Path of the Vampire forum

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

<Jesse Fforde> The family was as quiet as it could be. It rankled Jesse. But then, the Necromancer was confused. He didn’t know what he wanted. How could he be angry? He had been as quiet as the rest of them. He had not responded to text messages - but he’d only got the one. He had not sought after any of them, to ask them how they were or what they were up to. He had not organised any gatherings. But nor did he want to. Not with the way he was feeling. Although the presence of family was a comfort to him, the one face he wanted to see above all was Grey’s. And that was the one face he couldn’t see. And because of that, he was likely to be in a bad mood. Why call everyone together if he was only going to end up sitting in angry silence? Of course they would ask what was wrong. They would ask, just as Rhett had done, what had crawled up his *** and died. They would not see his mood as having a cause. They would see it only as an attack on them. Because Jesse would not open up. Not anymore. There was no point.

So instead of doing something to rectify the quietness of Fforde, Jesse was at the Castle. The Castle, was how people referred to it. People in the know, anyway. Where Jesse went when he needed a challenge; or when he was feeling so ******* piss poor that deep down, he thought he deserved whatever beating he got. Mainly, though, tonight, it was the former. The Necromancer still had a lot of rage, and spending it on foes that provided no challenge was a bit of a let down. He stalked the maze that was the Castle, his weapons at the ready, the magic burning beneath his skin--those powers that would help against the more learned foe. This was not his forte anymore. Since leaving Tytonidae, he’d fallen out of practice. Rituals and thieving had taken over his life; battle training had taken a back seat. But still. Around the next corner he confronted a Shifter.

He knew he would not win. But he attacked anyway. Without a sound, he slashed and danced, gun firing once in a while. He was taking more than he was giving. But he kept at it, ferocious and uncaring.


<Every> It had been a few days since she had returned from the Shadow Realm, her blade in hand as she wandered through the Castle without much thought. Anger and frustration had since faded to a dull ache towards Velveteen, directed more towards her partner after she’d learned of his return despite the fact she was glad to see him. Of course, there was the anger towards others in their family, those that hadn’t said anything or seemed as if they hadn’t heard anything, that really annoyed her and so rather than say much at all, she spend her time killing things.

Illusionists provided enough of a challenge, her slender frame avoiding attacks in an agile manner after hyper perception helped her see movements easier paired with powers that drew blood. Faster. More intelligent. Although, she had once again returned to her habit of never touching a firearm after killing Micah. The memory was too raw, the echo still haunting her when things were silent and even as she trained, a pair of ear buds were pressed into her ears as music played through the strands tucked away.

After the other vampire fell, Every collected the money and pushed the sleeves up of her sweatshirt before tucking the cash away into her sports bra. Beside her, there was a quiet ‘tsk’ that she heard through the connection that she shared with her wraith before she flipped her childhood friend off and motioned for him to start looking for another target. As Zachary walked, Every followed and hummed along with the Hollywood Undead album, pausing briefly when she noticed Jesse, her eyebrows furrowing as she considered leaving. But, as she inclined her head and pressed her lips together, she called out, “Use powers that draw blood” before Zachary told her that he found a wallet nearby that she went to collect.


<Jesse Fforde> Although Jesse heard the shouted advice, it was from a distance. As if the words came to him muffled down a long tunnel - an echo of something that may or may not be there. Words that penetrated only on a subconscious level, his attack having succumbed to a mindless frenzy. It was hardly graceful. It definitely wasn’t impressive. It was as if the shifter pre-empted any power that Jesse tried to use; claws matched claws and celerity matched celerity, and the advice though heard, couldn’t be acted upon.

Powers that draw blood? Did Jesse even have any of those? Aside from the claws that failed due to his foe’s counter-attacks and a shadow that wasn’t playing ball right now, Jesse didn’t have the powers to deal physical wounds. He had only those that could curse a spirit. Or maybe he failed because his magical energy was depleted. His body was exhausted and he failed to take care of it, or to rest.

In the end, Jesse’s clothes were covered in his own blood, gushing from slashed wounds to his throat and head. Dizzy and defeated, he was forced to retreat. To back away. To use whatever power he had left to confuse his foe and make a run for it. He passed Every on his way down another hall, to get around a corner and out of sight. If she were to follow him she would find him slumped and sitting on the ground, having pulled off his jacket to tear a strip that he could wrap and tie securely around his neck. To at least keep himself from losing any more blood.


