Lennox Knight

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Lennox had never been the type to ask for help. And she certainly hadn’t asked when she was shoved out of the way. Her hip collided with the bar which sent a shout from her mouth at the sudden burst of pain. Emmett might not have meant to hurt her- but it pissed her off even more if that was possible. First, he called her a bitch, and now here he was thinking he could attack her mark. The man she’d been meant to kill was knocked to the side and she wasted no time kicking her way in between them.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing? I can handle myself!” The commotion was enough to set off a few of the other patrons- some of whom had gathered around- other’s who had apparently already wanted to fight. And before she knew what was happening, there was a hand around her ankle and she was being pulled down. One second, she was standing, and the next she was clutching at Emmett’s shirt and kicking at the man’s hand. Exclaiming curses in the most un-ladylike fashion she could possibly have. When he finally let go, she stumbled off to the side, huffing. 

“FINE. Have at him big boy.”

Emmett hardly knew she was there, the whiskey numbing the force she’d no doubt had to use in order to get between them, her shout reduced to noise that barely registered as anything different than the Johnny Cash crackling over the speakers.  All he wanted was to fight, to get rid of all the frustration he couldn’t shake, to feel like somebody was paying for it so he didn’t have to–and when somebody pulled the girl away he was oblivious to how she caught hold of his shirt.  All he heard was Johnny, “HOW DO YOU DO–NOW YOU’RE GONNA DIE,” and well, that seemed like an invitation.

He didn’t feel anything, despite the man being considerably more sober than Emmett was and a little faster to react–he only felt adrenaline and the satisfaction of his fists meeting anything solid, and even though some of the punches didn’t land quite how he expected and he suddenly had blood dripping into his eye from some cut he hadn’t felt, it wasn’t enough to slow him down.  Ricocheting off the crowd that had gathered, they stumbled their way to the door, and even though the hand Emmett had tangled in the man’s jacket had started doing more to hold the man upright than keep him in place, when the man tripped through the doorway and onto the sidewalk, Emmett would have been right behind him if one of the regulars hadn’t held him back.  “Leave it,” Dave yelled in his ear, “leave it–he’s had enough,” and pressed a beer into Em’s hands instead.

Panting, Emmett hesitated in the doorway, almost surging forward again when the man struggled to his feet–but Dave gripped his shoulder, urging “Come on” and steering him back toward the bar.  By the time they got there, Emmett had shifted his gaze to Lenny instead, not quite remembering how it’d all started, but pretty sure he’d been mad at her at some point and not quite sure if he was ready to give that up.

She’d come here for a scope. She hadn’t come to be caught in the middle of a bar fight because she couldn’t help but take one look at that fuckin jock and throwing her tongue lashings where they shouldn’t go. Of course, it wasn’t entirely her fault- the mark touched her and mister Jock Man decided he was going to be Captain-save-a-ho. She half expected to be drug out of the bar herself, but when no one moved to grab her and haul her out as well, she assumed she was safe. As his fire gaze caught hers, her brow popped up at the shiver that ran down her spine. Poke the bear? Poke the bear.

Her snide laugh clenches in his abdomen, sharpness tearing at the insides. He had not expected any form of surrender so soon; the woman was not known for giving in or cowering. Even so, the cussed out words riles him; anger seething and spreading. Ismael lands two more blows to her face, the hard edge of the gun reddening the cheek. No cuts yet, only the dark outlines of a bruise. “Who knew you had such a hard-on for me.” 

A vileness crawls over and stretches his mouth into a grin. Tongue runs over the teeth, draws back with a slick sound. “Yeah, no, I figured you’d know how to take a punch,” he shrugs, “those were more for me.” “Sorry,” Ismael smiles, then advances. He gets in close, enough to feel the warmth of her contusion. “Would’ve liked to spend some time makin’ it hurt, though, to learn what kinda sounds you make.” He breathes hot on her cheek, purrs low. Gun presses to the softness below her jaw, forces her to tilt up. “Too bad I ain’t got the time, huh.”

“Darling,” she quipped, breathless from the last hit across her face, “I’ve tortured myself with methods you could only dream of. Unless you’ve got a whole lot of money, I’m not saying a fucking thing. Since I’ve got to spell it out for you. Beat me all you want but until you give me something solid, you’re going to be exhausted and I’m going to be bloody and we’ll still be in the same situation.” She’d tap her foot impatiently if her ankles weren’t secured.

