`! NOT a fighter

Ketch had the disinfecting pad in between his fingers and hovering over Mick’s neck.

“Davies, stop talking for one damn second. I need to clean your wound.” Ketch adviced pleadingly. He lifted up his free hand and cupped Mick’s face without a warning.

“Please, stop talking..” Ketch carefully steadied Mick with one hand while the other dabbed on his wound. There were dried blood around the edges and on the stitches; Which Arthur skillfully and delicately wiped off.

They were both in a very risky position. What with Ketch leaning so close to Mick’s face, knees touching and hands placed awkwardly if anybody walked in on them it wouldn’t look very appropriate.

Ketch’s breath hitches when he thought the wipes grazed too hard on the surface of the gash.

Shit.

He looked up to see Mick’s reaction and went back to finishing up.

He could feel the heat off of the man in close proximity and he was slightly.. bothered. He shifted his legs subtly so they weren’t touching because he was painfully aware of the contact, but his leg just got stuck inbetween Mick’s.

“You ought to stop being concerned about me. I’m perfectly fine.” Ketch whispered meekly, averting his eyes and finishing up on cleaning. He lets go of Mick’s face and he puts the used pads in a small bag.

He really didn’t like the way Mick treated him like he was a normal person. Out of everyone, Mick should know better than to worry about someone who would rather die of sleep deprivation than get them both killed for not being thourough.

Ketch sat back for a moment, memorizing Mick’s face for what seemed like forever and only towed away when he finally registered how close he leaned in. It was ‘feel-your-breath-on-my-face’ close.

Great. Now he DEFINITELY thinks you’re a creep.

Ketch frowned at that thought.

“That’s done. I’ll go make some tea,perhaps you should tag along… I’m not very sure what you like to drink.” Ketch stood up from the couch and offered his hand to Mick.

Of course that was a lie. Ketch knew exactly what Mick preferred. None of the interns would be getting it right if Ketch didn’t correct them everyday after he found out they’ve been serving the man that most disgustingly brewed cup of coffee.

“Aside from what? Vodka, is it?” He chuckled.

   Feeling like a scorned child, Mick finally shut his mouth and let Ketch take care of the wound. It was just slightly painful, but that was to be expected, with just how deep the gash was in the first place. Mick wondered if he’d still be alive if that fall to the ground took him half a second longer. Probably not.

   It was quite bizzare, with The Great British Bake Off playing in the background and Ketch breathing down his neck, Mick suddenly felt his throat going a little dry. -- Should have had more water when he had a chance, huh.

   And then the other man pushed into the wound with too much force, and it made Mick squirm under his hands, a cold shiver running down his spine. Okay, fuck, it hurt. But the small sound that escaped him, that he failed to swallow, suggested that it might not have been so unpleasant. 

  Okay, that was AWKWARD. Fifty shades of awkward.

  “Of course I’m gonna be concerned,” he breathed out, shoulders relaxing now, that Ketch let go of his face. “As much as you have that bloody killing machine vibe going on, you’re human, like the rest of us miserable fuckers. And you need rest, and you need sleep to, you know, function properly.”

  Sure, he was rambling now. Maybe because the other man just sat there, still way in Mick’s personal space, and stared daggers at him. The air in between them turned so thick, you could cut it with a knife. 

   “Yeah, right,” Mick ran a hand through his hair and stood up quickly, not even seeing the offered hand, because for some reason he was running out of breath. Toni once said -- ‘You know, when he looks at me a certain way, I can’t be sure if he wants to murder me or fuck me. I am not complaining, though, it’s kinda hot.’

   WHY was he thinking about that now.

   “ -- Of course you wouldn’t know, we’ve only drank tea around each other for years,” he sighed and followed the other man into the kitchen. “No sugar, a dash of milk. -- Will I get an honest answer if I ask how did you get your hands on this building?”

Ketch shook his head.