<Every> As she glanced over her shoulder to see the end of the fight, her eyebrow lifted and a bit of amusement played across her features before she continued to wander around the Castle with a hum. A few more illusionists, a summoner. Every listened to Zachary make comments about her form with a blade and she stopped after a moment to tell him to “**** off” before continuing her training. “Why did you bother giving advice?” She wondered to herself after poisoning one of the creatures and stepping back only to feel the familiar pain of a bullet entering her chest.

When it slipped away, she bared her fangs in an annoyed growl before glancing towards her wraith, the man making a clapping motion to mock her and she rolled her eyes, beginning to walk back towards where she had seen Jesse going. Ignoring the questions that began to follow her mind, she folded her arms in front of her chest as she healed it, dropping a bullet by his foot afterwards. “That was sad.” She lifted an eyebrow once more, looking down his wounded figure. “And I realized how much of a pain in the ******* *** it is to be mute for more than two days. I don’t know how you did it.”
Or why she was bothering to talk to him. She was still mad, but was she mad at him? The question rang through her mind and she heard Zachary make an indistinguishable remark that caused her to turn her head in his direction. “Silas, go bother Savannah or something.” She sighed, and then looked back to her former sibling.


<Jesse Fforde> Jesse couldn’t heal his own wound. Not to the point that it completely disappeared. But he could zombify it, at least. The last of his magical ability was used to reduce the effects of his wound, though the strip of material was still wrapped tightly around his neck. The gash was still there, it just didn’t hinder him anymore.

He was still sitting in the same place when Every made her way back to him. He was checking his phone for the hundredth time that night - like he did every night, though he had lost hope ages ago that his fiance would call him. Or text him. Or anything. His gaze left the bright screen to land on Every’s sneakers, bright blues rising to meet her eye. His eyes narrowed as she commented on his performance - or what he assumed was a comment on his performance. Jesse was a proud man, but he didn’t have the energy to argue. He just shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes, flicking the phone off and pushing it back into his pocket.

“It’s only a pain in the *** because people expect more from you when they know you can talk,” he said with an arched brow, turning his attention back to Every. He, on the other hand, severely wished that he could be mute again. Even now his voice was husky and cracked from disuse. Aside from his conversations with Velveteen and Micah, he hadn’t said a word or made a single noise.


<Every> It had been difficult for a while, going without talking until the gunshots had repaired from where Velveteen had shot out her vocal chords, and a little bit unnerving, especially in the Shadow Realm. And, considering her sire had a hole in her head at the time, it had been difficult to communicate with him - writing out what she had wanted to say in the air had only gotten her so far, especially when she spelled it out fast. But, she was glad to have full use of her voice once more - even if she did think she should go back to seeming to have a quota to fill on words again occasionally.

A smirk played across her lips as she got the reaction she wanted, noticing his eyes narrow but there hadn’t been any retort which bothered her a bit. Even playful banter felt off and she still hated that she missed having the ******** around. “Well, getting your throat blown out generally makes it impossible to speak for a while when you heal in a shitty time frame as a shadow, so the expectation has its moments where it’s a fault.” She shrugged and then dug around in her pockets, finding a handkerchief and handing it to him.

“You’re not talking again?” She asked, lifting her eyebrow after a few moments, remember how cracked and broken he had sounded at the first time she’d learned he could talk. Her arms unfolded and refolded in front of her chest and she vaguely wondered if she should start walking. “I’m not going to ***** at you this time, just wanted to make sure you were alright after you got your *** handed to you by the shifter.”


<Jesse Fforde> “What makes you think I’m not talking again?” he asked. Where could she possibly have got that impression? It wasn’t something he flaunted. It wasn’t something he told people he was doing. It wasn’t even something he was doing on purpose. There was no point to make. There was just no one he wanted to talk to. No one that he would go out of his way to talk to. Not because he didn’t respect them. But because of the aforementioned reasons. Grey had gone. She left. She left because she felt like she wasn’t good enough, and that was Jesse’s fault. He’d already pushed one person away, and he hadn’t even meant to. He didn’t want to do anymore damage.

Though, there was a brief spell, there, where no damage had been done at all. Quite the opposite, actually. Damage had been repaired, and all because Grey was gone and Micah was dead. The two men had other things that concerned them, enough so that their problems with each other could be put into proper perspective.

