest part was done. His tail began wagging in small semicircles as a grin grew upon his face. It was time for the much more fun and easy part of this challenge. He took a jaunty step at first, unsure if he should run.
No, he thought to himself. He should make her wait too. It was probably just as agonizing for her to wait as it was for him.

Q crossed the road, as in front of the hotel building they were in had a small park. No doubt she was in there; he'd seen her run toward it, though he knew she would've altered her path somewhere down the line. Still, the park was where she would be.

He briefly went to the left side, before he corrected himself and went to the right instead. He did a few zig zags, stopping every now and then to listen for clues. Not even two minutes later he found her crouching behind a bush. He gave a small, almost malicious chuckle through his grin and raised his arms so he could pounce on the woman.

He probably wouldn't land on her; really, he wanted to land on his shoulder beside her. His hands weren't of much use in their current state. Pleasurably numb, in fact.
Once he landed, after a brief wince his grin would widen and through a small laugh, congratulating him of his own small victory, he'd say "Bonjour, Mi amore."

His tail would wag again in it's semicircles. Q was almost like a small child now; he was waiting for a pat on the head.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [align=center][imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastiheadshot.jpg[/imgright]


Anasti gave Mario one of those half-sarcastic smiles, but was almost bowled over as Shea rushed into the room, the chesty secretary leaping into the obviously side batting designer.

"Mario, Dahlin'!" she said, incorporating his own accent into her voice as she reclined in his arms, her own around his neck. "It's been too long! You absolutely HAVE to come down to my apartment this weekend and go clubbing with me!" she exclaimed. Leaning in to whisper in his ear, she said, "Besides. You know that leather uniform of mine? Its ripped again, and Mr. Marino wants me to entertain some clients tonight? Think you can do a patch job for me, hun?", before sliding out of his arms and back over to Anasti who had watched the whole exchange with an interested look on her passive face.

"Sounds like you are the man for the job, Mario." she grinned. "I'll need 7 satchels identical to these sewn into the seams on the left side of the apron. Two of them need to have a shank knot worked in for quick opening in case of an emergencies, and two more need to be lined with aluminum to house liquid poisons." As she explained the specifics of the compartments, she stripped off her skirt, revealing that her part net/part material shirt actually extended into a bodysuit that fit snugly to her body and covered the essentials but that was about it, as it rose to a thong in the back was extremely complimentry of her long legs in thier striped stockings. "Don't worry, the compartments are empty." she gave Mario a wink.

"I'll take you down to the lab then, Miss Anasti? I'll arrange to have your clothes and hair dye sent to your chambers, unless you'd like to change?" she motioned to Anasti's outfit. The hybrid gave a shrug. "Its not neccessary." she replied and before she could snap her fingers, the girl had grabbed her arm, given Mario a parting wave, and led her out into the elevator once more.

The wandering mind... wrote: Cassandra didn't bother to move out of the way, half catching his pounce on her and using it to roll with and pin him down. It seemed like it took him forever to find him. No matter. She would keep making it harder on him. She'd never been much for a tease, but was finding she got a great kick out of doing it to this boy.

"What a good job... " Her hands found there way down to his belt, fishing it off. She purposefully ripped the button off, busting the zipper. She then continued to kiss and bite at his face roughly before pushing herself off. "Now let's see if you can find me faster."

Mario hugged the girl tight. She was such a sweetie, though sometimes he wished she was used like she was by Marino, he understood the business.

"Ah, I know this great place down Freemont, you'll loooove it!" He merely nodded at the rest of the statement. It wouldn't be the first time he'd had to patch up her work. Marino was too rough on the sweet thing.

Mario of course didn't bat an eye at the woman. He'd seen women in less, all it did for him was thrill him with ideas of what to dress them in. He loved a good challenge though, and this was going to be great to sew something like this.

"Honey, it's as good as done."

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
Q's eyes brightened behind his sunglasses when she caught him and rolled ontop of him. He would've yipped like a puppy in delight if the nervousness of still being outside weren't still biting away at the edges of his mind.

He didn't resist her when she ripped off his belt. His breathing was faster now than it had been before and of course he wanted so much more. When she ran away again, he almost became frustrated. "No, no...!" he whined as she got up and left him there.

Q grunted and pushed himself up, though his face contorted to an uncomfortable look. His wrists were one of the weaker parts of him, and them being shackled together added to the difficulty of what should have been simple things.

Once he was up, though, he was up, and this time he didn't hesitate. He stopped briefly once to scan the area, but this time he didn't walk toward her, he jogged. His tail had slowed slightly, and Q held his pants in the front of him when he needed to. When he reached Cassandra he didn't pounce again, he stood and looked down at her. He still had the hints of a smile and his tail was still wagging, though it was no longer raised; it simply swatted from side to side at a quick pace. Q breathed through his nose and while he still was in the mood, it was waning quickly. Without much physical contact, Q couldn't stay up. Plus, the elements of being in a populated area worked against them both.

It was fun, sure, but too much more of the hide and seek would result in Q realizing he was simply being demoralized, and that would only make the situation worse for Cassandra.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [align=center][imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastiheadshot.jpg[/imgright]

The elevator dinged open on the 15th floor, this time no corridor or hallway awaited them. Instead, a second set of double doors set directly outside of the elevator's and it was into a small slot on the leftmost of these that Shea now stepped forward and slid an ID card. The doors dinged softly and a rush of cool air mixed with the bitter scent of disinfectants accompanied a cool, almost musically robotic voice.

Welcome to the Marino Laboratory. Please watch your step while entering the disinfectant chamber and make sure to remove all metal jewelry before entering the Sanctum. Thank you.

Shea walked straight into what appeared to be a large, completly spherical room that was made of translucent glass and Anasti hastened to follow her. The doors slid shut behind them and she watched the busty secretary began to remove her jewelry as a soft, slightly pink-hued mist hissed into the room through several vents that had opened in the ceiling. "Don't worry, Miss Anasti, it isn't poison. The scientists here at the Marino Laboratory deal with several very delicate projects, so it is neccessary to disinfect anyone who is coming in from the outside. Also, I would recommend that you remove any metallic objects or piercings that you have." she paused, giving an obvious look at the hybrid's daggers which she reluctantly unstrapped and removed from thier holders at her waist. "There are very powerful magnets in the next room and I've seen more then one person have thier ear ripped from thier head by refusing to remove an earring. All of your personal can be placed in this box and will be available for you whenever you leave the Laboratory." she passed the box over to Anasti who felt a more then a little apprehensive about leaving her last line of defense in a box while she worked, but the need for the poison outweighed her reluctance and she dropped both her daggers, and her several other piercings into the box just as the mist finally cleared and the previously unseen door on the far side of the bubble room slid open.

Stepping inside, Shea brought Anasti over to a nearby group of men bent over a microscope and peering inside excitedly. One of them turned to greet the two woman as they approached and Anasti started with recognition. Shea smiled.

"I believe you already know the Doctor?"

The wandering mind... wrote: Cassandra grinned at him.

"Much better. Maybe I should reward you for that one." She reached over and tugged on the leg of his pants, pulling them down so he was left standing in his boxers. She leaned back for a minute enjoying the sight.

She pulled a thin dagger from the back of her head, out of her braid, and moving to her knees in front of him dragged it up and broke the thread on all his buttons, opening up his shirt. She then made her way up, biting at his flesh as she stood and pulled him out of his spot, taking his pants from his ankle. She took the belt and tightened it around his legs, groping at his thighs as she did it.

"This time, you get to keep whatever you catch." And she meant it. She just wanted one last time to string him along before spending the rest of the night making it up to him.

Doc grinned, looking odd with his hair pulled up and back, and more normal, lab appropriate clothing on. With a goofy wave he moved toward her.

"Why Anasti! What a nice surprise to see you! And not purple!" He laughed loudly. Though he did look back over his shoulder and wave the others he was with to move on.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
Q's tail quickened when Cassandra mentioned 'reward'. When she pulled down his pants, he was thinking completely different thoughts of what she would do. His breath became hasty when she dragged the dagger up all his shirt buttons, leaving it to hang haphazardly on his broad shoulders, displaying the his very effeminate silver heart with green gem inside. He probably would've been embarrassed if he had not been so turned on.

When she backed away from him, though. He became extremely self-conscious. They were still in a park, there were still other people around, and he was still very nervous about it. His tail froze mid-wag. "Wait..." He whispered, his mouth turning to a frown as he held his breath. She wasn't going to run away again, was she?

No, she did something much worse. Although he was temporarily derailed from his embarrassment by her groping, when she stepped away again, his brows creased and his frown deepened. His tail slowly dropped between his legs and Q suddenly felt very cold. He wasn't annoyed or angry, no. The primal part of him felt abandoned, and he was hurt by that.

Though the prospect of having his way with the woman excited him, his nakedness in public had very real consequences right now. The human part of him had left the building, as it were, and the only thing left was a puppy who had lost loving, adoring, mother.

He gave cursory looks around him, though his head didn't move. Because of his sunglasses, he would appeared to have simply been waiting. Q gave out a slight whine and crouched down like a frog, using his cuffed hands to hide the embarassment in his boxers.
"Please?" it was high pitched. Q's normal voice almost rivaled the range of a woman's who could sing tenor. Dogs were high pitched, and part of the reasons he had begun to smoke was to deepen his voice. Though in times of high stress, of course his tendons would stress and reveal the part of him Q defined himself as: just a dog.

No, Q wasn't budging on this one. Cassandra has overestimated Q's courage. It had dragged on for far longer than Q was comfortable with. Perhaps if it were in a private area she would've succeeded, but not here - not with people around. Not with humans judging his moves.

Page 7
Raine_Hinata wrote: [align=center][imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastiheadshot.jpg[/imgright]

Shea gave the doctor a smile wave while Anasti debated whether or not she was glad to see the man. For a human, he was decently attractive, especially now that he had cleaned up some. But he had still turned her purple. The secretary turned to the hyrbid and handed her a lab coat. "You're ID badge granting you access to the Lab is the front pocket. I will arrange with Mario to have your clothing and prosthetics delivered to your apartment, and I will be over tomorrow at noon to assist you in dyeing your hair. The files are waiting in your room, and I will leave you in the capable hands of the Doctor to set you up with anything you need here in the Lab. Now, I have other engagements to attend to, please excuse me." the girl gave both Anasti and the Doctor a slight bow of the head before exiting the Lab through the same bubble they had entered.

Anasti turned back to the human now smiling up at her and gave him a smile of his own, folding the lab coat over her arm instead of putting it on. The power of sex was a great influencer sometimes and Anasti was aware that she had enough of a body to be going on about. "Yes, it only took two days for those particular side effects to fade." she said in a teasing voice. "Why, did you think I look better in purple?" she asked.

Somewhere inside a warning light went off in her head. Never before had she been this corgal to a human. At least...not since her mother and brother were murdered by one. It wasn't that she had ever found non-hybrids to be unattractive, she had simply been rather put off by the idiotic and egocentric human named Renegade who had decided to make a sport of hunting, raping, and killing her kind. That had turned her off of humans from that point on. But seeing as how she had not seen hide nor tail of that delectable puppy she had come in with, well...beggars can't be chosers. And there was something...interesting about the Doctor alright. Something she couldn't quite out her finger on...

Meanwhile, Shea had reached Marino's office and, knocking quietly on the mahony door, she slipped inside and waited for the man to address her presence.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [align=center][imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastiheadshot.jpg[/imgright]

Shea gave the doctor a smile wave while Anasti debated whether or not she was glad to see the man. For a human, he was decently attractive, especially now that he had cleaned up some. But he had still turned her purple. The secretary turned to the hyrbid and handed her a lab coat. "You're ID badge granting you access to the Lab is the front pocket. I will arrange with Mario to have your clothing and prosthetics delivered to your apartment, and I will be over tomorrow at noon to assist you in dyeing your hair. The files are waiting in your room, and I will leave you in the capable hands of the Doctor to set you up with anything you need here in the Lab. Now, I have other engagements to attend to, please excuse me." the girl gave both Anasti and the Doctor a slight bow of the head before exiting the Lab through the same bubble they had entered.

Anasti turned back to the human now smiling up at her and gave him a smile of his own, folding the lab coat over her arm instead of putting it on. The power of sex was a great influencer sometimes and Anasti was aware that she had enough of a body to be going on about. "Yes, it only took two days for those particular side effects to fade." she said in a teasing voice. "Why, did you think I look better in purple?" she asked.

Somewhere inside a warning light went off in her head. Never before had she been this corgal to a human. At least...not since her mother and brother were murdered by one. It wasn't that she had ever found non-hybrids to be unattractive, she had simply been rather put off by the idiotic and egocentric human named Renegade who had decided to make a sport of hunting, raping, and killing her kind. That had turned her off of humans from that point on. But seeing as how she had not seen hide nor tail of that delectable puppy she had come in with, well...beggars can't be chosers. And there was something...interesting about the Doctor alright. Something she couldn't quite out her finger on...

Meanwhile, Shea had reached Marino's office and, knocking quietly on the mahony door, she slipped inside and waited for the man to address her presence.

The wandering mind... wrote: Cassandra stared at him confused, he wasn't even moving. It took her a bit to catch on, as she was not one to be embarrassed by much of anything, but when she did, she couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"The puppy's shy?" She laughed again. He looked so.. pathetic... but damned if that didn't strengthen her mood. "Nervous about public? Well, we'll just fix that." That was the end of it for her. She stood up, picked him up, and flung him over her shoulder in one big motion, stronger than she looked, not that she looked weak in the first place. His head was left bobbing behind her back, wrists still bound in the cuffs, and legs by his belt as she strolled her way out of the park and down the street, almost knocking over some poor guy with horns as she paraded her way down the sidewalk like that.

"That's it puppy. We're not leaving this room until I toughen you up." With that said, she made her way back to the room they'd been staked out in.

Doc couldn't help but let out another laugh.

"Well maybe the color suited you!" He had to admit to herself that the girl had a fine body to her, but he was rather good, as his profession called for it, at hiding his thoughts on such matters.

"Not that your natural coloring isn't pleasant to the eyes." He gave her a small nod. "But what brings you into the lab? More surprises to you than I expected I must admit."

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
Q yelped when she picked him up. Q wasn't expecting that kind of strength from her. The current position was even more embarrassing than the previous. He closed his eyes tightly and tried to hold his sunglasses on his face as she dragged him about, him too stunned to do much of anything.

By the time they had reached the hotel room Q had almost lost his arousal entirely. Luckily for the hybrid Cassandra was more talented than Q had expected, and they both didn't even think about leaving the hotel until four hours later.

After that point he was in bed, his shirt still on (that was something he fought for), and trying to sleep. His sunglasses were on the floor somewhere, and his entire body ached, as they seemed to have been fighting more than anything for the duration.

He opened an eye and stared at Cassandra. WIth a sigh, he groaned a "When are you going to take these cuffs off?" the accent had disappeared.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [align=center][imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastiheadshot.jpg[/imgright]


Anasti gave the man a look as he mentioned that purple might be an interesting...shade for her. Overall, she thought not, but she smiled at his....compliment? Insinuation?

Walking over to him, she nodded, gracing him with another of her warming smiles. "Yes. I have need to make a poison. I can't give you specifics of course, but the base poisons for this particular one of my own creation I already have, I merely need to tools with which to combine them. A centerfuge. Test tubes. Petri dishes. An alkaline base. And of course, the time and privacy to create said poison." she listed, trailing off at the end and casting him a look.

"It sounds exotic, but its actually a rather boring process. I'll need to stay nearby, of course, in case something goes wrong. Wouldn't want to kill everyone in the building, would we? But it takes two days for the materials to properly combine, and most of that time they would be in the centerfuge." she sighed, giving a playful pout. "All in all it looks like I have two very boring days ahead of me..."

The wandering mind... wrote: "Aw, I guess you've been a good boy now. I can take your leash off." She winked at him and tossed the key onto his chest. "Go ahead and keep them. I have another pair. Maybe you'll need to use them some day." She laughed and tossed her head back, reclining on the floor, having clothed herself again already. She was sore as well, but was a lot better at hiding it.

"So.. what's with the tacky necklace?" She nodded at the chain with the heart. "Nothing wrong with it, just doesn't quite seem you if you get me." She idly looked around for her other boot.

Doc nodded as she spoke, listening with the same intensity he gave everything. Though of course it never looked like he was paying all that much attention to the world, so he usually tried to ham it up a little and look like he was intent on the conversation, hence the nodding.

"I see. Well I won't bug you or anything about the poison, not really much for the killing, I like healing better." He turned his head toward his associates. "Such will probably leave me with being of little help to those gentlemen."

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q grumbled some choice words to himself at her calling him a good boy. Now that he was done with his... Activities, the more he thought back on what had happened, the more he thought he should have known better. She'd toyed with him yet again. He wondered if she'd tell Marino. Gah, even the thought was horrible.

He looked at the key thrown on his chest and tossed his head back with a loud groan. "You do it."
Q's wrists were already so bruised, he couldn't figure out how they were not bleeding. He'd have to find a new pair of gloves or something to cover it; it was obvious what was wrong with them. Even a retard would know Q had at least been cuffed, but given the context they'd be able to laugh about much more than just that.

"No, it isn't," he looked away from her with a frown, now referring to the necklace. No, it wasn't like him at all. "Just a keepsake. I don't know why I still wear it, to be honest." His voice said 'drop it'. But more in a way that it was a boring story not worth telling, rather than one implying he was annoyed.

He eyed the window, his turned over rifle still under it. The sun was beginning to set. "We should get back," he suggested. "I want to change before talking with Marino."

Raine_Hinata wrote: [[I want to make the comment that Doc remind me of 'L' from Death Note :rofl: ]]

[align=center][imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastiheadshot.jpg[/imgright]


Anasti frowned slightly, unsure of whether to be angry about the fact that her slightly obvious advances weren't working, or to be amused with the Doctor's seemingly far off mindset. She followed his gaze curiously and the question rose in the back of her throat as to what exactly those men were working on, but she bit it back. This was neither the time, nor the place to be asking such questions.

"Thats a shame. I'm sure they would have found your input enlightening." she said simply, turning her back to men and focusing on the Doctor once more. "I really should get started. As I said, it's a rather boring process for the most part, but the first few steps are the most volitale, the originally mixing of the chemicals which...come to think of it, I don't have on me. I have a feeling that this lab could more then provide me with them, but to be honest, I'm a bit hesitant to give out the information of its ingredients." she gave a look back towards the bubble. "But I'm really not sure how to get from here back to my chambers. Would you mind accompanying me to retrieve them...just to help me find my way, of course?" she asked, her impassive face revealing none of her true intentions.

This was it. This was the stranger holding out candy, and although she did not appear it, she anxiously awaited his response. If he declined, then she would know where his mind stood. There may be another chance to pursue it at a later point, but probably not. If he accepted...well then, it might just turn out to be an interesting night after all...

The wandering mind... wrote: Can't do anything yourself, eh?" She sighed, more for effect than anything, than stood, walking over and uncuffing them, but leaving the key in them as she turned, finding her boot finally and pulling it on before she went to fishing a few daggers out of the floor boards they'd ended up stuck in.

"Fine fine. Whatever you want puppy. Men, always in a rush." She shook her head, but a smile sat on her face. Nothing big, but the little it was said a lot with someone like her. She wondered what he'd have to say to Marino, but didn't bother to ask.

"Oh right, your pants." She found them, lucky for him she was nice and picked them up from the park, and she tossed them at his face with a laugh. "You might want to actually wear those this time."

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q pulled his hands out of the cuffs with a slight wince, immediately rubbing his wrists afterward. He stared at them for a moment, taking in what sort of damage she'd done. They were swollen, and appeared to be bleeding under the skin. That was going to take a long time to heal. He was about to whine about it; the skin around his wrists was torn and his hands were still numb, but Cassandra threw the pants at his fast. He growled and shoved them off him.

He didn't like her being so happy. "Don't call me puppy. I'm older than you are," he growled. Pleasure and business should be separate, and after this predicament, he'd have to reserve pleasure with Cassandra to a bare minimum, if any at all. He wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. Or rather. Third time. Depending on how one looked at his mistakes with the assassin.

Q got up and quickly put his pants on, then followed with the belt, though it was evident he had trouble with it since his fingers weren't being too responsive. He left the shirt the way it was; no big deal. Luckily enough for him neither he nor Cass thought to take of his boots so he didn't have to bother with typing them back up. He didn't want to admit he probably couldn't have. If this didn't clear up he would probably have to admit what he'd done to Doc. Though with how smart that guy was, he could probably read it on Q's face from miles away.

"Let's go," he grumbled, once he was done. He, again, left the rifle. Though this time it was more from forgetfulness and laziness than annoyance with Marino. He walked off and out the hotel, on his way back to Marino's building. He had to stay away from this Cassandra, and restrain himself around her. She was dangerous, in more ways than one.

His walking pace was brisk; he wanted to get to the building before dark. Once he got there his pace sped up even more, as he didn't want the others to have too long to assess what had happened in between he and Cassandra. He went straight to his room and changed into something he didn't usually wear. Black jeans and a pull-over red sweatshirt.
He also, with difficulty, took off his fingerless gloves and put managed to find ones that had not been cut. He put them on, but they didn't cover his injuries. He feared the sweatshirt's sleeves wouldn't cover them either, so had to look around his things, half of them still in boxes, before he found some medical wrap and put it one on each arm, starting from the hand and up the forearm. Of course he had to replace his gloves once he had done this. And the wrap was tan colored. Not exactly the color of his skin, but close enough.

Q's hands had begun shaking, and he felt a little lightheaded. He'd waited too long between cigarettes. He struggled to get his smokes from his first pants, dropping the box twice and the lighter once. Getting the lighter to bare a flame was another matter entirely. Q became angry with himself and bit the filter of his cig. Though luckily, not threw it. After minutes of trying to get his cig lit, he finally had succeeded, and dropped the lighter to floor carelessly. Damn those handcuffs. His fingers weren't working correctly. If this ruined his trigger finger he'd kill that woman. Kill her.

He turned to go out the door, before stopping himself, looking at the holster of the gun and knife that had come off with his pants. He should bring them. They were his scapegoat when something bad happened.

Laziness and irritability prevailed. Q didn't want to mess with trying to put them on after the incident with his smoke (Which he now took annoyed drags from) so left without it. He'd probably regret it later.

He then walked out of his room and down the hall toward Marino's office. His shoved his hands in his pockets, not knowing what else to do with them. His hair were a mess, but his sunglasses were still on his face at least, so his pain, for the most part, would be hidden. Q would've fingerbrushed his hair quickly if he thought he could. He didn't want to bother.

Cigarette still on his lip, he barged into Marino's office, ignoring the secretary if she was even still there, and not waiting to see if Marino had any other company. Once he was in, he brought his hands out of his pockets - as that was the respectful thing to do - but tried to keep them still at his sides. They shook minutely, though Q hoped it would pass off as nicotine withdrawl. Though with Q currently smoking, it seemed a weird assumption to make.

"So I heard that mission was a fake," he growled to Marino. Q was pissed. His ideas for earlier today were shot. He was now too weak and too tired to pull off what he had wanted to do to Marino in order to get back for wasting his time. He'd just have to bite Marino with his words. Though there was a strong possibility that would backfire just as much, if not worse, than playing with Cassandra had.

The wandering mind... wrote: Cassandra watched him wince... it was so odd. She felt a little bad.. of course until she moved to follow him and felt pains of her own. He wasn't so innocent. Not to mention it all started when he got the drop on her.

"How can you be so sure?" She laughed, it was true, but did that make a difference?

She headed straight to her room to shower and change, not saying anything to anyone. She really didn't need talk about what happened between them floating around.

Marino didn't even look up as Q stormed into his office. He could tell who it was as soon as he started to speak. He would of smiled were he in the mood to enjoy the anger in his voice.

"The mission you knew was at least." He shuffled a few more things before finally looking up.

Back in the lab, Doc stood talking with Anasti. A small blush at the compliment.

"I suppose, but I'm not one as I said for harming things. You know, peace, love, all that."

Doc blinked at her, not really missing the offer behind it, but not sure if he wanted to take it.

"Well, I can always close my eyes as you find what you need?" He laughed. A little uneasy. He was not smooth when it came to such things.

(( xD I suppose he could be a little like L, were it sweets and not a little to smoke he was into. ))

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q plopped down on the couch behind him, his hands together in his lap as if he were still cuffed. He hissed inward slightly, but it became covered with a cough as the smoke went down the wrong pipe. Q couldn't let the cig fall from his lips, though. He had to finish it. Smoking wasn't one of his favorite activities, ironically enough, but he'd gotten used to it over the years.

"That was a severe waste of my time," he growled. He didn't really understand what Marino had said, and the pains in his body seemed to be flaring up. Ah.. What do they say? Delayed response? Whichever. Q was definitely feeling it now. He wanted to curl up in a chair somewhere and retire. "And yours," he added.

"There was no need to send me out there to be bored to death," he rushed. Q had to make an effort to stop his annoyance and take drags of the cigarette. Something was wrong, that was for sure. And it depended on him finishing his cancer stick to be sure he wasn't in any danger. Perhaps the Doc would pick up on it. Q wasn't sure how well Marino knew hybrids and their little... Health quirks.

"I'll get along with whoever you pair me with, provided we have some semblance of duty. They stick to their's, I'll stick to mine. There was no teamwork involved for that outing. None at all."
He took another quick drag, choking slightly, the smoke coming out from his nose. "You baffle me." The last part was honesty bred from pain and worry. His cig was almost done, so at least that part of his anxiety would be over with soon.
Q looked down. He was having a hard time sucking down this particular cancer stick. He should set a timer or something. It was probably the sex that had done this.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [align=center][imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastiheadshot.jpg[/imgright]

Anasti smiled, a little too widely, revealing a little too much in the toothy grin. "Very good. I really think I would get lost without your assistance. As to looking away, from what you've told me you probably wouldn't be able to tell them apart, so i'm not really worried about you looking." she almost purred as she led him from the Lab, through the bubble room and onto the elevator. As much as she had used getting lost as a pretext for him to accompany her, it was really her who did the leading the whole way down to her quarters. She slid the door open and sauntered inside, a delightful swing in her step showed off her ass as she threw the labcoat down on the couch.

"Come in. I'm not sure exactly where I left them all. I was experimenting the other day, have to build up my own resistances you see" she explained. Not waiting for him to accept her invitation, she pushed a button on the wall and the door slid sut behind him, almost catching him in it if he had been a bit slow to enter.

"Make yourself at home." she called as she disappeared into the bedroom. Soundlessly, she pressed a button the wall in her room, subtely locking the door. The dear doctor was being a bit shy, and if Anasti liked anything more then a rough and tumble with the bad boy (she had a fleeting image of Q pass through her mind), it was breaking in a shy one. Quickly , she stripped off her normal work attire and through on a slinky, almost-see through neglige, usually reserved for getting close to a mark before slitting thier throat. But, if she had her way, the only blood that spilled tonight would be in play. She left her hair down-long and flowing as it caresed her curvy body, her fins and wings now showing once more.

"Damn." she said, reappearing from the bedroom with a slight frown on her pouting lips. "Its looks like I'm out of cyanide. I don't suppose you boys keep a stock of that in the lab?" she asked, moving across the room to the small bar, not making a comment or seeming at all perturbed about her change in appearance. She pulled two eight ball glasses from a shelf beneath the liqour cabinet and proceeded to fill them both with a generous amount of scotch. Walking over to the couch, she sat down on it, draping one long, pale skinned leg over the other and offering a glass to the Doctor.

"Scotch?"

The wandering mind... wrote: Marino shook his head though, looking at the man.

"It seems you two worked well enough together, mission or not." He hinted at knowing something, just not what. "I don't see that as my time being wasted. Besides, now I know I can trust the two of you with something big. You seem tough enough to handle the responsibility. Though maybe I was wrong?" He noticed the man didn't seem on top of things, but he wasn't one to ask about health. That was Doc's department.

If he was a man to care, he'd comment about how those cigarettes weren't so great for him, or suggest he pay Doc a visit, but he assumed him to be a big boy and able to go to him if needed himself.

"I have a few things that pay rather well in mind, if you're interested. But why don't you sleep on it." He laughed a little to himself.

Doc knew more than he let off, but he didn't say anything. He liked it that way. His eyes of course found themselves on her ass as he followed her, pulled into going to her room anyways. She must know what she was doing to him. Which of course became so obvious when she emerged wearing a lot less.

"Uh.. sure..." He could use the drink to maybe calm down.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q waited to respond until his cigarette had burned to the filter, where he simply leaned forward and dropped it on the floor. He almost didn't make an effort to snub it out with his boot.

"You think you're so god damn funny," Q grumbled, a snarl on his face. He stood up. If he stayed here much longer he'd regret it. Either that or pass out on the floor. Which would probably be regretful, also.

Q stopped to the door, his back to Marino. "You'll get what's coming to you soon enough."
He opened the door with a grunt, his face not in the most comfortable of looks. This whole situation was Marino's fault. As soon as he got better he'd have to...

No, Q shook his head as he walked back to his room. He was still feeling light headed. He'd have to smoke again before he thought about anything seriously. But when Q got to his room he laid on the sofa instead, against his better judgement.

He was dizzy, and exhausted. Maybe sleeping would calm him down? He knew it wasn't true. But he let himself drift away ontop of the sofa regardless. He hadn't bothered to close his door and his hands were still numb.

--- [edited this part] ---

No sooner had his eyes closed than they popped right back open. Q couldn't go to sleep, what was he thinking? The man slinked his upperbody down off the sofa so his head was on the floor and his legs above him. His glasses fell down(or up, one should say) his face. Q tossed them off, and looked upside down underneath the coffee table, where extra cigarette packs of varying brands and lighters were stashed. His left hand reached out for one, but he couldn't reach.

He put his right hand to his chest with a grimace as his sweatshirt rode up body, revealing his stomach. Q was healthy looking, but he didn't have what one could call 'chiseled' features. Regardless, he had a new pain to add to his collection; his heart hurt.

"Hey," he hoarsed, giving a sideways glance to some passerby who had decided to look into his room. The other man tried to ignore Q, and began to turn away. "No wait. You, yeah you. I need you to do something for me."

The stranger reluctantly took a step into Q's room, an unsure look about him. Q began to sweat slightly, and he couldn't seem to keep his eyes focused on anything. He briefly wondered if this is how it felt to die.

"I need you to go get the Doc for me," he forced a smile. "It's kinda urgent. Okay?"

Q had a condition similar to dilated cardiomyopathy. Most of his arteries were larger than they should've been, his heart and lungs in particular. A condition not uncommon for sighthounds. Q, in the past, had been much less... Human, to say the least. He had an incredibly long medical history he didn't like getting into, as his father had spent quite an astronomical amount of money to make him as human as was possible. At least, that was, in looks. Q hadn't seen his father since he was 18. He'd regressed quite a bit since then, but Q enjoyed reveling in what he was: not human.

However, because he wasn't human, his circulatory system just about keeled over itself. Q had taken medication to keep him away from his chronic low blood pressure and his risk of sudden heart attack, but the way he'd left his Father was not the best, and so Q no longer had access to those meds. Not that he knew what they were. And he had been too afraid to inquire, as he didn't like dealing with his French background.

Q knew the basics of his condition. Low blood pressure, dilated arteries. Smoking was his way of self medicating; smoking hieghtened blood pressure, and shrunk arteries. It was a short term fix, though. Q had to smoke about one cigarette an hour to be perfectly safe, though usually he'd be okay if he simply smoked more than one cigarette at a time. He'd try to smoke before cardiovascular activities, but if he couldn't, he'd try to smoke as soon as was possible afterward.
Q never really had a problem before he had met Marino. He'd smoke before, during, and after sex. Even when Q was being submissive, he more often than not was still smoking during the act, as apparently with the crowd he generally played with, they enjoyed him doing it.

Q had never been as captive before as he had been with Cassandra. If he wasn't being embarrassed or trapped, they had been actively wrestling eachother. The fact that he had to smoke had skipped his mind; he figured he could just do it afterward. But apparently he had not done so soon enough. Too little, too late, was the saying.

Q looked to the man before him, who seemed to be just standing there. "I wasn't kidding. It's urgent," he warned. Finally the stranger nodded and jogged off. Hopefully he'd go do what Q said. Otherwise, Q was afraid he would pass out and die in his sleep. Though admittingly, he didn't really understand the dynamics of what would happen. He wondered if his heart would just stop pumping or if it was something more complex than that.

After a few moments of trying to recover, Q tried again to reach for the cigarettes. It took a few minutes but he finally had, and managed, after a few tries, to light one and start to smoke it. He'd never smoked upside down, before. He would've laughed to himself if there wasn't a looming feeling of doom.

He'd never dreamed the symptoms would come on so fast. But then again, four hours of rigorous activity wasn't exactly normal for him.

Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
When Ven arrived at the market square, he groaned.
It was already getting dark, he should have left a few hours earlier.
But at least no one would spot him at the ruins when it was night.

He hopped off his bike and made sure it wasn't going to get stolen before he hurried into the alley where most of the shops were located.
It was a rather shady place but he was used to it by now.
This was where he found most of the parts for his bike and he was friends with some of the shopkeepers so he felt almost "at home" there.

Ven entered a small repair shop that reminded him of his uncle's.
Only that thi one had way more stuff that interested him.
He needed to get some new tools for his trip since he had lost almost everything on the last one.

"Hey there, Ven," the shop owner greeted him. "Lost your stuff again? What do you need this time?"
Ven folded his arms over his chest and frowned at the tools lying in the shelves.
Like always when he was indecisive, he licked his lips, his silver tongue piercing clicking against his teeth, while pondering.
"I need a new hammer and pliers. Oh, and I'm sure you have some cigarettes left for me?"
"Sure" The man grabbed a package and threw it at Ven who caught it midair. "Thanks, Jake"
Then he paid for a new hammer and pliers, stuffed them into his shoulder back and left the shop to return to get his bike.

Page 8
The wandering mind... wrote: Doc nervously took a sip of his drink, only to be interrupted before he could take another shot at the liquid courage. A man knocked at the door a few times before opening it. "Doc, it's that new guy, the hybrid, something's wrong with him. He said it's urgent."

Doc nearly dropped his glass, than set it down carefully before rushing off. He didn't need the man to tell him where Quatre's room was, he'd stopped by there a few times before and helped him move in.

He paused in the doorway and cocked his head at the man, who lay upside down smoking. "You alright Quatre? You don't look too good buddy." He knelt down beside him. The man would probably have to do a double take to recognize the Doc, since he'd spent most the day in the lab his unruly hair was pulled back and he wore more normal clothing, a plain black tee and black dress pants under a white lab coat.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [align=center][imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastiheadshot.jpg[/imgright]


If looks could kill, Anasti's eyes would have spitting daggers at the man who dared to burst into her room and interrupt her quality time with the good doctor. But as soon as she heard that it was Q, and it was urgent, she drained her glass of scotch and rushed out of the door after the Doc. Following him down to Q's apartment, it was only once she was in the door and staring at the....upside down...hybrid, that she remembered what she was wearing.

Unwillingly, a blush rose to her cheeks and she stayed at the doorway, hiding in the shadows. As always, her nervousness translated into cheek as she gave Q a harsh look. "Why the hell are you smoking upside-down, Quatre?" she asked, her tone rife with sarcasm.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
Q couldn't really see much of anything. He chalked it up to sweat being in his eyes though he doubted it was true. The Doc was a mostly fuzzy white and black blob. It was his reassuring voice that Q recognized, however. That was really all Q needed.

He was still upside down, the cigarette in his mouth. His shaking had subsided for the most part and so had most of his dizziness. But Q felt it was only a temporary fix. He was floating currently, pretty sure he'd pass out soon. He forced a glint of a smile. "Hey..." He breathed.
There was something about Doc Q liked. He couldn't put his finger on it, and it was almost awkward since, for the most part, Q had a profound irritation toward that certain profession.
When Anasti spoke up, Q looked toward her, but didn't immediately recognize her, either. She was mostly a brown blob. It was probably better that way.

"I forgot to smoke today," he said weakly, falsely assuming they would understand what Q meant by that. Of course now Q was having a hard time smoking at all. Every time he inhaled he choked a bit, as if it were his first time. He took a drag then, to demonstrate the effect; as if it proved something.

It took a few moments for Q to register that maybe he hadn't lived her for more than a week, and Doc hadn't really been his friend for his entire life. An almost apologetic look came over the hybrid.
"I can't get my blood pressure back up," he whined weakly. The next he whispered, narrowing his eyes and looking away, slightly embarrassed. "My vision's shot and my chest hurts. And I'm dizzy."

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc didn't hesitate, his hand found Quatre's arm and he carefully lifted him off the couch the rest of the way, sitting him up, even if just for the minute. "Now I know it felt a lot better laying like that, but I need to see where you are at, okay?" He pulled a small device out of his bag and belted it around his arm, taking his pulse and blood pressure, trying to hide his frown at the numbers the machine beeped out.

"Well.. looks like you have a legitimate medical reason for those smokes. Hey, maybe you should try mine sometime." He flashed Quatre a wink while fishing back into his bag. He knew it was in here somewhere. Now Doc of course has studied medicine like anyone else using the title, but he found that there were alternatives that worked just as well, not to mention faster, and seeing as this wasn't a regulated hospital environment, the side effects weren't an issue.

"Alright Quatre, you got to trust me now.." He spoke again as he finally wrapped his hands around the vial he was looking for. "Now, this is not going to feel all too pleasant, like a real bad acid trip, but it's going to kick your heart into gear as it tightens up all the blood vessels, in large doses it's actually a poison that constricts blood flow and causes everything to rupture, letting the victim bleed out. But in your case, it's going to bring you back to our level, okay?" He popped the cork and gently pressed the bottle against Quatre's lips.

"Bottom's up champ." He tilted it, carefully watching the amount that passed through, then pulled it away and corked it quickly. It was not going to be pleasant for Quatre, especially when he started hallucinating.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [align=center][imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastiheadshot.jpg[/imgright]

Anasti's face creased with concern for the fellow hybrid as his condition became more apparent. She had heard of the condition, of course, having been around other hybrids most of her life, but had never encountered someone with it. It was pretty common in sighthounds, if she remembered correctly, but she'd assumed that Quatre Bornes was more wolf then anything. Obviously she had been wrong.

She turned to wall and pressed the button there, sliding the door shut but leaving it unlocked as Doc pulled a vial of mysterious liquid from his pouch and poured it down Q's throat. If they needed to get him out of here quickly it wouldn't be too difficult, but this way assured them some privacy.

She walked over to the table, her current clothing situation forgotten as she looked at the Q's sweating face. "Anything I can do to help, Doc?" she asked him, the sarcasm that had filled her voice when she first entered the room had dropped completly, as had her annoyance and being interrupted. Right now her concern was for Q, once he was stable and recovered THEN she would be pissed.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
When Q was pulled right side up his cig fell from his lip and everything immediately went black for a second, his dizziness coming to such a point he struck his hand out and grabbed the coffee table so he didn't fall over, despite the fact he wasn't really moving. He held onto the table as if for his life, and hardly heard anything Doc said aside from 'poison' and 'death' and then 'bottoms up'.

Q almost freaked out before he even had swallowed the concoction because of that, but hesitated, simply allowing him to freak out more as the liquid took affect.
Q's sight came back, but the room spun around him, as if he had drank too much. He felt like he was going to throw up, but when he opened his mouth to do so everything stopped and had an echo to it. A sort of Matrix affect, with a hint of vertigo. Almost simultaneously the pain started, as did the fear. He yelped out at first, falling forward onto his hands. His lips raised to bare his teeth and a long, escalating guttural growl, as if he were a cornered, rabid dog ready to jump. The hair in his tail puffed out like a cat's when it attempted to appear bigger than it really was, and while Q's silver hair attempted to follow suite, it was too heavy to raise up completely.

Q was only looking at the rug, which was one color. He wasn't sure how it was even possible, but it seemed to explode into a myriad of colors he had never even seen before. Almost too bright for him to stand; he closed his eyes and turned away as if burned by them. His face was now toward Doc, and what Q saw beneath his eyelids seemed even worse than the rug. He shook his head, as if to warn away his new-found nausea. He still growled like a beast, but he could've sworn he heard a dog whistle. ANd there was no sound on this planet or any other that was more irritating.

Q began to pant, and his growl gurgled, but he couldn't hear himself over the dog whistle he knew he heard. He opened his eyes again, only to be met by more dizziness and colors he didn't understand. He couldn't catch his breath, and his immediate instinct was to stop whatever it was that was doing this to him. The pain in his body and the excruciating sounds in his ears; the burning of his retinas. Q could feel everything yet nothing at all. He could see sounds and hear colors. Everything went by at the speed of light, yet at the same time, was too slow for him to be comfortable with.

He jumped onto Doc, Q's wobbly hands on his shoulders, Q"s body weight would've forced Doc down on his back, possibly felling the table next to them. Q was drooling and his eyes couldn't focus, so while he could see the enemy his orbs were constantly moving. Drool came from his mouth and Q couldn't remember he had fingers, just a risen tail, a mouth ful of teeth and a thing he was supposed to be eating. He leaned forward and downward, letting out stressed barks of the dog who had been cornered in a cage to small for him, ready to kill its owners for putting him there. It wasn't a human trying to play a dog now, it was a dog that had failed at playing human.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [align=center][imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastiheadshot.jpg[/imgright]

As soon as the liquid started to take effect, Anasti became aware of the electric charge that surged through Q's body and out into the room. It happened in a blink of an eye, his tail puffed out and his lips rolled back into a snarl. Already she was hissing in response, her wings flared out at the sides of her head trying to make her appear as large as possible. Q snarled under his breath and she stepped back a few steps, her single silver eye flashing as she suddenly found herself shut in a room with a human and an extremly pissed off dog and mentally regretted her decision to get involved.

But when Q jumped at the Doctor, she acted with instincts bred from what she was. What they both were. Her foot shot out, pushing the coffee table sideways as Q forced the man backwards, so that his head wouldn't strike the hard corner of it. Then she was leaping at Q, forcing her hand into the sensitive inner muscles of his shoulders. The pure momentum of her push would have catapulted him off of the Doctor and thrown him backwards, where she would have crouched on top of his legs, the points of her nails digging into his skin as she held his wrists down and apart, hissing almost feline-like, her face a mask of rage.

"This shit better wear off quick Doc!" she yelled, knowing full well that in a contest of strength she could best Quatre only if she was able to catch him by suprise, and in the long-run his stamina would probably prove better then hers. And she really didn't want to think about what would happen if he got away from her at this point.

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc shook his head at Anasti, it was sad, but true, there wasn't anything they could do but wait it out and try and keep him calm. It wouldn't last too long, Doc couldn't risk giving him a high dose, just enough to bring him around for now and he'd give him something lighter to hold him out for the long run.

"Quatre... Quatre.. can you hear me? It's okay..." Though he found it hard to keep the reassurance in his voice watching the man's reaction to the drug. It was scary, the noises he was making obviously not human, nor well meant, and he couldn't help but let out a small yell as he was leapt upon. He tried to pull away, but then stopped. If he didn't calm him down Quatre would hurt himself. His head had gotten dangerously close to the table several times, plus Doc didn't know how Anasti would react to the violence.

"Hey now, no one's going to hurt you... come on.. calm down..." Doc inched backwards slowly, ducking his eyes. He knew enough to make himself look weak, to not contest anything. But he also did not want to leave Quatre alone. If only he'd allow it, Doc would've pulled him into his arms and held him through it. Which he didn't see why he couldn't do it now.

Doc held his hands out carefully, and slowly inched it to him, trying to gain his trust through the demented world he must of been seeing. Only to have Anasti do exactly what he didn't want to happen. Doc didn't hesitate, getting immediately to his feet and shoving the woman off Quatre.

"Leave him alone. If you have to leave the room, I don't care, but I will not see any harm come to my patient." The softness of his voice was gone, his cheerful features disappeared beneath the furrows of his brow. "It's not his fault, but mine. His body is going through enough stress as is, the last thing he needs is a fight, though I appreciate the saving gesture, I'm fine." He seemed taller, fiercer, turning his back to the woman.

"In fact, why don't you just get out. I can handle this." His voice was harsh, a side of him exposed that rarely was. There was one thing he could not stand, harm coming to someone because of him.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [align=center][imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastiheadshot.jpg[/imgright]

Anasti tumbled off of Quatre and lept to her feet, snarling as she grabbed the Doctor by the shirt. "Do you have a fucking death wish? I'm not trying to hurt him, jackass! I'm just trying to keep him from ripping your damn throat out." she growled, releasing the Doc's shirt and turning back around. "I'm only planning on restraining him. If I wanted to hurt him, i would have bashed his pretty head off the table. You can't handle him like this, he's a hell of a lot stronger then you" she yelled, just barely forcing the anger from her voice. Her eye flashed in the semi-darkness as she looked around, trying to see what had happened to Q when the idiot had pushed her off of him.

"Remind me next time NOT to try and protect you." she hissed over her shoulder, cracking her knuckles as she scanned the room. Fear was overwhelming her senses. Q was canine. Born and bred for this kind of thing. The fact that he wasn't thinking straight was of little comfort, in fact, it worried her more because that meant he would be using instincts that were a hell of alot faster and stronger then her own.

And she didn't want to hurt him, which was confusing enough as it was. In a situation such as this, her instinct was kill or be killed, but her mind was overriding her instinct, and that made her weaker still. But Quatre wasn't in his right mind, it was merely the drug taking effect in his system. All they had to do was keep him restrained until it wore off. She hoped.

[[Edited From Here]]

When Q curled up after she released him, her own body began to relax. It seemed to worst was past and as she had said, she had no intention of hurting him. While a large part of her wanted to stay and make sure the canine would be alright, another equally large part of her was more then a little pissed at both of them. Right now she couldn't, and wouldn't let herself by angry with Q. This wasn't his fault. Instead, her anger was now directed toward the doctor. She turned around and looked at him steadily with her remaining eye.

"I was never going to hurt him." she said simply before pushing past him and running from the room. She didn't bother with the elevator, but sprinted the stairs, the physical exertion pounding in her ears and helping to burn off the residual anger that boiled through her veins. By the time she got back to her room, the remenants of that anger had disappated, and she collapsed onto the couch, disolving into tears.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
Q roared when Anasti pulled him off the Doc. He tried to twist around to bite her in the face, but she had him pegged too soon, and on the wrists. If it was any place else, Q probably would've lost it and tried to kill her. But because her nails dug into his already damaged wrists, he let out a short, shrill squeal of pain, felt a tremor up his spine and tried to get the farthest he could away from her, but was pegged.

That was until Doc threw Anasti off him. Q'd temperament had already changed though, possibly for the better. Once Anasti was no longer holding him down he curled into a fetal position, his knees and forearms on the floor with his hands protected below his chest. His tail hung low and he still shook, wavering occasionally from his obvious dizziness, but Q was now trying to ride this out, and not let this take over him. He'd found his safety blanket, per se. The more painful burst from Anasti had sobered him slightly, though he was pretty sure he was bleeding through his wraps, now.

Q still couldn't understand what was going on about him. He still felt like the walls were closing in on him and he was going to be smashed to death. Something that was cause for him to continue breathing heavily, though intermittently he'd try to hold his breath.

The worst part of it was over. He'd probably only attack again if they caught him by surprise, and even then it would probably be short lived.
After a while Q's chokes of air turned into sobs and he tried to tighten his hold of himself, squeezing into a smaller ball. He'd never experimented with drugs other than alcohol and tobacco before. He hadn't know what to expect, and he'd never had a nervous breakdown. He didn't want to do this again. He would've cried if dogs had tears.

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc shrugged her off. He didn't think about himself getting hurt, that wasn't that he was there for. It was the last thing on his mind half the time. He simply turned to Quatre and stepped forward, calling his name softly over and over as he inched over. He knew the risks of frightening him, so he made himself known as he closed in on him, that soft, loving look back into his face.

"Quatre, it's me, Doc, you're okay now..." He inched down to his knees and pulled closer. Carefully he held a hand out and touched him, ever so gently, and at the ready to pull back if needed, all he wanted to do was comfort the man and help him ride through the rest.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
Q pushed his forehead into the rug as best he could. Doc wasn't helping much, but when he said 'you're okay now' it did garner a response.

Q didn't realize he was speaking, he still couldn't hear himself, though things seemed to be phasing down. "Nooo...." he whined softly, pushing his eyes closed as tightly as they would go, his muscles stiffening as if someone were trying to pry him away from a beloved blankie.

When Doc's hand stayed on him, it was almost as if the human contact transferred, and it made Q feel vaguely more human. He didn't understand this; he never would. He probably wouldn't even remember anything that was has happening right now. But he shook his head as best he could ,saline tears beginning to form on his face.
"No more," he pleaded. He wanted it all to just stop. All of it was too much for his brain to process. His tail flinched slightly as a shudder went up his spine and Q let himself fall to his side, toward Doc. Though it was unclear if moving toward Doc was intended. "no," he whined, pulling his legs to his chest after crossing his wrists there, so his legs could protect his arms, which shook with more fervor than the rest of his body.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [align=center][imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastiheadshot.jpg[/imgright]

Unwilling and unwanted, Jeremiah's face floated behind her closed eyes as she lay umoving on the couch. Her arms curled tighter around her, nails digging into the sides of her arms as she fought the tears that came unbidden to her eyes and the sobs that wrenched from her throat. He had looked just like him. Quatre, curled upon himself, weeping if tears would come. He had looked just like her brother Jeremiah had, the night he died in her arms.

**************************************************************
It was really fucking cold out for October. Was the first thought that passed through her mind as she walked down the street, pulling the collar of her long trench up and bowing her head into it. Her long hair was braided and hung down her back, but stopped several feet from its ass-long length. Her wings and fins were crammed beneath a wide brimmed and black cowboy hat. And she had two eyes glowing silver in the darkness as she dropped the stub of her cigarette from her lips and stamped it out on the sidewalk, instead of one. Anyone who saw her face would be able to tell that she was definetly more young then old. In truth, she had just passed her 16th birthday, and was already considered a Lieutenant in the Iron Claws. Anyone who thought that her rank might merely be a byproduct of her being the eldest child of the clan leader (and who was stupid enough to vocalize said thought) was quickly sobered to the awful fact that even though she was only a teenager, she was already one of the best, and the most ruthless fighters in the clan. The curved daggers that she always had strapped to the sides of her waist could slit a throat in the blink of an eye. And the poisons that knew where on her barely dressed form, but never knew where, were even more deadly.

She had been out earlier that night, finished up a relatively enjoyable kill. The mark had been a particularly disgusting man who had a penchant for the trade of underage girls as sex toys. It had been rather delightfully watching his bloated body squirm in its final death throes, her dagger embedded lengthwise up the man's prick. She had disposed of that garbage a bit sooner then she had expected, and so had decided to take the more scenic route back her home, and the headquarters of the Restitalion Iron Claw Assassins.

She had just lifted her boot to inspect the ground out stub of her cigarette when she heard it. A soft scraping sound accompanied by a low-pitched whining was coming from the next alley over. In a flash of silver, both of her viciously curved double-bladed daggers were in her hands and she was running towards the sound, tipped up on the balls of her feet to mute the sound of her footfalls. The whining echoed again and a shiver of fear ran cold down her spine, a gust of wind knocking her hat to the ground as her wings unfurled instinctively, spreading out. A low hiss echoed under her breath as she stepped into the dark alley. For a moment, her eyes refused to adjust to the changing light and she stood defensively, daggers clasped in her hand which crossed protectively across her chest.

"A...Ana?" the pained whisper came out of the darkness and at the same second, the cloud cover shifted, revealing a boy of about 14 laying in the middle of the alley. His clothes were in shreds, barely clinging to his bruised and bloody body. There was so much filth and matted blood in his dark hair it was hard to tell what color it was, although she knew that its true shade was a crimson that exactly matched her own. But what caught her breath even more then whisper were the two bloody stumps that protruding from the boy's back, where beautiful black wings had one resided.

Her daggers clattered to the ground, forgotten as tears flooded her eyes and she ran to him, falling heavily to her knees and pulling him into her lap even as he curled upon himself, shaking and shuddering. "My god, Jeremiah! What happened! Jeremiah!" she yelled, she screamed, she cried. She couldn't remember, she only remembered staring in disbelief as she held the shivering boy close to her, held her brother close to her as he shook, tears streaming down her face as his hand closed around her own and squeezed it once....before falling still forever....


*************************************************************

And now she was reliving that moment, that pecise moment when she held Jeremiah, when she felt him pull in his last shaking breath and die in her arms. Renegade had torn her brother from her life. His man had raped him and cut off his wings and then left him to bleed to death in that filthy alley. And later that night, while she had still walked the streets carrying her brother's body and covered in his blood, they had stolen her mother as well.

And Anasti curled upon herself, sobbing with full force into the cushions of the couch as she held herself and tried to calm down. Seeing Q like that had bought the painful memories of her brother's death vividly back to her mind. She felt like she was going to be sick. And the Doctor had thought....had accused her of wanting to hurt him? Oh god, she couldn't have hurt him in that moment any more then she could stop herself breathing at this moment, while she sucked in short, painful breaths. Jeremiah and Quatre merged in her mind and her despair and her anger at both the man who had pulled her away from Q, and the men who had taken her brother's life burst out of her in a long, pain-wrenched scream that sapped the last of her energy and after it was over, while the echo still rang in the room, she slipped into a nightmare-plagued, exhaustion-induced, unconciousness.

The wandering mind... wrote: "It's okay. Don't worry. I'm here." Doc slowly pulled Quatre into his arms and held him close against his chest. He wished the poor man didn't have to go through with this, first trip was always bad, but he didn't have a choice. The way his blood pressure was going down he didn't have time to wait for modern meds to kick in.

Doc breathed slowly and steadily, rocking him slightly, he was starting to come down now, the flinching he felt through their bodies told him so.

"It's almost over Quatre. Shhhh..." He hushed him and tried to hold him through the last rough bits of it.

Q wrote: Q, aside from crying and sobbing and shuddering, didn't say much else. At one point he dug his face into Doc's chest, crying into it. It took about ten minutes for Q to presumably fully recover, and when he had, he fell asleep in DOc's arm, which was probably more dut to exhaustion than anything else.

Q had, just before succumbing to his tiredness, brought his gloved left hand to grab the lapel of Doc's coat, Q's sleeve riding up the arm slightly to reveal the wraps Q had tried to hide before. Because of everything that had happened, they were now soiled with a line of blood right at his wrist. The wounds had opened on both of Q's wrists and bled through, due partially to Anasti's nails and partially to his raise in blood pressure.

[[Today is officially emo night. :emo: :emo: ]]

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The wandering mind... wrote: Doc finally loosened his hold on him when he felt the man slide into a deep sleep. Standing, he brought Quatre with him, laying him out on the couch, when he noticed the man's hand clinging to his coat and the bloodied bandages.

Panic immediately hit his mind. Doc had seen such things too much.. and with everything else.. He just swore no up and down in his head while quickly removing the coat and gloves from Quatre's arms. He was so gentle as he unwrapped the wrists, pleading in his head, a look of fear stretched across his face at the thought of self injury, that once he removed them he breathed in relief, not having to be a doctor to recognize the bruising on them.

He smiled his little cockeyed smile and fished some new bandaging out of his bag, as well as a thin paste to spread over the bruising to help it recover a lot faster. He was neat in his movements, and the bandaging he did was much smoother and he used half the amount Quatre did. Doc was good at what he did, that was for sure. He lightly ran a finger over the man's wrists before slipping the gloves back on him. He felt crazy for his original thoughts, relieved to find it as only sexual deviancy that had lead to his injuries. Though this made his mind wander at the same time.

Not quick to leave Quatre's side, Doc leaned against the end of the couch, sitting on the floor. He fished out what looked to be a homemade cigarette from his pocket and slowly lit it. He took long, slow drags, in no hurry.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q for the most part slept soundlessy. Around the two and a half hour mark though, he started having dreams that made him flinch occasionally, until he finally woke himself up at the three hour mark with a groan.

His eyes opened slightly, looking at the turned over coffee table, cigarette packs everywhere. He wondered what had happened. Q was extremely tired right now. He'd like nothing better than to go back to sleep, but he didn't know what time it was and the last thing he remembered was that he was overdue for a smoke.

He'd have to figure out what had happened later. He pushed himself up slightly on the couch, a brief wince escaping him as he turned to his side, noticing his wraps had changed. Okay. Weird.
He'd chalk it up to bad memory. He probably went to see Doc afterall.

Q hmphed and crawled from the sofa on his stomach, too lazy to actually get up. His muscles were all sore, and his throat was abnormally tight, which he chalked up to the fact that he'd fallen asleep on the couch of all places, and what Cassandra and he had done earlier. He reached out for the pack of the nearest cigarettes when he lost his balance and fell off the couch, finally noticing Doc was sitting there.

Q quickly got to his knees, a slight, defending growl escaping him as he reached for his gun which should have been holstered at his waist. It wasn't. He panicked for a slight second before finding it across the room on the floor. He grabbed a cancer stick box instead and held it in front of him, as if that were a suitable alternative.
"What are you doing here?" he rasped. It physically hurt to speak. He wondered why briefly, but he couldn't let that trouble him now.

Though Q considered Doc a friend, the hybrid was still a very private person, and refused to let his guard down, especially when it was another man in his room. Q had to protect his territory, as it were.

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc merely laughed to see him jump like that, though it made him a little nervous. Nonetheless, he'd occupied himself while Quatre slept with lacing his cigarettes with a less volatile version of the medicine he'd given him before. They should narrow his blood vessels better now, with no new side effects.

"Well.. just making sure you wake up after I spent the evening saving your life." He grinned, well aware of the personal space he was invading, but in no hurry to stop. He laughed in his mind to think of what Quatre's reaction would be to learn of the part where he was holding him in his arms.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q loosened up slightly, his arms coming down. "Saving my life?" A questioning look passed his eyes, and he looked to his wrists, which were newly wrapped, and then around the room, taking it in again, re-evaluating how messed up everything was.

"Is... That why my room's messed up?" He frowned slightly, looking back to Doc, wanting answers.
"I kinda blanked out after I talked with Marino...." He shrugged, sitting himself down on the floor near the couch. "Had a weird dream that I was on the streets, but that was about it."

He cocked his head to the side a bit. "What time is it?"

The wandering mind... wrote: "That's what I said." Doc laughed lightly, not his normal laugh though, the whole thing had made him nervous.

"Your unique heritage I take it." His eyes focused on his tail, indicating what he meant. "So I see why you smoke so much. Don't worry though, we took care of it." He paused for a moment... The way Anasti ran out of there... He shook his head, he'd take care of it later.

Doc looked at his wrist, despite it being free of anything. "Almost tomorrow."

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q rubbed his throat with his free hand as he sat crosslegged, putting the cigarettes down. He tried to think of how his throat had anything to do with low blood pressure. He gave a frown.

"Oh," disappointed in the time, he looked down at the floor, his right hand still at his neck. "Well thanks." He was starting to recall bits and pieces of what had happened, but not much. "Did I scream? My throat is killing me."

Q was avoiding eye contact with the doc. He had some ideas, but he wasn't sure exactly what happened. Even if what he thought had happened didn't, he was slightly embarrassed even thinking it had.

The wandering mind... wrote: A visible frown found it's way to Doc's face. He shifted around a few times before finally speaking.

"A little. It's my fault... I wanted to give you something that would help fast enough, before you lost consciousness. Unfortunately I didn't think about the consequences." His lips turned up in a small smile and he let out another light laugh. "Also didn't think you one to be virgin to.. other influences."

He sat up straighter, looking to Quatre.

"How bad are you feeling?" He didn't want to admit to all the guilt he was feeling at the moment, much less the conversation he was going to need to have with Anasti later.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q sighed, leaning his back on the couch and looking up to the ceiling, his elbows propped against the seat of the couch.

"Despite how it looks I grew up pretty sheltered. I don't even like smoking that much. And I know that when I drink I'm playing with my life given my..." he hesitated, scratching his head, looking for the right word. ".. Blood. So I never tried anything else. Dying isn't something I wanna do too early."

He ran his fingers through his hair twice before looking over to the Doc again, a solemn look on his face. "My wrists feel better. I can use my fingers. My whole body's sore, and I have a bad headache." he shrugged. "I'm not dead. That's good enough. Last thing I need is a burial that says -" He brought his hands up, as if lining the memorial in the sky for himself, "Quatre Bornes: Died in the most pathetic way possible; a Heart attack." He gave a brief chuckle to himself and ran his fingers through his hair once more before setting his elbow back on the couch seat.

"I want to die fighting or something. Not because my body sucks."

The wandering mind... wrote: "Well, yes, I suppose that is a good choice on your part. Wish I could say the same about myself." Doc laughed. He wasn't a virgin at all. At least in that area.

Though he frowned again, his face matching the look on Quatre's.

"Dying in general wouldn't be too noble, whether it's in a blaze of bullets and fists or just your body shutting down. Besides," Doc hopped up and seated himself right next to Quatre. "It'd tear me to bits to lose ya!" He made the most pathetic sad face he could muster up, lip quiver and everything, and then hugged Quatre sniffling.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q was taking it all in, enjoying the conversation they were having... Until Doc moved closer to him. Q made an uneasy look, but he liked Doc as a friend, so didn't move away or anything.

But the hugging part made Q lose it. "Augh, Augh," He grimaces and tried to push the Doc off him. He knew Doc was joking but this was still too much. "Doc, don't be such a fag!" If he ever managed to get free of Doc's grasp, he'd step away so he could fix his intruded personal bubble.

The wandering mind... wrote: His reaction only made Doc laugh harder and he squeezed him tighter and petted his head.

"Aww, come on, you know you love the attention." He laughed again, his arms moving to his waist as he did, doubling over from both relief the man was alright, and the joy in making him squirm like that with his attention.

"Say please and maybe I'll let you go!" There was a playful tone in his voice.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]These were buttons on Q that really shouldn't be pushed. Not if they were pushed by a friend, nor for fun.

Q frowned and stiffened up, closing his eyes during the head pat. When Doc doubled over, q took his left hand and grabbed Doc's right shoulder with it. Not too hard, but hard enough that Doc should realize Q wasn't fooling around.

As Q pushed Doc's shoulder away, he said, "No, Doc, I'm serious. Let go; don't be a fag."
This was an extremely touchy subject for Q. If Doc wasn't going to take the hint, it wouldn't be long before Q became aggressive, or ended their friendship, or both.

Q had patience for a lot of things. Homosexuals weren't one of them.

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc sensed the tension, and let up, releasing his hold on Quatre's waist. He even backed up.

"Hey, hey, don't hate now. I'm just playing with you. Look, I don't even find you attractive, not with your sharp eyes, good looks, and oh, let's not forget your luscious tail!" He laughed, joking around a little still, unable to avoid it, rooted in part of his nature. He lightly ran a hand over Quatre's tail as he stepped back a pace or two.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q glared at Doc when he started making jokes about his looks. The worst of it all was his tail. Q yanked his tail from Doc's palm and stood up in the blink of an eye, a snarl on his face.
Q's neck was turning red, and it was creeping up to his face. It could have been anger but it was a bit more of a blush. Q's tail was very sensitive.

He could bleed to death if it was cut off, and he'd yowl in all sorts of pain when it was tugged, but petting it was a purely sensitive thing and something reserved for members of the opposite sex.

"Don't you ever do that again." His voice was quiet. Partly from his vocal chords being bent out of shape, partly because before Q screamed at someone he compulsively became quieter first. The calm before the storm, one could say.

Q sucked in a breath through his nose. "Get out."
His pupils shook, like a hunter making sure the hunted didn't make any unacceptable moves. If there were even a twitch, Q wanted to see it. Sharp green eyes? Yes, they were. But he didn't want a man telling him that.

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc stepped several feet away, growing quiet fast, almost wounded by Quatre's scolding.

"Sorry... I was just playing with you." His eyes fell, and his head turned away. "Didn't mean to offend.. I just like you. Not all fag like, you're just the first person around in a long time that's fun just to be around. A little too serious sometimes, but that just makes you more fun. I'm sorry if I pushed you too far. I won't do it again. There's no real attraction here." Doc probably knew deep down somewhere that he was lying to himself, but if he did, his face didn't show it. He just didn't want Quatre to look at him like that again.

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Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q sidestepped, eying the Doc warily as he took the words that were said. Q didn't know what to do.

He knew it started out as joking, but the tail? He couldn't trust gays, and he remembered Doc making a joke about lying in bed with Q before. Q had made the mistake once and it was something he'd never allow himself to do again.

Still, Doc had a way of phrasing things... And his body language was... Well, Doc was obviously very intuitive, to say the least. Q stood there, his muscles tense for what felt like minutes. He briefly saw himself in the mirror, and that was when he loosened up a bit. Instead of dealing with this uncomfortable situation, he tried to change the subject, though it was clear Q was still wary.

Homosexuals were almost like a different species to him. Any time he came in contact with one he had to keep his guard up. Horrible things had happened when he hadn't.
"That stuff you gave me," he forced, having a hard time trying to keep the image of Doc as a normal person in his mind, "Does it mean I don't have to smoke any more?"

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc let out a small breath of relief when Quatre's body loosened up. When he spoke again, Doc's eyes came up slowly to meet his, and he didn't move closer, just leaned back against the wall. He knew better than to invade his personal space again.

"Well.. It'd be great, but sadly there is nothing permanent. It'll take me a few days to get a hold of the pills you need, not much call for them around here, so I'll have to find them. Until then you should keep smoking." He didn't mention that he'd laced Quatre's smokes, he might toss them afraid of another trip like his last one.

"Look Quatre, I'm not a homo, don't worry okay? I'd offer to sleep with Cassandra infront of you, but I saw you beat me to it." He half smiled at the man, a smirk more than anything. He was trying to get Quatre to lighten up and not view him with such eyes.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q gave a disappointed "oh" at the cigarette news. He wasn't too happy about having to take pills again, either. At the mention of Cassandra, he let out a groan of disapproval and sank back to the floor, leaning his forehead against the far wall.

"Did she go and tell everyone or was it really that obvious?" The last thing he needed was everyone to know he'd be stripped in public and had liked it.. Briefly. He didn't need a woman having that much power over him. Especially not in this building.

"And I know I said I didn't care before, but I'd prefer you called me Bornes. Or Q," he added flatly.

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc smiled at him, he wanted to move back to the couch, but he stayed where he was.

"She didn't need to tell me at least. Wouldn't be the first time I treated bruises like that." He nodded at Quatre's wrists. "Besides, who could blame you? She's definitely a looker. I've seen her naked too!" Doc laughed with a wink at Quatre. "Though strictly medical reasons of course. I couldn't handle someone like her." He took a moment to look the man over. "Looks like she even took a little out of someone as tough as you."

Doc stood up straight again, stretching. He went to shuffle his hair, forgetting it was pulled back. He made a little funny face as he pulled it out of the pony tail, running a hand through it, as if that was enough. He slipped the band around his wrist, a little disappointed that he'd probably need to go back to the lab later.

"Aw, you're no fun Quatre. But I'll call you Bornes then. I like to be different." He grinned some more, a wide smile directed at the man.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q hmphed, picking up a box of cigs near him, opening it, putting one of the cancer sticks in his mouth and tossing the box over toward the sideways table.

"She tricked me," he admitted. There wasn't a lighter around, so he just let the cig stay on his lip. He almost felt a relief wash over him for it simply being there.
"I guess it's not that hard to push my buttons," he said, looking down at the ground.
Thinking back to it, what he had done was rather stupid. He wanted to forget it had happened at all.

"Speaking of which, I'm sorry for flipping out on you like that."

The wandering mind... wrote: "She tricked you? Now that's a story I'd be interested in hearing sometime." He laughed, shaking his head gently. "The great Bornes tricked into sex with the boss's second in command! But naw, I'm just playing with you. You can't tell me it wasn't something you wanted."

His smile faded for a minute. "I'm sorry too, I'll try not to invade your space anymore. Though pardon me doing it again..." He fished out a lighter from his pocket and lit Quatre's cigarette for him. Before taking a few steps back and sitting on the armrest of the couch.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q gave a 'heh' as Doc came over and lit his cig. "Thanks, ha."

He took a small drag, choking slightly. He looked toward the door quickly, making sure it was closed, then he opened up to the Doc with a slight grin. "Okay here's how it went, right? She took off her clothes so of course I was interested, but then she noticed and laughed in my face about how I had failed some test. Well I faught with her over it, enough to get my gun pointed to her head, anyway. I wanted to leave, because she had told me the mission we were supposed to be doing was fake. Then she stopped me outside, saying how she couldn't go to Marino like, that I had gotten the best of her or something. So I figured, you know, use whatever feelings she had for me against her, so I could go give Marino a piece of my mind about wasting my time."

He chuckled slightly, took in a long drag to breathe, and exhaled through his mouth. Then he continued. "Anyway, instead of doing what I thought she would, she chained me to the wall out there and by that time I'd pretty much lost all coherent thought since it had turned me on so much." He looked down to the floor but he still managed to laugh about it. That was all that really mattered, right?

The wandering mind... wrote: "Welcome."

Doc's face only shone a smile as he listened. He wasn't above hearing the details of Quatre's sexcapade with the woman. He didn't even show it on his face as his mind imagined details of it.

"So that's how the handcuffs played in. Haha. I see she really got the upper hand on you. You didn't let her go too easy though did you?" He laughed, tilting his head to try and catch Quatre's fallen gaze.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q looked up, a purely sadistic grin gracing his face, his eyes lighting up, remembering some of the more exciting moments. "Hell no. She's a fighter. I've never fought that much in bed before."

He leaned his head back and let out a loud laugh before coughing slightly and looking back down, his voice quieted. "Probably why I had such a hard time when I finally got back here. I can't believe I almost died over that."

The wandering mind... wrote: "Good thing, can't let her thinking all us guys are weaklings!" He smiled with him, laughing at the thought. "But just between you and me, I am." He half whispered with his hand to the side of his face. It wasn't that he didn't have any strength to him, he was a pretty fit guy, but he just didn't have the attitude behind him to wield it like that.

"Aw, don't worry. You're fine, and now hey, you got something to use against her next time... " He trailed off for a second. "On second thought, that might not be such a good idea telling her, she seems more like the person to use that against you." He laughed lightly, not wanting to hurt his feelings, but to lightly carry him over this matter.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]"Hah, yeah. Probably." Q wouldn't be surprised if Cassandra used what they had done against him. But he was pretty sure he could at least make her feel guilty for almost killing him with her sex.

"And you shouldn't worry about that. Your strength lies up here." He pointed to his own forehead. "And that's a strength I'm sure I could never have as well trained as yours." He got up and walked over to the Doc, sitting next to him. Not close enough to touch of course, but close enough.

After a few drags of his cigarette he gave a small shudder. "I'm sorry I went berserk on that drug," Q whispered, looking away. He still only remembered bits and pieces. He wasn't exactly sure if he had harmed anyone or not, but he did know he wasn't acting right. He assumed he at least acted very feral, though he wasn't sure to hat extent.
"I'm only..." Q crinkled his brows. He'd suddenly forgotten the english word he was looking for. At the risk of sounding corny, he just wanted to finish the sentence without making too much of a scene. "I'm only human on the outside, I guess."

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc turned his head away, hoping that Quatre wouldn't notice the blush that came to his face with the compliment.

"Thanks... though you're not to bad yourself. Smarter than ya look and all." Doc laughed a little, turning back as the pink subsided, which wasn't helped as the man moved closer to him.

"Look, don't worry about what happened. It's fine. It's my fault really. Besides, you didn't freak out too much." Doc lied through his teeth, but it didn't show. But to be honest.. he hadn't minded, even when Quatre had pinned him down and attacked him.

"Besides," Doc grinned at him. "I like you, human and dog alike. Why change something that's already great?"

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]"Hah," he gave a flat, fake laugh. The irony that he wasn't originally this 'good looking' was too much. But Q didn't want to say anything.

Q put his forearms on his knees, leaning his head on the sofa behind him, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh. "We should probably got o sleep, huh?" he whispered.

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc tried to keep his mind off what ideas popped in at that offer. He knew better than that. His mind wasn't slow though.

"Well.. I guess. I can sleep any odd time I get it. I'm a little strung out like that. Few hours and I can jump back up my usual energetic self." He rubbed his head a little, messing his hair up even more. "The only thing is, I'd feel nervous about leaving you alone tonight until I know everything is okay." He had this sheepish look on his face.

"Would it be too much to let me crash here? That way I know if you stop breathing and all." He laughed a little nervously.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]He gave a haphazard "heh", taking another drag of his cigarette before expelling it from his nose. There was still a bit of the cig left. He swallowed before putting his fingers up to the filter, taking the last two long drags he needed to finish it off before looking around for an ash tray. He decided it wasn't worth it when he didn't immediately find one, and snubbed the butt out on the floor, thinking to himself that he would take care of it later.

Q stretched out his legs on the floor, contemplating sleeping sitting up. He thought better of it, since he was already sore, and stood, beginning the journey to his room, which was only one wall away. He topped in the hallway, not looking back as he said softly, "You can stay as long as you don't spike anything else."

Q could taste the difference in his own cigarettes, but even with what had happened, he still held a deep trust for the other man. After listening for Doc's reaction, he'd go and lay ontop of his bedsheets, falling asleep on his back and in his clothes. He was exhausted.
 
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Dexterity 1 (pt 2)

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The wandering mind... wrote: Doc let out a light laugh. He was definitely smarter than he put off.

"Hey, it's just to help you along a little until I get a hold of the medication you need." He flashed him another smile before fishing out a smoke of his own, leaning back against the couch for a few minutes while he smoked it.

About half way through, taking his time as always, Doc got to his feet and walked over to the doorway of Quatre's room. He had the intention of just checking on him, but found himself standing there watching the man sleep until he finally pried himself away, afraid he'd waken, and laid out on the couch falling asleep.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]It was ten in the morning of the next day before Q woke up. He still was pretty tired, but didn't let it best him. He went and took a quick shower before changing into a black dress shirt and a black vest over it. Fancier than normal, sure, but Q didn't have that many other clothes, and he hated how the sweatshirt made him look.

Q's shirts weren't normally tucked in, but this time they were, into one of his many pairs of black dress pants. Even though the upper half of him was rather well donned, he still wore the combat boots, which he began to lace up only after he had lit a cigarette in his mouth.

Even if he was slightly overdressed, Q would be slightly better off this way, he thought. After what had happened last night with Marino, Q wasn't sure what he had said, but he knew it was something bad. Maybe this would help show respect for that man... Not that it was very earned respect.

After he was dressed and had finished his cig, he'd head over to Marino to see what that mission the man had mentioned was about.

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc had left by this time, having been assuredly pulled away by some third party due to someone in the building's injury or sickness. He didn't however leave without finding a pad of paper in his bag and leaving a little note for Quatre to find when he woke up.

It was a light powder blue piece of paper, from one of those pads you most often find on teachers' desks or a counselor's office. Written across the top in a fancy font was the motivational quote "Climb as high as you can dream."

Scribbled in his own chicken scratch writing, Doc had left a message for the man.

Hey champ, stop by if you start feeling any pain, have any vision problems, or just want someone to chat too that doesn't think he rules the world or has a knack for getting you in handcuffs before bed. Here he'd taken a moment to draw a little crude winking face. I'm never too hard to find. Oh right, and get climbing that dream mountain or something!

___________________________________-Doc


Cassandra had found her way to Marino's office over an hour ago, going over business, as well as her merely standing there in between as he worked on other things. She never had a problem with patience, and certainly around him.

Her hair was pulled back in a long, but tight pony tail today, and wore a black leather body suit that zipped up the front, her duster not on, but laid over the arm of the couch directly in front of the desk, which she was leaning on for the moment.

Marino didn't look to be in either a good or foul mood today. Something usual of his nature.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Just as Q was going out his door, he noticed the note. Reading it, he gave a confused face. No one had ever given him such a motivational or positive note before, and it was as confusing as it was corny sounding. Doc really was an awkward guy. Q shrugged it off, left the note there and went to Marino's door.

He had his right hand in a pocket, and hesitated a moment, before deciding that he should probably knock first, unlike last time. He knocked with his left hand. Q was wearing the gloves from before, so his entire hands were covered. After the knocks he waited a moment, but not any time in particular before he entered.

"Good morning," he said, casting an interested eye toward Cassandra's outfit. He wondered why she was dressed that way but decided ot keep the thoughts to himself.

The wandering mind... wrote: "Ah, Q, just the..." He paused, as if the term was unfitting, "...man I needed to see. Come in and have a seat." He motioned to the chairs in front of him, barely giving the boy much attention. He had been in the middle of discussing something privately with Cassandra, and just spoke to her in a low voice as Q made his way across the room before shuffling some papers away and finally looking up.

Cassandra stood up once they were done talking and took a few minutes to stand there and look Q over as he sat down. She flashed him a small smile, as if she approved of his outfit. Though there was a lot more she was approving of, and her eyes fell to the gloves hiding his wrists.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q gave a dirty look toward Marino for the briefest second about the 'man' comment, but tried to lighten up. Q knew he had threatened Marino last night. He wasn't sure exactly what he'd said, but he knew it was rude.

"Sorry to interrupt," he mused, taking his hand from his pocket and fingerbrushing his still-damp grey hair, and taking a seat as soon as he was done.

He gave Cassandra a warning glance, as if to tell her to keep her looks to herself, and then tried to focus on Marino, trying to tune Cassandra out. He didn't want to be caught in the same situation as yesterday.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [align=center][imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastiheadshot.jpg[/imgright]

Anasti forced herself off of the couch and stumbled haphazardly to the bar where she proceeded to pour a liberal amount of scotch directly into her parted lips. Anything to drown out the vision that had plagued her all night. Her brother's face floated in her dreams, at the corners of her vision, and even on the back of her eyelids when she closed her eyes. And, even more disturbing, in the last few hours of morning his face had begun doubling with Q's over and over until some distorted combinaiton of the two had shaken her almost screaming from her sleep.

Dropping the now empty bottle,( not that it had had much left in it to began with. She probably couldn't even count on a solid morning buzz to get her through what was promising to be a very dull and boring day), she walked over to the bathroom and stepped into the shower, cranking the water up as cold as she cold and turned it on while still in her clothes.

Dammit. She needed to get her head on straight. She had a fucking job to do, and thinking about Jeremiah wasn't going to bring him back. Unbidden, her memories of the night before and specifically of what the Doc had said floated back to the surface of her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut against the freezing water, her hands curling into fists. One arm jutted out, pounding into the side of the shower hard enough to tear tiles from the walls. Crimson mixed with the clear shower water and the unseen tears that emptied the shower drain. Dammit. That hurt.

Anasti grabbed her towel, shutting off the water and wrapping the cloth around her now heavily bleeding hand as she stripped off her clothes. Stepping into her red net body suit, she zipped up a pair of black jeans, gave her loose, wet hair a quick tossle and made sure to dry her fins and wings thoroughly. Reaching into the medicine cabinet she grabbed a handful of guaze and a spool of medical tape and half-assedly wrapped her hand. Surveying the damage, she sniffed. It hurt like a bitch, but she could live with it. In fact, the pain would help to keep her head clear and it shouldn't effect her work. If it got too much more painful though, she would have to risk a trip to visit the Doctor, as much as she wanted to avoid it. A person in her line of work couldn't afford to lose the full use of one of thier hands.

Grabbing the lab coat from edge of the couch where she had left it and the pouches of poisions she needed, she made h way quickly down to the lab and slid her ID card through, walking into the bubble-shaped room and once again disposing of her daggers and jewelry. As much as she hated it, she found herself looking for the Doc's distinctive figure as she stepped into the lab, part of her wanting more then anything to give the man a good piece of her mind while the other wanted it to go away. Not immediatly seeing him, she brushed past the other scientists working nearby at first, before a boiling thought came across her mind. In her haste to try to get the good doctor between the sheets the night before....she had neglected to find out where her work station or equipment was located.

Her injured hand curled into a fist once more and crimson showed through the gauze as she halted in her tracks and touched the shoulder of the nearest lab tech. "Excuse me, have you seen the Doctor? I need to get some information from him." she asked, trying her best to keep the venom from her voice, but the angry flashing in her silver eye betrayed her.

The wandering mind... wrote: Marino paid no attention the look his comment got from Q, it was expected, not that it would matter much either way. Besides, more important things were on his mind, as he had been talking with Cassandra about. This important mission that he'd spoken about, some new information had come up that made Q's trust questionable again.

The warning look only made Cassandra tilt her head and lift an eyebrow as if to imply the ideas running through her mind. She wouldn't mind playing him again right here, despite the news Marino had just given her.

"Well, now that you are here, we have some business to discuss. Recently someone has moved into town and done several things to.. protest my claims here in my city. He's proven more difficult than most who have tried before to take down, therefore I've reserved this special case to you and Cassandra here, which is why I had her take you on that test run, to see if you two would really work as well as I had hoped together." Cassandra cocked another eyebrow at Q with this.

"However.. some interesting information has come across to us recently. It seems your name has come up while investigating the man's past in France..." Marino was staring directly at him.

Doc was walking through the hall when someone approached him, telling him he was being asked for in the lab. He didn't realize it was Anasti until he got there. He frowned as he approached her, still sad about the day before and the way he acted toward her.

"You rang?" Doc forced a smile to his face, that was even harder to maintain while noticing her hand bandaged up. "You alright?"

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q kept ignoring Cassandra, but once the conversation started, he couldn't keep eye contact with Marino. The conversation had taken a turn for the worse. Q knew exactly who Marino was talking about. Vespasien.

Q had forgotten all about the man. Moved to a different city and everything. They'd run away from France together, and Q had stayed with Ves for about a year before being thrown to the side. Q didn't want to even waste any thought on the guy. Wasn't worth his time. Ves almost like Marino in that he had taken control of a city, but Q was one of the people who had helped get Ves to that position, only to be tossed out later. There was probably no one else he felt more betrayed by than that man.

But he had to think of some shitty answer for Marino. Something to say. Q had assumed Marino was smart enough to know that what was in the past was passed, and for Marino to stare him down like he was... It was if he thought Q planned to overthrow the man from the inside. Which wasn't the case. Q had moved to small claims precisely to avoid this kind of crap. Besides, it was Marino who had wanted him. Q didn't volunteer his services. The only reason he didn't leave was because he had no where better to go, and this place appeared to have more pros than cons.

"When I first started out I worked for whoever would pay me. Then I wised up and moved to small claims. Whoever this guy you're talking about is," Q was feigning innocence here, "it's none of my business what he's up to now." He shrugged slightly, closing his eyes, so he didn't have to see Marino stare him down. "Just give me the targets and I'll get whatever it is done for you."

The wandering mind... wrote: Marino leaned back in his chair, barely even blinking as his eyes stayed on Q, studying him. He didn't trust him in the least, but no matter, business was business. Besides, Cassandra was here for a reason.

"So the name Vespasien means nothing to you? Great. In that case, I want you to kill him. Cassandra of course will accompany you. I really don't care how it's done, just that it is. And of course this pays top dollar, more than any of your small claims bullshit has pulled for you. Get it done and you have a guaranteed spot here, as well as my full trust. Mess up of course though, and Cassandra here gets the pleasure of taking care of you, and not in a way that involves you living after..." He paused and looked at her. "Though from what I hear, that problem has already come up." He laughed that sickening laugh of his and left Cassandra, who had not yet heard of what happened last night to Q, standing there with a confused look on her face.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q looked a bit uncomfortable, a small frown framing his face. He had no problems killing Ves, it was the matter of how. Plus, Q still wasn't sure he wanted a permanent spot with Marino.

And then when the death comment came up, Q let out a disapproving grunt, looking toward the door.

"Fine. But it's going to take a long time. He never goes outside anymore." he looked backed to Marino, his green eyes staring above the sunglasses before Q pushed them up his face to hide them. "And I don't know where he is."

The wandering mind... wrote: Marino just smiled at him, returning the look.

"Then it looks like you'll be with us for quite a while." He laughed again before turning back to his work. "Cassandra will fill you in on what we do know, though he moves around a lot, so finding his location to kill him could prove difficult. But I have faith in you." He almost snickered at that last comment.

Cassandra moved to lead Q out of the room, picking up her duster on her way. She would have to talk with them while they figured out their first step in finding out what they needed, and getting to where they needed to be. She was also curious about the history between the two.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q hmphed. Yeah. Faith. Sure. Q wanted to give Marino a piece of his mind, but restrained himself. He didn't want to make the relationship between them any worse than it already was.

When he was waved out by Cassandra, he gave a slight growl, walking ahead of her once they got to the hall. He went toward his room. No doubt she'd give him a briefing at some point. But he may as well clean up the main area that was still a mess. He had no idea he had so many cigarettes in reserve until they were the new carpet.

The wandering mind... wrote: Cassandra simply followed him, realizing by the direction that he was headed back to his room. She had several things she wanted to discuss with him, and was not about to lose track of him already. Marino didn't exactly trust him, and had told her so, wishing she'd keep a close eye on him.

When they reached his room, she stood in the doorway and gave a whistle, leaning back, hands on her hips.

"What the hell happened here?" She was not reserved at all in her questioning, or much of anything else for that matter.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]As Q came into his doorway, he grabbed the note Doc has left, crumpling up and putting it in his pocket so he didn't have to deal with Cassandra's smartass comment about it. He knew she'd have at least one.

He went ot right the coffee table, and after he had set it in the correct place on the floor, he simply said "It's none of your business. Tell me the details about Ves, already." It probably wasn't wise to keep his back to her, but he didn't want to look at her... Seductive outfit. He decided picking up all the stray packs of cigarettes and putting them back under the coffee table was a much better option.

He should really not bother to take the packs out of the cartons so far in advance...
Then again, about half of them were varying brands since Q became bored easily. All cigarettes tasted pretty shitty.

Page 12
The wandering mind... wrote: Cassandra wasn't above rolling her eyes as she was told off, though of course that was one of the things she liked about Q, he didn't think twice about biting back. She grinned at her own thoughts before making her way over to the couch and leaning over the arm of it, watching him with studying eyes.

"You look sore." There was a happy tone in her voice that in a normal person, shouldn't be there accompanying those words. "Well, we only know so much. He likes to move around a lot as Sir mentioned. Right now our guess is this warehouse on the outskirts of town is his base judged on the movements around it. He doesn't hesitate to kill our men, nor steal our associates from us, which of course, is not something we'll let slide." She watched him as he bent over, cleaning up the cigarettes, memories quietly playing in her head of the fun they had the day before.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q hmphed at the sore comment. He knew what she was getting at. He wouldn't let her taunts get to him. He wouldn't be having any sort of relationship aside from a professional one for a very long time.

"Well I don't know what I can do," he said sternly, stocking the last of the cigarettes beneath the table, taking one lighter and a pack for himself and sticking it in his pocket. "He's extremely intelligent. Doesn't leave any openings to snipe him, and probably has his own snipers permanently trained to look for other snipers."

He stood, crossing his hands over his chest. "And that was five or six years a go, who knows how paranoid he is now."

The wandering mind... wrote: "So you've worked with him long enough to get to know him like that. So please, share all your knowledge on the subject with me. Though I can always get it out of you if you'd rather it that way." She slunk her way over to him, making it hard for him to lot look at her. It was a sleeveless outfit, and tight enough that it bound her chest some, her actual preference most of the time. She only on occasion was stressful of the fact she was of the female gender, this being one of those times.

"I know a hundred and one ways to persuade you to tell me your story with this Ves guy, of course less than half are pleasant to you." She grinned.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q took her look in for a moment as she moved closer, took in a loud breath through his nose and then stepped away from her. He concentrated on her face.

"I helped him start out, took care of the first few leaders so he could rise up. But that's all. I don't associate with him any more." Q was trying to keep it as curt as possible. Q and Ves had been much more than that, but he was uncomfortable simply thinking about it, let alone vocalizing.

The wandering mind... wrote: Unfortunately for Q, Cassandra was rather good at making him uncomfortable, and she didn't hesitate to grab his shoulder and turn him back, taking a minute to study his eyes behind his glasses.

"I know there's more you aren't telling me. I'm not that much of a fool. I do more than just kill people, I find out the truth. One of the reasons I'm around for is I'm good at what I do. Do you think I am just going to take half truths from you and that'll be good enough for me?"

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q growled, grabbing her arm and squeezing it at the wrist. "Well it doesn't matter. The past is passed. I have no problems killing him."

He let go of her hand after attempting to throw it off him. If he succeeded, he'd take another few steps away from her. But he'd be reaching a wall soon.

The wandering mind... wrote: Cassandra didn't even flinch as he grabbed her wrist. She didn't stop him from throwing her arm off him either. What she did do however, was close in the space between them yet again, until she'd successfully had him backed to the wall.

"I'm glad then. Because we will be killing him. I'm not about to fail a mission. And not even a tasty little treat..." She grinned, giving him a seductive, but dangerous look, aided by her height over him, as if a predator snickering over prey. "Like yourself is going to ruin my perfect record."

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q stood his ground. He wasn't going to fall for the same trick again. He knew his own apartment well enough(albeit only being there a week) to know there was a wall behind him.

He took a halfstep back however, to lift his right boot and shove his heel toward her precious little kneecap. "I'm not your little toy," he growled. "Just because it happened once doesn't mean it'll happen again."
He was referring both to her tricks and to the sex, of course.

The wandering mind... wrote: Cassandra laughed as she stepped sideways and brought the same leg he had aimed at around in a curve to catch the back of his, hands going to his shoulders in a move, that successful, would send him to the ground, allowing her to pin him.

Her attentions of course weren't as bad as they seemed. She was more in the mood to fight a little to make sure he knew that the same things were not going to work on her either, that she had the upper hand in this and the entire situation, and her judgment would not be swayed again by puppy dog eyes. Which if successful in pinning him, was exactly what she would tell him before letting him go.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q, being eight or so years out of practice, tripped and fell backward, her on top of him. His hands immediately to her throat, however, his thumbs pressing into her larynx. While that probably wouldn't choke her completely, it definitely should hurt, and prove her unable to speak.

If he could position his legs to do so, he'd also attempt to knee her in between her legs. A move which if he succeeded, he'd roll them both over so he was on top of her instead.

The wandering mind... wrote: Cassandra coughed, gagging some at the hold he had on her throat, though it was not enough to anywhere near dangerously restrict her breathing, it was frustrating enough that she couldn't get the words she wanted out of her mouth. This made her lift up and then down again, banging him against the ground before he managed to get a knee between her legs, that while she deflected the blunt of the blow, succeeded in rolling the two of them, however she took her turn in chocking him now that she was the one on bottom.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Once they rolled over and Cassandra began to choke him, Q moved his hands against her windpipe, now trying to seriously restrict her breathing.

Q opened his mouth in response to her choking him. He was in obvious pain. His vocal chords were not used to straining, which is what they did all last night when Q essentially went feral. Now they were all being pressed together, and the confinement in his throat was not the most comfortable thing.

Q took a hint from Cassandra and also tried to bang her head against the floor.

The wandering mind... wrote: Cassandra tightened her grip, closing off his trachea as she pushed all the strength in her arms upwards, choking him as hard as she could, she was not about to let him win. Then a thought, more like a memory came across her mind, he had a weak spot. Cassandra slide her legs up and around the back of Q's knees, pulling and spreading them apart so he had no choice but to fall against her, bringing him close enough for her to release a hand from his neck and pull on his tail, whose sensitivity she knew about from their time together the day before.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q was trying to hold his breath through this ordeal, but when Cassandra moved her grip, he stopped banging her head against the floor. When she moved his legs he followed, and when she yanked his tail he expelled all the air out of his lungs. It would've been a scream, but given his current position, it sounded more of a wheeze.

He immediately let go of her neck and changed his focus to the arm that was holding his tail. He slammed his right fist into the inside of her elbow. If he contacted her reflexes would force her to loosen her grip on his tail and he'd have a chance to roll away from her.

The wandering mind... wrote: She gasped loudly for air, inhaling greatly as he released. His fist hit right and her grip on his tail released, but as it did, she used her legs, still between his, to once again roll them, this time pinning him down by the appendages. Her knees against his thighs, her arms on his forearms, right below his wrists, which she'd been careful to avoid, but would not continue to if he didn't cooperate. She hung there above him panting, half her hair having worked it's way out of her pony tail and matted against her face.

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Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q, even though he hadn't gotten away from her, also panted, trying to catch his breath. When he thought he had most of his breath, he tried to move his legs with a grunt. He couldn't.

"Get off me," he growled, in between pants.

He didn't want this to be like last time. No, this time he'd at least stop for a cigarette in the middle.
To be honest, he'd forgotten why they had even started fighting eachother in the first place.

The wandering mind... wrote: While fighting again got her excited, it was not the same as the day before, most notably by the fact they were still dressed. She grinned between her panting, glad to finally have the upper hand again. Cassandra growled back at Q, not about to be outdone.

"No. Not until I'm done. I want you to know that you're not going to get any advantage over me again like you did before. It won't happen, don't bother thinking it will. This is a business relationship now." Even as her she spoke her mind betrayed her with all the fun things she could do to him right now...

Q wrote: "Hah," Q forced a laugh, a few heavy breaths in between the following phrases. "That's funny. You don't dress or act very businesslike."

He tried to get her off himself once more. "I'm serious, get off. I need to smoke."
It was a stupid excuse, but he figured telling her was better than last time, where he completely forgot alltogether.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [align=center][imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastiheadshot.jpg[/imgright]


Anasti's eye narrowed as the doctor approached her, glaring darkly as he greeted her with a small, unconvincing smile. "I need to know where I can access the items we discussed before." she said coldly, supressing a momentary burst of pain as she once again saw clearly the doctor pushing her away from Q who's face morphed into Jeremiah's. She forcibly pushed the memory aside, her fist now clenched so tightly that her pointed nails dug deeply into the gauze covering her palm. Across her split knuckles crimson bloomed and spread in steady, arcing spirals, consuming the white of the guaze until there was none left nd tiny droplets of blood began to fall from her rigid fist, splattering against the clean floor. If any of the other lab technician's noticed it, they would have known better then to say anything at the particular moment from a single look into her gleaming silver eye...unless, of course, they had a sudden desire to be lacking a few viciously removed vocal cords.

She couldn't explainthe deep pit of anger that rose in her stomach when she looked at the Doc any more then she could explain her brother's face on Q's body. That brief moment the night before, when both hybrid's had been at thier most vunerable, had opened up the old wound of her memories like a knife dug through a scar. The grief, the desire to protect her brother in the one moment she hadn't been able to, even some small semblance of sibling devotion and love-had transposed themselves onto Quatre Bornes in that moment. Likewise her anger, hatred, and overwhelming desire for revenge against her brother's murderers had transposed onto the human doctor who had pulled her away and accused her of trying to hurt him.

Even now the images and memories were mixing and mingling in her mind, becoming irrevocably intertwined. But part of her was still resisting the process. Part of her was trying to force the memories to remain seperate even as they wrapped ever more tightly around each other. But that part of her was gradually losing, and it would only be a matter of time before she wouldn't be able to distinguish one memory from the other, to be able to see the difference between Q and Jeremiah....or the Doctor and Renegade.

With all that chaos hidden behind her remaining eye, it was little wonder that he was a bit numb to her more physical sense at the moment. The deep throbbing of her injured hand, her bodie's aggravating reminders that she hadn't had a cigarette yet that was manifesting in the form of a less then pleasent migraine, even the smooth warmth of the Scotch that had finally pin and needled its way into her extremities. None of it compared with the pain in her heart as she looked coldly at the Doctor, traces of both sorrow and hate lingering in her eye.

"I'm also out of cyanide."

The wandering mind... wrote: Cassandra's eyes narrowed on Q and she glanced down at herself.

"What's wrong with the way I dress?" There was obvious annoyance in her voice. "You can smoke in a damned minute, it's not like your life depends on it. If I was mean I'd make you earn it." She smiled, but not a kind one in the least.

Doc didn't realized how deep his words had stabbed until he saw the look Anasti gave him. It was like being stabbed with those wicked daggers she carried around and he almost flinched. His eyes fell as he thought of something to say to her, but then widened at the sight of blood dripping from her hands. He grabbed them up into his, but ever so gently as only a doctor could, the coverings peeled away in almost an instant.

"You're bleeding..." He dabbed at the blood, looking at the injuries. "Look.. I know I messed up real bad... It wasn't you I wanted to yell at, I was angry at myself for putting Quatre in harms way like that. And I know nothing I say to you will do any good, but at least let me clean this up and get you what you need." His mouth was twisted up as he spoke.

Q wrote: [imgleft]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/emoart/z.jpg[/imgleft]
Q frowned. Oh, how he wanted to say otherwise about his life dependency. But someone like Cassandra would probably just use it against him.

"Well, you're." He hesitated. "Seductive. And wear tight things. Form fitting. You're not very businesslike. You seem like you just want to be a piece of eye candy." His mouth twisted. This was uncomfortable. As if he were the person to ask about how women should act. He busied himself associating with whores most of the time.

"You don't demand respect, just wolf whistles." his brows creased and his muscles tightened slightly; he assumed she'd smack him.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [align=center][imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastiheadshot.jpg[/imgright]

Anasti's sharp eyeteeth bore down into her lip as she physically resisted the urge to pull her uninjured fist back and slam it as hard as she could into Doc's face when he took hold of her hand and peeled the guaze back. Instead, she managed to force the sudden rage from manifesting and simply jerked her hand from the Doc's, a few stray drops of blood flying off and hitting the nearby techs. A soft but unmistakable growl rose in the her throat, both from the physical and the emotional pain that the action caused her.

"Save it." she snapped, wrapping the cuff of her sleeve around the still bleeding wound. "Just tell me where my things are and get out of my sight." her voice spat venom as her eye flashed.

The wandering mind... wrote: Cassandra's face softened as he spoke, only to tighten again.

"Seductive? I'm not going for anything. I just wear what I like, and what I like to wear happens to be binding leather outfits. If you are of the type to find that attractive, fine, but that doesn't make me some whore that wants attention from a man. I thought my ability to kick anyone's ass that pushes me the wrong fucking way and my more serious nature was enough to make me business like. It'll be a cold day in hell before you find me in a dress or business outfit." She glowered at him, insulted on the prospect of her wanting such things.

Doc's hand didn't even move, he just stood there awkwardly holding it, unsure of what to do. She was way over reacted, sure, he'd been a real ass, but he wasn't that much of an ass. He only frowned as she spoke, waiting his turn.

In his head he planned out what he said, thinking first seemed to be a much better idea. 'Well.. you can let me fix your hand, or I can sedatate you, giving you the dreamless deep sleep you obviously need, as I repair the damage to your hand.' Thinking first however was a good idea, as he thought of something better to do. She said it needed two days after some simple work, so he would just wait until she started.

Silently Doc dropped his hand and turned, finding her a free workspace, motioning it to her with a freehand, then heading across the room to the storage space to find the cyanide. While in the room he went and prepared a few other things for himself. He found a few bottles of sedatives and prepared them differently, slipping them into his pockets.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastismaller.jpg[/imgright]


Anasti gave him a cold glare as he remained silent. She watched him as he bustled off, pointing out her work station as he went. She went to it immediatly and began to work, pulling the several pouches of her own poisons from her pocket and dropping portions of them into different vials. When he approached her with the vial of cyanide, she grabbed it from his hand without a word and dropped it into another vial. Mixing several of the now slightly steaming liquids together, she instinctively stepped between the Doctor and the vials, both to be sure that the secret of her work was maintaned...and because the fumes that were now rising steadily from the glass tubes were more then a little dangerous.

A few drops of her own blood fell into the mixture as she poured and stirred, completly ignoring the man's existence as she worked. The cuff of the immaculate white jacket was now completly red, but she ignored the pain. Her mind focused on her work helped to push the confusing, jumbled memories away...and keep her head clear. About twenty minutes had passed before she lifted two vials of slightly pink liquid and inserted them into the centerfuge. The great device whined mechanically as it got up to speed, and as the slight coloring of the vials began to move so quickly it became a pinkish blur, she turned once more to face the Doctor, her silver eye focusing on him.

Her mind was still screaming hatred at him, but her physical pain had finally gotten to the point where it was overwhelming her senses, and a slight, nagging fear that she may have broken her hand was lingering in the back of her throat, as an unpleasently bitter taste of bile. She couldn't afford to lose one of her hands. Not now. Not yet. Not when there was still so much to do. So many people left to kill.

She couldn't bring herself to say anything, afraid of the resentment that would shine in her hollow voice, so she merely walked over to a nearby chair and sat down, raising her injured hand before her and finally allowing a wince of pain to cross her face. Eyeing the centerfuge, she ran a quick time estimate in her mind before saying simply,

"You've got an hour."

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q hmphed. "I'm just calling it like I see it, woman." He let his head fall tot he side, wantingly eying a cigarette from one of the many boxes below his table.

"Even still, laying here and arguing isn't helping your case for being simply a 'business partner'."

The wandering mind... wrote: "Whatever." She tensed again, having been any less human she would of growled at him before shoving roughly off him and moving to sit against the wall beside them.

"I just wanted you to know what happened was a one time thing, and it's not going to be repeated." At least not besides in her mind whenever it chose to wander in memory of the best lay she'd had in what as sadly an incredibly long time.

Doc watched her silently, fingering the syringe in his left pocket while he did. He had several reasons behind his desire to sedate her, he just ended up choosing to not attempt a thing. It was probably for the best, seeing as she was a trained assassin and all, and he.. he was.. well Doc.

Besides, she made his decision for him when she offered her hand.

"Is speech allowed, or am I in for a very silent hour?" He retrieved his bag and sat down, going to work on cleaning and examining the wound. He soaked a rag in a mixture of water and natural soaps, dabbing incredibly gently until he removed enough of the crusting blood to see everything clearly.

"This is going to hurt a bit." He lightly fondled her hand, applying pressure in a few places to check for swelling and any breaks. The hand was incredibly tricky, containing 27 bones that could easily of been broken. He noticed some tenderness around the fourth metacarpal, the middle bone of Anasti's ring finger.

"I believe you have succeeded in breaking this one." He just lightly applied pressure, but it would of been rather painful to her.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/Vespasien.jpg[/imgright]

A truck pulled into the garage. Vespasien, a man in his early 30s, ran a hand through his light brown hair. He was standing in the corner of the room, two men to either side of his front, as they all watched the back of the truck get opened, and filled with boxes by the hands of more men.

As the truck was being filled, a tall, lithe dog trotted around the truck and its workers. It was careful to not get in any of the other men's way, but appeared to be making sure they did everything correctly. It was brown and black spotted, and looked similar to a greyhound, though it's ears were feathered, as was its tail. The dog was a somewhat rare breed named a Saluki. It was a sight hound, and it also happened to be the very breed Quatre Bornes had stemmed from.

When Ves had run his hand through his hair, he shoved it into the pocket in his trenchcoat.
"'Urry it up, people!" he brought both his calloused hands together and clapped a bit, trying to speed up their pace. Although Ves had been in this english speaking country for years, he had not bothered to master the language as his ex-partner had.

"We must move soon. Get out of zis town." He lifted his right hand up, index finger pointing to the ceiling as he wagged it in a small circle.
Up above, their were walkways and small windows. Each window had a man or a woman laying on their belly with a sniper rifle pointing outside.

At the wagged finger, a woman came jogging up to Ves. He hair was bleached a platinum blonde so it gave off the appearance of being white. Her athletic build was mostly covered by her weird attire: a button-up collared dress shirt with a red torso and black long sleeves. The first few buttons were undone, revealing her curvature. Her tail was that of a wolf's, and it was also a bleached platinum blonde. Her face didn't take too kindly to being a half breed; she had a slight muzzle and the hints of fur. She also had Wolf's ears, but they were lower on her head than the should've been; moreso in the area of where a human's ears should be. Her eyes were golden brown.

"Yes sir?" She came to a halt, her tail wagging downward.
"What did you 'ear about 'is movement?" Ves stressed. He was referring to Marino.

The, for all intents and purposes, woman/wolf version of Q forced a grin. "He is sending some new cohort of his, Sir. With Cassandra, that close-combat fighter. We think the the new person is a sniper." Her voice was rather high-pitched. She was a tall woman, and with her heritage one would've thought her voice would be lower. Such a small voice should not have taken place in such a strong woman, Ves had thought.

At the sniper remark, the Superior laughed aloud. "And what do zhey think a sniper will do?" He swept his arms, indicating his own crew.

The wolf-woman cocked her head, one ear sideways as the other remained straight. "They say he's a hybrid, Sir. A halfbreed sniper."

Ves only laughed again. "As if He would 'ire a 'ibrid."
His face sombered for a moment, but only a short one.
He gave a whistle, and the Saluki came over to him.

"Well it is not a problem. Even if he is a good sniper, we will have time." With that, he turned to walk away from the truck, five men immediately surrounding him as they made way to another building.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastismaller.jpg[/imgright]


She ignored his question, her eye watching carefully as he retrieved his bag and began to check her over. Her body was beginning to calm down, and with it, her mind was starting to clear. There were still some confusing thoughts swirling in her head, pictures of Q and Jeremiah blending together, images of Doc and Renegade contorting into a singular being that was both and neither simultaneously. But for the most part she beginning to get a grip on that overt flood of memories and stuff them back into the box that had escaped from.

She could still use a cigarette.

An involuntary hiss of pain raced past her lips as the doctor applied pressure to her ring finger and she fought the urge to jerk her hand from his. "Will it hinder my ability to hold a blade?" she asked, forcing her hand muscles to relax as he looked them over. A moment's pause as she looked away, a surge of guilt washing over her at the cold way she had been treating him. Sure, he had pissed her off the night before. He had done something incredibly stupid when he had put himself between her and Q. He had wounded her even more then he could possibly know by dredging up those memories from her past. But....he wasn't Renegade. And her mind was clearing enough for her to see that.

"Yeah. The shower walls here are hard." she said softly, looking away.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q hmphed again, standing up once Cassandra got off him. He immediately took the box of cigs out of his pocket, pulled out one and placed it in his mouth, put the box back, and lit the cig before replacing it too in his pocket.

He took a long drag, reveling in the silence. Any minute he could get without Cassandra bitching at him was a good minute. He gave her a sideways glance form his area near the wall, trying to bring his thoughts back to the problem at hand.

"So what's Ves here for? He just wants to take over the city or is he dealing with something specific?" He shrugged. "Not that it matters; I'm just curious." He took another short drag before asking another question, leaning his sore self against the wall he was near.
"When are we going to head out to do this?"

A thought came to him that he had left his holster belt with the gun and dagger on the floor. He made a mental note to put it on before they left. If they even left today.

The wandering mind... wrote: "Shower walls? May I ask why it was doing battle with your hand. They don't generally attack people, nozzles maybe, but not usually the walls." Despite his humor, his face remained serious, concentrated on the task before him of mending her hand. Doc first found a splint, then pulled some creams and a paste, much like the one he put on Q's wrists before, out of his bag.

"I'll need to set it, this first cream will numb your hand for a short while, so you don't feel it." He applied it generously, it would tingle and then just go cold, he prodded a few times, and when she didn't react he went ahead and gently set the bone, then wrapped it to the splint. He then went and applied the paste to each cut, carefully and gently wrapping everything.

"Here." He fished a vial of pills out. "No, they are not something of mine. I know how you feel, they're regular medication, not some weak over the counter thing either. Just good, regular pain killers, I could give you something better, but I'm sure you'll just stick with these."

Cassandra leaned back watching him. She almost wished she smoked, just to bum one off him and hope to look that good smoking it.

"Business? To be honest, I don't know much more than he wants this town in his pocket too, and that we're not going to let him. I still know there's more you aren't telling me, but I guess I don't have much of a choice but to wait until you're ready to tell me." She sighed. "As for where he is, we know where, it's just a matter of getting close. He's got snipers and men everywhere."

Page 14
Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q let out a disappointed sigh, putting his fingers to his cig and quickly trying to finish it off. When he did, he placed the butt in the now-found ash tray on the coffee table before taking out another cigarette and lighting it. This one he was going to work on a bit slower. He let it hang on his lip as he bent over to pick up the holster belt lying on the floor, and put it around his waist.

After that, he snuck away to his bedroom, minutes later coming out with binoculars hanging from his neck and another gun case at his side.

"I'll lead the way, then" he stated, almost annoyed that he had to take the initiative.

Q was not very happy about this mission. He couldn't even begin to fathom how he could get a shot at Ves, or why Cass would even be with him. Bodyguard maybe? Ha.

About twenty minutes later, they were two blocks away from the building in question, in the park.
Q set the gun case under a bench as he stood behind it, bringing the binoculars up to his sunglasses, and looking toward the warehouse, trying to find what was going on.
He could spot a few windows, each with a shadow - probably a sniper - in them. the windows didn't allow anything else to be seen.

He looked a bit downward, his tail twitching as he became interested. There was a truck pulled up to the end.
"There's a truck." His tail twitched again. "Maybe they're unloading something?"

His lips pierced together as he tried to find the door to the building, and when he did, he was surprised to see Vespasien walking out of it.
"Holy shit," he breathed, leaning his waist into the bench. Q had not seen Ves in five, maybe six years. Age had really changed the man. Five men blanketed him, though, and it was hard to see his face for more than a second at a time. And it wasn't even three seconds before the man had gotten himself into another car.

The car waited, door open, and a big dog trotted up and jumped in. A saluki. Q's tail hairs rose and he growled slightly as the door was closed by one of the five bodyguards, all of which later entered different doors and the vehicle left the warehouse.

Q let the binoculars fall back to his chest. He put his hands on the back of the bench, leaning against it, his tail waving around forcibly in irritation.
"He's gone. And there's no way I'd ever be able to get a clean shot on him."
He turned to Cass.
"Do you have any ideas? Miracles expecting me to pull miracles out of my ass here."

The wandering mind... wrote: Cassandra let out a snicker. "Lead the way sir!" Enhanced by bad acting and a fake salute, she had to grind her teeth to call him 'sir', but the reward from mocking him made it worth it. Her eyes followed the curve of him as he bent over, remembering what it looked like without pesky things like clothes in the way, before she got up to follow.

She stopped only to grab her shotgun and a few other bits of gear before they headed out to the warehouse, Cassandra not bothering to bring binoculars or anything like that. She just watched him silently as he went about, save any comments she could make at his expense of course.

"Ideas? A few, but that depends. Either way, we should get back. We know our target, he's only been at this building a day or two, so we have at most four more before he changes again." She grinned, though tried to keep it mostly on the inside.

"So how well did you two know each other. I'm just curious if he'd recognize you if you waltz up to him and said hello. And how he would react. Though unless you're psychic or know him really well, I don't see how you could tell me that one."

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q grit his teeth a bit at the sir comment, but otherwise stayed silent.

At the park, he ran his right hand through his hair, his left still on the park bench.
"Haha. Waltz up to him and.. Hah... Yeah..."
He sheepishly ran his hand through his hair a few more times.

He turned his back to cassandra, his tail between his legs, placing both gloved hands firmly onto the bench once more as he bent a knee, leaving al lhis weight ot be held by the bench through his arm and his one leg.

"Wow, that's..." He let out a forced half-laugh. "Yeah, that's... " his voice rose half an octave. "That's not gonna happen. Hah, waltzing up..."

It was as if she'd ask him to strip naked and moonwalk on public television.

The wandering mind... wrote: Cassandra couldn't help but toss her head back and laugh wickedly.

"Oh my, you look like you've just been scolded by your momma pup!" She couldn't help her reaction, trying to get a hold of herself, but unable to at her reaction to his almost injured look.

"Was it really that bad with him that he's got you whipped like that?" Cassandra let a few more chuckles slip before being able to control herself decently again. "No matter. We still have the advantage that none of them have seen me. Heard of me of course," She winked at him, allowing herself some gloating, "But seen they have not.... except the dead ones, but if they start talking, Ves is the last one on my mind. Though I do have a shotgun." She laughed again as they headed back to the building. Q was going to met a man who was definitely going to make him squeamish, which of course was something she always wanted to see.

Moon walking naked also, was something she wanted to see.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]"Hah, whipped. Look who's talking," he sneered.
He bent over to get the case with one hand as the other stayed on the bench.

"He and I were probably closer than you and Marino could ever be. I don't know if he'd shoot me on sight or welcome me back, to be honest. And it's not a risk I'm willing to take."

After those words, he followed Cassandra back to Marino's building, grumbling under his breath.
He didn't know what Cass had up her sleeve, but he didn't like it.

The wandering mind... wrote: Cassandra looked over her shoulder giving a rather heated look at him.

"And what exactly do you think you know about Marino and me?" She paused for a second, briefly. "What's that? Nothing. That's right." She glared at him before turning her head forward again, talking over her shoulder at him.

"Well, we have to find some way to get close to him, under some other pretense, we have to set him up, now how is another story. You seem to be fresh out of ideas, so I will try my best. What? You thought this was a job that would take one day? Why the hell do you think Marino sent us on that lame two day fake shit? If we can't last two days together, we're never going to last long enough to get in and take down Ves. Now sure, we could get all our men together and blow the shit out of them until they are gone, but we're going to lose half of our men in the process, not really worth it, is it?" She laughed at him.

"So we are going to have to do something, I know it's a stretch for you, but we're going to have to make a little less noise then you're used to, cause believe me, you're noisy." She took a moment to turn around and wink at him, walking backwards, they were almost back by now, and when they got there, she lead him inside.

Cassandra lead him straight to Mario's office and workspace. She had an idea, the last time they did this, it got pulled off, but this time was going to be different.

"Hey Mario, still got that outfit you made for me for the Tusani job?"

The large, yet effeminate man turned, smiling at the familiar voice. "Cassandra! Darling! Yes of course, oh, you know me, I never throw anything away, I just can't bring myself to!" He came over to her, just beaming. "Damn girl, looking good as always." Hand on his hip as he admired her outfit. He then noticed Q and his eyes seemed to light up.

"Oh darling, who is this charming boy you brought with you. Tasty."

Cassandra just grinned.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q hmphed about the 'noisy' comment. Seemed Cassandra could never get enough of mocking him about his bed habits. When they reached Mario's studio, Q still had the binoculars and gun case. He was waiting patiently until he heard the designer's voice.

Immediately his muscles tightened up and his lips turned into a frown. Then it looked at him.

And called him tasty! Q didn't need his sunglassess off to emote his fear. His mouth showed it all: He was horrified.
He immediately took a step back and brought the gun case up as a body shield. "I'm not a boy," he growled, turning his lips up. "And definitely not your type."

The wandering mind... wrote: "Mmm, honey, not being my type doesn't help your case. I always like the ones in denial. And you're a boy to me, unless of course you want me to make you a real man." Mario winked at Q, as Cassandra fought against everything not to double over on the floor and roll in laughter.

Things just got better and better with him. Cassandra enjoyed just eating off of other's misery, and boy did Q deliver. It was too good to be true.

"Sugar, let me go get your outfit before the puppy here pees his pants with all this excitement." He laughed and disappeared in an off room, Cassandra followed.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]"Denial my ass," Q grumbled as the two walked off, putting his gun case down with a viisible relief flowing through his body.
He snuck a look inside Mario's studio, making sure the two of them were gone, before slipping off and toward his room, to put away his things.

Once he had, he took out another cig. Today would be chain smoking day. Yes.
He sat on his couch, putting his boots on the table, his free hand on his head as a scratched the top of it slightly.

He couldn't think of another way to get close to Ves without going there in person and saying hello. But he really didn't want to do that. Not after the way Ves had treated him. Not after they'd parted ways. Q wasn't ready for any reminder, or even possibility, of them getting back together.

And that bastard had a saluki... Q narrowed his eyes behind his glasses at the thought.
Trying to mock me while I'm not even there?

The wandering mind... wrote: There was a quiet knock on Q's door before it opened slowly to reveal a woman standing there before him. Long dirty blonde hair pulled back in low pigtails, that bounced as she moved, taking a few steps into the room. She had tall white stockings, that reached just over her knees, and a black and white tea dress that barely came down her thighs, with a little apron stretched across the front of it. The cut only seemed to enhance her bust, pulling low and tight across it, which was also enhanced by bra she wore beneath it.

She smiled widely at Q, a finger twirling her hair subconsciously as she chewed a bit too loudly on a piece of bubble gum a bit too large for her, face made up to look flawless under carefully applied makeup, with just a touch of too much blush for added effect. Her other hand rest on her hip.

"Howdy sweetheart." She spoke with a soft southern drawl. The only thing about her was she was tall, not helped by the black heeled mary janes she wore. It would probably take Q a minute or two to realize who it was actually standing before him.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q looked over to the woman at his door. His mouth opened slightly and his brows raised in surprise. Who the hell was this?

He looked her up and down, taking her in. Q wasn't into maids so much, but he couldn't deny the awesome body. Too much makeup, but the body was... Cassandra?
He made a sort of weird 'urk' sound.
"Cassandra, is that....You?"

The corners of his mouth frowned slightly. Q was a tiny bit disgusted. This was like seeing a man in a dress, except the man made a hell of a convincing woman and he hadn't found out the secret before it had poked him in the behind.
"Why are you dressed like that...?"

The wandering mind... wrote: Cassandra laughed, his reactions were just always too good. She dropped the fake accent around him when she spoke now.

"What's wrong puppy?" She put on a fake pouting face, and moved over to him, bending down and patting his head, ruffling his hair a little, her chest on display directly in front of him as she did this. "Are you shocked to see me like this?"

She laughed, breaking her act and stood up straight now.

"I said we need closer to Ves, didn't we? This is how we're going to do it. He can't take snipers with him when he goes off to travel, now can he? There's a bar him and some of his higher ups like to frequent, it's themed if you can't guess, and" She went back to her previous position, throwing her weight to her hips and twirling her hair as she smacked her gum, her accent and higher voice returning, "Susie Peaches here just got hired yesterday! And I'm so excited!" She jumped up, doing a little shake of her body as she did, making her chest jiggle ever so slightly. She was having just a bit too much fun toying with Q.

But she dropped it as she got back to business talking with him.

"So you're going to watch with your rifle from afar and listen in as I plant some bugs around them, see if we can't just get a little information."

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q tried to keep a straight face through all of her yammering, but he didn't know how, nor could even fathom how Cass could put her pride aside like that, and dress so... Bad.

"I... Don't really think that this is his type of woman..." he mustered, his cigarette dangling from his mouth, its presence forgotten.
Q didn't understand why Vespasien would go to that sort of place anyway. Maybe a client forced him into it?

He brought his hand up to brush his hair; fix what Cassandra probably ruined.
"Well as long as I don't have to go in there, I guess."

Q was a sniper, not a secret agent. He didn't think he liked this whole idea, but as long as it wasn't him in the line of fire, he supposed he'd be okay.

"I should probably wear something else," he thought aloud. Red and black wasn't the most camouflaging of colors. He normally never worried about it because, well, he wasn't hunting big fish. Not until now, apparently.

The wandering mind... wrote: "I'm not trying to be his type of woman. I unfortunately don't know what he's into, we don't have any information on that. It's like you said earlier, he doesn't go out much, unless on business, and this place is one of his meeting places for a few bigger clients of his. Clients that if not for the bigger fish Ves, I would of slit their throat already..." She wondered off in her thoughts for a moment there, a little too much joy and happiness filling her at the idea of making those who'd betrayed Marino pay.

"No, no, you just have to listen in, they ain't going to talk while I'm standing there, but I can slip in some bugs, that's why we need two, plus you have your rifle, so I just have to be fast enough should things go wrong and you can take out anyone that follows me. Got it?" She was hoping this would all turn out to be a piece of cake, get the location for something more in the open going down and find a way to take them all out. They could pull something like poisoning the food, they'd tried that once before already and failed, but Cassandra had no doubts she could slip some bugs around, as long as she didn't leave them behind, no one would know.

"If you need something else we can always go back to Mario, he's got most anything you could imagine, and I'm sure would love dressing you up." She grinned.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastismaller.jpg[/imgright]

Anasti silently watched as the Doc numbed and then set her slightly broken hand, applying a cool cream and wrapping it gently. She tossed answers to his question around in his head before deciding on one that was at least mostly truthful.

"Bad dream." she said softly, explaining why she had mixed flesh with shower tiles that morning as he finished wrapping her hand. He fished a bottle of pills from his pocket and she immediatly held up her hand in rejection. "Probably not a good idea, Doc. I killed about a third of a bottle of Scotch this morning." she admitted, recalling her early morning panic to silence the voices in her head. Anasti's eye swiveled, her head remaining stationary as she looked around and past the Doctor at the still spinning centerfuge. The first round was about five minutes from completion and then it would simply be a matter of mixing two of the five vials together and setting it to spin for another seven hours. She sighed, shifting her gaze to focus once more on the Doc as she reached into her jean's pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

She flipped the lid of the pack open with a carefully pointed nail and gave the bottom of the box a tap, a single smoke flying from the pack which she caught deftly between two fingers. Sticking the cig in her mouth, she held it with her lips as she replaced the pack with the same, uninjured hand and removed a small pack of matches from her other pocket. Leaning back in the chair, she took the cig into her hand and gave the Doctor a small grin as the centerfuge gave a warning ding and began to slow down.

Page 15
Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q cringed. "No, no. I have the clothes." He waved his hands in front of him awkwardly.

"I'm okay."

He got up and moved to his room, closing the door roughly. Five minutes later he was back out in green cargo pants and a dark green t-shirt over a black longsleeve shirt. Q didn't like showing his arms. But it was fine; he wasn't all that sensitive to heat. He wore no gloves this time, his boots were always the same and he remembered the holster belt, which was black.

The outfit made him look oddly young. Maybe a teenager who had lost his way somewhere between an army surplus store and a Kmart. Q's necklace wasn't on him, and the cigarette had been done away with while he was in the bedroom by himself.

He could wear more than red and black. It could be argued that he looked much better not wearing those colors. But he liked them, and God be damned if he didn't wear what he wanted when he wanted to.

He put one hand on his hip, the other fingering through his hair as he looked at Cass again through his sunglasses. The wraps on his wrists were still apparent, though less since Doc had fixed up Q's horrible job.
"So we leave now? Or tonight? Or when? You have to give me a schedule for these things."

The wandering mind... wrote: "Well, none know, but you might want to hang on to them for later. This stuff will wear off in about three hours and your hand will be killing you then. By that time the scotch will be out of your system. Just don't drink anymore."

He merely set the vial on the counter next to her, planning on leaving it for her. He watched silently as she made a show of pulling out the cigarette before grabbing it from her lips. He shook his head.

"I'd like to not think about what lighting up in an oxygen rich environment like this would do to us. If you need to smoke, you're going to have to do it outside. And I'd do it in your room too. Marino hates the smell of cigarettes." He put the smoke in his breast pocket, then turned to look at the spinning chemicals.

"So what's next with them?" He was just happy to make idle conversation without her glaring holes through him.

Cassandra laughed at his reaction to her suggestion, as her eyes followed his tail as he went off to change. She genuinely smiled as he returned, it looked good on him, and even with the grey hair, made him appear younger, which only seemed to enhance his roughness. He seemed not so well dressed, a little more rugged. Though that was still not saying much, as he was no grizzly mountain man type with stubble that came in as soon as he was done shaving.

When his hand went up she noticed the bandages and took a few steps forward to him, pulling his hand into hers, if even briefly.

"Do they hurt? Have they healed yet?" Concern actually seemed to be her voice. "Is it safe to cuff them again?" She laughed. Cassandra couldn't help it. With Q she had trouble, as she did with herself, looking at weakness, and thus turned it into ridicule. It probably only made things worse, but it was her flaw at getting around them.

"We can leave whenever, but my shift doesn't start until three. Oh, I'm sorry," She cleared her throat and took on her disguise again. "Susie's shift don't start until three sweet cheeks."

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q pulled his hand away from cassandra, shoving both of them in his pockets.
"What happened to business relationship?" he snerked.

Yes, they still hurt. Definitely not as much as they used to. More of a lingering soreness really, but Cass didn't need to know that. He wouldn't be 'playing' with her any time soon.

He looked away from her when she used the accent. He didn't know what to think. His very ideas of what Cassandra was were crumbling before him. How could such a fighter act like such a whore? Q wasn't used to someone being so... bipolar. But not in the psychiatric sense of the word.

"That's fine, we'll just wait then," he forced, trying not to look at her. "Let's go get something to eat? But maybe you should put a coat over that... Or something."

Q was uncomfortable because of Cass' new way of acting around him, but also nervous. He was going to meet Ves again. Indirectly, yes, but it was still something to become nerve racked over. He wondered if he could make a steady shot. If he even got a shot. He probably wouldn't, but if he shook or hesitated, at least Cassandra wouldn't be over his shoulder humiliating him about it.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastismaller.jpg[/imgright]

Anasti mentally berated herself for not thinking. Of course it would be idiotic to light up in the lab. She really needed to get her head clear, but now that her mind was slowing down and falling into check, her body was starting to bitch about her mistreatment. She shoved the pack of matches back into her pocket and pushed herself out of the chair with a long scraping noise, walking over to the centerfuge as it whirled its last, slow rotation and stopped moving. Pulling the vials from the basket, she proceeded to mix two of them together in a slighly larger vial. The slightly pink color was gone now, having been caused by the few drops of her blood that fallen into the beaker. The centerfuge had seperated the liquids, and she used a glass stopper to remove the lymph and plasma before returning the vials to the centerfuge and closing it once more. "More waiting. It'll be about seven hours before this batch will be seperated and ready to proceed to the next step. As I said before, its a skill I have some talent in. But its a dreadfully boring process." she gave a half smile in his general direction before her lips fell once again.

She still hadn't completly forgiven him after all.

Making her way back over to the chair, she plopped down on the seat, wincing slightly as her injured hand bounced a little more vigorously then she had planned. Looking up at the Doctor, the question came to her lips and flew out before she could stop it.

"So. Is Q okay?"

The wandering mind... wrote: Cassandra snickered as he pulled away. She only harassed him like she did for the reaction. That and she may have said strictly business, but that didn't mean she wouldn't enjoy throwing cuffs on him again. Not everyone always said what they mean, and she was certainly not above lying, obvious by the outfit she wore.

Truthfully, it was him making it enjoyable, maybe it was just the way he had initially looked at her, but it made wearing the ridiculous thing worth it, and she was a very good actress when it came to such things. More of her upbringing she supposed. Marino had worked with her since she was little, she wasn't as tame as she is now and that was saying a lot. One of his favorite things was to send little Cassandra, who's always had a passion for knives, into areas where someone like, say a young school girl, would be easily over looked.

It was the end of the mission, when she got to get her kicks off killing and making others suffer that made it worth the sickening acts. That and right now Q's wonderful reactions.

"I can take it off for now if you want." She offered sincerely, as she reached back and started to take the dress off there in front of him.

Doc watched her silently. She had skill enough to work well, even with her useless hand. It was an intriguing process as well, and he would of been more interested, had it not been something intended for the taking of life she was cooking up. That was the one thing Doc just couldn't get used to in this business. Healing was his thing, and it didn't matter who it was. Everyone deserved a shot at happiness and to live.

He frowned a little, but quickly hid it as Anasti's smile died off and she sat back down. Though as soon as she asked about Quatre his face lit up.

"Oh, he's much better now. I've got some people finding him the medication he needs and he just needs to keep up his smoking for a few more days and he'll be fine. Well... he is with Cassandra though, so I can't tell you how long he'll be okay..." He laughed a little, trailing off. He was hoping he would not have to bandage Quatre's wrists again, or any other such injury anytime soon.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q saw her starting to zip, and immediately turned away, "No! That's not what I meant, don't do that here!" He got an awkward look on his face and quickly shoved himself into his bedroom, coming back with a black leather trenchcoat and throwing it at her.

Q had seen her naked before but it didn't matter. In some weird sort of way he'd developed some respect for Cassandra, and aside from his contempt for her, he didn't like her belittling herself, or making herself appear lower than she actually was.. Like, say, a harlot.

Plus, he didn't want to be tempted by her again. Though he doubted he could; the memories of pain and almost dying from the last encounter were too prevalent in his mind. He'd practically been scared to the point of asexuality.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastismaller.jpg[/imgright]

Anasti's face twisted into a weird mixture of half smile and half frown at the thought of the canine partnered with Cassandra, a human she had detested on sight. Part of her was silently glad that the other assassin might get what was coming to him, but another part of her still voiced a worry. A worry that was partly derived from the fact that he was the first hybrid she had seen since her mother and brother's murder, and there was a certain kinship in that, no matter how different thier lineage's. A tiny bit of concern still sprung from the odd doubling of Q and Jeremiah in her mind, and it was that concern which bothered her. She didn't need or want to get too attached to anyone. She had her own plans and they certaintly didn't involve Q in any form but as a sniper and possibly a toy to vent her sexual frustrations on.

She didn't voice any of this concern out loud, obviously, but her half-smile faded as quickly as it had come. "Good. Damn idiot almost killed himself." she said, trying a bit too hard to sound nonchalant. She held her injured hand out in front of her and studied it for a moment, afraid to look the Doctor in the eye lest her own give away the budding worry growing in her heart. Dammit. She had too many things that needed done yet. She didn't have time for this sentimental shit. "Curses of being what we are, I guess." she finally finished, dropping the hand and meeting his gaze.

"Look. I feel bad about being so cold with you. You made a dumb move last night, Doc. But now you're informed enough to not repeat it. And I'm bored as hell, watching this stuff spin. Want to grab some lunch...someplace I can smoke?" she asked quietly.

The wandering mind... wrote: "Oh calm down puppy! You've already seen me naked. And don't go thinking I just want you to get excited. If I wanted in your pants I'd be there already. I don't have to wait for you to say it's okay." She laughed and took the coat, throwing it on. It wasn't the best fit, but it was leather and that was all she needed.

She had just done it not thinking twice, she was not a shy person at all. If he choice to misread that as scandalous behavior, so be it, but she never really thought of it in that light. She just wanted out of the damned dress, but wouldn't let him know how much she hated wearing it. That would ruin some of the fun.

"Sure, we can go find something to eat. I'm hungry anyways." She went back to acting like her normal brash self. She was going to have to do enough pretending later as it was.

Cassandra would be very disappointed to know how bad she'd scared him from sex, but would probably turn it into a personal challenge about getting him back into it.

"Yeah.." Doc frowned. Anasti was right, though she didn't know how he'd almost killed himself. It angered Doc to see him getting so hurt, and from such a thing with Cassandra. Though he stopped his thoughts, unsure if it was just anger or jealous talking to. He would never hurt Quatre... Doc was an incredibly gentle man, and that's how he'd be with him. He'd take care of any wounds that orange-haired beast made on him. Doc blinked a few times and shook his head of his thoughts.

"It's sad, but you're right. Hybrids are notable for their medical issues, everything is at higher risk when DNA's been played with." Doc wouldn't mention it, but he had a lot of first hand experience with just how bad it can be, which is probably why Quatre had scared him so when he was like that.

He flinched when she mentioned his mistake the night before, but his face softened and he smiled when she, in her own way it seemed, forgave him.

"Sure, I know just the place." He led her out of the lab and down to the ground floor. There was a large kitchen, fully staffed, as food was not the only thing some of them we're good at cooking.

Cassandra had the same idea, and was walking with Quatre when Doc noticed them down the hall. At the joy of seeing his friend, Doc called his name loudly and ran down the hall, grabbing him in a large hug from behind. The smaller man still had enough power behind him to catch Quatre off guard.

All poor Q would hear before being impaled was "QUAAATREEE...ER, BORNES!"

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]"That's not the point," Q replied, still a bit nervous.
He however stayed silent as Cassandra led him toward the kitchen. His hands were in his pockets when he heard someone shout his name.

He didn't start to turn around until the "bornes" began, and almost immediately he was tackle-hugged. The breath left Q for a moment and his knees weakened. He winced slightly, taking his hands out of his pants and shoving himself away from Doc.

He was able to recover his breath momentarily. "What the hell was that for?"
Q didn't understand the concept of a tackle being friendly. He knew Doc posed no ill-intentions, but there wasn't a time with the Doc that Q wasn't confused in some way or another.

As his hands were brought up on the defensive, he looked passed Doc to see Anasti. His eyes narrowed slightly behind his sunglasses and he grit his teeth.
Why'd he have to bring her?

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastismaller.jpg[/imgright]

Anasti nodded at the Doctor's comment about Hybrid's and medical issues. She had had her own number of odd ones, although she had been blessed with enough Human DNA to spare her from some of the more debilitating illnesses. She reclaimed her daggers as they passed through the bubble room, strapping them to the sides of her black jeans underneath the lab coat she was still wearing as the Doctor literally pulled her down to the cafeteria.

When she entered, her silver eye immediatly caught sight of Quatre stepping in from the other side of the room with Cassandra, but she barely had time to blink before the strange human had hurtled across the room and nearly knocked Q over with his hug. She crossed her arms across her chest, following him quickly. She carefully avoided looking at Cassandra as she drew close, but she felt the chill that passed across the group as Q looked at her.

"Nice you see you too." she forced a sarcastic smile, not really in the mood to swap insults with either of the two assassins. She nodded her head in Q's direction and gave an odd jerk that might have been construided as a head nod in Cassandra's. "Glad to see you aren't dead, Quatre Bornes, although your taste in meal companions is somewhat lacking." she said quietly, cocking her head to one side. Her arms uncrossed and moved reflexively towards her daggers, a wince crossing her face as her broken hand brushed her pants. Maybe she should have grabbed those painkillers...

The wandering mind... wrote: "That was for me being happy to see you up and around!" Doc laughed, as he stumbled a step backwards from being pushed away. His eyes lighting up as he got a better look at Quatre's pants.

"Pockets! I love your pants!" He stepped forward, bending over and trying out several of the pockets on his legs, zipping and unzipping them, stuffing his hand inside them to see how much they held. "I would love a pair like those, I could carry so much with me. Hey maybe you can lend them to me sometime!" It would be funny to think about, as Doc's waist was not only smaller, but his legs a good seven inches too short to even think about such a switch.

Cassandra visibly rolled her eyes, equally at the two, though they quickly narrowed on Anasti.

"Why I find his taste impeccable, why Doc would be around a bitch like you however, I don't know." She was a bit more straightforward with her thoughts of the girl, seeing as she planned on being the one to one day end her life of course, having not liked her from the start.

Doc seemed oblivious to the tension in the air however and just laughed loudly waving everyone to the cafeteria.

"Aw, come on guys, let's just eat!"

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q would've given a disapproving growl to Anasti if his attention weren't immediately diverted to Doc fooling around with his pants.

"Wh--Hey!" Q tried to stop away, but of course with Doc's hands inside half of Q's pockets, it was pretty much a hopeless ideal. To add onto that, the cargo pants were heavier than what Q usually wore, so he didn't feel as if he could get out of situations as quickly as normal. This being one of those situations. Why did Doc always have to cause such conflicting thoughts? A friend, but an enemy, all at the same time.

"No you can't borrow them--" he shook his head. The mere thought was inconceivable. That'd be too weird, sharing pants. The issue of size didn't even enter his brain. "--They're mine!"

When Doc finally seemed to occupy himself with something other than Q's cargo pants, Q took a few steps back and crossed his arms over his torso, hugging himself lightly. The invasion of the bubble probably would not have hurt him so much if he wasn't meeting Ves today. With Vespasien looming over his head, Q's composure was that of overbearing doom. Or at the very least, humiliation. He didn't know how, but Ves would do it. Just to get his rocks off. Somehow.

"Yes," he said quietly. "Let's all just eat."

As they walked even further into the cafeteria, where there were more people than themselves, Q withdrew further into himself. Two hours? Two and a half? Is that all the freedom he had left? Even if they somehow succeeded in killing Ves, there was still a high probability of what they had once been coming into public view. His whole life would be on display for everyone, and he could just picture Marino sitting there, cigar in hand, laughing gleefully at Q's past, Cassandra at his side, adding to his emotional torment.

He'd get his food silently and hopefully he could go through the motions without being interrupted by the Doc or others. He needed time to think of all the possible scenarios in which he would be the center of negative attention. His morale went down by the second.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastismaller.jpg[/imgright]

Anasti couldn't do more then stare when Doc pounced Q and began rifling through the taller man's pockets. Frankly, she was shocked that he didn't end up decked as part of the bargain. She gave Cassandra an exasperated look as she fished her cigarettes out one-handedly, the splinted hand hanging awkwardly at her side. She hated to think it, but this hand could hamper her coming mission. She hated feeling like she was being held back, and when she dropped the pack of matches, still balancing the cig on edge of her lip and had to bend to retrieve them, she felt a fierce surge of annoyance at herself for putting her in this situation. She needed both her hands damn it!

She finally go the cigarette lit after dropping the matchbook three more times on the way to a table. When she looked up, she realized that they were all sitting together and Cassandra was practically glaring daggers at her from across the table. That was fine with Anasti, as she pulled in a long drag from her cigarette and returned the glare. She had more or less tuned out the Doctor up this point and, shifting her gaze away from Cass, she looked over at him. Her eye caught on Q and she was almost visibly shocked to see the look of worry etched across his forehead. Her emotions warred. She needed to remain seperate, she had been weakened because she had let her emotions grab control of her and she couldn't afford another screw-up like that. At the same time...she still felt the kinship connection with Q, being another Hybrid. And the strange doubling in her mind was still there, however bottled away. Ignoring the others at the table, she leaned in slightly and addressed only Q.

"Rough mission coming up, J?" she asked.

The wandering mind... wrote: "Aw, you're no fun Quatre Bornes, no fun at all." Doc laughed, finally releasing Quatre from his pocket hold before he tried to push him away himself. Doc didn't make a scene of it, but he studied Quatre's face as they walked into the cafeteria. He seemed so uneasy and tense, something more than Doc's repeated violation of his personal space.

Cassandra also watched Q, in between her glaring at the other girl, but she focused more on things like his ass, walking behind him, almost making a show of it as to say to Anasti, 'Hey, I had that.' She went through the motions of getting her food without even looking at it, deep in the habit of seeking the same thing daily.

Cassandra groaned inside as they all chose a table together, not wanting to sit across from that demonic looking bitch and have to suppress the urge to slit her throat right there, though it would make lunch more pleasant. At least it was easier to say no as it wasn't convenient or really cafeteria appropriate to fish her knives out of their hiding spots in the outfit she wore under his coat, so she merely took with glaring at her food whenever she got sick of glaring across the table.

Doc grabbed an extra brownie, slipping it onto Quatre's tray while he was distracted in his deep thought with the intention of making the man eat it as a therapeutic treatment should he question it. Chocolate always makes people feel better. So does chocolate laced with euphoric chemicals, but that was just not Doc's style, if you were eating special brownies, he'd let you know, forcing consumption or not, it was just polite.

He watched for an opportunity to talk to Quatre when alone to ask him what was on his mind. The look on his face worried him.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q was sitting next to Cassandra, opposite of Anasti. He looked down at his meatloaf and mashed potatoes, circling his fork in the center of the potatoes out of boredom.

"My name's not J," he sighed quietly, bringing his free hand to his face, leaning his head on it and the elbow on the table top as he stared idly.
"And I'm not worried about the mission..." He was worried about what would come after the mission. Or during. If Q screwed up and Ves didn't die, what would Ves do? Kill him? Force him to be his coworker like Marion had? And even if he did succeed...

Why was he even talking to Anasti, anyway? He hated her.

Q forced himself to look away with a snort, in an overreaction to show his distaste for her. When he turned back he could see Doc slipping back into his seat, and Q had a new item on his tray. A brownie.
He quirked a brow. "Don't like chocolate or something?"
He frowned and put his fork back into his potatoes. "I don't want it. But thanks anyway."

He hoped Cassandra could pull this mission off. Q had too much invested.

Page 16
Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastismaller.jpg[/imgright]

"My name isn't J..." Q's response quiet but more then enough to send shockwaves through her system, her eyebrows rising quickly and disappearing ito her hairline as he continued.

'J? Did I really call him J? Am I confusing him with....him, that badly?' she questioned herself, forcing the shocked expression from her face a few minutes too late. In a flash, she remembered the same look creasing Jeremiah's face as he sat, worrying over an upcoming mission.

'Rough mission coming up, J?' she would ask and he would sigh. 'Not the mission, Ana. The life after the mission. Do you think we'll ever be able to escape...being what we are??'

She hadn't been able to answer him then. Was there life oustide being an assassin? Was there life outside being a hyrbrid?

And now, Q had that same look of worry on his face and she compulsively wanted to swing her arm across his shoulders and give him a small squeeze of reassurance....

But this was Q. This was Quatre Bornes Lee. This was not Jeremiah. He was not her brother. She gave him a small nod and leaned back, picking at the food on her plate but not paying attention to it. His obvious distaste was evident in his eyes and she found herself more upset by it then she should be.

"Sorry. Thinking of someone else."she said quietly, carefully avoiding his gaze as well as Cassandra's as she shoveled a fork full of salad into her mouth. "Don't let yourself get distracted, or you'll end up dead. And try to avoid jumping from three story windows this time."

The wandering mind... wrote: Cassandra just laughed at Anasti's mistake, unknowing of the meaning of it, and even was she aware, she would likely only laugh harder. She leaned on the table, having already finished her food, not the most polite eater.

"There'd be no reason for little puppy here to be worried about the mission. We have it under control, and the way it'll go, Ves won't even know his old buddy Q was in on it until the slugs already split his head!" There was an almost sickening excitement in her voice at the prospect.

Doc pushed a small smile on his face, but the worry on Quatre's only made him worry too.

"Hey, I'm prescribing that brownie to you as your doctor, so you better eat it, and like it too!" He laughed, rubbing his head sheepishly hoping it didn't sound as bad as it did in his head.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q looked over to Cassandra, then back to Anasti.
"Yeah, this mission is not the trouble," he forced, shoving his food full of mashed potatoes so he had an excuse to not laugh along with the rest of them.

When he was done chewing, he looked over to Doc. "Too bad brownies aren't good for anything." He grabbed another forkful of mashed potatoes, talking again before he swallowed. "I'm not going to eat it."

[[Time jump maybe? Sorry it's so short, trying to churn out a paper before a deadline]]

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastismaller.jpg[/imgright]

Anasti gave him a small, almost inperciptable nod and turned her attention back to her food, concentrating on the wilted green salad so that she could block out Cassandra's annoying laugh and keep the overall pounding of memory from washing over her again.

Twenty minutes and about half a salad later, she pushed the plate away and stood, looking down at the Doctor. "I'm heading back to the lab. Those vials need checked on and I'm craving better company." she said, giving Cassandra a haughty look. "I'll meet you back there, shall I?" she turned on her heels, carefully pulling out and lighting another cigarette as she stalked from the room, jugging the pack and the lighter in her uninjured hand. She carefully, and obviously, avoided making eye contact with Q as she stood and left, but couldn't stop herself from pausing at the edge of the room and looking back, a lit cigarette drooping from her lips.

'No. He isn't Jeremiah. Not at all.' she thought, sighing a little as she took off down the hallway, finishing her smoke about halfway there and making her way back to the lab.

[[Mine's just short because I fail....T_T]]

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgleft]http://www.geocities.com/forever_hide/kodaka/masa1.jpg[/imgleft]

The man looked at his watch again, tapping the gold-plated Rolex impatiently as he turned to address one of the men sitting around him.

"They are very late. I do not like to be kept vaiting." he drawled, his Russian accent thick but not so much as to hinder its understanding. The man next to him stood immediatly, giving him a small nod and heading outside to scan the parking lot for their absent guests.

The Russian man sighed, running a thick hand through his thick brown hair. Renegade was not a man who liked to be kept waiting, but this business with Ves had been in the works for months, years even...and that alone was worth waiting, however rude he might find it.

A tall, lean figure stepped forward from the shadows of the bar, its gender indistiguishable wrapped from head to toe in black, the only skin visible was through a slit in the figure's hood where two pale, pink eyes shone through from beneath a tiny swatch of white hair. The figure bowed in front of him and he made an impatient motion toward it, as though to hurry up.

"They are here, I take it?" he asked and the figure nodded, pointing a long arm towards the door where several notably armed figures had stepped through.

'Looks like Ves wasn't stupid enough to travel alone, either.' he thought with a grin. "Stay with me but out of sight." he told the figure who nodded and stepped back into the darkness and vanished. The form was in fact, Renegade's second in command, an androgenous man named Forniph who had once led the ninja battalions of the Iron Claws, before the tragic death of thier leader and subsequent disbandment. Fornip had a penchant for being able to stay unseen, even when surronded by others trained to spot his presence. Coupled with the fact that his tongue had been removed several years prior, during his last days as an Iron Claw, and Renegade found him to be a perfect second. Silent, stealithy, ever-vigilent....and no tongue with which to talk back. And although...odd...Forniph was human.

Renegade couldn't stand Hybrids, and quite detested the fact that the man he was meeting with had them in his employ. A Hybrid had been responsible for the deaths of his son and daughter a few years back. Gruesome, ugly deaths that he had been waiting a long time to pay back to that hybrid with interest.

Ah, but greed makes for strange bedfellows, and the offer from Ves had been too good for him to pass up. He could stand the presence of a few Hybrids for the time being, especially when he had the delightful thought of the uses the money he was gaining from this deal would be put to, namely the several bio-weapons his scientist were working on that specifically targeted the DNA of Hybrids. It was such a delicious thought, a world completly free of those anamolies, that he had a broad smile on his face when Ves made his way to the table, surronded by guards. Renegade motioned his own battalion to part and make room and they did so instantly.

"Vespasien! My old friend!" he exclaimed, chortling loudly as he stood and embrassed the man like a long-lost pal although niether of the two men had met before that night. "How have you been, it has been much too long!"

The wandering mind... wrote: Resting in a shady part of town, the building looked vaguely different than the faded bricks surrounding it, if not for the neon green sign proudly proclaiming it's name in a flickering light above the front door, it would of blended in among the structures next to it. It was a 'themed' restaurant, to nicely put it. In layman's terms the staff wore very little, different outfits to cater different foods, and different tastes. There was of course more on the menu than the normal culinary choices.

Cassandra, only in her portrayal of 'Susie Peaches', fit in quite well, with her short tea dress, tall stockings and pigtails going well along side her cute made up face to fulfill any man's fantasies of more innocent girls. She picked this disguise knowing the preference to be fitting of one of Ves's higher ups, knowing he'd be easy to woe.

She worked through the first few hours of her shift without a hitch, and soon it would be time for her to really ham things up. Cassandra knew how it worked. Fumble just a little, laugh, red cheeks at your embarrassment. Not too much or you look suspicious, and nothing to pull attention to yourself except from the one you want. She knew how these girls worked, inside out. As soon as she got a chance to slip away from any others, she set up the bugs, testing them out.

"Q? Can you hear me? Are they here yet? Can you see them?" They had to learn what sort of business was going on with the two of them as well, and how Marino could benefit off it, with their destruction.

Queue was the first to step out of vehicle, though step was an inappropriate term, as she padded across the cement. She'd chosen a more canine form, not only because her senses felt strongest in such a natural state, but their 'associate' had a bit of a reputation before him of making a game of hunting people of mixed blood such as hers. She walked around in a circle, making a mental note of all the men Renegade had brought with him. She also picked up a scent she couldn't place it's origin.

Queue would have to be careful.

Not speaking, she lifted her head toward the vehicle, a sign to Vespasien that it was alright for him to come out. She made it her job, and it was, to protect her master at all costs. It was because of her, and others she had supervision over, that previous attempts to cut his life short had failed.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/Vespasien.jpg[/imgright]
Once the wolf hybrid, Queue, had signaled it was safe, Vespasien let out his Saluki, distinctly named "Sam"(Though Ves never really called out the name). It trotted out of the vehicle and paired with the body guard, giving a slight yawn from its longer muzzle. Sam was taller than Queue, but much thinner, and a purebred. Sam was simply a well trained dog and nothing more. It wagged its tail lightly, looking back to its owner with brown eyes as he walked into the restaraunt, followed by his five other purely human men, all in suits.

Ves stood out like a sore thumb in this restaurant. He wore what he wanted, giving no heed to what 'formal' was. He liked his trench coat with its many pockets, and although he was a newcomer to this particular city, he had more than enough power and money to wear whatever he wanted to any place at any time with no one complaining about it. And if they did, well, there would be a situation on their hands.

"Renegade," Ves forced a suspiciously fake smile, but joined the other man in a hug.
"I've been well, and yourself? I am... Please to finally be able to meet you," he offered his hand in a shake, and if it were reciprocated, Ves would quickly sit down opposite of Renegade.

He would give a curt whistle when he did, pointing to the floor beside his chair, where Sam would trot over and sit to the left of Ves's chair quietly, its tail wagging idly.

Vespasien's four guards would stand about the table, spread out, their eyes sharp. Of course, Ves would allow Queue to do whatever it was she wanted. He had learned early on that her kind was much easier to deal with when left alone. They could, after all, do things he wasn't even capable of dreaming of.

"I Would like our meeting to be brief," he stated, clasping his hands together and placing his elbows on the table, his face behind his hands. "I would 'ope you can understand."


[imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
Outside, Q was lying on his belly, still in his green garb. The sun was setting, but he still had his sunglasses on. It wasn't dark enough, quite yet. He was a little over 200 yards away from the restaurant, his rifle had a mat of fake grass over the barrel and most of the scope.

Cassandra's voice was faint, but he did hear it. Q himself was wearing an earpiece and a cloth color with a microphone on it. He gave a slight growl, as the microphone on the other end picked up the background noise of the restaurant.
"Yeah, I hear you," he grumbled, his eye focusing on the scope after a slight roll of his shoulders to stretch.

There was only one window, and Q could make out a queer group of men and two animals coming to a table. He saw a man unknown to him, and assumed Vespasien sat at the other end of the table, right out of view range. "They came in, but there's no way I can get a clear shot." He grit his teeth, debating on moving from his current location.

He looked up slightly, looking for another point he could snipe from without being noticed. The outlook was appearing bleak.
"I don't think I can get a clear shot of him. But this other guy. The one he's meeting with- I can get him?" Q was questioning, as if that were a good enough alternative.

Although he could swear up and down he had no problems killing Ves, he was still hesitant. They had been together for a very long time.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgleft]http://www.geocities.com/forever_hide/kodaka/masa1.jpg[/imgleft]



Renegade took the offered hand a shook it, two quick and solid pumps before motioning to the seat across the table from him which Ves quickly filled. He looked down at the dog as it trotted obediently over and sat at the man's feet, a tiny glimmer of dislike passing quickly over his face and replaced almost instantaneously with a broad smile.

"Of course, my friend. I understand. It vould not behoove us to talk too long. Just get this messy business dealt vith, yes? But ve must have a drink, of course!" he clapped his hands togther jovially, not appearing as if he was actually in any sort of hurry to broach the subject of thier meeting. It was best, after all, to not appear as if they were having a clandestine meeting, and the best way to shake suspicion was to act naturally. He looked up, dark blue eyes scanning the room for the delectable little waitress in the tea dress he had seen earlier. Peachs, he thought she had said her name was. Susie Peaches.

Unable to spot her, he waved a hand to his nearest man who nodded and made his way over to the bar, and ordered a pint of Scotch. Carrying it over, he poured himself a shot of it first and, when nothing happened, he handed the bottle to Renegade. The Russian didnt appear to treat this as anything out of the ordinary and filled the two large shot glasses sitting on the table up with the dark Scotch, passing one to Ves. "To our future prosperity!" he declared, raising his glass in a toast.

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Forniph remained crotched in the shadows, a dagger in each hand buried in the dark wood of the ceiling, helping to keep his slim form held aloft. His pale pink eyes surveyed the scene, paying specific attention to the two canines. One of them was a hybrid, he was sure of it. He had spent enough time around hybrids in his days as an Iron Claw to be able to tell a hybrid from a tame dog. Something felt off, something he couldn't place his finger on, but it was enough for him to keep his senses at thier peak, alert for any sign of trouble. It was this ability, and his stealth, that had allowed him to stave off many attempts against his boss's life. Unlike others in Renegade's command, however, he held no affection towards the man. In fact, he felt a deep-seated dislike for the one who signed his paychecks, but in the end, it all came down to money. Renegade had it. Forniph wanted it. Wanted it bad enough to kill. Bad enough to betray the Iron Claws. Bad enough to betray Renegade himself...if the right price was offered.

The wandering mind... wrote: Cassandra fought the urge to yell in Q's ear.

"No, we can't shoot the other guy. We don't even know who he is! Let's just get more information before you go dropping people, alright?" Sometimes that boy made her want to do bad things to him. Unfortunately some of them were things he might enjoy.

Cassandra had placed bugs underneath each of the tables in the place, and she looked around the corner at the men before activating the correct transmitter, allowing Q to listen in to their conversation. She sighed before wrenching her face into her cute little smile and adding a bob and sway to her step, she grabbed her things and made her way over to the table.

"Howdy gentlemen, how are ya'll today? I see you already have some scotch, could I get you fellows anything else to drink? Anything for the dogs?" She turned her head to them, tilting her head just a little as the wolf looked at her, as if it understood what she was saying.


Queue worked her way around the room before stopping a few feet away from the table, she listened to the conversation, but only idly. Her eyes were large and golden, and they darted around the room as she kept tabs on everything that was going on. She was in truth, Vespasien's top bodyguard more than the armed man standing around. Should something go wrong, she'd react before they even realized, which was probably the only reason Ves still kept her around. It didn't matter to her though, just that he did, and for as long as he did, she would faithfully do as he wished.

Her eyes sharpened on the waitress as she approached, were she in a more human form she would of rolled them at the fake, cheery attitude of the woman. Queue's tail was out straight behind her, parallel to the ground, she would stay suspicious of everyone and thing until her master was safely back in the vehicle, headed toward the well guarded warehouse.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/Vespasien.jpg[/imgright]
Vespasien took the scotch and clinked his glass with the other's, quickly downing the drink afterward. After the deed was, done, Ves slid the glass away from himself and resumed the posture had had before, the elbows on the table, his fingers entangled together in front of his mouth.

He had come today at Renegade's request. The situation was uncomfortable for him, but he for the most part he didn't show it. It was a rare sight to see Ves outside in public. He was certain there could be a sniper trained on him at any time. He knew he had more than enough enemies to warrant so. He always had to stay on his toes. Even if someone were to listen in on their conversation, it couldn't possibly make the threat on his life any worse than he had convinced himself it already was. He forced a smile as the waiter came up. His immediate thought of her was 'harlot', and it shone in his eyes as he judged her.
"Just water," he stated, "For me and ze dog please."

He turned his attention back to Renegade, even though the woman was still there. After the other man would undoubtedly make some large order to keep Ves there - which wouldn't work - he would speak up again.

"Now about my investment," he urged.
He wanted to get this over and done with as quickly as possible. His four guards were hungry and although they wouldn't be eating anything, he knew at least one of them would start womanizing despite their better judgment.

Outside the restaurant, Q's tail sunk between his legs. If he's meeting with Ves then he's undoubtedly bad, he thought to himself, disappointed he wouldn't be able to put a bullet through the man.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgleft]http://www.geocities.com/forever_hide/kodaka/masa1.jpg[/imgleft]


Renegade did exactly what Ves expected of him, turning towards sexy Miss Peaches and ordering a large order of food, accompanied by a round of pure Russian Vodka shots for himself and Ves. He even went so far as to give the waitress's ass a quick pinch, accompanied by a wink.

"Ah yes. Our bus-i-ness." The last word rolled across his tongue, tinted by his heavy accent. He waved a meaty hand, shooing the delectable waitress towards the bar. What needed to be discussed was for no ears but their own. Renegade would have preferred to have held this conversation somewhere a little more...private, but the security around both of the men would never have permitted it. Besides, this particular bar was a favorite of his, and it had always served his purposed before.

"Your investment vas very generous, Ves...may I call you Ves? Your name is a bit..hard to say." he said, face splitting into an almost lecherous smile. It was the money more then anything else that prompted this grin, the money and what it would bring about. "The project is progressing rapidly, as I am most certain you are avare?" He said quietly, shifting his beady eyes around the room nervously. "Ve should be ready for mass manufacturing vithin a veek. Once the manufactoring as progressed to that stage the...product...should be available in large enough quantities to cover the coast vithin a month." he finished, looking positively gleeful.

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Forniph held in a breath as the wolf seemed to glance slightly in his direction. There was no way she could penetrate the darkness and pick his form out from the indistinguishable shadows, but if she was a hybrid, which he highly suspected, then it was possible she might be able to smell his presence, even if she couldn't place it. That alone made him wary, and he shifted his position slightly, swinging his legs over his head from below, his double jointed waist making it possible for him to complete a full somersault in the air without letting go of the daggers in either hand. With his feet now placed against the wooden joint of the corner, he bent his legs, eyes scanning back and forth, prepared to propel himself to the ground with incredible speed the moment something appeared amiss. He caught himself wishing to force an exasperated sigh through his ruined mouth as he watched his employer pinch the waitress's ass, but quickly mastered the urge. His pink eyes shifted, looking out the window and into the rapidly darkening sky.

The wandering mind... wrote: "Water, right away Sir." Cassandra, or 'Susie' smiled widely at him, her lips a bright pink shade that secretly made her nauseous. She turned courtly to the other man, wishing she'd been able to catch his name. There seemed something vicious about him, and that, as always, intrigued Cassandra. She scribbled down his request and turned, catching his pinch on her behind and giving a little jump and cute squeal.

"Anything you want!" She giggled, and it made her sick. Cassandra wished she could hear more, but hoped at least Q was doing his job for now and paying attention. She quickly fetched a bowl of water, as well as a tall glass of it, for Ves, and the shots the other asked for, putting in the order for his food. She made a little show of handing out the drinks, giving little flirting smiles to the guards of the un-named man and when she set down the bowl for the dog, she made sure to give a nice view to him, as he seemed to be taken by her and she might need that advantage.

"Oh, he's so cute. He looks familiar, what breed is it?" She asked as she was bent over, trying to be as oblivious as she could. She knew better than to hang around and try to listen, that was the fastest track to trouble.


Queue kept her eyes focused on the waitress, suspicious of her, as well as angered by the attention she received, the woman being rather good looking. Yet her master's eyes did not stray to her, and that made all the difference in her heart.

