#scarveil

Before her stood a beautiful face that had become so familiar to her. His rose-ringed gray eyes locked onto hers and it took everything in her not to get lost in them. Again. Icicles glittered in his night black hair, the white section of it remniscent of snow plains, a gorgeously messy mix of both cascading down his back. His white suit and coat looked smooth as silk, even now. He arched a handsome brow at her and curse it all, how does he look this breathtaking after waking up from a nap in his fridge?

"Whew, what time is it? Quite the hard worker, aren't you?" Ashveil glanced at his watch before looking back at her, the amusement shining in his gaze making her giggle. "As Vice President of Furbo Weekly, I have quite a few responsibilities to shoulder. Hard work is something I must do."

"Perhaps," Mr. N called out from further within the agency, "the detective should follow her example." Her giggle bloomed into a full-blown laugh now as the detective in question turned around face his assistant. "Since when did she become your favourite?" The pout on his face could have put a child to shame, but Mr. N, quite like the archetypal tired parent, merely shook his head. "There is no question of favourites, Mr. Ashveil. I am merely stating a fact."

"Well," Scarlett stifled a laugh, "to work hard, you'll need your energy. For that, here's dinner tonight. There should be sliced apples for both you and Mr. N in the upper half. I'm all out of bananas, I'm afraid." His face lit up like Penacony's Golden Hour as he gently took the bag from her. "Ah, thank you. Where would we be without you?" The warmth of his voice seemed to slide down her sternum, making her heart stutter. Despite that, a cheeky grin formed on her face. "Probably ordering takeout on Furbo Weekly's dime."

"Ah!" His free hand clutched his chest with faux drama. "Such cruel words, Miss!" "Oh hush you! Just eat and all that cruelty will be a distant memory." Scarlett chuckled, shaking her head. Tightening her ponytail, she nodded in their direction. "Well, I'll be heading off then. You two take care!"

Please ask. And please, please offer.

Ashveil raised his eyebrows. "This late at night? I'll walk you home."

Hope flared in her chest at his words. "Are you sure?"

If he heard the breathless desperation in her voice, he made no mention of it. Instead, he only crossed his arms, one hand holding on to the bag that had just been given to him. "How many times have we done this? You know Planarcadia isn't safe at night. It wouldn't be right for me to let a lady walk alone."

Scarlett opened her mouth, then closed it. With a shrug, she said, "I suppose, but I still want to ask. Just to be absolutely certain. But," a mischievous grin formed on her face, "I guess I never have to worry about it with such a gentleman around."

"You've got that right." He said, satisfaction glimmering in his gaze. "Just let me stow this away." Ashveil scurried back into his office and Scarlett smiled. "I'll wait for you at the door! Goodnight, Mr. N!" She called out. "Goodnight, Miss Scarlett." He said politely. As Scarlett hurried away, he began to narrate Ashveil 'moving with great zeal'. Their conversation faded, but the relief in her chest didn't.

Aeons and stars, I'm so lucky he offers to do this and actually follows through. It's crucial these days… I hope that guy doesn't act up. I'm going to have to haunt the Security Bureau tomorrow, I can't keep doing this.

"Are you ready to go?" Ashveil's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She nodded, a small smile on her face. "I am. Let's go."

.

.

.

There was another on this street.

And he had been following the both of them for a while.

Two irrefutable truths Ashveil had gleaned on the previous two nights they had walked together. He was an old wolf, not a useless one. It was remarkably easy for him to gather that much, his senses were still quite sharp.

The question then became who this person was and why he was on their trail. Ashveil had managed to snag a glimpse of the guy. Not enough to note his facial features, but enough for a vague profile. He had been trying to investigate who this was, but it was proving to be a little tricky. There were a few people and he had a few ideas but he wasn't sure about this.

What he was sure about, however, that Scarlett might have a bit of an idea who this was.

She was a bit of an open book. It was remarkably easy for him to read her expressions and he had not missed the quiet desperation with which she would ask him if he was sure he'd like to walk her home. Neither had he missed the unbridled joy at his confirmation.

And she was a Nameless of the Astral Express. She had faced far greater darkness than the cover of night. So if she ached for someone's company to walk her home… Something else was afoot.

So, he had to approach this carefully.

"Someone's been tailing us for a while." He said, taking care to keep his tone casual. He felt her back stiffen under his hand, even as her expression remained neutral. "Black-haired guy with yellow eyes, probably with a pink, lotus bracelet?" Iciness rippled through him as she described the fellow following them completely correctly. She definitely knows something. "Yeah." "It'll be fine. Just keep walking with me and he'll back off." "You know this guy?" He burst, unable to contain himself.

