Eris Hattori

They clench their jaw, roll their eyes at his continued amusement. None of it seems very funny from where they’re standing. It’s his problem, too, after all, and they don’t like the cavalier way he’s treating it, makes them worry that he’s not as worried about keeping what they did a secret as they are. But then, his livelihood doesn’t rely on keeping the truth of how they rescued the boy quiet. They don’t dignify that with a response, because they know he’s right, they have no clue when it’ll stop, if it’ll stop at all. Before their thoughts can spiral any further, though, something else catches their attention.

“Don’t think you’ve ever actually seen me fight. You know what happens when you assume,” they hum, raising an eyebrow, the beginnings of an idea forming. They would blame it on the strange feeling they have, if asked, the feeling of having so little control over their instincts right now, something off balance in their system from the case and what they had done to solve it. But the idea of having the chance to kick Hattori in the ribs is appealing right now, to say the least, and they think that maybe it’ll help, too, getting out some of this pent up anger that’s been boiling just below the surface for a week and a half now, not entirely due to the case at all.

They don’t actually care what someone like Hattori thinks of just about anything about them, in all honesty. That was certain even before they had seen what he was like, just hearing his name had been enough, but it did help that he was an utter asshole. Whether he agrees or not, they know he’ll likely twist it in his favor in his mind, but who really cares if they can get a few swings in.

“You have more training to do?” Lex asks, uncrossing their arms, and rolling up their sleeves. Even if he says no, they don’t think a nice jab to the kidney would do him well before they leave. “I didn’t learn how to fight in a schoolyard, sadly, but I was taught in the wilderness, and by vampires. Dummies aren’t as helpful as dhampirs, I can guarantee that, at least.”

.

He can see where Luxford is going before they even voice the idea. Sparring with a halfvampire would certainly have its perks, as far as getting himself more experienced in such areas of combat. On the other hand though, while he’s certain Luxford won’t use their full strength against him, he can just about guarantee the fight will end up with him being sore in several places in the morning, no matter how the actual brawl goes. 

He can’t help but think it’ll be good for the both of them though, ever since the bite, there’d been this weird tension between them caused by the venom and blood exchange. Their bodies were trying to trick them into handling that tension another way, in order to get them closer to a bite again, but it was clear neither of them particularly wanted to do such a thing. Fighting was certainly a better alternative to fucking in this case, and he supposes he could spare a few bruises to meet such an end to this all. 

“Probably not as helpful,” he huffs a laugh in agreement. Learning to fight in the wilderness was still likely going to be a very different fighting style to his own. He imagined it’d be a style that likely relied heavily on brute force and heavy swings, which meant his own fighting style would serve him well, he assumes. When he was taught to fight it was with an emphasis on speed, and reserving strength for precisely calculated hits. If Luxford was fully human, he’d be fairly confident about his odds. He’s certain he’ll likely be a more challenging foe, than the average human Luxford has sparred with, but there was really only way to find out just how successful he’ll be. 

Shifting back into a fighting stance, he waits for Luxford to do the same before making a move. 

It’s strange to share. Strange to give these parts of himself out just because someone asked a simple question. But Eris makes him feel torn open and vulnerable somehow, makes him want to find his heart where it lies under all the armour and hand out out, hand it over. He’s never kept it for himself, it’s always been someone elses to hold and to control. Cain had it in a pretty cage for so long, even after Victor saw him locked behind bars, even when he began to understand the myriad of ways that Cain had been bad for him –– bad to him. The therapist he went to see sometimes, not as often as he should, threw a lot of words around about it all. Words he didn’t like to think about. But he couldn’t change the fact that Cain had owned him in far too many ways. Victor hated him now, more than anything, but he was the largest thing that lingered in the world, in the past. 

He’s glad, for a moment, that his head is resting on Eris’ chest. He’s glad that he can behere now, instead of back there. He’s glad that he doesn’t have to look up, that he can close his eyes and think about the best way to tell the story. He used to do this for her, his little girl. Let her rest against his side and close his eyes, find a way to build a story for her until she fell asleep. She liked that, liked to hear him talk. The sound of his voice worked better than anything to send her away. “Kind of mine.” He echoes, the uncertainty that lives inside his chest is an insidious thing. 

“Cain –– he had a wife. She was. He didn’t love her or anything, she was a means to an end. He wanted someone to keep up appearances. He wanted someone to give him an heir, and it couldn’t be me. I wasn’t really supposed to be his, even if everybody knew that I was. So, they had Ileana together.” He swallows. “Something happened to her, I don’t know what. He must have had her put down, once her job was done. Or he sent her away.” That was what must have happened to Victor’s mother too. He held on to her for longer than most others had, until he was about Ileana’s age now. He remembers her soft touches and her soft voice. “But Ileana was mine, too. He said so.” 

A soft sigh, and he turns. His head back on the pillow. He blinks his eyes open and looks at the ceiling. “She’s why I did all of this, everything, why I got Cain locked away. I didn’t want her to grow up the way I did. But they don’t just let ex-assassins raise little girls these days, I guess.” He tries for a smile. “She lives with Chief Montero now. For now. Until everything gets fixed up alright. And thats…well, gotta be okay, I guess.” 

All of the varying scenarios he could have come up in his head, would have never come close to the horror story that Victor ends up telling. This world of the criminal underground was a strange reflection of his own. The need for an heir was important to pureblood high society as well, especially heirs who could carry on the name, maintain its prestige and one day produce heirs that could carry it on themselves. But marriages weren’t only just a means to get an heir, like it seemed in this dark former world of Victor’s, they were also business arrangements between families. And if someone broke such an arrangement in a manner as lethal as the one Victor suggests, the other spouse would only hope that jail time was the worse fate they would have suffered.

He knows he’s fortunate enough to not be forced to produce an heir himself. Martin Hattori had three wives, and six children between them, each child going on to produce heirs of their own. The Hattori name was not in jeopardy of disappearing into obscurity, meaning he was given the freedom do to largely as he pleased with his personal life- just as long as it didn’t hurt the family name of course. 

When Victor resettles himself onto the pillow beside him, Eris shifts to turn towards him, propping his head up with the palm of his hand as he rests his elbow into his own pillow. He doesn’t talk at first, just watch and listen. He’s not even sure what there is to say anyway. Not being someone who’s ever wanted children himself, he doesn’t fully understand their pull, but he can see how clearly Victor seems to care for this young girl. 

“I think I met her foster father on that NBO case I was on,” he says at last, “Abel Montero?” He’s not exactly sure where he’s going with this, and shrugs his shoulder as a show of that, before adding, “she could certainly have worse foster parents between them and Chief Montero.” 

