impost / er?

An embarrassed murmur spilled out of the Malkavian, who fidgeted with his nails as Carolina cleaned him up. Dinner was regularly a mucky affair. Sometimes he startled midway through an encounter. Sometimes he just wanted the excuse to be doted on.

He made a sour face when Ruben's name came up. That dog was rotten on the insides and plastered up on the outsides. Stick a finger in the cracks, watch him ooze out like a year-old peach. Finch smiled and waved and said aye, sir when they passed each other, but seeing the creature made him want to crawl inside his own skin. And not in that enticing way of Carolina's. "Mess or naw, 'e'll find a wae t'pull me leg. Kenna what ye bruther means with 'is artsy talk."

"Did you 'see' anything?"

The same as last night, and the night before, and tomorrow night too. Stag in the headlights! You can't smile without teeth, and the loving meat tastes sweeter. She always did have a sweet tooth.

He breathed in long and hard, the way he always did when he wasn't sure of something. " ...Naethin new, nae. But some lass came askin' if yer goin' tae some gala week's end? What's all tha'aboot?" A spark of concern crossed his gaze, brows furrowed. He hadn't heard anything about an event before tonight. Finch mentioned nothing of the fact their visitor had been bold enough to ask which pet might be attending as her plus one, were Carolina to come. He made a note to interrogate her latest 'specimens' after this.

 Just as Coyote was about to investigate the drawers and cupboards for half-decent silver or stoneware, a voice spoke out in the darkness. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ they froze. They could hide, they could make him forget, God forbid they pull their Glock out an- ‘Wait a second…Did…this foo just ask whether I prefer coffee or tea?’ 

 In their silent panic, they turned their eyes to him. Just as they had guessed, it was the weedy dude they’d seen around the block. Shit. He was as polite as he seemed. They awkwardly cleared their throat, “I mean. Tea, I guess but you don’t, uh, need to bother if you’re offering.” Standing upright, they finally turned to face him. ‘This is why you don’t look into the sheep you’re about to slaughter, huh? Fuck.’ 

 Well, if things went south they had several solutions at their disposal. “Sorry. I thought you’d be asleep by now. Aren’t you afraid of cat burglars?” They couldn’t help but grin, “Dig your accent. Scottish, yeah?” 

A silent puff of air from between Cicero’s painted lips, a disguised sigh, as she glanced back at her brother. Oftentimes, she didn’t care how her brother looked at humans, she likely had a similar indifferent and even harsh glare but she didn’t like said glare being directed towards somebody she’d taken such a liking to. He was almost indiscriminate with that look in his eye as he was with the people he was willing to cut down. If it weren’t for fear of making the situation all the more awkward, she would’ve loudly instructed Akephalos to either direct his hateful gaze elsewhere or simply get up and leave if he couldn’t behave himself.

“A playground by a cemetery. Sounds about right for this one.” Akephalos chuckled. He was still wondering if he was going to keep the poor boy in the hot seat all evening long, not because his aim was to weed out any bad apples attempting to date his sister but rather out of spite. Maybe to a degree to signal to Finch that this family was beyond dysfunctional just in case he wanted to see himself out before the pot really started boiling over. He sat in silence for a minute, looking past Finch before piping back up, “Is the pay decent?”

Again, Cicero resisted another loud huff with each comment and question her brother pelted Finch with. It was clear to her that he was being deliberate and God, did she want to lash out for it. She had no qualms about shouting at him in front of the Kozlowskis or even her own clients whenever they were around but she was determined to stay on her best behavior.

She felt Finch’s hand slide onto her knee and relaxed just the slightest bit, gently pressing against him. She bit down on the tip of her tongue, doing her best not to apologize again. Instead, she gave a giggle, it’d been a long time since somebody talked about her like that. She’d spare the eyes and ears of her siblings and save the (excessive) mushiness later, “I’d left a concert early because I got bored. For once, I’m glad I missed the headliner.”

Fausta’s brows furrowed a bit at Finch’s wave, not really caring whether or not he was significant to the family. Still, she didn’t want to be scolded for being rude to somebody she wasn’t specifically instructed to be rude to. She continued to kick her little legs for a second before chirping, “Same hair!”, pointing to her own head of pale hair.

So for the time being Finch focused on Akephalos, not the man’s varied and gruesome conquests. He’d been an actor for most of his childhood; what was one more dinner? One hand remained in his lap, the other on Cicero’s knee, barely a conscious decision. “Aye, in the playgroound ooutside the cemahtary of all places. A beautiful lass told me hoow stupid she thought bein’ buried in the groound was, an’ I realised I wouldnae mind listenin’ t’er talk aboout everythin’ and anythin’ in the world.”

‘Y’VERMIN! AH TRUSTED YUH -- !’ Finch instinctively tried to back even further into the corner again, half convinced she’d be the exception to the rule and pluck his heart right out of his chest. But as Sara reached out one phantasmal hand, a menacing curve of steel tore through the back of her neck, yanking the woman down by the very top of her spine - or so it seemed. He didn’t get much time for inspection, as two further hooks pierced and dragged her away. Down, down, into a world no mortal would ever wish to behold, the flicker of otherworldly flames reflected in his panicked eyes. ‘What's the matter, dahlin'? Saw a ghost?’ He was only vaguely aware of the words which had spilled forth from the demon’s lips. Despite having an average amount of self-preservation, Finch did not stand immediately to heed Yǎwén’s previous order. Slowly, his gaze landed on her form and for the second time, she did not appear even remotely human. Silhouetted by fire and courted by smoke, Red wore the stains of Sara’s blood like the only robe to ever truly fit her.

‘To Syntherea.

Thank ye for the scarf, I’ve been meaning to get one for ages ‘cause of the weather we’ve had lately but now I dinnae have to! Ci told me ye were a fan of the same. No ken what they call this sweater-blanket thing but apparently they’re very warm. Wannae sure what colour to get ye, so I just got both green and purple. Seamstress of the house winnae mind taking it in if it no fit ye quite right, I’m sure.

A large part of him argued that it would likely cost an eternity.

“An’ow did he even mahnage that?” Finch asked at normal volume, and tilted his head to the side with a tad of repulsion. He waved off the corresponding spirit’s response. It had been quite rhetorical --- he didn’t really want to know. 

Finch wasn’t looking quite at Cicero’s brother. His gaze was set slightly to the man’s right, the lawyer doing his best not to let an expression of utter horror show on the outside. Akephalos... had a very active audience. “Finch had never seen so many spirits hanging around one person --- besides himself, of course. Cici had a few who took their turns, her awful ex included, but this? This was something altogether new and disturbing. Some had limbs twisted in ways limbs should never twist, and there were others on whom limbs were absent entirely. Few of them bore the same state. But all bloody, and from their visages Finch could imagine only painful ends. Violent ends committed by another’s hands.

Harper ---

“At least let me hear what the mahn’s sayin’!” He attempted through gritted teeth to tell the various new spectres, eyes flitting from them, to Akephalos, to Cicero. Fuck, he was screwing this up so badly. He was supposed to be making a good impression in front of her family. He got the impression he might have already failed little Fausta’s test. Finch smiled rather apologetically at the brother, then turned again to the only demon in this house he trusted.

The girl was eerie. The man that followed her into the room was genuinely scary. Not in the sense that he looked monstrous, or even sounded it. But there was something about his easy confidence and smart grin that made Finch’s entire body want to shiver. He’d met many lawyers and consultants with similar smiles, none of whom were good people. After Cicero’s advice he was even less inclined to feel warmly about Akephalos. Or Ruben, as he’d introduced himself.