She paced a little, trying to determine the source of the scent she'd picked up on before. It was light though, as if they had passed by before, or were somewhere above them. She lifted her eyes, but even her enhanced vision could not pick out the figure in the shadows. Still, Queue remained tense, she had the feeling something would go wrong.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/Vespasien.jpg[/imgright]"Ves is appropriate," Vespasien responded with a short nod, though his mouth, behind his clasped hands, was in a frown. He did not like this man. Most of the men he worked with he did not like, but this one was more filthy than the others.

Regardless, he jumped right in once the waiter had left, as she seemed to grab the man's attention while she was around.
"If you would like to keep ze funding, I want ze antidote." He gave a slight hmph afterward, quickly adding on "And 'alf ze agent."

When the waitress came back, he thanked her for the water. Sam stood up and backed away fro a moment, allowing the waitress to put the water down. Once it was on the floor, he wagged his tail slightly as he drank from the bowl.

Ves turned to the woman at her breed question. "It is a Saluki. Ze oldest breed zere is."
Sam's feathered tail resembled more of a horse's than a dogs, and were it not for it being brown, would've seemed eerily similar to a certain sniper's tail.

[imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
And that sniper's tail was stiffening, as were the other muscles in his body as he grunted. Antidote? Agent? Mass production? Q didn't like it. It seemed Ves was getting in over his head. Q was getting too impatient, and increasingly frustrated he didn't have a clear shot.

That was fine. It would be fine. Q reached his left hand back and grabbed his sunglasses, tossing them on the grass near him. The sun had finally set all the way, and he could see perfectly. Yeah, this would be fine. He was confident enough in his skills.

He put a green eye to the scope and re-adjusted the aim of his weapon. He was no longer looking through the window, but rather he had estimated where Vespasien was through the wall. He couldn't be too far off.

Q swallowed, gritting his teeth. "Now, Ves?" he said questioning. The way he had said it was almost as if it were another language, a foreign word signaling 'I want it done. I am ready, let me go.'

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgleft]http://www.geocities.com/forever_hide/kodaka/masa1.jpg[/imgleft]


Renegade's smile faltered as Ves demanded the portion of thier agreement he had been most...unwilling to agree to. As far as the Russian was concerned, there didn't need to BE an antidote. Every single hybrid on the planet could die, and die vicious, ugly deaths for what a single one of them had cost him. His large hands visible clenched into fists for a split second before he forced himself to relax. "The antidote is ready, of course. It is...safe, and ready to be delivered. But ve agreed on a fourth, I belief, of the agent. Not half. If I should give up half of the current agent, it vould set back production for months! No..." he trailed off, his dark eyes now holding a glance of resentment intermingled with fear as they passed over Ves's face and settled to glare at an indistinct spot on his shoulder, for fear of causing any more damage to the conversation by glaring directly at the man. "No, I cannot give you half, that vas not vhat ve agreed. The fourth ve agreed on is here. As vell as the antidote." He reached beneath the table then and pulled out a large, black briefcase and set it on the table between them.

The wandering mind... wrote: "Saluki? Wow, such an amazing dog." Cassandra smiled widely before quickly leaving, needing to let them continue their conversation, as well as to talk to Q. As soon as she was safely in the clear, she put a hand to her head.

"No. You don't even have a clear shot. We need to learn what's in that case..." She peered around the corner at them, only to freeze realizing the wolf was staring directly at her.

"Shit..."


Next to smell, the sense of hearing is the most acute of the wolf's senses. And Queue's ears were perked, pointed in the direction of the waitress. She had caught the last part of her sentence, and immediately knew something was wrong. She did not want however to blow her cover... having an idea of what exactly the agent was.

Queue lowered her head and let out a small whine, her eyes still caught in a staring match with the waitress, hoping her master would catch that something was wrong.

Page 17
Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/Vespasien.jpg[/imgright]Vespasien's hands went to the table, his teeth clenched. "'alf is what I will be getting if you want any more money."

He glowered at the other man. Sucking in a breath before he continued, he then stated, "And I want you to demonstrate the antidote before I take it." He heard Queue's whine then, and immediately began to stand, but continued his statement. "You 'ave two days to get zem to me."

He pushed his chair in, stepping away from the table, giving a casual glance to the window, then to the wolf on the floor. The Saluki looked up as well, standing in anxiousness. "What is it, Q?"

[imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q narrowed his eyes, hearing Cassandra curse. He knew better then not to say anything more. Had her cover just been blown?
Then he heard Ves.
What is it? Q?
He gave a low growl. How could he know?! He couldn't have! There was no way.
His index finger tightened at the trigger. He wanted to shoot. His tail flinched, flipping slightly to the side as he began a growl, but cut himself off.
Ves was leaving. He had to do something.
Cassandra! he begged, Give the word!

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgleft]http://www.geocities.com/forever_hide/kodaka/masa1.jpg[/imgleft]


Renegade also got to his feet, his face boiling with rage and beginning to turn an unpleasant shade of red. "Half vas not vhat vas AGREED!" he bit the scream back to a dull roar, slamming his fist down on the table, the briefcase jumping a little at the contact and he instantly threw a hand onto it to keep it steady. The liquids inside were not the most stable things and, although he had no fear of its contents, it wouldn't be a good idea to leak the agent into the restaurant. Or...perhaps it was? A shrewd idea was already forming in his mind, an idea that was a bit more on evil side of devious. Ves wanted a demonstration, did he? Well Renegade didn't have any hybrids in his employ, but he knew that Ves did. He hadn't seen them, but that didn't mean they weren't there. And if they weren't and the agent escaped the restaurant, then Ves and Renegade had nothing to fear from the bioweapon. It targeted only hybrids.

Reaching across the table, he forced the clips on the briefcase up and slid it open, revealing two silver containers, identical in every aspect except that there was an orange label across the left and a red label across the right. The writing on the labels was in Russian but Renegade didn't even bother reading them before plucking the red-labeled container out of the case and lifting it into his hands.

"I'll give you a demonstration immediatly, if you vould like Vespasien." he said, the venom in his voice gone, replaced with carefully measured respect. "Ve have nothing to fear from this gas, and should there be anyone nearby that vould be affected, then ve can demonstrate the antidote on them, yes?"

[imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/noba-forniphcopy-2.jpg[/imgright]
From his ceiling perch, Forniph's head jerked in the direction of the dog, the low pitched whine hitting his ears at almost the same instant as Ves stood. He didn't like the sound, it forced goosebumps to the surface of hs pale skin and set him even more on edge then he already was. All thought of the dog was thrown out of his mind when he saw Renegade throw open the briefcase and pull a silver container out from its depths. His pink eyes opened wide. Surely the idiot wasn't going to release that here of all places!

The wandering mind... wrote: Cassandra slowly backed around the corner she was at, this couldn't be good. It didn't take a genius to catch on that there was more to that wolf than first look gave away. She slipped her way into the kitchen, hiding in a cooler she fumbled for her microphone.

"Q? Q can you hear me? What's going on in there? I think I was found out.. by what looked to be a wolf." She shivered, both from the cold around her, and remembering the stare of the animal's eyes.

Queue's ears laid back and she stepped away from Renegade as he pulled out the case, her lips curling back in a low growl. This man was very dangerous. Her anger at his suggestion, as well as her need to tell her master what was going on, pulled her into taking back her other form. She stepped behind a few of Ves's men, one of which, recognizing the change in her figure, stripped off his jacket, handing it over his shoulder to her.

Her muzzle was shorter now, though still pulled back in a snarl, her ears, further down her head, more aligned with her eyes. They remained laid back as she closed the jacket around herself. Her patches of fur were irregular, it was thick upon the middle of her face, thinning out as it reached the edge, normal hair, in black layers, shaggy almost. Grey patches started half way down her arms, her hands fully covered, a similar pattern to her legs. Her tail was pulled back, straightened. Queue took the few steps back over to Vespasien's side.

"We are being watched. The woman." Her eyes were large, too large, the rich golden orbs of her iris taking up almost the slit, very little white showing at the corners. She was an example of how DNA did not always mix well. Queue's eyes remained focused on Renegade however, and the threat to her he held in his hands.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/Vespasien.jpg[/imgright]Vespasien's frown deepened, and he immediately snapped his fingers, pointing his two first fingers to Renegade. All four of Ves' men unholstered their handguns and trained them on the supposed business partner.

"You are an idiot," Vespasien growled, putting his hands back to his sides. Clearly it was not someone from the outside he should be afraid of. "If you do not put zat away, you will lose your life, along wid all your money," he hissed.

Then Queue came forth. Of course he was being watched. He was always being watched. As was everyone. Obviously there were more disconcerting things that needed to be dealt with first, such as saving his best (wo)man's life.

The Saluki got up and started walking away from the table, far enough of a distance to be able to see Renegade clearly. There it stopped, it's tail low. It gave a short growl. Salukis were not the most vocal of breeds. However, turning feral might change one.

[imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Outside, Q retrained his scope through the window, to answer Cassandra's question. He hated this. He wanted to fire a shot. He'd gone weeks without shooting anything. Even if he didn't kill anyone, he was tired of playing spectator.
"The other guy wants to test out whatever this agent is. Maybe a chemical weapon? I can only see one of Ves' men and he's got a gun trained on the other guy. He seems pretty pissed."

Q let out a disapproving growl. "Let me shoot them!" His muscles shook with the anticipation.
"Even if I only get one of 'em, it'll be for the better!"

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgleft]http://www.geocities.com/forever_hide/kodaka/masa1.jpg[/imgleft]


Renegade almost laughed when the wolf walked behind a few of Ves's men and reappeared as a....what the hell was that? A woman? His lip curled, caught between obvious disgust and sudden delight. He had been a bit concerned with his life when Ves's men had leveled thier guns. A bit. Not too much, knowing that Forniph was...nearby, if he didn't know exactly where. Now that he knew for sure that there WAS a hybrid in the room, he was even more tempted to release the gas.

"I vas merely making a point, Vespasien." he said carefully, raising both hands in the air, the silver canister glinting in the light in his right hand. "You may be the financial backer of dis project, but I vill not be bullied into delivering any more of the agent then vas originally agreed upon. Ve agreed on a fourth. That vas vhat vas promised and it is vhat has been delivered. As vell as the antidote. That vas vhat vas paid for. I vill not give you half." he said, the wide smile never leaving his face.
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Above him, Forniph was watching the men below with intensity, his feet pressed against the wood of the corner joint, ready to propell himself into the midst of the men if he felt his employer was in any real danger. His hands wrapped around the daggers and contemplated. He could take out two of the men before he hit the ground, but once he landed he was at a real disadvantage. His close combat skills were decidely.....lacking. He would have to relie on his speed to draw a third dagger as he hit the ground and hope to god they wouldn't all shoot at once.....he really didn't feel like getting shot.

The wandering mind... wrote: Cassandra frowned. None of this sounded good. Her mind raced over the options rather quickly.

"Q, can you still see the other guy or any of his men?" She knew he was trigger happy. A cruel grin not unlike the ones Marino was known to wear. Cassandra had been around him too long. Shooting at the enemy's enemy without them knowing who you are could only help the situation. "If so.. take one of them out. We might be able to use this conflict of theirs to our advantage. I just don't want them to release whatever agent they've got out there. Who knows what that shit does."


Queue only returned the man's look of disgust, nothing was more vile than his kind. Hating her for merely being who she was. She had never wronged him, but he would not think twice about killing her.. no that was his plan. To kill them all. She growled again.

"Master... how do we even know this cure is real?" Queue would not trust this man for anything.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/Vespasien.jpg[/imgright]Vespasien stayed silent as Renegade "made his point." Queue was the first to speak in Ves' uneasiness, her thoughts about the antidote mirroring his own.

"I do not zink it does," he replied, almost mournfully, his blue eyes not leaving Renegade's face.

Ves made a short whistle, Sam trotting toward his master.

Q gave a sinister grin outside. "Yeah," He retrained his scope once again. As much as Q wanted to take out the big wig, he knew that would be a bad idea at that point. Q went for a goon near him, to give them a scare. It was only moments before one of the guards for the business partner of Ves' was shot in the forehead through the window.

Both Ves and Sam turned to the man who fell limp to the floor. A brief flash of fear crossed his eyes. That wasn't his doing. But he had better get out of here.
"Two days," he forced, "Bring your own 'ybrid to prove to me it works. We will talk about ze amount of agent at a later date."

He turned his back to the Renegade, the four men in Vespasien's employ rushing behind their employer to form a sort of barricade between him and Renegade, their guns still trained as Ves attempted to leave the premesis. His pace was quick, but he tried not to run. It was important for him to not show he was afraid. He shoved his hands in his pockets, and gave a show with his chin so the Saluki would follow him closely toward the car.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgleft]http://www.geocities.com/forever_hide/kodaka/masa1.jpg[/imgleft]


"ренегат!!" the cry echoed on all sides as the head of man nearest to him exploded outward. Renegade's face expressed his shock, barely able to keep his hand wrapped around the silver canister as he found himself being propelled backwards by the hands of the other half dozen of his men who had stood as a mass and rushed towards him as soon as the shot went off, trampeling the remains of thier fallen member in thier haste. He dumped the canister back into he briefcase almost haphazardly and snapped it shut with a grunt.

"Fine. I vill meet your terms. Two days." he snapped at Ves's back, not really caring at that poin whether or not the man heard him. He hated behing backed into a corner in ANY circumstance, and Vespasien had effectively backed him into a corner on this one. He had no hybrids in his employ, hell, he wasn't even sure where he could FIND a hybrid in this city, and he'd be damned if he was leaving until he was sure that the production of the bioagent was well underway. He sniffed, his men gathering around him in a formation similar to Ves's, blocking him from any outside attack, thier guns revealed now and pointing all around them. The rest of the resturants few patrons had dived under tables after the man had been shot, a few of them still cluching buffalo wings and pints of beer, sipping and munching under the tables as they waited for the commotion to die down. This place was used very often by Renegade and others like him. The patrons knew what to expect when dining there.

[imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/noba-forniphcopy-2.jpg[/imgright]

Almost before the blood had finished the arch of its spray, Forniph hit the ground, the hilts of his dagger pressed agaist the palms of his hands, blades pointing outwards towards Ves and his entourage, but he made no movement towards him, waiting until the others had surronded Renegade and he was sure that the man was in no immediate danger. His employer turned to him, running a hand down his now blood-soaked jacket as he eyes his second in command.

"Find him and kill him." Renegade spat in russian, gesturing to the dead man on the floor. Forniph gave his employer a small nod and moved swiftly towards the door, and the generla direction of the shot.

The russian was not sure if it had been one of Ves's men or an outside party, since there were many he knew, that would like to kill them both, but it was his man that lay dead on the floor, and if it was Ves's sniper then he would deal with the consequences at a later point. He picked up the untouched shot of vodka that had sat before Ves, now tainted by flying blood, and downed it as he caught a glimpse of movement at the door as Forniph slipped outside. He wanted the sniper dead, he didn't care who he was.

The wandering mind... wrote: Cassandra moved out of the cooler, grabbing someone's coat off the rack she slid out through a back door of the restaurant, waiting until the cars left to head off to the left of Q's direction.

"Q, you better get your fine ass out of there before someone comes looking for the gun the bullet came out of." She called into the microphone, taking off.


Queue jumped at the shot, moving with the other men to get her master to safety, waiting to get into the car until he was safe. She took one last look around before getting in as well.

"Sir, I'm sorry." Her head was low, tail pulled close against her.

Q wrote: Vaspasien quickly went to the car, which had already pulled up. The man, his dog, and his wolf all entered first, before the four guards piled in afterward. The vehicle drove off even before the door was closed, and their first stop would not be the warehouse from before.

Outside, Q got the message. "I'm no fool," he growled, rolling over to a knee, glad to be off his stomach, and quickly taking the gun apart to put it in the case. Before he clamped the case shut, he tossed his sunglasses in. After he had everything, including the matte (which fit in the gun's case) he grabbed the handle and began to run toward a hotel. The very hotel Q usually preferred to target from. It was on the way to Marino's, but Q specifically ran toward here first in case he was being followed.

He didn't bother taking off his own mic nor earpiece as he ran.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/noba-forniphcopy-2.jpg[/imgright]

Forniph slipped out the door moments after Ves slid into his car and was whisked away. He got the glimpse of movement in the far field, just barely on the edge of his vision as he walked quickly through the shadows. He didn't see or hear Cassandra leave, too far away from the resturant by the time she slipped out to notice her in the midst of Renegade also being almost forced into his car, surronded by a half dozen men pressed close around him. His eyes were locked on the blurry, far off figure that had stood up and begun to make his way towards a nearby hotel.

He thought 'he', but it was really too far away for him to discern a gender, but he was gaining on him slowly, trying to stay to the shadows. Judging where he was heading, the albino guessed he was dealing with a merc, probably hired by one of Renegade's competition. If he had been hired by Ves, he'd been heading out of town to confront the man and get the rest of his paycheck, like any other merc. No, it looked like this one had been basing out of this hotel, and Forniph was hoping to be able to follow the man inside, undetected, and deal with him inside the confinement of a hotel room. He didn't look the idea of trying to execute the long-gun in the public eye, and inside the building there were more opportunities for him to use his stealth skills to sneak up and slit the man's throat, avoiding the close combat fight which he was not very good in. He reached a hand up to the hood of his outfit as they neared the hotel and came out into a much more populated area, unzipping it and letting it fall around his shoulders. His shoulder length white hair gleamed in the streetlights, pink eyes darting around cautiously. His kunai he slipped beneath the waistband of his pants, not visible, but not hard to reach other, and felt for the butt of the small revolver that hung at his back, under his shirt. He wasn't particularly fond of guns, but he wasn't particular fond of being the only knife guy in a gun fight either, and he'd use it if need be.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q was already out of breath when he reached the hotel. He spotted a valet driver he knew, and tossed the case to him, giving him a look of 'I'll pay you later.'

Q had been in this town long enough to form his own partnerships, though small. Marino didn't own everyone, and hell be it for Q to trust everyone in Marino's employ. Besides, Q couldn't run with a bigass case. He really couldn't run at all, considering.

A brief flash of panic went across his eyes, as he thought he should stop for a smoke before what happened last time happened again. He wasn't sure if he was being followed. He thought he was, could swear he could hear it, but Q couldn't see the pursuer, so was still rather confused.

He decided to jog to the side of the hotel building, near the emergency exit. He pressed his back against the hotel's wall, trying to catch his breath and get his heart to slow. The dark would be to his advantage. He had near perfect vision in the dark. Most others couldn't see a damned thing.
Leaning his head against the wall, he closed his mouth and tried to breathe through his nose.

If he could calm down enough, maybe he could figure out if he was really being followed. Through sound or otherwise.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/noba-forniphcopy-2.jpg[/imgright]

Forniph frowned as the figure threw suddenly veered away from the main doors he though he had been heading towards. Vaguely he got a glimpse of a valet scurrying away holding something large but dismissed it. Even if it was the sniper's rifle, he wasn't concerned about it at the moment. His duty was to find and execute the man who had gunned at Renegade. And he was good at his job. The figure had disappeared ahead, but he had been momentarily distracted by the valet and wasn't sure which direction he had gone. Sliding one of his daggers from his waist, he slipped it up his shirt sleeve and kept walking straight, stopping when he reached the edge of the building. Without turning the corner, he pressed his back against the cold stone and closed his eyes, trying to block out the sounds of his surrondings. The traffic on the street, the hotel guests clanging through the front door. Even with his immense amount of training he couldn't distiniguish any sounds of footfalls or breathing coming from around him, and he knew he had only moments to pick a direction. The sniper could have ducked around the edge of the building to the right of where the albino now stood, or he could have crossed the street and headed up the alley to the left. And, if he was on this side of the street, it was likely he had heard the sound of approaching footsteps suddenly stop. He had to make a choice. Weighing the options, he reasoned that the sniper was looking for as quick a getaway as possible and, as he was assuming this hotel was his base, a way to get into the hotel without being seen. To the right it was. He reached up and zipped his hood back up as quietly as he could, pulling the kunai into his left hand and placing his right against the butt of the gun which he shifted on his waist until it lay against his right hip. Then he turned the corner and padded as softly as he could muster into the shadows of the alleyway.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]The man was right there, at the corner. Q couldn't prove it, but he felt it. And instincts were to be trusted, right?

He flattened himself as much against the wall as possible. It was dark. He still had the advantage, and he had to keep reminding himself of that. As soon as he heard the man round the corner, Q held his breath, and tried to become as much a part of the wall as he could. If this person would just pass by him, he could run off....

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/noba-forniphcopy-2.jpg[/imgright]


Forniph frowned, peering through the darkness as best as he could. He could see better then the average human in the dark, but no human eye could pierce the darkest of shadows in the alley. It was a fact he both knew...and counted on. And if the sniper was anything like himself, he'd either run for it or cling to the shadows and hope the albino would pass him by. About ten feet from the emergency exit door he stopped. If he hadn't ru by now, he was either hiding...or Forniph had choosen the wrong path. At this point there was no chance of him catching the sniper if he had run across the street to the left, so he was left with the option that he might be here, hidden. Sinking back into the shadows, he flattened himself against the wall as best he could and slowly pulled a small ninja star from his waist. Bringing into his hand, he stretched his arm out and threw it straight down the center of the alley. His hope was that the movement would startle the sniper if he was hiding and force him into either revealing his hiding spot or running for it.

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Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q looked over at the man, and hoped he'd move on. His lungs were growing hot with need of oxygen. He frowned with his eyes when the man moved against the wall, then pulled out a ninja star. Q shook nervously. When it was thrown, he was slightly startled, not enough to make a noise, he hoped, but he did suck in all air he could when it thunked against the far wall. Hopefully his new inhalation would've been covered by the star's landing.

If not, Q was probably doomed. He was no good at close combat.
And this guy was a fucking ninja.
What the hell were ninjas doing in Dexterity?!

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/noba-forniphcopy-2.jpg[/imgright]

Nothing moved in the darkness and a frown passed over Forniph's lips until he heard the tell-tale hiss of breath being pulled in. He gave the man credit, he had timed his breath with the thunk of his star into the far wall almost perfectly, but this alley was shielded from most of the external noise so the albino was able to catch the edge of that breath that slipped just a little past the end of the sound. It wasn't enough to tell where he was. But it was enough to know that he was here. He pulled the dagger into his hand and crouched slightly, leg muscles prepared to spring either down the alley or out of it. As far as he knew, the sniper couldn't see him either, so it was really just a waiting game at this point. Whoever broke cover first was going to be at a disadvantage, so he settled in to wait. He was good at waiting.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q watched as the other man crouched and pulled out a dagger. Q frowned. This guy was good. But at least Q could confide in the fact that he was still 80% sure this ninja guy couldn't see him.

The hybrid tried to run through his head what he should do. He couldn't run, because he hadn't smoked. And if he ran for too long, he'd pass out. He already had a headache simply thinking about his blood pressure, let alone when an actual problem arose.. If it hadn't begun to already.

Stupid mission. If only their were such a thing as a cigarette that didn't give off light when it was lit, he probably wouldn't be in this situation. Pah at inventors. Q blinked, staring at the crouched man.

Maybe if he could just move slowly, he could slink alongside the wall and around the corner? Wasn't it dark enough to do that? But then, the sound... Q didn't think his hearing was that excellent. Surely a trained ninja could hear well.

Q couldn't think of what to do. He was struggling. He was trapped, and he couldn't keep holding his breath like this-- wait. wait.
Q took in another breath but forced a pant, then gave his lowest, slowest, guttural growl.
Maybe he could pass off as a dog, and the guy would leave.

It was a stupid idea, but Q thought it his best choice.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/noba-forniphcopy-2.jpg[/imgright]


Forniph stared into the darkness when the growl came up, his eyes visibly widening beneath his hood. A dog? Really?

'No one in their right mind would pretend to be a dog.' he thought and straightened up. It was such a stupid idea that he dismissed it almost instantly. No trapped merc was really going to be idiodic enough to growl like a dog in a darkened alley. But...it was still worth checking out. He was able to pinpoint the direction the sound was coming from pretty quickly and, letting his right hand drop away from the butt of the revolver, he stepped out of the shadows and walked towards the sound. He kept his dagger in his hand however. He didn't like dogs much.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]When the man started coming closer, Q muted his growl.

Idiot, Idiot, Idiot. Of COURSE he'll come over to check it out, and of course you're NOT a dog, and you just led him right to you! Q would've hit his head against the wall if he were not currently cornered.

Well, at least this ninja was being slow about it. It gave time for Q to think of something else. His gun. Guns were always good. He slowly ebbed his fingers down toward his back, reaching for the butt of his gun at the back of his belt. Once the man was close enough, Q grabbed the gun, releasing the safety as he pulled it from its holster, and sidestepped to shoot at the man's torso.

Should've been a straight enough shot, unless the ninja could see Q as well as Q could see the ninja.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/noba-forniphcopy-2.jpg[/imgright]


'Idiot, Idiot, Idiot!' he mentally cursed himself as he he got close enough to the shadow to make out the definetly human-shaped figure. The definetly NOT dog-shaped figure. But honestly? Who would have made such a stupid move? He barely had time to register the gun coming up and the shot ringing out across the alley as the man sidestepped, for he was close enough now to see that it WAS a man. He dove sideway, not managing to get out of the line of fire completly and he grimaced silently as the bullet grazed his side, drawing a line through the fabric of his shirt that gleamed white as his pale skin showed through for the briefest of seconds before flooding with crimson. The bullet didn't go in. He could deal with it. His lax right hand now found the butt of his own revolver, his dagger flying from his hand as he fell towards the space the man had just bee occupying. He was leaning heavily, but he'd still land on his feet and he didn't look to see if the dagger had hit, although it should have at least grazed unless the sniper was as fast as he was. He clutched his side as he hit the wall and rolled. The gun was in his hand but not facing out yet, as he struggled to keep his balance and turn around at the same time. Damn it. He hated close combat fighting.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q had half-expected the bullet to miss. Thank god it didn't. As the hybrid turned to run while the ninja had slowed down, the dagger sliced through his shoulder. Well, it felt as if it had sliced through his shoulder. Really, grazed the shoulder enough to take off a chunk of muscle and skin.

Q was more surprised than in pain, but evenso he let out a gasp as his knees weakened briefly and his blood began to pour.
It would've been better if the thing had stuck in his back.

Q's instinct was to run, and that instinct led him three steps before he turned himself around. His heart was racing and he was simply too nervous, and now he was losing blood. Not enough blood to worry a normal person, but more than enough to worry him. He raised the gun and hoped with all his heart, mind, body, soul, everything, that Cassandra still had her earpiece in, and that Q's microphone still worked.

Q started to panic as he began firing bullets at the man. Only the first shot was aimed for the head. Every shot after that was simply hoping it'd hit, as his vision progressively blurred.
"Cassandra," he yelled over his own gunfire, "I'm at the hotel and I need--" Something clicked in his head and he went dizzy. He couldn't really tell well he was aiming anymore but he hoped it was in the general direction of the man as his knees weakened.

"Please?" A wavering halfhearted statement.

He was gonna die here one way or the other. He was gonna die in the back of a hotel right next to a ninja. Fuck this shit. Why? Why?! Stupid Marino! If Q had only stayed in small claims...

It wasn't long before the gun started clicking instead of firing things.
Q would've been slow in realizing this, but if it got to that point it wouldn't have mattered, as he'd pass out within ten seconds of the gun running out of bullets.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/noba-forniphcopy-2.jpg[/imgright]



Damn it. He was shot. He really detested being shot. It was a large part of why he had trained himself to attack from a distance, using stealth and shadows. Now he was falling against the wall of a hotel, his blood smearing the stone through the fingers that clutched his side. He heard the gasp of pain from the sniper as his dagger hit, but that gave him little comfort as he managed to roll over right before he hit the ground, hearing echo of gunshots heading towards him. The first shot missed by millimeters, exploding into dust as it cracked the wall next to his head. It passing had actually knicked the very tip of his ear and he could feel the blood pouring down the side of his face as his pink eyes tried desperatly to focus on the blurry figure in front of him. He rolled sideways as the retort of gunfire echoed again and again, the man emptying his clip at Forniph. Even at his best he wouldn't have been able to avoid them all, and now he was on the ground, bleeding and dizzy. He grunted in pain as he felt a bullet thunk into his left leg just below the kneecap, and another tore through the muscles of his left arm, sending it dangling bloody and useless at his side. He stopped moving, his breath coming in quick gasps as he lay bleeding against the alley ground, waiting for the finishing shot. Above and in front of him, he heard the man's gun dry-click and yet he kept firing. He looked up but his own wavering focus couldn't tell if the man was falling or if it was merely his own exhuastion kicking in. He was hit too badly, unable to stand because of his leg, bleeding profusely from three wounds, and his left arm was useless. He saw the gun laying inches from his right hand as he wavered in and out of conciousness and reached for it desperatly, half-numb fingers closing around the butt. Forniph drew it towards his body and tried to point it at the shadowy figure of the man at the end of alley, but his vision was fading. He didn't know if the round the fired beneath his twitching trigger finger had hit, as he sunk into unconciousness.

The wandering mind... wrote: Cassandra was already running when she heard the first shot, the shot that Q had clipped the albino with, grabbing a cell phone hidden in the depths of her dress she turned it on as she ran, drawing a knife at the same time, wishing she had more on her.

"I'm coming Q, hang on."

The last few shots of Q's gun rang through the air, loud now as she turned the corner in time to watch him pass out. She stopped at the figure first, still breathing, but bloody and unconscious. As long as he was no longer a threat, she didn't care about him. Q was hurt.

Cassandra hoisted Q up into her arms... Damn.. it was easier when he was over her shoulder, the weight held in front threatened to pull her over, but she'd be damned if she dropped him. He was losing blood... not too much it seemed, but she couldn't be sure. Any loss was never a good one, well, in this case at least. It wasn't the first time his blood was on her hands. That was completely different.

She wasn't running, but moving at a fast walk, before a car came screeching up to her. A man got out and helped her gently load Q in, before racing off toward Marino's building.

It didn't take long to get there, not the way the driver went, it only took one look from Cassandra to tell him that his job was important, and when they got there, Doc was already waiting outside with a rolling bed to take him in. Carrying more would be pointless, that and he didn't know the extent of his injuries.

"He's grazed, loosing blood, but it's not as bad as it looks." Cassandra referred to the blood on her hands and dress. "I'm not sure why he passed out, unless there's more injuries I couldn't find..." She spoke once they'd gotten Q onto the bed, Doc quick to hover over him as they pushed inside and to the medical quarters.

"Only it is as bad. Say Cass, he ever tell ya what happened to him after you gave him those nasty wrist bruises?" Doc knew she wasn't embarrassed by such things, but his own nervousness in the area left him using references instead of words. He didn't wait, the look on her face to his question was answer enough.

"It's his heart, well, more the blood vessels to be exact. Dogs are larger, in comparison to a human, their hearts, circulatory system in total are larger. Quatre here has the normal heart of a human, but unfortunately, everything else is more in proportion to a dog, letting his heart get overworked too easily if he doesn't smoke or take something to help restrict his blood vessels."

Doc's hand was pressed with gauze against Q's injury, and as soon as they got to the medical facilities he set him up with an IV and a bag of his blood type. He added some medicine to his IV and sat in a chair. He was going to wait all night until he woke up.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Hours passed before Q woke up. His shoulder had been sliced and the last shot Forniph gave while Q was falling to the ground had hit his left upper arm.

Even before Q's eyes opened, he was cold. Not the death cold one usually felt, just slightly chilly. When his eyes slowly opened, he figured out why. His vision took a while to adjust to the dim light, but when it had, he realized his shirt was off. He looked to himself confused, noticing his left arm. Then the IV.

He gave an almost pleading look to Doc, who was sitting at the edge of the bed, before turning his face and yanking the bedsheet over his head with his right hand.
"Thanks," the muffled answer said.

Underneath the covers, Q sighed and closed his eyes. God, he felt so weak. He didn't need anyone looking at him. Or at his embarrassing scars down his back, and the large ankh tattoo that attempted (and pathetically failed) to cover them up.
Whoever had taken his shirt off would've been bound to see his back, and it had probably been Doc.
The longer Q stayed in this building, the further he was emasculated. He didn't need this.
He should just off himself from being so pathetic while he had the chance.

This was why the Sniper Academy didn't allow those without perfect health to attend.
Situations like this.

Maybe it wasn't worth it.

Raine_Hinata wrote:

A car pulled up within minutes of Cassandra arriving and getting Q out of there, half a dozen men piling out of the dark SUV and grabbing Forniph, throwing him unceremoniously into the back of the car. A man in a white coat pulled the albino onto his lap and unzipped the ninja's hood, letting the shoulder length white hair fall across his lap as the other men got into the car. "Take us back to headquarters, I can't treat him here." the man, obviously a doctor of some sort, snapped and the driver instantly complied, heading back towards the hotel where Renegade was currently holding his base of operations. Once there, Forniph was whisked inside and into surgery to remove the embedded shard of metal that had once been bullets from his body. Several hours later, he was in recovery, still weak and his left arm looked indefinably mangled from the bullets passage but he was alive. But there was no one sitting by his bedside, anxious for him to wake up. Not in a long time.


[imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastismaller.jpg[/imgright]


Anasti was flying down the stairs, the elevator would take too long. She had just set the poison on its last, several hour spin, before completion when the news floated up from the other lab techs. Q and Cassandra were back. And Q was hurt. She didn't know why she cared so much, with the idea of his constant doubling with her brother pushed to the back of her mind. She only knew, as she lept down the stairways from landing to landing, that she wasn't going to have peace of mind until she knew that damned dog was alright. She reached the infirmary and nearly threw the door open, panting heavily as she stood in the doorway, her silver eye flashing with impatience as she struggled to pull in a breath. Her labcoat was hanging off her shoulder and her hair had come unfurled as she ran, draping over her shoulder haphazardly, her wings stretched to thier limit and a tiny growl in her rasping breath. She gave a glance down at Q as she calmed herself down and a growl actually did come off her lips. She wasn't expecting him to be awake. She felt exposed, her concern clearly showing on her face as she had burst into the room. Leaning against the wall, she pulled in a breath and brushed the hair back from her face, trying to look nonchalant although nothing could take back that initial look. "I see...that you're alright." she said, still breating heavily as she crossed her arms across her chest.

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc just grinned at him. He was glad to see him awake and cognitive enough to be shy about his position, shirtless and all.

"It's my job." He laughed, leaning forward in his chair. "And hey, what's with the sheet? I've already seen all of you." He pulled it back with a wink. "Besides, that's a pretty kickin' tattoo you got there, one of my favorites, the Egyptians were rather bad ass." His face was cocked up in huge grin.

"Oh, before I forget, I got something for you." He turned and found a bottle of pills. "Nothing super fancy, but as long as you don't forget to take two a day, you'll be just fine. Not that you aren't already..." There was a slight blush to Doc's face before he turned away. "Though you'll have to cut back on the cigarettes, no smoking unless you're going to be decently active, okay? We don't need you dying of a heart attack."

Doc turned back a moment later when Anasti burst in, a frown on his face. He'd wanted a little alone time with Q that actually involved him awake. That and he wouldn't talk about Q's condition around her. He would never do that to him, he wasn't weak, he just couldn't help it.

"Yeah, the strong little sucker will be just fine." Doc laughed, noticing the look on Anasti's face before she pushed it off.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q frowned as Doc pulled the sheet back, but made no effort to fight the man over it.
"It's a shitty tattoo," he grumbled, looking away from Doc.

He perked up when Doc said he had gotten something, though. Sitting up with a slight wince, he looked toward the pills, both relieved and slightly disturbed by them. "Thanks. I'd like to think we both don't want that," he replied with fake enthusiasm. This whole day had been pretty shitty, and Q couldn't really fake his love for life right now. He wondered if he had succeeded in killing that ninja guy before he passed out.

Q was surprised when Anasti came in. For a moment he thought it would've been Cassandra... Not that he cared about her. When it was just Anasti, he turned away from her and leaned his back against the bed.
Instead of saying anything about his condition, he just looked at the bed, kind of down.

"Isn't there... Something else you're supposed to be doing..." he reprimanded quietly.
He didn't like being here. Even though the room was slightly bigger than his apartment, he still felt slightly claustrophobic. At least the last time he'd almost died it had been in his own room. Albeit it was owned by Marino too, but it was better than an all white room with a hospital bed and medical supplies in it. He flipped his tail to the side, under the covers. It made an awkward cloth noise. Q gave a shallow laugh.
Of course that part of him still worked.
He gave a disappointed sigh.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastismaller.jpg[/imgright]

She bristled at the tone of his voice, almost lashing out like a child and storming from the room.

'Fine. Sorry for caring.' she though but bit her tongue and held back the smart remark. He looked depressed. In an effort to both answer his remark and to further brush aside her intial reaction, she made a quick movement with her hand.

"Watching a centerfuge spin isn't exactly the highlight of my night. I thought I could find something more interesting to pass my time." she said quietly and immediatly regretted it. It had come out alot more cold then she had meant it. She hadn't meant it to sound as though his living or dying was about as interesting as watching a centerfuge spin, but in retrospect she realized it didn't matter. He had, apparently, choosen to dislike her, so there wasn't much she could say wrong. "At least this time you're in the infirmary instead of dangling upside-down from a couch trying to smoke a cigarette." she said, trying to avoid looking at him, but making no move to go.

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc rolled his eyes in his head. The tension in the room was stifling. He should do something to cut it. In his mind he went around karate chopping the air in attempt to do so.

"I've actually always wanted to try that... hanging upside down and smoking that is. It'd be interesting, switching the pull on your lungs..." Doc trailed off, then shook his head. He was too much in his thoughts tonight.

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Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q hmphed. "Yeah, whatever."

Hanging upside down smoking a... wait
He glared at her. "How would you know that?"

He ignored Doc's attempt to change the subject and gave the man an accusatory glare, his brows furrowing.
How could you? he thought to himself.

Q didn't remember much of that night. He didn't remember Anasti being there, and so thought Doc had told her about what had happened. Did he tell Cassandra too?
Why would he?

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastismaller.jpg[/imgright]


Anasti gave him a look. Was he playing with her? "What do you mean, how do I know? I was there wasn't I? I had to push you off Doc here at one point to keep you from ripping out his throat. But no, you probably just wrote of my existence as what...an armchair? You know, I'm really getting sick of you." she spat, the venom in her voice making it sound hard and cold.

"You're the only one that matter, aren't you Quatre Bornes? And fuck anyone else who might, for inexplicable reasons, actually give a damn!" her voice was shaking now, unable to hold back the bottled emotions she had been feeling. "And I don't know why I give a damn, so don't ask. But seeing you...like that, that night. I don't know. You reminded me of my brother. So I care. Not that you give a shit." she turned suddenly, tears springing to her eye that she did not want him to see. "I think the centerfuge just might be more entertaining." she almost whispered, sweeping from the room and running off down the hall.

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc frowned, pulling back mentally as well as taking a step back at the glare Quatre sent his way. He was hurt by it. He didn't do anything wrong, did he?

He also tried to make himself small at the arguing between them. He was usually good at settling these sort of things, but this just.. seemed different.

As she stormed out Doc spoke up.

"If you want to go after her, I'm just going to tell you know that I can't let you get up." Doc frowned a little, before forcing a smile for Quatre.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q turned to Anasti as she spoke. He seemed uneasy. He didn't remember her being there at all, and that made the comments hurt that much more. He opened his mouth to say something, but she kept talking anyway, and then ran off.

Taking a moment to figure out what exactly had just happened, he only gave a sigh and looked at the foot of his bed in response. Once Doc had said his piece, Q laid himself down gently with a slight wince, so he could stare at the ceiling.
"I don't remember her being there."

He swallowed and closed his eyes tightly. He hated this.
"Why do girls always have to be so damn emotional over nothing?" he forced.
As if his health mattered to Anasti. He didn't even care about her.
"Her brother, ha," he grumbled. "I bet his blood is even filthier than her's. What an insult."
Maybe if he kept being racist he could tear the hybrid part of him out of himself with words. It was that part of him that brought him into this mess to begin with. His life would've been perfect if he were just a regular human.

To think he had been proud of being a dog only days a go.
What an idiot he was.

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc's face fell at his words, listening to Quatre put him, and his kind down like that was ridiculous. He couldn't stand to listen anymore.

"Knock it off right now. I'm not going to stand around and watch you feel sorry for yourself." Doc walked to the side of his bed, and laid a hand on his arm.

"Look, sure, you're not perfect, no one is. But just to feel bad because of what you are and the limitations that come with it, I know you're better than that." Doc smiled genuinely at him. "You should be proud of who you are. I am. The Quatre Bornes I know is pretty freakin' awesome, and he better not go away anytime soon."

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q eyed Doc suspiciously when the man put his hand on Q's, but didn't make an effort to move it, as the IV was there. He simply stared at Doc instead.
"Well what do you expect me to do?" he hissed. "It's not even been three days and I've almost died twice. May as well just finish me off now before the third time."

He looked down to their hands, then to Doc's eyes again, glaring. "Your kind is supposed to be proud of your patients anyway. That's what you do. You just say this crap so I'll live. If I didn't, I wouldn't be another notch on the belt of people you saved." And everyone knew what a great bragging right that was. Or at least, that's what Q thought.

Despite his agitation, he had, for a moment, believed Doc. And it would've made him calm down, probably, if the rest of his day hadn't been such crap. Cass, Ves, ninja huy, Anasti. Hospital bed.

Fun.

The wandering mind... wrote: "You could of died three times in those three days, but you didn't, cause you're stronger than that. Most people wouldn't be laying in that bed, they'd be dead, after all you've been through. That part of you you're being all pouty and hating right now is what makes you strong enough to still be here." Doc smiled widely. "Besides, that tail of yours is darn cute and you know it." He laughed.

But after a minute his smile faded as the subject grimmed.

"There's a lot more people I couldn't save, or I saved and they went right back out there until they never came back, and thank you very much, but I'd like to keep notching my belt for you. In fact," Doc stood up and loosened his belt, pulling it from his pants. "Here," He grabbed a small scapal, and cut two notches into it. "You don't come back, and I'll never wear a belt again! How about that? Can you live with the guilt of knowing for the rest of my life my pants will keep falling down? Can you?" Doc was getting a little silly, but that was how he dealt with such things. He wanted Quatre Bornes to smile for him. He just didn't look good any other way.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q couldn't help but smirk for the briefest of moments at the tail comment, though it was quickly overcome with a curious look as Doc began taking off his belt. Q sat up, another wince filling his face momentarily as he watched.

Q fought the urge to laugh. Doc was silly and knew how to brighten someone's day, but.. it was almost like a challenge Q had to win by staying mopey.
"You're being stupid," he suggested. "Put that back on."

Doc was acting sort of weird. More touchy-feely than normal, maybe? It made Q wonder if he really had almost died this time. He wondered if he had a heart attack in his sleep. His chest didn't hurt. But could someone feel like they've had a heartattack if they were asleep? Or would something like that wear off? Deeper thoughts than Q was used to pressed his face and he looked away, trying to get his mind off the worry. Maybe he could change the subject.

"Why do you work for Marino?" he asked, still determined to stay depressed. His voice still showed it.

The wandering mind... wrote: "Fine, fine, but you know, my belt just doesn't come off for anyone." Doc winked at him. It was worth the fight to get him to brighten up. Besides, Doc really liked Quatre, and was not about to bury him anytime soon, especially in sorrow.

"Marino? Well.. I had a lot of connections with some of his lower guys, bit of a rough patch ya know how it goes. And I guess some things happened, and my life views changed around. I sorta dedicated myself to saving people, you know? And what better way than to go to the source of a ton of injuries around. I mean I know it's not the best... I could try, go some where else, really help people.. but I think I feel better helping people like you and me." Doc just shrugged. It made sense to him.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q was a bit unnerved at the belt comment, but chose to ignore it, continuing with the Marino conversation.
"But my job is to kill people. And I'm sure everyone who is in this building is a murderer." He cocked his head the slightest bit, his voice lowering.
"By saving people here, aren't you just killing more?"

What was that saying? Birds of a feather flock together? Hang around down people and they'll bring you down? Q almost seemed determined to crush Doc's bubbliness.

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc paused for a moment, wasn't the first time it'd come to his mind.

"Well, yes.. that's true. But if I'm not here to patch them up, are they going to stop it? Who knows, in pain induced persuasion I might be able to get them to just beat that guy up next time, or take the shot in the leg. But no matter... If I wasn't doing it, they'd get some untrained hack, or some cold uncaring doctor. You can't heal when you don't have passion. You know about passion in something Quatre Bornes?" He smiled at him, just.. looking at him for a minute before going on.

"Not to mention I've been here forever it seems. I was still a kid and just started patching up the guys around me, just got swept up into things. I don't think I could leave if I wanted." He laughed half-heartedly. "Besides, I wouldn't with you around!"

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q looked ashamed when Doc started talking about passion. He momentarily recovered when Doc began to talk about his past, if only in a few short words.

"But I'm not here because I want to be," he mused. "I don't even know why I'm still here. I could just walk away.."

He shook his head slightly, his eyes frowning as he leaned forward. "I wouldn't be in this bed if it weren't for Marino. I never had problems with my damn heart before. But he has me going on this stupid.." he grit his teeth, clenching his right hand into a fist.

Q was holding back tears. He missed his safety net. He didn't like things being uncertain. In his constant excuse of Small claims, he knew exactly what was happening and how easy it would be. He was never challenged, he didn't have to run half the time, and he made enough to make a decent living. Now Q didn't know what the next day would hold, he wasn't his own boss, and each time he went outside he had to think, really think and rely on past skills to do his job.
It was all just fun and games while he was sleeping the days away on broken legs. Now that he was actually working, it was different. And he had such conflicting feels about everyone.
Doc? He didn't know what to think. Whether to be afraid or not, threatened or not?

It was this stupid room. It as making him doubt everything.

He popped his head up, "Do I really need this?" he brought his right hand to his left arm, starting to peel away at the tape that held in the IV. "I don't need this anymore, right?"
He wanted to get out of this room. Just be by himself for a while.
If he disconnected this, he could leave, right?

The wandering mind... wrote: "Then why haven't you left? Maybe you like actually pushing yourself. Sure it's great where you were before, everything was simple and under your control, but were you really happy? Everyone loves a challenge, whether they admit it or not. It's more exciting, hey, you almost died! Twice! What could be more exciting than that! Well.. I can think of a few things, that I would say are less dangerous, but just as exciting, but I know who you slept with last." Doc laughed loudly, hoping he'd laugh at the joke in it too and not take it seriously. Cassandra was such a harsh woman.. Doc wished only to take care of Q, and it traveled over into that front as well.

"And YES, you do need that." Doc put his hand over Quatre's, stopping him from pulling on the needle, which could leave a nasty bruise if not done right. "Look, just take a day or two to relax okay? You don't need to worry about the stupid job, your past or your future. Just lay in bed and be waited on by me!" He laughed again. "I can't be that bad to be around, can I?"

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q shook his head. "No, no I don't..."
He scowled when Doc once again put his hands on his own. Q froze up for a moment, allowing Doc to finish his few sentences as Q stared at him with an almost blank expression.

After a brief pause, he looked down at his IV and tried to push Doc's hand away. "No, I don't think I need this," he said, trying to convince Doc moreso than himself. He actually went to take the needle out this time, with a wince.
"I don't need to be here, in this room, or in this building, and I don't need this thing," he growled as he attempted to take it out without damaging himself -- provided Doc didn't try to stop him again.

"I'll just leave now before I get sucked in again."

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc frowned, if he kept fighting, he was going to make it worse, so he carefully pulled it out, pinching so it wouldn't do more harm.

"Why? What are you so afraid of? What's wrong with staying here?" Doc was not about to let him leave however, and should Quatre try to get up and go, he'd wrap his arms around him and attempt to hold him to the bed. He might be short, but Doc was stronger than he looked, as he'd picked Quatre up last time in his room to put him on the couch.

Page 20
Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q winced as Doc pulled the needle out for him. He inwardly thanked the man.
But no appreciation was actually seen as Q kept on with his negative attitude.

"I'm not afraid of anything," he lied, but his eyes were determined. "This place is gonna kill me. TO Hell with Marino. I'm leaving," he growled, tearing the blanket off him and attempting to get up, only to have Doc throw himself ontop of Q.

"What are you doing?" Q growled, trying to push Doc off him. "Let me go!"

The wandering mind... wrote: "It's just a hug! A forceful hug in which I try and persuade you to not leave so quickly, plus if you get up there's a good chance that you might pass out again, or in the very least be really dizzy. Which from experience makes little things like walking difficult!"

Doc hoped, really really really hoped, that Quatre did not notice the flush that came to his face with their contact. Especially seeing as Quatre was only wearing boxers... Doc legitimately removed his pants to check for wounds, and didn't think twice about it, medical issues and concern would of blocked any such thoughts. Unfortunately he didn't have anything to do so right now.

So at that very moment, with Doc wrapped around and trying to shove down a determined Quatre, Cassandra decided to have very bad timing.

"So I just came to see if puppy was awake yet and.... oh...." She tilted her head looking at the two of them with a queer smile on her face. "Sorry to interrupt, glad to see you're well Q." She laughed and turned, walking right back out, this time shutting the door, which she must of hit the lock on, as it clicked loudly behind her.

The entire scene just made the poor Doc blush even more, as he was less focused on keeping down that blood flow than another.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]"I won't; I feel fine!" he growled, shaking his head. And Cassandra came in. He saw the look on her face, and Doc's face wasn't the only one that went red. Though it was less his face, and moreso his neck, creeping up to his chin.

Q hadn't blushed many times in his life before. The experience was awkward, made his face feel funny. He looked back to Doc with wide eyes when Cassandra locked them in.

"W-we're not...?" His voice cracked, not even getting to the subject of his question. "Right?"
He looked down, and that was when he went lightheaded, his face magenta up to his cheekbones. It made sense he wasn't wearing much clothes, but he still hadn't been expecting it.

"Right?" he urged, his voice almost a full octave higher as he looked up at Doc with quite possibly the most dumbfounded expressions Q had to offer.

The wandering mind... wrote: "Uh.. " Doc's face turned an even darker shade, if possible, but he couldn't make himself move from the awkward position... mostly because of what the movement could give away.

"It's really just.. a matter of how you look at things?" He tried not to think of Quatre, tried to think of something to kill the thoughts in his head.. but ahh, damn did he look adorable as he blushed as well..

"You.. really shouldn't get up..." No... he should lay down, and Doc with him...

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q was so confused. He was confused before but now, even moreso. Almost to the point of fear.
He took a big breath, his face still quite red, only getting redder as time wore on.
"It's wrong," he whispered, as if trying to convince himself.
Doc was a friend. And more than that, someone of the same sex. Q had spent a lot of his life taking that part of him, shoving it in a box and stowing it away.
But Doc was the first person who seemed to genuinely cared, and it was a sort of motherly relationship. It almost felt like it was bound to happen anyway.

But then Q remembered that was almost exactly what had happened with Ves, and despite his blood attempting to reroute itself downward, Q forced a warning growl, trying to come to his senses.
Ves had just tossed him to the side. Q wouldn't make that mistake again. Doc would be the same way.

"You've got ten seconds to get off me before you get hurt," he warned.

The wandering mind... wrote: It's wrong. He just mulled it over. He already knew from the comments he'd made the night before that Quatre was not very open with a part of him that he should be. Doc knew it wasn't that the man simply wasn't interested. There is only so much you can hide from him.

"Not wrong..." Doc whispered back, his face soft, not a smile on it, but not a frown either. "Caring for someone is never wrong."

He didn't fight when Quatre threatened him either.

"Just don't try to get up, okay?" His smile was sadly forced, and Doc wasn't doing well to hide that fact. He wasn't about to just stop caring about Quatre, Doc wasn't capable of such a thing anyways, especially in this case.

"Sorry, didn't mean to get in your personal space. I know you must hate it here. The decorations really suck, don't they? I think it needs a little more color. Marino of course isn't keen on the whole wasting money, non-professional looking gig, but I've saved up, maybe you can help me spice the place up? We could do a red and black little theme just for you." His laugh was uneasy.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q stared down the Doc as he slowly got off Q, and then attempted to change the subject with a futile effort. Q's tail flipped once before the emotion crept back into Q's thankfully much paler face.

"Maybe some other time," he forced, and then he scooted himself forward and got off the bed in the speediest way he could which.. Wasn't very speedy.
He wavered on his feet slightly, his eyes rolling a bit due to dizziness. It took a moment to recover but once he had he pulled the sheet off the bed with two hard jerks and wrapped it around himself like a cloak. Mostly in an effort to cover up his backside than an attempt to get clothed. His right hand was the one he tried to use. While Q's left and dominant arm wasn't in that bad of shape, he still tried to defer from using it for the time being.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastismaller.jpg[/imgright]


Anasti ran down the corridor and around the first corner before she collapsed against the wall, the tears she had been fighting finally sliding down her cheeks.

Dammit! Why in the hell was she letting Q get to her like this? Why did his indifference matter so much? She had trained herself past this emotional connection, swallowed her care about anything but revenge the night Jeremiah had died in her arms. And that was it. That was the defining factor. He was just so much like J that it drove her mad. She couldn't count the number of times she had come across the bat hybrid curled into a corner, wings draped over his shoulder as he sat brooding, that same look of worry and depe thought etched across his face that Q had just borne in the infirmary. She was so consumed in her thoughts that she barely heard the footsteps coming down the hall towards her right after the distant sound of a shutting door. Quickly, she wiped away the obvious tears in her cheeks, although her puffy and bloodshot eye still more then enough to tell she had been crying and started to walk away.

Whether it was Cassandra, Marino...hell, even Mario or just a nameless one of the many workers in the building, Anasti was not in any emotional state to deal with them at the moment...

The wandering mind... wrote: "You know.. you don't listen very well.." Doc rushed over to him, ignoring the repeated violation of personal space for the fact that Quatre was putting himself in danger. He grabbed him, using their height difference to push himself up under Quatre's arm, supporting him so he would not fall.

"What is it going to take to get you in bed?" Doc laughed half a second later, a more real laugh, realizing what he said. "But seriously Quatre Bornes, I'm not about to just let you go and make all that work I did patching you up for nothing. That wouldn't be a nice way of saying 'Thank you', now would it?" He paused in thought for a moment.

"I know, come on, I'll get you some place you'll like a little better." He lead him through the medical quarters off to a closed door, which he pushed open with a kick of his foot, laughing.

"Always wanted to do that. This is my place. You can crash here, I can't let you go back to your room just yet. But you need to be here in case anything goes wrong, so I can keep an eye on you." The room before him was a hell of a sight, lots of colors, posters, beaded curtains, the whole nine yards.


Cassandra almost turned around spotting Anasti, that is until she realized she was crying. Huh... she would of pegged her for being a bit tougher than that. No matter, it made things cheerier for her.

"Something wrong? I'd suggest you go see Doc, but you wouldn't want to interrupt them now, with Doc being all on top of Quatre and the whole lack of clothes." She wasn't specific. Sure she'd noticed boxers on him, and sure, there could of been some legitimate reason for the position, but where the hell was the fun in that?

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastismaller.jpg[/imgright]

The hair on the back of Anasti's neck rose at the sound of Cassandra's voice and as she turned to look at the other assassin, she forced the most sarcastic look onto her face that she could. She managed to hold the nasty smirk for a whole of 10 seconds before it fell off her face, replaced with a sad frown.

"No. I definetly wouldn't want to interrupt that, even though I'm sure you know that that was not what it was." she said quietly, crossing her arms across her chest. "Its nothing to worry about. I'll visit the doctor later. After he leaves the infirmary. I just can't stand to be around Q right now..." she traied off, looking furious at herself for revealing that much to someone she so obviously disliked.

Disliked wasn't a strong enough word. Wanted to drive a knife through her face. That sentiment was closer. "What happened to the two of you anyway? Quatre bit off more then he could chew with this assignment?" she asked, curiosity overwhelming her dislike. As much as she wanted to deny it, she did care. And she did have some measure of respect for both Q and Cassandra's skills. She wondered what could have happened to land Q so desperatly in the infirmary.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Just as Q got the sheet over his back, Doc forced his way under Q's arm. "H-hey--" he didn't bothering finishing the rest, instead simply deciding to give up and follow the other man's guiding.

When they reached the room, Q flinched, stopping in his tracks. The onslaught of colors and smells caused him to hesitate. Q hadn't seen anything too like this before, and the vivid difference between Doc's room and the entire outside world was jarring to him. He flinched, his muscles tightening afterward.

It was only a second or two before Q adjusted and he dropped himself on the couch, his tail thwapping from side to side, as if slightly agitated. And in a way, Q was. He wasn't sure if this room was worse than the other. The infirmary had no stimulus while Doc's room was abundant with it. Too many rainbows, colors, Q seemed like a boring person by comparison. His green eyes looked around the room, trying to take everything in.
There was a bubbling noise in the background. Later, attributed to the aquarium, with a few small fish in it. Q dwelled on the aquarium for a moment, his tail becoming quiet as he watched them swim.

But soon, it would flick again as Q moved his head to notice where the entire room's tinge of orange was coming from. It was a lavalamp. Q had never seen one in person before, and he frowned, his head cocking as he again dwelled on it, watching the.. shapes inside make... other shapes.

He decided not to dwell too long and forced himself to take in the rest of the room. It smelled of aquatics and marijuana, though Q didn't know what marijuana smelled like, so it was simply a staunch, deep, thick scent that assaulted him at first. As time wore on he'd learn it didn't bother him as much as he thought it would at first. Looking toward the floor were extraordinarily furry rugs and bean bag chairs. A vector path that almost led Q's eyes to their final destination: an image of a younger Doc making a funny face at a camera with another dog hybrid doing the same. The other boy's tongue was abnormally long, he had large eyes, and floppy black ears. Q blinked, his tail curving toward his legs where it decided to stay quiet. The picture explained some things, though he wasn't sure what the relation between the hybrid and the Doc was.

Q took in a deep breath, letting it out just as noisily as he had taken it in. Afterward, he let himself fall to the side on the couch, so he could lay on it.
"You're really..." his voice was calm, laced with uncertainty, and a bit of discomfort. "... Weird," he finally ended up saying.
He couldn't think of anything better the describe it.

His eyes wandered back over to the fish tank. It and the lava lamp continuously vied for his attention.
Being a sighthound, he was naturally attracted to things that moved.

The wandering mind... wrote: "Oh really? Well thanks for telling me what I know, I'm glad you were here, in case I wasn't sure what to think, who knows what could of happened!" Cassandra fought laughter as she said it.

"And do you know that for sure? They really seem to connect." She let her laughter out in a loud burst. "I would know."

"As for what happened, some freaky albino on the other guy.. or our guy... some guy's payroll went after Q, but he did a nice job filling him with holes. Q's fine really... Doc just said he needs to take his pills and be a good little puppy."


Doc made a little bow, giggling like a mad man at Quatre's comment.

"Weird..." He lifted his head, face cracked wide in a smile, "That's one of the nicest things I've been called." A finger wiped at the corners of his eyes, Doc was more relaxed, being in his space.

Once regaining his composure, he walked across the room, throwing open a large closet, filled, a bit sloppy, the rest of the room rather neat. Doc fished out a pair of black drawstring pants, that he hadn't worn in a year or two, being too big on him, and spent a good minute or two searching hard until he produced a red button up shirt. He tossed them to Quatre.

"Nothing much, but I figured you'd like your colors." Doc chuckled, looking around the room before pausing. His eyes fell on the picture and he flinched visibly. He hoped Quatre hadn't seen it, didn't know if he could handle answering the questions. He'd make a move to hid it away, but that'd only bring more attention to it, and him.... Jacob.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastismaller.jpg[/imgright]

Anasti just ignored Cassandra's sarcastic comment. Just because she was too emotional drained to indulge in the back and forth verbal battle they had both been taking part in since meeting, didn't mean that she didn't expect Cassandra too. She glanced at her sharply when she mentioned an albino being the one who had injured Q.

"Albino?" she almost snapped, her voice suddenly cold. "What kind of albino? What did he look like?" she asked without a trace of sarcasm in her voice. She needed Cassandra to tell her the truth and she wasn't going to get that by being a bitch. She was probably being over-paranoid. After all, there were a decent number of albinos in this world. Hadn't Q been with a particularly annoying one when she had first met him? But still....she needed to know.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]When Doc began to giggle, Q pulled his eyes away from the aquarium to stare in disbelief. The comments DOc made about being weird were even weirder. Was Doc just some sort of crazy person that only showed his true colors when he was in this room?

Q's eyes wandered over to the lava lamp, almost involuntarily. He caught himself, his head jerking a bit to focus on Doc as he clamored through his closet instead. Q didn't catch the clothes, and instead let them fall onto him, Q still staring in disbelief. "Thanks," he mustered flatly. The shirt landed on the floor while the pants were on his chest. Q pulled them off him just in time to see Doc flinch.

Q's eyes flashed with a bit of curiosity, following Doc's gaze to the picture from before. He wondered why Doc would keep it in the room if it was so embarrassing. His eyes narrowed a bit. A wave of laziness had washed over him, but he was determined to cut down Doc's happy demeanor, and bring the man down to his level.
"So I bet you've worked with a lot of hybrids," he started, his tail raising above the couch momentarily before laying itself over Q's thigh.
"I don't understand why you bother," he said, obviously hating on them again, as if passing judgment on Doc simply for being in the picture with one and having fun.
"It'd be better if they all died out anyway."

His tail fell behind him once more, and Q had an uncharacteristically smug look on his face. Q knew he was a hybrid, and even though he wasn't as racist as he was making himself out to be at this moment, he didn't consider himself as low as other hybrids. He felt himself a higher sort of being.
Regardless, Q was just trying to displace the feelings he didn't want to feel into Doc. He thought that, if he made Doc angry, perhaps he would've accomplished something worthwhile. As Q had quite hopelessly failed at everything else he had tried to do in this building.

The wandering mind... wrote: "Albino? You know, white skin. They all look the fucking same to me, what's with the sudden attitude, you were more fun being Miss Mopey, oh I can't stand Q, but oh my gosh, is he okay?" She shook her head side to side, mocking her.

"Honestly I didn't pay any attention to him, just that he wasn't going to get back up and try to shot at Q anymore. He had a black coat. Least I think it was a he, I couldn't tell, nor care. But why do you give a shit?"



Doc cringed in front of Quatre. His hand at his side clenched briefly into a fist, which he released only to reform, repeating the process. He turned, a strange look on it's face. He looked older, more like the appearance to him when they first met. His normally soft and loving face was hard and his mouth was not smiling, but twisted in an odd half frown.

"It's never better when someone dies." He didn't waiver in the strength he used to say this, not yelling, or being loud really, it was more the way he said it that gave it bold attention.

"Especially him." Doc's body relaxed, hands falling to his side and he dragged his feet a little as he walked over to the photo, picking it up. He stared at it for a few moments before talking again.

"Why do you hate yourself like that? Why do you find it so hard to just be happy. You don't want to challenge yourself, you don't want to accept any part of you I've seen that you should. Why?" He stared at the picture as he spoke, not able to pry his eyes from the laughing face of his brother. "Why can't you just smile and accept the world.. be happy even though everything bad happens to you..." If Quatre looked, he could see a tear or two escaping Doc's sad eyes.
 
Dexterity 1. (part 3 / end)

Page 21
Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastismaller.jpg[/imgright]


Anasti eye flashed and she resisted the urge to curl her hand into a fist as Cassandra waved off her question with a vague response. "Is it mentally difficult for you to wrap your tiny brain around a straight answer, or do you just have been as vague as possible?" she snapped. "Think about it clearly. Was it a coat or a whole outfit. Tell me, could you see his face?" she pressed the woman, an exhilarating feeling of both fear and excitment running through her mind. "Don't fucking play with me, Cassandra. I know that there is an albino in Renegade's employ, thats why I want to know. An albino that wears all black. If there's even a chance that Renegade is in town, I need to fucking know. Now!" her lip curled into a snarl.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q watched Doc's hands, and smirked briefly, but it was replaced by a look of worry as soon as Doc spoke. This was not the sort of victory he had been looking for.

Q stayed silent for a minute, taking in Doc's words, and mulling them over. For once, he took them seriously. He turned his head away from Doc, readjusting himself of he was laying on his back on the couch, his tail underneath him. His hand instinctively went to his hair, but instead of brushing it, he simply pulled on it.

Q genuinely felt guilty now, but he didn't want to show it. He took in a breath through his nose, but in the awkward silence it felt like the loudest thing in the room. Q stared at the ceiling, put his hand over his bare chest, where his necklace was noticeably absent. He'd taken it off for today. This seemed to bother him, and he slid his hand down to his waist instead, placing it on the waistline of his boxers above where his kidney should be.

"Because it's not about us." he whispered, finally. "No matter what we do with ourselves, it's never really worth anything. We're all going to die at some point, and..." he took a noticeably shaky breath. "... We are still expected to follow unimportant rules and customs. I'm not..."
He twisted himself so his face was toward the back of couch, and he was laying on his bad arm. He hissed slightly, his voice raising to prove his point.
"Just forget it."

Q was not a personal personal person. Although he did empathize, and was so close to actually admitting something important, he decided to drop it instead.
He was not like Doc. He was not someone who would have passion or care more than appearances for people. All that ever brought was more pain.
And it was easier to live a boring life than one filled with society hating you or with physical punishment for not being man enough.

The wandering mind... wrote: "You need to know. Well honey, let me tell you, that's great for you. Real great. Unfortunately, see, silly me was a bit more interested in WHAT THE FUCK WAS GOING ON WITH Q, than some two bit albino freak, to find out if he's the one the guy you pissed off is in town. Cause guess what? I don't give a shit. I hope he is. I hope Marino drops you, and I get to rip those ugly little fins off the side of your head and feed them to you. Go ahead you little bitch, give me an excuse to." Cassandra was furious. She didn't have that great a patience, and especially with Anasti. But the second she started demanding things of her, she lost it. There was only one person she took orders from, and Anasti was not him.


Doc sighed and carefully replaced the photo. Turning slowly he walked over to where Quatre was and sat. Not too close to him, just on the end of the sofa, he didn't look at him either, just.. thought. It was hard. He didn't know what to say. Doc, the man who never kept his mouth shut and always knew what to do, wasn't sure.

"Not about us?" He turned to Quatre, finally speaking. "You're right, you know that, well, about that part. The rest.. sorry, but I just can't agree to it. Of course we're going to die, we all die. Life is spent just waiting to, or working on prolonging the inevitable. But it's not about that. It's not about pointless wasting of it. It's about what you do with it. That's the most important thing of all. It's about the people around you that care, that don't die. Who you leave behind and the effect you have on them."

Doc sighed, watching Quatre. He leaned over and pulled him up.

"You want to lay down, take my bed, don't you dare lay on that arm though, or I'll shoot you myself." He half laughed, but it ended in a frown. "Don't worry about me, I'll take the couch, or if that makes you uncomfortable, I'll sleep out there in one of the beds, I don't really sleep that much anyways."

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q wanted to say nobody cared about him, but he knew that was a lie. He gave a forlorn look to Doc as the man forced Q up. He gave a sigh and looked down, leaning his bad shoulder against the couch, gritting his teeth.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. He shouldn't have said those things about hybrids. Doc was obviously close to the dog in the image, and by the way Doc had talked about it, hte kid in the picture had probably died.

"And..." his voice wavered, as did Q's body. He pushed his shoulder into the couch briefly, his tail jerking slightly in response. The act was a sort of punishment for himself in preparation for what he was going to say. "Don't go." it was quiet, almost inaudible as he continued to push his shoulder into the couch.

He wanted someone around. Someone who didn't care about sex all the time. Not that Q didn't care about sex, it just wasn't the same as actually... caring for someone. And that was all Doc had done. Cared.

Q's body began to shake subtley, and his green eyes glazed over with unfallen tears. He was afraid of what was going to happen next. He had no idea. He just wanted to run away from all his problems and not deal with them.
And he couldn't even do that.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastismaller.jpg[/imgright]


Her snarl turned into a full out growl and she took a step toards Cassandra without even realizing it. "As much as I would love to take the opportunity to slit your arrogant little throat and listen to you gargle to death on your own blood, Cassandra, this is not the time for it. This is not the time for a damned pissing contest!" she spat, forcing herself to step back. It was not easy, submitting to the other assassin, but she was right. There was no time for them to engage in a battle of 'who's-the-badder-bitch'. Not if Renegade was out there. Not if that albino had been Forniph. Not if he had seen Q's face. "I'm as worried about Q as you are, alright." she finally said, after an awkward moment of silence. "But if Renegade is in town, then that was Forniph. And unless Q did manage to kill him, then he is in more danger then he knows. That particular albino isn't going to stop coming after him until one of them is dead." She ran a hand through her long, crimson hair, still laying unbound down her back. She cast Cassandra a sideways look that was disturbingly worried. "And I doubt Marino is going to drop me. Not if he wants to get rid of Renegade. No one knows more about that man then me. He murdered my family." she said coldly.

The wandering mind... wrote: "Oh, right.. you're just forgetting the part where I give a damn whether or not your Renegade fellow is in town. Don't worry about Q. He's safe. No fucking albino freak, no dumb ass after you is going to hurt him. You, I would hand you to him if I could. You seem to not realize that there's more to me than you see. I'm not interested in what poor history you had with your family, it's sad, really, if I knew you better, I might care. But I don't need you freaking out on me, because someone may or may not be around. You want to find out, go out there and look." Cassandra turned, and stormed away from the woman.


"No sorries. Just.. make it up. I care about you. I don't want to see you thinking like that. Your time isn't wasted if you touch someone else."

Doc nodded as he asked him not to go, glad that he did, and when he saw him shaking, he went over to him. "You don't want it, but you need it." He pulled Quatre into a tight hug.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastismaller.jpg[/imgright]


Anasti glared after her retreating back, but she supposed that was the best she was going to get out of Cassandra. Thier relationship wasn't exactly....pleasant. No. If she really wanted to know what had happened, to know for sure if that had been Forniph....she needed to talk to Q. She sighed, brushing her hair back. To be honest, she had known that was the most likely scenerio from the moment Cassandra had said 'albino', but that didn't mean she wanted to do it any more.
But knowing if Renegade was indeed in town, that was more important then her pride...or her ego. She'd be damned if that man was going to kill anther Hybrid. Not again.. She turned on her heels and walked quickly back down to the infirmary, throwing the door wide.

"Q. We have to talk." she started before realizing that the room was empty, the IV bag hanging useless by the bedside. Doc was gone too. "Dammit. Where the hell?" she groaned, not sure where they could have gone. Back to Q's quarters? Probably, maybe to make him more comfortable. She sped off quickly down the hall towards Q's room.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He sat there, a shudder moving up his spine before he finally, almost regretfully, put his right hand around Doc's back in return of the hug.
"I know," he breathed, burying his face into Doc's shoulder. His tail dragged across the couch uneasily, until the end of it fell off the seat and it stopped its movement.

Q still shook like a nervous dog. He couldn't help it, he was still afraid, though now he had a ton more items to add to the list. "All you ever did was care." He moved his head to lay it on his shoulder, his eyes blinking as he saw the wall. He looked down at Doc's back and leaned into him, squeezing and returning the hug.
When Q loosened up, he buried his head in between Doc's shoulder and neck and breathed deeply through his nose, taking in the Doc's smell, as well as attempting to stop his nervous shaking. Probably a trait that had carried over from his less than human side.

The wandering mind... wrote: "It's alright." Doc wasn't sure what to do at first, he was shaking, that was for sure, and he needed to be calmed down. Doc tried to think. He remembered how he calmed down his brother so many times.. he felt guilty using the same on Quatre, but he wanted to help.

Doc's hand brushed down Quatre's back, until it found the base of his tail and he petted it gently, just very loosely closing his hand around it and running it from the base to the tip, letting go, then repeating the motion.

"It's going to be okay...." His other arm was wrapped under the man's, up his back and around his neck, and he gently petted at the back of his ear.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q took a soothing breath as Doc ran his hand down his scarred and tattooed back, but when it got to Q's tail he flinched, his tail jerking out of Doc's hand and pressing itself tightly against one of Q's legs. One thing at a time.
Despite the bodily reaction, the spoken one differed. Q still wanted Doc's company, though he wasn't sure if this was moving too fast or not. He hadn't done anything like this in many years. It was reassuring, but it made Q worry about the future.
"How's it supposed to be okay?" he whined. "I don't want to die. I hate being here. I hate Marino. I don't want to kill Ves." He pulled at the back of Doc's shirt a bit. "I want to go back to being a nobody."
Q was happy as a nobody. Maybe not genuinely happy, but artificial happiness generated from sex and alcohol and general bloodshed without danger... Those were fairly good "happy" alternatives he had taken part in.

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc pulled him closer... just appreciating the warmth of him against him. It was something he wasn't used to, but liked more than anything. His grip tightened as the man spoke.

"It's okay right now. You're not going to die right now. Marino isn't here, Ves isn't here. No one here to kill, nothing to worry about. Not now. Maybe tomorrow, but not today. Just come to this moment in time and calm down. Where it is okay. We'll work our way to tomorrow together. I know you don't want this.. but what do you want? The empty life you had?"

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q shook his head, pulling his body from Doc. "It's not okay now," he whined, his brows furrowing. "I'm dying now," he said softly, his eyes turning toward the door. "Aren't I?"
He looked to the sheet on the floor, as well as the clothes he could've borrowed. He was swept over with a wave cold, now that he had parted from Doc's hug.

He gave a slight frown before leaning into Doc's chest.
"I had a good life before this," he sounded as if he were pleading. "In small claims. It was fun. Sex, booze, money, nonchallenging work. All a guy could ask for, right?"
His forehead on Doc's neck, Q's right hand smoothed over a few wrinkles in Doc's shirt on his chest. "I don't know what I want," he surmised, his lids drooping. "Nobody ever cared about what I wanted before."

It was a slight lie, as when Q had been with Ves, Ves had cared. Or at least seemed to care, up until the point were Ves decided he didn't want to play queer any more.
Oh, how the tides had changes. Q was older than Doc, but right now it was Doc who had uncharacteristically shouldered the burden of being the dominant one.

It Q weren't as weak as he were right now, he probably would've laughed at the situation. Or rebuked it in some way.

The wandering mind... wrote: "We're all dying. But trust me, your death is a long way off. I'm your doctor, remember? There's no way you're going to die on my watch." He tried to smile at Quatre, but it was hard.. the look on his face so defeating.

"You're life isn't over. You've still got a long way to go. There's still more of the things that make you happy before, if that's where you want to head. I'll get Marino to let you go back to your work, I'm sure I've got leverage on him somewhere. But.." Looking down, he put a finger under Quatre's chin and brought his face up to his. "That just doesn't seem like happiness to me. Come on, give it a few days, a week. Let's see if we can't find something you like more?"

Doc's mind was racing. He was just inches from the man's face... he'd just have to lean in a little. He wanted to kiss him. He wanted to show him care and compassion and love. He just didn't have the nerve to do it. Doc, who never hesitated to make quick life or death decision, who didn't hold back his opinion cause someone might not like it, could not find the guts in him to just lean forward and press his lips against those of the man he held before him. Doc could heal his bruises, his cuts, his wounds. But he couldn't heal what he really wanted to, the hurt he saw in Quatre's eyes. All he could muster was gently brushing the silver hair out of his face with the side of his hand.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
A bit of worry struck Q's face when Doc mentioned he'd talk to Marino. Q didn't want that... Marino though the whole small claims thing was bull already, and Q knew deep down, as well as Marino, that his skills would be wasted doing it. But that why Q had done it in the first place.

But Doc had asked Q to wait, and although the the feeling of a kiss should've been coursing through him, sex and all things surrounding it were far from Q's mind. Even them hugging was a bit much. But, it was alright. One step at a time.
He looked into Doc's eyes, studying for a moment, figuring out why Doc had stopped the way he had, and Q nonchalantly moving his face to the side. "Okay," he whispered. He'd give waiting a try.

He laid his head back on Doc's chest, but it slowly repositioned itself in Doc's lap. The whole situation had made him tired. Despite Q tending to mope about things he usually didn't go this far, and worrying about life and everything in general was a more strenuous task than he would've liked to admit.
He still brought his right hand to the end of Doc's shirt, wrapping it around his fist a bit nervously. Carefully, his eyes avoided Doc's as he whispered the next question: "Will you sleep with me?"

Q had not meant it in any real sexual way, and he hoped Doc didn't take it as one - though admittingly, he didn't even play with the idea that Doc would at all. Q just wanted to go to sleep with somebody else lying beside him. It was comforting, and it was warm.

His tail flicked slightly, and after no immediate response Q's eyes would look up at Doc's, his fist tightening its nervous hold on the shirt. He hoped Doc didn't give some stupid excuse like "I have work to do" and a fake apology.
That was how Vespasien had done it, and Q should've known it was coming.

The wandering mind... wrote: "No." The word left his mouth quickly, an immediate reaction, followed by a light laugh. "You know why? The couch is no place to sleep! And a bit cramped. My bed on the other hand is a much better spot and I'd gladly share it with you any day." A little of Doc's normal humor slipped through, returning in the comfort of thoughts of sharing a night together. Doc's mind didn't go any further. The kiss he'd been thinking about was as far as his thoughts went, just a sign to him of how much he cared.

Doc shifted carefully, wrapping his arms around Quatre and lifting him enough to take him the short distance across the room to the bed. It was a funny sight, Quatre being the larger man, and the one to be carried, that and Doc was extra careful not to bump or put any pressure on his wounds. He laid out with Quatre, so his head would be resting on Doc's chest, making it easy for him to curl his body against his own should the other man want to. His hand was curled under and around the other, gently stroking across his forehead.

It would take Doc much longer to fall asleep, as he'd said before, he wasn't one to sleep much in general, and like he had the night before, he silently watched Quatre as he would fall asleep. Though the shared warmth would lull Doc into sleep as well, unexpectedly.

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Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
Q was full of hurt when Doc said no, yet pleasantly surprised when he further explained why. Q was hopeful then, but didn't expect to be picked up. He gave a slight yelp of awe, though it wasn't very loud, and said "You didn't have to do that..."

But it was no matter, when he was set down, curling up against Doc was exactly what Q did, and it was exactly how Q fell asleep - although Doc petting his forehead helped expedite the process.

When Q woke up, it was with a faint smile when he opened his eyes to see and feel Doc holding him. That smile quickly faded when the reality of the situation set in.
He tried as quietly and gently as possible to seperate himself from Doc, and to get himself out of Doc's apartment. He briefly looked to the clothes on the floor he oculd've borrowed, but decided against it. And before he left the apartment alltogether, he gave a last farewell to the lava lamp and the aquarium.

Opening the door to the hallway, he flinched, his eyes squeezing shut and a wave of nausea overcoming him for the briefest of seconds. After a slight hiss he squinted as he walked down the hall, only opening his eyes every few seconds to make sure he was going in the right direction. Once he finally reached his own apartment he closed the door and opened his eyes fully, changing into a white t-shirt with black lettering on it ("Paresseux," lazy in french) and black jeans that had been torn at the bottom. Q only had one pair of shoes - his boots - and he didn't know where they were, so he simply put on black socks instead, and made his way back to the infirmary, eyes squinting all the way, half blind.

He found where he had been the previous night, and sat on the bed, the bottle of pills in his hands in his lap. He turned them around, watching the capsules toss with the movement. Q was nervous. He wanted to take them but he didn't. Something could go wrong. Pills were always something he was uneasy about.

Q gave a deep sigh, feeling hot all of the sudden. He was lonely already. He wanted Doc but... He didn't. It was wrong. Why did he do that last night?
He shook his head briefly, turning the bottle in his hands again.

Maybe if he didn't think about it, it would go away.

He slipped off the bed, and with a slight swagger, sat down again in the far corner of the room, his back in between the two walls. He brought his knees up to his chest and continued to look at the pills in his lap with an unsure look on his face.
He wondered what time it was, if he should've been doing anything other than avoiding people.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastismaller.jpg[/imgright]

Anasti woke the next morning, cranky and agitated. She had made her way to Q's apartment last night and it had only been her broken hand that had held her back from punching the wall when she realized he wasn't there. Unable to think of anywhere else the Doctor could have taken him, to resolved to sleep off some of her concern and try again in the morning. But her sleep had been plagued with the recurring nightmare of J's death over and over, and she woke even less rested then she had been before, dark circles beneath her eye. Throwing on her black jeans with her daggers still strapped to them, she pulled on a sleevless red t-shirt, not bothering with her normal fishnet top. She left her long hair down as she gave a quick glance at the clock, cursing. The centerfuge would be done within an hour, and she'd have to get to the poisons and meet with Marino. She still had yet to tell him about her hand, and wondered vaguely if he'd even allow her mission to proceed.

She left her room and headed down to the infirmary, intending to look for Doc, or at least attempt to find out where his room was. Swinging open the infirmary door, she was suprised to see Q sitting in the corner of the room he had occupied the night before wearing a fresh change of clothes and looking at a bottle of pills in his lap. Quickly, she slid the door closed behind her. "I've been looking for you. I need to ask you about your mission. About the man who injured you." she started, her voice strong and suprisingly cold, but she couldn't bring herself to look him in the eyes as she leaned against the closed door. A wave of concern rushed over her, seeing him sitting like that, but didn't think her presence any closer to him would be very welcome. And she needed him to tell her...she had to know.

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc had been pulled away during the early hours, someone coming in late with two gunshot wounds, and he sadly spent two hours with his hands inside the man patching up his insides. By the time he was done scrubbing up and made it back he was tired, and didn't think, just curled up tight against the warm body in his bed and snuggled. The movement of Quatre getting up to leave disturbed him, and he woke up to find the spot next to him empty. He frowned sadly and shuffled over to the closet, tight black tee shirt, over which he wore an unbuttoned grey cargo vest and long tan pants that dragged on the ground. His pants were always too long.

Doc hoped Quatre hadn't abandoned him... not only because he really enjoyed being around the man, but his wounds were too fresh for him to go out and really get back to doing stuff. He paused as he went to leave his room for the medical facilities, hearing a female voice. It was Anasti... he wasn't exactly happy there, he wanted time alone with Quatre still.. he was afraid the night before would melt away under his rejection of having feelings for another of the same sex.

He opened the door and walked out, frowning to see him curled up in the corner.. and the tone of Anasti's voice wasn't exactly calming. He didn't speak up, just walked over to them.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
Q heaved a sigh when he heard Anasti come in. He knew it was her since the sound of her walk differed from everyone else's. He supposed having tons of blades strapped to her hips made a huge difference. He didn't bother looking up, however.

He twirled the bottle in his hands for a moment, mulling over just ignoring her. He finally decided against it, letting the pills fall to his lap. He leaned his forehead in between the walls, staring at Anasti.

He debated briefly saying something smart. 'You don't outrank me' or 'no thanks', but of course, he decided against that too. His eyes lazily looked over toward the man who had just entered as he answered the woman.
"What do you want to know?"

The light didn't hurt his eyes, but it was rather annoying. His pupils were slits and had he seen himself in a mirror he would've thought himself a demon. He missed his sunglasses, but didn't want to make any effort to get them. If he walked outside during the day he'd probably do permanent damage to himself. He'd just have to live with this for now, and get to the gun case he'd left at the hotel later, after sunfall.

He gave a cursory glance to Anasti, awaiting her next question. His tail flicked absentmindedly, as if it were its own beast. Q wanted time to himself right now.
Instead he had been greeted with another beast and a fag.
How wonderful.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastismaller.jpg[/imgright]

His lack of a smart retort suprised her almost as much as Doc's form sliding into the room. She ignored the human for the moment, keeping her eye on the canine hunched on the floor. 'I want to know for you...as much as for me..' she thought silently, the expression on his face tearing into her. But her external expression remained...if not cold, then at least apathetic.

"Cassandra said he was an albino. Tell me exactly what he looked like. What was he wearing? Did you see who he was working for?" she pressed, pulling her body off the door and walked closer to him yet staying on the other side of the room. She gave the Doctor a glance as though trying to persuade him without words that she wasn't doing this because she wanted to, but because she had to. Trying to show him that she was also concerned. "Could you see his face? Everything you can remember..." She trailed off, biting her lip as a wave of guilt washed over her and melted her cold expression somewhat. "....please. It's important."

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc just nodded at them, went over to his desk and fished through some drawers, pulling out a small white box. Inside were a pair of designer sunglasses he had picked out through a shipment of stolen goods the other day. He hadn't really known why, just that they were a lot more Quatre's style than anything he had. Something in him just made him pick them up. Maybe as a gift some day or something.

"Here." He walked over and held the box out. He'd noticed the squinting and didn't want to leave Quatre with damage to his eyes. Doc didn't dare mention the night before, not around Anasti. That and he was dreading it. He wanted it again... wished he was back there, wished he hadn't fell asleep and could of just enjoyed the night spent with him in his arms, but alas.. it was over, and he knew how Quatre felt on such things. He just hoped he hadn't changed in Quatre's eyes. He'd have to check and redress the man's bandaging..that'd at least give him a chance to be alone with him, talking was always optional.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
Q stayed silent, staring her down as if she were a mere cockroach and he was doing her a favor by giving her the time of day. When she finished, he looked down to the pill bottle, taking them with his right hand and setting them on the floor with a "henh," a sadistic grin on his face.

He knew she felt helpless. It was written all over her face. And he was the only one who could pull her out of that hole. A shallow few laughs escaped him. He'd never pegged Anasti to be too emotional. Probably worried too much on her own time because she was a woman, but this. This was good.

Subconciously, Q connected to her. He too felt helpless but he dealt with it in different ways. He'd rather project his feelings on someone else, and make them feel like crap. A reverse parasite? He wondered what someone would call that. Or would've, had he taken a psychology course and understood his own thought processes and how he dealt with negative stressors.

"He was an albino," he said flatly, uninterested as he tilted his head to give her a sideways stare. He briefly gave a cold look to Doc as well, to make sure the man wouldn't try anything while Q was focused on Anasti.
"His skin was surprisingly tan for someone of his type, though."

His eyes followed Doc as the man came closer with the box. Q hmphed and took it from the man, opening the box and taking the sunglasses out; looking through them, but not actually putting them on. Q's sunglasses were prescription. The glasses Doc had given him might help for inside, but they wouldn't do anything for outside. Q's eyes were too sensitive.
Although he would never admit it, Q was nearly blind in the day. Colors washed together, and everything was some shade of white. His eyesight during the day resembled a moving over-exposed and washed out picture. It was something Q had to get used to growing up. Things only went down at night, where he could finally see colors, and enjoy a much better depth perception and soft shadows.

The prescription sunglasses didn't bring much color, but they did allow Q to see more edges. Nonprescription... Q set the glasses back in the box, and the box on the tile floor on the opposite side of his tail. Normal sunglasses would just make things slightly less white.

He put his right hand on the pill bottle, hesitating a moment before bringing it back to his lap, and entertaining it more than Anasti. He wanted to make her feel unimportant. She was no more threatening than a puppy, and he could stare at a prescription bottle rather than entertain her. He wanted to give off that impression, at least. Doc too, as he never would say thank you for the man's sentiment.

"He wore all black, like a ninja. Threw those japanese daggers, too." he gave a slight frown, shaking the bottle, making a motion to hear the rattle. Afterward he twirled it in between his two index fingers atop his knees.
"The man he worked for had a thick Russian accent. Or German. They sound the same to me. Vs instead of Ws."

He tossed the bottle slightly, only barely managing to catch it in his left hand, a slight wince passing through his face. He looked over to Anasti. "That's all I've got," he smirked.

The situation was funny to Q. Normally she would demand something and get hormonal. Now though, there was something else. He wasn't quite sure what it was but if he could play those feelings, he would feel accomplished.
And unlike what had happened with Doc, Q didn't care if Anasti's feelings got hurt this time. He hated her.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastismaller.jpg[/imgright]

She visibly winced, his words cutting across her as though she had been slapped but she didn't retort. She watched him play with the bottle, all of the arguments she had yelled at him the night before flaring up in her mind as he pointedly ignored her. It made her blood boil, her uninjured hand clenching into a fist as she waited for him to continue. When he mentioned Japanese daggers...and then a man with a Russian accent, her nails suddenly dug into her flesh hard enough to draw blood, her mouth thinning into a frown.

"Bastard. That....that bastard is here." she hissed almost inaudibly. The smirk lighting Q's face filled her with as much rage as the thought....no, the knowledge that Renegade was in town and when she spoke again it was through clenched teeth. "It was Renegade. Renegade and Forniph. The bastard who murdered my brother and mother and his lap dog that betrayed us." Her voice was slow and low, face twisted between a snarl and tears. "Is he still alive? Did you kill him?" she snapped at Q. "Either of them, did you kill Forniph or Renegade?" she carefully avoided looking at him, too close to falling apart to be able to stand his ridicule. Her body was shaking slightly and her fist was still clenched tight enough to hurt, beads of crimson oozing between her taunt fingers. She wasn't sure who she hated more at the moment. Renegade? Or the man sitting on the floor in front of her. The man who was so much like Jeremiah.

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc watched him look through the glasses, then set them on the floor. He knew they weren't much, but thought they might help a little in the room's light... He hoped Quatre couldn't see the hurt look on his face as he turned away. Choosing his work over things, he silently went to the other side of the room and disappeared behind a curtain where the man that'd come in that night lay, still unconscious thanks to the drugs he gave him. He was glad. Doc was just going to busy himself, checking the man's wounds.

Doc could hear their conversation still, over the low beep of the monitor his patient was hooked to. Anasti sounded like someone had given her some bad news. Doc really wished he could do something for her, but right now he didn't feel he'd be up to the job. He leaned against the wall as he finished, his left arm crossing his chest and gripping his right arm, almost in a motion to hug himself. He was afraid last night was going to be a first and last for them.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]He watched Anasti briefly, before putting the pills in the open box with the glasses and getting up with a grunt, the box under his right arm.

"Dunno," he shrugged. "But I guess the both of them have some loose ends to tie up," he had been walking toward the door, but stopped to give her a sinister look and deliver his final line.
"What with you still alive and all."

With that he turned his back to her and walked at a quicker pace out of the room and in the general direction of his own.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastismaller.jpg[/imgright]

She watched him go, unable to even make a snappy retort as he hurled that final insult at her and swept from the room. For a moment she stood, still staring blankly at the door through which he had just vanished and then her strength failed her and she sank to her knees, back pressed against the wall.

"You...you bastard, Quatre..." she heard herself whisper, unable to stop the tears that now slid down her cheeks, the rage unable to keep back the tears of a much younger hybrid, one who went by 'Ana' and knelt in a filthy alley holding the unmoving form of her brother against her and screamed. She sank her head between her knees and sobbed silently and alone, wings drooping.

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc wanted to go out that door.. wanted to follow Quatre and confront him.. but he was healer. And while most would limit themselves to just the body.. Doc couldn't help it once he saw Anasti.

"Hey..." He strolled over to her, a box of tissues in hand, and not just those cheap, rough one ply tissues, but the real good, soft kind. "So this guy isn't good news I take it?" He frowned and sat down in front of her. He knew just reaching over and hugging her would be a little too much. He sat the tissues down in front of her, just putting them there in case she wanted them. Not making a big deal out of it.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastismaller.jpg[/imgright]

She took the offered tissue but flinched away from his touch as he sat down on the flood in front of him. Internally she berated herself for breaking down, but there was nothing for it. The information she had just recieved was still much too raw in her mind. Q's rejection stung as well, stung like a whip, and she had a feeling that it was this, more then anything, that had broken her defenses. "N...no. Definetly not. Renegade. That bastard. He was, you could say...the Marino of my hometown. I didn't work for him, I had my own clan. One that the man who attacked....him...was a member of." she couldn't bring herself to say Q's name at the moment but she was trusting the Doctor to know who she meant. She knew she was pouring her heart out to the man and felt like she would regret it, but her mind was going to explode if she didn' get it out of her. She had spent too many years running. Had too many secrets and nightmares that had welled up inside her and now the dam had broken. "Forniph...the albino...he betrayed us to Renegade. Renegade..." her voice cracked and for a moment she couldn't continue. When she found the strength to force the words again, her voice was a harsh whisper. "...he murdered my mother and...and my little brother. Jeremiah he...he died in my arms..." she cut off, pressing the tissue to her remaining eye and refusing to look at the man in front of her.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q made his way back to his own room, taking his time as soon as he realized Anasti wasn't following him. He eventually put the sunglasses on, even though they didn't do much, and he was still left to squint.

Once he got into his room he closed the door, a heavy sigh escaping him as he dropped the box on the table and laid on the couch. He lay there a minute or two, just staring at the ceiling, before looking back over to the box.
After hesitating, he reached over and grabbed the bottle, bringing it above his chest and opening it to look at the pink pills inside. he shook them around a bit, watching through the sunglasses. He turned the bottle and tilted it upward so he could read the instructions. One pill twice a day.

He gave an inquisitive frown, looking back in the bottle again. After a few seconds he fished one of the pills out of the container and held it between his forefinger and thumb. Could this really save me? He thought.

He remembered, when he was 18, he had stared at a cigarette in the exact same way.
"Well yeah; you're going to have to smoke a lot, but it will work!" Ves had said in french, slapping Q on the back.
"But I don't know how to smoke. I don't want to," Q had replied.
Vespasien laughed and bought the first box of cigarettes. Benson & Hedges. "You'll be fine," he pressured. "I'll even smoke with you. You worry about your health too much, Quatre Bornes."

Ves brought Q to a hotel room and they had tried to smoke on the balcony together. Ves had a hard time, and so had Q, both of them coughing with each drag they took. When Q vocalized concern for never being able to get it, Ves had simply slapped Q on the shoulder again and said, "Oh please, you just watch. In no time at all, you will be smoking with the best of them; a real gun-toting badass. You'll see."

Q brushed the past thoughts away and dropped the pill back into the container, closing it and reaching for a box of cigarettes instead. What he got was Marlboro. Q gave a slight disapproving frown and kneeled between the couch and table, looking for the Benson and Hedges. He found them about a minute later, and put one in his mouth, lighting it soonafter. He coughed after taking the first drag. Benson and Hedges had a distinctly different taste from other cigarettes, and were pretty strong. They had probably been the worst cigarettes to start out on. He remembered Ves said he only bought them because the box looked pretty.

Q got up, took Doc's sunglasses off and dropped them on the coffee table and walked over to his bedroom. There on the dresser was the pendant, a silver chain with a heart on it, and in the center of the heart, a green gem. Presumably an emerald.
Q took it in his hand and sat up in the bed with it, running his thumb over the gem.
"I got this for you," he had said, tossing Q a box. "I know they're your favorite colors. I thought you should wear something other than those dog tags."

Q's eyes welled up with tears, though he didn't allow them to fall as he brought his knees up, laying his hands atop them so he could look at the necklace.
He'd never thought much of it until now. He'd just worn it because he felt weird without something around his neck. But now it was as if it stood for every sign of compassion Q had ever had.
Q choked as he took in another drag of his cig. He wondered what Ves thought of him now. The older man must think something of Q, as he had that woman and that dog. But it hurt; Q could only imagine what they were really there for.

And now Doc wanted to take Ves's place? Give Q gifts? Take care of him?
Those were all things Ves had done before he decided girls were more fun.
And Q wouldn't deny that girls were pretty fun. They had both grown up pretty sheltered, only around men. Women were the thing of fables before they reached this country.

Q justed didn't expect to be thrown to the curb because he wasn't a good enough plaything.
He stubbed out his only half-finished cigarette and turned on his left arm, wincing. Placing the necklace to the side of him, he curled up into a ball on the top of th bedsheets, pulling the pillow above his head and trying to fall asleep again.

He decided he hated this place, and these people.

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc frowned. Everyone had events in their past that built them up to who they were now, even he. Now he was watching as the normally hard shelled assassin before him had lost her attitude and broke down, telling him all about what built her.

"Now now..." He didn't dare pull her into her arms, just a light touch on the arm, that even if she flinched away from, it's purpose would of already been done. He kept his arms out, as if to signify he was there for a hug if desired, but not forcing it on her. She was still a bit scary.

"Maybe Quatre really killed this Forniph character... Or maybe it's not him at all. There's no need to get worked up about it. Trust me, everyone is safe inside this building. We'll just limit ourselves to worrying when someone goes out. Okay?"

Page 23
Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastismaller.jpg[/imgright]

She instantly flinched back, both from his soft touch to her arm and his passing mention of Q. Having finally been able to release the aspects of her past she had stuffed down and hidden behind for so long, her emotions were beginning to settle. She was calming down, her grief and lost understanding being overwhelmed with rage at Quatre's attitude. "No. No its definelty Forniph. And Renegade." she said, voice still quiet but the tearshad vanished and there was an underlying tone of cold. "And as much I would like to believe that our little puppy managed to kill him, I don't honestly know if he has the skill." she snapped and instantly regretted it. It wasn't Doc's fault, after all, that she had developed some emotional attachment to Q, that she saw some semblance of her brother in him. No, it wasn't his fault that Q was acting like a selfish bastard either. "Sorry." she said quickly, starting to stand but still keeping well away from the man's offered hug. "I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just rather fed up with that man at the moment." she explained, looking towards the door.

Part of her wanted to leave, to go after him full of rage and tell him EXACTLY what she thought of him. Of the way he was acting. To make her feel better...and to try to protect him if she could. Renegade in town was bad news for any hybrid...even one who was being decidely anti-hybrid at the moment. But her thoughts were interrupted by a beeping coming from the thin watch around her wrist. The centerfuge was done. The poison was ready. It was time for her to stop caring about Q and even Renegade and do her job. She gave the Doctor a small smile. "You're right. I've got a mission today but...it would be better if Q didn't go on any missions anytime soon, you understand?" She gave him a shrewd look. "Forniph will have told Renegade about him by now. They'll be looking for him. Make something up. Some medical reason for him not to go out." She stood then, pulling her jacket a little closer around her. "And if you can't stop him, which I don't doubt will happen, call me alright? I hate the bastard...but I care about him too." her voice trailed off into a whisper as she turned toward the door.

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc walked down the hall, heading towards Quatre's room. He shook his head. This was ridiculous. Doc was not one of Marino's little minions that he could order around. He knew it. Doc was here for his own reasons, and could leave freely. There was only one thing that he could hold over the man, and Marino knew it, and did not hesitate to do so.

Though Doc had to admit he had his own curiosities, he would rather Quatre find him out, than have to be the one to directly find out what really went on. With a hesitant hand, he knocked on the door.

"Hey man, it's me, Doc! Let a poor guy in?" He put a smile on and made a fake little whining noise at the door in front of him.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
Under his pillow, Q grit his teeth. Doc.
Q didn't know what to do. Let him in? Q wanted to be alone right now. He wanted to try and sleep this loneliness, this illness off. He didn't like being seen as weak, or feeling weak, and he was both right now.

He pressed the pillow against his head with his right arm for a moment, before giving a small growl and against his better judgment, getting up. The wrappings around his shoulder had stained over with new blood and when Q had got up, he had to steady himself for a moment, his eyes losing their site momentarily as he was overcome with dizziness.

But after a mere five seconds, he managed to come to the door, swinging it open. Q's eyes narrowed, his lids almost closed as he waited for Doc to come in from the hallway.
It must've been the middle of the day. Even with Q's blinds closed and all his lights off, it was still rather well lit, and it was making Q's head pound like nothing else.

Once Doc was inside Q would toss the door shut and sit on the couch with a groan, covering his eyes with his right hand.
"What do you want?" a question that came off as more of a 'you're bugging me and I wish you'd go away, but I'll humor you because I respect you' type of statement.

The wandering mind... wrote: "Well, for one, you left when you should still be under my observation. I still need to make sure you don't pull your stitches out or something, you know, undo all that work I spent patching you up!" Doc smiled at him, tilting his head.

"So I guess you could say I want to come in and take your clothes off?" He laughed lightly, before softening his face to Quatre. "That and you look like someone who needs to talk. I just happen to be someone who needs to listen."

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
Q hmphed, removing his right hand from his face and rolling the short sleeve of his t-shirt up as high as it would go on his left shoulder. His eyes remained closed, and after the ordeal -which it was an ordeal, as Q was still in pain from his shoulder, among other things - he replaced his hand over his eyes and leaned his right elbow on the back of the couch, looking away from Doc.

"I'm fine," he lied.
the corners of his mouth bent downward and his voice rose in pitch as he masked his whine with a line, "I just need my glasses."
It was a half-truth, really. Q was upset about other things but at least his problem with light were something physical; something he could legitimately whine about without feeling too emasculated.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastismaller.jpg[/imgright]

Anasti slipped into the costume designed for her mission, and silently marveled at Mario's work. He was every bit as good as Shea had claimed he was. The stitching was tight, the fit was perfectly conformed to her body in such a way that it looked good, but if she needed to make a quick getaway, it would not get in her way. The special compartments in the apron had been more the up to par, they had been even better then the originals she had made herself. She had even entertained a brief thought that she might ask the man to update the one's in her skirt, before she had examined it and realized that, one step ahead of her, he already had.

The poison was complete and already nestled securely in its hidden compartment, along with several other choice poisons that she thought would help with the mission and would always help in a jam. Nerve gas. Cyanide. The staples of her trade. She checked the harness for her daggers again, cradled against her thighs and hidden, but still within easy reach through a slit in her short, provacative skirt. Shea had left a few minutes before and Anasti now ran a hand through her long hair. Gone was the crimson shade she was so fond of, a gorgeous golden brown replacing it. A pair of simple reading glasses sat on her nose, in front of her eyes. Plural. The synthetic that Mario had provided was incredibly life-like, and a liberal amount of concealer had covered the scars and given her face a smooth, rather attractive look that it had slowly lost over the years of running and fighting. Her hair was cunningly placed around her fins and wings, masking them completly. When she turned to look in the mirror, hands clasped before her with painted nails that had been filed down to a normal length. From the top of her dyed head to the soles of her mary janes. She looked....normal. Human. It made her simaltenously want to retch and to cry. Gathering the information on her marks in her hand, she took a last look at thier faces before lighting the folder on fire and letting it burn in a large ash tray. No need to keep evidence. She still needed to meet with Marino, although her hand had gone down in swelling, and only a small splint was on the broken finger now, she still needed to tell him in case something went wrong. And she wasn't looking forward to the confrontation.

Walking determinedly, she passed through the halls with, for the first time since she had come there, not a second glance. She doubted the men passing her even caught who she was and again felt that pang of both regret and longing. Shea gave her a warm smile as she entered Marino's reception room and sat down.

"He is with a client at the moment, Miss Anasti. I will let him know that you are here." she smiled, bowing slightly before disappearing into the main office.



[imgleft]http://www.geocities.com/forever_hide/kodaka/masa1.jpg[/imgleft]

"So." the voice came out the shadows by his bed, and Forniph raised his head slightly, wincing as pain ran through his mind at the movement. "Tell me again vhy I should not kill you, Forniph? You not only failed to do as I ordered, but you also managed to get yourself so injured that you vill be of no use to me for veeks!" Renegade's angry voice greeted the barely concious man and he winced at his boss's words.

'I am sorry, sir. I was not expecting what I found.' The man raised his hands and began to sign rapidly, unable to speak since his tongue had been forcefully removed several years prior.. Renegade's eyebrow quirked slightly in interest and he quickly continued. 'The sniper....he was a hyrbid.' he explained, shifting his fingers into the needed poses and wincing slightly as the movement pulled at his still healing flesh. His pink eyes caught the movement of the Russian's man's eyebrows as they disappeared into his brow line.

"Really? Well that does make it a bit more interesting, doesn't it? Are you sure of this?" Renegade snapped, his eyes cold and without concern for the man lying near death in the hospital bed.

Forniph nodded, knowing very well that his life hung in the balance of his information. Renegade was not known to be very forgiving of those in his employ that failed at their missions and he quickly signed out. 'Yes. I saw his tail. And his eyes. He could see me even in the shadows. He was definetly not human...'

"Very vell. I villl...consider this information. You have done vell vith this, Forniph. Despite your....accident. You may have provided me vith exactly vhat I need. You vill be revarded...once you are vell, of course." he smiled a cold smile and quickly left the room.

"Vhat else do ve know?" he asked quickly, as soon as they were out of earshot and his men literally jumped to answer. "We know that Forniph believed the sniper to have been making a base in the hotel he followed him too. However, we do not believe this is the case. Our intelligence indicates that a car picked him up shortly before we reached Forniph and set off towards the center of town. He was also seen in the company of a woman, believed to be Cassandra, who is second in command to Marino, the local leader. We believe that this hybrid may be in his employ, however we have not confirmed this." the nearest person, a tweedy looking man with over-large glasses said quickly. "We have a general layout of Marino's headquarters and havve several men currently staking it out for signs of the hybrid, however he has not been spotted as of yet."

Renegade dismissed this with a wave of his meaty hand. "Oh, he is there. I vould vager my life...vell, your life anyvay. But our shadov did manage to take a nice chunk out of him before he vas taken down. He is probably recupirating. Now is the perfect time to strike. To take him vhen he is veak." They had reached Renegade's room and temporary office and the Russian went silent as he walked over to his desk. The several men watched from the doorway, anxiously awating his orders as he poured himself a liberal amount of scotch in a tall glass and lit up a cigar. Cuban. The best. He pulled in a long drag from he cigar and took a pull from the scotch glass before he spoke again.

"I vant that hybrid. And I vant him TONIGHT!"

The wandering mind... wrote: "That's not off." Doc laughed, walking inside, shutting the door softly behind him. "A start though." He frowned at the blood seeping through the bandage and, his bag at his side, slipped on some gloves.

"I'm hoping you didn't split these. I'm going to really need your shirt fully off. I might even have to resew them..." Doc settled down on the couch next to him.

"Also, I don't advise lying to your doctor." Doc flashed him a smile. "If you don't want to talk.. I can leave and you can go back to your bleeding and moping." He laughed, not about to actually do that.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
Q let out a huff of annoyance as he pulled his t-shirt off and tossed it on the floor, hissing all the way.
Instead of resuming his past position with hand over eyes and elbow on the back of the couch, he slumped forward with his hands in his lap.

"My eyes and head are killing me, my shoulder hurts, I'm blind, I feel like a failure, and I'm dizzy What more do you want?" he griped. "Should I just throw up on you, too?"

Q clasped his hands together, taking a deep breath. He wanted to talk, sure. But because of what had happened between he and Doc, he wanted to be careful of what he said. Doc was a huge flirt ready to pounce, Q was sure. And the things Q had done, especially last night, didn't help the issue at all. If they could stick to business, then maybe he could avoid it alltogether.

Yes, he was preoccupied with Ves- Q knew that as soon as he healed he had to go right back out there and try to kill the man. If Cass had just let him take that shot, then maybe he'd not be in this situation. Maybe he wouldn't be hurt right now. Maybe he would not have slept with Doc. Maybe he would not be having these stupid second-thoughts about the whole ordeal.
But it was Marino's fault in the first place. Marino brought him into this mess. Q could've been happy in his booze, women and cigarettes if Marino hadn't stepped in.

Why on earth would Marino have such faith in a hybrid's skills anyway? Seemed like a stupid gamble. Marino had picked up Anasti too, and look where that had gotten him. She was probably more of a loss than anything. He wondered if she was actually any good at what she claimed to do, being so emotional all the time.
And, come on? A blowfish? How the hell would a Blowfish and a bat get it on? Anasti was more of a freak than Q was, and Q was pretty freakish. He knew he was a Saluki, but no dog on earth had eyes like he did.
He wondered...
Q shook his head briefly, his tail taking a predatory swipe at the doctor.
No, Q thought. Nobody could change someone's eyes. If the doctors before had not been able to do it, this one wouldn't be able to, either. If it could've been done, it would've.
Perhaps he was better off with night vision, anyway. It had always helped him. Just... not during the day.

"I left the gun case at the hotel," Q stammered finally. "I have to go get it tonight."
He looked over to where he assumed the Doc to be, his eyes still closed, of course. "As soon as the sun sets, I'm going."
Doc wasn't gonna keep him here.
In all honesty, Q just wanted to leave. To just run away. He didn't like dealing with Cass or Anasti or Marino. A part of him liked being ordered around. He did have loyalty instilled in him, even if the master was a horrid one. But still, the more he stayed here, it seemed like the more he got hurt, got downtrodden. His pride was going the way of the wind, and if he just left tonight, got his glasses and that gun case, and maybe those pills...

He could just leave and never show up again, just like he had with France. Just like he had with Vespasien. All would be well.
Q was not a people person.
And he didn't like how Doc was changing his attitude toward people.

He separated his hands and formed them into fists, knocking them together gently as he brought his face downward again.
Q wanted to go to bed. He wanted to open his eyes, too. But his head pounded enough and he knew if he opened them now, after the onslaught they had received from earlier today, it would just bring him more pain. And that was the last thing he needed.

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc watched him with soft eyes... There was an attraction he felt toward him, but it wasn't something like Cassandra, who merely wanted to jump and do bad things to Quatre. It was a caring attraction. He wanted to hold him, keep him warm, comfort him and make all his problems melt away. Doc couldn't stand to see him so depressed, so hurt.

He was a doctor, a healer. Wanted to take care of the pain Quatre felt. He wanted to patch up the broken heart he held, all this without really even knowing what happened to him. Part of him wanted to find out, but he didn't want to have to ask. However, that's what Marino had ordered him to do. He was to get Quatre to talking, and tell him as much as he could get out of the hybrid.

"You know... Running away from your problems never helps." Doc settled down on the couch next to him, careful not to get too close, afraid of pushing the other man away. "I've done it enough myself to know. And, well, it seems like that's what you've been doing too. I don't know your story, I don't know what happened. All I know is that you think walking with your back to it will stop it from harming you. Which isn't true. It leaves you unable to see the attack until you've already been stabbed in the back." Doc frowned. He knew this because that was where he'd been before.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
Q opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it. His head tilted toward Doc and he gave a few sniffs. Doc didn't smell any different. Then again, Q's sense of smell wasn't that much better than a human's. He cocked his head slightly, debating on whether to open his eyes, to see if Doc looked different.

He finally decided against it and went back to his last position, knuckles rubbing against eachother nervously as the tail thwapped a few times against the back of the couch.
"The only problems I have are health ones," he stated blankly, the walls beginning to build back up, brick by brick. "And they only started acting up once I got here."

Something was suspicious. Q couldn't place it. Doc was sensitive and talked of sensitive issues, but this seemed almost rehearsed. Was something wrong?
Q's tail made a final slap against the back of the couch before it hugged his left leg.
"I'm dying, aren't I?" his voice softened, his posture sank.
"This is one of those speeches someone gives you when they try to tell you something bad is going to happen.... Isn't it?"

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc laughed lightly.

"Dying? Not from these little injuries, that's for sure." He carefully peeled back the bandages on Quatre's wounds, remembering what he'd been in the middle of. He worked while his mind was elsewhere, having done all this before, dabbing at the stitches, cleaning them, checking for any signs of infection.

"Look.. you don't have to tell me about it." He said after a short, uncomfortable silence. "I just want you to know that you can. I know there is more than just your health issues you hide from. Believe me, I've really been there. Heh.. you know how I got to be where I am today? They don't really teach people with drug problems to be licensed medical professionals.. though that could be interesting..." Doc laughed a little, though it was forced, he was admittedly uncomfortable with the orders from Marino sitting over him, but he didn't have a choice.

Doc fished in his bag and pulled out a small syringe and bottle.

"I'll have to numb the skin, and pull out and redo these stitches or you'll end up with some really bad scaring, should they even heal." He gently pinched the skin a little and injected a mild local anesthetic.


Marino's hand went into the air to stop Shea as soon as she entered.

"I would not go any further. Give me a moment, then let Anasti in." He was standing there, closer to the elevator staring into his tank of sharks, who by the color of the water had just been fed. Upon closer look, Shea would of noticed that he was toweling a red liquid off his hands, and that two men were removing some black bags from the room.

As soon as the secretary left, and Anasti found her way in, he didn't even bother sitting, or moving back toward his desk, merely looked her over with a nod.

"You fail, and the broken finger will be the least of your worries." He turned to smile at the sharks swimming in the tank before him.

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastismaller.jpg[/imgright]

Anasti noted the slightly pale look on Shea's face as she walked past the busty secretary and into Marino's office. The cause for the girl's discomfort was obvious as Marino addressed her, still bent over the tank containing his precious sharks who had...judging by current color of thier tank....just been fed.

"I don't plan on failing." she replied coolly, crossing her arms over her chest once again. "I just thought that I should let you know. Also..." she paused for a moment, running the decision over in her head. As she had made her way to the lab and gotten ready for her mission, she had mulled over the idea of letting Marino know what she suspected about Renegade and his intentions. She had no idea what the Russian was doing in town, but she suspected he was overseeing something rather large and expensive...some important business transaction or merger most likely. Renegade was a man who enjoyed the comforts of life, and particularly the comforts of his own life. He was not one to travel for his business when he could send others, so whatever he was doing in town had to be sufficiently important enough to grant a personal visit. Forniph was his second now, last she had heard, but almost all of Iron Claws worked underneath him after thier disbandment several years prior. Only Forniph was special. Forniph was the Iron Claw who had hand-delivered Jeremiah to Renegade's men by sending him out on a false mission which was really a trap.

If the rumours were true....he had cut her brother's wings off himself. And she had cut out his tongue just for the rumour.

If there was one person she wanted to see fed alive to Marino's sharks or some similair creature...other then Renegade...it was Forniph. And he had seen Q. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that Renegade would want him killed. He despised all Hyrbids and would certaintly send a sniper at the very least after the canine. And she had learned that Q was...stubborn at best. Arrogant, conceited, bull-headed, a real pain the ass, honestly. She couldn't trust him to stay put, not even if she told him they were coming after him. She almost laughed inwardly at the thought. Hell, he probably wouldnt believe her. She was trusting the doctor to tie him up as long as he could, but sooner rather then later, he would be back out on the streets. And Renegade would come for him.

"...also, I've been looking over the specs for this mission. While it was originally slotted for two days, the first as a stake-out operation and the second as the actual poisoning, I feel that the second day would be an unneccessary risk. Get in and get out quickly. I can accomplish it in one night. Tonight." she finished smoothly. She had decided against telling Marino. The man was vicious. If he knew that Renegade was after Q, she wouldn't put it past him to sell the sniper over to his competitor for a decent price. No. She would simply finish her mission as quickly as possible and get back here. She would keep on eye on Q herself.



[imgleft]http://www.geocities.com/forever_hide/kodaka/masa1.jpg[/imgleft]
A small, tweedy-looking man with over-sized glasses stepped carefully from the shadows outside the large compound that housed Marino's headquarters and gazed up at the immense structure. Two burly men stood on either side of him, complete silent with an air of waiting surronding them. A hiss of static startle the man and he jumped slightly, having momentarily forgotten that he was wearing an earpiece.

"Report?" the single, harsh-sounding snatch of Russian snapped into his ear and he put his finger to the piece almost instantly, still eyeing the building as he spoke back in the same harsh language.

"Nothing to report. No sign of Robin, but the cat is waiting outside the bird house. "

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
"Oh," Q stated flatly, at Doc's correction. Q forced a laugh. Of course he wasn't dying.
How stupid could he be to think that?

He stiffened up as Doc messed with his wounds, his tail flinching before finally declaring war against the back of the sofa as it went from either side, slapping the cushions as hard as it could. Q tried his best to not growl or his, though he did grimace and hold his breath. With everything else, he didn't bother trying to control his tail, and once the needle approached him, he started to shiver nervously.

"You don't have drug problems," Q forced, trying to ignore the fact that his shoulder was going numb, and it freaked him out. He started seeing yellow under his eyelids, and felt sick to his stomach. Though it was probably associated with repressed memories than anything actually tangible. "I thought you were just a casual smoker."

Q swallowed, his tail still continuing its onslaught against the couch, though the strength of the thuds was fading gradually. "They don't train mutts to be snipers, either," he consoled.
But that was about as descriptive as Q would be for now.

The wandering mind... wrote: "Causal smoker now maybe." Doc laughed, he had done this a thousand times at least and his hands moved fluidly with practice, allowing him to let his mind wander elsewhere as he worked.

"I used to be an addict. When I was younger. Thought I could run away from all my problems with the high I got off drugs. Really messed myself up.. and other people." Doc's brows folded down, making him look older and he tugged gently on the old stitches, pulling them out and dropping them onto a paper towel as he worked, pausing to wipe up a small red line of blood that threatened to run down Quatre's back. "I was probably one of the youngest to ever go through medical school. Rich family and all. Nice city, fences and guards and spotlights to keep all these sort out, you know?" He made a wide motion in front of him, as to refer to all in the building. "My mother was a real beautiful woman, long black sleek hair, real gorgeous type... You know, the ones that could of been on movie posters and magazines, but they got too big a heart? Oh, I loved her. She was my world, we used to do everything together. I was her little boy. Daddy wasn't around all that much, he was there, but a silent figure, always out working, bringing the money in, didn't really have a complete hold on what was important. Blamed himself for not being there that day when my mother was attacked. Tell ya she was beautiful, and this mutt wanted a piece of her, but as terrible as it was, my mother pulled through, didn't let it bring her down. Finds out she's pregnant a few weeks later. Never told anyone but me near the end that she knew it wasn't father's, that the damned mutt had put his seed in her. Oh, but you should of seen the look on Daddy's face when his baby boy came out with ears and a tail, whining like a pup." Doc paused, an obvious look of defeat on his face.

"Heh..." He sighed lightly, taking a moment to catch himself before continuing. "See, in all the commotion from the birth, no one took to notice that mum had been bleeding, something went wrong in the birth, and by the time they noticed, it was too late to save her. Dad couldn't take it, losing her, it crushed him, but mom, god love her, made him promise to take care of Jacob no matter what, to take the love he had for her and pass it on to him. He took that to heart. Ah, things were great for a few years, Jacob had mum's heart. Nothing could bring him down, he'd just laugh, even the way others treated him for being different, never bothered him, he just loved life. Things were great, until we found the cancer. It was the breed that put him at such a high risk, weird, destructive cancers that are so rare would show up in him. He was in and out of the hospital all the time, and still, he never lost his smile. Even after his hair started to fall off, and he couldn't play outside anymore. We had a lot of trouble finding people to treat him, people weren't too fond of hybrids in that social circle, so Dad ended up putting me through school so I could help take care of him. Every nurse we hired walked out on us, or didn't treat Jacob right, or something. It was okay at first... I'd go through it all for mom, worked hard and got through school so fast, you wouldn't believe it... but it was a brutal disease... I was with him all the time. I never got to leave the house either. I got to the point where I just...snapped." Doc paused, his story getting difficult for him by this point. His hands were just sitting in his lap, he'd fixed the stitches, but couldn't find it in himself just yet to bandage Quatre's wounds, it taking enough out of him just telling the story.

"I got away from it all, ran off, got into bad things. I couldn't take it. I blamed everyone and everything. Dad for not being there, mom for dying, that damn mutt for what he did to my mother... even poor Jacob, who never did a thing wrong in his life. Didn't find out until later that Dad lost his job, that money went even faster after I left... I finally found my way back, when I ran out of money and people to do favors for... reduced to calling home to beg Daddy for some cash to get my next hit... Got home and it was dark and empty. Jacob was already gone. Dad was so furious with me... 'How could you of done this to him?' He yelled at me.. screamed.. threw bottles, I didn't even know what was going on at first... broke Jacob's heart when I left.. he lost his smile.. his desire to fight for life.. didn't know it then, but I was his reason for happiness. He never cared the others wouldn't play with him, because I would, I was his everything..." Tears fell silently down Doc's face, but he continued talking. "Dad kicked me out after that... didn't see him again. Hung himself the week after, guess he couldn't live after losing his two boys... one to disease.. and me to stupidity. I was selfish, it took a lot to get out of it. Fell back into bad habits first, woke up one day in the old house... must of stumbled there on a shaky high. Found our picture...relatives had tossed it, anything from the house with him in it. Like I said, not the most friendly to hybrids that circle. Sounds corny, but I had a little revelation that day. Ended up getting my act together, got clean. Found good work and all. Some associates from my past caught up with me though, past will always find you. I knew I couldn't get a job in a good place with my record, ended up finding my way here. But even then.. I can still find ways to help, you know? I don't doubt people anymore... I figured the least I can do in Jacob's honor is live life the way he would of." Doc wiped his eyes and shuffled around for his bag, pulling out the bandages he needed.

He bore a smile on his face, despite the tears that still came, as he taped gauze over the wound and pulled away, cleaning his mess up and letting Quatre return his shirt.

It felt good to have told someone all of that. A few knew bits of his past, but Quatre was the first he'd ever told all his story too. He didn't really know why. Maybe it'd help him open up, maybe not.



Marino looked over his shoulder at Anasti, lifting an eyebrow. He wasn't a stupid man, and knew the woman was hiding something from him, but it didn't matter. Trying to bring it out of her wouldn't do any good at this point, it'd have to wait until the mission was over. He needed her to do her work first.

"As long as they die at their final destination, I have no issue with it being done today. The sooner they're dead, the better." He turned back, speaking with her back to her. "Oh, and one more thing, send Shea in when you're done."

When Anasti left and his secretary entered, Marino had her call Cassandra up, who took no time at all getting to Marino's office.

"I need you to do something for me." He spoke coolly, no fronts, much less with his second hand.

"Anything you ask Sir."

"Keep on eye on that one. When she finishes her mission, I want you to find out what she knows that she's not telling."

"Understood."

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]At first, as Q shook involuntarily, he asked himself why Doc was telling him all this. He didn't really understand why. It seemed silly for Doc to just give Q this wealth of information.

But all those thoughts were gone by the time Doc had reached the end. Q's tail had stopped moving and his shivering still present but much more minute. The hybrid, still voluntarily blinded, brushed his hair with his right hand in an eerily creepy silence. Q didn't know what to say.
"I'm sorry" seemed corny.
After a very slow thirty seconds, he finally succumbed to the trap.

"I never met my mother," he resigned. "I don't know anything about her. The only things I know about my heritage are ones I stumbled over." About every two sentences, there was a pause.
At least Doc seemed to have a timeline all written down and remembered. At least Doc had had a family. Q had had none of that. He was reluctant and full of remorse.

"I don't remember a lot of my childhood either. Father took me to military school. I didn't even know females existed until... I don't know... Maybe I was seventeen..." he forced a laugh. How stupid, to think women were the things of myth.
"Father tried to..." Q struggled, brushing his hair more frequently, trying to come up with the words.
"Make me more human... I guess." He shook his head. "I don't really know what I used to look like. There aren't any pictures. But I know that... This... It is mostly artificial. And I know that the scars I have... I should be proud it is only them, and it is not more."

He clasped his hands together in his lap finally, squeezing them together. "We never talked about it. Father insisted I be normal. So whenever I did something that wasn't normal, he'd reprimand me for it. There was this boy..." Q licked his lips, stopping himself from saying the name - Ves. "He was older than me. I don't remember how we met. But he taught me to stop being such a loyal, unquestioning kid and to become... Eh... Independent? I thought I was in love with him. I told Father about it... I told him everything..." Q put his right hand to his face in a sigh. How stupid he had been.
"I didn't know it was wrong. I didn't know what love was." He fingered his scar, running his middle finger up and down the trench in his skin that had never fully healed.
"He never treated me the same after that." Q clasped his hands back together, but only after running his right hand through his hair again.
"I wanted to go to sniper school. But he forbid it. They wouldn't take me anyway, but I didn't know at the time. He wanted me to be a Strategist. But I don't like mind games, even though... I guess I was good at it. I don't know. I got good grades, but my memory's pretty fucked." He grimaced.
"He.. Er... My friend, that I thought I was in love with, I mean... He convinced me to live the country with him. So I ran away with him, and he taught me how to shoot. We are taught basics in school, but to be a sniper there is more... He didn't know much either but we made the best of it. I have amazing aim and gunning is easy for me, so I became his gunner, and he took over the Strategy. We were...Are... Illegal aliens so we just did what we thought we could do. He had a hard time learning english so I translated for him too. We researched, found the big wigs, and in our cities he would have me kill them off one by one. He rose to power, and I was his second in command."

Q rubbed his knuckled together, unsure if he should continue. But he did, eventually.
"Then about a year or so in, we stopped being so...Um. Friendly to eachother, I guess. He liked his women more than me. Suddenly I wasn't so special, wasn't his right hand man. I was just that guy that killed people for him. Even though I was somewhat independent I was still incredibly loyal. Never questioned anything. Always did what was asked of me. But after I knew he was never going to keep me close to him again, I made the decision to leave, and I ran off. I never saw him again."

He frowned, raising his right hand to finger brush his hair but stopping midway. He rubbed his knuckles together again instead. Q was in an awkward position. He'd never really told anyone anything before. He just.. Did things. After a few tail swiped and calming down his apparent nervousness, he continued.

"I was on the streets for a long time. Realized being a dog wasn't so bad afterall. Embraced it. After a while I got the courage to start my own business. Began doing small claims. I wanted to stay underground. Working on the big names had been difficult. When I went on my own I had no one to watch my back so I wanted to stay low, just enjoy looking through the scope. I love sniping. I guess I got pretty good at it. Enough to be fooled into sniping someone bigger. Someone working with Marino. And..." He sighed heavily. "Here I am."

Admittingly, Q had left out a lot of things, but this was probably as open as he was going to get, unless asked a specific question. He scratched his head, his nervous shake still apparent.
"... Is it dark in here yet?" he asked, hesitantly. Almost as if he wanted to change the subject alltogether.

Page 24
Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastismaller.jpg[/imgright]

Anasti swept from the room without a seconds pause and headed towards the elevator. She wasn't entirely sure that Marino hadn't seen through her flimsy defenses, but she couldn't worry about that right now. She had a mission to finish. She boarded the elevator and paused, finger floating over the numbered buttons. She could go see Q right now. She had the time. Even if he didn't believe her, at least he would be warned. He'd know they were after him. Her hand trembled slightly and she closed her eyes, pressing her finger against the key for the ground floor.

She needed to stay calm. To be professional for the job ahead. Seeing Q now would only upset her. And...maybe even make her not want to leave.

She headed a few blocks south where her 'home' had been set up in a cheap rental house outfitted as a base to fall back on should anything go wrong, so she wouldn't lead them back to headquarters. Sitting in the driveway was a huge SUV, manual of course, she noted with a grimace as she stepped into it and adjusted her seatbelt. She had never quite gotten the hang of manual transmissions and she had a feeling that Marino knew that, having rented this car along with everything else for her mission. Grinding into reverse, she backed out and sped off down the street, heading into the city. Fifteen minutes later, she edged the huge vehicle into two parking spaces behind the resturant...tried to get it straighter and then gave it up as a bad job. Sweeping her hand through her hair and double-checking the hidden containers as well as her own, oddly unfamiliar reflection in the rearview mirror, she stepped out of the car, leaving it unlocked behind her, all the better for a fast getaway and if it got stolen it would be Marino's bill, not hers.

She walked into the resturaunt, a false, cheery smile plastered across her face as she greeted her 'boss'. "Anna Rightway , reporting for duty!" she forced a giggle and ticked a saucy salute off her forehead in a cheerful manner. Ugh. She was making herself sick with the chipper routine. Best hurry up and get this over and done with!



Outside Marino's headquarters, Anasti's passage was marked by forces that had grown in the last half an hour from the three men hiding in the shadows, to a force of nearly a dozen watching the building from different vantage points. Most of them wrote her off as nothing more then one of Marino's crew off to do some work, or perhaps take in a movie. But the tweedy man with oversize glasses who's name was Choate Barbarin, saw something more. For a briefest second, her wingtip had poked out of her carefully arranged hair, and even with her thoroughly changed appearance, he recognized her. "B...boss?" he spoke almost hesistantly into the earpiece, stuttering the guttural language. "We've got a p..problem."

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc listened intensely, unable to hid the frown on his face. It didn't feel right, this talk should be occurring on it's own, not pushed by Doc, not with Marino's orders standing over him. But it was happening either way...

"This man, he broke your heart didn't he?" Doc flinched, remembering how Quatre had said it was wrong. "Was he.. Ves? The man Marino is after?" Doc hesiatated, but knew he had to ask. The information was needed, and Marino was doing him a favor by letting him get it, and not feeding him to the more cold-hearted Cassandra. Doc didn't approve of her methods in the least of information gathering.

What Marino didn't share with Doc was that he suspected there was more to Ves and Q's relationship than Q had originally made out. Not that Marino had expected this twist, no that would come as a surprise to him, but he had a hunch that the man had at least at one point been more than a lackey. His thoughts were second hand or at least higher up. This relationship might give Marino more power against Ves if he used Q.

Doc tried to smile, though it looked a little fake. "You know... there's nothing wrong with what happened between you and him, besides him just being an ass..." Doc laughed uncomfortably.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]At the mention of the name, Q's back stiffened, his tail swiping the back of the couch twice before he interrupted the Doc.

"No!" He denied it. He put his hands on his knees, squeezing them. "That was not love." He stood up, immediately regretting it. He became dizzy as he stood up too fast, and he had to open his eyes to balance himself. That too made things worse, Q stumbled to his knees, one hand on the table and the other on the seat of the couch, his eyes closed out of fear again.
The room wasn't dark enough just yet. Q had a disgusted look on his face.

"What he and I had was a... an..." he struggled, looking for an excuse. "We were practically brothers, and.. what is that saying? Bros before hos?" He was grabbing at straws, and it was evident.
"He took me for granted, so I left, that's all."

At least his nervous shake had vanished.

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc jumped to his feet to catch Quatre in his arms, holding him steady.

"I'm sorry if I misspoke.. I was just saying what it seemed like to me..." Doc tried his best to soften his face, making himself as friendly as possible.

"Why is it such a big deal though? I mean, sure.. it's love we are talking about, but.. we all get our hearts broken. Or is it because he was a man.. just like you.." Just like Doc...

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q flinched at the question. He wanted to get away from this conversation. But he was blinded, and it was not so evident how much he relied on his sight until now. He was helpless, and trapped here.

"I wasn't in love," he urged. "I was mistaken. That's not love."

He would've shoved Doc's arms off him, if he could see. Instead he grabbed them and used Doc as an anchor to pull himself back onto the couch. After that, he pulled his arms away, crossing them over his still bare chest.

"And it's a big deal because I left my country for him. I left everything I knew. My life was his. I did not know any of this... I did not know this whole world existed out there. It was all new to me. He got me through it, gave me the cigarettes, told me to not depend on Father or the doctors or to worry what others thought of me. If anything, he is the man who raised me, moreso than Father. Vespasien taught me everything, gave me power. And then when he tossed me to the curb," Q hmphed, looking away, although still blind. "It was probably just another one of his lessons. I am more a man because of it, not some whimpering puppy awaiting its master's next command in hopes for a biscuit."

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc carefully lead him to the couch, not even taking offense as he pulled away. He didn't really blame him.

"That sounds... good. I mean what he has done for you. I cannot say I approve of his dismissal of you, no matter what lesson is learned..."

He fumbled a little.. not sure what to even say anymore, or where this conversation was even supposed to go.

"So.. what do you think love is?"

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q's brows creased together. He stopped being defensive. Although Doc was younger than Q, he had much more actual life experience.
Q looked up to him for answers, despite how much Q would publically deny it.
"I don't know..." He said quietly.

"Isn't it the same word for your 'sex'? Like 'intercourse'?" When he said 'your' he had meant the english language. He didn't think it could have meant something else at the time.
Q had never seen a true romance movie. He didn't know why, but any time he had tried to watch TV or movies he had only seen a blank screen.
He didn't realize it wasn't normal until someone told him. Q had avoided most 'normal' entertainment since that time. Because of that, he really didn't have any ideas of what society should have been like, aside from his experiences with other people.

"Or is it when you say those things to girls, to get them to lay to bed with you? Love seems like such an empty word. It is just a stronger version of the word 'like', right? It could be anything."
He scratched his head, unsure. "I am not even sure what the meaning is in my own language."

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc laughed uncomfortably and rubbed his head at the mention of sex.

"Well..not really.. love is more... caring... I mean, like I guess is closest, but it's still not the same." Doc shifted, sitting up straight, pulling his hands in front of him, waving them a little, as if it'd make his task of explaining love easier.

"It can be an empty word... it can mean the things you've mentioned.. but really, it's something more. Like anything it's what you make of it, and how you use it. Tell me, you ever felt anything toward those women you've taken to bed? More than just instinct, fun, attraction? Or is that where it fell?" He turned to look at Quatre.

"Now I'm not the expert on it.. but love I think is really about a connection with someone where.. you care about them, more than you care about yourself, others around you. Where you want to be with that person, want to share everything. Want to hold them through the night, let them feel that life is going to be okay..." Doc trailed off, looking away at what he'd said, remembering what it felt like to just sleep next to Quatre. Was he himself falling in love with this man?

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastismaller.jpg[/imgright]


Choate slid to the ground,his back against the wall of Marino's compound, Renegade's words still ringing in his ears.
"Get in there. Now. I want that hybrid. As for her....I'll handle her myself."

That was it, simple orders. Infilitrate the building as quickly and quietly as possible. Find the hyrbid. Get him out. Take him to Renegade. But Choate hated rushing missions like this. Haste bred mistakes...and, in this line of work, mistakes landed you dead, or at least bleeding pumped with lead in a hospital room somewhere like Forniph was. And he doubted that the now 14 men under his command were enough. If Marino spotted them before they had the hybrid, they were likely to all die in a blaze of gunfire and blood. They didn't have enough manpower to stop him.

And now the man was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Follow Renegade's order and most likely die. Or choose not to follow them and definetly die...and probably endure a hell of alot more pain at the Russian hands. Not much choice when you think about it. He stood up, motioning to the group of mercs waiting his orders across the street. They moved forward, sliding into the alley at the side of the building and started working on getting the side access door open. Meanwhile, Choate donned the labcoat that they had managed to procur, isolating one of the labtechs as he had come outside for a smoke. His body was rotting in the dumpster in the alley as he pulled on the coat and checked the name tag.

The plan was simple. One group of 5 would attempt to get through the side door while a second group waiting outside, sniper guns at the ready. The third group including himself would enter through the front doors, trusting to the large amounts of Marino's employees to camoflague them. With two entry forces, and a fall back force, it was their best shot at getting at the hybrid and surviving, if one group failed there were backups to take its place, and if Marino did catch on to them, then they could split his forces in three directions and hopefully catch him off guard long enough to grab the hybrid and run. Checking to make sure that his twin pistols were strapped to his waist, securely but within reach beneath the labcoat, Choate stepped out of the shadows. He would enter first and then the other four men would enter at different intervals. Their priority was to get to the infirmary wing. They knew that Forniph had injured the hybrid which helped to narrow down the possiblities of where he was inside the huge compound. If he was not in the infirmary, they would press the location of his room out of one of the doctor's and search there next.

Choate put his hand up to his ear and pressed the earpiece. "Cat is moving into the birdhouse. Our priority is to secure the Robin at all costs. Maintain radio silence. We are go." he said quietly in Russian before pulling the piece from his ear, switching it off and dropping it into the pocket of the coat. Taking a deep breath, he walked through the front doors, trying to act normally as he headed toward the elevator.

Meanwhile, Anasti nearly dropped the tray, perching several half-full drinks on its shifting surface while her other hand clutched a large basin of dirty dishes. She swore under her breath as she just barely caught an empty glass that tumbled off the tray. She faked a stumble, looking up and catching her 'boss's' eye with a guilty smile. Her persona as a klutzy and naive waitress was fool-proof. And it drove her mad. She had spotted her marks as they came in and made small talk with them, flirting slightly as she had taken thier orders. A bell dinged behind her and she allowed a smik to grace her lips for a second. Thier orders were up. She deposited the tray and basin in the kitchen, gathering the trays of food in her hands. Sliding a finger underneath her apron in a pretext of adjusting the strap, she slit the small compartment containing the poision and gathered it deftly on a fingertip. Then, as her hand withdrew from beneath the fold, she forced a sneeze, her hand appearing to fly up to cover her nose but was in reality sending the powder flying over the meal. She was washing her hands after her 'sneexe' when she heard the front door open. Looking up, she felt her heart stop. The matre de was leading a large man with slightly wavy brown hair and peircing eyes to the empty table directly behind her mark. He turned as he sat and she caught a full glance at his face.

Renegade. Shit.

He caught her gaze and for a moment, everything else in the restaruant ceased to exist. Everything fell silent on deaf ears as her contact tinted down to gray eyes caught his own dark ones. And she knew that he knew who she was. And that he was here for her. He smiled a dark, cold smile and she was already fingering the packet of nerve gas in her apron. She looked down at the trays waiting to go to her marks and mastered her panic. Mission first. Then run like hell. She picked the trays up and headed out towards the table, aware that he was watching her every move.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]He shook his head. "Sex is just a sport, like anything else."

He put his head in his hands for a moment, trying to think. His head still hurt from earlier.
He finally, with a sigh, clasped his hands together again, sitting up straighter.
"We are supposed to care more for are superiors anyway. As much as I hate Marino, I am beneath him, and would protect his life should I be asked. His life is more important than mine. I would die for him. That's our.." he corrected himself, "..my job. It is loyalty. Respect? It is that way because it is. That is not love."

"All those other things..." He shook his head again, his right hand coming to his face, staying there rather than brushing his hair instinctively, "... That could be applied to any sweet nothing you say to a woman."
Q knew he was spouting lies. He wanted to believe Doc, but he was not ready to admit he was less of a man for 'loving' Ves. And he was starting to feel the same about Doc. But wasn't that how you were supposed to feel toward doctors?
They tell you life is going to be okay, you must tell them everything?
This wasn't love, either. It couldn't be. They just had a... Strong friendship, a mutual respect. What had happened last night was an accident.
Sexual attraction, between two males.. Sure.. they could do whatever.. Q wasn't going to partake in that. He wasn't going to emasculate himself by having sex with another. It was wrong.
Emotional attraction... That was on a completely different plane. Q wouldn't allow himself to become attached to anyone.
Not after what happened the last time.
He didn't want another permanent scar, he didn't want to be rejected or viciously told the morals of society and how men just didn't do that.
Q squeezed his temple, questioning his own thoughts.
He had been punished so furiously, undoubtedly so had Ves. Why had Doc not been? Did Doc just not admit to it?

"Maybe love is a fake word," he resigned. "Like Heaven or Hell or Demon,maybe it just doesn't exist."

The wandering mind... wrote: "Sex may be, but love is not... " He sighed. Doc was really not sure he even knew himself.

"There's a difference though, sacrifice out of respect and authority is not the same as love. You yourself just admitted to hate him. Love... " He struggled a little, "Love is where, say you are ordered to turn around and go the other way, and instead you stay and fight. Because you don't want to leave that person, you want to help them, save them. More than anything else. You don't care if you can't like each other, can't get along, you just want to be standing there next to them."

"Love.. it doesn't make you any less of a person, in fact, it should complete you. That person should be all the things you aren't, but want. It should make you happy just to be around them. A friendship.. that turns into something so much more."

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q pulled at his bangs. "I could never disobey an order," he frowned. He couldn't even begin to fathom a situation where he would. Maybe killing himself, or harming himself in some way with no reason, but otherwise, there would never be an occasion where he'd disobey.

"Bend maybe, but if they truly outrank me, I would always do as they ask. Kill my own father, even. Kill Ves." He brushed his right hand through his hair again, afterward placing it on his knee.

"Friendships are overrated, even. I have only had you and Ves." he quickly added on another disclaimer, though. "That I remember."

Q creased his brows again, in thought. He'd already convinced himself he hadn't loved anyone. There was just one more thing to do on his list.
"If love really changes a person in all the ways you say, then love is weakness." He turned his head, tapping his fingers on his knew for a moment. "Why allow someone to cloud your judgment so much? It is clouded enough with sexual attraction. According to your definition, love appears more dangerous than that. Love is not worth the risk, if that is truly the case."

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc frowned. He didn't want to hear friendships being overrated, didn't want to hear Quatre seeing love as a weakness, but why? Why did hearing such things make a difference. Doc cared about everyone. Doc loved everyone. Doc was falling in love with just one person though, and this conversation was making him realize it, just through his frustration with Quatre's opinions.

"But it's not a weakness... sure, it can act like one. Make you all twisted up. Harder to focus, harder to think. You do stupid things to impress the one you care about.. say things you don't want to, because you just want to make them happy. But.. you gain so much happiness from it. Or at least you're supposed to. Like when you see a smile on their face that is genuine it makes you feel so good, especially if you put it there.. "

Doc stared at Quatre, his face straight, but his mind making him nuts. He wanted to take the man before him up in his arms and show him what love was, not that he even knew how he would.


A light flashed in Marino's office, indicating that the alarm was going off. Everything was of course set with an alarm system, as any modern building would be, and every entrance required identification for access. Marino's eyes were certainly not the only ones to be focusing on the alarm going off, as his security team was already in movement, guns drawn, at full run to the source of the breach, the initial reaction enough to distract those watching the main entrance just enough to allow the man in the lab coat through. Most of Marino's lackies weren't the type to pay attention to the lab coats for anything other than ridicule or mocking.

Behind a wall of monitors, a large man, of a rather intimidating girth, sat with little beady black eyes, studying the screens before him. Marino was smart, he would not be in his place if he was not, and he was very particular about the people he hired. He liked to pick those well suited for their jobs. Douglas, the name on the badge this overweight man wore, was of no exception, having an almost photographic memory, with great attention towards detail. If something was off on one of these monitors was off, he'd notice. The second the alarm went off, he began studying the outside cameras. There were literally hundreds, but he flipped through them, knowing them by heart. It took mere moments for him to notice something a strew, picking up a phone he grunted into it.

"Looks like company outside. Snipers."

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
Q hmphed. "It's a weakness," he stated.

He looked to the Doc, as stern a look coming from him with eyes shut as he could muster.
"I don't see why you care anyway. This whole conversation as been weird. You're not acting normal, you're not even breathing normal and--" Q quirked his head, a confused yet aggravated look overcoming his face.

His voice changed. "What's that noise?"

His ears rose and Q perked up, looking toward the door. The sound was faint, and low in Hertz. It resembled most light fixtures even, but it pulsated. It took him a few seconds to realize that Doc probably couldn't hear it. At that realization, his back slumped.
It was probably just an alarm for a microwave or something, though he didn't recall microwaves having such low frequencies. Then it hit him like a ton of bricks.

"Does this building have a silent alarm...?!"

Why would it go off?
In the middle of the day?
Q's muscles tensed and he let out a low growl.
He wanted to shoot something, but....
No, he had to calm down, and hide away in his room. He couldn't help anyone if he couldn't see.

Q's tail thwapped twice against the back of the couch. "Those pills," Q asked. He didn't know why it was important now, but he wanted to be safe.
"I haven't taken any yet. They should be on the table somewhere. Is it too late to take one now?"

The wandering mind... wrote: It was a good thing that Quatre's eyes were closed tight, so that he couldn't see the look his words put on Doc's face, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar before dinner. The last thing he wanted him to find out was that he was being pushed to these questions... Doc did not want to seem like he didn't care, especially when in reality he did, and to such an extent.

He perked his head up and to the side though, listening intensely, only to hear nothing out of the ordinary.

"Sorry..." Doc dragged his words, still straining to hear the culprit sound. "But.. I don't hear anything."

His eyes went to the left in thought, trying to recall what he knew about the buildings security.

"I know we have some pretty advanced stuff, I'm sure we do have one, why? Is that what you hear? But who would be dumb enough to try and get in here?"

He paused briefly when he asked about the pills, mentally pulling what he knew about the drug.

"Yeah, you can take it now.. but it'll probably make you nauseous if on an empty stomach..."

Page 25
Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
Q hmphed. "Of course you can't hear it," he resigned, slumping a bit.
"You've been here longer, you should know if people were trying to get in or not. How should I?" He slanted his mouth unsure.

But that was beyond him. He was going to try and not worry about it. It wasn't his problem. The sound would go away on its own, in a few minutes. ... He hoped.

"No matter." Q lifted his right hand, palm face up. "Just give me now, all right? I don't need to be fainting again."

"I'm nervous," he wanted to say. But he couldn't say that in front of Doc. Not after all these talks above love, and... Other such stupidly gay things.

The wandering mind... wrote: "Sorry.. just thinking aloud..." A sheepish look crossed Doc's face before he got up to find the bottle of pills, handing one to Quatre, as well as a drink to wash them down.

"I definitely don't want to see you faint... I would offer you something to take away the nausea, but I only have one thing with me, and I'm not so sure if you'd like it." A sort of weird, nervous half laugh escaped his mouth. His hand fumbled in his pocket, fingering the rolled up paper in it. Oh did he desire the calming, cool effects it's contents had to offer him.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
Q took the pill and placed it in his mouth, grimacing at the taste. It was alright however, as he quickly took the water and guzzled it all down. He gave a short cough before finishing up the glass and placing it on the table.

He put the glass down extremely slowly. He didn't want to miss or break anything.
It was only after the bottom had found the table top that he answered Doc.
"It's fine," he grumbled. Augh, how he hated pills.

"My head is killing me as it is, I'm sure my stomach adding to it won't hurt anything."
He leaned back into the sofa, his right hand going to his face for a moment, before it found its way to his left shoulder, where he felt the stitches with his fingertips. A frown came over his face.

His shoulder was still quite numb. He wondered if it would scar. He had enough scars as it was.
After his wandering curiosity he crossed his arms in his lap, each hand holding the opposing elbow.
Q took in a deep breath through his mouth, then exhaled through his nose. He would've kept quiet if it were not for that annoying alarm going off. It somehow reminded him of what he'd been talking about before this had happened.

"Before. When you were asking me all those questions..." Q looked down, the frown deepening. "Why? That's not like you."

Raine_Hinata wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v366/andariel13/Art from Gaia/anastismaller.jpg[/imgright]

Anasti watched the Russian out of the corner of her eye, but made no movement like she had noticed or recognized him. Renegade wasn't stupid. He had seen her and he knew that she had seen him. But for now, they were playing thier little roles to the fullest. She flirted casually with her marks, delivering thier unknowingly tainted food and even managing a wink at the largest of them as his hand found her backside and pinched it teasingly.


"Now, now!" she scolded, playfully, slapping his hand away. "I'm just not that kinda girl, ya know!?" she teased, giving him a gin which he apparently found quite amusing, she good hear him chortling across the restuarant as she made her back to the kitchen and ducked inside. Quickly, she moved over to window and pulled the blind down slightly. She didn't have to look hard, the large black car was parked right outside the back door, and several of the men around she recognized from her days among the Iron Claws. Casting her gaze around, she breathed a sigh of relief. None of her former companions were here, at least not at the moment and not within sight, and she knew what she was looking for. Most marked, was the absence of Forniph. Whether Q had managed to kill him remained a mystery, but he had at least taken him out of commision for the tme being, and there was a small comfort in that. She leaned against the wall and ran a hand through her currently honey-brown hair. Renegade being here confirmed her suspicions. He WAS in town. That HAD been Forniph that attacked Q. And that meant, her eyes widened at the thought, that Q was in serious trouble. She needed to get out of here and quickly, and get him warning at least. He didn't know they were coming for him.

But how was she getting out? Renegade had been hunting her for years and she knew, from her pre-mission scouting, that there were only two viable exits from the building. The front door which was obviously out of the question. And a small service door off the kitchen that was also, undoubtedly, being watched. She weighed her options. Renegade would expect her to take the service exit, trying to slip out behind him. Therefore, the largest focus of his men would be there. However, she was positive that at least one sniper was waiting to line her head in his sights should she get within a few feet of the front door. Damn. She was stuck between a rock and a really fucking hard place. Grinding her teeth, she reached down and pulled the apron off, sliding a dagger into her uninjured hand. The service exit was the best shot. A sniper could take her down instantly, but the alley behind the restuarant was too open to provide enough cover for there to be a sniper placed. There would be more men, definetly, and Renegade was counting on sheer numbers to take her down, if she chose that path. Fingering the miniscule rip cord on the pouch containing the nerve toxin inside the apron, she made up her mind. The cloud of gas would cover her escape somewhat and hopefully debilitate some of his men. She would still have to get damn lucky to get out of this alive....


Choate glanced up as he caught sight a small, pulsating light in the corner of the entrance hall. Pounding feet echoed through the compound, and that was enough to tell him that at least one of the other groups had been compromised. They knew they were here. But, as no one had accosted him yet, he felt realitively safe that his entrance had gone unnoticed. Ducking into his role as a terrified and rather witless lab tech, he adopted a look of shock and fear and headed quickly towards the elevator. Hopefully he could pass off that the commotion was scaring him and he was running for it. Better to be a live coward then a dead hero, he always said. Ducking into the elevator as a pair of men in dark suits stepped out, he quickly pushed the first button he saw. Their general schematics of the compound had placed the infirmary in the west wing of the third story, and it was there he headed first.

Meanwhile, the group at the back door had deciphered the code and wrenched it open. The sniper team signaled the men who were too follow Choate into the building to hold thier position. They had been discovered a bit quicker then they had expected, and the chance that any more of them would be able to get in was unluckly. Falling back into Plan B, the remainders of the team took position outside the front door, pulled out thier weapons and rushed the front of the building, bullets flying in all directions. They were to be distraction. Sucidal, yes, but their goal wasn't to survive. It was to draw Marino's men to front of the building, where the sniper team could take them out...

The wandering mind... wrote: "Heh.. it'd help that too." Doc let out another half laugh before releasing his hold on the joint in his pocket, shifting on the couch, only to nearly fall off when he spoke again.

Doc just stared at the ground. He hated lying.

"Oh? uh.. I don't know. Just thinking I guess. Don't mean to pry.. just want to know what.. um, made you to be you now I guess?"

He really hated lying, especially to Quatre. He was bad at it too. Doc was going to get caught.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
Q's head tilted slightly, unsure.
It sounded like a lie, but... Doc had never lied to Q before.
It wasn't adding up, but Doc was a weird person. Q couldn't predict the man.
To some degree, yes. He would always jump to care for Q, probably anyone.
He had been resolutely hard to crack.

"All right," he heaved a sigh. "I trust you."

That went for both Doc's hard to believe answer and for the supposed medicine Doc had offered.
"This thing that will help my headache and nausea. What is it? Why wouldn't I like it?"

The wandering mind... wrote: It was like being stabbed in the chest, the ping of guilt that stabbed through Doc at those words. Ahh.. trust... how could he not feel it? Lying to him like this. It pained him, but he was pulled from it by Quatre's questions.

A smile quickly cracked his face, and he jumped to his feet grinning, his hand shoving into his pocket and pulling out the joint.

"I'd like you to meet my friend Mary Jane. Nothing takes the edge off like a good smoke, not to mention all natural, which I prefer. Chemicals and mixers and lab coats are too stiff. Mother nature intended us to smoke this, and I sure as hell will. " He held the rolled paper, an eggshell white, out to Quatre as if it was some magical, wonderful cure all.. .which to Doc it almost was.



Marino's eyes narrowed and he chuckled loudly, pressing a button that was hidden in his desk, the silent alarm stopping, as the next step moved into play. Sheets of metal slide down with a clink over the windows on the bottom floor. He laughed cruelly as he picked up the phone, dialing an extension.

The men down below who were met with the fire of the others' guns backed up as a voice crackled in monotone a warning of the snipers in the windows above.

As soon as the corpulent man behind the wall of tiny tvs called out the locations of all the snipers into his receiver, panting heavy with the excitement of it all, his heart working double time to supply his large body, a team moved up to a high floor, each assigned a target. Sniper on sniper, fingers teasing at the trigger, blood lust almost unwilling to wait for the order to kill.

Douglas flipped back to the usual cameras only to spot something, no, someone that was out of place. He jumped in his seat, shoving food wrappers to the floor, scrambling for a piece of paper. He was given a number to call in case of such a situation. His chubby fingers punched the digits on his phone and he wiped his sweaty brow as it rang.

Cassandra reached into a hidden pocket in her jacket at the vibrations sent through it. Few had this number, and it was only to be called in an emergency. She had been getting ready to set out and stalk Anasti after her job was finished, to see what the bitch hadn't been telling Marino, but when this phone rings... it brings promises of something so much better.

"Where?" Was all she spoke into the phone when she flipped it open.

"Got it." A smile crept on her face, turning up the edges of her lips. She strapped on a few extra knives for good luck as well as a taser adjusted for higher than normal voltage, before taking off swiftly through the building to hunt down the intruder.

Back in his office Marino pushed the intercom button on his phone.

"Kill them. But bring me any survivors. My babies could stand to eat again." He tapped what was almost affectionately at the beasts in the tank in his office, laughing his cruel laugh again. The day was proving to be entertaining in the least.

((I think I remembered most of my post Gaia ate... rewrote some of it.))

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
Q's head tilted to the other side. He heard the rustle of paper, and he assumed that Doc was talking about smoking something, but as good as Q was at english, he'd, ironically, never heard that particular slang term before.

A troubled look came over his face, only momentarily wavering at noticing the alarm stopped its siren. He didn't want to admit he didn't know something in english. He'd only been speaking it for as long as he could remember. Just from context clues he knew it was something natural, something people smoked. And from hearing it, it sounded like a self-made cigarette.

So was it... Cloves, maybe? Or marijuana. Hadn't Doc mentioned he smoked Cannabis? Maybe it was that. Q opened his mouth, hesitating in his answer. He didn't know what to say. He didn't want to make an assumption, either; Cannabis and cloves were two entirely different substances.

Q's brow twitched, his once easy to ignore headache, not so easy to ignore any more. It felt like a tension headache. Something that warned Q his blood pressure was getting rather low. But it was slightly different. And his blood pressure couldn't have been low - he'd just taken that medicine. A side effect, perhaps? His tail uneasily swaggered about on the couch.

He put his right hand in front of his face, massaging his temples the best he could with his thumb and forefinger. Of course, it was no help. It never was.

"...Cures headaches, You said...?" Q said shyly.
Oh, he was resigning himself to something now.
Something that could end up with unpredictable results.

But Q didn't care about that.
He just wanted to get rid of his headache. And then, maybe he could see, too.

Raine_Hinata wrote:

"Damn it!" he swore under his breath, slamming his fist into the wall a mere inch from the head of nurse who sat tied to to chair in the infirmary. She let out a muffled shriek of fear. It had been a simple enough task for him to find the infirmary once he exited the elevator, as it occupied the entire West Wing. However, the hybrid had not been there. And neither, as the lovely little maid here had already told him under...some persuasion, had the head doctor. Presumably the Doctor had taken him somewhere but after giving him that tidbit of fact, his informant had gone cold on him. And that just couldn't be allowed, now could it? He reached into the medical tray and retrived a scalpel. This particular blade was already soaked in crimson, having been used to do a bit of creative reconstruction on the nurse's face before she had even giving him that much. Choate had to hand it to Marino. His people were tough to crack.

He pressed the blade against the women's nose and began to scrape it along the bridge, humming merrily as if he been simply peeling potatoes as the sharp blade began to slowly peel the skin from her nose. Ignoring her muffled screams, he hummed a little louder and peeled a litte deeper, his finger slipping as the tiny blade snipped the very end of her nose off. The piece of flesh fell to the floor with a splat and the trembling woman before him wavered for a moment, eyelids rolling restlessly as if she was about to pass out. Swiftly, he dipped his hand towards the medical tray once again, dropping the scalpel and grabbing the bottle of smelling salts stuffing them rudely under her nose. Drops of blood sprayed from her face as she was jerked abruptly awake, retching dryly beneath her gag. He cast her a malevolent grin as he pulled the stained fabric from her mouth, allowing her pull in a shaking breath.

"I'm only going to ask one more time. Where did the Doctor take the hybrid?" he said in a voice that was almost gentle. She shook her head rapidly, back and forth. Back and forth. Drops of blood flying from her ruined face, torn lips blabbering incoherently. "I nono...I nono!" she screeched, eyes rolling back into her head as she tried vainly to propell her bleeding body away from the man. He grabbed her chin in his hand, a stream of crimson pouring down his wrist as he stared into her maddened eyes. She choked back a scream, blood slipping into her open mouth and coating her throat.

"...he room...maybe? on ta 4 floor....i nono for sure...plush...dun kill me..." her voice was distorted. Partially from the blood now filling her mouth as she choked and writhed against his hand. Partially from the portion of her tongue he had cut out earlier. But he understood enough. The Doctor's room was on the 4th floor. He would go there next. He gave the dying woman a final glance before drawing the recovered scalpel in a smooth line across her throat. For a moment, nothing happened and she continued to gurgle up at him mindlessly. Then her neck exploded, blood drenching her still twitching body and his stolen labcoat and glasses. Choate stood up, wiping his glasses on a miraculously clean piece of his sleeve. Pulling the stained coat from his body, he draped it over the woman's dripping corpse, retrieving a fresh one from the nearby supply closet.

"Fourth floor?" he muttered, unlocking the office door and stepping out into the main part of the infirmary once more, head bowed to take on the appearance of just another drudge. He twisted the key in the door behind him, dropping it into his pocket. It was too much to hope that she wouldn't be found before he managed to leave the building, but he could at least attempt to buy himself some more time.

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc's smile couldn't of gotten bigger than it was now, stretching across his face and splitting it in half, open and grinning from cheek to cheek.

"Cures headaches? Hell yeah, headache, stomachache, heartache.. Man this stuff will do nothing but make you feel good and enjoy life!" Doc laughed, fishing out a colorful lighter decorated with swirls and mushrooms and other such psychedelic paraphernalia. He rolled the joint in his hand, as if to entice Q.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
Uneasiness swept over Q at the answer. That didn't seem right. When the cigarette was lit, the smell instantly reminded Q of Doc's room. That smell wasn't cloves.

He decided his pulsing headache demanded he take it anyway. If he was going to be trapped in his room all day waiting for night, he may as well not be in pain. He took his hand from his face, and held his hand out, forefinger and thumb ready to pinch the cigarette Doc would offer him. Afterall, Q was still blind.

Once Doc did such, Q brought the handrolled thing to his lips and took a large drag. He managed to get it in before he had to pull away and start to cough. It was more tasteless than tobacco, but had just enough taste to linger in on his tongue. Mostly it was the paper, though. He became nervous that he had such a coughing fit with this when he had been smoking normal cigarettes for so long, but he decided to give it another try regardless.
Q was unsure if it was just the placebo effect or if this stuff really had began to make his pains away, but he was feeling a bit better... Tired diaphragm permitting.

