Breathe. Text. Breathe again. She just had to stick to that until she was able to calm her nerves. It wasnât until she got to the third reply with Ash did she realize her hands were trembling, a rush of adrenaline spiking her blood and nerves, unable to control it. She hated that about herself, body a vessel for whatever emotional reaction dictated, helpless to it. Both sets of fingers held to her phone like a lifeline, forgetting when she had let go of Tammy, warmed by his arm as she lifted her head up to see him.
âIt⌠prob should beâŚâ she muttered, missing any defense. âDo you think this is illegal?â she suddenly thought aloud with wider eyes before her breath was forced out, even in all its shakiness, last scrap of it tossed out with a shake of the head. No. Letâs not add on any more worries tonight. âItâs uhm⌠I guess a friend? I got drunk on him and prob scared him,â she admitted too honestly, filter blown. âHe says he knows you. Ash? Ashton? Could you like give him a call after the pics?â
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. She felt a little better, still feeling her veins vibrating inside of her, but focused on Tammyâs voice, listening to him intently. âOh. Uhm..â Her eyes closed tightly, thinking back to her art history classes, to the books in Laurieâs museum, how heâd know immediately. âThe Virtuvian Man.â That was it. âCan⌠Can I see?â She could probably stomach it better through the glass versus in the flesh, even if it was the same scene looking back at her, at least she could pretend it was out of reach psychologically. âWe can trade so you can talk if you want,â she went on, holding out her phone, coral color bleeding through her glitter case in the offering.
âMhmm, they might misinterpret it, though.â Not that Tammy had any idea what was going on, only that the ouroboros was the same as that from The Revival. Again, there was that dizzying feeling heâd felt talking to Damion, an inkling that he was standing at a threshold, about to take a step into a world he didnât understand. âWe can call them later.â Worrying about the legality of their actions could come later, when he wasnât pacing a freezing alley in stiletto heels, taking photos of a dead fucking body. When Joan wasnât trying to lick Poldarkâs cold, corpse toes. âBaby, no â oh, Ash!â Instantly, Tammy perked up; if there was anyone they needed in this situation, it was a military agent. âOf course, I can call him.â
Tammy snapped one more picture of the words on Poldarkâs chest before returning to Zoe; he felt bad leaving her in the lurch, hand returning to her arm by way of reassurance. âAre you sure you want to look?â He tried to check in with her, making sure she wasnât going to faint or something: vaguely, he thought he should be less numbed to this kind of thing, but he couldnât dredge up any deeper emotion than vague disgust. âAlright, um â tell me if itâs too much, okay? Youâre not obligated to look.â Handing her his phone, Tammy took hers, flipping through the contacts until he reached Agent Ash, the name bringing a soft smile to his lips.
âHey, Ash⌠yeah, Iâm alright. Weâre both alright, I guess, Zoeâs a bit shaken upâŚâ He glanced back to the body to give him a better description. âItâs Poldark. Dead, for the record, and not cleanly. I think someone wants to send a message.â Muting the phone for a moment, he turned back to Zoe. âAsh is on his way. We just have to wait.â
When he gave the drunk lady his number out of worry for her safety that night when she insisted on going home alone, Ashton didn't expect to get a text back days long later about a completely different thing altogether. Zoe being completely vague and ominous did not help with what he should be preparing, what he should bring, who he should prepare to call. In the end he safely tucked a handgun and a butterfly knife, just in case, he couldn't see himself needing anything more should there be any threats.
He was already in the car when he received the call from Zoe, only for Tammy's voice to ring through, "hey, just stay there and stay safe, I'm on my way. 3 minutes. Is it muse related?" His car was turning closer, their location dropped off in an alleyway, he'd parked slightly further out and jog the rest of the distance, scope out their surroundings. "Oh- so the real Poldark that pretended to be dead but wasn't dead is now actually dead?" Ashton sighed, a light tone to his confusing words as the gas pedal was pressed. "Thanks for telling me, Zoe wouldn't say anything, don't touch the body, and make sure no one is watching you." His instructions were to the point, counting down the seconds before his GPS finally inched towards the point.Â
Ashton got out of his car, immediately blues surveying the close vicinity, no one was around, which was good, concealing back his gun in his bomber jacket. "Hey, no one's close by, we got some time," he bent down the look at the body, completely unfazed by any of it, tone clinical, emotionless, quick to cover everything, "how did you guys find him, did you call the police, and do we know this is the real Poldark?" He put on some gloves, memorizing it's position before starting to examine the body, "I may have to call it in.. depending on who did this," to a trained eye, it feels really on the nose, âand I might know who.â