He couldn’t rest just yet. He had to ensure they weren’t tracked or followed and he had to run some names on his computer. If his suspicions are correct, he might have the entire branch of American Special Forces looking to draw blood.

That sounds fun and all, but his PRIORITY is Mick Davies.

“Don’t be daft. If you go straight there’s an archway to your left, go sit there. Remote’s on the table. I’ll go fetch the first aid so that can be cleaned.” Ketch was about to leave the hall but turned back around, swiping a bracelet from a compartment near the entrance.

He takes Mick’s hand ever so tenderly in his without thinking and put the bracelet on him.

The other man’s hand was warm against his. Ketch felt the need to pull his hand away again; Afraid of Mick’s response, but he let it be for a moment more after the bracelet clasped around Davies’ wrist. He took a good look at Mick, from his furrowed brows down to the muscles clenching on his neck.

He never really did change. Always so tense but always welcoming to look at. His presence is the first sign Ketch looks for when he arrives from a mission. It’s never really HOME until he sees the face of his favourite bookish nimrod called Mick. Now isn’t any different.

He made Ketch FEEL at home.

“Uhm.. here.. It will prevent the alarms from going off. I’ve put in quite a handful of them. .. Now-“ Ketch cleared his throat.

”-do excuse me. I shan’t be long. ” Eventually, Ketch let go of Mick painstakingly slow as he turned around to go get one of the first aid kits laying around the place.

I shan’t be long. You’re Arthur Ketch, not King Arthur you fool.

Ketch knew where to retrieve a kit so it didn’t take him long to get back. Mick was where he instructed him to be, watching a television show from the couch.

“Really?”Ketch teased. He walks towards the plush, chesterfield and takes a seat right next to Mick. Once he felt comfortable enough, he turned his body facing the other man holding the kit on his lap.

“Alright, luv. Let’s clean that nasty gash of yours.” Ketch FROZE at his dangerous choice of words.

   Freaking stubborn, as usual. Never really listened to him, at anytime Mick tried to make sure he’s in good state. For somebody that thought primarily of himself, Ketch really did not give a damn about his health if it came to missions. 

   Mick sighed and opened his mouth to say something else, in hopes it would actually get into that thick, warded skull, but Ketch surprised him with the bracelet thing. Now, Arthur’s hands were not as soft as Mick’s, obviously, but surprisingly GENTLE. Mick frowned slightly, looking up at the other man. There was no need to treat him like a weak, wounded animal.

   Because that’s what Ketch was doing, it was safe to assume.

   With the bracelet around his wrist, Mick nodded shortly and walked off in the direction that the other man pointed to. He didn’t really feel like watching television, but sitting in dead silence felt very awkward, so after a short moment he did switch it on. Only to find out that his favorite show was playing. Now, that was a pleasant coincidence.

   He didn’t even notice Ketch walking in -- the bloody bastard was like a ninja. Probably the reason why he had the highest rate of kills in the whole agency. -- Mick turned his head to face him; WEIRD, how hard it was to believe that this man had no feelings, sometimes. Especially now, that he had this sort of fond look on his face.

   “Uh, right -- do what you have to. And I’ll try my best not to squirm too much.” He raised his brows at the pet name, but decided not to comment on it. And on the fact that his neck was extremely sensitive both to pain and just -- well, touching. In general.

...

Ketch was caught off guard when Mick got out of the car and almost fell. If he wasn’t there, the man would have landed on his face.

The sudden weight nearly threw him off balance but he made sure his arms secured Mick from knocking both of them over.

Ketch looked down just in time before Mick pulled away and he saw the familiar sheepishness from when they were younger. The one he shows when Ketch teasingly points out how much books he’s carrying or that one time he found Davies screaming his head off deep in the backwoods of Kendrick’s.

He was bypassing his security system when he heard a soft thud against the glass and tried to stifle a laugh to save Mick’s dignity. The other man looked confused, like the glass wasn’t supposed to be there and it irritated him that it was.