He took another toke, had another coughing fit (albeit less so this time) and he felt still slightly better.
Just as he took a third, it dawned on him that this had to be Marijuana.
Mary wana, Mary jane. It had the same pronunciation. He didn't know where the Jane came from, but he chuckled slightly to himself at how long it took for him to realize. He felt slightly stupid, and was glad he hadn't asked what the slang term meant earlier.

So this was Cannabis.

He went to take a fourth toke when he finally remembered Doc probably wanted some.
He held it out with his right hand, forcing a slight crooked frown.
Q had suddenly become decidedly bored.

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc watched grinning, it was as if he could see the tension in the man wash away before him. It was so great...

He took the joint from Q's hand when offered, pinching it expertly between his thumb and finger, holding his hand in an awkward position, hand hunched over the joint in front of his face as he took several long slow drags in a row before handing it back.

"So, was I right?" He laughed. "You should be feeling better already."

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
Q hmphed. "It nawzin--" Q quickly cut himself off, letting out a sort of snort from his nose in annoyance. He creased his eyebrows and tried again. "Not somezing to fawn over," he managed.

Although Q had spoken english in forever, and liked it, he still thought to himself in french. He dreamed in french, wrote things in french, spoke to himself and anyone he knew who could understand in french. He even had to think of his sentences in french before he spoke them in english. The only reason he liked english was because it was rough, something full of seemingly jagged words that didn't really fit together. Something Q felt dogs would speak if they could.

He had no idea why or how it was even possible that english would suddenly be so hard to speak. It almost hurt his jaw. He might slip in and out when heavily drunk, but he still felt mentally fine right now.

He held out his hand for Doc to place the cigarette in, and once he felt it, he grabbed it in annoyance, taking two tokes before giving it back to Doc with a hmph. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his hands over his ears, as if he were holding his head.

Yeah he felt better, but this was slightly embarrassing.

The wandering mind... wrote: "Aw.. Give it time, trust me. You'll be feeling so good that you won't ever want anything else again. Just watch what you eat.. sometimes it'll look really good and taste really good now.. but when you taste it coming back up later...." Doc trailed off, rolling his hand in the air before him lazily to represent his speech continuing, letting Q finish it for himself.

Doc watched Q take his hits on the joint, and laughed, sorta rolling on the couch over to where he sat, rather then making a more structured movement to get up.

"Hey hey hey... Don't go too fast... nice and sloooow...." He dragged out the word a bit excessively to emphasize his point even more. "You gotta let it sink in. Besides, you don't want to miss your first buzz." He pulled the joint away from him and leaned back. "All of a sudden, everything just feels good.... so you sit and ride it out for a minute. Just bask in the glory of mother nature and her gifts. And when it starts to wade... take a few more, slow, enjoying hits and see if you can pull yourself into something even better." He pulled another breath on the rolled paper and exhaled in laughter at his own wisdom, the smoke that puffed out giving him a comical effect.

There were three levels of high. The buzz. Where you just feel good. Just.. floating... this is within the first 3-5 hits, could take more though, but being an experienced smoker period helps, as you are more likely to inhale than fight it. By the eighth or ninth hit, for even a repeated user, if the weed is good, (as Doc's always is) the user will find themselves reaching the desired high. Suddenly everything is funny. Very funny. Occasional paranoia can occur, if something precedes it, as in worry about illegal activities. You will crave excitement. Things taste better. Everything looks and sounds better as audio and video perceptions seem enhanced. Creativity and focus seem even stronger than before. But in caution, addictions such as drinking, sex, video games, the desire to do them can become enhanced with the new found perception. Continuation of smoking can lead to the final level, being stoned. Everything is further enhanced, but as with any drug, the getting out at this point will be rougher, the further you go.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
Q turned to Doc. "[strike]You gave me something that would make me sick?!"[/strike] he whined. Q had switched to french now; he didn't know if Doc could understand him or not, but Quatre would not be fucked trying to speak English right now. If there was one thing more embarassing to him than being perceived as a weakling, it was being perceived as a foreigner with one of those thick accents nobody could understand.

If no one could understand him anyway, why not be lazy and speak his own language? Ha! Yes. Bornes let out a chuckle in his darkness at the idea. It was brilliant. So brilliant that if smooth jazz had a feeling instead of a sound, it washed over him in praise just at this precise moment. Q leaned back on the couch, laying his head on the top. He took a deep breath through his mouth, and suddenly remembered he was half naked in front of this man. He was shirtless in front so someone Quatre suspected of being a fag, drugged up by this fag now, blinded and completely in this fag's control, wounded and who was the doctor looking over him? The fag. Of course.

That situation would've been pathetic at any other moment, but Bornes felt the need to laugh about it. It was rising in his chest like the fond memory of laughing gas. But Quatre Bornes considered himself a serious person. A smug smile crept over his face but he fought the urge.

Soon the fight became tiring and he let go into what felt like a waft of air pulling him back. Instead of the eager laughter taking over it was sleep. Apparently without some sort of visual stimuli Bornes had been too lazy and lethargic to care about his own buzz.

He would've laughed at that though, by the way. Too bad he was busy doing naughty things in his subconscious.

Page 26
The wandering mind... wrote: Doc's face contorted awkwardly and he tilted his head at Quatre as if he was some sort of museum piece, trying to piece together what Quatre just said. He flunked French... his brain struggled to remember, that's why he took Spanish instead... didn't get that far either.

"I got... sick and... I think you said you.... uh... yes this will help you if you are sick? Quatre Bornes... this wonderful friend of mine does little more than make you feel good." Doc's mind was glazed over by the drug he was inhaling, and with another puff or two, he found himself a little emboldened by the euphoria.

"You know .. you know what's fun to do when high? Sweets... " Doc fished two pieces of hard candy out of his bag and offered one to Quatre. "Everything is like.. enhanced..." He said as he popped it into his mouth, making ridiculous faces as he enjoyed the flavor of the hardened sugar.

"Everything that normally feels good.. just feels a whole lot better... you know what I am talking about?" He waved his hands as he talked, turning to Quatre, only to end with one hand resting on the other man's shoulder, staring eye to eye as if to deepen his revelation.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
It had not even been two minutes into his slumber when Doc had placed a hand on him. Doc speaking didn't wake Quatre, but the hand did. A shudder would've normally come over him at being awoken in such a way but it was oddly absent as he opened his eyes to figure out what was going on.

He had had a dream that he promptly forgot upon waking, as he also had forgotten he had fallen asleep. And now that his eyes were open, all he could see was white. White so bright it almost felt like he could hear how bright it was, but he knew he couldn't. He also knew he should be writhing in pain, but instead there was an awkward feeling; like he was hot all over.
His green irises looked around, trying to figure out if there were an end to this large white expanse. There wasn't, and finally a faraway voice told him he should close his eyes lest he become blind when he awoke from this dream. Quatre Bornes let out a chuckle but he followed the order, bringing himself back to the darkness. Had anyone paid attention to his eyes before he had, however, they would've noticed his pupils were so thin they were practically invisible.

Quatre's attention then focused to the hand at his shoulder. It was also warm, and this time the shudder went through his body. Bornes gave a few laughs at the feeling, and his tail began to wag like an eager puppy's. He had not heard any of the words Doc had said, and Quatre wasn't quite sure where he was any more, but it was suddenly fun.

He could hear everything. He could hear everything before, but when he was sober it was just like noise. Noise that Quatre Bornes constantly ignored, unless he was listening for something specific to hone in on. Now, though, Bornes could hear everything, but also discern every sound separate from one another, and identify what they all were at once. He could hear his own and Doc's pulses and heartbeats, although they were faint. He could of course hear his own breathing, as he was still doing so through the mouth, but he could also hear Doc's. What was more was he could hear their clothes folding, the sofa sagging, the slight wind outside and the buzz of ambient electricity. And even fainter still, the conversations of those outside and their footsteps. It was invigorating. His tail wagged faster and harder and he leaned forward, his smile growing. He had to take a moment to take all in before he laughed again, at his own genius. He wondered if this happened to everyone, or just hybrids.

Quatre became excited, the primal instincts in him beginning to want to take over, as they often did. Before Q had tamed himself during periods of extensive drunkenness, he was also very much a dog. But he had gotten better over time.. It had taken practice of course, and aside from everything being something new, Q's drunken state didn't make him act any differently than he would normally with the human society. Though, as that other high Doc had regretably given Quatre had any indication, new drugs had a tendency to take the learned human out of Q. And was gradually doing so right now.

Quatre Bornes' sense of smell was nothing special. He couldn't smell things in the air or track others from being given something. He could smell things from slightly more distances than other human's, but since Bornes had nothing to compare his sense of smell to, he thought his sense of smell was normal. No one had proven him wrong, yet. Regardless, he still wanted to smell things. If he could hear, he could smell too. He gave a slight laugh as he reached his hand up to the one placed on his shoulder, bringing it to his face. Quatre smelled it, and couldn't really discern anything a dog would've been able to, so he licked it. Quatre's sense of taste was nothing to fawn over either, but Q at least knew sweat. And for some reason the salty substance tasted really good- so did Doc's skin, for that matter- so Bornes decided he wanted to keep licking it inbetween chuckles that oscillated in pitch. Almost as if Quatre couldn't decide what voice out of the myraid he owned he should use.

Quatre eventually became tired of Doc's palm, however, and moved on to other things. He still couldn't see, of course, so he ran his hands up Doc's arm and shoulder until Quatre found his neck. At this point the chuckles left him and the playful yips and wanna-be barks began instead.
Quatre Bornes put his hands on Doc's shoulders and pushed the other man down as Quatre climbed atop him. He put his face down on Doc's neck, smelling it, listening to the blood pump through his veins, giving another slight yip of enjoyment and licking it. Here it tasted even better, and although Quatre Bornes had no ulterior motive aside from tasting things currently, it would develop in the next several seconds when, inevitably, Bornes would hear and feel Doc's heart beat faster.

[[I feel dirty. .__.; ]]

The wandering mind... wrote: "Quatre...?" Doc looked into the other's eyes as he opened them, barely able to detect the slit of the pupils, lost within the emeralds before him. It was a shame that no one ever really saw his eyes.. they were beautiful. But he was quickly, as should be, cut off from enjoying their sight as Quatre shut his eyes before him.

Doc could only tilt his head again, listening to Quatre's laughs, his eyes taking in the sight of the man before him as if he'd never looked, really just stopped and looked at him, sight that seemed to be enhanced by the drugs they shared in their systems, though he'd found himself watching the man several times since he'd come to stay here.

Doc opened his mouth to say something. Ask him what he was finding so amusing, but found that his mouth didn't seem to work, just awkwardly moving in a failed attempt to speak, brought on by Quatre's next action. He couldn't think as he watched the other take his hand... and could do nothing but shiver as a response when the man's tongue flicked across Doc's hand. A sensation that shot up his arm, and down his spine so intensely it shook him, and shot right to a place he could not, should not mention.

"Q...Q... Qua.. Quatre..." Doc for the first time in his life stuttered as the man ran his arms up his own. No one touches him like that... he wouldn't let them... He never wore sleeveless shirts even, everything had to cover past his elbows. He knew Quatre, if paying attention would feel the tiny pockmarks from needles and bad habits so long ago.. but the thoughts barely surfaced in his mind before shoved down, as Quatre did to him.

He let out a small gasp, surprising himself with the odd noise, but more focused, or at least trying to on the man on top of him at the moment. His whole body immediately tensed up, his legs stiffening, tightening, stretching out beneath them and digging into the arm opposite his head. His arms down at his sides, clenching, but not into fists, digging into the material of the couch below him instead. His heart raced. He could feel his cheeks redden with blood, becoming a rosy pink that would of been more intense had the majority of his blood not rushed elsewhere.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
Quatre brought his face away from Doc's neck when his body began to tighten. Bornes' tail wags slowed a bit, and he gave a sort of confused-sounding growl, that later turned into what might've been considered a chuckle, though it was also in the family of growls. And after that had been vocalized, Quatre inhaled noisily though his mouth, continuing his breathing through what appeared to be his preferred orifice.

Doc's body got warmer underneath him, and he could sense a feeling coming, but couldn't really understand what it was. Quatre was rather empathetic, despite hiding it to the best of his abilities. The feeling left Quatre Bornes a bit confused, but despite his better judgment, he wanted more to taste. His hands gripped Doc's shoulders more strongly, though the grip was noticeably weaker in his left arm with the injured shoulder.

The hybrid brought his face back down to the wet neck, his mouth open, but waiting as he just listening to the blood flowing through Doc's veins. It was a rather interesting sound, almost soothing. And at the moment he decided he wanted it.

Forgetting for a moment that he was in fact on top of a living person that happened to be arguably his best friend, Quatre Bornes wrapped his mouth around the side of Doc's neck, scraping his teeth against the man's slick skin. It took a few tries for Quatre to actually pinch the skin with his teeth - this was not a chicken leg, afterall- but once he had a small section he bit and pulled, trying to break the skin. It was proving harder than previously thought, since Bornes could only use his front teeth.

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc's body began to relax a little as Quatre's head pulled away, and his own wrapped around the situation, realizing what was going on. But did Quatre know what he was doing? Was this going to be something that was all Doc's fault again, like the last time drugs and Quatre mixed in this room. The growling noise that came from Quatre only seemed to magnify this worry, but the moment he felt teeth on his neck he lost sight of his worries, and any sort of rational thinking. A guttural cry, a mix of esctacy and desire, escaped his throat as he felt Quatre bit, his hands reflexively grabbing the side of the body on top of his, pulling it down onto himself as he pushed against him, mind fuzzy with nothing but drugs and primal feelings.

Doc's hips ground up and against the man, leaving Quatre with no wonder as to what he was feeling at the moment, what reaction he'd sent him spiralling out of control into as his fingers dug into the bare skin of man on top of him, wanting to pull him even closer than physically possible.

Doc had been with men and women, yes, in the loosest meaning of the term, but at the time these meetings of the body occurred was a dark time for Doc, and he was in a dark place. He could barely recall most of these encounters, and they were done purely out of need for not the other's body, but the drugs and promises the person held. This time was different, Doc pulled at the larger man not out of need for something he held, but purely out of need and desire for the person he was. For him. Doc wanted to just.. enjoy Quatre, to feel him there with him. He had never even felt alone before, but in this intense moment of closeness, he realized he did, and wanted to chase that away.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
Quatre let out a breath as he was pulled down. As soon as Quatre recovered, he took in a deep breath, freezing in place and momentarily enjoying the attention he was getting, as dictated by his own heart pumping faster, and a blood rush so loud it seemed to fill Q's ears.

Quatre wanted nothing more than to continue this, to love this, and his hips dug into Doc's for a moment before he stopped again, his joints locking up. It took several moments for his brain to wrap around the english word he wanted, his smile leaving his face ans his brows creased.
"Wait..." He pleaded, his brows furrowing.

Q was conflicted. He wanted this, every part of him wanted this, but...

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc's heart skipped a beat and his grip loosened, hearing the one and only word that could break him from the spell desire for the other man had over him. His face softened into what was almost a pout, but his eyes were wide and kind as they were always, especially when it was the face of Quatre reflected in them.

"Why..." He was almost pleading, unwilling to stop, but he cared more for what the man above him wanted than what he own body was screaming for. His hands relaxed, and he moved them, unable to pull them off of Quatre, he slide them gently down his back, so that they were barely cupped around him. "I... you..." His mind was a mess and he shook his head gently as if to shake the jumbled mess of his thoughts into something he could better work out.

His eyes fell away and to the side, not that the other could see, and his right hand ever so gently ran the tips of his fingers up Quatre's spine, over the tattoo and the scars it attempted to hide, up to the hallow between his shoulders, just a few inches from the base of his neck.

"If you want it... If you want this all to stop and go away it will. But it has to be want you really want... do you know what you really want? Are you sure you're just not afraid? That it'll feel so good, and so right, but that it'll go wrong again? That you're heart will be broken again... like only a man has ever done to you?" Doc could barely seem to think, he didn't even know where the words falling from his mouth were coming from.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
Quatre's euphoria was slipping away, slipping through his fingers and disappearing like a thirsty ground soaking in water from the surface. His breath became irregular, as he tried to hold his air in his lungs to keep himself from whimpering like a pathetic fool.

His tail, of course, had stopped its rotations quite some time a go, and while it had been held up, it now finally became slowly limp in between his legs, unlike something else as Doc ran his fingers up Quatre's back.

Even though he couldn't see, he turned his face away as Doc said those horrible things that... Probably were true. No, they were true, but Q didn't want to admit it.
Quatre shuddered briefly, afterward shaking his head. "No.." he whined.

He was so happy only a second a go, and now, what had he done? He'd ruined it. And even if he just let go and decided to have a relationship with this man, there was no repairing the ecstacy he had only moments a go. And Quatre knew very well his buzz wasn't the only one that had been taken away.

"It... We...." Quatre felt like he was about to collapse into tears, and that in itself was a scary thought. He didn't like this situation. He felt trapped. He didn't feel comfortable in his own skin, in this foreign language, without that euphoria. Suddenly everything Quatre had struggled so hard to achieve was a waste. He wasn't a coldhearted killer and everyone in this building could tell from miles away.

Bornes forced a growl, angry at himself. He had grown too close to these people. They couldn't understand what it was like to be him! Being on the streets and in a crummy little decrepit apartment building being ripped off by speculators and assassins, and fucking scrupulous women while in a continuous state of intoxication was what he was supposed to be doing, not getting declawed, defanged, practically neutered and becoming this.. This soft human. Even more human than the human standards he had when he was growing up.

Finally Q understood why Vespasien had not wanted to be with Quatre any more. He was a blind, belligerent fag that was too much of a fag to even see how far gone he really was. Being a coldhearted heterosexual killer was a far-off and completely impossible dream.

Q choked back his tears. Dogs didn't cry. "You don't know," he said, in a harsh tone.
Q didn't even know what his sentences were going to be before they came out of his mouth anymore.
"I don't know. So how can you know?"

Q wanted to get up, to get off of Doc, but his senses didn't seem to be so great any more. He couldn't tell which way was the way he could get off without falling off the couch.

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc shook his head. He knew. He knew what the world was like. He knew that life chewed people up and spit them back out a broken shell of a person, expecting them to clean it up and fix the mess that they were. But he also knew that the task alone was a terrible, horrible daunting thing.

"You're right. I don't know. I don't know all of what you've been through. I don't know what it feels to have my heart broken. To be ashamed of what I am and my own feelings. But what I do know is how good it feels to just be able to be close and be all the weak things that I am in private around someone else, and not just a parade of falseness. I know that it is right, because only something so right can feel so good..." Doc didn't want this to end. To him nothing was shattered, it was just wavering, tittering on the edge of a cliff and Doc desperately wanted to keep Quatre from falling off, from keeping this moment, this closeness between them from ever going away, to last forever, because it really did feel so wonderful.

Doc's hand came up to the side of Quatre's head, and turned and held it gently to face his. "Just.. do one thing for me. Take a moment, and crush every voice inside your head but your own. Ignore what anyone has ever said or told you. What anyone else thinks but you. But what your heart tells you, and tell me, does this really feel so wrong?" He carefully pulled Quatre's head to his, so that their lips met, and gave him a soft, heartfelt kiss, as if he could pour himself and his confidence in his feelings into Quatre through it.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
Just listen to his heart, his own voice. Hah.
Even if Q could do that, there was no way he would.His body betrayed him every moment he moved in it. His body was the reason he was so conflicted all the time.

His body was the thing that was shaking in an effort to keep his weight from falling atop Doc as he was being kissed.
His body was not pulling away for a very long, quiet, three seconds.

His body was the thing that flashed an old memory of a shouting father and a flurry of silver and red across his face, and his body was the one shirking back.

"No!" Q shouted, as angry as a greedy child trying to protect its coveted blankie, and just as selfish.
"[strike]You think something so great cannot feel good? What about your old drug habit!,"[/strike] he spoke quickly, much too fast for any second-language french speaker to understand. That was okay, Q was really trying to convince himself. "[strike]What about the high you get from injecting yourself with poison? The high you have right now! Are those not wrong? This is wrong! You're wrong, I'm wrong; we're all deranged, blithering fools who were abandoned by our family because we're all wrong! There's nothing worse than being a faggot! I don't even know your real name!"[/strike]

Quatre breathed heavily, feeling slightly liberated for basically insulting Doc to the furthest his simplified brain could right now. And he had done it so damn well Doc couldn't even understand what had been said. Q let out a "heh." Small victory for him.

He had to take them where he could get them, at this point.

The wandering mind... wrote: That three seconds could of lasted forever.... but it did not. The fact that it did last that long meant something. Meant that it was worth it for Doc to keep fighting. Even if he was being yelled at in a language he didn't understand. Other than the word you again at least. He's pretty sure he said that a few times, and that he was truly yelling at him.

Nonetheless, Doc still refused to let him go.

"Sure, whatever you just said is right I'm sure. But so am I. So is this. And you know it." Doc almost wished Quatre was wearing a shirt, something he could twist his fingers into and hold him there. But that was still almost a wish... it was not a sight he would want to hide from view. Instead his hand just sorta of played against the man's skin unsure of what to say. What words would make it better? What would take them back to the bliss of just kissing, of just touching and not thinking about it?

Doc brushed the hair out of Quatre's face and lightly traced his scar, mind not even focused on what it was doing, but mussing for the words he wanted to make things right.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
Quatre's frown deepened as he looked down, trying to keep his weight off his left arm, as the pain was slowly ebbing its way back through to his senses. He closed his mouth and began breathing through his nose. Soon after that, Doc began tracing the scar between Q's eyes, his public humiliation.

Q wished he could see the look on Doc's face. Q wondered how Doc would feel if he messed with Doc's injection scars. The way Doc had told his story before, they were bound to be there.
Q forcibly curled his upper lip. He had to win his own battle. He'd let Doc win too many times before.

"I said we were both wrong," he spoke very slowly, fighting very hard to get rid of the accent that still tried to claw its way through. "I said morphine feels as right as this does."
That wasn't exactly what Quatre had said, but it was close enough. And Q didn't really know what morphine felt like either, but he could imagine. And he knew that would sting.
But anything to get Doc's hands off him.
Anything to protect himself letting the weaker part of him reign.

He'd been on his own long enough to fake being a wolf. Why couldn't he keep that act now?
"Bodies lie," he forced, "Your withdrawl was probable not pretty."

Maybe he could hurt Doc so much he could drive the man away. Why did this human keep trying? His tail began to slowly raise.

The wandering mind... wrote: Doc's buttons were being pushed. He got up and grabbed Quatre by his uninjured arm and pulled him into the closet and slammed the door, pushing Quatre in and standing between him and the door. He knew this was the only way that he could see, and would take being blind for it.

He pulled off his shirt and threw it on the floor. He held his arms out, grabbing one of Quatre's hands and guiding it over the track marks that were scars across them. Dozens of old needle marks, leaving terrible scars so that Doc could never forget.

"Is my body lying now? Do those look enjoyable? Does it lie to me each day when these remind me that my little brother is dead because I ran away, because drugs were easier to accept than the harsh truths of the world? Is that a lie?" Tears streaked his eyes. His heart was struck by what Quatre had said.

"So just.. tell me that it's a lie.. because I know that what I felt, just moments ago on that couch back there, was better than any damn high I ever felt. Than anytime my body was strung out and mind in another unreal world. Bodies don't lie Quatre... we do."

"Is this a lie?" He pressed close to him, his hand going behind the other and rubbing at the base of his tail. His front grinding against Quatre's thigh because of their difference in height. "When you react to my touch, it is just your body lying? Or is it being truthful to your feelings and you who is not?"

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
Q yelped as he was pulled away and onto his feet. Stumbling, his back hit the far wall of a new place, only cushioned by a jacket or two that Q never bothered wearing normally. They were in the closet. A door slammed. They were locked in the closet?
He opened his eyes.
He could see! Why didn't he think of locking himself in the closet before?

His excitement did not last long as Doc pulled off his shirt and started his rebuttal. Q didn't know what to say as he looked down at Doc's scars. He felt only a tinge of guilt. Strangely he felt proud he wasn't trapped on the couch any more. He felt as if he gained some ground, afterall. He gained one of his most precious senses back, had he not?

Q backed up as far as he could against the wall when Doc began to touch him. His body heated again and he sucked in a loud breath, biting back what would've been a vocal sign of pleasure. Instead, Q pushed Doc away.
Why did he have to go for the tail? That would be his death one of these days. His knees weakened.
"Bodies lie the same reason it is wrong to fuck animals, to fuck children. Many people get off on these illegal things. That is their body lying. Is it not? Are you saying we should have sex with cats?" Q didn't want to use the example of dogs for obvious reasons - being as it was slightly ironic in the first place. "Horses? Oxen? Five year olds?"

Q sucked in another breath, defending his actions. It was difficult to come up witht he words. Q didn't necessarily believe in them, and his eyes were full of regret. But the world had laws. It was what kept the world in order.

"What give you the right to decide when bodies don't lie? What give you right to say I want this; I enjoy it? My body want me to run, all the time. But if I do that, I die. Is that not my body lying? I feel I need to drink alcohol now, and forever! But I will die if get too drunk. Is that not my body lying? If I gave my body everything it wanted, I would be dead. Like you!"

He pushed Doc back again.
"When your body want more drugs, but you overdose you will die. Is that not lying? What make this different? Nothing does! Nothing make this different! The only difference is you want it more than anything else. YOU want it to be not a lie!" He shook his head. He could pronounce his words but now proper tense had past his thoughts, he was so frustrated.
"I think it a lie! This is no different than want to be drunk, or overdose. This is no different!"

He couldn't understand why the language barrier was so hard to hop over. He'd been running through it for years, and now he couldn't get his thoughts across? He hoped he was making sense. He wandered if that.. Mary Jane was still in his system, twisting his language abilities, or if Doc was right and something in his body was hindering him purposefully, trying to prove a point that Q should shut up.

The wandering mind... wrote: "Or a dog?" The statement escaped his lips before he could think, a reaction to his words, and fueled by past displays of Quatre's own feelings to that part of himself.

Yet that was Doc's only outburst, after being pushed away, he did not move closer, and waited for Quatre to finish speaking.

"Lies? No.. but someone else is being hurt. What is the worth of pleasure when paid with pain? Does it really hurt you that much to give in to the feelings I know you are having?" Doc continued to try to plead... He could not force Quatre... no matter how it would feel... He couldn't live with it.. the resent that would fill Quatre's eyes when he looked upon him. He wanted longing instead.

Doc tried again to reach him, his hand moving forward in a fumble to grab Quatre.

"It's not me who wants it to be a lie... you know it's true. Sure it's easier if it wasn't... if you weren't feeling this way, if I was someone else... but I am me, and you can't just keep fighting who you are. You want to pull away, but something pulls you back, and you know what it is, honesty is all I ask, for you to be true not just to me, but to yourself..."

Page 27
Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
Q snorted, growling a bit. "If myself was fapping to ten year olds, would you really say I should have sex with one?" He glowered at Doc, studied his facial expressions. Doc thought he had ground but he didn't. Seeing Doc's hope crumble would have been amusing if it had been any other person.

As it stood, Q considered Doc his friend, one of his only friends. And that's what made this difficult. Aside from the situation itself. He turned, snorting through his mouth, giving a sideways look toward Doc. He liked he could see, but he didn't like this small confinement. It was making him uneasy.

"If I were your brother, would you say this is right?" his voice softened in volume alone, and Q shifted his weight. He looked up in his thought, and pulled a leather jacket off the hanger above him, putting it around himself. He wasn't cold, but he did want himself covered.

"No matter what my body tells me, it is wrong. We are wrong." He shook his head, giving a frustrated growl, as if trying to shake away his feelings and this situation.
"In my country, they would kill us!"

Q looked down at himself, fumbling with his jacket to zip it up. Once that was done, he huffed a few more times through his mouth, like some sort of combination between a pant and a repressed hiss. Q didn't want to think about this. He wanted to put the situation behind, like he had the time they'd slept together. Never think about it. If you don't think about it, you didn't commit the crime.

"If I say I want you," He cornered himself in the closet, the closest he could come to pacing in such a small area, "If I say it, will you stop this nonsense?" He closed his eyes, leaning his head against the two walls behind him. "I want you. Yes. Are you happy? But you not understand-- It is not right. Why do you not understand? Two men is not right. Like drugs is not right, or killing is--" Q choked, and put his head in his hands, sliding down the walls to sit. Everything he ever did was wrong. Her murdered people for a living. He was living testament to bestiality. He was wrong. "You not understand..."

How could he have been so wrong in the beginning? Doc was a weak man, a fag! A stupid pathetic, weak little human. Hardly laying a hand on him, and he had chomped through Q's defenses like a termite through wood.

Q was older than Doc, more experienced, hard, not even human! How could he win?! He wouldn't! Couldn't even!

"Why you not understand?!" Q whined, tucking his head into his chest and assuming the fetal position.
His last thought before he lost everything and started sobbing was something about how it couldn't be his english. His english was good. Doc should understand his english.

The wandering mind... wrote: Fists flexed at Doc's side at the word 'brother', but he didn't say anything... he almost couldn't, watching Quatre's argument strengthen, only for him to fall apart in the next moment. He didn't go to him right away as he fell. Doc had to restrain from automatically pulling him up in his arms.

"Understand? What is it I'm not understanding? That love, mutual caring and desire, that it is wrong, just because the genders are the same?" Doc slowly moved to his feet in the dark, taking a step forward as he crouched.

"Just because it isn't understood, because it's different, it's hated. That's just someone else's opinion. Sure, in your country we would be killed... but this isn't your country. This building is chock full of people that don't listen to the rules. You're so set on their being rules, but we get to make our own here. One of the hired killers that fill this complex and the pothead doctor that patches up them all up."

Doc now moved to put his hand on the other's shoulder.

"Quatre Bornes, I do understand. But to understand something, doesn't mean I have to believe it. I understand that we are two consenting adults, and that race or gender makes no difference what we do between us, anymore than it would if the acts we follow through were violent. Would anyone put up a fuss if we were to agree to a fight and kill one another? No. Then how can they tell us they have a say if we do the opposite?"

Q wrote: Q let out a low whine. He had no answers. Nothing to say.

He had practically won the argument, but had turned himself in. There was no use in continuing now. That would make him a two-faced liar. But wasn't he one, already?
Q shrugged Doc's hand from his shoulder, turning his body to face another wall in his corner. His hands grabbed his hair, pulling at it slightly.

They would stop us, he thought to himself. They need their doctor. They would stop us. They wouldn't let me kill their precious doctor, he thought to himself. But he couldn't bring himself to say it aloud.

Doc probably healed thousands of people. Who cared if they were mostly outlaws? But what had Q done for Marino to compare? Nothing. Q simply sucked up resources. He made foolish mistakes. Had lost his cool and his aim. Every mission he came back from was with some sort of injury. Q couldn't even compare to the deeds Doc had done. At least not under Marino's employ. It was because of Q's own idiocy that he had fallen to his current situation. What had possessed him to throw his glasses in the gun case? Why did he bother acting like a dog with the ninja right there? He should've been dead already. If not by an enemy or sheer foolishness, then by one of Marino's men, to off their Omega.

"But... I don't even know your real name," he whined. It was a pathetic voice that escaped him now. What was Q supposed to do?
Was this the part where they were supposed to grab eachother and make forbidden love? Because it still wasn't going to happen. He could admit he felt for Doc. He could do that. His foundations of belief about love could even be shaken by Doc. That could happen too.
But just because Q had given up arguing about it, didn't mean he thought this was right. He still thought it wrong. The very act almost disgusted him after his hormones had stopped raging. He didn't even know what he was thinking before-- Q had no idea what to do. The last time he had a same sex relationship... No, the last time that particular relationship was even sexual was... Q couldn't even remember. And he would shudder at the thought of being a bottom with Doc. That was no less a torture than being a top and having no idea how to do it safely. The hybrid repeatedly ran his right hand through his hair reflexively as his left still pulled at a few strands. He let out another slight whine Why was he even thinking about how sex would work? It wasn't going to happen.

Q looked up at the ceiling of the closet they were stuck in. Then he looked to Doc sympathetically, knowing the other man could see nothing. Or at the most, only see vague shapes. Q let out a sigh and closed his eyes, suddenly tired of seeing anything. "My eyes burn," he admitted. He wondered if it was because he had opened them in the sunlight too many times today. "Would you... Look at them?"
He let his knees relax, sitting normally against the wall, and scooting himself over so he was no longer in the corner, but rather parallel to it, secretly hoping there was enough room for Doc to sit next to him. As Q tried to relax himself, tried to calm his thoughts, he briefly wondered if his eyes could ever be correctly looked at. Humans flashed light into eyes to look for defects, didn't they? That would never fly with Q.

The wandering mind... wrote: "Heh..." Doc laughed a little, it was forced just a little, but was true, hindered only by the comfortablenesses of the moment. He lifted the shrugged off hand and pushed his hair out of his face.

"No one knows my real name. I don't even really remember... but..." Doc shifted, narrowing the distance between them just a little.

"I've never told it to anyone, just was called Doc from the start and never cared to hear anything more, don't always need reminders from the past, you know?" He paused and drew in a long, deep breath. "Jackson. Jackson Delmonte." He felt like he should be holding out his hand for a handshake, and the name sounded so awkward and unfamiliar.

Doc took the invitation to examine his eyes as an excuse to move closer, as everything in his body and heart still wanted to wrap himself around the larger man as if he was a child and make him more secure. But the even deeper caring that he held for just Quatre, not the general caring about him that drove him daily, but the need to just bring happiness into this man's life that wasn't there before held him back from doing so and making the situation take three steps back. So Doc simply slid into the now open spot between Quatre and the corner.

He gently put his hands on Quatre's head and tilted it back, squinting incredibly as he looked. Mostly he just gently felt around them to check for swelling.

"I can't really examine them with the light sensitivity as things are now, but I can if I just make a few adjustments. There's some low level light sources that I can use to look at the inside of your eyes, but I think they're alright, just sore. If you did any real damage, there'd be some real swelling. Just let them rest and any damage will heal itself. Cells are nice like that..." He trailed off, and even though there was little light, he found himself just looking at Quatre, his mind filling in any details his eyes couldn't detect.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Bornes corked his head to the side a bit. Del Monte? Spanish? He frowned slightly. That was a surprising disappointment. But it didn't change who Doc was. To think, if he had simply not pronounced the "e" at the end...

"Jackson..." he said quietly, looking down. "It is an interesting name." Don't people name their dogs Jackson? he thought to himself.

Then Doc came at his face. Quatre bornes stiffened at first, but tried to relax as the man attempted to look. Doc mentioned something about light, and shining it into his eyes. At this, Bornes' frown deepened.

"No, wait," his voice was still a bit shaky; the argument of before was the awkward fight or flight response now.
"I can... Ah..." He wanted to say what he was going to do before he did it, but it just sounded stupid. Instead, he turned toward Jackson and stared at his face.

Quatre Bornes could see in total darkness. This closet was not perfectly dark. So it took far more effort. He wanted to see every single speck of dirt on Doc's face, every little pore. And if he let his mind confuse itself into thinking it needed absolutely perfect sight, then...

It took a few seconds, but Bornes' green irises began to glow faintly. No one could see in perfect darkness. There always had to be some light. It almost made sense if the light came from his own eyes; that was how night vision goggles worked, after all.

But Q hoped that Doc wouldn't be too aghast; the hybrid's eyes were hurting more already and he was getting a headache. He couldn't hold onto this luminescence for too long. It was somewhat of a kneejerk reaction, not a superpower.

It'd probably dissipate on its own as soon as Q's brain was convinced it had seen what it needed to; afterall in a situation where this wasn't needed, it was bringing more light, and thus, in this case specifically, more damage to his eyes. But in the meantime, it made everything a whole light brighter and vivid.

The wandering mind... wrote: "Heh.. I think my mom just wanted a reason to call me Jackie..." Doc made a half frown, half laughing face. "Even if it's sorta girly."

Doc's face turned into surprise and he stumbled back, falling against the wall next to him. He couldn't believe his own eyes, sitting there watching Quatre's... glow.

"That's.. that's incredible. How do you do that?" Doc got a hold of himself and moved back over, taking a closer look, able now to get a good look at Quatre's eyes. His eyes.. they were incredibly different than they should be he realized... at first he'd thought them more like a wolves.. but they were even different... Without realizing his hands were upon Quatre's face again as he lost himself looking into his eyes. He moved his face close to his, using the light to look inside them.

"I can look closer later, if you do this again, but I don't think it is any serious damage, more just like a sore muscle, strained too much, you need to relax them and let your body repair any damage..." Doc found himself not wanting to pull away.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q almost lost it when Doc practically fell over, the glow slightly fading, but regaining its strength when the man finally came closer. It was difficult, and as soon as Jackson mentioned the lab again, it quickly went away and Q closed his eyes with a groan.

"Okay," he said softly. In his mind, he thanked the gods they were no longer even thinking about homosexuality any more, however.

His eyes still closed, he leaned his back against the wall. "It just happens. When I'm in the dark and I really need to see something. I didn't know they actually..." his face almost looked like it was disgusted. Who would believe eyes glowed? "... Well, I didn't know they actually glowed until I saw a reflection once."

He relaxed with a sigh. He liked this closet but at the same time, he wanted to be out of it. He was lonely but he wanted the comfort of someone that wasn't a risk to his masculinity. But it was Doc. Things were too conflicting.

"Maybe I can just sleep this off until nightfall," he mustered, mostly to himself.

The wandering mind... wrote: "Hmm, well if I get you under something that lets me see a little better, I could probably help you figure out why it glows." Ideas were already brewing in his head as to causes, but they didn't make a lot of sense. He was sad to watch him close them, but it seemed to come with effort, and Quatre appeared a bit more relaxed now.

However Doc found his mind still thinking about things that he should not be so he nodded at Quatre and gave him his space.

"It's your choice, sleep might help, or I can take a look at them. If it'd be too much though... I'd rather you rest than risk damaging yourself anymore.."

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Bornes gave an uneasy sigh, eyes still closed.

"I don't know if I could bare to get them looked at under real light," he sighed again, his right hand coming to his head, but stopping before he ran it through his hair. He gave a small hmph.

"I think it's getting worse," he whined. "I mean, my light sensitivity. I used to be able to take the sunglasses off before sundown. Now I can't. Not even indoors any more..."

It would make sense he was regressing; Q had been on a myraid of medications when he was with his Father, and he knew he regressed in other ways. But he thoguht his eyes would go the other way-- be less sensitive to light. It was almost a curse for Q. After all the effort it had taken for him to become a normal person who functioned during the day, his eyes didn't seem to want to let him any more.

He leaned to his side, against another corner. As pathetic as it was, it would probably be best for him to stay in the closet and rest his eyes here.

"I was so stupid..." he groaned to himself. Everything had rested on that one moment, and he just had to put his sunglasses in his gun case!

The wandering mind... wrote: "I shouldn't have to use any other light though, just enhance the light your eyes can emit and I should have enough to take a peek inside 'em and see if there's any real damage. It wouldn't take long at all..." Doc trailed off. If Quatre was reluctant to let him examine him, he couldn't, yet he couldn't help worrying. Though even if there was real damage, was there anything Doc could do?

"You know.. I've studied to be a doctor and a vet... and your eyes are still unlike anything I've ever seen... Trying to think how you could naturally produce light.. just well, I mean, some marine life and insects use bioluminescence.. chemical reactions that produce light on a cellular level... it might be possible, but that would require DNA that isn't human or a dog.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke again, listening and watching Quatre through the darkness.

"Stupid? Why would you ever say that?" His face turned down in a frown.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q grimaced. "I'm not a fish," he retorted, annoyed.

Q had never put much thought into his heritage after Ves and he had gone to the library and looked at bunches of pictures of different types of canids. They found his tail most closely resembled a Saluki's, so that's what they assumed Q was, and the hybrid had been content with that. Recognizing Q wasn't as pure bred as he had thought he was was almost harder to swallow than liking men.

"Stupid for leaving my sunglasses at the hotel," he grumbled.

Unlike Doc, Quatre Bornes didn't think his eyes were something that were so special. His features were a secret his father had locked away and hid from everyone but the scientists. And Bornes had no idea what they knew, since he only had a vague recollection he went to some.

Like father like son-- The father didn't care for the nonhuman features, Q didn't either.

The wandering mind... wrote: "I didn't say that..." Doc's frown showed no signs of fading. "I just said it's seen in them naturally. Who knows?" Doc wondered silently how mad Quatre would get at him for checking on his DNA.

"Well you were in danger. Who knows, they could of ended up damaged if you left them on your person, which would of been worse off then just the inconvenience of their location." Doc was trying to push the lighter side of things on Quatre, not liking to see him this way.

He wasn't one for anyone being sad, much less someone like Quatre Bornes. He was better looking when he smiled. Doc wished he could turn back time and go back to them sitting together on the couch... or freeze them in the moments of closeness they had together. It was painful to think they were not going to move in that direction again anytime soon, and if it wasn't for the hope he always clung to, ever.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]"I guess so," he surrendered to the glasses. Yeah, they could've broken. He only had one pair.

His father had gotten them, and Q had never really thought to try and get another. He didn't even know what they were made out of. But he certainly knew they were one of a kind. Unless there was some other hybrid out there that had the same eye problems as he did. Q doubted it.

"I only have the one pair...." he confessed. "I'm dead without them. Especially today."

He hmphed, thinking over Doc's other words. "And if it happens naturally in fish I don't see how I could have glowing eyes--" really, the feature was beginning to disgust him already. Why was Doc so awed by it? "-- then I'd have to be part fish."

He wasn't even going to entertain he might be part insect; that was even worse.

The wandering mind... wrote: It wouldn't make sense for him to be part fish... with just one single characteristic showing through... unless...

Doc turned to Quatre, out of habit, as the movement was less effective in the dark.

"Tell me... did your father ever try to fix your eyes?" He was having thoughts... anyone whose done any research into the hybrid field, and though it'd been a few years, Doc had certainly done plenty, knows there are some scientists who were found of playing even more with the dangerous mixes of DNA than had already been done. Some even say that's how it all came about...

If he was born a pure hybrid... his eyes would not have the problems they had.. no, they would be normal canine eyes.. and these.. he knew they were different, but thought maybe it was just a defect of mixing the genes that'd caused this.. but no.. there was a chance that this was intentional... What, create the perfect eyes? Being able to see in the darkest, most absent states of light? He didn't pose the question of a man actually doing this to his own son, he remembered the scars on his back.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q snorted at his father being brought up again.

"I don't remember," he stated defensively.
After a few seconds, he opened his eyes, allowing himself to see in the darkness again. He almost relished it.

"But when I was with Father, I could see inside without glasses," he almost whispered as he tried to remember. "I am pretty sure I could go outside on cloudy days without them too. And not squint."

He stared at the wall across from him and heaved another sigh, the pain of his shoulder and arm slowly coming back to him from earlier today. His headache was still apparent, but at least he was practically tranquilized compared to how energetic he had been earlier, with the... high, and the... argument.

"I don't know. I took a lot of medicine, saw a lot of doctors. When I came to this country, the more time passed the less human I became. I thought my eyes would go in the other direction." he was slightly depressed about it. "I'm not stupid, I know no dog can see as well as I can in the dark. I didn't think my night vision would get better."

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The wandering mind... wrote: "So wait, you're telling me it's gotten better?" Doc frowned deeply.

Now it all made sense. If it was something natural of his, part of his DNA, it wouldn't of gotten better, maybe the sensitivity would of increased, if his eyes were degrading, but for his vision to get..better...

"Quatre... you probably won't like this explanation.. but is it possible they changed your eyes?"

They would have been using foreign DNA mixed with his own, put him on inhibitors, keeping his eyes from transforming too far into whatever they had mixed with his. Every time the cells naturally died off and renewed themselves, they'd be becoming less and less his own. It wouldn't of been too hard, just trial and error, experimenting... it would of been easy to alter DNA from other species, put bioluminescence in the iris... enhance the receptors, give him that clarity of night vision... but why? To do what?

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Bornes snorted again. "Yes, they got better. I can see in perfect darkness now." He hmphed. "I'd give it up to see in the day." He ran his left hand through his hair, trying to wonder why this conversation even mattered.

He went from complaining about his eyes being sore to a scientific marvel all of the sudden.
Is it possible they changed your eyes?

"Hah," Q forced a laugh. "I don't see why they would bother. But like I said before, I don't remember much. And if they were sticking needles in my eyes, I think I'd remember something as fucked up as that."

There had been a time, long a go, when Quatre Bornes could have been considered a werewolf, with the lycanthropic form and all. Q should've been able to remember "something as fucked up as that." But he hadn't. He didn't remember that, just like he didn't remember what had happened the first time Doc gave him a bad high.

Regardless, people changing his eyes didn't make sense. Father wanted him to be more human, not animal. Or fish. Or whatever.

"As far as I know they were trying to fix my eyes," he frowned, reminiscing. "There was a time when no matter how hard people pushed me I couldn't stay asleep at night and I couldn't stay awake during the day. I think that's when my eyes started changing." He forced a shrug.

"But as far as I know, I've always been sensitive to light. Why is this so important anyway?"

Although he was slightly disgusted saying it, he brought it up anyway. "Anasti is part bat, I'm sure she can see in the dark."

The wandering mind... wrote: "Bats don't have that great of vision.. it's why they use sonar..." Doc realized though this wasn't the time for science lectures, and he wasn't that great at giving lectures anyways.

"I'm not sure why... but.. they wouldn't even have to mess with your eyes, just injections of a carrier virus, killed off and just used as the delivery system for the bits of DNA they want to use. They probably gave you pills to keep your eyes from mutating too far, so that you wouldn't be like you are now, but that.. I don't know.. you said your father was military, and where do you think DNA experiments start? Cures and military. The only needs for any medical advancement. And it's usually the latter." Doc frowned more, if possible, obvious that he was not a fan of such things.

"I'm not sure what they used.. hell, it could of been many different things. Get the glow from some deep see fish or squid, night vision.. could come from any sort of animal.. even mess with genes to make it more intense.." Doc didn't really want such things to be true, but it seemed to make it clear to him, fill in the blanks and the answers.

"If that's the case.. we have an advanced laboratory.. I might be able to help you.. fix it even..." Doc smiled just a little at Quatre.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Ha, sonar. That must be why Anasti's voice was so annoying.

Most of what Doc said went over Q's head, and he shook it. "No, he wouldn't do that," the hybrid said, at least understanding military experiments. That would've been too much of a cliche. That kind of stuff happened in bad scifi novels, not real life. Not to him.

"Father was trying to make me human, night vision isn't a human trait; they wouldn't do that." He was growing more defensive by the second.
"Besides, even if Father did do this-- which he wouldn't-- it would've been wasted. He wanted me to be a strategist. Strategists don't need night vision. Soldiers need night vision. Strategists sit in posh chairs indoors looking at lots of maps," he sneered, the obvious contempt ebbing through his voice.

He forcibly knocked his head back against the wall, giving a loud rap. "If they wanted some sort of super soldier they never trained me like one. They would not do that."

Just then, he felt as if he'd been kicked in the stomach. Immediately he knew it as hunger, and let out a slight growl of frustration. That was something that had changed too-- his canine vocals had begun to become more natural to him. But that wasn't so dangerous. Probably for the better, in fact. It made him more intimidating to humans who didn't know any better.

"I need to eat," he ordered. He was hungry and also looking for a reason to change the subject. He didn't like the idea of being someone's lab rat.

The wandering mind... wrote: "Well.. maybe it was done without his knowledge, or by someone else... I don't know.. I just don't see this as natural, but I'm sorry. I'm sure there's a simple explanation I'm just looking over..." Doc realized the hurt it was causing Quatre just thinking about this so he tried to shrug it off and let it go, not wanting to get into it anymore and risk upsetting the male again.

"Munchies?" Doc's lips curled at the ends, into a resemblance of a smile, laughter hinting at his voice. "Don't worry, if there's one think I have plenty of, it's food. we could got to my room, I always keep a stash, or if you'd rather the cafeteria.." Doc shifted and ignored the part of him that pleaded to be able to stay there, just the two of them together in near darkness.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q turned away with a hmph as Jackson suggested it was done without his father's knowledge. Q's father was a fucking strategist. Nothing happened that he didn't know about.

At the subject change to food, however, Q stood up with a grunt, stretching his legs as much as he could int he confined space.

"I don't know how I could go out there without being blinded," he waved his hand haphazardly, as if shooing away a fly. "Unless you held my hand or something."

He shoved his hands into the pockets in the leather jacket he was wearing.
"And pardon me for not wanting to do that."

The wandering mind... wrote: "I could climb on your back and lead you?" Doc laughed, getting up himself, bumping against the wall but not really noticing. Though silly, Quatre could probably carry him, between his short stature, and the fact that he hadn't fat on him, Doc wasn't that heavy.

'What if I walk beside you, you going to hit anything, I'll just put my hand on your shoulder?" Doc gently did so, demonstrating the little contact it required. "Is that too much? Cause I could always.. " Doc paused, an idea coming to his head with that thought. "Hold on." He slipped out the closet, and stepped out Quatre's door into the hall, just a moment of looking, luckily Quatre was near the end of the hall, and he'd found the metal box he was looking for. When he swung open the panel, several numbered switches lay before him, labeled 'hall', so with the side of his hand he pushed them down all together, shocked at the sudden lack of light, he was left blinking for a moment before his eyes adjusted. Enough light polluted the hallway from the doors off of it that he could see fine, but at least this would be kinder to Quatre's eyes.

Doc shoved open the doors to Quatre's room and closet, proud of the genius he was, and what he'd just accomplished.

"There, not a closet, but well enough that if you squint or use regular sunglasses you can make your way down there, and I don't even have to touch you." There was humor in his voice, which covered the hurt that came with the last few words, for he desperately wanted to touch Quatre. If he could, he would of closed them back up in that closet and curled up with the other man, nothing more, nothing less... just a return to the previous night that was unfortunately cut short.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q hmphed, turning away and shrugging Doc's hands off.

The hybrid became confused when Doc left him in the closet, however. Even though Q had to shut his eyes when the man left, he still was filled with curiosity about what was going to happen. Maybe he was going to go grab a wheelchair?

As Q waited int he closet, he heard the loud snap of lights going dead, either from the electricity being cut or the powerbox being messed with... Which was basically the same thing, now that he thought about it.

This paired with the silent alarm before worried him. He stepped outside his closet into his room with a wince, looking out to the hallway, where it was dark. "Doc...?"
An invasion? Into Marino's place?

Then Jackson came strutting in, almost scaring the hybrid.
After he heard what the man said, he quickly looked for the normal sunglasses Doc had given him before. Once found he put them on and looked toward the hallway, which was now no longer lit.

He covered up the enthusiasm that would've showed on his face, but he didn't have enough strength to bother hiding it from his tail, which began to wag.
"But... Won't the others think something is wrong...? What about the alarm from earlier?"

He was unsure of how long the semi-darkness would last, but he made his way to the hallway regardless. His stomach was practically eating his insides away.

Raine_Hinata wrote: The man looked around cautiously, unsure of whether to panic or thank his lucky stars when the lights in the hallway he had just entered, dimmed. A hundred thoughts swirled through his mind, the least of which that this was some ploy of Marino's to flush him out. But he had been so careful. He had covered his tracks the best he could, and the nurse's body was surely still tucked out of sight. He raised a hand to his head and rubbed his temples. This whole thing was giving him SUCH a migraine, he would be happy when he had found the damn hybrid and could get the hell out of this place. He was willing to just about anything for Renegade, but venturing alone into the snake's den had not been high on his list of things he felt like doing.
Sighing quietly, he shoved his hand the pocket of the lab coat he had liberated from the nurse before her untimely, and rather gruesome, demise. His finger brushed against something small and rather cold against the stiff cloth of the jacket. A quizzical look crossed his face as he pulled a small, metallic object up and held it close to his face, trying to make out what it was in the half-light. It was a dog whistle.
A chuckle escaped his lips as he looked at it, no doubt probably made for restraining Marino's guard dogs. But hadn't Forniph said that the hybrid had a dog-like tail? After his exhausting and fruitless search up to this point (compounded by the fact that the nurse had lied to her dying breath, and the hybrid had yet to be found) it was worth a shot. For the first time since entering the building, he dipped his hand into his pants pocket and withdrew a small pepper spray canister. That was second part of his master's oh so brilliant plan...


"After I find the hybrid, how am I supposed to bring him in alone, Renegade? Even wounded, he is bound to be a hell of alot stronger then I am!" he argued, pacing across the Russian's office. The mob leader swirled a piece of ice around his tumbler of scotch as he looked up at his nervous employee. "That is all taken care of. Here." he paused, tossing the pepper spray can to the other man who gave it a unsure look before pocketing it. "The boys in poison whipped it up. Spray him in the face vith that and he vill be temporarily desoriented. It should be enough to get him out of the building..." Renegade trailed off with a sick smile, which his lackey echoed.

Now that it came down to it however, he still had his doubts about whether this would even work. At this point, however, it was much to late to back out. He was a fox in the middle of a hen house, and he wasn't leaving without the golden goose. Raising the whistle to his lips, he began to blow.
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Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]There are two ways to blow a dog whistle.

One gets the animal's attention. The other invokes pain to provoke behavioral change.

But it didn't matter which way the whistle was blown, Quatre Bornes' mental state was already so fractured from everything that had happened today, both emotional and physical, that any high frequency would've at least given him a worse headache than he already had.

But this, this was different. As Q walked toward the elevator, his pace quickening as the hunger took over him, the whistle --its source on the same floor as he was on-- assaulted his senses so harshly he called out and put his hands to his ears. His tail puffed out and the hair on his head attempted to follow suit. The now migraine both confused and scared him. Everything in his mind wanted him to quite literally howl in pain, but Q was too human to howl. If he had, it would've sounded pathetic. A kid trying to imitate a canine. Unlike his other vocal "talents" the howl was the only thing he could never replicate.

His green eyes closed and his teeth grated, his hands tightening their hold around his ears. He wanted it to stop. His day had sucked enough already. Unbeknowngst to him, he began to growl, and not even two seconds later had he managed to bark out some words:

"Stop it!!"

Whoever was behind this had to take a breath sometime. When that happened, Q could momentarily recover from his agony and rip out the man's throat so he couldn't blow anything ever again.

Q leaned his weight against the wall, his growl about to grow into a scream if this kept up.

Raine_Hinata wrote: Choate didn't really put thought behind the strength of his blow, merely that the whistle was either bound to elicit SOME response, or none at all. So he blew as hard as he could and listened. He didn't have to wait long, a shuffling of footsteps hit his ears and he flattened against the wall while still holding the whistle to his lips. A loud, but indistinct shout hit his ears at almost the same time he ran out of breath. That had to be the hybrid.
"Shit..." he muttered, pushing away from the wall and heading towards the sound of the shout, pulling in another breath as he went. He didn't want to have to use the whistle again afraid that, at such a close distance, the sound would do more to enrage the hybrid that incapacitate him. Bringing the pepper spray up in his other hand, he rounded a corner and caught sight of the elevator door in the shifting half-light.....and Q collapsed against the wall next to it. His eyes widened at the sight of the tell-tale tail.
"Finally!" he almost growled, launching himself towards hunched hybrid.
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Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]The sound stopped and Q was startled for a few seconds, almost afraid it would start again. Before he could fully recover and do as he wanted(rip out the person't throat) he heard someone shout "finally" and come up behind him.

With the hall still quite dark, Q turned, opening his eyes and with a growl assumed this man was the one who had done it. He didn't know why or who he was, but that didn't matter. Courtesy was gone from Quatre Bornes, and his headache seemed to dissipate as the rage consumed him.

He gave what could've been construed as a roar as he jumped to the side to dodge the man lunging at him, his hand going for the gun at his waist.

When his hand felt nothing but the brush of his tail, he roared again and jumped at the main. Q didn't know what else to do at that point, so his hands went for the man's neck. He'd choke the strager to death for all he cared. As long as the guy was dead for blowing that fucking whistle...

Raine_Hinata wrote: Choate's eyes widened, not expecting the hybrid to be able to move that quickly. Before he could react, Q's hands were wrapped around his throat, the whistle slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor. It was only through some self-preservation instinct that he managed to keep a hold on the pepper spray can and bring it up towards the hybrid's face even as he felt himself being propelled back towards the wall by the sheer force of Q's grip. Damn. He was mad. His finger slipped off the nozzle as he choked, thrashing beneath the crushing grip and for a moment, he thought he would drop the canister, but his thumb found a hold and he jerked his hand up, directing the spray as much in the hybrid's face as he could, silently praying that this shit would kick in before Q managed to choke him to death! [align=center]
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The wandering mind... wrote: Things were starting to look up, Doc's 'ingenious' plan was working, and he was busy thinking about food, for after all these years the hunger still affected him too, when it all went wrong. One moment everything is okay, and the next moment Quatre is screaming and withering in pain at some unknown thing. Doc's medical experience and ability to read people was not needed to read that something was affecting Quatre's hearing.

Of course everything moved incredibly fast, one moment he's growling in pain, the next he's on top of a strange man, and then the next said stranger is spraying some shit in his face. No time to think, only react, scapal from his bag instantly in his hand, Doc could find anything from the bag blindfolded on shrooms, he knew it that well. Doc fell to his knees, he knew it hurt, but didn't feel it, and was over the intruder. His hand gripped the wrist that held the canister, and he shoved the man's arm to the ground, pressing the small blade against the inside of his upper arm.

"This is your brachial artery, I cut, you die. Now tell me what the fuck you just sprayed on him." The last thing Doc ever wanted to do was to cause harm to another, it went against everything he was, but so help this man if he had brought any harm to Quatre.

Q wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]As per usual, whenever Quatre Bornes was truly, irrevocably frustrated, his mouth was open and he was breathing through it.

That was probably the worst thing he could've done when he was sprayed with... Whatever the hell he was sprayed with. But Q immediately turned away. It was all in his mouth and over his face- the sunglasses had provided precious little protection.

He stood, his back to the other two-- he'd forgotten they existed for the time being-- and tried to get whatever it was off him. It tasted horrible and he began to gag, but mostly attempted to use his jacket's sleeves to wipe the stuff out of his eyes, the sunglasses Jackson gave him carelessly falling to the ground.

During that time, he lost control of his tail, not that he ever had much control over it, and it began to wag inconsistently in ways that simply didn't make sense. A happy wag with tail up one moment, downward nervous wag the next, circular excited wag- it all varied and the confusion spread from there up to Q's mind as he felt as if he had cottonmouth.

Shortly after that, tears streaming down his face from irritation, his whole body turned to pins and needles. He felt as if he'd just been given a light dose of laughing gas. That feeling right before it kicks in and the user is left unconscious.

At that, Q began to panic. The last thing he needed was more drugs in his system. He took a frightened step backward, scattered panicked whimpers leaving his throat as his efforts to try to get whatever it was on his face off went into over drive. He didn't know what else to do. Even though he was perfectly capable of breathing, he felt like his lungs and heart would stop at any given moment, and this made him genuinely afraid for his life.
 
Unnamed 1x1 (Solia)

"Don't do it."
Bornes ignored the girl's wobbling head at the end of his pistol as she began to cry.
"Please," she begged.

Bornes, also known as Q, didn't like getting up close and personal with his kills. He rather hated it, actually. But desperate times called for desperate measures. He was looking for ways to get his money in without too much harm coming to himself.
Right now, he'd been paid to get some information out of some girl.

The 24 year old's head was caked in his own sweat, but it was moreso from aggravation than anything. The girl wasn't giving the information he needed. Bornes was pretty sure she just legitimately did not know, but the man didn't want to tell his current employer that. He was hoping that, out of threatening to kill her, she'd make up something and then the blame wouldn't fall on him.

Currently, his .45 rested on her temple. He'd just got done demanding she give him something, and she had already given up the "I don't know"s and went straight to the begging for her life part. It was frustrating. He couldn't just let her go, but part of him - albeit, a very tiny part of him - felt remorse and didn't want to kill her, either. It wasn't her fault she didn't know. It was his employer's fault for telling him to get the wrong person.

Bornes cocked the gun - something he didn't have to do in order to fire, but it ramped up the drama for people who didn't know anything about guns. He assumed this girl didn't. Her sobs began a new tone. Bornes had assumed correctly.

"Listen," he growled, coming in closer to the girl, his weary face almost touching her weeping one. She thought this was the end.
"If you don't tell me something," his voice rasped from being under this bright light so long- he hadn't picked the location of this torment, either. And he was also being watched. "...Then I will have to kill you."

He imagined this interrogation room with the one bright light and the rest filled with darkness was more of an irritant to him than his victim. He had dark sunglasses on and behind them, his eyes had been closed for a majority of the time. He had a raging a headache from the light and he desperately needed a cigarette as he could feel his body weakening as more time went on. He'd been at this girl for an hour, and damnit, he was a sniper, not an interrogator.

"So TELL me," he said, pulling his head away from hers and pushing the gun's muzzle into her temple, "SOMETHING." It was her hint. That if she just got it and made up some story, everyone in this play would be happy.

"I don't know!" She cried. "I don't know anything! I told you!" Snot was running from her nose and spit caked her mouth as she drooled.

The poor girl.

The 24 year old stepped backward out of the light in his black boots, aimed the gun at her head and finally fired. The girl was out of her misery, sitting limp in the metal chair she was tied to.

Some old man, looking quite comfy coming out of his air conditioned space, came out with two other, younger and much more well built men than Bornes's body, which had seen better days. He'd been losing a lot of weight recently.

"That's a shame," the boss stated. "I was hoping you'd do better than that, Q. I'd heard so much about you. And your..." his hand went up to his face, his wrist flinging about, "...appearance," he mocked, putting his hand back down. "Well. I just expected more."

Bornes hmphed. The other man was probably referring to the scar that ran diagonally across his nose and the tattoos that were at either side of his chin. All together it could be rather intimidating, especially to a young girl. "I told you I haven't done this before. I'm a sniper."

"Yes, I know. But you nonetheless did the job, didn't you? Boys," he called the last word, and the other men came forward. "Take him away and tell the mayor who just brutally murdered his daughter."

Bornes, still in the safety of the darkness, widened his eyes. "What? I did what you said!"

"You didn't do it well enough."

Bornes's heart raced, his head still aching. Rather than run, he did the first thing that came to mind and shot all three men. All of them fell to the ground, victims of nearly perfect headshots.
Suddenly, Q felt terrified. He didn't know why. But his heart beat out of his chest and he felt like he had to run. So he turned around, and did just that.

He came out the warehouse, ran up steps, and busted out doors into the brightly lit sky. The sun hit him like a huge sack of bricks. Even with his sunglasses, his hands covered his face. His left hand still held the gun. It only was on second-thought that he holstered it in his shoulder holster, which was currently covered by an open black leather jacket.

The man began panting, and the sweat dripped down his face anew. Q didn't know it, but he was developing a fever. But the things Q did know were thus: 1.) He needed to get as far away from this place as possible. 2.) He needed to get somewhere dark.

Behind his sunglasses, his eyes were squeezed shut. He forced himself to put down his arms and try to find the quickest route out of here. Of course it had to be 3pm. Of course the sun had to be at it's highest point. Of course it had to be a bright, sunny, perfect goddamned day.

As if anything couldn't go more wrong right now.

Bornes ended up walking briskly and pretty much completely blinded down the road, relying on his hearing to keep himself from getting run over. He breathed heavily through his mouth. He felt dizzy and was beginning to lose balance as he walked.

Finally he did lose balance, but it wasn't because he was dizzy. It was because he'd tripped over stairs. Fucking stairs, in the middle of the sidewalk. Who did that? Q tried to open his eyes, but all he saw was white. He let out a small, high-pitched whine from his throat. His greatest fear was going blind. His greatest fear was burning out his retinas. He quickly squeezed his eyes closed again.

He decided that, since he was on his hands and knees already, he may as well climb the stairs. Or, well, maybe it was more like crawling. But as he tried, all his limbs felt heavy, and everything tore away from him. It was as if time and space were under his finger tips and then they just rushed off, out of his grip. Rushing away like sand grains through fingers. The spins took over, as did his fever, and he was only able to make it up possibly two stairs before he lost consciousness.

That was Q's problem.
That was why he'd taken that dumb interrogation job in the first place.
He couldn't do his normal jobs anymore, because he wasn't healthy enough. He couldn't hold down food. He couldn't sleep well. He couldn't do much or he'd randomly pass out. Frankly, he was surprised he hadn't passed out while in that interrogation room. Everything was going to shit.

And although he didn't know it, that shit day had just gotten a whole lot worse, because where he'd passed out this time, was on the steps of a church.

Moniker wrote:
IsaacSantos

Just a few paces from him, a wobbly hand was pointing a gun at the spooked clerk behind the counter. Technically, this issue wasn’t really any of Isaac’s concern. He had already walked outside of the store with the goods he had purchased packed tightly into a plastic bag. The boy with the gun, no more than seventeen years old, had pulled the weapon out after he had left and it was only chance that had caused him to catch a glimpse of the scene through the glass door.

Isaac had paused for a moment, tilted his head in careful consideration, and then quickly, but calmly walked back in through the door. The panicked boy had turned the gun on him immediately and barked a “Don’t come any closer!” at him. Isaac had stopped, nodded, and then replied with a smile that he wouldn’t as long as the boy didn’t shoot. His calm demeanour had left the boy temporarily puzzled and Isaac had taken the opportunity to place his bag of groceries down, and take one step closer. The fear in the boy’s eyes had spiked, and the gun had rapidly switched from pointing at Isaac back to the now weeping store clerk behind the counter.

“I’d rather you pointed that at me,” Isaac had interjected.

Again, confusion had taken hold of the terrified boy and the gun had once again switched targets, though lowered slightly this time. He had nodded in acceptance, and took another slow, certain step forward. The gun continued to quiver, and if Isaac hadn’t been somewhat experienced in this sort of confrontation, he would probably be shaking just as hard too.

“You can shoot me if you want, but I can pretty much guarantee that it is just going to make matters worse,” he had responded and stuck his hands into his pockets. The gun had flicked back up, and had levelled at his chest for a split second before it faltered in the boy’s grasp. The young teen had his eyes fixed on the small, white square of cloth at the base of Isaac’s neck that was just barely peeking out from underneath his jacket.

“A priest?” the boy had croaked, the gun beginning to lower again in his trembling hands.

Isaac had simply nodded again, and pulled his wallet from his pocket. The boy was calmer now, and after a few more minutes of quiet exchange, Isaac had offered the desperate criminal the last few dollars he had, told him about the church just a few blocks down with the shelter next door, and then let him be on his way, the gun left behind. The gun which had turned out to be a painted toy. Despite his perceived calmness, Isaac had let out a sigh of relief at his discovery, and left the toy with the wide-eyed, but unharmed cashier as he made his way out.

These potentially dangerous encounters were something of a speciality of his. More specifically, bringing support to rough and impoverished neighbourhoods was his true skill. He had grown up in such environments, and had found meaning in his life in remaining in such places. He could have easily become a doctor like his mother, and helped people in that way, but he found more personal interactions was where he was needed more. And besides, he was good at it. Which was why he was in this area in the first place. He had been requested by the church in this neighbourhood. With its sparsely filled parish, there simply weren’t enough hands to go around. Hands that had been attempted to be found didn’t want to risk losing them in some gang related incident. Isaac had been one of the very few that the church here had been able to find.

Though he was ordained, Isaac wasn’t expected to preach, which was fine enough with him. He’d always disliked that approach, and much rathered to work hands on with the people who needed help. Or, as he was now, offer counselling to those who needed someone to speak to. With his background in both theology and psychology, Isaac was a perfect fit here. The clergy here, mostly older men and women, seemed to appreciate the fact that he was a bit younger, a well rounded thirty-two years of age, and might be able to relate more to the modern crowd with his “new fangled ideas”. He didn’t mind the expectations on him. The challenge was welcomed.

Speaking of which, the neighbourhood had already given him quite the welcome with what he had just experienced there in the store. Certainly not the worst he had experienced, but it had happened rather quickly considering he had only arrived the other day. He wasn’t even unpacked yet in the rooms the church had settled him into in the parish. Well, makeshift parish. He was fairly certain that where he was staying was just an extension of the church that had never been completed. The church itself didn’t quite look completed. It looked grey and rundown, like nearly everything else area. Smooshed between warehouses, and apartments, and crumbly stores to be entirely forgotten. Isaac hoped to change that.

And as if that hope was a cue, the dark haired man spotted a body lying at the bottom of the church steps as he approached it. A living body, he hoped as broke into a jog. Ah, there. It- He was moving, or crawling rather, up the first couple steps. Isaac slowed his pace as he neared the other man, and tried to move into his vision.

“Sir?” he began and knelt down, “Should I be calling an ambulance for you?”

No answer. Isaac leaned in, and placed a hand against the body’s side. No movement either. A little flare of anxiety twisted his stomach as he went to check for a pulse, breathing a sigh of relief when he found one. Out like a light.

Curious hazel coloured eyes trailed over the man against the steps. It was surprising to see that youth captured the face of the man. Younger than himself, obviously, although the tattooed youth must have prematurely grey hair. Isaac hoped it was just a genetic predisposition rather than something more serious, like an extreme deficiency of something. Although, the latter seemed more likely right now considering the other man was keeled over on the front steps of the church. Or he might just be drunk. That was always a very likely possibility.

Perhaps he should have become a doctor like his parents had so wanted him to, because he was quite unaware that there was anything wrong beyond being passed out on some stairs. Though, that was really only because he was just checking for blood. He’d be more thorough once he got the young man out of the sun. His grocery bag was hooked around one arm, and then he gathered up the fainted individual as best he could. Which wasn’t well considering strength wasn’t exactly his strong suit and he ended up half dragging the younger man into the parish.

Several minutes later found him quite out of breath, but with the grey haired youth placed clumsily in his bed. A tentative hand was placed against the man’s forehead, which Isaac had finally noticed was dripping with sweat. Though he was by no means an expert, that warmth definitely hinted at a fever, and Isaac wondered if bringing him in here rather than calling an ambulance was really the best idea. The church probably wouldn’t think too highly of him bringing someone off the street into the parish either. And yet, they had specifically brought him in to help with the sort of incident, so help he would.

His groceries were left on a small table in one corner of the room, and he hurried into his bathroom to grab a damp cloth. He quickly returned, and placed the folded cloth against the young man’s forehead, wiping away a few beads of sweat and water. He was always hesitant about getting hospitals involved when dealing with people he had found. Some of them, he knew, would refuse a doctor even if they had been shot. Doing so against their wishes always led to all sorts of backlash, sending the guilty parties into jail, and occasionally pulling new people into the violent mess through the desire for revenge. He wouldn’t let someone die on his watch, though, so if it was necessary, he would call for an ambulance. He’d give it a few hours, and if the man in his bed didn’t get any better, then he would see about doing so. For now, Isaac would just keep up with the cold compress.


For the first thirty minutes, Bornes was completely unconscious. He'd drifted into a sleep soon after that, his breathing uneven and his body clenching every now and again as it fought the fever. The 24 year old hadn't had a fever for as long as he could remember. The worst he'd ever been sick -- aside from the random passing out, of course -- had been a hangover.

About an hour after being pulled into the parish, he went into feverish nightmares. Every now and then, he would growl or whine or sometimes mutter sounds that were probably half-words. Rarer, he'd turn over in his sleep or move in some way. The man's brain was hard at work, thinking up things that sent shivers up his spine.

"No, I'm telling you, it wasn't me!" Q screamed through the prison bars in french.

"I know it wasn't you, Quatre Bornes. But I am going to punish you anyway." The blonde haired, blue eyed french man spoke perfect english. He never spoke english. Why was he speaking it now?

"Vespasien, What about everything I did for you?!" Q pleaded, his posture slouching heavily.

"What you did for me? I gave you everything, and you abandoned me!" The blonde shouted, grabbing Q's grey hair through the bars and pulling, slamming the younger man's head against the iron. Bornes let out a strangely inhuman cry of pain.

When Ves let go, he flicked the clump of hair from his hand onto the pavement. That hair wouldn't grow back. Ves grinned in satisfaction at that fact. He opened up the door to the cell, sliding it to the side with a force that had it clang loudly against the wall. He, being much taller, well-built and muscular than his former partner, easily bent down and grabbed Q's collar, forcing him to stand up straight with one hand.

With the most sadistic look on his face, Vespasien shoved Q face-first against the wall, and kept him there with his own body. Q shook, extremely uncomfortable, his hands against the wall, but not willing to resist much further than that.
"What are you trying to prove?" Q growled in english.

The other man brought out a pocket knife, flicking it open and bringing it in front of Q's face, making sure the younger man saw it.
"I'm going to prove that you'll never be human," Ves whispered into Q's ear, and slowly, lightly dragged the knife down the side of Q's body until it reached his pants.

Vespasien cut Q's belt. Q winced. But then Ves pulled at the backside of Q's pants and sliced through the seat of them. Using his free hand, he grabbed a long, flowing black tail-- somewhere in between a dog's and a horse's-- and brought it outside of the pants leg it had been hidden in.

At this, Q began to whimper and shake visibly. "No, Ves. Please, no. Fuck, I'll die, I'll--"

"Shhh!" Said the older man. His empty hand stroked the trail, as if admiring it. It was soft. Q began to breathe through his mouth, both freaking out and becoming a bit aroused. His tail had a mixture of normal fur and what he could only assume were whiskers. He could feel things through them. He knew if he cut them, his balance was jacked up, for instance. But he never would've cut the whiskers, because if he cut anything that managed to bleed, he was done.

Vespasien yanked the tail and Bornes let out a loud, high-pitched yip. The older man laughed.

And then he cut it off.


Bornes roared. The best he could compare it to was an alpha wolf telling an omega to back the hell away from his kill. That roar was guttural and it definitely woke the 24 year old up, sitting straight up, eyes wide open through the sunglasses that were thankfully still on him. He was wet with sweat and something else. A washcloth fell to his lap. Q didn't notice it. He was still living in the dream.

He saw someone. Didn't recognize who they were, but didn't care. Bornes immediately stood up and took the gun from his shoulder holster, pointing it at the man and taking the safety off. It was clear though, that Q wasn't in the best mindset. He still breathed through his mouth, audible huffs coming from him as he tried to suppress the urge to growl, his upper lip quivering. The animal part of him wanted to establish dominance the old-fashioned, theatrical way. The human part of him, which thankfully Q wasn't too detached from, was attempting to not look like a drug addicted maniac. Truth be told, he was afraid. Everything about him was filled with fear right now, and he wasn't sure he was covering it up very well.

Inside Q's right pants leg, his tail angrily struggled to wave about in agitation. It thwapped against the fabric of his trousers, producing somewhat of a trapped snake visual effect.
Q's shoulders rose and fell visually with each breath he took through his open mouth, and his arm shook.

Somewhere in that head of his, he knew his reaction was wrong. But his better judgment was clouded by the false memory that was at the forefront of his mind. His quivering finger moved to the trigger.

Moniker wrote:
For an hour, Isaac worked like clockwork as he tried to bring the young man’s fever down. A chair had been pulled up beside the bed, and he left for the bathroom every few minutes to swap out the cloth as the heat from the fever warmed it up. His patient had twisted around a great deal during that time, muttering things that Isaac couldn’t make sense of, though he had considered removing the sunglasses so they didn’t break. Isaac thought better of it almost immediately. Chances were the other man had one killer of a headache to go along with his fever, and the blinds in this room, or rather the sheet that substituted for the blinds, was a bit too sheer to block out the light. Headaches and light never got along, he knew.

On second thought now, it was probably best that he hadn’t become a doctor like his parents had so wished. Doubt crept into every instinct he had about physically taking care of someone, and if he couldn’t even decide to remove a pair of sunglasses or not, it was probably for the best. He would comfortably stick to issues involving the mind. Not that his skills were helping all that much right now. If he had to hazard a guess, Isaac might suggest that the younger man was experiencing some fever inflicted dream. Probably an unpleasant nightmare that the brain was working up as it attempting to fight through the havoc heat was creating on its functions. Perhaps it would be best to try and wake him up, and save him from any continued horrors.

Settling on that decision, Isaac got up for his seat and headed to his mini fridge again. A cold water bottle was taken out. He assumed that the other man would be thirsty after all that water being burned up through sweat, and he twisted the cap off just as he began to turn back. Nearly at the same time, a loud roar jerked Isaac from his thoughts, and he stumbled back against the small refrigerator from the surprise. The bottle in his hand, jarred from the movement, tipped some of its contents onto his black shirt and pants, but he was having a hard time caring about that right now. Not with the barrel of a gun being pointed at him. Again, somehow. Today was not his lucky day, apparently.

Isaac stayed where he was, leaned up against the small refrigerator as he tried to calm his rapidly beating heart. Panic was going to get him nowhere, and judging by the pants coming from the other man’s mouth and his trembling hands, there was already enough fear in this room. He stayed quiet for a moment, distracted and confused for a second by some movement he saw from the younger man’s leg, but his attention was quickly grasped up again by a finger moving to the trigger. A lump stuck in Isaac’s throat was swallowed as he considered his position. This wasn’t like the situation in the grocery store. This was much more raw, and the danger was undoubtedly more present.

“That’s a no on the water then?” he spoke finally, his voice level. That was a pleasant surprise. He had quite expected it to crack, and betray the nervousness he felt. Though, he always felt nervous in such situations, which was perfectly normal. The point was to keep his outward emotions under control. He remained where he was, not taking a step forward, or moving in a way that may seem like he had the intent to threaten. The grip on the bottle was loosened, and he wiggled it slightly to get the other man’s attention.

“If you’re planning on shooting that, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do so with the church so nearby,” he said and nodding his head at the window where the adjacent building could be seen through, “There’s usually a child or two in there.” Isaac swallowed again, and focused on keeping his breath even. He wished he had made an attempt to search for weapons first. Really, he wished he had thought about searching for weapons in the first place. Sometimes his heart could be a little bit too foolish.



There was an uncomfortable silence from Bornes after Isaac made his joke. The 24 year old had taken a deep breath and was currently holding it in his lungs. His finger quietly moved back to the trigger guard almost immediately before the other man mentioned being close to a church, and there being children nearby.
Children

He flashed back to putting a bullet in that girl's skull.
He'd never killed an innocent little kid, before.

Kids, yes. Killed kids. But not innocent ones.
That girl had done nothing wrong.

Q let out a small, curt, squeaky puppy whine as he exhaled and inhaled sharply, turning to the window covered by a sheet and putting his gun down by his side, his thumb instinctively putting it back on safe. He, unlike many in this town, actually had experience with guns.

The gunman only looked at that curtain for a likely two seconds before his knees bent and his right hand went to his head, fingers gripping in between silver hair as he groaned in pain. Shutting his eyes behind the sunglasses, he ducked his head and slowly brought the gun back into his shoulder holster by feeling alone.
The holster had been covered by his open black jacket. He had another on his other side, holding a knife.

After the pistol was safely put away, he stuck his hand out and felt around for the bed, eventually coming to sit on it. Once he was seated on the mattress, he slid his right hand under his glasses and gripped his entire face. He was sweating out the last of his fever. He felt like pure and absolute asshole. As if some man built like a boar had rammed him through the chest and head multiple times.

A grumbled, very raspy "Sorry" was all the man could muster up.

Bornes took a few more deep breaths, taking his sunglasses in his left hand while he wiped his sweaty face with his right. When he'd finished, he promptly put the glasses back on, as if they were his most prized possessions. The tail in his pants leg was beginning to clam down, but was still waving about and making a scene.

Without much thought on the matter-- Q was still quite confused-- both hands reached back and pulled his long, tindriled black furred tail out from his pants. Once it was out, it tapped on the bed sheets near him idly after one large, freeing flick. The 24 year old heaved a sigh of relief, his posture relaxing. It was extremely uncomfortable for him to hide his tail for too long. He normally left it out and played it off as an odd fashion accessory. But for the earlier interrogation with the girl, he'd hid it as to not be a distraction.

After about 30 seconds of Q calming himself, he finally looked back over to the person whom he'd just threatened to kill.

His body went rigid again, everything stopping.

This man was a priest.
Bornes's mind went back to what he'd done just an hour prior. That perfect hole, that clean wound, in the girl's temple...

Q's upper lip trembled, his teeth clenching as he went on the defensive again. His two hands kept to the edge of the bed, squeezing into the mattress.

"Who are you?!" He demanded.

It finally all came rushing back to him.
Bornes had passed out after running from the guys who were going to tell the world that he'd killed the mayor's daughter. He couldn't remember where he'd blacked out. But how long had he been blacked out? Minutes? Hours? days?

How much did this guy know? Did he pick up Q because he wanted to, or because he had ulterior motives?

Bornes's brain felt like it'd been run over with a truck, but whatever his body was going through right now decided it didn't like the stress it was voluntarily putting itself in. His chest burst with a new pain, and Q immediately doubled over with a yelp, pushing his left hand to his chest.

Was he having a heart attack now, too? Was he going to die? Right now?
He didn't want to die! That was the whole reason he'd taken a job so low as to kill some innocent girl.
He hadn't want to die. He was trying to be safe. He was trying to not do jobs that were so stressful on his body.
Why did life hate him?? He was doing everything he could.

At that point, Bornes lost all will to keep up his strong man act and starting crying. The chest pain was a long, sharp, stabbing. It was there, and now it was fading away as quickly as a knife pulled from a clean wound. Whatever had its grip on him was passing, and blood was going to the appropriate places. He'd missed whatever danger there was, if there had been any. He didn't know.

But it didn't matter anyway, because the 24 year old still thought he was dying, that this was the end. And as the tears began to go down his face, his body slipped to the floor, back against the bed as he began to assume the fetal position.

"I don't want to die," he sobbed into his knees, in french.
 
Persnickety (Solia)
Jiden in a Lost Room-inspired RP
Zombie wrote:
Ujr3Hmp.png
            • placeholder graphics to be replaced later
      • status: closed, in progress!
      • players: zombie, Q.

    • persnickety
        • 1
          • a : fussy about small details : fastidious <a persnickety teacher>
          • b : having the characteristics of a snob
        • 2
          • a: requiring great precision <a persnickety job>

Zombie wrote:
      • ✋ NAME :
            • Carson Marion Shield

        ✋ AGE
            • Twenty seven

        ✋ BIRTHDAY
            • January 27th

        ✋ ORIENTATION
            • Bisexual, male leaning.

        ✋ OCCUPATION
            • Agent of the Order - previously a bartender while attending college for special services.

        ✋ APPEARANCE
            • Stands at 6`2. His arms are a little short in comparison to the rest of his frame, his legs a little gangly. Pale skin. Scars freckle the right side of his face, curving from his right cheek down and around his right ear. They look like scars from a face full of buckshot. They stand out as deep pink against his pale skin. Dark hair, shaved close at the sides but with long fringe/upper hair that is moused and combed back - strands sometimes fall into his eyes, often not styled well enough. A few silver streaks are sparsely spread through his hair - threatening a full head of grey by his late 30s. Small eyes, the corners crinkling with every grin. White and dark reys combine in just the right way to make a vaguely blue-ish grey iris. His nose is somewhat large, almost beakish in appearance. Thin bridge, unflared nostrils. Carson does not have much in the lip department, falling close to being standard in shape. They match the colour of his scars.

              Well muscled body - not overly so, but it's clear he keeps fit and toned for duty. Tends to wear muted greys and greens with black suits or business pants. Doesn't usually wear t-shirts or jeans; keeps a semi-professional attire even when he's not on the job. Full sleeved, button up shirts with dress pants or casual slacks. Has scaring on his right foot from severe bone breakage as a child, has faded a lot over time but is still somewhat visible.

        ✋ POSITIVE PERSONALITY TRAITS
            • TBA

        ✋ NEGATIVE PERSONALITY TRAITS
            • TBA

        ✋ FEARS
            • ∙ Gun owners who don't know how to use a gun, or don't have proper gun safety training.
              ∙ Being stranded without an ability to call for help/get out of a situation that is life-threatening.
              ∙ Being found out by the Order. Doesn't want to give up the life he has, but can't stop keeping things.

        ✋ WEAKNESSES
            • ∙ Allergic to insulin.
              ∙ Gets drunk very easily. A couple beers puts him out, a shot or two leaves him whoozy.
              ∙ Really fucking loves peanut butter cups.

        ✋ QUIRKS
            • ---

        ✋ LIKES
            • ∙ Hunting trips / spending time in the mountains and forests - loves to go camping.
              ∙ Practicing marksmanship - both with guns and with archery.
              ∙ The bigger the storm, the more excited Carson is. Thunder and lightening, so very exciting.
              ∙ Reading a good book. Prefers nonfiction - leans more towards books on psychology and war/combat and medical fields.
              ∙ Finding new Items, learning how to use them, and.. keeping them for his own personal collection.
              ∙ Figuring out how a new item works and doing studies based on the items.
              ∙ Showers. Takes long, hot showers as frequently as possible.
              ∙ Animals. Really loves dogs, and would love to have one, but isn't home enough.

        ✋ DISLIKES
            • ∙ Exercising. It is tedious and takes up more time than he likes, but you do what you gotta.
              ∙ Reports. Hates writing them out, they are tedious and he has a lot to cover up if he keeps an item. Carson is VERY good at deception in writing/verbal deception, however.
              ∙ Most forms of heat-based spice(s). Dislikes any form of heat in his food, is much too sensitive.
              ∙ Drinking to excess. Doesn't understand the joys of being drunk (and has never been). Also isn't interested in drugs at all. -- Was/is great at making drinks, just dislikes alcoholics and those that get overly drunk.
              ∙ Giving back items. Or not being able to keep something/find a way to pocket it instead of turning it in.
              ∙ Living in an apartment. It's cheap and economical, which means small and full of noisy neighbors.

        ✋ SOUNDTRACK

Zombie wrote:
      • ✋ NAME :
            • Jiden "Jy" Sparx

        ✋ AGE
            • 25

        ✋ BIRTHDAY
            • April

        ✋ ORIENTATION
            • Homoromantic Asexual

        ✋ OCCUPATION
            • Newly-enlisted agent of The Organization

        ✋ APPEARANCE
            • Stands at 5'7". Long Brown/red hair, bright green eyes, black steel toed boots, blank dog tags, and clothing that is usually in a black/green motif that match his goggles, which can always be found either around his neck or on his forehead like a headband. Also has a long blue tribal tattoo that spreads from right shoulder down the arm to the wrist, but this is often covered by a frequently-worn long sleeved jacket.
              jy1small.png

        ✋ POSITIVE PERSONALITY TRAITS
            • Easy-going, laid back, and can be a bit of a clown. He is almost always in a good mood, smiling or owning a bit of a smirk. He will often downplay his intelligence, playing the dumb fool or pretending to be a klutz in order to fit in better with those around him.

        ✋ NEGATIVE PERSONALITY TRAITS
            • Downplays problems and copes with stress through humor.

        ✋ FEARS
            • His parents' deaths will be legally pinned on him.

        ✋ WEAKNESSES
            • Lack of professional life experience.

        ✋ QUIRKS
            • Always wears green goggles; long blue tribal tattoo that spreads from right shoulder down the arm to the wrist.
              Hobbies: building, maintaining, and dueling battle bots; hacking and cracking; electrical engineering.
              History: Both parents died under similar mysterious and unique circumstances.

        ✋ LIKES
            • Unique and intellectually stimulating challenges.

        ✋ DISLIKES
            • Unique and intellectually-stimulating challenges that he cannot solve.

        ✋ SOUNDTRACK


I am thinking my guy's father died recently and he is trying to find out where his place in the world is or something. So he could join the organization because of his father's death's mysterious circumstances.
Or he could already be in the organization and his dad dies and that clues him into the fact that something about the items may have had something to do with the death?

But the death isn't really the point of the rp. Sort of like how Will Smith encounters that weird runner in the beginning of MIB. That's what gets him interested in joining the MIB but it's not a huge deal, really.
.
.
I am also okay with either. It may be easier to start them off at the organization, preparing themselves for the upcoming mission/recovery/whichever. If you wanted to do some building of their relationship/how they feel about each other based on initial reactions, though, we might want to start off with my character out on a retrieval and yours either having the item/wandering upon it or something that it's causing/doing? And go from there. It could be a 'partners before officially partners' sort of ordeal if the item goes missing/can't be found right away -- super open.

Q wrote: [title]the objects[/title]All objects are indestructible and have a common, albeit unknown, origin.
The likelihood of encountering an object is quadrupled when a person is currently possessing another object.


  • [title]known objects[/title]

    • A glossary of all objects whose existences are known to The Organization. Locations are in another post.
      If an object listed here isn't listed under a location elsewhere, that means the location has yet TBD by the players.
      Information here overwrites any information on outbound links or original canon.

      [title]Pencil[/title]
      An ordinary No. 2 graphite pencil. When the point taps any surface, it will produce a single american penny with a production date of 1982.
      In theory, the pennies and tapping are infinite.

      [title]Brass Teapot[/title]
      il_214x170.975492898_5adp.jpg

      A simple brass teapot. If a person physically or emotionally feels pain within 10 feet of the teapot, US dollar bills will be created inside of the teapot. The amount is tied to both the amount of pain (more pain, larger payout) and frequency of use (producing money more often yields less payout). The minimum payout is one dollar and the maximum payout is near-death at ten thousand dollars. There is no payout for actual death.
      The cooldown period of the teapot is related to the current owner of the teapot and is not reset until it has passed through another, different, owner.

      [title]The Key[/title]
      100_2915.jpg~c200

      A plain metal key with a red diamond-shaped motel dongle for room #10 at the Sunrise Motel. This key will open any door it can fit into it and lead the user to any other door they desire.

      The key user must be able to visualize the [destination] door they want to open in their mind. Users cannot open a portal to some place they cannot visualize or some place that is not accessible by another door. If the user opens a door with the key without visualizing a destination door, the door will open to a plain hotel room.

      Objects' powers do not work in "the room." Leaving the room and re-entering it using the key "resets" the room to how it was when it was originally found the first time. The room is presumably room #10 at the Sunrise Motel as indicated on the key's dongle. However, in the real world, the now-condemned Sunrise Motel only has 9 rooms.

      [title]Ballpoint Pen[/title]
      [See here]
      The pen has the power to microwave its victims, if it is pressed against them with the ballpoint tip touching their flesh, they are instantly microwaved. It can also be used to short out and destroy electronic devices.

      [title]Nail File[/title]
      [See here]
      If light reflects off the edge of the File and into someone's eyes, they fall into a short but deep sleep.

      [title]Glass Eye[/title]
      [See here]
      The Eye's power is to repair or destroy all flesh. However, it must be in the eye socket of the user in order for it to work.

      [title]The Clock[/title]
      [See here]
      Power to sublimate brass, bypassing its molten liquid state and turning it directly into a gaseous form.

      [title]The Flask[/title]
      [See here]
      Has the power to suffocate a target victim by unscrewing the cap. Victim must be within user's direct vision.

      [title]Bus Ticket[/title]
      [See here]
      Has the power to transport any person who touches it to just outside [location TBD].

      [title]Wristwatch[/title]
      [See here]
      Wrap the watch around an egg and it will hardboil the egg.

      [title]Glasses[/title]
      [See here]
      Inhibit combustion within a 10 foot radius around the wearer of the glasses. Glasses must be worn for them to work.

      [title]watchbox[/title]
      [See here]
      Prevents decay within a 10 foot 180 degree radius of the front of the box when opened.

      [title]deck of cards[/title]
      [See here]
      The Deck of Cards is an object that was important to the Order as it was used in their rituals. If the faces of any of the cards are shown to a person, they experience a violent and painful vision involving "the Event."
      These can completely debilitate the victim for 1 - 5 minutes and may cause PTSD in some victims.

      [title]scissors[/title]
      The user of the scissors places their hand in the appropriate holes and points them at a target. By moving the scissors, the user can telekineticly move the target. The target must be completely visible to the user and can be anything (including people).
      Opening and closing the scissors blades so not tear the target apart. The scissors only have the power of movement and only when the blades are closed and together while the user's fingers are properly in the holes.

      [title]comb[/title]
      [See here]
      A regular cheap black plastic comb. When brushed through the user's hair, it can stop time for about ten seconds. The user cannot move items or things while time is stopped. It is best for simply giving the illusion of running quickly.
      Using the comb induces motion sickness.

      [title]The Quarter[/title]
      [See here]
      Materializes memories. See wiki article for full details. Remains unchanged from original canon.

      [title]Umbrella[/title]
      A completely black umbrella. When closed and rolled up and in the hand of a user, the people around the user will think they recognize the user.
      When the umbrella is opened and is being used as a normal umbrella would, people who make eye contact with the user are overcome with a feeling of deja vu.




    [title]unknown objects[/title]

    • Objects that are currently in the universe, but no one knows about them yet. They are listed here for player reference purposes only.

Q wrote: [title]Object possession (groups)[/title]A list of groups that currently possess certain objects. See the previous objects post for descriptions of objects.



  • [title]The organization[/title]Private organization that collects objects in order to restore balance in the universe and keep them out of the public eye.

    • - The Key
      - Ballpoint Pen
      - Nail File
      - (others TBA)
    [title]The order [of the reunification][/title]Religious cult which takes objects by force and believe collecting them all will allow them to speak to God.

    • - Watchbox
      - Deck of cards
    [title]unaffiliated individuals[/title]Owner(s) of object(s) is known, but still holds possession of the object(s) for whatever reason. These particular owners are unaffiliated with any object-seeking groups.

    • - Scissors
      - Umbrella
      - Comb
    [title]collectors[/title]Objects owned by private collectors.

    • - Wristwatch
      - Quarter


Zombie wrote: [title]Object possession[/title]A list of who currently possesses certain objects. See the previous objects post for descriptions of objects & Jiden's list of items.

  • [title]Carson[/title]

    • -
      -


Q wrote: [title]Object possession (characters)[/title]Objects owned by characters I play.


  • [title]Jiden[/title]

    • - The Pencil

Zombie wrote: "Shame about your last Run."

Carson could have rolled his eyes at that response. But, no. He was mature. A reasonable adult.

The water cooler before him gurgled as he stood and brought a polystyrene cup to his lips, the liquid chilling the skin around his mouth. The urge to turn and stare at the speaker was large, but the view out the compound's window kept him focused. The sky was a muggy, almost mirroring his eyes, and he was hopeful that the wind would bring a storm through later. Shame that he hadn't checked the weather before heading here.. maybe on the car ride back.

"You really seem to have a knack for things going wrong on the job, Shield."

A shoulder brushed his as Kenwood, a fellow member of The Organization who ran missions like Carson (and, admittedly, someone who was much brighter than his boyish, moronic smiles hinted at), moved to lean against the window Carson stared through. Grey eyes met brown and Carson almost scoffed at the stupid, smug grin on his 'co-worker's' face.

"We can't all have the same sort of spotless record that you have, Max." Carson gave a brief shit eating grin before he turned around, dropping the cup in a waste bin near the cooler, and moved a crossed the floor. Vague words called out to him. Pushing his way through a tall set of double glass doors, Carson moved down a spiral staircase and towards the primary auditorium - exactly opposite of the building's entrance doors. The Organization sometimes, but not always, had small groups of agents that worked together on 'missions'. Ranging from 2 to 5, depending on the difficulty of the tasks at hand and how 'dangerous' an item seemed, Carson had spent most of his time thus-far running solo missions.

It's not, however, every day that you run into someone who has close ties with an Item.. who sub-sequentially also has the tech and specialization required for making easy tracking and acquiring of said item so convenient it seems like child's play.

Normally against partners, Carson had not extended the invitation into The Organization quickly. Nor easily. His direct commander had been horrified when Carson had called and said they were getting a new trainee - and that he wanted the guy as a personal partner, someone to go along side him with missions. 'We work well together' was the primary excuse - and the primary reason why Carson had been 'off duty' for the last month. Luckily, the newbie had been in training during that time. Use of a basic pistol, very basic hand to hand [defense based] combat, disaster training. First aid, cpr. The very basics of how to eliminate the risk of dying or being injured on the job. All squished into long days that dragged into a long month.

Looking down at his watch, Carson put a hand on his hip while he waited for the door to open. Freshly qualified trainees would be leaving the auditorium and sent to meet up with their respective partners/departments in The Organization any moment now.

There was some apprehension that quelled in his chest when he thought about how difficult it was going to be to make item keeping a secret from the newbie - the other was going to be around enough to make it.. difficult to just report that the item had 'disappeared' or why weird, strange things seemed to happen after Carson was thought to have obtained an item (those were ones that he had to return so they could be filed away for Organization use or destruction). Pushing the feeling aside, Carson put his other hand on hip and half turned to gaze outside again.



Q wrote: A little over a month ago, in an upperclass neighborhood, Jiden Sparx found himself in his father's lab with a pencil.
Robyn, his father, was a biochemist and professor at a nearby university. He had his own lab in his home, although a good half of it was more of a storehouse for miscellaneous electrical and mechanical components. The Sparx house held a family engineers. Lindsey, Jiden's late mother, was an electrical engineer and inventor. Jiden had followed in her footsteps, taking an interest in electronics and robotics. He told himself he was also an inventor, but simply didn't have any good ideas yet.

Lindsey died when Jiden was 18. Now, Jiden was 25. And approximately one month ago, Robyn also passed. It had all happened so quickly. Jiden was at the dining table eating cereal when his father came up from the lab to make himself a sandwich. Robyn had sat down to eat it in his lab coat, asked how J's day was going and then promptly passed out on the table.

Jiden had turned around and dropped everything, rushing over. He didn't know what to do at first, or what had happened. But when he checked for breath or a heartbeat, there was nothing. Jiden grabbed a defibrillator and attempted to resurrect his father, but blood came out of his ears after a few tries and Jiden knew his father was gone.

It had been sudden, unexpected, completely uncalled for...
His father had been taken away just like his mother had when he was 18.
Jiden had no idea what to do. Something snapped in his brain and he simply went downstairs into the lab and tried to pretend it had never happened.
He didn't want to look at it. He didn't want to think about it.

Maybe if he ignored it, it would go away.

He'd looked at his father's desk, covered in papers. But placed on top of them was a single, perfect, yellow pencil. Expertly sharpened, rounded pink eraser that you knew wouldn't smudge up your work. This scene should have been nothing special. But the pencil almost seemed too perfect. Too well-placed. And why a yellow number two pencil? Mechanical pencils were clearly the superior writing utensil.

He wasn't sure what possessed him to take the pencil. But he did. Maybe it was an inferior writing tool, but it still wrote nonetheless so it certainly served a purpose. He wound up leaving his house and going to a coffee shop where, after at least an hour of awkward silence and denial, he finally decided to do something about his situation. He took out his cellphone and dialed 911 to report the dead body in his kitchen. He found himself getting incredibly anxious at the series of questions he was asked by the operator, and pulled out the yellow pencil from his pocket to mindlessly doodle on a napkin.

But when he pushed the point to the napkin, he found he could not make a mark. Instead, a penny spontaneously appeared whenever he tried to touch graphite to a surface. The phone dropped from between his cheek and shoulder and he tried again to write something. But every time, another penny clinked atop the table, sometimes bouncing a bit before coming to rest. He dropped the pencil, reached under the table to pick up his phone, rushed a "Sorry, I have to go," and ended the call with the operator. It wasn't long before he had amassed quite the collection of spontaneously generated pennies from this assumedly magical pencil. The situation perplexed him far more than his father's mysterious and sudden death.

His pile of pennies did not go unnoticed, of course. That was when Carson and The Organization entered the picture. Indeed, Jiden's entire life flipped that day. Carson told him that the pencil was "an object. One of many" and that there was a secret organization simply called "The Organization" which collected these objects and safe-guarded them. It was a long conversation Jiden couldn't remember the specifics of. But he did remember he didn't need much convincing to join, and he ended up paying their bill entirely in pennies.

The Organization had become the perfect way to escape his problem. He never went back to his house once the training began. Deep in denial, he booked himself a hotel for any time he needed a place to stay, and decided the Organization would be the start of a new chapter in his life-- maybe even an entirely new book, because he planned to completely forget his father's passing. The training was a breeze. He'd known much of it already, and what he didn't know previously was quickly and easily picked up.

Today, the training would be completed and he'd be on to working directly with his partner/mentor, who incidentally enough was already decided to be Carson. Now, Jiden was exiting the auditorium doors, his arms stretching above his head as his mouth opened in a wide yawn. When his green eyes spotted Carson, his arms went to his sides and he trotted over the older man, a wide smirk on his face.

"You look like you need a good bowel movement," Jiden chortled, playfully pegging his right elbow into Carson's arm. "Lighten up, Partner."



Zombie wrote: Carson's brows furrowed in a look of unbidden disgust at Jiden's words, upper lip curving to match. "Didn't your parents teach you anything about respecting your elders?" Although Carson knew they were only a few years apart in age, he felt older. Carson knew very little about Jiden's family - a little bit about him not having his parents around right now. They weren't close, Carson having spent much of the last month pulling what little strings he had in the Organization to get Jiden as his partner (there was some satisfaction, and hesitant curiosity, in the upper levels that Carson was finally accepting someone -- and not just accepting, but requesting).

He was almost certain they thought they'd be able to get Jiden to keep an eye on him. It didn't harm to have a cover, and he was almost certain some things could be brushed under the young pupil's eyes (at least, at the start). It wasn't like Carson took items constantly.. just, when they seemed too good to pass up. Or when they were an especially interesting item.

Reaching up, Carson rubbed his palm along his forehead to smooth away the crease there before he turned his gaze to the other. "I`ll feel better once we're out of here. C`mon."

Striding a crossed the floor, towards the large double glass doors that lead outside, Carson held them open for the 'kid' and then stepped out after him. He then started moving towards the primary parking lot, easing down one of the many long lines of cars that stretched out from the building. It was considered a typical office building, and if anyone asked about it, there were always floors and office spaces for rent. A mixture of companies were supposed to be here, small and not particularly interesting. No one was allowed in unless they were a part of the Organization, of course - security guards were posted all around the entrance, in case of any suspicious lurkers.

As they walked, Carson squinted in dim sunlight that peeked from behind the building, gaze finding Jiden. "We`re going a bit north of the city. There's something weird going on with a waiter who works at a coffee shop, and it might be an Item causing it." Fishing keys out of his pocket, Carson hit the 'unlock' button on the fob and moved over to a basic, grey car as its doors unlocked. He moved into the driver's side, still talking. "It's going to be pretty standard for the first day, unless something 'unusual' happens. Just basic observation."



Q wrote: A look of shock, emotional pain, and shame passed by Jiden's face, but was replaced by his quick wit within miliseconds.
"An observation of fact is not disrespect. Didn't your parents teach you not to be easily offended?" His smirk turned to a sly grin and he made a modest half shrug, shaking his head as he only half-heartedly tried to hide his amusement at his own response.

"Besides, aren't you like, my age?" He shrugged again and followed Carson out of the building and to the car, listening to his mentor's explanation of what was to come.

After getting into the car on the passenger side and clicking on his seatbelt, he turned to Carson, "So is this your car, or a company car?"

It technically being his first real day on the job, he had some questions. "Like, how close do you think The Organization keeps tabs on you? Do they record everything you say? Are there like body cameras?"[/b] Who really, knows, right?

As much as Jy was intrigued to get to the new mission, he wanted to ask some things off-the-record. For starters, he still definitely had the pencil in his possession. And he was a little curious about why Carson had never pressured him to turn it in. The 25 year old didn't really want to turn it in- at least not yet, anyway. He still had so many things he wanted to play around with.

Could he make an object detector? Could he figure out how it worked? Could objects have more than one power? How much trouble would he get into if he kept the pencil forever? Were objects really bad luck? He was so curious!



Zombie wrote: The questions began and Carson leaned back into the seat as he buckled up and then started the ignition. "The car is my car. The company allows me to borrow theirs if I have to travel long distance, though. To keep from putting mileage on my own." He gave a gentle pat to the boring, soft beige steering wheel cover. "She gets the job done. Not flashy, doesn't draw a lot of attention, so she's fine." And she even had a name - Lisa. Not that Carson would readily admit he named his cars (before this had been 'Old Man', a car that was ready for the junkyard when he bought it for 3k, and Donald - a bright yellow camaro that he had sold when he'd joined the Organization).

Carson, in truth, did not mind answering questions. He'd asked a ton his first day - making a show of being annoyed couldn't hurt, though. Reversing the car out of the parking spot, Carson drove out of the parking lot and onto the highway - heading towards the city. They'd cut through downtown and pop out onto the major highway that lead north. Carson let down his window and rested his left arm on it, fingertips trailing outside of the car.

"The Organization keeps pretty close tabs. We have to write pretty formal reports at the end of each mission, and if anything really terrible happens we're investigated pretty thoroughly. The background check the company does on you is also supposed to be pretty significant..." Carson tilted his head back, pursing his lips a little. "I have never consented to a body camera on me at all times, and I've never woken up to anyone slinking into my bedroom at night but.." Carson looked over at Jiden, his face dead pan. "With all those items locked up in the headquarters, you can never be too sure what they can and can't do without needing modern tech to help them out.."

Caron's eyes went back to the road, elbow resting against the car door as he ran it through the longer section of his hair, fingers teasing the strands back over his scalp. With his partner being this curious right off the bat, it was a good sign. Curiosity often, for Carson anyway, trumped abiding all the rules. Wanting to know more about the way things were (and how to get around them/find new ways of doing things), being invested and interested in figuring things out and not doing what you're told with a no-nonsense attitude.. Carson liked that.

"What do you think of the Organization so far?" A light question, but perhaps the one that Carson was the most interested in hearing Jiden's answer to.



Q wrote: Jiden wasn't completely sure how to take the answers. They were 'safe' answers. Non-answers, really. They didn't help him determine if he could be safe to bring up the pencil or keeping objects. His face scrunched, lips twisting in thought. He decided to drop it and keep the information to himself for now. Maybe he should get to know Carson a little better before jumping into renegade territory.

He put his elbow on the window's sill, resting his chin on his fist as he watched the scenery go past outside. Once Carson asked his question about what Jy thought of the organization, the 25 year old turned to face him again, dropping his arm.

The training had gone over a few reasons for why the Organization collected objects and why those objects existed, with some examples, but there wasn't much there. Objects were a tear in the universe, they said, originating from an event that happened so many years ago, but they had no idea how, exactly, just that "something happened." The powers each object had didn't seem to have any logical reason or common thread amongst them. The objects themselves seemed random, too. But The Organization believed all brought bad luck upon the users of the objects and unbalanced the universe by breaking the laws of reality. The Organization's purpose was restore balance to this universe and help people who wanted to willingly get rid of their objects. All the objects were taken and locked away, presumably in a large vault but it was never explicitly stated where, never to see the light of day again.

"I think there should be more focus on research, rather than collecting," he mused, finally, a bit somber. "Maybe they just keep that information from new people but it really seems like nobody knows much about these items. I can understand where The Organization is coming from, I guess, in locking them away but..."

He sighed, and looked out the window again. "There's so much potential to discover new theories..."



Zombie wrote: Carson watched Jiden's movements in the rear view mirror, just able to make out slight facial expressions and movements without making it look like he was staring/watching for them. Part of why Carson had felt like he needed to push so hard to get the other as his partner, and even in the Organization, was that he felt.. similar to Carson, in a way. Carson was seeing it now in how Jiden replied to the question.

He was quiet for a moment after the other was done speaking, fingertips holding the wheel clenching into the fabric just a little. "I'd have to agree with you. There are other groups, I'm not sure if they went over them with you in orientation or not?" Carson gave a brief pause before continuing. "I think some of them study and use items for either personal gain or for study. I don't know much about them, but I think that, in some ways, they might have the right idea when it comes to some of the items. I've heard rumours about some really fancy items that have made their way into the Organization over time, and I have never been able to keep myself from wondering just what kind of things could be done with some of the abilities. Or what we could do if we studied some of the more mundane ones - tried to figure out how and why they came to be."

Shrugging his shoulders, Carson took the wheel with his other hand and flipped the car's stereo on - toying with the volume to lower it (it was quite loud, from Carson jamming out to loud alternative rock on the drive to the HQ this morning), then scrolled slowly through the stations until he came to something suitable as background music. "Researching the items might be a little too difficult for the Organization right now. There are some pretty dangerous ones out there." He'd heard of a few that were like small bombs, pens that exploded when it was least expected. Destroying everything in the area, save the object of course. He wasn't sure if it was just a rumour or not.

Carson wasn't high enough in the organization to generally find those items. Just tiny things that he'd found 'relatively harmless'.



Q wrote: Copper brows raised at Carson's response. Intrigued, Jiden focused his attention on his new partner once more.

"Only the collectors and the Order, really," he answered. The collectors were self-explanatory, they just collected items because they liked them. They weren't really organized, just rich people wanting powerful items. The order was a religious cabal that believed all the objects were pieces of God and collecting them all could let you talk to god. They reason why they were feared was because their ways of obtaining objects were... Unclean, to say the least. They weren't afraid to steal or kill. The Organization, on the other hand, preferred to be diplomatic and wouldn't take items without their owner's consent.

"Well, metaphysics isn't really my thing but I feel like there is so much about the universe and reality that we don't know... And maybe the objects prove there are other dimensions? I don't know what I think, yet, but I do think items are way too important to just lock away and try to forget about them."

He lifted his hands in exaggeration, "Sure, they can be abused, and bring bad luck-or whatever- so maybe the public at large doesn't need to know about them... But you can't tell me some scientist hasn't wanted to sit down and really, really figure out how these things work, or why, or some sort of pattern in the abilities or types of objects... It baffles me. The whole thing."

He scratched his his, brushing his long red bangs out of his face. "But if collecting items for The Organization is as close as I can get to figuring out the deal behind this stuff... I guess that's what I gotta do. Maybe they do have researcher positions we don't know about... Maybe I can get promoted or something later?" He shrugged, again, then decided to change the subject.

"What's going on at this coffee house?"



Zombie wrote: "I'm sure," Carson began, before he paused and pondered what exactly he wanted to say first. It was hard not to let his mind run away with him, letting rumours take over the places where facts were supposed to be. Carson knew so little about them that he was no further along than he had been a few years ago, when he'd first joined the Organization. "that there's a lot more going on with the items than either of us, or most people in the Organization, could really begin to fathom. My experiences with items have been.. strange. Minimal, though. They don't seem to share many principles other than fluid, very basic things. An item seems like it can be anything - it can have any sort of power. For the most part, though, I've only found small objects. The pencil you have" Carson paused again, glancing briefly over to Jiden "is something I'm not surprised to see, but has a weird, surreal power I can't imagine being very helpful unless you spend hours and hours tapping it -- so I have to call in question, why that power?"

"I would imagine that you can get a better position within the company the longer you're around - maybe the more you show that you are useful and can be a really good resource for the company. People who move up are, I guess, usually asked for. I don't see job postings that people apply to, just see people suddenly going to different areas of the HQ and doing different thigns they can't talk about." Carson wasn't super close with anyone at the HQ, but he knew enough people/had worked with enough people to be told that his prying was annoying and that none of his questions could be answered by them. "I'm.. working on moving up myself. I'd like to know more about the items.." He decided not to ask that moving up, and learning more about the items, was part of the reason Carson had pushed/pulled so hard for Jiden to join.

Snapping out of his thoughts about the research they could do, Carson licked his lower lip and moved onto answering Jiden's question. "The coffee shop is just a possible item. There have been reports that there is a very old rotary telephone that rings once in a blue moon. Someone answers it, they start hearing voices after and it gets worse until they kill themselves. Might just be a local rumour, though."

The city was slowly looming in the distance, and Carson kept his eyes trained on it. "I get a few of these 'we're not sure but check it out missions'. The phone is currently in a glass box at a small family diner. There's been two incidences in the last month, with kids opening the glass and answering it when it rings."



Q wrote: "You're right. The pencil is weird. I wish I knew about more items that exist, like examples, so I could come up with some ideas about potential patterns..." He trailed off, thinking about it. They'd only given off theoretical examples of items in the training, never listing anything specifically and confirming it existed. Seemed a little suspicious, but he supposed that was the whole nature of The Organization-- too keep things as "need to know" as possible.

"How long have you been working with them?" he asked, only to have his mind wander off on possibilities for the phone. How would they even test it? What if there was no way to reverse the voices? It didn't seem safe to just answer the phone themselves and hope for the best.

"And the kids commit suicide too?"



Zombie wrote: Carson was surprised when Jiden didn't ask why Carson hadn't mentioned the pencil to the Organization. Perhaps the other already had a good idea of where Carson was situating himself in terms of reporting things to the Organization? Or Jiden, perhaps, thought that Carson assumed he had turned the item in at some point during the Organization's training period. He didn't push the conversation about the pencil further - he would leave that until Jiden either found out about one of his own items, or until Jiden decided to bring it up for himself. Either way, time would tell.

"The Organization is pretty hush hush. Again, I'm sure that people further up in ranking understand more than you or I do right now. I.. know a lot of things, but don't know where I would even begin to talk about them. There's a lot of rumours rolling around." Carson had yet to run into any of the other Cabals on his outings, but he knew a bit about them. He almost dreaded thinking about what might happen if he crossed path with one of the more ruthless members of the other Cabals.

Carson took a moment to pause and think. "About three years, now. I joined when I was twenty four. I had been trying to find a job as an 'entertainment specialist' - really boring and incredibly unrelated. I joined the Organization primarily because someone was doing a whole lot of talking about the Organization after a series of cosmos. I was extended an invitation by her in exchange for.. not talking about things with anyone, you could say. I probably wouldn't be here if I had not finished my master's in business studies and psych a year prior." Carson had, shortly after wasting thousands of government money on two degrees he didn't care for very much, decided he would enjoy bartending a whole heck of a lot more than sitting in an office day after day (his original college goal having business psychology).

The Organization had been a whole heck of a lot better of an offer/career choice, though. Exciting. Interesting. Usually gave him weekends.. Didn't pay very well, though.

"Yeah, the kids were affected. One tossed himself from the roof of his house, died from a rib piercing his lung on the way to the hospital. The other jumped off a bridge and drowned." Carson decided not to go into details about that case, as it had not been a quick and painless death for the kid. Or how he, himself, was not sure how they were going go about investigating a telephone that sounded like it belonged in some urban legend.



Q wrote: "Hmmm," Jiden thought aloud, tilting his head slightly to the left as Carson spoke about the hushed nature of the Organization and his experience within it. But when the other man mentioned 'Entertainment Specialist,' he became a little confused. It really had nothing to do with the conversation at hand, but he pulled his smartphone from his backpocket and looked up what the job description for that was quietly, anyway.
Jiden couldn't be having ignorance biasing his conversation.

He swiped the search rather quickly, his keyboard reading gestures, and soon enough he had the answer he was looking for-- basically a different title for an Event Organizer. Hmm indeed. 'Boring' would not have been a descriptor Jy would've used for the position, but that was neither here nor there, as they pulled into the parking lot soonafter his discovery.

He locked the screen and leaned forward to put his phone back in his pocket, only to remember he had not been fully paying attention to the description of the deaths. He tried to willingly rewind his brain and figure out what had been said for a few seconds. Ultimately it proved impossible, he only knew the general idea of what Carson had said, which was basically, 'yeah, everybody died.' Jiden decided not to dwell on it, instead unlocking his seatbelt in a hurry to get out of the car.

"Got any ideas on how to figure out if the phone is an object or not without killing ourselves, then?" he asked as he opened the car door and began to step out.



Zombie wrote: Carson stepped out shortly after Jiden, locking the car doors once they were shut and making sure he was putting his keys into his pocket (Carson had locked them in his car twice before, and each time he'd been so pissed off he had almost broken one of the windows). He put one hand on his hip and stared at the old-style, brick building. Shabby red plastic hung over the windows, blocking just a little sunlight. The place might have been considered charming or cute by the locals, but Carson thought it looked a little run down and like it could run into the ground at any moment.

Exactly the kind of place he'd go for morning coffee. Maybe donuts. A quiet read.. Calm. Quaint.

Well, excluding that there was a mysterious telephone inside. That may or may not kill the people who picked it up.

"Just.. don't answer the phone if it rings." It wasn't answering Jiden's question, but he didn't really have an answer right then and there. Carson crossed over to the building, the parking lot situated in front of it a crossed a two lane street (likely shared by other, local businesses). He moved to hold the door open for his partner, and the rush of chatter from patrons filled his ears. Music played softly from a radio on the counter, and a sign greeted them as they stepped in. 'Seat yourself'. Grey eyes flicked over to Jiden's gaze as Carson stepped around the sign and headed towards one of the many open seats at the bar/counter area, murmuring "Hope you're hungry." as he did so.

Carson primarily just wanted to check out the phone's location. Lightly ask questions about the phone, maybe give it a look over without answering any mysterious caller.

He could see it the moment he walked into the building - hanging on the wall in a large, glass case with a small light shining down on it. Like a heirloom of some sort. Similar things hung on the walls around the room - little pictures of people who had dined here, old records, knickknacks from eras gone by. It was charming. Not the kind of place tourists flocked to, though. The case seemed to have a door at the front, a shiny golden knob allowing someone to easily open the door and have access to the phone.



Q wrote: Once they walked in, Jiden saw what he assumed to be the telephone and he immediately went toward it, assuming (wrongly) that Carson would do the same. He soon found himself turning to tell Carson something only to find out that Carson had sat himself down on a table nearby.

After the initial awkward look of surprise, his copper brows dropped and he sighed. He'd been a bit excited before, but now he felt dejected and with a slump in his shoulders, took one last look at the phone in its case before walking over to his place in the booth and sitting down in a huff.

His brows arched in the middle, his mouth slightly puckered, before someone came by to take his order.
"Just water, thanks," he said, finally recovering from the rejection and pulling out his phone again.

He looked around for the name of the cafe, and after finding it, threw himself into some internet research. He figured the easiest search string would be something like 'haunted telephone.' Surely there were some legends to go along with the news.



Zombie wrote: Carson didn't notice Jiden's slumping posture and sadness in the face of rejection.

The older, pudgy woman that came up to take their order paused as she was about to write water into her notebook before she went ahead with it - eyes peering up and over at Carson as she waited for him. "Coffee. A light roast if you have it. And..." he plucked up one of the menus that was wedged between one of the many condiment racks on the bar/countertop. "and a small slice of this peach streusel pie you have. Sounds nice."

The woman nodded, scratched it down, and looked at Jiden again. "You sure you don't want anything, hun?" After his reply, she turned away -- moving to make the coffee first, then filling a clear glass with ice and water.

Carson leaned towards Jiden, eyes peering down at his phone and at the search results. He delved into his own pocket, flipping the leather case covering open and navigating to the built-in browser. From there he opened 3 different bookmarks and put his phone down on the counter infront of his partner. "This is what I've been able to find that aren't just online news articles of the deaths and happenings."

  • The first of the links was about a very old legend - a telephone that rang during the evening, seemingly randomly. It would ring only a handful of times before it stopped. Anyone who answered the phone was supposed to start hearing things - whispers that increased in volume until the were constantly shouting and would drive the person mad. It had, apparently, resulted in suicide in anyone who answered the phone. The legend went on with a little more detail, describing the phone's call originating from a man who was trying to save his wife before she committed suicide. The relationship had been abusive, the woman finally caving in after months of pain/suffering at the hands of her husband. She had died by hanging, the phone found off the hook when police arrived on the scene. The caller is said to be the woman's grieving husband, crying and sobbing into the phone. Voices that start after answering the phone call are said to be rising arguments between the man and his wife, until they are nonstop and so loud the voices drown out all other sounds.

    The second of the links was vague. The owner of a local diner had died after working on a small, black telephone he had recently hooked up in his business after a local legend had begun picking up in popularity - mounting the phone to a wall of the diner and placing a glass case that he had found in storage around it. He had told his wife he was going to work on installing metal gutter work along the roof the day after, and had 'fallen' by the time she returned home. It was ruled accidental after a brief investigation. There was no mention of hearing voices in this article.

    The third link was much like the first; the increase in popularity of the 'ringing telephone' urban legend. The article referenced different black, rotary telephones that were said to be on public property or 'on display' in different museums or historic buildings. The most popular location was said to be the diner, where the phone would ring and guests were welcome to answer. .

"You might be able to find something else, though." A slice of the pie was set before him as he sipped his coffee (after adding a little cream and sugar). The woman clapped her hands together softly, watching Carson as he dug into the slice. "Can I get you anything else?" Her words were just as soft, but she hovered. Carson swallowed his piece of pie and tilted his head a little, looking up at her. "Actually, my friend and I were wondering about that phone you have in the case over there. We've heard a little about some supposed rumours surrounding it?"

She smiled and sighed, reaching up to the dry cloth that was on her shoulder. She pulled it down and traced her fingers along an embroidered 'M'. "Oh, that old thing. When we first took over the diner from my late husband's father, my husband decided to install that silly thing. There was a rumour about a ghost haunting it who would drive you crazy if you picked it up. You can hear whispering and all sorts of things.." She waved the hand with the towel, dismissing the notion. "Just kids messing around."

Carson's brow furrowed gently, eyes moving over to the well-lit object. "I dunno, I've been hearing quite a bit about people answering it and meeting some untimely ends. You're sure it's not haunted?"

The woman's upper lip quivered slightly and her fingers tightened on the cloth. "I'm pretty certain. It's really unfortunate that those kids had accidents, but I just can't believe it's due to a phone." Her voice trembled slightly and Carson shrugged, continuing to eat his pie. "When my Morty hooked that phone up, he said he wanted to drag in some of the local kids. The rumour was a big deal at the time, and we weren't doing so well with business after his father had let the building fall into debt. He thought it would bring in some business.. and it did. Said he'd get it to ring every now and then, that it'd be a big deal if we offered a few free drinks to kids that came in with their parents." She shrugged her shoulders a little then. "He didn't get to stay around to see it, but it worked. We're doing much better than when we first took over."



Q wrote: "Yeah, just water's fine," Jy confirmed, pretty absorbed into his phone by this point.

When he noticed Carson trying to peer at his phone, he pulled away, leaning back and bringing his phone closer to himself, giving the other man a judgmental glare briefly before continuing his hunt for more information. However, Carson soon placed his own phone down with info. The 25 year old put his phone in his lap and leaned over the table to read Carson's, quickly skimming through the three links. By the second story, an idea was growing in his mind. Maybe it was crazy, but thinking about problems in unique ways was one of his 'things'.

Soon enough, the waitress came back with his water, which he sipped while Carson went right into the questions about the phone. The waitress was acting mighty suspicious about her answers, as if she knew something more about the "accidents," but Jiden wasn't exactly a private investigator so he wasn't going to act on his assumption.

But finally, Carson let up enough for Jy to get a word in edge-wise, and he threw his own question right in. "Has that case always been over the phone? Or was that installed later?"

It certainly would be interesting if it was the case surrounding the phone that was the object. But there have been weirder things...

Another idea: "And if the guy who made the phone isn't around anymore, how does it still ring if nobody's initiating it? I'd assume you'd cut the power after he died?"
Maybe that was too forthright, but curiosity was always so exciting to pursue.
 
In Your Hands (Solia)
Q is hired by a cop
--------


the world is in your hands
brokenglass.jpg



or it's at your throat​

olehiljaa wrote:

Finlay collected his ID back from the bouncer and stepped in. He was honestly lucky to even have gotten in tonight: the place was nearly overflowing. It was good to have connections, ones that allowed him anywhere – even at these suddenly trendy hotspots. Back a few years ago when this club first opened, there were a few knots of people here and there on the weekend. But for the most part, it had been pretty dead. Things had livened up since then, clearly. It was probably something to do with the scantily clad wait staff; both men and women wore as little as decently possible. The thought came to him with almost a sense of amusement. This world is going to the dogs.

It was a common cliché. Certainly Finn had heard it himself often, from his grandparents, his former boss, on TV. It didn’t sink in back when he was an inexperienced college kid. Besides they had held a dark glamor to him, these things that were allegedly causing the downfall of the world. Sex, booze, drugs, guns, violence. A good-looking, witty young man such as himself welcomed more of that into the city.

But he had to admit, as he weaved his way through the throng of people packed in like sardines, he was starting to understand it now.

Before he’d started his own practice, he’d worked for a senior investigator. His jobs were simple back then. Sometimes it didn’t even require him to interact with people at all. Some days he just tracked down and repossessed cars that were 6 or more months past due. Sometimes the debtors came out of their houses screaming and cursing, but usually it was just a quick, quiet hookup to a tow truck and Finn was on his way. The majority of his cases were tracking down cheating spouses or reuniting adopted kids with their birth parents. Not a bad way to earn a paycheck. It would have even given him a sense of satisfaction, if Finn had any real interest in the lives of his clients.

He was realizing that these days it took much more than snapping a couple incriminating photographs or poring over phone logs. With the exponential increase in crime, the police were consequentially overworked. They had too much to deal with every complaint that came their way, having to save their time and energy for the big cases. Average Joes were being shunted to the side after a compulsory police report had been drafted. The officer would nod, shake the Joe’s hand. “We’ll call you if we find anything.” And then nothing. These people, feeling the sting of injustice, started to look elsewhere for help. The cases turned from “Help me track down my uncle George I haven’t seen in decades” to “Help me find that son of a bitch who pretended to be a floor installer, then stole everything but the kitchen sink.” Finn took the new cases with a sense of reluctance that only seemed to be growing. And the worst part was that these were real criminals. These weren’t middle-aged business men caught in white collar infractions. These people weren’t threatened by pictures and vaguely-worded blackmail. Finn was having to get creative. He could bust kneecaps if need be, and he had in recent times. He didn’t like it though. It wasn’t the actual act itself, it didn’t bother him to dole out beatings. However, it was brutish work that didn’t ultimately reflect well on him. And if there was one thing Finn held of importance above all others, it was his appearance. It was why even just going into a club for a meet and greet he had had a trim earlier that day to tidy up his unruly dark hair. He’d picked out the navy wash jeans that fit him like a glove, the stitching impeccable. He knew he was attractive, but more than that, he looked put together. He needed his life to reflect this, and at the moment things were getting a bit messy.

He had come to one conclusion: He needed help. Not just the lackeys he hired to printed out routes on Google Maps and place them in his notebooks. He needed real help, someone who could back up a good threat. Someone who didn’t mind occasionally breaking bones, or even worse if the situation called for it. And as much as he hated to admit it to himself, he was beginning to think he’d someone who would protect him. Finn had never seen himself as the type who had to have a bodyguard, but he was starting to get feedback. People weren’t happy with him prying into their business and the death threats he was receiving proved it.

He’d used his expansive network of contacts to refer him to some potential employees. Most of them he’d met so far had turned out to be thugs with limited imagination and even further limited brain cells. He appreciated their willingness to mash someone’s face into the concrete, but he was hoping for a little more finesse than that. He’d heard that this latest guy was the rare type gifted with both flexible morals and common sense. He didn’t know if that was true, but it didn’t hurt to have a little hope.

Finn reflected that this was a good location for a negotiation. The mass of humanity gave him an instant sense of anonymity. Not that he probably needed to be concerned, since none of these patrons appeared to be even remotely interested in him except for an occasional appraising glance thrown his way. But it was best not having someone leaning over his shoulder, finding out that this interviewee could start working for him. Better that this guy doesn’t get shot before he can even show up to his first day of work.

Finn spotted the man’s light hair, one of the few things to show up in the darkness. He slid into the booth and offered this potential hired help a faint, almost-sincere smile. He folded his hands on the table before him. “Before we get started, can I buy you a drink?”



I was thinking something along the lines of blackmail too, and interestingly enough i kind of saw my character as a detective. So we are on a similar track here. I am thinking my guy leads a double life, like the decent moral citizen that everybody sees. He probably has a pretty girlfriend, a nice apartment, a great car. Then there is the cutthroat, merciless side that he keeps underwraps. If he's a private investigator, I feel he has his own shady methods for getting information. Because he's not super inclined get his hands dirty himself, I could see him as using Q to rough people up, or even make them disappear. He'd pay Q but I think he has a way of making him stay around that's more than monetary. He's probably pretty persuasive and attractive, if pretty violent at times.

Quatre Bornes Lee, previously known as "Q" but since rebranded himself to the English rendition of "Bornes," had been a freelance mercenary for seven years. It was a hard life, one of constant travel, but he'd managed to come out of nowhere and make it out alive, so he must've been doing something right.

He had been winding things down for the past year, beginning to think maybe he was over the life. At 28, he felt like maybe it was time to stop dealing with the dregs of the Earth. Or maybe being alone was finally catching up to him. But just as any person who deals with people on a constant basis can attest to, one grows to hate all people. And while he perhaps felt the claws of loneliness in him, he had very little desire to open himself up to the nastiness in other human's hearts.

Bornes was known for taking cheap jobs and underselling himself. In the beginning, he was laughed at. But he had made it work. The addict who wanted to kill his friend for beating him in a video game? Done. The spoiled kid who didn't want to deal with her parents anymore? Done. The husband that wanted the payout from the life insurance policy? Not a problem. It was a hard market to sell to, but Bornes had been able to find such people and sell himself to them and make a living from it. It was a bit paradoxical then that someone clearly so good at his craft would devalue himself so much. Every so often a big job would come around his way, but the ones he accepted were few and far between.

This current job was no different. It was in between high risk and low dredge. Bornes figured he'd help out some corrupt cop for a while and it would be his last gig, done for good. He didn't know what he'd do afterward, but he suspected the hush money would be good enough. Or he'd have to kill the employer in self-defense, a scenario that was unfortunately not uncommon. Either way, Bornes would have his money and he'd move on to some place else, just as he always did.
Maybe a nice cabin in the woods, far away from the electricity and lights that gave him headaches.

Which led him to the current situation in the current club. An acquaintance of an acquaintance was looking for a brawn with a brain. A job not many people with brains would want, which led to Bornes being referred. He took the bait and now sat in a corner booth of a loud area crammed with people. He hated it. But he could always use more money for seemingly easy jobs. The initial meetings were always the worst. After that, it was usually smooth sailing.

His green eyes looked up to the clean-cut man who slid into the opposite side of his booth, offering him a drink. Bornes kept a tanned left hand on his own glass of whiskey, which he had been sipping on and was almost empty.
"No thanks," he said, bringing the glass closer to himself as the other man put his hands on the table.

Bornes wore all black: zipped up jacket, pants, belt, and boots. His steel-toe boots had seen more than enough in their lifespan and showed it through ragged tears in the material. Beneath his jacket were two shoulder holsters, the one on the left housed a knife while the one on the right contained a pistol.

His full head of grey hair made him easy to point out in a crowd, but his face wasn't much better off, either. There was a diagonal slash going from the bottom of his left eye, across his nose, to his right cheek, which was further accentuated by two tribal tattoos on either side of his chin. They were solid black triangles, made to represent gills or possibly whiskers, though much thicker. There were four in all. In any case, it was a wonder he'd never been arrested, as he was easy to pick out in a crowd.

His green eyes seemed to almost glow as they took in the other man. His clothes and hair were near flawless. Bornes, on the other hand, managed to take showers and not smell, but otherwise appeared to not give a damn about his appearance.

His first thought was that this potential was too clean. It brought a bad taste in his mouth. Drug addicts and ignorant assholes were bad enough to deal with, but the most awful were narcissists. And to come to a club this packed looking that clean were bad signs. Generally, mafia or Law signs. And Bornes knew this guy wasn't mafia.

"I thought you were supposed to be smart," he grumbled. "You stick out more than I do."

Starting out with an insult probably wasn't the brightest way to start the conversation, but it doubled as proving he wasn't unobservant. He grit his teeth and fought a frown, his face stationary while his eyes watched behind the man to make sure he hadn't been followed.

When Bornes was satisfied, which only took a few seconds, his attention went back to the other man's face. "I didn't get all of what it was you wanted through the others. Sounded like I shadow you for a while. Let's get right to it. This venue was not my choice."

It had been suggested to him by the same person who'd informed him of the job's existence. It was true that it would normally be a fine place to have such a discussion, and probably nothing bad would become of it. All the same, the other man's cleanliness in such a place made him uneasy, in addition to his general distaste for being in loud clubs.

olehiljaa wrote:

Finn sat in his chair and took in the man’s appearance for a moment. He noted their differences without conscious thought. His mind was already drawing the same conclusion but still, the insult caught him off guard. It stung a little. He had a cutting retort loaded up immediately, but he held his tongue. Part of being a PI was knowing when to pop off and when to keep it to yourself. You had to know how to talk to people, pick your battles. Besides, he sincerely doubted slights against his appearance would hurt this guy’s feelings. As he glanced around, he realized this man may have a point anyway. Finn himself was taller than most, slim and pale. He could have been a little distinctive just based on genetics. But more noticeable than that he held himself differently. He wasn’t slumped in his chair like he lived there, or leaning against the bar casually like so many other patrons around him. He was in a designer shirt and shoes that cost a month’s rent. The people at the next table however looked like they grabbed something they were comfortable in and just left the house. Same with the people at the table on the other side, and so on. So he was irritated, but also slightly entertained. Either way, it wasn’t relevant at the moment. He waved the comment aside, choosing instead to focus on the task at hand.

“Smart in some ways, maybe. But you know, if I had this all figured out already I wouldn’t be talking to you right now.” He cleared his throat, shifted in his seat. Let’s get right to it, indeed. “So it sounds like you already have an idea of what I want. My job used to be fairly safe, but it’s developed some new, unexpected hazards. To put it simply, I need someone else to be around, and to occasionally take care of the more unsavory tasks for me. From what I’ve heard, that’s not a problem for you.”

He paused and put in the drink order for himself only as a waiter approached the table. Instead of the polite interest most wait staff provided, Finn definitely caught it that time, the waiter’s gaze that lingered on Finn’s face and his clothes just a moment too long. He was drawing attention to himself without trying. He didn’t love admitting when he was wrong, in fact it was one of his least favorite things in the world. But he had to concede, he didn’t know this scene all that well yet. It was just recently that his jobs had increased in intensity, and had led him out of the part of town he knew. This was a far cry from the nicely decorated restaurants or tasteful living rooms he’d met clients in before. While this guy didn’t exactly seem comfortable in a crowded club, something told Finn he could adapt as needed.

Well shit, this guy may actually have the brains he was hoping for after all.

He turned back to the man across from him, the man with the sharp green eyes and the character in his face, and resumed his train of thought. “More than that though, I’m also looking for someone who can make good judgement calls. I’m willing to pay to have both. I’d take care of room and board too, if need be.”

That last part was more than he wanted to allow, but he’d gotten used to a certain standard of living. And these jobs paid well, sometimes obscenely well. Missions of revenge brought more in than bringing family back together, more by a long shot. The cost of rooming someone was negligible compared to the money he’d bring in if he worked with these types of clients. Additionally, it was a small concession to make to ensure he stayed alive with all his limbs and teeth intact.

Finn met the man’s eyes directly, held his gaze briefly before he continued.

“Do you think you could handle that?”




Bornes chuckled a bit when the other man made a jab at his own intelligence. It reassured Bornes, and his demeanor relaxed slightly. So this person wasn't a narcissist afterall. Maybe he was just ignorant.

"No," he answered when prompted. Taking care of unsavory people was, indeed, not a problem for him.

He took his own glass and sipped it once the waiter came, silently noting the realization coming over the other man. Pegged him wrong, I guess, he thought to himself. The investigator was smarter than Bornes originally gave him credit for. A fact that was only continually proving itself over time.

He placed his glass on the table again, his palm over the mouth of it, and leaned back against the booth. Underneath the table, he brought his left boot to rest on his right knee. While doing so, he kept eye contact with Finn before smirking briefly. All Bornes's expectations had been wrong. Perhaps he would have fun with this job, afterall.

"Depends on the type of trouble you're known for," he answered. "If it's organized, it will cost you more." Organized crime had a much higher stress level, and dealing with that could prove to be much more irritating than the standard street grime.

"But either way, it is all expenses paid, including room and board, plus a daily rate."

In a better mood than just two minutes before, he took a pair of sunglasses out from his jacket pocket with his right hand and put them on. His eyes now shielded, he dropped both feet to the floor and leaned forward slightly.

"I own one suit, and it's not nearly as nice as yours, so if there's a dress code, you better factor that in."

olehiljaa wrote:

Finn noted the smirk. It must have been catching because he felt the corners of his mouth curling upward too. It somehow gave a little humanity and personality to the man, who had seemed almost carved from stone just moments ago. The sunglasses mystified him in this dim room, but they’d already covered questionable fashion choices. Finn took his drink from the waiter, pressing a five-dollar tip into his hand as he left. He sipped it as he mulled over the requests.

“Fair enough. Personally I try to avoid organized crime, but I will let you know that in recent times I have been approached by the occasional Mafioso to get the heat off of themselves. I will inform you in advance if and when that occurs and pay you accordingly.” He hesitated as he caught himself. Here he was talking like the guy already had the job. “If I hire you of course.” Though he had to admit it to himself, he had no complaints so far. Sure, he looked sort of rough, and spoke sort of rough as well. Finn figured that would probably play in his favor, though. Certainly he would sit up and take notice if he opened the door to find this, shall we say, unique individual on his welcome mat.

He took him in, his eyes lighting on the guy’s shoulders and build. He reflected on his own spectrum of three-thousand dollar suits hanging in his closet. He might be able to borrow one, but if he ended up working for Finn, he deserved his own. “That is a good point. We can get you fitted for a suit of my caliber. I don’t normally care what you dress like as long as you are clean, but we may have to attend formal events.”

He pulled out his phone; he had an excellent memory but no need to chance it, if he did actually pick this guy. He opened the phone, absently flicking past the lock screen featuring a photo of himself and a conventionally pretty blonde girl. The smile returned as he made a note to himself. “Color preference? Though I’m fairly certain I can guess: black.” He looked up from the screen, suddenly very aware of the wall of humans around him. How much this atmosphere was beginning to grate on his nerves. He downed his drink, tucking cash under the bottom of the glass. “I think I’m past the club scene now. And we have somewhere to be. Shall we?”

Before he rose from the table, Finn reached out to shake the man’s hand. “Finn Silva. Tell me what you’d like me to call you.”




Bornes watched as the other man put a five dollar tip into the server's hand. He supposed it made sense that this one was no stranger to spending large. Then the man began running his mouth about organized crime and giving Bornes a premature warning of it.

Bornes quirked his brow at this, thinking to himself that this was a type of man to over-explain things, but also perhaps he underestimated-or simply did not think- that if they were living together Q would not need an advanced warning of the sort. Nonetheless, he let it go without comment.

"It needs to allow me to carry," Bornes stated, sitting up straight again. When standing, he was a straight six foot tall, and probably a slim at 200 pounds. Bornes was more of the long distance runner type. His body wasn't built for brute force, but that didn't mean he wasn't capable.
At the black jab, he exhaled a psuedo-scoff through his nose, but made no correction to assumption.

Finally, the man whom he now knew as Finn admitted he was tired of the club scene. Something Bornes had been hoping for ever since he sat down. He moved his drink out of the way with his left hand before giving Finn's a firm grasp with his right. One shake was all that was needed. "Bornes," he replied.

Once Finn got up, Bornes noted the money underneath the glass. After sliding out of the booth himself, he quickly poured the small amount of whiskey that was left in his own glass into Finn's empty one, before sliding it toward where Finn had been sitting previously. This gave the illusion that the glass with the money beneath it had been Bornes's, and not Finn's.

It was a fairly quick action which felt of no importance. It was done in seconds before Bornes followed Finn outside. Bornes would not have wanted to go first.

Once they were outside the club, he turned to Finn. "It's a flat rate," he said, continuing the conversation from where they left off before.

"One hundred a day should do it. That is severely underpriced. I advise you to take it before I change my mind."

olehiljaa wrote:

Finn’s head felt immediately clearer after they were out in the street again. It was probably why he stopped in his tracks on the sidewalk, frowning over at Bornes. “That’s highway robbery. I’m not going to accept one hundred a day.” He did some quick math, mentally mapping out his own expenses and what was left over. “Two hundred is much fairer.” He nodded firmly as the matter was settled in his mind. Bornes could throw the extra hundred in the trash for all he was concerned; he simply planned on doing this right if he had to do it at all. He exhaled slowly as he made his next decision, sending up a quick prayer that he wasn’t making a huge mistake. “I’ve decided I’m going to hire you on a temporary basis. I can also show you the apartment I will provide for you, if all goes well. After we’ve finished.”

He ran his hand absently through his dark hair as he moved ahead to the next task at hand. He’d wanted someone with him tonight in particular, whether they were going to be a permanent fixture or not. He had put this particular case off long enough, it couldn’t wait another night. “We need to make contact with an important young man tonight who owes a large sum of money to someone else pretty important. The details of the case aren’t exceptionally critical though I do have my notes if you’d like to review them. What matters is that I’m certain this young man is expecting us. I personally only intend to talk, but if that’s not sufficient.” He shrugged his shoulders, gesturing to Bornes. “That’s where you’d step in.”

Finn led the way to his car of the evening, a fairly nondescript sedan that was a few years old. Not what he usually drove but when it came down to a quick getaway, he wasn’t planning on being easily tracked down. He took his place into the drivers seat but before he slid the key into the ignition, he turned back to look at Bornes for a long moment. “Any questions? I feel you’d probably just tell me if you did have them but I thought I should ask.”




He tried to hide his head quirking to the side at Finn's remark, but failed. What an odd way to haggle. What an unusual man. He wasn't sure what to think, now. He couldn't judge him like most others. In one moment, he was comfortable with him, the next, something unexpected like this put him on edge. Still, he said nothing and continued to follow his new employer.

"If you're concerned for your life, we should live together," he said, being as apathetic to the arrangement as possible. It was easier to keep an eye on someone if they were within eyesight, obviously.

But they moved onto the situation at hand, the one Finn seemed to be anxious about. He kept his thoughts about the matter to himself until he was seated in the car. After putting on his seatbelt, Finn prompted him.

Rather than be philosophical about it, such as Do you need the information or to send a message? he went the blunt route.
"Can I kill him?"

It was flat. Bornes didn't seem excited nor eager to do such a thing. It was simply matter-of-fact. Finn wanted to talk to this guy, and if he didn't talk, then Bornes came in. It left a lot of room for interpretation.

He decided to just go ahead and follow it up with another question that might've unintentionally undermined Finn's intuitive abilities: "How badly do you need the information?"

olehiljaa wrote:

“You really think you should live with me.” He tested the words out loud. Finn had not considered this option. There was a newly empty unit in his building that he’d planned to rent out, but to have this employee actually live with him, it just hadn’t crossed his mind. He had an extra room, and no roommate in the recent years. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. He’d have to explain it to his girlfriend somehow, but he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

The next thing Bornes said instantly swept away any thoughts of their future living situation. Finn made an involuntary noise of surprise. His eyebrows ascended and he whipped his head toward Bornes. “Jesus. I’d hope that’s where your mind didn’t turn first!”

The truth was, he hadn’t had to kill anyone yet. From time to time he’d had to issue some ominous threats, even break a few bones. But it had not come to actually having to end someone’s life, and the thought made him feel cold. He cleared his throat as he composed himself. “My plan is to always avoid killing, if we can. It’s a mess to both clean up and cover up.”

He hesitated, his voice low. “But if it gets to that point, I trust you will know what to do. My only goal tonight is that while we are there, we need this young man to call the gentleman he owes money to and make a commitment to pay. In a perfect world, that’s the beginning and the end of it.” He trailed off, letting Bornes fill in the blanks. There were a million variables and Finn knew it. He really hoped he was placing his trust in the right man.

Finn parked along the edge of the street, confirming the address in his notebook. This was the place. He wasn’t exactly nervous, no…but he’d read up on this young man. Eddie Christiansen, age 24. Heir to a minor fortune, of which he’d already blown through. Eddie’s father had had enough of his antics and had refused to give him more. Rather than get a job, like everyone else in the world, Eddie had taken out a loan from a family friend -- another rich older white guy like his father.

When it came time to pay up, Eddie suddenly was too busy to answer his phone, or check his voicemails. From the info he had been able to obtain, Eddie was too busy at the race track, at the casino, even at the bars talking to seedy bookies about sports events. A crippling gambling addiction was a bitch to have. Finn had made contact with debtors before, it wasn’t really new to him. But Eddie was notorious for a bad temper, a temper that had turned violent. It had even landed him in jail before. The last person who’d tried to confront Eddie in terms of money had ended up with a broken jaw. Weeks of your skull literally wired shut, living off pureed meals like an infant? No thanks. So understandably, Finn had his reservations.

He checked to make sure his handgun was still resting against his torso, small enough to be invisible under his blazer. He had no intention of using it, but its metallic weight was a comfort. He knew the .38 snubnose was comically dainty in his large, long-fingered white hands. To be completely honest, it had belonged to his tough little Portuguese grandmother before it came to be in his possession. She had carried it in her purse till the day she died. Maybe it was a tiny gun. But on the rare occasion he’d had to pull it out, he'd realized people didn’t really care about size anymore when they had a barrel aimed at their forehead.

Finn was willing to bet every cent he had that Bornes had known from the beginning he was carrying, and had a much more impressive gun or two concealed about himself. Or at least that was what Finn was hoping for. He looked at his potential body guard one last time. “Are you ready?”

Then they were out of the car, Finn leading the way toward the small mansion. He couldn’t help but feel a little envy even if he knew the house was in Eddie’s dad’s name. He could tell in the dim light that this place would have been remarkable for any 24-year-old to have. He walked up the manicured drive, only glancing back once to make sure Bornes was still near. His presence actually calmed Finn, emboldened him. He approached the door and poised his fist to knock. Before his knuckles could even make contact with the heavy wooden surface, a voice rang out quiet and clear somewhere above his head. “Stop right there, asshole.”

Finn looked up though he couldn’t see anyone. He was not really surprised by this hostility; as he’d told Bornes before, he knew Eddie was expecting them. He found an easy smile and brought it to his face, glad to note it almost felt genuine. “Eddie? I just want to talk.”




Bornes quirked his brow while Finn tried to work through the living arrangement. He was beginning to wonder if this man really was an Investigator. Did they also keep watch on people? Wouldn't he know what the best way to do it was?

But then Finn's complete astonishment at the thought of killing someone took Bornes off guard. His whole face creased in confusion and suspicion while he watched Finn talk about the situation. It was quite clear this man had never killed anyone. It made sense why he wanted to hire someone like Bornes to do it. But the reaction was one of someone who probably shouldn't be in this field of work at all. This guy belonged at a desk job, far away from any danger.

Bornes was now assuming all his clothes were stain and water resistant and anti-wrinkle. That was who this guy was. A unicorn among the population Bornes normally crossed paths with. And much like unicorns, Finn had ideas that didn't make sense.

"You can't bleed a stone," he muttered after Finn's explanation of what was going on. And Bornes was beginning to realize now just how hard it was to understand the man and his round-about way of speaking. It was awkward to listen to, especially for Bornes.

Although his accent was long gone, Bornes's first language was French. He'd been good with English ever since he'd learned it, but sometimes-- rarely now-- things would come up that made him question his proficiency. Bornes felt he had a clear grasp of most idioms, the blood from a stone one included. Even though the right words weren't used, it got the meaning off well enough and most probably wouldn't noticed he'd botched it. But Finn's speech was beginning to make the hired gun a bit nervous.

The 28 year old didn't speak much on a normal day, but the more Finn spoke the even less Bornes wanted to reply for fear of sounding like an idiot. It was an emotion Bornes hadn't felt in a long, long time, and he didn't like it.

Once they had reached their destination, Finn checked his weapon. A weapon that, frankly, Bornes was not expecting. It made sense for him to be armed, Bornes realized. But with Finn's reaction to everything else, the merc didn't think he actually would be. Or if he was, he didn't intend to use it. And it being a snubnose was more interesting than anything. Normally people who didn't know anything about firearms wouldn't pick that. They'd pick something that looked 'cool' or something big or just something common.

A snubnose implied Finn at least knew something of how to choose a gun for a specific purpose. It fit a private investigator, anyway. Bornes had gone the easy route with a Beretta M9, the same pistol the US military used. It was currently hidden away in a shoulder holster beneath his zipped up jacket.

They were both out of the car and at the mansion's door shortly after. In the small drive, Bornes had already decided this was going to go nowhere, and was trying to work out in his mind just how he wanted to handle the situation. If it were up to him, he'd simply kill Eddie and be done with it. But how badly did he want to show off? He was 90% certain Eddie had no money at all so, even if he were complaint, nothing would go as Finn would want.

His thoughts were interrupted when, as expected, Eddie wasn't going to be compliant. He let out a loud sigh through his nose and in that moment, decided he'd practice his ability to lie.

"We're not here about money Eddie. We don't give a shit about the money. We just want to talk to you."

Bornes's tone was like an audial eye roll. That much was sincere. The lie did come partially from truth, though, as Bornes himself couldn't give any less of a shit about Eddie's ability to pay back his debts. It was only Finn he had to lie for.

There was a complete silence, and Bornes frowned, realizing he had to follow up with something. He didn't know much about this guy, but he made what he thought would be a safe assumption.

"It's about your mother."

"She's dead," came the voice from above. Thankfully, Bornes's wince was covered by his sunglasses. Luckily, he was able to make a quick save.

"I know. It's about the will."

"That was a long time ago," Eddie sneered. Bornes's twitch was a little more noticeable now, but still easily missed. Fuck, he thought to himself.

"Jesus, Eddie, look, if I cared about you paying back the money I really wouldn't go through all these hoops to pretend it's about something else. We just want to talk. If after that you want to kill me at least have the decency to face me while you do it."

Bornes was making a pretty good show of it. If they didn't know better, it'd seem like Bornes and Eddie knew eachother. And it wasn't far off. Bornes knew plenty of Eddies. He also knew that this was a show for Finn, perhaps maybe a test for himself to see what he could do with so little information. In both cases, the frustration was real. But it worked, as sounds of Eddie moving downstairs were heard.

He turned to Finn in that moment and growled, "Quit smiling," the only words he was able to say before Eddie opened the door and they had to divert their attention back to the main character of the moment.

Don't fuck this up, He thought in Finn's direction. Surely you can sweet-talk him.

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Can we come in?"

olehiljaa wrote:

Finn listened in interested silence as Bornes tried to negotiate. This was the most he’d heard Bornes speak at once and it was slightly fascinating. He’d done the majority of the talking since they’d met 45 minutes ago. It seemed to work though, his blunt words, as Finn heard the locks slide back in response. He glanced over at Bornes with a faint frown. “Thanks for the advice. You worry about your job here.” It stung his ego to be chastised in such a manner, though he privately admitted he’d probably take it to heart. Eddie was a wild card and Finn wasn’t fully certain what they were about to face. He had limited experience in these situations, whereas Bornes probably dealt with them daily. After all, wasn’t this why he was considering hiring him anyway? Not just because he could probably take down a small army by himself, but because he too knew how to exercise common sense?

Finn entered the foyer and looked toward the sweeping staircase. Eddie had opened the door then moved a few feet back. He was now standing rigidly near the bottom of the stairs. Finn spotted the gun clutched so tightly in his right hand that his knuckles were white. Finn instantly put up his hands. “Come on, Eddie. Neither of us have guns on you.” Not completely true. He had his doubts Eddie really intended to shoot them but he didn’t really want to take that chance.

“Who are you? Who’s that?” Eddie ignored Finn and gestured from him to Bornes with his free hand.

Finn gave brief introductions. Eddie considered, his gaze flicking from one face to the other. “Your names together sound like an overpriced furniture store.”

Finn was surprised into stifling a laugh. Maybe the kid was right, but after all they hadn’t named themselves. “I guess they do. Eddie, like we’ve both told you, we just want to talk.” Eddie stepped closer, the gun still held at his side. But his grip was loosening. Up close Finn realized Eddie was really not much more than a boy. Finn could even see that faded hint of acne across his nose and cheeks. God, had he himself looked so awkward at this age? Finn felt a stab of something like pity for this rangy young man who was clearly at the end of his rope.

Eddie’s tone was wary. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Can we sit down first?” After a long moment, Eddie nodded reluctantly. He gestured for the men to follow.

Finn sat across from Eddie, above a glass coffee table. Eddie laid the pistol on the table still within reach but his attention was on the men instead. He was seemingly convinced his visitors were aboveboard. He could still see the nerves in the way Eddie’s knee bounced restlessly, but at least he wasn’t brandishing a handgun any longer. He wasn’t sure what it was, maybe it was a combination of Finn and Bornes’ opposite presences, or maybe the fact that they weren’t throwing around threats like he’d expected, but Eddie was relaxing.

“We’re here on behalf of Mr. David.”

Eddie bristled visibly at the name and nearly spat his words. “I know I owe him money. And I don’t have it. So if that’s what you’re here for, you’re out of luck. You can cut off my little finger or whatever you want but it’s not going to make the money magically appear.”

Finn let the animosity wash over him and pressed on. “That is why we’re here, unfortunately, but no one is planning to hurt you. And no one expects you to come up with all the money right now. You have to make an attempt at least. Get a plan in place.”

Eddie looked like he had a lot more to say, but he wasn’t sure how to respond to the politeness. Just as Finn had been banking on. It didn't work all the time, sure. A hardened criminal might have just laughed at Finn. Instead of running at the mouth with more of his false bravado though, Eddie sighed shakily then leaned forward to cradle his head in his hands. He told the story Finn already knew, the one written in his notebook about how difficult it was to be a rich kid and suddenly have to take care of yourself. Eddie really wasn’t the big gangster he tried to be, he was just young and a little foolish. Finn let Eddie talk himself out before he himself proceeded. “Call Mr. David. He’s known you your whole life, he’s not heartless. He’s willing to work with you.”

Eddie nodded miserably. “Okay.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed in the number.




Once Eddie allowed them in, Bornes went back to the silent stoicism he was comfortable with. While Finn reacted to the pistol, Bornes did not. He also chose to stand behind the couch rather then next to Eddie.

The conversation went along without a hitch, an observation which Bornes was both relieved and disappointed by. Eddie seemed calmed and stated his life story which explained, as expected, that he didn't have the money. The kid was broke. Every kid in this sort of situation always was.

Even still, Eddie agreed to call the old man. To what end, Bornes wasn't sure. It wasn't like a payment plan would ever work if each payment was zero. The conversation was interesting at first. He couldn't hear the other side of it, of course, but it seemed to be going well for the first two minutes. Then it took a took a turn for the worse when Mr. David refused to forgive the loan.

This is when Eddie's mood went sour and he lashed out, arguing for a while but eventually just throwing the phone against a wall. The screen shattered and the frame broke the wood. This must have been the reason Finn wanted a body guard. It was a discomforting scene to be sure, but far from dangerous. Although Bornes's opinion of what dangerous was was probably far from the norm.

Eddie grabbed the pistol from the coffee table and pointed it at Finn. "You said this wasn't about money!!"
Of course, he was panicking currently, but given a few more seconds it was going to evolve into just straight rage.

"It's not," Bornes said quietly, uncrossing his arms and placing his hands on the back of the couch.

"And you expect me to believe you?!" Eddie screamed back, moving the barrel to point it at Bornes, who was walking around the couch to get closer.

"This is about you, Eddie. It's always been about you," Bornes was just spouting bullshit to keep the kid preoccupied as he walked closer, now. He eyed the gun in Eddie's hand and was pretty comfortable with the belief he wouldn't shoot, and thus played as if he was unfazed by the whole affair.

"You're an idiot!" He yelled. And that-- there was the change, from panic to rage. It split through the air like a knife. "-If you ever think I'll pay anything--!"
He tried to fire the weapon but the trigger wouldn't squeeze back. In the moment before Eddie could turn the safety off, Bornes sprinted the rest of the way to him and punched him straight in the face.

The gun fired at nothing on Eddie's step back. Bornes didn't hesitate to hit Eddie's hand, trying to get the gun away. It fell to the floor and Bornes kicked it away. Unfortunately, in the moment it took to kick the gun, Eddie came back with his own attack, punching Bornes right in the side of his ribcage.

Bornes bit back a yell. Not sure if he'd broken anything but damn sure felt like it. He turned back and caught Eddie going in for another swing. Bornes side stepped inside of it, grabbing Eddie's arm and using the kid's own momentum to help Bornes flip him over his shoulder using a hip thrust. The aikido move caused Eddie to fall on the floor on his back.

Sparing no seconds, in his own anger, Bornes slammed the heel of his boot onto Eddie's throat, the intent of which was to crush his windpipe. He stomped a couple more times just to be safe about it, satisfied once the kid stopped moving on the floor.

At that point, Bornes grabbed his side and tried to calm his breathing down so it didn't hurt as much. Fucker was strong. A couple more seconds passed before he crouched down next to the now-dead body of Eddie, looking him over.

An idea came to him then. Actually, it'd been turning in his head ever since he was inside the door of the mansion, but was coming to fruition now. He undid the belt on Eddie's pants and pulled it out of the loops, taking it and walking off without explanation to the nearest closet.

He came back about a minute later without the belt, turning the body over on its stomach and lifting it up to pull it over hos shoulder in a fireman's carry with some grunting. He took the body to the closet, and dumped it on the floor without care there.

Taking the belt, he fashioned it into a makeshift noose and then, again with more grunting and effort, managed to get Eddie to hang himself. Bornes then went to the kitchen, clutching his side, which was worse now due to all the physical labor. But that was what Finn wanted to pay him for, right? So he may as well prove he could do it.

He pulled open several drawers, angrily closing them when he couldn't find what he was looking for. But several drawers later he did come across the tools- a pen and a piece of paper. Bornes continued his plan, where he wrote a scratchy SORRY on the paper in the worst handwriting he could muster.

He brought the note back to Eddie's hanging body and put it in his pants pocket, sticking out a bit.

Bornes turned to Finn, watching him for a moment, to make sure he would walk to the car behind him. Once they were in the car, he'd finally start answering some questions, assuming Finn had any.


olehiljaa wrote:

Contrary to popular conception, Finn had not grown up well off. That had happened later in life. When he was growing up, both his parents had their own full time jobs. He’d ended up being raised by his father’s parents. And had they ever loved their TV. It was on all the time, a constant background noise throughout his childhood. It was then that Finn first learned of investigating – characters like Thomas Magnum, Sam Spade – they all had this slightly dangerous appeal to him. He later learned as he started working as one himself that it wasn’t all intrigue and mystery like he’d expected. For the most part, it was a lot of paperwork with a few occasional moments of excitement peppered in. It had started to pick up in intensity recently, but still had never quite been the TV-show-level interesting he’d thought it would be.

