May enjoyed revenge. It was one of her more prominent and less tasteful traits, something which sat in the middle-ground of her personality, not quite in your face but hardly hidden. Her desire to punish the people who she believed deserved it was something she spoke about openly, and often with vigour; firm in her belief that on occasion, two wrongs did in fact make a right, or at least something that resembled one.

And so when the time came for Uriel to consult with their Seraphim about who should be taken from Pestilence to join Juno Warden in captivity, they responded with Ricardo Perez’s name in unison, each for their own reasons but united by a desire for vengeance. Unlike Jack, her contempt was not born from personal experience with the man, but from witnessing what he had done to someone else. Her vengeful streak had never just been limited to those who had wronged her after all, and Perez’s name had stuck deep in her mind after an evening poring over shaky phone and CCTV footage from the incident at Ravi Reyes’ birthday party. It didn’t matter that the fight between him and Kyung-Soon was one that he lost, just that he had tried to do her harm, and that his actions had led to the woman she considered her younger sibling awkwardly avoiding her for weeks as the bruises faded from her face and her ego. It was without second thought that May volunteered to be the one to bring him in, and nominated Laura to be the one who assisted.

The majority of her previous exchanges with Laura came in the form of the passing on of information, and a short, congratulatory meeting when she had been promoted to Power, but the personal stake they both had in this particular mission made her think that they were well-matched for it. In the driver’s seat of the black van, parked outside Perez’s apartment building, she watched her carefully as they each checked weapons, waiting for an old man to pass so they could slip inside without being seen. If Laura was nervous, she wasn’t showing it. So far, she had excelled in every assignment she had been given, and so her Seraphim had no reason to doubt her ability, confident that the securing of their mutual enemy would be handled smoothly.

The man rounded a corner just as May tucked a hip-flask sized bottle of chloroform and a rag into the inside pocket of her jacket. With an enthusiastic smile, she inhaled sharply. “Ready?” The question was entirely rhetorical. “Let’s go.” 

Enzo had already kindly powered down the security for the building, allowing them to enter through the front door with no code and no regard for cameras. Two flights of stairs later and they were outside his door, Laura cautiously unlocking it as May watched for nosy neighbours, the only sound being the blasting of whatever godawful music Ricardo was listening to inside. Gloved hands clenched, itching for violence. The door swung open silently, and after hearing no acknowledgement of intrusion from the flat’s occupant, May made eye contact with her Power, giving a single nod.

Location: Neue, lunchtime 

Josephine hates being late, especially when it comes to socializing with Laura. The time she spends with her mother must be done in microdoses, but even more so these days. Being late means extending the allotted window of time she’s cut out to spend time with the woman, and since moving back to Lockwood, she no longer contains the mental power to make room for the extra minutes she didn’t mentally and emotionally prepare for. “Sorry, I’m late,” She slides into her seat at the table across from her mother, apologizing again even though she’s already offered her apology in the form of a text message when she first realized she wouldn’t make it to the restaurant at the time they’d planned on. “Printer called,” Jo says and offers no further explanation. It’s the truth, but there’s no point in diving into unnecessary details. Instead, she turns her attention to the waiter standing there at the table and orders a glass of pinot grigio. She thanks them, dotting it with a quick, polite smile that naturally fades once they step away and leave her alone with Laura. “How are you?” Jo asks as she picks up the menu, looking it over. “Hopefully, I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

@lcvetouch​

Sawyer was hunkered down in a corner booth, nursing a mean hangover after throwing back a few too many with Kit the night before. His head was pounding, and a high pitched whine echoed in his ears as he glanced up from his steaming cup of coffee and spotted a familiar face waiting in line at the diner. Although Sawyer couldn't claim to really be in the mood for company or conversation, he'd be remiss if he didn't snark at Laura the slightest bit— even if it was all in good fun. Considering she'd thought he was a home invader and had tried to pepper spray him with whipped cream the last time they'd run into each other, Sawyer figured any shit he gave her was well deserved. "Ain't got any whipped cream for ya to fire at me today," he muttered, lifting a brow at her in an attempt to appear serious, but the soft smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth quickly eliminated that threat. "Maple syrup will have to do, I guess,” he droned, gesturing down at the stack of pancakes on his plate. Lifting his coffee to his lips, Sawyer chuckled softly and shook his head, "How ya been?"

Laura wasn’t the most stylish and she used her clothes to express that sentiment most days than not- opting for a simple jeans and t-shirt in her every day life. But this time it was slightly different. She’d more than jumped at the opportunity the festival presented to challenge herself- the term having been used loosely when she’d seen the array of colours and patterns that had been incorporated in other attendees show-stopping outfits. Tuah being no exception with a floral shirt. “Trés chic, I’m no fashion expert but I know a good outfit when I see one,” Laura piped up with a smile, fiddling with the hat she’d been sporting. No one told her what a hassle accessorizing could be but she was realizing first hand that they were not the most practical for a music festival.

Tuah laughed at the comment, feeling his cheeks warmed. Though he had asked the opinion of others, it was difficult to imagine that he was able to pull it off. He appreciated the compliment, however, no matter how warm his cheeks felt. “I’m no fashion expert either, so believe it or not, this isn’t something I’d wear.” He was more leather jacket and t-shirts and jeans type of person, but he wanted to try something different coming to the festival. “My friend, Sahid, suggested for me to wear them. I’m glad I listened to them.” It was more of a ploy for him to buy something for Sahid than himself, but he didn’t want them to feel awkward like the last time they went shopping. “You look amazing, by the way. Are you looking forward to any performance in particular?”