#uh... warning for behemoth... violence..?

As the group emerges back on the surface Atlas feels a certain relief that none are injured. Slight disappointment they did not find their mark. And yet still an odd and different form of relief they had not come upon their mysterious foe without full preparation. 

“So we've found at least one base of operations for him. What now?” Atlas asks, feeling strangely….antsy. He thinks of fiddling with his vox or some other object in his hands as he'd seen others do when such tremors of energy strike them. 

Siros sighs. “We have a few options. One is to wait, hope he returns here and ambush him.” The Nightlord hums as the group walks. The clouds above have turned more grey and violent. Another storm. Siros takes notice of this as well. “On the other hand, to do that is risky when we still only have the faintest idea of what we are dealing with. Loyalist, Chaos, Renegade, Psyker…any of these things could sway a confrontation into or out of our favor. Not to mention the weather.” He grumbles looking up at the sky. “Oi! All of you covered your tracks right? Don't want our guests becoming skittish and bolting.”

“We took care of that shit old man. What do you take us for, neophytes?” Ghilus says half offended, half joking.

“You certainly talk like one.” Siros says wryly.

“OI!” The younger Night Lord says more annoyed and offended. Atlas can’t stop his lips from twitching in a slightly amused smile.

 “He's not in the wrong, cousin.” Lati says somewhat amused.

“Your mouth is rather undisciplined. ” Korio points out.

 “Uh! Fuck You.”  Ghilus says, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling at the lot of them.

“I rest my case.” Siros retorts.

As the group falls into discussion, Atlas is trying to listen to the vox- full of static- and he’s changing the channels- when he hears something. He jolts as he hears more static- then a voice- one he recognizes- vaguely. It’s the same as he heard earlier. That Primaris in the colors of the Dark Kraken.

“Hello, can you hear me?” Atlas says as he gets up- suddenly feeling the desperate desire to move. 

Help. Near- and the static cuts out and Atlas swears as he tries to get a ping on the other’s vox bead as he looks briefly at Siros, Ghilus, Kirio, and Lati for a moment, before he starts to move. Atlas recalls that the Dark Kraken was moving on from this coastal town to another little coastal town that was at a dead sprint for an astartes a few hours away, less so for a Primaris Marine. 

The only one with a chance at catching up to him when he goes on a full sprint is Lati- the other Primaris marine- as he bolts off. To where the location ping is- if anyone tries to talk or shout- well, he’s laser focused on getting to the person who called out for help.

He bolts in that direction- and finds himself swallowed by the storm. Rain hammers his armor as he breaks into a full sprint, ceramite boots chewing through slick sand and mud alike. The vox-bead crackles again- mostly dead air, and a grunt-crunch-thunk noise and utter silence.

Atlas swears as he continues to move- he hears a shout- or something- and as he breathes in the cold, salt-stung air as the town falls away as the cliffs loom like black silhouette of the cliffs he jams his helmet so his dark vision is greater in it rather than out of it. Why? Why did that Primaris Dark Kraken go out alone? He knows of the danger- of the threat lurking nearby.

He finds slumped on the ground blood pooling around him and as his body is cooling- fast in the winter wind-rain. The green and brass armor- with the etched sigils of the Dark Kraken chapter. He tries to send a vox message to Siros and the others.

I have found the newest victim. He sends his coordinates or tries to as he looks around his bolter and chainsword drawn as he looks around trying to find the culprit. He sees nothing. No one- just darkness and rain. The wind carving cold that seeps into his armor’s weak points and at his joints.

He sees footsteps-  those that belong to himself, to the Dark Kraken- and what might belong to another. All of them are fading as the tide hits the shore and draws back. He curses the low tide rising- which will erase more evidence. Moving the body is a bad idea- as it might mess with what evidence he- and the others can find.

Atlas glances around- he sees no one else. Only the shadows of night and the fading footsteps.

Siros did not waste words when he arrived. He stood over the fallen Dark Kraken only long enough to confirm what Atlas already knew—precise wounds, no geneseed taken, death delivered with intent rather than frenzy. The Chaplain straightened slowly, rain sluicing off his skull-helm.

“Could… could we use this body as a trap to bait the Harvester?” Atlas asks.

An awkward silence falls over the group as the driving rain continues. It was the logical next step. No need to risk the Harvester or Killer attacking the one who was pantomiming death as they originally planned. But at his own words and the other's reactions Atlas winces- that was- he should be more considerate of Lati’s feelings. He feels… somewhat bad that his compartmentalization had him automatically trying to see what they could do to use this tragedy to stop more from happening.

But Lati…

Lati was clearly affected most. He kneels next to the cooling body. He says nothing, his fists are tight as they rest on his bent legs. 

Siros grimaces, then addresses Lati himself. “Last rights and decisions belong to the Chapter.” 

Atlas is…taken aback slightly. Not in insult he just…didnt expect Siros to defer in such a way. He bows his head a little and will wait for a response.

The older Chaplain nods to the younger marine who also seems surprised by…the request? Consideration? 

“You know what I would do cousin, but this one's soul lies closer to You than to me.” He affirms. “You are his, you are here. You must decide.”

Lati bows his head towards his dead brother. He’d known Valyn briefly, the sting of grief sharp and biting. This is the second Primaris marine that has been killed. He is starting to see a pattern. He opens his eyes after a few heart beats and he slowly rises.

“We need to…” Lati pauses with grief making his voice crack. “We need to, we will usher Valyn’s spirit to the Emperor’s light. His body will be used to trap those who- knows more and is a cowardly scavenger that feeds on the dead. It's.. He would want to help in any way he could to catch the culprit. To stop them. Permanently.”

Now things are really what they seem

No, this is no bad dream!

—

Zooble and Pomni arrived outside Kaufmo’s house. It was, thankfully, unguarded. The cops really must have been stretched to the limit quelling the protests downtown. Zooble hopped off of ZigZag and tied her off on the nearby fence, taking an apple out of her bag as a reward for her hard work today. She even got an extra apple, hopefully to curb her appetite enough so she wouldn’t eat any of the neighbor’s lawns.

“You be good now, okay, princess?” Zooble said, touching faces with ZigZag. The horse gave a content snort. Pomni hopped off the horse, a little less clumsily this time.

“Alright. So we go looking for clues. We don’t take anything, just make some notes. We should keep our gloves on just in case-”

“‘We?’” Zooble tilted their cowboy hat up. “Nah, I think ya meant you. This was your idea, so you’re taking the initiative. I thought about it on the way over, I’m not risking a B&E charge.”