Until today.

Finn started up the car. He drove safe and sure, as though he weren’t feeling very much like he’d sustained a nasty blow to the head. He was silent in the drivers seat of his car for a long time. The world was swimming from what he’d just witnessed, leaving him nauseous. It was the unexpected outcome, and it was the violence. But more than that, it had all happened so fast. He’d been under the impression Mr. David had been a reasonable man. He’d really anticipated this to pan out easily. He’d had visions of Eddie making a deal, and then he and Bornes driving off to end an uneventful night. Yet had gone so off kilter so dramatically.

And poor Eddie. Young, stupid, reckless Eddie. Finn got paid either way, he’d done his job. He was required to get Eddie to talk to Mr. David, that was the objective. That being said, he couldn’t clear the mental picture of his lifeless wiry body hanging by his belt. Eddie had made a poor decision, taking on someone obviously much tougher, and let’s face it, much colder than himself. He probably didn’t deserve to go like that, and maybe there would be repercussions in the future, but it was done now.

At a stoplight Finn turned to Bornes. His lips were numb as he spoke, but his voice was clear and matter-of-fact. None of his usual beating around the bush this time. “I really don’t like what just happened. I can’t even believe it honestly.” He paused as he considered. “But it’s what I asked of you.” Then he fell silent again and simply studied his companion. Bornes clearly had no problem making quick brutal decisions. If he were honest with himself, Finn was scared of him now. All the years of tae kwon do and trips to the shooting range probably wouldn’t save him if this man set his sights on Finn. The fact was that he himself was safe though. Eddie hadn’t even had a chance to turn on Finn; there was never a real possibility of falling into danger. Even if this night may haunt him for days to come, even if he felt emotionally drained and would probably have a minor mental breakdown about this later, Finn was completely safe. And he was still getting a decent paycheck.

He surprised even himself with the next part though, voicing a decision he didn’t even realize he’d already made. “I want to hire you if you still want this job. And you’re probably right, that you should live with me. Do I need to take you anywhere else first?”


Bornes was a quiet person. He had learned, during their short time together, that Finn was not. Finn had been unexpectedly quiet during the whole suicide setup, and he continued to say nothing when Bornes got in the car.

Shock, maybe? Finn seemed calm. Maybe a little shakey. Borned cocked his head slightly, studying him a bit while he drove. It was clear Finn had never killed anyone. He supposed witnessing a death too was pretty traumatic, especially the first time. But wasn't Finn an investigator? Wasn't he supposed to be used to seeing dead bodies? Maybe Bornes was out of touch with what they actually did. Maybe Finn really was as sheltered as he seemed. It wasn't as if Bornes regularly interacted with detectives or police. His only knowledge of them really was from books and stories from other people, which obviously didn't make the best picture.

While they drove, Bornes moved his sight to the window, watching the world pass through the safety of his sunglasses. His arm still clutched his side lightly. He'd made a mistake. He looked down at his lap with a frown. He should've slapped the gun out of Eddie's hand first. Or gone for the throw first. Or really anything aside from the punch in the face.

He'd opened himself up too much when he turned to kick the gun away- that had been dumb too- and he paid for it. Hand to hand wasn't exactly something he considered himself very good at. His reflexes were good, and he'd definitely had the training, but he didn't use it often. He preferred distance. And when that wasn't available, stealth. It was much easier.

He'd just gotten so annoyed at the supreme waste of time... His anger got the better of him in that brief moment. He wasn't going to tell Finn how to do his job. It seemed to Bornes that Eddie would never have been able to pay anyone back. But maybe the situation wasn't as clear as he'd assumed. He wouldn't know. He wasn't going to ask about it, either. He didn't really care.

The suicide setup made everyone happy. Eddie didn't have to pay anyone, it gave relief to all his debtors, and it had an apology. It was a very nice wrap-up, Bornes mused. He was a little surprised he came up with it. He didn't normally consider himself too empathic.
Finn said he didn't like how 'messy' death was, and Bornes had assumed that was from more of a legal standpoint. With a suicide, Bornes figured everyone involved would be better off. Even if Eddie had been murdered, he was a scumbag. The gun-for-hire doubted people would care to look into it too deeply. With a suicide, there was closure for the family at least.

The car stopped at an intersection and Finn began to speak, breaking Bornes away from his own thoughts. He looked over to Finn, and judging by his face and voice, it was quite clear he was in shock, now. Bornes wondered how bad it was going to get later. If he might have to babysit. A frown pulled at the corners of his lips, but he held it back, going for stoicism. Why Bornes cared about Finn's feelings just then, he wasn't sure.

But it's what I asked of you.

Bornes had so many smart-ass retorts lined up. How it was all a waste of time, and stupid, and Finn should know better, that he shouldn't be in this line of work if he was mentally scarred so easily. But the 28 year old held them back. A good thing he did too, as the next line was well worth it.

Or was it? Did he still want the job? Finn was so bubbly and talkative just an hour a go. Bornes doubted that was going to come back for a while. If at all. Experiencing death changes people.

Or so Bornes was expected to believe, anyway. He'd personally never had a problem with it. And he was good at it. Sometimes he worried why killing didn't seem to bother him... But he decided he was better off not being bothered. He liked his job. Not killing people, but the mental exercise.. Well, figuring out how to kill people without getting caught was... He dropped his head and sighed outwardly at his own thoughts.
It was complicated.

He leaned back in his chair and looked out the windshield, not sure how to answer.
"The light changed," he said, noticing the streetlight and Finn still looking at him, waiting for an answer.

Finn concentrating on driving would buy him some more time to think of one.

He ran through the rolodex of answers in his mind, trying to figure out which answer would have the best possible outcome. You're in the wrong business, I want more money, I can't protect someone who looks for trouble, you'll need to change everything about you, why are you stepping into this world when you clearly don't belong there? I don't know. I made a mistake. I'm not good at this.

He mentally threw the rolodex off the imaginary table and figuratively watched the thing shatter into a thousand pieces.

"Yeah. Sure. Okay," he said finally, awkwardly flustered. Uncharacteristic of him, even though Finn had only known him for an hour and some change.
"I need to check out of my hotel. It's a couple miles from the club."

He seemed to regain his decisiveness as he gave Finn directions to the extended stay he'd been living in for the past few weeks. Inwardly, however, Finn's shock, or whatever it was, had become a little contagious and Bornes was a bit shaken up himself. But not because of what had happened at the mansion. Moreso that Bornes was just confused. He wasn't unsure of himself often. Finn made him question things, and more noticeably himself, and he wasn't sure why. Everything about Finn was out of Bornes's element. Bornes didn't like not knowing what could happen next, and yet here he was, agreeing to indefinitely live with and protect a huge unknown...

And it wasn't even risky in the normal way. It was risky in a completely different, hard to explain way. Something having to do with feelings, a thing that had frankly eluded him for several years. He wasn't comfortable, but he didn't want to just let a learning opportunity pass by like this. He wasn't sure what to think. It was still easy money. Sort of. Right?

It wasn't long before they arrived at the building. Bornes got out of the car and made it to his room, which was on the ground floor in the middle of some other units. He didn't wait for Finn to follow, but if Finn did follow him, he'd hold the door open for him to come in before starting to grab his things.

It was a room with two beds. The bed nearest the window had clothes, a towel, and other miscellaneous things thrown onto it. The bed against a wall closest to the bathroom was the one that had been used for sleeping. In the corner of the room was an upright seabag, still about half full. It was closed and locked with a combination lock. Leaning up next to it was a violin case, which had a combo lock built in. The rest of the room looked about expected. Used glasses, some used ash trays, a few books. All the books were in French. All of them looked like they hadn't been very well taken care of, like they were read often. They were usually shoved in the seabag with the other things, and that showed.

But one book was a hardcover, and much more worn than the others. It sat on an office desk and looked like it had been referred to every day for the last several years. It was barely holding together, and had tape on it in some areas. It was an old textbook concerning military strategy and tactics. Of course, Finn would never know that if he couldn't read French.

Once inside, Bornes went straight to the kitchen. He unplugged his crockpot and dumped everything down the sink before cleaning it. He paid no mind to Finn if Finn was there. Bornes made quick work of the task, and after drying the slow cooker he went to the bed, grabbed some clothes and wrapped it up, taking it to the seabag and unlocking it then placing all of his things inside. He went around picking everything up, leaving the books. This was clearly something he'd done several times before and only took a few minutes.

The last things to go in the bag were the books, which Bornes summarily dumped on top of everything else seemingly without care. Then he locked the bag back up again and picked it up by a handle to toss it up on his unmade bed with a grunt.

A sharp pain shot through his side and he cut his toss short with a whine. He grabbed his side and let his head fall forward on the seabag now on the bed. He stayed in that position, gaining his bearing. There were actually tears in his eyes. Thank god the glasses covered them.

He'd hurt himself a lot more than he assumed before. Yeah, he had pain with every breath, but that much was expected and easy enough to ignore for him. It happened. This though? He was afraid to move too much now. He guessed that badass image he had made for himself in front of Finn was gone now. Stupid.

"Confession," he labored out, his forehead still on the seabag. "I made a mistake before. Eddie was a lot stronger than I thought."

He put his right hand on the seabag and slowly pushed himself back up. "I'll still work for you. I should be fine a week or two..." He trailed off, really ashamed of himself as he voice lowered in volume.
"But I can't carry this."

That was his very backwards way of asking for help to take the seabag to the car.

Assuming, of course, Finn even still wanted to hire him.

olehiljaa wrote:

Out of instinct Finn took stock of the hotel room around him. Bornes’ personal effects held a lot of interest to Finn, as someone nosy both by nature and by trade. He noted the books, his inherent understanding of romance languages giving him the vague gist though he was far from fluent in French. This intrigued him though he wasn’t particularly surprised. He’d kind of expected Bornes to be a reader though the French part was a plot twist.

Even with the signs of Bornes’ life across the nightstand and the desk, a faint sense of melancholy rose up in him. He’d never liked hotels; everything was impersonal and vague from the generic comforters on the bed to the washed out paintings on the walls. They were just places to sleep, there was nothing pleasant to them. Maybe it was the night, maybe it was still because Eddie rested heavily on his mind. But a part of him was more than happy to get Bornes out of this hotel.

He blinked as Bornes admitted how he was really feeling. Somehow it had not occurred to him that Bornes could be injured. It had all happened so rapidly that even when he replayed it in his mind he wasn’t sure how Eddie had been able to get so lucky as to land a serious blow. Without thinking Finn laid a hand on Bornes’ arm, let it rest there for a moment. Instead of his usual slightly distant tone, his voice held real warmth that he himself didn’t even realize. “Of course I can help you.” before he turned his attention to the bags. He hefted the bag easily. Even as slim as he was, he could be a decent packmule when needed to be. He’d had plenty of experience with grabbing all the groceries at once.

The rest of the car ride was just as quiet as the way over, though it was far from peaceful. He felt his mind starting to come to, like a limb reawakening after a severe injury. Had this all only happened in one evening? Dear God, was he tired. He needed a million things but worst of all, he wanted a smoke. He’d probably use the gun strapped to his torso just to have a few moments on his balcony with the half-empty pack of cigarettes in his jacket pocket. He tried not to think about it all though, focusing instead on how great it would be to get into his own bed. He led the way to his apartment, even opting to take the elevator to make it a little easier on his new companion. He sighed imperceptibly as he opened the front door. It was a breath of fresh air after the club, the mansion, the hotel. He’d lived here a while, long enough to really get comfortable. Finn had a lot of space but for all his ostentatious clothing, he’d managed to preserve some taste with his home. He had his own fair share of books, mostly in English but with a volume or two in his other mother tongue of Portuguese. He had a cast iron tea set on the mantle. Art lined the walls. A baby grand piano stood quietly under a window. It was all things he’d picked out for himself. He’d declined an interior decorator, they reminded him too much of the hotels he’d just walked away from.

This was all a subconscious sense of relief, he didn’t notice anything except the comforting familiarity of the place he’d lived in for years. He pointed out the doors as he walked toward what had been storage but would now be Bornes’ room. “Coat closet, my room, bathroom.” He opened the door to the spar room and stared at the empty space for an embarrassingly long moment before the epiphany slid into place. “I’ve just remembered I don’t have a bed in here.” He’d meant to buy one to turn this into a guest room long before, but it just had never been a priority. He glanced back at Bornes. “I’m sorry. It’s probably a very creepy thing to say but you can always sleep in mine. Barring that, there’s the couch. It’s actually quite comfortable.”

He hesitated, looking Bornes in the face even if he couldn’t see his eyes through the dark lenses. He wanted to say something, come up with a perfect turn of phrase that would sum everything up and smooth it over simultaneously. Maybe if he hadn’t been feeling so emotionally wrung out it would have come to him. As it were, he drew an utter blank. Instead Finn let his eyes drift to Bornes’ side. “Are you sure you’re going to be all right?”




Bornes tensed up when Finn touched him, the pain in his side making his instinctive defensiveness hurt all the more. He pushed his lips together, gritting his teeth behind them while Finn said his piece, which Bornes had only one thought in response: Awkward.
Finn kept his hand on Bornes's shoulder just a few moments too long, and Bornes side stepped away just as the other man grabbed the bag and hauled it off.

Bornes failed to hide a shudder as Finn left, wincing as his rib didn't agree. He quickly picked up the violin case with his right hand and followed Finn to the car, thankful for the silent ride. He had kept the violin between his legs in the passenger seat, it precious baggage. He continued to carry it to Finn's apartment and also while the man showed him around.

Bornes took stock of where the nearest fire extinguisher was, the room layout, all the possible doors, including the ones to the balcony. It was difficult though, as his head was beginning to pulse. Finn had one of those rich man lighting setups that mad everything bright and clean looking. It gave him a headache. At least the bulbs weren't incandescent, so the buzz that was normally apparent in lights wasn't, here.

Bornes had sensitive eyes. In addition to his sunglasses simply hiding his eyes and thus making him harder to read, their primary purpose was to protect his eyes, which were sensitive to all forms of light. His day vision resembled that of an over-exposed photograph. There were certain conditions which would eliminate his depth perception or render him blind, but in most cases he'd been able to get along fine. His sunglasses were a one-of-a-kind prescription that helped him see and lessen headaches. But it was out of date and he was too proud to attempt to get another. That, and his sensitivity seemed to be getting worse over the years. He'd been wearing the shades at night, too, when just a year before he was fine without.

If there was one thing that was good about it, it was that the worse his light vision got, the better his dark vision became. Also, thanks to his whole life being this way, he'd been able to adapt and predict where things were with a sort of sixth sense. It helped immensely with his marksmanship and sometimes in close-combat. But as the previous events of the evening proved, it was not infallible.

When they stopped to stare at the spare room, Bornes did the same as Finn, simply emptying his thoughts. Finn mentioning he was embarrassed there was no bed actually made him jump a bit, as he'd been lost in his headache.
He leaned the violin against the wall inside the room and said, "It's fine."

He turned and grabbed the seabag from Finn, pushing it to fall horizontal on the floor, and kicking it inside. "I'll sleep on the floor." He knew just how he was going to do it, too.

Sleeping on the couch may have been more comfortable, but there was more light there. In his own room with nothing in it, he could turn everything off and not be bothered by whatever this lighting system was. He pretended to not hear the 'sleep in my bed' part of Finn's comment.

Finn then followed it up asking about his health, and Bornes was quick to answer, sounding a bit impatient.
"It's just a bruised rib. I'll just be slow for a week and be fine."

He walked to his seabag and rolled it against a wall with his foot.

"How do you turn off the lights?"
Asking the important questions.

olehiljaa wrote:

Finn had expected to toss and turn for hours. He’d fully anticipated being unable to sleep. The day had been a very dramatic chain of events, ending with the crescendo of witnessing someone’s death. After he’d showed Bornes the bank of dimmer switches, he’d headed to his room. He was out of energy to continue to be polite and professional, though he doubted Bornes worried about such pleasantries anyway. There was one moment where it started to catch up to Finn, and he’d headed to the balcony in his bedroom to calm his nerves. He didn’t smoke as a general rule, but in this case he could make an exception. It seemed impossible to clear the vision of Eddie’s slack face from his head. His mind was chasing itself in circles, threatening to blossom into a panic attack. His hand shook as he brought the cigarette to his mouth but he kept it together. One cigarette turned into two, and then he forced himself to stop. Get a grip on yourself, Finlay.

Even though he was reliving the night just minutes prior, he surprisingly he was unconscious moments after he’d laid down. In fact, when he woke the next morning, it had felt like any other day. Maybe he was just not processing it yet, but it felt like someone else’s memory in the bright morning sun. He pulled on a t shirt and pajama bottoms, not even touching his tumbled dark hair. It was sticking up in all directions but it didn’t really register to him to care. He wouldn’t be shaving for a while either, even though his jaw was already darken with five o’clock shadow. Truth be told he didn’t give much of a damn about his appearance within the walls of his home. Even with his new housemate.

He shuffled out of his room, making a beeline for the coffee maker. It was as always his first goal of the day so he could clear his mind. It was unfortunate for him that he woke so slowly, especially for his line of work. But it was something he’d grown to figure out. Get caffeinated, then the day was much easier to face. He wasn’t even thinking about cases or clients yet, just go through his morning routine first.

Finn turned to the look out toward the living room as a force of habit, checking his surroundings even when he was still half asleep. He blinked at the sight of the other man in his apartment. It wasn’t that he’d forgotten about Bornes exactly, it just seemed incongruous for such a person as him to be in a domestic place like an apartment. It was downright weird to think of Bornes doing any every day actions. Nonetheless, Finn remembered his manners. “Morning. Coffee, tea, or something else?”

Finn realized as he prepped the coffee maker suddenly just how hungry he was. Experiencing trauma was apparently great for his appetite. He pulled out eggs, cheese, bacon – everything he’d need to make an omelet. He paused. Or should it be two omelets? It occurred to him again how odd it was to think that Bornes did something so pedestrian as eat breakfast, though he knew just how idiotic that thought would sound out loud. He looked over his shoulder. He wondered how Bornes was feeling, but refrained from asking. Bornes had not been willing to discuss that at length. So Finn opted for a universal question instead. “Are you hungry?”




Once Fin had shown Bornes the cacophony of switches that controlled the lighting system, he was all too eager to slam them down to "off." Thankfully, Finn didn't seem to mind and went to his own room without much complaint, leaving the 28 year old to his own devices.

Shutting the door, he took his sunglasses off and placed them on top of his grey head to survey the pure darkness. Letting out a loud sigh of relief, he unzipped his jacket and let it fall to the floor, revealing his white t-shirt and two shoulder holsters.

He pulled the shirt up to feel his skin for the bruise that had already formed on his side where Eddie had hit him, hissing slightly. But it did confirm, at least, that nothing was broken and he could rest assured that any pain was him being a baby about it. He put his shirt back down kneeled next to his seabag, twisting the combination into the lock at the and opening it.Reaching inside with his right hand, he pulled out a good bit of the larger, harder things, such as the books, his slow cooker, and a bottle of alcohol. He then loosened the packing of the top of it so it was about half width and re-locked up the bag, carefully laying on the floor with his head using the top of the seabag as a pillow. He, too, was quick to fall asleep. It was one of the best sleeps he had had in as far back as he could remember too, as there was no light pollution directly outside the room's window.

That was, until the sun rose. Bornes had forgotten about the window, having been so preoccupied with the lights last night. While it did have blinds, he never shut them. Lapse in judgment, or maybe too comfortable, he thought. Either way, he woke up when the sun began to peak over the clouds. Getting up, he put the sunglasses back over his eyes, closed the blinds, but then decided to go out to the living room to make his presence known.

He was a bit surprised to learn Finn didn't wake up as early as he had. But it was no matter. Bornes used the opportunity to pull all the blinds and curtains to block out the sun into the main room. Once all the light was greatly diminished, he began to actually take in his surroundings. He'd only given them a cursory glance before, being tired and in pain. Now, with a fresh head on his shoulders, he was ready to do his own digging on him employer.

It looked like Finn had his own personal bar. Bornes walked over to it and took stock of what was inside. All things he pictured a rich man having. Nothing Bornes would normally drink. He tended to keep to his Crown or Jack. The 28 year old had money, of course... His profession paid him lots of it. But it was also sporadic. He had a lot of expenses to keep up with, mainly hotels, but sometimes bribes. Also women definitely had a spot near the top of the list. It had always been in his interested to not spend much on quality.

His hand ran along the top of the wooden bar while his curiosity and feet went to a bookshelf. English works. And also another language. Spanish? No... He squinted in thought as his eyes went over various titles on book spines. Portuguese? Maybe. He wasn't entirely certain, but in any case, it was interesting. Another assumption of his was proven false. Bornes had thought Finn would be monolingual.

His head cocked at some spiral bound binders, however, and he couldn't help himself. He took one off the shelf and opened it on top of the bar. Flipping through it, he found biographies of what seemed random people, bank statements, some voyeuristic photos. It took a moment to piece together that this was probably part of Finn's detective work. He closed the binder and put it back on the shelf, wondering what Finn's response would be to him snooping. Yet Finn still wasn't up, yet.

Bornes walked back to the room he'd slept in and grabbed one of his French books. Coincidentally it was the most worn one. He brought it back with him to the couch and decided to read it idly. He'd read the book at least a thousand times before. He could probably recite it in his sleep. In actuality it was quite bland. But he rarely, if ever, had the ability to speak French and it was a knowledge he did not want to lose, so he kept reading it. Plus, it was not as if the information was not useful.

It only took a few pages for Finn to finally awaken and come to the kitchen. Bornes's head came up and followed Finn's movement toward the coffee maker. "No," he said simply. He closed the book without any interest in keeping his page and instead simply watched Finn, who didn't appear to be quite all there, pausing in hesitation over all the ingredients of an omelet. Bornes was actually a little surprised to be thought of, then, and cocked his head a bit.
No, it's Rich Boy, he thought to himself. He knows how to entertain guests. Though Bornes didn't really consider himself a guest. He also wasn't quite used to being shown kindness, either.

"... Sure," he said, finally, with some hesitation, turning in the couch to sit straight and going back to his book. Staring, even with his shades still over his eyes, suddenly seemed improper.
"No cheese."

olehiljaa wrote:

Finn hesitated at Bornes’ decline of coffee or tea, then shrugged. He wondered briefly how anyone got straight into their day without caffeine, especially after events like the previous evening. It was odd, but he let it go. He supposed it was probably just another day in the life of a person such as Bornes. He had to be human though. Maybe he didn’t go ice skating in his free time but he had to have some kind of personal interests, hobbies. Finn scanned the shelves again, noticing even in the slight dimness of the room that couple of things were out of place. Not noticeably, not tossed around. Bornes would have been too careful for that. But not quite at the angles he’d had them at before.

He watched his new roommate for a moment, gauging his own feelings. Was he angry that a near stranger had rifled through his belongings? Not exactly, though it did make him feel vaguely violated. The really confidential things he kept under lock and key anyway. It was more the fact that Bornes was so…different from most people he’d known. It wasn’t the laconic responses, that he’d had plenty of in his life. Not even the almost clinical way he’d killed a man right in front of Finn just hours before. It was the sunglasses, and the facial markings. The fact that he was reading some French volume. Finn wanted to know more, feeling the inquisitive nature rise within him. Some people called it nosiness. Finn just liked to get to know people, even outside of the job.

“No cheese.” Finn confirmed it and put the omelet together in the pan. He let the silence settle over them for a few moments. Surprisingly enough it wasn’t uncomfortable. As he waited for the eggs to cook he turned back toward Bornes and leaned against the counter. “You’re not the talkative type. I get that. But you obviously have some curiosity.” He gestured toward the bookcase. His tone was mild, not accusatory. Simply hinting at his own curiosity. “You can ask questions. And if you don’t want to, which is fine, do you mind if I ask you some?” He stopped there out of politeness, instead of plunging ahead with said questions. He scooped the omelet onto the plate and set it down on the coffee table in front of Bornes. He had a dining area complete with table and chairs, but the truth was that he ate most of his own meals on the couch right where Bornes was at. He began to prepare his own breakfast next. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”



Bornes's head popped up again when Finn re-initiated the conversation. The mercenary's head followed Finn's hand to the bookcase and then back again, but Bornes didn't give any visual confirmation that he knew what was being talked about. Although he did, and silently noted that of course a detective would be incredibly observant.

Finn continued, putting the omelet on the coffee table in front of Bornes, who closed the book yet again and put it on the table next to the plate before bending over and putting his concentration to cutting it with his fork.

"Put too many disclaimers on it and I could stay mute while you curse your politeness," he snickered, a bad attempt at humor. He stabbed a piece of the omelet and put it into his mouth. After swallowing, he decided to clear up his rather cryptic response.

"I expect the job to be long, so go ahead and ask."

Plot ideas:
They go on 'missions' pissing people off. They are all somehow connected to some Big Bad Guy.
Finn develops some sort of PTSD and has an episode during one such lesser mission where Q must save Finn.
From that point on, Q becomes a sort of mentor for Finn in regards to how the underground works. And I can lead the plot/rp as more of a GM to lessen your stress.

One idea of a mission was whoever hired Finn to get Eddie to pay back his money gets really angry at Finn and wants him dead or something?? So I suppose we could start from there.

But also a lot of discussion (in skype) mentioned a lot of character building through dialogue between Q and Finn during this breakfast.

olehiljaa wrote:

Finn’s eyebrows ascended at Bornes’ reply. He certainly had a mouth on him, one that made Finn want to snap back with a sharp retort of his own -- though it wasn’t out of malevolence at least on his part. “Force of habit on my part that I better get out of my system if we are to spend all this time together. Politeness seems to be lost on you anyway.” He realized he was smiling faintly and busied himself with getting a large mug from the cupboard. He filled it with a generous dose of creamer in anticipation for the coffee.

“First, the sunglasses. Initially I thought it was a stylistic choice but I’m beginning to think it’s more than that. Secondly, since there are more words than pictures in that book, I’m guessing you also are fluent in French. How did that come to be?”




Bornes kept his eyes on the food in front of him and was already halfway through obliterating it by the time Finn had asked what he wanted to know. But the questions themselves were a bit surprising, as they really weren't questions at all.

With a piece of omelet on his fork, he brought it to his mouth but stopped midway instead, simply staring at it. He wanted to reply with That is correct and just leave it, but wasn't sure if being an insufferable asshole was really the route to take with Finn.

Exhaling heavily through his nose, he finally ate the omelet piece before bothering to answer more politely. Which was a bit ironic considering Finn thought politeness was lost on him. It wasn't, per se. Politeness was simply inefficient.

"French is my first language," he said, ignoring the sunglasses question completely.

He put his left boot on his right knee and picked up the plate from the table, sitting it on his ankle so he could continue to eat without crouching.

"You are observant but you don't seem to be very good at investigating," he continued. "I thought a detective such as yourself would place the most effort on the detecting bit." He shoved another forkful of omelet into his mouth.

He couldn't resist the insult. But at least it was less snide than it could've been. Truth was, him being French wasn't exactly a hidden piece of information. He did not look French, and he certainly didn't have an accent. He wasn't surprised most people wouldn't know, but he had held Finn to a bit of a higher standard.

olehiljaa wrote:

Maybe it was the food, maybe it was the night’s rest. Either way, suddenly a personality was surfacing out of nowhere. Bornes may not be the loquacious type but he had jokes at least. And it made him a lot more interesting. Finn took his time with his response as he got his breakfast together. He brought his plate and cup over to the coffee table. He sat on the couch next to Bornes, giving them a decent buffer zone. He chewed his first bite thoughtfully before he answered.

“Thank you for the high praise. One thing I’ve learned in ‘investigating’ is that it’s dangerous to assume things about people. Maybe you studied it in high school.” He wondered silently if someone as peculiar as Bornes had attended traditional schooling. He had a hard time picturing a young Bornes shouldering a backpack and putting in a locker combo. “And maybe I’m not great at ‘investigating’, but it appears to me that you aren’t very good at counting. That was only one answer.”



He finished the last piece of his omelet as Finn came to sit by him. He dropped his feet and side-eyed the other man's jab. It was actually a good piece of information, and true, especially considering how many of Bornes's assumptions Finn had already completely broken, but the 28 year old would never admit that.

"I guess you're not observant after all." He stood, taking the plate and fork to the sink and rinsing them off quickly before letting them sit in there.

"I heard a statement and a question," he proclaimed from the kitchen as he hunted around for a glass, opening cupboards and closing them until he found one. He put it under the faucet and filled it with tap water. When he was done, he turned and leaned against the counter, holding his glass after taking a few swallows.

"You sound like you have more questions." He couldn't hide his "heh" followed by a smirk, and so busied himself by drinking from his glass again.

olehiljaa wrote:

Finn couldn’t quite catch himself from the eye roll; it was an involuntary reaction like closing his eyes during a sneeze. He did manage to avoid sighing dramatically, fortunately. Arguing semantics, a tactic he himself had employed more than a time or two. “Well you’re not wrong.” He continued with breakfast, enjoying himself even if he was also exasperated. “I did give you the choice to opt out though.” He set his plate down and held the coffee cup between his hands, savoring the warmth as he reflected on his many curiosities. “What do you enjoy about your type of work, Bornes?”




"Yet you're annoyed when I make it," he interrupted Finn after the opt-out statement.

Bornes held the glass at his torso, gripping it with his left hand while his right palm acted as a sort of coaster. Luckily, Finn moved away from the sunglass issue and into a much more interesting question.

One that Bornes actually had to stop and think about. Did he enjoy any aspect of his job? And was this a trick question? He kept his face to Finn, pretending to stare at him. But in actuality, his eyes went down to his glass.

He wore the sunglasses for two main reasons. The first, to protect his eyes from light. The second, and currently employed reason, was to hide what exactly he was looking at and thus make him harder to read. Good in times like these especially, when Bornes thought Finn might be trying to make some more correct assumptions of his own.

Bornes, without turning around, reached and placed the glass, still half-full of water, into the sink behind him. "If I said money, I feel you would be taken to the wrong train of thought. The next best answer is simply that I am good at it."

Also that he'd decided this would be his last job, because he didn't really enjoy working it anymore. But that was a little too deep to confess right off the bat. He tried to shake the therapeutic sensation of this conversation off and bounce the conversation away from himself.

"Why are you a detective?"

olehiljaa wrote:

Finn noticed it, the way Bornes answered a question -- in the loosest sense of the word. It reminded him of himself slightly. People had a habit of turning it around on him when they were confronted. ”What would you do if you were in my situation?”. He responded the same way this other man had; an enigmatic response that was half an answer before he went plunging forward with another question. He took the answer at face value even if he felt there was so much more to it beneath the surface. As much as he wanted to know the history in that answer, at the same time, Finn knew when to stop pushing. And that was now, at least for the moment.

Instead he regarded what Bornes had asked him. It wasn’t a new question but he felt Bornes deserved more than the pat response he might have given someone else. Someone who wasn’t living with him and whose job wasn’t to know everything about him. “It was something that always appealed to me when I was growing up. It seemed so glamorous. I figured out pretty quickly it’s not usually like the movies.” He shrugged, set his coffee down and reached for his plate again. “Whether I’m particularly good at it, as you are your own job, I do like it. Though it’s gotten a lot harder these days, as well as more complicated.”

He finished his breakfast and headed into the kitchen, rinsing off his own plate. He turned to Bornes and looked at him mildly. “Can I continue? Or is officially it your turn to do the asking now?”




His head tilted slightly at the same non-answer. He internally pondered just how deep this man was. When Finn came to the sink, Bornes backed away from it to give them a safe buffer zone.

"I don't have any questions," he responded with a shrug. Bornes was doing just fine making more assumptions about Finn's character from the types of questions he asked.

"You'll know when I don't want to talk anymore."


olehiljaa wrote:

Finn noticed the step back, a careful movement designed to put distance between them. He couldn’t take offense; after all they’d known each other all of 13 or 14 hours. “I have a feeling you will make yourself very clear.” He set his plate on top of Bornes’, knowing he’d do the dishes sooner rather than later, but still not in a big hurry to start chores. “Thank you for cleaning up after yourself, by the way.”

There was a short silence where Finn debated on more personal questions. He was eager to ask more, to really sift through Bornes’ personality and history, but it could wait. Some people were simply not inclined to talk about themselves, and that was fine. He’d worked it out of others before. Finn could see himself reflected in the sunglasses and fleetingly wished he could actually hold Bornes’ gaze. He let his line of sight drift back to his bookshelf, where the binders were just slightly off from where he had them before. What was it that Bornes had managed to glean from Finn’s detailed notes? He kept very little about himself on display, though he suspected that didn’t stop Bornes from learning. “Did you come across anything interesting during your light reading? Or should we get started with our day?”


He crossed his arms over his chest at Finn's response, only to quirk a brow at the show of appreciation for being clean. He hadn't even thought about it. It was habit. Bornes was frequently by himself and he only owned one of each type of cutlery and dish. Cleaning everything immediately after use was the most efficient. But then Finn went silent, staring at him.

Bornes not only returned the silence but also the stare from behind the privacy of his shielding sunglasses. Just what was Finn studying? Was he looking for something? The exchange was awkward for the newly hired bodyguard, but thankfully fleeting. He wasn't sure how he measured up to Finn. He couldn't tell what Finn was thinking. Finn had turned into a wildcard that he'd decided to give up trying to predict for the time being.

The 28 year old assumed that, by the light reading, Finn was referring to Bornes's own detecting earlier in the morning. Had it really been so obvious? Bornes was careful to not confirm Finn's suspicion, however, and played dumb.

"Not unless you know French," he replied, referring instead to the worn book he'd left on the coffee table. His head moving in that direction, he continued, "I wasn't given any schedule or plan, so I'm at your will, here."

A sigh and a brief lowering of the shoulders came out before he was able to rebuild his wall of stoicism. He felt a little powerless at the expense of Finn-- unsure of what to expect.
 
A Wolf In Sheep's Clothing (Solia)

Just a Sim wrote: The full moon had begun its rise into the night sky as Luna made her way down the old marble stairway. This was an old entry to the underground subway that had collapsed a few years back. The city had closed up the area and called it condemned. In this darkened area there were graffiti designs on all the walls, but even those had been abandoned by the creators. They had begun hearing strange sounds, and the rumors of this place being haunted had spread like wild fire.

Haunted! Ha! Ghosts didn't exist.

Well, then again - neither did vampires or werewolves according to the humans. Yet, here she stood fighting to remain in human form as the full moon demanded she give into the monster within. So, maybe she shouldn't be so quick to jump to conclusions.

Luna paused at the large gates that blocked off farther entry into the subway. The chains had long ago been broken away by looters. She pushed the door open and slipped inside. She let the heavy gate creak shut behind her. At the ticket booth, a shadowy figure waited to sale tickets to the show. She waved to the figure, knowing that she would receive no reply.

There was construction equipment that had been used to move the rubble and save those trapped that had been left forgotten. The ground was covered in dust and debris. A broken chandelier remained untouched in the center of the room. It was like this once grand room was left to decay with time. Yet, footprints could be seen upon the dust layered floor. There was a dangerous air to the surroundings that made even her skin crawl. What lay beyond that opening was not for the faint of heart.

Luna moved through the small opening. The cold air made her shiver for a moment. It was no surprise that this place had been said to be haunted. Glowing yellow eyes stared back at her. The wolves growled but never fully appeared. They were held back on tight leashes now that they had transformed under the full moon. Normally the guardians of this path were free to wander as they pleased. They were never seen by those that were not invited, but it was not uncommon for people to run screaming after being "scratched by something." Tonight, another would guard the path. Someone a little closer to a ghost.

Luna didn't pause to meet the guard. She was rather well known here in the games. So, what were the games? Luna followed the train tracks until they came to an opening that was new and clean. Guests wearing nice suits and glamorous dresses were ushered down a path to the left. It looked like an old theatre path with the red carpet and the uniformed ushers. Most of the guests were vampires, but a few lucky humans had received an invite. These were high stacks gamblers that had money to burn.

Her path was behind the curtain to the right. There was no usher or nice carpeted path. There were dim lamps that lit the cement path. This was the contestant area where they would soon be released into a ring to fight. The fights had earned the nickname "wolf fights" after the illegal "dog fights." The fights were dangerous. All too often fatal injuries were issued to assure the win, but the pay off was well worth the win. And if you weren't willing to kill or be killed, you should tuck your tail and run home. Rooms lined the hallway like some cheap hotel. Some of the rooms had growls coming from behind them. The main goal tonight was to stay human. If you changed before your fight, you were disqualified. Disqualified meant you didn't get paid, and there was a lot of money to be made down here.

For the younger wolves, this was extremely hard. Some already wandered the halls disappointed in wolf form. Luna was fine for now. It was nothing more than a nagging at the back of her mind. The problem lied in the fact that her fight was scheduled for midnight; the highest point of the moon and the strongest call. It also had the highest pay off. Not to mention the wolf she would be against would have to be strong enough to withstand the call. It was bound to be a very interesting fight.

"Luna. The full moon rite of passage will take place in the arena in 5 minutes. If you would make your way there." A male in a fine suit informed her.

Luna blinked for a moment. "Oh shit. I forgot about that. Ok, ok. Bring the poor sap to the ring, and I'll meet you there." She complained, waving her hand to shoo away the usher. Luna stretched and shook out her body. The gamblers sure loved a show.

A half change was a tricky thing, especially with the full moon staring down on them. If it was done wrong, the result was what was seen in bad B movies. Luna let out a slow breath as the change took her. She felt her bones and muscles realigning to support this beastly form. A tail now swayed slightly between her legs that had been bent, more like the hind legs of a wolf. Her claws extended. Her ears had moved to the top of her head. Sharp fangs protruded from her lips and eyes turned the color of amber. The moon urged her to finish the change, but she shrugged the feeling off. She wanted to get paid.

Luna found her way to the door that would open onto the arena. As soon as she entered, she heard the drunken cheers. They might look fancy, but that meant nothing. As a male was lead into arena, Luna smirked. The arena was a simple dirt floor with uneven spots. The walls were cemented 15 feet into the air where railing circled around. Some of the cement had double paned glass placed into it. The windows were littered with cracks and scratches. The gamblers could get as close or as far as they wanted.

"So... Are we going to do this the easy way or the hard way?" She questioned, offering her hand to the male.



[spoili]Character sheet for personal reference.

[imgleft]http://i.imgur.com/favCMiB.png[/imgleft]Jᴇᴀɴ Cᴀᴍᴘʙᴇʟʟ
A 24 year old who made millions by investing in the right thing at the right time. He sometimes holds part-time jobs and/or takes college classes to keep boredom at bay.
Given his lack of personal responsibilities, he spends a fair amount of time on the internet. There, he's known as Valjean on many forums made specifically for therianthropes, or therians. Although that belief does not come to light off the internet, it is still a part of him, much as being caucasian or having green eyes is.
He believes that his soul is either part wolf, or he was a wolf in a past life. Occasionally, he will have phantom limbs, such as ears or tails, but m-shifts are fully controlled. He appears a normal human to everyone, and never brings up his therianthropy in real life.[/spoili]

Jean brought his right arm up, his hand curled and bent back at the wrist, while his left fingers poked at the non-functional button on the right cuff of his blue Italian cotton suit. The suit itself was a two-button, one button currently undone. The whole thing was tailored to fit his slim, six foot form. The shirt beneath the blazer was a light blue and white crosshatch pattern and his tie was a pale yellow, only barely matching his hair. Truly, the man was bored. But he was not one to be under-dressed. He felt highly of himself, and ideologically, that feeling should be matched by an outward position. As such, he never dressed too casually.
He turned his wrist, willing himself to quit poking at the button, only to peer at the rolex on his wrist instead. They should've been here by now.

It was past sundown, and Jean had been standing underneath a streetlight near some peculiar, abandoned building. Jean wasn't entirely sure what the deal was. He was beginning to think he shouldn't have come. But, he supposed, there was never a good gain without a good risk. Still, though, the people who were supposed to meet him were late. Tardiness was never a good quality, nor was it ever a good sign of things to come. He was beginning to think he was being stood up, and with a huff, turned on his heel and took a step back toward civilization.

"Pssst, you Valjean?"

Jean looked around, unable to see in the darkness where the voice had originated. His ears had perked up, the metaphysical set of canine ears following to perk straight up atop his forehead, giving the feeling of stretched skin. But Jean had no real wolf ears in the physical realm-- they were simply a phantom feeling of limbs. The feeling could've been caused by some type of mental illness, but Jean did not like to think that. The phantom feelings were as much a part of him as any part of his human body was. He had accepted that fact long ago.

"Who wants to know?" Jean finally answered, his brows furling. "Where are you? You're late."

Jean, also known as his online alias, Valjean, was what is known as a therian. There were quite a few communities dedicated to the belief that one had a misplaced soul. Jean, in particular, still had not pegged down if his soul was a wolf's or if he simply was a wolf in a past life. At his current age of 24, he had stopped trying to figure it out, assuming perhaps both scenarios were true. He didn't obsess over the knowledge like some others did, however. He may be part wolf in spirit, but that didn't make him anything other than a human being with human social expectations now and in this life.

Others on the forums would talk about they had mentally shifted, or m-shifted for short, to their theriotype. How they would randomly act like the animal they were, completely uncontrollably and much to the dentriment of whoever they happened to be with. Many of them were proud to be different. Others wanted to fit in and not have such issues. Still others, Jean was quite sure weren't therians at all and simply attempting to be special. He assumed those people were the ones who were proud of their random m-shifts.

Valjean was part of an older group of users who liked to knock sense into the young ones. Berate those who were proud to act out, but offer helpful advice to the ones who wanted to improve themselves. Jean's theriotype was a wolf, and there were many wolves. But there were also many other therians-- cats, horses, sea mammals, even insects.

Therians got the short end of the stick on the internet. Widely considered unreal or crazy, they were often lumped in with the furry subculture and ridiculed by people who had no business ridiculing anyone other than themselves. That was why therians had their own closed, very tightly knit and highly policed communities. Gatherings were held in secret or not at all, and many people would only speak through forums and chatrooms, afraid of what real people would think of them if they communicated in any other manner.

To some degree, Jean agreed that therians just didn't belong in the public eye. He kept his beliefs to himself, having learned at a very young age that not many people would take him seriously otherwise. He had to admit that even if someone in real life came to him and talked about how they were a therian, he probably wouldn't believe them immediately. But there was still that slim chance... One could not help but want to meet and hang out with similar people.

This late night jaunt was one of those things. Someone had extended a hand online, and Valjean had (perhaps dumbly) taken it. The user had said they knew of some real werewolves, perhaps therians who could physically, or p-shift. Valjean thought p-shifting wasn't real. But this user said to come see for himself. They also said Valjean could learn how to shift himself.

Jean felt the risk worth taking-- the place was nearby and it wasn't as if he had to be anywhere that night. So he'd come at the appointed time to the appointed coordinates, and it was here now that a teenager in ratty clothes came out from the shadows to greet him.

Although this wasn't the first time he'd tried to meet someone offline, he was still disappointed, and gave a sigh to relent that fact.

"Apologies," hissed the teen. "Please follow me to the arena."

"Arena?" Jean questioned.

"Yeah," the kid replied, leading the other down a long set of stairs and through a condemned subway station, "You said you wanted to be turned into a werewolf, yeah? Well it happens in the center of the arena."

As the continued to walk through the downtrodden subway, the floor and decor got nicer and nicer, until they were walking down a red carpet. As they progressed, Jean was beginning to think that maybe this was not such a great idea.
He couldn't remember what exact words Valjean had typed in the private chat, but he had been hoping that half of the things the user said about an arena and turning people being a show for werewolves was a bunch of bollocks. Now he wasn't so sure.

After a bit, the kid handed him off to a much nicer looking man in a suit, who stated a blithe "follow me."
As they approached what Jean could only assume was the arena, he could hear loud cheers and what were likely drunken bellows. His self-consciousness was replaced by a perhaps idiotic sense of confidence. Jean was part of the 'fake it till you make it' crowd, and decidedly decided now was a good time to bring that mantra into action. His posture straightened as a result and he began to walk more proudly, his green eyes scanning to walls for anything that could be potentially dangerous. Not that he knew at all what he was looking for.

It was only seconds later he actually went into the arena. The floor was dirt. While Jean might have become upset at how immediately dirty had fancy clothes and shoes had become, he was far too distracted by the gigantic crowd that managed to fit down here... And the half-wolf-person who appeared to be standing in front of him.

Jean was in disbelief. Surely it was makeup, or a costume, or really clever robotics? Jean was a person who wanted to believe, but didn't think for a second werewolves actually existed. Yet, here (supposedly) one was. And it was, he was assuming, a woman. And she spoke, asking him if he wanted to do this the easy or hard way.

What, pray tell, was the easy way?

Didn't werewolves have to bite you to change you? That didn't seem very easy.

Yet, despite Jean's better judgement, he saw her extend a hand-paw-glove-thing and his first, idiotic thought was Oh, she must want us to shake hands for a business deal. Clearly, that was what it was.
So he, too, extended his own hand to shake her's.

Only later would he realize that perhaps this thought would be because he was in a state of shock.

Just a Sim wrote: The male reached out like he was going to make some kind of business deal. Luna giggled. Whatever. She would accept that answer. She took his hand in hers and lifted their arms high into the air in victory. It was all part of the show. The drunken cheers were back over the softer clapping. She had to admit this was sort of fun. Even if she would have rather gone the hard way.

Luna turned them for all to see his face. When she had made her full circle, she let go of his hand. She turned her attention back solely on the male that had been given to her. Her fingers draped over his shoulders. "I love the suit, but I hope you aren't too attached to it." She told him as her fingers roamed lower down the soft jacket. When he changed it would be ruined. That was if she didn't ruin it first. She smirked devilishly up to him as she released the only button he had fastened.

Standing next to him, Luna felt a bit underdressed for this party. She simply wore a red halter top and a jean mini skirt. Her shoes already forgotten due to the formation of her legs. The thing was that this outfit was made for fighting and shifting. It wasn't meant to be fancy.

Luna let her fingers trail back up the path of his tie. She was completely aware that it looked sexual. Especially as she looped her fingers around the too extravagant knot. She simply pulled and the tie ripped away. She lifted her hand that held the torn tie to place a finger over his lips. "No complaints. It was in the way." Her tone was playful. She winked as she removed her finger to throw his tie to some forgotten corner of the arena.

With the tie out of the way, her fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt. Her hands were slow. Small buttons did not work well with claws. She was tempted to just rip the shirt away as well, but working with the buttons was like foreplay to something more sensual. Finally, with four buttons undone she leaned in closer. Her fingers pushed back the collar on the right side of his shirt. "You smell nice." She licked the side of his neck to mess with him some. "You may want to hold on tight. I play rough." She laughed lightly, a darker sound than before.





Having never been in a situation like this before, Jean wasn't sure what to think. He wasn't even sure what he was currently thinking or why. He let his body be manipulated by the woman. His hands were lifted, his body was turned. He had a completely lost expression on his face, and time seemed to drift onward without him noticing.

His senses slowly came back to him once the woman/wolf/thing had let go of his hand. It was almost as if he were in a drunken stupor, a moment of sobriety hitting him when the female slapped her hands/paws on his shoulders and remarked on his suit. At that statement, Jean became confused -- if being more confused was even possible at this point.

"Why would you say that?" he thought, his brain apparently unable to voice itself.
But the female let her fingers, or digits, or whatever they were, smooth over his clothes like a woman trying to seduce a man. Which she couldn't be doing. Could she? He wasn't sure then if he should be turned on, off, and/or worried about having been drugged. Was he being taken advantage of? No, surely he signed up for this. Or maybe it was a dream he was having?
Fell asleep at that streetlight, maybe?

The digits then ran back up his tie, and at that, the man known as Jean Campbell finally seemed to revive his cognitive functions, beginning with a hard swallow. The man looked to the other 'person' near to him, pondering his exit strategy like Madoff counted money.

Of course, he flinched when she tore his tie away. He couldn't help but begin to retaliate then-- "What are you--!" but she shushed him. Shushed him, of all things. Putting her 'finger' to his lips. A digit that smelled like popcorn, just like all other paws of dogs he'd sniffed. And, unfortunately, he had to admit he'd sniffed quite a few.

He didn't know why he didn't do anything else to retaliate. He simply watched her tear at his clothes. He went back to thinking about potential exit strategies before wondering if this situation was actually so bad, to finally thinking that he actually wanted this and, yes, it was his idea to come here in the first place.
He pushed her hands/paws out of the way and began hastily unbuttoning his dress shirt, his brain lost on if this was leading to sex or something else but nonetheless wishing to hurry along the process.

She leaned closer to him and said he smelled nice-- on a better day, he would've replied along the lines of "That's Chanel for you." Even though that was a lie. He actually wore Old spice. But clearly this wasn't one of his better days, as all he did was move with her. That was, until she licked him.

At that, some primal instinct came over him and he tensed up, gritting his teeth behind closed lips. His hands shot out and grabbed tufts of fur or fabric at her sides--whatever was available-- in his fists, anchoring his feet to the ground. This would've been the part in a movie where he shoved her against a wall or something and started having his way, but in the real world, he did nothing aside from grab her, assuming that whatever she did next was, in fact, going to be rough. He assumed that it was going to hurt, and that he should prepare himself for it.

His eyes looked straight toward her's, then. But he didn't really see her eyes. He looked through them. Jean was still perceptively lost and confused, but at the same time, grounded and determined to make whatever was happening guaranteed to happen. Had he a wolf body, it would be standing straight and tall, ears and tail raised high. But as he was merely human, he remained actively dominant in his submission instead.

OOC:[spoili]Hope that post made sense. Px

Anyway, sorry for the wait. School stuff, as you know. Also my family came to visit me for a week.[/spoili]

edit: I'll be away almost the entire month of august, just fyi..

Just a Sim wrote: Luna was rather surprised by the man that stood before her. Most of the humans that were brought here seemed to lose their courage when faced with a B-movie type werewolf. Some would panic and look for an escape. Others would collapse onto themselves in tears and begging. He had helped her open up his shirt and even remained grounded when she admitted to liking to play rough. Perhaps he was still in denial. Or did he really want this after all?

She drew away for a moment, her ears folded back with a sort of confusion. "How odd. You give off the feeling of the wolf even now." Her words were low as if she didn't want anyone else to hear her. She wondered how a man that so clearly was human, could give off this impression as he was one of her own. And despite the situation, he was clearly a dominate soul. He could hold a great deal of power. It would be fun to fight him in the ring one day.

Luna smiled at the man. Normally, she would drive her victims to the ground after besting them in the ring. It was different with this man though. She wasn't besting him. She was awakening him. Now, that was a silly thing to think. She was getting too caught up in the show. It was messing with her head. With a soft huff of a half chuckle she leaned forward again. She didn't linger on thoughts or feelings, she simply bit down into the tender flesh under her teeth.

Her fingers twisted into his hair, pulling his neck back to better expose the flesh. The poison of her fangs would work fast. He would be infected and would naturally change during the next full moon. Then again, this was a show. There were many reasons why alphas were chosen to infect each human when any werewolf could. An alpha could force a change onto another. It wasn't kind, but it was what everyone sat on the edge of their seats for now.

Luna placed her other hand against his stomach, the center of his body. She could feel the beast there under his flesh. She drew away from his neck and pulled her hand as if dragging something out of him. Or at least that was what it looked like. It appeared as if she pulled something from the man, and yet nothing changed. She was sure she could feel the beast. "You may rank as an alpha one day, but tonight you will heed my call." She growled the words as her nails dug into his stomach as if she meant to literally reach into his body and drag the beast out.

She could feel it. It was there. Like a physical thing in her grasp. So when she pulled, yet again nothing happened. Luna snarled; an ugly sight. "I guess I'll just have to rip the wolf out of you." Her anger mixed with the pull of the moon was too much. She was fading from the light. Right before his eyes, she finished her change. She wasn't big for a werewolf, but still larger than most normal wolves. Her fur was a light blonde that almost appeared white in the crappy lighting.

In this form, the moon controlled her anger pushing her towards the demand of blood and fresh meat. She didn't waste her time to stalk him. She jumped forward intent to end his life with her fangs this time, when a dog control wire wrapped around her neck. The one at the end of the pole was rather strong, but it only slowed her for a moment. She pushed forward again before another wire slipped around her. With three men of the supernatural kind finally had a hold of her, she was drug back to the darkness. Even through the darkness her eyes glowed red and her teeth snapped in a demand to kill.


(( ooc; I apologize that it has taken so long to get a reply out... work became more demanding than I expected... things should settle down once again... take as long as you need to reply... no rush ^.^ and again, sorry to have kept you waiting so long... I hope the post is alright for you ))



OOC:[spoili]I went out of town for the month, so that's why I couldn't post. School starts again for me tomorrow but otherwise I'm free and theoretically I should be able to post more than once a month LOL. Ideally I'd like to post once a week, but clearly I can't even hold myself to that. >_>;;

So sorry this rp is moving so slow. But it appears we're both into it so I guess even posting once a month would be fine for the itme being if it does come down to that.[/spoili]

How odd. You give off the feeling of the wolf even now.
In another time and place, Jean's ego would have been stroked. But now, he was still unsure of what to expect and kept his serious face on, his thoughts blank and his speech empty. On all accounts, he was ready for what was to come, and it could not come soon enough.

The wolf/woman smiled, then bent his head and bit him like a vampire, one of her hands/paws at his stomach, attempting to drag some sort of energy out of him. At the bite, Jean grit his teeth even harder, inhaling sharply through his nose at the pain. Still, he remained fixed in his position. The appendage trying to drag out what he assumed was a soul, he could feel beginning to depart. He wanted it. Was excited to be released, even.

But it stopped and appeared to bounce back. Some metaphysical energy, feeling as if it was on elastic, tried to exit his body but could not. It rested just near the surface. Despite will and want, it could not be described as any less than an orgasm that wouldn't come. He approached the edge, toed it, and every time he felt he was about to have his sweet release, it would start over.

The woman-wolf seemed to sense the same in him, and gripped his gut even tighter. She had also said words, but by that time Jean was far too distracted by his own mind. His vision had changed. Not in the physical sense, no-- by all outward appearances, he was still human, and still outwardly appeared exactly the same. But his brain prioritized different things, his vision focused on movement, he swore he could smell everything. Despite the fact that absolutely no physical change had occurred, Jean still could feel his claws growing, his phantom limbs becoming his, and his body language changed to show that.

But it was wrong. It was wrong because Jean was still very, very human. But Jean's mind did not know that. By all accounts, in Jean's brain, he had changed into a wolf. It wasn't just an itch that he could ignore. He couldn't tell himself his ears and tail were phantom limbs that no one else could see. No, his brain told him he was a wolf. And that thought would only confirm itself when it saw the woman before him finish her change. She transformed completely then, headed to all fours with glowing eyes, shedding all her human features.

Jean crouched, his fingers bent toward his palms, mimicking the shape of paws. He rose on his toes, imitating the functions of digitigrade feet. His mouth open, lips curled back as his human face did the best rendition of a wolf's snarl as it could. Saliva pooled in his mouth and throat just in time for his eerily accurate impersonation of a wolf's bark and growl. That wolf before him may have been the one who turned him, but he refused to except her as an alpha.

It was rightly timed, as the wolf before him jumped and tried to kill him then. Jean, the wolf-in-spirit, was prepared, raising his hands-as-paws in preparation to swat her away and deal his own blow wit his own teeth, eager to tear her fur away with his canines.

But it didn't happen. She was collared and pulled back by three different men, men who he sensed were different, but he wasn't sure why.

Jean, still completely human on the outside, lowered himself slowly to the ground on all fours, still snarling. He could feel his guard hairs rising, his shoulders propped up as he made his wolf form larger to assert its dominance. He knew he didn't win this fight fairly, but he did know that the female wolf was no longer in his vicinity, therefore granting him a win by proxy. After pacing a bit, he threw his head up in a howl.

But Jean was not a wolf. He was a human being on all fours, pretending to be a wolf,as it was only his mind that had changed. Jean was experiencing an m-shift. A mere caricature of a wolf, he only appeared to outsiders as an insane human.

But even so, that wolf with a human body still thought it was the head of the pack, and it looked around the ring, trying to work out where it was and what to do next.

Just a Sim wrote: What her eyes were seeing and what her body was feeling were two very different senses. Without the full moon she might have been able to understand or at least not acted so much on instinct. In that moment, she knew there was a wolf in front of her. It was obvious he had the design to be an alpha, and he refused to bend to her will. The hell if she was going to back down. He would bend in pieces when she was done.

The next thing she knew she was being drug away. The other wolf left in the arena.

Luna didn't remember much after that. A sharp pain and a sudden need to sleep. When the sun rose, Luna found herself in the middle of the forest like area of the park. She rubbed her head and groaned. Mornings after the change always sucked. The memories were blurry at best. She realized she was naked and fell back onto the grass. "Great. I didn't get to fight. So, I'm out of cash for the week." She complained out loud, rolling over and deciding to hide out the park for a while longer.

Luna found a little black dress next to her when she finally decided the sun was too high to ignore. Well, it was better than nothing. The dress was far too fancy for something she owned. She pulled the stretchy fabric over her flesh and started the long walk back to her shitty little apartment.

It had to be the middle of the morning. People were already bustling about. Between traffic, cell phone usage, and screaming babies, Luna felt like her head was going to explode. "Coffee. Need coffee." She complained to herself as she stood among the people waiting to cross the street. She knew she looked like a wreak. Her hair was everywhere, at best looking like she meant for it to be that way. Though the dress was nice, she lacked shoes. Who walked barefoot in the middle of the city?

A werewolf that fell asleep in the wrong place. She made a face at her inner thoughts.

Luna watched the light turn and walked with the rest of the pack in a mindless sort of way. She was in the middle of the street when she smelt it. Chanel, he had called it. But it was more than that. It was the smell of a wolf. She caught his arm instinctively. It wasn't the same suit, and he looked really well groomed. But she was sure of it, this was the man that hadn't changed. "You." The word had a bite to it.

Horns honked at them. Luna held still, only her fingers falling away from his arm. What did she do? Was he still human? And what about last night? A horn honked again. Fed up with this morning, she turned and flipped off the car. "I'm going!" She shouted as she started to move again. Even as she moved, her mind wondered what to do about the man.


ooc;[spoili]I've been out of town for my job over the last monthish as well... I'm really hoping to be able to follow your one post a week idea lol

also, I moved them to the next morning... if this post doesn't work for you please let me know and I will edit it ^.^

on the bright side, welcome home![/spoili]




The other wolf was led away, leaving Jean alone in the ring. The crowd became confused. Some of them complained and threw things, others unsure of what was happening. Jean howled again, confused himself. His eyes spotted an opening, and he leaped for it, running out of the underground stadium on all fours. Once he had reached the moonlit outdoors, he stopped, taking in the bright, full moon. It was beautiful. Something was special about it, even, but he couldn't exactly pinpoint what. Originally leaning back to sit, he instead stood back on two legs, the moon bringing his human-ness back to the front.

Surreal as the situation was, human-Jean was back, not knowing what to feel. Embarrassed? Perhaps that was the emotion he should've experienced, but instead he was ashamed. After practically a full minute of just staring at the moon, he turned and walked back home, mind blank. He decided he would pretend this evening had not occurred. To be forced into a mental shift was something he didn't want to think about. He had questions of his sanity enough as it was.

The next morning, he had dressed himself appropriately and prepared to go to a shareholders meeting. They only happened once a year, and as Jean held quite a lot of stock in this particular business, he was compelled to go. He wasn't paying much attention to his surroundings when someone grabbed him by the wrist. "You," she proclaimed.

He turned around, pulling his arm free. "Get off!"

But then he noticed that it was her. The girl from last night. The one that turned into a wolf. The one that bit him on the neck. It'd taken him forever to cover it up to look presentable today. He didn't want to admit he'd had to use make-up to do it... But he didn't want anyone to question his activities outside the company.

He looked at to the street where cars were beginning to honk. Apparently the crosswalk's light had turned already. He spun around and made his way to the other sidewalk. "Get away from me," he growled.
If she followed him, he still kept walking toward his destination, clutching his briefcase tightly.

His eyes narrowed, trying to concentrate on only the path in front of him. If he just ignored her long enough, maybe she'd go away. Certainly by the time he reached the business, she wouldn't be allowed inside. It was only a few more blocks..

OOC:[spoili]Thanks. I hope you're doing well, also.[/spoili]

Just a Sim wrote: Luna frowned at the harsh tone he used. No doubt she looked like some homeless punk. No, if she was honest with herself, she knew the real reason for his tone. He recognized her. She turned back to watch the man hurrying away through the passing cars that now separated them. He was human; different from her world. And yet she couldn't shake the urge to go after him. To all her senses, he had seemed like a wolf last night.

"Fuck it. Guess in this case curiosity will kill the wolf." Luna laughed to herself. Maybe she was crazy, but she couldn't let a human get away with threatening her. Yeah, that lame excuse wasn't even fooling herself. She wanted to know more about the human wolf.

When the light changed, Luna rushed across the street. She drew closer to his back like a wolf on the hunt. Her first instinct was to tackle him to the ground, but that might draw too much attention to them. In the daylight, this was the world of the humans. She had to play nice. Kinda. She slipped in front of him and put her fingers on his chest to stop him. She was stronger than she looked. Even such a light touch was more than enough to hold a human in place for a moment. "Don't make me ruin this suit, too." She told him with a smirk.

"Now, you are going to tell me just what you are. Your form is human, but you tease my senses with a hint of the wolf." Her eyes cast over his form. He was tense. She could see the smudges where the makeup had smeared onto his shirt collar. No doubt the wound she had inflicted hadn't healed properly.



ooc;[spoili]Yeah, I'm doing great now... finally back into a routine... and look! I got a post up within the same week lol

sorry that it is short though...[/spoili]



He walked swiftly, trying to get to the building as soon as possible. Getting away from that girl was his top priority. Unfortunately, he wasn't nearly fast enough as she slipped in front of him and held him back at his chest. She then threatened to ruin this suit too, at which point his response could only be labeled as a snarl.

"I don't have time for this. I have a job to do, unlike you." He spat.

He couldn't deny that what she said was very interesting. But he told himself she wasn't that intelligent. What he'd seen was a drug trip. One part of him told him that he should go with her, this was his chance. He knew he was different, and this proved it!

But the other part of him was shouting to ignore her, ignore everything about this. He couldn't possibly be anything other than human because if he was, that meant he was mentally unstable. Or the world was unstable. And although Jean secretly wished to be proven he was right all along about him being a wolf, a very human part of him was too afraid to watch the world he knew and had mastered fall to shreds and not make sense anymore.

It was so much easier when everything was online. It was easy to dismiss. Why had he ever decided to take the invitation to see a "real" p-shift? He decided, then, that he would never meet anyone offline again, unless he was certain they too knew they were human and nothing else.

Besides, if she was a therian that could p-shift, wouldn't she know that he was therian too if she could sense it? Or whatever?
Why was he even thinking any of this?!

He tried to by pass the girl, but the pressure on his chest was unusually strong. He hmphed, backed up a step and tried to walk around her.

"You answered your own question- I am human. Just like you are," he grunted. Though the words had a certain distaste in his mind. Part of him really wanted to believe in what he saw last night. Maybe the timing was just wrong.

OOC:
[spoili]You can kidnap him or time lapse if you want. Also I'm sorry it took me 10 days. =([/spoili]

Just a Sim wrote: Luna glared back at the man for a moment. "I do have a job, thank you very much. In fact, you cost me a paycheck last night!" She snapped back. She should collect her fees in blood. Or judging by the way he looked, he might have her expenses in his wallet. Or a few no limit credit cards that would work just nicely. Still, that wasn't her reason for stopping him.

As her eyes cast over his form, she uttered the real reason for stopping him. What was he? She saw the small changes in his eyes as his mind processed her words. A twinkle of excitement, then the cold denial. In other words, he didn't know either. Whatever he was, it was going to take more digging to find out. That was disappointing.

Luna laughed suddenly at his response to her question. "If you are just like me, you might want to check into the psych ward." On an afterthought, she pushed her lips out in a mild pout. That sentence probably came out a little too close to what he already thought of her. She shook her head and let out a hard huff. Oh well.

"Ok, wait! That isn't what I mean." Luna caught up to his back. Her fingers slipped into the pocket where his wallet created a bulge. She slipped the wallet free and tucked it behind her back. For a while she had gotten pretty good at pick pocketing. However, he might notice with his heightened senses. She wasn't sticking around long enough to find out. It was just assurance that she would get what she wanted later.

Luna grinned at him again. "Tell ya what. As you go to your boring job and pretend to be all human, think about what you feel inside. If you find that your inner wolf really wants to come out, meet me at the bistro on Main St by 10pm. The reservation will be under Luna. Ta." She waved to him with her empty hand, then ran back the way she had been originally going. She rushed into oncoming traffic. It was fun to weave through the cars as horns honked and tires squealed. A few cars crashed into one another. She laughed to herself. People got out, cursing for her to come back. Like hell.

Luna ran down the street, back to her shitty little apartment that cost an arm and a leg. Becoming a Jane Doe was hard work and expensive. Inside, she fell onto her bed and flipped through the contents of his wallet. A couple of hundreds and less than a hundred in twenties. That was depressing. Though the fancy credit cards were reassuring. She couldn't wait to test those out. She moved onto his driver's license. Jean Campbell. He was 24 years old, which surprised her a little. After a moment of searching for hidden clues like pictures of family or the ever cocky condemn, she tossed the wallet down beside her and decided to go take a shower.

After the less than thrilling shower, Luna moved onto a shopping spree. She had to look her best for tonight, right? She bought a long ball gown, fancy heels, and glittering jewelry. She had her nails done, got waxed, and even got her hair and makeup done professionally. All of this of course was bought with his shiny credit cards. Too bad it didn't kill enough time.

Luna wanted to find out more about Jean. She could hunt down Tommy who had originally found him, but she kinda wanted to hear it from Jean himself. "He better come." She complained to herself. She caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection of the store window. A soft smile spread over her lips. It had been a long time since she had dolled herself up.

For the remainder of the time, Luna sat on a bench of Main St. just people watching. Humans were funny creatures. They ignored what was so obvious. Finally, a little after 9pm she made her way to the bistro. She would wait there with fancy drinks and snacks until he showed. Again her mind growling that he better come.


ooc;
[spoili]Don't worry about taking a long time, hun... I know you are busy ^.^ As long as you are interested, I can wait as long as you need me to... I promise

Also, I went for a time skip... don't disappoint her lol[/spoili]





Jean did notice. And he went to grab her hand to get his wallet back, but when he did, he noticed the time on his watch. "Don't hold your breath," was all he muttered before she ran off, and he continued to rush to his meeting.

These meetings were held annually. Well at least the ones he needed to attend were, anyway. It was mostly voting on what to do with the business's money, voting for who should be in what position. Jean normally cared about it, as it was his money after all, but this particular meeting he couldn't stop thinking about what he needed to do when he got out.

Cancel all his credit cards, for starters.

But also, 'reveal his inner wolf'? Ha.

Nonetheless, the hours passed on, and found himself walking back home to his apartment. While he went up the elevator in building, he started dialing credit card company numbers, beginning the process of canceling them all. He reported them all stolen, and summarily ordered all new ones rather easily. He was informed that a few of them had already been used quite extravagantly. Stupid bitch, he thought to himself.

Eventually he had eaten, showered, taken care of his house chores, and changed into more street ratty clothing. He didn't want yet another suit ruined. Unfortunately for him, all he had were tan khakis and a white undershirt. He felt like he was in his underwear. After a few minutes of debate, he put a dress shirt over the t-shirt and decided that was as low as he could dress.

As the time went on, he was torn between anger and curiosity. These past two days were full of a mixture of emotions he didn't know what to do with. And by the end of it, he decided the very least he could do is go get his wallet back.

So he left the apartment and went to the bistro, there by 9:30pm, and instead of asking anyone about the reservation, he simply looked around. He almost missed her because of her fancy gown. Immediately rolling his eyes, he walked over.

"I hope you realize I'm not paying for that," he growled.

He simply stood at the table. He really didn't intend on staying. He held out his left hand, palm up, in wait of his wallet. "You can give me back my wallet now."

OOC
[spoili]I'm not busy... Just lazy. I am going to try and get my act together though. Look! Only a day this time! XD[/spoili]

Just a Sim wrote: Luna ordered a soup that was rather impossible to pronounce. Who made an entire menu in AMERICA that was in a completely different language? It was like a gamble of what you might get. Not like the skinny little waiter was much help. When the soup came it was a strange green color. Luna lifted a spoonful to her lips and took a sniff. The smell was not reassuring to how this might taste. Still... she wasn't one to waste food. Luna pushed the spoon into her mouth and was pleasantly shocked to find the taste was rather good.

Figuring she would have a while until Jean showed, if he showed, Luna sipped at the soup. However, that was exactly when Jean appeared. He seemed rather upset. Must have seen how much she spent on his cards. Well, it could have been worse. It was only barely $400. She smirked at his comment. "Of course you are. You paid for everything else today." She replied calmly, taking another small spoonful of her soup.

That didn't help the moment. He demanded his wallet. "Kill joy." Luna grumbled as she put down her spoon. She leaned forward to dig through one of the fancier bags. She found his wallet and forced it into his hand a little rougher than was necessary. Of course, the cash was gone. It was stored safely between her breasts; the pocket of all women.

"You could have just canceled the credit cards. You didn't have to come meet me." Luna told him with her smirk returning. She gave him a look that told him he was an idiot if he really expected to get the cash back. "So, why don't you sit down and maybe we can find out a little bit more about you, Jean. You have to be just a little curious about what you saw."


ooc;
[spoili]lol being lazy is not a bad thing either... and yeah! that was impressive... I'm still a lot slower >.<[/spoili]



"I meant your food," Jean grumbled, his eyes rolling again. "I already did," he responded again, in reply to the cancellation of credit cards. Of course, it was the first thing he did once he'd gotten out of the shareholder meeting.

Upon receipt of his wallet, he went through it, noting the cash was gone, but wasn't particularly surprised about it. As he pilfered through it, he continued, "Maybe I just didn't want to buy a new wallet."
He was more concerned about his license and the various business cards shoved in the pockets, however. Once he confirmed they were all still accounted for, he placed the wallet in one of his front pockets.

Afterward, he put both hands on the edge of the table and remained standing. "Curious, maybe, but I don't trust someone like you to give me answers. The leather the wallet is made from is worth more to me than your information." Needless to say (which he actually didn't say, instead only thought between responses), "I don't intend on staying."

Despite that last statement, he still waited for her undoubtedly snarky reply.

OOC:[spoili]I really should be shot for how bad I am at replying. I am so sorry.[/spoili]

Just a Sim wrote: Luna frowned as she waited for him to go through his wallet. She kinda wished she had looked over it a little more closely if he was searching it so hard. Maybe he had a secret family. The games didn't usually choose people with close family that would notice they were missing; just in case something went wrong. Or maybe he was into some of the illegal merchandise on the side. Or maybe he was one of those weirdoes that had to have his "lucky" wallet or whatever.

Before she could ask, Jean had put it away. She smirked a little noticing that he was keeping it in a little harder to reach location. Well, guess that meant he still wasn't ready to trust her. Probably a wise choice. He placed his hands against the table as if to balance himself while he spoke. Yep, there was the lack of trust admitted out loud. "Ouch." She replied with a little laugh.

"Well, you know where the door is then. But if you want to stay, I'd recommend taking a seat. People are staring." Luna commented. She leaned over the other side of her chair as one of the waiters came by. "Phillip, I need another glass of wine. You should probably bring one for my guest as well. Something to calm the nerves." She told him with a wink. The waiter nodded and muttered a "yes, ma'am" softly. Luna lifted her glass and tipped it back, downing the last of the red liquid in the glass that was still in front of her.

She cast her gaze back to the man she was trying to figure out. "Can you feel him, Jean? I mean, sense his presence. Phillip is one of us. He is weak compared to other wolves, so it is a little harder. The weak are abused in the games. They aren't given fair fights, but they are guaranteed to live. I'm the reason he walks with a slight limp." She turned back as she felt Phillip returning. The limp was hard to notice, but it was enough to keep him out of the ring.

Luna took the glass from the tray Phillip was carrying. "Thanks." Phillip sat the other glass in its proper place in front of the seat left for Jean. He bowed his head slightly before leaving them. She took a sip of the fresh wine. "I won't claim to know a lot, but I'm pretty good at finding information. You can either try to figure this out with me, or on your own. But your last choice was pretty terrible."
 
Reaper (Solia)
Q meets a soul reaper who makes him go through his old memories?

ᖇᙓᗩᕈᙓᖇ
q_onis_2.jpg

You want a revelation,
You want to get right.
But it's a conversation
I just can't have tonight.
You want a revelation,
Some kind of resolution.
You are the revelation.

No light, no light in your bright blue eyes;
I never knew daylight could be so violent.
A revelation in the light of day,

You can't choose what stays and what fades away



Quatre Bornes Lee, more commonly known as "Q" was a sniper by trade. Currently 25 years old, he'd been in the business of killing since he was 18. When he was 20, he split from his partner and the French Mafia he helped create to go on his own. Around the time he turned 23 things started to go downhill. Q had health problems. Problems that were closely observed and taken care of by specialty drugs before he ran from France at 18. Once he came to America, he learned to self-medicate through smoking cigarettes of all things. Somehow, he made it all work until he turned 23. At that age, normal sounds gave him headaches, his eyes became extremely sensitive to light, and his dizziness and confusion turned to blackouts. Q quit sniping as much, but still played the role of mercenary, taking on other sorts of killing jobs. He managed to keep it together somehow for two years as all the problems got worse and worse. Now 25, Q could no longer go out during the day lest he be blinded. He could no longer function in cities due to migraines. He had stopped smoking 5 packs a day due to breathing issues. He couldn't kill anymore. And killing was the only thing that made him feel like he was worth anything.

Q had become an alcoholic, trying to drown out his migraines. But he had to stop when he quit smoking. Now he suffered from his own ailments as well as withdrawal from nicotine and alcohol. The worst of it all was his mind. Quatre Bornes was born with a tail. Even so, he'd considered himself human. He rejected any possibility of supernatural things in him and the world around him. He acted like a human and the tail had never been a huge deal to him. But he would unwillingly begin to make sounds that weren't human beginning within the course of sex at 23. From then on it became more and more dominant in him. He now communicated mostly through snorts, snarls, and growls. As an animal would. He didn't try to hide his bestial nature anymore. He still vehemently denied anyone telling him he wasn't human, but now it was clear he was simply in denial. Quatre Bornes's reality, identity, and humanity was slipping through his fingertips as every day passed, and by now he was simply holding on to what he had. Too afraid to die, too afraid to quit. Too afraid to be alone.

Today was another one of those nights where he kept on. He hadn't taken on a job in several months, and he hadn't eaten in a long time. Standing at 6ft tall, the man had lost so much weight his clothes had become baggy when before they had been form-fitting. Despite it all, the man still had drive. He'd worked hard to get where he was for his entire life, and he wasn't going to give up now.

He'd been traveling the last few weeks. He'd been walking along the country-side, escaping all the loud noises of cities and towns and thus living in peace. Every day he'd set up camp and cover himself in a pile of blankets. Hot, but blocking out the sun. Every night when he traveled, for the past 5 days, he would see a woman seeming to follow him. He thought it was the trick of his eyes at first. She was always far off and never there for more than a few minutes. But it seemed that every night she would get closer. The 25 year old tried to mind his own business and ignore it. But tonight she was only a few feet away from him, quietly walking, before disappearing into a dark fog.

Bornes dropped his seabag with a huge thud and a growl at the side of the street. He took the pistol from its holster at his waist in his left hand and pointed it at where the woman had been. His arm shook uncontrollably from his conditions, and, realizing that even if she hadn't disappeared he'd never be able to shoot her, he put down the gun. Once the gun was at his side though, he went into a coughing fit. Wheezing and hacking, he would eventually cough up huge wads of mucus and spit them in the grass.

The man dropped his gun to the ground and quickly unlocked the combination lock on his seabag, searching through it as he coughed for a bottled water. He began to chug it ruthlessly in between coughs. When he had finished the entire bottle, he dropped the plastic bottle too, and leaned against his seabag with a muffled dog whine, his head light and swimming. He felt as if he were going to pass out again, and the man was fighting it, afraid to succumb to the blackness.

Looking up with his green eyes, he saw the woman again. Watching him suffer. Watching him from a closer distance than she had ever watched before.

"What do you want??" He cried out.

He was miserable enough in his life without being a spectacle for someone else.

Α v α я ι c ε wrote: She had been following the wandering soul. Her distance kept and her true form hidden, as it would push the dying figure from the choice of refusing to move on. It had happened before, it was a known occurrence for those who were close to death but chose to fight against their fate. Her distance had shortened. She was another face in the crowd until not long ago. She stood stiffly, her hands by her sides and deep blue eyes focused on the walking figure. Looking at each step, each breath that was taken. Each struggle it took to preform such simply actions. Her distance shortened. With each time their eyes met, she was lost in the crowd moments later, her face gone, reappearing soon after until she was noticed once more.

Being closer than ever the past few days, the woman watched him with unblinking eyes. Her long copper hair resting just at her lower back. Her bangs were cut straight across, not moving in the slight breeze. During the nights she followed him, currently only a few feet behind before disappearing once more into the thick fog as he noticed her.

She did not try to remain hidden. She let him see who and where she was. She allowed him to make eye contact and to see she was there, but just as he tried to get a better look, or tried to focus on her figure, she disappeared again.

From a distance she watched him. Watched as he struggled with the cough, reached for water, and tried to quell the fit. His every movement was faintly observed. She watched him with knowing eyes, wondering when he would finally realize. She knew his end but it seemed he did not. His stubborn soul still fought and was something that needed to gently be coaxed on. She watched as he fell to the ground, fighting to stay awake. She could sense he did not have much left in him before his vision would fade as well as his mind. He would slip under a fitful darkness, but he would recover rather quickly from it. His recovery time would slow down soon, unable to keep up with what he was use to.

She was closer now, the closest she had been and enough for him to get a clear view of her face. There was no expression, just unblinking eyes staring at him. He was fighting it and fighting rather hard to stay awake. She knew though it would not last. Her lips threatened to twitch into some form of expression. Finally her lips parted and formed a sentence, but there was no sound. She mouthed the words 'Let go' before blinking and disappearing from his sight once more.

His sanity she imagined must have been slipping. Either that or he imagined her as just an illusion, but she was there. She was watching over him, trying her best to calm his worries of dying.

He never had much choice in the matter of staying awake or passing out. Whether he wanted to or not, his body currently held power over his mind. He could fight, yes he could, but with his health dwindling. Fighting could soon no longer be an option. Now even in his sleep, she would be there. His mind may have wandered far off, but she lingered behind. When he had finally passed out, she was there. Hovering in the background, but remained close enough to be noticed. She was not ready to leave him alone, not at this point in time.

This time she was smiling, a gentle expression on her face as she stood with her hands entwined together behind her back. Her eyes looked softer as she waited. They were knowing and curious, a calm look to her while she stood there in the forming dream, her eyes wandering at the choice of scenery.


OOC;; Okay, so I kind of just assumed he would pass out to keep things moving. If you want me to change that just let me know and I can edit the post for you.



Despite his best intentions, he found himself clawing at the seabag as the world spun, trying to use it for support in his drifting ocean. But, no, it did not work, and he was on the ground, unconscious. The 25 year old had entered his own mind, his own world. His darkness. And in his dream, he was noticeably younger. More fleshed out, well fed. In shape. He was 19 again, here. Normally he was 23, but not this time.

He had been laying on a bed. Waking up, he pushed himself up ontop of the comforter, the memory coming back to him. He was in New York, in a loft that belonged to Vespasien. They shared a bed, but Ves wasn't here now. The loft was empty. It was early morning, and the sun was shining through the winders. Bornes wasn't wearing sunglasses and in the dream, the sun didn't bother his eyes.

He got up and walked to the window, his tail swaying idly side to side. He looked down at the streets below, people going about their own business in the city. And he saw Ves there, speaking to Alexandre, his new second-hand. The now-19 year old couldn't hear what was being said, but it was probably something about Q. They had been talking behind his back a lot about Q around this time. His shoulders slumped, and he turned to go out the door. But at the door was a smiling woman. The same one as before. The same one who'd basically induced him passing out.

"Who are you?" He asked. "One of Vespasien's friends?"
Q was much calmer here, in his 19 year old state. He still trusted people, still had that youthful innocence about him. The tattoos on his face, the two triangular gills on either side of his chin, were new and still somewhat swollen to those who looked close enough. And the scar across his face was only a year old. Despite how sweet Q seemed to speak, his appearance was still jarring and intimidating at first.

Vespasien was only 21 or so now... He and Q had run away together on Q's 18th birthday. Q had dreamed of becoming a sniper, and Ves wanted to run a city. The dreams had come together by Ves bringing up the french mafia. Q had been the right hand, but now Alexandre was slowly taking over the position, pushing Q to the wayside.

Α v α я ι c ε wrote: As soon as she was able to see him appear in his own dreams, her eyes locked on him. The form his mind took looked much healthier than he did now. It was early morning, the sun having finally shown through the windows of the room. She lingered off to the side, watching as he situated himself within his dream. Her eyes momentarily flickered to the tail then quickly back to his face as he examined the window. She had no intentions of calling out to him, instead waiting to be noticed. The woman caught the slight slump in his shoulders, but she continued to smile despite his change in emotion and as he turned to the door their eyes finally met.

His question was not a surprise to her, but she said nothing for a moment. She could see that his younger self was much different. He still seemed to hold an innocent air that would eventually be ruined. It was a pity to see, but she had no influence over other's life choices. She merely shepherded them onto their last few steps of life.

"Mm," she began with a light hum to her voice. Her head gave a slight shake. In this dream she was older than him, but his true sleeping self was older than her, appearance wise. "I'm afraid I don't have many friends," she admitted with a gentle shrug of her shoulders. She showed that the fact did not bother her and she was quite calm in the situation she was put in right now. Stepping away from the doorway, the woman entered the room, but kept a comfortable distance from the male until she felt it was safe to move closer. The woman blinked innocently, her smile fading a bit waved a hand towards him.

"How are you feeling?" Deciding to bring up small conversation and something that was not exactly personal, she waited for an answer. Her eyes flickered to the window, past Q and looking outside. It was an old memory, she could tell by the way he looked out the window and recognized his surroundings. If it wasn't, he would be more cautious and aware.

Falling away from the window, her gaze looked around the room. It wasn't much, but enough to live. There was only one bed and she took note of that. "You seem well, healthy," she commented slowly. She was unsure of how he would react to her presence and knowing his disbelief in her kind, she remained cautious of her words. Appearing friendly, because she was, but his mind set gave her a cautious outlook on the situation.



[imgright]sayael

The 19 year old Q took an unsteady step back to keep his space from the woman, but didn't seem intimidated or threatened; just seemed to like his personal space.

"How am I feeling?" he repeated, seeming confused. When she walked closer after her momentary pause, Q seemed to be more comfortable around her, and turned back to the window to watch the two men talk below.

She inferred he was healthy, and at that Q grimaced a bit. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Bornes was very much aware he was in a dream, now. And he was very aware this woman wasn't part of how he remembered this memory from years a go. Even so, the instinctive guards that went up immediately, came back down several seconds later with another sigh. It's a dream, Q figured. Nobody could hurt him here.

Briefly, though, he wondered why a woman who he saw in real life would follow him into a dream... But here in the dream world, it was as if it were no consequence. He paid no attention to the thought, it passing by without a care.

The 19 year old slumped his shoulders again, hands on the window sill as his tail waved back and forth idly. The tail of his, unlike his grey hair, was jet black and full of life. Too bad that tail would be the cause of all his future problems. Too bad Q, even today, didn't recognize that.

"This is around the time I started getting headaches from being in the sun for too long," he relented, seemingly all too eager to recount his past events. "Vespasien takes me to an optometrist soon. We threaten him at gunpoint for some specialty sunglasses."

He brought his left hand to his head and scratched his grey hair with a 'hmph', standing up straight and looking to the woman with his still bright, still hopeful green eyes. His heart hadn't been broken, yet.

"I know I don't know you from anywhere. So what are you doing in my dreams?" Although the question bit, Q was secretly thankful it had been a dream like this rather than his usual nightmares. He had not wanted to deal with reliving heart attacks, break ups, running from home, or his jobs gone wrong.

For some reason it felt like this woman allowed him to have a normal dream for once, and for that the mercenary was secretly grateful.

Α v α я ι c ε wrote: Thankfully she was correct with allowing him personal space and giving them the distance between them was a better move. She nodded once as he repeated her question, smiling and encouraging him to speak up a bit more. She noticed the change from her second opinion and her face dropped in expression a bit. A faint look of concern flickering across her eyes. "It's only a question," she quickly assured him with a calm tone of voice.

She noticed he seemed to realize he was dreaming and whether he benefited her or not, she was pleased to see his guard relax. There was hardly a flicker of emotion that crossed his face, leaving her to assume what he could possibly be thinking at the moment.

There was a relaxing feel to the room and her eyes dropped to the thick black tail once more. She could only imagine what having something like that would do to a person's health. She knew. What he was living through now, was the result of something that seemed so harmless. Her thoughts were interrupted by his eager tone, a slight smile on her lips, although why he was eager was not something she wanted to smile about. Such a violent past could only make things more difficult.

When he had turned to look at her once more, she admired his expression. It was different. He was almost still pure. Almost being the keyword.

His question had not surprised her and she laughed faintly, looking out the window once more. She thought carefully on what she should and should not say. She was not worried as long as she mentioned nothing of her true self. If she kept to this form at the moment, communication would be much easier.

"Well. They say people in your dreams aren't always people you've met.. They can be faces you've seen in a crowd," she told him lightly with a curious tone to her voice. She eyes him gently. "But I think you're a bit brighter than that." There was another pause as she linked her fingers together. "I think I can say that I'm just here to help." The term was broad yes, but it covered enough of what she wanted to say without it being frightening.

What would he believe? His questions were a bit of a relief. To hear him speak and not shout. To be curious of her existence and why she was here instead of shunning her right away. It was a step closer, but how would he react to know the truth? To know she was here to bring him forward and closer to his end. He was afraid to die, she could understand that. Death was something everyone feared. It was the end and towards the end of their life it seemed it was when most people became desperate. The stages were simple. Denial was what came first, followed by anger, bargaining, depression, and finally acceptance. It affected everyone differently and she realized choosing her words carefully would make this easier.



[imgright]sayael
But you're a bit brighter than that.
Let's just say I'm here to help.


The 19 year old form didn't like that answer and walked back to the bed, sitting on it. He was unsure of what to do now. Just talk?

He crossed his arms over his chest and thought about who the woman could be. Someone who he'd seen in a crowd? Possible. But he'd seen so many people through the end of his scope that even a brain like his couldn't remember them all. Bornes knew he was intelligent. Unfortunately no one had ever told him that. The man was alone.

And now they were in a dark hotel room. Q still a 19 year old, but watching his 23 year old self set up a complicated shot behind a sniper rifle. This dream was a happy one for him. It was one of the first jobs he'd had on his own that was a challenge-- Bornes was a sniper at heart and although the business of killing people was looked down by most, it didn't much matter to the man. Everything about sniping was exhilarating to him-- taking care of his rifle, scoping out good location, setting up the shot, the calculation, the analytical thinking.. The watching on people for days, predicting where they would be to get that chance to kill them from afar.

Killing other people in this manner made the man feel alive. The 19 year old body got up from the bed and looked to his 23 year old self, walking closer but afraid to get too close-- it wasn't often he dreamed in third person, and this was a particularly interesting experience.

"I'm not a lucid dreamer," he admitted. "Are you doing this? Why?"

Α v α я ι c ε wrote: She realized he did not like his answer, but it she had said any other he would dislike it even more. Her face was calm as he moved to sit on the bed. She could see he was thinking. Of what she could not know, not until her surroundings began to change. Her eyes flickered around the room, the sunlight had dimmed and they were now in a dark hotel room.

Despite the dark feeling the scenery held she could see this was one of the male's happier dreams. Her expression remained neutral as she watched the older version of himself set up a shot. His movements were fluid and held experience. Almost as though he was meant for this job and it was his fate to do so. She was a firm believer in fate and knew this was what he was meant to do, even if she believed it as a fate to be frowned upon. Her head tilted gently to the side as she examined him at his best moments.

Quickly her attention was pulled away and she looked to the younger male, laughing a little. "This? I'm not really doing this. All that's happening, scenery wise is yourself. You were thinking about something and it seems your mind decided to change scenes a little," she spoke to him lightly, looking back to the older Q fiddle and work with his sniper.

"I guess I help slightly. It won't turn into a nightmare," she added thoughtfully, a careful expression on her face. "As I said before. I'm here to help," she spoke to him. "I'm sure when you wake up though, you'll have to forgive me for not helping as much," she informed him with a passing thought. "But I'm curious.. How come you brought us here. Are you fond of this memory?" she asked curiously, walking to the older version of the male. Of course there was no notice that they were there. They were merely ghosts in the background.

Her eyes quickly locked with the other. "Do you think this is all a dream?" She included herself in this statement and smiled slightly, her lips curled up in a tight expression. She was curious. Did he really believe this was a dream, or did he truly believe this was real? That she was real?



[imgright]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/post/sayeal.png[/imgright]

The 19 year old face frowned a little at the woman's answer, not particularly understanding how much control he held over the situation or the scenery.

But I'm curious... Are you fond of this memory..?

Q looked down at his 23 year old form laying on the floor, its tail up in the air and waving haphazardly. "I had been watching this man for weeks. I'd set up so many shots and he never showed. This was my last day to get my target before I wouldn't get paid. It was the most challenging shot I'd ever done. And I killed him today."

He didn't want to say it was his 'proudest moment'... But it probably was. Though it wasn't shared with anyone but himself. Now that he thought back to it, he couldn't remember exactly how he'd celebrated. He calmed his thoughts, deciding to stay in the current dream, if he really did have that sort of control.

The 23 year old probably wouldn't shoot for a while. Q remembered staying here for many hours before the target actually showed up.

Do you think all this is a dream?

The 19 year old exhaled sharply through his nose, turning his head as if in disgust. He looked at his hands, which currently wore fingerless gloves.
"What else would it be? I'm not 19 anymore."
He brought his left hand up to grasp the necklace around his neck-- silver heart-shaped pendant with a green gem in the middle of it. With a slight growl, he yanked it off him, the chain breaking. He threw it to the hotel's floor.
"And I don't wear that gay thing anymore," he said with disgust.

Even remembering the heartbreak seemed to make the hotel room they were currently in shudder. But the room did not change, the dream stayed still. As the woman promised-- no nightmares tonight.

After a few moments, he looked up to the woman again. "What did you mean when you said you wouldn't help me in real life? Of course you wouldn't. How could you?"
To him, she wasn't real. He hadn't quite figured out why she was in his dreams, though.
Spirit guide of somesort? Even that was pretty flaky. Bornes wasn't spiritual.

Α v α я ι c ε wrote: After the brief explanation she could now see why the memory was something of importance. He must have been proud, for someone in his field of work it would be odd of him not to be, but looking at it from another point of view, it was disturbing. Her eyes lingered at the gun, carefully glancing over at every detail. Something was amusing about the entire situation, but she straightened herself up and glanced towards him.

His reaction to her question was something to be expected. His denial was still fairly strong. She wondered if he would ever realize what this was about or would he linger here forever, lost and angry. "Well of course some of it is, but are you sure all of it is?" She seemed to speak in questioning riddles now, which she knew would be a bother. She brushed off what she said though and watched the necklace hit the floor. Her facial expression softened slightly, watching it fall with a clatter to the ground.

"You don't mean that," she told him. Looking up from the floor and back to him.

The room shuddered and threatened to change, but this time she stepped in and would not allow it. She had promised no nightmares and she was sure to deliver that promise.

It was clear he believed her to be a part of his dream as well and she smiled. "Are you sure? You remember my face, don't you?" She stopped there for a moment, wondering how long she could stretch this dream before he started to wake up. She imagined things would be slow at first. He had been pushed to his limit before finally giving out from all the pressures that he had. "It's all right. Time will tell," she murmured in a thoughtful tone, letting out a faint breath.

"How long do you think you have?" The question was vague and she meant it to be so. She could have been talking about a number of things. Perhaps until he woke up or maybe she was asking about when he would die. Either way his answer would let her know a bit more of his mind set and how much more she would need to do to help him move along.



[imgright]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/viralQ.gif[/imgright]
"Well of course some of it is, but are you sure all of it is?"

Bornes ignored her, becoming agitated.

You don't mean that.

"You can't tell me what I mean or don't mean!" he growled at her, the scene changing. They were in a dark alleyway. It was raining, and a full moon. Bornes's body had quietly morphed only one year older, but his face had already aged much more than that. His sunglasses were folded in the color of his shirt, a dress shirt with maroon torso and black sleeves. This particular getup was consistent through most of his life.

At his hip holster, on the left there was a handgun, and on the right, a knife. The tails of his dress shirt were long, and covered the holster for the most part, but anyone actually paying attention would've noticed.

In the rain, Bornes's 20 year old grey hair clung to his face, and his green eyes seemed to glow faintly. His tail went unseen, as it was stuffed into one of the legs of his pants.

This wasn't a happy dream, but it wasn't a particularly bad one. There were no other people here, just him and the woman.

Are you sure? You remember my face, don't you?

The 20 year old Bornes snorted. "No. I don't. I don't keep track of faces I'm not interested in. If it matters so much, why don't you tell me who you are?"

The man didn't have a mother, and the only real females he could ever remember interacting with were whores, strippers, performers, or a combination of the three. He only bothered to remember the faces of those who had the potential to make trouble for him later.

It's all right. Time will tell.

He snorted, then looked up to the moon. As if he needed her sympathy. Whoever she was. If she were important he probably would've remembered her. He didn't, so obviously she wasn't important.
His shoulders slumped a bit as he looked at the moon. There had been passing jokes about werewolves, and whenever he went out with a lady of the night it always seemed to be on the full moon. He never planned it that way. He always made sure to be plastered and would usually play along with the joke, growling, and the like. It made his birth defect easier to deal with, at least. And as long as they were roleplaying, the girls didn't get freaked out by the noises he made when he wasn't actively trying to control himself.

He briefly remembered the first time he'd figured out his sex life wasn't normal-- it didn't go over well. Thankfully he didn't dwell on it. That wasn't a nightmare, but it was something he didn't want to remember, all the same.

How long do you think you have?

Bornes glared over at the woman. Now she was just getting on his nerves.

"With what? The dream? It's a fucking dream. It's not like I put a clock to it. Damn."

He was enjoying being healthy and not feeling like he was going to die every five minutes. The weight wasn't on his shoulders or his lungs, here. Give him a moment to relish it.

[[If you need to puppet a bit ot get the story going in a direction you want it to, feel free.]]

Α v α я ι c ε wrote: He was beginning to grow angry with her questions and comments. It seemed the lack of explanation was beginning to get to him.

As he shouted back at her she was not surprised. She had touched a nerve with her statement and she left him scream. "I can't," she agreed. "But do you really mean it?" She took a long pause. "Try not to let your emotions cloud what you really feel," she told him with a gentle voice.

The scene quickly began to change and she turned her attention away from him, looking around at the darkened ally. She could feel the rain now and her head tilted up, looking at the night sky. As she looked back down, she could see he had aged. Perhaps not by much, but his face looked very tired. Things were different this time. He had changed himself. His tail was hidden from view, his face aged from his job. Her eyes flickered to his face, the glowing green eyes piercing through the darkness. It would have been an intimidating sight if it were someone human.

"It doesn't matter so much. Just pure curiosity is all," she told him.

Her other question had bothered him as well. Going about this nicely seemed to take too long and was too frustrating. She let out a faint sigh, hardly bothered by his anger. "This dream, maybe," she told him lightly, taking a step forward. She could hear the rain in the background before is began to slow to a faint drizzle.

"But what about when you wake up?" Being more direct with her question, she was not afraid to anger him. It would be impossible to hurt her, at least impossible for him to do so. His weapons meant nothing and neither did his snarling growls. It did not frighten her and she felt he were no different from any other human close to death's door. "It's there. That thought. You might not want to wake up now, but you will. Soon you will wake up and maybe not want to keep going, but you probably will, won't you?" she tilted her head lightly to the side.

Her voice was growing more firm, a sharp tone. "Is that what you want? To keep going like this?" She stopped herself quickly and took a small breath. "You'll have to understand soon. Maybe not now and maybe you don't like my presence anymore, but you still seem to be in denial," she told him gently.

The woman had not been referring to death. Of course he was in denial about dying, but there were other things he was denying about himself.

"Do you want to wake up again?" Her voice was much more serious. The rain had stopped and she managed another step closer, moving slowly as she spoke. Would he understand? Or would he be woken from his dream before an answer could be said? The woman knew dying was not yet on his mind yet. Or so it seemed that way.


ooc;; alrighty. I'll keep that in mind, thank you. Feel free to do the same, I don't really mind, ha.



sniperqsmall.png


The 20 year old body took a step back when she said 'this dream, maybe' but otherwise stood his ground, his scowl deepening the more she talked.

"Lady, there's such a thing called privacy and I have mine." He had to admit that when she started talking about waking up and all that, he really didn't understand what she was getting at. In fact, he never remembered anything from his blackouts-- he wasn't even sure he dreamed while he was unconscious. Apparently he did. But it wouldn't matter, because when he came to, he wouldn't remember it. Would he?

And that was exactly what happened. The man, in his present 25 year old body came to, and immediately started coughing. His entire body was shivering, and when he managed to push himself up off the ground, using the seabag as support, he quickly realized it was sunrise.

His blackouts were getting even longer. How long had he been out? Hadn't the sun just set when he'd started down the road?

He grumbled choice french curse words interlaced with periodic growling and quickly closed up his bag, dragging it along the ground behind him as he went off the side of the road, trying to find cover. Once he managed to get himself into a ditch behind some bushes, he opened the seabag again and pulled out some blankets with difficulty. His stomach began to grumble from lack of food, and the man hissed slightly to himself, as if willing his stomach pains to go away. His whole body ached, and his head was light. He really should eat and/or drink something, but it was too close to daylight now so he would have to sleep it off and wait instead. Unfortunately, this sort of thing was happening more frequently for him-- hence why he'd lost so much weight recently.

One blanket went on the grass, and Bornes dragged the seabag ontop of it as well as put himself in the middle of it. He then spread the second blanket over both himself and the seabag, curling up with his head nearest to the open bag. He'd become blind during the day, and the sunglasses didn't really help him anymore. Even being inside with tinted windows was fairly terrible. Recently, nights that were not pure darkness had become what days were a year a go-- only bearable in small doses and with his sunglasses.

Once he managed to try and get comfortable on the ground in his ditch, it did not take long for him to fall asleep. He hadn't had much energy to begin with, and his chest was beginning to ache. He briefly wondered if he had had a heart attack in his blackout. That, too, had happened once. When he was awake-- he obviously wouldn't remember it if it had happened while unconscious. He didn't want to think about it-- refused to, in fact, so drifted off again.

His blackouts may have been nice and pleasant, but his sleeping dreams never were. In fact, the first dream came on rather quickly.

Bornes was 24 here. He wore the same as in his last dream, but this time his pistol was in his left hand and it was pointed at a small girl who was tied to a chair. They were in a warehouse, but in this room they were both under a spotlight. Bornes's sunglasses were pushed up to his face and he had already begun to sweat. His headache had long ago reached a plateau, but he worked on anyway because people were watching him through a rather large window into another room.

The girl was crying, tearing streaking her face. She didn't know what to do. Bornes knew she was innocent. He had killed children before, and that by itself was no moral dilemma for him. But this particular girl was the first time he'd ever killed anyone who he felt did not deserve it.

"Please," she begged. "I don't know anything."

"Think harder," Bornes threatened. "You must know SOMEthing." His voice was stern and gruff. He knew what he was doing, and he knew he was scaring her shitless because everyone in the building new Q never kid around. But even though the killer had a set way of doing things, he still tried to help this girl in his own way.

He stepped forward to her, physically placing the muzzle of the gun on her head. "If you tell me ANYthing, I will let you go. So think. really hard."
He wanted her to make up some sort of lie. He knew that if she just made up something, the men watching them would buy it. They were stupid. But the girl was no more than 14 years old, and she choked on her tears instead.
"I told you I don't know!!" she begged.

Q grit his teeth, the tail in his pants leg cramping up. Just another ache to add to the checklist of shitty things he played down for appearances. He took another step closer to her, pushing her head back with the muzzle of his pistol, her eyes meeting his behind the shades.

He pulled the hammer of his gun back.

"Please no!!" she begged. More tears. More sobbing.

"Then tell us what you saw!" He yelled at her.

"I didn't see anything!! I swear!!"

Q grit his teeth, knowing she wasn't lying. But he'd been at this for quite some time already and he felt that he was going to pass out soon if he didn't quit. His blackouts had begun to happen more frequently around this time-- that was why he was here, interrogating someone, instead of out in town killing someone where he might have to quickly run from cops. This job seemed 'safer'. He'd been wrong.

He stepped back and pulled the muzzle away from her head, but squeezed the trigger anyway, putting a round into her head and taking her out of the cruel world.

One of the two men that had been watching came out from the other room, slowly clapping.
"Well, what a shame that was," the bald man said, a crooked smile on his face.

"I could've told you she didn't know anything," Q grumbled.

"Yes, well, all the same she is here now. Congratulations, Q!" The man extended his arms above his head in mock excitement. "You've just killed the mayor's daughter."

Bornes went tight lipped. "What."

"The cops are on their way," the bald man said, turning and giving a half wave.
"What is it you say? Au revior?"

Bornes gave a guttural growl that grew from his throat and escalated quickly to a bestial roar coming from his mouth. He shot the man who had turned form him and ran into the other room, shooting the second man. He then holstered his weapon and ran out into the street, right into high noon on a bright sunny day.

He growled again and tried to fight the daylight blindness and pain to find somewhere to hide, find some way to get out of this without the police locking him away.

Α v α я ι c ε wrote: "Fair enough," she responded with a light voice, showing she had begun to back off slightly. Her image quickly faded into a foggy scenery as the man woke up. Distorted and coughing, she watched him wake up.

It was near morning now, the sun beginning to rise. She had been in his dream longer than expected. Her eyes focused on the rising sunlight, momentarily allowing the other to situate himself. No longer following behind him, she watched him run off to find a place to rest his head. It would not be long until he fell asleep once more and she expected it from him. She pressed her lips together firmly, debating whether or not she should step into his dreams. Surely he would remember, or maybe his mind would reject her existence in his dreams as soon as he woke?

There was not much choice. As soon as she blinked, she was in new surroundings. Another of his dreams. She currently sat in a vehicle. It look as though it were a taxi, or some type of public transportation. It was currently running, the keys in the ignition and the engine humming. She adjusted easily and placed her hands on the steering wheel, thin fingers drumming against the leather.

The woman's appearance did not change much. If anything her hair was shorter than before and she watched the building with narrowed eyes.

Even with this all a dream, she tilted her head to the side. Most of the time many people in dreams had fuzzy surroundings, making it difficult to tell her surroundings, but she assumed because these were more like memories, they were much more vivid. She looked across the street to see the figure she had been waiting for.

Gently pressing her foot on the gas, she waited a second before pressing down further, cutting the wheel and turning the car around to stop in front of the man. She waved her hand gently, the back door of the car opening. "In," she ordered him lightly, knowing he had no other choice. He could wait around and continue to suffer in his dreams until he woke up or have a somewhat decent time. As decent as the time could be when put into this situation.

The woman faced forward, her face difficult to see in the shadows of the car, which she planned to keep this way. Sirens could be heard off in the distance and it was only a matter of minutes until the police arrived. When he decided to get in the car, she waited for the slam of the car door to signal for her foot to press against the gas once more, speeding off in the opposite directions of the sirens. Her eyes flickered to the rear view mirror and she gave him a knowing smile before looking back at the road.


ooc;; sorry it took so long and sorry it probably isn't one of my better posts. still getting into the swing of writing things. lot of stuff going on in a small time period, ha. not an excuse but i think i kept you waiting long enough.



[imgright]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/th_Q-QuatreBornes.png[/imgright][[It's fine. This rp is kind of difficult to play anyway. So it's understandable.]]

He ran out into the light, struggling against the blindness and hurt. He felt like he had a fever. His eyes burned. He still kept trying to open them every so often, to not trip into anything. Finally he heard a Taxi come near, a door opened. Someone said "In". He dove in the back seat and closed the door behind him.

This is not how he remembered this day going, but it was a dream, so he supposed it didn't matter.
Once he was in, he fell to the floor of the car and covered his head, staring into the darkness, trying to rest his eyes.

"Thank you," he panted. "There's a hotel about... 10 miles south... Called the.. Remmington Extended Stay..."

He let out an exasperated sigh. This is the part where he was supposed to pass out.
But he didn't.
In fact, after a few minutes, everything seemed to balance out. His headache went away, his panic dissipated. His eyes didn't hurt so much. He slowly looked up as the car drove on-- the daylight didn't hurt anymore.

Then he recognized the driver.
He remembered her from past dreams. The ones that were memories that were good and happy that she shouldn't have been in. Of course, he wouldn't have put that together in the 'real world', the waking world-- but dream Q was almost an entirely different Q, with a different set of memories and a different timeline.

"You're not really a Taxi driver, are you?"

The question wasn't meant to come across as 'you drive badly' or 'you're not supposed to be here.'
No, it was more a question of disbelief. An 'is that where you're from? Your face is that of a taxi driver?'
Of course, who knew if her face came from a taxi driver's or not. He had no idea what the taxi driver was supposed to look like-- he was supposed to be blind right now.

In waiting for the answer to his question, he sat up in the back seat and put his seatbelt on. Always put the seatbelt on, he had learned in the past. Q hated cars. Always had to resort to them in a fantastic getaway, though. And it never disappointed-- always an accident of some kind. Always a near death experience. Even with a seat belt.

"Why do you keep showing up here? This is getting ridiculous."
What Q had really meant was... Why did he even bother to entertain her? Certainly there was something special about her. There had to be a reason she was here, changing up memories and making dreams not nightmares. Good fortune didn't come to Q as much as it didn't come to a piece of dog shit.

But in the same vein, this was a dream. And they were in a dream world. Thing didn't have to make sense. Q didn't like things not making sense. That's why most of his dreams were memories. So maybe this woman didn't really have a purpose. But if she didn't... Maybe she was just waiting for the moment... To bide her time. Before some nightmare beyond his comprehension could occur.
The calm before the storm, one could say.

"We're not going to go to the hotel, are we?"

There was a feeling of dread.
 
Cirque de l'immortalite (Solia)

~Vanity~ wrote:
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Creator: ~Vanity~ xxxxx Mod: Unlucky Cookiii xxxxx Layout: Celaxy​

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Oh look your here! Welcome to the reopening of Cirque de l'immortalite, where the fun really does begin. Did you miss us? Because we sure missed you all! What? You say you want to join the circus? Well this is interesting, please do come in. We allow anyone to join, no matter how you look or where you have come from. Race? We accept all kinds! Looks? Of course that doesn’t matter! We accept the freaks of the world as some might put it, but, I must add, you just have to sign this little paper here. Once you do, you cannot leave. Still want to join? Excellent! I might just add you in on our little secret now that you've signed the paper. Here, let me tell you this. Our secret is.. That you can never leave, you are bound here. Try to escape? Impossible my dear. The paper states so, and another small secret. As long as people enter this circus, the ringmaster can never grows old. The performers can never die as long as the ringmaster is still running the circus, unless decided otherwise. Oh don't think you will not have fun because you will. It is a circus after all!

Here in this tent. Everyone has a story to tell, everyone has a past that they might or might not want to speak of. Everyone loves the circus, even if there's a secret behind the masks of the performers. But don't be afraid, you are treated like a family. Now, that you know about our circus. Care to tell your story?​
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This was a pretty long group RP that I didn't post much in before it died. Here's just the relevant to me posts.
... Also the formatting is all over the place and I don't feel like fixing it.



Quatre Bornes "Q" Lee | Gunslinger

[[Since this is an intro post, it's got a lot of crap unrelated to this rp. For that, it is in spoilers so this post is not obnoxiously long. Future posts will not be this long. ]]

[spoili]Spew! The sound of a bullet going through the supresser on an M40 rifle through an open window of a hotel room.
Flop. The sound of a now dead body hitting the floor.

Bornes, the man behind the scope on his stomach, lay still for a while. Somehow this seemed to be unbelievable. Too easy, even. His lips pulled into a small frown as he put his forearms on the floor. This was getting boring.
It'd been going on for about a year now. People paid him, he killed their enemies. He wasn't exactly the best in the trade, but he was a good shot. He was able to react on instinct rather than clicks or measuring windspeed. Sometimes he missed, but most times he didn't. And not one of his targets left alive. But still, there was no fun or adventure in it, anymore.

He almost... Wanted to get caught. And he knew that was a bad, dangerous thought. Pushing himself up to sit up-right, his leaned figure began to dismantle rifle as he had done several thousand times before. His room was dark, but even so he wore sunglasses. Behind those shades, were forest green eyes that weren't even looking at the gun as he placed it into a violin case. Everything was habit, now. It was old. It was muscle memory. No more challenge. But at the same time, trying to put in more challenge would likely mean years of prison time and he couldn't have that.

BAM! BAM! BAM!
The door to his hotel room shook on its hinges as someone on the outside banged on it, trying to get in. "Police! Open up!"
And... There it was. The excitement. Everything quickened. The violin clase snapped shut by experienced fingers in black shooter's gloves. His black pant legs rose and old, worn boots of the same color rushed to the black canvas seabag in the corner. The six foot figure turned and swiftly lifted the bag onto his back, shoving his black long sleeves through the straps and stretching the maroon torso of his buttoned dress shirt. He bent over and picked up the violin case before running toward the door.

Yes, the same door that was being slammed upon by police.

The shooter's name was Quatre Bornes. But most couldn't pronounce it correctly, so he simply went by Bornes. If he felt like being cryptic, he'd tell them his name was Q. But he'd outgrown those days. He preferred "real" names, now. At 24, he quirked his dark-skinned ear, waiting. He visualized the people on the other side, slamming their bodies into the door. He could picture when their bodies lined up witht he hard wood, and when they stepped back for more momentum.

And then, when the police were about to slam into the door once more, he opened it. There were only three of them, and the first two came tumbling through without their balance. Bornes gripped the violin case in both his hands and pummeled the base of the hard shell into each of the men's necks, knocking them out for the count.

The third man was given just enough time to react, pull out his pistol, and try to fire at the shooter-- Bornes-- the man with the greyed hair and the huge scowl on his face. Two black "whisker-like" tattooes on either side of his chin made his look that much fearsome. He let out a beastly, guttural growl and threw the violin case to the last policeman's face.

The cop misfired, and Bornes took his chance, running off with huge bag on his back. He left the violin case. He didn't need it anymore, and he was becoming lightheaded. He could keep himself together though. He'd never admit it, but he was afraid, now.

He went down the stairs at a speed which he was uncertain he could ever duplicate. The cop tried to follow, shooting at him here and there, but ultimately not making connections. Radioing for backup almost immediately, Bornes expected to see a line of patrol vehicles at the entrance to his hotel.

There weren't.

Didn't matter!
He opened the passenger side door to the nearest parked car, which happened to be a taxi, and threw his seabag into the seat. He ran to the otherside of the car and almost in an instant-- the driver was pulled out with another roar of beast-like anger and Bornes was the new driver.
He shut the door and pressed down the gas. Bornes wasn't that great of a driver, he hated cars and streets in general in fact, but his vision was already blurring and he needed to make his escape as quickly as possible. He knew this one was going to be the last. After this, it was over for him. In more ways than one.

He sped down the highway, but lucky for him, this was a rather bodunk town. As soon as he found a country-side dirt road -- and he didn't have to wait long-- he took it. Far and away off the beaten path and into the cornfields he went.

And then?

Black.[/spoili]

Bornes came to with a massive headache. His head was on the steering wheel and his dark sunglasses had mashed into his face. Luckily, they weren't broken. By some ungodly miracle. He didn't know where he would've been if the glasses had broken. But his face was bloody, and it had run all down the scar he'd already aquired on his face years prior. A long diagonal streak from about his left brow, across his nose, to the right side of his upper lip. He wasn't too keen on his scar. He tried to cover it up by a clever parting of his long grey bangs. The bangs which were now, unfortunately, crusty and caked in dried blood.

At least a day had to have passed, because the car, which he slowly began to realize was stuck inside of a tree, was dead. And wasn't even smoking. All his blood was more or less dry, and it was mid-day.
And fuck, his head hurt.

When he left, it'd been evening. He could remember. Somewhat. Hotel, and... Getting his target.. Did he get his target? Maybe... Fuck.

Bornes pushed his sunglasses up to the top of his head, and rubbed his face, his green eyes closed. He seemed to be okay, nothing broken. Just a huge headache. Maybe he just passed out while he was driving. He'd been passing out a lot more frequently in the past few days... He couldn't remember why he was even driving...

He put his sunglasses on, took a deep breath, and pried himself out of the car. After he was standing next to it, he heaved a big sigh of relief, and checked his pockets.

"Okay, good," he thought, as he took out a crushed pack of Benson & Hedges. His fingers, still shaking slightly, itched for one of the cigarettes. Although it was bent out of shape, he put it in between his lips anyway. He checked his other pockets for a lighter. "Thank Fate," he mumbled in his mind as he found one, and lit up, taking a long drag.
At least God knew what things really mattered, here.

After a few drags, he was able to get a few more of his bearings back, and he walked around the car to the passenger side. He tossed the one, unfinished but crumpled and pretty useless cig, and replaced it with a second, lighting it before finally putting the pack and lighter away.

With his second smoke inbetween his lips, he grunted and began to pull the seabag out of the broken passenger side window. Eventually, it came through and landed with a thud at his feet.

Bornes squatted down and went to the combination lock, opening it and then, subsequently, the seabag. As he pulled his entire home out of there, over half of it was broken. He laid those things in the grass, not giving much care to them. Eventually he came across his unused shoulder holsters. He had two. He put them both on, and then several minutes later he found the small box with dual M9s- also severely underused - to go with them. He opened the box, checked the pistols, loaded them, and holstered them. He threw the box, which had a small bit of ammo left in it, to the opposite side of his pile of broken things.

This sorting went on for about half an hour. Bornes had gone through his entire pack of cigarettes and couldn't find any more. All his stocked alcohol had broken inside the bag and most of his clothes were stained from it. He also happened to have a rather large sum of cash just sitting in the bottom of the bag, and it too, was swimming in alcohol.

After pouring all the liquid from the bag, Bornes restocked what little was still useable or he still wanted to keep. Most of it clothes. One of his jackets had dried while he'd been sorting, and this he wore to cover his shoulder holsters. But now he stunk worse than a wino, and he had to find a place to wash everything.
The money, too, went in.
He wasn't willing to part with it. It had always been his emergency stash and it'd be his emergency stash now. Some people had blood money. Apparently he had alcohol-stained money. Whatever floats a man's boat. It's all good.

He took the half-empty sea bag, locked it, and put it on his back.
After a groan, he stood up. It was now evening again.

Just how long had he been in that car?

With the sun setting, Bornes finally took in his surroundings. Looking to one direction: Cornfield; another: pasture. Another: middle of nowhere... The last direction?

Circus tents?

Bornes's head cocked a bit, and that's when the last feature of this odd man came to life. A long, bushy black dog tail. Moreso similar to a horse's than a dog. Though anyone who knew their breeds would figure out it probably had belonged to the Saluki breed. This tail, which was--yes-- firmly attached to Bornes's spinal cord, began to sway slowly, curiously.

Bornes had never actually seen a circus, before. By the look of the tents, it seemed they weren't done setting up, yet. Maybe this would be his chance to start a new life... If he had any life in him left, that was.
Circuses travelled. And everyone who worked there was a freak of nature. Bornes had mixed feelings. He was a little mistrustful, and somewhat uncomfortable.

But another part of him told him to suck it up and move forward. So he did.

Picking his aching feet up, he walked forward. And several minutes later, he found himself closing in on the grounds. By the time he got close enough, he grimaced to himself.

It was time to figure out who ran this place, and how he was going to form his words to ask for a shower and a new job.

~Vanity~ wrote: [title]AlexanderxBenoit[/title]
[imgright]http://i759.photobucket.com/albums/xx233/xKindredKnightx/RP Photos Edit/Branson7-1-2.jpg[/imgright]


xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx♦♦
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxR i и g м α s τ э я

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx[serif]Well, here at this circus[/serif]
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx[serif]things are never a bore.[/serif]



[padding-right=250]There were too many things happening in the circus and not enough time to finish them all. Preparations seemed to still be finished as well as eventually paying the workers who set up their tents and then took them apart. They were the only people he paid, considering his performers had their payment, immortality. His eyes scanned the area as the tents slowly began to form, the large big top resting in the center of it all, catching the most attention as the men pulled it up with ease. Scattered around were smaller tents used for small acts and distractions until the large show during the evening. Near the entrance was a large gate, holding back anyone who might want to sneak by without a ticket when the time came to buying them. Alexander already had men standing guard, not wanting to have any mishaps with misbehaving children. It's already happened before and he would rather it not once more.

He pushed the rim of his hat up, looking at the sky. The weather was clear, so today would be fine to open the circus. Later in the evening perhaps. Nothing large, just to allow the people a chance to look around and get a feel for the place.

Going about his way, he continued to make his rounds around the perimeter, until he came upon a smell that he was not use to. It was not the animal tent, because that did not bother him so much anymore having to live with it for so long. No. This was a different smell, something he did not appreciate inside the walls of his circus. It was quite strong, which meant its source must be near by. Was one of his employees slacking off that much? He pulled at the coat of his suit with a bit of attitude before walking forward. He followed the scent, his eyes catching an unfamiliar face in the crowd of working men. Certainly far away from where he was, since news of this circus had not exactly been exposed of yet.

Without much thought, Alexander approached the figure, keeping himself a few feet back. Appearance wise he did not seem very.. trustworthy in a sense. Even if the thought crossed his mind, Alexander was not one to judge and he simply went on to speak to the man. "You'll have to come back later. The circus isn't open yet. I don't appreciate people trespassing either. I would hope you to understand that. I have a family to take care of," he told the man, looking him up and down once more, giving him a curious look. He looked a bit worn down, so he almost felt bad for shooing him away. "Unless you have business here?"

He was giving him a chance to think of some kind of excuse as to why he was here. Whether he believed it or not depended on the story. He was in a fair mood at the moment was was feeling a bit easier when it came to the rules of those trespassing on the circus grounds. He'd rather not bother his performers with something he could possibly handle himself.

Alexander made it clear he was the Ringleader of this circus. The flashy outfit, tone of voice, and hand gestures all connected the dots, leading him to be the top in authority.

"If not you can leave without any trouble. I'd rather have no trouble.. I'm not one who enjoys arguments or fighting." Even though the Ringleader was strict and demanding to strangers, to everyone else he seemed a bit less of that, doing as he pleased and never really acting like he did around strangers who were breaking his rules. He found it easier to be intimidating when he did not know who they were, although he was sure whoever this was, was able to handle himself quite well.[/padding-right]​



Quatre Bornes "Q" Lee | Gunslinger

Bornes, canvas bag on his back, putrid smell and quite possibly worse looks, was clearly out of his scene. He'd stopped just to look around in awe, trying to keep his mouth closed at the over-stimulating colors of the tents and the people. A while must have gone by, because by the time he came to figuring out where he was again, a man was speaking to him, trying to be professional.

Bornes's sunglasses peered to the man, the green eyes hidden behind them. Finally taking note that he was indeed here and not dreaming, the black tail stopped moving and tried its best to blend into the pants legs of the same color. The flamboyant man, his facial features much younger and less worn looking than Bornes's own, was saying something about how he couldn't be here and a family.

Well, the Vagrant wasn't really paying much attention to the words coming out this other guy's mouth, except for the "Unless you have business here" part.
At that, the 24 year old clenched his teeth and thought about how he should approach this briefly, before interrupting.

"Yes," Bornes began. The man had been speaking english for a very long time, but now he played as if the movements of the tongue were new. His accent was real, but it was forced all the same. "I apologize for me... Very bad smell. And look. I had trouble.. With travel."
It almost physically hurt to fake this. Bornes almost preferred english. It was alanguage to insult people, and bend to your own will. To come off as unknowing or innocent in english was degrading to himself. But still, he played the part, seeming confused, as if to hide his accent, and carefully pick his words.

"I come to ask.. Euh... For work..." He brought his hand to his chin, as if stroking an imaginary beard in thought. "Ze money. Pour more travel?"

Dropping his hands, he looked through his opaque black sunglasses to the ring master again, awaiting an answer and hoping his act had been much more believable than it felt. It was something Bornes had often come to use. Many people pitied foreigners and would often sympathize and help them out. Then, of course, girls loved foreigners, too...

But that was getting off track. After a pause, he ran his left hand hand through his greyed, bloodied hair.
He had to be more convincing, he felt.

"I am good... Euh.. handyman, you say? I not look strong, but. I hold many weight."

Throughout this, Bornes's facial expressions went between concentration, confusion, and simple non-emotion. The end, in fact, was filled with non-interest. There was no faking an interest in it, either. He'd volunteered himself to be a pack mule before he'd realized it, and he was not exactly liking his own idea.

Still, he needed a shower.

"I only need bath. And to.. Wash me clothes." Brief, forced pause as he pretended to force himself to not say the following word in french-- "Please."

~Vanity~ wrote: [title]AlexanderxBenoit[/title]
[imgright]http://i759.photobucket.com/albums/xx233/xKindredKnightx/RP Photos Edit/Branson7-1-2.jpg[/imgright]


xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx♦♦
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxR i и g м α s τ э я

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx[serif]Well, here at this circus[/serif]
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx[serif]things are never a bore.[/serif]



[padding-right=250]It was a bit of a surprise to hear the accent, but Alexander kept a neutral face to the stranger. Goodness did he smell. His eyes narrowed slightly as he listened to him explain himself. His expression did not change when the man asked about work. Alexander was not looking to hire someone. No, they had plenty of people to help around the circus, but he did look like he could use a bit of help to get himself back on his feet. At least somewhat, but Alexander was not responsible for that. "I'm not looking to hire anyone and not anyone who.. Just appears out of nowhere," he mentioned sternly.

There was slight pity for the man, but never really enough to throw a job at him. He wanted to wait and wanted to see if he could indeed trust him as much as he would have liked to. He was not sure what felt off about the man, but he kept with the instinct for now.

"I'll give you that much," he referred to the shower and wash of his clothes, since he just looked worn down in general. He wouldn't say no, since there was no real harm in it, he supposed. That and he had said please. If you are insistent on working here still.. The men could use help putting up the rest of the tents as well as securing the big top. Someone also needs to keep an eye on the area around the circus, making sure nothing unwanted comes in," he paused for a moment. "People hear about the circus and get a bit too excited to meet the performers," he explained, his statement not intending to be directed towards the stranger. He honestly did mean the few who wanted to meet the performers first hand and not in their acts.

"Come this way. You can wash off here. As well as your clothes. If you are hungry too, you can eat with the other workers, but just as they do, you have to earn your keep," he told him calmly, deciding to go with his gut and give him a small chance. If he was to work with the other men, perhaps they could keep an eye on him for Alexander. He'd inform the performers as well, just so they are aware of the new face. The children as well. They wouldn't be allowed near him. Sophie is too friendly.

He ended up leading the man to a set up built for the men who worked for the cirque and he pointed into the directions of the 'showers' which weren't really showers, but just a station to get yourself as clean as you possible could with the water given. Showers were not exactly a luxury one could have after just unhitching the circus and setting it up.

"You can clean up there and then if you need to find me, feel free. I roam around quite a bit, but I assume you will be fine. The performers will no you are here. It's quite the bunch, but if they want to talk, they'll be sure to give an earful at times.. There are children to. I suggest you avoid them if you are working. I don't want them to get hurt." Now he was beginning to sound like an old bickering mother, insisting on their safety and antics.

Alexander gave a slight not. "Any other questions feel free to ask, if not, I would suggest cleaning up," he said with a quiet voice. He cared about appearances for his circus. He wanted people to know that he took very good care of his people and property.

[/padding-right]​

[title][/title]
[title][/title]

[imgleft]Photo by TehAlmightyKitty
S σ ρ н i ɛ


[padding-left=200]Sophie rubbed her head slightly. It still hurt when that hideous creature had yanked her hair She was bored. After everything was being unloaded she roamed the grounds and kicked at the dirt. She was not sure what to do, since her tank was not yet set up and she was not sure where everyone was. She managed to skip around a bit, examining the area and looking for someone to play with. Or at least something for her to do. As she ran around the grounds, the bells around her ankles gave off the familiar jingle that everyone seemed to know.

While she weaved her way through the tents, she spotted a familiar face and beamed happily. Racing forward she had somewhat tackled Justin, more like crashed into him since she couldn't stop even though she tried. Her arms waved out on either side of her before she caught her balance and waved to him.

"Hi Justin! Whatcha doin?" she asked him in a bright tone. "I want to show you a new trick I'm learning, okay? It won't take long, promise," she told him before he could answer, taking a hold of his arm and pushing her lips out in thought. "It's going to be in the water, but I'll show you like this, since that's how I learned it," she told him.

Sophie had no idea what trick she was going to do. She was merely distracting him a bit and herself as well. She placed a hand on her hip, tapping her chin lightly. "Actually.. I don't know if I can show you now, because Alexander told me not to do that when I'm not in the water, because he said he doesn't want me to hurt myself.. Which I don't understand, because I never hurt myself before," she told him honestly, rambling off as she normally did when she found someone to talk to, but since she was always so bright and smiling, it was sometimes hard for people to deny her of what she wanted.

"Hey Justin. Where are you going, anyway? Can I go with you? You look a little pale. Are you okay? Are you sick?" She tilted her head to the side giving him a funny look. "You look like you saw a ghost," she added, although he was regaining some of the color in his face. She continued rambling, holding onto Justin's arm and pulling him around, although not far, just a few feet one way before pulling him another few feet in the other direction. She kicked a foot forward, as if she were dancing around him while she spoke.
[/padding-left]




303858-1-3.jpg
[imgright]Photo by TehAlmightyKitty




Quatre Bornes "Q" Lee | Gunslinger

Bornes shifted his weight from one leg to the other as he listened to the ring master deny his application for work. At this, Bornes frowned faintly, but held mixed feelings. He wasn't sure if he should be relieved or not. The more time his eyes wandered behind the sunglasses to catch glimpses of what was going on around him, the more uneasy he felt about this place, like it was a bad idea. So much stimulus of this kind wasn't the best idea for a man like Bornes.

He was used to cities, bustling with people, all of whom would ignore one another. Greys, blacks, maybe some reds and greens. Here, everything was bright and attention-getting, and it was started to make his head hurt.

But the colorful man in front of him went right on into the showers, and at that Bornes managed to quickly get in a very sincere "Thank you" before following the newly-met stranger as he guided the vagrant around the place. Bornes nodded, following, and kept looking about, memorizing the layout of things. He made a note to himself to eat later. But first, he wanted to get this ridiculous alcohol smell off him.
He may like alcohol, but even this was too much. And it wasn't helping him get on anyone's good side, either.

Once the ring master was done, Bornes returned the nod and replied with yet another sincere "Thank you," immediately heading to the area with the water. Once he left, he came across spickets that weren't exactly "shower"-material at all, but it was nothing Bornes hadn't dealt with before, being a mostly homeless traveller. He sighed a bit still, though, as he had really been hoping for a real shower.

Oh well. This will have to do, he thought to himself.

He slipped his seabag off his back near to the faucet but outside of the large puddle of water on the ground from where others had used it. The man searched around for a bucket, and upon quickly finding one, took it back to the faucet and filled it up with water. He took his black, raunch-smelling jacket off and tossed it on the ground, revealing his worn dress shirt with maroon torso and black sleeves. As well as the two black shoulder holsters, pistols neatly tucked into them in his armpits.
At this point, Bornes was a bit afraid of people seeing him and becoming a little too cautious. He looked around, suspicious at first, but after a few minutes of this he decided he did not care and he was making himself more a spectacle the longer he crouched by the bucket doing nothing but looking around. Exhaling loudly at his own terrible decision-making, he pushed his black sleeves up to his elbows, grabbed a nearby bar of soap, and dunked his hands into the water in the bucket, furiously rubbing the soap in his hands. Eventually, he had to stop to turn the faucet off, now that the bucket was full. And once the same bucket was sufficiently soapy, he took the soap in his left hand, and grabbed his jacket with the other and shoved it into the bucket, rubbing the two together and trying to wash the article of clothing as best he could. When he was done with the jacket, he carefully put his two holsters to the side, covering them as best he could with the seabag so they would not be seen nor grabbed. Finding a wooden post, Bornes hung the soaked, still soapy, jacket onto it for later, and began unbuttoning his shirt.
His skin was tanned, and severly scarred along the back. It was also rather suspiciously hairless for someone of his age.

As he took the shirt off, a silver necklace was seen falling down his chest, a heart-shaped pendant with green gem in it falling near his chest. Not the type of jewelry someone like him would probably be caught dead wearing normally, yet still, there it was. As it glistened and reflected off the water and evening sun, Bornes went to work on washing his shirt off in the very same way he'd washed his jacket. As he continually messed with the clothing in the pail of water, the muscles in his back worked, showing many surgical scars along his spine, haphazardly covered by a fading golden ankh tattoo that covered most of his back. That tattoo, along with the four black "whiskers" on his face (two on either side of his chin) were his adolescent mistakes. He hated them all, now. But on top of this, he hated being shirtless and he disliked his arms being seen. He could never know why, but he liked his arms and legs covered, so he always wore long sleeves and pants, never short sleeves or shorts. Because of this, he made quick work of his shirt, wringing it out, rinsing it off, and putting it right back on, even though it was still wet.

After the wet shirt was back upon his form, he grabbed the holsters and re-equipped them as well. His soapy jacket still hanging on the post-- no, he hadn't forgotten about it-- was looked at briefly before Bornes mustered up the courage to take off his boots and his pants. He took everything out of his pockets-- which was really only a lighter, at this point-- and put it ontop of his seabag, along with his belt. Then, in his wet shirt and black silk boxers, he quickly went to work on his black slacks in the water, too. At this action, he was especially fast--perhaps too fast-- and his pants were very likely not properly cleaned.

This was because Bornes's legs were also hairless, and his tail... Long and bushy, reaching down to his knees when he was standing, was totally obscured, and it was making the man extremely self-conscious. The Saluki tail dragged along the mud and curled about near his feet, trying to hide itself between Bornes's crouched form. It twitched every now and again, as did Bornes's silver brows, showing his anxiety at being left so open and... Vulnerable. Bornes was very protective of his tail. He'd hide it inside his pants if he could, but it caused too much discomfort for him. Often, he'd play it off as a fashion accessory, instead. Most people didn't notice either way, as it seemed to blend into his pants anyway.

The pants he coincidentally just finished. He stood up to wring them out as best he could, and then with a grimace, put those on too-- still wet, and not quite fully rinsed off. He slipped his dirty boots back on and then reached behind himself, fixing up his tail so it would come out the right hole in the pants. That was when he realized it was dirty. He growled to himself and quickly dunked it in the water a few times, cleaning all the mud off so it could go back to being camouflaged with his slacks. After it had been washed, it flicked about wildly for a moment to get excess water off, then went back to its place to disappear between Bornes's legs, like the humiliation it was.

Last but not least, was Bornes's head. He took his sunglasses off his face and brushed his blood-stained premature grey hair back, it sticking up a bit as he finished. The sunglasses went very carefully next to the bucket of water, his intense green eyes staring at them intently there, as if trying to burn them into the ground so they wouldn't mysteriously disappear. As he did this, his pupils adjusted to the daylight. Even though it was evening, it was still bright to Bornes-- a nocturnal man-- and his pupils contracted to form near vertical slits, similar to a cat's. Almost immediately afterward, Bornes bared his teeth, raising his upper lip in a silent growl before shoving his hole head into the soapy and dirty water bucket, his hands frantically cleaning his hair out. He dunked himself once, twice, three times, before pulling out completely, shoving the pail to the side, and turning on the faucet to rinse himself off. Eyes remained closed during the whole process, and it was done in the span of about 45 seconds. When he was done, he turned the faucet off, finger brushed his hair rather quickly so it was out of his eyes, and grabbed for the sunglasses, immediately putting them back on his face, as if they were his most prized possession. And they pretty much were. He was more protective of those lenses than he was of his guns.

Finally it came to the jacket. Still soapy. Bornes stood up and hmphed, grabbing it and tossing it about in his hands, trying to beat the water out. Eventually he gave up on it, and rinsed it delicately in the water under the faucet. He wrung the jacket and tossed it again, cracking it in the air before putting it back on himself and covering his shoulder holsters.

Now everything he wore was wet. A shiver went up his spine, and he involuntarily flinched before getting up one last time. He grabbed his seabag and carried it along side him in his left hand, looking around for what next.
Eating. He should probably eat.

He stopped by the tent with food, grabbed some, and didn't even sit down. After setting his bag near his ankle, he shoveled down the food faster than most, and upon finishing, threw everything out, grabbed the bag, and continued onward, looking for the big top.

After maybe two minutes of searching, he found it. He intentionally went far to the side, and laid his bag in the grass there, in the middle of nothing. It blended in fairly well as the sun had almost set, and his bag was black. He knew where it was, and he could point it out. He doubted a normal person could. After that, he stretched a bit and headed toward the other men who were setting up, pulling rope and the like.

He picked one who didn't look too busy, and asked-- in perfect english, with no french accent-- "How can I help?"

Darkening Dawn wrote: [imgright]http://i316.photobucket.com/albums/mm341/darkeningdawn/Decorated images/Naga-1.jpg[/imgright] Elizabeth Garinadinexxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Just Another Freak


Oh how her eyes flashed when he patted her cheek. He was a dead man, good looking or not. Reaching in to the box, she grabbed a snowglobe and lobbed it at Alexei's head, uncaring, for the moment, that she had sacrificed one of her souveniers in order to leave a souvenier on his skull. With a growl, she turned back and set the box down next to her bed, huffing at it.
Stupid asshole... she thought angrily, staring daggers at the innocent box on the ground. Swear I'm gonna beat him one day... And she hoped she would be able to do just that. So much. The guy needed his confidence cut down a notch or two. Or three.

Huffing slightly, she whirled around and exited the tent from the opposite side that Alexei had exited from. Like hell was she going to walk by that jerk. Well. Stomp, really. Her footsteps showed exactly how irked she had gotten, as her heels trod in to the ground with every step, as if she was trying to pummel the grass beneath her scaley feet. Her feet didn't take her anywhere particular, just roaming around the circus grounds to blow off some steam, more than anything else. It was lucky for her, and others, that her wanderings went uninterrupted for a while. She might have started something with someone.

After a few minutes though, she had calmed down. Her arms had crossed over her chest sometime during this walk, and remained there, even as her tail ceased its irritated twitching and her brows ceased their furrowing. The circus started to actually prove a source of interest to her, watching people setting up tents, moving boxes, things like that. Alex even was about, walking to the shower area, followed by some guy with grey hair. ... That was different. Either she had been out of comission in the train longer than she thought, or she was seeing some new guy. Maybe. Maybe he was a hobo?

On a hunch, she followed the guy, peering around a corner as he washed his jacket, that familar furrowing of her brows returning. Who's this guy? He had... Were those guns? She felt even more curiosity when he washed his shirt and saw those scars. And he was acting all suspicious, too... Looking around like he was going to get jumped... Alex was alright with this guy walking around the Circus? If he was okay with it, then... She figured she should be fine with it too... Still, her tail couldn't help but twitch. She ducked behind the corner when he washed those pants though. She was spying, but she wasn't... spying. Looking back, though, she caught a glimpse of something... It was gone before she was sure though. And his pants were back on.

She followed him after he was done. Not that it would be difficult to do that. Soap or not, he still smelled like... Booze. A little. Enough for her to stop flicking her tongue, that was for sure. He stopped, offering to help put up tents, and she spied on him there, too, peeking her eyes over the edge of some unused support beams.
"Hm..."
Inching forward, she finally ended up standing next to the... Mystery guy. With they grey hair. Looking over at him out of the corners of her eyes, that hair color was kind of weird. Not that she had much room to talk. Hell, she looked like a freaking snake.

"You a new member of the circus or something?" She asked without turning towards him. The people working were of little interest to her, but she didn't want to give the guy any special attention. Unless he deserved it.



[imgright]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/post/qbz.png[/imgright]
[title]Quatre Bornes "Q" Lee | Gunslinger[/title]

After Bornes had asked the man for help, the other had not provided any insight, just handed him a rope, told him to pull, slapped Bornes's back once the vagrant had the rope in his hands, and walked off.

With a grunt, Bornes began pulling, thinking to himself how lazy that other guy must've been to just walk off. Whatever. Beside him were several other people, all pulling ropes. One was shouting "heave" every so often, and after a few heaves, the tent finally began to take form atop posts in the center of it. Bornes was bringing his rope closer to his chest, and turning to wrap it around in an already-placed spike in the ground when a weird-sounding voice caught him off-guard.

"You a new member of the circus or something?" it had said.

The voice was unmistakeably feminine, but not very... human-sounding. Bornes's eyes were still on the spike, and it wasn't until he released his final grunt to pull the rope down and tie a quick taut line hitch, did he look up to see where the voice had come from.

He would've fallen down on his ass if he weren't already on one knee.
Thankfully, the black sunglasses covered his unending stare.
His mouth hung a bit open, as well.

The few seconds of this gaping almost felt like hours as he stared at the blue creature before him. It had breasts. That was about all he recognized. The vagrant tried to rationalize this shit in his head. Make-up? No, wouldn't look this real. Body paint? Maybe.
He'd seen some weird shit in fetishist clubs, but nothing like this. Nothing so life-like, cobra-esque as.. This.
And she had a tail. And it was moving. That tail was clearly real. Real like his, maybe?
No!

Bornes closed his mouth finally, his upper lip raising and baring teeth as a growl began to emit itself. His stare turned into a glare, and the tail of his jumped straight out behind him, only to twitch. Oh, it so violently wanted to flail about-- but Bornes, even though he had no idea what he was feeling right now, was able to at least keep his tail in check.
His vocals? Not so much.

That growl of his rose in pitch, like a starved dog coming across its first meal. And that meal was approaching him in a very tight corner.
Bornes wanted to bite this thing.
Bite it, bite it, bite it.

It was as if there was some other voice inside of him, some other thing that wanted out, and it wanted to eat the "woman" in front of him. It was threatened, and rather than react as if it was frightened, it just wanted to kill.

The man leaned forward, slowly bringing his one knee up, so he was crouching. His shoulders arched forward as if he were about to pounce. His growl still continued throughout all of this-- his mouth opening and finally giving out a warning "chuff".
He was salivating now. It was clear if something didn't happen soon, he was going to drool like a snarling pit bull all over everything.

After the chuff, he slowly rose, his posture becoming more and more threatening. Finally Bornes let go of himself and the bushy tail of his stopped flinching about, instead waving around erratically like a pissed off feline's. The black tendrils spreading out and puffing, trying to appear larger.

Although this whole ordeal perhaps only lasted a total of five horrifyingly long-feeling seconds, by the end of it, Bornes felt like he'd been growling and chuffing at this "girl" for months.

Once he was on his own two feet again, he squared off with the blue creature, his hands coming up as if ready to fight. He opened his mouth again, and another chuff was to come, but instead everything stopped but the tail. His mouth closed, his growls stopped, his adams apple moved as he swallowed back the spit.

And then-- then--
His left hand whipped into his jacket and pulled out the handgun beneath his right arm. He clicked the safety off and aimed it at her, all in one motion. His upper lip was still raised, but aside from that, it took all of Bornes's energy to not make animal sounds anymore. His tail-- it was becoming matted again, but it still flicked from side to side, very uneasily.

"Get away from me!" he shouted.

Bornes rarely ever pulled a gun on something he didn't intend to shoot. But it was clear now, he was simply trying to scare her away. He wouldn't shoot unless she startled him any more than she already had.

Bornes was going through a lot of things, right now. A lot of things he didn't understand.
Over the years, he'd been acting more and more inhuman. It'd been harder and harder to control his tail and his vocalizations.

But then this, this.. Blue.. thing comes out and he'd lost all control in an instant. He didn't even know if he had full control of himself now.
With the gun in his hand, he felt a little bit more human, had something to fall back on.
But inside, he was afraid. Very, very afraid of himself. And his tail was beginning to show it. His face and form did not, only from trained practice.

Bornes hated himself. He hated this. He hated everything about his situation.
He was human God damn it, and he didn't need something staring at him, talking to him, merely existing in front of him that reminded him that maybe he really wasn't.

He shoved his body weight toward her, without moving his feet.


"Leave!"

Celaxy wrote: [imgleft]http://i905.photobucket.com/albums/.../ac259/Celaxy/Decor/nathan_side.png[/imgleft]









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Almost as soon as the train screeched to a halt, the barren land that surrounded it instantly became more lively and colorful as performers and flashy tents spread like wildfire across the new circus grounds. Everyone was busy (or at least, their lazy butts should be busy) as they hurried with getting most of their things set up. The Ringmaster was thinking about opening the Cirque later that evening, so most of the performers were in a rush even though they were not expected to show off anything big yet. Perhaps they were merely opening up for games and small side shows for the evening guests to enjoy? Nathaniel will definitely have his violin out for him to play. The musician already had the instrument carefully tucked away in its antique case, perfectly tuned and ready to go whenever the need arose for him to play music. All he had to do was run to his trailer to get it when it was time.

At the moment, Nathaniel was roaming the new circus grounds. He had been assisting the others with unloading their belongs from the train—Especially Gustav’s things. The strongman had sustained injuries from the lion’s attack a few days ago, but despite how well the man was recovering, Nathaniel thought it was best that Gustav did not work too hard so he could be in tip-top shape as soon as possible. The musician had also overheard from the skill toy artist that Gustav’s wounds may reopen if he strained his muscles too much. Nathaniel was sure that no one wanted that to happen, especially the Ringmaster. But everything concerning unpacking items from the train seemed to be taken care of by now, and the other workers were busy with putting up tents and fences. Alexander had not given him any specific tasks to do yet, so Nathaniel had merely been looking over the hustle and bustle of the circus. With the crazy incidents that have been happening recently, no one would ever know if someone other than a human body guard was needed. The dutiful Cirque employee was watching everything like a hawk, as if he was some kind of super security guard.

… And then something hit him.

Actually, it hit his sensitive nose: The faint scent of dried blood. It was more of a stench, actually. The smell of dried blood for a vampire was similar to the smell of rotten meat for a human. Sniffing it just wasn’t very pleasant. However, something was slightly off about it. It couldn’t have been Gustav’s blood; it almost smelled... Inhuman. Wherever that scent was, it wasn’t a good sign, so the now curious and cautious vampire stalked off in search of the foul smell.

As soon as Nathaniel neared the gate, he paused and flinched at the new smell that invaded his nostrils. The strong scent of alcohol burned his sinuses and was enough to make him hold his breath for a while. He had half the mind to come to the conclusion that it was only Raphael the Clown and be on his way, but just to make sure, the musician looked ahead of him. He was hidden quite a distance away from the two, but from his spot, he could see his Ringmaster and a stranger that appeared as if he took a beating. That would explain the dried blood, but what business did a man like that have at the Cirque? Nathaniel’s eyes narrowed as his ears tuned into the duo’s conversation. The stranger... The musician had heard many accents in his lifetime, but his keen ears could almost pick up an “aftertone” that made it sound like the accent was forced. Of course, the accent would sound completely genuine with human ears. Along with that, Nathaniel had already concluded that the blood on the man did not belong to a normal human. The stranger already had two strikes against him—more likely three for lying to Alexander with that fake accent.

Sometimes, his Ringmaster was far too kind. That trait was one of his greatest strengths, yet it could be his greatest downfall. The moment the stranger was welcomed into the grounds, Nathaniel was glad that he promised to always be by his Master’s side. At times, the musician was a little more suspicious toward certain individuals than Alexander was. Nathaniel would never let anything happen to the circus the Ringmaster put centuries of hard work into.

By the time the two headed toward the washroom, the musician followed suit. It was fortunate for him that the day was beginning to give into the evening. The lack of sunlight was not making his hair look like an odd shade of blue, so it was easier to blend into the shadows now that his hair a normal dark color. His footsteps were inaudible as he swiftly maneuvered himself through the busy crowds of workers, going unnoticed as he smoothly dodged thrown tools, swinging beams, and whipping ropes. Nathaniel continued to lurk after the Ringmaster left the stranger to his own devices. He let Alexander see him this time. The vampire bowed his head lightly as the Ringleader walked past him before disappearing, once again, into the shadows himself.

Nathaniel didn’t bother with watching the stranger wash up. Instead, he remained hidden outside as he simply listened. Elizabeth seemed to have taken interest in the stranger as well. However, Nathaniel wasn’t quite sure whether she was being a peeping tom or if the woman (he thinks of her as a woman) was simply curious. The former of he two did not faze him much as the stranger was on the move again, but with Elizabeth tailing him as well this time. The small chain of stalking went on for a bit until the woman decided it was time to confront the stranger while he was working. Elizabeth asked a harmless question, but even Nathaniel didn’t see what came next.

It was as if the stranger was suddenly possessed by a dog. It bore its teeth and growled, drooling as if he was about to eat the poor cobra lady. It was then when Nathaniel finally noticed another strange aspect of the man; there was something furry twitching behind him... A tail? The musician was momentarily distracted by the new discovery until he heard a familiar click. He had not heard it in a while, as the sound was slightly different than it was in the past, but they nearly sounded the same. It was the click of a gun—a sound that indicated that someone was about to be punctured by bullets. Nathaniel was all too familiar with it. He briefly remembered when his prey would shoot at him years ago but quickly pushed the thought aside. He had something far more important to worry about at the moment. Within a blink of an eye, the musician mysteriously appeared in between the weapon and its intended target. A pair of obsidian eyes stared the stranger down, almost threatening him to leave or else. Even though his sharp teeth weren’t showing, a low hiss escaped his slightly parted lips.

”Sir, I kindly suggest you leave,” he stated. His words were polite, but his tone had a small hint of menace in it. ”The Ringmaster will not be pleased to have you causing this kind of distress toward his performers.”
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Darkening Dawn wrote: [imgright]http://i316.photobucket.com/albums/mm341/darkeningdawn/Decorated images/Naga-1.jpg[/imgright] Elizabeth Garinadinexxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Just Another Freak


To say she was startled by the sudden change that came over the guy who, only moments prior, looked so calm and normal (aside from that tail... Thing...) Would be an understatement. That first snarl that showed itself on his face was enough to make her take a step back, her reaction almost justified from the sound he made, reminiscent of dogs she had encountered on the empty city streets at night. Her eyes darted over the guy's face, trying to figure out whatever the heck it was that caused this change, catching the tell-tale flicking of the tail she had spied earlier. It was lashing around angrily. Had she talked to him at a bad time or something? Seriously, what the hell was his problem?

These thoughts flickered through her mind at a mile a minute, and her own tail conveyed her confusion on the matter even as she took a second step away, her arm coming up defensively across her chest.

"What the hell is your p-"
She stopped mid-sentence, staring down the barrel of a gun literally, frozen in place. What was she going to do against a gun? Run? And get shot in the back? He was yelling something at her, but his words didn't register in her brain, so she remained standing there staring in horror, her eyes dialated to the size of dinner plates.

Suddenly... A shape was in front of her. Familiar looking, and smelling too, she realized with a hesitant flick of her tongue. The smell of the circus vampire made her blink, looking up at his blue shock of hair, the peeking her face quickly around him to make sure she hadn't been imagining the gun that had been leveled between her eyes.
"Oh... H-Hey Nathaniel..." she managed, her voice noticeably more subdued than it usually was. It lacked her usual confidence. Then again, most people wouldn't be the same after being in a situation like this.



quatre bornes "q" lee | Gunslinger

Even as the snakewoman was backing away from him, Bornes still felt increasingly uneasy. He wasn't sure how he felt about this creature specifically. But he did know she made him feel uncomfortable with himself, and that was all it took to set him off. So he needed to get the fuck away from her. Or more precisely, she from him.

But before any true progress could be made, a new person jumped in the middle. That new person came inbetween the two of them so quickly, Bornes never saw it coming. So when the third character seemed to poof into existence, he showed no hesitation and squeezed the trigger.

Without even trying, it went right between the man's eyes.
So it goes for a man who killed people for a living.

Bornes didn't have enough time to even think the word "shit" to himself before he literally turned tail and ran off in a random direction. He didn't need to see the body fall, or anything else. He didn't care what the end-product of what he had just done was, he knew from prior experience that any sort of shot like that did not require his presence and, in fact, it was best for all involved if his presence was, in fact, simply not there at all.

As he ran, he brought the gun in near his chest while flicking the safety back on with his thumb. He carried the gun as if he were a holding a broken heart and fleeing from the scene of a love tragedy.
Eventually, he found a tent that didn't look too appealing-- not that there was much time for coherent thought-- and ducked into it, the smell of animal feces immediately infiltrating his lungs.

He breathed heavily through his mouth as he tried to gain his bearings. He was already dizzy. His headache was terrible. If his body was reacting in any way he thought it was, he was even trembling a bit. Not enough cigarettes or alcohol. How long had he been in that car before he woke up?
Or was his condition seriously just that bad?

Even so, as soon as his vision finally came to, all he could see were cages and cages. While he panted, he tried to focus. He wound up holstering his weapon and taking his sunglasses off, gripping them in his left hand as he squinted. The eyes that had been behind those dark lenses immediately contracted into slits as they shook, trying to make sense of the chaos. Any light reflecting his eyes would seem to glow fluorescent against his forest green, bio-luminescent irises.

Lions.

"Fuck!" He cursed, in french. Still breathing heavily, his knees bent and his right hand went to his head as everything began to swim again. Bornes pulled at his long silver bangs, trying to make the blackness overcoming his vision go away.
He could feel it coming on, and he couldn't fight it at all.

First the car crash, then the snake girl, now motherfucking lions in a motherfucking tent, and he was going to pass out right in front of them.

Not two seconds later, even, that was exactly what he did. His eyes rolled into his head and he lost consciousness, his body going limp and falling forward, face-first into the floor. His legs spread out and his long tail twitched once or twice between them, before it too seemed to die.

Bornes didn't know it, but he had a chronic low blood pressure condition which had merely gotten worse over the years he'd been trying to self-medicate it through smoking. He'd been randomly blacking out more often and for longer times out in the city. His last job he had decided was going to be his last-- if he survived.

Of course, that had resulted in the car crash, and now this. Maybe he'd have a stroke in his sleep, and end all this craziness. He had nowhere to go, anyway.
And clearly, the circus wasn't for him.

Pyreflies wrote:
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[imgright]http://img827.imageshack.us/img827/8018/thyrsside.png[/imgright][serif]
  • Thyr Isak Nikolai Winter
    • The Sword Swallower
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    • The sound of Justin’s thudding footsteps made Thyr stare back at him. The poor boy was getting sick. He could hear the sound of his food being pushed out of his body. Now that Thyr thought about it, the experience was actually quite disgusting. The after birth was absolutely nasty. The cubs were covered in the slime that came along with them. He could understand why Justin was so disturbed by the birth.

      Minutes later Justin’s voice piped up again. ‘Three’s a crowd, right?’ Thyr blinked at the statement, turning to look at Justin. What exactly did that mean? Everyone at the circus was so friendly (most of them at least) and most performers enjoyed the crowds. That’s why they went into this circus. Or perhaps was it for the immortality…? Either way, they were stuck with the hoards of people day in and day out. Justin tiptoed towards Luxe and whispered something in her ear. Thyr couldn’t make out what he said; he obviously didn’t want Thyr to know. The look on her face was unidentifiable to the swordsman.

      When the cubs where safe, Thyr stood slowly. He didn’t want to disturb King. No one wanted to test the patience of this beast since their last incident. Sasha didn’t seem to care about him; she was concentrating too much on her newborn cubs. He slowly made his way from the large cats. Luxe’s voice made Thyr turn to look at her. He smiled at her. She had made a bigger distance between them. Not unusual considering they were alone once more. ”It’s not a problem. I’ve never seen anything like this happen before. It was a good learning experience.” He walked past her, grabbing his coat from the crate he placed it upon.

      “What was it that Justin told you earlier?” He didn’t look at her and instead he just put on his coat. He smoothed the front with his hands, tugging the bottom hem to its proper place. His eyes moved to look at her again as he stood there. “Whatever he said obviously has upset you.”

      The sound of the tent's door flapping open made Thyr turn to face the newcomer. This man was not familiar and Thyr's body stiffened in apprehension. He was ready to fight back if he needed to. The man uttered a word in a language that Thyr did not understand. The man collapsed face first on to the ground. The first thing that Thyr noticed was the man had a tail. Then his mind began to fill with questions. What was this stranger doing in the circus grounds? Had he been permitted by Alexander? He looked at Luxe. "Stay there for a moment, please." He approached the man as if he were walking on eggshells. His sword was still drawn. He didn't like strangers in the circus grounds, especially if they had just finished setting up.

      Once near the man, Thyr shifted him with his foot. The man was out like a light. Thyr bent down, pulling the man up along with him as he stood. He was slightly heavy, but he didn't care very much. "Luxe can you find something that could be used as a pillow? I'm afraid that he has fainted." He pulled him over to a spot out of the way, and far from the cages. The lions did not know the man, and Thyr did not want him to become their dinner as a result. The cubs had just been born, they would not take as kindly to a stranger as Thyr was.
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          • [serif]Viktoriya Anya Nikonov
            • The Contortionist
            [/serif]

          • Viktoriya wanted to laugh at Delphi’s naivety. She couldn’t though; she had to be the adult here even if Delphi did look like she was. How was she going to explain this? “For one, your clothes are far too small for your body. The second, men, especially guests, can be very rowdy. I do not want you to be harassed.” She scratched her head and sat down with a sigh. Her eyes looked at what was once a ten year old girl. What had happened to her?

            The answer that Viktoriya was given did not satisfy her questions. “I cannot believe that you just awoke like this. Not once, in all my years in this circus have I ever seen this happen. Were you and Justin playing with some of Krina’s spells?” Viktoriya stood back up, crossing her arms. The contortionist was seriously contemplating paying the magician and her assistant a little visit as of now. “I dislike it when you do not tell me things, Delphi.”

            Stranger and stranger things kept happening. First what had happened with the lion, then the baby, now Delphi was a full grown woman? This did not make any sense. This was someone’s fault. Whose fault, Viktoriya did not know. It couldn’t be anyone in the circus; the only people who were able to do such things were Justin and Krina from Viktoriya’s knowledge. Viktoriya felt a chill run down her spine. It couldn’t possibly be Krina. She saved the circus from the rampaging lion. Justin was a naive magician, and Viktoriya trusted him like she would family.

            Looking at Delphi Viktoriya’s mouth twisted into a frown. “Does Alex know of this… transformation? He would not have allowed this. The contracts we have do not allow us to age.” Viktoriya wanted to hit herself. Delphi still had the mind of a child. She wouldn't understand the contract anymore than Viktoriya knew how to speak Cantonese.​


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Isαdσrα Luхє O’Nєíl


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Stєp ínsídє! Hєllσ!
Wє'vє thє mσst αmαzíng shσw
Yσu'll єnjσч ít αll wє knσw
Stєp ínsídє! Stєp ínsídє!


◆ ◆ ◆ ◆
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Once she was sure both mother and cubs were fine, Luxe stood back and gave the new family some room. Now that she didn't have anything to really focus on, she was back to guarding herself and keeping her distance from the man who had sat next to her the entire time. What had Justin said to make her upset? Well, that was certainly a good question.

"You...know that I'm not...s-seeing anyone...r-right? Justin he....said he knew about me and some guy, and that he wouldn't tell anyone...but that doesn't make any sense!" She said, sounding slightly panicked again. Luxe let out a small scream of fright when a man she didn't know ran into her tent and yelled something only to collapse at Thyr's feet. Men usually stayed out of her tents. It was an unwritten rule that all the performers followed. Other than the stranger from before. Luxe lightly touched the spot where he had hit her and flinched when she felt a slight twinge of pain. Thyr pulled her from her thoughts by asking for a pillow of sorts.

Thinking quickly, Luxe looked around and ran for the blankets that usually went on the elephants during their performance. It was folded neatly and could serve as a pillow, though not a very comfortable one. Luxe held out the make shift pillow and quickly moved away once Thyr had it. Luxe studied the man and inched closer when she saw his tail. What kind of person had a tail like that? She supposed she shouldn't be too critical about it, since Elizabeth was part reptile. "I-Is he...dead?" she asked, her voice just above a whisper.

The blonde was slowly entering one of her hysterical moods. There was far too much testosterone in her tent, and it was far too close for her own comfort. The only comfort she could seek was currently tending to her new born cubs and Luxe wasn't selfish enough to put herself between those little cubs and their mother. Luxe knew she must be getting worse. She was almost afraid of Justin now, and soon it would be Toni and Alar too. She backed up even more and stuck herself next to a few crates just to be out of the way.​
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Wєlcσmє вαck mч fríєnds
Tσ thє shσw thαt nєvєr єnds,
Wє'rє sσ glαd чσu cσuld αttєnd,
Cσmє ínsídє! Cσmє ínsídє!
Post style by Celaxy

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Delphi really couldn't understand why Viktoriya wasn't as excited about the whole thing like she was. The girl, still young at heart, frowned in confusion. What did rowdy mean? And why would men harass her? Was it so bad to get attention from people? Wasn't that what a circus was for? People came to pay the performers attention and to laugh and watch as they did their tricks and stuff.