There were few people that were gifted the sentiment of Zephyr Jackon’s trust. The small handful of those that might have deemed themselves cunning enough to first pique his interest didn’t expand so far out of the Kovali circle bar a certain few. It stood as the very reason he could entrust the workings of the reapers investment to those who watched over when both of those that hailed the office above had other business to deal with. Business, that left Zephyr climbing the stairs from the cellar towards the overlooking office, wiping blood from fingertips against the hem of his crisp white shirt as he went. Drawn aside just as he’d sought to close the door behind him, the whispers from a trusted bouncer of a woman, offering something far beyond the usual promise of a good night sought to curl sickening amusement into the corner of his mouth. “Bring her here.” He nodded, stepping further into the room to pull open the closet door on the far side in search of another shirt. 

He didn’t expect it to take long, those that worked for them knew that their time wasn’t something to be wasted and before long, he heard the sharp rap of knuckles against his door and the slow shift of the hinge as it swung open. The bloodied shirt came to rest on his desk as he drew the other over his head, pulling rough fingers through his golden locks before azure hues came to rest on the woman who’s name he already knew and matched to her features. “Lennox Knight,” he chided, gesturing for her to come in further, make herself at home. “Can’t imagine what you might be doin’ here. You might be the first person willin’ to look me in the face ‘fore you put a bullet in my head.” The note of humor in his tone was unmistakable; he knew that wasn’t why she was here, but nonetheless, it hinted far more to what he knew about her than most. “Then again, people like us don’t get to where we are by being so fuckin’ obvious about it, do we?”

It took a moment- she assumed he’d been busy- but when she was led up the stairs by the same bouncer she’d cornered, she couldn’t help but press a hand to her stomach in a feeble attempt to still the butterflies manifesting there. She imagined this was how fangirls felt when they were able to score a meet and greet with their favorite artist. Flustered. Luckily for her, she had coping skills she’d developed over a long period of time that would stop any nerves from showing through the carefully crafted facade. The Zephyr Jackson. A dream come true, really. When she was ushered over the threshold of the office, she took a moment to admire the specimen as he changed. She’d never been bashful, and who was she to pretend he wasn’t drop dead gorgeous? Sera was a lucky woman. “I believe I was too busy looking at your body, but I see your point and counter that if I was ever offered your contract, I’d burn it in a fire alongside the person who offered it up.” She wasn’t keen on acting like she didn’t nearly worship the very ground on which he walked. And it was an extension of trust.

She shifted to find a chair and settled into it, crossing her feet at the ankles as she’d been taught by her mother. One more glance over him and a smile, she opened the purse in her lap and pulled out a half folded manila envelope. “You’re right. We strategize, we plan, and we make sure we’re completely insured before we do anything. I have a problem, and from what I hear... you have the same one- or at least, they are very similar. I believe we can help each other. I would owe you a great debt for even asking this, of course.” She extended the envelope toward him, eyes trained on his. “I know that it’s better to have friends, Zephyr.”

“We’re friends?” Despite considering Lennox as one, she was never sure whether she could consider herself a friend to anyone. She held too much back, didn’t reveal anything important. Even that set them apart, for Lennox had seen far more than Azra had wanted anyone to, had peeked at a moment of real despair and done far more than just spectate. “We’re friends.” She nods, as though she’s confirming it, when really she should be warning. 

“That means you can’t withhold information like that, else how am I supposed to assist you?” That was truly the heart of it, whether they were friends or not Azra would want to offer whatever she could. It may not have been a debt, and there was no way to return Lennox’s kindness anyway, but it didn’t mean she wouldn’t try. “Can I help you get out of it?” Tragic. “My adventures rarely make for a good story, but I can certainly try to think once we deal with yours. Only one dashing knight around here.”

It was nice to think that they had some ounce of normalcy in their very entangled and dark lives. Acting as if they were two girls chatting over drinks about their days rather than two very strong willed survivors constantly looking over their shoulders for any threat that might come their way. She was prepared for the fight against them being friends, but when Azra yielded, Lennox smiled and nodded softly. Friends. They were a luxury in the underworld- but Lenny knew the power of having friends over enemies. “I’m not withholding anything, but the same goes for you, missy.”

