There was no separating the Queen of the Underworld from her beloved Palace. Rulers were defined by their resilience in War times, and there’s a semblance of satisfaction at the end-result. Ultimately, they had won - defending the Nightclub, and with it, Pestilence’s honor in two-fold. Priscilla firmly at the helm, and carrying with her a win against War’s eldest son, Remus Warden. It would be a victory, lauded with bottles of liquor and arrogant cheers. But when the smoke cleared, all she saw was the aftermath. Her ethereal nightclub where hedonism and escapism was rooted, turning clinical and dour. Blood splatter on leather seats, scent of gunpowder in the air, and the echoes of her patrons running for their lives. Hers was not a conscience that was easily perturbed. You don’t climb to the top of the food chain, without a thick skin and a morally grey perception of life. But it perturbs her, and after supervising the day’s clean up, she escapes to her home away from home.

It’s a small and unimpressive restaurant, serving her favorites; heart healthy salad bowls, organic smoothies, and an assortment of Millennial Favorites (from avocado to chia seeds) that keep the health-focused Priscilla satisfied. She takes comfort in the distance from the Nightclub, tucking into her Thai-fusion salad when the ring of the bell causes her to look up. An instinctive hand along her jacket, where her well-used blades remained concealed. It’s fruitless; however, because it’s Fletcher that emerges. Likely, scouring her out after a day’s worth of reconvening. “I know you didn’t come here for fucking celery juice and veggie burgers.” Priscilla assumes, a tug of a playful smile that scarcely hid the exhaustion along her features. There was no point in hiding things from Fletcher. He knew her too well, and has seen everything from her success to disarray. “Will you sit down?” She asks, oddly softened and almost needy for companionship. It had been a long, twenty-four hours. “I don’t really want to be alone right now, but...” She glances outside the window, the view of the Nightclub still firmly in view - as always. “I don’t think I can head back just yet.”