A sigh left her. "Flynn Augustine. He's a big fan of Fluffy Across the Blue and of Scarbear specifically. He's a bit... Passionate."

A pin dropping could have been heard at the silence that ensued. Ashveil's prosthetic hand curled into a fist that would have the knuckles of an organic hand white.

"... How long has this been going on?" His voice was soft in that quiet, dangerous way the eye of a storm was. That softness was mirrored by Scarlett's own tone, though hers was the subdued murmur of a confession.

"... A while."

"A while." His eyes locked onto hers now. "And you didn't think to tell me?"

"Why would I—" Her sputtering turned into an exasperated sort of calm. He wasn't sure if he was impressed or infuriated.

"Mr. Ashveil, I wouldn't bother you with a trifle like this." Scarlett said, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. You've been doing enough, walking me home like this. Asking for things was hard enough for her, but something like this? From someone she loved? It was far too much. And she could handle it, she really could. She always had.

The detective shook his head. "It's not a trifle. Things can get really messy with fans like that one." "I… I know." She said, her voice low. "I've already filed a report at the Security Bureau. He hasn't done anything, so they can't do much. I'm being very careful too." She shook her head, waving a gloved hand before her face. "It's fine, this is my mess to deal with."

"Of course they can't." He scoffed, sarcasm dripping from every word. "And don't start with that talk; it's not your fault you've got a stalker." Scarlett nodded slowly. "I know. I just... Don't want to bother anyone."

"Better to bother someone rather than end up dead in some perv's hideaway." She now turned to face him, her (beautiful, he thought breathlessly) dark chocolate eyes shimmering. "You think that guy could hurt me?" Despite himself, he let out a chuckle. "Love the confidence, big hero, but it's better safe than sorry. Anyway, don't worry about it beyond this point. I'll take care of this." She stared at him, her mouth agape as if he suddenly sprouted another head. "But— I haven't even commissioned you!" "Don't need to. Some folks just need a few stern reminders about what's respectable behaviour."

At his words, her expression softened considerably and without a sound, she moved closer to him, her shoulder pressed against his. His heart leapt to his throat as the scent of her perfume grew stronger. His hand on her back pressed down a little more. What a precious little lady she was. How eagerly she seemed to reach towards him. And that old urge he thought he'd nearly lost— That urge to protect, to keep— To defend what was dear with tooth and claw reared its head within him. He had to fight the intensifying desire to pull her closer, to out and out growl at the man who dared stalk her.

What the hell, old man?

"... Thank you." Her murmur was like a cool, soothing balm that calmed down that sudden, borderline animalistic passion. "Don't mention it." He replied quietly. I'm not half as genteel as you'd like me to be.

That gesture seemed to agigate Mr. Augustine, for Ashveil heard his footsteps grow louder. In about two minutes, he'd be right before them.

He could confront him here and now. Settle the score immediately. Show him who and what he was dealing with. Show that deluded little wasteral pup who dared make her feel unsafe in this place.

But… Her.

It wasn't as if she couldn't stomach violence or threats— He knew for all the kindness and gentleness she had, Scarlett had raised a weapon several times. She was not unfamiliar with blood and death nor was she afraid. She could handle it just fine.

But he didn't want her to see him like that.

If he bared his fangs now, revealed what lurked beneath his arm, he wouldn't be able to take it back. Oh, he had no intention of causing any serious harm just yet. Ashveil expected a little threat to be enough to send this man packing.

But the idea that she would see even a fraction of the beast he was— That terrified him. She'd always thought of him so highly, called him a gentleman with a smile. If she saw the wolf he was, even a little, would she still smile at him that way? Stick so close and be so familiar?

Contrary to his own ways, he found he didn't want the answer to that. Not just yet.

Why is it always so different with you?

So, he wrapped an arm around her waist. "M-Mr. Ashveil?" She stammered, though she didn't pull away. "Come on. I think we'll need to hurry." He said. "Okay." "And we might take few detours to get him off our scent. That okay with you?" She nodded rapidly. "Yes. I trust you with this." A faint smirk formed on his lips. "A wise choice."

And with that, they took off, tearing through the streets. Ducking and diving between alleyways, emerging in one end and coming out the other. Ashveil lead the chase and Scarlett managed to keep up, pressed close to him. A grin formed on his face as the wind whistled past them and he could feel her pulse pounding through her skin.