Pomni frowned. “I thought you said Jax was your best friend. You’re not willing to risk it all for him?”

“Watch it, city girl,” Zooble warned, pointing their hook at Pomni. “The guilt trip card won’t work with me. Don’t forget, you’re a pretty young lady with rich parents who can bail you outta trouble. Me? I’m the weirdo that’s friends with The Autumnvale Cannibal. Cops’ll take one look at me and clap me in cuffs.”

Pomni glared at Zooble for a moment, but her expression softened. They did have a point, given how prejudiced the cops were around here. Still, it wasn’t quite that easy…

“I’m not here for fun, I’m trying to help your friend. My scholarship is at stake if I get caught, so I’ll have to go back home to my family and explain how I lost the one chance to get my MFA.”

Pomni looked down at the snow. “And my parents aren’t that rich… I took out huge loans to get through college, and I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for the assistantship money.”

Zooble looked at Pomni for a long while. Their breath steamed in a consistent pattern, like a machine.

“Can you… can you stop looking at me like that?” Pomni murmured, shrinking her neck down until her chin sat between her shoulders.

“Alright. Here’s my offer. You go in and do what you gotta do. I’ll keep watch out here.”

“Okay. Is there a way you can signal me discreetly if someone is coming?” Pomni asked.

“I’ll have ZigZag whinny.” Zooble replied, petting their horse’s nose gently.

“You…trained her to do that?”

Zooble looked at Pomni, a star of pride in their eyes. “She knows a lot of tricks. Now get going, we’re wasting time.”

Pomni nodded, approaching Kaufmo’s front door. He lived in a condo, one of those situations where a big house was divided into two separate living spaces. Zooble told her Kaufmo lived on the bottom floor, #7. She tried the handle and it didn’t budge. Nah, she couldn’t be that lucky. She glanced around on the front stoop. If she was a little lucky, she might be able to find a hide-a-key. She checked below the welcome mat that read “Definitely Not a Crack House”, then noticed a collection of smooth rocks stacked in a little cairn in the corner. Pomni picked up a few of them, until one on the bottom rattled.

Bingo.

She popped the top of the fake rock open and a key dropped into her gloved palm. She gave a thumbs up to Zooble, who discreetly tipped their hat in response. Pomni slid the key into the door and opened it. She then carefully replaced the key and the fake rock, going inside the anteroom and locking the door behind her.

A set of wooden stairs led up to #8. To her right was the door to #7, which she gingerly attempted to open. It clicked open with no problem.

Kaufmo’s condo wasn’t much. A big hardwood room made up most of the living space, divided into a living room, granite top kitchen and hallway leading into the back of the condo, presumably the bathroom and bedroom.

Pomni took a careful look around. A few gossip magazines on the coffee table, dirty dishes from a days old meal sitting in the sink, the food now caked on and probably in need of a scrub with steel wool. Pretty normal stuff. Altogether pretty clean for a guy that had serious depression. He had a monstera deliciosa in a terracotta pot by the couch that was turning somewhat brown, in desperate need of water. Pomni thought about giving it a quick drink from the kitchen faucet, but remembered she was trespassing and thought not. She moved into the back of the condo.

The bathroom was a little cluttered and the sink had a lot of toothpaste stains on the marble, but it was also relatively clean. She opened the mirror cabinet and found a ton of pills. Zoloft, Escitalopram, Prozac, Xanax, Lithium… yeesh, this guy tried everything. There were some she had never even heard of before. What in the hell was “hydroxizine?” Hm.

She looked down at the toilet and saw it was clogged. The water nearly reached the top of the bowl. Someone might have flushed something they shouldn’t have down there… that, or she was about to make a very bad and very gross mistake. She picked up the plunger sitting beside the toilet, your classic wooden handle and pink rubber affair, and stuck it into the water. After only two or three pushes, she lifted up the plunger, bracing herself for the worst.

Pills. Dozens of waterlogged and half dissolved pills of different shapes and colors floated out onto the surface of the water. Some were plain green circular tablets, some were capsules divided into blue and orange halves, some were bright pink like Benadryl.

Kaufmo appeared to have a full stock of pills in his medicine cabinet, and another full stock of them dumped into his toilet.

Her eye caught something else in the toilet water. Something black and charred. Burnt paper? Something was burned and flushed down the toilet along with a whole pharmacy’s worth of pills. It was impossible to tell what the document was since it was scorched black and mostly dissolved by the water. The toilet, its throat now clear, slurped the refuse down the drain with a sloppy gurgle. The tank began to refill with a long sigh of relief.

Pomni set the plunger back down and closed the lid of the toilet. A clue? Perhaps. But who could-

From outside, ZigZag whinnied.

Pomni’s heart leapt into her throat as she heard cars pull up outside. A large black pick-up and a black van, both with an official looking red, yellow and blue seal on the side. Oh God. Nononono.

She looked around for an exit. The front door was out of the question, but was there a back door? No, she hadn't seen one! Didn’t that violate some kind of fire code?!

A few people in matching blue uniforms exited the vehicles. One of them, a burly blonde woman with a strong jaw, approached Zooble while the others, two men and a bull, came up to the door. She had to find an escape route, or a hiding spot, or-

Window. There was a window! At the end of the hallway, there was a sliding window!

She pulled apart the sunbleached maroon curtains and hurriedly turned the window lock. It had rarely been used and stuck fast, so Pomni had to give it a vicious, adrenaline-charged crank to open it. It finally squealed open with a weak sprinkle of taupe paint chips all over the sill. She grinded the window along its track, feeling a puff of wintry air as she heard boots in the anteroom.

“Alright, you know the drill, guys. Heavy stuff in the van first, bed, couch, tables, tv-”

Pomni climbed and leapt out the window without looking, her purse snagging on the sill and popping open. She fell about six feet and landed on her ass with a thud in the shared backyard, her stuff strewn about everywhere around her.

“Oh, snap. Hey, Cliff. Window’s open. Someone mighta broke in.” a voice said from above her.

“Aw, shit. Someone better tell Charlene. You see anyone down there?”

Pomni scrabbled about, grabbing everything she could that had fallen out of her purse, pencils, bottles of Advil and pads, a notebook for quick sketches, her wallet… she cradled them all and hurried over to the side of the house. Luck threw her another bone, as a strong pine tree had been growing in the backyard for who knows how long. Its branches kept too much snow from falling onto the grass, so there wasn’t quite enough on the ground for her to leave bootprints. She made it around the side of the house, pressing herself against the bricks and panting hard, sending up steam in long jets. She covered her mouth.

