#cilhendrix

Gage couldn’t help but yawn as he waited for Hendrix to arrive. Like any typical woman he’d ever met, she took her time, which he’d never understood. They’d come to patrol the grounds, which meant they’d be fighting and he wasn’t sure who she’d be trying to impress -- other than him -- with whatever wardrobe of choice she’d show up in. Eying the bag next to his feet, filled to the brim with weaponry, he felt safe, or as if the bag was a safety net, aside from the hunting knife tucked in the holster at his waist that he’d inherited from his father, “Where are you Lo-pez~” Gage sing songed, gazing toward the sky to see that the sun was mere moments from setting, which meant the monsters would be ready to go in full force. In case she hadn’t shown in time, he reached to the duffel bag full of weaponry and pulled out a stake, sure that the knife in the holster could manage any demon that attacked him. But he’d made a promise not to be impulsive and take on groups of vampires by himself again, especially after his near death experience, the other night. When he heard footsteps approaching, he could judge without even looking backward that Hendrix and finally decided to join him, “Fashionably late?” He teased, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.