#wtchblde

she has four shots lined up—two tequila and two vodka. she carefully carries one of each shot to eve, gently placing them down on her vanity. she neglects to tell her that it’s two different liquors. 

she reemerged from the kitchen with two drinks in hand. “okay, no, now you have to give me all the details.” she handed one of the drinks over to eve—the pink, fruiter one. she dropped onto the couch beside her with a whiskey.

"i—don’t know?” 

putting down her third drink, stevie wandered over to the window with a bit of an unsteady gait and yanked the rickety frame upwards. a rush of cold air blew into eve’s apartment and she stuck her head outside. 

"well, it’s not just us. the entire street’s out,” she said, then frowned. in the dark, she could see a tall, not-quite-human shaped thing with glowing red eyes standing in the middle of the street, staring right up at her. 

"most people would think that should make me more sorry." sorry for her likely, sorry she's hurting, but that also walks dangerously close to pity. and tim knows very few things for certain, but he fucking knows how much worse everything feels when you know that it comes attached with pity.

he shoves off her hand and takes a few steps away, not enough to leave but enough to put space between them while he breathes. "no i don't." he does, he's barely standing, but the sense of an order was enough to make him bristle against her words. besides, it's fucking humiliating to let anyone see this. there's no blood on his skin, no wounds for her to try and patch up.

it's all just in his fucking head. there had been a car back fire followed by yelling outside, someone pissed about whatever the fuck just happened to the car. and tim had leapt out of his seat, pacing and near hyperventilating. on alert for a fight that isn't going to come and unable to make himself accept that there's no danger.

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Kei had thought the sarcasm in his choice of words was obvious (who were your zesty friends?), but he's been around humans long enough to know they're simple creatures. Although, he doesn't know if this one is human. She'd been holding her own before he intervened—and judging from how intact she looks now, she hadn't needed help anyway. So now he's not only ruined his shirt; he's embarrassed.

"Heard that building fire in Brooklyn was 'cause of you and my buddy."

He's drinking a Coke — just a Coke, no whiskey — at the bar and staring at the bartender's back.