“Nah, I don’t see anybody.” someone just out of sight said from the window.

“You think the dude just left his window open?” another voice asked.

“Nah, if he did there’d be snow on the ground in here. Someone prolly climbed in from back here.”

Pomni hurriedly stuffed her belongings back into her purse and crept around the edge of the house. She peered around the corner.

Zooble and the blonde woman were still talking. She couldn’t run out there now, they would immediately figure out what was going on. Pomni took a look at the logo on their vehicles.

TRUSTED REPOSSESSION SOLUTIONS

(TRS)

Repo men. They were just repo men… not the cops. Still, not good. The cops were just one call away, and didn’t repo men work for the government..? One of the men exited the house and said something to the blonde woman, who looked at Zooble with narrowed eyes.

“Case the whole place, make sure nothing’s missing. Thanks, Tyler.” the woman put her hands on her wide hips. “You mind opening your saddlebags?” she said to Zooble.

“Not at all,” Zooble replied.

Zooble opened their bags and took out everything. In one bag, apples and carrots in a Tupperware container and a few road flares. In the other, a bouquet of flowers still wrapped up in shiny plastic and a pretty pink satin ribbon, a few tools for leatherwork, and a bottle of huge pills, presumably for ZigZag.

“What are these for?” the repo woman said.

“I told you, I’m here to pay my respects.” Zooble said. They took the bouquet and laid it in front of Kaufmo’s mailbox.

The Bull repo man lumbered out onto the porch. Pomni only knew it was him since she saw a single long white horn from her hiding place.

“Hey, Charlene, we checked the whole place. Nothing’s missing.” he grunted.

“Nothing’s missing? Really? You checked everything?” the repo lady asked.

“Yup. Tv, desktop, loose change, drugs, it’s all still there. The only thing is… it looks like someone might have used the bathroom.”

There was a lengthy pause.

“It looks like someone might have used the bathroom.” she echoed.

“Yup.” the Bull said.

The repo woman looked off to the side for a minute. She then turned back to Zooble. “Okay. Uh, I guess you’re free to go.”

“Toldja I wasn’t up to anything.” Zooble drawled.

“Nope, I was wrong. Looks like you were just the victim of some bad timing and a crackhead that needed to pee.” the woman said. She looked as though she had never expected to say those words in that order.

“Should we check for anything that got stolen out back, boss?” the bull asked.

Noooo nonono please no…

“Uh….. nah. He didn’t have a grill or anything listed in the inventory.”

Pomni sighed deeply.

Zooble climbed up onto ZigZag. “Good luck with everything, Miss.” They gently flicked ZigZags reins and headed off down the road. The repo woman went into her truck with a clipboard and paper and went inside.

Once they got far enough down the street to see Pomni hidden beside the house, they locked eyes with her. Pomni motioned them to move along. It would still look incredibly suspicious if she suddenly ran around the side of the house and jumped onto Zooble’s horse. Zooble gave the faintest of nods and continued on.

Pomni remained pinned to the side of the house for a good 45 minutes. She couldn’t just run away, it needed to look like she was just a pedestrian… just another passerby on her way, tra la la. It needed to be perfect. She waited until the entire repo team was inside, apparently working on getting the bed frame out of the house, and then she dashed up the hill. She made it to the sidewalk unnoticed, and, just to cover her tracks some more, she walked in the opposite direction of Zooble.

The adrenaline had worn off, and she felt cold to her bones. Standing still for that long in snowy weather was NOT a good time. She sneezed into her sleeve.

“Bless you,” one of the repo men said, carrying out the mattress down the porch steps with his team.

“Thanks,” Pomni replied, sniffling and continuing on in that direction. She didn’t stop moving until she was well out of sight, turning the corner and leaning against a street sign, letting out a long, relieved sigh. She enjoyed the cold sunlight for a few moments before continuing on.

—

Pomni’s watch read 6:07 by the time she had reached the café. Where had the time gone..? She’d gotten up around 12:45, it took her around twenty minutes to get ready, the ride to town with Zooble was another twenty minutes, she ate half her brunch and left with Zooble around 2:30, another twenty minute ride to get to Kaufmo’s house, about an hour spent looking around the house and pinned down by the repo men, and her walk back to town was almost another two hours since she had to find her way through the town streets on foot. It wasn’t a big town, true, but the freezing single digit gusts and heavy snow on the ground slowed her down considerably… 7 would be soon, which was when you absolutely needed to be inside, although it was really recommended you be behind a drop barred door around 6:30, as cloudy or moonless nights make it so some extra hungry Nightwalkers were emboldened to start their hunt a little early. The sky was covered in snow clouds the entire day, so it would be a darker night faster.

Pomni coughed raggedly. Her throat felt raw, her face hurt from chilblains, her lungs felt clotted, and she was exhausted. She had found something resembling two clues, but nothing that incriminated anyone else. All she had really gotten was a nasty oncoming cold.

She arrived at the cafe doors to find them closed and the lights off. Ragatha went home to beat the sunset. It was expected, she had the good sense to not risk his own life. But man… she’d been hoping to warm up at least a bit before the long walk home.

She trudged home. The sky was turning a pleasant shade of pink. Would have been more pleasant had she not been freezing her ass off. She just wanted to lay in bed by the radiator. It had been an awful day.

Zooble was right. She was just a stupid city girl. The college was paying her to draw fucking pictures, for God’s sake. What the hell could she accomplish out here?! She was wasting everyone’s time… her parents and the townsfolk’s. And her own.

She climbed the stairs to her apartment, slowly. As she arrived at her door, she leaned against it let out a protracted sigh, followed by a nasty cough. She leaned over the railing and spat the gunk she coughed up out onto the snow.

She heard something. Was her phone ringing? She pressed an ear to the cold door. Yeah, her phone was ringing. Probably her parents. Great. She opened her purse to get her keys, content taking her time and letting it go straight to voicemail. She didn’t want to talk right now, or do much of anything right now.

Her keys weren’t in her purse.

“Huh..?”

She patted her puffer jacket’s pockets and her fleece. Empty. What the hell, what had happened to-?!

Oh god.

When she jumped out the window. Her purse opened. Her keys must have fallen out. They were miles away, buried under snow, and the sun was setting.

“Oh no… no… no God, no, NO!”

