escape

“Hello?” It was dark, and Cassie couldn’t help but feel a little nervous - after all, ze was new to this neighbourhood. So when ze heard a noise behind zir, ze couldn’t help but jump. Ze didn’t think anybody knew ze was living here now, but one could never be too careful. 

Adrien loved being out at night, but he despised the anxiety that swept over him whenever the sun set. There weren’t enough street lamps for him to feel comfortable, so he kept to the shadows - perhaps somewhat counterintuitive, but he supposed it would hide him. Even so, he stumbled over a crack in the pavement ( WHY couldn’t they re-pave the goddamn streets? ), and found himself confronted by the voice of a stranger.

Below the cut are [ 41  ] small gifs (250x141) of model Matthijs Meel. All of the gifs below were made by me, so please ask before using them for any purpose besides roleplaying. I’ll probably say yes, but it’s better to ask first! Please like or reblog this gif hunt if it helped you in any way. (This is a secret santa present for Rocket, Dark Lord of All.) Last updated: 22 December, 2015.

Merry Christmas, Rocket! @better-classofcriminal

There was yet another roll of emotions through him that didn’t belong, he arched an eyebrow at the young man, “you want water?” Somehow he found it hard to believe that the stranger wanted to drink the entire sink, never-mind how improbable that was. Q ordered them both drinks and under the assumption he genuinely wanted a glass of water, if he didn’t then it wasn’t a big deal to him water didn’t cost anything. Functional, had the last Xeryn he’d run into been this peculiar in their mannerisms? He couldn’t remember. “I’m One Eye, but you can call me Q,” lips curved into a delicate smirk as if to suggest only Adrien could call him that.

  “Sounds s . . similar.” Drink. For the life of him, he couldn’t recall the proper name of the image he’d shown the other, but the confusion he’d seen cross the man’s features indicated that his guess hadn’t been correct. “Q. Easy,” he breathed, words accompanied by a soft sigh of relief. For once, a name that didn’t leave his tongue floundering for some odd new syllables. 

  Q had been about to all but whistle as he fully took in the stranger’s appearance, or more accurately the lack of significant clothing. But a wave of emotions that weren’t his seeped into him, made him blink rapidly, the stranger’s confusion mingled with his own. It was an odd feeling to say the least. Then as it receded and his emotions were once again his own fully he recalled he’d encountered a young man once before not too dissimilar to the one in-front of him. The poor Xeryn had been at the captain’s mercy for one long evening before he’d upped and left, Q never stuck around long.

  “Gr . . eat,” he repeated slowly, before managing a hesitant grin. “A drink?” He sorted through his memories, frowning as he settled upon what he thought was ‘a drink.’ Adrien sent waves of confusion towards the other again, though they were accompanied by an image of what he believed might be a drink.

  There was nothing, and truly nothing, like coming back home even if immediately he was desperately homesick for his ship—as battered and bruised as she was now. In her prime Anastasia had been the fastest, the kind of ship that no naval ship could catch up with, under the right captain she could make jumps faster than any of the others. She’d been, and still is, his pride and joy—incited envy and jealousy at whichever planet they docked at. Not so much these days after the beating she’d taken, still his name usual provoked some kind of response—although to his irritation the usual response to his moniker was who?

  The night was young, and he hated it here. The world was too noisy, and the language was confounding. Even so, the young Xeryn made his way through the streets, temporarily liberating clothing from where it hung. Somehow, he ended up wearing something Urban Flash-esque - far from what he would have preferred to be wearing, but maybe one night on the town with this wouldn’t be so bad. It wasn’t as though everyone here was light blue, and he was bound to attract some degree of attention no matter what clothing he wore.

  Frankly if there was anything Q fancied doing more it was slouching in some sofa and watching a pretty girl or boy dance. But inevitably he wouldn’t be the jerk to force someone into something, a stranger anyway a close friend would’ve been a different story. “Hey—ain’t nothing wrong with the kind of person that visits such classy establishments,” although the offence in his voice was overly faux, Q wasn’t offended that easily.

  “Never said there’s anything wrong with ‘em, just that they . . they bother me, usually. That’s all,” he said quietly, frowning. “Just the normal kind . . ” As though repetition could make the phrase any better.

  Defiance was not something she usually came across, be it the badge she wore or the steely gaze people tended to know not to cross her but for whatever reason he was doing just that. For some unbeknown reason she chose to give him the benefit of the doubt, even if this was only a temporary gift, “why can’t you move?”

