Feyre pondered the question, her hands tapping against the side of the bed. She hummed, looking over her shoulder at the bed, a small smile tugging on her lips. “In here,” She reached over to her left and tapped the pillows at the top of his bed, “more weapons to thoroughly beat you in the upcoming pillow war.” 

She turned to her bag, pulling a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top from it. Feyre looked over her shoulder at him, asking as she draped the pajamas over her arm, “Do you want to get the tv going? I won’t be long.” She made her way to the bathroom. “It doesn’t need to be a Rene Zellwager movie. Whatever you’d like.” She laughed and closed the door behind her. 

Feyre laughed, imagining the scenario clearly. It was comforting to know she had those boys to back her up. If she could even call them boys, when they were centuries older than her. “Like a sleepover?” She raised a playful brow, “I expect there to be ice cream and at least one pillow fight, if so. Maybe a Renee Zellweger movie.” 

She followed him to the room, knowing her statements of, “I can take the couch, it’s really no issue.” would probably fall on deaf ears. Feyre stepped into the room, brows raising as she took in the colors and decorations, “Wow, you did a great job,” She laughed. Feyre walked towards the bed, turned towards Doyle, and leaned against it. “I’d hate to kick you out of your own bed.” 

Zelda gave an exaggerated sigh tossing her arms around Doyle’s neck. “Before I’ve had my drink?” Zelda asked innocently teasing the other for being so bold to assume she’d go home with him. “That will be an exception I’m not used to, but I’m not necessarily the best at following rules, especially my own.” Zelda leaned in brushing her lips over Doyle’s own. “Let’s get out of here then. Time is valuable right?”

___

“You did?” He became suddenly became serious. “She run in terror? Does she ever want to see you again? Wait- Is this why you want to get back at Christopher? Did you make her run back to him?”

“A few hundred-” She repeated, cutting herself off. The girl didn’t mean to sound shocked, the casual way in which he said it caught her off guard. She closed her eyes, slightly embarrassed, and said with a silent laugh, “Sorry. Still processing. It’ll take me a minute.”

 Feyre glanced between his face and the floor, her expression turning serious as she felt the weight of his words. She nodded at his words, arms crossing across her ribs. She had an idea that she needed to evolve her way of thinking as soon as Griselda found her a week ago and introduced her to a new part of the world, hearing Doyle confirm it set it in her mind. “I’ll be careful. You won’t need to worry about me.” She offered a small smile, the heaviness of the topic prevented it from reaching her eyes. 

Her Doyle. The words warmed her heart, and shook any anxiety or fear she might’ve been holding. “Then yes, I’d love to stay.” She laughed gently, the window’s frame was cold against her back as she leaned on it. She glanced over her shoulder to the crowd in the distance as she thought. 

“Actually, yeah. Speaking of Jun,” She chuckled, looking over at the male, “He told me he was a fallen angel a while back. At first, I thought he was just flirting with me again,” She made a slight face at the word flirting, because it wasn’t accurate yet simultaneously the most accurate word she could think of, “but now I’m thinking he was telling the truth? Am I off base?”  

So her first guess wasn’t correct, but the girl couldn’t anticipate him saying what he did. Feyre slowly closed the book in her lap, sight never straying from him. She recalled him specifically asking her if she believed in angels and demons. Now, it dawned on her, he was asking if she believed in him.

 Feyre stayed quiet for a few moments, collecting her thoughts, which she found to be as easy as gripping water. She had trouble swallowing the truth when it came to his duties, and that people would be willing to give themselves up for opportunities like the ones he described, though she knew he wouldn’t lie to her about that. Not now. 

Thoughts wondering if he only spoke to her to get something from her blipped into her mind, but she shoved them out as quickly as they came. It felt like all of the pieces clicked into place as she recognized the hints he’s laid before her leading up to this.  

“I still mean it, you know.” She smiled gently and set the book down on the coffee table. “You’re one of the best people I know.” The young witch stood and took a few steps towards the male. 

“You’re still you, right?” Her dark eyes searched his face, “The spontaneous, welcoming, and ridiculously chaotic Doyle?” A gentle laugh escaped her lips. Her brows knit together, head tilting slightly as she looked at him, smile widening a smidge. “My friend?”

“Music,” Zelda smiled softly. “Music is something I won’t grow out of, I enjoy it so much. Alcohol, while nice, leads you to forget things, or do things you’ll regret.” Zelda mentioned not going into detail. She’d forgotten things, and done things she’d regretted, so now alcohol was used to get buzzed and have a good time during bad times. “Are you calling me a sorry sap with a broken heart?” Zelda teased smiling. “Because they are too sweet to have both, and well, I’d rather switch to moscow mules eventually. Or we can skip to the part where I get tipsy off one drink and go find someone to go home with.”

____

“So what are we talking here? Torture? Something involving fire?” He raised a brow. “You know those are my favorites but I have way too many eyes watching me to do something that extreme at the moment.” He folded his arms. “What are you thinking?”

She took the book, wiping the dust from the cover gently. He was gone before she could thank him. Instead, after a moment, she kicked off her shoes, tucking her feet under her and pulling her hair up with a elastic tie from her bag. Feyre opened the book, eyes trailing down the pages as she read. 

Janice Mcmullens. Alber Mcmullins. Daniel Matthews. 

Feyre read their names, absorbed their stories, and allowed herself to learn about the world around her. She sunk into the couch as she read the gruesome words that lined the pages. She had already read a decent chunk when he reentered the room. Her eyes ran through archive of the man who had seen the ghost of a young boy, only to be pulled away when she heard Doyle speak. 