Pomni hurried to the stairs. Okay, calm down. Calm down! if she sprinted across town, she might be able to make it back to Kaufmo’s house in time to grab her keys. They were probably right under the window where she fell, blending in with the grass or an errant drift of snow. She would just run, run like her life depended on it, which it did! All she had to-

When her boot hit the second step, she slipped.

Her stomach squeezed itself into a ball and she let out a shriek, falling sideways. Her right arm slammed into the stairs, blocking any blunt force trauma to her ribs but in turn ripping open the skin under her coat. Her forehead scraped the freezing concrete and her beanie fell off as she rolled over twice, the sharp edges of the stairs narrowly missing her spine but in turn slicing her back as she rolled out onto the snow.

Pomni laid there for a moment. Slowly, she let out a long, pained, howl. Pain bloomed fiery red on her right arm, her forehead, and her back. She felt sticky hot blood weeping out of her forehead, sticking to her bangs and nearly getting in her eyes.

She tried moving her hurt arm. It wasn’t broken but it flared with pain the moment she moved it. Even with her body going numb from the snow, it hurt in the same burning hot way rope burn or road rash felt, like it would never go away and that all your nerves had been grated off and screamed together in agony. She feebly rolled onto her hands and knees, blood dripping from her head in dark beads onto the snow. She felt tears spill out of her eyes and snot run out of her nose.

There was a sound beside her. She looked. She stopped crying.

A beast laid not 20 feet away from her. It was almost completely camouflaged by the darkness save for a pair of white, foglike eyes, teardrop shaped and running the entire length of its bulky, Bull terrier-like skull. Its body was slim, almost disproportionately so to its head, with long, curved legs and hooved feet. It looked at Pomni with tranquil hunger. Upon Pomni making eye contact with it, the Nightwalker rose to its feet, padded silently over to the girl, and sank its teeth into her side.

Pomni let out a scream, shock having melted away into primal terror as the Nightwalker bit into her torso. Her multiple layers only halted the blunter of its teeth, its two front canines cutting through the fabric like garden shears and plunging into her belly. Pomni drove her fists into the Nightwalker’s head, the creature hanging on, nonplussed. It attempted a deeper bite only for Pomni kick it hard in one of its legs, causing it to stumble onto the snow and let go for a moment. Threads of white polyester clung to its bloody fangs. Pomni scrabbled backwards, her body being practically unable to process the level of pain it was currently in. If she could stand up, she would have just fallen right back down as her legs felt boneless. She was dead. She was going to die.

The creature licked its chops free of blood and fluff before padding its way towards Pomni, in no particular rush. It made no sound as it attacked, not even a growl of effort or surprise at being knocked down. It was as unfeeling as the blackest, coldest winter night. And it wasn’t done with her yet, no sir.

Something glinted in the air. The Nightwalker froze as a wet shluck sound cut through the snowy wind. It stumbled over, twitching and confused, unaware of why it suddenly had such an awful pain in its side.

A butcher’s knife was buried up to the handle in its hairless black abdomen. Pomni screamed again as an enormous beast on two legs thundered through the snow at them, eyes glowing with yellow moon malice. The Nightwalker opened its maw in feeble resistance as the beast skidded over to it, grabbing the knife and pulling it all the way down across its belly, steaming black entrails shlorping onto the snow as its skin and muscle were peeled away by hairy paws. The Nightwalker dropped its head onto the snow, its eyes dimming like a dying lightbulb. Dead.

Pomni felt her consciousness fading as well. Soon, the beast would fall onto her too, digging into the wound in her side with its paws and ripping her open like a gory birthday present. The last thing she saw before everything went black was that horrible pair of yellow eyes, looking down at her, furious, hungry…

…concerned?

—

Autumnvale had it out for Jax since he was a baby. Nothing in life was ever just given to him, he had to take it. He had to chew off the hands that abused him, and if that meant losing any chance at going to school with “normal kids,” fine by him. He only liked his parents and Zooble anyway. Everyone else thought he was a freak and a monster.

So that’s exactly what they got once he reached adulthood. Jax played into the monster persona, snapping his daggerlike teeth at anyone that came too close, enjoying his meat bloody and raw and sometimes live in front of horrified socialites, hiding in dark corners so his piercing, lupine eyes glinted at passerby and terrified them about walking the town’s streets at night. He didn’t try to act pleasant, because that got him nothing. Just frightened looks at best, slurs and insults at worst. At least being a monster made people leave him the fuck alone.

So it was no surprise, really, that someone in town decided it was time to put him away for good. Even if he hadn’t done anything wrong, the faintest whiff of trouble on his part would cause the cops to jump on him like a pouncing tiger. Cut out the benign tumor before it ruptured and becomes malignant. It was a clever little trick, using one of his knives to cut Kaufmo’s arms. Probably didn’t even need to actually kill Kaufmo, someone probably just found him in the tree and slit his arms open. Any excuse to get Big, Bad Jax off the street.

What was a surprise, however, was when the Sheriff came to his cell late that evening. Posturing little twerp that he was, the Sheriff liked to make himself look like a tough guy by wearing shades and a cowboy hat. It made Jax snort derisively every time he saw him. “Lookee me, mommy! I’m a big boy in a big hat!”

The Sheriff looked the color of sour milk, and his hands shook as he fumbled with his keyring to open the door to Jax’s cell.

“What’s the occasion? You wanna play with the bunny, copper?~” Jax purred, showing off his fangs.

The Sheriff opened the door, stepping back and quaking with either rage or fear or a concoction of both.

“Your bail’s been posted, Kingston. You’re free to go.”

Jax’s smile fell. “Someone paid half a million? On me?”

“That’s what I just said, now get outta here. We’ll return your belongings up front.” The Sheriff barked.

Jax didn’t move. The sheriff smacked his nightstick against the bars.

“Get going! I’m tired of looking at your ugly face!”

Jax thought it was a joke, a pretty predictable one too, but, against all common sense… it wasn’t. Someone anonymous had posted his bail, and he was soon up front of the police station, getting all of his belongings back and signing release papers. He didn’t have much on him when those dick-swinging big city detectives rolled up to arrest him, just a knife he was using to make beef pork chops and his keys. The cops undid his handcuffs and he was led outside.

It was around 6:15, so that crowd that had been yelling about letting him go all day had been sent away to avoid the Nightwalkers. Thank god. All those people cheering for him would have made him berserk. Even his dad wasn’t waiting for him, but he didn’t hold it against him. He was getting up there in age, and Nightwalkers could probably make quick work of him now. Maybe the cops just… didn't tell anyone he was getting out tonight. That wouldn’t surprise him. Jax took a long, deep breath, savoring the fresh, cold night air, before tucking his hands in his pockets and heading down the road out of town.