Looking down at Victor he studies him for a minute. If Victor did a good enough job in the aurors, Eris is certain he’d end up with the girl sooner rather than later. Having a toddler to care for certainly would throw a small wrench into the plans, Eris had hoped to eventually make him a part of, but those were concerns he could mull over later. 

“You’ve got the makings for a great auror,” he adds in earnest, “I’m sure you’ll have her back soon.” Feeling like he had little else to add, he leans down to press a soft kiss onto Victor’s lips which becomes deeper than necessarily planned, as he brings his hand up to cup the side of Victor’s cheek.

He always thought it was strange, the power that people had over one another when they got tangled together through these base things. Sex, affection, Victor’s strange crush and the way that Eris, in some small manner, seemed to accept it. Eris wanted him around, that couldn’t be denied, and he cared enough about Victor to give in to the cloying little comment that he had made. The kiss he gives Victor is almost possessive, almost, and it sends a small flare of heat through him that settles in his stomach. A little rough, somehow wanting. But his hands are soft, and Victor settles impossibly closer to him, against his skin. He smiles softly, in response to the smirk that Eris gives him. 

Victor allows a laugh to escape him, as well. A soft and amused thing. He feels like he hasn’t had much chance to laugh like this, not in his entire life. It feels valuble, and he wishes he could do it again. He thinks he would give Eris anything that he wanted for this. The charge of his company, the repayment for services rendered. The lessons, the kissing. Victor would give in to any request, after the combination of both. Eris could tell him to jump and he would, with loyalty in his eyes. “Whatever you say,” He murmurs, in quiet amusement, before Eris captures him in another kiss. It’s softer this time, less rough. Just a thing they’re doing. The heat is still there inside of Victor, the strange wanting that may never fade away now. He wants, almost, to push for more. For Eris to touch him, for him to be allowed to touch in return, to return to the pleasure they had felt the night before. 

But there’s a different value that comes just from being held. The feeling of Eris wrapping arms around him, tracing patters on his back as they curl together innocently under the sheets. It’s a superior kind of being wanted, of being valued somehow as more than a body. It makes him feel safer and more happily kept than he ever has before. And maybe he’s reading too much in to that, but he thinks even if he is, he should enjoy it while he has the chance. So he lets Eris trace fingers, delicate, over his skin, and he closes his eyes. 

Sleep could take him again, and it almost does. But more words rise up in the cracked and sleep heavy tone of Eris’ voice. A question. He makes a soft sound, a hum. He flushes with an almost embarrassment, when he thinks about it. The memories, the things that he pulled from to make that slight haze of mist. Honesty should be difficult here, he should want to hoard those little rememberances and keep them safe. He should want to hide his vulnerability from Eris, in case it makes him change his mind about all of this. The last thing he wants is to come across as weak, and from what his father always taught her, sentimentality was his biggest weakness. He couldn’t let people know that he had a heart. 

But he does, and Eris knows how to pull at its dangling strings and inspire far too much feeling to ignore. If Victor feels safe here, so should his delicate memories, and the way that he cherished them. His own voice is quiet when he finally musters up the courage to voice it all, after a long moment. 

“Some of you,” he admits, almost shy. But he thinks that Eris must have known that, must have touched him like that because he knew it would feel good. “When you saved me, when…” he shifts, and presses his face against Eris’ chest, like he did at the motel when everything had felt so cold. There’s a more vulnerable part of the answer, and he feels shakey with the intimacy of it, the way his voice sounds when he admits it. “More of you than Cain, he was… who I was with, before.” And he swallows, presses his smile against Eris skin. There’s a deep and uncertain longing that comes through in his voice, the ache of missing someone more than you could veer have imagined. “More of my daughter than anyone. Ileana, I guess… well, she’s kind of mine. She will be, maybe, someday. If i’m good enough.” 

He casts his gaze back down at Victor, curious to hear his answer. Instead, he finds himself slightly enamored at the sight of the former assassin on the verge of blushing. He would have figured after the night before, and even the current state the two of them were in at that moment, would have been enough to stamp down any lingering shyness between them, yet there Victor was, smiling into his chest as if he needed to fight off the urge to hide the grin. 

“Well I should hope so,” he chuckles quietly. He’d be offended to some degree if his name wasn’t one of the first out of Victor’s mouth, what with just what all Eris did in order to coax out the luminescent mist from the other auror’s wand. He doesn’t comment any further though, allowing himself to fall quiet again as Victor goes on. The mention of Cain is the first time he can recall Victor ever using his former boss’s name, in fact if Eris hadn’t did some quiet digging of his own he likely wouldn’t even know that was the original connection between the two, rather than simply an old boyfriend. 

He can’t help but wonder just what that relationship- if it could even be called that, was like. Victor’s urge to find anything and anyone to throw his loyalty behind wasn’t unnoticed by Eris, in fact it was one of the first things that drew him to the former assassin, realizing how valuable an ally he could be. For Victor to so thoroughly betray that trust, Cain must have done something unforgivable- if not once, then gradually over time, until Victor had no choice but to commit the act he did. 

Any such thoughts of Cain though, quickly leave his mind as Victor next mentions a daughter.  Now that certainly hadn’t come up in any research he’d done before. His confusion only grows further as Victor speaks though, as he seems to go back and forth on his own relation to the girl, then goes on to suggest that somehow his conduct could affect just whether or not she does become his or not. 

It’s not a particularly nice feeling to realize your body is doing something you have no control over, especially when you’ve been trying so desperately to keep control in the first place. It’s not a new feeling, of course, it’s something they’ve had to deal with since they made their belated entrance into civil society, and realized quickly that the things their body and mind liked to do weren’t exactly normal, in various, often times unexpected ways. They’re used to feeling like they might just burst from how intense their emotions feel sometimes, they’re used to having to fight that, finding ways around it, they’re used to it happening, even if they had gotten better at preventing it naturally before, at not letting things push them that far, that wouldn’t take away the years and years spent dealing with the consequences of those moment when their body turned against them and base instinct won out. Something that was only even more intense when they were still with their dad, although they didn’t realize it fully until later.

They’re not as used to this sort of thing, though, because this isn’t a situation that they’ve ever really been in before. In their earliest memories, when they were on the run with their father, living off of a purely liquid diet, they never backtracked, never came across those sources more than once, if those sources even made it through their encounters, that is. And then once they had made it to the Savages, Camden had given them the choice, and it had been easily, given the way feeding made them feel sick and out of control. Eventually, there was Adam, but even then, they were already acutely attuned to his scent by the time that was happening that they didn’t notice anything different, and there was too much else to focus on to worry about the effects of his blood, as long as it didn’t somehow pass his sickness to them, which it hadn’t.

