#rxtriever

[ True to his world, it’s about an hour before he arrives, with seemingly nothing in tow - but he’s got deep pockets in that (unseasonably heavy) jacket of his, and beyond his phone and wallet he’s carrying a selection of cured meats from Eveny, and a small but keenly sharpened knife. ]

[ He has no intention of letting her see the latter unless absolutely necessary. ]

[ Flat 9′s easy enough to find, and Jean hesitates for a few moments in front of the door, as though some part of him is still convinced he’ll walk in and see Victoria, not living and breathing, but dead and bloody and splayed open on a table, a display somehow of his own creation -- ]

“Hello, little pup. Lost, are we?”

@rxtriever

[Many emotions went over him when he saw her. It had been years since he had gotten a last look at Victoria. He had to admit: he had done a poor job at keeping tabs on her. And he didn't know how much to apologize over it. He had so much to say. So much to go over. But. Whenever he needed to talk, failed him.]

“...Victoria.”

“Ah, sorry. I didn’t mean t’scare y’.” She folded her hands together, looking a bit sheepish.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING.

Yeah…. seems that way, huh.

[ He feels like a rubber band pulled taut, full of tension and potential energy and fight or flight but for whatever reason he acts on none of it, just staring at her as if she’s a ghost. ]