Beauty stares in his direction, cursed eye glowing with the use of her powers. "I have a list of those that need disposed of." Ever since she took over the throne, revealed herself and struck down that excuse of a Papa, there were those who wished to see her dead, to take the power for themselves. Those that saw her as weak. And they needed to be dealt with.

"Shit," he mumbles, all the fire gone out from his anger, and he shoves himself off of Ifrit. "Never mind."

"No," Quin says with a bright little smile, grabbing Ifrit's hands and tugging him close. It's some party thrown by the ministry, a celebration of a holiday that Quin wasn't quite familiar with yet. "I'll always welcome kisses, especially from you."

iii waves a hand, lounging on the apartment couch. "Vess has this really fuckin' intricate, like, alarm system shit set up. Anyone gets in and he takes care of 'em. No guards necessary."

Quin looks up, looking over at Ifrit. He had been noodling around on his guitar while she sat with a plant between her knees, trying to heal it. "No, you're fine," she says, shaking her head. "It kinda... it kinda helps, honestly. Keeps me calm and focused."

Dew takes a shaky breath, hands still shaking. "M'sorry," he mumbles, leaning into Ifrit's side. His skin is still burnt and scarred from the touch of the blessed rosaries that had tied his wrists together. "I...I didn't..."

Quin huffs and pouts, pulling the blanket further over her shoulders, trying to hide the bruises and slices on her skin. Her shoulders hunch a little and her ears are lowered in shame. "I wanted to see if I could help out on a hunt," she mumbles, frowning at her knees. "Turns out I'm not good enough for it."

Dew jolts, and turns away, hiding his black eye and bloody nose from the other. "Nothin'," he says, a bit stuffy due to the aforementioned bloody nose. There's a pause, and then, mumbling: "Someone was talkin' shit about you. Took care of it."