It was mildly amusing to Ketch seeing Mick so disoriented. He’s drank with him on several occasions and the studious mannered man out-drank him every. single. time. and never has he seen him out of it.

Ketch tilted his head to the side when Mick inquired frowning.

He thought it was probably his misery showing (though he hasn’t really slept for two days straight that might also be it) , dealing with idiotic twits who are after him when they should be worrying about another universal crisis.

“You should be more concerned about your well being. I’m not the one who was almost Marie Antoinette’d by a bullet.” Ketch dismissed, swinging the door open and nodding at Mick to go in.

He didn’t know why he did it, but he rest a hand on Mick’s lower back to guide him in and he pulled his hand away as soon as he noticed.

And here you say Davies is the epitome of awkwardness.

Ketch pinched the bridge of his nose in vexation.

   Mick narrowed his eyes after Ketch’s dismissal of the question asked. Right. No, these were definitely dark circles under his eyes, and the man was a little pale. It wouldn’t be the first time Ketch went on without much sleep for days. He remembered their first cases, the tests they went through. Everyone was IMPRESSED by how long Arthur could stay awake -- Mick was sort of mortified by it, honestly.

   Feeling a hand spreading on his lower back was quite unexpected, but he didn’t flinch at the touch. No, he might have even leaned into it a little but it disappeared too soon for him to tell if he subconsciously did that. Maybe for the best.

   “Well, I’m not the one that is the action man here, am I? I can handle TIRED. You should rest.” -- Looking around the, indeed impressive, room, Mick just rambled on. His logical side came to play -- there was a reason some in the agency called him the caretaker. 

‘Have you eaten? Did you use disinfectant on that wound? Do you have your bulletproof vest on?’ He always scoffed at people finding it -- CUTE. Toni said that once and he was simply perplexed. What was cute in him simply trying to keep their people efficient and healthy? Wasn’t it in the interest of the whole agency?

Christ. Arthur, you utter fucking cock up.

Ketch refused to look back at Mick when he responded as he felt the blood slowly rising from his cheeks. He unnoticeably stepped on the gas a little more to accelerate the trip time and to cut the tension he’d made inside such a small capacity.

“Yeah that- that wasn’t an- I’m not saying I wouldn’t? It just was not an offer. You’re absolutely right. How about let’s pretend that nothing has been said for these past 3 minutes?” Ketch gripped the steering wheel tight and his jaw clenched even tighter, ignoring the fact that Mick was probably having a goddamn laugh.

He kept his eyes on the road and relief washed over him when he saw parts of the gate of his compound.

It wasn’t exactly a safe house. It was more or less a stronghold especially with the high walls and entrance.

Now, if he’d step on it they’d make it there quicker but given Mick wasn’t in a state to be choked by a seatbelt, Ketch didn’t.

Ketch lifted his hand and adjusted the collar of his shirt , the discomfort refusing to be let down. He opened the top two buttons as he pulled the car over beside the biometric entry system.

He got scanned and the gates opened for them.

“It might not look much,but the compound is warded and everything proofed.” Compared to BMOL buildings, his safe house was subpar. But for an outsider it was basically a modern piece of art.

Despite Mick being distracted, Ketch was still embarrassed from his slip up just minutes ago. He gets out of the drivers seat first and jogs his way to the other side to help Mick out of the car.

   Oh. Oh, oh no.

   If somebody told him back then, when he was still looking for revenge, that a couple of days later he will be sitting in a car with him, talking about how Arthur wouldn’t have anything against -- 

   Okay, a mere thought about it made his face go even warmer. It was no surprise, for anyone in the BMOL, really -- Arthur wasn’t exactly a prude, neither was he trying to hide it. HELL, Mick still remembered all these talks he had with Toni. ‘Oh, Mick, don’t get me wrong. He’s a terrible, terrible person -- but the sex makes it worth it. It really does.’