She looked up at him, only to almost immediately return her gaze to the pages, her cheeks flushing mildly. Well, I had questions, she thought to herself and mentally slapped herself immediately for making things weird. 

The girl pursed her lips for a moment before saying, “I just think it’s a bad idea to pick up hitchhikers in general.” She gave a gentle laugh, flipping to the next page, where her brows knit together once more. “It’s really tragic though. I guess the circle of life is more complex than I thought.” 

Date of the statement is August seventh, nineteen ninety two. January fourth, nineteen sixty three. March fifteenth, eighteen ninety five . 

It’s been a really long time. 

Things aren’t always what they seem. 

The words rung in her mind as her eyes slowly lifted again to her friend. 

It’s part of the business.

Not negotiating, but they owe him favors. 

He knows so much.

Understanding became clearly written on her face as she looked at him. Her best friend. Her Doyle. 

She asked carefully, fear nowhere to be found on her face or in her voice, only a gentle tone and questioning eyes, “I noticed the interviewer didn’t say their name.” 

Her brows knit together in empathy for the man, a slight frown forming on her face, “That’s awful.” 

Her eyes followed him to the bookshelf and fell to the book he pulled out. She was surprised he had so much information on the matter, “You’ve been studying this for long?” She offered a light smile before straightening in her seat, feeling as prepared as she could for the next wave of information. “No, I think I’m okay. Ready as I’ll ever be.” 

doyle handed the book toward feyre. it was a bit dusty as he hadn’t removed it from the shelf in a long time. there was never a reason to. “i wouldn’t say studying.” he hummed lightly. “but it’s been a really long time. you can have a look at this while i go change. it’s a collection of written statements, artifacts, various things.” doyle walked off lightly. 

___

Jun scoffed at the thought of all this really being about Christopher. He didn’t think he was worth it. However, he was always down to cause some trouble. “I love when we go with my ideas!” Jun exclaimed. He began walking around as he thought, growing overly excited that he would be coming up with the plan. “Fey was talking about him the other day” he started as he rolled his eyes. “She mentioned he was the… jealous type.” He gave a tiny shrug, already knowing exactly what he wanted to do. “Jealousy is a pretty miserable feeling.” A feeling Jun knew too well since the time he was cast out of Heaven. His jealousy of the angels was too much sometimes. “We could really make him suffer if one of us.” He paused, looking Doyle up and down before continuing.  “Meaning me…” He had always thought of himself more attractive than his friend. “Could be her boyfriend for the time being. Really make him jealous.” 

brows furrow, and his head tilts slightly to the side. ¨am i not allowed to take a simple walk? you happened to be in my path. i was on my way down to the eatery for a lunch.¨ i don´t seek out drivel. he keeps the words to himself. his posture shifts slightly, to one a tad less commanding (though, not by very much). anyone assuming he were a simple man would say he appears to relax. ¨trust me, there´s no divine intervention that would involve you.¨

Feyre leaned back into the couch, allowing the information to sink in. She couldn’t help the small nod that slipped when he mentioned witches. The girl was mildly surprised at how little the news surprised her. She exhaled a small laugh through her nose, “Not a sphere of eyeballs, then.” 

She leaned her elbows onto her knees, “So that… person in the video.” Feyre’s eyes shut tight for a moment, trying to forget the sounds of their bones snapping. When they opened, they had a hint of concern for the creature that terrified her, “They’re… okay? That’s a normal thing?”

“Well, good music always seems to call to me. Wherever there is going to be good music you’ll find me.” Zelda smiled ignoring the beautiful comment as well as the fact that Doyle was a demon. “It isn’t that I’m not a fan of alcohol. I’ve just had that time of my life. Now I’d only like to get drunk with good friends and the right people.” Zelda smiled at Doyle, “Today however has been a hard day, and since I am with the right people, when I’m done with my tea I’ll have a white Russian or a mudslide if you have the ice cream on hand.”

seeing as his sole motivation when first creating the town was to protect mortals, julian has never seen their demonic civilians as anything more than pesky rodents that refuse to disperse. ¨i´ll ask kindly once more, doyle.¨ the only change to his expression is a bright flash of red around his irises, unknown to others as the indicator of his ability being kicked into gear. thankfully, the demon that created him had been rather generous enough to grant him an ability that affected even the most nefarious of hell´s lower ranks. he hasn´t activated it yet, but he merely watches the other move to the wall. ¨if you´d care to allow the information through that thick skull on your neck, you´ll duly note your presence isn´t welcome in here.” he almost wants to laugh - one downside to keeping his private life as private as he did: the demons that come to play at his doorstep never truly seem to know who they´re dealing with. or rather, whose husband they´re dealing with. the vampire always knows more than he ever lets on, and one might be surprised of the knowledge he´s acquired about his future damned home.

¨i happen to know you have more pressing matters to attend to. a job, i´ve heard it called. it would be a shame if they were to reach out again, wouldn´t it?¨

She looked up at him, halting the feet she begged to move minutes ago. “I…” Feyre started, but lost the strength for words. The girl took a breath and tried again, “I don’t know. Like I’m fine it’s just…” She paused, biting back anything she wanted to say about learning her true nature, and the slow, somewhat painful process of learning to control it, and how exhausting it has been. “I’m freaked out, I guess? I mean, did you see that video?” 

She sat next to her bag on the couch. “It feels like my world has been shaken a bit. But,” She shook her head, tucking a hair behind her ear, “I’ll find my footing. Tell me as much as you can.” Her eyes found his, full of confusion and pleading, “Please. I want to know.”