Having had his brother at the home for so many years, all the nurses at the facility, at least the ones that had been there long term, knew of Jasper. Trailing after the tour group while so many nurses sent a quick double-take his way, no doubt wondering why he was eager to join a tour, as he moved about was not a situation that would have lowered any suspicions. Despite that, he couldn’t seem to draw away. An itch in the back of his mind had formed- he needed to know who the hell he recognized. Who had recognized him.

Jasper had stopped just before the group left the general area to gather in one of the showcase rooms, set on waiting for them to leave before following once more, and found himself almost tensing as the woman pulled away too. Part of him was relieved while another part rang warning bells of what that meant. Pushing any anxious thought away, Jasper marched down the hall toward her as inconspicuously as he could. Seeing her close up barely helped to jog his memory. She had a pretty face- but so did countless other women that he had made eye contact with in the past. He cast a quick glance up and down the length of the hall. The tour had all gone into the room, far enough in that they wouldn’t be able to hear anything, and the only other people around were visitors of other patients.

“You,” he said finally, breathlessly and a bit unsure of what he was doing, “who… where do I know you from?”

Crowds were a necessary means to an end for Lenny. They were an excellent buffer when she needed to make a quick getaway. They perfect for blending into when she didn’t want to be noticed. Though, one could hardly call five people a crowd, but they were all chattering so loudly in an attempt to rise above the others that it sounded like twelve people at least. Throwing questions around that could have easily been answered if they’d only taken a moment to look at the questions and answer’s page on the website. Idiots.

Her draw worked, and she danced them through the small maze until they found a quiet alcove at the end of the next hall. A place where residents could read by the window if they wished- or so she assumed, and she settled onto the maroon cushion with all the grace of a person who’d been raised on etiquette classes and charm.

At his initial question, she raised a brow once more and studied him. “Zhang,” she murmured, unclasping her purse to lift a mirror out of it- to see behind in case he was too busy paying mind to her than his surroundings. “I’m just jumping to a conclusion here, pretty boy. My name is Lennox,” she extended a manicured hand, “and it seems that we have some more things in common than our...extracurricular activities. Who was that boy you were with? In the game room?”

He took a deep breath and cherished the relative calm that had happened at that moment.  The event for Halloween was meant to be a time for fun amidst all the seemingly endless chaos of everything else.  The raids had gone to plan and put a dent in both factions businesses, Irena was in jail, lots had turned out throughout the city to take part of the festivities and celebrations.  But Mick knew better than to call it good or ease up on the pressure.  Kovali was still around, alive and running things, that would always mean trouble.   He had a job to do and the people of Chicago needed him to keep doing it.  As much as he wanted to focus on the next step, he needed to be present here too.  He’d already made his speech and could hear the music in the background and knew he couldn’t be away for too long.  The Mayor was in big demand after all.  he looked down at the silver ornate mask he held in his hands and smiled before he slipped in on over his face.  Perhaps a few more minutes to himself, he thought as he made his way through the hall down below, following the music.

The assassin had been casing all evening. Scoping to see hwo she might recognize. For entertainment or for her own mental notes. There was certainly a contract or two lingering in this room and how fun would it be to play mythical killer and leave a body behind. As her hazel gaze scanned the crowd once more a flash of silver caught her eye. Just before the mask covered his face she grinned. The Mayor. He was a prize she’d been chasing for ages and she could practically feel his pulse beneath her fingertips as she watched him hide and try to blend in with all the others. The vodka in her glass was swallowed down, an imprint of burgundy left behind on the rim before she glided across the dance floor and slipped up behind him. “Hello, Mick,” she arched upward, a hand falling to rest on his shoulder, “care for a dance?”

          Vinny saw surprisingly well out of his full faced, somewhat obnoxious mask. After a few minutes of self soothing words from his inner dialogue, he was able to convince himself that this was for his own well being— that, on this particular night, he wouldn’t have to worry about wearing his emotions on his face. It was tragic, the drop he’d taken, from being able to lie his way through a conversation to carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders compromising his own social life. No more was the prospect a use in that department, which made the idea of playing setlist after setlist on the yacht plenty more appealing. No awkward encounters with those he barely knew, looking for information only having been given half of the details he actually needed.

