[color=#BC6101]“Oh, thank [i]fuck[/i].”[/color] Stride’s head lolled back, and she let out a large breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. [color=#BC6101]“Thanks for not bein’ an asshole ‘bout this, Fried. Some people out there get all hung up over their bond n’ fallin’ in love n’ all that shit, then get all pissy when it all ain’t like some cheesy romance flick. It’s fucked up.”[/color] She took a shot.

It wasn’t uncommon for cases like that to roll into the station. Men and women alike, appalled that their “soulmate” didn’t have stars in their eyes as soon as they laid eyes upon their partner, or wanted to take things at a different pace, or had different opinions on children and marriage and lifestyles. Occasionally, this shock would turn to frustration, then anger, then violence. 

It was never an easy situation to deal with. 

Stride washed down the last of her chips with her drink, and was about to ask about the whole France deal Fritz mentioned when she stilled. Her eyes had glued to the screen in the same way Fritz’s had, her hair puffed up around her face like a frightened cat. 

[color=#BC6101]“Shit.”[/color] Stride said. [color=#BC6101]“[i]Shit[/i].”[/color] 

She wasn’t alone in her distress- apparently, it seemed as if both she and Fritz lived in the exact same apartment building. How they had never met before, Stride wasn’t sure, and she honestly found that particular coincidence to be somewhat unnerving, but that didn’t matter now. [color=#BC6101]"Looks like we got one thing in common,”[/color] she said. With hasty movements, she reached into her pockets, smacked a handful of crumpled bills onto the counter, then practically flew out of the bar and into the night.

The rain was still falling in icy sheets, and Stride could quickly feel her temperature falling just a few minutes into the trek, but she pushed on- sprinting like death itself was at her heels. By the time that she reached the complex, Stride almost fell flat on her face in an attempt to slow down. 

Of course, upon seeing the state the apartment was in- and of the figures scattered around the base- she could hardly regret being a speed freak. She glanced at the building for a moment, let out a hiss under her breath, then rushed over to Fritz and Julie. 

To be entirely honest, Stride wasn’t too familiar with the woman. She knew that loud, 80s music often blasted from her apartment, and passed by her in the hall from time to time, but that was all. Regardless of that, Stride didn’t think before kneeling down beside her, pushing her phone at Fritz, and rolling down her sleeves. 

[color=#BC6101]“Call the hospital.”[/color] She paused, then, as an afterthought, added, [color=#BC6101]“Look, I’m gonna do somethin’ kinda fuckin’ weird right now, so if you’re the squeamish type, just...look away, I guess.”[/color]

It was the right side. Stride doubted that Callias would be winning any awards for “best dad” anytime soon, but if there was one thing he was good at, it was teaching. Years after she had left his care, she found herself swiftly drawing a butterfly knife from her pocket, holding bared wrist above Julie’s mouth, and, teeth gritted, slitting open the vein. Some of the blood splattered onto the woman's lips, but, for the most part, the flow hit its target. Stride held her arm in place until the skin had knit itself back together, then tilted Julie’s head up just a bit more, trying to prompt her into swallowing. 

Gorgon blood was capable of giving life, and taking it away just as easily. While Stride’s could never be as capable as a full-blooded’s, it still held a sort of watered down power in its own right. It could heal the wounded, and that was enough. 

[@Erklings25][@GoodLuckTuck]