[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/WLTRsyo.png[/img][/center] [color=CadetBlue] [center][color=black][sup][/sup][/color][/center] [center][color=IndianRed][b]Location:[/b][/color] The Streets of Halcyon • [color=IndianRed][b]Time:[/b][/color] Late Night[/center] [center][color=IndianRed][b]Interactions:[/b][/color] Sable [@Sadie][/center] [center][color=black][sup][/sup][/color][/center] [/color] [color=silver] The city blurred around him. Neon and rain smeared together on the windshield while the Coupe purred down the back roads like a bolt of black lightning. Locke kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting loose at his thigh, thumb tapping slow against his rings as he replayed Noah’s grin behind his eyes. His mind couldn’t stop drifting to Angel…to the mess waiting for him tomorrow. Old ghosts and all of that bullshit. He forced his mind back to the here and now and accelerated even more. The faster he drove, the more of his focus was needed and the less opportunity his mind had to wander. When the vibration hit his phone, the buzz pulled him out of his self-inflicted haze. He flicked his eyes down, one hand drifting off the wheel just long enough to unlock the screen with a lazy drag of his thumb. Two message from Sable were there waiting for him. The first message was simple. It must’ve come through when he was on his way to meet with Noah, and he hadn’t realized that he missed the notification. It was a handful of words that didn’t pretend to be more than they were. [i]You busy tonight?[/i] Sable never wasted time on pleasantries. She just asked for what she wanted, and Locke was a fan of her methods. No games…no attachments…just pleasure. He thought about it for a second, the idea of pulling her hips over his lap and letting the memory of the night fade away for a while. That was exactly the kind of thing he needed tonight. The second message caught him a little off guard. Just numbers…her coordinates. She didn’t wait for him to answer the first before she sent the second, which told him enough. [color=cadetblue]“Mm… desperate little thing tonight, aren’t ya?”[/color] he murmured, thumb tapping the screen. He wondered if the [i]itch[/i] he often helped her scratch had her climbing up the walls for him. Maybe she just wanted him to knock the sharp edges of a bad night loose. He could do that…and he was damn good at it. The coordinates lit up on his dash, pulling him down a barely-lit stretch of crumbling warehouse blocks. The street was mostly a puddle as he slowed the car just enough to catch the alley where her signal ended. He switched the headlights off with a flick of his wrist and the Coupe sighed into idle with a nice purr. He saw her right away, and his mood changed instantaneously. Sable was right there, crumpled at the far end of the alley, half her hair stuck to her cheek, some kind of bag at her side like she’d dropped it mid-run. One knee was bent under her, and her face was hidden from him. Seeing her like that when he’d never even caught a glimpse of vulnerability in her before… It was heavy, but he didn’t hesitate. He had to help her. Locke stepped out of the car into the misted dark, the rain brushing his collar and seeping into the seams of his shirt. He rushed towards her carefully…and when he reached her he crouched low, his hand moving as he braced near her shoulder. He didn’t shake her, instead he just let his fingers brush a strand of hair back from her temple, his breath warm as he leaned in. A rush of wings broke the hush of rain as Mercy dropped from her perch…feathers cutting the cold air in one clean line, before settling on his shoulder as he checked on Sable. Her talons found purchase in the fabric at his collar, the faint drag of claws sharp but careful. She tilted her head once, eyes black and slick as oil under the streetlamp. He could feel the question in her silence, the way she adjusted her wings like she was waiting for him to give her an update. He did not, but he did speak to the poor girl on the pavement. [color=cadetblue]“Sable…”[/color] He said, hoping to wake her. His voice was soft. It always was, when he wanted it to be. She didn’t move, save for a soft catch of breath that told him enough. She was alive. He glanced around, quick. No shadows in the dark, no wrong footfalls in the puddles nearby. Then he gathered her in one smooth pull, careful but firm. She wasn’t heavy, not to him. She folded against him like she’d done more than a few times before, though not quite like this. Her cheek pressed into his chest, just enough to catch his warmth. Locke murmured something low and Irish under his breath…old words that didn’t matter now, just something that he had picked up from his father years ago. He carried her back to the Coupe, the rain slick on his hands as he opened the passenger door and eased her in with care. One last look up and down the street. One last brush of his thumb over her jaw as he leaned in close enough for her to feel his breath when he spoke again. [color=cadetblue]“Don’t worry, love. I’ll handle it from here.”[/color] He settled behind the wheel a moment later, the Coupe alive again under his hands, purring soft as he pulled away from the alley and back into the night. Locke drove quiet through Halcyon’s veins, the streetlights spilling gold across her skin as they cut through the belly of the city. He barely looked at the skyline, didn’t bother to check the mirrors more than once. He just focused on getting home. Eventually, the building rose up out of the concrete, glass, and dark stone. He pulled the Coupe into the underground, let the engine tick down into a hush while the low lights of the garage flickered overhead. Locke didn’t move to open the door yet. Just sat there for a moment, eyes flicking to the pulse in her neck. Slow, but still there. Good enough for now. He felt Mercy’s weight shift on the headrest behind him, her claws drumming soft against leather. He turned his head just enough to catch her oil-slick eyes in the rearview. [color=cadetblue]“Go on, love,”[/color] he murmured, voice just loud enough to carry inside the cab. [color=cadetblue]“Upstairs. You know the window.”[/color] He fished the word out of memory…the thing he’d tucked away for nights like this, the on that was waiting in the false bottom of his liquor cabinet, just another bottle if you didn’t know better. Old glamour in a vial, mixed with something he’d bartered for in Blood Market Row. Something like Narcan, but for drugs with more of a supernatural flair. [color=cadetblue]“Bring me the purple vial in my stash.”[/color] Mercy blinked once, a quick sharp click of her beak, then she was gone. Wings brushed the roof as she slipped out into the night again, a shadow climbing the side of the building with purpose. He looked back at Sable, her breath misting the passenger window. [color=cadetblue]“Hang in there, sweetheart. I’ll give you a little bit of my luck tonight.”[/color] Then he waited, breathing steady while the sound of rain outside kept time for him. Sable didn’t stir, didn’t even twitch when the Coupe gave a soft groan as it settled deeper into idle. Two minutes later, the soft thud on the hood told him Mercy was back before he even saw her. She dropped down from the roof like a whisper of dark wings, landed on the warm metal just outside his line of sight, then hopped up onto the side mirror to flash those knowing eyes. A small glass vial, black as old ink, dangled from her claws. Locke opened the door just enough to reach for it, his fingers brushing cold glass as he gave Mercy a small nod and let her slip back up to her perch on the headrest inside. She preened once, ruffling out the rain. Locke turned back to Sable, twisting the cap off with a careful flick of his thumb. The vial hissed when opened, not like a carbonated drink...more like it was alive [color=cadetblue]“Easy now,”[/color] he murmured as he cupped her chin gently, thumb brushing the smear of grime from her cheek, tilting her head back just enough to get her lips parted. A few drops of the dark liquid slipped past her teeth, touched her tongue, and the vial glowed faint in his hand like a soft ember. He watched her throat, waited for the swallow, the small hitch of breath that said the worst part was done. One more drop for luck, then he corked it tight and slipped it into his pocket. Locke leaned back, watching her for the telltale twitch in her fingers, the slight flutter in her lashes. The black spots that had been dancing behind her eyes would start to burn out soon. Not pleasant, but effective. [color=cadetblue]“There we go,”[/color] he whispered, brushing a stray strand of hair from her forehead. [color=cadetblue]“Welcome back, love.”[/color] [/color]