This, though, is decidedly different, and it’s a little hard to focus, with that smell heavy in the air making that instinct they dislike so much push forward, the urge to drink. They clench their jaw as he fucking laughs, comments about them being able to sniff them out if they’re in trouble. And they wish their potions were doing their job just a little better as he holds out his disgusting towel, offering it to them, and they have to fight off the urge to punch him in the face.

“You want a broken jaw?” Lex asks flatly, tilting their head to the side, mimicking him, as they cross their arms over their chest. “Wouldn’t count on me being very inclined to play your knight in shining armor, if this is how you’re gonna act, princess.”

“It won’t stay like this, anyway, so better step up you’re training so you can save yourself. It’ll wear off as it clears out of my system, since Merlin fuckin’ knows I’m not doing that again.”

They say it with more certainty than they actually have, since this is new territory, territory that they’re not planning to ever broach again with fucking Eris Hattori of all people, no matter what the case is. Maybe it’ll linger, maybe they’ll always be a little more aware than they’d like to of Hattori being nearby now, but logically they think it makes sense that it would fade with time, with going without. If they drank from someone else now, the can only assume that would be the scent their body would seek out, naturally wanting that last known source that’s still in their system. But all in all, they’d mostly just rather not consider any part of it

He laughs at the broken jaw quip, like someone who had both a younger and older brother only could. Riling them up was probably not the best idea in the world, especially when it seemed his blood still had them a little off balance, reacting much more quickly and passionately than he can recall seeing before- outside whenever Caro pissed them off, anyway. 

He’d be lying of course too, that standing in front of them now, he didn’t feel the smallest itch on the spot of his arm where their fangs had sunken into it a week before. He was worried there’d be more of a withdrawal than he did have, that possibly he wouldn’t even be able to be in the same room with Luxford without thinking of being fed on again. The thought had popped up a couple times in the beginning, but overall, he didn’t feel that much different.

“You ever heard of the whole ‘doth protest too much thing’?” He chuckles as he squats down to pick up his water bottle from the mat, and take a drink before speaking again. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were trying to convince yourself of that more than me.” 

“Don’t worry though,” he adds, taking one last drink before standing. “Fortunately for me, I actually learned how to fight, rather than just blindly swing at whatever I could- or whatever you want to call the schoolyard fighting style the rest of you have.” 

He feels himself sinking deeper into the quicksand here, the dangerous feeling of emotions taking hold. He’s always been a needy bastard, always clung too hard to things that he really shouldn’t have. Eris shifts and lets him move closer, scratches at his scalp until Victor almost feels like purring. It feels like destiny, almost. It’s foolish, but it feels like something falling in to place, something important. He doesn’t really know what he can call this, he’s too afraid to ask, to probe deeper into what Eris might actually want from him. It’s okay. He can have whatever he wants. However much, however little, Victor will let him have it. As long as sometimes he can have this. These touches, this warmth, the permission to curl close and be held. 

He hasn’t been held in a long time. Not like this. Not with this strange intimacy and the hope blossoming in his chest, so bright he might choke on it. 

“Eleven,” He repeats, in sleepy discomfort. There are practically butterflies in his stomach, when he feels those lips press against his head, the soft tone in Eris voice. Eleven. That had been a long sleep, indeed. They had stayed up late, certainly, but it was still better than he had managed in so long. He curls his fingers into the blankets as Eris pulls them up, wraps them around the both of them. The blanket is soft, softer than anything Victor could imagine. He couldn’t believe that Eris lived like this, with things like this. Part of him wanted to steal it somehow, but that was a silly thought. The bigger part of him wanted to come back and sleep here again, convince Eris somehow that he was worth keeping around. 

He peeks up at Eris, squinting, parsing the words for a moment before he breaks into his own grin, a mirror of the one that Eris gives him. A joke. A funny one. A laugh escapes his chest, and it’s cut off by the kiss. Which is… which feels nice, like something bright and fluttering has taken root in his chest. He kisses back, unable to stop himself from leaning into it. It’s impossible to press closer than he is, but he reaches up and cups Eris cheek. He kisses Eris again, and again, deeper this time, before smiling half against his mouth. 

“Better cancel.” He suggests, nose brushing against Eris’. “I think I might need more practice. Unless you want me to go learn from someone else.” His voice is laced with its own teasing tone, but he thinks its true as well. If practicing more means more touches, means being held for a longer period of time, means that he doesn’t have to go home yet –– he’d do it. He’d practice all day until he was perfect. He’d do any spell that Eris wanted him to.

He’s going to get addicted to this, he thinks distantly as more of Victor’s weight leans into him, his hands coming up to cup his face as he does so. He couldn’t possibly already take more than he hadn’t already the night before, yet here he was, greedy for more of not just this, but all of it. And that’s well... that’s a scary thought. A thought he doesn’t want to let himself entertain any further than he already has. 

There was a delicate balance here that’d serve not just him, but both of them better in the end if they stuck to keeping it in line. His position was still very much a precarious one, one that would make Victor a liability- a weakness that could easily be used as leverage. The only problem is he’s not quite sure how to best keep that balance, the spoiled little pureblood in him not quite willing to let this go now that he’s found it. 

That thought paired, with Victor’s comment on finding another “tutor”, sparks that more possessive side of his nature. Bending his head back down he catches Victor’s lips with his own again, this time a little more roughly than when he had before. His touch grows more purposeful as well, grabbing at him softly instead, seeking to bring him closer as if there was any possible way they even could get closer than they already were. When he breaks the kiss he lets out a low hum, smirking as he looks down at him. 

“Fine,” he replies finally, with a quiet chuckle. “I’ll cancel- but that only means I’ll be upping your charge.” He shoots him a challenging look, before his features melt again, and he leans forward to press another quick kiss against his lips. 

Letting his head drop back down to the pillow beneath him, he snuggles back into the sheets, and the warmth of that hazy morning/soon-to-be afternoon. He hoped Victor didn’t have any plans for the rest of the day, because at this point he was growing very comfortable with the idea of spending the better part of the day in that bed, and use the opportunity to reexplore the body next to him in the brightness of day. That could wait until a little later though, he thinks, surprising himself even after realizing how much more he still wanted to just linger in this morning haze. 

Draping his hand across Victor’s back, he draws soft circles into it, nearly lulling himself back to sleep again before a thought crosses his mind. 