Jesse didn’t respond to the comment about his *** being handed to him. Nor did he snap about being perfectly ******* fine.

“It’s good to see you back in the land of the living. Micah back, too?” he asked. He had heard the story from Micah, so he didn’t ask for the details from Every.


<Every> “It’s either that or your injury that has your voice that way.” She lifted her shoulder in a shrug, her hazel eyes showing her curiosity, “I wasn’t sure if you’d gotten hit deep enough to do damage to your vocal chords or voice box.” She female debated and then slowly moved to sit down a bit away from him while she decided it wouldn’t bother to sit there and talk. She was still trying to get to terms and calm, so why not?

“How…” As he mentioned Micah, her confusion mounted and she looked at him, trying to think who would have… And then she remembered the familiar form she’d seen while she’d been talking to Nishaa, but her vision was off. “You were the one I saw with him.” On one hand, she was glad that she hadn’t been actually just seeing things in the Shadow Realm, nightmares had enough damage done on her psyche and she had enough inner demons to make her go crazy. “Micah’s fine, came back before me.”

Why hadn’t Micah told her that he’d seen Jesse? The thought was pushed aside as she thought that it probably had to do with him worrying about Vel often. “Why were you there?” She asked, and grimaced a bit, “And how much do you know?”


<Jesse Fforde> Jesse didn’t deny or agree. He knew that it had nothing to do with the wound on his neck. The gash was deep but it was low and to the side. It didn’t touch his voice box. Every could believe what she wanted to believe. The only reason Micah and Velveteen knew about Grey’s absence was because Grey had gone to Micah before she had left. Micah had told Velveteen. Again, the two were privy to things in Jesse’s life that he had not told them, and probably would have chosen not to. But things had changed since then. He had opened up to Micah some, but that, he guessed, was due to the odd effect the Shadow Realm had on people.

Jesse’s head canted to the side as Every began. How? It wasn’t common knowledge, then, that the cousins had talked. Jesse hadn’t spoken to Micah, since. But then, Jesse had lost track of time. And Micah was reunited with his love. Jesse tried not to be jealous. No, he had to be happy for Micah. And hoped that he had gotten through to Velveteen. That there were no lasting psychological effects.

“I know that you accidentally killed Micah in a sparring match. And then Velveteen killed you for doing it. And that Velveteen didn’t want to admit that Micah was dead. Have you seen her since?” he asked. He’d be interested to know whether she knew, now. And whether she was okay.


<Every> She gave Jesse a look, her eyebrow lifting as she did so, but she let the subject drop as she pulled her ponytail over her shoulder and smoothed it out. Finding a few pieces of leaves in it from her habits of relaxing in the Eyrie tree, she picked them out and dropped them on his leg. “A gift.” She said without looking up at him, checking for any more before she crossed her legs underneath herself and frowned.

It had bothered her that most of Andras hadn’t checked on them, or even asked how they were, but there Jesse was, asking. In some ways, it just reminded her that yes, even though words had been said, bonds were able to be made rather than destroyed and considering Micah hadn’t returned to her angrier than anything, she assumed it hadn’t been a bad conversation.

“Flipped her **** really, and then killed me.” She muttered, rubbing her neck as she looked down at her legs. A rip in her warm up pants made the shadow poke at her thigh while she shook her head. “I haven’t seen her at all. I’ve been avoiding her, actually. I’m still not entirely… over it.” Every knew she had to suck it up and go see her at some point, “But I also figure it would be good for Micah and Vel to spend some time alone. I think she’s okay, he hasn’t said otherwise?”


<Jesse Fforde> Jesse was silent while he thought about it. What would he do if someone accidentally killed Grey? What would he have done if Clover had killed Grey? He’d have done the exact same thing that Velveteen had done. In the moment, he wouldn’t have been able to control himself. Even if it was one of his own progeny, or his own family. Later, he might regret it, depending on the circumstances. If in the exact situation Velveteen, he definitely would have regretted it later. But it took him a while to get himself to see it from Every’s perspective.

“If she realises and understands it was an accident, and that Micah himself doesn’t hold anything against you, maybe she’ll come to you,” he said. That was probably for the best, really, if Velveteen still held some grudge, or if she was still delicate of mind after the whole ordeal. He just nodded.