  He paused and stood all but perfectly still, the voice was familiar, it took a few more moments for it to sink in fully who he was. “Adrien?” Dex fidgeting in his seat momentarily but relaxed, “you alright?” This was now the second time he’d quite literally burst into his life and by the sounds of it he was running from something, or someone, again. “Want a drink?” He nudged the can of ghost over and then settled back into the seat, not overly sure what to say or ask.

  “Yeah, s’me, and-- yeah, I’m okay,” he said. “No thanks; I’m . . I’m good.” Adrien gave a quiet sigh, pushing the can back towards the other. “Just kind of a mess right now, sorry. A real mess. Always a mess, actually, but no big deal. Nothin’ to worry about. How’ve you been? Good, I hope?”

  He turned just in time to see the discomfort on Adrien’s face brows pulled down in light confusion, he didn’t know a single person in this world who didn’t enjoy a lap dance—although he could imagine that clubs and lap dances would make a certain person cringe. “Look you don’t wanna go in fine, just had to say,” Q lifted his hands up as if in defence and then shoved them back deep into coat pockets, mulling silently for a moment on where to go now.

  He dug his hands into the pockets of his jeans, a small frown on his features. “Yeah, I don’t want to go in,” he stated plainly, though his gaze showed that he was nowhere near as confident as his words made him out to be. “It’s not how classy the place is that bothers me . . s’just the kind of people that go in, but also that m’not one for . . for physical contact with strangers, if that makes any sense.”

      Exhaustion. No, no, today he didn’t feel like getting into a smouldering hot pot of beef a la let’s punch each other’s faces off, but alas ‘twas how life kept him in check, constantly reminding the man that he was not the boss bitch of this brothel. Twirling a glass of piss-tasting whiskey in a smelly bar, again, wasn’t in his plans but brain demanded fuel, a poison of some sort to relax and forget and slowly slip into blissful nothingness drenched in cigarette smoke and noxious alcohol fumes. Ah, what a memorable Friday night this promised to be. Already he had a girl on his lap fawning over his pretty little face, completely forgetting about her two friends who stood off to the side, sending an occasional glare her way as she continued to twirl his hair with her index finger and sigh profusely about how boring this place was and how she would much rather be elsewhere - with him, of course. Ghost wasn’t usually the one to refuse a lady in need, but the beer stained breath of the woman, well, let’s just say that he was fifty shades of turned off and unwilling. And, being in such an unwanted and risqué situation, any distraction was welcome.  

      Every day was the same now, no matter how hard he fought for variation of some sort. Adrien’s morning had started early with a heavy downpour, and though he’d been lucky enough to make it inside for a night, he’d still had to head through the rain to get back to his parents’ place. He went in for only a quarter of an hour, just long enough to shower and dress, before he’d left again - the restrictions they placed on him about the Net, even at age 21, were incredibly ridiculous.

  The frustration was not eased as he simply point blank refused to meet her gaze, it wasn’t the first time and certainly wouldn’t be the last but Xio took it as an unspoken insult. “Check the badge,” she uttered, voice ringing out loud and cold. Muscles stiffened as if she was readying herself for a fight but in stark contrast she was remarkably relaxed given how he was still stood before her. Disobedience, it was an irritant. “Last chance to leave this is a restricted area,” she’d been on the heels of a possible threat, a possible psycho that could break any second and here she was wasting time clearing the streets.

  “Badge, badge,” he repeated quietly, casting a quick glance towards the woman’s badge before returning his gaze to the darkness on her left. “I can’t leave, I’m sorry-- I can’t. I can’t move.” Adrien swallowed hard, glad for the fact that his lower arms were mechanical - otherwise, his hands would be shaking. “Please, I c-- I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  The afternoon had been relatively peaceful, gym kit sat at his feet with the intention of heading towards the club later but currently Dex was inhaling a bowl of ice-cream. Sweet and colourful, covered in little multi-coloured sprinkles and generally diabetes in a glass but Dex was still enjoying having an appetite so he didn’t care. This mornings ‘run had gone well, a little too well but he wasn’t going to complain, he’d managed to shift the data he’d discovered almost immediately for a hefty price. So now he was kicking back and relaxing, at least until he got his ass kicked later. Someone had burst into the almost empty café in a hurry, slamming the door shut behind them in the process, sat right by the door he was a little alarmed.

  “Fine,” he said after a long moment. Squinting to force himself to focus, he caught sight of the person who’d spoken to him - he knew that face, even if the older male wouldn’t recognize him by sight. “ . . Dexter, right? We met a . . a while ago; I was hiding behind you.” Adrien sank down to the floor, gaze skirting the people in the room. “Sorry, I’m kinda making a scene, no? My bad.” Hesitantly, he stepped forward, sliding into the seat next to the stranger and sinking down in it before pulling his hood further up over his head.