How nostalgic.

This mad rush ended as they slammed to a halt in front of the parked Astral Express. Leaning against him, Scarlett gasped for breath, heaving from the effort.

After a few moments, she rasped, "… Is he gone?"

Ashveil nodded, panting for breath as well. Damn, his body was not that young anymore, his bones were going to ache. "He's gone. We lost him just before Perdido."

A sigh of pure relief left her as she stood up properly. "Thank you so much for tonight. Seriously, I—" she swallowed, her eyes clouding over. The adrenaline was starting to die down and the weight of it all began to press down at her chest like an anvil. Her eyes broke away from his, staring down at their feet. A tremor ran through her as her voice fell several octaves. "I'd never feel safe again, if it wasn't for you. I mean I know I could probably take him in a fight, but I'd never stop looking behind me again. You being here means I might not as much."

Something twisted like a pretzel in his Ashveil's chest. It wasn't right. She shouldn't feel this scared for existing. It was only natural that a heroine like herself should have fans, especially with the popularity of Fluffy Across the Blue, but this was crossing every line. It was dehumanising, truly. They made her an object to be ogled at and admired, a thing of beauty and aspiration to be chased regardless of the cost.

And her, the real her, the kind woman who offered her warmth and her friendship to any she deemed worthy, the woman who smiled freely and spoke so sweetly to others was being suffocated. Nailed into this image she never asked for nor expected. Made into a thing rather than the living, breathing human she was. And though this kind of idealisation happened to everyone people called a hero, Skybow knows he faced it in his days as La Mancha, the thought of her humanity being disrespected like this made him see red. A fresh wave of fury rose within his chest at Planarcadia in general and Augustine in specific for putting her in such a state.

"Don't worry about this anymore." He said. Something about his intentions must have echoed in his solemn tone, for Scarlett's eyes widened. "I'll take care of it. You just head back inside and get some rest."

"Mr. Ashveil," she began, but he shook his head. "No. Let me do this for you."

Those words seemed to hit her with a weight he did not expect. Her dark eyes widened further, her hand rising to her chest. And though he could barely make it out, her face seemed to grow ruddier in the gentle, warm light of the Express that streamed through the window.

Weird. Why that reaction?

"Okay." Her voice was gentle now, matching the smile on her face as her breath evened out. "If you insist, sir."

"Good." He smiled warmly at her. "Take care of yourself."

"You too. I know you'll do it anyway, but… Please don't stress yourself or do too much on my account."

He chuckled. "You worry too much. This will just require me to bare my fangs."

She tilted her head to the side, shrugging. "I hope so." With one step into the train, she turned to face him with another lovely smile. "Goodnight, Mr. Ashveil." He tipped his hat towards her. "Goodnight, Miss."

He watched her leave as she disappeared into the light, the door shutting behind her.

Good. Now he could get to what he needed to.

He strolled back with the air of a wolf who knew he was going to stalk easy prey. Just as he emerged from Perdido Station, the raven-haired man they had just escaped was stumbling and wheezing.

"Flynn Augustine, yes?" He called out.

"Y— Yeah." The man stood up, drawing himself to his full height; which wasn't much. "Who are you?"

"No one special." He said, his eyes glinting red in the night. "I just need to have a little… Chat with you."

.

.

.

The next night, during their walk, Scarlett looked back with a confused frown. "He's not following me tonight…?" She murmured softly.

"He won't bother you anymore." Ashveil broke in gently. "And the next time you need someone to take care of things quickly and quietly, just talk to me."

She turned to face him, wide-eyed. For a beat, nothing left her lips. She merely stared at him, as if searching for something.

Then, a bright smile formed on her face. "Thanks, Mr. Ashveil."

And suddenly he wasn't able to look at her. Not with this expression of hers, as if he had brought down the stars in the sky and laid them upon her feet.

Feeling his face flush and a dizzying wave of shyness wash over him, he angled his hat downwards, shielding his expression from her. Seriously, why do I get like this around her? "It's no problem."

It wasn't a phrase he often used. He was constantly dealing with problems, so he always tried to avoid getting entangled in things. He was tired and just trying to enjoy whatever this watered down version of retirement this was, to have life be as peaceful as it could be.

But if it meant that she'd walk with her shoulders thrown back again, with that sun-like smile on her face, settling into his hand on her back and so close to him he could smell her fresh, floral and powdery perfume, he supposed he could deal with a few problems.