#fangsforhire

@fangsforhire / @salvationofsouls is truly a great friend to have within the RPC. They can be a pain at times ( lovingly ), but they've gotten me through some tough times, and their muses are all so incredibly thought out, with complex backgrounds and so much detail to them. You can honestly tell that they love each muse they write, both from the detail put into them as characters, and in their writing.

Abel's rarely out and about without any sort of company nowadays; Usually one to visit restaurants with Anna (his wife) or to lounge at a bar together with some coworkers for a beer or two, it almost feels wrong to exist at this place all by himself.

---He'd needed a breather, felt his own temper rising to extremes he'd almost felt afraid of; Pressure had built, emotions tugged at vulnerable insides, a patience growing so thin words had left his lips he wished to have remained unsaid instead - so here he is, inside a bar he's never seen the inside of before, taking drag after drag from his cigarette in an attempt to steady his tense nerves.

---And then there it is, a sudden drink appearing from seemingly out of nowhere, with the young bartender setting it down in front of Abel; A somewhat confused gaze flicks up to that guy before a voice interrupts, causes attention to trail to the side instead, to another man who must've taken a seat next to him earlier, without Abel having even noticed...

A blink follows, full lips part before they close - then part again, just to fall closed for a second time - and Abel doesn't even know what to say to that; He looks lonely, really? ...Well, perhaps he does. He supposes that not many men wearing an expensive camelhair coat decide to take a seat at a bar all by themselves, just to have one cigarette after another---

"...Thanks." Awkward, a little unsure still, Abel lifts a careful brow at the unknown man before eyeing that drink; Whiskey, he supposes. Shit, he hasn't had anything else than wine in... a very long time, yeah. It does appear alluring to him however - said drink - and he curls the fingers of his free hand around the glass, blinks, then dark eyes are back on the stranger next to him.

"You didn't have to, though. But I... appreciate it."

Another drag of that cigarette, a much slower exhale, followed by Abel taking a sip of said Whiskey - it burns a bit, tastes bitter at the back of his throat, but also... nice, in its very own way. Like returning to an old friend one hasn't met in literal decades...

He stood there, mouth pursed in a thin line as he took in the other man. He finally raised an eyebrow slowly, realizing he had just realized what irked him.

@fangsforhire

It was Blair's first year in professional psychiatry, her doctorate newly minted and not even hanging on the wall because this wasn’t officially her office. She shared it with another recent graduate, both of them new to the practice. She'd seen patients before, of course, in clinicals, some with supervision and some without. She didn't mind paying her dues. She'd always known she wanted to help people.

The office was comfortable but not terribly personal, her manner relaxed, kind, and non-judgmental. She might not be able to identify with everything her patients were going through, but she felt for them. Paying for his choices was an interesting way of phrasing it. Blair believed that actions had consequences, but it was another thing to say they paid for them. It almost implied an element of punishment, not as overt as paying for one's sins, but in the same neighborhood. "What choices do you feel you're paying for?"

The ex-Nightmare had locked himself in the bathroom after he had woken up like this. His knuckles turning white with how hard they grip the edge of the sink. He's been staring at his own reflection for almost an hour. And two icy blue eyes keep staring back.

This has to be a hallucination. He's still in Luciens' dreamworld. He has to be. What other explanation is there?

But the cold porcelain beneath his hands feels so real. And each lungful of air into his lungs feels nourishing. His heart is beating wildly in his chest and ringing in his ears.

A miserable evening it was shaping up to be, the choking humidity of that afternoon's sun carried over into the night. Looming dark clouds overhead did little to help the humidity, instead heralding a coming storm that tinged the air with a faint electrical scent.

Faint for a normal, human nose at least.

The dark figure stood under the waxed awning of some bar, leaned against the red brick front with one spurred boot perched up under him in a casual stance. A hand rolled cigarette perched in his mouth, strangely golden eyes peered over as a few very drunk patrons stumbled from the bar. This wasn't the most ideal place to scope out targets, but if the metallic, earthy twang in the air meant anything, Jain knew it was best to find some sort of shelter before the coming downpour.

So far tonight was looking to be a bust, once rain rolled in people were less likely to to be charitable for his business- whatever that may be. It would make hunting in the more urban environment just as difficult as well. Too early to just shift and hunt as a beast, there were still plenty out and about that made such a move needlessly ill-advised. For now, the handsome man in the boots and leather jacket was fishing in a dry pond.

closed starter for @fangsforhire

"Lucifer, we can still-," Chloe started to say. "No, Detective," Lucifer cut her off. "I think this best for me and for everyone." Not for everyone, Chloe thought, silently casting her eyes down. But, what could she do? Lucifer seemed dead set on leaving. She couldn't stop him. All she could do was try not to burst into tears. "I just want to say-" his voice made her look back up at him. He gave her a sad smile. "Great last case," he held out his hand. "Great partnership." She reached out and took his hand and gave it one shake, afraid to speak because she knew she'd start crying. "Right," Lucifer quickly turned around and exited the conference room. Chloe watched him walk up the stairs exiting the precinct. She wanted to run after him, beg him not to leave, tell him how sorry she was for hurting him, tell him that she still wanted him in her life, but she didn't. And he didn't turn around. At the top of the stairs, he turned the corner and then he was gone. Forever.

Chloe sniffled and took a deep breath. She couldn't cry. Not now. Not until she got home. Maybe not ever. Lucifer was gone. So, what? She was fine before him, she'd be fine after him. She was still on the clock, she had to work. She went back to her desk to started the final paperwork needed for the case and kept her head down. She didn't look up when Dan asked her if she was okay or when Ella came by trying to get her to go dancing with her at Lux. The only time she did look up was when a faint shadow was cast over her and her desk to see who it belonged to. Standing before her was the last person she thought she'd see nowadays.

Lucien.