#crownblaze

Sometimes a family can be;                  a very tired chief dad,                               a big demon boi,                    and a telekinetic child.

So it turns out attacking a superior officer got you on an even shittier assignment than the one you were already stuck on. If Logan had known that at the time, maybe he would have rethought the ‘close shave’ he gave Major Chasin. He’d just thought they would shoot him. Not that it would do them any good. Apparently they’d thought of that as well. 

So much for Department H. Turns out that wasn’t the worst place they could stick him. Now he was a liaison to the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense. ‘Liaison.’ Ha. Fancy word for ‘we’re sticking you here to give you extra paperwork and forget about you.’ They couldn’t even bother to drive him down. A jet. How perfect.

He was still queasy from the flight when he walked into the bureau and was hit with the smell. Government buildings never smelled that good. Cologne and perfume covered up sometimes questionable hygiene and lingered in the halls, but at least in other places it didn’t come with the note of sulfur running through it like it does here. He barely has time to try to adjust before he’s nudged to keep moving. “Time to meet your new team, Wolverine.”

It gets only a grunt in response, but he moves, walking along with the accompanying agent and shoving a hand in his pocket as he goes to fish out a cigar. Anything to help block out some of the smell. He lights it up as he steps into the room he’s been guided to, and immediately freezes with his lighter still lifted, staring up at what was waiting for him.

She doesn’t care much about the WORDS on the page. Most of it she can’t understand anyway -- it’s in another language that has probably not been spoken a l o u d in quite some time. The detailed illustrations, however, were what caught her attention. A series of lines, dots, cross-hatches, and ink blots come together to form something rather Eldritchian that doesn’t resemble any sort of BEAST she could see at a zoo.

Haven raises the book up to display the page, cheeky GRIN plastered on her face. “...Friend of yours?”

       ‘  what  prayers  do  we  say  when  we  think  GOD  isn’t  listening ?  ’

HOW FUNKY ! The thought circulated in the blonde’s mind ever since the man with crimson skin decided to set up shop inside the abandoned barn her father never got around to tearing down.

"You’d think people would keep their mouths shut to someone they called on for help.” She’s still mad, muttering with a roll of her eyes. “Thank fuck we don’t have to deal with that guy anymore, but jesus, who shit in his fucking cereal.” The very person, an old man, who called on them decided to mouth off to both of them ( mostly to HB, which made her even more pissed off ), and seeing as they were done with the job anyway, the two walked off before anything could escalate. It happens quite a bit, Lily admits to herself, the humans they have to save just so happen to not have any filter most of the time. She knows just as well as HB does that people were going to assholes, she’s faced them her entire life, and so has he. Maybe she was just a bit too hopeful to wish for a little bit of leniency this time. 

There's always such a soft, sweet nature at play in the way they come to reunite, especially after their jobs have them spending days or even weeks apart from each other, only allowing the occasional calls or texts. They worry over each other, but for good reason. While yes there's safety felt when they check in, a sense of security in knowing they were okay out there, nothing soothes their individual worries more than actually seeing each other, having them there. This time is no different, as they all but bolt to each other, sharing a tight embrace as HB picked her up into his arms. They spend a few moments like that, safe in each other’s arms, until HB finally lets her down, but they don't dare let go of one another as foreheads press close together and he holds her close.

While her own hands move to hold the sides of his face ( her thumb going to mess with those sideburns of his ), his own hand raises to move her hair from her face. Icy blue eyes melt at such tenderness, what is normally steeled and cold is instead soft and inviting as his left hand moved to carefully cradle her cheek. A small smile finds its way to her lips, and she finds herself leaning into the affection without even realizing, with nothing but trust and warmth coaxing her into easing in to his grasp.