The night came and went like any other, Luciel getting a kick out of putting the fedora on one of the skulls and leaving it on the back shelf as a decoration. There were a few more in the box, though he wasn't completely certain what to do with them. In all likelihood, they'd just stay in the box and collect dust.
On the topic of things left untouched, he threw a napkin over the coffee pot in the break room to keep any prospecting bugs out, shuddering at the thought of having any of the muck. 

His night was spend performing the usual rituals after arriving home. A few beetles he collected on his walk were tossed into his spider's terrarium. He never felt the need to name it, mostly to be cheekily reflective...and it wasn't like the thing could even understand the concept of a name.
From feeding the tarantula to picking out all of the piercings as well as washing off the spots that the makeup left, Luciel glared between the mirror at his table in the kitchen and counting the money from the day. It was easily enough for the next month or maybe two if he resisted the urge to go out shopping. However, he let it leave a bad taste in his mouth with the thought of what it took and what souls were sold at the meeting he attended in John's stead.

Right, the meeting!
With a groan, Luciel slumped forward on the table into the pile of notes. There was no way of even beginning to know what John would do if he found out it wasn't Kaite at the meeting. How would he even explain it?
[b]"Oh, hey John...Huh? Oh, yeah, I was there...well, let me tell you about a story"[/b] the jackope mused into the silence of the room before sighing with a slight growl. [b]"Heeey John, vould you like to hear about zeis-"[/b] he began again and abruptly cut out, throwing his arms across the table and casting everything to the floor.

Ears folding back, he stalked over to his chair and plopped down, staring at the wall of faded newspaper clippings. 
Drawing an axe and driving the spiked pommel into the side of the mangled furniture. 

[b]"I'm [i]not[/i] sorry, John..."[/b]

~~~

[Hider=Dream Sequence: 'Whispers of Fish'][color=aba000]Zehr iz no reason to protect me. You are only lettink him know he is vinnink.[/color]
[b]If...If I can protect anyone-[/b]
[color=aba000]Look around you. Vee are [i]all[/i] already doomed. You ver never able to protect me.[/color]
[b]I can and I am![/b]
[color=aba000]He is [i]usink[/i] you! How can you not see eit?[/color]
[b]Because I can do vahtever I please![/b]
[color=aba000]Do [i]not[/i] start vith zeht...and zeht collar says ohzervise. [/color]
[b]Vaht? zehy say zeht mimicry iz a form ouf flattery~[/b]
[color=aba000]...Try not to look so energetic. Zehy like zeht sort ouf thing.[/color]
[b]Wait, did you hear something?[/b]
[color=aba000]Zeht vould be zee bell.[/color]
[b]Wh...what does that mean?[/b]
[color=aba000]...Zeht zeh day iz beginnink.[/color][/hider]

~~~

[b]"Nnuhn...n-not the bell..."[/b] [color=bc8dbf]Luciel groaned, stirring in his sleep before the next chime of his doorbell forced him to bolt awake in a cold sweat. 

Before the stain of an existence that called itself a clock could speak, I conscribed to the notion of buying a new one as I put a round in it from Sandcastle which was kept under my pillow. Friend or no, being woken up had to be the worst part of existence...nightmares being the second and torture in a close third. Regardless, I was in the middle of throwing a pair of pants on over my tasteful black...[i]undergarments[/i]...when the bell came again.[/color][b]"Yeh! I heard you the first...time!"[/b][color=bc8dbf] I barked in response, unsure how long my dreams had been manipulated by the contraption. Making a mental note to find a back-alley contractor to rewire my doorbell to instead call my phone on vibrate, or better yet, just pry it out of the wall, I approached the door. A shirt of anything else had factored into the mess since piercings were a bitch and a half to sleep in; moving around inside you, they were disgusting agony to live with as it was.

