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[indent]All. Fucking. Night.

That’s how long Camilla’d been awake. She’d [i]just[/i] laid down when a chime sounded from her phone. The woman grumbled and palmed around on her bedside table until she found the device. The screen, a bright fluorescent, burned her tired eyes and deep blue eyes squinted as she focused on the small words of a text message.

[indent][b]Pick me up.[/b][/indent] 
Maybe if he was drunk enough he’d kill them on the way. It would be a blessing, Cam thought as she threw off the sheets she’d just recently warmed. The skin on her arms pebbled as the colder air hit them once more and the hunter pulled off her tank top before searching for the bra she’d just discarded. Her arms bent almost unnaturally and her sternum cracked, causing her to grimace. Camilla quickly dressed in a clean, white T-shirt and skinny jeans, rezipping the black boots before reapplying her black leather jacket. 

21 Ashmore Avenue. Cam’s brows furrowed as she tried to place the address. She’d been in this town long enough to figure out the general areas, but this one didn’t sound familiar. Of course, she hadn’t spent much time touring. Fighting, hunting, shooting, sneaking… she could have used a plethora of verbs to describe her time here. But amongst those words she could choose, ‘pleasant’ wouldn’t be included. Neither would it describe her working experience with Jack, but that couldn’t be helped.

For the longest time she’d preferred to hunt alone. Technically, she supposed she still did, but it was too dangerous. But he was experienced, or at least seemed to be, and that was enough. No one would take the place of Peter and she was more than keen to make sure Jack knew that, but it wouldn’t matter. They had jobs to do and none of that mentioned in-fighting. Hunters had enough to worry about without arguing who wanted what. She trusted him just enough to watch her back, and that would be enough. 

Camilla rolled her shoulders, running a hand through long, dark hair. Thin strands had begun to fall around her features, highlighting high cheekbones and a heart-shaped face. She blew a puff of air up, hoping to move it away completely, while tilting her head towards the window. Listening to the tell-tale sounds of an arriving muscle car was more difficult than usual, thanks to the red brick that encased the apartment building.  

Her eyes moved towards her bed, wondering if she would possess enough awareness to close her eyes and not fall asleep; it was unlikely, Camilla decided, and it would perhaps be better to loiter outside. She took a few short steps, gathering her phone and keys, before locking the door and quickly descending the stairs to the lobby. Pale, lithe fingers pushed the door to the outside open and her boots clicked softly on the pavement as she walked onto the sidewalk. 

She pushed her hands into one of the jacket pockets, feeling the rectangular shape of a lighter there. It was a comfort, though it was nothing like the rush of nicotine that often accompanied it. Cam pulled it out, flicking the top off and quickly moving to summon a flame. The woman’s eyes watched as it waved back and forth before she heard the familiar rumble of a Mustang.

She closed the lighter and shoved it away, hiding it deep within the recesses of clothing before she moved towards the car.  Attractive enough to intrigue her and with just enough issues to detract her, Jack seemed like the perfect partner. He was a little older than her, though not older enough to give her pause, and he seemed to know his shit. Cam opened the door and slid into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind her. [b][color=powderblue]”What exactly does ‘a live one’ entail and when is someone [i]not[/i] in hysterics?”[/color][/b] she muttered, rubbing her eyes after closing the door.

What was it this time? Poltergeist, vampire, werewolf… demon. Nothing seemed to be preferable to the other, and it had become difficult to prepare for their calls. [b][color=powderblue]”I’ve been up all night. Better be good,”[/color][/b] she continued, sliding down into the seat. [b][color=powderblue]"Don’t tell me all you got was that her son was gone. Tell me that I don’t need to wear my fuckin’ pantsuit. Better yet, tell me this is bullshit and I can go back to sleep.”[/color][/b]

Cam took a deep breath, her eyes moving towards the empty bottle of liquor nearby, before refocusing in front of her. She didn't have any business getting into Jack's; she wasn't his mother or even his family, and if he wanted to drink his life away, so be it. As long as he could perform on the job, she didn't care. [b][color=powderblue]"This better not be an angry, frustrated teen trying to teach his mom a lesson, Dolson, or I swear to God you'll have another woman in hysterics on your hands."[/color][/b]
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