CH CH CH, AH AH AH.

the familiarity of him,  despite having never met him before,  did not lessen the shock.   diego is a killer.   there was no way to avoid that truth,  especially when she had seen the blades he threw pierce the body of the other man.   gaea is a florist.   what she knows about cleaning blood out of fabric comes from her monthlies,  not murder.   and so she had run.   and it was a cowardly thing to do,  especially when diego had already made it clear he thought she would.   but she needed to think.   needed to figure out how this new information fit in with what she already knew about him.   in the end,  it simply didn’t matter.   she knew he had blood on his hands now.   she’ll do them both the courtesy of not asking how much.                ❝ i knew you would come back to me. ❞  but his eyes,  they give him away.   they’re too emotional,  even as a muscle ticks in his jaw.   gaea’s shoulders sag with the guilt of allowing herself to feed the doubt he already had.   but it’s a victory when she approaches @slashaer  &  he doesn’t immediately flinch away.                 ❝ cocky, ❞  she playfully chides,  placing a hand on his cheek  &  tilting her head to the side.    ❝ i’m so sorry,  honey.   i shouldn’t have left like that.   i just  [ … ]   i didn’t know. ❞   and yet,  perhaps part of the fear gaea had was that she had always known.

             he fucked up, but what else is new? there wasn’t much diego could do to hide his past. gaea would find out eventually, and finally, she had. and it wasn’t surprising that she wanted to run away from him, away from everything he’s done. hell, everything he continues to do. it didn’t matter that the men he killed were bad men - he called himself a vigilante, but he was a killer, plain and simple. that didn’t stop him from going out every night, finding someone who deserved the beatings diego often shelled out. watching her leave had been hard, though ; regardless of whether or not diego blamed gaea for doing so. he wanted her to stay, to despite what he was, or what he did. so when she finally came back around, diego was relieved, though he hid that feeling with a smug grin and cocky demeanor.

mutt doesn’t loosen his grip on the blade in his pocket, even when he understands the bat isn’t a weapon and more a defense. any trace of fear is quickly swallowed up, replaced by an irritation that isn’t quite anger, but some distantly removed cousin. “ i was just walking by. fuck’s sake. d’you come after everyone who comes by here with a fucking baseball bat? “

there’s  concern  in  the  furrow  of  his  brow.          he  eyes  the  knee  the  other  man  is  massaging,     clearly  trying  to  alleviate  the  pain  he’s  in.     ted’s  been  in  this  business  a  long  time,     and  he’s  witnessed  numerous  injuries  as  a  result,     but  career  ending  ones  are  something  else  entirely.     he  can’t  even  begin  to  imagine  the  layered  pain  that’s  left  in  its  wake.     even  after  years.          “     you  just  hang  tight,     matt  light-     i’ll  grab  you  some  tylenol.     one  perk  ‘bout  workin’  here,     is  the  fact  that  there’s  first  aid  kits  ‘round  every  corner.     ”