Being old wasn't as fun as she thought it was going to be. Viktoriya made it seem as if it was the worst thing in the world. Delphi was pulled from her ranting thoughts when Viktoriya said she didn't believe her and that she disliked it when Delphi didn't tell her everything. Delphi felt incredibly guilty, as if she had done something really bad. And she supposed she had, but she couldn't tell Viktoriya the truth, no matter how much she wanted to. Raphael's life was depending on her mouth staying firmly shut.

"N-No, he doesn't know about it. You're the only one I told. He won't be angry will he?" she asked, her face showing that she was confused about the contract. The stranger had said something about his contract over riding Alex's for a week. It wasn't as if the change was permanent. She had only hoped to gain some attention from Raphael and she had also wanted to know what it would be like to be bigger, older.

The blonde's blue-green eyes welled with tears. Maybe she had made a mistake. A big one and she would be in so much trouble with Alex, and he would hate her just like everyone else. Her lips trembled for a moment, her chin quivering, soon tears ran down her cheeks. She had gone and made Viktoriya upset. Even though she didn't look it, Delphi knew the woman wasn't happy that she hadn't been told the truth. "You hate me too now, don't you."
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Layout by Celaxy



Celaxy wrote:
Rαʟα Fɾαzιεɾ

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Truthfully, Rala wouldn’t be very surprised if her little mermaid friend was infatuated with Antonio. The freckled blond was a very likable boy. Rala knew that if most of the Cirque’s female guests weren’t fawning over the sword swallower or the Ringmaster, they were clustered around the skill toy artist. The redheaded acrobat was quite fond of the boy herself, but not in the same way as Eleni-Fae. To Rala, Antonio was just her goofball friend that she enjoyed the company of.

On the other hand, it was fairly obvious that Eleni-Fae admired the freckled blond, and her reaction alone was enough to prove it. A deep blush instantly took over the mermaid’s entire face. She wore a panicked expression, and the words that she managed to utter out of her mouth were somewhat stuttered. Eleni-Fae almost seemed frantic about keeping Rala quiet about the subject, even though the acrobat didn’t blurt out anything else other than the mermaid’s possible fascination with Antonio—and the tone in Rala’s voice didn’t even sound very serious when she said what she said.


Hmmm? Don’t cha think you’re over-reacting just a teeny bit, Ellie?” Rala asked in an almost pondering tone. Then she leaned closer, whispering into the other female’s ear, ”Though, by the sound of your voice just now, it looks like you actually do like him!!”

A smile crept onto her face, but it wasn’t her usual smile. It was the smile that her brother knew all too well. It was almost the same as her upbeat, cheery grin, but somehow… Somehow, there was something slightly devious about Rala’s particular smile this time. Rala loved to know about the affairs and secrets between her other co-workers. For some reason, friends having crushes on other friends made her feel a little giddy inside. If she could, the girl would love to play matchmaker sometime.

”But okay! You win. I won't say anything about you and Toni until later!!” Rala walked a few steps ahead of her friend, her hands locked behind her during the small stroll. ”But, you know… We could probably ask Roma and Justin abo—“

And then something happened. A gun’s report echoing throughout the air was all it took to interrupt the girls’ merry little conversation. In the distance, there was the sight of the Circus’s musician falling toward the ground with a bloody face, someone else hightailing it away from the scene, and then the panicked, flustered workers who were hesitating in their actions; unsure of whether they wanted to flee or help the man who was just shot. Before she even realized it herself, Rala was clutching onto Eleni-Fae, holding onto the other girl’s arm with a suffocatingly tight grip. All the redhead could do at the moment was stare at the shooting that happened so close to them, her jaw hanging open in shock.

”W-Was that… Nathan?!” Rala exclaimed in disbelief. ”O-Oh my gosh!! What just happened?! Who was that guy?! Where’d he go?! Why did he shoot Nathan?! And why isn’t Nathan moving?! He’s supposed to be a super powerful immortal vampire!! Is he going to die?! ELLIE!! What should we do?!?! Are you even listening to me?!”

During her frantic string of questions, Rala hadn’t even noticed how violently she was shaking the mermaid by the arm. The acrobat only stopped when she happened to spot the Ringmaster nearby; and by then, Rala had abandoned Eleni-Fae as she ran over to Alexander in a rush.

”Alex! ALEX!!” Rala cried as she grabbed the man’s arm and began to lead him toward the crime scene. ”I think some weird guy with white hair shot Nathan in the face!!”
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τωιсε αs ṃυсн τσ ʟσvε
τωσ вʟεssιnɢs ғɾσṃ αвσvε


~Vanity~ wrote: [title]AlexanderxBenoit[/title]
[imgright]http://i759.photobucket.com/albums/xx233/xKindredKnightx/RP Photos Edit/Branson7-1-2.jpg[/imgright]


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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxR i и g м α s τ э я

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx[serif]Well, here at this circus[/serif]
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx[serif]things are never a bore.[/serif]



[padding-right=250]After leaving that stranger and going about his regular duties, Alexander was quickly frozen in place. Had he heard right? What that a gun shot? In his circus? His head quickly turned in the direction of the sound. He could not see anything and it seemed everyone else was surprised and just stood there. Had someone been injured? If that were the case Alexander was already beginning to lose his temper. Before he had much time to react another figure came running up to him, screaming his name in a hurry.

"Rala? What is it? Calm down," he urged her with a sharp tone. It was no use trying to calm the girl down. She was leading him towards the direction of the gunshot and he quickly grew more concerned.

For a moment his mind froze. He stared at Rala, wondering if she had misunderstood the situation and perhaps it was someone different? The man that immediately came to mind was the one that he had let onto his grounds. This incident fell on his shoulders and he was not pleased to hear what happened either. In fact it worried the Ringmaster quite a bit to hear that Nathaniel had been shot. Yes he was a vampire and Alexander knew he could recover from wounds, but this was a gunshot to the face. How long would something like that take to recover? He was not sure if he wanted to know. "Rala. Did you see which direction he went in? If so then make sure someone knows to remove him from the grounds and make sure it is clear I do not want to see his face again." By the tone of his voice the male was very angry.

The pair hurried to the scene of the crime and just as Rala had said, Nathaniel was laying on the ground and Elizabeth was lingering nearby. It was almost a bit painful to see one of his circus members laying on the floor like that. It made it worse knowing this was caused by his actions. He hurried forward, making sure for a quick second that Elizabeth was all right. She looked shaken up. "Elizabeth? There was not much else he could bring himself to say.

Instead he changed his focus to Nathaniel, who did have a nasty looking wound right between his eyes. If he had not known of Nathaniel being a vampire he would have lost his control much easier. "Nathaniel? Can you hear me?" He wondered if the wound had knocked the vampire unconscious or was he merely stunned from the action? Either way there was a bit too much anticipation in the air for the Ringmaster's liking.

Alexander was not sure if he should try to move Nathan or leave him where he was laying. He looked quickly to Rala. "Can you please make sure no one else is hurt." It was more of he just did not want the girl to be standing around in case something else happened.

When he was sure he took care of the people around him he turned his attention back to Nathaniel. He examined the wound without really touching the vampire, fearing he might make something worse, somehow. He was not sure how much worse things could get, but this was only a gunshot. He was sure Nathaniel could survive something like that, but it was between the eyes. Would that effect anything? Alexander was clearly worried as he knelt beside the male. "Nathaniel?" He was not sure what good calling out to the vampire would do, but he carefully touched the side of his head, turning it one way and examining the damage further. It looked very unpleasant. If Nathan did not respond he would have to bring him to his trailer. It wasn't exactly appropriate for him to leave him laying on the ground.

There was nothing more that he could do other than wait for the vampire to come to. It if would even happen. The thought was a bit sickening and the emotion showed clear on his face. It was odd for him to display anything other than happiness. There was such a sharp turn of events he could only express worry and concern for the vampire, who he trusted and was very close to.
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Celaxy wrote: [imgleft]http://i905.photobucket.com/albums/.../ac259/Celaxy/Decor/nathan_side.png[/imgleft]









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There was a sudden pressure in Nathaniel’s sensitive ears, and then dead silence.

He could feel it. The bullet drilling its way into his cold, hard flesh as it left a trail of a flaming sensation on its way in. The vampire’s nervous system was stunned, and there was nothing he could do as his body stumbled back and hit the ground.

A cold, dark substance oozed out of the newly punctured hole on his forehead and dripped across the pasty skin on his face. Throughout his entire life in the Circus, Nathaniel never thought he would come back to the day where he would be injured enough to see his own blood again. There were far too many incidents happening within the Cirque recently. The attack of the monster lion, people randomly morphing, and now this? What was this place--the supposed joyful and safe place--coming to? Nathaniel was not doing his job properly. He was there to protect the circus, protect both the Ringmaster and his family. Alexander’s family was getting hurt. The Ringmaster himself was going to get hurt. Nathaniel had utterly failed his savior. And now, he laid on the ground and remained stunned.

”... Natha--?”

What can he do now?

”--ou hear me...?”

He could still feel the heat from the bullet frying his brain.

”Nathaniel?”

And then the violinist felt something touch the side of his face. A hand. Its warmth heavily contrasted the ice that was Nathaniel’s skin as it caressed his cheek. The touch was gentle and soft, but at the same time, modestly urged the vampire to come to. Nathaniel couldn’t help but lightly place his own hand over the one on his face. Obsidian eyes peeked out from between the slightly parted eyelids to make out a figure kneeling above him.

”... Ringmaster...”

The scene before him was just so familiar. It was almost as if an old memory of Nathaniel’s decided to replay itself. The vampire was on the ground in pain while the Ringmaster stood over him with a look of concern. It was exactly how the two had met. At that moment, Nathaniel had been hit with a blast of nostalgia.

However, that feeling did not last for very long.

”... The gunman!!”

Nathaniel instantly shot up to his feet at the sudden realization that a madman was still on the loose. However, just as he made a step to take off, a burning sensation surged throughout his head and he, instead, fell to his knee. Although he was a vampire, Nathaniel’s body was just a much stronger replica of the average human body. He still had organs and bones, and the bullet lodge into his brain was effecting his nervous system. He couldn’t move the way he wanted to, and the inside of his head felt like hellfire.
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[Harley Quinn] wrote: [padding-right=35]
[imgright]http://i905.photobucket.com/albums/ac259/Celaxy/Decor/luxe-1.png[/imgright]





Isαdσrα Luхє O’Nєíl


◆ ◆ ◆ ◆

Stєp ínsídє! Hєllσ!
Wє'vє thє mσst αmαzíng shσw
Yσu'll єnjσч ít αll wє knσw
Stєp ínsídє! Stєp ínsídє!


◆ ◆ ◆ ◆
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[padding-left=50][padding-right=50]
Luxe watched the two clowns practice for a little while. She was pleased to see that the older clown was actually taking on the teaching role and doing it well. SLuxe was thinking of leaving then, and hoped she could trust Raphael not to do anything to the young boy after she was gone. Hell, he could have done something while she was there, knowing she probably wouldn't be able to do anything about it. Something else made her get up though. A sound that she didn't like at all. A gunshot. The sound rang through the air, sending icy shivers down her spine. Could someone in the Cirque have gotten hurt? Sure, they were immortal, but that didn't mean they weren't susceptible to getting hurt.

Luxe rose to her feet and took off at a run, her feet still not making much sound as she bolted the way she had come, heading for the main grounds. She faintly heard voices, then everything went quiet. She was sure people had merely lowered their voices or something like that. When she finally found where everything had happen, she faltered and paused. People were gathered around, and the Ringmaster was bent over someone.

Luxe's eyes widened when she saw Nathaniel, the quiet vampire, shoot up from the ground. Something was wrong with him, his face wasn't as beautiful as it normally was. No, it was covered in something dark, and the point of origin told her he had been shot. Luxe moved again and came up next to the fallen vampire.She hesitated as she knelt beside him, on the other side of the ring master and finally told herself to touch him. She had already hit Toni, and made contact with Raphael. What was one more male?

Tearing a bit of fabric from the bottom of her dress, Luxe moved and started to wipe at the vampire's face, getting what she figured was his blood off his face. It would stain until he washed it, but she wasn't worried about that. The blonde moved quickly, almost as if she didn't want to touch him for too long, but that wasn't quite the case. Maybe a little bit, but still, she was more concerned with Nathaniel. "Are you alright, Nathaniel?" she asked softly, almost a whisper again. She never usually spoke very loud, unless she was really upset.​
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◆ ◆ ◆ ◆

Wєlcσmє вαck mч fríєnds
Tσ thє shσw thαt nєvєr єnds,
Wє'rє sσ glαd чσu cσuld αttєnd,
Cσmє ínsídє! Cσmє ínsídє!
Post style by Celaxy


~Vanity~ wrote: [title]AlexanderxBenoit[/title]
[imgright]http://i759.photobucket.com/albums/xx233/xKindredKnightx/RP Photos Edit/Branson7-1-2.jpg[/imgright]


xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx♦♦
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxR i и g м α s τ э я

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx[serif]Well, here at this circus[/serif]
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx[serif]things are never a bore.[/serif]



[padding-right=250]As worried as the ringmaster was for Nathaniel's health, when he saw the vampire's hand move to cover his own he visibly sighed in relief. He was well enough to move, which was a good sign, but he could see the wound in his forehead trickle with blood. It had been a long time since he last seen Nathaniel look so weak and wounded.

It brought back old memories and only pushed him to try harder to help the vampire. He heard him speak now and he let out a gentle laugh. "Yes, good," he spoke with a quiet voice. "You are alright." As alright as a vampire with a bullet in his forehead could be. He was breathing and he could talk. He showed signs of being weak, but not growing weaker. That was a good sign and now he would just need to tend to the musicians wound.

"Nathaniel!" He was surprised by the vampire's sudden rise as he shouted about the gunman. He followed in his footsteps, quickly standing up and wondering if he was alright suddenly moving like that. His question was answered as the other fell forward.

Alexander was even more surprised as Luxe approached him, kneeling down on the other side of the vampire. "Luxe," he began to say, but paused as she ripped some of her clothing, cleaning off the dark wound. She had moved away quickly, but at least she had managed as much as she did. When he looked at the wound it looked like it was already beginning to heal. He wondered if that was a good thing, wasn't the bullet still inside? "There we go, looking better already," he said with a faint smile.

That was a bit of a stretch, but he tried to stay positive. The wound may have been healing but it didn't look like he was feeling much better.

"Nathaniel can you move? Is there anything we can do to help?" Honestly he had no idea how to help a vampire in a situation like this. Did he just need rest and healed himself? Or was there something he needed. Still, he urged him to sit down on the ground and just rest. "Don't worry right now about the man, you need to relax." He spoke sternly. He was in no condition to run around chasing after some man that most likely fled the grounds.
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Celaxy wrote: [imgleft]http://i905.photobucket.com/albums/.../ac259/Celaxy/Decor/nathan_side.png[/imgleft]









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Things did not go as smoothly as Nathaniel wanted. No matter what, his body parts moved in the wrong places, which caused him to look like a fool as he struggled to get back to his feet. The voices that attacked him sounded muffled, as he could barely make out what anyone said at the time. He glanced at every figure that surrounded him— all shadowy figures that towered over him— as his vision blurred on and off. Among all of the confusion, Nathaniel felt something touch his face.

At the moment, the vampire was very flustered. Touching him in that state could be the equivalent of trying to pet an injured and scared kitten. The kitten would bite. However, even if Nathaniel’s animalistic instincts took over, he did not chew this person’s hand off. Even his subconscious knew better than to bite someone so recklessly. Instead, he grabbed that person’s wrists and grasped it firmly in his hand.

Nathaniel did not even realize what he had done. It even took him a moment to notice that there was something in his hand. From the wrist in his grasp, he slowly looked up until his obsidian eyes met a pair of bright blue ones. Luxe. It was her arm that he held on to.

His mind finally cleared as he became aware of the situation. Nathaniel opened his mouth to say something, but the shock from Luxe’s actual presence seemed to have stolen his voice away. He did not know which words to choose in order to form an apology. He did not want to let Luxe go either, as he feared that he phobia of men may cause her to run away before the vampire could properly apologize. Nathaniel’s eyes were fixed on Luxe’s for a long moment, dumbfounded until Alexander returned to the scene.

As if he were a thief nearly caught red-handed stealing a precious jewel, Nathaniel dropped Luxe’s wrist at the sound of the Ringmaster’s voice— never realizing how tightly he had been gripping her arm until he let go. Alexander was still concerned for the vampire musician and even offered his assistace. Of course, that was something Nathaniel undoubtedly declined, as he never wanted anyone to trouble themselves over his clumsy mistake. Still unable to find his voice for a few more seconds, Nathaniel merely nodded at Alexander’s last statement.

”I… Uh…” the vampire stutted before clearing his throat, ”Yes, as you say. I will retire to my quarters then.”

Nathaniel wobbled a bit, but managed to stand at his full height without tipping over. He bowed his head toward Alexader while briefly glancing at Luxe from the corner of his eye (If she hadn’t decided to run away yet, that is).

”Thank you for your concern. I greatly appreciate it.” With that said, Nathaniel disappeared in a blur, but not before clumsily knocking over an innocent stack of crates on the way out. He had all but forgotten about the gunman that could still be lurking around the Cirque grounds.
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[Harley Quinn] wrote: [padding-right=35]
[imgright]http://i905.photobucket.com/albums/ac259/Celaxy/Decor/luxe-1.png[/imgright]





Isαdσrα Luхє O’Nєíl


◆ ◆ ◆ ◆

Stєp ínsídє! Hєllσ!
Wє'vє thє mσst αmαzíng shσw
Yσu'll єnjσч ít αll wє knσw
Stєp ínsídє! Stєp ínsídє!


◆ ◆ ◆ ◆
[/padding-right]



[padding-left=50][padding-right=50]
Not only had it been so out of character for her to even think about touching a male person, it was equally shocking to know that she had touched one of her own free will. In the spur of the moment, Luxe had seen that no one had really been about to do anything and even though she never so much as looked at Nathaniel, he was part of this strange circus she called her family. So, she had reacted and gone to him without a second thought.

Yes, he was immortal just like she, and even though he wouldn't have been killed, the wound looked nasty and he would be sluggish and dazed. Hopefully it would be so, long enough for her to at least clear up the worst of the blood and get it covered up. The younger entertainers didn't need to see such gory things. They could continue to remain as innocent as possible. If she had her way, none of the younger crowd would have to see such things.

She froze in an instead, a vice like grip on her wrist keeping her in place. Luxe looked down at the hand that held her, a small tremor of panic moving through her. Vampires were...well dangerous...as were men, and yet she had never seen Nathaniel attack anyone before. Surely he wouldn't do it now, of all times. Perhaps that would be an easy way to die? She wasn't sure, but if she had to go, she supposed it was definitely an option, albeit a stupid one.

Blue orbs finally look down at Nathaniel, locking gazes with him. Luxe couldn't even make herself breathe. She knew he wouldn't hurt her, not with so many people around. Her face was frozen, an emotionless mask despite the terror she was feeling, and the pain where the vampire gripped her so tightly. She was sure he didn't mean it, that he didn't realize, with all that had just happened to him, that he was practically cutting off the circulation and that her fingers were starting to tingle.

The instant he let her go, Luxe wasn't prepared and lost her balance, falling back on her behind with a small grunt. She watched as the other stood and said goodbye, leaving them all behind. Now that the adrenaline was gone, she was ready to burst into tears. She shouldn't have done anything, she had been just fine before she had gone and touched...him. Shallow little breaths came from her as she remained fixed to her spot on the ground, rubbing her wrist lightly. It was red, she was sure, and would definitely bruise later. It would look much like the ones she had tried so hard to forget about.

"...need to...check on cubs..." Muttering something about lion cubs, Luxe stood up and edged away from everyone before all but running for her animal tent. She needed to be around something familiar and comforting, and right now that was going to be her animals. If anyone really needed her, she would be there.​
[/padding-right][/padding-left]
◆ ◆ ◆ ◆

Wєlcσmє вαck mч fríєnds
Tσ thє shσw thαt nєvєr єnds,
Wє'rє sσ glαd чσu cσuld αttєnd,
Cσmє ínsídє! Cσmє ínsídє!
Post style by Celaxy

 
The Puppet Master's House (Solia)

The Lazy Marionette wrote: >> [serif]Story[/serif]
A closed mind is a good thing to lose.

[padding-left=70][padding-right=70]
Once upon a time there was a simple man, a man with a particular talent. This talent was the manipulation of puppets. While this talent seems somewhat superfluous, it was so manicured and brilliant that the puppets seemed to come alive right before the audience. It was impossible to find the strings and sometimes people could swear the painted little faces moved. It had to be an illusion... or did it?

As with most perfected talents, the man became bored. There has to be more, there always is more, he'd tell himself. The rain drizzled on his window pane as he looked outside his apartment in the city. People ran to find cover from the sudden rain and it was this, their need for dry, that inspired him. Humans have hopes, dreams, feelings, free will. Easily, they'd be the most interesting puppets of all time! If only that was where his stream of thought had ended.

This man had a sadistic streak as would be expected from a manipulator. He found a way to manipulate humans and everything they wanted along with their movements, but with this power he created artistic suicides. Of course, his work was always videotaped in some fashion to share with the rest of the world. He wasn't the sort of man that could be content with art for the sake of art, no. His art had to be shared and admired by everyone.

Unfortunately, the cops called this certain art form murder. After a few slip ups here and there, the man was caught. By this point he'd moved to a remote cabin style house in the middle of the woods near Glasseye Lake. The police arrived and arrested him on the spot. He went easily with a strange grin on his face that as much as the police tried as they might, they couldn't ignore it. The day of his hanging, the body fell, but when the bag was lifted off the head, it was no body at all. It was a realistic looking puppet glancing up with glassy eyes. When the police returned to the house they were found hanging from the trees.

No more of the artistic suicides happened, but anyone that showed up to the house was either found dead on the premises or remains missing to this very day. One hundred years later, some kids looking for a fright head out on a journey that will surely change them all.​
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The Lazy Marionette wrote: >> [serif]Setting[/serif]
The lovely playing board for the ultimate game.

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To get to the house, the kids will have to turn off onto an unmarked, unpaved road. From there, they can only drive slightly, as much to park, but the rest must be walked. From that road, they have to know where to turn into the path that leads through the woods, past Glasseye Lake and to the house. It shouldn't be an issue; most people that get to the road are drawn to the house.

The house itself looks like a decrepid cabin beyond repair. The house looks completely fallen, but the interesting part is within the inside. When the door opens (and not by the person's wishes but by the masters), a marvelous mansion is revealed within. A beautiful foyer with a large chandelier and marble flooring that transcends into a grand staircase. The place is absolutely spotless. Now players, there are many rooms to explore, enjoy yourselves!​
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The Lazy Marionette wrote: >> [serif]The Map[/serif]
Where the players are located.

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The kids are walking towards Glasseye lake.
The master has called Mirabelle, Slender, and Mallory to meet him.
Virgil is about to be dispatched.​
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This is a group RP but I only posted once, as Slender Man, so here's that post.

Master speaks.
His voice has humorous tone.

Slender knows no humor.

Master knows boredom. Has become excited due to possible alleviation of problem. Has called upon two puppets to speak with him.

Slender does not speak.
Slender does not rush.
Slender stands, perfectly complacent yet not.

Slender has no emotions.
Slender watches. Has no eyes.

Dark suit of business man. Lengthy arms. White knuckles scrape floor as Slender walks.
Dark trousers. Black shoes. White carpet is stepped on, but house full of shadows.

Slender stays in shadows.

Black hat atop facial dome. White, dirtied cloth over cylindrical face.

Slender has no face.

Long, slow steps.

Slender Creeps.

Nine feet tall. Back is bent low to pass through doors. Stairs are ascended to attic.

Slender appears in master's doorway.
Slender's shadow grows on floor to master.

Shadow grows.
Shadow waits.
Slender waits.

Slender watches.
Has no eyes.
 
Dexterity: Dean & Q (Solia)
[[This is just notes for myself to keep track of everything]]
Basic Plot:[spoili]Q is attempting to kill a man. That man(1) is talking to another man(2). Q kills 1, and prepares to run. 2 has a bodyguard/hired assassin(you). You, ultimately, catch Q. But instead of killing him, 2 admires how great a shot that was, and decides that Q has to work for him. Q, being injured from escaping you, reluctantly agrees. 2 sadistically sends You and Q out on missions together. While You and Q continually butt heads, all of the missions are generally involved with killing furries or people who are fighting for equal rights.[/spoili]
Q Bio[spoili]23, seldom blackouts, slight light agitation, little/no headaches. Ves is 2 years a go. 1 Pack a day? Non Alcoholic.[/spoili]



[imgleft]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/post/qsnip.png[/imgleft]
Ahhh, Dexterity. The city where the people were filth and the black market wasn't black. Law didn't exist here. The place was filled with transients and criminals. There were a few wayward goodies of law enforcement, but most didn't care.
Dexterity was all about politics.
Corrupt government officials often came here to "get shit done" so to speak, without the general public knowing.

Currently, one of those corrupt officials was at the end of a scope of an M40.

That scope was pointed through a slightly raised window of a mostly pulled curtain in a hotel room several stories up and perhaps even a few yards away. The rifle sat on a bipod atop a coffee table that had been moved into the correct position. And the tanned fingers that moved minutely to settle the aim belonged to a rather peculiar man sitting in a chair.

Despite the room being entirely dark, the man wore sunglasses as he peered through the scope at the bald man talking politics another high official, who coincidentally was wearing a hat-- making it easy to tell the both apart. The sniper took a deep breath, the chest under his maroon torso visibly expanding while the black sleeved shoulders hardly moved. The gunner also had on black slacks and boots. Above the belt in his pants, a black tail slipped out, immobile. This man was an anthro, but an usual one.

Anthros weren't uncommon in the world today. Some failed science experiment someone did long a go, turned into a common person. They were subhumans, treated like crap. Most normal people hatted anthros, but most anthros were obviously anthropomorphic animals-- misshapen heads, erratic fur, etcetera. They were generally considered ugly and nothing the artistic comparison prevalent on the internet. This man was just a man with a tail. It allowed him to escape a lot of racism, since people simply wouldn't notice it most the time. Other times,if the situation was especially sensitive, he'd simply tuck it in his pants leg.
Aside from the tail, the only possible thing that gave him away were his facial tattoos-- two black, triangular 'whiskers' on either side of his chin, and his bioluminescent green eyes. But those were hidden behind sunglasses. Always.

Regardless, as the bald mayor spoke, the sniper could only imagine what corrupted shit words were spewing from his mouth. The 23 year old's head of grey hair waved at the rebound of the weapon as he shot. Despite it being suppressed, the shot still rang in his ears. Or moreso reverberated than rang, he guessed.

Either way, through the scope, this man/anthro/sniper confirmed the bullet made it to the exact center of the mayor's forehead. The man fell over mid-sentence, and a small blood spatter made it onto the other individual. The 23 year old smirked to himself and stood up, beginning to pack up and leave before anyone figured out where he was.

To that end, he began dismantling the rifle and sticking the pieces into an open violin case.

[align=right]It's in religion, sex, and everything we do and say
I look the other way won't you?
[/align]

Dean_Collins wrote: Dean's Bio[spoili]full description/bio24, still in therapy for snake bite/skin graph, Straight edge.[/spoili]

The officials had been talking about things for a few minutes now. Most of them far over the top and, even to an outsider, not right. One was the mayor of the city, and the other was a big corporation owner. He’d been hired as a body guard for the business owner and if it wasn’t for the fact that this pay could easily cover his utilities for then next three months, Dean would not have taken it.

Politics were not his forte and had never done anything for the blond that he could skeap of. It was a crooked game that the rich played. A dangerous game that effected every living being.

All he really wanted to do right now was go home and unwrap his arm. The heavy leather jacket moved and rubbed on the sensitive stitches and hurt. Though he had a job to do.

The newfound hole in the mayors head alerted him to move, and move quick. Good hand whipped out his handgun while the other snagged the big head and pulled the smaller man back.

The actual gunshot wasn’t heard, which meant a silencer, or a sniper. Though he’d checked the area before the meeting had started and ensured the safety, there was no one close enough to get that perfect of a head shot with a pistol and a silencer. That left the thought of sniper, which explained more to the Texan than it would have to anyone else. Just looking at the accuracy and the way the bullet hit, he turned around to find the window the shot came from.

“get over by the car but not in it! It was a sniper in the building over there.”
Dean said and shoved the other towards the car and bit his tongue. The move just tore some stitches because of the jacket getting snagged on them. But his eyes turned back to the building and counted up the number of windows to where the gunman would have had to be.

There, a flash of red, a shirt or a jacket maybe. “Get your ass over here! I want you to go after him! Now!” Marty Warbucks, the CEO yelled and stomped his foot. Much in the way a spoiled child would do when told ‘no’.

Unfortunately, Dean was required to do as he was told. So he dashed over to the car and got in the driver seat with Marty in the passenger. He pulled out and floored it the few blocks it took to get to the building.

Slowing to a stop Dean hopped out and popped the trunk. From there he grabbed his beloved Corel and took off into the building. Up the stairs and finally to the top he was forced to stop when his ankle popped particularly loudly. The joint stiff and painful after the run up the stairs.



Q wrote: [[What's a Corel? I'm going to assume a gun, but I've never heard of it and google gave me nothing...]]

Once the man shoved the dismantled rifle into the violin case, he snapped the case shut, and grabbed it to go out the door. Upon walking out of the hotel room, he saw a man coming up the stairs. And not just any man, but one with a gun.
This... Wasn't good.

The sniper, better known as 'Q' (Short for Quatre Bornes) made a split decision. A decision to try and play it cool, like he was only a violin player leaving at a convenient time. So Q did not stop, although he did look rather awkwardly at the man with the gun.

Instead, Q walked by the man, and assuming the stranger didn't try to shoot, Q would attempt to descend the stairs and leave as if nothing had ever happened.


[[What's a Corel? I'm going to assume a gun, but I've never heard of it and google gave me nothing...]]

Once the man shoved the dismantled rifle into the violin case, he snapped the case shut, and grabbed it to go out the door. Upon walking out of the hotel room, he saw a man coming up the stairs. And not just any man, but one with a gun.
This... Wasn't good.

The sniper, better known as 'Q' (Short for Quatre Bornes) made a split decision. A decision to try and play it cool, like he was only a violin player leaving at a convenient time. So Q did not stop, although he did look rather awkwardly at the man with the gun.

Instead, Q walked by the man, and assuming the stranger didn't try to shoot, Q would attempt to descend the stairs and leave as if nothing had ever happened.

Dean_Collins wrote: [[Corel is just the name he gave the gun. sorry for the confusion. ^^']]

Red, not a shirt or a jacket, but a vest. Which made sence as to why he'd not been able to get a better look. The grey haird man didn't say anything but just walked by with his instrumint case. Trying to play it off.

"It's in your best intrest not to go any further down those stairs." Dean commented, his southern accent making his deep voice sound more slow and imposing then he meant to. Though he cocked Corel and aimed at the others head.

He wasn't a killer, well thats not right, he killed for a living first as a soldier then as a bounty hunter. Dean didn't kill some one with out a reason to kill them. As of this moment, he had no reason to kill this man.



By that time, Q had already passed the other man when he finally spoke up. Q turned around, forcing himself not to laugh at the accent. The sniper peered at the other man through his black sunglasses. He noticed the other man pointing a gun at him.

He wondered for a moment if it was worth it to play dumb. It might have been, but it wasn't something Q wanted to bother with today. No. Fuck it, he thought. He was 23, he didn't have much to lose. He'd go balls to the wall.

"I think you have the wrong guy..." Q began, his voice lightly accented by his french descent.
He'd begun to raise his hands in a 'surrender' motion while he was speaking, but by the time he got to the word 'guy', he'd thrown the violin case at the other man's head.

Q didn't bother to wait for whatever the response was, turned tail (quite literally), and raced down the stairs.
He got down quite a few, managed to even think a Why doesn't this hotel have an elevator before he took a turn the wrong way and fucking pummeled himself to the bottom.

Stupid, high-class, low-tolerance steps.

The sniper, after a loud "ack!" as he fell, ended up landing on his back on the marble floor.
All of him hurt. A lot. But mostly one of his ankles. He probably rolled it.
Doesn't matter, he thought to himself. Gotta get out of here.

He rolled onto his stomach and got up, trying to continue his getaway.

Dean_Collins wrote: His reflexes caught the case, but only after it had smacked him in the face and started to drop. It dazed him for a moment before he got back his sences enough to hear, what seemed like, the other man falling down the stairs.

Dean dropped the hard plastic case to the floor and took to jogging down the stairs two at a time. The pop in his ankel became nearly louder than when his feet hit the stairs. With his shot gun now in his other hand, dean could pull himself around by the plain metal railing.

He was simply to big for these stairs! One step he slipped, and the other step he missed. What was wrong with these city people?! Were they all under 5foot? Were they a different breed of people entirely?

The texan had to stop running. His ankel was getting stiff, and it was just to dangerous with these stupid steps! So when he was onyl one flight above the grey haired male, Dean leaned over the railing, and with his right hand, shot directly at the others foot with his hand gun. More or less aiming with for the toes (You can't walk when your toes get shot, but thats not a problem since they heal faster than if you, oh say, shot your self in the middle of your foot. Just call it lesson learned.) Oh, but when has lady luck ever been good to him? Clearly not anytime soon when he lost feeling in his hand, god damned snake bite, and dropped the pressious Tammy hand gun to the level below him.



OOC:[spoili]Hey, what type of gun is it?
A shot gun is this:
shotgun-pictures1.jpg


What's known as a tommy gun (It's slang) is these:
1920-the-tommy-gun.jpg

m1-thompson-tommygun.jpg


If you don't know anything about guns, try looking at a gun site and picking out something for your character to have:
GunsAmerica - Buy Guns and Sell Guns Online for short range, you'll probably want a pistol.

Also, something that's very helpful-- parts of a gun:
shotgun%20parts.gif

gun_parts_semi-automatic.jpg

gunparts.jpg

Last one if you ever feel like disassembling a gun in stupid detail in a post.

I know about guns now, but when I started playing Q I knew absolutely nothing, so no hard feelings.

In any case, I'm going to assume you wanted a pistol (since you said handgun). A one-handed gun (whereas tommys and rifles are made for two-hand use and long distance). If you really meant a tommy, then I'll edit the post later. Actually I'm going to pretend you didn't drop the gun at all (or Q didn't see it) because if he picked it up, you'd be dead and this RP would be over pretty fast. xP[/spoili]

As Q rolled over to get back on his feet, the motherfucker shot him.
The guy actually shot him. Had the bullet gone for his toes as it was intended, it would've been fine. Q was wearing steel-toed boots. But of course, as luck would have it, the damn thing hit the back of his shin instead.

"Fuck!"

Nonetheless, Q managed to put himself on his feet anyway-- albeit hissing and breathing hard the whole time-- and start to walk.. Walk very briskly.. to the door. As the man reached the door, he saw the car, and the man waiting. If the sniper had dog ears, they would've sank into his hair.

He didn't have dog ears though, so the sound of his soul crushing defeat wasn't taken notice by anyone but himself.

His grey eyebrows creased together, and he grit his teeth. He'd run anyway. He moved his body weight, got ready to spring forward. Managed to get one full stride in for the street-- crumpled to the ground. He yelled out.
Did a bone just crack?
He fell onto his hands. His tail was limp inbetween his legs and there for all to see. It was actually sort of funny, that Q had never been shot before now. One would think he would've encountered it in his line of work a little sooner. But no.

The 23 year old tried to push himself up and keep trying, grunting and growling every attempt, but half the time he didn't make it up on his feet, and the other half he was right back down on the ground after two steps.

[[Can we both play Marty or is it only you? You could probably have Marty stop Q pretty easily by this point]]

Dean_Collins wrote: [[Oh boy...i know enough about guns to get by in a gun based rp. Dean is ambidextrious(sp?) which means he can use either hand for anything. Since he's a gunslinger he has a pair of twin hand guns that he named Tommy and Tammy. He also makes his own guns and ammo most of the time. His shotgun is named Corel, Hunting rifle is named DriftWood, and Sniper gun is named Spaulding. I should have been more clear about that. ^^' again my bad, sorry. you did so much work to help me out. Also, Marty is mostly just there, you or i could play him. If an idea comes then your free to use him.]]

Marty grinned when a man he didn't reconize stumbled out and then crumbled to the ground. Watching the grey haired man strugle the CEO decided that it was ok for him to get out. SO thats just what he did. The short suit wearing man climbed out of his overly expensive car and walked over to the guy on the ground.

"HA! kid, youd better just stop trying, your not going anywhere with that leg!" Marty's voice, like the most anoying male voice in cartoons, barked out the laugh. He stepped a bit closer and put one foot directly on Q's wounded leg to keep him in place. Which wasn't long because, although limping, Dean had walked up and holstered his reaquired handgun.

If his wepons could talk, Tommy (the right hand handgun), would surely be ranting and raving over getting dropped. And Dean would cower like a sorry puppy, his guns were his children, he'd made them all from scratch amd cherrished them like family. Really they were family, those guns are the only thing he's got left of his father, or his mother.

His arms crossed, mostly to slow the opened stitching he knew was bleeding, Dean looked down at the guy with an eyebrow raised. He had told him to stop after all. "Man, i told you to stop." he said and shrugged, then looked to Marty.

He wouldn't kill the guy. No way would he kill him. If thats what his current boss wanted, well to bad. So what does th esmall town boy do? He puts his arm up and moves the other man back. Back to where he was no longer standing oon/over the grey haired man.

This earned him a very angry glair and a loud huff, But the CEO didn't put up much more of a fight than that. "Kid, your good, i want you to work for me. well you dont have much of a choice here, it's work for me or i leave you here to die." Ever cocky Marty said after a moments thought. Already he was closer to what he wanted to do because of the now dead mayor. Besides whats wrong with having two good killers under my thumb? he thought and grinned. Dean stayed quiet, and crossed his arms again.



[[Bah. I'm sorry. Not really feeling it right now. This post will probably suck.]]

When Marty put his foot on Q, the sniper called out and shook with his stomach on the ground. Finally, the other guy--Dean-- came and pushed Marty away. But the guy said he wanted Q to work for him.
Work for him? HA! Q would never.

"Yeah, sure," Q spat. "Let me get right up on my unusable foot so I can help you with that!" he growled, sarcastically.

Unless the guy offered free medical care and ample healing time before he bothered telling Q to do whatever it was he wanted Q to do, then the sniper probably would be better off just dying here on the pavement.

Dean_Collins wrote: "Ya aint gettin off easy kid. Your gonna work for me, and uh...i guess i have to pay to get your leg fixed." he said and then walked over to his car. from the back seat he pulled out a binder and a pen and brought it back over. Dean just stood and watched. Was it wrong for him to want the sniper on? Was it wrong for him to want the sniper roped up so that maybe Dean could get out of his contract faster?

Marty squatted down next to Q and opened the binder, a pre written contract there and waiting to be signed. "Pretty much what this says is that i pay for medical bills, and housing, and that you agree to do what ever odd job i give you. Be it killing some one or acting as a body guard. Got it?"

[[i'm starting college tomorrow, so i'll be a bit less active than i am as of now.]]



[[Sure. No problem. Sorry my posts have been shit lately..]]

Q turned on his back to look at the contract, and simply balked. What kind of idiot would really rely on a contract? And what kind of idiot illegal would sign it? Q was an illegal immigrant after all... He was a lot of things, but the one thing that he really was slightly afraid of was getting caught and deported. Father would have his hide...

Against his better judgment, he yanked the pen away from Marty and marked a big, calligraphic "X" on the paper. He then threw the pen at Marty's chest area and spat at the ground.

Marty took the binder and closed it with a sinister grin, then promptly slammed it across Q's face, rendering him unconscious.

He stood up and tossed the binder back in the car, as if it were not so important. He put his hands together, as if washing them clean with invisible water. "Well, that was interesting."

He turned to Dean, "Get him in the car, then, we'll get to business, won't we?"

Once Dean got the sniper in the car, they drove off to headquarters, where they'd both be given medical attention.

[[You decide if Q and Dean are roommates or got single room at headquarters, and time lapse a few days?]]

Dean_Collins wrote: Dean had carefully picked up the other gunman and put him in the back of the car. Slightly annoyed with the fact that Marty had hit him with the binder. Really, it seemed sort of degrading to the Texan, the man couldn’t have used his fist? Was he that weak, or was he just so self righteous that he wouldn’t directly touch the gray haired man?

Either way they made it back to the corporate tower and things progressed from there. Marty assigned Dean and Q to the same flat, and as stated, paid for Q’s medical bills.

The flat could have been passed off as a condemned warehouse, the inside wasn’t totally unbearable. It had just recently been made into two bedroom apartments so they were fairly nice once you got over the outside, the neighborhood, and the lack of heating and cooling, it was nice. Soft carpet and a decent size for the rooms.

As far as they’d got, Dean noticed Q’s tail (though he hasn’t said anything yet), melted a bowl on the stove, and decided that the sort of greenish grey crust on his stitches was a sign of infection (so he put some neosporin on and called it a day). So over all the last four day’s hadn’t been that bad.

Leaving today to be left undetermined, seeing how the gunslinger had just woke up and wandered into the mostly bare living room to sit on the couch. His head fell back and he took a deep breath, then closed is eyes. It was about 0930 hours, and it was just to early.

[[I put them in a flat, the bedrooms are on either side, and in between in the joint living room kitchen, with the bathroom on the opposite side of the front door (in the center of the living/kitchen) on the back wall of the flat]]



They were brought to medical attention, where Q's leg was taken care of and wrapped and he was told to not do anything on it for a week or two. Although Q was conscious that this point, he stayed silent as they were given a flat together, thankfully with separate bedrooms. Q had acquired a single crutch and used it to get around, pushing away any help if it was given. For the rest of the day, he simply slept

The next day, he came out into the main room and went to the kitchen, opening cabinets and trying to figure out what there was to eat. Q noticed that the other man was up, but didn't acknowledge the man. The sniper managed to find eggs and a pan. He worked on making himself some scrambled eggs, in silence. He was still wearing the same thing he'd slept in, complete with sunglasses. His crutch was leaned up against the refrigerator.

Dean_Collins wrote: Dean rubbed his hands over his face and drew in a deep breath threw his nose. It may have been that they had a nice place, but besides the bare necessities, there wasn't much. By not much, he meant that there was no TV, no radio, not even a book case. Which made for a very boring place. Dean had actually almost fallen asleep again, till he heard the other come limping down the hall. At which he sat up and turned around to look at the grey haired boy. His blue eyes a bit dull from having just woke up.

Though when he saw the pan, Dean stood up and walked over. "Hey man, Why don't you go take a seat and i'll make ya up something?" he offered and leaned against the one counter. The real southerner's breakfast's were always huge and delicious. He had been raised a cowboy, after all, and he had yet to find a breakfast as good and hearty as a cowboys breakfast. Dean was 110% sure this city kid had never had a better breakfast. "If we're gonna live and work together we may as well get along ya know?"



Q had already put the eggs in the pan and was about to add water when Dean came up. He kept his back to the other man and hmphed.

"I'm making this for myself, only. I don't need your help."

After adding the water, the 23 year old turned the stovetop on and watched the scrambled eggs cook, occasionally sticking a fork in there to turn pieces. The gunner wasn't making anything fancy. He didn't want to bother hunting around for ingredients. These were going to be very bland eggs, and he didn't care. He briefly thought about what he'd make at his own place, with his own ingredients... Shit.

"Are we allowed to leave here?" He asked into the pan. "I need to get my shit out of my hotel."
 
Q-tie-Pai. Fo Sho. (Solia)
Q gets trapped by some hacker guy?

Tom_Suke wrote:
Partial thing that explains what this is. XD
Sort of a mini bio/idea
Maybe my guy is a total closet furry kinda guy, and he lives in a remote area, soooo, let's say Q was after someone who tricked him, and he got injured real bad and he sees my guy's house as one not so near others, or I guess he doesn't realize it's a house but he passes out on the doorstep, and hearing the sound my guy finds him, and freaks out.
Sees his tail and is like zomg, but he tends to his wounds, takes care of him, even having him lay in his own bed while he himself takes up the couch, and keeping away cops at the door because someone in the previous night heard racket and stuff.







Tommy's Character:
anime_guy_12.jpg

Name: Anarion
Age: 22
Baby Bio: Anarion's always been a little....off. People avoided him as if he was a wasp in a swarm of allergic children. So he went reclusive, becoming an outcast where the internet was his only friend. And hey, soon, a friend with benefits. After all, people who spend all their time on the internet....you always gained things normal people wouldn't.
For one, he wasn't a 'furry', but he liked em-anything with a tail that wasn't an animal-hot damn! On a non sexual level however, the internet was a way to hack, to learn about the world that nobody else did-pentagon secrets, government affairs, little things like that-he was all in for conspiracies.
But there was something that combined those two together....
Or well, one person.


Q wrote: [imgright]qdes
Name: Quatre Bornes "Q" Lee
Age: 25
Baby Bio: Quatre Bornes, also known as "Q", is a hired gun. Emmigrating from France, he roams his new country's cities collecting contracts and killing people. Specializing in sniping, but utilizes alternative means when needed. He's good at what he does, and he likes doing it. Unfortunately, he has health problems, and that makes things a little more difficult. A little more interesting. A lot more difficult to kill people.

Because of this, he takes hits worth only under $10,000. But often people trick him. He's killed people worth much more than that. Q doesn't use the internet. He hardly uses phones. It's laughably easy to trick him, and many have. More well-known mercenaries laugh about Q. Q is stupid, to them. A waste of talent, and an ignorant fool.

Oh, and his health problem? He faints. Yes. Life is very difficult. It's hard to look intimidating when you randomly pass out. It's problematic to be holding a gun to someone's head and then not remember why you're there. But Q makes due. That's why... Q's trying to get away from his current job. Trying to get into alternative careers. But he doesn't really qualify for much. And he's an illegal, still. And he has a tail. A lot of people distrust that.



Tom_Suke wrote: Tack tack tack....
Nimble fingers attacked the keyboard with furious grace, the lettering on each key long since faded from such rapid motions, and yet every finger knew every letter-not a single typo-no, he could afford it while he hacked, especially in his style.

'Brunt force'. Of course he could be like others and sly fuck it, but it took longer, and they always detected it-not many realized there would be a harsh, less than two minute breach of brute strength on their servers, appearing only as a hiccup in their system-but he did this every night at the same time, so by now it was just a normal occurrence.

For the Government, they sure were stupid.
The fingers paused once their owner broke in, and lifted reluctantly away from the keyboard, quickly pushing up glasses at the center, sharp, chocolate hues narrowing as the hand returned like a longing lover, back to the keyboard.

A few more clicks, a backspace here and there-and he was in that locked page, and the moment he did, he knew he only had minutes. He already read most-if not all-of the data, but the images, those he studied, and admired-adored-everything. The moment the image loaded, he held his breath, staring at that angled face, those angered hues-the picture was taken under struggle, but my God-the creature within it was everything he had wanted.

And what, was his fancy, his treat that had him constantly hacking in the servers, just to stare at him for a minute or so before quickly shutting his server down least his 'hiccup' would make someone in the agency impatient on why their server was lagging more than normal.

Here he was-a real life....furry. Someone with animal in them-a tail, instincts-just-wild, free-he had heard from others in his network, sitings on him-that he was a bounty hunter, and every night, in his dreams, Anarion would hunt for his bounty, to meet Q, and perhaps, a little more than meet. They were sick fantasies to others-but one person seemed to know more than he let on-in a chain of anons, they had met-a person who was in the bounty system, and knew what calls to make. Said that there was a slim chance of them meeting, because there was a convenient bounty near where Anarion lived.

Which of course...was never a good thing, knowing Old Man Hutchep was actually a serial killer-he did research to back it up, and if this plan failed, well he'd call the cops instead, since Hutchep was always fond of borrowing sugar from him-always did make Anarion uncomfortable.

This slim chance was all he wanted-just to see Q, a glimpse of him from a window or something-but alas, the guy was usually at his real job, and always changed the date on him. Was he only toying with Anarion? He hoped not, every hint had his heart threaten to beat out of his ribcage, every mention of that single letter, Q....fuck....

Anarion sighed as he cut his power, a rather direct, blunt way to shut his server off, though he knew it wasn't healthy for his laptop. Thankfully, it was a hub so it could take the brunt of it. As he sat back quietly, he stared around his computer room, where blown up pictures of Q decorated almost every wall. He had been paranoid when he took screenshots, and had them printed a few towns over, and he paid a hobo to pick it up for him and deliver it under the bridge-he had been so careful, and now they were half a year old, and yet still beautiful. He sighed with a soft smile, only to hear something outside-in a bleak town like this, it was probably a deer or something.



[[I'm changing some stuff up. Hope you don't mind.]]

Hutchep was the hit, and Q was having some difficulty. At first, the 25 year old had watched him from a nearby hillside, expecting to kill the man through a window in his house. But it was winter, and a blizzard rolled in. It made the outdoors far too difficult to deal with as the gunner didn't have the proper clothes for it. He had to retreat to his extended stay for a while. Still snowing out, but much less freezing, he'd tried again, but again, he'd wound up having to nurse himself in his hotel. Laying in snow is prone to giving people frost bite. And colds. And no amount of alcohol could warm him, it seemed.

Q'd been given a disposable phone for this deal, and for whatever reason, his 'client' was being super pissy about the kill not happening soon enough. Q thought it very odd and was growing suspicious, but finally just decided to go right to the old man's house and kill the guy in person. It'd be messy, but it was winter and freezing outside, so he doubted the police would get around to the case any time soon. Even figuring the neighbors would realize the guy was dead. When Q had been watching Hutchep, he didn't do much aside from hang out in his own house. Real homebody. Nobody would miss him.

Dressed in black slacks, old boots, a dress shirt with maroon torso and black collar and sleeves under a thick black leather jacket, Q tried one final time to get this deal over with so he could go down south for the winter. In his left boot was a knife, and in shoulder holsters underneath his jacket were two glocks.

The 25 year old walked everywhere he went, and this time was no different. It was windy and the snow collected in his silver hair as he forced himself forward, a single gloved hand clutching a bottle of vodka that Q sucked on every so often. He was already pretty drunk by the time he got to the house. His sunglasses were pushed up on his face, hiding his long facial scar and seeming to accent his four triangular 'whisker' tattoos that were on his chin and cheeks-- two on each side.

He didn't even bother going at this in a stealth fashion. He got to Hutchep's house, drank the last of his vodka, then opened the door, which strangely wasn't locked. The gunner kept the glass vodka bottle in his left hand as he looked around for the old man. He found the TV was on and a VHS tape was playing.

Q couldn't see it, but he could hear it. Q could only see white from TV. His eyes weren't too great at deciphering things in light. Hutchep had an old tube TV. If he had a plasma, maybe things would've been different, because some snuff film was on it. All Q heard were muffled screams of pain and heavy breathing. He figured it was the standard horror movie. Nothing as creepy as was.

Then Hutchep actually showed up. He was angry, had a knife. Q, who preferred to call himself Bornes in his head, threw the vodka bottle at the old man's head. It made contact, and that was startling enough for Bornes to rush forward and grab Hutchep's knife hand with his left hand, and Hutchep's throat with his right. Q shoved the man into the nearest wall. Hutchep obviously resisted. Bornes began to growl, his upper lip lifting in a snarl-- a practice he had a hard time preventing as he got older and had an even less talent for trying to stop while drunk. The 25 year old also had a tail-- currently hidden in one of his pants legs-- but it was waving around wildly, like a trapped snake.

Hutchep's free hand grabbed Bornes's neck, but instead of trying to choke him, just tossed Q's body as if it were nothing. The old man was a lot stronger than he looked. But so was Q. The 25 year old let go of Hutchep's throat as he fell back, but not the knife hand. Even so, when Bornes had briefly list his balance, it was enough for Hutchep to stab the assassin. When Bornes had fallen back, he had basically pulled Hutchep's knife into him. The blade was now inbetween one of Q's ribs. He was pretty sure it'd punctured a lung, he was finding it really difficult to breathe now. He needed to act and do it quickly.

Hutchep still held the knife and was going to pull it out. That was bad. Bornes needed that knife to stay in his chest. He shoved his right foot forward and kicked Hutchep straight in the groin. Hutchep immediately went back, both hands to his crotch. Brilliant. Bornes quickly bent down and grabbed his own knife from his boot, and slit Hutchep's throat with it.
He would've preferred to use his guns, but the house was in such a close proximity to others, he couldn't risk the sound in such a residential area. Especially not when he would have a much more difficult time getting away with a goddamn knife in his chest.

As Hutchep laid on the floor dying, Bornes looked down at his own wound. Surprisingly, there was a lot less blood than he thought there would be. Likely because the knife was still in him. He really wanted to pull it out of himself, but he knew that would be a terrible move. He may as well just kill himself now.

Fuck.

Not only was it difficult to breathe, but now his vision was doubling.

I need to get out of here.

With a knife in his chest and another in his left hand, he left the house and tried to walk back to the main drag, realizing then that that'd probably be a bad idea-- what with a god damned knife sticking out of his chest and all.
Maybe he should've stayed in the house with the dead Hutchep.

No, it was too late now.

He was standing in the back yard of Hutchep. In the snow. Leaving a blood trail. Mixed of his and Hutchep's.

Fuck.

Bornes squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will himself to be sober.
Normally, being drunk was fine. But not today, apparently.

He felt like puking and passing out all at once. The feeling was different. He was dizzy, but it was a combination of drunkenness and what he liked to call his 'condition'. His heart started to beat hard in his chest and now he was pretty sure this was going to be his last job.

He opened his eyes, took as deep a breath as he could (with a huge hiss of pain), and took a step forward.
One single step felt like he was walking through mollases. In february.

Well it was, february, right?
So maybe it was mollasses, too.

Second step.

Okay, the street's looking like it's a little closer.
That was his goal, right? The street?

I think so.

He was getting too confused to do much. But even so, as long as he didn't black out-- he would be okay. Just, don't black out, he told himself.

Another step.

Fuck.

With the last of his will, he managed to turn himself so he at least fell on his side and didn't shove the knife more into himself. Now he was sideways in the snow, a knife still in his chest, and his own personal knife dropped somewhere three steps ago when he'd forgotten he was carrying something.

Tom_Suke wrote: [[My first post is truly shameful, also I don't know/see what you changed lol so okay, don't mind]]

That shuffling sound continued-now that he thought about it, deer didn't shuffle. Their little fawns would scoot around or thud, but this was different. Was it a bear? Those came around sometimes, but now it only had him worried enough to leave his room, shutting the door warily and heading to the front of his house, pulling an umbrella from his rack, and holding his breath-silence had him peer through the blinds of his porch, at first he saw nothing, but then-
E-eh?!


A figure was laying in the snow, the snow lightly sprinkling over him-but there were bright splotches of red, and he opened the door hastily dropping the stick-he only saw the upper side of hte figure, and there was a knife-he was too far to the village, plus they didn't have a major hospital-oh gosh. Wory had him trudge through the snow-it was only ankle high, but the shilling sting was ignored when he rolled the guy gently onto his back, only to gasp.
"K-k......Q...."

He breathed out, quickly examining him-oh my God it was r-really him! Was he-he looked down to the knife, then placed a hand on his neck, touching gently with his index and middle finger-a pulse. It was faint, but it was enough for him-he couldn't tell if there were any other injuries, but....to pick him up-he was sure that knife would move, but if he removed it, he was sure blood would spread furiously.... Torn between decisions, he sucked in a cold breath and gingerly grasped the handle, sliding it out before immedietly pressing his hand-the sticky feeling began to press as he felt the blood flowing, but already he was turning to back drag the other, one arm around his waist, the other pressing hard to the wound on his chest. Even as he dragged him towards his home-pink snow followed, and finally he was in his warm enclave, gingerly laying the other down in the hallway and shutting the door.

"A-ah-what...oh, med kit-thank you, Gray's Anatomy!" He stepped over the other and hurried down the hallway, only to pause just before the bathroom to glance-he didn't see a tail....
Oh, med kit-!

He entered the bathroom, where after rummaging for a few seconds in the cabinet, he pulled out a large, white box, and hurried back into the hallway, dropping to his knees and frantically opening the box, hands stained red. Okay, first-check the wound. Gingerly, he pressed around it, only to hear a 'woosh' of air. Oh shit, that was his breath, wasn't it? Worried now, he checked over him, going through his mind-his lungs had to be punctured, and were probably filling with blood. Or at least this one. He bit his lower lip, parting the other's lips before flushing. Oh my God, he could kiss him.

Or well, actually CPR..... He covered his nose, and swallowing, he lowered his head, pushing down his head and breathing into him.

Oh gross, just like tv-A squishing, gurgling sound arose, and he quickly breathed again, watching blood slowly ooze from the wound, and he kept rapidly expanding breath into him until some clear fluid was coming out, and here he pulled off-if not to be ab it creepy and give him a gentle peck to his lips.

"Don't worry Q, I got this," He breathed hastily, turning to the wound and quickly pressing a lump of gauze over it, holding it down-he did more breathing just in case, switching the gauze and going through his things-a knife wound was deep, and he couldn't suture it yet-he pushed a goop of disinfect into the wound, then bit his lower lip, grabbing a surgical thread pack and opening it.
"I got this....."

It took a long time to finally stabalize Q's injuries, and panting, he sat back, checking his pulse and quietly worrying-he couldn't call the hospital for this, this was....

"Holy shit....that Anon was right...." He finally breathed out, cleaning up a bit and throwing away wrappings, hands stained red. He turned his gaze towards Q, studying him quietly before he headed over, and gingerly scooped him up. He wasn't heavy, but he wasn't light either, and he sighed, carrying him up the stairs to his guest room, and gently laying him on the bed, shirtless, and now, shoeless. He set his shoes by the doorside, studying him now, again, checking his pulse, worrying quietly over him before he looked towards his waist...

Hmnn....Q was supposed to have a tail, and now that he had time to relax and calm down, he uh...searched for it. Or at least he told himself when he patted down his fornt-he was already shirtless, and he had found his weapons then, but ah-when he touched his inner thigh through the fabric, he felt out his tail, and he gently withdrew his hand, sighing out. So it was real......woah.

"Ah, you must be freezing...." He straightened the sheets, covering Q, watching over him with the med kit on the night stand-every five to ten minutes, he'd check his pulse, check his super tight bandages-he didn't want him to die....
Eventually, fatigue won and he fell asleep in the chair besides the bedside, his worry encased in the silent fervor of sleep.
'I hope he makes it till morning...'



[imgleft]Photo by S Q
"You have a problem I think I can fix," Vespasien said, in french.

They walked outside onto the balcony of their loft, and sat at a small table. Q was 18 and a half then. No sunglasses, just bright green eyes. The tattoos on his face were very fresh, and so was the scar across his face. His hair was still mostly brown, though the grey was beginning to take over. The man sat across from him. He was in his 20s already, blonde hair and very white. He was Parisian. He took out a pack of cigarettes, Benson & Hedges, and lit one, taking a small drag for himself.

Q coughed. "Smoking? Really?" the 18 year old said, disapproving.

Vespasien, Ves for short, leaned over and gave the cig to Q, butt end facing the 19 year old.
"Do you want to not feel sick anymore?" the older man said.

Begrudgingly, Q took the cigarette, and tried to smoke it. It was comical, almost. He began hacking immediately. But Ves told him to keep trying, and eventually Q would make it through that entire cigarette. Afterward, Ves gave the boy a glass of water to drink.

"It feels weird," Q relented.
Ves corrected him. "It feels good."

The man hunted around in his pocket, and then pulled out a silver chain with a green pendant at the end of it. He lifted it up over the table, so the pendant waved in front of Q's face.
"A Present for you."

As the necklace dangled in the air over the table, the 18 year old could only wonder why. But he didn't wonder for long, as the 25 year old version of himself awoke from his slumber. Everything ached in every way, and he'd discovered he'd been breathing through his mouth. And his breath tasted terribly. He had a hangover. He needed water. He also needed to smoke. He went to sit himself up, his sunglasses still firmly on his face. At this, there was a sharp pain in his chest, and he let out a minute puppy whine, his left hand going to his chest almost immediately.
At this he looked down, realizing now he had on no shirt. The silver chain was around his neck- the green gem had broken off long ago-- and his skin was tanned and covered in bandages.

His mouth opened in confusion. He didn't remember any of this. What was wrong with his chest? But he didn't have enough time to be confused that much, because the dizziness soon took over. His hands- still gloved, amazingly- went down to the bed and gripped the sheets as Bornes attempted to not fall over.

This, this was his normal condition. He had been prone to fainting. Lately, he fainted a lot more often. And it usually happened right after a dizzy spell. But this sort of dizziness was that combined with too much alcohol and not enough food, or smoking.

"Smoke," he thought aloud, in french. Despite knowing english, he still thought in french most of the time.

The spins then began to subside a little, and Bornes looked down at himself, trying to gauge exactly how bad his injuries wore. He was still breathing through his mouth, and while it had escaped him before, he now began to take notice that he was whining like a sick puppy with every breath. At this, he immediately concentrating on stopping. Animal sounds were embarrassing. But those too, had begun to get harder to control when the fainting had gotten worse.

As things began to come together in his head, he remembered what had happened. He'd been stabbed. In the chest, yes. He had been pretty sure his lung had been fucked up. So maybe he shouldn't smoke after all. But then what to do about his fainting spells?

For some reason, it had never occurred to him to think about who had tended to his wounds until precisely this moment. It was at this moment, his head swung around in a paranoia, as if he'd heard a gun shot. He pulled the covers off his-- thankfully-- still clothed legs and sprung up, grabbing for a gun out of the shoulder holster that wasn't there anymore. Yes, he wasn't wearing a shirt... He'd forgotten. Still confused.
Then he noticed the chair, and the person in it. He didn't have any time to make any conclusions about the guy there-- whether he was a threat or not-- because almost as soon as Bornes was up, he was down again.

He fell back onto the floor, on his side, passed out again.

This was going to be interesting.

Tom_Suke wrote: (Amg I'm so sorry ;n; surprise chores suck Dx )
How long had he been asleep? His back was so stiff-Anarion shifted a bit in his seat, his arms loose in his lap, no longer crossed at his chest-he was leaning back a bit as well, head tilted slightly back-he had fallen asleep, watching over the other, but something had awoken him.
Hrmnnn?


There it was again-a whining sound-it was horribly cute, but.....?
Anarion blinked and rubbed his face with a hand, shifting to sit up more in his seat, blinking as he focused on Q, only to part his lips mildly in surprise. Oh God-it wasn't a dream! And....my God, it was him-still injured, but alive-and those sounds..... He worried in silence, but then again, what would he have said to his crush, to the one he read countless stories over, with fleeting, blurred images of him in action, or simple profiles with a lack of detail-him in the flesh, right before him-it was really hard to take in, and he sat back a bit, examining him, stunned to silence as the other tilted his head-was he looking at him, or himself? He wasn't sure-those sunglasses were thick, but soon those.....rather adorable sounds were halted, and he himself almost pouted, rubbing the back of his head.

"Uhh-"
He had meant to state out a mild greeting, or some comment or concern-whatever it was, he forgot instantly when the other suddenly shoved the blanket off, stood up, hand swiping at his own shoulder, the realization that it was his gun shoulder slowly hitting Anarion after only a moment-but before he could react or even tell the other to calm down-hell, to even think about any of that-Q was down, out cold, and he himself?
On his back.

How?
Fuckin-when he got up, it scared the shit out of him, and instinct had him back up-but in a chair, he only tilted and fell back, the world spinning, and he groaned, rubbing the back of his head.
"....Ow."

It took him a moment to sit up, staring at the other before he panickly crawled over, a hand hesitating, before gingerly reaching out slowly....When he was sure the other was truly out did he dare touch his neck, feeling for a pulse, before he sighed in relief, and checked his wound. The gauze was red, he'd have to change it.

"Alright now.....easy does it..."
Anarion grunted as he lifted him up gently by the waist and back of the shoulders, a sort of odd state, but it did keep his chest from any pressure, and he finally had Q back on the bed, fixing the sheets over him-he was used to the cold out here, but he was sure that Q wasn't....

"Ooookay....probably some kinda side effect from the pain killers I gave you....and definitely not safe....maybe I should buy the dog kind..." Anarion rubbed his chin in thought as he stared down at Q, chewing his lower lip before he headed to the bathroom to wash his hands.

This wasn't good-if he kept over exerting like that, the wound would keep reopening.... He'd have to keep Q safe from himself-what was that, a sudden, sporadic spasm? He worried in silence as he dried his hands and returned, sliding on gloves and opening the med kit. It was easier to clean up the wound now, he had gone right to google-apparently, lots of people had been stabbed enough to offer advice via yahoo answers, and so he was using needle and thread again, and gently disinfecting the wound, gauze bandaging it again and throwing away the wrappings nad the gloves once done.