He had only one stop to make before he went home. That girl he met just before the gumshoes showed up. What was her name? She either didn’t tell him or only told him once. He remembered where she said she was staying. That teeny little apartment on the edge of town. He wanted to pay her a visit.

She intrigued him. She was one of the few people that wasn’t terrified of him right off the bat. He wanted to at least say thank you in person for sticking up for him like that. Zooble would’ve done the same, but they had been friends for two decades. The Girl only met him for a few minutes and wanted to help him. He wondered what it could have been?

Perhaps she was intrigued by him too.

It wasn’t until he got about halfway up the road by the farms, the sunlight gradually fading out from pink, that he heard a high pitched scream. He normally wouldn’t care about some idiot staying out past curfew ‘cause they thought they were invincible. But he only knew of one person who lived out in the boonies like this who might get caught by a Nightwalker.

He ran, pulling his knife out of his pocket, towards the noise.

—

Jax carried The Girl on his shoulder, moving as quickly as his legs could carry him. He knew there would be more Nightwalkers. There were always more Nightwalkers. But, he knew this town like he knew meat; exactly where to cut through.

At the end of the road, he slid down into the gully where Snapfinger Creek ran. There was nowhere for any of those things to hide down here, and if you were fast enough, which he was, it shaved off about ten minutes of time you might waste taking the main road. The water was soaking his boots, yet he kept on moving. His fur would delay the onset of chilblains long enough for him to get home and warm up. More importantly, so she could warm up.

The Girl was conscious, but barely. Her body trembled, presumably both from shock and from cold. She didn’t have any broken bones, but there were some nasty scrapes on her arm, her head and her back, and the Nightwalker took one hell of a bite out of her side. He could smell the blood. They normally went right for the head with those big-ass mouths of theirs… she got lucky for getting so unbelievably unlucky.

Soon enough, he reached the end of the creek at Snapfinger Creek Bridge, clambering up the hillside and onto the bridge. He sniffed, testing the air for the smell of blood and dark.

Nothing. Just The Girl’s wounds. She was sticky against his shirt. Normally the scent of blood made him hungry, since it meant fresh meat, ready for the cooking. Right now, it just made him scared.

He went back to running, keeping his eyes peeled at all times. Full dark had only just fallen, so The Nightwalkers probably hadn’t had the chance to group up in their little herds. Good. If The Girl had been out around ten or eleven, they all would have pulled her apart like a chicken wing.

He eventually saw the worn-out old roof of his barn, his animals would need food… But they could wait. They had some leftover food in their troughs, The Girl needed to be patched up or she would die. He hurried across his pasture, plunging his hand into his pocket and pulling out his ring of keys. Propping The Girl against his shoulder and holding her fast with his chin, he found his house key whilst moving. He felt hard-packed dirt under his boots, and knew he had found the path to his house. It had snowed a good deal, but not enough to completely hide the earth beneath it. He came up to his door, unlocking it swiftly, slipping inside and slamming the door shut, pulling down the drop bar.

He flicked on the lights. His house was only a touch warmer than the outside due to him not running the furnace for nearly two days. Warmth could wait, wounds needed sealing now.

The hospital was the better choice if he wanted The Girl to live, but it was a much longer trip, which meant more time for the Nightwalkers to come out. He was tough, yes, but he wasn’t tough enough for a herd of them. And it would just delay The Girl getting help long enough for her to bleed to death. He held The Girl under his chin again and pulled a blanket out from the trunk at the foot of his bed, one that had become weathered and a little smelly over the years. It was white with blue and black stripes, he couldn’t even remember why he had it. No love lost if The Girl bled all over it.

He flipped it open and laid it out on the floor, gently laying The Girl down on the blanket, supporting her head as he did so. Her mouth hung open and she trembled. Her chest rose and fell. Her puffer coat had a massive hole in the side with polyester wisping out of it, her hat was missing, and the white fleece she wore was soaked and scarlet.

“Okay… I’m doing this so you live.” he said to her. He undid her jacket and fleece, leaving her in just a torn open black shirt and snow pants. He gulped and gingerly lifted the shirt off of her belly, it clinging to her body before peeling itself free. She had a large set of bite marks in a sideways “U” shape along her side. Nightwalkers only really punctured with their top teeth, the bottom more used to hold prey in place so they could drink their blood. Most of the top teeth only scraped The Girl’s skin, but the canines got her good. They left deep punctures on her belly. It hadn’t gotten through her stomach lining, thank god, the sepsis that would cause would have been hellish agony for The Girl. Lines of blood and pinkish pus oozed from the punctures, and these were clearly her biggest predicament at the moment.

“Clean them and patch them. Then she’ll be okay.” Jax said to himself. He went to his bathroom and grabbed his first aid kit and a bottle of isopropyl alcohol. It was half empty and hadn’t been used in maybe a year. But it was still alcohol. He found a washcloth, a clean one, and doused it in the alcohol.

“Okay. Sorry in advance.”

He gently swabbed the cloth in the deepest punctures, scooping out blood and pus. The Girl let out a burbly cry and convulsed, Jax touching her gently on the side of the face.

“Shhhhhshshsh, I gotcha I gotcha I gotcha, I’m makin’ it better…” Jax crooned. The toothmark he cleaned out was a clean pink for a moment before it bloomed red with fresh blood. That was good, all the infection was out and now the body was working to patch itself up. He found some gauze and gently packed it into the wound, The Girl mewling in the back of her throat.

“Shhhhhh, I know, I know… I know it hurts, but I’m makin’ it better…”

He covered the packed wound with one of those big fat square bandages. Now onto the next one. He rinsed the washcloth free of blood and discharge in his bathroom sink, wrung it out, rinsed it again, wrung it and reapplied more alcohol.

“Okay, here we go… last big one.” Jax said as he came back to The Girl. He gently scooped the wound clean. This time her eyes opened and she gasped sharply.

“Hhhurting me…!” she slurred.

“I know, but I have to, I’m cleaning your bite… you’re lucky to be alive…”

Jax startled himself at how soft and delicate he made his growl of a voice sound. Did he really care all that much about this girl..?

“Where’m I…” the girl slurred, her voice frail.

“My house. Do you remember me? I’m Jax.”

It probably wasn’t a good idea to mention that he was the town butcher, as in her delirium, The Girl might think he meant that he was going to butcher her.

“Jax…?” she mumbled.