“Last night,” he speaks up, voice still a bit cracked from disuse, “what memories did you use when you first managed to cast the patronus?” 

training quarters floor, afternoon, sometime after the anniversary party       ( @aurorhattori​. )

They feel off-kilter, something about their equilibrium thrown off balance in a fundamental sense to the point where they’re not even sure exactly what to blame for it. Even the potions aren’t keeping them balanced, keeping their thoughts from turning to emotions they can’t quite handle, and they don’t know if it’s something mental, a new roadblock thanks to several different conversations they’ve had over the past few weeks, or if it’s something physical, their body suddenly deciding not to react in the same way anymore. The fear is that it’s a bit of both, and that a not insignificant part of it has to do with how wrong they’ve felt on top of everything else since doing what they did on the case with Hattori.

The best thing to do is to keep going, push through, and try to settle on normal as best they can. They don’t think they can handle having another misstep like the moment with Ves, the things they said outside the little cafe on the street; they felt a little crazy with it, even after they had smoothed over the strangeness. And it keeps lingering, even as they try to go through their days, nothing strong enough to keep their thoughts from straying.

At least for a while, anyway. They’re on their way back up from checking something in evidence storage that they needed to finish up some paperwork, when the elevator stops at the training quarters for someone to get on. It’s not their stop, they have no real desire to train just now, but they’re hit with a strong smell all at once when the doors open, and they don’t think before getting off on the floor. They can’t put their finger on it, and they’re even less aware of why they want to follow it, except it makes something twist in their stomach, telling them the need to keep going. It leads them to one of the training rooms, and they open the door without thinking, immediately hit with that same smell, realizing why it’s so familiar, and why their body must’ve wanted them to follow, just before their eyes land on the familiar figure, back to them, 

“Fuck. You’ve gotta be kidding me,” they sigh. It’s the last thing they want to deal with, the fact that clearly that case is part of the reason they’re feeling like shit, but Hattori looks back before they can leave again, and there’s no way around it. “Looks like you gave me glorified Hattori senses. Could smell you from the damn elevator.”

. 

Caught in the quiet lull between cases, he finds himself in the training facility that afternoon. He didn’t realize just how much he needed the chance to hit something, until he steps into one of the padded rooms used for combat training, and charms one of the dummies to life. Victor had been a helpful distraction from the stress and constant pressure of Eris’s other “duties”, but he felt the urge for a different kind of relief then. After Langer’s admission a couple weeks ago, he’d been tasked with the job of investigating her from his higher ups. His assignment was dig into her past, see just what evidence he could find of any disloyalty on her end outside of what she’d said to him the other day. Ordinarily he would have met the challenge with the clear and calm focus he tried to devote to everything Appius related, but with the realization that there were far more enemies surrounding him than allies, he’d been struggling to do so. 

Cracking a few good hits into a training dummy does help ease some of the tension in his shoulders though. It gives him a good outlet for the frustrations and fears that were beginning to grow too close to surfacing, and cracking through the well calculated and icy demeanor he’d crafted to protect himself from situations precisely like this one. 

Even then, as he strikes at the dummy, he does so with an eerily calm control, not wanting to loose his handle on himself for even something as private a place as the one he’s in. Each time he lands a hit into the dummy’s padded chest, he shifts and moves through his stances, keeping his breathing even as he lets his arms flow through the air, pushing it around as if it were some invisible force, as he regains own before striking again. 

Maybe it’s a credit to the concentration his father always drove into him when combat training- or simply a result of his already clouded attention, when he doesn’t realize someone has stepped into the room until Luxford speaks. 

Glancing back towards them, he can only huff out a breathless laugh, realizing what was happening before Luxford even says as much. He’s almost surprised its taken this long to see some of the lingering effects of his blood in their system, but he supposes, Luxford was even more a control freak than he was. All it took was seeing how clearly frustrated they were at this scenario to see he was clearly the last person they hoped to find here. 

Waving his hand in the dummy’s direction, it falls limply to the ground, as he moves to grab a towel to dry himself off. 

It’s rare that Victor sleeps this well, a true peaceful slumber unplagued by nightmares or horrible recollections. His guilt comes quick and easy in the dark, plays in his mind into the small hours of the night until he can hardly bare to exist inside of his own skin. He feels like he’s a monster, sometimes, and he carries that into his dreams. They’re nonsense things, not true rememberances of any situation in particular. They leave him tossing and turing, sometimes. Leave him frozen with fear, with a strange longing, with the sense of loss.

The sleep that he wakes from today is a very different thing.

He feels more rested than he has in weeks. He feels warm, safe somehow. Victor is groggy and slow with the peace of it, with the feeling of expensive sheets against his skin, with the warmth of another body in the bed beside him. He definitely doesn’t usually have mornings like this. And he remembers with a warm flush where he is, who he’s with. He remembers the party last night and the quiet and tender moments alone with Eris in the study, the way that those hands had felt against his skin, the way it had felt to go home with him and fall in to bed, safe in the knowledge that they could touch and touch and touch, soak each other up. 

The warmth and softness swells in his chest, makes him ache. He feels tender and soft, grateful for Eris, grateful for the fact that he’s allowed this. Victor has known, distantly, that his crush was a silly thing. Eris was strong and brave and saved him from a monster, and it had unlocked something in him. The part of him that wanted guidance, the part of him that wanted to be kept and safe and for someone to look out for him. He was always a creature of devotion, the type of person who found the people they liked and would do anything to protect them, anything to keep them safe. For the last few years, that’s just been his daughter and Brittany, Todd as well, their kids. A small little family. Now he had someone else, and he didn’t know what to expect, but it was enough that Eris wanted him to be near, enough that he had been allowed to stay last night after everything. 

He shifts, makes a soft sound, cracks his eyes open and feels that swell of emotion in his chest, when he catches sight of Eris with his bleery eyes. He makes another small sound in response, shifts closer to Eris. “No leaving,” He agrees, still slow with sleep. He wraps an arm around Eris, tucks close to his chest, uses the lingering sleep in him as an excuse to be as clingy and needy as he feels in that moment. Uses it as an excuse to shift, press a soft kiss against his jaw, before resting his head close. “Why are you awake? S’early. Feels early.” 

He wants to both stretch out his limbs, and curl up further into the warmth of the body next to him at the same time, feeling a bit like a cat whose found the perfect spot of sunlight to nap in. He generally didn’t do sleepovers, and when he has it’s usually not like this. He likes his space, likes being able to spread out and not get too hot with the warmth of another crowding in on his space. He’s not quite sure what’s different now, but he makes the decision not to try to psychoanalyze it to the point the pleasant peace of that morning is broken. 