"Now....something to protect you...."
He stared around the room-it really was barren, as most guest rooms were. Or at least, the ones in his home. There wasn't any weaponlike objects other than a lamp, but without it he couldn't see him or do anything, so.....
An idea sparked, and he chewed his lower lip in thought before he nodded-yep, he'd have to.

~~~~~

"There, that should keep you safe."

Anarion made sure the ropes weren't too tight, unable to chafe, but strong enough to detain-he had tied his arms to the side of the bed's ironheadboard, not above-he needed blood flow to be regular on the other, and his legs were to the bottom bedboard. Satisfied, he looked him over....and well, thanks to the net-already some rather....perverse images formed in the back of his mind, and he felt his face grow hot.

Gently, he pulled down the blanket, sucking in a soft breath-shirtless and bound, oh shit.
Anarion found it hard to swallow, hard to take his gaze off, and he slipped a hand into his pocket, wordlessly pulling out his phone....and taking a picture. It was a high resolution phone, he could put the picture in one of his collections on the wall-but my God did he look so.....

"M-mnn....."
Anarion shook his head, quickly covering the other with a blanket-best not let him get cold, no matter how hard he had wanted to see that shivering chest again. He checked him over a third time at his vitals before he reluctantly left the room, a heavy sigh escaping him.

Downstairs, he began to mix things into a pot, measuring and swirling his spoon, until the entire house smelled delicious-he was making some chicken noodle soup, and he was sure it would warm Q right up-he hoped he could eat, he wasn't sure if it was just his lungs-he had checked him all over (What, a perfect excuse to feel him up while unconscious? Best not waste opprotunities) and was sure that other than a few bruises, the wound was the only one.

"I'll help him recover-I may not be a chef, but I think I can get by..."
Half an hour later he was heading up the stairs with a tray-a single bowl of soup, a cup of juice, and a little pill packet that read 'advil' on the back, and all flourished with a rose in a vase. But at the door he debated on the vase, and ended up setting it on the table outside of the room before he knocked lightly and entered.
"Q? Are you still asleep?" He was worried-it had been a whole day, and he had only left him for half an hour-he wondered if he was awake, or had fainted or anything earlier again? Oh dear, what if he never woke up again? No.....best not think like that.



[imgleft]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/post/qp1.png[/imgleft] Bornes was in and out of it through the tying. His sunglasses covered his eyes. He was still heavily confused. He couldn't figure out what was going on, really. Nor did it feel like he should. If it wasn't confusion, it was the spins, or some sudden pain. Regardless, the whine had come again and he breathed through his mouth almost exclusively.

By the time the other man left, Bornes was slowly getting a little more coherent, but he was still very confused. Who wouldn't be? In a bed half naked and tied up? The whole ordeal didn't make sense. But as he regained his mind, he began breathing through his nose, and stopping that stupid dog whimper.

When the other man knocked and said his name, Q fought his instinct to turn or say anything. He laid still, but his mind went to so many possibilities. Kidnapping? Why? Who was this? Where was he? Why?
The 25 year old heard the other man actually walk into the room, and at this, Bornes took the opportunity to lunge at the other-- shove himself up and punch the fucker in the face.

Except that never happened. He didn't get anywhere. Because he was still tied up. He thrashed once and let out some hybrid of a roar and a shout of disgust from his mouth, immediately regretting it. It was followed by a sharp, curt puppy whine when he inhaled through his nose at the sharp chest pain. If only the embarrassment had been the worst of the punishment.

Bornes still didn't even know what was really wrong with him. Being injured wasn't enough now, he assumed he couldn't think straight because he was drugged up, too. And why tie him up? What was the purpose? Maybe he would've been flattered if he were not so conflicted. He began breathing through his mouth again, but it was slow. He tried to calm himself down.

Struggling wasn't going to get him anywhere. If it was their intention to torture him, they would've taken his glasses off at the least. The fact that they were still on through this whole ordeal said volumes. Either they were stupid and careless, or they had compassion. But then again, they knew his alias so that wasn't truly saying much, was it?

Bornes swallowed and clenched his teeth for a moment, trying to think of something to say to the man in the room with him. He couldn't think of anything clever, so he ended up just asking the obvious:

"What do you want from me?"

Tom_Suke wrote: "Jesus!" He almost dropped the plate in surprise at the sudden yell-no, roar, spilling just a bit of the soup on the tray-thankfully only just a bit of broth. He'd be lying if he had said it didn't catch him off guard, and he stood there, legs locked until he heard the whimper, and he frowned gently with worry, hurriedly setting the tray down, and checking over him visually, as if unsure of getting rather near him. He had thrashed, yes, tried to escape-he had worried about that, if Q had left, he'd die out there in the cold, even if he stole a blanket. He was about two miles away from town after all, it wasn't far but it would be hell to walk with such weakness...

Anarion swallowed, silently studying him-the other was still in pain-albiet he was awake. He watched his chest rise and fall rapidly with short, shallow breaths-definitley in pain, the poor darling.... W-well, not uh, darling,, but yea....

"I....I wouldn't move around much-I'm running out of gauze and um, the wound is still rather fresh, you've already uh, lost a lot of um...blood..." He turned to the tray now to pick up a spoon, ony to blink, then frown at the words, glancing down at him.

"Ah, um...nothing, honest, I mean, it's not every day you uh, wake up tied down on a bed....Unless you had hell of a night. Haha, um," He dropped that joke as he rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head, "I'm not gonna hurt you, if that's what you're thinking... You ended up on my porch last night. Well, not really, like, a bit before in the snow, and the nearest hospital's quite a distance away, so um, took care of you myself." He swelled with pride now at this, smirking down at him and setting the spoon down for a moment.
"Just-try not to move so much, okay? I had to tie you down because you kept moving, and it only made the bleeding worse. I'd....like to untie you now, but-well...can't uh, exactly trust the situation..."

He was a bounty hunter who was always on the run, not to mention illegal-he was sure he'd get his ass handed to him on a plate, or even killed, and he didn't want that-he wasn't sure what kind of person Q was, he never thought about it other than just his fantasies... Op, uh, best not think of those. He felt his face growing hot, and instead he turned back to the bowl, picking up the spoon again.

"Alright um, you can't really sit up-read on the net that a wound up there would only pressurize if you sit, so I uh, made you soup-it'll go down easier. It's chicken noodle soup, my own mum's recipe....I'm sure you don't trust me, so uh, if I try it first, will you eat some? I'd feed you red meat but I don't have any actually. Not 'cause you're a wolf or anything-but like, you know, red meat helps with blood and all, and I want you to have a speedy recovery."

He smiled brightly at this, staring down at him-he could sense the guarded airs the other had-and he could relate-this was quite a situation, though...he felt he had been right to choose binding him to the bed-if he hadn't, he was sure those canines he spotted in that roar would have been in his flesh.
"So uh, you hungry, Q?"

He held the bowl in sight, smiling before taking a spoonful and gently blowing. He slurped it, swallowing and tasting before he shook his head. "Bleh, needs more salt...." He picked up the salt from the tray, lightly sprinkled it in, mixed it with the spoon, then took another to taste, nodding. Yup, just right. He took a spoonful and gently blowed, holding a hand under it as he brought it a little above the other's lips, allowing him a chance to reject, or accept and lift his head to take it.
"...I don't have to choo choo train this, right?"



[imgleft]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/post/qp1.png[/imgleft] Bornes didn't bother to crane his neck and watch the other guy. He instead decided to keep his head where it was, and stare out into space. The other guy certainly seemed nervous, so maybe he was truthful. Even if he wasn't, the more the other man spoke, the deeper Bornes's frown became. The reality of what his situation was was very slowly dawning on him.

No matter how much he thought he could get out of this, the guy was probably right about his chest wound. And his condition was obviously nothing to laugh at, either. If Bornes got out, he'd try to run. And then maybe the next doorstep or porch or wherever he ended up wouldn't be so forgiving. A look of surrender passed over his body. Luckily those shades covered up how sad his eyes really looked underneath.

He doubted the soup was poisoned. As he'd already deduced before, if the guy had wanted to torture him or kill him, he'd have done it already. Before he knew it, his thoughts were interrupted by a spoon of soup in his face. Suddenly Bornes wasn't so hungry. So he kept his mouth small when he said so.

"I'm not hungry," he said softly. It was forced, however. It was definitely clear he didn't enjoy talking.

His lip quivered and he made his voice monotone, trying very deeply to not get angry at this kid or his situation. It was obviously difficult.
"I need to lay on my side." He paused, clenching his teeth. Later, he added "... I promise I won't do anything if you untie me, I know I can't get anywhere with my injury."

He gave out a light snort. He really hated this. The last time he'd been dependent on anyone was never.

Tom_Suke wrote: (Got a break before class...tis kinda short, sorry)

Ah....

He lowered his hand when the other refused the soup, and he returned the spoon to the bowl, nodding gently-he wondered if the other did eat, being a hybrid and all-was he altered? Well, he didn't say he didn't eat, so maybe he really wasn't hungry. Or distrustful-or maybe he could eat human food, or was allergic to something?
Such thoughts ran through his mind as he cleaned up around the bowl with a napkin, smiling gently, "Well maybe when it cools down, you might be hungry enough?"

There was some...aggression, that he could sense, but he wasn't going to respond to it-there was no reason for the other to snap at him. However....at the mention of untying, he did pause to think, scenarios running through his mind, and he bit his lower lip, heading over to the little window and moving the drapes for a moment to peer through-the snow had coated the red from before, tracks and everything-and it was fairly high, around fix, six inches perhaps-he wouldn't get far if he did hurt him, and.....he was sure he wouldn't be killed. Either way, he thought long and hard before finally nodding.

"Well....alright, but be careful, alright? Other than that wound, you did bruise your ribs, so try not to lay on your side if it hurts. You might end up coughing up blood also, I think I got most of it from your lungs, but there still might be some left...You did gag some up a few hours ago..."

As he spoke, he began to untie his legs, making sure that he held them down gently and angled back, in case the other kicked, then slowly he was at his front, untying his wrists, then taking a step back.
"Uh...don't move so much, alright? There's going to be a blizzard tonight, so if you need any extra blankets and comforters, let me know alright?"

It was more of a snow storm-but a thread of a blizzard might keep the other from trying to run away. He didn't want him to leave, now that he was here, and he studied him quietly before he sighed softly, as if sated-my God, he still couldn't get over it. Q, THE Q, was here-in his home! Abliet injured, but still he was there, laying there, almost....helpless, and yet he was the epitome of dangerous. He was after all, a bounty hunter-and he was sure it would be hard to earn his trust.....But that was his goal now, to gain his trust-to....to be closer, because watching him sleep for several hours only satisfied little of his fantasy-err-n-notthathehadone!



[imgright]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/emo/th_Qkiss-1.png[/imgright][[It's fine. All your posts have been so much longer than mine thus far. D; ]]

Bornes closed his eyes and waited, hoping the man would untie him. The 25 year old wasn't really paying too much attention to what the other said because of this. Finally, the stranger began to untie the rope, and Bornes had to tell himself in his mind to not hurt the individual multiple times. Self control, he told himself.

But soon enough, all the rope was off, and Bornes immediately rolled onto his side, facing the other man.
He didn't care the other that told him not to move much-- Bornes had his reasons for rolling. Yes, it hurt, but he was trading one pain for another.

He reached down and unbuckled his belt, pulling at the end with the buckle and slipping the whole thing out of his pants. He looked at it for a moment, a few thoughts of killing someone with his belt coming to mind, but ultimately decided against it and just dropped the leather on the floor. He had a specific mission in mind, and that was the most important right now.

Reaching behind himself next, the mercenary pushed his pants down slightly, reached into his rear and pulled out his tail. It was long and mostly a dark brown, almost black color. Though over the years it too had begun to grey. It now held a certain salt and pepper look to it. Once the tail was finally out of his pants, his craned his neck to look down at it. He slowly brought it up, his hands gripping it and squeezing down the length of it. It was a difficult scene to describe, but ultimately, he was massaging his tail. His breathing was strained through his nose as he did this. He wasn't breathing often, really. He was holding his breath a lot because the position he was in, it was difficult to breathe and still be comfortable. Ultimately he was strikingly uncomfortable, but one had to do whatever he had to to make things a little more bearable.

The tail itself seemed like a mixture between a horse's and a collie's. Though anyone with knowledge of proper dog breeds would see it as a saluki's. It went down to a little below his knees when it was in its proper position. But right now it was being pulled up toward his neck. Eventually though, the massaging was over, and the 25 year old let go of his tail, it thwapping angrily behind him against the bed mattress to stretch out the muscles. Bornes laid his hands and his head down at this, an immediate sigh of relief escaping him. Yes, he was still in pain, but considerably less, now.

He never kept his tail in his pants for long. It was uncomfortable, and it had a habit of charlie horsing if it was stuck in there for too long. After having slept on his back for so long with the tail in his pants, everything was cramping up and getting worse. His tail was the most sensitive part of him, and with the way he'd been laying, his belt had been digging into the base-- no good.

After a few minutes, Bornes visibly loosened up substantially. He didn't seem like he was waiting for the perfect moment to attack his housekeeper anymore. A shiver went down the mercenary's bare back, and he shuddered, his tail falling still while the man relaxed a little more.

Now that his tail had been dealt with, he had more time to feel embarrassed about everything else. On Bornes's back, was a large, faded, yellow ankh tattoo. Its purpose had been to cover up his many surgical scars along his spine. But it, like the tattoos on his face, had been a mistake and something he tried to forget he had. Like his facial tatts, he'd gotten the ankh tattoo when he first came to America. He'd made a lot of mistakes at 18. The tattoos just happened to be the most prominently visual of them. The ankh on his back made him self conscious. He didn't like not having a shirt on for that reason. But to add to that, he hated his bare arms and legs. Well, he just plain disliked being naked. He wasn't sure why he disliked his arms and legs being bare-- there was nothing really wrong with them, aside from them all being hairless. That was probably a reasonable enough to be self-conscious about it. Bornes's face was hairless, too. What sort of man had no five o'clock shadow? Q. He hardly viewed himself as a man, but it was the title he was--hah-- gunning for.

He finally looked over to his captor/care-giver/whoever the hell he was.
There was something off about the other man. Behind the shades, Q narrowed his eyes, pondering. Why was the man so nervous? Something was up. He must've been hiding something.
But Q knew he wasn't in any position with leverage, so he may as well play innocent and ignorant for now.

"Well if it's going to be so cold," he growled, mostly because it was physically difficult to talk normally than because he was agitated, "Maybe you should give me my shirt back."
Bornes wasn't entirely sure why the stranger felt so intimidated-- the stranger held all the cards, here. Bornes could get up, sure. But it was very likely he'd just fall right back down again before he got two steps out. It's what happened last time, and the stranger knew it... So why so afraid?

Q's lips thinned. A lot of this wasn't right.
Obviously.

Tom_Suke wrote: Somehow....there was tension as he stepped back, and when the other, now free, moved almost immedietly, he flinched, surprised at himself in such an action, only to lean a bit to watch.
What was he....? His gaze trailed to his pants as he watched him curiously, frowning until-oh sweet Jesus. Anarion's breath hitched in his throat as Q-holyfuck-pulled out-ohGod-a tail.
A tail.

He felt his throat dry, and he swallowed thickly, his heart racing against his chest, his breathing shallowing-his lips felt dry as well, and the tip of his tongue darted out quickly to moisten them. And then......as if to tease him further, Q began to rub and massage his tail, holding it up, squeezing it-the fur shifted two and fro, and he swallowed again, letting out his breath slowly... His pupils were dilating, he could feel the heat and lust at his lower gut, and he bit the inside of his cheek, holding back a groan of need....oh my God he was massaging it down, squeezing gently here and there, and my God-Q's breathing was already labored, but the sounds he was making, gentle, and yet strained....

It was enough for him to close his eyes for a moment, trying to steady himself before opening them eagerly, trying to keep a stoic gaze-but his eyes betrayed his hungered curiosity. It was an odd style of a tail-he knew his breeds of dogs (in association with furries) but in this situation, his mind was drawing blanks-but it was nice-and more importantly, seemed real. It made sense now on why he was massaging it, the other had been lying on it for a while, and it was basically an elongated spine or tail bone-not very comfortable to pin under weigh and-
Oh my God.

When Q had released his tail, it moved, thumping the bed several times, and a small sound escaped him, his cheeks flushing-ohGod,he could feel the heat again, and he shifted a bit, panting softly, shallowly-fuck, if he kept focusing on it-he tried to look away, but already his eyes were returning to his body, examining his bare chest, perked at the coldness-gaze lowering back to that flicking tail-he licked his lips subconsciously, and finally the tail lowered out of sights to relax, and he felt his arousal now, still high, but he was calming, and he rubbed the back of his neck, biting his lower lip for a moment until he felt the other's gaze, and immedietly shifted slightly forward, so that his, er, 'curiousity' wasn't noticable in his pants.
"Ah-you're shirt?" He finally breathed out when he registered what he spoke, and he remembered quietly-he had ripped it open, but it was still useable, but the thought of the other with a shirt...wasn't fun.

"I ripped it off you to take care of your wounds...so I thought it wasn't useful and threw it away. I'll be doing laundry soon so maybe I can give you a shirt then? W-well, I'm not sure you'll fit my clothes, but we'll see...It wouldn't be wise to wear it over your wound-you're still bleeding, just slowly, and I have to keep changing the bandages. It would be a hassle-the shirt I mean, and I'm sure it'll only provide discomfort."
Damn, he didn't want him to dress up-right now, he wanted him naked, with that hot tail wagging-no no fuck don't think about that right now-

The heat again, swirled in his lower gut, and he faked a smile, turning from him rather quickly.
"I'll see what I can find for you, uh, m-make yourself at home."
He all but hurried out, shutting the door behind him, and once he did he sighed in relief, a hand covering his mouth.

My God....seeing him in person already sparked his lust-but...fuck, it was as if Q was teasing him or something, holding that tail up, squeezing and flicking it, massaging and-oh my GOD.....
He had to hurry to the bathroom now, shutting and locking the door, and turning on the vent with a flick of the switch. From there, he all but stuffed a fist against his mouth, hand sliding down his zipper front.....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With the tension gone, he headed to his room to dig into his closet, trying to find old clothes that were too small-he rather liked the other shirtless, and they were about the same stature, though Anarion was a bit more broad in the shoulders. From there, he kept trying on shirts until he found the tightest one, and now he carried it to Q's room, knocking lightly on the door.
"Uh, hope you like lavendar shirts? It's sleeveless though, I rather uh, like the cold."
And mildly see through, but eh, beggers can't be choosers.



[imgleft]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/post/qwall2.jpg[/imgleft]Bornes watched the other man falter over his words before finally turning and leaving.
Yes, this man was certainly very odd.

Whatever. The man was gone, so now Bornes would reach over for the soup. He stretched his arm out, his fingers reaching for the table. He was nowhere near to it, and he could feel his stitches beginning to tear. He gave it up pretty soon, and tried to think of the best course of action to pursue eating while the odd stranger wasn't around.

After a couple of minutes, he decided maybe he could just sit up and try to walk over. It seemed like a huge task to do so without passing out, but maybe if he just went about doing it very, very slowly... So he pulled the covers back and put his feet over the side of the bed first, very slowly inching his socked feet to the floor while he -- equally slowly-- brought his upper body upward.

In what felt like 10 full minutes later, he finally managed to make it to a sitting position. He only felt a little light-headed, so he wasn't losing the battle yet. He had very low hopes for actually walking, however.
He tried to reach for the bowl again with his left hand, fruitlessly. The table was much too far away. He sucked in a deep breath, followed by a small squeak of pain. His tail slid across the mattress behind him in discontent. Bornes grit his teeth and gripped the edge of the bed, continuing with the super slow process of putting weight on his feet and raising his upper body. More time passed and he was standing on his own two legs, but his back was still hunched over.

He decided to forgo standing up straight as long as he could take the few steps to the bowl. He did a sort of baby step/shuffle over to the table, and reached the bowl. At this point he was starting to get dizzy, but was no where near the spins, yet. His tail swayed side to side absent-mindedly. Bornes reached behind him for the chair that was near to the bed, got it, and dragged it across to the table he was now at. He plopped himself in the chair once it was close enough, and made sure his tail was hanging out the back of it. At all the "quick" motion, the room had begun to spin, and his eyes rolled into his head for a second.

He somehow willed himself to not pass out, and just took the time to settle for a few moments, his hands atop the small table, bowl of soup in between them. Aside from his tail, he was as still as a mannequin that had been placed there while he tried to equalize himself.

That was when the man walked back in with a shirt. Of course it was sleeveless. Bornes frowned. He was being given pieces of a very interesting puzzle here, but because he wasn't in his best health condition, he wasn't able to identify those pieces and begin putting the picture together, yet. Still, he was well enough aware to realize that having no sleeved shirts was extremely sketchy.

Bornes didn't move anything aside from his mouth when he said "You don't have any dress shirts? Buttons won't interfere with the dressing."

His voice was a little less forced, now. But it was still monotone. And his body still unmoving (aside from his tail-- that was practically its own lifeform anyway) made the whole scene rather creepy.

The mercenary wasn't trying to be creepy, though. He was just trying to not pass out in the best way he knew how. He was also, contrary to what he said earlier, really hungry.

Tom_Suke wrote: Ah.....how did he get up? He had only been gone for-a quick glance to the clock said half an hour-and he frowned gently-he didn't like this, he preferred him laying down, but he was infront of the soup, which...was good, he supposed.

The flickering movement of the tail caught his eye, and he almost dropped the shirt, sucking in a breath- God damn, he looked so......mnph. He hadn't turned towards him, even though he spoke directly towards Anarion, who gripped hte shirt tightly, studying him gently with mild affection in his gaze-his lips pursed in thought for a moment, before he shook his head.

"I don't get out much, and I find buttons to be a hassle. When the snow clears I can go to town in a few days and pick you up one? I think by then you'll be healed enough-but more importantly....how did you get up? I mean-last time you did you clonked on the floor-are you sure you're alright?"

Seeing him tense now, and speaking so firmly while remaining motionless-he had to admit it riled him up a bit, as well as worried him-it was a bit creepy though, he couldn't deny thhat, and he noticed how still he was, glancing down to the food, then to him.

"...Do you not like the soup? I can make uh, something else if you want? Anything meatier-I have some chicken left over, unless...you don't eat meat?" He used it as an excuse to eye his tail again-that glorious, peppered beauty, flicking freely through the chair-hrmnn.....it was so enticing-he wanted to stroke it, tease it, brush out the tangles with his fingers and grip it while making lo-
Err....


He was so glad he was out of stamina, or else he wouldn't have been able to hide a tent in his pants at this angle. Instead, he movd to the far side of the room where the lower vanity desk was, setting the shirt there-it was the farthest from the bed, but he felt if he approached him Q might attack, or tense-and he didn't want to cause him any stress that would slow injury down.

"Um...I know you aren't too trusting, but...I do have painkillers, if you want. I'm sure you'll turn it down though-" And he knew it, the other had no idea if it was anything safe-he had advil and such, but still, he was sure it wouldn't be trusted, many people altered medicines with syringes or coatings and what not.
Saying it now-how suspicious-he closed his mouth then, deciding not to talk, and he rubbed the back of his neck, chewing his lower lip.

"I....do have some regular tee shirts though-nothing buttoned up, so maybe when you're better, I could offer those? This one has a low v was why I picked it-so I can get to the wound without aggravating it. Oh and...in a few I'll come change it, it's looking a bit more yellow than before-I looked it up, that's the fluid that coats your inner lungs, it's good that it's yellow and not red any more....but there might still be some blood, so try not to move around so much, or at least, be careful not to stretch around-if the stitches tear, there's a chance the wound can get infected, or even bigger." Talking seemed to calm him down immensely, as well as talking about Q's injury, though his eyes continued to watch his tail, and a soft smile had formed on his lips when he relaxed-if he didn't focus on the fact his very idol was IN HIS GUEST ROOM, he was totally relaxed.
.....Heh.

[imgleft]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/post/qwall2.jpg[/imgleft]I mean, are you sure you're all right?

"No," he said aloud.

Shit, he thought to himself. He hadn't meant to actually say it.

Thankfully it seemed as if his curt answer was looked over, as the other man kept on nervously bantering about one thing or another. As he talked, Bornes slowly moved his head down, wondering if this was a bad idea, afterall. But fuck if I let some kid feed me, he angrily thought to himself.

Once the stranger offered to make something else, Bornes spoke up again, though by now he had managed to be looking at the bowl and his head was clearing very slightly.
"Oranges and bananas," he stated.

It didn't occur to him how odd that sounded out loud, but that's what he wanted. Oranges so he could get his red blood cell count back up, bananas for energy. But for now he was trying to hone in on the noodle soup. As much as a sloth could hone in on anything, anyway.

Then he could hear the man walk away. But Bornes was too nervous of his consciousness to actually look. He mentioned something about painkillers. Bornes replied, again.
"You're correct," he said, emotionless. Bornes couldn't take pills. They fucked with his head. But he wasn't going to tell this freak, that.

"I'll just stay shirtless, then," he grit his teeth, wondering if that was the right choice. He wasn't too keen on wearing that shirt, though. He never got a good look at it, but by the description alone he'd look like a huge fag. So no.

"I'm not worried about the chest wound," he continued. "I have other health problems." At that he didn't go into detail, and went to grab the spoon. He realized his hands were still gloved. Before doing anything food-wise, he took his gloves off and tossed them on the floor as if they were worthless.

He went back to the spoon, and put it in the soup, bringing the spoonful of soup up, he kept it parallel to the bowl's ridge, just looking at it for a moment. The soup rippled in the spoon as he hand shook. It wasn't too noticeable, Bornes thought. Or rather, hoped.
It was nicotine withdrawal.

"... And what's the internet say about smoking? Because I could kill for a cigarette about now," he grumbled, mostly to himself. He knew the answer was going to be no.

He put the spoon back in the bowl of soup and started over, this time bringing the spoonful to his mouth and actually eating it.

Tom_Suke wrote: Oh....well at least he was honest.
Anarion blinked at the simple reply, frowning gently-so he obviously was in pain-but what could Anarion say to that? A far more odd answer arose from the hybrid that had him blink softly-oranges...and bananas? Hmnn, Vitamin C to stop infection, bananas for.....shit, he forgot what those were for, and he nodded softly in thought.

"I don't have any oranges, but I do have some bananas-they're a bit green but I hear if you put them in a paper bag with an apple, they'll ripen. Is there anything else you want? I got strawberries, cucumbers, carrots, eggplants-" It took him a moment to realize he was naming....long vegetables, at which soon as he realized, his mind plummeted in the gutter, and he shifted from fruits and vegetables, to snacks, if only to calm his heart, "And a few other fruits-I also have uh, snacks like chocolate, some cheese sticks...it's not much since it is sunday, I usually, heh, restock on Mondays."

Ohoho. shirtless. Anarion likey.

He was glad the other hadn't turned towards him-the excitement on his face was rather hard to hide, but he managed to shift his tone into a calmer state.
"Right, then I'll just provide you more blankets, I'll make sure you're nice and comfy."
Not worried? It was a hole in his chest, that was something to be concerned abou-Uwaaa?

His eyes widened, then calmed, but his brows furroed and knitted into one another with worry, and he took a few steps closer to his chair, but making sure there was space incase of any backlash to his approach.
"E-eh? Other-m....maybe you should lay down....I checked all over you-I didn't see any wounds-or is it internal? Are you hurting or-or sick or-" He trailed off as something fell, or was thrown to the floor-it took him a moment to realize they were gloves, and the other was making to eat. Oh. He sighed softly, rubbing the back of his neck, al ittle habit he had when he was nervous or uneasy-what....other problems did Q have? He was worried now, but the mention of smoking had him blink softly.

..............Okay, if Q couldn't get any hotter-sure, smoking was bad and all, but it was also badass, and fuck, imagining the other smoking after a hot lay, body damp with sweat, tail wagging-or simply clothed in leather and leaning at a brick alley wall, smoking-so cool, so....arousing.....

"I don't smoke, but I can buy some tomorrow...with the oranges and stuff. I got beer though-German, I can't stand American shit." Ahh, he wasn't an alcoholic, or so he liked to believe-but a cold beer after a hot shower, or playing Skyrim was like, the best shit on earth. And coke as well, that tasted good when mixed with Jack Daniels. Mnn...

"Name your booze-from Pucker to Moonshine, you name it I got it. I even got some Sky Vokda, but it's pretty strong."

He watched him eat, and he smiled almost fondly-it wasn't an arousing thought to watch him eat-but...it felt nice, and bubbly-he hadn't had anyone eat what he made, and he liked to think he was quite the chef, seeing the other eating it perhaps made him feel a bit better about himself, and for once, there were no self degrading thoughts to follow, and the smile on his lips was genuine, and not lust inspired.
"Do you like it? I hope it's not too salty-or is it not salty enough? I know your job's very athletic, and so all that running around and shootin' folks probably has you low on sodium, I didn't put much in the soup but I can get the shaker if you'd like-or anything else?"



[imgleft]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/post/qwall2.jpg[/imgleft]"Orange juice?" Bornes suggested when the other man said he didn't have any oranges. Usually people had orange juice. But after that the man droned on again, and the 25 year old started tuning him out.

But then the other man started coming closer and Q stiffened up, getting defensive. But he froze instead of actually did anything. Everything in him told him to do other things, but he had to keep telling himself his body couldn't do it, and he had to sit tight. He had to sit here and try and concentrate on getting food in his stomach. Healing himself. This creeper was simply a creeper, he told himself. There was no imminent danger, here.

He remained silent at his health condition, refusing to explain further. Thankfully the stranger got distracted again and started mouthing off about smoking and cigarettes. And again on alcohol, which Bornes had never even mentioned. The mercenary dropped the spoon into the bowl loudly so the other would stop talking.

"You're a horrible nurse." he said loudly.
"And you're not a good cook."

That last part wasn't so true. Bornes was used to canned things and making everything himself. It was all pretty bland to him. He thought maybe he didn't really have tastebuds anymore... But he never questioned it. He just wanted to rile up the stranger a bit, see what his reaction was.

But Bornes ultimately was still hungry, so even though he'd just proclaimed the soup as terrible, he picked up the spoon and continued to eat it regardless.

Tom_Suke wrote: "Nope, but I got some lemonade, I think it has the same citrus to vitamin C content?"

He tilted his head back in thought for a moment before nodding-he was sure it did, and he did have some of that minute maid shit somewhere in the fridge, and he knew it wasn't expired. Ah, but back to booze, his delight, "I've even got some whiskey and gin, soem of it imported-only pop that for special occasions and-"
The sudden clang of metal on ceramic had him flinch slightly-but the words....well, they somewhat stung. Sadness flickered in his gaze before it was vehemetly crushed by annoyance, anger-it all mixed and he silently huffed-who the heck did he think he was, royalty? No-he was Q....the mere thought of his name calmed him down, and he crossed his arms, glancing off to the side for a moment.

"....S'cus I'm not a nurse, I'm a computer geek......Sorry I'm not a five class chef here, I'm sure you can have Shrimp ta-ta at some fancy schmancy place soon as you're well on your way." Alright, he shouldn't be so stiff-the other was probably irritable from being in pain-it was mildly understandable, after all each time he stubbed a toe he'd list every known profanity in around three different languages.
Anarion sighed and ran a hand through his hair, watching him pick up the spoon, and he snorted softly.
"...I'll get yer juice and maybe some lemons to make it taste good or something."

He shouldn't let this sour him up, but it did, and he gruffly turned and headed out, shutting the door with a huff sigh. Who did he think he was-no, no it wasn't his fault, the pain was making him like that-it had to be it.....He didn't look like a jerk after all.

Anarion groaned softly to himself, rubbing the back of his neck as he headed down the stairs, shifting through the meager supply in his fridge until he found the half jug, checked the date, sniffed it for approval, then poured it in a glass with some ice. He also cut a lemon and took half of it with him, heading up the stairs, his heart pounding-irritable, nice, unpleasant, sweet-whatever Q was....he was Q, and he was making his heart pound in every second of his presence.

Anarion was much calmer when he entered the room again walking over slowly, pausing when the other stiffened before he leaned almost over him to set the glass and lemon down, silently, and quickly, inhaling his sweet, musky scent through his mouth, stepping back quickly before it could have been noticed, glancing away as he leaned into the wall.



[imgleft]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/post/qwall2.jpg[/imgleft] Q listened to the other blabber on in his little fit. Hah, as if Q were spoiled. He only played it so. But what was more interesting was the computer geek part. The 25 year old exhaled forcefully through his nose at that-- it explained a few things. Computer geeks were always extremely weird. But they also always seemed to know things they shouldn't. And that also might explain why the stranger knew so much about Q.

Though it was also possible that some friend had simply recommended the assassin-- Maybe the geek had someone he needed to kill. Still, the thought was in the back of his mind about the internet... Was there anything about him there? And if so, how much? Bornes couldn't use a computer. He'd tried but the monitor was always blank for him. Something about how his eyes processed light, Vespasien had said.
It was fine, Bornes was never interested in that sort of technology anyway. He liked his guns, he liked cleaning them and using them and looking through the scope of his M40... Just thinking about the tools of his trade seemed to calm him down a little after the geek left in his nerd fit.

By the time the stranger came back, Bornes had finished the soup and was simply waiting, trying to get up the courage to walk back to the bed. He knew he should sleep again. Everything about him ached and unless he was concentrating on something specific, the pain was at the front of his mind. But even still, he didn't want to look like a fool walking five feet. He was sure the way to the table had looked especially awkward.

The computer geek came over and reached overtop Q's head-- A bad move for Q's inbuilt defenses-- to set a glass of juice down. At that point, Q had been busy thinking about trying to walk over to the bed, and his reaction was almost completely out of his control. He'd leaned to the side in his chair and shoved his left hand into the other person's armpit before he'd even fully realized he'd moved at all.

Q's hand was at a pressure point, and was currently gripping hard enough it would hurt, but not too painfully-- just enough to know the other had done wrong. But just about the time Q realized he probably should've been able to prevent this move, his world went black.

His grip on the stranger briefly squeezed with all his might, as a sort of unconscious move to keep him in the chair. But it was no use, because no longer than a second passed before everything went limp and he fell onto the floor again, passed out.

Too fast, he would've told himself he weren't unconscious. You can't move like that anymore.

Bornes would only be out for maybe five minutes... Assuming his body stayed where it was. It was the moving quickly that was messing him up. One would suppose even moving at normal speed was a danger. Or it could've possibly been the adrenaline rush. Any sort of that and he was passing out, too.

These were the sorts of things he dealt with on a regular basis. Though, much less severe. He'd begun passing out a lot more these last few weeks, and it was deeply worrying. The only difference was, he was usually able to control it enough so he could get himself to a safe place before falling. Here, in this house, he could barely control anything. It happened too fast.
But not eating for however long he was out when he got stabbed probably hadn't helped the matter.

Fainting probably wouldn't be anywhere on the internet about Bornes. However, some of the much earlier files might say something about chronic low blood pressure, or the fact that the 25 year old was only expected to live to his early 30s. Assuming these files were at all accurate, Q was on his death bed and he hadn't even realized it.

Although Bornes might come to pretty soon, he wouldn't stay awake for long... He'd much rather sleep. He knew he needed to, and he was tired anyway. So he would. He'd sleep then, for probably a whole day if he were allowed. He'd only wake up for food and drinks when offered. And he'd be too afraid to get up again for quite some time. Though he'd put up a strong front. He didn't like looking weak. He didn't like this entire situation... But a man had to do what he had to to survive.

Inside, though, he was afraid. And he began to get a little depressed. He thought to himself how he was probably going to be bedridden for the rest of his life, however short it may be, and his nurse was some rambling lunatic. How annoying. He'd never get any peace. He'd never be outside again.

He wished he'd died by that knife in his chest outside, and quietly frozen to death... That would've at least been somewhat peaceful.

Tom_Suke wrote:
"H-hyaaaa!"
Excruciating....!
Anarion struggled with a short cry, writhing to pull away-it stung, but he was able to breathe as he felt this tingling pain-and then suddenly the squeeze-shit-!

Another, loud cry, and suddenly, he couldn't feel his arm, the pain had done something, he wasn't sure on how or what it did exactly, but he couldn't feel his arm and soon as the other flopped off the side of the chair and to the ground, his arm flopped as well, falling limp to his side. Panic arose as he tried-willed-to move it, rubbing it with his other arm, staggering back for a moment and biting his lip as he breathed harshly through his nose-the pain, just before the numbing pain-it stung horribly....
"G-gods, even weak he's dangerous...."

Anarion finally breathed out, worriedly looking over him before he started feeling the sharp, tingling sensations. Life began to return to his arm, and he began to wriggle his fingers-minutes went by before he could feel it fully, but already he was crouching to check the other with worry, gently pushing his good arm under him when he was sure he was out of it. He pulled him up, chest to chest-and flushed as he felt the other's cheek touch his, head against his shoulder, and he hefted him and leaned back himself, using his chest and navel as a support for the other's figure, and when he arched up he was able to drop the other's upper torso gently onto the bed, and by then his arm's tingles began to decrease, and he wriggled his hand again, testing the touch and strength of his hand, at which he began to move his knees to legs back onto the bed, at which he took a seat on the side, sighing out and rubbing his face with his hands. "Ugh, you are so troublesome...."

It took him a while before he tied his arms, and if only because he saw a spot of red on the bandage. Gah, he'd have to clean the wound with a throbbing arm....

Gingerly, Anarion began to slide on gloves and touch around the bandage before peeling it off, sighing-there were a few tears in the surgical thread, and he was glad he still had some left. Picking up the needle from the kit, he threaded it quietly and hoped the other wouldn't wake as he plunged the needle into the mildly bleeding flesh, running it through and tugging it in and out the other end. He tried to do it quickly-who knew when the other would awaken, before he wiped at the wound with rubbing alcohol and began to patch it up with dry gauze, taping it down with surgical tape, and sighing as he began to take off his gloves.
"Troublesome...." He wondered now if he should keep him tied down, or at least his arms-perhaps that might make things safer for both of them.

He had sat there for minutes staring at the other, gingerly reaching out to stroke his hair from his face, and after a while, daring himself to gently pet his tail, if but for a moment. His own stomach rumbled and now he chose to leave the other, having soup downstairs before popping onto his laptop. The first thing he did was head to the forum, and in pms he merely emailed: thanks Anon~<3
and with that he had waited, and soon the other was online, shocked, and her Anarion told him of the situation-the other warned him but of course he knew he had to be careful-overall, the entire situation proved to be far more successful than they thought.

(and timeskip)
He had loosened his bonds earlier, in the morning before he had set out to buy things, taking the long trek with a little snow mobile-the region was always snowy afterall most of the time, so it had been a good investment. Once in town, he loosened his scarf, sighing to himself as he went through the market, chatting idly with people and making small talk while he bought oranges, a few bananas, some more fruits, more gauze and medical supplies, and a long sleeved shirt-thin, but with buttons, and a size smaller than what he thought Q was. Was he a pervert?.........Yea, he knew it, but he had debated on buying the shirt in the first place, so at least he was giving him one. Eventually he returned with the back of the mobile full of cargo, at which he carried it in grocer's bags inside, packing the goods in the fridge save for a few oranges, at whih he set on a plate, tucking the shirt over his arm as he headed up the stairs and lightly knocked on the door. "Hey Q, you up?"

Anarion opened the door with a bright smile, nodding towards him as he entered and sat down on the chair. "I brought you some oranges, and a shirt, "He hesitated now as he showed those, then sighed, "Um-yesterday....wasn't smart on your part. So, in order for my own safety, I'll keep you tied until you're better, or at least, until I trust you more."

(crappy posty)



[imgleft]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/th_q-14.jpg[/imgleft]Bornes couldn't sleep for long. He kept waking up in the middle of the night. Weird dreams. He didn't like them. Things he didn't want to remember. But even after waking whenever he did, he'd simply turn his head and fall back asleep.
He was annoyed at the bonds again, but he was too tired to fight about it. He didn't feel like talking.
The morning after, the other man came in again and woke Bornes up from another slumber.

"... I am now," he said, his voice shaky.

Going cold turkey off those cigs was a lot harder than he thought it would be. He felt worse now than he did yesterday. He knew it was mostly in his head, though. Not that that made the situation any easier to deal with.

"No bananas?" he interjected. But soon the man went right on into the bondage thing again.

Q snorted. "Don't sneak up on me. I was defending myself." He grumbled.
The actual answer was more along the lines of 'I can't control myself and I knew I shouldn't have done it.' but he'd never admit that.

"So if I'm in this shit then how do you expect me to eat?" he spat.
Well, at least his chest was feeling better. He just had a killer headache and his hands were probably still shaking. If not his whole body.
But maybe the stranger would think it was from the cold instead of withdrawal.

Tom_Suke wrote: "I have some downstairs, but thought you'd like oranges first or something." That, and he was sure watching Q eat a banana would....spark things in his mind again, and he already had quite a few heated dreams last night.

"I do have something better though," Here he dug into his back pocket, slouching in his seat for a moment before he pulled out a packet of cigarettes, frowning at them for a moment before he also pulled out a lighter-recently brought from the looks of it.

"I wasn't sneaking up on you-I told you I was getting you juice dude."
He mumbled, only the mention of eating he did frown in thought, then simply began to peel one of the oranges. "I'll just feed you. Until I can trust you, of course."
He added as an after thought, holding a slice of orange, still in the white mini shell, towards his lips. "If you're hungry right now, or the most I can do is cuff like only one hand, so that you can eat and smoke. Oh...you probably want to smoke first than eat, don't you?"

He asked, pulling back to eat the slice himself while picking up the packet- it was the brand marbolo, he didn't know what kinda cigs the other liked, but now he was trying to open the packt, pulling the tab on the site, though when he finally succeeded he did wait on consent to light one or not.

The shirt he set now in his lap to keep the side of the bed clear-it was slightly thin, light gray, and button up-he'd put it on him later, or allow him to do it, he wasn't sure if he should trust him...



[imgleft]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/th_q-14.jpg[/imgleft]Bornes turned his head away from the stranger. "Don't come from behind." He hmphed.

Turning his head again, he eyed the cigs and the orange. Feed him? FUCK no.
"No, I can feed myself. I won't hurt you. Look, it was a subconscious thing. For someone who knows so much about me you're pretty dunce." Bornes had meant to say 'dumb' but his french to english inner workings were kind of concentrating on how amazing those cigarettes looked about now.

"... You sure I can? With the.. Lung thing and all?" he clenched his teeth and his tail's tip lightly tapped on the mattress in anticipation. He really wanted them, and oh god he could smoke the whole pack right now.. But he didn't want to fuck up his physical condition any more than it already was.

"Look I get it if you don't trust me, at least one hand free is fine," he rushed.
He was hungry but his brain was thinking Fumer.

Tom_Suke wrote: "I'm not-" There was no point in arguing, and he humphed lightly, sighing-it would only spurn the other, and he wasn't going to let him feed on that. Speaking of feeding, he wasn't sure what to do about the situation.... And thinking quietly, he sighed and reached out, pausing, before he untied the hand closest to him, and set the pack in before untying the other.

"Fine, I'm trusting you again. As for your lung.....I'm not sure, but I patched it up pretty well, we'll limit you to a few minutes every now and then, and if it hurts then we'll cut you off, alright? Now uh, do you need me to help you sit up or anything?" Yes, he had noticed his mild difficulty, if mild was the word for it-to which he wasn't sure how badly the other's strength was depleted, and he handed him the lightr now.
"Careful now, alright? I'll go get the bananas-try not to set a fire or anything, okay?"



[imgleft]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/th_qhappy.jpg[/imgleft]"No, I don't need help," he replied, insulted.
He watched the other untie his one hand, his tail beginning to tap the mattress harder and faster in anticipation beneath the covers.
Once Q's hand was free, he dropped the marlboros and went to his own pants, putting his hand in his pockets, which took some fandangaling, and pulled out his own pack of mostly crushed cigarettes. He laid the box of Benson & Hedges, a british brand, ontop of the covers. He then somehow managed to open the box and take out a cig with just his one hand, slipping a cig out and placing it in his mouth. He then went for the lighter, taking it and lighting up his own cig, trying to control himself and only take a very small drag to figure out how it was going to affect him.

He dropped the lighter and held the cigarette with his one free hand as he immediately coughed.
Augh.

It hurt. But it hurt so good.

He managed to hold back more coughs and took another long drag anyway. His head was already clearing up. His chest could go fuck itself. He knew the cigs would help him with his fainting problem. His chest was just pain. He could deal with pain, but not with fainting. So this was the lesser of the two evils.

"Yeah, yeah" he remembered. "I'll be fine, go get the bananas."

He continued to suck on his cigarette. Then he'd chain smoke the ones that were left. And when those were done, he'd go into the marlboro and start on those, too. He had smoked maybe 6 cigarettes in all by the time the other man had gotten back. Six was a little much in one go, but Bornes wasn't regretting it. He felt awesome, now.

He reached for the orange, but it was too far away. Even so, all the ashes and cigarette butts on top of his bed sheets slipped to the ground. His brand new box of marlboros, too. Bornes hissed, not even bother to reach for those since he knew he couldn't.

"So can I have that orange, now?"

He knew it was going to taste like absolute shit after smoking, but he needed the nutrients. And he was starving. So fuck it, he was game.

Tom_Suke wrote: Goodness. He watched him practically take it like it was a drug-oh wait...it was, but still, it surprised him how much he was.....addicted, and needy with them. Well....to each their own. Anarion decided to head down just as he heard the other shuffling through the rest of the cigs, the flickering sounds of the lighter sparking mild worry-he'd have to check the wound later and disinfect it, who knew what that smoke would do to the inner wounds...

Anarion shut the door behind him, though he held his breath and listened to the flickering for a bit more, assured the other wasn't trying anything else, and he headed downstairs, heading to grab the bananas from earlier by the bunch, and hurrying back up, fixing his hair just before he reentered, and set the bananas on the table only to gasp at the motion the other had done.

"Ah-hey, that could start a fire!" He snapped, carefully grabbing-damn, quite a few butts from the ground, holding them burn end out, and picking up the pack and setting it on the nightstand while dropping the butts in an empty glass before he picked up the tray and handed it to him.
"Here you go, enjoy."



[imgleft]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/post/qwall2.jpg[/imgleft] "Chill out, they're all out," he said, referring to the butts.

When the plate was handed to him, he took it and sat it on his legs, over the covers he hadn't bothered to push off himself. He then pushed himself into a sitting position. A feat which he did easily, normally, at normal speed and perfectly fine. Thank you, he said to himself, thinking of the sweet, sweet nicotine.

His chest still hurt, a little more now even, but the wondrous other feelings made it easy to push that pain to the wayside. Q was used to pain. It was kind of par for the course with him.
Needless to say, once he was sitting up, he started stuffing his face with oranges. And yes, they did taste awful. He made a face first but never stopped eating. Maybe five minutes later they were done, and he motioned for the bananas. When the stranger gave them up, Q peeled them and bit into them in quite possibly the most unsexiest way possible. The guy was ravished. Who would blame him?

After the second banana, he slowed down, peeling the third banana and eating one bite at a time, his eyes staring down the stranger who just kept watching him.
Now that Q was able to focus on something other than his state of consciousness, everything was seeming to come together a little. Even though Q's green eyes were behind dark shades still, it became a staredown, and Q went tight-lipped after he swallowed the second bite of his third banana.

"Why are you doing all this for me?" He questioned. "What's in it for you?"

Tom_Suke wrote: "You never know dude, and you got ashes in the carpet.."
He mumbled off, watching him sit up, and soon as he did-damn.
Anarion watched slightly in awe and awkward surprise at him just....inhaling the oranges, as if he never did have any before-he did seem to not like them-was it because of the taste-or was he not an omnivore? either way, it was a site to see-it wasn't appealing, just...astounding he could eat so much in such little time, truly.....wow.

and then the bananas....When they were motioned, it was sad he was a little...eager to give them, though the ending result was a bit....anti climatic, and slightly fearful. He scarfed them, like the oranges-had he not fed him a day ago, he'd have thought he hadn't eaten in weeks!
"Man, you were starved....."

He mumbled off slightly, rubbing the back of his head, but soon he felt the other's gaze-even if he couldn't see his eyes. He only swallowed for a moment, then glanced away, only to blink at the question, and shrug.
"Well....I'm not one to jjust leave people you know, and...nothing."
'Just seeing you...in person is enough for me, let alone being near you.'
He actually flashed him a small smile.



[imgleft]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/post/qwall.png[/imgleft]He narrowed his eyes behind his shades. That was a rather awkward answer.
"I hope you don't expect me to believe that terrible lie," he said, taking another bite of the banana as if it were nothing.

He finished the banana soon after and laid the peel on the plate, picking up the plate and handing it back to the stranger. Afterward, he pushed his sheets back and got up with ease. He stood in place for a small moment, gaining his bearings. His vision had blurred for a moment, but ultimately he felt good to move around and not pass out for a while longer.

He lifted his arms up, and his tail behind him, stretching. He let out a yawn too, while he was at it. The stitches pulled, and he stopped, putting a hand to his chest and trying to see if he had done any lasting damage. Frowning, his tail gave a few strong flicks as if it were a horse's swatting at flies before he put his mind past it all and turned his attention to the shirt the stranger had bought.

After finding where the other had placed it, he picked up the shirt and slipped his arms in, rolling his head on his shoulders to crack his neck after both arms were in. He immediately noticed the shirt was tight, but didn't say anything. He simply silently decided to not button it.

He raised a brow, looking to the stranger for a moment before running his left hand through his hair and looking down, thinking to himself.
After a moment, he lifted his right knee to his chest slowly, then placed his foot back down on the floor. He did this a few more times before switching to the same with his left. He was stretching.
After his right leg was done he walked over to the nearest wall, and put his right hand against it. Then, standing on his right leg, he held his left foot behind him and held it with his left hand. While he was in this position, his breathing became inconsistent. It hurt to breath in these positions. But his legs hurt so he continued, anyway. He kept his left leg up for about 25 seconds, then switched and did the same with this right. He looked down at the floor, and his sunglasses dropped down. Bornes snorted in distaste, but didn't let his leg go until after the 25 seconds.

When both feet were on the floor again, he rubbed his eyes with his hands, then squatted down and grabbed the glasses. Once he was back up, he used one of the shirt tails to clean the lenses before placing the shades back on his face.

Afterward, he turned around, glancing at the stranger again, but mostly around the room.

"Where did you put the stuff I was wearing before? My jacket? The guns?"

As soon as he said that, a mark of disgusted surprise went across his face. No! He thought.
"What day is today?" he rushed.

"All my things!" He ran to the door.
He was intending to leave the house and go to the hotel he had been staying in, previously.
He'd only paid for the week. He didn't know how long the hotel staff would just roll with that 'do not disturb' sign on his door before they went in, saw he wasn't there, and then trashed all of his belongings.

Tom_Suke wrote: "I do, actually-I don't want anything from you, so It's not...really a lie," It's just missing some truth, was what he thought as he glanced off to the side, sitting down in the chair with a gentle huff. The other didn't press for anything else, and so he merely watched him idly, glancing towards his wound once in a while, until the plate was handed. He took it and set it on the nightstand, only to blink and watch him push off the sheets. Worry flashed in his gaze as he stood up, studying him quietly.

"Ah-careful now..." He mumbled, watching him lift his arms and....Oh. He was stretching, and my God did he want, no, need a camera. But oh, he stayed put, his eyes staring, watching quietly, surprisingly not with a hungered gaze-it was more as if he was analyzing him-but that was only because he was holding back. Damn, he needed shades-maybe that would hide his hungered eyes. He only knew he was doing a good job of hiding lust at the fact his face didn't feel hot-though his heart was thudding against his ribcage, threatening to push out. The last bit of it was the tail-it's flicking had his attention, and only then did his cheeks flush-stretching male muscles, a toned chest-and that tail.... fuck...
Q turned from him, and now he let his gaze hungrily fall over a muscled back and-dat ass. Mnph, curved and formed-that tail was just...mnn....

Anarion sucked in a soft breath when the other turned towards him after sliding into the shirt, leaving it unbuttoned, and then began to shift and-oh, more stretching? Damn, it was like porn for Anarion. He leaned back to watch, arms crossed over his chest now, appearing only curious in his stances, like a trainer watching someone at the gym, and again, he was proud of himself for hiding his interest, though his tongue swirled the roof of his tongue several times behind closed lips, and twice he swallowed lightly.

Mnn, the way his tail swished, the way his legs stretched, and how that ass was just-mn, no, stop it Anarion, he thought to himself quietly, turning his attention to the plate. He picked it up and the peels, setting them in the trash just as he heard a clatter, glancing over his shoulder from where he sat to notice the glasses were on the ground.

He wanted to see is eyes, and so he leaned a bit to peak as the other squatted, but alas, no avail, the glasses were cleaned then returned from whence they came, and the other had turned towards him now-he silently pouted in the back of his mind, keeping his face stoic until a puzzled expression formed.

"Ah, you're jacket's in the dryer, and your guns...well, I-" He was interrupted, and he stood up quickly as the other hurried towards the door, and he grabbed the back of his shirt.

"W-wait just a minute, it's tuesday and you can't go out there! You might faint again-or get sick outside in the cold! Where are you going-let me take care of whatever it is!"
He tugged on him, his voice firm and adamant, narrowing his gaze and tugging back on his shirt a bit harder.



[imgleft]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/post/qwall.png[/imgleft] When the stranger grabbed Q's collar, the mercenary spun around and shoved the other's back into the nearest wall, Q's left forearm across the other's neck. It was that pure defensive mode, again. Q's upper lip was in a snarl, clearly reacting to the perceived attack. But luckily enough for the stranger, his words came out before the ordeal.

It took a full second or two for those words to register though-- before Q backed away from the other, a look of dread coming over his face. His hands fell to his sides and his tail went still.

"Tuesday?" He moped.

It was if someone in his close family had just died. That's what it felt like.

"Mardi?" He repeated the word in french, as if that would make it any less real.

Tuesday. He was supposed to be back on Sunday, pay on monday. What were the chances they hadn't already gone through his shit? Yes, it was in a locked seabag... But a seabag was just a canvas bag. Nothing was preventing them from cutting it open.
His whole life was in that bag. Nothing confirming his personal identity, but still... And his M40... And $10,000... Now he had no money but whatever was in his wallet.

The whole world just seemed to stop, and he went back to the bed, sitting on it, and putting his head in his hands. He had by no means lived lavishly, but now it seemed like everything he'd worked for was gone.

"I won't faint anymore," he grumbled to himself in french as he looked up at the cigarettes on the night table. "I don't faint when I smoke the cigarettes." At the last word, he picked up the pack of cigs and threw them across the room, as if they were the cause of everything bad that had happened to him.
Maybe they were.

He returned to putting his head in his hands, slipping his fingers under the shades and over his eyes.
"My whole life is gone because of this stupid shit," he muttered.

Tom_Suke wrote: "G-ghhk!"
His gasp was strangled as he was shoved hard into the wall, the back of his head hitting against it as his forearm pressed against his neck, pushing his adams apple uncomfortably back against his throat, earning fishlike gags from the male who all but squirmed.

He closed his eyes, struggling more as he gasped for air, hearing the cold snarl....and suddenly the other released him and he ended up coughing, gulping in sweet, sweet air, only to hack it out. It was minutes before he was panting, leaning forward and huffing softly-as fearful for his life he was, his body had figured it to be arousing for him. Thankfully that thought hadn't reached his pants, and he only wiped a thin dribble of saliva from the edge of his mouth, swalloing gently as he looked over towards him quietly, nodding to his words, though noticing the hybrid's attention was elsewhere.

And then suddenly he was speakin' fancy talk. Anarion blinked as the other began to speak-Mardi....like Mardi gras? He knew Q was French, but it was surprising to hear him flick into it-it just curled off his tongue, and it was.....pleasant to hear, even though he could sense the trickle of dread within his words.
"Um......"

Anarion trailed off, watching him quietly, worry again, flashing in his gaze as the other seemed annoyed, than pissed-he watched the cigs fly across the room, thudding against the chair and to the ground, and he frowned quietly, rubbing the back of his neck as he watched the other, then walked over to the box. He picked it up quietly, thinking softly before he approached Q, holding his breath softly.
"....Hey," He held out the pack, gently touching the back of his left hand with it, before he turned in place and sat down beside him once he handed him the cigs, and feeling it was a safe moment (he hoped), he snaked an arm around his shoulders in a gesture of comfort.

"....I'm guessing Tuesday isn't a good day for you.....but hey, thing'sll pick up, right?"



Bornes was trying very hard to keep ahold of his emotions. Deep down inside of him somewhere, he wanted to cry. But crying was so beyond Q now. He'd put up a front so long a go. Now he just sat there and tried to control his breathing. Which also proved to be difficult since it brought him pain. But maybe the pain was good for him. Maybe he deserved it. Why?
When the stranger pressed the cigs to Q's hand, the 25 year old inhaled deeply and sat up, bringing his hands from his face and taking the cigs into his possession. Maybe things were going to be okay. He was beginning to calm down.
He might've even opened up, until the stranger's arm went across Q's shoulders. Or at least, tried to.
Bornes tightened up and shut himself off almost immediately. He threw the cigs at the stranger and stood up, stepping away.

"The fuck you think you're doing?" he said loudly.

Tom_Suke wrote: "Ah-" The pack hit him in the chest, and though it didn't hurt, the action did sting. He lowered his arm as the other stood up, snapping at him, his eyes going wide with confusion-woah, why was he so...tense?

"E-eh, I was just-I was just trying to comfort you, you looked fuckin' miserable..." In all honesty, that action had been gutsy of him, but it was done for once, out of worry than of lust, and he frowned gently, slowly standing up after setting the cigs from his lap onto the bed, holding up his hands defensively.

"I get it, 'don't touch'...Geez, relax dude...was just trying to make you feel better." Anarion was a little....hurt, from this, and it did show a bit on his face, despite how he tried to hide it by averting his gaze. Was he really so against him, that he wouldn't accept any sympathy? Then again, he hadn't wanted to pity him or anything, he just wanted to make him feel better, and had assumed it was just a safe response or something. Guess not.

Thankfully, a ding was heard before, and he gruffly walked past him towards the door.
"...Dryer's done, I'll go get your jacket."

Okay, he didn't mean to sound so...disgruntled, but it came out, and he didn't care as he headed down the stairs, sighing and running a hand through his hair. He lingered a bit in his laundry room before taking out his jacket and refilling the pockets with whatever had been inside (he had emptied them in order to keep them from messing up his dryer or getting messed up themselves.) He put everything in the correct pocket, hopefully, before he headed up the stairs and promptly shoved the warm jacket at his chest.
"Here, happy?"



Q tried and failed to prevent curling his lip in disgust, "Well you don't have to be a huge fag about it," he grumbled, turning away, trying to busy himself from the awkward situation. Thankfully something dinged downstairs and the stranger left him alone.

While alone, Bornes sat back down on the bed, bringing the plate of bananas with him. He wasn't really hungry, but he needed something to do with his hands. He began eating them again, and got to a second one when the stranger came back up with his jacket, tossing it at his chest and overtop the plate of bananas.
Q put the half-eaten banana that was in his left hand in his mouth, and held it there as he put the warm jacket on, then put the plate of eaten and uneaten bananas to the side. He zipped up his jacket so his chest wasn't visible anymore, and then bit the banana that was in his mouth, his left hand holding the rest of it again.

"Slightly," he mumbled. He wasn't too enthused.

Bornes just wasn't sure what to do now. He didn't want to stay here, but he had never not had any money before. What would he do in the cold weather? Cigarettes were expensive. He'd be fucked if he ran out of money and couldn't buy any. And he didn't trust his health to try and kill again. Nor did he trust his stealth abilities. No doubt the police had a good idea of where he was, now.
He didn't like it in this house, and he wanted to move around. But he was afraid to do too much of anything... For a moment, he debated just not smoking, and going back to invalid status. He could sleep away the winter in that way... But almost as quickly as the thought came, and went away again.

No, he thought. I'm no pussy.

Tom_Suke wrote: At the word 'fag', he all but tensed, the jolt of pain in his chest. Oh...so that was how he was.
This sudden realization that his idol, his crush....was.....well, if anything simplistic-a hater, it really hit him in the core, and he felt....depressed. In short....Q wasn't what he thought of him to be.
It still...seemed off though, Q seemed like he was...well, into guys. Or at least...half way. He pondered his thoughts as he leaned into the wall nearest to the door, studying the ground silently before sighing. No, he shouldn't have made assumptions-was he wrong then, in liking the other so much? He was so gruff, so stern....and yet-that only made him so much more appealing.

'I always have....the worst taste in men, heh...'
The thought brought forth a dry chuckle from the other, and he looked towards him now as he zipped up, then towards the door.

"Well...I'll be downstairs if you need me. Try not to make a mess."
Yes, he was a bit...depressed, but he wasn't going to let it get in the way. For now he lingered at the door, just thinking, before he shook his head and left the room. Downstairs, his laptop awaited him in the living room, and here....he could calm himself-the internet was his escape, and though he felt he could forget about Q while on the vast amounts of pages, he found himself messaging the Anon again, and....well....frankly, bitching and whining to him.

'I don't understand, I didn't come onto him or anything, he was sad for a moment, I put my arms around his shoulders, and he blew me off! And...he called me a fag. I know you went through a lot of trouble to bring him around, and I really do appreciate it....but I suppose some idols are meant to be idolized from afar, he's totally homophobic.'

Minutes went by before he received a message:

'awwh hun, sorry to hear that. I was totally sure he was gay, or at least bi, he did have those kinds of ways-but hey, it was no trouble at all, just had to make a few calls, no harm-he'll get better and leave then, and maybe you can go back to dreaming on him?'
Anarion sighed as he stared at the message-ah, so that guy had thought the same thing, that Q was at least gay, if not bi. He had such a vibe, but....it seemed surpressed, and now Anarion began to type quietly, chewing his inner cheek.

'...I don't know, Anon. I had the same vibe when I saw his pics and met him-he seems...really adamant about it but...well, I don't know, there might be more to him than I think, we'll see as time progresses. I'm gonna log off for a bit, I'll talk to you later...'


He sent the message and shut off the laptop-not even the internet was helping his mood, and so he leaned back on the couch and turned on the tv, flipping through channels and seemingly uninterested. He didn't stop at all, rather he just flipped, paused, flipped, paused, and continued such a pattern.



[imgright]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/emo/Q-1-2.png[/imgright]After he finished the second banana, he put the peel on the plate with the others and put it on the table. He picked up the empty pack of Benson & Hedges cigs, and brought it back to the bed with him, laying on his back. He put his right hand behind his head, and casually started to toss the empty pack up with his left.
He'd toss it into the air above his head, then catch it, and repeat the process for probably ten minutes.

He caught the pack one last time and let his hand rest with it on stomach as he let out an exasperated sigh.
He was bored.
He looked over to the window, and tossed the empty pack aside, kneeling on the bed to push away the curtains to look outside. It was snowing a lot. And the sun reflected off it, making it really difficult to see much of anything, even with his shades on. He grit his teeth with a "hmph" and pulled the curtains closed again, lying back on the bed once more.

It's no big deal, he thought to himself, trying to lighten himself up. I lost everything I ever had and now I'm trapped in this house with a faggot for at least a month and a half. I've been through worse.
No, he hadn't. But maybe if he kept telling himself he had, it would be okay.

He frowned deeply and his mood dropped significantly.
He eventually fell asleep, feeling as depressed as ever.

In his dream, a 19 year old version of himself woke up, and was confused as to why he was alone. He walked over to the window of the loft, and saw Vespasien talking to his new second-in-command, Alexandre, in the street below.

Vespasien turned to Alexandre, a brown eye glaring to the man. His temper was short.
That beast has saved our lives more than once,” the leader said in quick French, his hands in deep pockets.

He's a nuisance now. All he wants to do is be coddled by you. His jobs are sloppy. He makes too many mistakes,” Alexandre growled back. “You should get rid of him. He's a liability.” The blonde-haired, blue-eyed man shifted his weight uncomfortably, his own French just as rushed.

Alexandre had come to Ves as a partner, to discuss strategic goals for their... group. Almost a year ago, Ves had come to the city from France, bringing along an eager eighteen year old runaway from some military academy. The boy acted as Ves's right-hand: a mercenary, body guard, sniper, and especially... Lover. Alexandre had laughed at the thought of two fags running this town, yet here he stood with his new superior. The frenchman had one goal: to become a mafia lord. It was a laughable dream, but an almost completed one. Ves and his men had harbored enough money and collected enough bodies to accomplish the goal. But the fear only began once Ves hid away his boy toy. And even Ves could not deny that pretending to be straight aided him in his dreams too much to turn back.

The leader had been avoiding the boy – Bornes – and it was obvious they both weren't taking it very well. Bornes was having the toughest time with it. The situation was partially Ves's fault- he'd never explained to Bornes why their romantic life had ended so abruptly. It was clearly affecting Bornes's work, which had previously been superior to most others.

Vespasien looked to Alexandre for advice. The man was not a native French speaker, but one could hardly tell. He used to work in covert operations, placed in France. Ves had his doubts as to why Alexandre would join him, but over the months the information and expertise he provided had proven irreplaceable. His trust was easily gained. Ves questioned Alexandre very little when it came to the man's suggestions.

Yet, after two months of cutting Bornes out of Ves's personal life, he now suggested they dispose of the boy...? Ves had to run the scenario through his mind multiple times to even grasp at the idea.

I have invested too much in him. I taught him most of what he knows. This is only a bad time for him- he will get over it soon,” Ves finally responded, still managing to keep his solid stature.

Alexandre shook his head, backing down from the argument. He played the sympathy card. “After two months...?
He let the statement hang. By the look on Ves's face, Alexandre knew he'd already won.

Unbeknownst to the both of them however, Bornes had already left.

He hadn't overheard any conversations.
He didn't know about Alexandre's plan.

He had simply come to the conclusion that Vespasien was only using him. Feeling betrayed, he finally decided to leave of his own accord. Bornes was good at running away from his problems. He'd done it with his father; it was easy enough to do again with his now ex-boyfriend. It was in the years following that the 19 year old had wisened up to the way of the world. If Vespasien had favored women, and his father had also favored women, then truly perhaps Q should also make himself favor women.
He managed to sleep with many in his time, and his range of expressions narrowed to simply stoic and angry by the time he hit 21. Bornes managed to separate what he had been-- a talented, but still very emotive individual who was curious to the world-- and Q, the cold-hearted, emotionless killer who dealt with drug addicts and money movers all day, into two entirely separate entities. But eventually everything was consumed by Q. Bornes became Q.
He had little to no sympathy for any human being, he'd take any job he could get to kill the scum of the earth. He'd lay with a woman whenever he got bored.
Men were sacks of meat now, and only good for money or blood. Women were distractions and good to stick if he was horny.
After Vespasien, he had no relationships with anyone. If he ever felt like Bornes was getting to close to someone, Q would move. Thankfully, Q had to move a lot to chase gigs, so Bornes never got close to anyone.
Bornes's entire personality was a lie. When he went to a bar or a club, everything he did was an act to get a woman or the next job. Bornes had been Q for so long he wasn't even sure if he knew who Bornes was anymore.

In fact, the only reason Bornes had taken this particular job, the one that had wound up in in this hell house, was because the job before this one had fucked him over.
Due to the black outs, Bornes had considered quitting the profession. He figured, just a few more jobs and then he'd be done. Take it easy for a while. So about a month a go, he decided to take the call to kidnap a small girl. It seemed easy enough to do. Three days later, it turned out she was the mayor's daughter and he'd just killed his very first truly innocent child. The entire thing was a set-up and Bornes had almost had a stroke. He may had actually had a stroke, actually, but he didn't want to think about such things.
After the job, he ran clear across the country and laid low for a while. Then he got a tip that there was a job here in michigan. It was supposed to be easy, some old man. Q hadn't been paid for the girl, so he was going to call this kill his last. Then find some place to settle down.

But no, it wasn't enough. He was injured, ended up here, and now he was penniless with likely no ability to do his job ever again. How could he "settle down" when he had no money? He was still an illegal immigrant. Even if he wasn't, they probably had a picture of him by now for the most wanted list. Bornes was fucked.

Thinking about all this landed him in a street. It was pouring down rain, and Bornes was standing in the center of the street. A car sped down the road with its highbeams on, and it blinded the mercenary. The car began to honk its horn, holding it down, and Bornes was run over.

His 25 year old self awoke with a loud 'yelp' the next morning, his ears still ringing and hearing the horn in the distance.
It was just a dream, he tried to tell himself.
Everything was just a dream.

He sat up on the bed, still clothed, and looked down.
Maybe if I just ran in front of a car, then... he thought.

tl;dr He falls asleep, dreams about his entire life and how much it sucks, wakes up next morning depressed.

Tom_Suke wrote: (poor Borned D; )


It really was boring, to not go up to his room, but he dutifully stayed downstairs, watching movies he had no interest in while chatting up others on the computer-he hadn't told anyone about Q other than the one that brought him to him. Nevertheless, the internet for once, was too dull for him, and after cleaning some dishes he headed off to bed. Morning awoke with a loud sound that jolted him from bed, and he sat up, blinking blearily before everything that happened the night before suddenly came into his mind. Oh, Q! He hurried in pjs over to his room, opening the door with worry knocking back fatigue, and he stared at him.
"What happened, are you okay?!"

He was panting softly from his mini sprint from his room, only to hear a knocking downstairs. He blinked tiredly, calming down and rubbing his face, shit-where were his glasses? More knocking, before finally he called out ,"I'm coming!" and all but hurried out the room, giving Q a quiet look just before. He stopped at his room to grab his glasses, everything clearing up for him as he headed downstairs, opening his door and shivering at the burst of cold...But it wasn't what made him pale.
"O-officer Nickelson?"

"Hey Anarion, sorry to disturb you-were you sleeping?"
"Ah, no no, I was just getting up-what seems to be the problem?"
"Oh, nothing really-Old man Hutchep didn't come in for his usual coffee down at the diner, and you know how Margie is about missing customers. Just to calm her down I came over to his house-his car's still there, but he didn't answer the door when I knocked, you've seen him around?"

He had to let out a sigh, and he masked it by rubbing his face tiredly, frowning. "Mnn...nope, I mean, I know we're neighbors and all, but the guy never really leaves his house-not even for a cup of sugar, you know?" He teased softly and shrugged as the officer sighed and scratched the back of his head.
"Well...don't let Margie know, but hey, give me a call if you see him around?"
"Sure sure, you can count on me."

"Thanks. Oh and hey, watch out for some wild dogs, Ferguson lost some sheep to them. They broke into his barn and everything....You know Anarion, maybe you should get a dog, I know you're a guy and all, but living alone might not always be safe."
"A small town like this isn't dangerous.." Besides...I have a wolf upstairs... Anarion thought quietly, flashing a small smile to the cop. "If there's anything else, I can brew you up a cup of coffee or something?"
"Ah, no I'm good, sorry to bother you Anarion, and you take care now, alright?"
"Will do, and thanks-I'll let you know soon as he turns around, alright?"

Anarion watched him leave before he shut the door, using a small broom to sweep some snow off the threshhold, laying a towel there to soak up the water once it melted. With that, he rubbed the back of his neck and yawned, heading upstairs to the bathroom to brush his teeth and everything, and once he found himself decent, he set coffee downstairs and came upstairs with a bowl of cereal on a tray, a muffin, and a small plate holding a few oranges and bananas. He had left the other's door open, and thankfully with his arms full, he didn't have to reopen it. He walked in, setting the food on the table and yawning tiredly.

"Morning. Wasn't sure if you're safe to walk downstairs yet, so brought you breakfast in bed....." He sighed for a moment, rubbing the back of his head and listening to the sound of the officer's car driving off.... "...So ..you killed Hutchep, right? Alright..." He seemed to already know of it, and it didn't seem to bother him as he realized he forgot juice, and sighed. "I'll be right back with some OJ, or, if you give me a few minutes I can have some coffee ready for you. What'll it be?"



[imgleft]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/sigs/onisifiq.jpg[/imgleft]Bornes looked over to the man who ran into his bedroom, confused. Had he made a noise?
The 25 year old raised a brow, but didn't say anything-- thankfully, some knocking downstairs interrupted the awkward meeting. When the stranger left, he'd also left Bornes's door open.

Once the man opened the front door downstairs, Bornes lowered his head and concentrated on listening to the conversation, closing his eyes.
From their words, he learned the stranger's name, finally-- Anarion. And also that the police had realized his Q's target was missing. But they hadn't gone in the house yet. Good thing, because the body probably was still there. Bornes frowned at the thought. He should probably take care of that... And that Anarion was next door to the target... Things were adding up too well, now. The whole thing was smelling like yet another setup.

And then the wild dogs. That was out there, and for the moment Q discarded it as useless information. If it became relevant later, then he'd remember it, he supposed. But for now it granted nothing for him. Bornes sighed and heard as Anarion went and did his morning routine, before coming up with breakfast.

"Stay here," Q said in answer to Anarion's breakfast question.

He brought his head up and looked to the stranger.
"Why did you cover for me? Why do you want to keep me with you so badly?"

Anarion hadn't drugged Q, wasn't torturing him, wasn't planning to turn him in, apparently. So what was the deal?

Tom_Suke wrote: "Alright, no juice or coffee?" Anarion mumbled tiredly, surpressing a yawn and batting the air before his mouth with a hand. He'd get some for himself later, for now he sat down in the chair besides the bed, wearing silky, teal colored pjs, button up and long sleeved, though he was barefoot.
The question was out there, and he was slow to realize that Q had heard him from downstairs. Mentally, he swore at himself-he should have shut the door or something, damn his perfect hearing. The question had him sit back and frown quietly, as if trying to figure out how to sort the pertaining answer into actual words. Twice he opened his mouth, giving silence, but finally his shoulders slumped and he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"And what will the answer bring, Q?" His voice was soft as he stared at the ground, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, and his hands together. "I...don't have to give you an answer, my reasons...are my own. As soon as you're at full health, you'll be gone. I'm not keeping you here past that." He wished he was lying, but he was sure soon as the other was healthy he'd be gone-if he held him back, to what? The man would kill him, he was sure of it, or hurt him and just escape. There was....no point in holding him here, if the man detested him so. As much as that thought hurt....

Anarion sighed and took off his glasses, cleaning them with his shirt edge before sliding them back on, and looking up at the other.

"Besides...you shouldn't care if it keeps you safe. It's a small town I live near, we all know one another-they'll trust me when I say that some old fuck that kept to himself, is still keeping to himself. I doubt they'll even check until his mortgage is due or something. Guy doesn't have a job or anything....and by the time they check, you'll be gone. So don't fuss about it, you're safe here, I haven't hurt you-and twice you've shown you're capable of hurting me, so I don't see why you're so damn defensive."

In truth, he was being defensive himself, but his reasons....well if he said them, he was sure Q would just leave, or beat him to a pulp, or probably both. It had him frown, and he rubbed at his face, getting up from his seat and turning his back to the hybrid.
"........I'm gonna get myself a cup of joe, do you want any or not?"



Q kept watching the other, and kept silent. That was, until the man had gotten up and wanted to leave.
At that, Q looked back down at his hands and said, "Stay here."

It was stern, like an order. But it was also somewhat needy.
Once Anarion turned back around, Bornes would say, almost as if there was defeat in his voice, "Who's paying you?"

Tom_Suke wrote: He had turned and walked towards the door when he heard the other's words. Two simple words that had him annoyed, and yet obedient. The throb in his chest had him resign and turn away from the door, crossing his arms and yet averting his gaze. He didn't want to look at the other, and yet he did at the mention of pay. Genuine confusion formed on his face, and he shook his head softly. "No one's paying me...?"
He actually didn't understand why anyone would-OH, wait, did he think he was set up to do this? Anarion frowned at this realization, sighing through his nose softly. "You think I accepted a bribe to tend to your wounds? This is of my own free will, Q."
He studied the hybrid quietly, that gentle frown still on his lips before he finally smiled. "I understand it's hard to trust people, let alone...scenarios, and I'm not asking you to trust me, but...I just want to let you know, there isn't a catch or anything with this, I'm just helping you because I want to, there's no harm in that, is there?"

That seemed like a satisfactory answer, and he leaned against the door frame, stretching his arms and yawning-God damn, he was tired, he shouldn't have stayed up so late, though knowing he was tired he knew he couldn't fix it-Anarion was the kind where if he woke up, he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. This early though, he could start shoveling snow. Two days worth was a lot-he knew the salt truck would come soon, to get the main road that passed through Anarion's property, but usually Anarion would shovel a path from his car to that road, then do from his mini road to Hutchep's house, only because the old man was too...well frankly, old to do it, and paid Anarion to do it for him so he could head out to town, and in general, it was a nice thing to do.

'If I don't salt and shovel the road soon, they might notice, I do have to keep up pretense that I know nothing, and morning now is a good time. After some coffee.'
Yes, Anarion was a booze and coffee junkie, sometimes mixing the two in the morning. Joe and whiskey were his usual combinations, the fire and the flame, fuck yea.



Bornes gripped the bedsheets beneath him at the other's answer. He didn't want to hear it, but he was somewhat relieved. The only person who would pay to take care of him was maybe Vespasien.
The 25 year old swallowed, and looked over to the breakfast that had been brought up.

He knew he couldn't get up from the bed. But he didn't want Anarion to know. He looked back up to the stranger, the confusion/dread combination on his face readable even with the sunglasses.

"Why do you know about me?" He asked, almost afraid to know the answer.
But he'd worded the question carefully-- Not 'how' but 'why'...

Tom_Suke wrote: Anarion stayed where he was, leaning at the doorframe, and he tensed up at the question. Damn, Q wasn't going to let up on him, was he?
Now this one he knew he couldn't skirt around-but he didn't want to give him his reasons. But...if he didn't say anything, the other would only distrust him further. My my...such a predicament. He frowned gently and moved a hand to push up his glasses, unable to look up at the other, and finally he sighed.
"....Damn, I need coffee...."

He shifted to finally look at the other, and when he spoke, his voice was firm. "I....have my reasons." Okay, not so firm, and he shoved his hands into the silky soft pockets of his pjs, turning his head to the side.
"...Let's just say you aren't as top secret as most people would think." Well that actually asnwered 'how' he knew about him, he was skirting around the 'why', and he was going to be adamant about not answering.
"That's not..." That's not 'why', he was going to say, but he just let it go instead, letting out a sigh through his nose.

Bornes looked back down to his lap for a moment, before bending his knees and beginning to shove himself under the covers. He'd slept on top of them, before. He was cold now, and had been ignoring it until this moment. He managed to get himself under the covers, and then unzipped his jacket and tossed it on the floor carelessly.

He knew he should probably eat. But he wasn't hungry. He was just depressed, still. He could leave, he supposed, but it seemed so futile right now. He should smoke, so he could at least get up-- but that would just give him that weird cabin fever he had last night.

He let out another sigh and laid back down, rearranging everything so he was comfortable.
Afterward, he turned his back to Anarion, and closed his eyes, trying to get back to sleep.
Maybe he could sleep winter away.
Hibernate. Like bears.
Maybe it could happen.

Tom_Suke wrote: Yea, he knew it wasn't, but still he said nothing, instead, he watched the other squirm and wriggle under the blankets. A pang pressed at his chest, and he only bit his lip, watching him lay down. Some more squirming under the sheets, and the jacket was pushed out from under and dropped onto the floor.
Hrmn.....


Silence arose moreso as the other simply turned his back, as if he was simply going to sleep again. It had Anarion rubbing the back of his neck, glancing over at the door, a chance to get coffee, then back at Q, a chance for more awkward tension and possibly some annoyance.
He decided coffee could wait. Why? He didn't know, and yet he did. Curse his stupid feelings, he moved to sit in the chair, turning it to face the other's bed before he plopped into it with a small grunt.
"So......."

And cue the awkward silence.
"Err.....do you always sleep with your glasses on? I mean, I haven't seen you take them off except that time they fell off.....can I ask why, or is it, you know, a touchy subject....?"



Q wrote: Bornes could hear Anarion lingering, and then sit near him. His tail began to tap, raising the covers as it thwapped the mattress in annoyance methodically.
Otherwise, Bornes didn't move. When Anarion asked his question about the glasses, finally, the tail stopped too.
It was possibly a full second before Bornes took in a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling.

Obviously, it was a touchy subject.

Truth be told, no, Bornes did not normally sleep with his glasses on. But since he was in someone else's house, with someone he didn't know, and who refused to say what their intentions were, he kept them on his face.

"You said I'm not 'top secret'," he mocked, talking to the wall as he refused to face the stranger. "So shouldn't you know?"

Bornes's could see well at night. It started out well and good, but as time wore on, his daylight sight paid the price. He'd gotten specially prescribed sunglasses when he was with Vespasien. His eyes seemed to be okay for a few years, but when he hit 23 they seemed to get worse. He could see better and better at night-- too good, even-- and the better he could see at night, the worse he could see during the day.

Now at 25, he desperately needed a new prescription, but it seemed worthless at this point. He was just ignoring the fact that he was meant to be nocturnal. A life of denial was a life worth living, in this respect. How much darker could sunglasses get, anyway? He may as well just be wearing blinders.

After a minute or so, his tail lifted again, and pushed against the sheets once more before falling.
"My eyes are sensitive to light," he quietly relented. It gets so bad, I drink constantly to get rid of the headaches, he wanted to say.

Instead, he just heaved another sigh. "It's easier to just keep them on."



Tom_Suke wrote: (sorry short/unproductive mom's rushing me to go)

Anarion frowned at the reply, rubbing the back of his neck-well damn, he had a point, and he only snorted softly. "People tend to skim over little details you know."
Anarion watched the movement down below-that infernal tail, striking up his fantasy again, he could imagine it hitting against his legs or waist as he moved his hips, feeling it wag, hearing the swish of it against the sheets-ack, no, no having a serious conversation here!
He pinched the bridge of his nose with a gentle huff, leaning his head back with a small sigh to stare at the ceiling rather than the other. That ultimately failed, however, when the silence was abruptly ended with quiet words.

"Oh.....I see. Um....should I just keep the light off, if that would make it easier?" The room wasn't furnished very much, so he knew his way around it and he was sure he wouldn't trip up or anything in the dark-if it made Q comfortable, then he would do so. Infact, he stood up right now, heading to the door and flicking off the lights. It was dark, with a slight hint of light peeking from the curtains, and he smiled softly. "Is that better? I mean I know it's not like, total darkness, but it's better than before, right?"
He wondered dully if the other was like a mole, being blind in the light, or did it just hurt? He seemed to be pretty precise in his movements in the light-did the shades help, or was it just animal senses?



Bornes's tail tapped once more before resting. "If you want."
And then, the lights were dark.
He simply let out a sigh rather than an answer to if it was better or not. He still didn't take off his glasses.

After a while, he said "Weren't you going to get coffee or something?"

Bornes had given up. He decided he wasn't sure what he was going to do, but it likely wasn't defend himself. Starve himself, maybe. That seemed easy enough. Hunger pains were easy to let go, and he was pretty much bedridden anyway.

He closed his eyes and tried to get back to sleep. It seemed less difficult to sleep away everything.

Tom_Suke wrote: Q wasn't eating. That much he knew-the food wasn't touched each time he left it for him, to the point where fruit flies were infesting the room. How they lived in such climates was puzzling, but eventually he made a little fruit fly trap via jar of bananas and plastic wrap. Every day in the afternoon he'd check up on Q's wounds-they seemed to be healing slowly, he reckoned smoking was messing with it, though he was sure the other was out. Whatever the reason, it was slow. After about a few days of this, he finally decided to confront this issue.

Anarion turned on the light as he entered, carrying a tray of hot steak, mashed potatoes, some various fruit, and a glass of water. He set it down and pulled out a back of smokes from his pocket-he bought them earlier, and he set them on the tray as well.

"Afternoon, Q.......listen, we need to talk. You haven't been eating, or drinking lately....." Silence met him, and he approached the bed, standing beside it and staring down at the back of his head, frowning gently, "If you keep this up.......Q, it's not healthy-I don't know why you're refusing to eat, much less move from bed.....did I do something?"
Or....have you given up on life?



After a few hours of being in darkness, Bornes finally did take off his sunglasses and put them on the window sill. He then continued to sleep for a few days, not eating anything and mostly not drinking. Very slowly, he was killing himself. And he knew it. But by the second day with no cigarettes, his mind had been far too cloudy and confused to care much about anything.

When it all started, he had nightmares, and night sweats, and he probably was in terrible need of a shower now. Memories that weren't worth remembering, things that hadn't bothered him before but now suddenly meant something different. But now, there was nothing. Just nothing.
Why was he here? He didn't know. Why couldn't he move? He wasn't sure.
And he never seemed to care to do much about it.

A couple days later when Anarion came in and turned on the lights, Bornes's first reaction was to cover his face with the sheets. And he did so, but his reaction was greatly delayed. Not eating had taken a toll on him. He didn't like moving anything, at all. Too much effort.

Anarion spoke to him, too. But Bornes didn't understand what he was saying. Or maybe deciphering what it was took too much cognitive thought. It all just seemed like sounds. They meant nothing. Even Bornes had stopped making sounds.

When he had the nightmares, in the beginning, he would whine in his sleep, sometimes yelp. Not human sounds. He remembered it being embarrassing, if he remembered it at all. What did embarrassment feel like? No Bornes made no sounds. He was quiet, and underneath the covers he only heard himself breathing.
His eyes were still closed underneath the sheets. His eyes were always closed. When was the last time he'd evened opened them? He couldn't remember.

The few days it took to achieve this amount of mental murkiness had felt like eternity. He tried to fall asleep again, unsure of what else to do. Sleeping seemed to be his life at this point. Maybe one day, he wouldn't wake up. He could faintly remember that being a bad thing. Something he was afraid of. But now he was uncertain if he was capable of feeling any emotion at all.

tl;dr he puts his head under the covers and ignores Anarion.

Tom_Suke wrote: Anarion twitched. It was small, just under the eye, and he barely bat an eyelash from it-but oh, he was annoyed. He was very vocal, if that was the word, on the internet, and having such silence and immersing himself within it during the times he left him alone-it had an adverse effect on him when all he was getting was silence.

The nerve of him-
His thoughts didn't finish as he grabbed the sheet and yanked hard, tugging it off the hybrid and narrowing his eyes.

"HEY," His voice had gone cold, loud-it echoed as he grabbed the other's shoulder, pulling him hard to lay on his back, and holding down his shoulder tightly as he leaned down to glare right down at his face, "I didn't go through all this trouble for you to just give up! What the fuck happened to Q, the bounty hunter? The trained killer, letting his own body kill him-what the fuck happened to your will!? Don't you dare get fuckin' pathetic on me, Q, or so help me.....you're not supposed to BE like this, you're my-fuck, Q, you're better than this! I don't know why you're being a little shit, but you better stop this, damn you!"

He pulled back, and though he hadn't meant to, he slapped him-hard on the cheek, as if maybe, there was a slim chance the other would rear up and punch him, or do the arm numbing thing again (a pressure point, google had told him earlier in the week). He only stood there, arm still held as if he had finished said slap, panting softly from his own outburst, glaring down at him, and yet-in an almost needy fashion.

This was Q, he was like....the hero of his fantasies or something, but aside from that-there was always this 'I'm untouchable' aura around the wolf, and now-it had faded, and it scared Anarion, it scared him into thinking he was losing HIS Q, his.....his everything. He didn't go through shit and begging and everything for that anon to bring Q to him-all for Q to rot away in his house....
"Q....come back to me, God damn you...."



When Anarion yelled and took away the covers, Bornes tried to cover his face with his arm. But he never got far, as the other came right in and forced Bornes on his back. Throughout the rage match, Bornes kept his eyes closed. And he frowned. And his eyes teared up.
He didn't like being yelled at.

It slowly began to make sense, or at least the gist of it... And when Bornes opened up his mouth to try and say something--though he wasn't sure what he was going to say-- he was slapped.
His cheek went red from the action and the 25 year old closed his mouth again, a small, quiet whine escaping his nostrils.

Had Bornes not starved himself, he'd probably be beating the shit out of Anarion right now. But the man's body was so fucked up inwardly, that he couldn't feel or make much sense of anything. On one hand, he was going through nicotine and possibly even alcohol withdrawal. On the other hand, he was starving to death. And too, his mental condition was not exactly the best to begin with, what with being part canine and all. Bornes frequently thought he was losing his mind.
Maybe he was. Or maybe he already had.
He certainly wasn't thinking any human thoughts at the moment.

After a moment of doing nothing, he eventually turned on his side, and covered his eyes with his forearm. Though he'd never actually opened his eyes to begin with, he could still feel the light through his eyelids.
There was no 'special awakening', there were no smart comments. It was clear Bornes was gone from the world and didn't especially give many fucks about it.

[[If you want to like, force feed him or whatever, you can puppet him. Give it 3-4 days and he'd be coherent enough.]]

Tom_Suke wrote: It hurt.

It really....really hurt, to see him like this. He just stared down at him, silent, shocked, and yet in pain as well as the other simply turned away after just keeping still, eyes shut....He watched him, a trembling hand covering his mouth-he feltl ike giving up himself, leaving the other to this, and yet....his hand over his mouth pulled away, curling into a fist. No. He wasn't going to let the other die.

Anarion looked towards the food, then back at Q quietly, chewing his lower lip before sighing and moving to the side of the bed, where the ropes were still intact. He began to tie his legs down, then the arm not over his eyes, and finally he tugged at his forearm, pulling it from his face and pushing him down to lie flat on his back. After securing the knots he pulled the nightstand closer to the bed, and from there, the food tray on. Meat wouldn't be good for the other, in his current state it was simply too much for his stomach to break down....

Some of the fruit as well, so instead, it seemed like mashed potatoes would have to do for now. Later on, he'd figure he could head to the market and buy some Ensure, a nutrition drink that old folks or small children drank to get healthy. Anarion scooped a spoonful, sitting on the edge of the bed and turning, reaching out with his left hand to firmly grasp the other's chin. He flushed at this contact, gently, yet firmly, pressing his thumb at the edge of his lips, pushing it in and at the back, opening his mouth-and quickly, the spoon was pushed in. He had to scrape it against his upper teeth to empty most of it into the other's mouth, pulling his thumb back and lifting the other's head, hoping he'd swallow, and not spit. (XD)

For good measure, he covered his mouth with his free hand, holding his head steady until he was sure he swallowed, before lowering it down and getting another spoonful. He kept this up until the mashed potatoes were done, before he looked over the rest of the fruit, thinking hard. He picked up a banana, peeling it and breaking off a small piece, only to pause and stare down at it, then sigh, getting up and picking up the plate, only to pause. Hmn....he could blend his food tomorrow, for now....
"You really do need to eat....and potassium's healthy..."

He mumbled softly, sitting back down-he could feel his face heating up as he took that piece he pulled off, chewing it, then biting more-he didn't let it linger much in his mouth, and quietly he leaned over him, pausing-oh my God this was just like in a manga or some shit he read online-it had his heart thumping, and yet he closed his eyes, pressing his lips to his tenderly...and transferring banana mash. Again, he pulled back and covered his mouth to make sure he swallowed, lifting his head so that he wouldn't choke. He was flushing lightly, a thick, buzzing sound in his ears... He did this until the banana was done with before he sat back.
D-damn....

"Now, to wash it down...."
He did have a straw, and he sucked water in the cup lightly, only to pause before it could get to his lips, pressing a finger to hold it in place, then transfer it to the other's lips, letting it pour in. He did this for a bit until the cup was halfway gone (that took forever!) before he took up the tray.
"I'll....buy a blender tomorrow, so um, the feeding won't be so um....oh who am I kidding, you probably can't hear me anyways...too far gone." He reached out, gently pushing his bangs away from his eyes, smiling softly down at him.

"...Anyways, I'll be buying a blender, to make this easier. And those kid spoon things...think they're called pudding pods or something, we'll see.......I'll leave you for now, Q.."

Over the next few days, he blended his food. It was a new blender, he never had one before, but it helped. Steaks and milks were blended into a watery paste, then poured into a pudding pod (a baby feeder) and then fed to the other, as well as fruits, vegetables-he even put water inside to help, and even the Ensures, making sure not to spill, holding the other's head up-other than that moment with the bananas, he hadn't touched his lips again with his own. Did he want to again? Hell yes, but he never voiced it or seemed eager, no, he'd only part his lips with a thumb, and push the little feeding spoon into his mouth, gently squeezing out food, pausing for intervals for breath and swallowing...

(http://museumstore.sfmoma.org/sqbaspbl.html
http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GdMxyeydA4Y/T ... Bspoon.jpg
I have one of these :lol: )



Bornes did nothing to fight the food. He didn't have the energy to.
Some food he would occasionally spit up, but for the most part it all went down rather easily. After a couple of days he got coherent enough for the nightmares to come back in his sleep. Bornes always had nightmares. But when he was sick, they just seemed to be that much more intense.
Overall it seemed to be all right, in Bornes's mind at least, as it brought him back into life a lot faster... Or so it seemed.

Around the time the nightmares started happening, Bornes began to start resisting food. Because he was tied down, however, all he could do was turn his head away really. Anarion forced all the food down regardless. Borned made angry animal sounds. Third or fourth day came by and Bornes's animal sounds became interspersed with human speech, finally. And he had a lot more energy to keep fighting back. He thrashed against the ropes at his hands when Anarion came by to feed him, and growled like a cornered dog.

Throughout this entire process, Bornes's eyes remained closed. This was also the source of a persistent headache, as not only did Anarion never give Bornes's sunglasses back, he also never turned the light in the room off.

By this time, Bornes wasn't sure if he wanted to die. He was beginning to fear it. But he knew he didn't like Anarion force feeding him and he didn't want to be here.

So when Anarion came by to feed him today, and Bornes had had his fill of growling and snarling like a fool, a finally spoke, and said "Let me go!"

Tom_Suke wrote: There was some progress to this. At most there was always a bit of resistence-spit up was dealt with by a napkin, but as the days progressed, Q would turn his head away. It had Anarion happy, actually, to see some form of fight still in him, and he dutifully fed him, heart racing to the cutest little sounds-he knew the other was mad, but whines and little, baby like growls? Awwh.

He never voiced how cute they were, he only dutifully fed him. Only, it became harder once the other was gaining some amount of strength back, as to he began to thrash wildly and struggle each time he arrived, to where Anarion actually had to sit on his chest and pin his upper arms with his knees, and with a hand holding his head down and ignoring bites and such, the pudding pod finally had a useful purpose-with less spills, it was easier to shove food into his snarling maw, and holds his mouth shut to avoid those teeth and make him swallow.

He hadn't forgotten about his wound, so usually he'd catch the other sleeping, and tend to it, though making sure to sit on him incase he woke up to struggle.

By now, it was nearly gone, and he'd let it air out more now, coating it with antibiotic gel beforehand, and checking it in the night. All in all, the lack of food had slowed the process of healing, but it was picking up.
Anarion hummed at this thought-he was carrying the pudding pod, as well as a plate of steak-the pod itself had blended steak in it, but he did want to see if the other would be able to bite and chew willingly. Of course, he wasn't sure of that, but to his surprise, the moment he stepped in the other was growling-common for now, but then there were words.

"Ah...."
Anarion quickly adjusted to his surprise, calmly setting the plate and pod down, staring off for a moment before looking towards him.

"No. You'll either leave, or starve yourself again. I'm not letting you die, Q. I don't want to see you like that again, and if it means force feeding you with a damn baby spoon, then so be it. Until I'm sure you're at least...somewhat normal, you'll remain like this unless you convince me otherwise. Now, I brought a steak, cut up into bite sized pieces, but I also have the pod. It's your choice, Q."

He stared down at him firmly, but it only seemed that, now that the other was speaking coherently and thinking, that his eyes were shut. He wouldn't turn off the lights-not with the other thinking and all, but now he picked up his glasses off the nightstand, giving them a gentle wipe to clean them, then reaching out to put them on his face.

"Stay still, I'm putting your glasses on."
Once on, he stared down at him firmly again, as if he was visually firm, he would be firm as well in proving his point.



Bornes grit his teeth at the answer, but stayed still as instructed for the glasses.
When they were on him, he opened his eyes a bit, little by little, wincing at first, before he could finally see again. He'd been blind for so long, it was almost like he'd forgotten what it was like to see.

He shook his head again, though, angry.
"Then let me leave. You're driving me crazy by keeping me here," He growled, quite literally.

"Besides," he said, turning his head away from Anarion, "Who made you my owner! Not letting me die? FUCK YOU!" he lifted himself up as much as he could with the rope to eye Anarion.
"I'm not your PET! I'm a human being, and a vagrant at that. You don't even realize what the hell you're DOING to me!"

Despite Bornes's anger, his words did have a seething sincerity. The 25 year old didn't remember everything, but what he did remember and piece together, he thought he'd figured out Anarion's motive.
He was thinking that Anarion wanted a pet, and Q was it. For some fucked up reason. Maybe Anarion was a lunatic. But this was Q's hypothesis and he was going to stick with it.

Bornes became quiet, gritting his teeth before he began again, his voice softer as he tried to calm himself down. "Even if I were an animal, locking one up like this would be no less cruel. Of course I would leave. You can't expect to cage a bird for a month and not have it fly away the moment you finally open the door."

He gave a loud snort, awaiting Anarion's response.

Tom_Suke wrote: (Damn, I had a good notion of what to type, but it went blah. I don't like this post, tell me if it works or not. If not, I'll edit.)

"I can't do that Q, you'll only try to kill yourself again, and with your gaining strength, you might be quicker at it." His voice had gone cold as he glared down into those glasses-he couldn't see his eyes, and though they had at first intimidated him, they had a lesser effect on him.

Uwa-owner?!

"Ah-no, no what the hell-I never thought of you that way! I just-" He broke off, chewing his lower lip, frowning before he shook his head. He doubted the other believed him-owner, eh? Shock was quick on his face, before he narrowed his eyes, "If I thought like that-I'd muzzle you or some shit-I never once thought of you as a-a pet, or anything like that-and you're not even human-that isn't a good excuse or anything." He gave a pointed look down south, where blankets hid a tail, and he ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head.

"Doing to you? I'm keeping you alive, that's what I'm doing. I don't even know what you think I'm doing!" He waved his hands, and at the mention of leaving, he turned his back to him, shaking his head. This....wasn't going so well-but in all honesty, why...was he keeping him? Yes, he did love him-but that wasn't the reason why he was keeping him here, was it?

Anarion was silent as he rubbed the back of his neck-he couldn't tell him the truth...could he? No, that would only-in this position-it would only make things worse. A sigh escaped him as he turned towards him, chewing his lower lip before he swore under his breath, glaring down at his arms, then his face.
"I just.......alright. All-fucking right." He moved down to his legs, slowly untying them, fingers fumbling as he hushed, growling softly.

"Go right fucking ahead-I'm not imprisoning you, I'm only caring for you, since apparently you don't care for yourself-somebody has to keep an eye out for you. But whatever, your wound his healed, you've barely any strength-go right fucking on then. There's a blizzard tonight, but I'm sure you can brace it, after all, it's only midwinter."

He finished untying his legs, before working at his hands, hurt, and yet silently angered, glaring down at the knots he worked on untying before he finally stepped back, holding the ropes and staring off to the side.
"Fine.....just....alright-whatever, go on then, get out." He opened the door and stood off to the side-his chest was aching-but that was it, whatever, it wasn't...



Bornes wasn't sure what he was waiting for or expecting but once some specific words escaped Anarion's mouth, the mercenary went blank.

and you're not even human.

He grit his teeth but stayed still. He stopped listening and everything went quiet inside of his head.
Thankfully, not too much later Anarion started untying him. Bornes felt himself shaking but he doubted anyone would see it.

Pure. Unadulterated. Anger.

As soon as Anarion freed Bornes's hands, he was done.
He didn't even bother to sit up, first.
His left fist went straight into Anarion's face the second it was freed.
qpunch.jpg

Not human?!?

After Bornes punched Anarion the first time, he shot up out of the bed and grabbed Anarion, throwing him down the stairs.
[imgright]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/post/qbz.png[/imgright]
"PAS UN ÊTRE HUMAIN? JE SUIS PLUS UN HUMAIN QUE VOUS NE SERA JAMAIS!!!" He screamed.
From the bottom of his lungs.
With every fiber of his being.
He would've been surprised if the house walls had not reverberated at his voice.

Not human?

Bornes lost it after that. He didn't chase the man down, no. Instead he grabbed whatever was nearest to him in the bedroom and started throwing them down the stairs at Anarion too.
The chair? Slammed down the stairs. The table? First he smacked it to the side, everything atop it crashing down. Then he threw that down the stairs as well.

NOT HUMAN?!

He tried to move the bed but quickly thought less of it, and started ripping pictures off the wall instead. He slammed those down the staircase as well.

It was at this point that he finally stopped and took a breather.
Not human??
He was becoming light-headed. He needed cigs. When was the last time he'd even smoked? Not human.
He bent down, trying to search for a pack and a lighter, but there was so much displaced shit on the floor he couldn't quickly spot any. Not human.

This man had lost everything, tried to kill himself, was kept alive by some lunatic and tied down. And now that fucker wasn't even calling him human. And to make matters worse, he needed a GOD DAMN CIGARETTE.

He roared with anger and started picking up the little things, the plates, the pitchers that had now spilled their juice all over the floor, the food, and throwing that down the stairs too.
[imgright]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/post/viralQ.gif[/imgright]
"Not human? I AM HUMAN!" he told himself in french, though his voice was not nearly as convincing as it had been moments before.

He turned to the bed, and started pulling the covers off.
"I am human!" he yelled again, to himself.

He didn't even get the covers off the bed, he just collapsed to his knees and covered his face with them, sobbing into the sheets.
Who am I kidding.
I will never be human.
Tom_Suke wrote: Anarion didn't see it until it hit him. Quite literally. He felt the strength of it, despite the other's weakened body, and felt the jarring pain in his lower jaw. Just as he cried out in pain and clutched at his face, hands grabbed him, pushing, then all but throwing him. The words screamed were all but jumbled nonsense to him, but the word 'human', or something similar, struck a note.
"Ah-!"

Anarion shut his eyes as his shoulders jarred into several stairs before he was skidding and rolling until he hit hardwood floor, coughing up blood-his lower lip was bleeding, his nose(from the hit) and everything was screaming in agony. He barely managed to roll onto his back, blinking up with crooked glasses just as a chair began to thud down the stairs-he shut his eyes and cowered, only it crashed at the wood just before his head, missing him, though one of the legs broke off and scraped the side of his cheek.

He could hear the rumbling upstairs, and he barely managed to sort of drag, sort of crawl away, hearing a thud of the table-it crashed into the chair and Anarion groaned softly, watching everything fall down the stairs. He expected Q to come crashing down as well, photoframes crashing down, shattered glass spewing around... It hurt to breath, and Anarion found himself taking short, shallow breaths, laying on his side as if he was too....stunned to get up.

The shuffling upstairs continued before he heard a roar, flinching-more things came down, food, and Anarion watched it all, holding his breath.... again, he had believed the wo...the other would come down the stairs, but no, nothing.

It took Anarion a moment to think about moving. He shakily rose, knees slightly wobbly as he stared up at the stairs, panting softly before touching his mouth, then wiping with the back of his hand-there was so much blood, but he was more in awe that he was alive. If he hadn't moved......quickly, his gaze flickered over to the remains of the chair and table, smashed to bits by gravity, and jarring together-the table leg was actually sticking through the bottom of the chair, where, if he hadn't moved, his head would have been impaled.

The youth wiped again at the blood dribbling from his face, trying to hold his breath to listen-he heard nothing, and now he stared at the ground between him and the stairs. Bits of wood, glass, and other things littered it, not to mention a few stairs were broken, and he walked, or well, mildly limped, over it all, glad his slippers provided cushioning, though he made sure not to step on anything. Slowly....ever so slowly he headed up the stairs, his sides were aching, and it was a stupid thing to do.....but up he went, wiping at his mouth and nose, leaving blood on the wall he placed his hand on for support, on the railing.... He paused before the room, his panting increased from heading up the stairs, legs aching, chest-
Nevermind that.

Anarion stared at Q's back as he heard the sobbing, and he looked down quietly, thinking hard.... that one word that stood out in all that jarbled nonsense-a language he didn't know-but that one word. Human. Or well, it sounded like it, and he realized then his folly-the reports, everything, and he swallowed quietly, tasting the metallic tang of blood at the back of his throat.

He should have yelled about his stuff, about how dangerous the other was, about how he almost died...and yet only two words escaped him, his voice had gone soft, and he had wiped at his mouth before hand to lessen bloody spittle....

"....I'm sorry."
He paused again to wipe at his mouth, standing at the doorframe, frowning gently, guiltily, as he spoke again.
"I shouldn't have......I shouldn't have said that..."
'I didn't think it was a sorespot...no, I didn't think at all....'
"I'm sorry, Q, please.....I didn't mean it..."

A line was crossed-he understood that now, and he dropped his head, blood rolling down his chin, but he ignored the odd sensation as he stared gently at his back, sighing softly.
".....I've always wanted to be anything but human......it's why I admire you so much.....but.....I don't think-I mean....I don't think humanity is in appearance....but rather your heart.....as....as gay as that sounds, I think it's right....and Q? You're....you're pretty human....."

He swallowed the buildup of blood, ending his little, corny ass speech-it really seemed so gay, and yet he was being honest, wiping at his nose-fuck, it felt so numb, the throbbing pain-it was hard to focus now, and he blinked blearily...



He didn't--
He couldn't--
And now he was crying.
What kind of a man cried? Not any MAN he knew.
Bornes killed people for a living, and here he was fucking crying.

With some faggot behind him, trying to apologize.
For what? For calling him NOT HUMAN?

Yeah, right. Words would never fix that blow.

The 25 year old tried to take deep breaths, tried to keep the tears from coming. He pushed his sunglasses up on his forehead, then shoved the sheets into his closed eyes. He stayed like this for a moment, trying to recollect himself. Grown men didn't cry. People didn't freak out about not being called human.

A couple minutes of awkward silence later he managed to calm himself enough and save face. He wiped his face of tears and snot and whatever else he had down to the sheets during his miniature mental breakdown and heaved a sigh, a light cough following. Placing his sunglasses back on his eyes, he slowly stood back up from his knees, though his posture was off and shaky.

He really didn't have much energy left, but he was still forcing himself up and walking.
Once he stood up straight, he looked to the bleeding Anarion. Even though his green eyes were covered, the feeling of the 'death glare' Q gave the stranger was there. After a few seconds of glaring at Anarion in silence, Q quickly turned his head with a grimace and walked out of the room.

He'd never been outside the bedroom before, so it took him a while to figure out where the bathroom was. But once he did, he entered, and opened up cabinets looking for a first aid kit. One was easily found. Q took it back to the bedroom, and laid the case on the table, opening it up. It appeared he didn't find anything he liked, so he went back to the bathroom and came back with a towel.

He went directly to Anarion, though stood a bit to the side of him-- not directly in front. He then smacked the man's back pretty hard-- not too hard, but hard enough to get him to cough up any blood should he have any in his chest.
After Anarion coughed-- or didn't cough, whichever-- Q unenthusiastically handed the man the towel to clean himself up with.

Tom_Suke wrote: Anarion didn't move, didn't speak-he just kept wiping at his mouth and nose whenever he felt the trickle, daring himself not to sniff, his attention on the other, watching him quietly. THe guilt was like a knife-he knew he shouldn't feel it, he hadn't known it had hurt the other so....emotionally, and yet it was still there, plunged into what he felt was a black hole rather than a heart for this moment.

Anarion watched him move, wiping and slowly getting up-he rubbed under his nose, his sleeve and hand already slickened to where it was near pointless now to wipe, and yet he stayed put, even as the other turned to him.... The gaze had him flinch, and yet he couldn't look away-he only tensed as the other approached, hands curling into fists-he was expecting another hit, and yet the other just walked right past him, surprising the taller male. He turned his head, watching him before he spat blood off to the side, already knowing it didn't matter if he added to the mess in this room and at the base of the stairs-he only sighed and ran a clean hand through his hair, wincing at a throb. Oh, now he found the source of his headache, a nice, little bump.
Q was back, and to Anarion's surprise he had the kit. He watched him, blinking softly until the other was past him again, and he frowned, curious-Q wasn't hurt, or did he cut his hand or something picking something up and-

"Hyuck!"
Anarion's breath left him as if he was blowing a candle out-the jarring pain to his shoulder blades and ribs had him hacking up-gurgles of blood came out, and then there was a towel handed to him. He took it, wiping at his mouth, coughing into it and blinking back mild tears of pain, holding the towel to his mouth and nose.
"Th-thanks," His voice was muffled as he leaned back into the doorframe, sighing softly and staring at the ground, then at the mess. Damn...he'd have to clean later-right now he felt like taking an advil and sleeping forever or something...But those thoughts were interrupted when he heard a knocking on his door, and his blood chilled. He looked towards Q, then down at the stairs, moving the towel off his face to shout. "C-coming!"

He held the towel again to his face, noticing the pristine white was going a vibrant red, and now he headed down the stairs. It was now that he felt the sharp pain in his foot, and swearing loudly he had to stop himself from slipping on a bit of orange, grabbing the railing. After a few more swears he headed down, walking carefully over the mess, hastily wiping at his face and holding the towel to his nose again, opening the door.
"Ah, h'llo," Anarion muffled out from the towel, staring at two cops-the one from before, and the deputy, Hastings, both of which stared at him in surprise.

"Jesus Anarion, what-"
"Ah, nothing nothing-fell down the stairs, I'm fine..." He mumbled out, moving the towel so he could talk but still plug at his nose. "Is-is there anything wrong?" Their concern for him didn't fade, though the deputy only sighed and rubbed the back of his head. "Yes, actually... Old man Hutchep was found dead yesterday, forensics said he's been dead for a while, cold kept him from rotting."

Anarion faked surprised, blinking through his crooked glasses, leaning into the doorframe for support-damn, his leg was aching. "G-goodness-how did he die? I mean, I know he was on like, so many pills-"
"He was actually murdered, Anarion....we also had a call in from a hotel, they found all sorts of guns, and a shit ton of cash. The thing is, you've been in town lately, and we were wondering if you've seen anything strange, or anyone? The hotel clerk-you know him, John? Anyways, John says it's a gray haired fellow, be he ain't old, muscular, and wears shades all the time. You see anyone like that around?"

Anarion paused, staring down at the ground before he shook his head, frowning in thought. "Can't say that I have...you know me, always at home...a-anyways, I really need to plug up my nose now, bleedin' a river here. I'll let you know if I see anything....gosh, murdered-who would kill an old man? I mean like.....wow." He shook his head, and Hastings put a hand on his shoulder, sighing. "The world's pretty heartless, even to cold men like Hutchep, you didn't know him like the others-kept to himself, off jerk, though no reason to kill him.....now are you sure you're alright Anarion? I can send Marie over to patch you up, you know her and her home remedies."

"Haha, no I'm fine, really, not my first nosebleed-and last time you sent her over she made me eat horseradish while standing on my head!" He joked softly, and after a bit more chit chat, they finally let and he shut the door, sighing and falling to his knees right there, energy spent, and what's more, his ankle was sore, stinging like a little bitch. A glance down proved it swollen, and swearing under his breath, he felt around, the stings of pain unwelcome, but everything felt intact.

He was glad they hadn't noticed the mess, and he only groaned, leaning back against the wall, dabbing at his nose-the bleeding was lessening now, and it took him a moment to stand, hobbling to the downstairs bathroom he ripped some toilet paper and rolled it between his fingers, sticking it up his nose before washing the blood from his hands. That done, he stared at the stairs before grabbing a broom, hobbling to the base and starting to sweep, a mixture of food and glass into one pile, ignoring the chair and table. He stared up at the stairs again, but fuck going back up.

".....If you're hungry, I got pot roast ready." He called out up the stairs, supporting his weight on his good leg as he managed to sweep shit off to the side, just to clear off the floor, before he limped into the living room and promptly laid on the couch, swearing again.
Shit, fuck. Everything hurt, and everything was just a strained mess.



Q just kept watching Anarion, like he was some experiment. He wanted to see what the other's next move was.
But then there was a knock at the door. Q turned to see who it was, and Anarion seemed to panic a bit.

In response, Q moved out of the way, and behind a wall in the hallway, right above the stairway. Whoever was at the door wouldn't be able to see him, and he couldn't see them either-- but he could hear.
Anarion made it down the steps and opened the door.. The people turned out to be the cops, announcing Hutchep was dead and that Q was the one who'd likely done it.
Fuck, he thought to himself. They never said Q's name but grey haired young guy kind of gave it away. Police didn't need to tell neighbors of victims specifics.

But eventually they left, and Anarion shut the door. Q slipped against the wall to peek down the stairs, as if he were playing spy. The man was still bare-chested. He still wore the open dress shirt and his open jacket. But he hadn't bathed in so long everything was greasy and his grey hair was quite disheveled. He could only imagine he probably smelled musky as well.

Once Anarion began to sweep, Q seemed to calm down a bit, bringing down his guard. He wasn't sure if he had the strength to make it down the obstacle course he'd created on the staircase.

"I need to smoke," he said, his voice raspy. It had a slight french accent since he hadn't spoken english in so long.
"Where are the cigarettes?"

It appeared Q only cared for himself, and while he was a selfish man, the real reason he wanted the cigs were so he wouldn't pass out and be even more of a hindrance.

Tom_Suke wrote: Anarion opened his eyes to the words he heard from abover, and grunted softly. "They're in the table-oh." Fuck me sideways with a rake.

Anarion groaned as he sat up, rubbing the back of his neck, damn shit was sore as well, and he grudgingly got up to his feet, the stinging pain having him suck in a harsh breath. He hobbled to the base of the stairs, crouching and peering over the debris of the table, finding some parts of the of the drawer still intact, and the cig box. It took him a moment to find the lighter, and with these he headed towards the base of the stairs, pausing to look at all the.....stuff all over them, then sighing. Damn, his poor house. Another sigh and he took a hand to the railing, using it as support for his throbbing ankle, until he was halfway, and there, he tossed the cigs first, then the lighter when he was sure the other caught it, giving a few seconds inbetween before he turned to head down.

"There, if you need me I'll be on the couch-too much to just go up only to come down." He didn't want to be a pain pussy, but he felt it shouldn't be safe for him to move, he didn't know what was entirely wrong with his leg, so now he turned, heading downstairs one step at a time, ignoring the messy piles. He'd clean up later, for now he flopped on the couch, pulling out the tissues, examining them, then grabbing more from the table top and rolling them up to stick up his nose, sighing softly.



Q caught the cigs and lighter and then went to the bathroom with them.
Opening the window, he lit up and felt the chill breeze. But ah! Fresh air! He smelled so good and felt so nice.

Three cigarettes later...
He had the pack and lighter in his pants and he was feeling pretty good about himself. He was in no mood to clean, but he knew just as much as anyone that the stairs were an accident waiting to happen. So he carefully climbed down them and carried up the chair and table-- one at a time-- back to his room. He laid them on the floor wherever, not really caring about position or orientation since everything was such as mess as it was. Looked like a tornado had gone through.

He went back to the stairs and shoved everything else to one side or another with his boot, making a semi-clear path for future use. (He'd put his boots on at some time. Magically. Yes. We'll go with this.)
Once he got down the stairs, he started looking around. Quietly. Calculating.
This was Q.
He looked at the front door for a moment, but hung a right- opposite side of the house from Anarion, and began to look around. Mostly for other exits, but also just to see what type of a man he was dealing with. Even after the lengthy time Q'd been locked up in that room, he still didn't have a good read on what exactly the man was up to.

He had a sneaking suspicion... But.. He shoved it down, refusing to acknowledge that type of attraction.

So, on the right was a sort of dining area, for guests, Q assumed. Off that were two doors. One was an open doorway that led to the kitchen. The other was actually a closed door. Q looked into the kitchen, and could see that from the kitchen, there was another open doorway, which led to the den or family room, where Anarion was sitting on the couch (though Q could not see Anarion on the couch- this was an assumption).

He decided to open the door.

The first thing he noticed was the hum of electronics. It was something that Q knew most normal people could not hear. Some of the stuff was off, but some of it was standby. And it was the things on standby which made the annoying hum. Q didn't like this already, but he felt he was stumbling onto something he needed to know. He decided to submerge himself in it, and slowly and quietly closed the door behind him in case Anarion came by.

Now alone in the room by himself, he took in more of the surroundings.
Cables, everywhere. Servers and computers on tables. All of it things Q had very little knowledge of and full on ignorance of the rest. The room was oblong, and to the far end was a window that looked out at the back yard. The same yard where he was pretty sure he passed out.
His left hand went to his chest in memory. He looked down-- no gauze, just a scar now. hrm.

So it was clear by now, this guy was at the very least a hacker of some sort.
Q looked back up, and noticed that on the wall were many, many posters and pictures of things. It almost looked like the wall of a psycho serial killer, or a detective following the hot trail of a criminal. Everything on the wall was of varied media-- computer paper, actual posters, polaroids, some news clippings here and there.

They were all about Q.

Well, most of them were. A few of them were about something else.
Q found himself away from most of the computers and gravitating toward a few print outs of what appeared to be a case file labeled 'Top Secret'. There was a picture attached of some very... Non-human things. They kind of looked like what one would expect werewolves to look like.

The file was labeled "Project Blackwoods". Q found himself reading it.
It was about how some cryptozoologists had discovered actual lycanthropes. The French Foreign Legion came in and decided to rape the females(in nicer, politically correct terms, of course), getting half-human, half-lycan hybrids. They then sold the offspring to the US military, on the guise of it being easy to train them to be super soldiers.

Quite a few of the articles referenced "Project Blackwoods". There were four children, and through skimming various things tacked on the wall, three of them died. The fourth was kidnapped when the project was deemed a failure and taken to France, of which the US had no jurisdiction.

It did not take a genius to figure out that this paper trail was clearly related.
That Anarion believed Q to be the fourth child of this "Project Deadwoods".

"You don't waste away the face I MADE YOU!" Q's father had yelled when he was 18-- Bornes looked away, a small whine escaping him, as if he'd just been hit.

Bornes didn't remember much of his childhood. It came in bits and pieces. He had gone to a military boarding school, and his father has continued to reassure him that he was, in fact, human. Bornes went through a lot of experimental medicines. He knew he had at least one specialized doctor. But to assume he originally looked like... that werewolf? No, no...
Bornes didn't remember going through any surgeries. Wouldn't he have remembered something like that?

Anarion had to be wrong. It had to be merely be a coincidence.
Bornes shook his head, his body shaking. He was a human, and this shit on the wall didn't prove anything-- aside from the fact that Anarion was a huge creeper.

Q looked back at the pictures. Here he was, all stages of life. Even his student photos. Why? What did Anarion have to do with Q?
He pushed forward to the computer, looking for a power button. Upon finding what he believed to be it, he pressed it. The screen lit up in a bright flash of light. Q hissed in dissatisfaction.
The computer had been asleep, so it went right back to where it had been-- only, Q couldn't see.
His damn eyes...
The screen just looked like a blank source of light to him.

The mercenary grunted and turned to leave.
His guns were near the door.

Now this was just getting a little uncanny.
He took his jacket off, and put the arm holsters over his open, too-small shirt. He then took each gun and checked if it were still loaded and safety on. Yes? Okay. Holstering them, he put his jacket back on and made sure it covered his new accessory well enough.

He opened the door carefully, and slipped out. Despite it feeling like forever, he'd only been in that room for perhaps five minutes. He went to the kitchen, and looked to Anarion through the other open doorway. Another doorway, in it an open door, was the small laundry room.
The house was small.

Why had he decided to look through the downstairs before the upstairs? Wouldn't the upstairs have had more to hide? He inwardly cursed himself, but decided to make his presence known, then.
If the upstairs had more to hide than the room he'd just been in, then damn.. May as well just fuck him then.

Q stepped on the linoleum floor a bit harder, his boot soles making noise as he walked a little sloppier over to the living room, in plain view of Anarion.

He then sat right next to the man on the couch, looking straight ahead.

"I have asked you, many times," he said, his voice surprisingly quiet and calm, "what the real reason is that you want to keep me here." He looked at Anarion through the shades, his face completely devoid of emotion.

Yes, this was Q.

"Now would be a good time to give me the correct answer to that question."

Tom_Suke wrote: Anarion rose his head from the armrest as he heard the stairs creaking, and the shuffling around. He pressed a hand to his forehead and sighed, dropping his head back down as he listened. Scrapes here and there, sounds-was he...cleaning up? Or at least somewhat, he didn't hear much after the other took a few trips up and down the stairs-he didn't feel like getting up to check on him, his ankle was throbbing still.

By the time the other was exploring downstairs, Anarion had sat up, leg out on the table with a couch pillow under it, examining the large bump at the side-swollen, until it was down, he'd have no idea if it was broken or not. He could hear him moving towards the kitchen, then silence. Ah, he probably found the pot roast then, only ten minutes out of the oven but still warm.

Minutes went by before he heard footsteps, and he turned his head as motion came in sights, and he blinked softly as the hybrid plopped in the seat right beside him, only....he felt something was off, and he turned his gaze away, glancing momentarily down at his leg, then at the tv-it was off, and he debated on turning it on, but as he reached for the remote, his words stopped him, and he swallowed softly, automatically. The metallic tang was still there, and he touched the bridge of his nose gingerly, taking his time, his mind racing for answers. He didn't....he didn't want Q to think of him as....as a fag, so.....he couldn't spill to him his feelings, and he only turned his head away for a moment, sighing before he shrugged.

"I....well....I-I called the hit...or well, my friend did-but it wasn't to keep you here-it-that wasn't planned.....and when you got hurt..I just...." I just want what's best for you... "I just wanted you to get better...because...um..." Oh yes, he was holding back, choosing his words carefully, though that off feeling of being...well frankly, trapped, was still in effect, and e rubbed his chin, scratching away dried blood.

"N-nevermind. And.....nothing's stopping you from walking out right now...S-so, I'm not holding you back or uh, anything..." Save for the blizzard Anarion had mentioned before-an actual legit one this time and not a lie, though he wasn't sure if Q remembered or not. Infact....he was sure the other was going to leave, and he didn't want to resign to that fact, but he knew he couldn't keep him here forever-he was......dangerous. Anarion still loved him, oh so deeply-but the minor pain he had now would only intensify if he kept making up excuses for the other to stay. This was.....well, his last chance he supposed. Something to make this better at least-even if the Anon had another hit for Q, he doubted he'd see the other again, so right now....he didn't want animosity if the other was going to leave.
He only hoped for more blizzards.




[imgright]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/post/drrrq-1.png[/imgright]Q inhaled deeply and turned away, looking at the floor.
Q knew what was going on.
It confirmed that sneaking suspicion. The one he didn't want to think about.
This man, this Anarion... He was a sick, creepy kid. And a huge faggot.

"Why are you so anxious?" Q asked, leaning over and pushing Anarion's leg off the table.
"I know you're lying. You think I will kill you? Is that it?"

His brows creased above his glasses as he scooted a little closer to the other man. Their pants touched, now. Q's tail went to the opposite side of him, falling on his outside leg, outside of Anarion's reach.

Q actually didn't really care why Anarion was so scared.
"You're afraid of me," he chuffed, turning his body so he was sitting perpendicular to Anarion. Their inside knees touched. Q let his tail fall behind him. He made sure his tail was always away from Anarion at this point.

The mercenary leaned toward Anarion's face. "Is that it?" he whispered.
He never really expected a response.

He leaned in closer, his mouth right next to Anarion's ear. "I'm not going to kill you."

Q didn't kill people he didn't have to. And while he had a decent enough reason for killing witnesses, he usually didn't if he knew they wouldn't talk. Anarion had already proven twice now he wouldn't talk, so there was no point in wasting a bullet. However, this little 'chat' wasn't about the words. Q was playing with Anarion.
Q didn't do much of that, usually.
But then again, Q wasn't normally kidnapped and bound to a bed for any length of time, either.
So maybe it would be a good idea to get in on some torture.

Q inhaled deeply, and slowly, his mouth still near to Anarion's ear. When he exhaled, he blew it lightly on the man's top ridge, starting there but eventually blowing it into the stranger's hair as Q turned his head, and again changed how he was sitting.

He turned, and shoved his boot out, kicking the coffee table away from them so he had more room. After the table flipped over, Q got on top of Anarion, straddling him, his right knee on the couch cushion and his left foot on the floor. He put his right hand on the back of the couch, gripping it just behind Anarion's head, and his left hand cupped Anarion's cheek. His thumb lightly stroked the other's face once or twice.

Q touched his forehead to Anarion's. "Is this what you want?" he breathed.
He brought his face even closer, his cheek rubbing Anarion's, as he repeated the statement in french.
"Est-ce ce que vous voulez?"
Q would never understand why people thought french was so much sexier than english. But he recognized that fetish existed and so went with it.

He took in a loud breath and looked down. He moved his hand from Anarion's cheek to the man's lower chest. The 25 year old's hand placed his hand on Anarion's shirt, and slowly rubbed up toward the man's throat.
There, he gripped it, but did not put enough pressure on it to make it difficult to breathe.

Q brought his lips towards Anarion's, until they were just about to touch.
But they didn't touch.

That was when Q squeezed Anarion's throat instead, and shoved him backward as much as possible into the couch. It was a quick motion, and Q stood up afterward.
His tail flicked awkwardly side to side, and he looked down in disgust at the man on the couch.

"You are a disgusting piece of shit," Q spat.
He turned around and kicked the already downed table.
"That you're a faggot has little to do with how much of a psychopath you are."

He threw his head, cracking his neck and walked to the kitchen, toward the pot roast, as if what had just happened... Hadn't.

At last he said, in a somewhat normal voice, as if explaining away everything:
"I found the room."

Q just stood with his back toward Anarion-- perhaps not the smartest decision-- and stared at the pot roast.
His own heart was beating in his chest a little too much for comfort. He wasn't sure if it was because of fear or that he'd taken a little too much enjoyment out of toying with Anarion.
Either way, now that he was of a good enough distance away, he concentrated on slowing down his heart beat and evening out his breathing.

Tom_Suke wrote: (Hodamn<33333

Wanted to hone in on it, though wasn't sure if it was a good idea or not, but you don't seem to be online D: Let me know if honing in on Q's homolovin' was a good or bad move, lol, and if I should redo it or not. I was deciding Anarion could limp over, grab him, and kiss him, but I was sure that might have ended badly, or would you rather that than this?)


Anarion didn't answer at first, he only turned his head away, rubbing the back of his neck until his leg was pushed-he shifted it so that his foot wouldn't touch the ground, and blinking, turned to look towards him. He...knew the other knew that it was a lie-but, well, it wasn't like he was going to say anything regarding the truth..

".....You're a trained killer...." He only muttered-though he knew, he was only mildly safe-he hadn't been killed in a span of two weeks, the other could easily kill him, but he didn't. That didn't mean Anarion was safe, but it was, till this point, a thought that hadn't struck much fear into him.
He felt uncomfortable suddenly, when Q moved closer. He shifted in his seat, looking away as he felt the side of Q's warm, warm leg, gently brush against his own, and he spotted the tail, flicking out of reach, as if tantalizing him.

Afraid.....yes, he was-he had his reasons why, some obvious, some not-but it was mainly...rejection, rather than his own safety. If he never brought up a situation that would involve it, then he was good, was his theory in mind, and he kept onto that thought as the other turned towards him-a brush of knee had him inhale sharply, and still he looked away, frowning gently. This....screamed out so many red flags, but he did nothing, not until the other leaned close.

Anarion tensed as the other moved closer, biting his inner cheek, slowly, ever so slowly, inhaling the other's scent, trying to mask it as regular breathing.... He had gotten used to that musk the other's scent held-lack of shower and whatnot, and since the other hadn't been strenous in activity, it wasn't much sweat or filth in the smell, but more of a natural scent that, well he mildly found alluring once he adjusted to it.

To his question, he frowned in silence, only to gasp softly, when he felt him so close-a breath of air, is voice, right up against his ear.....G-gods.... He closed his eyes for a moment, cheeks lightly dappled now, and suddenly, another breath of air against his ear, earning the softest sounds from the male, involuntarily slipping out as goosebumps rose against his flesh. The moment he made such a sound his face went darker and he all but clamped his jaws tight, lips pursed-he'd refuse another sound, he didn't want the other to-...to....

The breath trailed over his hair, earning more shivers from the human, and as the other shifted, he leaned back in surprise, eyes going wide as he looked up at him. Oh-oh shit.

The loud bang of the table toppling over had him jump for a moment, but before he could snap at him for damaging, yet again another bit of furniture, Q was on top of him, erasing any thought he held. Flags were raised, but they were all but ignored once that hand cradled his cheek. His heart began to thud, the blood rushing, warming up is face-tremors, every time he felt the gentle glide of his thumb, and he could feel his breaths going shallow, causing him to breathe more quickly.

Anarion swallowed just as Q's face was inches from his own, unable to look away from those piercing shades, brow to brow-his heart thudded quickly, threatening to escape his rib cage, and he curled his hands into both armrest and side of the cushion, nails digging in.
Oh my God.....


He couldn't help but lean back for a moment, too stunned really-was this real-was this-was this really happening? Again, those flags flared up in warning, but yet again, he ignored them soon as Q's cheek was against his own, words whispered out breathily.... My God......Anarion's lids partially closed, his eyes glazed for a moment-the French was an overkill, for e tensed under him, a muffled, whining moan escaping him, or well, it was heard in the closure of his mouth-he didn't dare part his lips, but soon as he felt that hand sliding down...

"H-haaah....y-yes," He breathed out, gasping at the warmth, like shocks of electricity coursing through him. He groaned as the hand trailed up, and up, and the fingers around his throat-they didn't constrict, and he only tilted up his head, glasses still crooked as he licked his lips, gaze all but oriented on Q's own lips....oh fuck-oh God-this-this was really, really happening.... Q leaned in, so close...he felt himself leaning, pausing-that one inch margin, he wanted it gone, and so he moved a bit closer, to break that almost illegal space between, when suddenly....

Anarion managed out a gasp as not even a split second had formed when he was shoved back, eyes wide, confused-and dazed. He was panting softly, face flushed, and as the other stood up, the shock turned to pain. The expression....he lowered his gaze, glaring at the ground-the hurt was clear even though he tried not to show it....had anyone else done such a thing, he'd probably sock them hard in the face, but no...Q was....
Anarion didn't flinch as his table was kicked, damaged enough but seemingly like Anarion-even when downed, it would still hurt to be hit. He could only sit there, a cold, numbing feeling coursing through him. Had he no control, tears would have been falling, and he would have seemed even more pathetic-but no, he blinked them back and just...sat there, staring down at the ground, hurt, angry.....

It was only when Q walked away did he sit up a bit more-but his daunting words had Anarion close his eyes, the reason of the other's actions clear now, and he dropped a bit in his posture, knees out, elbows resting on them, and hanging his head before he covered it with his hands.
....Shit.

Anarion.....he felt like crawling into a hole and just....just dying, and yet, as is breathing stabalized, as the pain sank in fully now, the rejection he had feared since the moment he dragged him up the stairs and tended to his wounds, from force feeding him, tying him down...No.
NO.


Anarion rose up his head, glaring down at the table, at the wall... He slowly stood up, support on his good leg as he turned around to glare at the other's back, trembling hands curling into fists.

"...............Fuck you. Yea, I'm a fag-but you're one too." The words were spoken cruelly, coldly, and yet solid. He had his hunches, he had his suspicions-this was a test right now, a test on his theory. It wasn't the first time Anarion had been teased for being gay, for loving men, and he .....he learned if it was a straight guy pulling a prank, or not. And this....no straight guy could get that intimate, without disgust-and he hadn't seen that till the end. Was it self denial, or was Q just a really, really good actor? He knew it was only an assumption, but after so many times of teasing when he was younger, he knew-he fucking knew who was gay, who wasn't, and shit like that.

Yes....Q could be straight, again-it was all a hunch, an assumption-or just, something to rile Q up. Whatever it was, Anarion said it, and stood his ground, narrowing his eyes.

"If you're straight-then go, go face a damn blizzard, and bloody die. Y.....you're a coldhearted sonofabitch, do you know that? So damn bitter to everyone-or is it just me? Why are you so against me, just because I like guys? Or is it just denial-is it because deep down, you're just like me?!" His voice had raised and he was glaring him down, fists trembling, but he rose his head.

"Go ahead, beat me up, kill me or whatever-but you know I'm fuckin' right, and killing me isn't going to hide that at all..... No matter what, it will always be there-and you can't get rid of it-it's a part of you."

Again, it was all an assumption-but he was angry, he was hurt-he wanted to drive in a nail, whether Q was straight, or not-this had to affect him, and he wanted....he wanted to hurt him. As cold and cruel as the thought was-he was hurt enough, this last, damn straw crushed him, and he just-he wanted a response-being tricked, ignored-the pain was intense, and he was doing all he could just to stand there and glare, the only movement was to take off his glasses and shift them back onto his face so they weren't so askew, but never did his eyes leave the other.



Q was staring at the pot roast, and around the time Anarion managed to stand himself up, Q had taken a knife and started to cut it. He figured if he could busy himself, Anarion would just lay on the couch and suffer his burn.

But that wasn't the case.
Anarion walked forward.
"...............Fuck you. Yea, I'm a fag-but you're one too." He said.

Q turned around, knife still in his hands to face the other.
"What did you call me?" He said, his words hardly audible.

"If you're straight-then go, go face a damn blizzard, and bloody die. Y.....you're a coldhearted sonofabitch, do you know that? So damn bitter to everyone-or is it just me? Why are you so against me, just because I like guys? Or is it just denial-is it because deep down, you're just like me?!" His voice had raised and he was glaring him down, fists trembling, but he rose his head.

Q clutched the knife in his hands, keeping himself still. He closed his mouth and made his lips a straight line, swallowing but otherwise unmoving. Even his tail gave the attention to Anarion.
Q just listened.
And he watched.

Q had never been forced to deal with any gay people before. Any time anyone touched him, he'd make some insult and then leave. This situation was entirely different. Q couldn't leave, because he knew he couldn't make it outside. Yet, he still fought to prove he was superior to Anarion.
Only moments ago, Anarion had been shivering at the thought of Q killing him.
Now, Q held a knife in his hand and Anarion was standing up for his beliefs.

Q wanted to hate him. He wanted to stab him and be done with it.
But he couldn't make himself move. Instead, the 6 foot 25 year old just stood there and took it.

"Go ahead, beat me up, kill me or whatever-but you know I'm fuckin' right, and killing me isn't going to hide that at all..... No matter what, it will always be there-and you can't get rid of it-it's a part of you."

That part was what hit him hard. In a very forced movement, Q slowly put the knife back on the counter with the pot roast, taking a deep, forcefully slow breath.
Q wasn't gay.
Q fucked girls for sport. Killed people for money.
Q was a man. Strong, built. Didn't let anything phase him. Q was the type of guy so many guys tried to be. He had to say, he was an amazing actor, too. Alpha dog.

But Q hadn't always been Q. Quatre Bornes had left France, running away from his father.
Quatre Bornes had had a loving boyfriend.
But Bornes had also run from that boyfriend, too. Because that boyfriend had been cheating on him with women.

There was a long silence, and Bornes just stared at the stranger. It was getting to that point where someone was likely to yell "Well?!" but no one did.
Bornes realized that when he threw fag insults at other people, it was to distance himself from a repeat of his first, and last, boyfriend. He hadn't been intending to ruin people's whole lives.
Here Anarion was saying 'kill me if you think a fag deserves to be killed.'
In truth, Bornes did know what he thought on the matter any more, because really, he had chosen to never think about it.

"Some people..." He started, trying to explain, as if he were a teacher...
But he licked his lips lightly and swallowed, nervously leaning his weight to one foot as he brought his hand to his chin, covering his mouth.
He started over, removing his hand from his face.

"You are right in that regard," he said slowly. "It is a part of me. I carry it on my face, every day. Every time I look in the mirror, I know what it got me."
Bornes was obviously distressed, wording his statements extremely carefully. Trying not to trip or stutter. He was remembering something pretty painful.

"Father..." He grunted, turning away for a moment, deciding that was a bad way to go with the conversation. He re-routed it, deciding not to be specific about how he carried the ordeal on his face. That was not something he wanted to tell to other people.

".. But YOU" he stressed, motioning toward Anarion. "You're not marked. You can hide what you are. You can be with normal people, do normal things, and no one will ever know the difference."

He hmphed. It bothered Bornes that he felt like he couldn't hide. And Anarion was there, a perfectly normally looking person, not hiding.

Bornes shook his head, confusing himself. He wasn't sure where he was going anymore.
"Being gay isn't natural. You shouldn't do it. So it doesn't matter."
Bornes irrevocably believed those words, though his voice portrayed that he wished they weren't true.

"And anyway," he spat back, recovering his bad attitude, "that doesn't even matter in this situation. I think it's pretty fair to think someone who has my entire life posted all over a wall is a psychopath."

Tom_Suke wrote: Even with the knife, Anarion didn't back down. Was he scared? Yes, but would he show it? No. This was something he had fought tooth and nail when he was little, when he realized he liked boys the moment he was young. It was sick, wrong-disgusting, but his mother loved him, and he had no dad to watch over him, the man having died off long before he could remember.

And he had...his mother's support. Of course he knew she had wanted grand children, even asking sometimes if he was bi-but she never rejected him, even if she was a little saddened. She defended him, the only one who would, and here....Q didn't have anyone to support him, anyone to hold him when tormented, when bothered and torn down...

The silence now, it was impecible. He chewed his inner cheek, swallowing quietly and watching the other, staring back, his heart beating quickly in his chest, and yet he stayed where he was, slightly leaning into the doorframe, bad leg up slightly, toes barely touching the ground...

Finally, what felt like a milennia, Q spoke, and Anarion was silent, listening...He watched his expressions, already sensing how...uncomfortable this was, and knowing it was a hard subject for Q to face, so he didn't press for answers, he only stood there, hand on the counter, studying him not with angered hues, but with a gentle look.

Anarion blinked at his words-face? He didn't understand, and yet he studied him now-the markings on his cheeks, the dark shades....were they scars from denial, from aggression of someone? He didn't say anything, watching, waiting-it was hurting the hybrid, to that much Anarion knew, and he would give him time...

Father..?


It suddenly clicked, even as Q paused to think of another way to say it-he allowed him that, but now it made sense. Anarion didn't have a father to tell him he was disgusting, that he was a sick, twisted human being. Q did-and that had to be the main...reason on why Q was so feverently against being wo he was. You couldn't change being gay, it just.....happened.

Anarion blinked, then sighed gently. Hide...yes, he could....in truth, nobody in town save for a few people knew he was gay, most just thought he was a lone bachelor from some big city that moved down. In truth, he did move from a big city, and this had been property from his mother when she died away, it was an escape from the city, but ah...hide....

Anarion was quick to switch thoughts, looking up sharply, and narrowing his gaze gently. "It's natural, or else...seventy percent of mammals wouldn't be gay, and history of emperors in Japan, Kings in England-if it was so unnatural, why does it happen often? The Greeks, the Italians-it happens, it's natural-love is love, as cheesy as that sounds. If it wasn't natural, you wouldn't feel it so readily pressing at you...it would 'just be a phase', and it wouldn't be something that affects us so. So yes, I believe it's natural, that some people are just....well, gay. You talk as if I had a choice-shouldn't do it, you say....well Q, I didn't get beat up at highschool for dating girls, now did I? Yea, it sucks to be gay in a society that hates it-but you can't always lie to yourself, you'll only die unhappy. 'So it doesn't matter', on what they think-the only thing that should matter, is what you think."

He studied him, and at the mention of is livelihood, Anarion actually flushed and turned his head away, rubbing the back of his head and going silent.




Anarion was quick to switch thoughts, looking up sharply, and narrowing his gaze gently. "It's natural, or else...seventy percent of mammals wouldn't be gay, and history of emperors in Japan, Kings in England-if it was so unnatural, why does it happen often? The Greeks, the Italians-it happens, it's natural-love is love, as cheesy as that sounds. If it wasn't natural, you wouldn't feel it so readily pressing at you...it would 'just be a phase', and it wouldn't be something that affects us so. So yes, I believe it's natural, that some people are just....well, gay. You talk as if I had a choice-shouldn't do it, you say....well Q, I didn't get beat up at highschool for dating girls, now did I? Yea, it sucks to be gay in a society that hates it-but you can't always lie to yourself, you'll only die unhappy. 'So it doesn't matter', on what they think-the only thing that should matter, is what you think."


"Well what I think," Bornes stressed, "Is that it's not natural." He took a step back, and waved his hand in his conviction. "Just because it happened in the past or happens now does not make it right. Do you think it is natural to kill people? Do you think it is okay when adults want to have sex with children or animals? Those things have 'natural' gut feelings too but they're deemed wrong. The only difference between them and gays is that the fags have become so popular in society that they finally have some pull. Get a pedophiliac president and I'm sure that would be legal, too."

He clutched his hands into fists, and suddenly how naked he was dawned on him. Well, he wasn't truly naked. But his entire chest was showing through an open shirt and jacket. He wanted his old shirt back...

He turned back to Anarion, pulling himself out of his distracted thoughts.
"Do you really think you can talk to me about natural?" Bornes stressed, his voice low in volume.
He flicked his tail hard enough for the long hairs to make noise in the midst of their argument.

"Do you think that I, Quatre Bornes, have any qualities that are natural?" He leaned forward as he said this line.

But then, he leaned back, throwing his hands out to his sides.
"LOOK AT ME!!"

He leaned forward again, and took has sunglasses off his face, holding them tightly in his left hand. His forest green eyes squinted instantly, his pupils retracting to slits similar to a cat's at the light of the room.
The color of his eyes was too bright and saturated for a normal person. There were almost no whites, as well. And with his glasses off, a strangers eyes instantly noticed the large, diagonal scar that went from his right brow, over his nose, and to his left cheek. This was what was normally hidden or obscured thanks to his shades.
And those oddities on his face were ignoring the always-visible whisker-like tattoos on each side of his chin.

"Does anything about this seem NATURAL to you??" He asked.
"Well, look! DOES it?"

As soon as he had let Anarion look for a decent length of time, he leaned back, closing his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest.
"Just because it happens does not mean it is natural," he spat.

Tom_Suke wrote: "That's not-...." That wasn't what he was going with, but he went silent in thought, narrowing his gaze for a moment-he didn't lump pedos and shit with that-you didn't see animals in the wild doing that. Or uh, did they? Nevertheless, he shook it from his mind, and crossed his arms. He couldn't really....fix something like this with a few words-it seemed set in stone for Q to hate himself....well....he wanted to fix that, though...

Anarion blinked as Q turned from him, hearing the anger in his tone....he glanced down at the whiplike sound the tail permitted, but in no way was he aroused-his mind was too wrapped up in Q-...in Quatre's words, stunning him as he turned to him again, snarling and...

Anarion couldn't help but flinch, eyes going wide with silent surprise before calming, still entranced-the long, thick scar, the marks on his cheeks-the sickly sweet tone of lime green....He swallowed quietly, his thoughts were surprisingly positive, and as he trailed his gaze over his entire face gently, eventually, 'Quatre' placed his shades back on, and Anarion blinked, calmly staring at him.
"No...........but, I think you're beautiful."

He said the words without thinking, and once it clicked that he had said that, he went beet red, turning his gaze away, a hand covering his mouth for a moment, and at his words, well, they provided a good distraction.

"A-ah...but......lust aside....love is natural. Pedos and shit-they only want sex, or just, it's a fetish for them.....this....being gay-it isn't a fetish or attaction, it's love."



"No...........but, I think you're beautiful."

Bornes scoffed and turned his head away, flicking his tail against his leg.

"Yeah well what is love anyway but a bunch of hormones telling you to do shit," he said, putting his glasses back on and opening his eyes again.

"Those same hormones tell me I should be killing things. Happens throughout all of nature. I don't see murder being advocated. Do you? Homosexuality is the same way." He hmphed and turned, walking away.
He didn't know where he was going to go, really, but he wanted to get away from the situation entirely.

Tom_Suke wrote: My God, Q was difficult. Or, Quatre, was being difficult. Anarion only studied him again, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh. He didn't feel like arguing with him on the subject-but he for sure as hell knew murder and homosexuality weren't the same damn thing.

"That's because murder ends, and homosexuality begins. It's peaceful-it doesn't hurt anybody...." Already, his mind flickered to possible insults, and probably the bring up of pedophilia again, and so he crossed his arms. Thankfully, the other decided to just, well frankly, walk away. Anarion watched before he finally sighed, running a hand through his hair before checking his nose. It had stopped bleeding, but still he changed the tissues before washing his hands and working on cutting off some of the roast. He set some in a plate for himself, and cut another lump but let it in the tin and covered it with foil, to keep it still hot, and he limped to the table, sitting down with a grunt.

When Anarion finished eating, he checked the time and grunted, annoyed as he headed up the stairs, taking his time, and yet seemingly in a hurry. Once he found the medical case, he pulled out a wrap and checked his foot before binding it-the swelling was still there, but he didn't have time to wait. Once bound, he carefully limped back down the stairs and to the side closet by the door, pulling out a radio and a snow shovel. Turning on the radio, he set it to a specific channel before pulling up the coffee table, and plopping it on. That done, he glanced around, knowing his voice would be heard on wherever Quatre had gone.

"Hey, Q-can you get some candles and matches from the kitchen drawers, and put them on the table next to the radio?"

He always did have to prepare for storms, and from there, he limped towards the door, sliding into boots and swearing under his breath when he felt a jolt of pain from his leg. After sliding on a thick coat and a beanie, he grit his teeth he opened the door-already it was snowing thickly, some of it blowing lightly inside. He shut the door behind him and trudged through the snow-it was light, and fluffy, so support for his leg was easier, but still he checked the skies, chewing his lower lip. Clouds didn't look right-it was going to be one hell of a storm....

Anarion stopped limping through when he reached his snowmobile, and began to shovel the snow infront of it. It took him a while to make a path to the small shed just before, and once done he turned on the mobile, getting on and slowly driving it into the shed in reverse. Shutting it off, he worked on fixing the plow front (to push snow off roads), and once done he closed the shed doors, not before pulling out a large trash can full of salt. It took him longer than he thought to take it towards the house, though, too exhausted and in pain to take it up the porch steps, he set it right beside, locking the top before looking around. The wind had picked up, signaling he should be inside, and he walked in, his limp mild if only because the cold seemed to numb the pain. As the heat of the house began to warm him up, the throbbing seemed worse when he pulled off his shoes, locking the door and setting his wet jacket on a hook by the door, beanie as well.

Anarion then headed into the kitchen and set a pot of milk to heat up on the stove, listening to the radio-it was just the usual, repetitive warnings of the blizzard to come, time it would hit, to stay off the road, etc etc, and within a few the milk was steaming and he was pouring it into two mugs, then pouring powdered hot chocolate into them, mixing it with little marshmallows. From there, he limped into the living room and finally plopped onto the couch with a sigh, setting the mugs down and checking his ankle.

Alright, he overdid it-but those chores needed to be done. The chores for cleaning inside....would have to wait. He was glad it was too cold for fruit flies to live around here, all the mushed fruits and such in the corners of his stairs...ugh.
[imgleft]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/post/qp1.png[/imgleft]
Bornes ended up going upstairs and cleaning up a bit. His room was still a mess, but less of a mess, by the time Anarion called for him to get candles. The 25 year old hmphed and did as was told, stopping to smoke a few cigarettes after he put the candles out.

As he took the last few drags of his second cigarette, he could hear the radio outside, warning of a blizzard. Bornes turned to the door with a "Hmmm". After stubbing out his cig he walked over and called outside.

"Hey! Uh, You mind buying a carton or two of cigarettes out there...?"
He'd seen the other's foot and knew he really shouldn't be outside, let alone shoveling snow, but with the cops coming by every so often, and already knowing what Q looked like.. Bornes couldn't go out himself. Not that he had enough money to buy anything anyway.

Bornes frowned and cut himself some pot roast, eating it with his fingers absent mindedly before going back upstairs and working on his room. But before he knew it, curiosity and boredom got the better of him, and he decided to hunt around upstairs, in Anarion's bedroom. It started out with just a need for different clothes, but then it became wanting to know more.

He opened up drawers and looked around his closet... Nothing really too out there. Everything seemed normal and bland. But the bed was large and made for two people, and there were a lot of leather jackets in the closet. Bornes thought to himself for a moment before taking off his own jacket and letting it fall to the floor, helping himself to one of the many of Anarion's.

As soon as he put it on though, he realized the jacket would've been too big for Anarion. He thought it a little odd, but nonetheless the thought passed and he looked through other clothes, picking out a dress shirt and slacks.

Anarion had mostly pull overs and jeans or khakis. The only dress shirts he had were cream and white. Bornes didn't really like those colors, but he preferred to wear a dress shirt over something else.
He then decided he'd had enough of voyeurism and went back to the bathroom with the clothes. He took a shower there and got dressed in Anarion's things. Though the shirt was still a little small for him, so Bornes left the first few buttons unbottoned. He then slipped Anarion's too-big but good enough fit for Bornes leather jackets on, and went back downstairs right as Anarion was coming back into the living room with the hot chocolate.

Borne's hair (on his head and his tail) was a little damp, but at least it smelled nice, and he ran a hand through it (on his head) as he said "You really shouldn't be walking on that."

He hmphed, and came to the couch, standing on the other side of the table he'd previously righted. "Is it broken?"

[[Sorry my writing kind of craps out at the end... Don't have much of a muse today. lol]]

Tom_Suke wrote: "Can't, shops're closed early tonight."
Anarion called out-he could hear the other shuffling upstairs, and he only sat back, taking a quiet sip of the hot chocolate, and sighing out the heat softly, relaxing. Mn, sometimes he debated over coffee or hot chocolate, and right now, hot cocoa was definitely winning. It warmed him to the bone, and he greedily took another sip, savoring the taste and feeling good about himself...
Well, almost.

"Mnph, I can't just let shit pile up, things needed to be done." He smiled up at him-only for his gaze to fall onto the jacket. Let's just say...the light left his eyes and he turned his head back down to his cup, hesitating, before taking a rather burning gulp. The scalding of his tongue distracted him, and yet he coughed lightly, swallowing thickly and sighing out heat.

"No...I...I think it's just sprained, nothing felt out of place." He seemed a bit...off-or, moreso than usual-not nervous, just....well he seemed a bit, unhappy, and motioning for the other cup, he stared down at the quietly buzzing radio.

"So...you went through my things?....Guess it's fair, considering I've got your life on my wall."
Anarion stared down at his half filled cup, no longer in the mood he set it down and took off his glasses, just, something to do. He rubbed them clean, only to close his eyes and rub at his face with his empty hand. A blurry vision felt nice-from that, he could pretend the jacket was Quatre's, and not....
"....I have a few cigars though, if you really need to smoke."

Oh yes, add another thing with the jacket. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before sliding his glasses on and leaning back a bit, staring at the wall.
"....Did you make a mess in my room? I don't want to clean up anymore shit than I have to."



Bornes put his right hand behind his head, scratching it awkwardly while he forced himself to look away, his other hand on his hip. "Well I took a shower and needed some new clothes," he mused.

He knew something was wrong, and he was pretty sure he knew what it was, too, but he was trying to play dumb.

He moved his right hand to his chin, overemphasizing his movements, trying to be a bit comical, as he looked down at the floor and shifted his weight, his tail shifting haphazardly. "I'm not sure if cigars will work the same way a cigarette does... I've never tried it."

At the room part though, he dropped the act, standing straight and letting his hands fall to his sides.
"No," he said seriously. "I left it like I found it."

He quirked his neck and a silver brow, watching Anarion. He decided to just come out with.
"Old boyfriend's jacket?" He shoved his hands into the jacket's pockets, waiting for a reaction.

Bornes could be odd and scatter-brained, but he wasn't dumb.

OOC:
It's either an ex's or his dad's. It was 50/50, but Q doesn't know about the dad situation so this guess would be more in character.
Did I just ruin a plot point by inference?
qdealwithit.gif

LOL

Tom_Suke wrote: "I think they're Cuban, pretty sure it's different."

Anarion kept his gaze on the wall-cold, firm....he gripped his mug almost tightly, taking another gulp-it wasn't too hot this time, and the fluid rolled down his throat while he caught a marshmallow with his tongue, pinning it to the roof of his mouth and extinguishing it's mushy life. Another sip had it washed away, the sweetness of it seemingly bitter, and in no way, lightening up his mood.
"Good."

Was all he mentioned about the room-he really didn't want to pick up a mess, he was already sore as fuck on the outside as he was on the inside now, and he only sighed heavily.
The next comment....well he wouldn't say he didn't expect it-but it still stung, and he set his mug down a little too roughly, glaring down at it.

"Take it off."

His voice was cold, seething, and finally he brought his gaze to the other's, narrowing his vision with a heated glare.

"Why don't you tell me about the scar on your face? Maybe then you can learn about the damn jacket." Oh yes, low blow-he knew it, but the other had no right to shuffle through his things! Then again, he had shuffled through his life-but point was, Anarion wasn't bringing shit up, and yet here he was, wearing-wearing that and asking about it-it stung, and he turned his gaze down to the mug he was still holding, letting it go and crossing his arms just as the first, thundering sounds of the blizzard came. The windows rattled and the lights flickered, and Anarion glanced around for a moment before huffing and ignoring the storm outside.
"Look, just......take it off, I'll give you a sweater or something, alright?"



Bornes hadn't meant to burn bridges by the remark, and when told to take it off, he took his hands from the pockets and began to comply. But not soon enough, as Anarion kept talking.
Bornes kept the jacket on, then.

Frowning, he would've shot back a smart remark, but the wind unexpectedly rattled the house and Bornes visibly jerked, startled, looking toward the nearest window.
Bornes had... Never been in any sort of snow storm, before. He didn't know what to expect, and he didn't like the uncertainty. His tail waved back and forth at erratic times, as if it were a scared mouse hiding behind different legs for comfort.

Despite his tail, which Bornes often felt like wasn't even a part of him (and thus didn't control it if he didn't have to), he turned back to Anarion and tried to save face.

"Like I said, I took a shower and I needed new clothes. It's not like I packed to sleep over," he hmphed, throwing up his hands.
"I'll just put the dirty jacket back on, jeez."
He took the jacket off and tossed it on the couch. So much for trying to play nice with the guy.
At the jacket being off, the shoulder holsters were now clearly seen, one gun under each armpit. Bornes didn't seem to worry about-- they were his, after all.

Almost as quickly as he'd tossed the jacket, he walked up the stairs and back to his room, putting his old, dirty, probably stinky (Bornes couldn't smell much, despite was he was sure a lot of people would think) jacket that he'd been sleeping in back on. He then came back downstairs, his hands in his jacket pockets.

Walking back over to the table, but staying well away from Anarion, he motioned his chin toward the other hot chocolate. "So are both of those for you, or...?"

He let it hang in another attempt to be cordial.

Tom_Suke wrote: Anarion said nothing to Quatre's reaction to the storm, he only pulled up his knees, staring down at the radio as the voice, volume set low, began to speak of the counties and groups affected, his named in the danger zone. It was, heh, always in the danger zone, but it only meant he'd have to fix the roof right after, and that the snow machines would come around. It made sense as to why, when they found Hutchep's body, they had set a mild barrel perimeter around his house, lined with yellow tape, and against where the wind would strike, so that it would be easier to examine the crime scene. He knew that everything was probably marked up quickly, they didn't want the storm to ruin it all and such, but also made sure the property was off limits and tagged for further investigation.

All this was assumptions, but it made sense-he could barely see old Hutchep's house from the window, even if it was quite a distance. Anarion soon glanced at the other for a moment before gettin the candles in a collective pile near to him and taking the match box, moving it to where he was sure he'd feel it in the dark, if the lights went out-just something to busy himself with.
"When the storm's over and the shops open up again, I'll buy you some clothes."

He gave no response about the jacket, but when the other tossed it onto the couch-well...he almost grabbed for it only to pull back, gritting his teeth and glaring off to the side, as if mad at the jacket, and yet also at Q. The steps echoed-Q was leaving, heading up to get his jacket, and when he came down, Anarion crinkled his nose for a moment. Alright, it wasn't bad, but it wasn't a good musky odor either. He kept his gaze down t othe little radio, listening to rules and shit about what to do in storms-candles, telegraph, radio waves... He did have a radio box, but almost never did he need it. Perhaps he should get that out later....No, that would only have people come over, and he didn't feel very social at the moment.

Anarion flicked his gaze to the cup, and sighed, picking it up by the mug and feeling the slight sting of heat-he turned it so that the handle was sticking out, and extended his arm, still staring down at the table top as he held the mug out for the other, the jacket still where it was.
"I don't have a boyfriend."

Was all he said, his voice calm as the anger seemed to mildly fade-he was still steaming, but he wasn't going to push it onto the other, and this hot cocoa was a sort of 'truce'. Though whether or not he said more was up to Q's curiosity and his own will.



I don't have a boyfriend.

"That's good, neither do I." Bornes shrugged, trying to make a joke.
He wasn't very humorous.

Even so, he went to pick up the other cup, holding it carefully so as to try not to burn himself. In the back of his mind, he made note of everything the radio was saying, but overall the high pitched buzz wasn't something he enjoyed. He shifted his weight again. This was the part where he was supposed to talk about his scar, right?
Bornes gave a light scowl. That wasn't happening.

"So, you seem like you've done all this thousands of times before," he steered the conversation in a completely different direction, then. "Do you really need the radio on?"

Tom_Suke wrote: Anarion could tell the other was trying to....make light of this, but it didn't really work. He couldn't even offer him a fake smile-his gaze moved to the corner of his eye and down to the jacket, lowering his arm once the mug was taken, then flicking it back towards the radio.
At the mention of said object, he chuckled dryly and picked it up, examining it for a moment, as if debating on shutting it off or not.

"Force of habit. I live alone, so...hearing some voices once in a while is nice. There's a lot of blizzards and storms in this region, usually we hear it on the local radio-this one, and then we prepare for it. Twice I've had the house fucked over, so I listen to it now, kinda like a check list in case I forget anything. Guess....don't need it for now, it's not like the storm's going to get worse than a blackout." He shut it off, or rather, the radio output-he still kept it on for an emergency regional frequencies, or, if something happened or was going to for his spot exactly, he would get the frequency warning from it. In short, the radio was on silent standby, no input or output for now, and no sounds.

The silence chewed now at him, and he glanced up at hte tv-it was off, but he'd rather not turn it on...which left.....talking.

He really, really didn't feel like it, but he hated silence, and rather go hobble to his room to get his laptop to play games or listen to music, he picked up his mug and took a few, quiet sips.

"So...when the storm's done and over.....are you going to leave? I mean...you're healthy now, got some food in you, and you finally took a shower," A light joke-he hadn't allowed him to take one when he was wounded, afraid that the wound would open up, and the other hadn't voiced to take one, other than using the bathroom for...well, it's purpose, he hadn't done anything else. Anarion had bought a cheapo toothbrush and stuff early on, so at least Q's breath didn't stink as much as his body had.



Bornes listened, and as he did, he kept careful note. His expression turned to calculating.
Anarion said 'we' multiple times. He'd quickly pieced together what had happened to the other guy. House fucked over? Probably natural disaster? Q's mind kept running scenarios in his head, but he kept his mouth shut.

Q relished silence. He reveled in it mostly because it was so rare. His nose may be shit but his ears were sensitive. The lights, the refrigerator, they were constants and although he could easily drone them out well enough due to practice, it was still refreshing when he heard none of it. Even now, Anarion claimed to turn the radio off, but it was still whining as if it were on standby. Thing was on a battery, why was it still making such a noise?
He glared at the object through his glasses.

"You sure you turned it off?" he pressured.

He tried to calm himself, the cabin fever already pretty strong in him from being here for two weeks.
"Hard to say," he relented, finally taking a sip of the hot cocoa in his hand.
"All the money I had was in the bag at the hotel. I ran off cash. Now I have nothing."

He quickly chugged the rest of the cocoa, and laid the mug on the table.

But I'm uncomfortable staying in one place for this long, and I'm sure it shows, he thought to himself.

Tom_Suke wrote: "No, it isn't fully," He was surprised the other knew it wasn't, and a dull memory of dogs and keen hearing had him glance down at the radio. "I have to keep the emergency wave on, you know, incase something specifically is going to happen to this region....if it's bothering you, I can set it in the kitchen or something..."

Anarion trailed off as his gaze again, went to the jacket, before he turned to look at him. Ah, so....that's why he was so....depressing a week ago. Anarion chewed his lower lip in thought, tilting his head back. "Well....the town claimed the money, assuming that it was Hutchep's murderer's. Or well, yours, so...." He paused, balking at is thoughts and frowning gently to himself.

"....You could stay here for a bit, if you'd like. At least, until winter passes, then...well, I still got some money in my savings, I don't really use it other than video games and shit, so maybe I can give you some for the road, a sort of 'sorry you lost all your shit because of me, and keeping you in my house for like, two weeks.' Guess it can be a peace offering or something."

He shrugged at the thought-money wasn't an issue for him, since his grandmother died and left the house to his mom, along with a shitton of cash, his mother had refused to touch it because of some reason or the other-it kept increasing in the bank, and when mom died and he got her insurance on top of gram's and the house-well, let's just say he didn't need a job anymore, or a house. His reasons for moving down here however, weren't what he had expected for his life.

Noticing the mug empty, he shifted a bit in his seat. "Hey....want another cup? I got a whole kettle of milk, or you want something stronger?" Thinking about it now, he did have some vodka left, and spiking cocoa sounded nice.



He sighed. "No, it's fine." I'll deal with it, he thought.

He turned down to the cup, frowning. "No thanks, I don't need a handout."
He only had two, maybe three personal possessions he actually cared about. The main one being his sniper rifle. All of it was gone. He gave a moment of silence to his belongings, before seeming to snap himself out of it.

"Stronger? You mean, alcohol?" He questioned, looking back to Anarion. "Sure. Tell me where it is."

Tom_Suke wrote: Anarion nodded quietly-he didn't consider it a handout, more of a 'sorry for screwing you over', but he decided against saying anything. At the question he grinned and gave him a small nod, stretching a bit. "Hrmn, I got whiskey behind the tv, vodka on top of the fridge, and a couple of beercans in the back of the fridge. I used to have more but....yea, drank em out, heh. I only buy like, once a month, and it's usually to last me the month."

And it was nearing the end of the month, heh. Seriously, at hte beginning of a month, the entire bottom two rows in his fridge were all booze, and only a small portion of the top was food. Freezer had food in it as well, and usually all around he had a bottle or two. He surprisingly limited himself to a few cans or a cup or two a day, sometimes going a day dry-he'd make sure to keep his liver in check, once a month he'd go visit the doctor. He wasn't a heavy alcoholic, but he was still an alcoholic.
"Mnrph, on second thought, bring the vodka, I think the whiskey's out."



Bornes listened and stored it all in memory for later. Maybe when Anarion was asleep.
The 25 year old turned and went for the Vodka, then, coming back with the bottle as he opened it.

He poured some into his own mug, about half the glass, intending to drink it straight.
He then began pouring for Anarion, as well. "How much do you want?" Assuming it would be much less than Bornes's.

Tom_Suke wrote: Anarion immedietly perked when he saw the bottle, sitting up a bit, bringing up his leg to rest it on the table, shifting to slide a pillow there-it felt better propping it up.

"Hmnn? Oh, just under the brim please." He leaned forward, watching the clear liquid swirl and mix, turning a light tan due to the residue cocoa, and once it was at the preferred amount he took it and had quite a swig, finishing half the cup and sighing out, licking his lips. Ah, that's the stuff. He finished the mug a moment or so later, taking the bottle and pouring a second glass. He preferred mixing, but leftover chocolate seemed to suffice. With the second cup he merely sat back and took a gulp to sip ratio, letting the fire burn down his throat, feeling the warmth arise, and smiling like a relaxed feline.

"Mnn...nothing beats Sky Vodka, eh? I think I'm the only one in town that buys this shit, apparently before me, they never stocked it."



Bornes watched Anarion again, quirking a brow after he'd finished pouring, twisted the cap back on, and took his cup back into his hand.
It was a rare sight to see someone chug down that much alcohol. Was he trying to prove something? Anarion didn't seem like the type to be able to drink that much that fast without getting sloppy.

Bornes kept his opinions to himself however and sipped at his own drink.
"Vodka's not really my thing, but I'll live," was all he said about it.

Eventually, he walked around the table and finally sat on the couch, but made sure there was plenty of room between him and Anarion. Bornes still wasn't willing to give up his personal space. After a moment of sitting, he leaned back and made himself comfortable, propping his own feet up and taking a few more sips, becoming warm. He felt a tingling, a light-headedness, and briefly wondered if he'd completely lost his tolerance since he'd been unhealthy for so long. But it went to the back of his mind-- he was still armed, and Anarion was not a threat in the slightest, so he let his defenses lower.

"So what do you do, then, if you're alone all the time?" Bornes asked. He assumed it was get on the computer and hack things, but he was trying to make conversation.

Tom_Suke wrote: Man, he was in the zone. He loved the slight buzz, the sting of warmth, and he sighed, taking his time finishing his cup if only to savor it, smiling gently to himself. At the question however, he blinked lightly and tilted his head back, noticing him sitting down. The jacket was between them, though Anarion didn't look down at it this time, merely turning his gaze down to his mug, and shrugging.

"Eh....it gets kinda dull, but I mainly go on the internet....." you know, stalking you and whatever. "Sometimes games, sometimes I walk around outside...I've only been here for around...two years." He seemed...bored, almost instantly-after all, he lived in the middle of nowhere, it was hard to do shit.

"I don't know....sometimes I do some odd jobs in town, just to do something..." He grumbled gently and finished his cup, sighing and picking up the bottle, pouring in his third. He didn't seem phased yet-then again, maybe he was a late starter on reactions. He only set the bottle down and picked up his mug, sighing before he took a warm gulp, tilting his head up to stare at the ceiling, leaning back to relax a bit.
".....You get used to it, living alone. It's not as bad as most people think. It's just.....'
Lonely...


Bornes shrugged haphazardly, and went back to sipping at his own cup.
When Anarion was finished, he said, "I'm a sniper, mostly. So I'm alone most of the time. Just people watching."

He only had about a quarter of a mug left, so he finished it off after that remark, and put the mug down on the table. "You'd be surprised what you can learn about a person simply by watching them."
Q wasn't aware of how creepy that came off, but then again he was talking to someone who was an admitted stalker.
The 25 year old put his right foot to his left knee and leaned far back into the chair with a soft, pleasurable groan. Underneath his glasses, he closed his eyes. His tail flicked against the couch lazily.
He wasn't drunk, but he was definitely getting there. His lack of tolerance now was almost confusing. But maybe it had to do with the fact that he hadn't eaten much either, and he never really did like vodka in the first place..

Tom_Suke wrote: Anarion almost missed his lips with the mug, pressing it to his cheek for a moment and blinking quietly before he sighed, rerouting the cup slowly to his mouth, and quietly slurping, or rather, making the motion to-it went down quietly, and he swallowed thickly, sighing and turning his head towards the other-already it seemed hard to focus, but hey, that's what he loved about being drunk-being out of touch with your body, and forgetting shit the next day. He didn't like the hangovers, but he got used to them.
"Hrmnph....sssooo...." Another slow gulp before he licked his lips, sitting back a bit."You'd...heh, think I know everything...everything about you, right?" A dazed smile as he held up his mug, chuckling gently. "Wrong....so....uh, you people watch, righht? I mean, do you just stare while standin...standin all creepy like in a corner, or do you like, do it from rooftops? Or oh, from like, a window when they sleep? And oh, how do you got a phone, you know, for like, hits and stuff. Is it prepaiid?"

His words were a bare hint of slur to them, and it seemed as if he was just picking random questions to ask, turning towards him a bit, leg still out, but the other crossed and under him as he offered him a rather comical smile, tilting his head a bit.

"Heh.....it's still a shocker-you, of all people, in my shitty little house, creeped the fuck out by me, but still here...heh, makes me think if I'm just drunk off my ass and only now sober, or I probably went crazy or somethin' and you're not real. I mean....you of all people, here. With me. Just....it's like Justin Beiber going to some Jewish girl's....what is it, barmitzvah? No, that's boys....right? That hting when a girl gets um, older or something, anyways, there are lots of little brats there, and that beebee person....wouldn't just pop up, you know? Yea, you're like bee...whatever he is."

He picked up his mug, finishing it and almost dropping it when he set it down, hiccuping for a moment, but seemingly getting that under control, wriggling a bit in his seat and trying to look at the other, blinking a few times.



Bornes opened his eyes and looked up while Anarion spoke. Why was this guy drinking so much? The 25 year old looked to the jacket on the couch.
Oh.
That bad, huh?


He grit his teeth a moment before exhaling loudly and standing up, picking up the bottle and walking it back to the refrigerator, where he placed it ontop. When he came back he sat down with a huff, not graceful or sly like he usually was. This guy sounded so much like some of the girls he'd been with. He put a hand to his face, trying to hide his grimace.

He was going to have to play baby sitter, wasn't he?

"I can people watch from anywhere, while doing anything. Sunglasses help. Nobody can tell where I'm looking." He answered, slowly bringing his hand from his face to his stomach. Why he bothered to be truthful about it, he wasn't sure. Maybe because Anarion probably wouldn't remember.

"I try to stay away from phones, but yeah they're pre-paid." Bornes didn't like using phones. They gave him headaches. He preferred to meet in person. But sometimes, phones were needed, and he realized that. That was how he got here...

He sighed loudly at the next part. He didn't know who Justin Bieber was, but he was guessing the kid was famous. "Batmitzvah." Bornes corrected unenthusiastically.

A minute or so went by before Bornes decided he'd had enough, and he would like to play the responsible one, now. His buzz was almost entirely gone because of Anarion.
The 25 year old stood up, and walked over to the other.
"Come on, you should get to bed," he said, gently moving his foot from the table to the floor, then grabbing one of Anarion's arms and pulling him up from the couch.
Once Anarion was up, Bornes turned and put Anarion's arm around his shoulder, intending to help him walk over to the bed.
He glanced over to the jacket on the couch for a moment. Finally, yet another sigh escaped him and he reached over, grabbing it with his free hand. He'd carry it on one side, and Anarion on the other.

"Come on," he urged, trying to walk toward the stairs. "Let's get upstairs before you pass out..."

Tom_Suke wrote: "Heeeeey.....I wasn't done with thaaat." Anarion gave a grunted whine, pouting blearily up at him through his glasses when the other took the bottle, and he hiccuped, rubbing just under his eye with a curled fist.

"I....need to forgeet, and you're not helpinnng...."
He grumbled more and sat back, picking up his cup and sipping the last of it's contents, huffing-he'd drink normally four or five cups and pass out whenever emotions stirred him, it was mainly to forget or procure up a huge headache that would make him focus on that or other shit. It was the perfect remedy for emotional crap.

Anarion dully listened, nodding a bit off key, staring around quietly, eying Borne's cup for a moment until the other approached him and helped him stand.
"Hnnn? But.....eh, okayyy...." He grumbled and shifted, taking a moment to realize the hard way that he shouldn't step down with the bad leg, and after a few swears and gripping Borne's shirt for a moment, he began to limp with him, only to pause when Q grabbed the jacket, his gaze going cold.

"....Burn the st....stuupid thing. I think I have-yea, fireplace behind the-the tv....it's not I'd let-that bastard in again.....awh hell, who am I kidding, I probably would...." He grumbled, glaring down at the jacket as they headed towards the stairs, limping and slouching before he licked his lips, bare hints of vodka souring his tastebuds.

"....He's a damn prick, you know? Acts like...acts like this place is his n' shit- I don't-heh, even like him.....I hope he dies-he went off to go play hero in the war, some kinda shit about that-doing it on purpose, knowing I want him to die.....and he has the-the auda...auda something-oh! Audacity to send me.....me...." He traield off, slurring a bit and frowning as they headed up the stairs, shaking his head and letting out a smal hiccup, "Send me letters, shit like 'I'm still alive, n' comin' for you....'....Fuckin' bastard, why can't he die? Heh....if he was here and if-if I could, I'd have....you kill him or something....but no, can't even touch the bastard, even if-if he was like, a veggie person...you know, veggie-like, all still but like, sleeping or alive? Whatever, yea-if he was that and I had a gun-still can't do shit? You know why? Cuz he's got-.....hnn...." He slumped a bit against the other, blinking slowly and gripping his shirt, his leg stumbling for a moment to where he used the other. THe sharp pain had a late reaction, but when it came he was a bit more alert, swearing, and grabbing the railing.
"Fuuuuhhhhhk....okay, hokay......mnph...."

Once they made it to his room, he limped a bit and just flopped on the bed, though he was still gripping the other's shirt, trying to pull him down, then giving up and holding the front shirt tail, rolling onto his back.
"...Hope he does die over there.....then I can...finally live somewhat happy...naw, shit I'd still be the miserable little shit I am, just sitting on my computer, finding a hobby-no, just-finding pics of you and shit....just....some stupid fantasy, that you could kill him off, no questions, no problems-that you didn't seem real, and yet ...heh, you are....guess I hoped a bit too much.....nnn...fuhhk, why are you such a hardass?" He sat up now, though with great effort, tugging a few times on his shirt and staring up at him.
"You. You're.....you're a hardasssh, yeh know? So serious, such a cold person inside-and mean, my God you're like.....yea....Yea....but...I'm sure, you'll be happy one day, somehow....." He nodded to himself and allowed his grip to slacken, flopping backwards and grunting from the dizzy reaction it gave him, staring up at the ceiling and huffing.



Bornes hmphed and replied quickly "It's just a jacket," at Anarion's complaints about burning it.
Though it did make the man wonder.. If Anarion hated the owner of the jacket so much, why did he have more than one of them in his closet? Bornes thought maybe he'd pegged it wrong, that the owner of the jacket wasn't a lover afterall.

But then as they went on up the stairs, it became obvious that whatever was going on was super confusing and likely a complicated relationship. Maybe Anarion loved him and so hated him for leaving to join the military?

Once Bornes had set Anarion on the bed and the other began to complain about Bornes's own personality, he shrugged lightly, and put the jacket back in the closet with the others.

When he came back, he watched Anarion begin to pass out on the bed, almost hoping it would happen quickly. Bornes wasn't particularly annoyed by Anarion's talking, but just the same the 25 year old knew he would enjoy silence more.

"I'm a soldier," he said frankly, in response to the 'you'll be happy one day' comment.

"Are you happy?"

Bornes wasn't even sure why he asked that. The words left his mouth before he even thought about it.
Why did he care if Anarion was happy or not? He was only here for shelter against the blizzard.

Tom_Suke wrote: Anarion grumbled gently, stretching out on the bed and sighing, closing his eyes before having the sense to take off his glasses. He reached to set them on the nightstand, only to drop them on the floor. He frowned and opened his eyes to the sound, but didn't move, choosing to stare up at the ceiling.

"It's not....just a jacket-it's....it's him. Seeing it makes...me think of him-and when I do....just want to forget....from all that he's done to me-I wish I was dead sometimes....and he knows it too, damn bastard...why....why can't he just leave me alone?" His voice had gone soft, and he rose a forearm to cover his eyes for a moment-he didn't seem to cry though, for at the question he slowly lowered his elbow, again, staring up at the ceiling-yup, no hints of tears.

He pondered gently, before chuckling softly and looking towards him, squinting at the blurred vision of Q.
"....If you were any other person, I'd....heh, say fuck no. But....even being near you, for two weeks-even just seeing you....makes me happy. I know you'll leave soon...and even though I don't know you well enough-I'll miss you......but I'll still be happy, heh, knowing I met you. I guess it can be cheesy or gay as fuck, whatever you think-but I'm still happy to have met you before I die....I'll probably die in a few years anyways, that rotten bastard'll....he'll......nn....."

His lids began to close, and he frowned, rolling onto his side and seemingly ready to pass out, before tiredly, he moved his hand t pat the space behind him, on the bed.
"Sleep...mkay? Cuz-my head'shurrtinand...gonnassleepmyself....." He patted more gently, before his hand moved back to lay on the pillow infront of him, lids sinking as he nuzzled atop of the covers, and clonked out.



Bornes cocked his head to the side as he listened to Anarion. Happy to be near Q?
That was odd.

"But I treat you like shit," he said under his breath.
Maybe he was into that sort of thing? Seemed like his last boyfriend didn't treat him too great, either.

But before Bornes could ask the guy more questions-- the situation was far more interesting to him, now-- Anarion finally passed out. Bornes sighed and picked up the man's glasses from the floor, putting them on the night stand before leaving the room.

He went to the bathroom and smoked another cigarette, thinking to himself how much he'd have to ration if the storm was going to be a couple of days. He hoped cigars would help him as well, but he doubted they would have the same effect. After his cigarette, he tossed the butt into the toilet bowl but didn't bother to flush it. After that, he went downstairs, eating some more pot roast and drinking some more liquor before exploring throughout the house more. He found a library there and decided to go hunting through it. He had one book in his possession before it'd been taken away with the rest of his belongings at the hotel, and it was a book entirely in french about military strategies. Bornes knew everything in it already, he mostly kept reading it over and over so he wouldn't forget his native tongue. So in the library, he was hoping he would also find a french book. His hopes were not high, but they were still present. Anarion's collection was a lot of old classics, and some graphic novels. But by and large it was all werewolves. Bornes quickly guessed the guy fetishisized them and that was why he was so interested in Q. Bornes wasn't too enthralled at this thought, but tried not to dwell on it.

Instead, he wound up coming across a book named "La Bête du Gévaudan". He pulled it out, and read a few pages, trying to gauge what it was about. It appeared to be a sort of collection of documents from the period when the french were dealing with the beast of Gévaudan, which many believed to be related to werewolves. The original letters to the king were in french, but the book was mostly english.

Despite this, Bornes decided it was better than nothing and went back to the couch to read up on his new mythos. A few hours later, he was asleep on the couch, open book over his chest.

When morning came, Bornes awoke with a start, from yet another barrage of nightmares. This was common for him. Generally speaking, if he was healthy, he woke up in a sweat and his heart racing. He wasn't sure what time it was, but after a quick glance around, he realised Anarion wasn't around and the winds outside from the storm were unrelenting against the outside of the house. They made awkward sounds that he wasn't used to hearing, and thus, became particularly uneasy.

Reagrdless, his first reaction to his awakeness was to smoke another cigarette, which he did in the bathroom after tossing the book from his chest to the coffee table. When he was done with the cig, another butt was added to the toilet water and he returned downstairs, a bit calmer now as he again began to eat pot roast (now cold) with his fingers from the counter.

With just waking up and the roaring going on outside, he was a bit shaken up and on edge. His tail was twitching as it swayed from side to side and Bornes's shoulders were pushed forward as if he were on the defensive.

When He heard Anarion coming down the stairs, he immediately turned around, as if to fight him. Only after a few seconds, did he begin to let up, and turn back to the pot roast.

Tom_Suke wrote: Morning came and went, and by afternoon the blizzard was still going strong. Anarion groaned, opening his eyes, only to swear loudly and curl up there on the sheets, clutching his head. The splitting headache when it came had him still for several minutes until he was able to stir, blinking dully-he couldn't remember much, bits and pieces of last night, but right now he didn't care.

He only wanted one thing now, and it was coffee. With a few grunts he managed to get his glasses and slide them on, shuffling, then after a few more swears, limping to the bathroom. He washed up and brushed his teeth, but all that was more of habit than a way to wake up, and he headed downstairs, limping. Anarion actualy didn't seem to notice Q, even when the other turned to face him-he did pause to rub at his eyes under his glasses tiredly, almost as if he was a zombie-so dismissive of things around him, and yet craving one thing. That simple mindset had him shuffle past the other and to the container marked Folgers, some coffee brand, and he dug around the cabinets until he found the glass pot, and from there he poured water in it and set it to boil. The stove seemed to be gas, so it worked even though the blizzard had knocked the power out sometime last night.

Anarion still seemed out of it, just standing in place by the coffee pot until bubbles began to burst violently through the heated water, and now he poured several spoons of black coffee, watching it settle and soak. Within minutes, the entire kitchen held the rich aroma, and he seemed to relax with a small sigh, taking up the pot and pouring some into a mug. No cream, no sugar-he blew a bit before he took a healthy gulp, allowing a loud, content sigh to escape him as he leaned into the counter, seemingly energized.

"Ahhh....oh, Mornin." He was still a bit groggy in his speech, and yes, there were bags under his eyes, but he kept on sipping his coffee, one hand on support on the counter, bad leg drawn up.
Morning. Oh.
Realization was slow to Anarion, and when he remembered those bits and pieces last night, he dropped his gaze-he wasn't embarassed, but he seemed a bit...off.
After all....he had said too much.



"Hello," he replied, sticking the last of the pot roast into his mouth as he looked up to Anarion, noticing his sudden embarassment.

Bornes shrugged and went back to the couch, picking up the Beast of Gévaudan book and beginning to read again. Bornes was interested in the story, but not interested enough to actually ask about it. With Anarion being as talkative as he was, he figured the other man would be begging to tell the whole thing eventually.

He opened up his book and started flipping through the pages to figure out where he'd previously left off while he unenthusiastically asked "When's the storm supposed to be over? I need to pick up cigarettes."

Ah, there was the page. Bornes leaned back in the couch and put his boots up on the table, beginning to read.

Tom_Suke wrote: Eh? Anarion blinked and lifted one of the lace like drapes of the kitchen's little window, peering out. "Hnn...it should have ended last night....Well, guess not everyone can figure out how long a storm lasts." The news had said something about it having a chance to go long, but he had supposed otherwise, and now he dropped the curtain and snorted softly, only to blink at the mention of cigs. He was sure the other wouldn't want cigars, and so he glanced around his kitchen, rubbing the back of his neck before noticing the book the other was reading. He blinked at the cover before turning his gaze back down to the mug, lifting it to his lips and inhaling the scent through his lips before he took another, warm gulp.
"Mnn.....it should let up soon, if it keeps building up like this....well...." He shifted in throught for a moment, finishing his mug and sighing out, checking the pot-only a cup left, he never made too much coffee, so he set his mug aside and scratched the back of his head.

"Mnn....I'd better get the radio set and check in with a few people, it could just be my area."
He shuffled out of the kitchen and to the closet in the living room side, pulling out a headset, a microphone, and a little radio box. He hefted it to set it on the coffee table, sitting down, then checking his ankle. Not so sore anymore, so it wasn't broken. Still, he let it up while he connected everything, then began to cue in on frequencies.

"This is Hj-01, anyone read?" He spoke into the mic, holding the headphones by one to his ear, only to pull it back at a loud female voice.
"Anariooooon, you're okay!"
"Ah, Darlene? Over,"

"Oh, right, forgot the over part. What's cookin' sugar, you still in the storm? It's still hitting us in flurries, over."
"Yea, um, it's pretty bad looking out right now, over." He had been jostled by her informality, though apparently whoever was at hte end wasn't bothered by it.
"I got Joe and the others with me, we're all in the diner, safe to walk out, though we heard you're at the frisky edge of the storm m'dear, and I'm glad you checked in with us, shoot we were all worried, and the Sheriff wanted to talk to you-"

Her words kept going, though Anarion had stopped listening-the Sheriff....still wanted to talk? He blinked quietly, then groaned. "Darlene-Darlene," He tried to quiet her down, and after a moment of raising his voice she stopped chattering off. "I sprained my ankle, so I won't be around for a bit if the storm lets off. Can you send Jack for supplies once the storm dies and I don't come around? Just like, usual stuff-oh and cigarretes. Over."

"Well how in tarnation didja hurt yourself? Over."
"Fell down the stairs, I'll talk to you later, kinda tired now Darlene, over and out."
"Alright sugar, you get some rest now, over."
Anarion shut off the frequency and rubbed his brow, grunting softly. Of course he was a suspect-he lived right next to old Hutchep, so he was on the list, even if he never spoke to him-nobody had proof if he had or hadn't, and it probably had him on the list, even the fact that Hutchep was from here and Anarion had only been around for a few years...damn.
Well...as long as the storm drawled out, he could avoid it.

At timeslike these, he felt as if he were at a loss. He wished anon was availale to him, but with the power out there wa no wifi. Ah, but he didh ave his number...! Anarion pulled his phone out of his pocket, but as he flipped it open,Q's sleeping face was his background, and he stare dow at it sodtly, then up at he real Q, who was busy reading. He cewed his lower ip in thought, the oddest of notions came to mind, and now he limped to the closet, pulling out his old, digital slr. He used to take pictures of scenery around here whenever the net went out, or well, back when he had alife, and after checking it's battery, he aimed at the wall , back to Q, and snapped a pic, the loud click starling him, his eyes on the mirror to watch Q. The hybrid didn't even stir, so now, Anarion turned in Q's direction, standing at the far side of the room. He focused, aimed, and snapped a pic. Again, Q didn't stir, and Anarion grew bold, focusing, zooming...it actually was a nice pose and pictur,the other so calm, interested in his read and not focused on the camea, he snapped from every angle he could limp to, steadily gettin closert, though taking his time, smiling softly. Damn, he really was beautiful-and heh, the camera loved him!


Bornes listened into the radio conversation and sighed a bit, knowing cigarettes weren't going to be coming any time soon. He wondered how long he could keep himself together without passing out all the time again. Instead of worrying about it, he went back to his book.

Anarion then began to wobble around, and without moving his body, Q turned his eyes to check up on Anarion every so often, seeing what he was doing. When he pulled out a camera, Bornes became a bit uncomfortable, but tried to focus on his book again. His sunglasses masked all that he was doing, and Bornes had become rather adept at staying completely still over the years.

However, As Anarion kept taking pictures and edging closer, Bornes finally snorted and put the book on his chest, his head turning to Face the wannabe photographer.
"You know the police already know what I look like, right? If they ever find those pictures they will know I was here."

He frowned, and after a small pause, he said "That doesn't bode well for you."

Unusually, Bornes wasn't so worried about his photo being taken at all. He wasn't camera shy and it had already been decided Anarion was no threat to him. So if he wanted to play paparazzi in his little fantasy world of loving Q, let him have it.


Tom_Suke wrote: Anarion was surprised when he peered through the lens and caught Q's head facing him-a flick of his finger and he caught hte picture without realizing it, lifting his head to stare at him over the lens.
..........Ohkaayyyyy. This was awkward. He shuffled for a moment, choosing to inspect his camera almost shyly, cleaning the lens before sighing softly-rather than be snipped at for taking pictures, he only brought up the police, and Anarion grunted.

"I'm sure they won't....well, I mean, you're the suspect, I know I live near Hutchep but I'm sure they don't think I'm harboring you in here.....and I've hidden all your pictures and stuff before when I had people in this house, it's not hard to shove this shit in a folder and bury it somewhere or drop it under floorboards. The people living here are kinda simple minded-they don't look around for much, though they snoop with gossip.
Anarion checked his lense before taking one more picture before setting the camera on the table, out of Q's theoretical reach as he sat down in the arm chair opposite side of him, huffing.

"Besides...even if they find it, I'll just say you had such striking features I took a picture, or the fact that I knew you were wanted but couldn't fight you so took pics for ID or something-I'll make it up if it reaches that point, for now, I'm just assuming Darlene's running her mouth or the Sheriff's worried that I died or something. After all...I'm only an outsider here, even if I lived here for a bit, I'm just an oddity no one knows much about. This is just an excuse to learn and gossip about me, they've done it before to others so I'm not overly worried about a sheriff."

He snorted and stretched out his legs, leaning back a bit to stare up at the ceiling, before reaching out onto the table and picking up his camera. Since he had no objection, he began to take pictures again, though with a minute or so between, focusing on changing schemes and colors and such, preferring Sepia tones and such, as well as black and white.
"You know, my obsession aside, you're pretty easy on the camera, like in the rules of photography, you fit the three frame rule pretty well."



Bornes looked at Anarion blankly in regards to how he was handling the whole police thread.
"You're an idiot."

He left it at that and went back to his book. Or at least tried to. Anarion went back to his camera after a while, and started taking pictures again. Bornes could no longer concentrate on the book and put it down on the coffee table, getting up and going back to the best headache relief that had been invented-- booze.
He took the vodka from the top of the fridge and poured himself a glass, bringing them both to the coffee table and setting the bottle down before sipping from the glass.

"I know," he said softly. "When I was in New York, a few photographers wanted to pick me up."
He downed the rest of the glass and set it on the coffee table. His voice hoarse as he tried to cover up how much he hated the taste, he quickly finished. "That was before I started taking hits."

He poured himself another glass of the alcohol. Yeah, he was just going to pass out for the rest of the day. That seemed a good way to deal with the immaturity of Anarion.

Tom_Suke wrote: Anarion paused for a moment at this bit of info, blinking with genuine curiosity.
"Well....I'm sure if you stuck with it, it would have paid a lot-you still have a nice frame for it, maybe you can stop doing hits and just pose for people or something, find someone with a nice studio up North...it wouldn't be hard," You are pretty hot after all, was what he was going to say, but instead just shrugged, adjusting his camera's lense.

"...What made you do hits anyways, if you had people just wanting to pay you for pics? I mean, I'm sure there's only a small difference in money gain....what pulls you to hits, Q?" He looked up at him as he snapped the lense back in place after adjusting it, tilting his head as he studied him-he really was curious, and if the other was willing to answer this question, perhaps he might answer others sitting at the back of his mind.
"I can't," he said. "I'm sure someone has photos of me relating to a crime. I'd just be inviting to be locked up if I did that."

He looked down at his glass of vodka, the alcohol hitting him. He debated if he should drink more. His tolerance was so terrible.. He didn't want to get sick. Especially not when Anarion wanted to take pictures of everything, now.

But when Anarion asked his next question, about why he took hits, he looked back up to Anarion, his facial expression somewhat akin to 'what are you, retarded?'

"I left France to become a sniper. So when I got here, I learned what I needed to know, and then I did it."
He was a bit annoyed at this, almost as if he were insulted someone would infer he not kill people for a living.

The reason Bornes was a bit upset about it was because he really had left France to become a sniper. Bornes went to a military academy, where he specialized in strategy and english. Bornes's father wanted him to becoming a strategist. All Bornes wanted to do was become a sniper. There were many fights about it, and the last fight was when...

Bornes squeezed the glass he was holding so hard that it crushed inward, and dropped to the floor. Bornes looked down at the new mess. "Shit," he cursed under his breath, holding his affected hand still and getting up to go to the sink. There, he started slowly picking any shards from his hand and dropping them into the sink. This took about 5 minutes. When he was done, he searched around for a small broom and dust pan.
After finding them, he cleaned the rest of his mess up, grabbing a towel later to soak up the leftover vodka.

Well, at least his strength hadn't weakened as much as his alcohol tolerance had.

Anarion wasn't the only one who went through a bad breakup and still harbored hard feelings about it. Afterall, it was Bornes's first (and last) boyfriend that had pretty much forced the 25 year old into homophobia in the first place. The fact that it was intricately related to his choice of career path was only a coincidence.

OOC:
sleepyq.jpg


Tom_Suke wrote: "Oh." That had been a dumb question-he supposed now that the other's life had progressed, there really was no turning back to it-he couldn't be a model, couldn't even be a barista. In a way, he felt sympathy for him, but he didn't speak it, rather, he didn't want it to be mistaken for pity. The feeling faded at the look, and he pursed his lips, feeling he hit a spot just now. Ah, so that didn't seem to be all of it, but Anarion didn't press for it, instead, his attention went to the broken glass. He sat up, but already Quatre was cleaning it up, and b the time he came back Anarion was trying to look at his hand from where he sat, shifting around and such.
"Did you cut yourself? I'm running low on bandages but I do have some bandaids and a wrap to keep them in place..."

The other didn't seem to be affected, and he merely looked down at his camera, turning it off and getting up to place it onto the coffee table, his limping was less, but still strained. Not feeling like moving back to the couch, he simply sat at the edge of the couch Q was on, giving him space between incase he felt, err, uncomfortable. The snow outside seemed to be gentle flurries, toning down, but now looking at it from the window, it seemed to have stopped.

"Hey...uh, do me a favor and try the door, see if it can open or not. We might be snowed in, or just got a porchful of snow. It's no big deal, the salt trucks will probably be out here soon, since the snow's stopped."
He really shouldn't be walking on his leg, so he decided to sit back for now, craving another cup of coffee but deciding against it for now.



He took the vodka-soaked towel and tossed it on the table, sitting back down with a hmph. He put his legs up on the table saying, "No, it's fine" in reference to his hand.

But almost immediately afterward, Anarion went on about the door. Bornes frowned, dropping his feet to the carpet one boot at a time with a heavy sigh of annoyance. When he stood up, he took the bottle of vodka in his hand, as if he was going to take it with him.
"Keep this away from you," he muttered in french, remembering Anarion's mistakes last night from too much alcohol.
It was probably a mistake Bornes was going to be repeating here shortly, in the middle of the day.. How shortly, though?
He took the bottle to his mouth and quickly downed more than his fair share of the bottle. Afterward, a shudder went down his spine, all the way down to his tail, which seemed to flinch awkwardly, then swat side to side quickly in an attempt to cover it up.
Once the vodka was away from his lips, Bornes groaned loudly, growling a bit as he shook his head from side to side. Chugging vodka was not the wisest choice he'd ever made.
He put the bottle down on the table, took a step toward the door, then looked back, judging Anarion.
He quickly swiped the vodka bottle again, second-thinking it, and brought it with him to the door.

He carried the nearly-empty vodka bottle in his right hand as he walked to the door, licking his teeth and moistening his lips continually to get the bad taste from his mouth. Not that it mattered, really. He was already three sheets to the wind. He'd decided he hated this place. Being closed up. Like somebody's fucking pet.

But back to his job-- yes, the door. He turned the knob and pushed.
Nothing. He put his shoulder into it, and after a shoving his weight into it a few times, the damn thing finally opened, only for there to be at least 3 feet of snow outside and more rapidly blowing in through the door. The wind practically burned him as it whooshed in. Bornes let go of the knob and backed up quickly, the door slamming shut right in front of him.
Just like my life, he joked to himself.

Another shudder went down his spine and he wiped himself off with his left hand best he could while walking back to the kitchen. When he finally got there, he put the cap back on the vodka and shoved it ontop of the refrigerator. Bornes wasn't a blabbermouth like most people when drunk. He was instead one of those people that really forgot how much strength it took to do something, and thus overdid everything.