“Yeah. Jax Kingston. What about you?” he asked. Hopefully she wouldn’t remember that if she had already told him.

“Pom… Pomni… aren’t you s’posed t’be arrested.. ooooowwwww…”

She let out a moan of pain as Jax packed the other wound with gauze.

“Pomni. Sorry, that’s the last one, I promise.” he soothed, putting another big bandage over it.

Pomni coughed hideously, clutching at her stomach in pain.

“Hurts so much… cold…”

“Okay. I can fix the cold part at least. Just let me-”

“C-C-Cold… please no more…”

Alright. The biggest wounds were patched up, she was freezing. He scooped her up, leaving his medical supplies behind, and went over to his bed. He wrapped her up in his quilt, only her head being visible. He let her lay swaddled for a bit as he got a fire going in his hearth. He hadn’t gotten too much new firewood, but it burned okay. He picked her up again, unwrapping her from the blanket and putting it around both of them, making sure she was close to him. She really was freezing, any longer out there and she might have gotten hypothermia…

He sat in front of the fire, her in his lap. She laid against him, shivering. Eventually, the shivering became less severe. The warmth of the fire and his fur was finally starting to work.

She coughed again and whimpered with pain. Jax ever so slightly tightened his grip.

“I gotcha.” He rested his chin on the top of her head. “I gotcha…” He felt a peculiar warmth in his chest, not just from her gradually returning body heat. He kept wanting to tell her that he had her, that she was safe. Even if she didn’t answer back.

Tomorrow he would take her to the hospital where she could get real help. But right now.

“Shit!” You cry out as your knees buckle beneath you, your body cascading like a pile of bricks to the floor. Your knees and palms blank onto the hardwood, digging into you most uncomfortably. Tears well in your eyes as you struggle to get off the floor. You continue to curse under your breath as you glance back at your ankles where large surgical wounds lay, covered in stitches and gauze. What the fuck? When did that happen?

Your heart begins to race when you slow, calculated steps padding on the floor. You’re all too familiar with the sound of those combat boots knocking on the floor, pacing back and forth and keeping you awake at all hours of the night. Panic sears itself into your heart as you attempt to get up, pathetically crawling along the floor and reaching for your bedpost.

Jack stands in your doorway, his large form casting a shadow on your throw rug. He tsks, and you can already tell he’s more than disappointed with you. “What did I tell you about getting up?” He asks, voice smooth and clinical, once again padding towards you.

You feel tears well in your eyes as you curl as tightly into a ball as you can.

Jack breathes out with slight disappointment before crouching down and seeing your sorry form. “You knew this was going to happen,” he says, half lidded eyes watching you curiously before he reaches his large, gloved hand out. “Did you pop any of your sutures?” He tilts his head to the side and looks over your swollen, still bloodied ankles. “I think you might’ve.” He reaches to pick you up and you begin to panic, blubbering your apologies.

“I’m sorry, please, don’t touch me, don’t hurt me-” you begin to babble, your remaining strength trying their hardest to push the behemoth away. Tears well in your eyes as Jack grips your calves, sending pain holting like lightning strikes up and down your lower body, making you cry out in pain.

“You deserve it,” he murmurs, his claws pinching into your skin before he lifts you. A glance of annoyance passes over his face before he yanks your grip from the bed.

You struggle against him as you pound your fists into his broad chest, tears of frustration falling down your cheeks.

The tall demon moves without budging. He doesn’t care, you barely feel like a scratch to him.

You watch your surroundings, still fighting against him and feel your heart sink when you realize he’s taking you down the hall that he’s deemed forbidden. The energy you feel from this specific hallway makes you cry out in fear.

Jack eats it up, his own heart beating just a little faster. You won’t ever do what you pulled last night again. He juggles you into one his arms and uses his free hand to unlock the door, the slight beeps of numbers being added into a keypad making your attention shift ever so slightly.

The inside of this room is like a horror scene to you. You see an operating table, and stainless steel tables, cabinets and countertops. There’s a large trash bin filled with bloody gauze and other things, such as discarded clothes, clumps of hair, things you don’t want to think of. Is this it? Is he finally going to kill you?

Fear overtakes your system again and renders you to nothing but silent sobs as Jack pulls off a turquoise colored sheet from the operating table, placing you down.

You try to get off, wiggling and clawing at him. “Let me go!” You cry out like a broken record of a mantra, your eyes wild and feral.

Jack simply shrugs you off, tying large leather brown straps over your waist and your chest, rendering you immobile. “The more you struggle, the more it’s going to hurt you,” he hums, his clawed hands moving across your chest to your wrists. He quickly ties you down there as well, your legs numbly kicking at him through the pain due to severed Achilles tendons. He flicks the wound on your left leg, grinning at your pain. “Won’t be needing these anymore,” he chuckles.

“What?” You say in shock, pupils restricting to the size of pim points.

He takes a seat on his wheeled stool and begins setting you up with an IV drip. “Gonna sedate you, and when you wake up?” He warmly smiles, pricking the vein on your right arm with the needle, making you weakly thrash once more. “Get some sleep,” he murmurs, pumping some sedatives into your bloodstream.

You feel more tears welling in your eyes as your conscience begins to wean. The world becomes more shapes and colors, merging into brightness and shadows before you finally slip into your dreams.

You haven’t been able to trick Jack like this in the history of well, ever. Almost three years with this nightmare and you’ve finally gained enough of his trust to ask him for some time out.

“Don’t stay in there for too long,” he says, large hand gripping your thigh as you swallow down the feeling of hitting him from where you remain seated in the passenger seat. “I want you back safely,” he murmurs, his other hand gently letting go of the wheel to cup your face.

You do your best to show love and admiration in your eyes as you meet his gaze. “Don’t worry. It’s just an hour or so, okay?” You hum, your hand gently holding his and burying your face deeper into his warmth.

“I don’t know why you need anyone else’s company,” he says, a slight acrid venom seeping into his tone. “You don’t need anyone else but me.” It’s almost cute how offended he sounds.

You play the part of loving him. “I know, I know,” you coo, taking his hand from your face and pressing your lips into a pucker. You raise his hand to them, planting a kiss on his palm. “I love you. I won’t be that long.”

Jack’s heart flutters. “I’ll be here, waiting for you.” He says, watching you as you unbuckle yourself, his hand reluctantly leaving your thigh.

You flash him a warm smile and lean over to press a kiss to his cheek, and then his lips. You try not to spit at the scent of blood and taste of rot before pulling away. You then open up his car, sliding from the passenger seat and to the rinky dink little bar you’d managed to convince him to let you go to. Just an hour - that’s all it was. Just an hour. You’d be in and out, get some drinks, and come straight back to his car.

