#fletcher 03

Another day nearly put to rest on the getaway from hell. The one Milo himself suggested. It was necessary, of course. Every faction present was quick to point the finger at the other and if the Seraphims didn’t pull them altogether there was bound to be blood in the streets without evidence to back it up. Pestilence, personally, could not afford to lose anyone else. Not when recruitment was constantly put on hold to deal with catastrophes that kept coming in like the tide. At least they were done with major group activities for the day. The voting was both entertaining and brutal. There were people he wanted to speak to afterwards, but first he took some time for himself and met with Bella outside. A corner where Warden’s surveillance system didn’t reach. Right before they reluctantly parted ways, Milo shot a text to the next person he needed to talk to - Fletcher Gray. 

Hey, come have a smoke with me in the stables.

A quick kiss goodbye to the best of Famine and he headed to the stables. He hadn’t had a lot of time for catch up or to even check in with Fletch over the past couple of weeks. It was quick conversation, maybe a touch of shit talk, then onto the next task. Unfortunate timing, when there was much to talk about. A hint of worry from Milo that Fletcher might try to defect to Death with his sister. He wished he could say that he had no reason to worry, but those masked bastards had managed to steal three members from them now on top of a hefty sum of money. Milo could only expect the worst at that point and shoot for the best. Especially after Milo very publicly voted for Genie and he’s stated several times, to the other man, just what he thought about the people who left Pestilence before her. Unless, there was an off chance that they could use the switch to their advantage. Like the picture of Rafael, Jr. at Pest the week or so before. He hadn’t heard anything, personally, but he did notice Marcus taking more of a lead in the whole acting co-horseman business. Perhaps Fletcher had more insight on that, as well.

The blonde was just lighting his cigarette when he saw the Power approach. He hummed, lips tight around the filter to inhale the first drag and pull it out between two fingers. “There you are.” Milo took a step forward to greet him with a clap on the shoulder. “How are you doin’ after all that?” He asked and motioned to the manor where the voting had taken place. The moon reflected in blue eyes that focused on the other man, scanned him for a hint of what was going through his head. The Seraphim leaned back against the latched stable gate and yawned wide. No rest for the wicked and all that. “Tell me what’s goin’ on with you, we haven’t had much time after all the shit with Michaela.” Shit the other man had a front row seat to, and if he didn’t already trust him he would have likely held him partially responsible. Milo didn’t suspect Jaemin or Fletcher. Perhaps he should have, but he didn’t. He didn’t think Fazal was responsible, either. However, the points brought up about him that night were valid - as were the ones directed at Mitzi. But he didn’t think anyone in Pestilence was responsible for the Horseman’s disappearance. If they were behind one of the others, especially Uriel’s, he would be quite proud. However, he would hope they would have told him. 

“Humor me, who do you think is behind all this?