          A shrug rolled off his shoulders at the painfully obvious answer he was just about asking for. “The yacht could sink and we might not have enough lifeboats.” He added the extra grave detail. As if the night could become a bad sequel to the Titanic. The corners of his lips pulled up slightly. “Won’t have to deal with it much longer,” he raised his drink to her, and toward the end of the Chicago Philharmonic’s performance. But he hadn’t thought it was all that boring. If anything, it’d provided him a sense of tranquility. “Yeah…” He’d be a horrible liar if he tried to say he sought to be the most recognizable in the room. Vinny wanted to be elsewhere, if anywhere at all. “Gotta entertain— DJ.”

Halloween had never been a real draw for the woman. As a young girl her mother had practically drilled into her that dressing up and pretending to be someone she was not would be like begging to stitch a mask onto her face in the future. Funny how that panned out. She pretended every day to be someone else. Someone with a little more sanity, a little more grandeur. Someone who didn’t care for the sight of gun while one was tucked neatly against her thigh. With the dress she wore, however, it was near impossible to conceal anything- hence the corset and it’s lovely little ability to hold things right between-- well. She reached into her cleavage to lift out a small soft cloth. “Hold still for a moment, there’s a smudge on the-” she reached to polish one of the smaller gems on his mask near his jaw.

          Vinny was consumed by the Chicago Philharmonic; it made him forget about the swaying yacht and the peering eyes. He’d already overheard the voices of what had to be inconspicuous Kovali, whom which he couldn’t recognize due to both their unfamiliarity and masqued faces. Their distrust and overall critique of the prospect even being allowed on the Charon was made crystal clear. For a while he’d be unknown, his flamboyantly colored mask erasing his identity from the crowd, until he had to take the stage in place of the Chicago Philharmonic and create a melodic atmosphere that would keep everyone’s eyes off him. Last minute weren’t the words he’d use to describe his attention toward the party, because before he’d been abruptly asked to cover for the DJ whom had bailed on the event, Vinny had hardly let the matter crowd his mind.

         His fate changed in a split second. It was enough to flare his anxiety and paranoia to extreme levels. He had to treat it like a job— like his normal, unremarkable job. Although there was bound to be unwanted company present. Purgatory was a safe space, filled to the brim with Kovali associates and various untouched citizens of Chicago. It was his job to find a home in a new and uncomfortable environment. He took little solace in the fact that it might not be so hard; he’d been uncomfortable ever since he pulled that trigger at the Taste of Chicago. There was so much unease that he hadn’t noticed the new figure beside him, their consciousness seemingly elsewhere for the time being. Vinny, drink in hand, a horrible way to start the night, turned his head to the side in greeting. “What’s the worst that could happen?” He chatted, nervously before the glass reached his lips.

The prospect of attending a party after so many events had gone haywire over the past few months was not exactly Lennox’s idea of a good time. Quite frankly, the only reason she’d attended was because she knew she’d find a certain capo there, she couldn’t refuse an invitation. Thorn in her side or not, she still had to get close enough to Ismael to learn his routine better. She’d masked herself to blend in but it was with great unease and uncertainty. Masks were stifling, and obscured her vision just enough to irritate her. But, rules were rules, and when she had to she followed them. So far, it’d been uneventful to say the least but that was expected when one walked into the Phillharmonic playing. All the violins did was remind her of a time she’d much rather forget.

With her second drink in hand, she’d stopped to pretend like she cared about the sounds penetrating the room, and as the disco ball beside her spoke, she turned her attention to them. “Hm?” Her fist initial response- she felt like she was ready to doze off standing up. “The worst? I don’t know. The boat could sink,” she shrugged, before realizing that she might not be in the company would appreciate that kind of joke, “which is what I’d prefer if I have to hear another waltz.” An attempted soft laugh followed to buffer the harshness of the words before she sipped her tonic. “That’s an interesting mask you’ve got. Quite a lot louder than everyone else’s. Bold choice.”

There was something about seeing Lenny curled up in the passenger seat, like she was at home there, just as comfortable in Afet as his family had been, that made Alp think he could get used to it.  Other girls had ridden in her, of course, back when he’d driven her in high school and college, but just riding in a car was different than having an appreciation for it.  Lenny was relaxed without being destructive; reverent without being overly cautious.  And then there was just the plain fact that she looked so good sitting there.  So he couldn’t help grinning at her when she threatened to steal both him and Afet, or teasing, “That might be okay.”

