#hueheld

If one were to ask him how long it’d been since they’d last encountered seen each other, considering his misguided crusade against the Seelie Court. A few years? Decades? And here they were, in merry old Romania. Having returned from a mission with his fellow Solomonari, it seemed fitting to simply mingle with society and pretend to be human for a night. When Ileana noted who Vlad took notice of, dark brows rose on her coppery complexion. Excusing himself, it didn’t seem like he’d be one to avoid the fae, as it was.

It was his cousin Andrew who had told Sam to make himself presentable before they ended up taking a small ride back to Andrew’s legal practice. Once the room was secure, Sam looked confused as his cousin walked out of the room, leaving him alone with an older man.

“Mister Lombardi,” Sam greeted as he held out a hand and smiled politely in greeting. Though, his heart rate was jacked, beating all too quickly, he managed to keep his composure. “Sam Whelan.”

He had no idea what the nature of this was, but the activist’s curiosity was getting the better of him.

“Andrew told me that this was something important. Mind reading me into the situation?”

     He arrived on time, he was dressed to impress - when it came to the approach of young men, Salvatore paid attention to everything down to the smallest detail. However, in a move of sheer dominance, he does not extend his hand. Not yet. He does not even get down to business as he instead repeats the surname.

      “Whelan, huh?” It reminds him of the name Phelan. “Where are ya from?”

He had a cracked rib, he knew that much. But he also knew better than to wrap it tightly, and just opted for a compression shirt under his usual loose t-shirts. Instead, he would just take it easy, not overly exert himself for the next few weeks.

But he began to notice Richard watching him, and after a while he grew to not really care. The guy wasn’t his father, not a lover, and surely probably had no right to be in his business. But after he took a couple Advil for the pain, he lifted a brow at the older man at long last.

“Why the fuck are you starin’ dude?”

Richard knew he was probably worrying more than he should, but he’d caught something close to a wince, and Sam seemed to be moving way more carefully than usual and it really wasn’t his place to to say anything.

But the younger man was his friend-

SEVEN PSYCHOPATHS SENTENCE STARTERS ( ACCEPTING )

𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒 𝐓𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐀𝐑 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄,   teeth pressing into painted red lips hard enough to leave an indent. in theory, the thought behind getting the alibi’s jukebox fixed was a good one, the sort of idea the couple running the place should have had more often            but in practice, having to hear the same song over and over again day after day was...infuriating. svetlana had lived a life which lead her to many new experiences, but the love the patrons had for   don’t stop believin’   was truly something she’s never seen before. 

Dark eyes continued to scan the pages of the novel he has found himself immersed in, far too lazy to actually get dressed. The towel remained secure around his waist as he allowed the warmth of the fire crackling to fill the room. He barely paid note to the knock at the door or it opening and closing again.

He began to pay attention to the soft footsteps as he turned the page. Only after catching a glimpse of the witch from the corner of his eye, did he finally opt to address her.

“What’s up, Sister Agatha?”

She knocked on the door before pushing it open and shutting it behind her, not thinking much about it at all. She had been in the private rooms of other professors and coven members, without ever having any strange instances. So, when asked to deliver a letter from Father Blackwood, she didn’t give it any thought, really. 

“I was thinking maybe we just stay in tonight...” Audrey suggested as she came over to Sam and sat down next to him on the couch. A sigh fell from her lips as she rested her head against his shoulder.  She stayed like that for a moment before tilting her head up to smile.  “I’m sure we could rummage through the fridge and see what we could come up with for dinner. What do you think?”

"Frankly, you should always be grateful that I'm not murdering you" she remarked dryly, holding him steady as she examined her handiwork. "Even more so when I have a sharp object in my hand, I suppose."

"And you should be doubly grateful to me" Zelda continued, reaching around with her left hand to retrieve a cigarette while her scissor-wielding hand kept precisely snipping at his scalp. "Now you look a little more like a real High Priest and less like a... hitchhiker." There was enough venom in the last word to poison a minotaur but the corners of Zelda's mouth twitched as she stepped back to admire her new project.