He also got annoyed very easily. He wasn't an angry drunk by design, but in the same vein, it didn't take that much.

After all that, Bornes walked back to the nearest chair, plopped down, and put his boots back on the table, crossing his feet and crossing his arms over his chest with a hmph.
"Anything else need to be done, Sir?" he mocked.

He briefly wondered if he would have a better day if he pretended Anarion were a woman.
OOC:
SO CHECK OUT WHAT I JUST MADE, YEAH? <3
You know you're obsessed when you make a music video for a character you created. xP

Tom_Suke wrote: Anarion was actually a bit disappointd the other took the booze with him, but the throbbing headache he still carried from the night before was enough for him to accept it, watching him guzzle most of it in silent awe. Damn, and he thought he liked booze. Or well, it had a nasty flavor but-yea whatever.

At the glance however, he only quirked a brow-oh wow, was he that untrusted? What did he do last night? He couldn't remember, other than the fact of the leather jacket. The thought soured him up inside and out, though already Q was at the door, and Anarion sighed softly as he listened to him shove and grunt, rubbing his brow until he felt the burst of cold, and the slam.

Ah, so yes-snowed in definitely. He groaned in thought, chewing his lower lip until the lights began to flicker, and he smiled. Oh, well at least the slam of hope seemed to actually work-the power was on, though it didn't mean much to Anarion. In a house too damn old for an A/C, electricity meant shit-it was cold enough to battle a fridge, so food wasn't an issue. Just wifi was all he cared about, though his computer was back in that room, and he wasn't sure upon entering it yet.

When Q returned to him brooding, Anarion huffed lightly. "Oh, don't even. You're the one that told me it wasn't good to walk on it. Just giving it some relaxation after shoveling shit all last night." He brooded quietly himself before pinching the bridge of his nose, sighing, then relaxing and leaning back in his seat.
"Hmn, okay.....well you're out of cigarettes, the cigars I mentioned are in the top drawer of the nightstand on the right in my room, since you know my room so well. If not, you can wait a few more hours for the trucks and I can go buy a few packs and other goods in the shops."
Just some conversation-he hated silence, though now glancing towards his meager shelf, he rubbed the back of his neck.

"So uh, if I go back to town, like soonish, would you want any good reads or anything?"

(Lol that's pretty good, but who is that anime character lol)



Bornes scoffed, throwing his chin upward.
"The only shit you shoveled was your own, last night!"

He immediately recovered from being deeply insulted however, and looked down at his chest, his tail slapping against his thigh once in lingering anticipation.

"I have one or two left," he said softly. "Could you pick up a carton or two of Benson and Hedges? They're the ones with the england crest on them. " He scratched his head a bit with his right hand.

"Yes, yes actually...." he replied to the books. He was surprised Anarion had noticed.
"Anything that's in french."

Tom_Suke wrote:

Well that made partial sense-he was referring to snow, but then again....what exactly had he done last night? Anarion frowned quietly to himself, shrugging it off when the other seemed calmer, blinking at the shift and eying his tail quietly. The mention of cigs had him nod softly in thought, yes, he noticed the other's fondness for those, smoking the Marbolo's first and quickly, then the English ones slow and savoring.

"Yea sure, first thing I'll buy." He smiled a bit, noticing how he didn't really move the otherh and much-he wondered if he really had cut himself, but he didn't see any blood, then again, his angle wasn't really well, even if he was near him he had a good distance between.

"French? That's surprisingly not hard to find. When I started to order books on were-...err, well wolves and such, I started to rent books about Paris-and even if there's one little bookstore in town, they got a lot of shit. When the owner found out, well he started to order every damn book known to the world about wolves and France, thought I was doing a documentary.

Anyways, it was a good excuse for teenager to go and buy Twilight books and stuff. Horrible read though. But yea, I can go pick up some books, he made sure to be pretty broad, there's like romance novels, horror-all kinds of things, some with and without translations." Anarion was rambling again, and he knew it. He quieted after a moment, the soft smile still on his face as he studied the other quietly for a moment or two, chuckling softly through his nose.

The idle silence had him annoyed, and he focused on his thoughts for a moment, frowning softly. "So, uh, Q....question's been bothering me for a bit. Net says that you heal faster than other humans, so tolerance levels are higher, addiction is less common....so why do you smoke? And a lot at once-is that to keep the addiction or was that predisposed?"

Now that one question formed, more were planted on his tongue, and he shifted in his seat a bit, chewing his inner cheek in thought, begging to spill past his lips.

"And on another note, someone said you had canine tendencies-do you bark at dogs, can you understand them? And oh, I know you can't see through lights very well, but what you can see-is it black and white? If I scratched your head, would your leg kick?" Okay, he knew he was pushing it, but these little curiosities were major fantasies he had, such as the leg kick-just stroking behind his ears, Q's head in his lap, a quiet, summer afternoon.....surprisingly not as...err.....dirty as his usual daydreams, and very corny.



Bornes looked away, closing his eyes beneath the sunglasses while Anarion rambled on, the 25 year old beginning to get too lazy to translate it mentally. "Yeah, just anything in french," he quickly stated as soon as the other had taken a breath.
Bornes secretly hoped it wasn't some cheesy romance crap, but really anything to keep his native tongue fresh in his mind was fine at this point. He frowned, remembering his old military strategy book that was gone now. There was no getting that back...

He sighed, but came to once Anarion broke the silence again, as he usually did. He looked back to Anarion, his head tilting slightly at the question as he took it all in.
"I guess the internet has everything about me, huh..." he muttered. If the internet had everything, why wasn't he arrested yet?
He frowned deeply, and looked away. The cigarettes were a pretty deep question. But he was drunk enough to answer it. He dropped his boots back onto the floor from the table and rearranged himself in the chair so his elbow could be on the chair's arm, his hand holding up his chin.

"How to explain..." He thought aloud, his tail giving its minute or so check-in that, yes, it still could in fact slap his thigh. Like a horse's tail idly swatting flies.

"The first couple day you take care of me," His accent got thicker with every word, because he really didn't want to speak in english, "I pass out and can't walk. That is normal... Not due to chest wound... When I smoke, I don't pass out..."His voice was far off. He really didn't want to talk about it.

Even though he was three sheets to the wind, he knew what was coming next. "Next question?" He said, boredly. His tail swatting the chair again.

The next question was more like a series of questions. Each one stupider than the last.
"You scratch me, my leg will kick you because you are stupid. I am not a dog." He snorted and looked away, ignoring the other questions, not thinking they were serious.

"Anything else?"

Tom_Suke wrote: "Well, not everything, otherwise I wouldn't be asking." Anarion smirked softly, adjusting in his seat to turn towards him. THe tail had been so still when the other was thinking quietly, and when it suddenly lashed he actually flinched, then adjusted his glasses, noting it quietly before leaning a bit to listen.

It was surprising, and curious-what chemicals were in cigarettes that would take away narcolepsy? Actually, this didn't seem like that-random fainting, not sleeping....wasn't there a term for randomly fainting? He was sure cigs weren't the cure-hmnn, he'd have to study this later....It intrigued him, but not as much as what happened next.

A quick intake of breath before goosebumps rose along his skin as his works trickled down his spine, earning silent shivers of inner glee. His heart raced as he heard his accent, not so much on focusing on the words, and thickly swallowing for a moment.

"I never said you were, but you are genetically-ah whatever. Um, can...." Here he hesitated, a sheepish question earning a flush to his cheeks before he looked away.

"....Can you speak a bit of french for me? I'm just...curious about the language, and how you're so fluent in English-where did you learn English, anyways?" He asked softly, piling the questions to mask his minor obsession. He had almost asked if he could say 'i love you' in French, but had managed to stop himself, knowing full well he might be getting silence or an insult-then again, any word in french would give him another dosage of healthy shivers.

"Some of the reports are hazy, some of them say you can shift, and data's inconclusive....do you have another form, or are you in your natural state right now." Oh actually, natural wasn't the right word, but if he corrected himself it would seem like he was insulting the other....



Bornes silently waited, his tail waving idly, much more active now in his drunken state than it ever was sober.
Bornes was inclined to 'let himself go' when he was intoxicated. Well, moreso just not worry about his appearance toward others.

However, at the subject of french, the mercenary perked up, sitting up in his chair and leaning forward, his elbows on his knees as he faced Anarion.
"Speak French?" He repeated.

"Speak french? I could speak to french to you all day. But you don't understand it. So why bother? It would be talking to a wall." He leaned back a bit, quirking a brow, a suspicious look on his face.
"Unless you are one of those people who thinks french is the most romantic language ever? That everything I say is sexy?"
He licked his lips and then mustered up the most romantic breathy voice he could muster -- fake, of course:
"Vous êtes plus idiot que je ne le pensait auparavant."

He exhaled loudly through his nose and leaned fully back into the chair, putting his right ankle on left knee with a small smirk on his face.
"But you don't know french," he chuckled. "So it pointless."

Bornes watched as Anarion responded-- or more so, recovered-- from the french. He put his chin on his left hand again, thinking to himself about how right he was with Anarion's fetish. Even so, the man managed to think of more questions. Somewhat less pointless ones.
... But even though Anarion had meant it to be polite, Bornes very quickly went irate. His tail tapped impatiently against the chair like an annoyed cat's. And the 25 year old grit his teeth, frowning. His eyebrows creased together as he made the extra effort to not snarl and growl at the question like he wanted to.

"Shift?" He spat. "I'm a fucking human. How many times do I have to say?"

He over-enunciated each word, being as patronizing as possible.
"I.
Am.
Hu-man."

He couldn't help but force a beastly snort through his nose as he turned away, trying to cover it up as a scoff or cough.
"That question worse than leg kick one! You insult!" he put his face into his left hand, his fingers going under the glasses and massaging his temples.

He put both boots on the floor and stood up, tossing his glasses down on the table and getting up with a groan.
He knew he was drunk before but now he KNEW he was drunk.

Bornes went to the kitchen... Then to the door... Then he just paced around in circles.
He threw his head up, hands in fists.
"Je déteste cet endroit!" he shouted.

He went to an open doorway and leaned his shoulder against it, putting his hands over his eyes and gripping his silver hair, trying to calm himself. His tail was still in between his legs but his muscles were stiff and shaking.
He stood there, doing that for a good two minutes before a puppy whine began to grow from his chest. He cut it off before too many seconds, and turned around briskly, heading for the stairs.
"I go upstairs," he huffed, wanting to be left alone.

He stomped up them, jogging. He tripped up near the top, but didn't manage to lose his balance, and so made it to his room that still had crap all over the floor.
Bornes began to breathe through his mouth, and he started kicking around things, trying to make a good clean area of the floor. He was pushing around wood chips and glass shards, in an attempt to make a safe section of the floor to lay on. He acted as if it was extremely urgent.

When he had cleaned off enough, he grabbed a wooden chair, and started slamming it against a bed post. He did this multiple times, until the seat of the chair broke from the backing. He tossed the seat and the legs of the chair aside and then dropped the back of the chair on the floor, hurriedly searching for something else. Panting now, he walked around in circles, picking up random things, like larger shards of a vase or pitcher, and some flowers. He would've wondered where the hell flowers came from and why if he were not so intent on finishing his goal. He piled all these random small-but larger than other- pieces of debris near the bed, only slowing down to carefully place the flowers on top so it appeared they could fall at any moment, at any breath of wind.

After the flowers, Bornes walked over, slowing down a bit. Still breathing from his mouth, but a bit calmer now, he picked up the chair backing he'd previously dropped and then laid himself down on his stomach on the floor in the area he'd cleared off. He moved his legs into the prone position and held the chair backing as best he could as if it were a rifle. This imaginary rifle was aimed at the small pile, where one flower teetered on the edge of a large porcelain shard.

Bornes managed to slow his breathing down enough to finally resume the action through his nose. His eyes narrowed and everything in him began to relax. Whatever was that hectic moment from before was passed now. Bornes was now pretending he was a sniper again, the small pile of debris his target. He focused all his attention on that flower. Suddenly the rest of the world melted away, and it was just him and his rifle, watching his prey...
... Waiting... For the right moment...
It could take hours...
... But that was part of the calming effect.
Time melted away like this...

OOC
1st french is "You're more of an idiot than I originally thought."
2nd french is "I hate it here!"
Q's used to walking several miles a day. I am talking like, at least 10 a day.
He's suffering MAD cabin fever.
If it weren't obvious.

Edit: Actually, the internet may have something on that, or may mention it?
Q normally goes in a linear path that doesn't follow roads. Going from state to state, he'd be easy to predict. But also could probably be assumed he hikes it all since he doesn't follow roads.
I mean, assuming Anarion is kind of smart and would catch on to Q going insane. Who knows.

I mean, Q really does walk everywhere. It's just a matter of if the internet would know that or not.
And also how does the internet have so much on Q, anyway? You following police records or is there some Q fanclub in existence? XD (just for my personal curiosity).
 
Bullet Number One v2 (Solia)

Dunno story, just that it's different from the other one
[imgleft]http://img-cache.cdn.gaiaonline.com...wipsNdupes/QOver-ClQonlySmall.jpg[/imgleft]It was in the middle of a thunderstorm. People were trying to get home, rush out of the water and into shelter from the unexpected rain.

Despite this, cops were still on duty. In this city in particular, they were quite plentiful, in fact. So many black and white cars in an area where there was no nearby police station.

Through the rain, a man with premature grey hair covering his face walked by himself, a black leather jacket over his untucked red dress shirt-- the only thing trying to futilely protect him from the downpour. His entire six foot tall form was soaked from head to toe, his black boots slowly stepping through already well established, plentiful puddles.
Still, even through all this, the man did not change the speed in his gait, nor did he seem affected by the fact that he had become about five pounds heavier from the water soaked into his clothes.
His black pants clung to his legs as he walked, but the jacket went just over his hips-- slightly too big for him, thus covered his waist and buttocks.

The cops were here because of a car accident. As the grey-haired man walked, a green eye watched the scene across the street-- a three car pile-up, probably due to the unexpected conditions.

Most of the police officers were talking with the ambulance personnel. One or two of them looked his way, but paid no attention, as bystanders were rather common here.

"You know I just got off that drug bust a few days a go," said one cop to another. "I don't understand why I can't take time off!"

"Isiah," the second cop urged. "We all know how stupid dealing with traffic is, but everyone agrees that this is the best place for you. You don't get special treatment just because you stumbled over something big."

"But I didn't!" Isiah, the first cop argued through the rain, a fountain of water coming from the brim of his hat as he moved in anger. "It was planned, I'm telling you-- Management is up to something,I--"

"Isiah, jesus. You've been complaining about this all fucking day. I've had to listen to you bitch about this my entire shift. Why don't you just get back in the car and cool off," the second cop demanded, pointing to the squad car that was parked quite a ways ahead of the accident, underneath an overpass.

The cop named Isiah threw his hands up and began to jog toward the patrol car.
At that time, the grey-haired man had just reached the overpass, and began to turn to walk toward town. The nearest building was a McDonald's, which it appeared the stranger was headed to.

Isiah opened the passenger side door, and was about to get in when he saw the passerby and looked toward him. He didn't say anything-- didn't even really care. It was just that innate, human curiosity of wanting to know what was happening around him telling him to look.

The grey-haired man made eye contact with the cop. Deep green eyes shone through the tufts of hair, almost as if they were faintly glowing in the darkness. A hint of a scar was visible across the stranger's face, and as the stranger, named Bornes, caught the tired blue eyes of Isiah, he took his gun from the holster under his arm and pointed it to Isiah, quickly firing-- one shot, to the head. No hesitation, no time to think.

The shot was only slightly muffled by the correctly timed thunderclap, and as Isiah fell to the ground, it only took moments for the other cops to notice.
Too many moments however, since Bornes had replaced the gun in its holster and quietly went on his way, never changing speed, never changing the look on his face.

He reached the McDonalds before the other patrollers knew where to look. Bornes shook his head like a dog's inside the restaurant, afterwards finger-brushing his hair so it was parted over one eye.
He took a look at the occupants of the place, and nodded toward one man in particular before walking out the opposing door of the mcdonald's. Out of sight, out of mind. Quietly disappearing into another alleyway which held a motorcycle-- his way of escape.

Isiah had seen something he shouldn't have. What that was posed no interest to Bornes, just that it had been his job to eradicate the problem.
In no more than ten minutes, Bornes would be leaving this town and heading to the next, looking for the next place he could stay, the next city rat he could make happy by doing their dirty work for them.

Taina_love wrote: [imgright]Assassin Girl
The rain tapped on her Bike as she sat there waiting on a reply from her sister for her new job. She thought this was all over now that he was gone. Innocence her ass. She placed her phone in her jacket pocket Letting her breast show just a bit and allowing some of the cold water seep in making her shiver slightly. She bit down on her lip and let out a breath. Ahead of her was another bike. And it made her curious as to why it was there. A bike like that had to belong to someone.

Her phone vibrated. She reached into her caramel colored hair and pressed the button to her blue tooth “ Finally” was all she said looking around. Her golden eyes swept the only opening for the alley as her sister broke the news that the job has been cancelled “The hell? They have me drenched in rape city for this shit? “She said through her teeth before closing her eyes and placing a perfect smile. “ Alright. Of course I will not proceed with the order and will fall back. Will there be anything else my Darling sister” She stated in a tone of sheer sarcasm before ending the call.

She glanced at her own K1200 S; The fastest bike two years running. All black with silver lining and Her Gemini brand symbol in the back. She had it parked behind a dumpster where the shadows where the heaviest though the smell was making her want to scream.

Then a bang of a weapon clattered under the thunder and it made her much too curious for her own good. But she stood her place tapping impatiently and the leather of her seat. All too soon a man began to appear in the far end of the ally heading to the bike that was only 6 ft away. She brought up her hood and lowered on to the bike making her silhouette blend into the trash that surrounded her.

Too many years have she been doing this but never have she gotten this close to being seen by anyone. She reached up to her twin katanas. Her guns also at ready but she simply preferred close contact. She found it did a cleaner job.​


[imgleft]Photo by S Q
Once Bornes got to the alleyway he spotted his all black Kawasaki Ninja. This was his escape route. All of his belongings were at an extended stay hotel about 50 miles out. Currently the only things on him were a Glock Pistol in a right shoulder holster, and a Pentagon knife in the left under his black leather jacket.

He didn't worry much about being caught, because often, nobody cared about him. Yeah, he killed people, but to other mercenaries-- if they'd even heard of him to begin with-- laughed at him. Bornes only took the cheap kills. Nobody worth over 20 grand. This cop, Isiah, was probably the highest profile kill he'd willingly take.

Aside from that, it was still raining, and the 23 year old was more than eager to get out of this place. He put his hands on his bike and lifted his right leg over to straddle it, only to stop part-way at hearing an odd sound nearby.

Something wasn't right.

His bright green eyes looked up, his steel-toed boots now both firmly planted on the ground.

The sound had been oddly similar to a rapier. Similar, but different. Definitely a bladed weapon of some kind. If it really was a rapier-- no, it couldn't be. Bornes knew that sound far too well. It was etched in the memory that had produced the scar across his face.
At remembering the thought of how he got his scar, he decided he'd take no chances.

His green eyes seemed to glow slightly as his upper lip raised. He gave out a guttural growl, his left hand pulling his pistol out again, instinctively flicking the safety off as he held the gun near to his chest.

The only place nearby was the dumpster. He slowly began to walk toward it, keeping his gun close, but at the ready.

Taina_love wrote:
assassingirl2.jpg

She saw the boots turn towards her making her grip her weapons even more. if she killed him without permission she is toast. But what choice did this 22 year old have when found by another assassin male in an alley? Damn it all.

She slid almost soundlessly off her bike and stood into her full 5'5" frame. She looked up and the towering man through her hood. Her blades down pointing back showing she was not willing to fight just yet. If the she needed to. They were there. And without sound to stood there not of his vision for the most part. Just enough for him to see her stance was not for offense. Not yet.

That last time she was with a man that seemed to be as skill full as she was caused her more pain then she intended by acting irrationally and killing him the first chance she ha gotten. So this time she will just play it safe.



[[Did I misread? I thought you drew them(the katanas) in your last post. If you didn't, I would've just left on the motorcycle and you could've followed... Oh well. Too late now, I guess. Dx ]]

[imgright]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/post/qbz.png[/imgright]
The 23 year old turned the corner and behind the dumpster, not only was there a motorcycle, but a black form holding katanas. His gun came out immediately. His arms slightly bent so the other person couldn't just cut his hands off, but still able to shoot. He held his left index finger along the trigger guard, just waiting.
Really, he should've just shot the person immediately, but for some reason he wanted to see what someone who really looked like a ninja was going to do, first.

Bornes's eyes squinted, and then it was obvious that his green eyes did, in fact, glow. They did this when he tried to see in darkness, see where other humans could not. Bornes didn't know his eyes glowed, so he didn't know he should've hid it. This was partially why he liked rainy days like this-- he didn't have to wear sunglasses.

His eyes were sensitive to light. On normal days, he kept a pair of specially prescribed sunglasses glued to his face so he didn't burn his retinas. But on days like this, the sun was so clouded over that it was dim enough he didn't have to worry about it. Even so, the glasses were stuffed in his jacket's breast pocket just in case the sky managed to clear up before sundown.

Aside from his eyes, the 6ft tall man had two other odd features on his face-- other than his long scar, of course. They were two black, triangular, whisker-like tattooes on either side of his chin. They were something he regretted. But he'd probably never admit it.

The last unique feature about him was a tail. A long, black tail. But it went by unseen, as it was currently inside of Bornes's right pant leg, motionless.

"What do you want?" the gunner finally growled, water running down his face, dripping from his premature grey hair.

Taina_love wrote: As he stared down at her she geared herself for a fight. First she looked onto the barrel of his weapon allowing the small bit of dim light shine on her lips. The redness of them glittered under the shadow of her hood. Then something caught her eyes making them shift to his glowing ones.

She sucked in her breath muffling a gasp. She carelessly stepped forwards looking at all of his features letting go of her weapons. Never had she seen anything like it.

Then like something pinched her she looked away and huffed. before backing away into the darkness again " Not you. Your not my target." She said letting her Spaniard accent flow with ease. She hopped onto her bike and turned it on and let her hand out close to the towering man and shooed him out her way. " Move" She said with her own Fiery eyes burning into his. He was not the only strange one here.



[imgright]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/post/drrrq-1.png[/imgright]
Bornes's mouth opened in awe as she dropped her weapons. He took a step back, his gun still up and aimed at her.
She finally spoke, and then got on her bike and shooed him out of the way. Bornes, eternally confused, nonetheless complied, and walked backward and out of the way of the bike to go through.

He'd continue to aim at her until she rode off. Once she was out of his line of sight, he flicked the safety on his glock back on and put it away. Afterward, he too got on his bike and rode off.

Weeks later, he was in another town, and had long ago ditched the bike. It had been stolen, and the 23 year old often preferred walking. In this place, he'd again left everything in an extended stay hotel. He wore the same getup-- black coat over maroon dress shirt, black slacks, and steel-toed boots. He also still had the shoulder holsters-- pistol under his right arm, knife under his left. The only difference now, was that he was wearing the dark prescription sunglasses. They covered his eyes, protecting them from the sun and shielding them from others' prying looks, and helped hide the scar down his face.

On this afternoon, he found himself in a bar, off to target a lowlife. He hadn't really planned much. This kill seemed extremely easy and inventing something on the fly would probably be his best bet, anyway. Also slightly more entertaining.
Bornes was a sniper at heart. But unfortunately prepping up a kill of that nature took a lot more time, effort, and... monkey. Also risk. This person wasn't worth it.

He was in a sports bar. As soon as he walked in, Bornes was assaulted by loud noises of TVs and people and, of course, the smell of alcohol.
Bornes rushed right in so he could combat his oncoming headache. First, to order two Black Russians, quickly downing them before he looked around behind sunglasses for his prey: Cheveyo Kuger. Bornes hated too much noise. Another reason why he preferred sniping.

Regardless, Bornes spotted the man, and put his last finished mug on the bar. He ordered an Irish carbomb, quickly debating how he was going to approach this, and formulating a plan of action in his head. By the time the mug and shot had arrived, he came up with it and ordered a second Irish carbomb.

Once the bartender delivered the second drink, Bornes turned, and carefully holding both, walked his way over to Kuger's table as if he belonged there.

He set the drinks down, Kuger looking a bit dumbfounded at first.
Bornes threw a grin on his face, pushing one of the mugs and shot glasses toward the other man.
"Hey!" He said, his voice gruff from frequent smoking and tinged with a slight french accent, "I got you a drink, we gotta toast to this!"

Bornes was playing the part of one who was a bit too drunk and had accidentally walked to the wrong table.

"I... I think you have the wrong..." Kuger began to explain.
Bornes cut him off, slapping the other man on the back.

"Nonsense! Now drink up before I shove it down your throat!" He laughed playfully.

As Bornes's left hand stayed on Kuger's shoulder, the other man began to panic a bit. Bornes saw it behind his shades, and closed in on the man, as if mentoring.

"Look, dude, it's easy. Watch... You just drop the shot in the glass...." He took his free hand and put the shot in the glass, pushing the mug to the other man.

"... And you drink up! Gogogo! Come on, it's on me!"

Bornes let go and put his own shot in, chugging his own carbomb, hoping to peer pressure the guy into following.
He was working this man. And as soon as he was comfortable enough, he'd lead Kuger outside and knife him when he least expected it.

[[You can also control Kruger if you want.]]

Taina_love wrote: She drove of quickly not looking back. Though her mind did not let her forget his face for a while. It was an hour drive at full speed before she saw her current home. It was an old mansion from back in her more... Extravagant life as a child. She walked into it and was bombarded by her contractors.

" Why are you so late" She was asked left and right making her growl as she took off her cloak and dropped in on the couch.

" Not your business"

They soon left her a bit of time. Leaving her to her thoughts. She sat on the couch for a long time playing with the lace of the dress she wore under the cloak before rushing to the hot shower and of to bed.

The weeks went by uneventfully until this Night. when she was slammed an assignment that was stolen by a city rat. She rolled her eyes and dawned her leather pants and stiletto boots. Her bra for rather larger girls and a white and pink lace cover just for that hint of girlishness to walk into that bar.
over that though she placed one her hooded jackets and her gloved to cover the tattoos she chooses to ignore.

When she got there she walked in like any woman would but kept her hood up and her hair covering her face should someone dare to let it down.

But the second she touched a chair she felt the presence of him. Which made her snarl a bit as she walked tp not only him hoping her forgot about her but to her victim and smile under the hood. " Gentlemen. May I interrupt for dance. " She said looking at the drunk Kruger who immediately obliged and pulled her close to dance as she slipped a needle into him poisoning him. But the Bastard would notice. Not like she would like.

This made her Huff and look at the competition and smirk walking passed him with her victim whispering " I win"

Kruger didn't hesitate to follow her to a room where he was slammed onto the bed before she drew out her knife for another clean kill.

{night]



[imgleft]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/post/qp1.png[/imgleft] After the two black russians and the carbomb, Bornes was beginning to feel the affects of the alcohol, himself. He wasn't nearly drunk enough to miss the ninja girl come up, though.
And he remembered her.

He scowled when she asked to dance. Dance? Who the fuck dances in a sports bar? Bornes turned to protest, but stopped short when he noticed the girl inject something into his target. After that, she took him some place else. The 23 year old hmphed as he watched them walk away, as she said "I win," taunting him, as if it were some fucking game.

He shook his head, and stood up straight. No, he told himself. He'd calm down and just let it happen. If she wanted to kill the guy, fine. Nina lady could kill the guy. It wasn't like he was hurting for money. She was dragging his pride through the dirt, sure, but nothing that hadn't been done to him before.

He was "Q". He was the guy, that if the others even knew about him in the first place, took the "easy" kills, the "Safe" kills. The kills under $20k. The kills that anyone would agree were well below his skill level. He was the one who'd started in New York with the beginning of the French Mafia, and then two years a go went rogue and tried to stay on the down low.
His appearance was very memorable, so he tried to lay low to keep away from the cops, but also... Other reasons. He hadn't left the mafia he helped form on good terms, one could say.

Anyway, the point being was: He didn't need this kill, and ninja girl could have it if she wanted it so bad. No skin off his back. So he wound up rolling his eyes behind his glasses and leaving. He'd never had someone steal his kill before, but whatever. Once he got out of the bar, he slowly began the walk back to his extended stay hotel, which involved a 1 mile walk to a train station.

Fuck this town, he'd find another one. Why was ninja woman following him, anyway?

Taina_love wrote: As the guy slowly dies in his drunk stupor. Anya looks outside and sees her competition leave. This made her feel oddly unfulfilled. Normally she would have been happy to crush a man's pride so easily. But this time... She wished he made this more of a challenge.

She looked at her target and she simply stood up from straddling the fully clothed drunk man and walked out. She walked past all of the other men who just stared at her. Some calling out and others trying to block her way.

She walked up to saw him at a close distance. She speed up just enough to catch pu and hear his boots hit the ground " Whats wrong? Don't like a challenge?" She asked when she was close enough. She was not about to follow him. She just wanted to waste some time.

Though the man struck her as interesting.
she slowed her walk to stay a good distance from him incase he wasn't very friendly. Her fingers gripped on the vile that still had poison. All she had to you was break the vile and smack him once. If he dared to do anything else but talk.



[[I'm not feeling too great. Sorry. I think I'm gonna sleep after this post.]]

When Ninja girl caught up to him again, he walked a few more steps before answering her question. "What challenge? It's not a competition."

He turned around to face her only after his initial answer. Both of them on the sidewalk, him nearing a corner. The road nearby still had cars passing-- it was about time everyone seemed to be getting off work.
Bornes noticed the girl was keeping her distance. Remembering her likely poisoning his target, he kept his own distance as well. If she moved forward, he would move back.

But for now, he wasn't holding himself as if he regarded her as a threat. He thought she was strange, and somewhat of an idiot to be wearing a midieval cloak outside a Renaissance festival, but whatever-- it took all kinds.

"Are you following me?" Bornes asked frankly. "What do you want?"

Taina_love wrote: She stopped She smirked at him. The distance he made was good enough for her. " Oh aww I thought it was. " She said tilting her head and clapping her hands together. More of thinking about what to say next. This was the first encounter with him where they been able to speak.

Then he accuses her of following him. " Other then this meeting. I never intended on even running into you. ever" She said going to the wall and leaning against it. " I just thought that I was assigned the same target as you for a reason. And I was hoping for this to be a challenge. But oh well." She said shrugging her shoulder in an exaggerated sort of way.

She pulled out her hands showing them empty and placed them on the back of her head. " And as far as what I want. I don't want anything. Not from you." She said looking at him letting the fiery color of her eyes meet his. " Well maybe I got curious on those glowing eyes of yours." She said getting just as blunt as he is.

{ Alright well rest easy}



[imgleft]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/post/qp1.png[/imgleft]"If you don't want anything, then leave me alone," He butt-in, watching her behind his sunglasses.

Although this whole talk of being assigned a target and that was interesting, it wasn't something Bornes wanted to get involved with. He walked up to people and made one on one deals. That was how it worked. He found suckers in bars and gentlemens clubs, offered his services, and some rich guy would want another dead for some reason or another. There was no big association of people who assigned things. Not for him, anyway.

But then she went on about his 'glowing eyes'. Bornes shrugged. Plenty of people complimented his eyes. Always pretty, deep, fascinated, interesting, whatever. He'd never gotten 'glowing' before, but it wasn't as if the ninja girl was a normal one.

"Get a pair of designer contacts, then you can have your own," he groaned, unimpressed. He didn't want to deal with this girl. Anyone who dressed in a cloak like that was probably bad news. He didn't want to paint a target on his back.

Bornes turned and crossed the street, hoping she wouldn't follow.

Taina_love wrote:
1179cb604213af932ace98be229f4a49png.jpg
When he asked her to leave him alone she brought up her hands and shrugged "Fine I will" and when she heard him mention the contacts she laughed. " Contacts. Seems legit" She stated in a mocking tone watching as he crossed the street.

After a moment she saw the lights appear and decided it was time to go. She went the opposite way to her bike and rode off Towards him and passed him not long after waving good bye. When she got to the end of the road and turned off into the night.

The night air felt wonderful on her skin as she unzipped her jacket. She was not going to stalk him. At least not in this get up. If he ever seen her again. He wouldn't even recognize her.

She went into her agents apartment. Noticing she made perfect timing and took off all her items and looked in the mirror. " Hmm a bit pale from the lack of sun. I should give it a visit tomorrow. I'm on vacation." She said looking at her next target.​


After the ninja girl drove by, Bornes went to the train station, then finally to his extended stay hotel to take a shower and lay down. The next night, he went further out, to downtown, to find a gentlemens club. It took a few hours of listening in on conversations, working tables, and selling himself, but eventually he got his next target described to him. Bornes left the club a happy man.

The night after the new contract, he found himself in a gym. He wore a plain white t-shirt, black sweat pants, and plain sneakers he'd picked up at a thrift store earlier. He still kept the sunglasses though, as the gym was bright, even at night.

Bornes crossed his tanned arms over his chest. He wanted to get this one done with as soon as possible, as he was uncomfortable being dressed like this. There was nothing wrong with his arms, he just hated them being bare. It was a personal thing. His left hand absentmindedly scratched his right arm as he looked around for someone named Jack. A guy who only worked out at night. Apparently the guy liked to do dead weights by himself in a very shady 24 hour gym.

A minute later, Bornes found the guy, and walked over. True to form, he was lifting dead weights.

"Hey, need a spotter?" He asked, coming over to the man, and silently keeping his jealousy of the other man's strength to himself.

Jack laughed as he put down his 300lbs. "You sure you can handle it?"

Bornes let out a pfft. "I wouldn't offer if I couldn't. Why not move to the bench press?"

The other man tilted his head left and right, considering. He finally let up and moved over to the bench press, setting up the weights to 300lbs. There, Bornes spotted for him as the other man did a few reps.
After a few, he got up to put on more weight.
"Don't worry, I got it," Bornes cut the man off, motioning for him to stay where he was. Bornes put on another 100lbs on each side while Jack wiped his face with his sweat rag.

"Thanks, kid," Jack said. "What makes that?"

"350," Bornes lied. It was actually 500.

Jack put his hands on the bar and Bornes helped him bring it up. Jack was having a hard time keeping it up, and immediately Bornes went in for his chance, pushing the bar down toward Jack's chest. It dropped ontop of the man's torso almost immediately, despite the man trying to bring it up. His eyes bulged and he began to struggle to breathe. Bornes leaned over to keep his hands pushed down on the bar, just in case the guy happened to be Hercules.
Eventually, Jack stopped fighting with the bar, and went to Bornes's neck, choking him. As if that would help, Bornes thought to himself. The man succeeded, and Bornes couldn't breathe. But just by pure timing, Bornes knew Jack would pass out before he would, so the killer tried to keep himself from struggling as he waited for Jack to fall unconscious.
Taina_love wrote: { lets see how i'm going to do this)

[imgleft]http://data.whicdn.com/images/8411409/56ed3b6c463301c1791bfb3221fc4e94_thumb.png[/imgleft]
Anya was true to her word as to not following him. That day she was going into the gym to work out herself. Not too much but it was just to occupy her time during the day. she looked in the mirror having her eyes dull to a deep brown. And brushed her hair out to keep it from being too frizzy.

The gym was not far from her so she walked. Entering the gym she was hit by the smell. Shaking her head she went towards the Pilates area when she heard the struggling. Looking over she groaned.

There he was showing of his very nice looking arms. Failing to quickly kill his target. Looking around she groaned seeing that there wasn't to many others. She walked to Green eyes and after a struggle herself; freed him from his targets grip.

Without asking she wrapped an arm of his around her and pulled him out the back door of the gym leaning him into a wall. and checking for other types of injuries around his neck. " Are you alright?" She asked.​


By the time Jack has finally passed out, Bornes's vision was starting to blur and his face was deep red. He closed his eyes behind his sunglasses and let go of the bar, his hands trying to peel Jack's hands off his neck frantically. This wasn't gonna be good.

But all the sudden, someone helped him, got the hands off his neck, and pulled him aside. The 23 year old was too busy trying to fill his lungs with air to see or discern much, and once he was pegged to the wall outside, he didn't remember the journey there.

When he opened his eyes and she asked him if he was all right, he'd begun coughing. He pushed her away from him so he could bend over, his left hand over his gut and his right hand on the wall.
"Yeah," he forced in between hacks and loud inhalations, "I'll be fine."

It was maybe a full twenty seconds of this before he actually did manage to compose himself well enough and breathe normally.
That was close. He could've died just then. Well, thankfully he didn't.

And that was as far as that thought process went.

Once his lungs were back in working order, he stood up straight, pushing his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose (as they'd loosened during his coughing fit) and crossed his arms over his chest.
He wasn't exactly sure what to do, now.

The girl wasn't really moving..
"Uh... Thank you?" He muttered.

Surely this woman had seen him killing a man. Bornes was a little trapped now, being unarmed and uncertain of what he should do next.

Taina_love wrote: She waited while he gained life back into his body. His hand was strong as he pushed her back and began to cough some more while she waited from afar was an older lady passing and her dog. Anya smiled and waves her off from looking at the seen.

She glanced at him as he stood and thanked her. Her eyes grew wide as she seen that he really didn't know who she was. This made her raise an eyebrow and smile "Your welcome " she heard the cops in the distance "the cops will be here for us soon. You for murder and myself for saving you. So we have to get moving and I lnow a place." She offered hoping that he wont be but so difficult.



Bornes watched her carefully from behind his shades, his facial tattoos stretching a bit as he frowned at the police sirens in this distance. His fingers squeezed his arms a bit in anxiety-- he still wasn't sure what he should do, here.

He decided that until he figured out what exactly this woman wanted, or didn't want, or whatever the case was-- he'd follow her. Maybe even kill her later. He hadn't decided yet. One thing was for sure, though: she was right. They needed to leave.

He threw his arms out as if saying 'what're you waiting for?' but instead voiced an agitated "Lead the way."
Truth be told, he wanted to get back into something with long sleeves. His arms and face were hairless. He was somewhat self-conscious of it.

Once the woman started moving, he'd follow her unquestionably, but at least three feet behind to maintain a safe distance.

Taina_love wrote: Anya waited fro him to answer. And once he did she moved fast. Taking the side roads and cuts through the city blocks to her hide out. But as They walked she wondered what to say to him. This was much too awkward. What is she going to say? He didn't remember who she was and she actually didn't want him to know. Not yet.

They make it to an old house. It had a tall black iron fence that circled the home entirely. She opened the door and waited for him to enter before closing the door. The yard was well groomed and either then the tall Willow tree shading the home; it was bare.

Anya walks up the walkway to her Cherry wood door of the brick home and waited for him to enter.

She cursed when she realized the lights were off and ran to the other side of the room and turned on the lights before her eyes fully shown through and kept her back to him " Need a drink?" she said pointing to her cabinet of liquor.



As he followed her, he had no problems keeping up. Once she reached the house and stopped to let him in first, there was an odd silence and an awkward pause before Bornes actually went in first. He didn't mind the lack of light-- in fact, preferred it-- but she rushed to turn the lights on anyway. Bornes visibly winced, but thankfully he'd never taken his sunglasses off.

Once she offered him the drink, he looked to the cabinet she was pointing to, but politely refused. "No thank you."
He wasn't going to trust her. There had to be a reason for this whole meeting, of course. There was always a reason behind everything.

While the woman's back was to him, he took the opportunity to survey his surroundings, taking note of any exits he could take should he need to.

After an uncomfortably long silence, Bornes exhaled noisily and scratched his premature grey hair with his left hand. This situation was exceptionally awkward. He'd never been in something like this before, and he was heavily debating just leaving.

"So I'm assuming there's something you want...?"

Taina_love wrote: What to do? what to say? So many question ran through her mind as the minutes ticked by on her grandfather clock. She turned and looked at her house avoiding eye contact until her eyes dulled again. She stood in the living room that was a warm yellow in the walls with earthy gold and brown in the couch and lazy boy.

She walked around her knee high coffee table to the chair and sat down. She relaxed thinking when he spoke. " Nothing from you. Unless you have something to offer me for becoming a fugitive for you. A life for a life?" She asked she said as she studied him. Her eyes swirled of a brown and gold.

" You don't have to though. I am just hoping that a man like you would appreciate me helping you" She added pointing to the door. In truth; she feared he will discover her and possibly do much more then talk about it. This was dangerous. But as she looked at him... all she can think about is her questions for him. And there were so many she had.



Two words seemed to roll around in his mind, as she said them. Not. You.
She had said 'nothing from you,' but the sentence was close enough to one he'd heard twice before with the same tone, same diction. Not you.

Bornes's silver brows creased and he grit his teeth, lips closed. He turned to the woman, eying her again.
It couldn't be. Could it? Ht thought to himself. Ninja girl had kept her face hidden the whole time. This girl seemed different, but maybe he was easily mistaken. As the girl sat down, he decided he'd go with his gut, and snorted.

This had to be ninja girl. There was just no way it wasn't. After running into her twice, and now this? No, it was too coincidental to let slide.

"I think a man like me needs to be worried about a woman like you."

He growled, his posture straightening.
He still hadn't left the doorway of the house. And he felt naked. He hated the clothes he was in. And of course, no weapons. He wasn't too great at hand to hand, but he supposed there was a first for everything. Maybe he could just run.

The thought crossed his mind, and with his back toward the door, he took a step backward, creeping to his getaway.

"I appreciate your help but I dislike the debt you infer."

Taina_love wrote: She sees his movement towards the door and thinks quickly. But couldn't come up with anything to say. Heard his growl and stiffened. Humans Don't growl. She nearly jumped at his tone of voice. "A woman like me?" She said with a raise of an eyebrow. Now she was feeling offeneed.

She sat back pouting as she looked down. She knew the food were closely watching the area. And his look is not something one seen every day. Knowing that he will possibly need her she sighed and waved to the door. "Good luck with the cops. I'd they come here. I may think of what I may say. Since I'm not good to be around. A murderer like you should bee." She said calmly and stood up placing up her hands in defeat before walking past him to open the door.



While she talked, he only became angrier and angrier. Who did this chick think she was?
As she got up to go to the door, he shoved his left arm out to the wall, using it to block her from passing him. He leaned his face in close.

"A murderer like me? I seem to remember you poisoning someone two days a go. And carrying two katana with you weeks before that. I'm not stupid," he shot back. His face was so close, she could probably feel his smoker's breath on her face.

After he said those lines, he brought his face back, beginning to shout. "In fact, I distinctly remember NOT killing you behind that dumpster! It's you who should be thanking me. There!" He spat, removing his arm and shifting his weight. "Debt. Paid."

At that, he turned his back to her quickly, opened the door himself, and swung it open violently to leave.

Taina_love wrote: When she got close to him and saw his arm blocked the way she cursed. Seeing him so close made her move back against the door frame for them to not touch. That made her blush ever so lightly. But it went away as he spoke making her remember her assignment. Her target was him.

" I never thanked you for that. Hmm a pity. No use for pretending and trying to enjoy a vacation. Which is all I wanted to do until you Made a bad move on you last kill. Now you have to go and figure out who I am. Ugh."

Her eyes glowed fully at him as he grabbed the door. Then think of how easy it would be to end him now as close as she was. Made her eyes dull to a deep black for just a moment before she stepped to the side. shaking her head and turning away from him " And as Far as our Debt... It's no where near paid off. " She said in a cold tone looking almost sadden before walking away letting him do what he wanted.



[[This may suck, sorry still in a funk.]]
[imgleft]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/post/qsin.jpg[/imgleft]
Despite her eyes glowing being a little weird, Bornes didn't care. He left and slammed the door behind him anyway.
As if it mattered what his kills were to her. His business was none of her's.

And with that, it was time to leave town again. He walked to his extended stay hotel, packed up his things and started his long journey by train. He was going to go a few states over, this time. He needed to get off that girl's grid.

Eventually he wound up far on the west coast. He wanted some time to himself. He didn't need money from kills, he just did it because he was good at it. It wasn't as if his life was particularly extravagant. But today it would be.

After he'd gotten himself set up in the outside of town in yet another extended stay, he took a long shower and got dressed differently than the other nights. This time, he wore a maroon dress shirt with a black vest. His knife was in his left boot, which were mostly covered by black slacks. Still had the sunglasses over his eyes, and still the diagonally parted silver hair. The most 'awkward' of his new getup was the addition-- or rather, the revealing-- of a long, bushy black tail that was halfway between a dog's and a horse's. It was real, but he'd likely never reveal it. He normally his it in his pants leg, but tonight was going to be a special night.

With a yawn and a stretch, his arms stretching above his head and his tail flicking about behind him, he loosened up his stiff muscles. Then, he headed out to the exciting night life of the new city. There was a fetishist club here, and he was going to use his birth defects to his advantage for some "me" time.

Later rather than sooner, he wound up at this place, called "Wild Life", and inside he sat himself down at the bar while there was a show on the stage behind him and quite a few tables. Currently, there were two naked women in body paint made up to look like anthropomorphic cats doing an erotic play with some cloth and enchanting music.

Bornes ordered a scotch and lit up his first cigarette for the night, turning to idly watch the show and look out for an interesting hostess.

Taina_love wrote: ( I guess this them alone... We should have him find her this time)

The moment he left she slammed against the door and breathed. She has never allowed a man that close before. So this was a big deal. She slid down the door and sat there thinking of what to do. He knows her face. And he was her next target.

She ran to her room and packed calling her sister. Other then Green eyes; Her sister Diana answered first ring and after a small argument and a lecture Anya was on her way to her new place.

Diana lived an hour away from the coast in an old cottage like home. She Greeted Anya and they talked for a long time before they drove to the coastal area wear Anya settled on an apartment. She dumped her stuff and took a long nap. when she awaken it was the evening wear she unpacked and went to dip her feet into the water.

She wore a long deep blue dress with a hood of coarse and walked the edge by the water. Settling on the sand she laid back and breathed further covering her face with her arm.



[[Bah. Wanted something cool to happen at the club but I guess I'll leave it to fantasy. :P ]]

About an hour went by of Bornes talking to many different women, most of whom would make remarks about his tail. Bornes would play it off and make animal noises. Eventually he wound up with a natural albino woman who had died her hair a neon green to match her fake grass skirt and shaded glasses. She also wore a coconut bra. One thing led to another and at some point the ended up walking down the beach under the full moon. The girl, despite being legitimately albino, was pretending to instead be a zombie. It was clear through her actions, high pitched voice, and words that she may as well have been a zombie because her brain didn't resemble much of intelligence.

Bornes simply listened to her talk about this and that, let her play with his tail, and play along with her jokes about him being a werewolf. He would laugh here and there, and generally seem like a pretty nice guy to her, but behind lying face he hated this woman. She was dumb, she was ugly, and her pink eyes were disgusting. Also, he didn't have a thin for zombies.

But a part of him thought that these were the only types of people he'd be able to identify with. They certainly seemed like the only type of people who wouldn't give him shit about having a huge dog tail coming out of his ass anyway.

At some point, they parted ways and the girl went to greener pastures, probably realizing Bornes wasn't going to sleep with her. He had thought about it, and that was what he had intended to do when he went out. But he just wasn't feeling like it anymore. Once the girl left, he looked up at the moon shining in the bright sky.

And he inwardly laughed about the possibility of actually being a werewolf.
What a joke.

Taina_love wrote: All around her she seen couples and lovers walking and laughing. All making her feel all the lonelier. the smells of bear and cigarettes filled her nose and made her groan. Her senses were much to advance for her comfort. And it bothered her to have to keep quiet when groups of people unite and begin to party.

One boy seen her sitting alone. Her dress clung to her body showing off to him and the fact that it was getting colder didn't help. The boy invited himself to sit by her " what's wrong? The party not good enough?" He asked allowing her to smell the vodka in his breath making her cover her face even further.

He was bait and she needed a to feel a companion. Her nails sharpen making her fingertips itch and her body grew colder as he talked and tried to gain her trust by his friendly touches. Soon making her swoon under his voice.

Then the glowing eyes and fangs made him glare at her. He yelled calling her a freak and before he can gather his friends she was gone.

Running faster then a human she was clear across the beach. Problem was... She wasn't paying attention and had to slide to stop herself from crashing into a rock ahead of her. She leaned over it and breathed. Standing up right she saw a man with a maroon shirt and decided to walk up to him as a distraction he she noticed the hair. She was already close enough for him to see her. But what would he do?

" Ahem" She said leaning on the rock. Face still covered.
The sniper lost himself staring at the moon. But upon hearing someone step up behind him, he turned slowly. It took a minute to register that it was the same girl from nights prior. He couldn't see her face, but he knew the voice and that hood. A part of him wanted to just go apeshit but outwardly the only thing that happened was a disapproving frown.

"Is there a reason you keep following me, or are you going to deny you're following me, again?" he scoffed.

Taina_love wrote: She groaned " This is not intentional.. You can believe me with that one. If I can forget your existence I will." Her response was cold. Even for herself. But she didn't care. The other boys freak out had brought memories. She walked t him and looked at the tail " that's real?" She said getting distracted for a second.

She felt her hands reach out for it almost touching it when she shook her head and stepped away from him. Placing her hands on her hips she faced away from him so the wind can push her hood more onto her face. " and this time I do. In fact want one thing from you."

She said this and breathed " forget that you seen my... Face. No one has ever seen it and I like it that way. It's stupid but" She looked at his tail " I hoped you would understand and accept. Like I accept you having a tail" She said sitting down. At this moment she was vulnerable. Drawing in the sand hoping for him to at least agree to it.



Bornes raised a brow and hmphed as she yet again denied the following. She could keep her lies to herself.
When she asked about the tail, he pretended he didn't hear her and didn't answer, though he did watch her get dangerously close to it and glared at her throughout the entire process, eventually taking a step back away from her.

When she told him she did in fact want something, finally, he crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his weight, waiting. She finally revealed what it was and sat down. He looked down at her with a disapproving frown.

"What happened to you ignoring my existence, then? Stop following me and knowing what your face looks like hardly matters." He had a rather rude tone but didn't really care either way. It was clear this girl had gone from annoyed to reminiscent mode. Bornes couldn't pass judgment on that since he too had done the same thing tonight.

He dropped his hands from his chest and looked back up at the moon. Hah, werewolves, he thought to himself. Something was weird about the full moon. It brought out weird feelings in people. He always got weirdly sentimental around that time. But he rationalized it because he knew other people, perfectly fine humans like himself, but without birth defects, went through the same thing.

Taina_love wrote: She grimaced at the accusation again " Look if I was following you we wouldn't be talking. What I am starting to think is that I am being sent to where you are. When I am trying to take a vacation." She dug her feet into the sand.

" But if you don't want to agree. Then fine" She said tossing a rock to the water. She just wanted to have a normal evening. She buried her face in her knees and just sat there for a bit before getting up. When she did she heard an off road vehicle with the guy from earlier and balled her fist " dammit" She said as he got out and went to her " There is my little freak of nature." He said opening his hands out to embrace her.


She stepped back and waked around him. She glanced at green eyes and threw up the peace sign with the guy following and further getting the drama away from him. The man went to grab her and she shrugged him off. Beginning off a possible fight



[imgleft]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/post/dspost.jpg[/imgleft]
Bornes eyed her and let her talk. He had nothing to say to her in return.
But when the jeep pulled up, he turned and observed the interactions between the two of them. Bornes didn't pretend to understand what was going on between them, but it seemed like whatever it was, the ninja girl didn't want to deal with the other guy.

Bornes had particularly been interested to hear him call her a freak of nature. That didn't sit well with him; it brought up memories he himself didn't like. When the ninja girl took the guy away from Bornes, the sniper cocked his head slightly to one side and shifted his weight, turning so his front was directly facing the other two so he could pay more attention.

He didn't know what possessed him to do it, but only about a minute later he bent to take his knife from his boot and walked over to the couple.

"Excuse me," Bornes said, butting in between the two of them. "YOU owe me some money," the loudly stated as he turned to the stranger boy. He didn't let the kid get in any word edgewise before Bornes simply slit his throat and let the other kid slowly fall limp to the ground.
Once a man made up his mind to do something, there didn't need to be a discussion about it. It was done.

Bornes hmphed, walked past ninja girl and washed his knife off in the ocean fairly quickly before re-sheathing it in his boot. He gave a last look to the girl through his sunglasses before leaving the beach, walking off in hopes nobody would stop him before they figured out there was a dead guy in the sand.

Taina_love wrote: It was set on how she wanted to get rid of him. But As she was pulling him away the whispers he had saying in her ear made her feel unfocused and caused her eyes to glow. She turned to him and glanced back green eyes to see him watching them. She wondered why; wouldn't have appreciated her walking away.

Then something happened. He was there and just like that he killed the man and decided to walk away.Looking at the man she was rooted to that spot. the others still in the Jeep began to sound impatient with how long they were taking. And Green eyes was walking away leaving her with his kill.

Her fist clenched. And when she heard steps coming closer she was off like a light. She was already by green eyes walking just ahead of him. She turned her face and looked at him in the eye. He helped her... did he. she pondered for a moment before moving her hood just enough to smile at him and mouthed 'thank you' before smiling again showing off her tiny yet sharp fangs before turning and walking to her apartment that was nearing the distance and entered with one more look back and sashayed inside.



The 24 year old continued to walk when the girl walked ahead of him. When she left the beach, he followed, making it to her apartment in no time. He wasn't sure why he was following her-- maybe because he had no where else to go?

Once he was inside, he made sure to close the door behind him. He quirked a silver brow behind his sunglasses.
"So the debt is paid now," he stated frankly, watching her.

Taina_love wrote: She didn't think he would follow her. She didn't really want him to either. but he did and here he stood watching her as he usually does making her feel sub conscious. She held her hood up and kept the light off to enjoy teh moon light in the front room.

She didn't answer him. Debating on actually lying to him, since he thinks she deos that anyways. She pushed her papers detailing her mission to kill him into a pile and place them away. After that she turned to him and grabbed an expensive smelling rum and poured it to a single glass.

" Yes. Green eyes. Debt is paid.. all is done. Fini" She said taking a sip. She then sat into one off two recliners and watched his next move "You didn't have to follow me all the way here to ask me that. Or is there another reason?" She asked kindly.



Bornes looked about the house, taking in all the windows and any other doors, if they were there. Needed to be aware of all exits, in case the need arose.

"True," he answered. "I just needed to get off the beach. Figured you would know a good place to hide. You know, like last time." Bornes shrugged. It seemed he was a little more laid back around her now. He was definitely speaking more words, at least.

He'd decided she wasn't a thread, and leaned his back against the door lazily.

Taina_love wrote: HIs sudden laid back attitude shocked her. " well feel free to sit and relax then. No one knows of this place. I am just an intern needing a place to sleep here." She said examining him. She pushed the tray with the liquor to him " I don't share usually. But you look like you can use a drink. " She said.

She didn't trust him. Hell he killed a man so openly in an open area. That was dangerous to her. She killed to maintain something. He did it for other reasons.

But he still fascinated her to the point where she pushed away her insecurities. Her eyes dulled from there burning gold to a deep brown. She took off the hood and shook out her hair. She moved it to the side he was standing and lazily crossed her legs. " I don't know your name... May I have that much information?"



Bornes raised his left hand slightly and shook his head at the offer of a drink, afterward crossing his arms over his chest and simply watching her, and her eyes.

"I go by Q," he offered. He didn't really care to know her name, so he didn't ask.

"I guess you got those glowing contacts?" He asked, referring to her eyes that had just stopped glowing. He'd made up the whole contacts thing to get rid of her when it happened that one time they met, but it didn't surprise him the technology actually existed.

Taina_love wrote: " Q" She repeated quietly " Not hard to forget." She said with a small giggle. Then she looked a him " Anya" She replied for her name. " Shadow is what my job know me as.. Since they never really seen me" She said

" Contacts?" She said giggling again " I have no idea how anyone makes contact that glow.. But thanks for the... compliment. If I can take it as that" She said taking a drink " Better then getting called a freak"



[imgleft]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/post/qwall2.jpg[/imgleft] Q gave a fake smirk as she went on about her name despite his lack of caring. He was quickly going tired of her, and glanced at his watch to see how much time had passed.
Not much.

He'd have to stay here at least an hour before he would risk trying to leave.

"Well, who isn't a freak these days," he offered dryly, looking out the window, shifting his weight to one foot as he leaned against the door.
He didn't know what she really meant by her reply... Nobody really had glowing eyes that just... Glowed.. So he kept going with the assumption that they were contacts and she was just being coy.

At this point, he was pretty certain this girl was following him. He had his ideas as to why. Probably not to kill him, as she would've tried to already if that was the case. Maybe she had a crush on him. That seemed his best lead at this point.

Well, he was not interested. Clearly.
Not at all.

And now he was seriously rethinking go into a building alone with her.

Taina_love wrote: Already looking at his watch... she took notice. One thing she was taught was to look at the body language and little quirks. They tend to tell all. She wondered if she kept quiet will it make him feel that it was time for him to leave.

Maybe she should just say something? Or just leave him alone. This guy was on her mind to much and he treats her as if she was not worth the effort of a respectful conversation.

" what's the occasion you haven't left yet?" She asked " your usually snarling something at me and slamming my door by now." She said.

And just as sh said that a message from her sister came from the hidden projector to the blank wall in front of her.

A woman looking about thirty looked back with hair a shade darker the Anya. Her eyes glowed intensely with gold. She held an emotionless face " Anya you are to be in uniform at all times. For instances like these.. You have an assignment that has been sent to your handheld. There is a little girl being held against her will. Reports of her being tied to the bed and forced to test different substances for your target Jenna Banks.

Capture Jenna Banks and kill the girl

When the message ended Anya growled got up " Leave" She said and went to get dressed. The entire time she complained about killing a child. she didn't want to do it... and planned on refusing.
When she came out she saw him there and hiccuped sounding as if she was crying for a second before clearing her throat walking to him stopping two feet away.



[[The way you wrote that was kind of confusing so I'm sorry if my post is not what you were thinking...]]

Bornes clenched his teeth, wondering what lie he could tell so he wouldn't have to say he was trapped here. Luckily, he didn't have to as what seemed like a phone call on speaker took place in Anya's room. He couldn't see where the voice was coming from, but he could hear it all, and the whole thing was suspicious.

Behind his sunglasses, his eyes narrowed, but he didn't leave when she told him to. Her threats were meaningless to him. Though he felt somewhat at a disadvantage only holding a knife, he still thought he was better than her. Judging by the message, she was some sort of killer too, but in his book, she seemed subpar. Especially if she was killing children. That wasn't hard work, just dubious moral standing. Even Q didn't kill kids very often. And capturing the Jenna Banks person, rather than killing her, too. That was also curious. Seemed this Anya girl did not associate with the best of people. Whoever she was working for was probably scum.

He stepped forward and put both feet firmly on the floor in front of the door as he waited for Anya to come back out from wherever she went. When she came back out, he noticed she was choking a bit. Maybe she was concerned with killing kids or didn't like working? Or maybe she just cried a lot. Bornes wasn't going to bother speculating with this girl, it really wasn't worth his time.

Nevertheless, he moved out of the way of the door so she could get out, but otherwise had no intention of leaving. He didn't want to stay in this place, but he had a flawless record of never being caught doing anything, and he wasn't about to risk that just because he disliked his hiding spot.
Taina_love wrote: She saw him take his time moving from her door. Why wasn't he gone already? She clenched her fist and sighed. He was just being an asshole. One that was costing her a great deal as well. Hopefully she can get rid of him and soon.

She placed on a type mask that covered her mouth and nose pretty tightly but still allowed her to breath. All that can be seen was her eyes as she walked to the door and opened " Its not wise for you to stay her Q." She said sounding different.

" This was not a hiding spot for you. But for me..." she said and walked out of the apartment not waiting for him as she walked out to a service window and to the fire escape climbing up to the roof.



Bornes rose his hands in an over-emphasized shrug.

"Yet it is still a hiding place," he said, smirking as she left.

How daft was she? Leaving a stranger in her apartment? He could've gone through her things, poisoned her drinks and/or food, among several other things he wasn't even going to consider.

Instead, he found a couch and lay on it. Eventually he got tired of it, and started poking around for something to do, finding a discarded ball. He went back to the couch, and as he lay on his back across it, he casually tossed the ball in the air in front of his face, catching it. He did this for about an hour. He had stopped keeping tack of time, at that point. Without her annoying ass here, he had no need to be bothered.

Taina_love wrote: It took her the rest of the night to do her mission. The entire time she was trying to find a way to save the girl from getting killed. But it was a set up. The room was tripped with a sensor for the walls and the floor. Something she didn't have equipment use against. Hench men from all sorts of hiding spot and tried to cease Anya.

Anya escape there grasp but not there attack. the room was so small that she had gotten shot on her thigh and another ricochet to the girl hitting her eyes making her bleed out and die as Anya jumped out the window with several cuts.

Turning to the window as others tired to follow she through several bombs strong enough to light up the entire house.

Returning to apartment she walked in battered and still bleeding in areas. She looked to see that Q was still there and groaned walking against the wall towards the bathroom.



At some point, he'd fallen asleep on the couch out of sheer laziness. He awoke about the time Anya was coming in. Their eyes met-- as at this point Q had removed his sunglasses-- and when she groaned, he put his hands behind his head with a sneer.
"What? Tough mission?" He mocked.

Q made killing people seem so easy.

Taina_love wrote: Anya rolled her eyes at him and kept walking to her bathroom " You should have left when I told" She said pointing at certain areas of the ceiling. " They now know your here." She said and laughed as she slammed the door and began to get undressed

Looking at her nude battered body to checked out the series of tattoos and scares she had. The cuts and the shot slowly healing as she went into the shower. They have him I at this moment... she didn't care. He was her main mission. And yet she wanted to save him and hopefully see him genuinely smile at her.

She closed her eyes. Letting her instincts and knowledge of her people guide her to knowing that already three men came into her window and were hiding in the dark shadows. Turning off the water she altogether stopped bleeding the the wounds were healing correctly. Not leaving but a small scratch. A thin scab left..



[[Thought you said she wasn't a vampire? All that seems pretty vampiric to me...]]

Bornes scoffed, lifting a brow. "Well, 'they' can come get me, then." He was now just being cocky, and got up.
She did have a point, he really should've left while she was gone. It was his mistake he'd fallen asleep there. But, it wasn't a huge deal.

He didn't know who 'they' was referring to. At best he'd think the cops, but that would've fucked with Anya's plans too, so maybe it was someone else. Or maybe she was lying to him. He wouldn't put it past her.

Regardless, he stood from the couch and stretched while Anya was in the bathroom, then he went to make his way to the front door. But he stopped in his tracks about halfway there, his tail flicking.
Something wasn't right. He wasn't quite sure what it was, he thought he heard something. He turned around to where Anya had gone and squinted, his green eyes glowing as they focused on the dark, seeing into the shadows.
He couldn't make out exactly how many, or what, but he could pick up depth, and the depth was what was wrong. He probably could've discerned further if he wanted to take the energy, but he didn't. This wasn't cause for further investigation-- he was pretty sure he knew what was going on from inference alone. With a frown, he forced himself to calmly put his sunglasses back on (they had been folded into his vest, before), and turned around rather quickly, making the rest of the way to the door.

He didn't have his gun on him, and unless the shadow people had figured out he'd actually seen them, he would have a better chance just running. Whatever it was was enough of a distance away that they wouldn't get to him without revealing themselves, so Bornes simply made his way to the front door, opened it, stepped out, closed it behind him, looked all around him for a quick second, then booked it as fast as possible.

For this one, he was going to have to get a cab. Something he normally never did, but this was a little too fucking close for comfort. He didn't want to deal with fucking ninja people-- too above his skill set. If they were after him or Anya, he didn't care, he wasn't going to put his life on the line for something he didn't have to, for someone he didn't care about.

He started running down to the main drag, waving down any cabs that seemed to pass by, hoping one would pick him up-- if they didn't pull over fast enough, though, he'd keep running. The more distance between him and the ninjafuckers-- the better.

Taina_love wrote: By the time Q was walking out the door Anya had finished her shower and was in her bedroom surrounded by her back up “You guy are late. “ She said to them and one by one they all came out of the shadows. She waited sitting on her bed in another hooded dress. This one however fitted tighter and was decorated by a certain gem

Derrick. Her trainer smirked and sat behind her on the bed “If you only had killed him. We wouldn’t be here at all. “He said placing his fingertips on her shoulders. Making her feel uncomfortable at his closeness “I was never given a deadline. He is a skilled one. As you can see” She said rolling her shoulders away from him.
Derrick snorted and moved back “You’re reporting tonight. So get you shit together and let’s go” He commanded and after a good five minutes they left.

At headquarters Anya stood in a rather large room. A single metal chair sat in front of a long table with four older men facing her listening with disdain as she explained everything that happened in the last few months. When finished she stood straight eyes facing upward.

The men murmured to each other while she waited. There was the scientist Dr. May, Then the physiatrist Dr Browne and two others she doesn’t know. Not by face and name but by voice. They are the slave drivers
The sentence her to Kill Q the next time she sees him. For a year after that she was placed back into training. This time it was harder than before. More meds shoved into her system in many ways. She was trained specifically to Kill Q.

In a city in the Midwest she sat in a bar’s darkest area and sipped her liquor while a few guys spied her. She shook her head and looked at a few pictures of the new recruits. Three females and six males “Looks like they have done better with the odd body parts” She whispered.
 
Lycanthrope's Ascendance - Slave Rebellion (Solia)

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OOC Thread[/align]
This roleplay was originally another's creation. That person is inactive and unable to be contacted. This roleplay was from 2006. I have transferred much of it to here, but I have also expanded on the details. Original thread here (from Gaia Online).

I'm looking for someone to take over Trinia Bellos. If you want to play her, PM me.
I will play her in the meantime, but I'd like to give her to someone else eventually. I'm not all that great at female characters.

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Lycanthropes are beings who can transform their body from human to quadruped mammal. They have always been in existence. One could even say they were the natives to this land. But once "civilization" came in, the invaders had decided the lycanthropes were a species to be used and abused. A species treated as mere pets and entertainment.

Eventually, the lycanthropes became rarer, but this simply rose their value as pets for the humans within higher caste. Lycans, despite having a human form, were never seen as human themselves. They were lesser. They were used as maids, toys, pets, and the most popular-- sport and entertainment.

Many arenas exist for the lycans to fight eachother to the death, to race, and various other entertainment and sport. The arenas were also the central place to bet on, buy, and sell the creatures. They became the capitol for lycanthrope collection culture, and thus a high establishment for wealthy humans.
But what many owners forget is the fact that lycanthropes are still part animal. They still have the blood of their ancestors running through them.They can be just as vicious as their one-bodied four-legged brethren. Some lycans will rise above the chains of slavery and rebel against their owners. They can escape and become blood-thirsty murderers.

One such lycan did this. She became the most infamous of all the lycans.
Her name was Trinnia Bellos.
She was a female silver wolf. At 35 years of age, she has become the adopted leader of an underground group of lycans. Bellos's Brood, as they're often referred, is a bloodthirsty pack and will stop at nothing to free their fellow lycans.

Human owners live in fear of Bellos and her clan.

Now, it is up to Bellos's Brood to plan their greatest attack yet-- to free all of the lycanthropes from the arenas.
It is the burden of the few to rise and whisper the inspirational words of freedom and hope into the ears of lost lycans everywhere and join the revolt. Will they disguise themselves as humans? Or will they run in and maul the humans in their animal forms?

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Bellos's brood is composed of a few hundred lycans in an underground cavern system located in the Forests of Benire. The forest is about a days travel to the nearest arena, which is simply known as the Benire Arena. Despite the headquarters for the brood being so close, no humans have found it due to the nature of the underground caverns.

While in the beginning, the brood was found in natural caves, it soon became necessary to dig their own tunnels and caves, resulting in many different entrances and exits as well as some fake ones. This constantly confuses the humans. While there may be a few humans who actively try to hunt down Bellos and may know where the caves are, for the most part the humans leave them alone and go on in ignorance of Bellos's base of operations.

While only Bellos knows the full extent of the caves, a basic layout can be seen here (in the spoiler tag):
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Yes, it's MSPaint. Deal. =P


The Arenas are similar to a large conglomeration of stadiums. Under one large permanent tent structure, there can be many small stands and shops. The smaller stadiums house the different sports/entertainment. Some for races, some for fighting, some for beauty pageants, auctions-- you name it, it's there. All lycans are kept in cages and collared. All collars come standard with electrocution abilities via remote control. Most collars will automatically resize to suit transformation, but some cheaper/older ones do not.

Fights in the fighting arenas are always to the death. Races can be short and straight or long and lapping. The currency here is coin-based with precious metals (gold and silver being most common). It is 200 gold to register an animal in any sort of event.

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What makes Lycans different from the humans?


─ Lycanthropes have both a human and an animal form.

─ A Lycanthrope's animal form is often (but not always) larger than its pure-bred animal counterpart. (ex: A Lycan wolf would be 2x larger than a 'normal' wolf).

─ A Lycan's animal form can be any four-legged mammal (but no other types of animals). However, wolves are the most common.

─ A lycan of one species cannot understand the speech of another species' beast forms (Meaning a canine couldn't communicate with a feline unless they were both in human form).

─ Any Lycan can understand crows' speech, and any crow can understand every lycan. Crows and Lycans have a sort of partnership. Crows have their own individual personalities of course, but many will help out a lycan.

─ The human form of a lycan can be distinguished from a normal human by their eyes. A lycan's human form's eyes have no whites.

─ Lycans and humans will never be equals. Lycans, human and/or animal form, will always be of a lower caste, even with a "good" owner.

─ A Lycan can shift from animal to human form at will, however stopping mid-shift (and becoming some sort of "anthro") is very painful, so is rarely done.

─ A Lycan in animal form cannot speak "human" (but they can understand it).

─ A Lycan going to or leaving from human form will not have any clothes. Clothes do not transform with the individual.

─ A Lycan has an average lifespan similar to a normal human's.

─ A Lycan heals somewhat faster than a normal human, but it is not immediate.

─ If a scar has formed (which is possible), the scar will be visible in both forms.

─ Similarly, large wounds are transferred between forms before healing (if you lose a leg in animal form, you will still not have a leg in human form).

─ While Lycans can heal faster than humans, they cannot regenerate.

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─ I, Q, am the GM and may do some GMing if I deem it necessary. Hopefully this will be rare.

─ If you wish to join, PM your profile to me with the title "Lycan Rebellion". Use the appropriate form (listed later).

─ This roleplay is focused on paragraphs. You should aim for at least one paragraph per post. A Paragraph is 3 - 5 sentences. However, I am not super anal about this and I would like to welcome any player. As long as you have quality content in your post (meaning someone can reply to you easily) then the quantity of words or sentences in that post is unimportant.

─ Do not puppet other people's characters. This means do not do actions for a character that is not your own. You may, however, freely create and use NPCs (non-player characters). These are useful for your character to fight another without worrying about another player. If you are currently enslaved, it is expected that you will NPC your owner.

─ This roleplay involves fighting, and sometimes this may take place between two player-characters. If you are fighting, you must word your posts as to not auto-hit.

This is an example of an auto-hit: Character A bites Character B.

This is an example of a "good" post: Character A attempts to bite B. If A succeeds, his teeth will go right into B's neck.

─ Do not god-mod. This means do not make your character god-like. Lycans can heal quickly, but it is not immediate. They cannot regenerate. They cannot dodge every single attack ever. Lycans CAN die. Your characters need to be believable and have believable, and exploitable weaknesses.

─ If you leave the RP for an extended period of time without telling anyone, I may puppet your character, turn it into an NPC for anyone to use/abuse, and/or kill you off. Tell me if you'll be gone for more than 7 days. Attempt to post at least once every 7 days. If you don't feel like posting that often, pull your character off so it is not interacting with any of the other characters.

─ Do not kill another player's character without first asking that character's player for permission via OOC PM or thread.

─ Post styles, images, "prettiness" is not required. If you want a post style, make your own but try not to make it too intrusive.

─ All lycans that come into the brood are heavily interrogated to discover and record their history.

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You may play as a Lycanthrope in Bellos's Brood, A lycan currently enslaved and actively participating in the arena (and thus either you are about to rebel or Bellos's Brood is about to save you), or a crow allied with Bellos's Brood.

You may play a human if you want, but you must PM me with why you should be an exception, as this RP is focused on the rebellion, not the master/slave aspect.

There are no limitations to the amount of characters you may play. If you already have one character profile listed and you'd like to play another "minor character" (meaning someone that will not be posting often), you do not need to make a bio for it. However, if your characters are companions (ex: a wolf with a particular crow best friend), I'd prefer you to put the "minor" character in the description of the bio of the host/major character. Hope this makes sense.

Remember that if you are a currently enslaved character, you must also play the human owner. Include some basic information about the owner in the description of your lycan bio.

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Bellos's Brood is rather militant, and as such there is a sort of ranking system:

Second in command
Escaped with Trinia. Second in command handles everything from rescues to food income. They assist with interrogations and help keep things organized. (This position has been taken)

Hunters
Find food for the Brood. It is their job to go out and kill for the clan. They are almost always on the move.

Warriors
Act as spies and rescuers for the Brood. It is their job to find out as much as they can about a particular Lycan before they can go in and free them.

Librarians
Keep track of every Lycan that is Born, brought in, or Killed/Dies. They are the record Keepers of the Bellos Lycans and have to be able to keep track of everything.

Breeders
Breed. that's basically it. They keep the population up in the free lycans.
NOTE: There are no cross breed Lycans, only full-blood.

General
The top rank of warrior. They are the ones that can be most trusted to lead a squadron of 5 to a rescue and come back with their heads.

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A normal squad is made up of five warriors and a General.

General (1): Commanding officer of the Squad. It is their job to give out orders and make sure everything runs smoothly.

Second in command (opt): Assists the General.

Brute Force (3-4): In charge of weaponry and offensive/defensive coverage. They're the ones with the big guns (if in human form) or the sharpest teeth and claws (if in animal form).

Spy (1-2): Find out what ever they can about the Lycan in question. Who they are, what they're used for, who the family is, etc. Oftentimes this position is filled by crows, but not always.

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Make sure you've read the rules. PM this application to me. You may begin roleplaying even before I respond. The only applications that require my response before you can post are those for humans, and the rank of Second in Command.

Code:
[b]Username:[/b]
[b]Name:[/b] (First and Last)
[b]Gender:[/b]
[b]Species:[/b]  (If lycan, your animal form. If crow, put crow)
[b]Age:[/b] (between 17 and 60)
[b]Rank:[/b] (If not in the brood, put your main purpose [ex. maid, arena fighter, etc.])
[b]Appearance:[/b] (Both forms- either link pictures or quickly describe)
[b]Background:[/b]

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(Spoiler tags used simply to save space)[/align]

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Username: Q
Name: Trinnia Bellos
Gender: Female
Species: Wolf
Age: 35
Rank: Founder and over-all Commander of the Bellos Brood
Appearance: Human | Wolf
Background: Trinia was used as an arena fighter. She was taken to games and forced to slaughter her kind. She vowed at the age of 14 that she would one day break free of her shackles and fight a rebellion against the people who had enslaved her.
That day came on her 20th birthday. She turned on her owners, slaughtering the whole family in her rage. She escaped to the forests of Benire. In the years that followed she has helped free hundreds of her kind. She takes an active part in the war that she started by founding the Bellos Brood.



Username: Q
Name: Zahir Keen
Gender: Male
Species: Maned Wolf
Age: 30
Rank: Librarian
Appearance: Beast | Human
Background: Zahir is a Maned Wolf, a near-extinct type of canid from South America. He doesn't reveal much about his past, and he stays in human form as much as possible. The stench of human has been engrained on him and cannot seem to be erased. Ten years ago, Zahir followed Bellos's trail of turmoil after running away from his owners, who kept him as an exotic exhibit in a traveling zoo.
When things calmed down enough, Zahir convinced the wolf to let him join her. He became the first librarian of the movement, and trains most of the new librarians. Since joining the Brood, he has never changed to beast form.



Username: iNerd
Name: Kenya Watley
Gender: Female
Species: Wolf
Age: 25
Rank: Breeder
Appearance: Human | Wolf
Background: When Kenya had a master, she was forced into the arena. She fought as she was directed, but never willingly. At her heart, she is not a violent creature and each fight only broke her spirit more. Towards the end of her servitude, she was a shell of the person she once was; she gave up speaking and eating. When her master came to her once more, insisting that she fight, something inside her snapped. Even though she was weak, she managed to kill him... Though she was cruel enough to let him die slowly in a pool of his own blood. When she joined the brood a few weeks later, she quietly insisted she stay away from combative situations unless completely necessary.



Username: Your Lucky Charm
Name: Aurora Slithe
Gender: Female
Species: Tiger
Age: 22
Rank: Hunter
Appearance: Beast | Human
Background: Aurora was a natural born hunter. Her body and soul rippled with power and hunger. Growing up with her mother, father and four brothers and sisters, she learned the ways of the hunt, how to protect herself and her own. To Threaten and keep at bay. She could easily defend herself and those she loved but instead chose the path of the Hunter. She loved it, loved the chase, it was her obsession and she couldn't get enough of it. She didn't mind providing food for the Brood, supplying the needed nutrients for the younglings and newly born pups.

It brought warmth to her heart to take care of the younglings that she would want in her future.




Username: Freddy-kun
Name: Her owner named her Bunny, but she always liked Aria more
Gender: Female
Species: Coyote
Age: 19
Rank: Breeder
Appearance: Her rust-brown hair and scared face makes her feel not much of a looker, but it is made up by the fierceness of her animal self and her startlingly blue eyes. The coyote is lean and rust colored, with blue-black eyes.
Background: She was used as a pet by a child, but as they both grew older, the girl's father started looking at her as either breeding stock or training for fighting lycans. Frightened, she escaped, too afraid to kill her owners. She suspects her childhood owner still searches for her, but it makes her lips curl in disgust to think about servitude again.



Username: Meekz
Name: Ilvania "Red-fur" Anstasila Ivarnei
Gender: Female
Species: Polar Bear
Age: 24
Rank: Second in Command
Appearance:Human Bear
Background:
Ilvania, bought by her masters from a Russian breeding company, was a very popular arena fighter. The contrast between her coat and the blood spilled made for a "dramatic effect" according to her masters, who put as much money into her publicity campaign as an average family used for food for a year. Being a very large Lycan, Ilvania was often used for only the most brutal of fights, allowing for a bigger "wow factor".

Disgusted by her masters' senseless celebrations of her slaughter, Ilvania became cold, withdrawn and unfeeling towards her fellows. Although secretly she wished she could one day see them free, she was afraid of any emotional attachments, not wanting to find a friend facing her in battle. One day, Ilvania found an older wolf fighter who inspired her to believe in "someday". The day after Trinia slaughtered her household, Vanya heard her masters talking about the killing, and believed her words even more. She coldly turned on her masters, before fleeing to join Trinia in the forest. She killed and ate each of them. Not necessarily in that order. For days her body was stained with their blood, lending her the name "Red-Fur".

To date, she is spine-chillingly cold, and thought to be "heartless" but is quick to anger. If you rile her she will occasionally lapse into her old Russian dialect and accent. Her English is occasionally stilted and choppy and she has not yet got a hold on English expressions.



Username: Azireal
Name: Lyman "Steel" Zyrga
Gender: Male
Species: Cheetah
Age: 32
Rank: General
Appearance: Animal/Human

Background: Steel was a house pet. One of a rapidly dying breed. A Cheetah Lycan, he was kept enslaved in the house of a predominant German businessman. He was kept in his animal form for most of his life, but he was kept well groomed. He was, of a sort, a living statue.

If he ever stepped out of line, he was beaten savagely. If he ever broke his statuesque form, his perfect regal manor, at all times, he was tortured, starved, destroyed, and then made to look perfect again.

He was never to run, always keep his breathing tight so as not to disturb his form, always walk with grace, always keep a close but respectable distance. By nights he was kept in a small steel cage, and fed with just enough scraps.


One particularly important day, twenty seven years into his captivity, he killed his master with a single bite.

Breaking free of his collar and escaping through a route it took him over 20 years to plan, he broke free of his confinement, and escaped to the streets. Taking up a name he heard in a movie, he used his practiced refinement and well sculpted body to move about the city until he found the resistance.

The rest... Ask him...
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Username: Mave
Name: Maia "Fifi" Hadrian
Gender: Female
Species: Red Wolf
Age: 26
Rank: Enslaved - Bodyguard
Appearance: Wolf Human
Background: Maia was born into a long line of bodyguards for the Yolandi family. Like her ancestors before her she guards her member of the Yolandi family closely knowing full well that should her charge meet with any harm, her life would come to an end in the arenas. Currently Maia guards Nami, the youngest girl child of the Yolandi family. Being only seven, Nami still doesn't quite grasp the differnce between a Lycan and a big dog, so she calls Maia Fifi and treats her like a pet. Maia puts up with this only because the child is relatively kind. Unwillingly, Maia has grown fond of her young charge but still wishes in her heart of hearts that she could be free to run with members of her own kind. Maia is mild tempered around Nami but she naturally has a short fuse and has a tendancy to lash out at her fellow Lycans over the smallest irritation. This has earned her both a place of respect and the role of outcast. Maia rarely sees the rest of her family as they are always with their member of the Yolandi family who often travel abroad on business.



Username: Zelethos
Name: Karliah Winters
Gender: Female
Species: Fox
Age: 27
Rank: House pet, racer.
Appearance: Human Form | Fox form. Her animal form is the unusual case of being the same size of the pure-breed animal counterpart. Which can be both a blessing and a curse.

Background: Before Karliah's life became that of captivity, she lived in the very forest where Bellos's brood now exists. She lived in, and loved, the wilds, seeing herself as more of a fox than anything else. During that time of her life, she rarely even entered her human form. She lived alone the moment her mother, who is now dead... or so Karliah at least believes, no longer needed to keep an eye on her. She lived like this until shortly after her 16th year of life. One day during that year, eleven years ago, she was captured by the humans and sold the very next day. Since then, During these eleven years, she's lived in captivity under the same owner which is not much unlike the majority. Everyday she has to experience electricity shocks, beatings, and much more, making her life a living hell. She lives in fear of her owner and any other human in the world, and all of her attempts to flee up until this day has been futile. However, there is one exception. The owner's youngest child, Heline. A girl that was 7 years old when Karliah first "joined" the family. She is now 18 years of age and the only protection Karliah has against the other family members, which are all cruel to her.



Username:Tom Suke
Name: Anik (Ah-neek)
Gender:Male
Species: Panther
Age: 21
Rank: Arena fighter
Appearance: HumanBeast
Background:Not many nowadays can say they had the luxury of living in the wild before being captured. But then again, that never meant they were lucky. It's easier to be a pup or a cub born and raised in captivity-you learn to submit faster, learn that you're inferior to those that cannot shift. Those useless meatbags are wrong, however, if they think they can break the taste of the wild from one that's been in it.

Yes, the older one gets, the more harder it is to taste the sweet scent of morning dew, to chase after some small prey, to bask in both the moon and sun... But nevertheless-that sweet, sweet taste of freedom will always be fresh on one's tongue.
Anik was one of such beings-his mother had cleverly hidden her cubs in the mountainside, where not many humans were around. Anik was only a cub, born free, learning how to hunt with his mother and sister, even if he just finished nursing. The first taste of meat-it was hard to chew, but he could remember that day, playing with a bit his sister hadn't finished-he could remember it very well, how peaceful it was....

It had all ended that day, the day he had first tasted meat killed by his mother.
Humans. Filthy, lowlife scum. They were cowards, hunting, planning-they forced them to change into human forms, and after debating, they figured his sister wasn't worth the trouble.

She was slaughtered and he was bound, the horror-they smeared her blood near the entrance, and set up a trap with her body, so that when mother returned, and rushed to her-she was caught, and killed in the same manner. But oh, male panthers weren't very common, and he had bitten at them-they liked his 'spunk', and so he was knocked out and bagged.
When he awoke.....he was in the first steps of hell.

Now, Anik is twenty one, and though he is a fighter in the arena-he's also a fighter at heart. Surprisingly, his current master hasn't been killed yet, and holds a better leash-but oh, Anik would be waiting, and for every lycan he slaughtered, he'd imagine killing a thousand and one humans-for not even that much was worth the slaying of his brethren. Why he does it? To survive, his first fight was unfair-he was only eight, a cub, and he was going against a twelve year old wolf. It wasn't a fight to the death, more of practice-but the pup was ruthless, wanting to actually 'please' his mistress, and when Anik had lost, he was sorely beaten, and starved before a rematch could occur. After seeing such a lycan actually side with a human, disgust and betrayal overpowered his hunger and pain-the pup was killed even before they could think of pulling him off. His 'play' fights after that were in a muzzle, and still he did quite a bit of damage.

Every fight made him stronger-every fight, he felt, brought him closer to nature-because one day, he'd kill and be free for once, instead of shoved back into a cage. One day, he'll be climbing the mountains, hunting for his own cubs, maybe even hunting humans.
That day will come.




Username: Moto
Name: Thios (thee-ohs. A soft "th" sound.)
Gender: Male
Species: Lycan (Sugar glider)
Age: Twenty-two
Rank: Just a stray. He has no real relationship with anyone in the Brood.
Appearance: HumanSugar glider
Background: As with many others of his kind, he left his family as soon as he could. However, he has yet to make any attempts to form a family of any sort. He doesn't even seem very keen on making friends. He gets along quite well with the crows, though, and talks to them regularly, but he seems to converse with them simply to pass the time. He doesn't actually spend a lot of time with the birds, though, instead most of his time is spent at the arena, specifically with the enslaved lycans. Of course, he protects himself by remaining in his animal form, conversing with his fellow lycans by scrawling various things in the dirt. Honestly, he doubts that they're even aware of the fact that he is a lycan, seeing as he is always in his animal form with them.

Thios also has a tendency to pick favorites, favoring one lycan over another. He'll even act as a spy for that lycan, giving him information about his or her opponents, informing him of any of the opponent's injuries and other weaknesses he could use to their advantage. He doesn't keep favorites for very long, though, due to the fact that they do have a tendency to die after a short period of time. A few, however, have stayed alive for a length of time that still surprises him. One of these few is Anik, who is current most favorite.

If an enslaved lycan were to bribe him, he might just bring him something to break his collar with...That bribe needs to be very high though, and he isn't one to accept the more typical kind of offers. One will most likely need to think pretty far outside the box in order to find an offer Thios is willing to accept.


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Username: Freddy-kun
Name: Sorrowful Day (a joke from his parents)
Gender: Male
Species: Crow
Age: 24 in crow years
Rank: Recruit Scout. Basically he goes around trying to find new lycans.
Appearance: He always looks unsettled, but that's just because his feathers grew in wrong as a chick and have grown in wonky ever since. He's a noisy flier, but the glint in his beady black eyes bely a deep intelligence.
Background: Born to mischievous crow parents deep in the woods, he was the only of his nest to survive hatching. Hence the name. He grew up near the Brood, and is sympathetic to their cause.

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It is early evening.
Zahir and Kenya are in the breeders cave.
Sorrowful Days has just brought Aria to the Brood. Trinia toured her around the caves and has dropped her off with Ilvania in the Generals Hall.

After being reprimanded for befriending a human girl, Aurora has run off.
Maia is in the city and has just attacked her master.
Anik is on the way to the arenas.

Did I forget anything? Not updating fast enough? Something need to be corrected? PM me.

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OOC Thread





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The silver wolf padded into the caverns, her canine eyes taking in everything as she trotted along the stone and occasional dirt floor. Trinia was checking everything, doing her daily rove around the expanse. She needed to make sure everyone was working, or at least appeared to be. She wanted to move the rebellion along, assist in saving more lycans from the arenas. Anything that could add to numbers. Numbers, numbers...

She would visit each cave, beginning with the Generals' Quarters. Each General and Warrior who saw her bowed their head in respect as she passed. Next were the Hunter Halls, which were below the Generals' Quarters. There, a few lycans were discussing what to hunt and where, while new recruits and trainees were fooling around at the other end of the large expanse, teaching eachother and practicing new hunting and/or pouncing tactics.

Below that was the library, where thousands of records were kept. A few librarians here were in human forms writing away about everything. All lycans in the Brood had a personal biography and file. All missions were kept track of, all births and deaths. Everything was written somewhere, and the librarians were the ones keeping track of it all. Because of this, papers were scattered about on tables and sometimes the floor, and the walls were lined with bookshelves and binders. She nodded kindly to the members here and continued ever more downward, to the Main halls.

In those halls, all the supplies were kept. Store rooms and closets were the only places down here that had doors. Everything else, including living spaces, were open. Here there were lycans in both beast and human form, all doing various things-- collaborating with librarians to keep track of stock, dragging around meat and food to store rooms, moving and/or cataloging various other supplies, such as paper, books, pens, etcetera. Everyone here seemed gainfully employed, so she trotted past quickly and went further down to the breeding halls.

Here, the breeders were kept. Many lycans, all in beast form, in differing stages of motherhood. Some pregnant, others nursing, some playing baby sitter or teacher to younglings too young to go out in the world but too old to be suckling. Trinia stayed and watched for a bit, making sure no one needed any extra attention, and then when onward to her next stop: The sleeping quarters.

Here, there was long hall with many turn-offs, all similar to dens one one find in the wild. These were used for everyone to have their "me" time, and of course to sleep. To the far end of it were the practice arenas. There were a few more hunters and soldiers here, practicing their craft in the greater expanse. The practice arena had a thick wall between it and the sleeping quarters, so despite the loudness of those fighting, none of it interrupted those trying to get some shut eye.

Still onward, Trinia went down to her own quarters and office, where her own personal belongings were. No one was here, however-- as it should be-- so she worked her way back up the next set of caverns. Her next stop was the gathering cave. It was the largest cave, and quite a ways away from all the other caves. It was used for meetings between all of the brood together, which rarely happened. It was mostly a place to evacuate to. After she got there, it too was empty, as it should've been.

She twisted her head and sneezed, shaking any dirt off her fur before turning and loping off in a different direction, utilizing another way to the General Halls. She wanted to inject herself into the next mission to take place, which should be soon.

iNerd wrote:
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Kenya was in the breeding room, as usual. Also, as usual, she was in her wolfish form. Her litter of pups were at her feet, bounding around and exploring their small world. Normally, the sight of them would lift her spirits, but something was off. Something didn't feel quite right, but she couldn't quite figure out what it was. There was a sense of restlessness about her, a feeling she normally never felt. Since finding her home here, she had been content with her role as a breeder. Though she was adept at fighting, her motherly nature and all-around dislike of violence had brought her here. The calm natures of her fellow breeders and the constant litters eased her broken spirit and soothed her nerves. In her time here, she had yet to feel anything but contentment. Restlessness... How curious.

She focused on her task, hoping the odd feeling would vanish. Her young ones bit and snapped at each other now, both playing and practicing at the same time. Before she knew it, they would be taking on roles in the pack. Unlike mothers of the human variety, she held no fears of her pups growing up and taking on the world. That was the way it had to be, after all. Long ago, she had determined that even though she was lycan, she was more wolfish by nature than anything else. One of the reasons she strayed away from her human form. In her heart, she was a wolf. There was something comforting in that fact. Whereas humans were wretched, hateful creatures, wolves were loyal and wise. At least in her experience.

A familiar scent caught her nostrils and she looked up to see Trinia, once again checking up on the pack. She nudged her pups, gaining their attention, and gave their leader a respectful bow. The little ones looked at their mother with curiosity, but most were too young to understand to mimic her motion yet. With her head still bowed, she looked to her pups and gave a gentle growl. A few of the smarter ones caught on, thinking this to be a game, and awkwardly lowered their heads with little wolfish smiles on their faces. Kenya stood and went to the other pups, gently nudged their heads down so they might understand the gesture. When she was satisfied the pups had learned something - though who could tell if they would remember it - she gave a content huff and allowed them to continue their play. Trinia had been long gone by the time their short training exercise ended.

Still... Something was off. She pondered it for a moment, curious. She wasn't pregnant yet, so perhaps her body was eager to fulfill it's task. Kenya gave a wolfish frown, not pleased with that answer. No, it was something else. She could feel it in her blood. But what was it?



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"And in this corner, the battle scarred Alita, Queen of Lions, Best of the best! Up against her, a new challenger... Gregory, a black Panther! This looks like a one-hit kill, folks..."

Zahir shivered and tried to ignore the chatter. His hands were in his jean pockets, and the white, dirtied wifebeater was poor enough dress to make people look twice at him when he passed. Luckily(or unluckily?) he was hispanic, so most assumed he was one of the workers here.

But to work in this place? Ugh.. It was a disaster. He wasn't even supposed to be here. Trinia would kill him if she found out. He was a librarian, not a warrior.


Green eyes with no whites darted from the left ot the right, watching everyone he passed as he quietly worked his way to the back, where he wanted to go. His unruly black hair was everywhere, but mostly, in his eyes. He had hoped by having such hair and bangs, they would cover up the fact that he had no whites. This would help him pass as human, rather than a lycan in human form. Often enough, the humans seemed too daft to take notice.

A double bell sounded loudly, and Zahir cringed in response.
"Another win for the beautiful Alita! Collect your winnings..." an announcer called.

Trying to ignore it, he kept looking for his target. Not soon after, there it was. The Weapons Boutique. A small sliver of a smirk came across Zahir's face, but it quickly left when a person passed him by, touching him.

He may look like a human, smell like a human, and blend in perfectly with them, but he was still a xenophobic. Despite this, he went to the counter, where there stood an old and bruised man named Bob.

Bob had a caged crow squaking madly in the corner. It was angry about.. Caging, Zahir was sure, but it was yelling about something else, too. He tried to zone it out.

"You again?" Bob asked, placing a toothpick in his mouth. "You just gonna gawk again or you gonna buy somethin' this time?"

Zahir looked around the wall full of weapons. "So you noticed me," he grumbled. Oh well, couldn't be helped. Zahir had been spying the instruments for a few days now, trying to figure out what he wanted from a distance before pickpocketing enough money to get it. Yes, he'd become quite the connoisseur in thievery, as of late.

"That collar you have... In the corner..." Zahir said slyly, angling his head slightly. "What exactly does it do?"

Bob laughed and picked up the collar, "You must be new 'round these parts, kid. This here's the brand spankin' new Commodore 2k." He pressed a button on the collar, and it expanded and then collapsed. "Unlike most collars, it expands when your slave changes forms, so you don't have that pesky choking problem. And as standard, electrocutes, too. But has a higher shock value, so it has more of a kick."

Zahir blinked, bringing his head straight again. "Let's say I wanted the shock deactivated? My pets know who's boss."

Bob gave another look to Zahir. It was an uncomfortable silence; the Maned Wolf knew what the human was thinking, and didn't blame him for it.

"Three hundred for deactivation plus the collar," he finally shot, knowing he could make a good profit off this.

"The collar itself is only worth one hundred," Zahir stated calmly, slowly. As was his nature. It was sort of creepy.

"250 is for the fee that keeps my mouth shut about your wankin' ways." the shopkeeper replied.

Zahir sighed, and pulled out his coin purse, pulling out 150 in coin.
"Deactivate it front of me, now, and the rest will come."

Bob wasn't a totally mad person, and he did as told. Although Zahir didn't know much about mechanics, he assumed a chip being removed meant there would be no shock. When Bob was done, Zahir gave him the other 150, and took the collar in his hand.
Before turning, however, he held out his free hand. "The remote, too."

Bob fumbled around for a moment and gave Zahir a small rectangle with a button on it. The hispanic Maned Wolf in human form pressed the button, and upon feeling no shock, mumbled a 'pleasure doing business with you' and made his way out rather swiftly.

The thirty year old had been out here for two days, now. He'd watched some of the battles, but for the most part, he was simply looking at goods. He had wanted to buy something for himself for quite some time. Unfortunately, he'd never told Trinia where he'd gone off to, so he wondered if she was searching for him, or if he was so quiet, she'd never noticed he was gone.

Either way, he'd finally gotten what he'd wanted, so now it was time to head back to the caves.
It was another entire day journey to get there, and it was already early afternoon. He decided to go ahead and begin the long walk, stopping to sleep briefly in the woods before continuing and finally making it back to the brood the next morning.

He wasn't excited to be back in the caves, though. He hated them, in fact. It wasn't like he hated the resistance, no.. He loved that. He just didn't like enclosed, dark spaces. He liked being out in the open. He supposed a lot of the others felt the same.

Collar still in hand, he entered the cave and made way to the library. On his way there, he contracted the collar and placed it in his hands pocket, hiding it from view. This would be his secret.

After making it into the Library, he looked over the other librarians briefly, wondering if he should ask what he had missed. He wondered if it was even worth it to basically announce he'd been missing. Maybe he'd be able to pull off not saying anything, and nobody would know. But maybe he smelled more like human than usual, because of the arenas. Zahir couldn't tell. He'd been in human form consistently for at least ten years, now. He couldn't smell much better than a normal two-legger these days. In fact, he was pretty sure some of the lycans of the brood weren't positive he wasn't born human.

But as the man was deep in his thoughts, another librarian came over with a book in his hands.
"Oh! Zahir! You're here, good! I have a question about this..." The younger librarian shoved a large ledger into Zahir's hands, forcing the man to come back to reality and put his business face on.

His green orbs looked down, turning the book so he could read it. It was the list of births and the current cub count. "What about it?" he asked quietly, his voice soft.

"Well, it's here..." the younger librarian pointed to one of the names in the long list. "See here, it says she has 12 cubs, but there's no sire, and," he licked his fingers before turning a few pages, pointing again "Here it only lists 10 of the names."

Zahir frowned and cocked his head a bit, dreading going down to the Breeders caverns. "Sometimes this happens if they're stillborn..." the hispanic offered.

"Well if they were, it wasn't recorded," the younger librarian replied.

"Who was in charge of this record? Have them fix it," grumpled the elder.

The younger one went meek, their voice becoming soft. "That's the problem...." they stated, it becoming a hushed whisper. "..It was actually you.."

Zahir hmphed and brought the book closer to his face, turning the pages to the beginning of the count, where the first error was. It was rare he made errors. After confirming his name was indeed the one who had begun the recording of the month, he shut the book and tucked it under his arm, picking up a pen from a table and turning to go. "All right, I'll go fix it then," he said, a bit grumpy.

Ten minutes later, he found himself in the Breeder's Caves. He was a bit agitated, but trying to hide it. He didn't like so many people crammed into such a small space. He'd traded the noisiness of arenas for the cramped feel of the breeders. This was very likely the one cavern he hated the most out of the whole place. He normally tried to shove the birth records onto the other librarians, but sometimes he got stuck with the duty. Oh well.

He opened the book again, and searched for page with the name of mother with the error.

iNerd wrote:
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Another familiar scent caught her nostrils, another that was not normally in the breeder's cave. Zahir. She blinked, surprised to have smelled him down here with all the hustle and bustle of the newborns and mothers. Not to mention she caught some very unfamiliar scents coming from him. Where had he been to exactly? Knowing there was only one way to converse with him, she turned and walked his way while shifting into her human form. After all, there was no way he would transform.

"You're not usually here," She stated simply, her voice colored slightly with an English accent. It was odd being on two legs again - she tried to avoid it - and she swayed gently, getting used to her new center of balance. She stood at an average height with no particularly interesting physical features, not in her opinion at least. Though she supposed this form was appealing - moderate bosom, thin waist, wide hips - it was not something she prided herself in greatly. It had always been considered her secondary form, not her primary one. Even now, she missed the ability to express emotions with a subtle shifting of her ears.

For whatever reason, she liked Zahir and, as now, wouldn't hesitate to take her human form to speak with him. It was hard to comprehend why a lycan would prefer a human form, but it's something she didn't question. If he were ever to reveal it, it would be on his terms. Kenya eyed him now, wondering what sort of business brought him to her lair. In a hushed tone, she noted, "Your scent is unusual today." It was not accusatory or a question, just a simple fact. She had noticed it as a wolf - this form's sense of smell was nearly worthless. How could Zahir stand it?

"Why are you here?" She asked simply. On the bright side, perhaps she could talk with him about this restless feeling. Surely males experienced this feeling, yes? But she was patient. If Zahir was in the breeder's cave, it was not willingly. This was business. She could inquire about personal matters once his task was fulfilled.



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"You're not usually here."

Zahir became startled and dropped the book at his feet.
Among the growls, barks, mews, and various other animalistic noises, a human voice was hardly ever heard in this cave. Not to mention he simply hadn't been paying attention to his surroundings too much to begin with, so the woman walking up to him was completely missed until she was right there.

Zahir grimaced at his empty hands, then simply looked up, trying -- and failing -- to play it off.
The 30 year old was a particular nervous individual. Even after ten years of being with the Brood, he hadn't conquered most of his fears. No one could blame him, though. He'd been trying, and he'd come pretty far. Most of the other lycans who had been saved rather than born here had their own barrage of problems. Most didn't question them, understanding not everyone wanted to relive the terrifying experience of being enslaved.

The Maned Wolf gave a fake smile at her statement of his scent, and bent over to pick the book back up, quickly turning the page he'd since memorized. That was one of the things Zahir was adept at-- memorizing things. Upon finding the page, he looked up. And it suddenly clicked. The name fit with the woman in front of him-- talk about coincidence, as here she was asking him what he was doing down here.

"Well, I was actually looking for you," he replied, his voice a bit shaky but beginning to settle toward the end of his sentence. "It appears that when your litter was born, you were expecting 12, but only 10 were recorded.."

He looked up at the woman, taking the pen he'd acquired earlier from his pocket, and positioning the book in front of him so he could write in it.

"... So I'm here to correct the error." He finished, hoping he wouldn't have to ask the dangerous question about if all the cubs had survived birth or not.

Your Lucky Charm wrote:
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[serif]xxxxxBirds sang a chorus of cheery music, a slight wind rushed over the land, the grass dancing and swaying from side to side. Crickets chirped and small animals along the forest floor skirted across, rushing up a tree, jumping into small pools of water, and lounging in the tall grass. A quiet hum could be heard, carried through the air with the wind. A small yet seemingly bright girl with gorgeous blond hair that swept across her shoulder and down her back, walked throughout the forest without a care. Her head was held high, her lips curved into a smile as her bright blue eyes watched the sky above her, only wishing she could somehow take flight and fly for hours. Though, being a mere human all she could do was dream, and perhaps then, locked away from the rest of the world she could finally fly.

xxxxxA rustle somewhere near her, diverted her attention from the skies for a moment, and her careless blue eyes, grew darker in sudden fear. Her hands, came together in front of her, gently pressing against her waist in nervous agitation. Her eyes searched the forest around her. The trees, the leaves, the bushes, the grass. Searching for the reason for the sudden noise she had heard. She turned her body slightly her head thrashing from side to side, her eyes moving even faster than her body. Though, her senses were dull and as the wind shook the trees and leaves alike she sighed in relief when nothing appeared from beyond.

xxxxxdown low, beneath the sight of the human, Aurora sat propped low on her belly. Her eyes filled with excitement as she watched the girl in front of her unknowingly put herself in danger. Slowly she moved forward, stepping through the tall grass, stepping on a branch that broke, cracking beneath her paw. She stopped, having caught the attention of the human. She sank lower, as if she could get any lower to the ground. Her tail, slowly thrashing from side to side, watching the girl. Her tongue darted out to lick her sharp fangs. Raising her backside ever so slightly, her shoulders moved from side to side slightly. And she waited for the right moment when the human would turn... She did. A low growl escaped her Throat and she pushed herself from the grass, jumping and running in the human's direction. In a few strides she had the human where she wanted her. Crushed underneath her large body she stared at the girl underneath her.

xxxxxHaving been surprised by the large Tiger that had magically appeared from the forest behind her, she stared in shear fascination at the size of the beast. Nearly twice the size of a normal Tiger she stood nearly flattening her beneath it's body. "...Aurora..." the name escaped her lips in a soft whisper of fear from the sudden appearance of the tiger. The familiar voicing of her name caused her body gestures to change almost instantly and Aurora stared down at her friend that she loved to hunt more than anything in the forest. A low grumble escaped her throat as the tiger lowered it's heavy body on top of the small girl knowing she was more then 3x her size. A gasp of air escape the girls lips and she giggled as she tried but failed to push the heavy cat from atop her. "Aurora...must you do that to me every day..?" she asked as the tiger rubbed her head against the young girl's chest in a playful manner. The girl in return wrapped her arms around her neck and as the Tiger raised her head, she lifted the girl from underneath her as if she weighed nothing at all.

xxxxx"Thank you.." she smiled and giggled when the tiger nipped at the clothing that the girl wore, tugging at the restraining fabric, before moving away when the girl went to slap at her nose. Aurora grinned, loving to play with this girl, knowing she thought that she had tamed a wild tiger, but in return the human was the real pet. Slipping herself from underneath the large cat, Fira, pushed herself to her feet, staggering slightly. Aurora moved behind her, easily keeping her from falling to the ground. Another low noise escape Auroras throat as she raised her head to look up at the woman. Of course she would have thought that a kind gesture, one of guilt for having nearing crushed the girl . Fira's soft and frail hand dropped onto the tiger head, where she scratched in between the cats ears. "Again..thank you.." she told her as she regained her balance and straightened out the long dress she had been wearing, be it an ugly color brown, the skirts were colored by dirt and mud and she clicked her tongue raising an eyebrow at Aurora. The tiger looked away as if she didn't even know what she was gesturing about before she moved aside to lay in the warm grass and to stare at her prize.[/serif]​
iNerd wrote:
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The other seemed startled at her approach. The thought crossed her mind that of he were in his better form, he could have avoided the surprise. What was his other form, anyway? If her memory served her, it was some kind of dog. A wolf? He was a curious one, she noted. Not the first time she had thought such things about her pack members. Then again, most lycans were rather odd since, even with the breeding facilities, the majority of their numbers were rescued from captivity. Even with kinder owners, there was no escaping the horrors of lycan servitude. Most pack members she came across had vast emotional and physical scarring, an unfortunate side effect. Here, at least, they didn't feel like second class citizens - slaves to do their master's bidding. Though the thought of their brothers and sisters still suffering... That thought was never far from anyone's mind.

Kenya watched idly as Zahir awkwardly picked his book back up, eying him with a gentle intensity. When he explained he was looking for her, she simply nodded. "I see," She said, glancing back at her pups for a moment. Adorable little critters, the lot of them. She had a theory that puppies could cure broken hearts - they had managed to patch up hers. Back to the inquiry at hand, she reminded herself. Mustn't get sidetracked. "Yes, I expected twelve. One was stillborn and another was born very ill." Her words were steady, but her eyes revealed tenderness true to a mother. "There are ten, currently." Life and death came hand in hand, but the latter was still difficult to cope with even after as much death had tainted her lifetime. In some ways, losing a pup was the hardest challenge to bear - they were so small, so innocent. They had harmed no one. But death was not a healthy thought upon which to linger. Death would drive a soul mad.

She paused for a moment, allowing him time to complete his task and thinking once again about her feeling from earlier. "Zahir," She began hesitantly, "Do you ever feel... restless? With your assigned task." Kenya nodded toward his book, looking quite curious. "I love it here," She admitted, giving a slight smile. "It has soothed my old wounds. Lately, though... I find myself longing for more." In all her curiosity, a part of her was anxious about longing for something outside the peaceful breeder's cave. She could not put a finger on what drove these feelings - there was nothing good outside the pack,in the rest of the world. There was only sorrow and servitude. How many pups were out there now, suffering as she did? How many mothers? She licked her lips, pondering this question for a moment. Perhaps she should accept her role here, push the outside world out of her mind. The breeder's cave was safe, calming - did she really need more? Others carried their own burdens, their own tasks. Hers was just as important, yes? "I apologize if I have inconvenienced you - wasted your time," She said. "Of course if you have other matters to attend to, I understand." Kenya gave a small bow of her head - not as deep as to their leader earlier, but enough to show respect for his job.



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The thirty year old stood and stared blankly at the woman as she answered his question. After she said there were ten currently, he apathetically went to his book and scribbled down what he'd found in the uncomfortable conversational silence. When he was done, he closed the book and put the pen in his pocket, a slight frown coming over his face.

Right before he turned to go, Kenya called to him, and asked him if he'd ever felt restless. He opened his mouth slightly, trying to come up with an appropriate answer.

"Kenya...." He finally said quietly, as if he was concerned the others would hear, "I am a librarian. I record our entire history. I know everything that's going on. I could tell you when our next mission is, who the next sow to give birth will be, and what her birth date is. I could tell you where all the warriors are in their training and what we will have for dinner."

He was trying to be inspirational, but really he was buying himself time to think up a better answer, because truth be told he was quite restless. That was the whole reason he'd wandered off in the first place.

"... If I ever get bored, I can go into the Library-- and so can you-- and read up on any lycan here. Their files. Or more of our history. Trinia..." His eyes darted to the ground a moment as he hesitated, gathering his thoughts. "... Trinia is leading something that will aid all of us, and our future generations. She is leading us someplace we can all enjoy. A place and a time where none of us or our children, or our brothers or our sisters... Will be tortured or enslaved, or forced to kill eachother."

He tucked his book under his left arm and put his right hand on Kenya's shoulder.
"What position Trinia has picked for us to fill is the one we are most suited to. And even if that position may not seem like it is doing much to our own eyes, it is to the greater picture we must look."

He inhaled deeply through his nose, and brought his hand back to his side, exhaling through his mouth.
"Breeding is... You create the next generation of freedom fighters. You are the one bringing lycans who have never had to deal with slavery or torture into the world. You are the one shaping these free lycans' futures. Without you, we wouldn't have any lycans with the will to fight against the humans."

His green eyes went to Kenya's, searching for an expression. He had hoped his explanation was a good one. It had certainly felt very motivating.

"I apologize if I have inconvenienced you - wasted your time," Kenya said. "Of course if you have other matters to attend to, I understand."

"Kenya," he replied, stepping forward and looking into her eyes. "You will never be a waste of my time."
What Zahir had meant was, a single person was always worth time. His time was no more precious than anyone else's. But the conviction in which he had said the statement made it seem like he meant something different. He didn't catch it, and so didn't bother correcting himself.

iNerd wrote:
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Kenya listened patiently to the man, glad he had not made some excuse to hurry away. "I am a librarian. I record our entire history. I know everything that's going on. I could tell you when our next mission is, who the next sow to give birth will be, and what her birth date is. I could tell you where all the warriors are in their training and what we will have for dinner." Sometimes, she forgot a librarian had such knowledge. Her own spanned the length of the breeder's cave for the most part, at least where the pack was concerned. Upon her arrival here, she had not ventured too outside this comfort zone of hers.

"What position Trinia has picked for us to fill is the one we are most suited to. And even if that position may not seem like it is doing much to our own eyes, it is to the greater picture we must look." She nodded, a truth that was undeniable. Usually, she did a fine job of accepting the truth without question. She accepted her duties with a military-like obedience. Trinia had a good head on her shoulders and could be trusted. Kenya trusted their leader with her life - joining the pack meant dedicating your life to your brothers and sisters here. This meant giving up some personal selfishness for the good of all, taking on a role that suited who you perfectly. Part of her felt guilty for even questioning her task - Trinia had saved so many.

She smiled when Zahir spoke of breeding, glad he understood the importance. Some ignored the breeders, thinking their role was less substantial than others. "You will never be a waste of my time." She wished she weren't in her human form - if she were a wolf, she could easily nuzzle against his face, a gentle sign of fondness. Doing so in this body would be odd. It had been so long since she stood on two legs, she nearly forgot how to show affection this way. "Thank you, Zahir," She said warmly, genuinely appreciative of his words even if a part of her wanted more. She took his free hand in hers, clasping it between her own palms, and gave it a gentle squeeze. That was appropriate, right? Friendly, but not overly affectionate. Hopefully. Zahir was more used to this form, though, so perhaps he knew more about these things. She felt quite ignorant about the human touch.

Then she realized... He never quite answered her question. "So you do get restless," She wondered out loud. Then she looked in his eyes with a sly smile, "Does that explain your scent, Zahir?"



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On her way to the General Halls, Trinia overhead a few hunters talking about Aurora, one of the white tigers. The wolf didn't catch much of the conversation, but the mention of the tiger's name triggered a bit of memory. Aurora had been absent a lot, recently. She hadn't bringing back near enough food to warrant being out for so long. With that thought, the alpha wolf turned and went back to the sleeping dens, checking to see if the tiger were in her room. She wasn't.

Now, curiosity and distrust got the better of her, and Trinia trotted off to the woods, seeking the white tiger's scent. It wasn't long until she found it and followed the trail, heading into the woods. Once she got a few meters away, she began to slowly track, silently hunting her prey. Trinia heard a small girl talking. At this, the 35 year old's head and body lowered, the wolf beginning to creep silently toward the activities.

About two minutes passed before the crouching wolf finally reached an area where she could actually see what was going on. It appeared to be that Aurora and the small girl were... Playing? Trinia's yellow eyes narrowed as she watched, biding her time, observing further before she would decide whether to show herself or not to the couple.



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Zahir gave a forced smile as Kenya took his hand. He was a bit unused to people touching him. But he supposed he'd stave resisting her touch. She was a friend.

His head cocked a bit at her next words. He was taken aback, caught in his own excuse.
So you DO get restless...

He pulled his hand away, bringing his book to the middle of his chest, as if to protect himself.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he lied. "You must be mistaken. I've been in human form for so long, I would be surprised if half the lycans here even believed I were born as they were."

Your Lucky Charm wrote:
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[serif]xxxxxThe wind had died down now, and then sun beat down on the to of them. Aurora didn't seem to mind it as she cleaned one of her paws. The sun felt good on her fur and she merely wish to stretch out and sleep. She had half a mind to do it too, except she had an even better idea in her head. Her eyes slowly shifted to rest on the girl that was now down on her knees right next to Aurora. She was scratching and petting Aurora's back. A purr erupted from her throat before she could even think about it. Just like a house cat, she sometimes felt like a house at times and knew she shouldn't. Lowering her head to the grass she turned over onto her back allowing the human to scratch at her belly. The human giggled and scratched at the tigers belly. When she heard the purr she smiled and shook her head. "Your so cute...." she murmured continuing to scratch the large cats belly.

xxxxx'Cute...?'Aurora thought in her head suddenly. 'I'll show you cute...' A grin caused her fangs to glisten with fresh saliva and she twistd suddenly backing up to lower her body slightly. The human gasped in pleasure realizing the tiger suddnely wanted to play. Jumping to her feet she grabbed the skirts of her brown dress and took a few steps back before dashing off into one direction knowing the tiger would follow her. So Aurora did, chasing after the human. She pounced beside her nudging the girls legs forcing her to turn into another direction to keep from being caught by the beast. Aurora moved like this for a few minutes, herding the human into the directions she wanted her to until she found herself trapped between the trees and the cat. A low playful growl escaped her throat and her tail thrashed behind her. The human turned pressing her back against the tree her breathing erratic from having been force to run for so long. She stared at the tiger and raised her arms in defeat. "Oh...dear...me.. It seems you got me.." she breathed out try to catch the breath that she had lost while running.

xxxxxA swift breeze picked up and alerted Aurora that they were no longer alone as she had thought before. Her ears perked up and she sniffed the air, breathing in the scent of a wolf. Her attitude changed quickly and the human realized the change in her mood. She too looked around, searching for something she couldn't see. "What is it Aurora?" she asked. Aurora turned around, finding where the intruder lay hidden in the brush. She defensively backed up near the human to protect her. A growl emanated from her throat, slapping her tail from side to side. "What is it girl?" The human murmured worried about both of their safety.

Aurora gave out a loud roar, speaking her opinion. Who had snuck up on her, and why hadn't they attacked while she had been distracted. She raised her nose to the breeze and that was when she realized who it was that had been watching her. 'Trinia...' her ears lowered slightly. She knew that Trinia could easily kill the human that she defensively was protecting and instead of forcing the human to leave, Aurora kept her forced behind her and the tree. Aurora waited for Trinia to show herself from the brush. There was going to be hell to pay, and she knew it!​
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Mave wrote:
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"It's time for school! It's time for school! School time!" the small girl chirped as she busied herself packing her small bookbag. "Come on Fifi, it's time to go to school!" From her place at the foot of the girl's bed, Maia lifted her head and yawned at the child, her tongue lolling and ears tilted partway back. "Impatient pup," she grumbled to herself as she stretched then jumped from the bed. "Good girl Fifi," the girl cooed, patting Maia on the head with all the ungracefulness that a seven year old could muster. Snorting in disgust, Maia nipped at the girl's withdrawing fingers. "Silly dog."

"Nami!" a voice cracked from the doorway. "It's time to go, you're going to be late." Startled, Nami looked up at the man looming in the door frame and looked down at her feet. "I'm sorry Father," she mumbled to her shoes. "I expect you to keep a good eye on Nami today," said the man, turning his glare on Maia. Reaching into his pocket, the man pulled out a small black remote and waved it near Maia's nose. "I don't need to remind you what will happen if anyone so much as bumps into Nami, do I?" Maia dipped her nose, choking back a snarl and the urge to shorten the man's hand by a finger or two. A pair of golden eyes peered at her from behind the man. Maia gave a low whine and the wolf the eyes belonged to gave a whine of his own. Then the man left and the wolf followed along behind him without a backwards glance.

"No one should have to endure this, least of all you Father." Maia turned back to her charge who was now deep in thought over a pair of pink dress shoes. "Should I wear the pink ones or the blue ones?" she wondered out loud before looking up at Maia. "What do you think Fifi? Pink or blue?" "Why should I care about what shoes you wear?" Maia thought with a shake of her head. Padding up to the girl, she took the blue ones in her teeth and placed them back in line with the girl's other shoes. "Pink it is!" the girl cheered, slipping her feet into the shoes and fussing with the buckle. "Okay, time to go to school."

Padding along at Nami's side, Maia turned her head this way and that way, trying to smell any possible dangers to her young charge. Catching the scent of another Lycan, Maia bristled and gave a low growl. "What's the matter Fifi?" Maia stepped in front of Nami and faced the alley that the scent was coming from. A few moments later a young boy and a lion Lycan emerged from the shadows. "Hi Elliot!" Nami called, waving her hands in the air. The young boy broke into a grin and moved to walk next to Nami. "You got a new kitty," she observed. The boy's face grew clouded as he looked at his guard. "Yeah, Kyla ran away so Daddy got me Titus here." Nami frowned at this but quickly turned the conversation to school and all the friends the children would be seeing soon. While this was going on Maia turned and cocked an ear at the Lion who in response just bared his teeth at her before turning away.

Arriving at the school, Maia made her way towards the building reserved for Lycans to change their shape in secret so as not to alarm any children with their nakedness. Inside she found the wooden marker labeled "Fifi" and looked with disdain at the clothing next to it. It looked like today she would be working in the kitchens while Nami was at school. Bristling her fur, Maia allowed her body to condense and lose its fur. Rising, she itched at the spot where her new collar was chafing her skin. It was some new model made to expand and contract when she did. Changing into her new uniform, she got in line with the other Lycans who were similarly dressed and made her way to the kitchens, ignoring any attempts the others made at idle conversation.



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As Trinia watched, the wind changed direction and she quickly realized she was no longer upwind from the tiger and child. Before she could move herself, Aurora caught the scent and went into full-on defensive mode.

Interesting, the wolf thought to herself as her mouth curled back to reveal sharp teeth.

She sunk as low as she could while Aurora had the human pegged between her and a tree. What was this? Afraid Trinia was going to hurt them? While the wolf did hate humans, there was no point in ruining something that seemed peaceful. For all Trinia knew, perhaps Aurora was the spy, here. There were lycans who did side with the humans, no matter how misguided Trinia believed them to be.

It would be worthless to reveal herself now. She couldn't speak in a language Aurora would understand in this form, apart from sheer body language, and to change into her human form would leave her naked. Which was probably not something that should be done in front of a mere human child.

After about a minute of not revealing herself, Trinia calmly walked up into the clearing, her head high. She stopped in front of the two, and gave a death glare to Aurora. After this, she simply turned and trotted off, as if she were merely a wild beast that was passing through.

Trinia would handle this once they got back to the caverns. Perhaps another interrogation was in order. Trinia should speak with a General on this issue. She hadn't made her mind up on how she wanted to handle this serious breach of trust just yet.

Your Lucky Charm wrote:
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[serif]xxxxxIt wasn't but a minute longer that Aurora watched the brush shift as Trinia emerged from behind it. Her head held high, she stepped right in front of where Aurora defended the human. Her teeth no longer bared, Aurora stepped back slightly, Her ears held back against her head. Her head lowered slightly a sign of slight submission. She could feel Trinia's glare shoot right through her and she felt a shiver raise the fur on her back.

The young girl behind Aurora stared at the Wolf that stepped out of the forest. A hand darted to her chest and she watched as the Wolf and Tiger stared at one another what seemed like hours. Her heart pumped in her chest and she sighed in relief when the wolf grew uninterested in them and walked away without a care. Stepping forward a pale hand gently reached forward to rest on the tiger. A low growl escaped and the girl returned her hand from the tiger. "Is everything okay now..." the soft voice asked. Aurora knew she needed to return to the Brood now. Turning around she nudged into the girls chest, getting a small hug from the child. She smiled. "I'm guessing you have to leave again...huh." it was a question, it was a statement. Aurora looked into the young girls eyes and the two stared at one another for a moment.

Aurora knew that the girl lived nearby and she watched as she departed in the direction of her home. A sigh escaped her when she slowly began to return to the cave. She wondered what she was going to be in for. She was definitely going to be interrogated, again. She should have been more careful, she should have kept her guard up. But she hadn't expected Trinia to come looking for her. Well, why shouldn't she, the amount of time she had spent out of the cave, she certainly only brought back enough food for one days hunting. Sometimes, Aurora would be out for 3 days out at a time. She spent most of the time with the young girl she had found lost in the forest, but every time she return she had a full doe still warm, locked in her jaws, the adrenaline of a fresh hunt always visible in her eyes.

Aurora's green gaze looked ahead of her and she pushed herself forward, the muscles in her legs shooting her forward. She jumped over fallen tree trunks, slid through wet leaves and ran through the tall grasses and bushes that covered the forest floor. It wouldn't take long for her to reach the caves entrance and she half expected a not so welcoming party to meet her there. She would just have to wait and see what was next.​
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Freddy-kun wrote: Sorrowful Days

(Not sure if I am supposed to make one of those fancy banners for my character names????)
The ruffled crow swept through the clearing, his wonky feathers rattling against each other loudly as he squawked. "Ma'am! Ma'am, I do believe I have done it this time!" He swept in for a landing, but overshot himself and tumbled right past the wolf woman he had meant to speak to. After a futile attempt to place his feathers back into some sort of order, he strutted across the bracken on his clawed feet. He was awfully proud of himself this time. "Ma'am, I do believe I have found a loner! Newly escaped, at that! I thought you'd like to know. It's not quite so often you find one already on the outside. She's coyote, I think, and old enough, anyway. I caught her sleeping. Reckless. Ma'am, I think you should check this one out. Er, of course, if you aren't busy." The crow regarded his leader with one beady eye, the glint seeming to go from one to the other as he cocked his head this way and that.

He'd just been flying through the ridge when he'd caught the flash of rusty fur. He'd thought she'd looked Lycan, but it was hard to tell without speaking to them. He'd watched a moment, then took off, hoping she would neither move nor be caught until he could convince someone to fetch her. it would be rather unfortunate if someone found her before the Brood did. Painful too, he supposed...

Aria

The girl had been on the run for a month. he was always tired, always frightened, and always hungry. She wasn't quite sure what she'd do on the outside, having never left her home without that girl by her side. She had no knowledge of the Brood, or of the outside for that matter. She suspected she would starve to death... Or worse, be caught by humans. Finding a rock under a tiny patch of sun, she'd curled up in her coyote form and laid her muzzle across her tail and tried to unkink her muscles enough to sleep. She barely managed it.

(I'm not used to very long posts, but I'll try, okay?)



iNerd wrote:
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"Most forget what form you take," She acknowledged, letting things slide for a moment. Her arms went slack to her side as if she were unsure what to do with them now. "Maybe a few suspect you are not one of us, but not the majority." She gave a small smile, indicating she was not one of them. Of course he was lycan - Trinia would not allow him passage if he were not. Granted, he did not have some of the more animalistic traits as others did, but surely that was because he preferred his human form. For whatever reason.

"I would love to see your other form," Kenya admitted gently. "I hope I will get the honor of seeing it one day. I would enjoy running with you." For reasons unknown, he had - to her knowledge - not taken his animal form in years. It was something she did not comprehend or understand, but that was his decision. Just as she chose to forgo her human form as much as possible. "I think feeling restless is normal," She added softly. "I have not ventured far from this cave in quite some time. Perhaps next time you can take me with you." Her head lowered slightly, but it did not hide the mischievous look in her eye. Whether he admitted it or not, she had a gut feeling that he was not the quiet librarian that he claimed to be.



Mave wrote:
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Grabbing a potato from the bag near her elbow, Maia began to chop it quickly, imagining for a few seconds that she held the man next to her by the throat instead of just a potato. "So I hear that there is a Lycan rebellion already in progress," the man continued. "Wouldn't it be great if they came and rescued us from this place?" Maia brought her knife down with a snap and spun to face the man, lips pulled back in a snarl. "Enough!," she growled. "The second they showed up you would be shocked and shot before you had a chance to piss yourself." Maia said, jabbing a finger at the man's collar. "Stop filling people's heads with ideas of escape and rescue. You are only going to give them stupid ideas that are going to get them killed. We are slaves, we work, then we die. Or, we fight and then we die faster." Grabbing another potato Maia pointed at a carrot in front of the man with her knife, "Now chop that and stop trying to get yourself killed," she said, her voice losing some of its harsh edge.

Scowling down at her potato Maia growled a soft curse. 'That idiot is going to get himself and a lot of others hurt.' she thought, looking over to a group of children who were listening to the man's every word while they scrubbed the floors. 'What's the use being a Lycan if you're dead? I want to be free more than anything, but I'd also choose life over death any day.' Growling softly she placed her chopped potatoes into a bowl and looked up as a human male walked into the kitchen. "The children have been let out early today. Bodyguards are to report to their charges immediately while pets are to wait here and continue working until their masters arrive." With that said he left the room.

Maia made her way back to the building where she could change her form and stripped out of her kitchen clothes, dropping them in a pile on the floor. With a scowl, she kicked the pile once for good measure. Changing into her wolf form, Maia walked from the building in search of Nami. Spotting the girl with several more children of her own age, Maia padded up to her huffed. "Oh hi Fifi," the girl bubbled, reaching down to pat Maia on the head. "I have to go guys, see you tomorrow." Waving, Nami fell instep next to Maia and allowed the wolf to lead her home.

Upon arriving at the house, Nami's father greeted the girl then turned to Maia. "Come to my office as soon as you have seen Nami to her room." Maia nodded and lead her charge to her room. "Come back soon Fifi, I want to play dress up." Maia shuddered at the though of being stuffed into more doggie clothes. Making her way to her master's office she stood outside the door and waited. "Come in already." he called from inside. "And make yourself decent." Making her way to a section of the office that was screened off, Maia changed back into her human form and put on the plain shift that was folded on a stool. "Now come here," the man commanded her. Moving to stand before his desk, Maia dropped her chin and stared at her bare toes. "Nami will be attending a private school next term," the man began. "This school does not allow your kind to dirty its halls. Therefore, Nami will no longer require you as a bodyguard." He paused to look at the growing look of horror on Maia's face. "It seems only natural that we find a new place to utilize your odd breed. So I have decided to give you an option since I am feeling generous, report to the kennels and assume a role as a breeder, or put that brawn of yours to a more savage role suitable to your race and fight in the arenas."


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Just as the wolf was able to enter the caves, a crow dove in over her, causing her to lower her body in self-defense, and landed in front of her. Trinia rose her body and looked back down to the strange crow, known as Sorrowful Days. It sqwaked about how it had found a new lone lycan. At this information, Trinia's ears perked up, and the crow had all her attention.

"Did you not speak with it?" the wolf barked, knowing crows could understand her no matter her form.

Normally, Trinia would take care of this, and would certainly love to right now-- freeing and saving lycans were her first priority. But right now-- as if on queue-- Aurora showed up.
Trinia had to deal with this matter personally, and it was better it was dealt with sooner rather than later. Her yellow eyes glanced to the tiger before she let out a growl at her predicament.

"Lead her here, then. Bring her to my chambers as soon as you can." She said, authoritatively. She glanced to Aurora again, turning to go to her chambers before looking back to the crow. "Good work, Sorrowful Days. Thank you for your help."

After this, Trinia rolled her head on her shoulders, motioning for Aurora to follow. She then began the long trot down to her chambers, where they would speak privately.

Once they reached Trinia's private quarters, the wolf went to the closet and pulled out a long night gown. Nothing too fancy, but enough to cover everything modestly. With her mouth, she tossed it in Aurora's direction. Once done, she walked behind her desk, changing form as she did so, and sat naked in her chair, her long red hair covering her breasts as her yellow eyes glared down to Aurora.

"You're going to have to change so we can talk," the now-human woman stated. If Aurora was uncomfortable, Trinia would turn her head while the tiger changed form. Otherwise, she would continue to watch the other, and wait for what she had to say for herself.



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As Kenya began to talk about his other form, Zahir shook his head and became extremely uncomfortable.
"No," he said. "I'm sorry, but I would never. I'd rather stay in this form..." he let his sentence fade off and he gave a deep frown.
Truth be told, Zahir was afraid of his lycan form. That was why he was never in it. Perhaps he did wish he were human to an extent... But really, this form was simply the lesser of two evils to him. To change into his lycan form would be akin to telling him it would be perfectly okay to jump off the side of a cliff. It wasn't true and it wasn't going to happen.

At the rest of Kenya's dialogue, the man gave a very nervous chuckle. Deny, deny, he thought. "Like I said Kenya, I don't know what you're talking about. Someone like me would have several panic attacks before I made it outside the lip of the cave."

With that, his grip on the book tightened, and he turned to go again. "But if you want to see about changing your rank, I don't see why you couldn't maybe become a warrior for a season or two... Well, I should really be heading back up to the Library..." He forced, awkwardly ending the conversation and heading back up to his native habitat surrounded by books, paperwork, and quiet.

Freddy-kun wrote: Sorrowful Days

The crow puffed out his wonky chest feathers and beamed, strutting around the clearing before taking off again. "You got it, Ma'am! I'll be right back with her!" He flew back toward where he'd first seen the rogue Lycan, then settled in a tree and hissed at her. "Hssst! Pssst!! Hey, wake up!" The sleeping coyote jerked awake and glanced around, confused and frightened. Sorrowful Days leapt off the branch and landed in front of her. She yelped and reared back. "Whoa, watch it, I'm a friend, a crow, you can trust me! I know a place where you'll be safe. It's got all kinds of Lycans." The coyote didn't move, then snarled a response. "How do I know you work with the Lycans?" The crow squawked a laugh and trotted under her muzzle. "Love, the humans couldn't control me if they wanted to. I was raised loyal to the Brood. I wouldn't go betraying my cousins." Aria frowned, but softened. "I will trust you for now. But any trouble, and they will find your feathers littering the forest floor in blood." Sorroful Days chuckled. "I've heard that before. Come on then. This way." He leapt into the air, flight feathers rattling, and led the running girl to where his leader was.



Your Lucky Charm wrote:
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[serif]xxxxxIt wasn't too long that Aurora found herself at the entrance to the Brood, It didn't take her long to recognize the crow that was flapping around speaking to Trinia. He was called Sorrowful Days, an interesting name for a crow, Being named after such a day. The bird seemed to loudly squawk his recent discover of a lycan. Aroura heard the conversation as she stepping from the forest to enter the caves. Watched as Trinia motioned for her to follow and did so. Her body was large, larger than that of a regular tiger and though she was large in size she barely made a noise as she followed behind the wolf.

Though the walk was decently long, she didn't mind walking so far down the corridors. She would breath in the familiar scents of all the lycans that had travelled down these halls, before she. And it seemed the walk ended so quickly when they reached Trinia's quarters.

Having stayed behind Trinia she easily caught the gown in her mouth when tossed in her direction. It was nothing fancy, but comfortable. Aurora preferred her animal form, but yes, she couldn't speak with Trinia in this form so she shifted from the animal like state into the weak form of the human. Her skin, a very pale color almost seemed to shimmer when light touched it, and her hair, the same color of her pelt, a flawless white, was cute short , the front length covering one of her blue eyes. the outline of her eyes were strangely a dark color and easily got her noticed as a lycan in the human world.

Slipping into the gown without a sound she seated herself in a chair near Trinia's desk. Her outward appearance in this form to a human male was easily fooled, by her seductive body. Her graceful movements misleading human males to their demise was a price she used often. "Of course..." her voice was a soft and lusty one. Though having not spoken in this form in a while, it was low and sounded weak. Her bare feet curled slightly at the feal of the surface below her, it was strange, not having her coat, she always felt, naked without it.

"I suppose your wondering.. as to why I was.." how could she phrase this. "Playing with a human..?" a slim eyebrow raised and her head unconciously tilted to the side.​
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The 35 year old continued to stare at the other. Trinia's forearms were flat on the desk in front of her, each arm in front of the other, each perpendicular to the direction her body was facing. Her fingers were outstretched, but relaxed, and curved naturally.

"I am not afraid to admit that I am not quite sure what exactly it is that I saw just then," the Alpha admitted, her tone still somehow authoritative.
"But I am sure whatever it is had been going on for a long time without anyone's knowledge."

She went silent, simply staring at Aurora again, as if staring through her soul would pry an answer from the tiger lycan. Trinia was angry, yes. But she tried to reign herself in. She did not want to harm her lycans, her pack, her brood. She needed them for the rebellion. And each and every one of them was important to her.

She remembered all their names, their faces. She was really just a protective mother, looking out for all her children.

"You are lucky I pitied the poor human child. If it were older, that meeting would've ended very different. And you know this. Why have you been seeing that girl? Is it of any advantage to you? Does she own another lycan pet you are trying to get her to free herself? Or are you missing being owned by someone like her?" The last part was an accusation. At this, Trinia's lips pursed, and her right index finger began to slowly tap the oak of her desk like a suspicious clock, ticking away at a human's interrogation.
Your Lucky Charm wrote:
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[serif]xxxxxAurora could tell that Trinia was irritated by what she had seen in the forest. Though, what was she really irritated about, the fact that Aurora hadn't in anyway hunted the child, or that she had instead played with her. The story behind it though, was more complicated than need be.

"That is true, this has been going on for quite some time without anyones knowledge."
Aurora agreed her features seemingly calm. She watched as Trinia stared at her...into her as if that glare would get some type of information on the subject out of her. "You know me Trinia, and giving me that little glare of your's doesn't work. " a slight grin curled her red lips. why she found it so hard for Trinia to just come out with it. Though her next statement caused her grin to disappear quickly.

"Had you decided to act Trinia, I would have defended that child." her eyes narrowed and Aurora glared into Trinias. "No. That child does not have a lycan in her possession." she sighed leaning in and glaring further at Trinia. "And What would make you think that I would want a life of abuse and slavery?" her voice no longer soft and weak became loud and threatening.

"I found that child alone and weak in the forest no more than a year ago. " She told the wolf lycan. "She was starving and cold and caught in one of those human traps that they are so proud of. If it had not been for me my child would be dead..." she stared aghast at what she had just said. 'my?' she had said 'my child' instead of 'the child'. "I-I...The child was young and when I had finally freed her from that trap I found out that the parents that were suppose to be taking care of her, had left her at home to drink in a pub without leaving the child without supervision. " she tried to correct the situation. "At first I would check up with the child making sure she didn't get into anymore trouble, and it became a habit of mine. " she told her sitting back crossing her arms.

"I always bring back sufficient enough of meat back for the Brood, there should be no reason as to why I would have been suspected of anything when I spent my time outside the Brood..." she stared at Trinia. Waiting for her response.​
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What would make you think that I would want a life of abuse and slavery? Aurora had said.

At this, Trinia pushed her chair back and stood up, her pale-skinned hands gripping the edge of the desk.
"What would make you want to have a human child?"

Aurora went on the defensive, trying to explain why the child was of no danger, or why Aurora should be able to 'keep it'. This was wrong. It was wrong on so many different levels, she wasn't entirely sure if Aurora was even thinking clearly at all.

"Aurora, it does not matter if you weren't being suspected of anything before. What matters is that we found out what you were doing. And what you are doing is wrong."

Trinia stood up straight, crossing her arms over her breasts.
"We are lycans. We don't keep pets. That is something humans do. And even if this child is not your pet-- you claim she is your friend, what ever the case may be-- you know as well as I do that humans turn on us. Maybe she is innocent now, but she will not be later.

That child is not growing up in the forest. That child is not homeless now. It is being raised by human parents, and it comes into the woods to see and play with you. Maybe not now, maybe not soon, but one day that child will come with a trap and you will no longer be with the Brood."


Trinia meant that last statement as "you'll be dead or enslaved" rather than "You'll be disowned." The woman tapped her index finger over her arm, and finally said, "If you had defended that child as you so badly wanted, I would have killed you. And I am not sorry for that decision. As I said before, be glad I pitied the human child."

At that, Sorrowful Days and a new lycan came to the door, interrupting their privacy. Trinia considered herself and Aurora done, anyway-- what had been said was what needed to be said.
She turned to Aurora one last time before fixing her attention on the crow and the newcomer-- "You will not see her anymore." That was an order.

Trinia's posture and expression softened as she turned to Sorrowful Days and the new coyote. She appeared small and ill-fed. The Alpha tilted her human head a bit, crouching down to the Coyote's level.
"Can you change, little one? I can't understand you in that form."

She pointed to the wardrobe near the opening to the office. "There are some clothe sin there if you don't like nakedness."
It was clear, though, that Trinia didn't mind, being naked herself.

Freddy-kun wrote: Aria

The girl shifted back to human form and stood stubbornly in front of the Brood leader. "My nakedness was what allowed me to escape my bonds. I am not ashamed of what I am." She looked around as the crow found a place to roost. "You wish to fight the humans? I understand. I eagerly join. I will never be violated at human hands again." Her lip curled up in disgust at a memory, how they had bound her and doused her that irresistable scent before letting that mindless beast of a lycan free. "I do as you ask, only in exchange that I only breed on my terms." The girl was strong, defiant, and she knew her terms. "Coyote blood breeds cunning and agile muscle. But only if I say. I fight for you, I hunt for you, I die for you. You are my people. Now say what you will. I will listen." She bowed her head and waited for the reply. She'd heard the second half of the conversation with "Aurora", and she approved. A child, even if sweet, was still human, and would always grow into a mnster coming with chains to hold you down.



Your Lucky Charm wrote:
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[serif]xxxxx"What would make you want to have a human child?" She heard Trinia question her.

xxxxxAurora defended herself, explaining why she should be able to keep the relationship with the child, yet Trinia would have none of it. Trinia went on to push on Aurora about how the child would grow up and become an enemy. Aurora knew that one day the child was going to grow up. But that didn't stop her from wanting to see the child, a bond had grown and Aurora felt her heart being crushed as the conversation went on. Aurora tried her hardest to keep that emotion tucked away in her heart. but Trinia could always read her inner feelings.

Aurora stood up straight, lifting herself to her feet. "Atleast I would have fought for the child, even if she is human, a child is a child, and you of all people should know that not everyone grows up to hate us Trinia. " Her eyes narrowed and she felt her fangs already starting to grow as well as her claws.

Aurora would have kept transforming if a new lycan hadn't interrupted her. She turned, her eyes flaring with anger as the lycan approached Trinia. Aurora had already begun slipping from garment that she had been wearing. Folding it properly she set it on Trinia's desk, that's when Trinia turned back to her. "You will not see her anymore." Trinia order of her. Narrowing her eyes, Aurora merely bowed her head in respect as she quickly transformed back into the large white tiger, roaring in anger as she patted out of Trinia's quarters.

Aurora ran through the hallways, making sure no one stopped her to chat. She angrily escaped the caves and ran, ran hard, searching and finding what she wanted. Something to kill!​
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Trinia stood when Aria changed form and crossed her arms over her breasts, listening to the other speak. Her head tilted just slightly, at the proud nature of the girl before her.

"My what an attitude you have. We are not all so terrifying here," Trinia replied offhandedly, thinking aloud. It was not a judgment, simply a fact.

"We work off a rank system, here. I am overall overseer however you are free to make your own decisions as you deem fit to fulfill the goal. You do not have to breed if you do not want to. Or, you can choose to do nothing but breed if you wish." Trinia had calmed down significantly after Aurora left, and her voice was calm and collected. The woman turned and lightly dragged her left hand's fingers atop her desk as she walked the long way around it, back to her chair. There, she sat and interlaced her fingers in front of her face, placing her elbows on the desk. Her yellow eyes looked up to Aria, making a silent judgment call, before speaking again.

"Now I believe you would make a fine General," Trinia began, placing her hands back down on the top of the desk. "They are the ones who plan out attacks and missions, leading our warriors. We also have librarians, who track our records, hunters, scouts, and of course breeders. What do you think of this?"

She motioned to a chair opposite her desk should Aria like to sit.

Freddy-kun wrote: Aria smiled. "A position of power? That is something I have never possessed. Let me see what I am capable of before accepting any position." She looked at the woman. "You give choices. That is good in a leader. Many would eagerly follow you." She had not sat down. It seemed she was more comfortable standing, despite her lack of clothes. "I am intrigued, I want to know more. Where do you all stay?"

(Sorry about the short post, I couldn't think of anything else to say!! XD)



Mave wrote:
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Her mind reeling, Maia stared at the man in front of her, unable to produce any sound other than a choking noise. "Well?" the man asked, standing and motioning to two of his own guards. His movement startled Maia and she let out a deep growl, already beginning to shift. 'I won't let them.' she thought in a panic. The fur on her body bristled as her forelegs hit the floor and she flung herself at the man. 'I won't let them!' She caught the man's arm in her jaws and shook wildly. Glaring down into his suddenly white face, Maia released his arm and lunged for his throat, but at that moment the first electrical shock shot through her muscles causing her to spasm and yelp. Trying to shake off the pain, Maia tried for the man's throat again but this time the pain intensified as something slammed into her side, knocking her away from her target. Snarling, Maia looked up into the sorrow filled face of her father.

'Why?' she asked him with a whimper, trying to stand. In response, he grabbed her throat securely in his teeth and bore her back to the ground. 'They'd have take it out on the whole family if I had failed to stop you.' was her answer. The man regained his feet and stared down at Maia, a look of contempt on his disheveled features. "So be it. Obviously she is too violent to be a mother, so send her to the arenas." Under his breath he added, "And find her an opponent she can't beat." Just then Maia felt a small prick and looked down to see a man with a needle at her side.The the world went dark.


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"Many already do," Trinia interjected, at the many following her part. The lycan woman was becoming slightly agitated by this newcomer's cockiness, and was quickly reconsidering the general offer.

"Yes. I suppose a tour is in order, then," the Alpha replied, getting up from her chair and walking toward the wardrobe. She took out a light pink night gown and slipped it over her head, letting it fall lightly along her curves.

"There are extra here, if you'd like. It will be a long walk." Trinia motioned to the wardrobe. She would wait for Aria to change if she wanted, and afterward, would walk out of the chamber and into the expansive length of caverns.

"We all live and work here in these caves. There are many paths and openings. It is like a maze here, but you will get used to it." She walked up a path, toward the sleeping quarters.

Once they got there, she spoke up again, playing tour guide. "This here is the sleeping quarters. Most are open for naps and the like, though a few have been claimed as more permanent, and we respect eachothers private belongings. There is no stealing here." They did all come from the same background, afterall. Nearly everyone here, aside from those bred here, had been a slave at some point.

She walked down the hall, passing all the open pod-like rooms dug into the rock, and toward the much larger opening at the end. "This is the practice arena."

Freddy-kun wrote: Aria smiled stiffly and followed after the lycan leader, slipping some article of clothing over herself, if just to stave off the cold of the cave system. She glanced into the sleeping quarters briefly, then let her eyes flick back to Trinia. "A good policy. What do you do if someone betrays the rules? Like in the case of your human loving friend?" She raised an eyebrow questioningly.


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"It is a case by case basis," Trinia answered, her eyes flicking the ground for a moment. "No one has broken the rules before."

She sighed, and went back to the tour. The practice arenas.
"Anyway, this is what we use to train warriors, or if anyone feels like practicing to hunt or for play."

After a moment, she walked toward another path, heading more uphill. Up next were the breeding caves.
Upon entering them, the lycans were greeted by the smell of new kits of all species and birthing.

"This is the birthing cave. All of our breeders and young ones are here."

Freddy-kun wrote: Aria glanced into the breeding caves, then closed her eyes and turned away. "Ah... yes, that... Do you choose your own mates here?" She looked like she was trying to suppress some unfortunate memories from when she was a slave. She opened her eyes and looked at Trinia, rather nervously it must be said.



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Trinia paused, tight-lipped before answering Aria's question.
"It depends. You will not be forced to mating when you are not ready, if that is what you mean." The woman decided that it would be best to move on, and did so, heading further up the maze of tunnels and caves. In a few minutes, they ended up at the main halls, which were much larger than any of the other caves.

"This is the main hall; we keep all of our supplies here."

This was the only area in the entire expanse that had doors. There were several lockers here, all full of miscellaneous things. Some food lockers, others for beds, wardrobes, clothes, paper and books and pens for librarians. There was also a small kitchen should they want to cook their food. Though the area was clearly barren and unused-- no electricity or suitable steam vents were here.

There were a few tables and chairs, but nothing too large. The place was essentially a very large closet, with many miniature closets inside.

With nothing to great to see, if Aria did not have any questions, Trinia would continue to move on.
"The next area is the library. It functions much like a human library-- quiet at all times. We keep our records there. You may read up on our history or members if you wish. There are a few actual books, but it is mostly business for the librarians. File archival, if you will."

Once they reached the library, Trinia motioned with her right hand into the expanse. Many tables and chairs, all covered with books or loose papers. A few lycans in human form were about, seeming to be writing, reading, and/or working together. There were many shelves, all packed full of the records Trinia had spoken of. Again, should Aria not have any questions, Trinia would continue to move on.

Next were the hunter halls, where all the hunters planned about their missions and taught their young how to hunt without actually going outside. Various fake prey was lying about. Some crows played the victim role for a few of the younger cubs and pups. There was a large table, but no chairs toward the end of the expanse. A large map was laid upon it. This was used to discuss the best hunting grounds.

Up next was the last cavern. "The General and Warrior Halls," Trinia stated.
Here was laid out much like the hunter hall, however toward one end was an extremely long table with many chairs. This was where the big things were discussed. Any time they freed a lycan or discussed any missions on a grand scale, it would take place here.

Meekz wrote:
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Ilvania turned as Trinia walked into the Warrior Halls with a young woman following her closely behind. Rising from where she had been discussing battle with a handful of warriors, she strode briskly over to her leader. As she came closer she bowed her head slightly to the older Lycan , and arced it to one side, exposing her neck in a show of deference. Lifting her head again she arched an eyebrow and swept her eyes back and forth between her leader and what she assumed to be a rather fresh recruit.

"So. We have a new one do we? And what-" she paused and with a calculating look, perused the young woman. Or was it a girl? She couldn't be sure "-is to be her position here? Exactly?" The girl lacked the highly sculpted muscles of an arena veteran, but she wouldn't blow over in a strong Russian gale either. So many of the waifs that entered these halls were half-way starved and seemed breakable. Arena Fodder. Her placid gray eyes, which had regarded the girl with only slight interest, swept back to her commander. "I will make sure someone lets one of the library staff know. Once she is..." Ilvania looked to the side, searching for the best word. "- settled," she nodded at the girl, "let me know. I will arrange-" She waved her hand about in the air to illustrate, "-the things. For her."

With another semi-interested gaze she finally addressed the girl directly. " I do not know of the life that you have lived beyond these walls. I do not wish to know. Know you are safe here. I am sure Trinia can provide more ... details. Or has, already. But it was.. nice" she gritted her teeth in semblance of smile, " to meet you. Of course." Sweeping her eyes back to Trinia, she waited for further orders or to be dismissed. The conversation on tactics she had torn herself away from had actually had some merit. They needed more sharp minds to help plan missions- so many of the younger wolves were too bold - wanting to take the humans head on, with no thought to their safety, their importance to the group.



Freddy-kun wrote: Aria's eyes narrowed. She assumed that the dodge to her question meant no. She would not choose her own mate if she bred. Frustrating, but if not forced she would not complain. She followed the lycan leader through the cave system, then noticed the older woman. SHe nodded politely, still fierce with caged nervousness though. "I am not ashamed for people to know my past. I do not know my position yet. I have not decided where is the best fit for me." A lock of hair flopped loose from behind her ear, and she irritatedly brushed it aside. Her hair was becoming too long. Usually she kept it short to keep others from catching hold of it, but it was growing out quickly again. "I am young, but I was never subjected to the Arena. I was set aside as breeding stock due to my coyote blood. I have already explained this to the leader. While not satisfied with the breeding policy, I will not complain." She frowned slightly, looking at Trinia, then back down.



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Trinia bowed her head slightly in recognition of Ilvania, then leaned her weight on he right leg, placing her hand on her hip as she witnessed the exchange between the two lycans.

Once they were done, Trinia, lifted a hand as she addressed her second in command. "Aria has not been interrogated yet."
That was more or less a queue in hopes Ilvania would do it. Nevertheless, Trinia folded her arms over her chest as she continued her dialogue. "She is very headstrong. I thought she may make a good General or Warrior. But I will leave the ultimate decision in your hands."

Her yellow eyes turned to Aria, and she gave a half-wave.
"This is where the tour ends. I am sure my second in command will take care of you well."
The woman smirked inwardly, knowing full well that Ilvania could be very crude. But she had assumed Aria and Ilvania's personalities would mesh together interestingly. It seemed the only difference between the two of them was experience.

The alpha turned to leave, and on her way out, she said, "I will find Zahir and let him take care of it."
She had been meaning to talk to him about his own mysterious disappearances. It was not right to punish one lycan and not another.
Meekz wrote:
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Ilvania restrained herself from rolling her eyes. Another soft one to process. You'd be surprised, given the cruelty of the humans, how many of the new recruits complained constantly about living conditions, used to rich households and pampering. The arena veterans were better, used to hard lives and working for a living. They knew that the only way food appeared was if someone went and killed it. They knew how hard life was for the outsiders. Hopefully this one would be different from other "housepets". Ilvania always felt some of those mewling pups were better suited as food than residents. They finally were freed from their bonds and immediately thought the world suddenly revolved around them and their petty problems. Curling her lip in distaste, she muttered a short russian oath and hoped fiercely this one didn't whine.

Ilvania nodded to both females and then turned back to the younger. "Walk with me. I'll interrogate you as we go." As her idol turned to leave she bowed her head once more. " Please send him or one of his helpers to my room in the Generals' den. I'll be going over this one's information, and I have no patience for docu-..ducumen... writing the things." Snapping around on her heel she began pacing swiftly towards her quarters.

She remembered the first few recruits Trinia and she had helped. They had been so afraid, so sure their human masters would find them and kill them- or throw them into the arena. It had been so hard- trying to hunt and keep everyone together. Each time they rescued Lycans they found small miracles. It was the only real reason she stayed with so many people. They were her revenge. Each healthy individual here was her revenge on the human race. A lash against their backs. A knife in their side. They were eating away at the empire. And one day she would finally bite down on the neck and kill it.

Turning to her new charge she raised an eyebrow. " So. Youngling. What name are you given?" Reaching the door to her chambers she opened it- and gestured to a chair and small table. " Sit. Tell. If you are useful, you will be used. If not, we will make you useful. You are here to work, to fight or to kill or to make life." Sitting in another chair she gestured again that the girl should sit. " I will help decide which."



Freddy-kun wrote: Aria looked from the leader to the second in command, taking in information. The latter looked like the ruel unforgiving type, but she admired that. She'd seen too many broken before. It was a nice change. She followed the woman in silence, observing her. Then she flicked her eyes around and frowned.
"My owner called me Bunny, but that was an absurd name, so I called myself Aria. I was bought as a pup to be the companion pet to the daughter of a rich man. We "grew up together", you might say, though she never saw me as more than a pet. When the daughter left home last year, the father began to see me as a breeding opportunity. I knew I'd be going into heat soon, so I had to leave. I escaped. I'm not sure if my owners are still looking for me, but I've been on the run for a month. I'd heard rumors among the enslaved of the existance of the Brood, but they were all too broken to join me to find the Brood. I would rather give my body to life in the Brood than death in enslavement. Do with me as you will, but my body is my own. My only condition is that you do not force a male on me. Let me choose that." She grew quiet, waiting for the other woman's answer. What would she say?



Tom_Suke wrote:
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"You did well today, my pet."
Amber eyes narrowed at this term, and a soft growl escaped him. The man seemed unphased, merely writing in his stupid little book-a planner, to schedule fights. "You don't seem too badly roughed up, at least just mild scarring from this-you'll be fighting a hyena in a few days soon as you stop bleeding all over my marble floors."

At this, the panther within the cage snorted, flicking it's gaze to the collective pool ranging from the metal cage bottom, to dripping down the side and onto the floor. With his tail, he simply stroked the blood more to the side, spilling it on the floor, and growling. The man's face twitched, just barely under the eye, and already, the panther tensed.
ZZAP.

He fought back a mewl of pain, and succeeded, simply growling as the aftershocks of the collar coursed through him, his forepaws quivering lightly to keep him upright in his seated position.
"One day, I'll break you, Anik. And when I do, you'll fuckin' love it. I don't understand why you're like this, you've been my little pet for...three years? Such a bad little cub."

At the word cub, he growled moreso, his body shifting-he didn't care that he was nude in the cage, one arm clutching his shoulder, and he only spat out blood, hissing.

"Fuck you! I swear to God if I wasn't in a cage-"


"Temper temper, my little pet....Mnn....once I tame you, perhaps you can take over Naomi's spot as my bedwarmer-He's starting to become a bit too dull, don't you think?"

Both gazes flickered to another cage, golden, and more.....pampered in appearance. Inside was another feline, a snow leopard-Naomi. His body was more...effeminate than Anik's in humanoid form, and though they rarely talked to one other-they had their distastes. Naomi was captive bred, and definitely one to please a master,damn suck up.
And their sick fuck of a master banged him almost every night.

"I'd rather DIE than to be like that waste of fur."


It wasn't even rape, that damn kitten actually wanted it! It sickened Anik, and to hear the sack of flesh before him actually think Anik would EVER be apart of that-why, he almost started to retch had he not been growling so hard. The man only smirked at him, and gave him another shock before he tucked away his little remote, clicking his tongue.

"Perhaps you have enough fight in you to face a jackal tomorrow. Hmnph, goodnight, my sweet Anik. Naomi, come." As he spoke he had walked by Naomi's cage, and the boy himself unlatched it, crawling out and following with a gentle purr, giving a small smirk to Anik before following his master almost too eagerly.

That was another thing that pissed Anik off-Naomi could open his own cage-it was a latch. Reason why? That little bitch liked being a slave and getting banged, and was trusted, whereas Anik's cage had several loops of chain, steel indents, and like, four locks.

"Disgusting little shit...As I'd ever be like that.
" Anik growled to himself, turning his attention to his upper arm now that he was alone. He sniffed at the wound before licking it several times, and finally, he shifted back into his sleek, 'true' form. He only ever changed into a human to curse and throw insults at his 'master', and now, he could properly lick his wounds. A wolf had done this to him, but well-that wolf was no more. Not that Anik cared-he learned to not care about every death he committed to his own kind. Then again, any that submitted to humans, WEREN'T his kind. Naomi? He could go fuck himself-in Anik's eyes, that little shit was not a Lycan.

Now he was ruthless in the arena, yes, but he had his own rules. Such as those that fled. Whenever he was pushed into the battlefield, and there was some whimpering pup-someone new, and they obviously didn't want to fight? He wouldn't, he'd promptly sit his furry ass down and just stare at the cub, ignoring most that would yell, swear, or even the shocks delivered to both. It was only when they'd try to fight him would he smack them down with a thick paw, and depending on his mood, he'd either let them live, or snap their neck and end their misery.

And so, he licked his wounds till the blood lessened-he'd groom it all out in the morning, and for now he rested his head on his good paw, stretching out a bit against the cold, metal base of his cage. The bars on several sides had been chewed, but he knew now it was near impossible, after a series of bleeding gums, broken teeth-they were simply too thick, and the cage was too small to run and use body weight. He'd escape some now, for now, he needed to rest-that wolf had been cunning, but he had been stronger, clawing up his stomach with his hind legs, tearing into him... But a jackal? That would be hard, they had such strong jaws, one bite could break bone-he'd have to be careful......

Like every night, he slept fretfully, tossing, turning, growling in his sleep-a past he barely remembered, and yet yearned so much, the scent of his family's blood, staining cold....cold stone... The laughter of humans-it was always the laughter that would wake him with a start, and he couldn't tell the time, but Naomi was back in his primped cage, resting against silken pillows, sleeping soundly. Asshole.

Grumbling to himself, he checked his fur and found dried blood matting it, and spent the next few hours running his tongue over every inch of fur, grooming quietly until he heard a voice,
"Mnn, I can't wait for you to groom me like that one day."

Ugh, he almost hacked up a fur ball.

He glowered at the human, who had his keepers with him-they always carted his wheeled cage to the arena, making sure he was a spectacle in the streets. He hated it, having so many laugh, and jeer at him, having some even dare to ask to buy him, as if he was some sort of commodity for trade...

"I decided you'll be fighting the Jackal today, little cub. That'll teach you, now won't it?"



....Fuck.


And so, there he was, in his cage, growling at humans that stared or walked alongside to snicker or insult him, and he was being carted to the arenas, to be prepped for battle.


Moto wrote:
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[padding-right=10][padding-left=10][align=center][serif]Thios sat perched in a tree, in his human form, for once. He was munching on a fruit, he didn't know the name of the fruit or the tree it came from, but it was juicy and wonderfully sweet and had become his favorite fruit the moment his tongue tasted it. The lycan really only took human form when picking fruits from trees (thumbs and larger hands in general make it so much easier, after all), out of fear of being caught and enslaved himself. He enjoyed being free, though other lycans apparently failed to agree with his life. As if he cared. They can have all the opinions they wanted, as long as they did not get in his way or attempt to force their opinions onto him. He wouldn't tolerate such actions. Sure, he was just a sugar glider, but just a smidgen of information could be life or death in the arena, and Thios specialized in gathering those tiny bits of information.

Is that Anik? He perked up, watching as he carted to the arena, I thought his next fight was for another few days. A frown spread across his face. Something clearly was not right. Quickly, he dropped from the tree, his body taking on a new shape as he did so. The large flaps of skin between his arms and legs quickly caught the air, his small frame gliding effortlessly through the air. He landed briefly on top of the panther's cage, skidding somewhat across the metal surface before coming to an actual stop. He peeked his head down, just to see how Anik was doing. He clearly was not pleased. Well, Anik was never pleased during times like these. Today, though, his mood seemed much fouler. Do to this, the sugar glider made no attempt to communicate with him and quickly jumped off the edge of the cage, gliding farther ahead. He would have liked to simply jump from one human head to another, but if he did that on a regular basis, suspicions would arise, so he took to the trees, quickly scrabbling up the bark before jumping from one branch to another. Eventually, though, the trees came to an end and he was forced to run the rest of the way to the area. There was quite a large open area around the arena, probably so they could more easily spot lycans attempting to escape. Thios hated running across such a wide open area. It made him feel vulnerable, as though someone would come and scoop him up and claim him as their pet at any second. Anxiety would quickly boil to life within him and he would unconsciously hold his breath, releasing the air only when he scrambled into the building. Of course, his anxiety would not disappear. He had never been able to relax here and he doubted he ever would. He was small and therefore not suitable for fighting, but one of his "brothers" could easily make a snack of him.

Anik... He thought as he exhaled a shaky sigh, taking in his surroundings. He didn't have much time. If he was fighting today then he must've pissed someone — probably his master — off again and he wasn't going to be given some easy opponent. Now, just who was he fighting? "Hey, sugar." Someone cooed, quickly catching his attention. He turned to face the source of the voice; a jackal a few cages over. Actually, it was a she and she was a human, for the moment, but he recognized as the jackal who was also on his list of favorite lycans. "What can you tell me about the panther I'm fighting today?" She asked in a voice that dripped with thick sweetness, gesturing for him to come closer. Cautiously he did, but he remained a ways a way, well out of her reach. Jackals ate small mammals and he currently was a small mammal. He had no interest in becoming dinner. Anik was the only panther in the arena, so she must be talking about him. When Thios gave her no response and instead sat there, scanning her over and over with his large round eyes, she repeated her question, her anger and irritation flaring. He extended a claw, writing "I like Anik more than I like you" in the dirt. Clearly, this did not please her, as she quickly lunged at him, but the bars prevented her from reaching just the few inches further, much to Thios' pleasure. She was about to try again, shouting "You fucker!" and other profanities, but he had caught a glimpse of someone coming and quickly hid.

My, she was pissy today. Was she in heat, maybe?

"The fuck you screaming about?" A man who Thios recognized as her master bitterly asked her. She smiled innocently and suggestively at him. "Nothing. A little suga—" She started, but she was cut off by the man. "Shut up!" He had snapped. The man took a deep breath, though, and seemed to calm down a bit. "How're your ribs?" He asked tenderly, reaching forward to touch her, but she swatted his hand away and gave no answer. He smacked her, then, obviously not appreciating her silence or the fact that she had smacked his hand away. Thios would have smiled if his current form permitted it at this new bit of information. If her ribs were just bruised or were in the latter stages of healing, she would've told him. Her silence proved to him that there was a recent injury, one that she didn't want him to know of, one that was a weakness. That must also have been why she had her knees pulled to her chest. She was trying to hide the bruising and swelling. Quickly, he left the wall for the joists and began running along them, searching for Anik. Where had they put him this time?

He jumped from the joists and glided to the floor the moment he spotted Anik's familiar form. Thios wasn't nearly as intimidated by him as he was by the jackal since the jackal was much more sadistic and interested in eating him, but he still was cautious. He sat closer to his cage, barking until his attention was caught, at which point he scribbled the word "ribs" into the dirt.[/serif]
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Tom_Suke wrote:
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He barely had time to pace, but he was snarling, jittery in his cage, ears flattened, pupils dilated-he heard something atop of his cage, but nearing the arena, there were so many smells, he didn't think it was his little rat-metaphorically sleeping.

As his cage was set down at the front base, he sat back, snorting-he was still in panther form-very rarely he'd go human, and even then, he'd force himself to have fur or ears-he never, ever liked being fully human form, as if it was a horrible disease-and the pain made up for it, made him feel good, as if he went fully human, then he'd lose every sense he had.

Finally, as they locked his cage in at hte front of the arena's gates, he sat back, huffing-his shoulder still sting horribly, and he gave it a few good licks,eying around quietly before he laid down, head on his paws. He sighed gently, licking his chops and closing his eyes. His ears twitched as he heard a slight ruffle, only to snort when a familiar scent came about. Unlike the others-Anik had no interest in eating the little glider, not when the little guy helped him out sometimes. So he crooned in greeting, knowing the little one couldn't hear him, and he opened his eyes, watching his little paw skritch the ground.... He squinted-ah, ribs?

So the jackal had a weakness. He flicked his ears and nodded towards him gently, his crooning dying off to silence-he never outright spoke to the glider, never turned human to speak, nor did the other turn human to speak. Why the glider always helped him was a mystery-but it was never one he questioned. It was perhaps a mild form of trust-one time the little glider had misjudged the wind or something, and when he had jumped it picked him up and he actually tumbled into Anik's cage, though the panther only covered him with a paw rather gently when his 'master' had been nearby, but soon as he was gone he had lifted his paw-the poor thing had been frightened and he had to nudge him a few times before the creature had the sense to crawl out of his cage. Possibly from then the glider realized the panther had no intentions of eating him-despite being a pain in the ass for his master, he was properly well fed-and besides, why kill a lycan that was helping him rid ones that fought for their masters?

The glider also understood the quiet consent of the panther's judgement of cubs or those that refused to fight-the skritch of an 'N' in the dirt meant that it was a newbie, fresh meat-and he never killed those unless they wanted to be a hero after they realized he would calmly sit back and ignore them-not to mock them, but he would aide in a quick, painless death if they tried. Silly pups.

Anarion grunted as he sat up, lifting his paw for a moment-shit, his shoulder still stung like fuck-it was hard to see the wound in black fur, and since he had time to groom it, it had stopped bleeding-but it didn't mean it was painless.

Well...he wouldn't let the jackal know-he knew they always looked for weaknesses on bigger foe-and their teeth were pretty sharp.



Meekz wrote:
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Ilvania pulled out a piece of paper and pen and started jotting down notes. "So no experience fighting. Alright. We can always train you, if you'd pref-..prefo-... like that better." Ilvania scowled down at her notes at her stumbling tongue. "Der´mo" she swore in Russian. Shit. Glancing up again she scanned the new recruit once more with her cold gaze. " We do encourage everyone going through a little basic training. Just enhancing your instincts really, basic protective stances, bites, attacks in human and beast form. Ones slighter, softer, like you, do not normally make good soldiers. If you want to fight, you will find it very hard. This I know. Now, breeding."

Ilvania leaned over behind herself and opened a drawer on a nearby desk, and pulled out a piece of paper. She slid it across the table. " This is a form we like all breeders to fill. It helps with the sorting and things. Is simple. Name, Age, previous experience or litters- in your case I'd leave it blank. Do you know your pedag- ... history? It helps. Put that down too, there is box- later in the form. Species, subspecies or mix if you are that. Any disease, condition, write down also. " Ilvania paused, and took a deep breathe. She was forgetting her plurals. Again. Stupid Anglijskij. Stupid English. "We will introduce you to the males who have agreed to breed, and you may choose to your liking. If you are not in heat, better. You have more time to choose. We will not force a mate on you if you do not like him. But if you do not fight, you must be bred, or other work. If we think you are avoiding work... there will be ...." Posledstviâ "consequences."

Rising she handed Aria another form. " If you prefer fighting, this is the form. Very similar to the breeding one. Think about both. Fill out the one you choose. Hand it to me by the end of the week. Questions?" She asked as she rose. She really wanted to get back to work doing something other than talking to a pampered pet who could amount to nothing but a headache for herself and the others. Hopefully this one would be different... but then Ilvania had learned not to depend on wishful thinking. More often then not, it bit you when you weren't looking. So Ilvania was always looking.



Freddy-kun wrote: Aria nodded stiffly and took the forms, skimming over them quickly. She would read them both thoroughly later. "I will look through them both. Shall I find the dens on my own? Or is there something specific I must do to get my own?" She stood, files in hand.



Meekz wrote:
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Ilvania stuck her head out the door and shouted at a library clerk that was nearby. " You! Lead this one to her proper rooms. Go over the paperwork with her," Ilvania turned the recruit and raised a questioning eyebrow," If you want some help." She turned back to the clerk as she continued. " If she needs to fill out extra forms give them to her. She's reading both forms. The fighting one, and the breeding one. Yeah? You got it? Good. Go now. " Turning back to the recruit she waved an arm at the clerk.

" Go with him. Do not break him. Library clerks very fragile." She turned her head to the clerk. " Same to you. We don't want to scare off all the new ones we get." Quickly disrobing she stretched her arms over her head and pushed past them. " I have a hunting patrol to organize. I go now. Don't bully each other."

Smiling sadistically she shifted into her polar bear form, whuffed at the pair and ambled down the hallway quite happily. She had people to lead and things to hunt and kill. Now she was comfortable.



Azireal wrote: Steel awoke lightly, not moving a muscle in his corpse-like sleep, not moving even slightly. Rising slowly from his bedding. He in statuesque form, dressed himself lightly and stepped from his room into the main hall of the warriors.

Walking silently and stoically through the halls, he approaches the tables, gathering his orders and all the materials he would need for the day. He was a new General, and had yet to receive a mission or even choose his team. He turned away from the table and gently nodded to Ilvania and her Protegee. He left them be for now however, lingering only for a moment if she perhaps wanted to speak with him on a matter.

If he understood emotions as well as he would like, he would consider her a kindred soul. She too was very stoic and a warrior. He could understand that, not like the newer pups and cubs, always hasty and irrational. Fighting with feeling and not understanding the calculation of the battle.

Strolling through the halls, he made his way to the practice area. He was one of the greatest fighters in the resistance, and had been personally picked by Trina to become a General, and as such had many hopeful prospective pack-mates.

He sat, completely unmoving as he watched them fight. Seamlessly meditating while he watched them vie for his attention.
 
The Ramifactions of Love (Solia)
Q keeps coming back to visit a particular callgirl.

The Lazy Marionette wrote:
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In college doing a double major in art and English seemed like such a good idea. Amanda was doing things she loved and learning about so many interesting things, but then college ended. Loans had piled up against her and the novel she’d promised herself she’d write wasn’t even in the conceptual stage. She had nothing to show for her efforts and even getting a teaching job was impossible without an education degree or a masters in either subject. Amanda had screeched to a halt, stuck in a mile deep rut. When working two jobs, she had no time whatsoever to write or paint or make anything of the years and money she’d spent at college. Life seemed to be a downward spiral.

Not to mention the fact that in the terrible economy with jobs excruciatingly hard to come by, she’d resorted to selling her body. As if being a bartender wasn’t hard enough with her curvaceous figure. By now, Amanda had lost all self-respect and hope for her life. Eventually, she told herself, when she paid off the loans she’d quit her street job and focus on her art. Well, that didn’t look like it was going to happen any time soon.

Amanda left her dingy one room apartment and pulled her coat around her ears. Just to top everything off, winter was coming which made standing on a corner in virtually nothing very difficult. It was only a couple blocks to the bar, where she started the night. Thankfully, with a few unmentionable favors to the owner, she was then able to work the corner out front. Unfortunately, this also made it difficult to separate the two jobs as her clientele often overlapped.

With what seemed like a permanent frown etched into her lips, Amanda entered the bar and quickly headed to the back to hang up her coat. Her “uniform” set by the owner was a low cut black shirt with the name of the bar, Barley’s Pub, written across her chest in white, a tiny black skirt which hardly covered her bum, and of course the ears and tail. She stooped to see her face in the mirror as she applied whiskers and a black nose with make up. The waves of her blonde hair fell over her shoulders and she grimaced at the mirror.

“You’re late, Mandy. It seems you’re making it a habit,” the owner said sticking his pudgy face around the corner, looking her up and down.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said grinding her teeth.

“I’ll be expecting you to make it up later,” the man said, disappearing around the corner.

Amanda punched her coat, knowing exactly what that comment meant. With a sigh, she went through the door into the main bar room and stood behind the counter. Immediately, the men turned their attention and started ordering all kinds of liquor. The only good thing about a sleazy manager dressing her up in skimpy costumes (this quarter it was cat) was the tips.​

[title][/title]

Caresses, expressions of one sort or another,
are necessary to the life of the affections,
as leaves are to the life of trees.
If they are wholly restrained,
love will die at the roots.

-Nathaniel Hawthorne

[imgleft]Photo by S Q [align=right]"Is it me?
Is it true?
Every word,
I utter a
lie.
Just like this conversation-
It dies.
The hope that's in your eyes?
It is
worthless.
Yeah.
And so are

You."[/align]





He had only been in this city for two days, and already he hated it. It must've been coincidence. Every city he hated was a city that would make him lots of money. But it wasn't really money he wanted. It was a challenge. And challenges he would get, here. Not the ones he wanted, however.

The connections, the people he met, the hits he had to take? All of them would be related to drugs. And all of them were generally very easy to kill, aside from the bullshit involving payment. The challenge he wanted was a shot that was hard to make. The challenge he didn't want, that he constantly got, especially in cities like this? Trying to stay away from the police.

Last night, he'd scoped out the area around his extended stay hotel. He always chose the most rundown, shitty places and he'd always pay in cash. All of his stuff was hidden away in the room, behind many closed doors and combination locks on bags. What he had on him now, were two shoulder holsters. Under his right arm, a glock pistol. Under his left arm, a knife. Over his maroon collared shirt and the holsters, he wore an open black leather jacket. He also had black slacks and old, worn boots to match. Down his legs was a long, feathered tail of the same color. It seldom moved, and seldom drew attention to itself. But if it had, it would be passed off as a simple fashion accessory. A sort of mix between a horse and a dog tail. Though those keen on dog breeds would know it probably had come from a Saluki.

The man possessing all this was a six foot tall, 25 year old, tanned-skin foreigner. His left hand pushed dark sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. Even though the sun had set already, he still wore them. They and the long silver bangs of his hair tried to cover a diagonal scar over his nose. Going from just near his left eye toward his right upper lip, it was not a pretty sight to look at, and hard to cover. Yet he tried, all the same.

To make his features even more intimidating, there were four "whisker-like" tattooes upon his face, as well. Tribal-like gill marks, almost. Black triangular features, two on each side of his chin. They were mistakes from when this man was younger. Mistakes he regretted, but not enough to bother attempting to remove them.

Everything about this man was all sorts of wrong and off-putting. Often people left him alone, at that was the way he liked it. He didn't really like talking to too many people. His name was Quatre Bornes, but often he just went by Q. Q was a gun for hire, and a good one at that. He specialized in long-distance kills. He was a sniper at heart. But increasingly, those sorts of jobs were far and between. Unfortunately, his love of his job was waning.

But enough about his job and his past and his walk from the extended stay hotel on the street. Before he was going to bother make connection, he thought it best to partake in a vice of his.
He loved girls.
Moreso, he loved odd girls.

In most bigger cities, there were fetishist clubs to be had. In this city, he had found none. However, he had caught wind of a costumed/themed pub, and that was better than nothing. So he thought to give it a shot.
Barley's Pub, was it called?

Regardless if he had the name right or not, he walked in and sat down at the bar, his tail hanging down lifelessly out the end of the stool. Before he ordered anything, he took out a pack of Benson & Hedges and lit up, taking a few drags, before motioning to the girl behind the bar.

The girl was dressed up as a cat, and had this look on her face like she hated it. Q thought it a bit ironic, but thought nothing of it, as he had a plan for tonight, and any girl who freely dressed up like some glamorized fetished pussy girl would probably be okay with that plan.

"Hey," he rasped, his voice tainted by smoking far too many cigarettes far too young, "Scotch, please."

Quatre Bornes took in his surroundings one last time, looking around at all the men there, before deciding to simply leave his sunglasses on.
Clearly, he obviously didn't care about what he looked like or who he came off as.


The Lazy Marionette wrote: [imgleft]Untitled
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The obvious exhaustion evaporated from Amanda the minute the customers started ordering drinks and more importantly, tipping her. Sometimes they stuffed it in her skirt or the straps of her shirt, but she didn’t mind. With her combination of jobs, an occupation as a stripper would almost be welcome. Yet, she wouldn’t be surprised if Jack did turn her into a stripper. With the effortless smile glued to her lips she handed out drinks and flirted with the regulars. Some of them weren’t even that bad.

As per usual, there were quite a number of new faces including one that intrigued her. The man was tall and although he seemed young, his hair was silver. Even more interesting, he was wearing sunglasses not only in the middle of the bar, but at night. There was just something extraordinarily strange about him, but when he ordered a scotch, she brightly smiled, “Coming right up!”

When she handed over the drink, her aquamarine eyes tried to find his beneath the sunglasses. Unable to even locate if there were eyes, she smiled, “Is the lighting in her really that bright?” she pathetically joked. All her jokes were pathetic. It didn’t matter to drunken men who were staring at her tits. The joke being that since the place was a rather risqué bar, the lighting was incredibly dim. In fact, she wished it were slightly brighter, enough for her to see the labels on the bottles. Of course it didn’t matter if she messed up a drink here and there, most people weren’t here for the drinks.

“Sexy kitty! I need a refill!” a pudgy forty something man called from across the bar while make a rawr noise and scratching the air.

Amanda rolled her eyes, “I’ll be back for that answer,” she said with a wink at the stranger and went to see Ralph, the man at the edge of the bar. “What are you drinking tonight, Ralph?” she asked leaning over the bar to show enough boob to keep his eyes off of hers. Something about eye contact made the job seem dirtier to her. She was probably the only waitress that endorsed men looking at her breast.

“Wouldn’t you know by now, doll?” he asked a drunken smirk revealing blackened teeth.

“I’m required to ask,” she said with a wink and grabbed a gin and tonic.

Swiftly, Amanda made her way back to the curious stranger, “So, what’s the deal with the sunglasses?” she asked obviously more bluntly than the time before.​
[/padding-left]

[title][/title]

Caresses, expressions of one sort or another,
are necessary to the life of the affections,
as leaves are to the life of trees.
If they are wholly restrained,
love will die at the roots.

-Nathaniel Hawthorne

[imgright]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/post/qwall.png[/imgright][align=left]Oh, you know I have seen?
A sky with no sun.
A man with no nation...
...Came from Bahrain,
Got to Beruit--
Looking for someone comparing to you.
... And I could not find eyes like yours.
[/align]


Once the lady came to him, he returned the smile haphazardly, as if it were a bit of a chore.
When she spoke to him, her eyes searching for his own, the smile turned into a smirk while he let out a simple "heh".
The room may not be very bright, but her eyes were. Not the type of eyes one normally saw of people who worked in places like this.
Well, maybe she was new.

His right hand immediately went to grasp the drink, his fingers touching her's briefly before her attention was diverted to the drunken man named Raph. As she dealt with the fool, Quatre Bornes brought the glass to his lips and took a few swallows. He wasn't downing it, though. Q was going to be somewhat of a slow drinker, tonight. Once the right hand put the drink back down to the bar, the left hand brought the still burning cigarette to his lips and he took a long drag. Leaving the cig in his mouth, he reached forward and pulled an ash tray with him with his now free hand. His right hand still clung to his drink, keeping positive control at all times.

Q was not ambidextrous, but it was a shame most people didn't seem to take full advantage of both their hands. But the thought that Q's strong hand was actually his left slipped away as the girl came back to ask him about his sunglasses.

He briefly wondered if she was doing this because she actually liked him, or because he wasn't a regular and she wanted more money. Thinking of money, he hadn't paid her yet. He didn't know how much it cost. Eh, he'd keep quiet about it until she mentioned it. In the meantime, no cash left his pocket.

He leaned forward, his face seeming to look at her's, rather than her breasts-- though, truth be told, he did take in all of her before looking at her eyes, the second time around. His left hand took the cig from his mouth and placed it in the ashtray before him. He made sure to exhale away from her face before looking to her again while a very faint smile pulled at his lips.

His left hand went to behind his left ear, his forefingers pushing down on the end of the earpiece of his sunglasses, resulting in pushing the lenses themselves up his forehead.
"My eyes are very sensitive," he said, his forest-green irises looking directly into the woman's aquamarine ones.
Even though it was dark in the room, his pupils still contracted a bit, forming the faintest crescent shape, closer to a cat's eyes than a human's. Any stray light that hit his eyes in the right angle would reflect due to bio-luminescence.

In addition to the eyes, as his glasses were up, the large scar that swept across his face was quite visible without all the accessories and hair attempting to shield it from view.

His glasses were only up and showing his eyes and scar for perhaps a mere five seconds however, before he removed his hand, dropped the lenses back onto the bridge of his nose, and re-parted his hair with his hand quickly afterward.

"Though your eyes are just as interesting, I'm sure." He quickly followed, bringing his glass up in his right hand toward his face, but not drinking it quite yet. "I'd actually like to get a better look at them, myself-- If I am able. When is your shift over?"

It was after this, that he finished the last of his drink.
"We should go someplace else," he urged, his head motioning toward the front door.


The Lazy Marionette wrote: [imgleft]http://i973.photobucket.com/albums/ae211/QuestionableElipsis/Untitled-9.jpg?t=1342110033[/imgleft]
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Something about the stranger was entirely unnerving to Amanda. Most of all it was the way his gazed seemed to be steady on hers rather than her breasts. Sometimes those could be the most dangerous customers. Part of her was slightly shocked when he lifted the sunglasses to reveal a pair of the most intricate, fascinating eyes she’d ever seen. “I can see that,” she said softly, feeling an unwelcome blush fill her otherwise porcelain features. The lighting on his eyes must have been a trick, for she couldn’t explain what she saw them do. With a few blinks, her own bright eyes adjusted to the stranger and next focused on his rather impressive scar. Before she could inquire about what she was sure would be an interesting story, the man was lowering his sunglasses and asking her a question.

It took a few awkward moments for Amanda register what this strange man had said. “My eyes aren’t nearly that great,” she said with a wink, her flirtatious nature shakily returning. Something about the man was alluring and it bothered Amanda that she couldn’t figure out what it was. “Unfortunately, I just got to work. My shift will end in a few hours, near closing time,” she said. Was this man interested in her other career? How’d he’d known? With a calming breath her confident smile returned, “If you’re willing to wait. I’d love to take you up on your offer,” she replied.

Part of her was screaming that seeing this man outside of the bar would be an extremely bad idea; however, it looked like her curiosity would get the best of her. Maybe it was the cat costume. The young woman found herself wanting to know everything there was to know. She wanted to ask him about the scar, his eyes, what brought him to the bar. Yet, she knew he wouldn’t disclose the information in the bar; there was something intimate about her questions that would rather be asked during her other line of work.

However, right now she was a bartender and her clouded mind quickly returned to the task at hand, “Would you like to pay for that drink now or open a tab?” she asked, her eyes glittering and her smile growing. Yes, she wanted to learn more about this man; she hoped he waited around until her shift was over.

“Mandy, darling. There are other customers!” her boss cooed from the back.

Amanda had hardly noticed she’d spent so much time focused on only the stranger. Usually, she could effortlessly switch between customers, focusing most of her time on the generous regulars. If there was anything to be said about her life, she was good at her job. “Sorry sir,” she said a hint of irritation entering her normally bubbly voice. “I suppose I should get going, but I’d love to continue our conversation,” she said lightly, brushing his hand with hers. With another flirty wink, she turned to help a couple other customers that were starting to become frustrated with her new favorite at the bar. Until now, she’d never played favorites and it seemed it would be detrimental to her tips for the night.​
[/padding-left]

[title][/title]

Caresses, expressions of one sort or another,
are necessary to the life of the affections,
as leaves are to the life of trees.
If they are wholly restrained,
love will die at the roots.

-Nathaniel Hawthorne


[imgright]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/post/qwall.png[/imgright]

Quatre Bornes couldn't help but quirk a silver brow ever so slightly at the girl's blush. Maybe she wasn't playing. Perhaps she really was interested in the man. He did have to admit to himself that he had a certain "pull". Something about silver hair being sexy. Or so the other girls as fancier establishments had said. Perhaps it was that whole "rebel" look that really did get girls hot. Facial tatts (despite how stupid he regretted them), scar, silver hair, interesting eyes, and his... Tail-- which came in handy especially in those fetishist clubs he often went to-- girls generally became fixated.

But this place wasn't a fetishist club. It was just a bar. With a bunch of drunkards and a new girl in a dumb cat outfit. Maybe she did have her own secret fetish and that's why she was here. Bornes secretly hoped that was the case, because it would make things a lot easier for him if it were.

Soon enough, she agreed to his offer and Q breathed another "heh" of approval. He didn't know of her other occupation, but it wasn't as if many bartenders didn't take people outside of the bar.

"A few hours? That's too bad," he mentioned. The girl quickly came in about the money issue, and it made him make a snap decision.

"Tab's fine," he responded. "But I'll pay in cash," he hurriedly added, in case they had a policy of taking credit cards for tabs.

Then someone else called her. Mandy was her name, apparently. Not much of a name. He almost preferred "Sexy kitty" to "Mandy". But it wasn't like his opinion mattered.

Luckily for him, she still seemed interested and offered to continue the conversation. He nodded and asked for another scotch.

[[Hope you don't mind me timeskipping a bit]]

In the end, Bornes had three glasses of scotch, paid his tab in cash as mentioned, and made up some excuse about needed to go somewhere, but said he would return in a few hours. At this, he got up from his chair and left, making sure his black feathery tail stayed near to his slacks of the same color. While the 25 year old was not drunk, he was beginning to feel pretty decent about himself, so the tail swayed now and again of its own accord. Still, if asked about it he would say it was fake, though it was not.

Q left the bar because it wasn't his scene, and he needed some time away from the stupid drunkards. At a fetishist club, there were higher rollers. People who he could make deals with, socialize with, drink with. In a semi-formal environment that was slightly quieter. Bars were simply not his thing, he needed out.

In his time out, he found a decent looking hotel not too far off. He didn't want Mandy in his actual hotel-- that would've been stupid-- so he rented another room for the night with the intention of taking her there. He walked out afterward to his own room, grabbed a bit more cash on his person, and then slowly made his way back to the bar, deliberately taking all the side streets so the walk would be that much more lengthy. He also made a few stops at corner stores for more liquor, so in the end he was getting pretty tipsy, nearly drunk by the time he got back to the bar.

When he got back to the bar, no less, "Sexy Kitty"'s shift was probably ended or just near. He stood at the bar rather than sat, smoking another cigarette idly and waiting for Mandy's next move. Normally the girls he was with were paid to go see their clients in a private room, so this was a little new to him, to get an actual civilian who just wanted a good time. He wasn't quite sure what his plan was, but he had gotten this far, so it obviously couldn't be that difficult to keep going.

The Lazy Marionette wrote: [imgleft]http://i973.photobucket.com/albums/ae211/QuestionableElipsis/Untitled-9.jpg?t=1342110033[/imgleft]
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The man became even more intriguing as the night went on. The fact that he decided to pay the tab in cash was curious as well. The young bartender had hardly ever seen anyone pay in cash. Then again, most of the regulars were just avoiding their nagging wives until closing time. Amanda wasn’t even sure if they could pay off the credit cards they offered her, but that wasn’t her problem to worry about. When the man left, she noticed something swaying slightly behind it. At first it looked like a belt, but then she realized it was a tail. Immediately she wondered if it was real, but couldn’t imagine that to be the case. Maybe he was really into the whole furry fetish. Eh. It could be worse.

The night dragged on slowly, but she made a fair amount in tips. She had to punch two men in the face for trying to grab at her, but they didn’t seem to mind. Sometimes creeps felt that any touching was worth it. There was only one job that she would accept being pawed at and the bar wasn’t the one. The bubbly smile and flirtatious laughter never faltered as internally she became exhausted from the sleaze balls. She’d almost forgotten about the stranger until he returned, standing idly by the bar.

“Why hello again, you’re just in time,” she said with a smile. At least this meant she wouldn’t have to brave the cold on the corner outside. It also meant she could skip out on the owner’s desires. This was shaping up to be a very good night. Amanda walked to the back room and grabbed her coat and decided to leave the costume on. It might have been what aroused the stranger; it didn’t really matter since it would all come off in the end.

