#brnger

SWEET SCENT OF ALCOHOL .     john would have a fit   ,   really   ,   if he saw what kind of a place that sherlock was in.     (   casino nightclub   ,   elaborate.     everything in los angeles was simply a show   ,   and this was nothing less.   )     base   ,   muted   ,   thrums beneath his skin   ,   immaculate dress shoes clicking along marble floors.     (   concierge   ,   twenty-six with a scratched out tattoo on his wrist that used to read ‘carmen’   ,   she’d left him last weekend.     she’d been cheating.     at least she’d been honest.   )     sherlock wasn’t planning to spend the night here.     it would be far too enticing   ,   far too tempting   ,   &   sherlock holmes did not make a good drunk.     he pushes the door open with one hand as the bouncer waves him on through inside   ,   &   he can at last marvel in the gloriousness that was lux.     (   why was he here again?     ah   ,   yes.     something mycroft’s counterparts here in america were working on.   )     there’s dangerous people   ,   criminals   ,   in this place.     sickly sweet assaults his olfactory senses all over again   ,   &   a heaving sigh is given before he gives into his desire   &   heads over to the bar.     perhaps one drink wouldn’t hurt.        

“Well, well, if it ain’t everyone’s favourite fallen.” A sultry purr reverberated in the beast’s breast, false honey spinning falser words and flashing between Fenrir’s teeth. No god to bow and kowtow to a usurping religion was he, no knock-kneed degenerate to scrap his knees and pray to the throne of another, but a creature of darkest Hel. It was his role to destroy, to terrify, not this false pretender with charred wings and rusted halos! “Sick of floatin’ on the edge of despair, or’s it bingo night for the golden oldies?”

❛  HONESTLY? I’M NOT SURPRISED YOU EXIST.     it’s actually kind of shocking how long it’s taken for you to show up on our radar.  shield is ...  usually like a hub for supernatural beings.            i grew up surrounded by nuns,  and i gotta say,  you don’t look much like the guy with horns they’d preach about.  ❜

       '   wanna take a second to EXPLAIN YOURSELF ? and , maybe , i don’t know , give me my BOOK back ?   '        ashley reached over his shoulder , sliding his shotgun out of the hoster on his back and aiming it at the other , eyes remaining glued to the necronomicon .

❝ it wasn’t my fault. ❞ an instinct reaction that was said as a way to protect himself. if not from insults, it would have been from anything else that was thrown at him. not to say it worked --- most of the time it didn’t, but the demon still attempted to be innocent ( even if he wasn’t entirely so ), ❝ i swear it.❞