❝ can't pin me down

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She had been hearing about casualties everywhere within the two gangs but if there was one thing she could count on, it was Minotaur being there to lighten the load. However, Felicia had been calling them, texting, frantically hoping for a sign that they were still alive. Years of friendship made her worried, they always got back to her no matter what the stakes were. They were the only person Felicia was certain she cared about without an ulterior motive, with no other reason to want them in her life except for the fact that she wanted to help them out. Legends the both of them were, especially together when they were unstoppable because no one dared wanted to cross the Cerberus and Minotaur. So why weren’t they texting her back? Why was it impossible to get ahold of them? Desperate for answers, Felicia even made her way to Mt. Olympus, knowing that that was the last place she had heard Minotaur was. 

The fire was blazing and the once magnificent hotel building was now unrecognizable. But that wasn’t what she cared about, what she cared about was finding her friend. She had different orders, but she needed to know Minotaur was okay. However, with each step there was a sinking feeling in her stomach, as if a part of her was breaking and all she could do was deal with the pain. She found them in the streets, the paramedics only just now arriving for everyone else. Running over to them, Felicia turned their body over only to be confirmed with her worst fear. The bullet holes made it impossible for any way of them being alive, and the most memorable thing was the blood on her hands and clothes. “No,” she gasped, eyes welling up with tears as she held onto their body, admits the rubble with nothing but a broken heart. The one person she cared about, openly, freely, was now gone. As the tears streamed down her face, Felicia made up her mind: Whoever did this was going to see the same blood that her friend shed.

Though a tad abnormal for a girl so vicious, Lux had an office job. The man was elderly and her paycheck was given to her as thanks for practically being living decoration, but she didn’t much mind for money was money. When the attacks occurred, she was allowed to flee the office, for her boss was aware that she had a few ties with those associated with the hotel. The nature of those ties, though, were undisclosed. When she exited the pale building, she was torn between racing home to ensure no one had entered Dante’s old apartment that she had claimed for herself until his return (though the weight of his probable demise was quickly outbalancing any hope of his reintroduction of her life) or darting towards the hotel. She was quick to assess that the German Sheppard, Dan, that Dante kept around would have guarded the apartment from invasion and raced towards the hotel. 

She felt the heat before catching sight of the fire, and though the gorgeous dancing flames did distract her for a time, as the girl was so often mesmerized by blazing destruction, she was more curious as to the bloody mess a woman a few yards away was holding. She faintly recognized this woman, deciding that she was either a frequent patron of the hotel or associated with one of the Olympus. But, her lack of ability to place a name and a position to this woman was forgotten when she recognized the body in her hands. Minotaur, they called this body when it breathed life. A few times the pair crossed in an alley and once or twice they sparred for fun.

Lux fell to her knees alongside the woman, still too familiar with the piercing feeling of a death of a loved one and now seizing the opportunity to perhaps find another chance to release her pain. She pushed off a few rocks from the corpse and spoke softly, “It hurts, right?” Her eyes failed to meet this unknown woman’s. The only manner of which Lux knew how to cope with pain was one she was prepared to offer this woman. Originally, she had the idea to sit with this woman to help her friend. The idea was placed into action for far more selfish reasons. She was still in pain and she still required that release. The senseless murder of three not even a week ago was not enough.

“Where the fuck is my husband?”

“Your husband...Your husband...” Lux hummed, having been at her office job all day and not quite suffering the same pain the everyone she knew was. “He’s one of the guys at the Warehouse, right? I mean, I don’t think the Warehouse was affected so you should be fine. He may even be at home! Want me to walk you home or help you look? People don’t quite expect the small girl to be good at hitting people so I have an advantage.” The pain of wondering whether or not someone vital to your being was still alive was something Lux could desperately connect too, which explains the rationale for her willingness to be of assistance.

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Adam barked a laugh and a puff of smoke before puttering into coughs that triggered a series of stupid giggles. “If you can get me one, it’ll be the first time I’ll break 175,” he said.

