#leo002

Monday rolls around, and that means Grayson should be in class. Instead, he’s on the roof, laying flat on his back against the dirty concrete with a cigarette in his hand. The clouds are dark above him, and it’s all suitably dramatic for a Fox, even if he’s never considered himself to be one of those players. If he’s being honest though, Grayson’s avoiding Jen. Their worlds are inexorably blurred together these days, but somehow the roof feels like a Fox space alone—although Jen was a Fox before they were a Vixen, so it’s not the most inspired hiding place. 

The door clangs open and shut behind him, and Grayson spares the newcomer a disinterested glance—or what he’d intended to be disinterested, before it morphs into something else, and Grayson sits up. 

He’d been so busy avoiding Jen, he hadn’t thought to avoid Leo. Grayson knows the other Fox comes up here to smoke. He knows, because Leo’s made it a habit to steal cigarettes from Grayson’s packs all year.  It’s fine; Grayson likes Leo. He likes that Leo is fun, and absurd, and purely superficial. He knows what he’s getting from Leo, and it’s usually good.

He also knows that Leo kissed Jen at the Halloween party last week. Hell, even if Foxwatch hadn’t decided it was newsworthy, he saw them. The Den isn’t that big. 

Grayson has no right to be upset, and he knows that—he’s certainly got no romantic claim on Jen, and he’d had the same damn opportunity anyway. Anyone would want to kiss Jen; he can’t blame Leo for being bolder than he is. There’s still something insidious and uncomfortable building up inside of him when he thinks of it, and for one spiteful and inexplicable moment, Grayson wants to horde his stupid cigarettes. Those are something he can rightfully be jealous about. 

But he also doesn’t want any of that to be obvious. He doesn’t want to be hideously, transparently vulnerable right now. So he can be the same with Leo, can’t he? Grayson breathes in smoke, holds it for as long as he can in order to avoid conversation, and then reluctantly breathes out. The nicotine doesn’t go to his head nearly as much as he’d like. “You looking for one of these?” he finally says, holding the pack out towards Leo. “Gotta get our smoke breaks in now, because I’m pretty sure Grant’s locking the Court doors tonight and holding everyone hostage until we learn to play,” he says, as if he cares about the game, or practice, or any of that, because Grayson’s fine, and normal—obviously.

Tabitha arrived at the cemetery with an armful of flowers, one bouquet for her father’s grave and one for Keyelin Locke’s. She always came like this, just like she always came on New Year’s Day. Tabitha was nothing if not a creature of habit, afterall, and she’d been visiting the cemetery for a long time. The gravestones didn’t scare her the way they did most people, or make her uneasy; this was a familiar place, where she came to think or to be alone with her feelings. 

But as familiar as the cemetery was to Tabitha, she wasn’t used to seeing another person weaving through the headstones. At first it set her on edge, and she couldn’t help but remember the letter and the storms, the danger that was looming over her town. Then she recognized the figure as the man she’d met on Halloween, the one who’d said he worked here. She exhaled as Leo approached, and managed a smile. “I guess you really do hang out here,” she joked lightly. “Happy New Year.”

--

It wasn’t typical for her to text Leo, in actual fact, she hadn’t ever text him before now. A simple ‘I’m at {insert bar name}, it’s not long opened, very swanky and up your street. Feel free to drop in and join me. I can start repaying my debt.’ It’s a message she sends on a bit of a whim, she’s happy to sit here in her own company and honestly? Doesn’t expect him to text back, let alone turn up. At least she’d made the offer, the subtle attempt to steal a chance at checking in after the chaos the Hastings family had been experiencing. They weren’t close, not even a little, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try her hand and hold it out to those in her circle, should they need it. Three drinks in, hand resting on her chin, she’s smiling to herself as she watches an elderly couple bicker lovingly at the side of the bar, about who would get the bigger piece of the two cake slices they’d bought at the market. Cute. So invested, Alara doesn’t even realise Leo had shown up until he was right there at her table. “Hello.” Smiling, she gestures him to take a seat. “I didn’t think you would actually show up.” It’s a passing comment that doesn’t reflect any sort of disappointment, just the opposite, actually. Glad of the company for once, even if it was that of Leo Hastings. “What would you like to drink? I’ve opened a tab.” She says, giving a polite wave to the waiter to come and take his order. “It’s been a very long month, feel free to buy half the bar if you wish.”