hang on, you

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Scott grinned and nodded, glancing around them. “Sure.” Scott replied, brushing his fingers over Ilya’s shoulder. “But are you having a good time. You’ve been holding that wall up pretty much all night. I want you having a good time too. Tonight’s about helping the pack unwind a little. You’re a part of that.”“

ilya hums a little, glancing over to the spot on the yard where the pack sat. the little camp fire they lit provided warmth, alongside the open bar set up in the kitchen. he could see the odd combination of various shifters and humans laughing, strumming a tune on a guitar, some dancing rather tipsy. and here he sat on the corner of the patio with a few lit candles on the banister, thanks to the one called lydia.

The current Ilya appears the antithesis of the usual Ilya, and it’s a divergence John finds rather amusing. Regardless, to the casual onlooker, a priest is liable to be exactly what’s deduced at a first glance, even if that couldn’t be further from reality.

At Ilya’s inquiry, a subtle grin curves his lips. “I’m sure they’ll all be swooning. You’ve got a very nice smile — just don’t have that glint in your eye that you get, or you won’t be fooling anybody.”

His quiet teasing grows a bit more practical as his hands reach up to straighten the collar of Ilya’s shirt just a bit. “There. Perfect.” Then, John’s visage adopts its own sudden severity, though his gaze remains alight with humor. “Now I’m ready to confess to you all my deepest, darkest sins.”

He wasn’t really sure of what John meant by the glint he’s got in his eye. Ilya was aware of what a dashing smile he can put on for good use while on an intel job, charming even the hardest of cold businessmen or desperate mistresses. But he tries to soften his visage anyway- less of the charismatic hunter, more of a hopeful and genteel, courteous man of the cloth.

When John’s focused, it’s rather difficult for him to turn his attention to anywhere else. This latest case seems to tie into a litany of others, which has resulted in what’s now become an hours long attempt at cross-referencing his own mission reports with other recent submissions to compile all relevant information into a new document to discern whether or not his theory holds any validity —

“What?” When Ilya speaks, it doesn’t quite register. Oh, there’d been something about hotdogs. “I mean, I just ate.” Wait, that was a few hours ago, wasn’t it? “Or maybe I didn’t.” His gaze flickers between Ilya and the computer screen in front of him. “I guess I could leave for a little while.”

It seemed as though Ilya’s frowning went more towards bewilderment when John tried to make out the time of the day. They had lunch over 4 hours ago, and it was a late lunch as they had debriefings and meetings all morning, with no snack cart anywhere in the rooms. All they had were those small bottled waters at room temperature to help keep them hydrated and awake.

“Good.” John’s relief at Kieran’s acquiescence tinges the edges of his voice. The longer they spend debating what to do, the greater the chance that they’ll run into danger before he delivers the nymph to safety.

Their palms pressed close, he leads the way back into the hall. Although he doesn’t pass more than a cursory glance at the bodies strewn across the floor ( it won’t do any good to linger right now, not really, and he knows there will be more than enough time in the aftermath ), it’s all John needs to know that they’re a result of the wolf, and not simple bullets or knives.

He needs to find Ilya, too. When he’s usually so adept at compartmentalizing his emotions, at swiftly discerning where to focus his attention first — the chaos is almost overwhelming. Even so, John can’t allow it to distract from what matters, and that’s defending the people he cares for. At the sound of the quiet voice behind him full of fear, he squeezes Kieran’s hand. “I know. But I’m gonna protect you no matter what. I promise.”

Glancing back over his shoulder, he holds Kieran’s gaze firmly with his own. “Don’t look down, okay? Just look at me. We’re almost to the stairs now.” They can’t risk using the elevators, even if they’re still working. “You’ll be safe.”

The nymph gave a squeak of a whimper, nodding to John’s reassurance. His hand felt hot and clammy in the man’s hold, and he does his best to keep his eyes on the back of John’s head. There was a sickly scent of death and gore in the air, and Kieran does his best to recall the smell of fresh earth and apricots from the villa orchards.

Ilya expected for John to take a break right about now. The agent has been in his chair for hours, only moving slightly to reach for his coffee or for a piece of paper to read through. He knew that paperwork filled John’s time daily, but it was nearly tea time, and the wolf is itching for him to walk around a bit.