“Dressing up is all part of being somebody you’re not, darling. Kind of like that little Powerpuff Girl ruse you’ve got going on. I imagine it gets boring being yourself all the time.” Adam cast his glance to the side, and flicked off the ash at the end of his cigarette. His manic glee and smugness seemed to melt off his face, leaving what looked between a bored and contemplative and a step behind vulnerable. 

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” he replied as he took another long drag, this time scattering the ashes down the front of his t-shirt. “The key to avoiding hangovers is to never stop drinking.” He gestured at her with the cigarette. “And the key to avoiding getting caught is to do tons of blow.”

He laughed suddenly at a joke that seemed like only he and himself knew, nearly choking on humor until his laughter dried into something hollow and unfunny but the rueful curl of his lips remained stubbornly upturned. “You don’t want to be like me, love, but I’ll sell it to you twenty bucks a half if you really want it.”

His words elicited a bell-like laugh from her lips as she chimed, “Really? You seem strong enough to be 175. Of course, last time I saw you shirtless I was drunk so maybe my mind is playing tricks on me and you’re just a thin one.”

With the mention of the Powerpuff Girls, the theme song began to tumble in her head repeatedly, the famous tune drilling into her brain. “Wouldn’t say it’s all masquerade,” she shrugged, finding a bit of comfort in knowing that Adam wasn’t aware of simply how twisted she was, “I am rather adorable, I think.” After a moment of silence her laughter floated into the air once again. “I do fully understand your point, though,” her tone shifted to something a tad more serious, “Maybe I haven’t been ‘exposed’ to the right kind of dress up.”

“At least you have long term plans,” she jested, “And I thought the key to getting caught was destroying all the witnesses, but maybe I’m a little too caught up in Neverland.”

The intensity of his laughter brought her an eyebrow upwards on her forehead, but she refrained from too much asking for fear of the answer. “Sounds like what everyone says on this side of the street. Or is it this side of the block? I don’t know these idioms or metaphors or whatever they’re called. I’m also guessing what you’re offering isn’t Tylenol so I don’t think I’ll be buying anytime soon.”

“Not in my eyes” Kit shrugs.  He can’t decide if she’s just playing hard to get because she’s Lux, or if she’s really unsure if she wants this or not.  “Like I said, your call.  I won’t do anything you don’t want” he shrugs.  No harm no foul for him here.  

Fuck it. Those were the words that were brought into her mind and she wasn’t much for second thoughts once a decision had been set. “I mean, sure. I’m on board.” She honestly didn’t know exactly where to begin the process. Typically, this scene had begun with both parties nearly or already naked. Typically, she hadn’t been so out of it. “Lead the way, captain,” she awkwardly laughed.

Kit wrinkles his nose at her suggestion of silver.  But he considers something different for a moment, thinks about his current clientele for the week, and shrugs, deciding that they would either love it or they could deal with it.  He didn’t plan on picking up anyone new this week, and everyone who currently paid him knew he enjoyed the finer things in life, including manicures.  

“Silver is for commoners” He teases.  “But what about a nice deep black?”

“Commoners? Does that make you a prince, Kit Fox?” She giggled joyously, “Perhaps next time I see you I will bow before you and address you as ‘his royal highness.’” She was about to claim that she had never known someone to be so picky about colors, but she was quick to examine her completely pink attire and how she seldom wore anything not bright and, well, pink. Of course, she did happen to own a few other items, but they were of little consequence.

Kit chuckles at her, and lets her ramble.  He knows that she’s not okay- that much is obvious, but if she doesn’t want to talk about that, they won’t talk about it.  

“Is there another option?” he teases, flipping her off with the one completed nail.  The manicurist asks him if he wants to out a gold sheen on the rest of his fingers, and he hums in consideration.  “What do you think, Lux?  Too much?”

Lux was truly a rambling spirit, rambling when thoughts wouldn’t connect to give time for impulses to leap across the wrong synapses and travel across the maze of her mind until they finally reached some logical lobe. It was a signal of her struggle to maintain a giggly, youthful facade. That, or it was a signal of nervousness around someone she had feelings for and though she cared for Kit, it was not to be so.

