#* axel

Everything felt, strangely off kilter. The once feeble glamor that the emerald green dress held now dulled out by the splotches of dried blood. Staining her fingernails and caught in the creases of the rings she wore in a way that bothered her far more than it ever had before. Somehow, she’d managed to be swept up into the back of the ambulance as they transported Brandon to the hospital, fussed over as if she suffered some brand of shock and trauma that hadn’t long since settled as part of the job. But the bullet hadn’t come from her - a shocking revelation when one considered who she was - and another painstaking reminder as she watched known syndicate members stream into the waiting room to see Brandon upon his surgery to remove the bullet. A fickle complication that soon had her adhering to the nurses insistence that she go home - do as many autonomous things as would carry her throughout the day (eat, sleep; wash the blood of another down the drain...) Home didn’t feel right though, and when the car pulled away from the curb, Jack realized that she’d given the driver her brothers address.  Without feeling like waiting for another car, she admonished herself for not paying attention sooner and made her way through the front door, more than willing to barely pay Axel any mind until she’d screwed her head on a little more - but well wishes weren’t always granted. One foot in the door, she stopped, onyx hues landing on the only others she knew to be as dark as her own. “I need a shower..” It fell in a way that didn’t sound like her own voice and she knew it “..-- vodka, tell me you’ve got vodka..

It wasn’t as much a familiarity as it was an extension of herself; a missing piece that she’d stumbled close enough to remember she’d been without for so long. Not unlike a child finding an old toy or journal and waiting for it to bring back a plethora of memories that they’d lived perfectly fine without. Still, she knew where the scar should have existed in place of the wound she’d inflicted upon herself to draw the blood that would turn him, her finger itched to curl across the invisible line of flesh at her wrist, “And the once prodigal son finally shows himself,” she mutters lowly before turning to pinpoint the abyss of her gaze directly at him, even within the crowd of people. “Brother.”