Shifting his arm to allow Victor to move in closer, he lets his hand fall to a rest on the back of the other man’s head, lightly scratching at his scalp as Victor moves up to press a kiss against his jaw. He has every intention to drift back asleep again at the point, but the question of time pulls enough at his curiosity that he cranes his neck over to look at the small clock on his nightstand. The moment his eyes register the glowing numbers on its screen his chest shakes softly under Victor, as he huffs out a small laugh. 

“I hate to inform you...” he hums, voice becoming muffled as he turns his head and plants a kiss on top Victor’s head, “but it’s almost eleven.” 

Unbothered by how late the hour was, he pulls at one of the blankets that’d gotten kicked nearly off the bed in the middle of the night, and yanks it up over the two of them with a satisfied grunt. 

“It’s alright though,” he adds with a smirk, as he glances down to Victor. And when he speaks again it’s far quieter, like he was sharing some dark secret as he teases, “my next patronus student doesn’t come in until four.” 

( the office, briefly, a couple of days after the letters, @aurorhattori​ ) 

Eris Hattori was kind of an enigma. When they ran into each other at the charity auction a couple of weeks back, Kadri hadn’t thought much of him beyond his name. Now, she’d gotten to know him a smidge better, and still the most important thing about him might have been his name. His name and his knowledge of magic, and the dark spark in his eye, the way he looked at the party, exaiming dark books. 

She didn’t know exactly how she could use him to her advantage, but some ideas had been forming. They’d been brewing since her case with Mal and the cursed objects, obsessed with the way things had turned out for them. Obsessed, obsessed, obsessed. And she had plans to use Mal if she could as well, to see if their own knowledge of the dark arts could be turned to her advantage. She was sure that it could be. But she had to keep every avenue open, had to make sure that she explored every possibility. 

She strolls over to Eris’ desk, smile in place, bag in hand. 

“You look hungry, Hattori. I hope they’re not working you too hard.” She muses, with a tilt of her head, eyes raking over him with that same examining edge they had taken on at the party. She makes a thoughftul noise, partially a show. “I must be your knight in shining armour and insist that you take me out for lunch. For your own good.” 

An arch of an eyebrow, another examining glance. “Plus, there’s something I want to pick your brain about, if you’re up for it.” 

The flurry of cases he’d been given in the two weeks after the NBO attack, had paved the way for two relatively quiet- and downright boring weeks of office work ever since Branwen’s party. Normally he didn’t mind paperwork, finding some solace in the mindless droll of it all, but several days of nothing but paperwork had left him feeling antsy- itching to get out and stretch his legs again. 

Sözen’s appearance then was a welcome one, which ever since the charity gala they both found themself at, had made that a recurring theme. The examining glance she gives him, is met with one of his own, as he looks up towards her, his brow quirking in question. 

“Insist?” He repeats, the questioning look in his eyes giving way to something closer to amusement. He’s thankful in that moment that Victor was off on a case, otherwise he’d have to try to explain this fun little banter he and Sözen had adopted recently, and he was fairly certain Victor wouldn’t quite understand it even then. There was something about being raised the way he and Sözen both were that made them easy to interpret one another, but difficult for those outside to understand. The two of them were raised to always have a sharp smile at the ready, with an even sharper knife hidden behind their back. There may be no knives hidden between them at the moment, but the sharp smiles would always be a constant. 

“Clearly it seems I have no choice in the matter, but to go with you then,” he counters, as he moves to stand up. “But if I am to be whisked away, I must insist on picking the location- us damsels in distress have earned a great deal more civil liberties in the last hundred so years, you know.” 

There’s only a couple places he usually frequented for lunch, none of which were regular haunts for the rest of the aurors on the squad, but unfortunately only half of them would let a squib in their doors. He ends up settling on the restaurant at the Bedingfeld Hotel, choosing a more secluded corner given Sözen’s intriguing remark over picking his brain.  After they get to the hotel, and reach their table, he pulls out her chair for her, waiting until she sits to take up his own across from her. 

After he puts in his own drink order, he leans back into his chair, draping his arm across the back of the empty one beside him as he looks over to her. 

“So,” he starts, punctuating the “o” sound with a smirk, “did you really want to pick my brain, or did you simply need the excuse to steal me away for an hour?” 

time: saturday morning, following anniversary party 

status: closed to @victorsierraa​

It’d been a week since the anniversary party, and he feels like he’s spent half of it in a sort of haze. After the madness that’d consisted of the first two weeks following the NBO attack, between everything with Langer, and the case itself, he had to admit it felt nice for once to actually be still. To spend the majority of the week catching up on paperwork from the string of cases he’d just finished up, and spend the occasional moment in between shooting a knowing smirk up at Victor from the other side of his desk. 

He won’t be able to savor this much longer, not with everything else he still had to do and focus on. It didn’t bode well that the only threat he felt not currently surrounding him, was the very one he wakes up beside that morning. The warm little cocoon he wakes up in, in the middle of his vast bed, is a pleasant one, pleasant enough he nearly falls back asleep again. Instead though, he allows his eyes to flutter open, and looks to Victor’s still sleeping form. At least he’s fairly certain he’s sleeping, due to the relaxed slope of his shoulders and the complete absence of any kind of sternness in features that was generally so common. It’s rare still to see him this relaxed, and the only times he can think of seeing him like this is when he was sleeping, or for brief windows of time during the height of one of their stolen moments together or in the hazy after. 

The rare serenity in Victor’s features is enough to both warm him, but also serve as a chilling reminder of just how fragile this all was. Victor was not a threat now, but he could unintentionally become one if Eris didn’t remain careful. His loyalty wasn’t one he questioned, in fact it was one of the few things in his life Eris felt completely confident in. What he did fear though was the weakness Victor could prove to be for him, should anyone go looking for such a thing in his life. 

Ordinarily he would have cut off something like this now before the risk would even present itself, but as big of a weakness having Victor so close to him could prove to be, it also gave him a valuable asset as well. Surrounded by enemies, Victor was the one ally he felt he had. It would be foolish to turn him away now, even if he thought he could, which he wasn’t so sure of. 

Victor had the makings to be to him what Allen Snow was to his grandfather. An ally, loyal without a fault, and would likely follow him into the belly of whatever beast he saw fit to battle. As much as his grandfather’s relationship with Allen Snow served as an example of how he could properly use Victor for his benefit- it also served as a grave warning though. Allen Snow did not survive his grandfather’s ambition, but gave his life to protect Martin Hattori’s name, thus paving the way for his eventual ascension to claim the presidency. Allen Snow likely never would have become the great auror and eventual chief he was without the help of Martin Hattori, but it was at a steep cost that cut his life short. 