“Perhaps you are feeling a lil’ adventurous and wanted to go black or something. Maybe silver nail polish,” she shrugs playfully, excusing the negative thoughts out of existence. In thought, she pursed her lips. “Um, how about doing another color for all the other nails so the gold really pops out?”

“Well, I’m pretty good at it if I say so myself” Kit says, shrugging. “So it’s your call, princess.” 

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“I don’t really have anything to lose, do I?” Lux laughed awkwardly, not quite sure if this was really inside the bounds of their friendship. Typically she was not one to care much about the usual delicacies and had this been any other moment in time she would have easily ripped off the underwear she currently wasn’t wearing and thrown pleasantries out of the window. At the present time, though, she was not quite herself.

Adam looked at Lux with a new frame of appreciation at the comment about exhibitionism, his alcohol-addled mind leaping and bounding over unspoken boundaries into a land of make-believe, short school girl skirts and subtitles. He leered from the pile of trash as he picked through his jacket with little urgency for the cigarette he was fishing for. 

“I’ll wear anything you want me to,” he replied without thinking twice about how much his response coincided with the context of the conversation as he fed the filter of his cigarette into his mouth. Adam’s eyes followed her thighs as she approached him, her stance above him giving him the view of a lifetime. He deflated with an exhale heavy enough to send his soul straight to heaven.

“If you mean ‘heavily intoxicated and blown up’, yes. With hot blondes? I could use a few more of those.” He finally lit his cigarette with a lighter featuring a vintage pin up girl. “You haven’t seen crazy until you’v woken up in a bathtub in Cabo in a red dress and La Cucaracha blaring in the background.”

“Okay, then I need to see you in a sumo suit stat,” she joked casually, lacing her fingers behind her back and stealing a glance at the ground. As her eyes returned, her nose scrunched before she continued, “Mmm, not really into the whole ‘dressing up thing.’ Why dress up when your goal is to just get naked? Seems like a lot of extra steps to me.” She certainly wasn’t accustomed to speaking of such matters in public, though as mentioned before, Adam had seen her half naked and very drunk. What was the use in hiding? 

“Dang, Adam, when do you rest? Yeah, yeah, naps are great and all, but aren’t you exhausted? And doesn’t your head hurt?” Lux’s questions were spoken from a place of curiosity than genuine care for his wellbeing. She still wasn’t well-versed in this whole “selfless concern for others” situation. “Get me some of that Tylenol you’re using one day.”

The past days had gone by in a haze, feelings of anxiety and worry twisting his stomach into knots. It had never been this real before, the war. He’d never imagined that it was going to evolve into something like this, something that had the capability to take acquaintances, even friends from him. With Dante gone, it only left Maddox more convinced of how this was a world that he didn’t want to have any part in. He’d been out for the morning, running some usual errands, keeping an eye open and over his shoulder for something that might be happening. It felt stupid, but to think that someone could’ve killed Dante right here in this city left him feeling uneasier and uneasier. “Lux,” he said, a bittersweet feeling flooding him as he saw her approaching - as there was always the nice feeling of being about a friend. But he couldn’t even imagine what she must’ve been going through right now. He looked at the dog in her hands, gaze traveling back and forth between them, a bit taken aback by the request. “I dunno if my apartment complex would let me have a dog, honestly. Where are you off to?” he asked, before looking back at the dog. “Just give the dog back to whoever you were babysitting it for.”

She was rather fortunate that the person she happened to run into was someone she could mildly trust. Maddox and Lux had formed a bond over random adventures after tugging him out of work to do spontaneous and occasionally illegal acts. Even though they were friends, she still was forced to allow that cheerful smile to plague her features. She was curious to if Maddox would recognize the dog as Dante’s, but it was apparent he did not. Though there was blatant despair lurking in his eyes, a comment would have likely been made if he truly had paired the dog with Dante. For a moment, she broke character, allowing her posture to fall slightly as her eyes stole a glance at the dog. She was quick to perk back up though, not even allowing the slightest hint of sadness to sweep into her features. “Well, I can’t just give the dog back, silly!” She laughed, “My friend is on vacation and that’d be awfully rude to just leave the poor puppy alone for a few nights. See, I wasn’t planning on being gone, but then some things came up and I really have to go.” Her lying was off rhythm today and she loathed herself for it, not being able to fabricate details to the typically adept level she was accustomed to. Still, she did her best, “Victoria is having me stay with her and a few other Old Olympus kiddos for a few nights. I don’t know why. I don’t even speak to her that much. I think it’s because we have no place to really go now, but it’ll all be okay! Maybe she has something important to tell us.” There. That was a somewhat believable story. She nearly dropped Caiden’s name, but felt as though that may not increase believability.

