@folliesofmiceandmen / dean location: hells gate / samhain soiree
Fallen hadn't watched for long. It'd been a long time since she'd shied away from violence of an kind. A child, bitterly lost and alone – but becoming a jackal had changed that. Or at least, it gave her permission to be far less forgiving – but watching dean step into the ring felt like picking at a loose tooth. In the end, it'd only leave a gaping hole in its wake should she pull on it too hard. Instead, she lingered in the hall of Hells Gate, straddling the window sill several stories up. The strike of her lighter like a fucking beacon apparently as she drew back heavily on the joint, and he appeared in the nearby doorway, just as bloodied as she so often saw him, "You must actually get off on that shit to be doing it so often."