He had to be smarter than his grandfather, that was simply the only solution to the eventual problem he may one day face. When his grandfather was forced to choose between his ambition and Allen Snow, he chose his ambition. Eris just had to make sure he’d never have to make that choice. 

That chuckle, the breathless sound of the laughter escaping from Eris’ chest, might be an addictive thing. It’s something that Victor wants more of, hungry for it in a way he usually isn’t. He isn’t really a people pleaser, he doesn’t think. Never the kid in the back of the class who could crack jokes and inspire mirth in those around him. He was like a grim fucking reaper, sometimes. Or an idiot who earned amused smiles. Or a loyal dog that deserved scratches behind the ear. He wanted to make Eris laugh, though. He wanted more of that genuine sound, that quiet amusment, the warmth of it as it brushes out against his own skin. 

Victor can’t help but smile, at it all. Him, being good at this. The idea that he might get better at it. That might be an addictive feeling as well. Becase Victor has only really been good at one thing, in his life: having sharp edges, being a tool that was easy to handle and shape, being the hand of goddamn justice. He was a natural, when it came to the thrill of the fight. He wants to be good, though. He wants to prove Eris right. He wants to make him proud and create something as beautiful as his little kitsune, something that can stand beside that and look right. He wants to be right, here, pressed in the space against Eris, so close to his body. 

Eris chuckles again, and it makes Victor’s smile grow wider, cutting across his face in a flash of thrilled happiness. “Maybe, not so much.” He agrees, and he should be embarrassed about how he actually sounds a little embarrassed about it. He was sure that no one else, teaching him, would have been this hands on. 

He wasn’t sure that anyone else would have been this sucessful. 

But Eris was clearly a man of many talents. And one of those talents was making Victor feel dizzy with a strange kind of longing. They were so close. So close he could shift forward and his lips would brush against Eris’ skin, he would be able to feel the warmth, taste it for himself. Eris touches his face, and it feels like a punch to the gut, the delicate expanse of it. He feels breathless, and he knows he won’t sound any more put togeher when he opens his mouth again. But maybe he doesn’t need to. He has this sneaking idea that Eris doesn’t want him put together at all. He wets his lips, quickly, with his tongue, and lets out a short breath. He really could brush forward and kiss him, and its an incisious and parasitic idea. He can’t, though. Has a knot in his stomach when he thinks about taking the leap, taking what isn’t his and what he doesn’t have a right to claim on his own. 

“I want to.” He says, quiet and breathless with it. “Can’t leave me hanging now. I should find some way to make it up to you, though.” 

He’s close, so achingly close, it takes every bit of self restraint Eris has not to close the distance and take what he wants, especially as that rare smile of Victor’s cuts across his features again. But he forces himself to wait, to draw out this soft haze they were still in during the before, if only to hear Victor’s response. Because even though he has no doubt that Victor wants this too, he has to hear it from him first, before he gives them what they both seemed desperate for in that moment. 

When he does answer him, all he can do at first is smile at his promise of a debt owed. The darker little voice in his head urges him to stake that claim now, to begin this with the balance of power fully and completely in his grasp. 

Instead though, the fingers that’d been tracing Victor’s jawline, move to lift Victor’s head upward, bringing the two of them closer to finally breaking what little distance remained between them as he shifts to stand in front of him rather than behind him. 

“I’m sure you’ll think of something eventually,” he replies breathlessly, with a small grin, “in the meantime though, I suppose I really shouldn’t leave you hanging, should I?” 

And then finally- finally, he closes the distance between them, capturing Victor’s lips with his own. He’s still not entirely sure just what this is between them, feeling pulled in so many directions by the various needs and ambitions warring with one another in his own mind, but this feels right in the moment, no matter where it might go later. 

He kisses him slowly at first, although that doesn’t last long as he soon deepens the kiss, and begins to walk the two of them backwards towards de la Cruz’s billiards table, still having every mind to use it for a purpose other than pool. 

It’s hard not to be frustrated with their lack of information here, the way that they stick to what they said and refuse to speak. It’s no surprise, considering who they’re working with, how big the whole thing is, the NBO wouldn’t have gotten this far for so long if they didn’t have soldiers willing to sacrifice themselves, or tricked into thinking that they’d be repaid with the same commitment. But that doesn’t make it any less frustrating, especially coming down off of the high of managing to catch them in the first place.

Hattori tries one last time, and unsurprisingly nothing changes, even with the outright offer of a potential plea offer on the table. She just gives him a curt nod when he looks over, clearly realizing how pointless wasting their time trying for something more right now is, too. There are other people who will probably spend hours interrogating them, after all, they got Holloway here, and it would’ve been nice to get something else out of them, too, but they have other people to try that as well luckily.

She thinks someone else might have better luck; she’s not sure if Langer will get a chance to speak with them, kind of hopes she doesn’t, but there are so many other steps between an arrest and a trial, and she thinks it’s possible someone else might be able to manage to get something from Holloway before they end up at trial.

Emmy raises an eyebrow, hint of a smile on her lips at Hattori’s final words to them, as she gets up, too. But she pauses before following him, leans down a little closer to Holloway for a second.

“I have something for you to think about while you’re sitting in prison with nothing but your miserable thoughts: I’m a squib. A squib caught you. Just some food for thought. See you at your trial,” she says with a sickly sweet smile, before turning and leaving.

Once they’re both out in the hall, the smile falls, though, her own disappointment clear, too. At least that’s something they can agree on. It’s a surprise when he gives her a compliment, makes her raise an eyebrow curiously, but she’s not going to argue.

“Oh…thanks. Yeah, wish we could’ve gotten more, but it’s a start, at least. More than anyone else has managed in the past twenty years, so it’s gotta count for something,” she nods, looking back at him. “I’ll get working on mine, too. I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”

She’s usually not the sort to let personal feelings slip out in front of witnesses, or suspects, out in the field or in interrogations like this, but this is a different case, this is much more personal than anything else is, and she’s not actually convinced that either her or Hattori would actually be able to get anything helpful out of this guy by the means they’re allowed to use, by just talking. The NBO has been around for decades, they’re not stupid enough to have people committing such huge, flashy crimes who are going to give up higher members at a moment’s notice if they even know higher ranked members. 

So she doesn’t really bother stopping herself from clenching her fists, ready to give this asshole a piece of her mind, if they think that they’re going to be able to get out of this one, and taunting her, too, telling her that she can come along. They wouldn’t be singing the same tune if they realized who she was, that’s for sure, but before she can say anything, throw it in their face, despite herself, that she, a squib, caught them in the end, and they’re going to be locked up for a good, long time, Hattori cuts in, which she knows is for the best. They’re not going to get anywhere if they humor their bullshit.