Kit looks appropriately worried, not believing a word she says.  He remembered her being a better liar than this, but he figured all bets were off when you lose someone that close to you.  

“You were just asking if this is normal but aight” He says, conveying his disbelief and shifting so his hands rested on the table for the woman in front of him to massage and pamper.  “What color did you do your nails?” he asked, diverting the conversation from anything heavy to what was right in front of them.  

“What even is ‘normal?’ I mean, I’ve never really experience normal. Have you? Ooh, you have probably! Tell me all about it. Wait, maybe you haven’t. You do deal with certain people and certain people aren’t very normal and you can’t be normal to get into this life,” she sang herself into a lull of rambling. This came primarily as a product of her realizing that she had drifted into a tiny pit of sadness and it wasn’t appropriate to portray in this public setting. She was Lux. She had to be bubbly. It was her thing.

“Pink, of course!” She laughed merrily, “Is there any better color? Maybe black, but pink matches more of my outfits. Are you doing gold?”

Kit is thrown off guard with her responses and he’s about to say something before she explains herself.  And well, shit, how do you respond to that?  He closes his mouth for a moment, and gets lost in his own thoughts.  He’s not good at this, he’s never there for anyone but himself.  He can’t really do anything for her, except well, fuck her or something.  Because what else is he good at?  

He opens his mouth again and pauses before figuring their secure enough in whatever you want to call this friendship for it not to be weird.  Not for them.  

“If I eat you out before we get there will you quit pouting?” Kit asks, adding a little smirk that could be flirty or teasing, depending on how she took his offer.  

It was quite unusual for her to not be practically perfectly perky. She had mastered being able to perform the role of ignorant child riddled with stubbornness and overzealousness and smiles too wide, but at the moment her feelings had overtaken her body and any form of falsehood was unable to seep through into her current outward state of being. Kit was being kind, though, at least attempting to cheer her up in a typical fashion of friendliness.

And then it wasn’t so typical. His offer was quite unusual, but not particularly unwelcome. She raised an eyebrow, finally making eye contact. “Are you serious,” she mumbled, words barely enunciated. “I mean, I wouldn’t say no if you were serious but if you were joking I wouldn’t say yes.”

   The moment she settled onto his lap a smile threatens the corners of his mouth, wrinkles sprouting across delicate features. He took to brushing strands of fiery hair from her face, tucking the side closest to him behind her ear entirely. Thoroughly captivated by this endeavor, his unwillingness to let her stand again, for however brief a time, might have been misconstrued as disinterest in her words. A pause just a second too long passed before Holden moved his hand to her back, sliding down her spine gently, hand barely grazing the fabric of her dress — truly, she was a masterpiece, and even Holden’s careful touch would never be steady or light enough to handle her. 

   He lingered for a moment longer before sighing and sweeping an arm towards the wine chiller on the opposite end of the room. “You know where the key is,” he asserted, totally unwilling to rise from the comfort of his desk chair, “And two glasses, dear. The tall ones.”

   Watching her walk to the cabinet, he let out another sigh, having taken to clearing his desk of all clutter lest the champagne SPILL. “Either is perfectly fine by me, so long as I remain, for the most part, uninjured.” A thought struck him and he chuckled. “We’ll go track down the esthetician who botched your facial last month. Give her a piece of your mind.”

His touch was comforting. It always proved to be. Cautious fingers handling her body with the care that no other parental figure had bestowed upon her. Her mind and soul were shattered into thousands of jagged glass shards that easily broke skin and yet Holden’s hands ghosted her body, correcting any simple mistakes in hair placement and dress organization, as though the stained glass that formed her being seldom featured a crack. Despite the combination of emotions tied towards Holden, he was never home, nor was his office. He was both impersonal and personal. Home, on the other hand, was all too personal. But home was gone. Home was missing after the explosion of Neverland.