Through the peep-hole, I must have been making a mistake by seeing that fox from the other day waiting around with their schnauzer bodyguard. With a groan, I looked down at myself, no question in my mind that she had come to see 'the one, the [i]only[/i]' which I ceremoniously mouthed while raising my arms to behold the visage to the rest of my audience. A second of that 'amber' deodorant stuff that doesn't smell like any kind of amber, I was certain, as well as a shirt and I was just about half way presentable.
Another ring of the doorbell after having told them that I hear was a bit rude for my taste, but I was not entirely one to judge.
I worked it out of my system by throwing a few punches on my way back to the door, taking a deep breath and opening the door.[/color]

~~~

[hider=Discoordinated Thoughts][color=bc8dbf]Everything hurt. What happened? It was all a blur, a maelstrom of noise and dancing lights that felt like an eternity...and then it was over. My head swam with a dull ache from the chemicals that only made the soreness barely noticeable over the tingling numbness that otherwise pervaded my senses.[/color]
[color=a0410d]"Oi kid. Git up with ya bones, ah? Y'got a loin goin on, n' oi'm eh-close t'runnin twofers"[/color]
[b]"Y...uhng...Y-"[/b]
[color=a0410d]"It's a glass wall, 'an [i]no[/i] I don't owe you shit! Now git th'fok up...n'smoile"[/color]

[color=bc8dbf]...Just like how I don't owe my chair the dignity of not being sat on or a coffee-maker the privilege of remaining in one piece. I will use them as I see fit, because they are just things.
[b][i]My[/i][/b] things. They should feel grateful to even have a use.[/color]

[color=gray]A woman in a chair. What was her name? The waiter leans in to take her order, but she does not speak. No, she cannot speak. Tape over her mouth had made certain to snuff out the sounds she made as the waiter clipped her fingers off as if his barbarism towards a woman I did not know could force me to say anything by appealing to some strange empathy.
Service here is terrible...the breadsticks are undercooked and bland.[/color][/hider]

Luciel groaned as his eyes fluttered open, the ringing in his ears gradually subsiding as he came back to his senses only to find a rat standing over him. With the spiked back of an axe into their shoulder, they got the message and scampered off before being able to make off with the jackalope's gear. Other shadows in the alleyway helped the rat off as they clutched their fresh wound. "Take a pulse, will ya!?" Luciel barked after them before grunting and letting himself slide off of the abandoned street-trader stand and onto the curb.
On the other side of the street, the wreck of his overturned ride leaked coolant, gas and blood from the mangled bodies inside. All in all, [i]not[/i] wearing his seatbelt had been the factor leading to his survival, though he felt like roadkill.

After taking a few moments to collect himself and check for broken bones, he reached up his shirt to draw his emergency flip phone and turn it on. A few bruised ribs, a likely dislocated shoulder being popped back into place and a sprained ankle spelled that he would live. Not with much, but it was something.
The device took a few minutes to boot up before he pressed 1 on speed-dial, having no other contacts. In this time, he leaned his head back against the stand and whispered something along the lines of [b]"Gawd, what time is it, even?"[/b]

[b]"Operator..."[/b] Luciel sighed after a long silence, lowering his eyes to the ground as the voice sounded annoyed if not upset. [b]"Yes, I know. I just-"[/b] he began to continue before a loud pop came from the car which had sparked a flame. [b]"...Yeah...I missed the bus, you might say. Bring a spatula, if you can"[/b] they tried to joke before giving a pained grunt and pulling himself to the side of the stand for partial cover while still getting a view down the nearby alleyway as he gave the voice his location.

[b]"Huh? Oh, no...I don't think there'll be a second date"
"No, don't ask"
"It's not like that. There was just a...misunderstanding"
"Because why the hell would she know? Can you do your job?"
"Stop"
[i]"Stop..."[/i]

"Shut [i]up[/i]! I don't owe you anything! I told you, it's not like that! I didn't kill her!"

"Will you just send someone, for fuck sake!? I [i]will[/i] drag myself over there just to carve the tongue from your skull!"[/b] Luciel barked before hanging up and having an inelegant screaming fit before deteriorating into pained grunts and furious growls as tears wet the fluff of his cheeks. Shadows of the rats loomed in the darkness of the alleyway, watching the one who had just lashed out against their comrade. In response, the jackalope narrowed his eyes and wiped a bit of blood from his nose as he drew Sandcastle and cocked it with his knee while clutching his ribs with a free arm. "How ya folks doin', today?" he chirped with an almost friendly and inviting tone in spite of how badly he wanted them to go away, "I wouldn't suppose any of you came here. They looked to each other and a faint whisper echoed from the gutter.
"I told you it was him" one of them hissed, giving a small shove as another in the back muttered, "I hear he murdered that Derrick guy."
Exchanging mutters in regards to what had been seen almost two days ago, the sound of the group fading off as they stepped back around the corner.

After a few minutes of watching the wreck roast, Luciel began to wondering what police were doing that was more important than a contained car fire. While he knew they probably had everything under the sun to occupy themselves with since the scum of the city never slept and weren't above robbing the recently dead. Thoughts growing dark, he almost jumped when his phone went off. He sighed after seeing the number of the return call as he thought he was done with the ram.

[b]"Ah?...A woman? Couldn't you call Der- oh...right"
"So, what? I should just walk home?"
"Oh, don't judge me. They all deserved it!"[/b]

Luciel touched his face, realizing he was frowning at the phone after the voice made a comment about frowning ruining his qualities with wrinkles, making him bear his fangs at the thought of the asshole thinking they knew him...and being right. [b]"Well, what did she say, exactly?"[/b] He asked with a groan.

[b]"Sorry, I don't know any arrogant bitches. Are you sure you have my file?"
"Ha ha, hilarious. Well, unpin the notecard, take off your tacky shades and read me the number you called"

"...Shit..."
[/b]