It’s easy to let him take over for a minute, while she reminds herself why they’re here, takes a deep breath, lets him bring up the lawyer she knows they had listed on their file, the very lawyer she knows Hattori called earlier, to check. And at least this time Holloway clearly looks surprised that they’re wrong, that he had said they aren’t even his client.

“Are you sure you want to give up so easily? It’s clear that someone screwed you over here, letting you take this fall all on your own. Your own lawyer doesn’t even want to help. We’re not prosecutors, we’re not judges, but you know as well as we do that it’ll look better for you if you help here,” she tries a different approach.

They raise they eyebrows, clearly not having it, though. “It’ll look better for me with who? You don’t know as much as you think you do,” they counter.

“From where I’m looking, neither do you,” Emmy hums. It’s halfway a taunt, but she also thinks it’s true; she’s almost certain they’re not as in it as they think they are, almost certain they’re going to get left behind by the rest of NBO now that they’ve been caught.

. 

He’s not holding his breath that Yaxley’s attempt to try to get Holloway to talk more will work, but he still can’t help the disappointment that begins to sink his shoulders, that this may be as far as they’re getting with them. The NBO didn’t last this long with loose lipped members, but it’s still disheartening to think that all their efforts so far will just result in one member out of many taken off the streets. 

“We may be able to arrange a plea bargain for you, if you give us any information on higher up members,” he adds as a last ditch effort, ,and as soon as the words leave his mouth he can already see that Holloway wasn’t going to bite, as they stop making eye contact with them. 

“Told you already I’m not saying shit, all you’re doing is wasting your breath now,” Holloway replies as they roll their eyes. 

With his last tool in his box used, he looks over to Yaxley to give her whatever time she needed to try to pry more from the wix. 

Once it seemed like the interview had fully run it’s course he stands and signals the guard outside they were through. 

“Well, Mx. Holloway, unless you decide to plead guilty, I guess we’ll be seeing you at your trial. Do try to avoid blowing up your next residence, the guards at the penitentiary will be much less gentle than Miss Yaxley here.” 

Having nothing further to say to the terrorist, he heads out the door, and waits outside it until Yaxley joins him in the hallway. 

“Well, that was a little disappointing there in the end, but at least we managed to show the NBO they’re not completely untouchable now,” he lets out a sigh before looking over to her, “good job back there at the apartment complex, by the way.” 

It was as much a thank you he really felt up to giving her, but he knows deep down the chances of them ending up here would have been much more slim if she hadn’t intervened when she did. She may not have been his first choice as an assisting for a case like this one, but all in all things had gone fairly well, especially after Holloway’s last explosive attempt at freedom. 

It’s clear as soon as they start talking, that they’re not going to be an easy one to get anything from, which isn’t a surprise, considering their ties, of course. She has to assume that the NBO would’ve go around letting those who are easily broken in on anything important, and even so, she assumes that even the lowest of them would have extensive training in not just occlumency and legilmency, but plenty of various other techniques to keep information out of the “wrong” hands. They’re terrorists, after all, she can assume even the lowest level members are likely ready to put themselves in massive danger for the proverbial greater good.

Their background is interesting, and not an unsurprising one, all things considered, definitely easy to see how they could have ended up. It’s weird to think that in a different world, that could’ve easily been her, the anger, the hatred, the bitterness about their own family, and insistence that they’re a pureblood. But circumstances aren’t an excuse for any of it, her own parents are both proof of that in their own ways.

“Sure, if you’re not interested in small talk, that’s okay. We just like to understand who we’re talking to, and it’s clear your circumstances had a pretty big effect on you, to end up here,” she reasons.

“You think so? I wouldn’t be so sure,” they shrug, taking another drag of their cigarette.

“Why do you think you ended up here, then? How did you end up involved in blood purism to the point of terrorism, then?” Emmy counters, unable to keep a little of her own personal anger from creeping in.

“You’re words, not mine.”

“Of course,” she nods, folding her hands on the table in front of her. “Terrorism or not, though, you may have set off the explosion alone, but it’s clear you’re just a cog in a larger machine, low on the totem pole, maybe trying to climb higher up, which”––she pulls a face that says yikes––“Maybe isn’t going so well, since you’re sitting here in cuffs, instead of sitting somewhere in the sun with a margarita and the names of every squib in the country. I’m sure you can guess what we’re looking for here.”

.

He lets Yaxley take over momentarily, and he can tell from the slight venom in her tone she was letting some of her own shit get entangled with the case. Which sure, he supposes he couldn’t necessarily fault her for that, considering not only her magic status but also her last name. She had two very good reasons to hold a grudge against the wix in front of them, he just wasn’t so sure how much it’d help their case in that moment. 

“Eh, I’m not so sure of that- I’m more of a whisky person myself,” Holloway huffs a laugh, as they look back over to Yaxley, clearly having more fun with her than they were with Eris, “But you know, why don’t we just wait and see. I gave my lawyer a call before I got in here- used my one phone call, and all. The way I see it I’ll be out of here beachbound by the morning- hell, you can come with me if you like, I’ll even try one of those fruity drinks for you and everything.” 

Seeing it was clearly time to cut in before Yaxley launched herself at Holloway to pummel the idiot, Eris clears his throat to drawl the wix’s attention back to him. 

“Yes, your lawyer,” he begins, once again flipping through pages in Holloway’s file until he finds their employee records indicating their stated legal representation. He had to huff a laugh when he saw the name- Cyrus Fontaine. As if a Fontaine, even one as self absorbed as Cyrus would get himself embroiled in a case that stunk this bad. If he were to guess, Holloway was so absorbed in the whole pureblood thing, they went for the most pureblood sounding lawyer and wrote his name down, even though there was not a shot in hell they could ever afford the likes of Cyrus Fontaine. 

“I’m imagining you got his voicemail when you called?” he asks rhetorically. “You see I called him myself earlier, just to see if he was available- and according to him he wasn’t your lawyer, in fact, he said he’d never heard of you before.” 

For the first time since they sat down, there’s a small crack in the hardened demeanor of Holloway after hearing of such news. He’s not all together sure why Holloway would even think Fontaine would take their case, but he figures it didn’t matter now as they had the wix in custody already. 

“If you wish to pause this interview though, while we fetch you a court appointed attorney, you are fully in your rights to,” he adds, with a smile. 