“They need some time alone. It wouldn’t do any good if Velveteen reacted the same way any time Micah dies. If it happens again in future,” he said. Not if she wanted to keep the family together, anyway. Not unless she wanted everyone to think she was batshit insane, and not in a good way.

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

<Every> As she sat there, Every considered the fights that she’d had with Vel in the past. They both seemed well enough in their friendship that they could usually ignore each other for an undetermined period of time while pissed off at each other and be fine with each other afterwards. Out of any one in the city that she still conversed with after three years of knowing someone, Vel was the person she held the least amount of arguments with anyway. She bit down idly on her bottom lip, thinking.

“I’ll calm down soon. I can’t talk about anyone losing their ****,” She can remember the echo of a gunshot, a piercing scream, “because my record of keeping sane has it’s moments. But, I think I just need to be mad for a little while. I was pissed off to high hell the night it happened.” Then again, she was usually snippier in the Shadow Realm. “Granted that place doesn’t help keep me calm.” A sigh escaped past her lips.

“The night I got back I suggested that everyone leave them be.” She shrugged, using her nail to draw on the ground a sugar skull in the dust on the floor. “Yeah, it’s on our list of things to never have happen again. I won’t even touch my gun, sold the one that killed him. Damn thing jammed.”


<Jesse Fforde> Jesse nodded.

Losing one’s ****. That was something he knew well, too. He lost his **** more often than he could count. In small ways, and in large ways. He laughed, though. A ghost of a laugh that sounded more like an afterthought or a surprised reaction than anything real. But the smile still spread across his lips, that were healthy enough and robust, regardless of his loss of blood. While half healing his wound, he’d boosted himself as well. He wasn’t suicidal, yet. He was just really ******* anxious. An anxiety that had abated, now. Grown numb. Replaced by a hollow sadness. Impatience, where he had never been an impatient men before

“Funny, how different people think of the Realm. It’s where I go to get calm,” he said with a shrug, fingers playing with the leaves that Every had dropped on his lap as he glanced sideways at the woman.

“And Micah? He doesn’t hold it against you, does he? Why so afraid of your gun if the person you killed recognises it as an accident?” he asked.

<Every> She heard the laugh and looked at Jesse, listening to the way that it sounded as she studied the male carefully. She was a little worried about him, but wouldn’t say otherwise. Confusion replaced her concentration and she gave a faint shake of her head, “The silence unnerves me. Even now,” She motioned at her phone in her pocket, “I have to have something playing around me. It fades after a while, but I always have to have noise after returning.”

A shake of her head was given, “Micah made it very clear that he wasn’t upset with me. He knows that I wouldn’t have ever killed him on purpose without a violation and even then, it’d be hard.” Every sat quietly, finishing her drawing before she glanced up as she heard Zachary say something about her childe, causing the woman to roll her eyes before she looked back to Jesse. “I’ve only ever hit him with a stun gun before that.”

She reached behind her, leaning back as she looked at the male in front of her, a frown playing across her lips. “I don’t like firearms. I never have. Can I use them efficiently, yes, but I prefer using my blade - the wounds are cleaner, more efficient. Not to mention, guns take time to draw and aim, to load.” She paused, thinking about it, “Plus, guns jam. And accidents might happen, but when guilt is something that lingers, it’s better to set aside the object of the guilt.”


<Jesse Fforde> Guilt. Jesse had plenty of guilt. The word reminded him of what he had done. How could he be angry with Grey for leaving like she had when he was the selfish **** who had pushed her into it? She was gone because of him. She felt the need to change because of him. What had he become? Just as he thought he was getting better, becoming better, he realised that it wasn’t the case. He was as flawed as ever.

Setting aside the object of his guilt, though, would mean setting aside himself. Now, when he laughed, it was a laugh of recognition. A lightbulb, one could say, flicking on overhead. Not an idea, but a realisation. That’s what he had done, wasn’t it? He was the object of his own guilt and he had descended into silence and distance from those he cared about. He had set himself aside.

“I used to prefer swords,” he said. “But there’s rage and fire in guns. I like that better, these days,” he said. “Though… where silence unnerves you, it is my preference. Most of the time. Unless… you know, rage,” he said, cracking a hollow smile as he looked sideways at Every. She and he had had a lot of conversations in the past. Heavy ones. Philosophical ones. He remembered, now, how much he enjoyed talking to her.