   Right. Except Mick was never really on the receiving end of any -- flirtation, if you could call this INTIMIDATING thing Ketch was doing that. No, not him. The only thing Ketch ever teased him about was the fact that Mick was a nerd. It sort of resembled good old fashioned school bullying, to be honest. 

   The house surprised him, managing to snap him out of those thoughts, even if for a little. Mick undid his belt and, with some difficulty, stepped out of the car. “I wasn’t expecting it to look so --” He lost his balance a little and leaned forward, hand grasping for anything to hold on to. It landed on Ketch’s chest, because obviously, life hated him today. Also, Arthur undid his shirt a little. When did he manage to do that? “ -- impressive.”

   Mick blinked. “The house. I mean the house of course.” Glancing up at the other man briefly, Mick cleared his throat and quickly pulled the hand back. “Uh, lead the way.”

   Following Ketch inside, Mick regained some of his composure. If they wanted to get rid of the danger of somebody following them, he had to be focused. They were professionals, after all. Highly trained, with years of --

Ketch sneaked a mortified glance at Mick who thanked him. He swear he could have swerved his vehicle off of the road for being a little too stunned that he received gratitude.

“I- yeah… pleasure.” His stammering was already embarrassing with only three words spoken. He didn’t dare say more for self-preservation, save himself from something called embarrassment.

He settled for small glimpses of Mick from the rearview mirror and putting together what the man might be thinking.

Ketch didn’t like feeling things out. A concept everybody seems to be familiar with but he didn’t entertain. He personally prefers deduction over what his gut tells him.

But neither is helping him figure the man out.

He cleared his throat before speaking up.

“So, what’s the plan? Do you want to go on your merry way after we’ve arrived or did you have something else in mind?” Ketch turned the car to an entrance to a dirt road between the woods.

“Certainly, I’m not the man you want to be with right now. What with a target pinned on my back” he goes down the road, noting the subtle marking on the trees.

He takes a look at Mick again this time not worrying about crashing into another vehicle. He pulls a bottle of water from the console box along with a straw with his free hand and hands it over to Mick who was having a difficult time turning his head earlier from just speaking.

“I figured you’d be thirsty. I got you a straw from a gas’n’sip so you won’t have to strain your neck any further.”

Ketch draws a line on the part of his neck where Mick’s gash was.

Ketch’s plan was to leave Mick in the safe house to fully heal while he throws the ridiculous gun for hires off of their radar. He couldn’t afford to lose his only ally. So he settled on dropping the other man into the fortress and withdraw to get the whole thing over with.

Nobody would be trying to kill him, if there weren’t anybody left to attempt to… that means he only has to eliminate, well, probably hundreds of them.

He took a deep breath and sighed in frustration.

Fuck me.

It was supposed to be a personal thought but the words slipped out of his mouth as a silent moan and as soon as it left the tip of his tongue he felt his blood run cold.

Bloody fucking hell, Ketch. SUPERB.

   Mick was too busy being sort of embarrassed himself, staring out of the window, to notice how flustered Ketch got. It was still not exactly clear for him, why would this man save him again, and Mick desperately tried to come up with some sort of a game plan that Arthur could have. With no results. 

   It all seemed selfless. But it couldn’t be. Right?

  Only when the water bottle was in his hands, did Mick realize just how fucking thirsty he was. “Right. Uh -- that’s very thoughtful of you.” What in the HELL. 

   Sipping on the drink, Mick got lost in thoughts for another while. If they were heading to a safe house, it definitely wasn’t only to hide. Sure, with his fresh wound he was pretty much useless in any fight, but Mick could still do his research like nobody else. And those three guys who attacked them back in the motel, it was very likely they weren’t just working on their own.

   So there was more to come. “ -- I’m pretty sure that whoever wanted you dead, is already well informed about a second person being with you. They had ear pieces, as far as I remember.” Which was -- not a lot. “They probably reported to somebody before entering the room. There could have been cameras in their suits too, so it’s possible they know how I look like. I think it’s in my best interest to, uh -- stay at your place. For now, at least. If that’s okay with ya, obviously.”