Due to Jack’s appearance, he had told you he couldn’t go in. They’d know something was wrong with him immediately, and you’d gained enough of his trust for you to be away for just an hour. Come straight back to the car when it reaches 10 PM. You promised him. And he fucking believed you.

It wasn’t that hard finding some idiot down on his luck with the ladies. You cozied up next to him, getting to sit with him at the bar and start talking. He was so attentive and sweet, so receptive to the story you had made up to him.

“That sounds awful,” he says, voice low and sweet. His deep blue eyes look at you with nothing but gentleness and fondness. His hand reaches for yours across the bar and you smile, allowing him to take it.

“I just wanna get away from that brute,” you admit. “I just wanna go home.”

He squeezes you just a little tighter. “Why don’t we go back to my car and call the cops?” He offers.

“Where did you park?” You ask, hoping it’s not in the front lot where Jack remains waiting for you.

“In the back.”

What a relief.

A slight smile blooms on your face as you nod. “Yeah, let’s go,” you finally answer. You hop off the barstool and then grip his hand, letting him lead you through the bar and the sea of people. It smells like sweat, alcohol, and regret - you love it. It smells like the beginning of freedom, something better. Maybe, just maybe…

He opens the backdoor to you, allowing you out first. The crisp night air of autumn greets you with her beauty. You can smell maple leaves and pumpkins out in the distance, the atmosphere is incredible. “That one’s mine,” he says, pointing to his car a little ways down in the parking lot under one of the yellow lights. He continues holding your hand as the two of you walk through the parking lot.

You watch as he unlocks the car door, walking around the side to let you in. You accompany him and slide into the passenger seat. Putting this seat belt on feels almost liberating. You giggle when the short man closes the door before walking around the front of his car.

And then he pauses.

Fear seeps into his eyes and leans forward, his abdomen cutting into the hood of the hunk of metal that can barely be called a car before sweat beads and rolls down his forehead. He begins to cough, violently.

Your eyes widen in shock as he begins to cough up blood, and tears well in his eyes. They roll down his cheeks, fat and crystalline like the beads of sweat. He reaches out to you, mouthing for you to run before finally slumping forwards.

You see him, the behemoth that’s held you captive for three years, a sapphire colored mask boring into your soul and searing into your mind with what you can understand is pure, unadulterated rage. You scramble, panicking as you notice the large blade that’s wedged itself into the man’s back as he seizes on the car, his thick body rolling off from the hood and landing with a large ‘thump!’ as he does so. Foam and the smell of something unpleasant wafts upwards and you palm the handle of the car, attempting to release yourself.

Jack takes slow, calculated steps forwards, his shadow growing larger as he gears up to catch you and claim you as his.

Your heart pounds like a drum in your chest, the panic overtaking your system as you finally get the car open. You shoot out of the metal cage like a bat from hell and stumble onto the asphalt, hissing as the black tar digs into your knees and palms. No time for registering your pain, you need to run! Like a freshly born faun, you hobble up and begin to run, wondering if you can make it back to the bar and the safety of other people when Jack’s steps grow quicker.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! He’s going to catch you and he’s going to kill you!

“You’re such a stupid little rabbit,” he hums, watching as you sorely sprint towards the door. “Look what you’ve done,” he taunts, hand gesturing to the man. “You made me kill him and I’m not even hungry,” he hums. “Maybe I should make you eat it instead,” he muses.

The thought alone makes your stomach retch. You stumble once more, body feeling violently ill as you cave. The alcohol paired with his words has you emptying your stomach of its contents that splash to the asphalt, the sickly acrid and saccharine taste overtaking your mouth.

Jack’s giant form finally overtakes you. He stands with his hands behind his back, peering down at you with disdain. “Fucking disgusting,” he coos in a tone that reminds you of a condescending father. He grips the back of your neck and forces you down.

You screech and fight him, not wanting to touch what came out of you.

“No? No,” he grins. “Fine. Let’s go see your date.” His claws dig into your neck as he drags you back to the man’s car where he’s finally gone still. He’s left a puddle of blood. Jack laughs quietly at your struggling before forcing you to your knees. “Are you hungry?”

“No-”

“I think you mean yes.”

The taste of blood still lingers in your mouth, and it remains even in your slumber.

Of course, you passed out due to your traumatic experience, and threw up again as well. Jack took advantage of your fragile state and brought you back to your home, the place you belonged - with him. He cut your Achilles tendons, just a warm up, really.

“Time to wake up.” Jack’s voice permeates your head, rousing you from your slumber. His gloved hands are snapping in front of you.

It’s bright, much too bright. Your body feels simultaneously heavier and lighter. Where are you? You see that you’re now looking into an operating light, and it’s super uncomfortable. “What did you do to me?” You ask drowsily.

Jack ignores your question and instead picks you up. His footsteps begin to lull you into sleep.

Exhausted, you fall back in again, and this time? This time, it’s dreamless.

It’s that fucking cream colored ceiling again that you open your eyes to. The water damage is still the same, and you realize you’re still stuck. You’re about to get up when you hear your door opening.

“Nice to see you up,” Jack says, watching as you slowly come to. “Did you dream about anything?”

You narrow your eyes recoiling as he reaches his hand out to pet you.

Jack glares at you for a moment, his hand straightening before he slaps you. “Don’t get testy, I’ll take your arms next,” he murmurs.

You’re about to bite back when you take in his words. What? Your heart begins to sink, deeper and deeper as your hand shakily reaches to the edge of your bed sheets. No. No. NO. You hold your breath as you rip the sheets off. Your flesh is swollen, puffy and looks like it’s crying out in its own form of pain. Large, manila colored casts and bandages surround your thighs and what remains of your knees.

You begin to hyperventilate. Your chest begins to rise and fall faster and faster - your body feels like a prison.

---

“A what night?”

“A movie night.”

Paz turned to look at his brother and crossed his arms.

“What the hell is a movie night.”

“I don’t know. Something that the local villagers do. They sit around and watch holovids together.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Your little girlfriend will be there.”

Paz punched Din in the shoulder and scowled under his helmet.

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“No? Then why do we both know who we’re talking about without uttering her name.”

“Shut up.”

Din crossed his arms and looked up at the blue Mandalorian who was now pacing.

“Fine. I’ll just let her know you aren’t interested.”