In the mirror she quickly touched up her make-up, and then turned to the back office. “I’m heading out!” she called, making a run for it before the owner could say otherwise.

When she arrived back into the bar the men visibly slouched as they realized she was leaving. A few even grimaced as she approached the man as they realized they wouldn’t be able to even proposition her tonight. With a smile she said, “Alright, I’m ready to go!”

[[It’s okay. If you didn’t, I would have. :)]]​
[/padding-left]

[title][/title]

Caresses, expressions of one sort or another,
are necessary to the life of the affections,
as leaves are to the life of trees.
If they are wholly restrained,
love will die at the roots.

-Nathaniel Hawthorne

[imgright]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/post/qwall.png[/imgright]

"Talk me down,
safe and sound--
Too strung up to sleep.
Wear me out,
scream and shout.
Swear my time's never cheap;
I fake my life like I've lived too much.
I take whatever you're given; not enough."






Once Mandy was off, he nodded and motioned for her to go out the door first. After he followed her out, he began walking to the hotel he had bought the room for earlier. His cigarette was in his left hand, and he idly took a small drag every now and then as he walked. He had begun walking fast, which was his normal pace. He saw quickly that the girl couldn't keep up, and made a sustained effort to walk much more slowly.

"Do you smoke?" He asked. If she said yes, he'd offer her a cigarette. If she didn't, he'd keep smoking himself, but make sure to not blow any smoke in her direction.

The 25 year old kept his hands free, his head only turning every now and again to make sure the girl was keeping up. He tried to make his walk seem leisurely. He wasn't in a rush, but since walking was his primary mode of transportation, he'd developed a faster pace than what was probably considered normal. Regardless, it appeared that Quatre Bornes had at least some respect for the woman. He'd assume the drunkards at the bar would have their hands all over her throughout the night. He didn't want to do that. At least not in the open, anyway.

"So," he tried to start a conversation now. "Do you actually like those costumes, or are you just a bartender that does what she's told?" He added a curt chuckle afterward, trying to make the statement come off a little softer. By the costumes, he was of course referring to the getup the girl was currently wearing. She hadn't taken off the cat outfit, which was somewhat peculiar, especially if she hated being in costume.

After a bit, he excused himself quickly to stop in a corner store. He'd made the split decision to say fuck everything, and just get hammered. As he was in the alcohol aisle, he asked if she wanted anything. He picked out the hardest liquor they had for himself, before actually making eye contact with her (or as close as one could with sunglasses on), and saying, "Oh, how rude of me, I haven't even introduced myself yet. My Name's Jack."

Jack wasn't his name. He was a liar. But she probably would never notice, anyway.

After that, if she wanted anything from the corner store, he'd buy it for her. He went to the counter and paid, all in cash, from a black leather wallet that had nothing in it aside from money, receipts, and random bits of paper with rushed handwriting on them. No IDs, no credit cards.

Upon leaving the store, he'd carry everything, and they'd make short work to the hotel. "My room is up here," he mentioned, taking the elevator to the 5th floor of the Grand Hotel.

Finally they got to the room, where Bornes or "Jack" swiped the keycard and opened the door, letting her in first. He set the cardkey on the nearest table on his way in and walked in himself, letting the door close behind him. The room was a simple suite with a king bed, TV, office table and chair, and a window, which was closed with currents pulled so one couldn't see outside. The room was not upscale by any means, but it definitely was not low-scale, either.

The 25 year old put the bags down on the bed, and opened up the bottle of liquor. He'd finished smoking before he'd reached the store, but even so the room itself was a smoker's room and so probably bared the stench. As the grey haired man went over to the sink to grab a glass and pour his drink in it, he realized the lights were still off. He had a habit of being in total darkness all the time. He assumed the girl didn't have the same habit.

"Sorry. Did you want the lights on?" he asked absentmindedly as he poured.
If she did, it wouldn't be that big of a deal. As soon as he were drunk enough, the lights wouldn't give him that big of a headache.

As he stood, glass of liquor in his left hand, he looked to the girl, awaiting her response.
The ball was in her court, now.

The Lazy Marionette wrote: [imgleft]http://i973.photobucket.com/albums/ae211/QuestionableElipsis/Untitled-9.jpg?t=1342110033[/imgleft]
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The two walked briskly through the night, which Amanda was actually surprised by. Most of the people that propositioned her were drunk, slow, and not exactly steady. The stranger walked with posture and quickly. It was something of a relief that she didn’t have to half carry him down the street while he tried to remember where he parked and/or which motel he’d chosen to fuck her in. Really, most of the job was frustrating only because drunkards were idiots. Not that she’d show what she was thinking inside; only cute smalls and flirtatious laughs for the customers. The stranger continued to surprise her.

The blonde declined the cigarette, though her hands started twitching in regret. She never took anything from her clients, one of her strange little rules. Although a jolt of nicotine was always welcome, she decided to stick to the few rules she had. Which led her to also decline any of the items offered by the man at the corner store. “Amanda,” she replied, guessing he used a fake name, or more hoping since it was the same as her boss’s. Not to mention most of her customers did. “For the costumes, I don’t mind them. Some are a little ridiculous, but a cat is a welcome idea from his last one,” she said with a small laugh. Part of it was in remembrance of when she had to dress up in as a sorry excuse for a fly. Yes, a buzzing, insect: fly. It was Jack’s weirdest idea yet.

Once again the stranger, Jack, surprised her. The hotel wasn’t miserably in disrepair like some of the motels in the area that she was accustomed to. When they entered the room, she was actually considerably impressed. The room was standard, but so much nicer than what she was used to. “Nice room,” she said softly, placing her back and her coat on the back of a chair.

“The lighting is fine,” Amanda said walking over to the window and opening the curtain. “I love the way the night life here can light a room,” she said in a slightly dreamy voice. Sometimes, it was nice to pretend that she was with an actual lover and not a customer.

Yet, soon her dream ended when she watched him look at her from his drink and she knew it was time to discuss business. “You know, even after a year of doing this, I still don’t know quite how to start without being blunt,” she said with a chuckle. Usually, she’d just saunter up to her customer and get it over with, but that had led to disputes in payment and favors and never ended well. This was her new tactic. “I charge 200 for the night,” she said, moving closer to him and taking a swig from the bottle, “I’m ready when you are,” she said moving close enough as though it felt like they were touching, but they weren’t, and she purred softly.​
[/padding-left]

[title][/title]

Caresses, expressions of one sort or another,
are necessary to the life of the affections,
as leaves are to the life of trees.
If they are wholly restrained,
love will die at the roots.

-Nathaniel Hawthorne


[imgright]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/post/qwall.png[/imgright]

The man watched as Amanda opened the curtains. He took a sip of his drink as she walked toward him. "A Year of experience and you only charge 200 a night? That's quite a deal," he chuckled, downing the rest of his drink as quickly as possible.

He watched her walk forward, then past him and drink directly from the bottle. He quirked a brow from behind his glasses, then silently took the bottle from her and poured himself another glass. He could feel the alcohol coming up on him now. This last drink would probably be his last for some time. He still played it smooth and professionally for the time being, however.

With his left hand, he gulped down the last of the drink, using all of his self-control to not slam the empty glass back down on the table. He reached into the back pocket of his pants afterward, and took out his wallet.

He slid the leather-blond money-holding flaps to the middle of the table. He made sure she knew it was there. He wasn't paying her now. He was simply letting her know that's where the money was if she wanted it when she left and he wasn't awake or something. There was probably about 600 dollars in that wallet, but the stranger wasn't too concerned with saving money, and nothing in there was of true importance to him, so it wouldn't matter if it was stolen.

He walked toward the bed with a loud exhale as he undid his belt and tossed it across the room. He then took off his black leather jacket and tossed it over his belt. This revealed the two shoulder holsters he was wearing. Under his right arm was a pistol, and his left held a knife. The straps criss-crossed across the back of his dress shirt, which had a maroon button-up torso and black long sleeves.

Without a word, he brought his boot up onto the corner of the bed, and began untying it. To him, this was all normal. He wasn't going any faster or slower than the usual. He was simply settling down after a workday. His actions reflected this. When he'd untied his first boot, he went to the next, eventually stepping out of both his boots.

He went over to the window, and looked out of it through his sunglasses. He was buzzed enough now that the lights didn't matter. His tail began to wave idly as he began to admire the beauty of the city. He became lost in it for perhaps 10 seconds before he realized the woman was still here with him.

He snorted softly, and turned to the nightstand, carefully putting his sunglasses atop it, as they were his most prized possession. He gave a quick look to the woman once his glasses were off, to see where she was, before he got lost in his ritual again. With his left hand, he reached into the right holster and pulled out the pistol.

He dropped the magazine from the gun and placed it atop the nightstand with ease. Then he pulled back the slide, locking it, taking out the last unused round, and placing it too on the table with practiced efficiency. He turned around and showed the now safe and clear gun to Amanda, making sure to tilt it in the light so she could see there was no danger.

After he'd been reassured she saw, he let the slide forward with a click, and put it back into its holster. He normally didn't do this, but he wanted to play with his tools tonight, for some reason.

He took the knife from his left arm holster and set it on the nightstand, blade facing the wall instead of the bed. He hoped she would realize now that he had no weapons on him to harm her with.

He turned back to face her, his eyes drooping a bit, but nonetheless a bright, fascinating green color.
"I have two rules," he huffed, his voice gravelly but his anticipation becoming evident.
"I have a tail," He admitted it matter-of-factly. "Do not pull or yank it. Ever. You can pet it if you want, but no force."

He walked toward her, closing his eyes in a second-long blink. "Second rule is, sometimes I make noises," At this his voice faltered slightly. It was obvious he was insecure about it. "Don't laugh."
The last part he said as a warning. The man looked threatening enough that the two rules, despite how odd they might have seemed, were not to be debated.

After he got his last sentence out, he stopped playing the respectable guy who didn't want her body, and went all in on her. He brought his hands forward, pushing her back against the nearest wall and kissing her on the lips. His right hand went from the wall to place his thumb lightly on her cheek. The only thing pinning her against the wall being his face and hips. His left hand grazed her left breast, but ultimately came to rest on the wall, propping himself up.

Despite starting this, he wanted her to lead him around, a bit. He did enjoy some power play. He hoped she caught on.
The Lazy Marionette wrote: Figured we should start to take this to the messages.
[imgleft]http://i973.photobucket.com/albums/ae211/QuestionableElipsis/Untitled-9.jpg?t=1342110033[/imgleft]
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The swig of liquor hit fast and hard. Amanda was something of a light weight, but too bold for her own good. She liked surprising her usual customers, not to mention taking the edge off. Almost all of them offered to get her drunk, which she always declined. Knowing her usuals (including her boss) they would use her drunken state to do whatever they wanted and most importantly skip the bill. Nevertheless, she couldn’t feel her toes.

Amanda’s aquamarine eyes watched as the man slid his wallet on the table without a word. It was as if he was making some sort of statement that she couldn’t figure out through the pleasant fog in her brain. Another surprising thing. It was like she was checking them off on some weird list in her mind. So far the evening was different in every single aspect from her routine nights, but she wasn’t about to complain.

Quickly she recomposed herself, letting her body fall harshly out of the dream her brain was creating for her. This wasn’t some romantic evening; it was business. Her eyes studied Jack as he carefully removed his things, raising an eyebrow at the weapons. However, this didn’t surprise her. He seemed like the kind of person that would carry weapons. Not that it bothered her. It didn’t seem like anything bothered her anymore. Such her life had become an entirely mundane routine to the point that nothing bothered her or caught her off guard. For the most part, she’d seen it all.

Jack began to approach her and she snapped out of her rather peculiar thoughts. She was jolted by his firm tone as he told her of the rules. There were always rules. Her blonde eyebrows jumped at the mention of the tail, but they quickly settled. Check. When he finished, she nodded as if the agreement was set and the transaction was going to begin. Business.

Next thing she knew, she was being pressed against a wall. It appeared his personality had changed, but this was another thing she was used to. She kissed him back enthusiastically, flicking her tongue around his. For the moment the only intimate action she gave him was playfully twisting her tongue around his, while nibbling on his lower lip between breaks in the kissing.

However, that was only a moment. While this evening was different from most, she decided to go with her instinct. A lot of her customers were looking to be dominated, looking for something different than their wives offered them. This man she supposed was different, but who didn’t like to be dominated at least a little? Playing on this thought, she used her hips to push against him, to slightly unpin herself. During this, she brought her head to his neck, kissing it and used this opportunity to slide along the wall so that she was to the side of him. She reached around to his front, grabbed his shirt from his chest and pushed him into one of the chairs. Next, she swung herself on to him, rubbing her pelvis against his for a moment and then pressed her breasts to his chest and resumed the kissing.

She was going to have fun tonight.​
[/padding-left]

[title][/title]

Caresses, expressions of one sort or another,
are necessary to the life of the affections,
as leaves are to the life of trees.
If they are wholly restrained,
love will die at the roots.

-Nathaniel Hawthorne
Q, now going by Jack, relished when she returned the kisses. When Amanda pushed her body against his, he pushed back. But then she switched positions, grabbed his shirt and pushed him into a chair.

The stranger gave out a choff sound through his mouth, a small grin coming to him before she sat herself on his lap and continued the makeout session. He wondered how far she was willing to go with powerplay. He wondered exactly how strong she was.

In between kisses and his already heavy breathing (Perhaps he shouldn't have drank so much beforehand), he grabbed the cat ears headband and tossed it across the room. After this, he went right back to kissing the woman, but brought his arms around her backside in a sort of bear hug. Only one second later, he squeezed her into him and thrust his weight backward enough that they, in the chair, both fell to the ground.

Bornes/Jack winced a bit, his world spinning for a moment, but managed to quickly recover, give a small chuckle to himself, and flip Amanda off him onto the floor, where he was now above her. His features were a bit softer now, and his once lifeless tail rose behind him, wagging absentmindedly at about half-mast. It was clear here that Bornes was simply having fun. Though he may have been horny at the time, his need for sexual gratification wasn't particularly time-sensitive. Either that or he valued the effect of a lot of foreplay. One could never be too sure.

Either way, the man was on his hands and knees over Amanda now. His green orbs looked into her aquamarine ones, simply taking in their beauty. If she didn't do anything to interrupt in that moment, he'd finally look down and decide he should probably do something. That something he decided to do was lean on his right hand, and bring his left up the side of her body. He started at her waist, going up to her arm. If she didn't resist, he'd gently pull both her arms above her head, holding them both by the wrist with his right arm as his left hand went up the bottom of her shirt, caressing her breast and nipple. He scooted up a bit, so his crotch was at her belly button, and he could lean down and begin kissing her again. But this time it was slow, with minimal to no tongue. He was being less primal now, and more gentle and romantic.

But he wasn't holding her down with any real strength, and he wouldn't resist if she broke free at all.
The Lazy Marionette wrote: As expected Jack seemed pleased with her sudden dominance. She felt the headband ripped from her head and heard the thump of it hitting somewhere in the room, but she was just glad to be rid of it. It was rather itchy and she didn’t quite want to know why. The kissing resumed as his arms wrapped around her tighter and tighter. Amanda relished in the embrace, surprising herself at how much she missed a simple hug. How did he know? she asked herself, quickly removing the thought as it was just business. It was just sex. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Next thing, she was falling, she broke the kiss with a look of panic on her face. She hated falling. In high school, she’d been dropped by a fellow who didn’t know how to hold a girl and she ended up with a concussion. After that, if someone ever caused her to fall it was a fight or flight moment. Luckily, the fall wasn’t long and she realized that he’d simply knocked over the chair. Before she had a chance to recover, Jack was on top of her and her body relaxed. It was better that he take control for the moment. Silently, she cursed herself for becoming panic stricken over something so silly.

However, he wasn’t making any moves, but simply sitting above her, staring at her. Amanda felt heat rising into her cheeks and hoped he didn’t notice. It was a strange moment, but a good one. Everything about this night was good, and entertaining. The young girl couldn’t remember the last time foreplay had lasted longer than a minute, much less been fun. Check.

The moment was over far too soon and her hands were being pulled above her hand. A playful grin stretched across her pale features, blonde waves spilling over parts of her face, but mostly the floor. She felt his hand moving up her shirt and landing on her breast and she automatically thrusted against him. The way he delicately teased her nipple sent shivers of pleasure down her spine. The kisses he then offered were welcome. It all seemed so tender, so unusual for her.

Always thinking, always plotting, the bartender noticed his loose grip around her wrists. Considering her feelings were starting to get involved, it was time to take back control. She slowly lifted her pelvis and rolled so that she was on top of his chest. Swiftly, her fingers began undoing the buttons on his shirt as her lips sucked at his neck, working their way down to his collarbone and then kissing after each hand undid a button. When the shirt was unbuttoned, she pushed her chest against him, moving up back to kiss him roughly on the lips.


Q/Jack was quickly turned over. He let out a small gasp, then looked up, stretching his neck as she kissed it. He was very much enjoying himself. He didn't normally go into foreplay too much, either. It was generally just rough sex. But then again, the girls he normally had were pretty dumb and very much into their fetish.

This girl seemed like she didn't really have an animal fetish, and ontop of that, she had no business being a prostitute. She was too smart. He wasn't exactly sure why he kept on with the foreplay... Maybe because he wasn't ready to do all the work involved with sex. Well, it didn't matter. Thought processes weren't really supposed to be interjected into lusty encounters, were they? By the time he'd convinced himself to stop thinking about things, all his buttons were undone and she'd thrown herself ontop of him again, kissing roughly.

It almost took him by surprise, but he did kiss back a moment later, closing his eyes, just letting her take the lead. His hands ran up and down the outside of her shirt, at her sides as he intentionally tried to slow down his breathing, but it was nonetheless still hard. Opening his eyes, he tore himself from the kiss and quickly went to her shirt. He started with the button closest to her pants, and undid it, then his eyes narrowed and he inhaled sharply, letting out a small growl as he simply ripped the two pieces of the shirt apart from eachother.

Baring his teeth, he flipped her over and he was on top again. He took the fallen chair that was near to their heads and shoved it to the side at first. Then he realized there still wasn't enough room on the floor for his liking. His green eyes almost seemed to glow in the darkness for a moment, giving a literal meaning to the spark of an idea.

He got up, off the woman, then went down and scooped her up, tossing her on the middle of the bed. He wasn't being too gentle about it, but he was at least trying not to hurt her while he did this.

After she was on her back on the bed, he got back on top of her, on his forearms and knees. His head went down next to her's, his face near to her ear. He stayed there for a moment, before realizing what he'd just done had completely ruined his mood. His empathic tail stopped wagging in the air and slowly fell in between his legs, like a dog realizing the owner didn't want to play anymore.

Bornes's forehead touched the bedspread near her face with an exasperated sigh of defeat. He hated that it was so easy to lose it. He'd been having fun. Normally, with the other girls, he'd just shove his dick in there and be done with it. But he actually wanted something for himself tonight. Seemed other guys could actually enjoy girls, why not him?

After a moment of doing nothing but thinking to himself again, he turned over and laid on his back, next to Amanda, his tail between his legs. He put his hands over his abdomen, where the faintest beginnings of a six pack were. His skin was warm, and tanned. Even under his clothes, it was clear his lineage wasn't from around here.
Well, assuming the tail hadn't been a dead giveaway, anyway.

Q/Jack closed his eyes, wondering if he could simply pass out from his fading drunkenness. Amanda was a professional. Maybe she'd know how to recover this?
The Lazy Marionette wrote: I guess it is better she didn’t fully take his shirt off then. xP
[title][/title]

For once during this miserable job, Amanda was truly enjoying herself. Lustily, she returned the kisses and softly pressed her hips back and forth into his. The corners of her mouth twitched up as he began undoing the button on her blouse, but she broke the kiss when he ripped it off. Still recovering from the shock, she found herself being flipped over. Her breathing got heavier, almost in rhythm with Jack’s as her eyes watched in a mixture of fear and pleasure. It seemed that the fact that she didn’t really know this man was finally occurring to her.

Next thing she knew, she was being thrown on to the bed with such effortless roughness, that she couldn’t help but be turned on. Never had the sex been anywhere close to this. For the first time in a long time she wouldn’t have to use the tube of KY in her purse. Yet, there was a pause in his motions. He sat above her for a few seconds in what seemed like surprised uncertainty. The young woman’s chest heaved up and down with her exhilarated breathing becoming even more turned on by the suspense. However, the man sighed and fell next to her in… was it defeat?

For a few shocked moments, Amanda stared at the ceiling trying to figure out what she could have done wrong. Although that didn’t make any sense, because he was the one that had been in control. It took a minute of thinking before she leaned up on her arm and gently pressed her lips against his in a tender kiss that was hardly passionate at all. Amanda pulled herself up and swung her leg over the man so that she was straddling him.

Amanda sat on him, staring at his bright eyes down to his waist underneath her pelvis for a few seconds before leaning down and lightly kissing his chest. Until she got to just above the belly button which was as far as she could bend. She slid off of him so that she was standing on the floor, and gently pulled him up, staring at the shoulder holster and tried to ease it off over his shoulders, but it was obvious she needed help. If he helped her, she’d slide of his shirt and kiss his lips again, his neck, his shoulders, his collarbone, down his chest to his belt. None of the kisses would be particularly passionate. When getting to the belt, she’d get down to a crouch and look up at him asking with her eyes for permission to completely undress him.
This is gonna come off as a shitty post. Either this or no post at all, sorry. D;


Bornes/Jack watched the girl kiss him, but his mouth went to a small frown. He'd lost the mood, and he wasn't into this at all...
Even so, he decided to let her keep going anyway, his eyes giving that far-away look. He sat up to get the holsters off, leaving the empty gun and his shirt on the bed behind him. She then continued to kiss him and went down to his belt. He frowned a bit deeper, blinking hard and undoing his belt quickly as if it were a chore.

He really ought to get up and drink more, but meh. Maybe this would turn into another one of those "Fuck and go" nights afterall.

The Lazy Marionette wrote: [imgleft]http://i973.photobucket.com/albums/ae211/QuestionableElipsis/Untitled-9.jpg?t=1342110033[/imgleft]
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Amanda picked up on Jack’s lack of mood and eventually just stopped. She didn’t move from the floor, just continued kneeling between his legs, unsure of what to do. Or what she did wrong. Her insecurities started to bubble up within her and she tried to suppress them. Eventually, she leaned back until she fell and was staring at the ceiling. The blonde felt that she should say something, but she wasn’t quite sure what to say. Instead she rolled over and followed the design of the carpet with her finger.

Inside her mind she was already making shopping lists and trying to guess how much she made in tips. In addition, she tried to figure out what to eat when she got home. Of course, she’d have to work the night again. She always worked the nights. Amanda got so sucked into her own mind that she’d forgotten that anyone was there. Her head was away from him and her feet barely in reach as she kicked them back and forth like a small child laying on her stomach. It wasn’t so bad if they didn’t have sex. It would still be an improvement over any of her other nights.
[/padding-left]

[title][/title]

Caresses, expressions of one sort or another,
are necessary to the life of the affections,
as leaves are to the life of trees.
If they are wholly restrained,
love will die at the roots.

-Nathaniel Hawthorne


Jack/Bornes didn't notice she had stopped for a while. He'd closed his eyes and thought about other things. But then he realized his belt was open and his legs were falling asleep from hanging off the edge of the bed. That wasn't even the worst part-- he was sobering up.

Without thinking about it, he grunted as he brought himself to sit up and re-latch his belt, zipping up his pants. He then quietly got up and went over to the table where his whiskey was. He debated making her give him head, or just shoving himself in the girl as he poured himself a glass, but the thoughts subsided quite quickly since he wasn't horny.

Q/Jack ran his left hand through his hair with a low groan before he started drinking his alcohol. He lit up another cigarette and slowly worked at it as he silently went about his drink. His tail slowly waved side to side, like a cat lost in thought gazing out a window. In truth, the stranger was thinking about other things, staring into space. It was rare he sat around with his shirt off like this. He couldn't remember the last time he'd done it.

If the girl had bothered to look, and could see well in the dark, she might notice a faded golden ankh tattoo compromising the length of his back, trying to hide many small surgical size done the length of his spine.
Q/Jack looked up and exhaled to the ceiling, his glass making a loud clink on the table as he set it down, absentmindedly. After he finished admiring how interesting smoke looked as it dissipated, he turned his green eyes over the lady on the floor.

Jack/Bornes didn't seem to be embarrassed or unnerved at this situation, and as he looked down at Amanda, neither did she. In fact, she seemed to be spacing out, too. He let out a small hmph and went back to his own spacing out. He was generally a pretty silent man. He was a sniper at heart, and pretty good at waiting around for hours and doing and saying nothing. So the awkward silence of lack of conversation wasn't so awkward to him. He wouldn't break it. He wasn't one to ask too many prying questions, either.

He snubbed out his cigarette and poured himself another glass.


[align=right]And floating up, you pass us in the night.
A future gazing out; a past to overwrite.
So come down-- far below;
We've been waiting to collect the things, you know.
[/align]

The Lazy Marionette wrote: [imgleft]http://i973.photobucket.com/albums/ae211/QuestionableElipsis/Untitled-9.jpg?t=1342110033[/imgleft]
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Minutes went by before Amanda felt movement behind her and even then she jumped as she could feel Jack approach her. When she turned her head, her bright blue eyes followed the stranger to the table and watched as he poured himself another drink. She noticed he’d redone his pants and did not look like he was expecting anything more from the night. However, she couldn’t be sure, so she waited. As her eyes continued to watch him as he took out a cigarette, part of her wondered if she should leave. There was a silence in the air, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was… silence instead of the absence of words.

After a few moments, Amanda got tired of watching and wanted to participate. Slowly, she picked herself up, unaware that her muscles had become exhausted throughout the day. Her knees popped as she stood up to her full height and stretched her arms behind her head. The slim black top was askew; one bra covered breast was practically out of the shirt while the other side was lifted above her naval. Half-heartedly, she tried to fix it by pulling at it, but it hardly solved the problem.

Almost sleepily, Amanda made her way to the table and collapsed into the upright chair. Her left hand reached and pulled a cigarette from the pack on the table and her right came up to light it from the lighter in her bra. The young woman let the lighter clatter on to the table and leaned back to let out a long stream of smoke. Deep down, she knew she didn’t want to leave. Although this was a sorry excuse for company, it was better than returning to her lonely apartment with the dead plants in the window. Was she even going to get paid for tonight?

Deep in thought, Amanda took another drag from her cigarette, once again getting lost in the silence. It was comforting and warm in the room. The amount of spontaneity of the evening was welcome as well. There were no complaints coming from the young woman as she took long drags from the cancer stick laced precariously through her fingers.​
[/padding-left]

[title][/title]

Caresses, expressions of one sort or another,
are necessary to the life of the affections,
as leaves are to the life of trees.
If they are wholly restrained,
love will die at the roots.

-Nathaniel Hawthorne




Jack/Q's green eyes watched the call girl get up and come to the table silently. He let her smoke her cigarette, trying not to stare too much. Eventually he realized he hadn't done much of anything but stare, and pushed his still-full glass of whiskey over to her side of the table. His wallet was still in the center if she wanted to leave. She could take the money if she felt like it. He sat silently for another minute or so before getting up and moving to the window, glancing down at the night life as he opened the curtains slightly. His eyes readjusted to the glows of the buildings, and the stranger simply people watched for a good five minutes.

When he finally pulled himself out of it, he went to the bed and picked up his holster, gun, and shirt, carefully placing them under the night stand with most of his other things. He then pulled the covers of the bed, making sure everything was loose. He didn't want to be under the covers and not be able to get out of them quickly should the need arise.

He looked over to Amanda with the sheets in his hands awkwardly for a moment before finally speaking, as if finally recognizing that she was indeed another person whom he should probably communicate with.

"I'm going to sleep. You can stay if you'd like," he said.

The Lazy Marionette wrote: [imgleft]http://i973.photobucket.com/albums/ae211/QuestionableElipsis/Untitled-9.jpg?t=1342110033[/imgleft]
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The sliding of glass across the table grabbed the attention of Amanda’s aquamarine eyes. The stranger was offering his drink, but why? She also followed his eyes to the wallet on the table and wondered if this was her queue to leave. While finishing the cigarette, the curious eyes followed the stranger around the room, watching him as if he was a particularly fascinating television show. Maybe it was the exhaustion, alcohol, or nicotine, but she didn’t want to move anymore or even really be a part of her own life. All she wanted to do was watch his.

Yet after what seemed like too soon, the man was signaling that he was going to sleep. The evening was over. Amanda wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that. With a small nod, she finished the drink that had been offered to her and took the exact amount of money from the wallet. Part of her almost felt bad for taking the money when she hadn’t really offered any services, but then again she had to pay the bills some way. She grabbed her coat and with a smile and small playful salute she left the room.

The walk back to her place was cold, but it would have been colder if it weren’t for that last drink. She stumbled around in the wee hours of the morning, but no one was really one to judge out of the homeless and drunks on the street. It would have been nice to stay with company, but her instinct told her it was a bad idea. Her tired mind had given up trying to figure out what had transpired through the evening and now only searched for sleep.

It wasn’t a long walk to her apartment where she undressed from the door to the bed and crawled in in only her underwear. Usually after her night job, she’d take a shower, but it didn’t seem necessary after this curious appointment. Right before she drifted off to sleep, she realized she left her cat ears behind and cursed herself, but was far too tired and personally just didn’t care enough to worry beyond that.
[/padding-left]

[title][/title]

Caresses, expressions of one sort or another,
are necessary to the life of the affections,
as leaves are to the life of trees.
If they are wholly restrained,
love will die at the roots.

-Nathaniel Hawthorne
[imgleft]http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii101/QuatreBornes/drunkensketch.jpg[/imgleft]
Bornes was a little disappointed she'd left, but said nothing and soon drifted off to sleep. He woke up the next morning fairly early. After a quick stretch, he got dressed, and prepared his gun and knife, making sure everything was prepared a day of actual work. He'd only been here a few days and still had not made any contacts. He decided after the night, he needed to make some to pay his due. But first he needed to get out of this hotel.

He gathered all his things and did a last look-over before noticing the cat ears on the floor. He hmphed to himself and went over to pick up the ears, later putting them in a jacket pocket. Afterward, he left the hotel, checked out, and went to his own extended stay hotel to make himself some breakfast and eat. There was a large seabag in the corner of a closet locked up. After eating, he went there, unlocked the seabag and rummaged through it for a list of phone numbers. Taking the notepad and a pen out, he locked the seabag up again and went outside to find a pay phone.

Once in a phone booth, he flipped through the list of numbers and began calling people. Some he spoke fluent french to. Others he would make sure to have a heavy french accent while speaking english. He wrote down a few new names and numbers, and about 30 minutes later he had himself a lead.

Bornes frequently went by the alias "Q". He was a good marksman, but tried to market himself as a sniper, as that was what he liked best. Unfortunately, sniping jobs were few and far between. Q only took cheap kills. Kills that were 'beneath' other mercenaries of his caliber. For that reason, any other mercenaries that knew of him would laugh, saying he was an idiot or fool. Q went for "safe" kills they'd say. He was too afraid to branch out and get paid or be worth any merit. Though Q was good at what he did there was probably something wrong with his head. So Q normally got stuck with the drug addicts and the non-criminals who just wanted somebody gone and were too afraid or stupid to do it themselves.

That was precisely the case here when the man found himself at the gate of a large mansion, ringing the buzzer. He put on his thick french accent-- which was not "fake" per se, as Bornes's first language was indeed french-- and asked for a Jason Shried. Eventually the gate opened and Bornes was let in.
Mr. Shried was the son of someone who didn't want a son anymore.

Bornes was still dressed as he was the last night, and smelled of smoke and booze. He had a black jacket over his red and black dress shirt, black slacks, and same color boots. His sunglasses came off and in the awkward hour of them talking, Q telling Shried that the man before him was a business associate of his father's, that he was interested in some sort of merger, Shried eventually put his guard down allowing Bornes to stab the guy in the throat.

Once the now-dead Jason fell to the floor, Bornes put the knife down on a table and put on some gloves. The blood was still on his hands, but the killer wasn't all too concerned with his own cleanliness as the blood-stained skin went into black leather. He picked up his knife again and wiped it off on the inside of Jason's suit blazer before resheathing it.

After this, Bornes pulled the bottom of his pants down slightly to let his tail out with a loud sigh of relief. Keeping it tucked into pants leg for too long was uncomfortable for him. After this, he began his work around the house. He swung his arms around shelves, knocking shit over and breaking whatever looked expensive. He went over to the TVs and started punching them in and throwing them down. He went to the bedroom, grabbed a sheet and laid it flat, beginning to toss random small expensive items into it, such as watches and other miscellaneous jewelry toward the middle.

Once it seemed full, the 25 year old grabbed all the corners of the sheet and tied them together, forming a makeshift bag. With a heave, he put it over his shoulder and carried it out into the city, walking about a mile before dumping it in an alley dumpster for a fast food joint.

The whole ordeal was over by 6pm. Bornes had showered and changed clothes by that time as well. When he we had come out of the shower and was looking through his jacket, he came across the cat ears and frowned, wondering to himself.

By 7pm he'd made the decision to go back to the bar and see if Amanda was working.
Still the sunglasses, same jacket and boots. But now with black jeans and a plain white dress shirt.
After he walked into the bar, he looked about for Amanda. When he found her, he came to the portion of the bar nearest to her and silently held up the headband for her to take, raising a brow.

His facial expression was astoundingly blank, otherwise. It seemed like everything was no big deal to him.

The Lazy Marionette wrote: [imgleft]http://i973.photobucket.com/albums/ae211/QuestionableElipsis/Untitled-9.jpg?t=1342110033[/imgleft]
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A groan seeped into the air from the heap of body on the bed. Amanda didn’t want to be awake, but it seemed that her brain wasn’t about to let her sleep the whole day away. One eye opened just enough to see the blaring light of the alarm clock on the table. Another groan escaped her, but this one was closer to a whimper than anything else. It was already one in the afternoon. Only now did she realize that she had in fact drank too much the night before and that she should get up sooner rather than later if she had any hope of making tips tonight.

It took a few more moments of inner coaxing to get the young blonde to sit up. Still clad in a black push up bra and matching lace thong, she rubbed her eyes. The landlord would probably get on her case again for leaving the thermostat turned up to 85 all night. With a yawn she tried not to think about the numerous problems that this new day had brought. The pale arms stretched towards the ceiling and with another yawn and some light eye rubbing, she was able to get herself off the bed and into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.

During her rather long shower, Amanda remembered all the oddities from the night before. Usually, she tried to avoid thinking about her nights, but once again her curiosity about the stranger was more than she could push aside. However, by the time the shower was over, she resigned herself to never thinking about it again. There was a very high chance that she wouldn’t see the man again and even if she did, she could deal with her pesky thoughts then.

It was around three when Amanda had finished three cups of coffee, read most of the paper, and made herself presentable to society. She walked over to the deli near her house and ordered the usual from the ever friendly Franky. He was the only male she saw regularly that wasn’t a customer. It was somewhat refreshing, but mostly depressing.

Amanda took up most of the day going grocery shopping, walking around town, and working on some pieces that would most likely be rejected by publishers like everything else she’d ever written. It was a routine day. As per routine, at six she started to put on the little cat outfit. This time with a pleated black mini skirt (it was debatable if the hem actually covered her rear or not), and a black T with a plunging neck line. It was around this time that Amanda noticed the missing headband. She sighed after tearing apart the place and realized that she’d have to leave early and get Sara’s before Jack noticed.

Slipping into tennis shoes, while throwing make-up, the tail, and black sling back stilettos into a bag, Amanda left the apartment at 6:30 and ran most of the way to the bar. Luckily, she got there in only ten minutes and was able to catch Sara before she left. The other bartender was more than happy to help Amanda out, considering the young blonde wasn’t the only one Jack hit on. In fifteen minutes, the heels, tail, and ears were on and she was applying the rest of her whiskers just in time to hear, “Actually on time today. That’s a nice change of pace.”

“I like to keep you on your toes,” she said with a smile and quickly made her way to the bar to start her shift early rather than continuing to converse with her boss.

It seemed as if she’d just started to get into the flow when she looked up to see her headband being held to her. The aquamarine eyes followed the band up the arm and finally up to the sunglasses of the person that was holding it. “Thank you!” she said with a smile, taking the band. “Can I get you anything, on the house?” she asked with a wink. The night didn’t appear to be going as badly as she thought it would.
[/padding-left]

[title][/title]

Caresses, expressions of one sort or another,
are necessary to the life of the affections,
as leaves are to the life of trees.
If they are wholly restrained,
love will die at the roots.

-Nathaniel Hawthorne


Bornes let out a "heh" as she offered a free drink.

"You can tell me when your shift ends," he said, a vague hint of a smile on his face.
What? Bornes smiling? Maybe someone was about to die here.

At that point, whatever was on the TV was overtaken by the news.
"At this point the details are unclear, but it seems the Shried Manor has been robbed. We go now to the lead investigator to the case..."

Bornes looked up, his mouth hanging open slightly in a frown. He hadn't collect his payment, yet. And really, if it had made the news, he should be on his way out and fast. A look of worry briefly passed over his facial expression as the news seemed to garner the other bar patrons' attention. Though half of them were grumbling about turning the channel.

The 24 year old's tail flicked slightly in agitation, but he subdued his own feelings enough to fake a smirk to Amanda. "That is if you don't think it will be a waste of time."

The Lazy Marionette wrote: [imgleft]http://i973.photobucket.com/albums/ae211/QuestionableElipsis/Untitled-9.jpg?t=1342110033[/imgleft]
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Needless to say, that wasn’t the response Amanda was expected. However, before she could answer the new was blaring about some rich guy being robbed. Briefly she turned her attention only to roll her eyes, “Had it coming,” she muttered under her breath. When her eyes flicked back over to the stranger, she noticed that he seemed somewhat agitated by the story. Or maybe it was the agitation everyone else seemed to be feeling at the bar. With a flick of her finger to signal to Jack to wait a moment, she grabbed the remote and changed the channel to one of the sports channels that couldn’t care less about the news. The grumbling died down.

With a sashay of the hips for all those that were still watching her as it was inevitable that they were able to see under her skirt when she grabbed the remote from a top shelf, she returned to the man. “I get off at eleven tonight,” she said with a wink. “Is there anything else I can get you?” she asked, trying to tune out the men trying to get her attention from across the bar. It was nice to have someone with a little bit more sobriety to talk to than middle aged men looking for attention that they weren’t getting at home.​
[/padding-left]

[title][/title]

Caresses, expressions of one sort or another,
are necessary to the life of the affections,
as leaves are to the life of trees.
If they are wholly restrained,
love will die at the roots.

-Nathaniel Hawthorne


Bornes watched her and it was apparent he liked her answers.
"A modest outfit when I come back," he chuckled.

After that, he gave a small wave and left.
He slowly made his way around town, doing much the same thing he'd done the last night by procuring a new hotel room and paying in cash. Though this time it was a different hotel in a different direction. He made sure to stock it with some random food things and booze, and sat down and read a book written in french until about 11pm. At that time, he went back to the bar to pick up Amanda, getting there at about 11:10.

Once he picked her up, he'd begin his walk to the new hotel. This time, though, he attempted to make more of a personable conversation. "How was work?"

The Lazy Marionette wrote: [imgleft]http://i973.photobucket.com/albums/ae211/QuestionableElipsis/Untitled-9.jpg?t=1342110033[/imgleft]
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Amanda stuck her tongue out playfully at the stranger as he left. Well, a modest outfit might be difficult to put together, she didn’t remember packing a change of clothes.

The rest of the night went as usual. It was as if the young girl could anticipate exactly what was going to happen as the night went on: some guys would think they were hot shit and that she was actually swooning over them, some guys would get too handsy, no guys would be good for conversation, but the tips would be worth it all. Not too much to complain about.

When eleven rolled around, the bar had already been shut down for an hour so the cleaning had been taken care of. Afterwards in the back room, the blonde found a pair of jeans that she always had in the bag just in case. The plunging T shirt would have to do. She put on her sneakers and almost ran into the man when she exited the building. However, this time he surprised her by asking something that was almost caring, “Uh… fine, I guess,” she said with the ever permanent smile. “How was whatever you do when you’re not at my bar?” she asked with a small laugh.
[/padding-left]

[title][/title]

Caresses, expressions of one sort or another,
are necessary to the life of the affections,
as leaves are to the life of trees.
If they are wholly restrained,
love will die at the roots.

-Nathaniel Hawthorne



Bornes exhaled loudly out his nose, as if stifling a laugh in regards to her question.
"It went."
He decided he should come up with some story about what he did for a living. He was sure he'd think of something if she ever asked...

He went on walking and trying to make a conversation. "So do you often go out with the same person or am I just a special case?"


The Lazy Marionette wrote: [imgleft]http://i973.photobucket.com/albums/ae211/QuestionableElipsis/Untitled-9.jpg?t=1342110033[/imgleft]
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The young woman nodded to his response. It wasn’t her job to pester him with questions; her only job was to make sure he had a good time. She thought about his question, “I do have a few regulars. They aren’t too happy that you’ve come into the schedule,” she said with a wink. The last part she was referring to her boss. Although she was his employee, he still expected compensation from her. Then there were a couple guys from the bar, but they only propositioned her if it was convenient. Either way, she always went home with someone.​
[/padding-left]

[title][/title]

Caresses, expressions of one sort or another,
are necessary to the life of the affections,
as leaves are to the life of trees.
If they are wholly restrained,
love will die at the roots.

-Nathaniel Hawthorne


Bornes shrugged. "Ah, well, I hope you stay the night this time."

It was more of a thinking aloud type of response than a conversing one. They walked the rest of the way to the hotel, going to the new room where Q/Jack offered drinks silently to her if she wanted them.
He took off his jacket and unbuttoned his white dress shirt, but left it on as well as his holsters.

He began disarming his gun, and as he placed magazine on the nightstand he said, "Do you roleplay? I'm wondering if you'd make a good gunner. I was hoping you'd get the hint yesterday when I left the holster on, but may as well bring it up with words this time."

After he took the one round from the chamber and placed it in the mag on the counter, he locked the slide to the rear and showed Amanda the gun, making sure she knew nothing was in it and she couldn't possibly shoot anything with it before he let the slide snap forward again.

He took the knife from his other holster and placed it on the night stand before walking over to Amanda, and giving her the gun. Once she took it, he's take his holsters off and toss them on the floor before pulling out a chair, straddling it backward.

He'd never done something quite like this before, but why not? Could be interesting.
"Think you can take me hostage?"

The Lazy Marionette wrote: [imgleft]http://i973.photobucket.com/albums/ae211/QuestionableElipsis/Untitled-9.jpg?t=1342110033[/imgleft]
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Amanda wasn’t quite sure how to respond to his statement, so she didn’t. It wasn’t uncommon for her patrons to want some company through the night. The two seemed more like friends now than anything and she felt herself relax.

When they arrived she wondered briefly why he was staying at a different hotel than last time, but didn’t let herself dwell on it. Her bright eyes watched him start undressing and unloading just as before. This time she hoped for a better outcome. However, then he surprised her by asking for what he wanted. Part of her felt bad that she hadn’t anticipated his needs, but he couldn’t have truly hated his time with her if she was back in the hotel room. “I think I could do that,” she said with a wink, accepting the gun.

Planning her actions, she watched him sit in the chair and a completely different look came over her face. It wasn’t the playful, flirty one she always wore; it was a more calculating one. Slowly, she walked around the chair, building some sort of suspense, while holding the gun with a fairly good grip in his direction. However, when she was behind him, she put the gun in the back waistband of her jeans. Then she gripped the collar of his shirt, and gave him a slight push, kicked the chair so it tumbled from under him and maneuvered him on to his back. “But we’re gonna do this my way,” she said with a sneaker in the middle of his back and his arms in her left hand, while her right managed to lean over and grab some rope that had been left on the table. This man was definitely one for props. After his hands were nice and tied up, she stepped off his back, lifted him by his arms and righted the chair with the hand that wasn’t occupied. She pushed him back into it so he was sitting the right way and while straddling him, used a bit of left over rope to tie his arms to the chair. She slid off his lap and admired her work while pulling the gun back out, cocking her head slightly to the right.​
[/padding-left]

[title][/title]

Caresses, expressions of one sort or another,
are necessary to the life of the affections,
as leaves are to the life of trees.
If they are wholly restrained,
love will die at the roots.

-Nathaniel Hawthorne


Not expecting her to get into character so soon, he fell to the ground and had to stop himself from going on the defensive. He grunted when she tied him up and then put him back in the chair later, his sunglasses still on his face and his tail in an awkward position underneath him.

Truly in discomfort now because of his tail, but somehow still enjoying the uncertainty of the situation, he began to struggle slightly, his head throwing a bit, as if it and his tail muscles might be linked. Underneath his legs, the black fur struggled to get free. Once, twice, finally by the third yank the thing got free from underneath his legs and shook a bit on the outside of the tail. While Q/Jack had been clenching his teeth during this ordeal, once it was over he visibly relaxed a bit.

"Don't break my glasses," he grumbled. He was serious, but he didn't want to break her character or the play. He wasn't sure exactly how we was supposed to continue. He'd never been in this position before-- not in play or in reality.

The Lazy Marionette wrote: [imgleft]http://i973.photobucket.com/albums/ae211/QuestionableElipsis/Untitled-9.jpg?t=1342110033[/imgleft]
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As she watched him struggle, she wasn’t quite sure what to do. Was this in character or was he truly in discomfort? When she saw the tail dislodge itself some form of understanding over took her. Forgot about that, she thought making note to be a little bit more cautious. Next he was grumbling about his sunglasses. Quickly her mind tried to decipher if that was a challenge or not, but then she remembered him removing them last time and made another note. So now the ball was once again in her court.

She moved around him and finally took a drink from the glass that was offered to her earlier. The liquid was hydrating as she remembered she hadn’t had anything to drink in three hours. When she returned she stood in front of him, leaned down and stared at his face for a few moments before taking of the glasses and putting them on the table. Next, she looked down and placed her foot between his legs on the chair. “You have something I want,” she said with a flick of her eyes downward to a place near her shoe. Her right hand raised the gun and rested the cool metal against his temple as her bright eyes studied his, “And I’ll do what I can to get it.”
[/padding-left]

[title][/title]

Caresses, expressions of one sort or another,
are necessary to the life of the affections,
as leaves are to the life of trees.
If they are wholly restrained,
love will die at the roots.

-Nathaniel Hawthorne


He closed his eyes as she took off his glasses, silently thanking his lucky stars they were safe. Then she put her foot near his crotch and the play went into full motion again. He stared down at her foot, then at her face. Then she put the gun to his forehead. He gave a brief growl as she said her dialogue.

He looked down again, thinking. She had him tied up. How was he supposed to help her do anything in this state? Did she expect him to break free? He tested the knots behind his chair. He probably could...

But, no. Wait. He was thinking about this too hard.
Maybe she wanted him to resist?

"No," he said, slowly forming a character of his own. "I couldn't let someone like you do that."
He over-emphasized his lines so she knew he wasn't being serious. Probably should've come up with some sort of safe word, he thought.
"I'd rather DIE."

He mocked spitting on the floor, then glared up at her. "I bet you don't even have the balls to pull the trigger. You wouldn't. A pitiful threat from a pitiful woman. Why shoot me when I have ot be alive to give you what you want?"

The Lazy Marionette wrote: [imgleft]http://i973.photobucket.com/albums/ae211/QuestionableElipsis/Untitled-9.jpg?t=1342110033[/imgleft]
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Amanda watched her victim? carefully waiting for his next move. Oh really? she thought a grin with fake malicious intent coming across her face. The grin turned to a smirk quickly as he spit out his last line and she laughed. “Who said I needed you alive?” she moved her face closer to his, “I have my ways. You’re expendable,” she said emphasizing the last word.

Keeping her face close, the young blonde inched her foot a millimeter closer, “Besides, it isn’t my balls you should be worried about,” she said with another malicious smile. Amanda was surprising herself at how much she was enjoying this. She still hadn’t thought through to the part of how it was possible for him to give in when he was tied up, but she figured she’d get there when the time came.​
[/padding-left]

[title][/title]

Caresses, expressions of one sort or another,
are necessary to the life of the affections,
as leaves are to the life of trees.
If they are wholly restrained,
love will die at the roots.

-Nathaniel Hawthorne


Bornes/Jack narrowed his eyes, getting pulled in. He wanted to spit in her face, but resisted. His eyes watched her foot inch closer to his privates, and his muscles began to tense up, wondering if she was really going to go for it at some point in this game. He hoped not.

Her face close to his though, he decided to just go for it, and shoved himself forward, stretching his neck and arching his back, kissing her from his chair. His next instinct was to wrap his hands around her and pull her in, keep her close, but when he tried to, he remembered his hands were tied.
For some reason, that was a major turn on. Which was odd, considering Q didn't get turned on particularly easy-- hence why what had happened the last night... Happened.

Behind him, his hands clenched into fists and his tail began to swat in agitation. Staying like this to kiss her made his muscles ache, but that just made it well worth the effort.
The Lazy Marionette wrote: [imgleft]http://i973.photobucket.com/albums/ae211/QuestionableElipsis/Untitled-9.jpg?t=1342110033[/imgleft]
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What the stranger did next threw Amanda off, even though it is what she’d been asking for. She kissed him back for a few seconds then, broke it. “Someone’s being a little more compliant,” she said softly. The aquamarine eyes moved back and forth as they studied the man’s bright ones. She removed her foot and straddled Jack once again, but this time pushed her body up against his. While she pressed her lips into his kissing him roughly, she replaced the gun in her waistband and started undoing the knots around his hands. “I guess that deserves a little reward,” she whispered.​
[/padding-left]

[title][/title]

Caresses, expressions of one sort or another,
are necessary to the life of the affections,
as leaves are to the life of trees.
If they are wholly restrained,
love will die at the roots.

-Nathaniel Hawthorne

Bornes/Jack watched her with what seemed like puppy eyes when she pulled away. How did he get so into this so quickly? He laid his head on her shoulder as she straddled him and undid his knots, taking in her scent from the nape of her neck. He then moved to kiss it softly and move up her neckline toward her chin.

But then the phone rang, startling the man. He stopped immediately and his muscles went rigid. The knots were done by now. His act was over. "Get up," he ordered. He wasn't playing anymore.

If she didn't get off him fast enough, he'd take her off him as gently as he could, but quickly, to make it to the phone on the third ring. Picking it up, he growled a quick, "hello," clearly annoyed.

There was a man on the other end. A man Q wasn't expecting. The man was speaking english, but as Bornes's features quickly changed to anger, his green orbs flicked to Amanda before replying in french.

"How did you get this number?" He growled. A pause for the other end.
"Because there's someone else here. I haven't picked up the payment yet and I can't--" His statement was a hushed whisper, almost pleading, but it was cut off by the other end.

Bornes leaned forward and growled, his tail making a wide swiping motion. "WHAT? NO. Why would he--" Cut off again. Another pause.

Q grit his teeth. "I understand. Thanks for warning me." Bornes slammed the phone down on the hook and glared at Amanda. It took a full second before he could remind himself that this situation wasn't her fault.

He stood up straight and began to button up his shirt. "I have to go. I just got called to... Emergency trip... Filling in for someone." He wasn't even certain how to make a lie that quickly so didn't even make a full sentence.

The Lazy Marionette wrote: [imgleft]http://i973.photobucket.com/albums/ae211/QuestionableElipsis/Untitled-9.jpg?t=1342110033[/imgleft]
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Amanda wasn’t sure if his command was part of the game or not, but before she could figure out her next move, he was taking her off of him and making his way to the phone. She fell to the floor, partly because of his movements, but mostly because of her disappointment. This man had to be the trickiest customer she’d ever had. When she regained her bearings she looked at him and finally noticed that he was speaking French. This man was always full of surprises. She tried to pick up some of the words from her years of high school French and got most of what he saying, but before she could make any sense of what she was hearing, he was off the phone.

Next thing she knew he was turning to her and saying he had to go. “Uh… okay. Should I… go?” she asked getting up and heading towards her things. Did he still want her to spend the night? This was one of the few situations that she wasn’t quite sure how to handle or what she was supposed to do.​
[/padding-left]

[title][/title]

Caresses, expressions of one sort or another,
are necessary to the life of the affections,
as leaves are to the life of trees.
If they are wholly restrained,
love will die at the roots.

-Nathaniel Hawthorne


After buttoning his shirt, he grabbed his holster and put it on, following with the knife and taking the magazine in his hand before walking back over to Amanda and holding out his hand for the gun.

"I'm leaving town." He motioned with his hand again, so she'd get the hint about the gun. Once she finally gave it to him, he put the magazine in and holstered it, going for his jacket.

"Listen, this is going to be awkward, but. This is not a trick question." he turned around and looked at her, his green eyes almost pleading. "Would it be worth it to come back?"

The Lazy Marionette wrote: [imgleft]http://i973.photobucket.com/albums/ae211/QuestionableElipsis/Untitled-9.jpg?t=1342110033[/imgleft]
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Still slightly in shock, it took Amanda awhile to register to hand him the gun. She finally did and watched him holster it. When he asked the question, she stared at him blankly for a minute while her brain tried to catch up. After a few moments her flirty smile and confidence returned. “I’ll be here waiting,” she said with a wink and picked up her things. She gave a mock salute while heading out the door expecting to never see this man again.​
[/padding-left]

[title][/title]

Caresses, expressions of one sort or another,
are necessary to the life of the affections,
as leaves are to the life of trees.
If they are wholly restrained,
love will die at the roots.

-Nathaniel Hawthorne


He forced a half-smile as he watched her collect her things and leave. Once she was gone, Bornes frowned and went to the table, picking up his sunglasses and any thing else he needed. He quickly checked out of the hotel early, went back to his own hotel, grabbed all of his belongings and left the city.

The phone call was about the Senior Shried. Turned out the man who had hired him had loose lips, and the police knew he'd hired a mercenary. The guy on the phone was the one who had informed him of the kill in the first place. Bornes managed to high tail it out of there and rest a few states over. He preformed more work there, but not much. He also had other girls, girls he somehow actually managed to have sex with it, but none of it was similar to Amanda. He didn't know why Amanda was so different. Maybe it was because things always prevented them for doing the deed. Forbidden fruit, one could say.

Against his better judgment, 3 months later he went back to the town, and back to the bar, wearing a nice black dress shirt with a maroon suede vest and black slacks. No jacket. A knife was in his boot, but that was all he had on him. He was entirely overdressed for the bar.

But he wasn't here for the bar. He was here to see if Amanda still worked there, if she even remembered his face. The tattoos, the scar, the grey hair, the sunglasses. That would never change.

The Lazy Marionette wrote: [imgleft]http://i973.photobucket.com/albums/ae211/QuestionableElipsis/Untitled-9.jpg?t=1342110033[/imgleft]
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It wasn’t surprising to Amanda that she didn’t see the man again for a long time. In fact, she would have been surprised if he showed up the next night, but she probably wouldn’t have gone home with him. Unfortunately, in three months she was still deep in debt and still working the same two jobs. Nothing had really changed for her. She would have been depressed if it hadn’t been that way for about two years. Student loan debt was a bitch.

It was an ordinary night, as they all were, and she was in the middle of getting a drunk to be able to do simple math for the tab, when she looked up. Her jaw fell slightly open and she accepted whatever amount of cash the man was offering her without taking her eyes off of the stranger for a second. She was afraid if she looked away, he would cease to exist. Calmly, she deposited the money and returned to the bar just as he arrived, “Long time no see,” she said with a smile. She thought about using the name he gave her, but she didn’t need to embarrass herself with the fake name.

The bright eyes studied the man from his sunglasses to his slacks. “Looking classy, got a hot date?” she asked with a wink. A man next to them asked for a beer and she handed it to him, keeping her eyes on the man in front of her. Once again: full of surprises.​
[/padding-left]

[title][/title]

Caresses, expressions of one sort or another,
are necessary to the life of the affections,
as leaves are to the life of trees.
If they are wholly restrained,
love will die at the roots.

-Nathaniel Hawthorne


Bornes threw back an over-emphasized shrug. "I don't know, the girl hasn't answered me back yet. I'm not sure when she gets off work," he cocked a brow, shifting his weight and gave her a smirk.

The Lazy Marionette wrote: [imgleft]http://i973.photobucket.com/albums/ae211/QuestionableElipsis/Untitled-9.jpg?t=1342110033[/imgleft]
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Amanda raised an eyebrow and gave a playful smirk. “Well, things haven’t changed much around here, besides the new uniforms,” she said gesturing at the bunny ears and cotton tail, “But I’m sure it’s the same time as last visit,” she said with a smile. As another drunkard called her name she quickly added, “Eleven and don’t be late,” just in case he’d managed to forget in the last three months. Then, she was back to the other customers in the bar, her smile a little wider.

By eleven, she’d had the bar cleaned up and changed into jeans with the white camisole she’d been wearing for her “uniform”. Bunnies were similar to cats, they elicited the same comments and she was really done with dressing up as an animal. Next quarter was going to be nurses. It might even be easier if the boss simply settled on one uniform to satisfy him. Either way, she stood outside waiting for the stranger to whisk her away to yet another hotel room. So romantic.​
[/padding-left]

[title][/title]

Caresses, expressions of one sort or another,
are necessary to the life of the affections,
as leaves are to the life of trees.
If they are wholly restrained,
love will die at the roots.

-Nathaniel Hawthorne


Bornes gave another half-smile and gave a haphazard salute before walking off.

In the three months he'd been gone, it had seemed like there were no links to him for the murder, and the senior had taken all the blame. But just to be safe, the gunner went to an entirely different hotel from the first two he had used months a go. It was going to be quite a long walk, this time.

He came back at 11 to pick her up, in the same outfit.
"I was afraid you would've found a better job by now," he started, his voice a bit forced.
"It's going to be a longer walk this time. Different hotel. Hope you like exercise."

The Lazy Marionette wrote: [imgleft]http://i973.photobucket.com/albums/ae211/QuestionableElipsis/Untitled-9.jpg?t=1342110033[/imgleft]
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The young blonde studied him, “Jobs aren’t an easy thing to come by,” she said a falter in her confident exterior. As much fun as being a prostitute was, she couldn’t wait for the day when she retired. “I don’t mind a good walk,” she said, her smile returning.​
[/padding-left]

[title][/title]

Caresses, expressions of one sort or another,
are necessary to the life of the affections,
as leaves are to the life of trees.
If they are wholly restrained,
love will die at the roots.

-Nathaniel Hawthorne


Bornes hmphed, listening to the change in her voice.

"Hard for money? I told you you shouldn't be so cheap for a night." He gave a laugh at his own joke.
After this he got quiet, lost in his own thoughts. Soon, they were at the new hotel, which, once again, was pre-stocked with everything.

Once the door closed behind them, he took his glasses off, and put them on the table, his green orbs looking to the other girl's aquamarine ones, studying them for a moment.
He slowly walked over to her, running his left hand through her hair when he finally got near. He eventually pushed her into the back of the door, his arms on either side of her head, hands on the door. He kissed her, bringing his left hand to cup her face.

After a moment, he pulled from the kiss, moving his left hand to her shoulder while his right hand pet her right side of her face and trailed down her body toward her outer thigh. He gripped it, squeezing slightly before turning them both and pushing her onto the bed.

"Where were we last time? Oh, I forgot to pay you," he sneered. "But I think that's all right. You were about to reward me anyway after you pointed that gun at me and tied me to a chair."

He opened both his arms as he walked toward her.
"What will you do now? Seems we're both unarmed."

The Lazy Marionette wrote: [imgleft]http://i973.photobucket.com/albums/ae211/QuestionableElipsis/Untitled-9.jpg?t=1342110033[/imgleft]
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The young woman watched his eyes as he watched hers wondering what the game was for today. Then, he was walking towards her and running his hand through her hair. It all seemed rather intimate, if only for a moment. She felt herself being backed into the door and gave into it, kissing him back. However, it seemed as soon as the kiss was started, it was broken and he was running his hand along her body. A shiver of unexpected pleasure crept up her spine when he squeezed her thigh and she did her best not to shake.

Next thing, she’s on the bed. Everything seemed to be happening quickly, but this was where it slowed. This was where it was her turn. “What kind of reward is there for someone who skips out on the tab?” she asked raising an eyebrow. “Besides I’ll do what I have to to get what I want,” she said. On the bed, she sat up slightly to watch him as he drew closer. When he was near the edge of the bed, she shot up, spun around to push him on the bed then climbed on top and pinned him as best she could. “I plan to take what was never given to me,” she replied, pressing herself on top of him and leaning down to bite his neck.
[/padding-left]

[title][/title]

Caresses, expressions of one sort or another,
are necessary to the life of the affections,
as leaves are to the life of trees.
If they are wholly restrained,
love will die at the roots.

-Nathaniel Hawthorne



He let himself get taken and pushed on the bed by her, falling on his back onto the mattress.

"You can't take what was never yours in the first place!" he played, grabbing her shoulders and rolling so he was atop her, a smile beginning to form on his face. His tail rose and began to wag playfully as he was into it, now. Not sexually, but just having fun again.

But once he had her under his grasp, he didn't know what to do with her again. His face went from happy contentedness to confusion, similar to a cat when it finally caught the feather it was playing with. Instead of losing his cool, though, he quickly turned his thoughts around and tried to force the eroticism. He bent down low, his chest to Amanda's, and breathed on her neck, slowly going to lick her earlobe lightly.

His tail sank low as Bornes slowed down again-- he had a habit of randomly changing pace like that, but it seemed girls liked it-- his right hand running down the side of her body again, to her thigh. He'd caught what it had down to her before so he hoped to illicit the same reaction again.

And soon both hands were at her thighs. He wasn't there for too long as he made way to her pants, beginning to attempt to take them off.

The Lazy Marionette wrote: [imgleft]http://i973.photobucket.com/albums/ae211/QuestionableElipsis/Untitled-9.jpg?t=1342110033[/imgleft]
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Being thrown around was the fun of the first night, but that worried Amanda. Would it all end the same way. Before she could get caught too much in her thoughts, his hands were moving around her body again and down to her thighs. She arched her back ever so slightly at the touch, but as he moved to undo her pants, she realized it was her chance to make a move. As his focus was on her pants, she slid out from under his hunched form and pushed him back to pin him. “Well, it isn’t yours either,” she said with a strange grin. Her legs straddled him right over his thighs, her hands were busy undoing the buttons on his vest, while she leaned her face down and started roughly kissing him.​
[/padding-left]

[title][/title]

Caresses, expressions of one sort or another,
are necessary to the life of the affections,
as leaves are to the life of trees.
If they are wholly restrained,
love will die at the roots.

-Nathaniel Hawthorne
Bornes was genuinely surprised when they switched positions again. His breath was already quickening as he was getting into the mood and she kept her hands on him, beginning to undress him and kiss him.
He closed his eyes and enjoyed it, opening his mouth as he breathed through it.

As she undid the last button on his vest however, he let out a chuff-sound and, with eyes wide open, grabbed the collar of her shirt, applying just enough pressure to squeeze the fabric against her throat to make it difficult- but not impossible- to breathe.

He pulled her in close and forced a kiss then as he held the grip. When her face began turning red, he let go and thrust out his hips, pushing her back. He was able to stand up straight, then, and with what seemed an evil, calculating grin, he rushed at her and pinned her to the nearest wall, rushing to undo her shirt, then her pants if he managed to get that far before she put up a fight.

The Lazy Marionette wrote: [imgleft]http://i973.photobucket.com/albums/ae211/QuestionableElipsis/Untitled-9.jpg?t=1342110033[/imgleft]
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The stranger seemed to enjoy her taking over, but the minute she was done with the vest, his hands were at her throat. Her eyes widened in panic as she wondered if she was actually going to become a dead hooker. Then, he was kissing her and she relaxed as much as she could while what felt like sucking air through a straw. When she felt like she was about to pass out, he released her and before she had time to catch her breath she was pinned against a wall.

While he undressed her, she used the time to catch her breath, but the exhilaration was making her breathe harder as it was. Maybe she would pass out after all. By the time she regained her composure enough to calculate her next move, her shirt and pants were on the floor. Amanda’s half naked body pushed back and she maneuvered her leg behind hers so she could trip him and ultimately get him lying on his back on the floor where she pounced on top of him and began undoing his pants.​
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[title][/title]

Caresses, expressions of one sort or another,
are necessary to the life of the affections,
as leaves are to the life of trees.
If they are wholly restrained,
love will die at the roots.

-Nathaniel Hawthorne

Q/Jack was almost surprised by how fast he was able to work. Before he knew it, both her shirt and pants were on the floor, while Q was still fully dressed, his vest undone but still on his shoulders.

When he finished though, she tripped him and he was on the floor, and she began undoing his pants. Were they actually going to go all the way this time? He almost debated stopping it now to keep up the exhilarating suspense. But, ah! Too late. His pants were being pulled down to his knees, revealing black silk boxers. He'd never taken his boots off, so when his pants eventually got down to his ankles, he was at a particular disadvantage should they continue to wrestle.

Even so, he decided to turn and get ontop of Amanda anyway. After being on top of her, he quickly threw his vest off, but ignored his white shirt-- too much work to unbutton it all-- and began kissing Amanda forcefully again. But he didn't continue it for long. At one point, he pulled away and put his left hand over her eyes.

[[Should probably black out or something around this point. PM next one?]]
[spoili]With her eyes covered, his right hand pulled at her bra, pushing it up toward her collarbone rather than taking it off (truth be told, he didn't know how to take it off, but he'd not admit it). Once her breasts were free, he bent down and gave a lick to the underside of one of her breasts, teasing her as he breathed over his own saliva. He made sure to keep her eyes covered as he slowly repeated the acts closer and closer to her nipple.[/spoili]

The Lazy Marionette wrote: [imgleft]http://i973.photobucket.com/albums/ae211/QuestionableElipsis/Untitled-9.jpg?t=1342110033[/imgleft]
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[spoili]When he finished and looked at her, tucking his penis away, she tried to figure out his expression, but came up empty.[/spoili]It seemed to be impossible for her to enjoy anything for very long without calculating. Her eyes watched him as he lay next to her and instinctively, she scooted over and laid her back on to his chest. It just seemed like the right thing to do and if he hated it, he’d say so. The night appeared to be coming to an end, probably for the best since it was into the wee hours of the morning. Amanda tried not to think about how the stranger would be gone just as soon as he had arrived.

Her head nuzzled into his neck as her breathing slowed and smile couldn’t help but stay upon her face. She watched as her hand traced his collarbone in an almost intimate motion. It was a strange ending to a strange night, but it was a welcome change to the loneliness of the past year or so. Until now, the young blonde hadn’t realized how much she missed having a male companion, just someone to hold her. Sure, she had company almost every night, but it wasn’t the same as having someone hold her.
[/padding-left]

[title][/title]

Caresses, expressions of one sort or another,
are necessary to the life of the affections,
as leaves are to the life of trees.
If they are wholly restrained,
love will die at the roots.

-Nathaniel Hawthorne


When she cuddled up to him, he relaxed and began to drift off. He briefly thought, maybe they should move-- they were still on the floor-- but Bornes was not too bothered, having been in worse conditions. He hoped Amanda wasn't bothered, and it didn't seem like she was since she was playing with his chest when he finally succumbed to sleep.

What Bornes had wanted, subconsciously, was to have someone dedicated to him. Someone who would seek him out and want to be with him. Being a sniper, he knew all about how people worked. He watched them interact with eachother intently on a daily basis. And having been with a multitude of prostitutes and a possessor of the lucky "strong and silent bad boy" type, he happened to get a lot of experience with women in particular.

The mutual respect, the constant eye contact, the making sure it was about her and not him-- if Amanda wasn't totally attached to and/or in love with him by the time she woke up tomorrow morning, there was something very mentally wrong with the woman. Or she wasn't wired like many normal women.

But having seen her intelligence and how she worked first hand, he doubted she was the super-paranoid type. And even if she was, she had now been with a man who possessed a gun, and did some very weird things, and was rather suspicious... Three times. And nothing bad had happened to her. In fact he was pretty sure she had enjoyed herself more with him than anyone else in her life. Making him her 'protector' and therefore, someone who she would become intrinsically drawn to.

At least, that was the plan.


The Lazy Marionette wrote: [imgleft]http://i973.photobucket.com/albums/ae211/QuestionableElipsis/Untitled-9.jpg?t=1342110033[/imgleft]
[padding-left=160]
Soon, Amanda’s hand fell as her eyelids grew heavy. She hadn’t realized just how late it was—or how much energy she had used. Sleep was welcome, even if it was on the floor; she hardly noticed. Its far into morning and therefore time for a woman of the night to finally fall asleep.

Light came through the slits in the curtains drawn over the window, but for the most part the room was still rather dark for morning light. When Amanda’s eyes opened she could see the light coming across the stranger's chest which was still moving up and down rhythmically in time to sleep. She was surprised that the two had hardly moved during sleep. She’d slid off his chest, but was still close enough that there was no room between them. There was a definitely pain in her neck, but part of her felt it was worth it.

When she sat up, the memories of the night before washed over her tired mind and a smile couldn’t help but cross her lips. It was the most intimate night she’d had since college. Unfortunately, that was all it could be and she understood that. It was the nature of her work. It was nice enough to have the memories that she didn’t need the real deal. This way she could spin herself some kind of romantic fantasy to get her through the end of her days as a prostitute. The stranger that stole her heart. It was what books were made of.

Trying to be quite, the young blonde slowly put on her clothes, preparing for the ever famous walk of shame. However, it wasn’t very shameful when most of the people around at this time of morning knew who you were and what you did. In fact, most of them wished her a good morning rather than the judgmental looks she used to receive. It was a hard economy; people were beginning to understand.​
[/padding-left]

[title][/title]

Caresses, expressions of one sort or another,
are necessary to the life of the affections,
as leaves are to the life of trees.
If they are wholly restrained,
love will die at the roots.

-Nathaniel Hawthorne


When Amanda got up, Bornes stirred from his sleep and opened his right eye first, then the left. It took a few seconds for him to actually come to, and he sat up, making an over-exaggerated roll with his head to help crack his neck. He rubbed the back of it with his left hand after he was done, watching Amanda put on her clothes.

"Leaving already?" He asked, his morning voice gruff and laden with the distant memory that he should've been speaking his first language, instead.

After a moment, he stood up and stretched, his arms above him and his tail reaching its full length behind. Afterward, he went to find his pants. Once he pulled them on and buckled his belt, he searched through his pockets while walking to the table. He set a lighter and a pack of cigs on the table before pulling out his wallet and tossing it on the table, also, as if it were worthless to him.

After he threw the wallet down, he went back to the cigs, pulled one out and and lit it, taking a short drag to begin the morning. With the cigarette in his mouth, he put his sunglasses on his face and pushed them high up, to protect his eyes from the morning sun that would inevitably break through the window further on in the day.

"Tout va bien?" He asked, not even thinking about it. He later corrected himself. "Eh.. Are you okay?"

The Lazy Marionette wrote: [imgleft]http://i973.photobucket.com/albums/ae211/QuestionableElipsis/Untitled-9.jpg?t=1342110033[/imgleft]
[padding-left=160]
Amanda heard a rustling behind her and watched as the stranger got up. She gave a small laugh, “Ladies of the night, are just that. They aren’t expected to stay through morning,” she said with a smile. Part of her was surprised that he was asking her why she was leaving. He didn’t seem like the kind of person that would want to keep her around. Often referred to as a ‘liability’, she didn’t maintain much self-esteem in this line of work. Luckily, that problem was solved with her other career.

The bright eyes watched the wallet being tossed on the table and then glanced back at Jack when he asked her if all was well in French. Before she could reply, he corrected himself in English. “I’m fine,” she said with a laugh, “What would suggest otherwise?” she asked, leaning against the wall an eyebrow raised. It wasn’t that she wanted to leave; in fact, every part of her wanted to stay in that hotel room. It was just what she was accustomed to during her working nights. She wasn’t a welcome guest. It was part of her job to make the transition from night to morning smoothly by leaving before things got awkward.

The young blonde studied Jack as he smoked an early morning cigarette, “Unless there is a reason I should stay,” she said holding on to stay longer than necessary to make sure he understood what she was implying. Part of the job was making sure he heart didn’t get involved, but she was finding that more and more difficult with this patron.​
[/padding-left]

[title][/title]

Caresses, expressions of one sort or another,
are necessary to the life of the affections,
as leaves are to the life of trees.
If they are wholly restrained,
love will die at the roots.

-Nathaniel Hawthorne




He shrugged his shoulders as he took his second drag. "You just seem off." He waved his right hand absentmindedly, as if shooing an invisible fly. His left hand held his cig. "Not yourself."

He caught himself before he let out 'I watch people enough to know.' That would've been a bit creepy. He hmphed and gave a second shrug, pulling his cig for a third drag. After that drag, Amanda asked if there was a reason to stay. He pulled the ashtray from where it was on the table closer to him and put his half-smoked cigarette in it, walking over the girl against the wall.

His lips curled into a closed-lip smile, his hands coming forward to interlock his fingers inbetween hers and he leaned forward, his forehead touching her.
"I could think of a few reasons," he whispered.

His hands squeezed her's and rather than kiss her, he brought his face to the area between her shoulder and her neck, inhaling sharply, taking in her scent.
For a moment, he stayed there, his grip loosening, and a brief wish went through his mind that he wished she would pet him and lover him like she would a dog. The thought was short lived as he quickly rebuked it, shutting it away like so many other emotions. He was no dog and he wasn't fond of women.

He squeezed her hands again as he pushed away from her, letting go and going back to his cigarette. When he took another drag, he cocked a brow, watching her from behind his sunglasses. His tail wagged slowly, coy.

He enjoyed teasing her, and he waited for her reaction.
 
Ven x Q Private 1x1 RP (Gaia)
2008

THE ONE RP WHERE Q ISN'T HOMOPHOBIC.
READ IT AND WEEP, BOYS.
XD

[Q] wrote:

Scotland. It was a very pretty country. It was also the first time Q had ever been here. The Agency had brought him here to model for some classy headphones. Why he was worth so much to send across the world from the US to model for some DJs was something that completely escaped Q's mind, but it didn't really matter at this point. The shooting was over for today and he had changed into his normal clothes, his nose inside some brochure about the "Best Bars in Edinburgh".

Q was wearing a rather unfashionable outfit. He didn't care what everyone else thought, on his off time he wore what he wanted. He wore black long sleeves on a red shirt, with black pants, and a gold necklace with a green pendant on it which matches his eyes. Of course, not many people in public saw his eyes as they were usually covered by sunglasses. His hair was grey and lopsided over one side of his face, for the most part hiding a diagonal scar across his face. He also had tattooes on either side of his chin that looked like two black whiskers. His defining feature, though, was his tail. A darker grey than his hair, distinctly canine tail.

One of the bars was around here somewhere... Q looked up to the street signs and followed them, walking for a good hour before he finally came across a lively looking pub by the name of "tServo".

After a moments hesitation, Q stuffed the brochure in his pocket and walked into the place, looking for a place to sit.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]Photo by draggy-chan
Ven growled annoyed when he heard his boss call out for him once again.
Sighing, he rushed down the stairs from his small flat into the store room of the bar.

"Don't be that lazy, boy! You can sleep later, the customers are waiting!" Tom, the owner of the bar, yelled at him.
"Yes, sir..." Ven muttered and rolled his eyes when Tom didn't look at him anymore.
He was way too tired to work in that damn bar right now.

Tom always made him work all night and still expected him to be up in time the next day.
If Ven didn't need the money so badly, he wouldn't be in the bar or even in Edinbugh anymore.
He hated working there but what else should he do? No one would hire him for any other job...
And he should be grateful for the small flat Tom gave him.
Well "flat" was probably exaggerated. It was merely one small bedroom and an even smaller bathroom.

Ven quickly changed into his blue and black workclothes. They were the only things he really liked about his job.
He had always found the waiter's clothes very pretty and being able to wear them made him feel happy like a small child who finally got the toy it had always wanted.

It was only 8 PM so the bar would probably still be barely visited. His job never got too hectic before 10 PM and Ven could not complain about that.
Yawning, he began to tidy up the small bar. He had been right, hardly anyone had come in yet.

"Good evening, Ven!" Lucy, Tom's daughter, greeted him.
She also worked in her father's bar as a waitress and was very friendly, unlike her Dad.
"Hi Lucy" Ven smiled at her and was glad she had already started to pick up the orders of the few customers.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Noticing the bar wasn't that full, Q sat on a stool at the far end of the bar, on the corner. His tail hung loosely between his legs at the back of the stool while he tried to eye the bottles aligned on the back of the bar, seeing what they had.

He was about to order a scotch before he realized that'd make him look like a tourist. Wouldn't it? He'd heard Scotch was some sort of offensive term. Q wanted to drink something good, but he didn't know what. He groaned to himself. The land of pretty much the best alcoholic beverages ever, and he didn't know what to get.

Q spotted a young man with black hair and blue horns sticking out of his head. Q waved the kid over.

"Hey," Q leaned in, his smoker's voice slightly low, once the odd boy came over. "I've never been to Scotland before. I want a really good drink. What is there?"

Q didn't want to look stupid, but he knew he had already achieved the status of dolt.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]Photo by draggy-chan
Ven looked confused at the weird guy in front of him.
What kind of tourist was THAT? Grey hair? He could barely be older than 25. No one of that age had grey hair.
If Ven didn't have blue horns sticking out of his own head, he would probably have freaked out because of the guy's tail.
But now he only frowned at him.
"A really good drink, eh?" He thought of his own favorite drink at once but he wasn't too sure whether that odd guy would like it.
"How about a Salty Dog? That's my personal favourite"

Ven couldn't stop staring at the grey-haired guy. Somehow he seemed so familiar.
Like someone he had seen many times before but he couldn't recall WHERE exactly.
If he had realized that he had been staring at the other guy like a small child, he would have turned red like a tomato.
He wasn't one who liked staring at other people and he certainly didn't like being stared at, either.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q leaned back with a chuckle at the words "salty Dog". He wondered if the slang meant the same thing in this country. It was probably better not to ask.

He leaned forward once more, arms on the bar. "Sure, but only if you tell me what's in it, first," Q replied with a smirk.

Q realized the boy was staring at him, but to be honest, Q liked the attention. The other would've realized Q was staring back had he not been wearing sunglasses. Behind them, Q's green eyes quickly darted from side to side, looking to see if anyone else was smoking. He could see any, so he quickly asked the horned boy if he were allowed to, or if Scotland had outlawed smoking, like every other country, it seemed.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
"Uh, it's vodka and grapefruit juice" Ven answered surprised.
Where the hell was that guy from when he didn't even know what was in a Salty Dog?
The moon?
"If you don't like that, we still have other drinks like Sex on the Beach or Tequila Sunrise. Or just simple beer if you would rather drink that"

Ven frowned even deeper when he heard that question.
"I am sorry. Smoking is not allowed in our bars here in Scotland anymore"


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]"Nah, nah, the Salty Dog's fine," Q waved his left hand haphazardly.
Q didn't know his mixed drinks very well. He felt even more stupid before; the kid acted like it was a common drink.

"Well that's stupid," Q remarked about the anti-smoking laws. "Pubs were made for smokers. It's not fair to outlaw that..."


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
"I'll bring you one, then. And the anti-smoking law is not very useful. We get less customers in here than we would get if people were still allowed to smoke. But this isn't MY bar so I don't worry about that too much"
Ven grinned stupidly.
He turned around and picked the bottles off the shelves to mix the Salty Dog.
While doing that he still wondered where he had seen that guy before.

He poured the vodka into a small glass and looked up at the dog-tail-guy again.
"Uhm, sorry if this seems stupid... But you seem so familiar. Have we met before?"
The moment the words left his mouth Ven felt stupid again. Of course he had never met that guy anywhere.
His memory was just messing around with him again.
How could he possibly have forgotten meeting a guy with a TAIL?

Ven put the Salty Dog down on the bar in front of the guy and waited for an answer.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q took the drink and quickly downed half the glass, turning to the side and coughing slightly.
The grapefruit juice made it taste weird. This must be a girl drink. He laughed at himself in his mind. This night just kept getting worse. He should've just stayed with whisky, but now that he had vodka, there's no way he could switch now.

Turning back to Ven, he forced a smirk. "You're actually not the first to say that."
Q looked around the bar slowly, wondering if they had any magazines. He could find none. Of course not. Why would a pub have magazines? That was stupid.

He put his fist on the bar and turned again toward his server. "You can call me Q. What's your name?"

It seemed more as if Q had simply forgotten to answer the question rather than purposefully avoided it.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Q? That was a name?

Ven began to find that guy weirder and weirder. What had he just been looking for?
Was he some kind of criminal who was afraid of being followed by the police?
Maybe he was a bank robber... Or a pedophile... Maybe even a serial killer...
And now he had come into the bar to hide or kill another innocent waiter.

Ven couldn't help but laugh when he noticed his own silly thoughts.
That was too dumb, even for him.

"Eh, my name is Ven" he mumbled, kinda embarrassed by his own stupid thoughts.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]"Ven is an interesting name, " Q replied.

The man reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He thumbed through various business cards until he found his own. He handed the tan card with black print to the Bartender, putting his wallet away.

"That's probably how you know me." Q took a sip of the drink in his hand, grimacing slightly. Definately not a drink for the future.

The business card had Q's full name on it, Quatre Bornes Lee, as well his profession - model - and his cellphone number.

"You can keep that," Q was giving a subtle hint. But he wondered if the boy'd catch onto it.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
"Uh, thank you..." Ven stuttered.
He took a curious glance at the business card Q had handed him.
Ven's eyes widened when he read "model" on it.
He looked at the Q, back down to the card and then at Q again.
"You're a model!? That's awesome! Sounds like such an interesting job!"

Ven felt a sudden rush of excitement. That Q guy must have a wonderful life. Being a model!
Ven imagined him travelling from photoshoot to photoshoot all over the globe. From one big city to the next all year like some celebrity.
"I bet I have seen you in a magazine then. I'm sorry for that silly question..."

Suddenly Ven's own life seemed so boring and useless to him.
What was he supposed to do with it? Rot here in this bar before he even got the chance to return to Germany, to his mother and his best friend who was waiting for him?
If he even WAS still waiting for him now.
He sighed and slightly shook his head to get rid of such depressing thoughts.
Complaining wouldn't help him at all.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]When Ven burst out that Q was a model, his first impulse was to tell the kid to tone it down a bit. But Ven blabbered on about other things, so Q let it go.

"It's not that interesting," Q remarked, downing the rest of the Salty Dog, so he could move onto better drinks, "But it does allow me to do what I want to."

Q wiped his lips, preferring to have salt on his sleeve rather than tasting it. He should've taken his first impulse and not have ordered a drink with the same slang term, as well... His mind shouldn't go there...

He put the glass down and pushed it aside. "Can I just have a vodka this time?"
Holding onto the edge of the bar, he leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment, before leaning back in with a smirk to Ven. Q was far from drunk; he was not even that tipsy. But he couldn't waste an opportunity like this to have fun.

"When do you get off work, Ven?"


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Ven sighed. Doing whatever he wanted to do sounded too good to ever become true.
He wished he could just do what he wanted and leave Tom and his damn bar and never come back here again.

"Just a vodka? Sure"
He grabbed the bottle of vodka and poured it into a new glass which he gave to Q.
"Guess you didn't like the Salty Dog very much? What a pity, I really love that drink"

He tilted his head to one side. "Uhm... usually not before 2 or 3 in the morning. Tom lets me work all night"
When he said that he looked over his shoulder to make sure that Tom wasn't hearing him.
"Why do you ask?"
[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]"Pfft," Q replied. "Don't worry about it."

He eyes the glass of vodka, and grasped it with his right hand, but didn't take it from the bartop.

"Well I asked because," Q shrugged, "I dunno, maybe you might want..." Q took a sip of the vodka. He was wondering if he was nauseous or if he just had butterflies in his stomach. "Hang out or something."


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Ven grinned at him like a sheep.
"Haha, that would be nice. I don't know anyone here in this city at all!"
He nervously began playing with the cloth he had used to clean the bar.
That guy was a model, probably famous and rich... and wanted to hang out with him? The stupid Ven?

"I don't have any time, though. Tom would kill me if I just left."
Ven sighed and tossed the wet cloth under the bar.
He would love to do something else than sleeping and working for a change.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Heh. Well that was easy enough.

"Ok then, who is this Tom guy?"

Ven pointed out the man. Q mentioned he'd be right back, and slipped off the stool, leaving his full glass on the bar.
Q meandered over to who he assumed to be the Barkeep, and began to speak out of earshot of Ven.

Q was taller than Tom, and as he spoke, he gestured with his hands a lot. Tom just nodded every know and then, speaking seldomly. Q pointed over to Ven for a moment, and Tom looked concerned and voiced as such.

Q pulled out his wallet as he talked and counted out his money. He handed Tom a bunch of pounds. Tom shook his head, Q shrugged and then handed Tom some more money, this time US dollars. Tom seemed nervous but finally nodded and waved Ven over while Q put his wallet away and crossed his arms over his chest.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Confused, Ven watched Tom and Q talk to eachother.
What the hell was that guy doing?
He'd get in trouble, he was sure about that... Being distracted from work and stuff like that.
Tom always loved to yell at him whenever he got distracted.

When Tom waved him over Ven bowed down his head and shuffled towards the two men.
"Yes?"
"You can leave for now, boy. I'll take care of the customers tonight, Lucy is here to help me anyways"
"What?" Ven gasped and looked at Tom and Q. "Am I fired?! I swear, I didn't want to-" "Calm down, boy. Be back to work tomorrow afternoon, you're not fired"
Ven scratched his head and wondered what the hell Q had told his boss...
"Uh, thank you, Tom"


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q smirked, "Come on, then. Let's go."
He waved Ven along and exited the pub. Once he and Ven were outside, Q asked, "So, where do you want to go? Certainly there's some place for tourists and locals, right?"


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
"Hey, I'm still in my workclothes!" Ven looked at his reflection in the bar's windows and frowned.
He was beginning to feel way too nervous. His fingers started playing with his shirt this time.
"I just said that I don't know much about this city either..." he replied in a low voice.
"Never had a reason to go somewhere alone. It's not much fun to do something all on your own, is it?"
He laughed nervously while staring at the ground. "I just came here two weeks ago"


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]"Well I like your work clothes!" Q proclaimed. He swatted playfully at Ven's shoulder.
After calming down, he said "Well fine, we're both tourists I suppose. You don't know of anywhere to go?"

Q placed his hand in his pocket and pulled out the brochure about Scotland again. "Only one night and can't do a damn thing with it," he grumbled to himself.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
"I suppose so. I haven't seen anything of this city yet"
He looked at the brochure Q held in his hands and tried to spot anything interesting but he wasn't very good in reading upside-down.
"You're only here for one night? You must be pretty busy with your job"
Ven couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed.
Now he had finally met someone who talked to him more than just yelling "Do this, boy", "Get over here!" or "Don't daydream while you work!" and then that guy wouldn't even be around for longer than a few hours.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]"I only come to places so people can take pictures of me, then I go back to where I live. In the United States."
He looked down at the brochure with a sigh.
"It's not economical to stay in one place for longer than I have to."

He looked down to Ven, who seemed to be lost in his thoughts. "But hey! It's just a job. We're both off of work now, so let's have fun somewhere. Surely there's something you'd like to do?"


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
"Oh wow, you're living in America? That's awesome! I have always wanted to go to Los Angeles one day when I get enough money to afford it"

Ven started thinking about all the things he would love to do again.
He didn't have any opportunity to do anything at all while he lived at his uncle's place.
Most people freaked out once they saw his horns and decided to never come near him again.

"Hm, how about the movies? Ah nah, that would be too boring... and uh... I have no idea. Oh god, I must be annoying, I'm sorry"
He stared at his feet again.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]"I am sorry to say I live in New York," Q chuckled, putting a hand on Ven's shoulder. "If you were annoying, I would be with you right now. Just calm down, okay? I am a normal person. Just like you."

Q wagged his tail slightly and patted Ven's head, careful to not touch the horns. He wanted to ask about them, but he didn't want to insult Ven.

"I guess we can just head back to my hotel, if that interests you."


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Ven looked up at Q and smiled.
"Cool! New York! I've read so much about that city, it must be interesting to LIVE there. All the movies that are set there... and the TV shows and books!"
He noticed Q's wagging dog tail and giggled.

"Oh, uhm... your hotel?"
Ven hesitated.
All those crappy thoughts about the serial killer came back to his mind.
His behaviour was so childish, but you could never be too careful, right?
Ah well, this guy wouldn't kill him but boredom would.

"Okay, I bet you have got a huge flat screen TV there!" Ven grinned at him again.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q shifted his weight and put his right hand on his hip. "If you don't feel comfortable with it, you don't have to go to the hotel, Ven."

He didn't want the boy to feel unsafe - that was the last thing he wanted. Regardless, he knew Ven would follow him anyway; they always did, and he began walking. "I hope you like walking," Q smiled to himself.

It would be an hour until they reached The Scotsman Hotel, probably the best hotel in Edinburgh - Q could never know for sure. He made sure Ven was still with him when he entered the hotel, went into the elevator to quite near the top, and got out of the elevator and headed toward a room with double doors. So it wasn't a room at all - it was a suite. A baron Suite, specifically.

Q slipped the card into the door to electronically unlock it. He opened the door on the inside, and motioned Ven to come inside. Directly in front of them was a large sitting room, which split on either end to a different bedroom. A bar was directly beside the door they walked through, and bathrooms were attached to each bedroom.

It was large, to say the least, but also old fashioned. There was no flatscreen TV. There was, however, an angry, albeit beautiful, tall woman with long blonde hair standing up and stomping toward them.

"Another boy!" She poke loudly, yet not quite to the volume of a yell. She had been looking over some type of schedule previously; the book and pen were still on the coffee table.
"When will you stop, Quatre?" She glared to Ven with her azure eyes.
Lowering her voice as she narrowed her eyes at Ven's horns, she whispered loudly, "Did you get this one from the circus??"

Q immediately put himself between her and Ven, forcing Ven behind himself.
"Loria, please, leave this alone. Can't you go do that stuff in the other room?" Q tried to keep his voice low, although he knew Ven could hear everything they said... He was right there, after all.

The woman humphed and grabbed her notebook, stomping over into the other room and slamming the door.

Q walked toward the couch and sat down with a loud sigh. "That was my agent. Don't mind her. I'm sorry about that." He yawned and put his feet on the coffee table, eying the empty ashtray on it. He briefly wondered if he could smoke around this kid, but decided against it.

"So anyway!" Q turned his head to Ven, "This is my hotel room. What do you think?"


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
"Another boy"? What the hell did this guy do all the time?
Collect boys in every city as souvenirs...?

Ven looked at Q suspiciously. Maybe coming here had not been such a great idea after all.
But he didn't want to be rude and was far too lazy to get outside and walk all the way back to the bar so he sat down on the other side of the couch and eyed the huge hotel room.
"It is... pretty amazing," he finally replied.

And hell, it was amazing. Ven had never seen such a big hotel room - no, suite - in his life before.
He and his Mum had never went on any long trips. Even if they had done that, they could never have afforded to stay in a hotel room like this!

Ven glanced back at Q and he noticed once again the twitching dog tail.
Curious at he was, he pointed at it and asked "Uhm, what's up with that tail? I don't think I've ever seen someone with a dog tail"
Oops, had that been too rude?


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q was feeling pretty smug about himself until Ven brought up the tail. He sat up straight, taking his feet off the table, and turned his body toward Ven to hide the tail behind himself.
"It's just something that I was born with. It's not a big deal," Q was trying to convince himself of that, as well as Ven.

"Were you born with your horns?"

Q pushed some air out of his nose in a quiet snort before he got himself up, and walked passed Ven. "I bet people give you shit all the time for having those."
He disappeared into the open bedroom (which was his own) and came back with a glass and a small travel bottle of whatever this hotel's personal choice in overpriced cheap vodka from the mini bar was.

He sat back down at the couch, away from Ven, since the kid seemed uncomfortable, and poured himself the glass. He briefly looked over to Ven, "You want anything?"

This night was turning dreary pretty quickly. Q was tired already, possibly from jetlag, and he wanted to have some fun before he wasted it all. He was genuinely interested in this horned boy. Not just because he had horns, of course... But it was a plus. Q had never met another... mutant? Is that what they were? Well, he'd never met someone quite like himself, and if a horned kid was the closest Q could get to find another guy with a tail, than Q was going to go for it.
Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Ven sighed barely noticeable when Q mentioned his horns.
"Yes. They have always been there. It's a pretty odd story, though, and I don't want to bore you with that stuff"
He leaned back and stretched his legs.
"Actually, people just tend to look at me as if I was some alien and ignore me after that. I can't really say I got in much trouble because of them except for one single time"

Ven crossed his arms over his chest and growled.
"But that one single time was the reason my Mum sent me all the way up here to Scotland in the first place. I guess she must have suffered because of my... abnormality more than I did"
Then he poked one of his horns and grinned.
"But I like them. They are kinda special, you know? At least one thing that's not totally boring"

Ven watched Q get the bottle and leaned over to read what the label said.
"Is that vodka? Yes, I'd love some of that, thank you!"
He nodded in agreement to his own words.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]"I don't think you're boring at all," Q leaned back on the sofa as he passed Ven the glass of Vodka. He didn't feel like getting up again.Q could live without.

"I find it interesting that they're blue," he said, watching the boy from behind his glasses. "I thought horns are only supposed to be white or brown... Because they're bone."

Q leaned forward a bit, to let his tail out from behind him, and show it to Ven. If they were sharing their abomination, it wouldn't be fair to not share Q's tail. He pointed to it briefly. "Even my tail is my original hair color." The tail was a dark grey, almost black. But at the same time, seemed like a deeply desaturated brown.

"Does it hurt when people touch them? Your horns, I mean."


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
"Please don't ask me now why they are blue" Ven blinked at him and took a sip of the vodka.
"Maybe incubi do have blue skin or hair or even bones?"
But then Ven realized he hadn't told Q about his parents yet.
"You must know that I am not really... human" He frowned and took another sip out of the glass.
"My father was an incubus. So I am actually a half-incubus... Pretty scary, isn't it?"

Ven shook his head at the last question.
"No, it doesn't hurt. I guess I can hurt others with those horns better than they could ever hurt me"
Once again he looked at Q suspiciously. He still didn't know what to think about that guy.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q choked back a laugh. Incubus? Incubus? That was the silliest thing Q had ever heard. Even if Incubi existed - which they didn't - they had no solid form. There was no way anybody could be "half incubus". Whatever this kid had to come up with to make him feel okay with his horns was the kid's problem. While stupid and something Q refused to believe, he wasn't going to banish Ven just because he thought he was an incubus. When Q was younger he thought some pretty strange things too. They went away. Q knew he was human.

"Well, maybe that's why you're so good to look at." Q chuckled again. Gah, he really wanted to smoke. Or at least drink. He'd just have to live without it.

"Like your eyes. I noticed they're different colors. They look really... Cool." Q wanted to say beautiful, but that would've sounded weird and he wasn't sure about Ven's orientation still. He knew he already had the kid pretty scared from what Loria had said. He was coming off pretty strong now as well, but he didn't want the boy to get any more afraid. Even if Q couldn't get anything romantically out of Ven, Q still wanted to hang out with him; he was interesting, and Q would probably never meet another person like him again.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]Ven noticed Q's weird coughing.
"Hey! I'm saying the truth. I know that no one ever believes me when I tell them about that" He crossed his arms over his chest and pouted.

Ven was not that stupid. He knew exactly that Q was making fun of him.
But he didn't even have time to feel insulted because of the compliments Q made right after that.
"Uh, thank you...?" He blushed and scratched his head again. It was something he always did when he was nervous.
"They are the part about me... which I like the most, I guess," he stuttered.

Talking about his own eyes made him look up any try to meet Q's.
Well, Ven couldn't even really see Q's eyes.
"But why are you still wearing those sunglasses? Even in here and at this time of the day?"


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]"Oh, you want to see my eyes, huh? I think my eyes are the best part of me, also." Q scooted over closer to Ven, putting his face close to the boy's.

"Watch closely, this is why I wear sunglasses all the time."

Q brought his left hand behind his left ear, and pushed down on the ear piece of the sunglasses, so the shades themselves would jump up, over his eyes and touch his forehead.
His eyes were an emerald green, and his black pupils quickly went from normal circles to thin slits in adjustment to the light. It was as if Q were part animal; even normal human eyes that were sensitive to light did not form into vertical slits. Just smaller circles.

Q blinked a few times, then let go of the glasses' ear piece so they fell back over his eyes, and leaned his back on the couch with a sigh.
"I can't see very when it is light out. I can see okay at night without the glasses if there are no electric lights or anything... Street lights are a big bother... It's just easier to leave them on."

He smiled, looking over at Ven. "These are prescription anyway. I doubt a normal person could see through them." He chuckled to himself. "Want to try?"
He took his glasses off and offered them to Ven.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Ven stared into Q's eyes.
"Woah! That's cool! Your eyes look like cat eyes! They are very pretty!"
He looked at Q curiously and nodded.

"Oh, why not?" Ven took the glasses and tried them on.
The room went pitch black at once.
"Huh, your glasses are... dark. Do your eyes have anything to do with your tail?"


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q shrugged. "I guess. But my eyes didn't get really sensitive to light until I was a teenager. I was normal before then... Eye wise, I mean." the man shrugged again, and offered his hand so he could have his glasses back.

Q wasn't in pain or anything; it was dim enough. He just preferred to have the glasses on.

"Whatever makes me so weird comes from my mother. My father had a little affair on this island off the coast of Africa. He said she was some sort of cursed gypsy or something. I never met her... I was always with my Father. And he is normal as they come."


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Ven gave Q back his sunglasses. "A cursed gypsy? That's almost as scary as incubi!"
He leaned back and stretched his arms over his head, yawning.
"I have never met my father. And I don't think I ever want to meet him. He'd probably eat me"
He laughed and yawned again.

"My mother never wanted to talk about it. She had to go through a lot of shit when she was younger.
And getting impregnated by some evil demon guy doesn't really make things better, does it?
Her Dad was not too nice back then and threw her out of her parents' house"


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q yawned as well while he put his sunglasses back on. Leaning back, he put his arms on the back of the couch, one behind Ven, but being careful to not touch the boy. The man put his boots back on the coffee table before them before he began to speak again.

"My Father didn't really talk about it either. It was a banned thing, to talk about me being different. He simply insisted I was normal. It was just me, him, and a lot of other boys, though. I went to a military school for boys. It was a boarding school, but Father pulled some strings or something, so he lived with me. I'm not going to pretend to understand why it worked out like that."

Q shrugged. "Since I was in all boys schools for my entire life I don't know much about girls." he laughed to himself. He looked over to Ven. "But I'm sure you get lots of dates with them."


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Ven coughed while trying to keep himself from laughing out loud when he heard that.
"You must be kidding, right? Getting many dates with these... THINGS on my head?"
He quickly shook his head.
"I don't think I ever had a date with any girl... or with anyone at all in the first place. If I ever had one then I must have been too drunk to remember anything of it"

Ven shrugged and turned his head to look out of the huge window.
This guy was really making him too nervous.


[Q] wrote: Q looked down at the vodka glass, wondering if Ven had finished with it.
"Don't take offense to this," Q mustered softly. "But are you straight?"


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Ven's head snapped back to face Q. "Uh, what?"
He noticed his face was turning read like a tomato.
"I... don't know. I've never been in love with a girl... But I really have no idea. I already told you, I've never had a date or something like that"
He looked down to his hands lying in his lap.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q frowned. "Just because you've never been on a date, doesn't mean you don't know what you want."

The man turned to face Ven on the couch, putting his own hands in his lap. "How old are you?"
Maybe this kid looked older than he really was. Did Q make a bad choice? Oh god. He didn't want to seem like some sort of sick pedophile. His reputation was bad enough as it was.

"I'm sorry," he bowed his head slightly, his voice almost a whisper. "It was a mistake bringing you here. I can tell this is too weird. I can get you a taxi back home if you want."


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
"Eh..." Ven blushed even more.
"I guess I am not really sure about that yet. But I don't think I am straight..."
He breathed out quickly to calm himself down. He had never been asked about that.
Especially not by another guy.

"No, no, no!" He waved his hands quickly.
"Please don't make me go back to Tom's bar yet! You don't know how happy I am to be out of there for once"
He sighed and looked up at Q again.
"I am 18. Sorry, if I behave like a little child. I really didn't mean to bother you!"
[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]"You are not bothering me," Q sighed, looking down at his hands. "I like you. I just don't want to make you do something you don't want to do. I am not like that."

Q stood up and walked over to the window, which was full length. He looked outside at the traffic, and in the distance, the woods, and even further.. What he assumed was Loch Ness.

"When do you have to be at work tomorrow? We have to think of something fun to do before then." He put his hand on the glass. How he wished this was a porch of some sort, so he could go out and smoke. Why would a suite like this not have an outdoor porch? Truly stupid, it was.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Make me do something I don't want to do?
Ven gulped as he imagined some things Q could have meant with that...
But he decided he didn't want to think about that right now.
His heart was already racing so he quickly looked away from Q to keep his mind out of the gutter.

Ven grabbed the glass of vodka and emptied it.
The taste of alcohol never failed to calm him down.

"... I have to be back in the bar at 7 PM usually," Ven replied in a low voice. "That's still enough time to do something fun, right?"
He wanted to slap himself immediately after saying that.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright][[7pm tomorrow? Remember it was 8pm when we left the bar, and it's probably at least 10pm now, if not later.]]

Q thought for a moment, still looking out the window. "There's a movie theater downstairs. Maybe we could watch something there?"

Almost immediately after saying it, a cellphone rang, and it was coming from Q's belt. He gave a groan and pulled it out from its holster at his back, and briefly looked at the front of the phone to see who was calling him at this time, before flipping open the phone and giving a gruff "Why are you calling so late?"

The volume on the phone was low, so the other end of the call was inaudible to outsiders. Q sighed as he let the other end talk. "France? But we were supposed to go back home before-" Q frowned as he was apparently cut off on the other end.

"Yes, I can," Q paced from the small kitchen near the door to the outside hall and the window as he used his free hand to scratch his head while he was on the phone. "Yeah, I can memorize them. Give them to Loria and I'll do it on the plane..."

After I small pause, Q's tail raised up. "Hey, wait. My..." Q looked over to Ven briefly, "My brother is here. I want him to come." The man shoved his free hand in his pocket.
"No, he doesn't have a tail. But it'd be better if the press didn't see him regardless." A pause. Q was stern this time, "Take it out of what they're giving me, then. I don't care about the money. I've never asked for anything from you before."

Q stopped by the window, looking over to Ven as he leaned his shoulder on it. He released a sigh of relief. "His name is Ven. You will know him when you see him; trust me." After another pause he gave his thanks, closed the phone, and put it away.

He put his hand to his face for a moment, rubbing his temples with his thumb and forefinger. When he was done he looked over to Ven and said. "You can go to France with me tomorrow. Want to go to back to your home and get your stuff?"

Q didn't think Ven would have any issues with it - the boy seemed genuinely unhappy with where he was now, and Q's whole life had been traveling. He didn't understand how stressful it was to move, so he assumed Ven would be right on board.

"The flight is 11am tomorrow."


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Ven stared at Q, his mouth hanging wide open. "France!? Are you serious!?"
He jumped from the couch and bounced in excitement.
"Oh my God, I would love to go there with you! I've never been to France in my life!"

Ven nodded quickly with a wide grin on his face.
This was sure getting interesting. He smelled a chance to escape Tom's bar forever and France was not that far from Germany, either.
Perhaps something interesting was finally happening in his life?
Images of the France he knew from the movies came to his mind. The Eiffel Tower in Paris, Vineyards, the Mediterranean Sea, ...
It almost sounded like summer vacations.

Tom would be furious, Ven was sure. He would not be able to return to the bar for working.
He slightly shook his head at that thought.
As if he would miss that grumpy old guy and his dirty little flat.
After all, he could just look for work in France and travel back to Germany from there.

"But... won't you be too busy with your work there to take a guest? I don't wanna keep you from working"
Ven just asked that out of courtesy, of course.
He did want to go there so badly... and if Q was too busy to take him, he would not have asked him in the first place, right?

Then he remembered Q's first question. "They have their own movie theater in this hotel? Sure, I love the movies!"


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]
Q smiled. At least someone was happy about this.

"Well we don't have time to see a movie, now... Let's go get your things first. Where do you live?"
Q looked in his pockets and made sure he had the hotel cardkey before he went to the door. He walked through it, but held it open for Ven.

"I will have to work from four to about eleven at night, but, we'll be there for two days. And no one's stopping you from wandering around yourself." Q would conveniently leave out that he lived in France most of his life. Q didn't think it was such an awesome place, but he knew practically everyone else did. He couldn't really understand why, but a part of him didn't want to. France was beautiful, he would admit that. But aside from looking at the monuments and things, he just didn't see where the excitement came from.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Ven put down the glass he had still held in his hands and followed Q outside of the hotel suite.
"I live right above that bar where I work. And I don't have many things to get either, just a few bags"
He continued bouncing up and down next to Q.

"Where exactly in France will you go? Paris? It would be awesome to see the Eiffel Tower!"
Ven continued talking and asking about Q's job during the whole way back to the bar.
He was euphoric about that trip and totally forgot about being nervous like he was just a few minutes ago.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q shut the door behind them both, and kept his voice fairly soft. He was tired, and obviously not as excited as Ven was.

"Yes, it's near Paris. There is this movie they're premiering.. It's all computer graphics. It was originally Japanese but the French version aires in the big cities tomorrow. The company wanted a big live event before and after the screening. It's a common practice, not a job I normally take though."

They were low paying. It seemed money was getting tight these days, Q was getting old. His publicist would have made some stupid story about him for TV if the money situation got much worse.

The two of them (Q and Ven) went down the elevator again and went outside, hailed a taxi, and went to the bar once more. Once they got out and Q paid the driver, he turned to Ven and asked if there were a back door to the bar, or if they had to enter through the main entryway like everyone else.

Q had lost track of time but it had to be at least 10pm. The bar would probably be crowded by now.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
"There is a backdoor right there" Ven pointed to a small alley next to the bar's main entrance.

He hurried over to a small grey door and searched his pockets for the keys.
Ven knew he had put them somewhere, he always carried them around with him.
When he found them he unlocked the door and waved Q inside.
"Just be quiet please, I don't really want Tom to notice me leaving. I got my money for this month and I am not keen on him yelling at me again"

He rushed upstairs into his small flat to grab his things.
Since he did only have two bags of clothes with him it didn't take him more a few minutes to stuff all his shirts and pants into them.
Before leaving the room again he quickly grabbed a small envelope with his money in it and threw the keys on his bed.
"We can leave, that's all!" He held up his bags and grinned at Q.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright][[ x.x ]]

Q came in, watched Ven pack his things, then quietly left behind the boy with his bags. Q offered to take one of them, and began walking until he found a taxi. There he waved it down and they drove to the hotel once more, re-entering it and using the elevator to go to the Baron suite again.

Upon re-admittance, Loria was there to see him again, Ven and bags in tow. She was not pleased.

"I heard what Corey said. You really expect me to believe this boy is your brother? You know--"

Q put a hand to her face, and turned to Ven. "Excuse me for a few minutes. My friend and I need to talk privately." He groaned and pushed the busty woman into her bedroom, closing the door behind them both.

[[ =P Now who has nothing to respond to? ]]


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
"Uh... okay...?"
Ven stood there in the hotel room, his bags lying at his feet and stared at the door of that woman's bedroom with a confused look on his face.
He frowned and then let himself drop down on the floor. He had always prefered sitting on the floor over sitting on a couch anyways.

What the hell was he doing in this hotel?
That woman obviously was not happy to see him here. Maybe he should have stayed in his flat...
But he was too used to people not being pleased with his presence so he didn't mind it this time either.

Ven kept staring at the closed door for several minutes and started feeling like an idiot.
Yawning, he just stretched out on the carpet and used one of his bags as a pillow while waiting for Q and the woman to reappear.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]"I don't understand why you have to yell at me in front of other people," Q mused, once he was behind the protection of the closed door.

Loria crossed her arms over her chest. "Well when else am I supposed to do it? You're always dicking around with your little boyfriends. You know why you can't get any jobs any more? All the things we overcome with your tail and your scar and your stupid tattoos, and now everyone spreads rumors about your little gay love affairs - you're worse than a catholic priest!"

The model frowned, and coupled his hands behind his back. "They have always been over eighteen. I'm not a dumbshit; I don't break laws and I don't make anyone do what they don't want to." His voice was still soft. He didn't want to lose his temper. It only brought him trouble when he raised his voice, especially when it was against the woman who cut a majority of his paychecks.

"You're a sick predator, that's what you are. And you're using that devilkid for your own benefit!" Loria pointed to the wall where Ven should've been and began to go into tears. Whether it was because she genuinely hated working with Q for this very reason, or she cared about Ven, Q wasn't sure. In his confusion, he shifted his weight and brought his hands to his sides.

The woman kept glaring at him with her blue eyes. There was an uncomfortable silence, before Q spoke. It was a softer tone than normal.
"I am very greatful for everything you have given me, and you know this. I also know I do things you do not approve of. But this boy is not my plaything. He is a person just like you or I, he is eighteen years old, and he wishes to go to France. I want to give him that. And if it makes you more comfortable, I will treat him no more than my brother. I have done nothing but this since we met, and I will continue to do so, if that is what you ask of me."

The blonde haired woman hmphed, shifting her weight. "Don't give me that bullshit. I'm sure you macked on that kid five times already."

Q shook his head. "Despite what you think I really do appreciate you. I'm not willing to ditch him after I already told him I'd take him to Paris. But I won't touch him if it makes you feel better. You know you can trust me. I've never lied to you. I would be on the streets without you."

Loria growled to herself, shaking her head. Then she nodded, but balled her fists. After a few moments of hesitation, she finally said, "If you even so much as hold hands with that boy, I will tell Corey to make the conspiracies against you reach public news. Then you really will look like a fool." Doing that would definitely ruin Q's career and life forever. He'd never be able to be hired anywhere, for anything...
He let out a sigh.

"Just stop making fun of his horns when you are around him. I'm sure he gets it enough as it is." There was a certain sentiment to that remark from Q as he said it. He felt for Ven.

He opened the door and walked past Ven, giving a gruff "I have to smoke," as he passed. He went across the way to his own bedroom and to the window in there. He pulled up a chair from an office desk and sat it near the open window, where he lit up and leaned his elbow on the window sill, looking out at the city's lights.

Assuming Ven came into the room, the man would very softly ask, "So you want to sleep on the bed or the couch?"

Q was stressed, tired, and now forlorn. He'd felt bad about wanting ot lay his hands on Ven but now he physically couldn't since his job was in danger. With no possibility to be close to the kid he wanted, Q had to rethink his plans for this night and forthcoming ones. The days would be long and boring. Work would seem like it had no reward. He knew he was going to have a stressful few weeks ahead of him, if Ven decided to stay for longer than just France.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Ven heared muffled voices from inside the woman's bedroom.
He couldn't understand one word of it but he was sure that the woman - what was she called? Loria? Something like that, Ven couldn't quite remember her name - was arguing with Q.

Ven sighed and sat up again.
Was she mad because of him being here and keeping Q from working?
He felt pretty uncomfortable now because that was the last thing he wanted.

But he was just too happy about the events of this night.
Q was a bit scary, yes... but Ven had never met anyone with a tail before. Somehow it made him feel a bit less lonely.
Everyone had always just stared at his horns, treated him like air or - even worse - like an animal.
No one had ever cared about him, except for his mother and his only friend. And he had not seen his best friend in months. Ven had never done anything to deserve being treated like that and that made him feel that lonely.
His life had just been way too unfair.
Q seemed to be the first one who was not disgusted by his horns and Ven felt his heart beating faster by that thought.
Maybe someone really cared about him after all that?

When Q finally stepped out of the bedroom he didn't look very happy.
After hesitating for a few seconds, Ven stood up and followed him into the other room. He wanted to ask Q whether everything was okay but he was cut off by Q's question.
"I guess since this is your hotel room, you are going to sleep in that bed, right? I'll just sleep on the couch then... I don't wanna make you sleep there, I am the guest... I heard you were having an argument with your friend. Sorry, if I made her mad"
He bowed down his head and added "Is it really okay that you take me with you?"


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q did not have to have the window open to smoke, as this was a smoking room, but he enjoyed the wind through his hair regardless. It would've preferred a porch or a deck. He had no idea why this suite had none.. It had slightly miffed the model. He liked nature and clean air; he didn't want to have to be cooped up in some room without it.

Q's hand was on his cheek, his cigarette in his mouth. He coughed slightly at Ven's response before he himself responded. "That's right. You are a guest," he said quietly, almost distant. "As such you should be treated better than the host. You can have the bed. I'll sleep on the couch."

He looked out at the street, noting the few cars. It wasn't as congested as he had thought it would be. He let out some smoke through his nose after another slight cough. "Loria doesn't like you. I am mostly paid through her, so I have to respect what she says, or else I am out of a job. She thinks that," he paused, choosing his words carefully, "... because of things I have done in the past, I will make the agency look bad." He snorted.

"However, she has agreed to let you go, and we will both have a fun time together. You shouldn't worry about it." He sat up and forced a smile to Ven. "I can take care of things. I used to live in France. I will show you the Eiffel Tower, and anything else you want to see. You can also hang out while I get ready to work, or even watch the movie... If you understand french, or are a fan of the series. It's..." Q looked up to the cieling, trying to remember the name of the series this movie was in.

"Final Fantasy? I think. Well the character I am dressing up as is named Kadaj, at least." He looked back To Ven and took another drag, trying to gauge the boy's reaction. "The entire thing will all be in French, though. So maybe you won't want to come?"


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Ven looked at Q, then at the huge bed and back at Q again.
"Okay, if you say so!" He threw himself onto the soft bed and stretched his arms over his head.
Usually, he would not have done that because he liked to think he had good manners.
But he just couldn't resist the thought of sleeping in a huge, soft hotel bed. It was the first time ever that he was in such a pretty hotel, after all.

He growled slightly as he heard that.
"I am not surprised that she doesn't like me. Believe it or not, it's not the first time someone dislikes me. But it doesn't matter, I am quite used to that by now"

As soon as he heard Q mention the Eiffel Tower, he began grinning happily.
"You have lived there? That's nice! You know, I could get jealous when I hear all that!"
He imagined Paris to be beautiful. A few months ago he had seen a film about Paris on TV and he had wanted to go there ever since then.
All those small houses, the little restaurants, the decorated trees, the shiny lights at night, ...
Everything had seemed like a city in a fairy tale.

Ven rolled himself on his back and watched Q, his arms crossed under his head.
"Final Fantasy...? I think someone at my school was into that. Isn't that some video game?
I never owned a console and always just played in the arcade hall, so I don't know it, sorry. But I want to come! Sounds like fun"

Ven caught himself wishing that Q would just drop down next to him on the bed instead of sleeping on the couch.
When he realized what he had just thought he blushed like mad and quickly turned his head away from Q.
This was not going to turn into a fairy tale where a knight in a shiny white armour would come and free the innocent princess from her dark and lonely dungeon.
No, certainly not. Ven was more suited for the role of the horned dragon in such a tale...


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q wasn't smoking so much as simply letting the cigarette burn itself away in his mouth while he listened to Ven and watched the street.

"I'm not sure," he said in regards to Final Fantasy. "I've never been into TV or video games. But I'm going to have to watch the movie on Lorie's laptop on the plane."

He heard Ven flop on the bed, and at the sound, he turned around to look at the boy. His heart sunk. With a sigh, he stood up and leaned toward the office desk, snuffing out the cigarette that had only burned three fourths of the way to the butt.

"Hey Ven..." he said, sitting back down, yet this time, he was backward in the chair. His arms were across the back of it. "...We have to talk about this trip..."

Q waited a moment, till he knew he had Ven's full attention, before he continued. "There probably isn't going to be, but just in case there is press. Or anybody asks you... You're my brother. And don't say anything differently. We can have different fathers or something... I don't know. But we are brothers. And if anyone tries to ask you anything about my personal life, or yours... Or try to take your picture... And I am not there to say it's ok... You need to keep walking, or put something in front of your face, or decline to comment."

He breathed a deep sigh. "And if they are from the U.S., and you have a chance, you say 'I do not give you permission to use my photos or likeness', just like that. You're not famous, so it's against the law for them to publish your face without your permission. They have implied permission unless you say that. I'm not sure on the details of French laws regarding it, but if they're from America, they can't do it."

Q dismounted the chair and pushed it back under the desk. He walked over to his suitcase, a small rolling bag filled with normal, rolled up clothes - comparatively small considering the user. As he dug in, looking for clothes for the next morning, he said, "There probably won't be any press, but just in case there is - remember that."

Once he found what he was looking for - simple khakis and a dress shirt - he closed the case and went to the couch. He tossed the clothes on the coffee table, then brought Ven's bags into the bedroom.

"I'm going to sleep now. Is there anything I should know before we call it a night?" As he said this, he took his sunglasses off and hooked them in his shirt, afterward crossing his arms over his chest. It was dark enough now that his pupils remained considerably human. After all, no lights were on in the bedroom - it was only the glow from the open window's view of street lights that softly lit the room.
Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Ven listened to Q and nodded.
"Uh, sure, I'll remember that. I don't want to cause any trouble"

It sounded like Q's life and work could get pretty hectic sometimes.
Brothers? As if someone would believe that... they looked nothing alike at all. But he didn't say anything against it.
What would Q think if he protested and told him "No, I don't want to pretend being your brother"?
Ven let out a sigh and sat up.
He felt slightly disappointed when he watched Q taking his clothes and bringing them into the other room.

"Do you really not mind sleeping on the couch?" he asked. "I mean, the bed is big enough for two..."
Oh, come on Ven, stop it! You are making yourself look like a fool.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Ahah. Oh god. Q would have liked nothing better than to be in that bed with Ven. Right now, and for possibly a good two adventurous hours afterward.
But he wasn't going to go back on his deal. He couldn't risk it.

Q's green eyes went to the floor, then to the side. The man was very emotive through his eyes. The sunglasses helped hide that he cared, and thought before his words. He gave a loud sigh through his nose before he said "I will be fine on the couch." Then he turned around and went back to the main room.

It wasn't exactly a lie. Q could sleep on the couch. He could sleep on the floor, even. Q was one of those people who slept pretty heavily. He would prefer the bed, and he would prefer his back not killing him the next morning. But, everything he did was for a reason. And the reasons for sleeping on the couch were justified.

As he sat on the couch, unlacing his boots, he briefly wondered if he should sleep in his clothes. He usually didn't, but Ven had already invited him to bed.. So perhaps it was best to simply try to avoid all potential chances of attraction and.or flirting. Dirty clothes at night it was, then.

Once both boots were off, Q put the glasses on the coffee table near his rolled up clothes, and laid flat on the seat of the couch, on his stomach. Luckily for him, the couch was long enough to support his 6 foot tall form - an idea he had remarked as an oddball luxury and would have gladly given up for a porch instead, when he had first entered the hotel. Within minutes the model was asleep and did not wake up until seven in the morning the next day. Almost exactly, he was awoken by his internal clock. He was up, had his glasses on, and his red and black shirt off while he ironed his blue dress shirt with the equipment the hotel had provided.

He didn't know if Ven was up yet, and honestly didn't care as he yawned, focusing on getting the wrinkles out of his shirt before putting it on. When he was alone, he could wear the unfashionable stupid things that he liked. When he was with Loria - which he would be, at the airport - he needed to dress nicely. It wasn't the best, but it would do for the airport.

On Q's bare back was the tattoo of a golden ankh. It went from the nape of his neck to his waist, the "cross" portion happening across his shoulder blades. It wasn't very noticeable from afar when Q's skin was pale. Lately, his skin had been pale.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
"Your choice" Ven grinned. "Good night then!"
He grabbed one of his bags and searched it for his pajama pants. Usually he only slept in boxers but he didn't want to behave as if this was his home.
After he had changed into the pants he slipped under the big blanket and closed his eyes with a content smile on his lips.

Although he had been pretty tired just a few minutes ago he couldn't sleep now.
Lost in his thoughts he stared at the ceiling and watched the reflections of bypassing cars on the streets outside the hotel.

Maybe he had really found a new friend. Ven had been wishing for some company for years.
He had not seen his mother, his sisters and his best friend since shortly after his 16th birthday.
And his uncle had not exactly been the kind of company he had hoped for... His uncle was a friendly man but he had always seemed like a stranger to Ven, not like a close family member.

He didn't even know Q one bit... but every new friendship starts like that, right?
Ven knew that he preferred Q's company over Tom's or his uncle's by far. Somehow he felt strangely attracted to the man.
This left him confused enough to keep him awake another one or two hours and it must have been long past midnight when he finally fell asleep.

The next morning, Ven was awoken by muffled sounds from the other room.
Since he had not had much sleep he did not really feel like getting up, so he pullet the blanket over his head, keeping the sunlight from his eyes.
But a few minutes later he decided that he didn't want to oversleep and fought his way out of the bedsheets and blankets.

Rubbing his eyes and yawning, Ven shuffled over to the door and stepped into the other room.
Q was standing at an ironing-board so Ven could only see his back.
"Good morning," Ven mumbled while scratching his stomach. He really was not meant to get up early in the morning.

He noticed the golden ankh on Q's back and looked at it with admiration. "Nice tattoo!"
Then he yawned once again. "I guess I should get ready to leave for the airport?"


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
"Your choice" Ven grinned. "Good night then!"
He grabbed one of his bags and searched it for his pajama pants. Usually he only slept in boxers but he didn't want to behave as if this was his home.
After he had changed into the pants he slipped under the big blanket and closed his eyes with a content smile on his lips.

Although he had been pretty tired just a few minutes ago he couldn't sleep now.
Lost in his thoughts he stared at the ceiling and watched the reflections of bypassing cars on the streets outside the hotel.

Maybe he had really found a new friend. Ven had been wishing for some company for years.
He had not seen his mother, his sisters and his best friend since shortly after his 16th birthday.
And his uncle had not exactly been the kind of company he had hoped for... His uncle was a friendly man but he had always seemed like a stranger to Ven, not like a close family member.

He didn't even know Q one bit... but every new friendship starts like that, right?
Ven knew that he preferred Q's company over Tom's or his uncle's by far. Somehow he felt strangely attracted to the man.
This left him confused enough to keep him awake another one or two hours and it must have been long past midnight when he finally fell asleep.

The next morning, Ven was awoken by muffled sounds from the other room.
Since he had not had much sleep he did not really feel like getting up, so he pullet the blanket over his head, keeping the sunlight from his eyes.
But a few minutes later he decided that he didn't want to oversleep and fought his way out of the bedsheets and blankets.

Rubbing his eyes and yawning, Ven shuffled over to the door and stepped into the other room.
Q was standing at an ironing-board so Ven could only see his back.
"Good morning," Ven mumbled while scratching his stomach. He really was not meant to get up early in the morning.

He noticed the golden ankh on Q's back and looked at it with admiration. "Nice tattoo!"
Then he yawned once again. "I guess I should get ready to leave for the airport?"


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
"I guess not that long. Although... taking a shower could actually take that long for me maybe" Ven scratched his head and laughed.
He sat down on the couch, watching Q from there.

"Very good" He knew it was a lie. He had hardly been able to sleep because he had been lost in his thoughts for such a long time.
"But I'm not used to sleeping in such big hotel rooms. It's kinda odd," he added to make it sound less like a lie to himself.
He didn't feel like whining and really didn't want to sound like a small kid who couldn't sleep without his favourite teddy bear and a bed time story.

"Can I take a shower here? I promise it won't even take one hour and a half"


[Q] wrote: "You will get used to the hotel room beds eventually," Q remarked.

"Go ahead and take your shower. Just don't take too long."

Q yawned himself, concentrating on getting the wrinkles out of his pants.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
"Maybe" He blinked at Q. "After travelling around for a few years"
Ven shuffled back into the bedroom to stuff the old working clothes into his bag and grab his favourite black and blue shirt and black jeans instead.

Then he looked around and tried to spot the bathroom.
He assumed it would be the wooden door right across the room.
When he entered it he stared at the huge shower and bath tub in amazement. Everything was decorated with marble. It was kinda kitschy but still pretty.

But unlike usual Ven only took a very quick shower.
After he was done he quickly brushed his teeth and got dressed. Without even bothering to dry his hair he left the bathroom and returned to the main room.

"There, I am ready now" He smiled at Q, hands on his hips. "And now? Where's breakfast for me, eh?"


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]While Ven was in the bathroom, Q went into the bedroom and got his deodorant, put some on, and of course put his khakis on. But his khakis had no hole for his tail. He had to shove his tail inside the pants; a common practice for more formal public appearances. It was a shame Ven couldn't do the same, not that Q particularly advocated hiding who he was.

By the time Ven had finished with the shower and come back outside, Q had a cigarette in his mouth, sunglasses on, and was lacing up his black boots. His shirt was still undone and the ironing board was still out, but everything else had been put away, including his luggage which had been zipped up and rolled into the main room.

He laughed when Ven came out and asked about breakfast. "We'll get it at the airport," he said, before looking up.
When he looked up, however, he frowned. Groaning to himself, he wondered how he should word what he wanted to say. He liked what Ven was wearing, and for Ven to wear virtually the same thing twice in a row, Ven had to enjoy it too. But he knew Loria wouldn't like it, and he didn't want any fights between the two of them.

"Um... Do you have anything more formal to wear...?"


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
"Oh... okay" Ven pouted, ignoring his grumbling stomach.
"Anything more... formal?" He hesitated.
"Why would I own anything 'formal'? I don't think I have one piece of clothing you'd call 'formal' then"
He tugged on his sleeve and looked at himself in the mirror. "It's not good enough?"


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]"You don't own a dress shirt or khakis? Maybe something you might wear to church or a business meeting?" Q sighed through his nose and hurriedly laced up his boots so he could look Ven over some more, putting a fist on his hip. He took a drag of his cigarette, and exhaled it through his nose with a slight cough away from Ven, before he spoke again.

"I'd give you something but it would be too big." He briefly wondered if the hotel had a gift shop with some fancy clothes... Probably not plain enough.

"Don't get me wrong, I don't care what you look like. But Loria does. And it would be weird if we are dressed nicely and you aren't." He patted Ven's wet head. "I like your way of dressing, personally."

Bringing his hand back to himself, he rubbed his now-wet forefinger and thumb together. "You should probably dry that mop of yours," he retorted, wiping his hand on the ironing board.
After that was done, he looked down and began to button up his shirt, bottom button first. When he finished, he took a last long drag of his cigarette and put it out in the ash tray.

He backed up to Loria's door, still facing Ven. The model knocked on the door with the back of his hand, lightly. "Are you ready yet? We might have a problem..."


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
"No, I don't own anything else besides jeans and a few normal shirts. I didn't have enough money to buy something more expensive" Ven sighed and shook his head.
"Yeah, sure. Sorry"

He hurried back into the bathroom and began looking for a hair dryer.
Ven wasn't to keen on getting glared at by that creepy woman again right now.
Bad enough that he didn't even have clothes that were "fancy"...
If she didn't like him, fine. But he didn't want to look like a poor boy from the streets to her.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Ven left just as a muffled "Yeah" came out from behind the door. Loria opened it, a hair curler in her hand. Otherwise she was wearing a very nice blue dress which accented her curves.
"What's wrong?" She huffed.

"Ven doesn't have any nice clothes. He's wearing basically what he wore last night. All my stuff is too big. Do you have anything that might fit him?"

Loria hmphed, stretching herself out the door to try and get a look at Ven. "Well maybe he should keep the blue, it matches his horns," she said softly. "Maybe a black jean jacket to match his pants?"

"You have one?" Q questioned, stepping back.

"Yeah," She retorted, almost as if she had taken Q's question as an insult. "Hold on a second."
She put the curler down on a table and rummaged through her suitcase for a moment before she found it and threw it at Q. Q was taken aback.
"Is something wrong?" the man asked, an unsettling look on his face after he caught the jean jacket in his hands.

"Everything is going to be in French. I don't know any french." She didn't want to say that she wouldn't be able to get a date in France, the most romantic place on earth. She'd probably end up with a complete stranger, or that weirdo kid Ven. She didn't want that.

"Well that's no big deal, I could just transla--"

"Don't worry about it," Loria shot back, shutting the door in Q's face. The man frowned, and with another sigh, held out the black jean jacket to the returning Ven.

"Loria says this will be good enough." The woman must be PMSing or something.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Ven held up the jacked and eyed it suspiciously.
"I have to wear girl's clothing? Great" He frowned but then decided to put it on without complaining.
"But... If that is what makes her happy, then I won't say anything against it"

Then he closed his bags and dragged them back into the room.
"I think I am done now. When do we have to leave?"
His stomach started grumbling again and made Ven grin at Q a bit embarrassed. "I'm hungry!" he groaned when it didn't stop grumbling.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]"See? You look better with it on already." He patted Ven on the back. "It doesn't matter that it is girls clothing."

Q sat down on the couch for a moment, but then sprang right back up, looking through his bag. He'd forgotten to cover up his facial tattoos. He needed to get the foundation on.

"Well you're just going to have to wait until Loria is ready to leave. She has all the tickets and everything..." Q said, fading the thoughts off. He couldn't find the make-up. Had he forgotten to bring it?

He growled to himself and knocked on Loria's door again.
"What?!" Was the angry response from the other side. Q opened the door and peeked in. "I can't seem to find the foundation to--"

She threw a few different cases of make up to Q. He only managed to catch one. The others went to the floor behind the man. He briefly growled, showing his teeth, but managed to catch himself, calm down, softly close the door with a forced "thanks" And pick up the cases from the floor, moving to the bedroom with them.

"What is her problem?" Q thought to himself.

Once he sat down and dumped the varying cases on the desk, he looked through them and began to cover up his "whisker" tattooes, later going on to "fix" his scar and part his grey hair evenly.

It took at least a good ten minutes for Q to finish. When he did, he came out and dumped all the cases into his own bag, zipping it up, and sitting on the couch next to Ven with a groan.

"I'm sorry," Q mused, outstretching his arms on the back of the couch. "Looking fashionable is part of the job. We have to look nice when we go in public together."

He turned his face to Ven, forcing a smile. "Don't be so glum, you know? You have breakfast, and a very nice private jet to look forward to." Whether Q was trying to convince himself or Ven, the man didn't know for sure.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Ven blinked at Q. "I liked you better with those tattoos and the scar"
He smiled and poked Q's cheek.
"I can't wait to get something to eat honestly. I think I haven't eaten anything since yesterday morning and... wait - You've got a private jet?!"
His eyes widened.
"And I already thought this hotel was luxurious!"

Ven felt kinda intimidated. Q had to be pretty damn rich...
[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]"Covering up the parts I like about myself is part of the job," he mused.

When Ven burst out about the jet, Q laughed. "Well it's not really mine. It's the agency's. If there were any other models from the same Agency as me going to france, they'd be on it too. But I think we're the only ones out here right now."

Not long after that, Loria came in the door, looking more beautiful than the rest of them combined, rolling out her navy blue suitcase. It was probably more expensive than anything Q ever owned, not to mention it being the size of a rather large dog. Loria took her right hand and whipped her waist-length curly blonde hair over he shoulder. "Okay," she huffed, as if out of breath. "Are we all ready to go, now?"

Q nodded and got up, motioning for Ven to follow. He got his bag and rolled it behind him, holding the door open for Ven.

The males waited while the female checked them out, hailed a taxi, and in no time at all were at the airport. They were rushed off to the tarmat to a plain looking jet. Inside were spaced out leather seats with collapsible desks. In the corner was a booth for getting together for meals or meetings, and off to the side was a bar for especially long trips. It would og unmanned for this one, as it wasn't that long.

Q shoved his bag under a seat, and then sat on the sit his bag was under. Loria was quick to sit next to him, leaving Ven to sit some place else, as only two chairs were together in a row. At this, Q groaned slightly.

Loria unpacked her laptop out of another bag and set it on Q's desk, handing him a bunch of papers, all in french, which, evidently, made up the script Q was supposed to memorize for the trip. Once Loria set up the laptop for him (Q wasn't much for technology, believe it or not), he picked it up, with the script, and slyly moved over to the booth in the corner, where the movie on the screen began to play in french. The headphones were around Q's neck for the time being.

Within twenty minutes the jet had taken off, and five minutes after that, a waitress came out with an omellete made from various vegetables and cheese.

By this time, Q had the earphones on his ears, and was listening to the movie while he ate.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Ven looked around in the jet and saw that Loria had already sat down in the seat next to Q.
He frowned and shoved his bags under another seat behind them.

This was the first time ever that he was on a plane.
When his Mum and he had travelled to Germany they had taken the car and a boat. At least that was what he remembered about the things she had told him.
He had only been two or three years then so he could not remember anything of that himself.
And when she had sent him back to his uncle he had also taken a ferry and the train.

Ven was a bit nervous when the jet started and stared out of the small window, watching the ground disappear under a lot of white clouds.
He was very happy when he finally saw the breakfast to distract him from being nervous about the flight.
While eating he watched Q staring at the laptop.
Flying was way too boring for his taste.

After twenty minutes of being bored to death Ven decided to get up and try to get a look at what Q was watching.
He dropped down next to Q in the seat and also looked at the laptop's screen.
Whatever that was, it didn't seem too exciting. Monsters, motorcycles, swords, ... That couldn't keep him interested for a long time.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]When Ven came over and sat near him, Q took one of the headphones off his ear.
"This is the guy I am going to play," he said, turning the laptop screen to Ven and pointing to a silver haired man, clothed in all black leather who was fighting a blonde haired man wearing a similar piece of black leather clothing.

The blonde's name was Cloud, and the part Q would be playing was Kadaj. Q couldn't really understand the story, it didn't make much sense to him, but the clothing was really cool looking.
"He doesn't really make sense to me, but his outfit seems like it will be really fun to wear," he remarked.

Q pushed the now empty plate of food across the table and out of the way, so he could look at Ven more closely.
"Are you feeling okay?"


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Ven raised one eyebrow as he tried to get what that movie was about.
"I think that outfit looks pretty uncomfortable. Will you get such a motorcycle, too?" He blinked at Q.
Those things did look pretty cool... the movie itself seemed just pretty uninteresting.

Then he nodded quickly.
"Yeah, sure. I'm feeling fine. I'm just a bit nervous because I have never been on a plane before"
Ven looked over to Loria, who seemed to be busy with something, and lowered his voice.
"And I am a bit afraid of her. She must really hate me although I don't even know her"


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q chuckled at the motorcycle comment. "Hah, I wish. I'm not that rich."

He took his headphones off and laid them on the table. "You've never been on a plane before? You should've told me that!" Q seemed really anxious, now. As if being on a plane were something to be excited about. He pushed Ven out of the booth with a hard nudge. "Get out, get out," he urged.

Once Ven had gotten out from the booth, Q pulled the boy over to a window, and pushed Ven's face into it. "Isn't it beautiful??" Q's tail would've been wagging if it were not shoved between his boxers and the inside of his pants.
"The clouds and everything... It's like looking at Heaven. I can't believe you've never been on a plane before. It's awesome."

Of course, being on a plane had become fairly boring to Q, since it was associated with work. He always had to work when he was on a flight. It wouldn't stop him for making Ven like flights, though.
"I could really fall asleep watching all the houses and things go by."

While Ven looked out the window, Q was standing directly behind him, bent slightly over Ven, his hand on the jet's wall, above the window, so he could look out the window between Ven's horns.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]"I didn't think it was such a big deal" Ven replied confused.

But when Q shoved the boy over to the window he stared out of it and watched the fluffy clouds in awe.
"That's really beautiful, yes!"
He nodded in agreement. The clouds looked like soft sheep.
The thought of alone that made Ven smile happily.

After a few moments he realized the position he and Q were in and turned fire red.
Why the hell was that guy so close to him now?
Ven was definitely not used to other people getting this close to him and usually he didn't feel too comfortable when someone did that.
He hesitated one moment before he turned around, pressing his back to the plane's wall and looked up at Q who was standing right before him now.
"It's very pretty... you're right" he mumbled in a low voice, face still red like a tomato.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Once Ven turned around, his heart skipped a beat. He opened him mouth to say something corny like "Well, you're beautiful..." but luckily, he managed to not let that thought slip out.

There was an awkward silence. Ven was so remarkably innocent, it was unfathomable. How could someone so old(Well, 18 was old, right? Legal was old enough!) be so ignorant?

Finally, Q decided his plan of action.
He gave a smile, and with a laugh, delivered the line "You blush a lot," while he stood up straight and backed away to a safe distance. As he backed away, he gave a querying glance over to Loria, who seemed neck deep in a lot of paperwork. A wave of relief overcame the model. He hoped she did not see what had just happened. It didn't appear she had, so he was in the clear. He gave himself a mental pat on the back.

"Well," he said, trying to break the awkward silence. "...I have to get back to work..." He twisted his face uncomfortably. He wanted to hang out with Ven, or just hang out.. Not watch a boring movie about... Mothers in boxes and materia and lifeforces... Or whatever they were...
... Ugh.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Ven didn't know what to say to that.
He just cursed himself for turning red so easily and wished he had not turned around in the first place.
He was not having a crush on this guy. No.
Ven frowned and told himself that his behaviour was nothing but stupid.

He just felt a bit too happy about Q's company and misinterpreted his own feelings. That had to be the problem.
And he would have felt the same if it had been any other person to pick him up, right?
"Okay" he sighed and returned to his own seat, head bowed down.
When he had sat down he tried to relax and closed his eyes. How long did a flight to Paris take from Scotland?
He wanted to get out of this jet as soon as possible now.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright][[bah I sat here for 2 hours thinking of what to type; it all seems so boring so I'm going to try and just breeze through the boring shit~ Sorry for crappy writing I don't care D<. ]]

Q went back to his seat in the booth and put his headphones on, giving casual glances to both Ven and Loria every now and then. Before long the movie on the laptop was over, and he returned the laptop to Loria, who still seemed as ornery as ever.

Q sighed and read over his script, mumbling in French to himself, trying to memorize the lines. He didn't get very far before the jet prepared to land. It was then when Q strapped himself in next to Ven, but continued to treat the rest of the ride as if nothing special were happening as the plane reached the ground.

Once the jet had come to a stop, he rolled up the script and got a hold of his bags, walking out and following Loria as quickly as possible. They all loaded into a cab in Paris, and drove to another hotel, with a similar suite... The only notable difference was this time, the hotel suite had a porch.

It was around 2pm. The flight had only been about two hours. Q handed Ven a menu for room service, so they could all have lunch. Once Ven had picked out what he wanted, Q handed the orders over to Loria, who went and physically put the order in over the phone.

After phoning in the orders, Loria slapped down what was called a ragmag - that was, a magazine that focused on ragging famous people. Evidently, she had bought it at the airport in Edinburgh that morning, but had not had time to read it until after they'd gotten off the plane.

"What's that?" Q frowned.
Loria, in a huff, took back the mag and turned to page four, slammed the paper back down ontop of the phone, and prominently pointed to an article in a corner entitled "Model buys boys, bartenders"

Q's first thought wasn't normal. "I got in one of these?!" He never expected to be that famous. His career was going downhill, and had been ever since he started, seemingly. And here he was, getting free press.

Loria groaned and slapped Q in the face, knocking his sunglassess off. "Just read it!"
The man snorted and ignored the glasses near his shoes for the time being, instead picking up the magazine and reading the article to himself.

Apparently, Ven's boss had spread the word around about them. The man remarked how Q seemed like a flaming homo(Q prided himself on not being such) and the reporter had dug up past stories of similar stature regarding the tailed man.
The writer remakred on how much bigger a story this was turning out to be, and how many years it must have been going on. He said he'd try to unveil more, and mentioned how sick it was that 'overpaid pretty people get to be the worst type of predators.'

At the end of the article, Q just blinked a few times, shocked. He had kept hearing threats of this happening, but he never actually thought.. it.. would.

"Well?" Loria was stern, her right hand on her hip.

Q dropped the mag back on the table, as if it had little importance, and bent over to pick up his sunglasses. As he put them back on and turned to face Loria once more, he simple grumbled "If my publicist isn't worried about it, why should I be?"

It was a lie, of course. Q was worried.

Loria scoffed, rolled up the paper, and hit Q over the shoulder with it. Q just frowned.
"We should call a press conference."

"There's nothing to talk about," Q grumbled, stepping away from her. She sure was getting physical all of the sudden.

"The rumors are only going to get worse, Qua," Loria pushed.

Q rolled his eyes behind his glasses. Qua was such a horrible nickname.

"You should get a girlfriend and show her off," she continued.

"That's stupid. Getting a girlfriend isn't just going to sweep shit like this under the rug," Q dug in his pockets for his pack of cigarettes, only to remember he didn't have a lighter on him. He sighed. Why couldn't she just lay off him for once?

"I could do it." Loria said, walking defiantly forward.
Q stood his ground, but was no less awestruck. "What?" Sis he just hear what he thought he heard?

"We've been traveling together a long time, there are pictures of us together, we could do it; it would believable..." As she jabbered, she kept walking forward. She had finally managed to push Q backward into a wall.

The awkward part about this whole ordeal was not that Loria was making moves on him, or that she was acting as she never had. Perhaps the most disturbing thing was this whole ordeal was all in front of Ven, who was probably doing nothing but minding his own business until now.

"Loria," Q whispered, places his hands on her shoulders, "You're my agent, my boss. I don't even like--"

Loria cut him off, pressing her bust into his. The whole thing was extremely uncomfortable to Q, but he didn't want to push her away. "Why couldn't it work out, Quatre? We could go on dates? You could treat me nice in Paris, I'd act less like a mom or a coworker and more like a friend or a--"

Q growled, and as he pushed her away from him, he let out an "ooookaaay," and squeezed his way from between the wall and her body.

"I'm going for a walk," he said swiftly, rushing to the hotel door and slamming it behind him.

Loria hmphed and messed with her hair for a moment before turning around and seeing Ven there. "What are you looking at??" she accused.

[[OMG that was the worst post ever I'm going to go kill myself now.
5oxlqa.gif
]]


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]

Ven had was sitting there on the couch, reading the TV guide.
When Loria slapped down the magazine in front of Q he tried to glance at it but he wasn't able to actually read anything but the title.
That title was more than enough, though.
Uh oh. This was beginning to look pretty bad.
Ven had known he would cause even more trouble sooner or later and bowed down his head.

But the moment he heard the word "girlfriend" Ven's head shot up again, suddenly feeling a strong wave of jealousy.
He scowled at Q and Loria standing there and arguing but he didn't dare to say anything.

Then Q stormed out of the hotel room and Ven winced when he slammed the door shut.
Oh shit.
Ven knew he definitely did not want to be in a room with Loria all alone.
He looked up at her when she bitched at him.

What was he supposed to do now? No way he'd stay in here and get torn to shreds.
No, if Q could leave, then he could leave, too.
"I'm... s-sorry!" Ven stuttered and jumped from the couch before rushing to the door and following Q outside.

When he was in front of the suite he looked around to see if Q was still there.
But he couldn't spot him anywhere on the corridor.
Sighing, Ven started walking down the corridor towards the elevators.
Q wasn't in the lobby either, so Ven shuffled out of the hotel and sat down on a small white marble wall in front of the hotel entrance.
He sat there and watched the cars and pedestrians passing by on the street and the pavement.

Why the hell did everything nice in his life turn into shit? By now he was really sick and tired of that always happening to him.
But hey, chin up Ven! he told himself. Things can only get better. This is Paris after all.
And he shouldn't complain about this. Q seemed to be in a bigger trouble now which made Ven feel pretty guilty.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]"What is so damn great about Paris?" Q thought to himself. He wasn't quite sure where he was going, but he had exited the hotel and was walking down the street. His hands were shoved in his pockets, one of them gripping his pack of cigarettes. It would have been no effort to ask for a light from someone on the street, but he had decided against it, for whatever reason.

After about a minute to himself, he was able to shake off what Loria had done and calm down for the most part. He grabbed his cellphone and called up Alex, his publicist.
He told her what happened, and that Loria had been acting weird all day. On the other end, Alex almost felt sorry for how pathetic Q was being.

"Hun, you're in Paris. Don't you know what that means?"

No, Q didn't know what it meant, and he couldn't understand why Paris was so important that everyone was on edge about it. It was just like any other city. Maybe it had a bit more fancy architecture, but...

"Paris is a very romantic city. Loria's never been there before. She's a little girl, you know? She wants a prince charming to share a romantic night with in her Paris. This is a once in a lifetime thing for her. Don't you understand why she's stayed with you for so long?? Why she has not given up on you? You should treat her nice and dress up and treat her like a french princess."

Q stopped in his tracks and fingered the ash in an ash tray. "She treats me like crap," he replied sourly.

"But think about how she feels. She's just a coworker to you, so you never give her the time of day. You go romping around in the room next to hers while she has to work or sleep. You give her no respect either. It's a two way street, hun. Bringing your friend--'scuse me, brother," she wanted Q to know she wasn't as dumb as Q thought she was, "made her feel even worse. The tabloid is no big deal. But you should pay more attention to Loria, you know? Thank her once in a while."

Q grumbled his thanks for the advice and turned around, walking back toward the hotel. Though he did so much slower, and on the way asked for a light - which he received - so by the time he reached the hotel's entrance again to see Ven sitting there, the cigarette between his lips was halfway gone.

Q quirked a brow at the boy. "Why are you out here? She didn't throw you out, did she?"
How was he supposed to take Loria out on a fancy date when he had to work and take care of Ven? Niether of the two could speak French. All of the weight was on Q. He'd have to figure out how to get Ven and Loria to play nice together. If they both wanted to tour Paris, they could do it together. Not both wait for alone time with Q.

While Q wouldn't mind being alone with either one of them - provided Loria behaved herself, that was - there wasn't enough time in the day.

Whatever he decided to do, he had to do it quickly. He needed to be at the theatre in an hour if not less, and Loria and Ven needed to be okay with eachother - alone - before that time.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Ven looked up at Q and shook his head.
"No, she didn't. I just didn't feel like waiting there in the room with her"
He looked back to the streets and continued watching the people while talking to Q.

"I'm sorry about that... article," he continued after a moment.
"I didn't want to cause you any problems. But well, it was your idea so I guess I should not even say sorry in the first place"

He smiled at Q and stood up from the wall to straighten his shirt.
"Well, I don't want to waste your time. Shall I back to the hotel room while you're working? I would probably get lost in this city anyways"


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]"Yeah," Q replied, thick with Sarcasm. "It's all Bornes's fault."

He grunted. Ven's words certainly didn't make him feel any better. He took the last big drag from his cigarette and tossed the butt away into the street.

"You need to not run away from her," he said finally, after he was already half way to the hotel room. "You're going to be alone with her for a long time. She's not as evil as she seems."

When he got to the door, he padded his pockets, realizing that he had never gotten a key card. With a slight groan to himself, he knocked on the door. "It's me," he called.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
"That wasn't what I meant!" Ven protested as he followed Q back to the hotel room.
"You know that!" he huffed.

"Fine, I'll stay with her. I'm not the one who yelled and bitched, I can behave like an adult, you know?"
He realized he had sounded pretty harsh but he didn't care right now.

Maybe Loria really wasn't that bad. Q seemed to like her at least.
He just didn't feel like letting her yell at him again.
If she had only been a tiny little bit friendly to him instead, he would probably have liked her.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]"Don't talk about her like that," he shot back.

Loria opened the door, but didn't give much eye contact or much of a greeting to the both of them.

Both their plates of food from the room service were on the coffee table, however.
Q sat down on the couch and pulled his plate into his lap, eating from it.

After a while, he asked if he was going to go to the theatre alone, or if they were going to come along.
Loria wiped her mouth with a napkin, looking to Ven. "Well I pretty much have to go, and I don't think he should stay here by himself," she scoffed.

Q twirled the last of the spaghetti on his plate for a moment before he tried to slyly insert the next sentence in. "...You know you two could go travel around together and sight see while I'm there."

Almost frightened of the outcome, he shoved the final forkful of his meal into his mouth and chewed, awaiting the response.

Loria stared at Ven. Having already finished her meal, she crossed her arms across her chest as she stood up. "I guess hanging out with dragonkid wouldn't be so bad," she admitted.

"But he better not pull anything weird. And he needs some new clothes." She looked down on Ven, studying him again.

"Well that's good then. I'm sure you could work something out. France has the best in clothing, right?" Q chimed in. He was trying to have enthusiasm. He didn't know if Ven liked shopping or not.
Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]Ven looked at Loria, blinking.
"Anything weird? I'm not some freak. I can act just like everyone else"

Then he looked down on himself.
"I guess I could use some new clothes, yes... Although I really like these. But going shopping is never a bad thing to do!"
Ven grinned, also finishing his meal and leaned back on the couch.

I should make the best out of this. Maybe she can be a friendly person if she gets to know me and realizes that I am not some freaky monster who wants to eat her precious model.

He wasn't really enthusiastic about spending his time with her, though.
But he didn't protest, he wasn't that rude after all.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright][[Long post of deeewm. Also I'm going to summarize stuff so it's not so long. So pardon the crappy writing here. Not that my normal writing is any less crappy. Also, strikethrough is them speaking in french. Because I didn't feel like writing around that.]]

"Good," Q smirked. "Then it's decided."

The plates were soon collected and they all headed outside, leaving the dirty plates outside the hotel door. They all shoved themselves inside a taxi, which Q had called, with Loria giving the address (since she had the papers). It wasn't a very long trip before they reached a rather large theatre, where they all went inside and to the backstage.

Once backstage, the trio was greeted by a slinky man, introducing himself as the producer... Of course, this was all in French. The producer moved the shake all their hands, and once he was done, Q spoke back in French, which basically translated to "My name is Quatre Bornes, and this is my agent. She only speaks English."

The producer frowned briefly, but forced a large smile, as the rest of what he said was in english, with a heavy french accent.
"It's so nice to meet you two in person. I've read all about you."

Loria hmped slightly, twirling her hair. She wasn't too enthralled with having to be talked to in a foreign language.
Regardless, she tried her best to force a smile.
"My friend and I have some prior engagements, so I hope it will be all right if we go out. We'll leave Bornes here to go through his make-up and rehearse, so we won't get in your way."

"Of course," the Producer answered, and waved the both of them off as he laid his arm over Q's shoulders and squeezed him close, making some sort of joke in French. Q laughed slightly in response.

The model wanted to say some last words to Ven before he went away, but he was pulled away by the Producer, who turned him around and began their walk to make-up, of which Q had at least an hour's worth of, if not more.

"What's the deal with the horned kid?" The producer asked.
"His name is Ven. He's my brother, and I appreciate it if you didn't talk about him like that." Q shot back.

Loria, across the hall, watched as her model was pulled away for a moment, before grabbing Ven's hand and pulling him off in the opposing direction. They hailed for another cab, and it was only once inside the cab when she spoke again.
"Oh, I don't like that guy. They seemed too cozy together, didn't they?"

She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, but quickly changed the subject. "So what sort of things do you want to buy first?"


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Ven looked around the big hall in amazement. This sure seemed like an important place.
He found this pretty exciting and curiously watched all the busy people around them. He would have loved to just stay there and observe the things going on around him.

Before he could say anything Loria pulled him away.
"I don't like that guy either. He was weird," Ven answered.

"What kind of things?" He looked at her confused before he remembered that he was supposed to go shopping with her.
"Uh... maybe a new shirt? You don't like my clothes too much anyways, do you? So you decide what's the worst"
Ven grinned at her nervously.

He was still a bit suspicious. Maybe Loria just wanted to get rid of him in some way now that Q wasn't here anymore.
But Ven decided that he was being too paranoid again.

She isn't going to leave me at some store and drive off without me, right...?


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Loria didn't really like Ven. But she didn't like him because he was competition. Not because he was a bad person. Now that she was alone with him, it really didn't matter how she treated him. Now that she was sitting next to him, he really didn't seem that much of a threat. Yes, this boy would do.

Loria put her hand up to her face and spoke in a hushed tone to Ven, "I think all French people are weird! You know Qua is french, and even he's weird!"

Quatre was some weird mix between African and French. He lived in France for most of his life, but he was born from an indigenous mother on an African island owned by France. Loria had never even heard of the island before, when the man had mentioned it. She thought he was making it up. But low and behold, her trusty enclopedia revealed that an island named Mauritius did, in fact, exist.

When she sat back up straight, she chuckled a bit to herself. "Well you can wear whatever you want on your own time. But when you're with me, you'd better wear something nice and formal."

She looked over to Ven. "To make a good impression, you see."

Loria put a hand to her chin in thought, giving a loud "Hrmm". The cab driver kept looking back at them, annoyed he hadn't been given direction yet.

"Well let's start small, I think," Loria said to herself. "Boulevard Haussmann, Please" She told the cab driver with a smile.

Loria loved shopping. And she'd always wanted to shop in France. She envisioned herself buying so many things she'd have to even buy more luggage to bring it all home. She was so excited she couldn't wait-- And she had to share it with someone.
The day would've been better with Quatre here, but oh well- At least she wasn't alone!
Someone was better than no one!


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
"I don't even think he's that weird! Well, I have never seen someone with a dog tail before. But since I have got those..." he pointed at his horns "I don't think I should call someone with a tail 'weird' anyways. I like him"
Ven nodded and smiled at Loria.
"A good impression, you say? That sounds fine to me"

When she gave the taxi driver the address he turned his head away from her and looked out of the window.
Paris was indeed a pretty city, he already liked it here.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Loria hmphed. "I meant weird in how he acts, not how he looks. He looks fine, to me. I like him too." Just, some things he does... They don't make much sense.

The woman looked out her own window, watching the building go by. The architecture in this city was so... Beautiful. Maybe they should've walked. Maybe that why Qua liked walking everywhere. She had to get off him, though. Thinking about that stupid man was going to ruin her day.

Excitedly, she turned to Ven. "You know, Qua has the funniest little house. It's a log cabin, but there are no lights in it! It's kind of small, I guess... And I think he has electricity... Though I'm not sure... He lives in the boondocks. I bet if he had any neighbors they'd think he was a werewolf!" She chuckled to herself at the thought.

That wasn't exactly not thinking about her model. But she had to start somewhere. Baby steps, right?


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]

"A log cabin in the boondocks!?" Ven looked at her unbelievingly.
That was the last thing he had expected.
He had imagined him living in some huge mansion in some big city or something similiar to that.

"Why would they think he's a werewolf? Just because of his tail... or does he howl at night like a wolf?"
He chuckled at the thought of Q sitting on the roof of a small hut, howling at the fullmoon.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Loria burst out laughing at Ven's joke.

"I would hope he doesn't do that!" she took a moment to calm down, before she continued. "Like I said, he's just weird. I mean, all cooped up in a house with no lights. I asked him what he does in his free time; he said he reads. I don't believe it for a second. You can't read for that long."

She leaned toward Ven, "I think since he likes to walk so much, he goes around and hunts wild animals for food. His place has woods all around him. And I've never seen groceries at his place. I haven't seen any weapons either, so he must use his hands!" She brought out her hands and imitated her rendition of a werewolf hunting. "Rawr!"

She didn't make a very convincing werewolf- She giggled far too much.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
"And you can't read that long without any light either!" Ven giggled.

"Oh my god, really?!" Ven looked at her, shocked for one second. "Hunting animals? Like in those adventure movies?"
Then he continued laughing, he wasn't sure whether Loria told him the truth or whether she was just joking.

When she tried to imitate a werewolf he had to fight back tears from laughter because she looked so... stupid!
"If he looks like that while hunting, all the animals would run away faster than he could start using his werewolf moves!"


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Tears began to form in Loria's eyes as Ven spoke.
"Ahaha... Oh my god Ven!" Once she slowed her laughter, she was able to say the next line calmly enough. "You are too great."

She wiped the tears from her eyes, and took some deep breaths. She looked out the window, wondering why they were stopped, and noticed traffic was horrible. She'd rake up quite a fine with this ride. Oh well, she was having fun.

"He has a funny name, too. Even by French standards. Quatre Bornes means four corners. Who would name their kid that, right??"


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Ven also wiped the tears from his eyes.
"That's what his name means? I didn't know"
He tilted his head to one side. "Well, how should I know, I don't know a single word of French"

"I'm not very happy about my full name either," Ven scratched his head.
Actually he hated his full name. No one had ever used it for him, though. Luckily.

Ven was surprised that Loria really wasn't as bad as he had thought before.
He really wouldn't complain about that.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]"Well I don't know much french, either. He told me what it meant. I knew Quatre was four, and I said it was a weird name one time. And he explained his parents named him after the place where they met... Or something like that. But it's funny, because four is the highest I can count in French. If his name was five I never would've known," she giggled slightly to herself.

"Hate your full name, huh? Well most kids do. Don't worry about it. Between you and me, I think Loria's a pretty weird name too."
She brushed her hand through her blonde hair as she looked out the window.

"I wonder what he looked like before his hair greyed..." She said softly to herself.

She remembered the day she'd found Quatre. He was twenty then, and after two years of being in the US, was still an illegal. He did manual labor down at the barge. She couldn't even remember what she was doing down there, but there was something about the man... She convinced him to go to the open auditions in a nearby city. He came, and was even better looking clean. It was easy to work around his tail. But at 24, he was getting a bit too old for this business. Q was so frugal it probably wouldn't matter if he just retired now, but she didn't want to cut ties with him...

Oh, great. She'd just made herself down. And she was having such a good time before! Ugh, Loria wanted to slap herself.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
"I don't think Loria is that weird. My full name is... Ventus"
Ven rolled his eyes as he told her his name.
"That's no name, that's horrible. I'll never get to know which kind of drugs my mother must have been on when she thought of that name"

He looked at Loria, confused about her looking so annoyed suddenly. Uh oh.

"What kind of store are we going to?" Ven tried to change the subject.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Loria turned to face Ven, her head cocking slightly. "That sounds familiar..."
Her arms were still crossed beneath her breasts. An index finger tapped on the opposite arm in thought. "Does it mean something...?"

"Oh! I know!" She smiled slightly, priding herself in remembering. "Bornes was reading a book called that, once. It's a weird sounding name, yes. But I'm sure he would like to call you that. Or at least know."

Her hands came up at the mention of shopping. She'd almost forgotten about it. "Oh, it's department stores. Lots and lots of department stores. They have all the best clothes, and you can buy such cool things, it's.. Well I don't think I can describe it. I've never been there but I've heard a lot about it."

She looked out the window, behind Ven's head with a slight frown. "Too bad the traffic is making this trip rather long. If I knew the way, we could just walk. But I am SO not taking the metro. Too many people steal."

There was a slight silence until Loria burst out with another idea. "You know what? You'd make a really pretty girl. I bet you'd look so cute in a dress!" Her voice had become that of the infamous high-pitched excited lady.
"It could be blue and match your horns, then maybe you could have green earrings to match your eyes. Or maybe a necklace. We could be sisters!"

I wonder what Qua would think of that, she thought to herself. If he got mad it would be funny, but if he laughed it would still be funny.

"I'd die to see the look on Quatre's face!"


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
"There's a book called Ventus?" Ven had never heard about a book with that title.
"And yes, it does mean something. It's the Latin word for "wind"... Uh, no matter how much he would want to call me that, there's no way I'll ever let someone use that name"
He shuddered to show how much he disliked the name.

When he heard Loria mention a dress he stared at her, eyes wide open.
"WHAT?" Ven quickly shook his head. "You're not serious, are you!? I won't dress like a girl," he protested.
"What do I look like, a secret transvestite?"
He sulked and frowned at her.

What the hell was up with Loria now? "You're just making fun of me, right?"
Ven crossed his arms over his chest.
[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Loria clapped her hands together before her. "Yes! I'm being completely serious. You're very feminine, I think you'd look really beautiful in a dress. All the boys would be after you. Trust me, you'd love the attention."

She brought one finger up, wagging it a bit, "If it makes you more comfortable, I could dress as a boy." She grinned.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Ven continued shaking his head. "No way. I don't want all the boys being after me!"
He pouted and turned his head to look out of the window of the taxi.
"I'm perfectly happy as a boy, thank you"

Then he turned back to Loria and looked at her appraisingly.
"You wouldn't pass as a boy anyways. You're too girly"

Ven didn't find her idea amusing. Not at all.
He knew he wasn't very masculine. Neither strong nor very tall, but he hated being called "feminine" nevertheless.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]"Pfft!" She arched her hand. "I'd be a very pretty boy, and you'd be a handsome girl. You don't get out enough, apparently. Qua's anything but a tranny and even he's worn a dress." She rolled her eyes, then the picture of what had happened that day came into her mind.
Bornes made a horrible girl. She covered her mouth as she laughed into it.

The cab driver finally stopped, and Loria handed him the exorbitant fee he asked for. Then she hurriedly got out of the taxi on her side, opened up the door on Ven's side, and dragged him out of the car by the hand.
"We're gonna make you a very good looking girl; come on!"


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
"You're crazy!" Ven complained as Loria dragged him along.
"You'll waste your money on a dress! I won't wear one"
He tried to shake off her hand.
After all he wasn't a little kid who needed to cling to his mother.

"And I don't even want to imagine Q in a dress!"
At that thought he had to laugh again even though he tried to make a serious face.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]A few hours later, Ven and Loria were both on the street. Both of them had several paper shopping bags with different clothes and shoes in them, though Ven was only in his boxers.

Ven would not give into her offers. She even went up to 60 Euro and Quatre giving him a kiss, but Ven wouldn't do it. She instead tricked him into the dress. She had said she'd settle for simply seeing him in a dress once, in the store only, and then they could leave - Ven without the dress on.

But once Ven had come out in the dress, she had stolen his normal clothes, and told him he would wear the dress out of the store. He of course rebelled, but not in the way she had hoped. He had instead decided it would be best to embarrass her by taking off the dress and walking around in his boxers. Loria was horrified, but didn't want to give in. She told him he'd either go meet Bornes in his boxers, or in the dress. Ven kept refusing, so Loria finally told him that he was going to meet Bornes in his skivvies and he wouldn't be getting his clothes back.

At this moment, they were on the street, Loria holding a map in her hand, trying to figure out how ot get back to where they wanted to go. She wanted to take a taxi, but she also wanted Ven to suffer as much as possible, so he'd chicken out and put on the dress before they finally reached the theare.

"Come on, Ven," She shouted, crossing a road.

She'd laugh at this if she were any other person. Right now she was just angry. She really wanted Ven in this dress to see Qua's reaction. It would be priceless.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Ven was fuming at at the same time amused.
That offer including a kiss from Q had almost been too tempting. But there was no way he'd admit that in front of Loria.
She might not be as bad as Ven had thought at first but she was still a bit scary.
He didn't even want to imagine what she would have done if he had agreed to that.
And Q! He would probably have killed him for that.

No, walking around on the streets in nothing but his lovely heart boxers was better than that.
Way better.
At least I finally have an excuse to show off the sun-shaped tattoo around my belly button, he thought to himself.

He still had his clothes in the hotel room so he could get those later.
"This isn't going to get me arrested here, right?" He asked Loria when he caught up with her, grinning.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]"I hope it doesn't. I can't bail you out since I don't know any french. And then just think of all the men who would love to rape a boy who dare show up in their jail in his heart boxers. Poor Ven."

She looked back, giving the most evil grin she could contrive of.

Walking forward, she shoved her face back into the map. "Of course," she offered in an innocent high pitched voice, "You could just put on the dress and not worry about the risk...I mean. Just imagine the embarrassment when Bornes will have to bail you out in your boxers," She chimed.

Oho, she would win. Yes she would.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Ven mumbled a "Hmph" and glared at her.
"No, I won't wear that dress. If Q gets mad at me, fine. I'll just not show up at the premiere then"
He crossed his arms over his chest.

Ven was annoyed because he couldn't go there now but he'd rather kill himself than showing up in a dress.
Loria was just trying to make him look like an idiot in front of Q. Either in a dress or in his boxers.

So it didn't matter anyways, he had chosen the lesser evil.

He couldn't quite understand her, though.
At first she had been furious just because Q could be seen with him... and now she wanted him to dress as a girl and show up like that?


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]"Ugh, you are so stubborn. It's just a dress," she hmphed.

It was a long walk, but they were finally able to make it to the theatre. A line was already beginning to form, even though the tickets were all purchased in advance. It was about an hour until showtime. Many people in the line were dressed up as the characters in the movie. None of them did a very good job. In fact a lot of them were rather bad looking. But that was neither here nor there. She turned to Ven.

"This is your last chance," she grumbled.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
"Just a dress" Ven rolled his eyes.
"Fine, I'll stay here then. I will wait outside if that is what you have wanted all the time"
He was still glaring at her.

Then he grumbled and turned around to sit down on a bench in front of the movie theatre.
At least it was still warm enough outside.
He pulled his knees up to his chest and watched all the weird people who were standing in the line.

Freaks.
When he noticed the irony behind that thought he snorted angry.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]"You idiot," Loria snapped back.
"We're going backstage, we're not going to be sitting with an audience. Bornes will still see you, though."

She grumbled some choice words to herself at how difficult Ven was being, but stomped off behind the building toward the backstage entrance. Hopefully Ven would follow. If he didn't... Oh well. Not her problem.

If Ven did follow her, at the door she'd stop again, and ask him one more time.
"If you don't put on the dress, I will tell Bornes your real name."

Okay, it was more of a threat. But whatever worked.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
"Ah, fine!" Ven jumped from the bench and followed Loria to the entrance.

"What kind of threat is that supposed to be? I told you my name, didn't I? I may hate it but I'm not ashamed of it," he muttered.
"You can tell him if you want. It's not like that's some dirty little secret or so"

Ven was a bit confused about that threat. Did she really think it would bother him that much?


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]"Fine then, Ventus," She hissed. "Be that way."

She opened up the door and walked in, stacking all her bags against a far wall. Ven's clothes were in one of the bags - so was the dress. If Ven decided he want to get back into his clothes now, she really didn't care. All the arguing had ruined the ability for fun.

There were only five actors, and most of them were done getting ready, and instead were practicing lines.

Q had been talking to two other men who were dressed the same as he, and had the same color hair as he. Apparently they were all supposed to be brothers. Loria put her hands on her hips and forced out an "ahem".

Q heard it, stopped his french conversation, and walked over to Loria. Even though his hair was grey, he was wearing a wig to have short, evenly cropped hair. His glasses were off to accentuate his slit pupils, and his skin was all powdered so he looked much paler than normal. He was wearing some type of leather trenchcoat/jump suit combination. It would be hard to explain to someone with words without seeing it. But, any good Final Fantasy fan would know that this was probably the most perfect Kadaj costume play there was to be had. And Q looked amazing in it.

"What's wrong?" Q asked. "Where's Ven?" He looked about, and saw Ven a distance away. He frowned. "Why is he naked...?"

Loria shook her head in a huff. "I tried to put Ventus in a dress and that's his pathetic way of protesting."

Q growled to himself, "He's not your toy," he grumbled as he pushed her away to go talk to Ven.

The man had been through a rather unpleasant day as it was. That producer had something wrong in his head. Had wanted to see his tail, had fawned over his eyes. Like some weird zoologist wanting to make Q the next amusing attraction at his park. The last thing he needed was to deal with Loria's crap.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]

Ven leaned to the wall, watching Loria walk over to Q.
With still crossed arms he saw him come over. Uh oh.

Ven bowed his head down so he didn't have to look at Q being probably furious about him showing up like this.
"I'm sorry! Loria tried to make me wear a fucking dress! And she stole my clothes, too, so I had to run around like this and-"
But he stopped and looked up. As if he would care about that ridiculous story.

Although he knew it was Q standing in front of him he could hardly recognize him because of the pale skin and the different haircut.
"You look pretty different indeed" Ven eyed the outfit.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q stood up straight, looking down at Ven. He was silent for a while, before he finally exhaled heavily through his nose in a unapproving snort. "You should of just worn the dress," he said sternly, his voice low.

"Go put your clothes on, I'm not going to talk to you like this."

He was trying to remain visibly calm, but with his fists clenched, and his attempt at talking slow and softly, it was apparent he was fuming. He wanted to scream, or hit something, or go out and smoke. But he couldn't do any of those things. He couldn't mess up his make up or his costume, he couldn't let other people see him before the show started, and he couldn't make a scene.

He could think of a host of situations he could be in right now, all of them bad. All of them preferred over his current.
Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Ven glared at Q now. "Sure, wear the dress... as if," he hissed.
What the hell was up with this guy?

Ven flopped down on the floor to look for his old clothes in the shopping bags.
He was glad when he found them still in there.
At least Loria had not thrown them away.

When he was fully dressed he stood up again, hands on his hips.
"Better now?"

He had expected Q to be annoyed but he couldn't believe he should have showed up in that damn dress rather than in his boxers.
Ugh, whatever. His good mood was gone now anyways.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]When Ven came back, Q had loosened up a little. But not much. This would not be such a big deal if he hadn't had the prior experiences with the producer.

"You don't..." He tried to word this the best way possible. "You don't show up somewhere with no clothes on. Were you walking around the street like that? You should be ashamed of yourself!" His voice was still hushed. He didn't want the others to overhear the conversation. Most french knew english, they were just too full of themselves to speak it. He'd been the same way with tourists while growing up.

Ven was supposed to be his brother, but he felt more like a son as time wore on. Q didn't want to have a son he needed to be scolding all the time. He didn't want to be the bad person.
"Crossdressing is not a big thing in this industry," Q hissed. "If you had shown up in a dress, nobody would have cared. I don't understand why you're so stubborn. I've worn dresses before, too. It's just part of the job."

He slouched a bit, so he could be closer to Ven. "Plus, the guy who.." He looked around, then grumbled something to himself and grabbed Ven's hand, pulling him to another room, away from everyone else. He should've done that sooner. Oh well.

"Being around these people in your underwear is not a good idea," he reworded what he was going to say originally, which was something like 'pedo pedo pedo'.
"These men aren't shy and you're not bad looking." In any other context, that probably would've been considered a compliment.
But Q was still angry, though now the reason why was a bit more apparent.

Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
"But I'm not some 10-year-old boy! I don't care what others think!" Ven pouted.
"You don't have to worry about me!"

Wait. Q was worried about him. Shouldn't that be something nice?
Ven still didn't like being treated like a little kid so he didn't take the things Q had just said as a compliment.

"As if some guy here would come up and rape me, it's not like I am really naked! You're overreacting!"
He didn't want to sound rude but maybe he did. Well, now it was too late.

"I really didn't want to make you mad, sorry"


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]When Ven mentioned rape, Q slapped the kid across the face. Hard.
At least he hadn't punched him. That would be the thought, later.

"You never joke about that!" Q was yelling loudly, now. Not loud enough for everyone to make full sense of what he was saying, but loud enough for people to know he was yelling.

"I don't care what you think I'm doing, Ven. I'm much older than you and I KNOW when to take shit seriously! This is one of those fucking times. This is not some game- these are real people, real problems!"

He backed away, taking a deep breath, trying not to sweat. He couldn't ruin his make-up now. He grit his teeth and tried to calm down.

He closed his eyes, clenching his fists at his sides, head pointing downward. "Don't you realize that when you look like a fool, you make me and Loria look like fools?" He said softly. "Our whole careers are based on what normal people think about how we look. You can't do things like this."


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Ven stared at Q, shocked about being slapped. Ouch, that had hurt.
"What the hell do you think you're doing!?" he yelled back at him.
"You can be mad at me, you can yell at me, maybe even throw me out! But never ever hit me!"

He was the one who was furious now.
"Do you really think I was joking!? I don't know what your problem is. I don't care whether you are older than me!"

Ven took a deep breath and tried to calm down but it didn't work.
"You have no idea about my problems either, so don't pretend to know everything better! This is ridiculous"

He really needed to calm down now. He still remembered what had happened the last time he got a bit too... angry.
And that was the last thing he wanted to happen once more.
Ven stepped back from Q. "Don't ever touch me again"


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q had so much to say, but he could hear the people in the other room getting ready for the show.

"Never touch me again," Ven had said.

Never touch me again.

Time just seemed to stop.

Never touch me again

Q's stance wavered, something that hardly ever happened. He quickly turned to walk out and whispered a 'sorry' under his breath. Then he disappeared near the curtain with the rest of the silver-haired men.

Loria saw Q's face only for a moment, and in response, her own was overcome with worry. She ran toward where she thought Ven was. After she could see him, she stopped a safe distance away.
"What did you do to him...?" She asked.

Q was supposed to be angry at Ven. That had been her plan all along, hadn't it?
But when Q walked out and onto stage, it looked like his soul had been torn apart. And now he had to perform like that?

What had Ven done??

Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Ven watched Q turn around and leave. Now he was confused.
He had expected him to continue yelling... or even hitting him again.

When Loria entered he turned to her. "I didn't do anything to him," he stated.

At least that was what he thought. He really didn't get why Q was behaving that odd now.
But he didn't care at the moment anyways.
No one was supposed to touch or let alone slap him. This time he didn't feel guilty in the slightest.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]"You must've said something," Loria said, mostly to herself.

There were a lot of cheers and hollers outside from the audience. There was loud music, and lots of loud talking in French. It only took about five minutes, before the real movie began, and the characters all returned back stage.

"You almost froze up out there, what's wrong with you?" a man with a long silver wig said to Q, who still looked as if his heart was broken.

"Guess yelling at his little brother really got him down," another actor, this time with short blonde hair and a huge sword strapped to his back.

A man with short, gelled up silver hair cut in front of Q's path, "Don't tell me he's broken up with you," he joked.
Another long silver-haired man interjected, but this one had a very long, thin sword in his hand, and a slightly different outfit from the others. "Don't talk that way about it, that's his brother."

"Don't tell me you honestly believe that garbage. You can see it in his eyes, the guy just got his heart broken. " After that line, the short silver-haired man turned from the long haired back to Q. "If you're ready to play with the grown ups, Quatre, I can help...." He ran his hand down Q's cheek to his chest.

Q shoved him away. "It's none of your business. Leave me alone," He tore off his wig and shook his head, fingercombing his hair. He hated wigs.

The short haired silver man came back. "Oh come on, what does that boy have that I don't? Is it the horns?" He turned to the rest of the group with fingers on his head, imitating horns. "Looks like Quatre Bornes only goes for the freaks!"
Most of the group laughed in response.

"Shut up," Q growled.

The short-haired silver man continued with the horn joke. "Does he have a tail too? I bet he does! You freaks have to stay together!"

Q turned around and punched the other actor in the face. It escalated into a fight quite quickly, but the other actors tried to break it up. Blondie and Long sword had Quatre, while long-haired silver guy pushed short-haired silver man away.
There was lots of incoherent yelling in French.

Loria ran to Q and pulled him away from the other men into a dressing room, so he could get dressed and they could leave.
"You're the worst of them all," Q shoved Loria away from him as he got dressed.

"You guys go ahead, I'll just walk back."

"I don't want to leave you here by yourself," Loria whined.

"You're the reason this whole thing happened. Just go before you get the fucking smack you deserve," Q spat.

Loria frowned, and slinked away, feeling very guilty.

She found Ven as quickly as she could. She wouldn't deny she was actually very scared. "Come on Ven, we're leaving now..." She went to get her bags and get away from this place as quickly as possible. This whole day was a huge mistake.
She would've wondered what exactly had happened between the actors, even though she had a good enough idea, just watching their body language.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Ven watched the whole scene without having a clue of what was going on.
But he was too angry to actually care about it.

As Ven followed Loria outside he just wished to be at home again.
This was all going horribly wrong.
He wasn't sure whether Loria had planed this whole argument or not. He didn't want to see Q anymore.
It had hurt to be yelled at because of something so irrelevant.

Why couldn't he just drive back to the airport and take a damn plane back to Germany? Oh right, the money.
Ven groaned annoyed as he stepped outside of the movie theatre.

He missed his home and especially his best friend more than ever before.

Outside he followed Loria into the taxi she had called. He didn't feel like talking to her anymore now and just stared out of the window.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Q quickly redressed into his khakis and blue shirt, though he let his tail slide out this time. He was tired of having it in his pants for the entire day.

Once he walked out of the dressing room, he hung his costume up and the one who had been patronizing him before glared to Q.
Bornes, once his costume had been hung, placed his sunglasses on his face.

When Q looked up again, the guy was still staring at him. Their eyes locked. Well, as best they could with Q's sunglasses in the way. There was an awkward silence for a few moments, before Q finally buckled under the pressure.
"Is the offer still open?" he asked.

The other man grinned.
Quatre Bornes wasn't going to show up to his hotel room that night.

In another setting, the taxi ride was uncomfortably silent. Loria led Ven to their hotel room and laid all the shopping bags down again. She then sat on the couch and looked out the window.

I shouldn't have done that. It was wrong. I was just better off not trying to ruin them. I don't want to be in the middle of such animosity between them... She thought to herself.

She grabbed the remote for the TV and turned it on to some french news channel. Slipping her heels off, she put her feet on the coffee table and hugged a couch pillow.

Why did I do that?

She dug her face into the pillow and hoped Ven wouldn't notice. As if he'd even talk to her after today.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Without paying any attention to Loria, who sat on the couch, Ven stomped into his bedroom and slammed the door shut.
Once inside he threw himself onto the bed and sighed.
He really felt like crying now.

When Q had slapped him that had hurt, when he yelled at him like that it had hurt even more.
But Ven had tried to pull himself together. The last thing he had wanted was to burst out into tears and look like a stupid fool again.

Now that he was alone he curled up under the blanket and started sobbing.
He felt way too lonely in this foreign country far away from everyone he knew... together with two people he didn't know one bit.
One of them pissed and the other one hating him.

Without bothering to change into his pajama pants he fell asleep, tears still running down his cheeks.

The next morning came sooner than Ven would have liked it to come.
He didn't want to get up at all.
After a while he heard noises from the living room of the hotel suite. It was probably Loria, maybe Q, he didn't care and just pretended to be still asleep.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Loria had done something she never had before - she slept on the couch.

She wanted to talk to Quatre when he got here, so she waited in the main room. But he never came, and she had drifted off to sleep with the TV on low.

Now that it was morning, she had horrible back and neck pains. She yawned and looked around, not seeing Quatre. She went into her room and changed into new clothes, brushing her hair and teeth.

Once she was ready for the new day, she took out her cellphone and stared at it. No missed calls. She wondered if she should call him. But... He probably wouldn't answer.

After putting the phone away, she walked over to the bedroom Ven had stationed himself in. It was a long shot, but she would try anyway.
"Ven?" She knocked on the door slightly. "Is Bornes in there...?"

She doubted Quatre could come home and bypass her, then chose to go to Ven's instead of her empty room. But.. She had to make sure. She still felt incredibly guilty, and as long as Quatre was here with them, she'd forgive him for sleeping with Ven.

You're the worst of them all, he had told her.

She wanted to crawl into a corner and cry. Where had her professionalism gone? Once this stupid boy had come into the picture, she began acting weird. What was so special about Ven that made her jealous, compared to any number of all the other boys Q had brought home?

And to think, Qua had to go to the theatre and deal with those people again.

Why didn't I just give up on the stupid dress? Why did I let him walk in there in his boxers? Loria scolded herself. She was acting like a ten year old.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
"No, of course he's not," Ven hissed from under the blanket.

He stuck his head out and looked at Loria.
She seemed to be worried about something and Ven hoped she would not notice that he had been crying.
He really didn't want to give her that kind of satisfaction.

Ven sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Why do you ask...?"


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Loria sighed. Of course he wasn't in there.
She was deluding herself.
"He didn't come back like he said he would," she said softly, looking down at the ground.

Another awkward silence before she came clean, "It's all my fault. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be such a jerk. I should've just given up about the stupid dress. I just.." Her voice lowered even more, "I thought you really would look pretty in it..."


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Ven didn't believe one word of what Loria said.
"Please, just shut up about that fucking dress!" he growled at her.

"I told you it was a bad idea... but now it's too late. I don't even know why exactly Q was that pissed yesterday"
Ven sighed. "Maybe I did say something wrong... but that was not what I wanted at all!"

He crawled out of the bed and shuffled into the bathroom without looking at her.
She was just going to make fun of him again.
[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Loria sulked. "I'm sorry."
Now she knew why she was never going to have a kid of her own. She'd make a terrible mother.

She paced around for a bit, wondering what to do. She finally called Quatre's cellphone, but, as predicted, he didn't answer.

She shoved the phone back into her purse and regretfully went back to Ven's door. "I'm going to go downstairs to eat... You can come if you want."

She then grabbed her purse and waited for Ven's response, so she could leave.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Ven stopped brushing his teeth for a moment to decide whether he should go down as well or stay up here in the hotel room.
Since he was starving because he had not eaten anything for almost 24 hours he decided to go, too.

"Yeah... I'll come down when I'm dressed," he replied after hesitating for a few seconds.

After taking a quick shower he went back into the bedroom and put on one of the new shirts and also one of the pants they had bought the day before.
The shirt was ice blue like his old one, just with shorter sleeves.
Ven actually liked it pretty much and had to throw a glance at himself in the huge mirror next to the bed.

Then he left the room and tried to find the restaurant of the hotel.
He didn't find it at once and had to search two floors for it. When he finally found it he sat down next to Loria at a small table.

Seeing all the delicious food around him made his mood get a lot better.
He was tired of being angry or sad now, so he told himself to cheer up a bit.


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Loria had already ordered food, but of course waited for Ven to receive his as well and begin eating before she said anything. She hoped his anger was lessening. She really didn't want to be depressed all day.

"Today is our last day here. Quatre has to work again," she stated blankly, staring into her strawberry pancakes. "Wherever he is, he knows not to miss work.... We could visit him there again, if you want."


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Ven started eating while he listened to her.

"I don't think he'd want to see me there again. I'm just trouble for him," he stated.
"He'll be annoyed again. I bet he's already regretting that he took me here. I'll rather stay away from him"

But he was too curious. "What kind of job is it this time?"



[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Don't put yourself down so much, she wanted to say.

"Quatre is... Well I'm sure he isn't really mad at you... I mean, what did he say to you?"

She busied herself cutting the pancakes she hadn't touched yet. "And it's the same place... Two night showing with him in the pre-show..."


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Ven wasn't too sure whether he wanted to tell her about the argument.
But he assumed she had heard Q's and his yelling anyway.

"He got mad at me because... I'm not even sure!" he exclaimed.
"I guess he thinks I am a stupid, childish brat who doesn't know one thing about what's going on around me"

Ven didn't mention that Q had slapped him, though.
He didn't want to appear like a small kid again... complaining about his older brother taking away his favourite toy.

"I got angry, too... and yelled at him"
Stuffing a pancake into his mouth he looked at Loria. "And then he just stormed off[/u] wrote:[/b]


[Q] wrote: "That didn't really answer the question..." She sighed, putting a piece of pancake in her mouth.
She wondered if Qua was okay. He had to be. He usually took care of himself rather well.


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
Ven took a sip of orange juice and looked down on his plate.
"Well, if it answers your question... He complained about me running around in my boxers, I told him nothing would happen to me, no one would rape me, something like that... He slapped me, yelled stuff about me not taking things serious. And then I yelled back at him and told him to never touch me again"

He took another sip out of the glass in his hands.
"That's all... I've been in worse arguments before so it's no big deal I guess..."


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Loria pushed the pieces of her pancakes around.

"I'm sorry he slapped you. But it might be because you mentioned rape... Quatre is not very..." She didn't just want to come out and say it, that was Qua's business, not hers.

"That's a subject he doesn't like to take lightly. I'm sure that he is sorry he slapped you. I mean, he normally can keep his anger under control."
She shoved some pancakes in her mouth, so she could give herself time to think before she continued.

Once she swallowed her mouthful, she said, "Come to think of it, he seemed like he was in a bad mood before he even saw you. I wonder what happened when we weren't there."


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
"He can't just run around slapping people and yelling because someone mentions a subject he doesn't like to hear about," Ven replied.
"I guess it was my fault, too... but whatever. I've had my own problems concerning that but he doesn't know about that so I can't complain, right?"

He leaned back in his chair and put the empty glass back on the table.
"I don't like talking about him when he's not here, though. That's rude"
Then Ven added in a low voice "I just hope he's okay,"


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]She sighed. "I'm sure he was just worried about you somehow. He tends to get angry when he's worried. He's weird like that..."

She slowly ate the other pieces of the pancake on her plate. "I'm sure he's okay..." She was trying to convince herself.

Once she had completely finished her pancakes, she told the waiter to just charge the breakfast to the room. Once she and Ven were alone again, she glanced at her watch.

They had a few hours before she should bother going to the theatre. "We have three or four hours to burn before we can do anything about Quatre," She said, putting her elbows on the table, her hands clasped beneath her chin. "Is there anything you want to do?"


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
"I guess so..." Ven nodded slowly.

He scratched his head and thought of something he'd like to do.
"I've never been here so I can't really think of something... But I know that I'd love to see the Eiffel Tower at night, only once!"
"I've always dreamed of going up there and looking at the city with all the beautiful lights and that stuff... kinda... kitschy, I know..."


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]"I would like to do that, too. I haven't been here before, either." Loria sighed.
She wanted to go with Quatre. They could dress formal. He looked so amazing in a tuxedo. Even if he only played arm candy, it still would have satisfied her.

"It's only 11am, though. It's not going to be night any time soon. Maybe we could go shopping again...?"


Ven Loraine wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/draggy-chan/6pgf9cj-1.png[/imgright]
"You're not being serious now, are you?"
Ven couldn't believe she had just suggested that again.
"No, sorry... I'd rather not go shopping again. You can go, I'll stay here then. Or look at the city on my own"

Ven started to get the weird feeling of being on some weird kind of family journey...
Q the Dad, Loria the Mum and he, the little kid.
No thank you, he didn't want that, actually.

He stood up to leave and get back to their room.
"After yesterday I'd prefer not getting near any clothing stores with you again"


[Q] wrote: [imgright]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v106/Zikos/ART/z-4.jpg[/imgright]Loria sighed again. She was doing that a lot, lately. Apparently she was a failure.

"Alright," She said and got up to go out. Ven didn't have to go with her. It would be incredibly boring, but she could manage. She wasn't going to let Paris slip out from under her fingertips. She had to make good with what she had. So what if she wanted to shop again?

Loria didn't come back from her trip until about five o'clock. She entered the hotel room with plenty more boxes and bags - she'd obviously been busy.
Once she had set them all down, she looked around for Ven. After hours of indulging herself in her favorite hobby, she wasn't as moody.

"Ven, I'm going to go by the theatre; are you sure you don't want to come?"

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