   What came next, made Mick choke on his water. He could swear he felt it in his nose. -- Jesus fucking almighty, there’s some things you just DON’T think out loud, Arthur. 

“I, uh -- well, I’m gonna go ahead and assume that isn’t an OFFER but a sign of frustration.” Great. He just made it worse. So much worse. “Now, that it’s our -- hm, shared problem, there’s no need for you to do all the work. You will need to prepare, get all supplies needed, right? I can handle some of the research. Tracking whoever you need to.”

   “I know you guys here, in America, you have your ways. We, the British Men of Letters, really respect that. And that’s why we want to help you, provide you with the best equipment there is, share our knowledge. I am not offering you a job, but a PARTNERSHIP with us. -- So, what do you say?”

“I get them. -- but YOU should be able to relate, Castiel. --

Mick was slipping in and out of consciousness while Ketch tended to his wounds. When he finally got the bleeding to stop and the gash stitched up, he carried the shorter man securely out of the hotel and into his vehicle.

Ketch was on high alert, so he set up trackers and hacked into every British Division camp to see who knows about the two of them. He was disappointed to hear that none of them has any information. There were no words through the wires or even open cases. The latest update was a deceased stamp over their files.

Ketch stopped brooding when he noticed a faint movement from Mick’s side of the car. He diverts his attention to check the injured man’s condition before averting his eyes when Mick’s started to flutter as he stirred.

He almost lost Mick the day before and it left an unsettling feeling in his gut thinking about if the man died again. Ketch thought he owed Mick; He shot Mick, through the head, without batting a single eyelash. Now Ketch feels responsible since he brought him back to life.

“Welcome back, Aurora. I thought I’d lost you back there.” He just assumed Mick was finally fully functioning after a few seconds coming around without looking at him.

“You’ve been out since yesterday afternoon… and during that time I can’t say you’d be happy to hear why you got shot.” Ketch figured that he, alone, was the intended target.

Not very surprising since he made it a hobby to make enemies in and out of the field on a daily basis.

Mick didn’t as much as react. Ketch took it as a cue to finish his thoughts and not overwork the man.

“We’re heading to one of my safe houses now. I’ll tell you more about it when we arrive.”Ketch reached out to turn the volume higher, but paused to look at Mick to see if he’ll protest to the sounds of Paul Desmond.

   The first thought that was sort of conscious and aware, right after he stirred for the first time, was -- fuck, everything hurts. And it did, a lot. The whole side of his neck felt sore, so did his back, and his head was pounding with pain. Mick groaned quietly and his eyes fluttered open.

   And then a familiar voice brought him to his consciousness even more; for the first few seconds Mick wasn’t sure of their surroundings, but knew Ketch was there. Which means -- Ketch DIDN’T leave him to die back there, on the dirty motel room floor. Great, now his stomach was hurting too, for some damn reason.

   Soon he realized where the vibrations came from -- they were driving. Right, it made sense, to get away from whoever targeted them back then. Even if for a second, after Mick saw them, he was under the impression they weren’t really their kind of... BREED. -- Wait, Aurora?

   Mick turned his head, with great difficulty, to glance at the other man. “’M getting used to being shot at. Which is -- kind of tragic, really.” He groaned again, louder this time; his jaw hurt too, when he talked. It didn’t stop him, though. “At least I didn’t die this time.”

   He reached up to check on the side of his neck and froze for a moment, feeling the stitches underneath his fingertips. Oh, so the wound was bad, wasn’t it? It explained why he passed out a few moments after getting it. He cleared his throat and turned his head away this time, to look through the window. Ketch saved his life, for the second fucking time. (Well, the first one was a controversial case of saving one’s life, to say the least, but still.)

Luckily, Ketch knew for a fact that Mick has never been a good liar and it just made the resolution smoother for the both of them.