But then she moaned, and although he knew it was a response to the food, and knew he’d made the right choice bringing it to her and was glad about that, he couldn’t help the way the sound sent a shiver through him.  Couldn’t help wondering–

“Yeah, no problem,” he said instead.  “They said they’re open all night if you want more.“  And he wanted more–more than just sitting next to her, more than holding her hand.  He knew it was dangerous, that it couldn’t last, that of all the girls in Chicago Lennox Knight was the last one he should be here with.  But they were here…and for right now, at least, it felt right.  And when Lenny touched his face, maybe he should have pulled away–but instead he leaned into it, eyes soft as he gazed at her, her words bringing a smile to his lips.

And when she kissed him, he didn’t pull away from that, either.  Before, he would have imagined Lennox as a rough kisser, someone who didn’t care about affection as anything but a means to an end–but this was gentle, and slow, and so soft his chest ached with how badly he wanted it.  So when she pulled back he was reluctant to open his eyes again, reluctant to risk the moment being over.  But when he did, he definitely didn’t expect to see her blushing.  “…Don’t be sorry.”

It was one thing to imagine how something would feel- an entirely other to experience it and have it be so much better than imagination. And as she pulled away from him she realized she’d been thinking about it for some much longer than she initially thought. It was planets aligning in perfect sync and all that cheesy romance novel garbage she’d ingested over the years that she’d had nothing to do but read. Like heaven come to Earth- and she was too wound up in the feel of it to realize she had rested her forehead against his and kept her gaze locked on his eyes. That her hands hadn’t fallen away from his face. That touching him felt so right she didn’t want to stop.

But then her stomach growled in protest at her imagined knight in shining armor routine. With a light laugh she settled back against the seat and grabbed a burger. She didn’t know what to say. What did someone say after that? It was a kiss- just a kiss- and she could keep telling herself that but her heart wasn’t listening. The bastard never did. Always got her in trouble. It longed for something that she didn’t have the energy or the time to invest in. That would likely be their downfall. Because he was perfect and she was so damn jaded.

Carefully, she unwrapped the food and took a deep inhale, “I’m not going to pretend that I was raised with any kind of manners right now. Hope I don’t horrify you too much but holy shit, I am so hungry.” Hungry for more than just food- but she had to hold onto some kind of dignity. Right? Mmm. That back seat was looking like a better place to sit-

Stop it Lennox. She dug in, revelling in the burst of the tomato against her tongue without looking at him- because looking at him meant she wouldn’t stop. He was just too...much. Too warm. Too Kind. Too good. Craving that goodness meant she would have to shift her own internal morals and they’d been buried for so long she wasn’t sure they even worked anymore. She was broken. But man if it didn’t feel like being around him would turn her world upside down. She was glad they hadn’t tossed onion onto the burgers. She hadn’t thought to pack a toothbrush and she was definitely going to kiss him again. Even if it meant she was risking her own sanity and his.

There were several things he would have been surprised to hear. The words that left her mouth were not amongst them in the slightest. She was certainly easy on the eyes, but also dangerous. Maybe that was his kind of woman. He wasn’t even sure right now. After being in prison for three years, any woman looked appealing to him. Nevertheless, here he was being followed by one and she had simply told him that he was pretty and that she was bored. While it seemed like a good idea for him to just lean into that, he rose his brows in faux surprise. He was a good looking guy after all. Emir was never surprised when someone told him so. Did he believe that was the only reason she was following him? Absolutely not. Dangerous women like her didn’t just follow someone around because they were pretty. There had to be some reason to it. And, the more she spoke, the more he was definitely realizing what that was. She sure was showing her cards rather easily. Not that he minded. It made it easier to know what to do in the situation.

A short chuckle left his mouth as he looked down at her, hand rested at her hip. “Very drunk is a bit of an exaggeration. I would say slightly tipsy. But, by all means, keep complimenting me. Lets me know you’re interested,” he stated with a wink as he looked away from her. “Or you could keep following me. I don’t plan on standing on the sidewalk. We could find a more private area to go to if you’re so bored though.” He did have some free time on his hands so he was certainly going to fill it with something. Whether that included an assassin or not was an entirely different thing to think about.

Lennox had stopped using her filter after being walked all over far too much in highschool and college. She wasn’t lying- Emir was downright beautiful. Yet, she’d originally come to play at his tension with his brother- and offer a solution that only she could provide. After all, she didn’t think the half-cocked hitman in the Kovali’s employment would ever double cross the family he’d integrated himself so well into. But as he leaned in closer she couldn’t help that little twisting feeling in the pit of her stomach. Undeniable attraction. She’d never pretend that she wouldn’t give it up if he offered- and would you look at that. He offered.