“Anyway. You are angry that Velveteen killed you and that’s fair enough. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people more in love with each other. In the end… can you really blame her for reacting the way she did? You can blame her if she remains pissed off with you, but I think until you find that out…” he shrugged.

<Every> She stretched out one leg and then the other, sitting up a bit before she slipped her arms around her knees and giving the male a look as she heard the laughter, but a small smile rested beneath it to soften it. She gave a small snort to show her difference to the idea that a gun held more rage than a blade, “I’d like to hear you say that to my old College Professors. It could be argued that a lot of rage kills are done with blades because it allows one to get closer to their victim.”

She simply felt it was more efficient, but she hadn’t minded using the rifle that Nishaa gave her, really, before then. “Eh, I liked silence until I started hearing ****. It’s never really entirely silent unless you go to the Shadow Realm, anyway.” Maybe that was why she preferred sleeping in the Eyrie at times, she could hear the sounds of the wind whispering through the tree leaves. And as Jesse mentioned Vel, she crinkled her nose.

“No, I can’t blame her. But, at the same time, I’m allowed to be angry for a little while. I’m not going to hold it against her forever.” Every doubted that she really could, actually, “And it’s not as if I’m not concerned for her. Vel and I are good friends, we’re family. I’m just... working on it.” She scratched at her neck with her nails, “I don’t blame her at all, Jesse, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy with her. I’ll get over it.”


<Jesse Fforde> He could, of course, have started a whole discussion about guns versus blades. How most crimes of passion would be committed with blades, because that was what was close at hand in domestic kitchens. That swords are traditional and outdated. Guns were the weapon of choice, these days. Before he had become a vampire, it hadn’t occurred to him that there was a whole hoard of people walking around the city with guns strapped to their person. It was so medieval. But kind of cool, just because of that.

But silence had settled over him. Conversation had never been his forte, really, and over the past two weeks he’d slipped back into old habits. Conversation became harder. It was more of an effort. Thoughts swirled but they never passed his tongue. His fingers stretched and clenched and stretched again as he nodded.

“So you’ll forgive me, then? I was allowed to be angry for a little while…” he said. And even now, he wasn’t entirely over it. But it’s what he had said to Velveteen, wasn’t it? Realising that he cared, that he gave a ****, didn’t immediately make everything better. But it helped.


<Every>She had always carried mace on her. Micah had learned that, unfortunately, on the night that he had turned her after getting a face full of the unpleasant smelling concoction before she’d ran for her life. She’d certainly been one of his fighters from the beginning and until recently, Every had never thought that it was a good thing. She was proud to be his childe, even if the two fought and could find themselves at each other’s throats on rare occasion, but dying again had brought her back to a bit of a mellow state.

She felt more like herself, really. As much as she tried not to admit it, it had helped.
The question caught her off guard and she paused. For a moment, she’d forgotten that **** had hit the fan and that he wasn’t there, he wasn’t family and she frowned. “You? Yes, after a while. Her? No.” And Every wasn’t entirely sure if she was positive on that, but for the time being, she was content at that statement. “It’s not even my place to forgive you, Jesse, but I was upset with you for leaving after everything.” She shrugged, “But everyone has to do what they have to do.”

Every paused for a few moments, tapping her fingertips against her thigh, “I had every intention to go and talk to you that night, but I was sitting in a stealth raid. I needed to rest.” A frown playing across her lips before she lifted her hand to scratch at her wrist lightly, “To try and help you figure out what was happening, but when you left because of the **** she started, I really didn’t want to even pick up the phone and talk to you. I was disgusted. If I wanted to insult you, I’d rather do it to your face. I haven’t ever had any issue telling you what I felt I needed to say.”


<Jesse Fforde> The words were there on the tip of his tongue. The acerbic, bitter remarks about how Every should be happy, now. Grey was gone. She wasn’t here. She had left and she had reduced Jesse to the sad pathetic sack of meat that he had grown accustomed to being called. By those who supposedly gave a ****. But he didn’t blame Grey. He didn’t blame Grey for any of it. Instead, he took a breath and he took his time before replying.

“Grey and Micah have talked about it. She apologised. She’s made her amends. She…” he coughed. No, he wouldn’t say that. He wouldn’t give Every a hint at what had happened, or that Grey had trusted and respected Micah enough to go to him before anyone else when she chose to leave the city.

