☆ what the script doesn't know can't hurt us
【 non-commission board ── a letter from a strange woman 】
Every click of her heels as she stalks closer makes the hairs on his neck stand at attention- the way his feet take a single step back in precaution as he trains his eyes on her every movement. He's done this game once already with Dan Shu.. Caelus is not making the same mistake.
Amber eyes widen a flicker at the request, gears meshing and turning as the sound of footsteps get louder and the npc's voices get clearer. The words are still a tad muddled, but the Nameless can pick out "search", "wanted", and "dangerous". These folks are after Kafka.. understandable, as she is technically a wanted criminal with a bounty ( even if she was technically pardoned by the Luofu since she wasn't a threat to the alliance ) on her head.
Yet, there's more to the story here- more questions that rise as his eyes narrow. She needed him to protect her.. so she could get Blade in a stable enough condition to leave. Kafka knew that she would need someone to watch her back, and that she would be caught or interrupted otherwise, and called for him ahead of time. Intentional? Likely. Cunning? Maybe. Tactical? Very much so. Or, the "Script" gave her the heads up to prepare for the outcome.
A low and worn out exhale makes his shoulders slump, already summoning his signature bat to take in hand as his eyes close while coming to terms with himself- that he is going to do as she asked of him. Part of him wants to walk away, wants to let whatever sort of "justice" of the cosmos run its course. Yet.. he can't. Caelus' feet won't turn the other direction to leave. Something in his chest is screaming at him to protect ṫ̵̮h̵͙͝õ̴̪s̷̳̃e̸̪͐ ̸͚̉h̶̥̓e̸̼̿ ̸̳͆h̴͇̀o̷̳͠l̵̝̈́d̸̜͒s̶̫̓ ̶̯͑d̸̻͑è̸̟a̵̫͗r̵͇͘, refusing to leave when someone needs his help.
❛ Fine. ❜
The silver spits out under his breath, conflicting emotions running rampant as his fingers flex around the hilt of his weapon.
❛ But just so you know, the Galactic Baseballer doesn't do favors for free. You owe me. ❜
He pauses, taking a single step to the side- towards the sound of hurried footsteps.
❛ I have a lot of questions for you, and you better be ready to answer them. ❜
The Nameless doesn't dare move further, wanting a confirmation- a promise- that the deal will be upheld.
There's a quiet ease that settles in her eyes, like the soft click of a lock turning open with the exact key she'd expected. His demand is not unexpected. Of course there would be terms.
Kafka watches the tension ripple through his fingers where they rest on the hilt of his weapon. Not unlike Blade's hands, she notes—the impulse to protect something, even if that something is already burning.
Even if he doesn't remember.
Something about the angle of her mouth softens, her expression tilting toward satisfaction. She inclines her head, just slightly, to acknowledge their transaction.
"Then we have an agreement."


















