#saintredd

“I understand that,” he said patiently, slipping his arms under Matt’s to pull him up to his chest. Rip cursed softly as his not inconsiderable weight rested on him. He was taller so he could manage well enough after some careful positioning of his hold around Matt’s body but it never failed to impress him how the other man was a solid bulk of muscle.

‘I had nowhere else to go’

     The sudden knocking to her window had been what woke her in her sleep, swift to retrieve the pistol from the nightstand just to notice a figure at the fire escape outside her own small apartment; someone in a rather growing familiar suit. Least, it brings a relief to her tense muscles, huff of a breath escaping her when she finally makes quick steps over, gun tucked in at her side and careful to open the window.

     “-It’s like, two in the morning - everything ok? Just - come on in, I rather you in here then out there.”

@saintredd​​ did the thing and liked for a thing.

                             Running was never a good thing in her eyes. It didn’t matter if she had the speed and stamina to do it; it was a bitch on the knees and lungs. However, most every damn demon ran from her if they weren’t feeling all that ballsy to take on a slayer. Tonight was the night everyone seemed to be running, trying out for the Olympics or training for a marathon. But she was on her third demon of the night that decided to take off like a bat out of hell, leaving the slayer huffing and puffing.

@saintredd​ |  “Don’t make me throw this hummus. It’s spicy, and I have great aim.”

“I was jus’ sayin’, mate.” Ripper grinned and swallowed a mouthful of pita bread dipped in said hummus, weaponised status pending. He chewed thoughtfully, his own reflection staring at him on Murdock’s red glasses. If he hadn’t just fought him (and lost—Christ was he going to be a big walking bruise the next day) Rip would have thought it to be such an unsettling colour. Perhaps ‘seeing red’ meant something entirely different to him.

Hands rattle upon the cuffs that keep her close to the metallic table, huff of a sigh escaping her at the two officers before her. Apparently, the increase of vigilantes, both good and bad, are rumored to be entering a building people knew she was residing in in Hell’s Kitchen, & well - now it seems authorities have gotten too curious.

     Brows furrow as they state about a lawyer coming in; she didn’t. . .did Bouncer call someone? He was trapped in his own room, likely not saying a single word and attempting to continue to sign to them. So then who. . .

    “You’ve got to be kidding me. . .”

you’re being forgetful .  or kind .

     “Oh, I’m trying to be kind, truthfully.”

The mug in her grasp is placed before him on the table, a bit louder of a clatter against the wood than usual. It’s a simple green tea she’s brewed him, mixed with a bit of honey in hopes of assisting him. 

     “I did forget whether you were a coffee or a tea person, but the tea should help more with your throat.”

❛ some people have swimming pools, other people have private cemeteries. ❜

     “-I don’t think I’ve known anyone with their own private cemetary; now I’m going to have to find one.”

     It’s something that a younger mindset would believe oinly the wealthy would have to keep their family close & all together, head tilting curiously at her own thoughts rising to her own family. She’s never heard of them ever owning a private cemetary; sure, her father would like them all together, but - 

     “I mean, If I owned a private cemetary, I’d least make sure it was lively with lots of flowers.”