With a sigh, she dropped her hand from her hip and stepped closer, pressing a palm to his chest. “Private, hm? Ashamed you’d be willing to bed an enemy?” Her tongue flicked across her lips before they turned upward into a wolfish grin. “I won’t tell if you won’t. And I could make it extra worth your while. If you’re interested, of course. If not, just tell me and I’ll slip away into the night and you’ll never hear from me again.” Then again, she couldn’t say she wouldn’t be the least bit disappointed if he turned her down. His shoulders alone were something to marvel at- she couldn’t imagine what the rest of him might look like.

Emmett hadn’t even been talking to her anymore, the name meant as a private assessment that’d been accidentally said out loud instead of kept in his own thoughts–maybe he was drunk–but the way she responded made him even more sure he was right.  Who the hell did she think she was, coming in and yelling at him like she owned the place?  “I said you’re a bitch,” he snapped, turning toward her and narrowing his eyes.  “What’re you gonna do about it?”

But although her answer was barbed with poison, Emmett was more focused on movement over her shoulder as a man came up behind her with too plain a leer to be anyone she already knew.  And although some remainder of country decency told him not to hit a woman–it didn’t say anything about not fighting a man.

And so all he needed to see was Lennox’s reaction, that the touch was unwanted, before jumping to his feet, pushing past the hand telling him to wait to throw a fist toward the man’s face.

Lennox had never been the type to ask for help. And she certainly hadn’t asked when she was shoved out of the way. Her hip collided with the bar which sent a shout from her mouth at the sudden burst of pain. Emmett might not have meant to hurt her- but it pissed her off even more if that was possible. First, he called her a bitch, and now here he was thinking he could attack her mark. The man she’d been meant to kill was knocked to the side and she wasted no time kicking her way in between them.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing? I can handle myself!” The commotion was enough to set off a few of the other patrons- some of whom had gathered around- other’s who had apparently already wanted to fight. And before she knew what was happening, there was a hand around her ankle and she was being pulled down. One second, she was standing, and the next she was clutching at Emmett’s shirt and kicking at the man’s hand. Exclaiming curses in the most un-ladylike fashion she could possibly have. When he finally let go, she stumbled off to the side, huffing. 

He wasn’t sure what he was doing on the train. Maybe it was the fact that he used to ride the damn thing around Chicago religiously – taking himself from one place to the next, routes memorized as well as the times. There had been a point in time where he’d had every street in Chicago memorized like the back of his hand. Yet the years had come and gone, and his priorities had shifted as well, and all he had left was the memory of that person he used to be, as well as wonder what happened to him. 

A voice was what pulled him out of his thoughts, and he didn’t have to turn his head to recognize who it was. “Lennox,” he said slowly, though a hint of a smile tugged at his features. Glancing up at the woman, he motioned to the seat beside him. “I think we’re going to be here for a while,” he mused, while her words had him chuckling quietly. “I do have a life outside of that damn club,” he joked, glancing over at her now. The train was filled with quiet mumblings, and Remington was good at blocking them out. “I used to sleep on the train. Ride it for hours so I could get some kind of uninterrupted sleep. I was a kid with no home, and this place was the safest. Then I’d just…wander the streets at night.”

It’d been a very long time since she’d heard her name said softly- like the person who spoke it actually cared about her in some fashion. She’d always valued Remington, even though he was on the opposite side of the war. It was a pity she wasn’t able to help with his books any more- just meant she didn’t see him quite as often. And her concern for his well being came from a genuine place. She settled onto the seat beside, resting her hands in her lap before she had the urge to envelope him in a hug. Maybe he needed one. “Nah I refuse to believe that you exist outside of the club. Impossible. It’s like spotting a teacher outside of school,” she caught herself- realizing that perhaps he might not have had that luxury.

Who: @rxmington

The break of the moon through the clouds offered something prettier to look at than the rolling fog over the river. Catching the late line had been a spur of the moment decision- she’d wanted to get out town for a couple days. That had been first mistake. Seeking escape from the droll of the issues that she’d caused herself, but she hadn’t been able to face her problems. And face the fact that it was entirely her own life choices that had ruined something good. The train car was quiet for the most part. A man muttering a few seats up had drawn her attention but it was the familiar face only one row up to her left that shifted her from her seat.