“If Micah can forgive her, why can’t you? None of that was her fault. She was the one who was there when I got home in my rages. She said those things because she could see… she could feel the way I was feeling. No, it shouldn’t have been a general accusation. You… never made me feel that way,” he said. He sighed, and pushed his fingers through his hair. “But that doesn’t negate the fact that that was how I felt,” he said. It was an old conversation. It had been done so many times. Sooner or later he would give up. Because no one else could see it.


<Every> Every was a stubborn individual, it was something that she prided herself on occasionally and usually when she felt something against someone, it’ll be there for a while. Others wouldn’t be changing her mind any time soon and when Jesse asked her why she couldn’t forgive Grey, she lifted her eyebrow. “Jesse, you can say that it wasn’t her fault, but at the end of the day the only person that can control Grey and the way that she reacts is Grey. And what she did, what she said? That pissed me off. If it happens, it’ll happen on it’s own.”

She didn’t know what else to say, was there anything else to say? Everyone was different and when it boiled down to it, there had been no apology to Andras - only Micah had heard it. In fact, for all she knew, it could have simply been a lie - although, Jesse had always been pretty honest with Every and she knew it. “I never made you feel that way because you never hesitated to help me when you did a ritual that you hadn’t learned just to make sure I could finish a stealth raid.” She said quietly.

It was one of the first things that she could say about Jesse’s character and she remembered it easily - as well as the fact he had taken a mauling to do it. “You give what you get.” Michael had always said it to her, and where it hadn’t helped him in the end, where he had died in combat, she herself for the most part had managed it fine. She had great friends where it mattered, people that loved her and a career that she enjoyed.


<Jesse Fforde> Jesse shook his head, but he didn’t retort. He simply didn’t have the energy to argue. More than that, he didn’t have the emotional capacity to talk about Grey right now - whether good or bad. It didn’t do any good to continue to try to explain to Every. And he wondered, anyway - what did it matter? Even when she was home, Grey didn’t socialise. At all. All that mattered was that Jesse himself knew where his love and his loyalties were placed. It didn’t matter what anyone else thought of Grey. In the end, he was the one who had decided to marry her and nothing that she had done had convinced him otherwise. Everything that she had done, miscalculated or not, had been in loyalty to him.

He thought back to the time that Every referred to. He remembered it well. Not with a sense of pride or frustration, but with mild amusement. He never did give up on that ritual, did he? It didn’t matter that he got beat to a pulp. He would always get up and try again.

“You give what you get or you get what you give?” he asked. It worked either way around, really, depending on one’s perspective. Jesse shrugged his shoulders. “What’s done is done. It’s in the past now. We choose to either move past it or let it drag us down,” he said. For the most part, it seemed they had all decided to move past it. Only time would tell.


<Every> “Both.” She said, her hazel eyes lifting to Jesse as he spoke and she carefully stretched out her back before crossing her ankles after a few moments. She’d always been moving around since she’d been back and as she sat there, it was a bit of a difference that her body didn’t quite appreciate. Sitting in the Shadow Realm was different, she had nothing better to do there and in a wounded state, doing cartwheels wasn’t particularly an option.

Especially when she felt nauseas simply sitting in one spot.

The darkness had always seemed to cease her restlessness and after sitting for a week, she hated sitting still. Her fingernails drummed against the ground. The brunette pondered for a few minutes and then pushed herself up, “I should probably get back to The Eyrie soon, need to find my actual cell phone and necklace still.” She knew Scott or Bunny had probably picked them up, but she still didn’t want to go up and ask.


<Jesse Fforde> Jesse wasn’t going anywhere.

When Every stood, Jesse remained where he was. He needed to preserve some energy; he needed to rest. Although he could use a shower, he didn’t see the point. The apartment was a ******* mess anyway, and he still didn’t know whether he wanted to face anyone back at the lair. Though, who was he kidding? There’d be no one there, either. But every place he could go to were places where Grey had been and they seemed empty, without her there.

Jesse just nodded.

“Don’t go accidentally shooting anyone else, yeah?” he said. There was a small smirk. A movement of the lips that created a mask of mischief but there was no familiar glint to his eye. He didn’t say goodbye. It was a habit he had fallen out of. He pulled a knee up and draped his arm over it, phone still in his hand as he checked the screen again. Nothing. Maybe he’d just… doze here for a little while.