“Opportunely, lying has never been your strong suit.” Ketch motioned for Mick to get to the other side of the room and remain unaligned to the doorway, but Mick didn’t move. Either he was stupid or he missed the signal entirely.

If anybody knew MOL protocols more than anyone, it was Arthur Fuckin’ Ketch. He knows they’ll likely shoot the two of them through the door or kick it down if they hear even a squeak from the inside of the room. It was his M.O. that they immortalized in the combat handbook after all. Field agents always followed it to a T.

Lucky me.

Ketch pulled a suitcase from the bottom of the bed and popped it open to retrieve the silencer and twisted it on his gun. He kicked the case back under.

“You know, they can hear us.” Ketch warned.

Mick rambled on and got cut off by a door getting kicked down and in time Ketch lifted his head to witness a bullet nicking Mick’s neck and ducking behind the bar to take cover.

For christ’s sake, Davies.

Taking advantage of the blind spot, Ketch dropped down to his back and aimed for lethal points, effortlessly executing them with every pull of the trigger. He didn’t get up until he stopped hearing rustling from a tactical suit or breathing from more than two people.

See, they were fast, but he was faster. Ketch counted the bodies and got up quickly , finding Mick behind the bar table slightly shaking with some blood on his hand.

“Did you miss my signal or were you that keen on dying again?” Ketch furrowed his brows , concerned about Mick’s shot because it looked like it just scuffed his neck from where Ketch was lying.

“..we have to get out of here before we patch that up. Our status has been compromised-“ Ketch crouched down to inspect the graze closer.

It was worse than how it looked from where Ketch was and he tried not to let that on. His countenance betrayed him when he finally lifted the hand covering it. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“On second thought.. stay here.”Ketch pulled out a handkerchief and put it in Mick’s hand.

   Mick stayed down for the whole time, but he saw some of what happened. What he could feel with an INTENSITY he’d much rather avoid, was the blood oozing from his neck. He could feel it slowly soaking through his fingers. Now, it’s not like he wasn’t used to seeing blood, quite the opposite, but his vision started to blur a little anyway.

  All three men fell down to the floor just as quick as they came into the room, except what followed was dead silence. Mick tried to sit up, do anything, really, and he sort of managed. ADRENALINE RUSH.

   “Oh, boy,” he muttered out, eyes on Ketch, who somehow was right in his personal bubble at that moment. It took his brain a few seconds to actually process what the other man was saying to him. “No, yeah, you’re right, we have to go. Let me just --”

   Fuck. Blood loss was a terrible thing; Mick knew it from the things he saw. It drained -- quite literally -- people so quick, always without a bigger warning. You could see conscience slipping out of their body, spark leaving their eyes --

  Maybe not the best moment to have such a reflection, Mick. Focus on breathing.

   Arthur’s hand was surprisingly warm -- or maybe that was his own blood? Mick couldn’t be sure. “I -- ah, shit -- don’t like this expression on your face. Uh, listen, I don’t mean to be overly dramatic b-but -- ha, I might pass out.” He blinked up at the other man, eyes foggy, and a sudden thought punched him right in the gut.

It almost slipped Ketch’s mind that Mick was intelligence and not a field agent because of how determined he’d stood with his gun. That was almost as belligerent as he is.

He shook his head in agreement about the one side skill, but he knew that Mick was a good fighter nonetheless. They’ve sparred a couple times and his skills were respectable… just not against supernatural beings.

“Which part? Our tête-à-tête or the fact that we’re basically part of the legions of the undead?” Ketch joked, actually offering Mick a genuine smile this time from his awful witticism.

“Sorry, I can’t help musing.. but now what? You’ve obtained what you need-“ a string of knocks interrupted Ketch’s question.

When the lack of announcement followed, his expression went from aggreable to peeved. He rolled his eyes at Mick and sighed.

He should have expected it; but he didn’t, due to the impression that Mick was fleeing too. He realized now that he was a damn idiot for not seeing that through.

“And here I thought we were finally cozying up, Davies.” In one swift motion, he pulled out his gun before Mick could and pointed it at the man standing before him.

