#* fletcher

Brielle had absolutely no doubt that despite how small and unnoticeable she could be, the older hunter had absolutely pinned her for watching him and her brother for most of the night. At best she’d hoped that it came off as a simmering distaste for Tommy, which absolutely existed at this point in time. Slipping through the throng of history buffs, Brielle broke free of the noise and glamor of it all not much further from the grand oak doors that opened out into the expansive courtyard. The same place that she’d watched him disappear to without her brother only moments before hand. Having watched Tommy break off from his friend, she knew that she probably wouldn’t get another chance, and opted to take this one - regardless of how it ended. The cooler air hit her and cast a light flush across her face as she realised how warm it’d been inside and the looming figure to her left caused her to stiffen slightly. “How long did you know?” That she’d been following him - it was obvious then, that she’d been caught with the look that Fletcher cast down at her. “Don’t judge me, I had to catch you without your boyfriend, which is impossible you know.”

Irritation surfaced in the slight jiggle of his knee, rattling against the leg of his chair and the weave of the old, bloodied coin back and forth between his fingers. Tate had made it absolutely clear, he had no fucking interest in attending the marzan wank fest. A sly opportunity to grant themselves and the council the credit that certainly wasn’t theirs to take and a show of peace among the island - as if the weeks prior hadn’t flooded the streets with the blood of their own. “Remind me again, why the fuck we’re here?” He grunted out, tapping the coin against the wooden arm before he tucked it back into his jacket pocket. Rubbing arms with the lot of them made his skin crawl, and that was without taking into account how much he hated being touched. 

I mean, I could take the easy way out and say the last three times I kicked Fletcher’s ass, but he makes that easy so... it’s not that much of a triumph. 1. Making it through to the WBA. I didn’t get my patience and discipline from anywhere else 2. Taking out my first target on my own. There’s a lot to be said about a woman willing to kill 3. Sticking it out until I stopped getting hangovers from all the vodka. For obvious reasons

@fireinhislungs

The sentiment felt almost too defensive, not quite the offhanded banter that slipped between venemous lips as often as their eyes met. Jack couldn’t be too sure when Fletcher’s distaste for her became something of a game in her mind, but it settled as bitter as vinegar and finished as smoothly as honey might have. “I know I don’t, Fletcher.” The languid curl of her tone is almost amusing and her tongue slips beyond her lip to catch the last of the red wine she nurses. “People like us don’t fear each other, it’s simply not how we’re built.” The cherry tip of her smile rises as she turns to find him stood in as much the same way she always found him. Tense and vigilant, as he should be. The pair as much like oil and water as they were cut from the same cloth, “You’re scared of losing out to me again, though.” An enemy better at being the villain that another only renderd one obsolete. Defeat was one word neither would so readily swallow. “And you will, as always.”