The feeling of elation is almost alien to him. The feeling of pride swelling in his chest. Because Eris had believed in him, and he’d managed to almost make something. He had been scared, almost, that nothing would come out when he spoke the words to the spell. It’s all the more powerful with the way that he can hear the smile in Eris’ voice, the slight hint of pride. It makes something in him squirm, want to do better, and he finds himself nodding when Eris suggests that they try again. If he can do it once, surely he can do it more, surely he can summon up even more magic, and create something beautiful.

His breath hitches, just a little bit, when Eris moves close again. Those hands find their way back to Victor’s hips, settling in place with a heavier touch. There’s a determination to it, and it makes Victor feel… far too much. And that’s before he presses even closer, and Victor gets caught up in the feeling of him there. It sends a flash of heat through him, something that burns almost to the point of distraction, but he still does what he’s told when Eris requests it, with that smile against his ear. His body moves under those hands, and he slips back into the stance, not quite as rigid still as it had been the last time he did it.

He thinks maybe he should say something, do more than shiver softly as Eris touches him. He should contribute, but he just melts into it instead, enjoys the warmth of it. He lets himself be a canvas, free for Eris to paint whatever he wants, to touch however he wants. The heat still lingers, catching his breath in his throat. He wants, badly, to twist around in the touch and take more, take something else. But he shudders out a small breath instead, and raises his wand. 

Eris’ voice is almost hypnotic. LIke he could control people with it. But Victor knows that he doesn’t need spells or magic to do things like that. He just needs him, to be who he is. Victor would do almost anything he asked, he was sure of it, and he would do it happily. The touch promised something, something more than Victor ever really expected to get from Eris. The little crush he had developed was supposed to be a silly thing, gone unnoticed by anyone else. It was born out of gratitude and loyalty that had been quickly born, the first time that Eris led him somewhere, the first time that Eris touched him kindly. But this touch promised that that small connection wasn’t only in his head. Eris saw him, and might actually give him more, might want him in his own way as well. 

It makes Victor burn all the brighter, makes him want to deserve it even more. More smiles, more pride in that voice. It should be impossible to fail, when Eris asked him for something. He should just be able to make it happen. 

He takes a deep breath, and gathers all the warmth Eris has given him. The litany of it. The mosaic of all of these touches, everything from before, the smile and the way he talked and the promise, unspoken, of something more in the future. When Eris reaches three, he says the words, a slight shake in his voice. Eris’ own patronus bursts forth, quick and so easy. Victor manages much less. The fog starts out as small as it had been before. Maybe its the continued contact, maybe its the burst of wonder again at seeing the little kitsune, but he thinks his own might grow stronger after a moment, brighter and more sustained. He makes a concentrated effort, lets himself feel the warmth of Eris against him, and he’s sure it does improve, and at the very least he can maintain it for longer. He lets out another shakey laugh, quiet into the air. 

“You’re, uh.” He says, and his voice is rougher now, deep with a wanting for this to continue, the touches and the teaching and anything else Eris might give him. They’re still so close. When he tilts his head, turns it slightly, it brushes his cheek against Eris. So close. “Good at this.” 

The feeling of Victor under his hands, melting back into him as his breath hitches softly, is an intoxicating thing. Enough so he feels like he could easily do this the rest of the night, just to feel every delightful shiver and sigh breathed out from him. The promise of more though is far greater, especially here in the quiet little retreat they’d built for themselves again, away from the party just outside the double set of doors behind them. 

His kitsune cocks her head as she stares at the mist emitting from Victor’s wand, she’s waiting for something, much like they all were, but there’s a visible eagerness in her stance as she walks closer to the mist, sniffing at it before it dissipates away. It would have been quite the feat if Victor had managed to produce a fully corporeal patronus on just his second try, and it’s for that very reason why he’s not disappointed at all with the sight of the lone glowing creature before them. She fades after a moment, having fulfilled her purpose, leaving the two of them alone once more.

All he can do is chuckle breathlessly at first when Victor speaks, his hand still on the other auror’s chest while the other now hung limply at his side, his wand dangling between its fingers. 

“You’re getting to be too,” he cuts a grin as his eyes meet his, they flicker down to his lips for a moment, his thoughts clearly elsewhere, before returning back, “I wouldn’t be opposed to practicing more in the future- although I doubt the training room would be appropriate.” He chuckles again, another breathless thing that feels nice with Victor’s weight against his chest. 

He’s torn between doing several things in that moment, both too caught up in the nice haze he was feeling now to move, but also growing desperate for more. Stroking the side of his thumb across Victor’s chest, he returns his wand to his pocket, so that his other hand could be free to do as it pleased. When it is, it doesn’t return to Victor’s hip, but rather a new territory- his face, as he traces the length of his stubbled jaw, his own breath hitching slightly as he does so. 

Hattori comes into view quickly enough, the little boy clinging to him looking raggedy and dirty, but mostly unharmed thankfully. They keep their free hand out, holding the ropes on the godling in place, and they can’t help but flex their hand into a claw as the godling laughs when he sees Jimmy, tightening the ropes around him with enough force that the laugh turns into a little yelp, not an ounce of sympathy for the creature, no matter how interesting it is to see something so rare up close and personal.

They can only assume that Eris had to do something similar to free Jimmy, as he immediately comes over and cuts the vines and ropes with a rusted knife, instead of even trying to do so with his wand. As soon as they’re free they reach down, and pick up the two halves of their wand with a sigh, not really looking forward to having to get a new one again. They try to give Jimmy a smile, as they look at him, but they’re not sure it’s anything close to comforting, considering their current state. What matters here, though, is that they kid is safe, and they have the godling.

Taking the knife from them, they nod as they secure it through a belt loop, and put the pieces of their want in their pocket, still keeping their other hand out, in case the godling tries to break free and the magical ropes don’t hold without their effort.

It’s probably not the most comforting state they could be in to go talk to Jimmy’s mother again, but they’d rather do it themself, than have Hattori try to do it alone. And they’ll have a bit of time to calm themself down, enough time to take another potion, and hopefully counteract the way they feel so on edge just now, the strength from feeding still heavy in their veins, ready to keep running, keep hunting. They don’t like the idea of going into MACUSA like this, but they also know that they can manage to get the godling to the right channels easily enough without spending too much time around anyone who knows them well enough to notice.

“Yeah, I can manage. I’ll take this one in, make sure this can’t happen again, then go let her know we found him. We’ll meet you at Abasi, and we can deal with everything else afterward,” they nod, relieved that this whole thing is finished, and just as relieved that they’ll get a few minutes away from Hattori, and the reminder of what they had to do to get here.