This must be what betrayal feels like.

“Though, I am impressed. I didn’t expect you’d bring a cavalry to a party.”

   Before Mick could even open his mouth, the knock on the door interrupted him and, all of a sudden, Ketch was pointing a gun at him. Jesus, that was the difference between the two of them, wasn’t it. Ketch was a man of action; meanwhile, Mick’s head was spinning with thoughts.

   He must have been so caught up in trying to tail Arthur, that he completely missed somebody tailing him. What a ROOKIE MISTAKE. If there wasn’t a gun pointed at him and a serious, life threatening danger behind the closed doors, Mick might have even felt embarrassed.

“That’s because I didn’t,” he whispered angrily, hand hovering over his own gun. He was wary not to actually grab it, knowing that it would result in Arthur shooting him on the spot. Talk about TRUST ISSUES. (Takes one to know one, mocked the voice in the back in his head.)

There was another knock on the door, heavier this time. Fuck, he would feel so much better if he had a gun in his hand. “Don’t be ridiculous, Arthur. You’re pointing that gun in a WRONG direction. Do you really think I would walk in here all alone if I had someone --”

All Ketch could do was nod, up to when Mick asked him who got him, if it was one of the Winchesters. He found that humouring because he’d also expected nobody else but that specific family to kill him. Ketch shifted his weight and lifted his chin, bit chagrined

“Mother Mary shot me clean through the head. All these years I’d have never thought I’ll have anything in common with you.”He lightheartedly announced, once again refilling his drink and giving Mick a tiny simper.

“That’s about it… that was until I’ve woken up and the Winchesters blew my damn cover.” It was one of his best covers. Nobody actually knew the truth about that Alexander story. His colleagues, including Mick, thought it was a myth because who could do that to their own twin.

The answer is: Ketch. Ketch could and did.

He thought about that a lot until he got permanently programmed to be, well, him.

He had nothing left to share.. nothing that he’d like to, anyway. It’s highly unlikely that Mick wasn’t caught up to the yearly impending doom of our world and Michael hasn’t been very modest with his unequivocal cob on either.

“What were you up to? Surely you haven’t just been shadowing me for a week long. That gets awfully grueling quickly…. Hunting?”

   The confession actually brought a small, mean smile onto Mick’s lips. Okay, now that was something -- not one of the BROTHERS, but the MOTHER. Ha. It made much more sense, now, that he really thought about it.

   Mick took a drink, maybe to avoid answering that question for a little longer. The truth was, shadowing Ketch for a week long was exactly what he was doing. Which didn’t mean that he had no clue about what was happening. There has been this awful, heavy feeling in the air, as soon as he started walking again.

“Yes, Arthur, because I am such a great hunter.” Okay, good, he sort of managed to walk around that answer. Telling Ketch that, as soon as he kicked the freezer open, Mick was pretty much OBSESSED with finding him, was the last thing he wanted to do. “Our superiors made sure most of us were skilled in just one side of this field of work. --

-- That’s why you could probably kill anything and anyone that walked into this room right now, but have me research it first. Which, in this conditions, is not ideal. But now I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty.”

‘Is it really that obvious?’ It had to be, because there was no way he had found out from anyone unless he was playing her and was the reason that she was brought back all along. Him knowing that she had died before already had her on edge, so she kept reminding herself that her identity was still a secret to calm her racing heart.

With a frown, she shook her head. ‘I-I’m sorry that you’ve been through it too – and are back for round two.’ She had to assume that he knew about monsters and the like, but she couldn’t know for sure. Maybe normal people were brought back too.

   Her response had Mick visibly relax and even brought a little smile onto his face. The last thing he wanted to do was to cross her boundaries, especially that it wasn’t exactly easy to find somebody that went through the same thing as him to talk to.

‘ Well, this second round could have been granted to us for a reason. -- Or maybe I’m just trying to HUMOR myself. ’