“I do!” She sang lightly, carefully sliding off of his lap as to prevent the creasing to the highest of extents possible. Over the span of their relationship, she had slowly come to learn how to best accommodate him. Very slowly, yes, but she had managed.

Post reaching into one of the many drawers that lined his office and snatching the key, she tread towards the cabinet containing the wine, the typical energy in her step lost. It was only after she had set down the bottle of wine on his desk that she sought to reach upwards and into the cabinet of glasses, her meager stature to her disadvantage but regardless she was well aware that dropping the fragile items would be deleterious. 

Upon gaining confidence that her grip on the glasses was firm, she placed the pair on separate coasters on his desk, snagging a corkscrew from another drawer along the short journey back. “Half glass or full?” She asked softly before replying to his earlier statements, “I promise, I promise, I won’t hurt you at all. Though if you do have an employee you want gone that you can’t legally fire, I can take care of them.” Her statement closed in a laugh, implications of a lack of seriousness betraying actual levels.

Kit’s eyebrows furrow.  “You’re damn right I do.  My client dropped nearly 4k on this suit” he huff, smoothing one hand over his dark hair.  He looks her over, all sparkles and pink, she looks good, she looks like herself.  

But she isn’t really looking at anything else, she’s not acting like herself.  

“Are you going to keep pouting all night or are we going to have some fun?” he prods as the limo starts moving.  neither of them have donned seatbelts, but it’s a limo.  Who wears a seatbelt in a limo?  

“4k?” She questioned, shock drawing her into the conversation, “That’s more than I’m worth as a human being.” The joke was light, granted, but quite out of character for her. She rarely jested at the expense of herself. She was far too prideful for cases such as those, especially considering she was especially wonderful in outside appearances on this very night. She was tall and slender and goddamn gorgeous.

“Sorry,” she apologized--another thing out of character. She lacked verbal manners almost entirely. Now, they did resurface in particular situations, but Kit had no need to be aware of this. “I was just...I was just expected to go with him, y’know? I’ll perk up and be more of myself in a moment, I promise.”

Lux.  Lux.  Oh!  Recognition flowed through Kit and his smile went from polite to real.  “I’d say more like years,” he says, that adorable lopsided smile that really only comes out when he’s not trying to make it as perfect as possible showing up across his face.  “She’s been good to me, yeah.  I’d like to say I’m her favorite now” he jokes.  

He remembered this girl with those perfect orange pigtails, always showing up at his booth and ruining his chances with whatever new client he was interviewing.  He remembered sneaking her upstairs into the employee lounge and using Grace’s espresso machine when  she wasn’t looking.  They had been almost as attached as Lux and Dante….

Oh.  Oh.  

“How are you?” he asks back, realizing that the rumor of the death recently was Dante’s.  

A wide smile brightened her physiognomy upon the adorable one appearing on his own lips. “Her favorite?” She giggled, “Do you get a pin for being her favorite? Extra cash? A sash that you waltz around in the boudoir and make all the other escorts jealous?” For a moment, the weight of Dante’s disappearance had left her. Then, as one did with the death of someone close, her thoughts tied back to him. She was Dante’s favorite, right? His favorite pupil. I mean, she did have extra leeway concerning a variety of topics but did that mean anything? Issues that would never find resolution.

Kit and Lux were certainly a lovely pair when Lux had first wandered into the Olympian scene, though the Boudoir was never home for her and was far too refined for her to ever find home in it. Besides, she wasn’t the most fond of Grace, jealously always rising in the pits of her stomach in her presence. Thus, as she wrapped herself in Neverland she found that the only thing that made abstaining from visiting the Boudoir difficult was Kit--but it must have been done.

“Lovely,” she lied, bright grin still staining her face, “How could I not be? I’m in a spa. Everyone seems to have a good time at a spa. Carefree, without worry...I like it here.”