“What? Why would you tell her that? Then she will think I don’t want to spend time with her or something.”

“Why would that matter.”

“Dank farrik. I’ll go. When is it?”

“Two days from now.”

---

Your friend made you late. Like so late you weren’t even sure it was worth going anymore. When you both walked into the room you just barely saw that there were two open spots open. The one you noticed first was Din. You gave him a smile and a wave then scowled when you saw your friend basically sprint to sit next to him.

“Last spot is over there.”

You flipped your friend off with a fake smile and turned.

One seat left.

One seat left and who is it next to?

Of course, it was Paz.

You walk over and plop next to him. You weren’t sure why you were even nervous in the first place. Paz had been spending so much time with you he basically lived with you.

“Hey.”

You looked up at him and gave him a nervous smile.

“Hey, Paz. Kind of surprised you even came.”

“Yeah. Din pushed it. Sorry you uh.. didn’t get to sit by him.”

“Oh. No. It was just the first seat I noticed. It’s not like I mind sitting by you.”

He looked at you for a few moments before looking back up at the makeshift screen. The town was poor but having movie nights was always a highlight. Since the tribe had moved in, the village had tried to integrate them as much as possible.

“Do you know what this movie is?”

“No idea.”

“This wasn’t your plan?”

“Huh? No. Sylva set it up. I just found out about it today.”

“Today.”

“Yes?”

Paz hummed once and shot a glance over at Din. He whipped his head back around when you groaned at the title on the screen.

“What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

“No it’s just.. I don’t really like this movie.”

“Oh. What’s wrong with it? Violence? Blood? War?”

“No. Worse. SO much worse.”

The title popped up and you could practically hear the gears turning in Paz’s head.

“Love Across Star Systems?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a.. romance movie?”

“Yep. And it’s the worst.”

Paz cleared his throat and shift a little, keeping his hands planted on his thighs.

“You uh.. you don’t like romance?”

“Uh. I don’t know. I mean.. this movie is just corny. Not much realistic between two people running across a beach holding hands at sunset.”

“You don’t imagine yourself holding hands at sunset? I thought women loved that shit.”

“On a beach? I friggen hate sand, Paz. Plus, if you sit down then you get wet. No. No thank you.”

“I don’t know, cyar’ika. There has to be someone you’d like doing that romantic shit with.”

You looked up at him and burst out laughing. The idea of him running down the beach in his clunky armor was probably hands down the funniest thing you had ever thought of. You covered your face and tried to bite back your laughter. He stared down at you and when he tilted his head to the side you laughed even harder.

“I think you need to go to medical.”

“No! No. I’m okay. I’m sorry I just.. never mind. Let’s just watch the movie okay?”

He nodded once and you sat back, letting the movie start. As the movie played you found yourself laughing at it more than anything. Paz would look down at you but say nothing.

---

Unbeknownst to you, your best friend and Din were rather upset that the romance movie wasn’t working. The plan was for the two of you to get closer, not you laughing so hard you couldn’t breathe. Din hit a few things on his vambrace and suddenly the movie stopped. Most of the people groaned but he saw that you sighed in relief.

“Why did you stop it?”

“She’s laughing too hard to realize she’s sitting in the dark next to him. And he’s too much of a di’kut to just put his arm around her.”

“What then?”

“Act like the movie isn’t working and we put on something else. Does she like scary things?”

“No. She usually ends up hiding under a blanket.”

“Perfect. She doesn’t have a blanket. But she does have a Paz.”

---

Once they got the new movie started you started to shrink back into the couch. Paz looked down at you and tilted his head again.

“Don’t like scary?”

“Uh. I mean. I like it but.. I just.. I get-“

You were cut off by your own yelp that you tried to cover up. You turned involuntarily with your hands covering your face into Paz’s side. He looked down at you and hesitated before wrapping his arm around you.

“It’s not.. you’re really scared by this?”

“Yes! Oh, I hate jump scares.”

You felt your face heat up when you realized that you were now nestled into Paz. Part of you wanted to move away but truth be told he was warm. It sharply contrasted his bekar armor that always seemed to be cold. You had wondered what it would be like to curl up against him and now it was happening.

“Is this.. uh.. is this okay, cyar’ika? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or..”

“No. This is okay. As long as it’s okay for you?”

“It’s okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

You grimaced at yourself and heard Din clear his throat across the room which suspiciously sounded like a laugh. You spent time with this man, yet you acted like an awkward teenager. You stayed nestled up to him and could feel him relaxing the longer you did. Other than burying your face into his side a few times, you were just comfortable.

His hand was gently resting on your waist. He was stiff at first but when he started gently rubbing his thumb across the small part of skin that was peeking out from under your shirt, you couldn’t help but smile. You tentatively moved your hand so it was resting on top of his thigh and you could have sworn he sighed at the contact.

Eventually you started to get sleepy. You knew you should excuse yourself and go back home but you didn’t want to leave Paz. Sure, you could ask him to come back with you, but the fear of rejection was just too much to handle. Plus, it was your friends building everyone was in, you’d be safe either way.

The next thing you knew, you were waking up. You picked your head up and saw that you were basically laying on top of a sleeping Paz. You froze, looking down at the couch. You both had fallen asleep and at some point, he had moved both of you to stretch out, you laying directly on top of him.

“You snore in your sleep.”

You let you some type of noise of embarrassment and buried your face downwards into his bekar. He rumbled out a laugh and pat your back.

“Don’t worry. It didn’t keep me up.”

“I didn’t even realize I fell asleep. I am so so-“

“Don’t. Nothing to be sorry for.”

You fell into an uncomfortable silent until you both started talking at the same time.

“Paz, I-“

“Listen, I-“

You started laughing and shook your head.

“Go ahead, cyar’ika.”

“Uhm, I guess I’ll just be blunt. I really like you. I mean.. stars why am I so awkward. I really value our friendship, but I do feel more for you than that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. If you don’t feel the same it-“

“I do.”

“You do?”

“Yep. Pretty sure Din and your friend set this entire thing up. He brought it up days ago and said he would tell you I wasn’t coming if I didn’t agree.”

“Oh, that bastard.”

Paz roared out a laugh and you couldn’t help but smile with him.

“That’s uh, why I was laughing when you said I must have someone in mind to do corny shit like that with. I imagined you trying to run down a beach with all that armor on.”

“Hey. I’ll have you know I am surprisingly agile.”

You looked up at him just in time for both of you to burst out laughing again.

“Alright, then I’ll need to see that some time.”

“Sounds like a date. Yeah?”