#captain covert

status: closed to @lazarusdoe​

Once he’d managed to lure Ramses away from the fight he found him in, he made it a point not to take him back to the meet-up point everyone else seemed to be dropping the undead off at. The idea of locking him in some room with a half a dozen unconscious bodies, waiting for the touch of death, was too much for him to bare. And sure, there were some very selfish reasons (both wholesome and not so much) for why he preferred taking Ramses back to the apartment that had been their home together for over fifty years- but that was neither here or there. 

He makes sure to let Lazarus know of his wishes though, once all seemed to have finally quieted down over at the Tower, and made the arrangements that Ramses would be handled the next morning- preferably before he woke, and before Sam managed to fully talk himself into just saying hell with it, and keeping this undead version of his partner around for good. 

And just like they’d arranged, that morning he receives a text on his phone from Lazarus, letting him know they’re on their way. Ramses is mercifully still asleep when the text comes through, and he prays he stays as such, because he’s honestly not sure if he’ll be able to do this with those eyes of his looking at him the entire time. 

Forgoing the bandages, he slips on his sunglasses before Lazarus arrives, and it’s just as he does when he hears a feather light knock on his door. 

status : closed to @lazarusdoe

He’s back at his favorite haunt again, this time though its exceedingly earlier in the day, and the person he was supposed to be meeting was someone he hadn’t didn’t know from Adam. But Kitty insisted they were someone that he could trust revealing a bit of his backstory to, and that everything that was going on now could potentially be put a stop to if he agreed to meet with them. And so there he was, the only occupant in the bar, except for the staff who was preparing for that night. 

It’s too early for a drink, and so he’s nursing a ginger ale while lightly snacking on half a tumbler full of olives, since it was his lunch hour after all. When the door to the club opens, it’s clear as day the person walking through it was just who they were there to meet. 

“So, Kitty wasn’t exaggerating about the whole...” he trails off before motioning to Lazarus’s everything, “well you, I guess. You stand out in a crowd just about as much as I do.” 

Waving them over, as if there were anywhere else they’d go, he gestures to the side of the booth opposite him. “Feel free to take a seat. I promise there isn’t a squad of police officers or some sort waiting to tackle you to the ground.”