Chasing Shadows[M]{Damonique&EerieWillows}

[Damonique]

Brooklyn didn't get to enjoy venting her righteous-to-her anger at the witch for very long before...it happened, stealing the breath from the young woman's mouth. She was very familiar with seizures, and at first, that was just what it looked liked, a bad Grand Mal...but it soon got much worse than just shaking and flailing.

In her state, the fact that Eerie made it to the trash in time was something of a miracle, and then came the retching up of some black-red slurry that her brain associated with roadkill and raw sewage. The blonde started dry-heaving immediately, the carpet only spared because the contents of her stomach were already somewhere in the yard. She didn't need much prompting to get out of the room with Carrow. In the kitchen, the old man wasn't slow to find himself a bottle of liquor...bottom left, second cabinet, she'd remember that in case she decided stupidity was the better way to go, and was half a glass in before he finally managed to say something....though it ended up more a stream of muttered profanity than a real sentence. Brooke decided to open the dialogue instead.

"Benoit wasn't lying, was he? Kas is going to be okay, really okay, right?" She asked, in a low voice full of equal parts dread and hope. The agent gave a hesitant nod. "And Eerie?" She added. The man shrugged his shoulders, lost as she was as to what the witch was or wasn't capable of. "So I shouldn't have been so hard on her?" She finished, the Agent too another sip and let out a long sigh, cocking an eyebrow.

"Look kid, you can sit here asking me questions you already know the answers to all night long, and it's not gonna change just how ugly things got out there. It was hard to watch, and that's coming from me....but it was probably going to happen eventually. You're a good person, which is why it's hard for you to wrap your head around the fact that those, two, in there..." He gestured towards the door they'd just left, and then stared her right in those wide sky-blues. "...aren't. You're here because your smart. They're here because they're good at killing things. And nobody does it long enough to get good at it without something rattling loose upstairs." He continued, tapping his temple pointedly.

"My advice? Leave both of those two well alone and focus on all the things you can do that the rest of us just can't. Lady Black's no lady at all, 'your' little Soldier's not half the saint he's playing at, and both of 'em are bad news alone, much less together. They're weapons, tools...programs, if that makes more sense. You point them at things even worse than they are and let them do their work, and you don't get attached. That's the safe way to go." The man finished, along with his glass, and poured another, passing it over to the blonde and tapping the rim, a sad smile on his face. How in the hell had it come to this?

"But your not gonna' do that, because when the hell has a nineteen-year-old kid ever done what their elders told 'em to? So just take your drink, you've earned it just for making it through today with your head on straight, figure out whatever it is feels right to you and do it." He finished somberly, fetching another glass for himself just as Benoit, bloodied up and looking like he was two seconds from a heart attack, emerged. Carrow just loved the look on his face when he saw their little pow-wow.

"Get scrubbed off and come join the party, Red, because I'm guessing it all just goes downhill from here." The Agent shot off his way, tipping his drink towards the other man with the same sort of resigned acceptance he treated everything with. Landry could take a lesson or two from the old-timer.
----------------

A short while later, the redhead emerged, cleaned up for once, a bandage over nostril she'd broken earlier in the day. Brooklyn still hadn't touched the drink, just looked at it for a good long while,thinking on the Agent's words. What felt right? Which to her, translated into the question 'What's the most desirable outcome that could be reasonably achieved?' and spend the rest of the time weighing what factors she knew and trying to account for the ones she couldn't predict in order to settle on a course to take.

Eventually, she settled on the optimal one, and picked up the glass. Definitely not because she still couldn't get over how horrible it had tasted last night, she offered the drink to Benoit...and not forgetting to play it up at little. It was the same game from this morning, playing 'teachers pet' for goodwill...but now it was because Landry was the only person in the house who knew the slightest thing about Eerie..whatever she was. She'd have to know whatever was going on there. She had to fix it...turn her 'right'.

"Actually, I think Mr. Benoit needs this more than me....that bruise looks pretty bad. Sorry for that, and snapping at you earlier, it was all my fault. I was just...frustrated at sucking. It won't happen again, I figured out recoil. As for...injuries, is there anything I can do. Put stuff back? I read the first aid kit's legend. I'll know what you used. Clean up? It'll be...gross, but it's not like I've got anything left to throw up. And...they won't want to wake up to...that." She rattled off, chatter-mouth put to good use for once, answering any request with a bit of consideration and an affirmative. Carrow looked like he found something exceedingly funny. Ah, kids. Never knew what to expect

Once the girl was well on her way, Carrow refilled his glass a third time and fetched an old cigar wrapped in cellophane out of the pocket of his vest...it was good, a Cuban he'd bought two decades ago in downtown Havana, while sporting a dead man's name and speaking a different language. He'd always saved it for some special occasion...but he'd gone zero-for-three on the birth's of his children. Same score for high school graduation. Anniversaries, as well. And so on and so on...so he figured what the hell, why not light it up to celebrate the start of his last mission. It was sure to be a cocked-up mess...the best ones always were.

"Care to step out for a smoke, Benny? We've got some talking to do. Those two freaks bought us a couple days until deployment, so best we make the most of it." The Company Man asked crisply, not failing to accentuate the nickname golden boy had used to piss him off earlier. Be charismatic, nonthreatening, blend in. First step for a successful sleeper agent. And of course, collect information.

[EerieWillows]

Covered in blood and utterly drained, the last thing Leddy wanted to deal with was Carrow’s smug ass. He looked them both over. The Agent was fine, obviously, but the girl. She wasn’t looking so hot. Obviously, this whole thing had been a bit too much. Figured. Well, perhaps with this he could give them... half a day... maybe a full day. Just to collect themselves and let him get back to his work. He huffed out a breath and ran a hand back through messy ginger locks. Oh man, He’d have to take a shower. Use the upstairs one in his en suite. Yeah. Fresh clothes, then he could deal with these two nimrods.

Slipping upstairs and peeling the sticky fabric off him with a less than pleased grumble, Leddy let himself slip into routine, as he usually did. Collection some baggy sweats and fresh drawers. His head was already starting to pound. Too much nicotine, not enough food. The stress of the day was having him puffing at double. Great. Now he was going to be up all night too. Fucking perfect.

Stepping into the steamy hot water, he let his mind wander yet again, simply soaking the blood out of his skin and mulling things over. The witch was getting worse. Spiraling. He was running out of time and he knew it. There was a human in there, and not one twisted the way she was. He’d seen it time and time again and now... now he’d seen it again. A fist slammed against the side of the shower, his teeth grit hard enough that you could hear them grinding against each other. He had to figure it out. Fix her, save her, or put her out of her god damn misery. And fast. Before whatever it was that gave her those, powers, took over.

His routine went quickly once he’d soaked things off. Stepping out, he caught a look at himself in the mirror. Hmm.. He’d lost more weight. Again. Cursing under his breath, he ran his hand over the scar at his hip where they’d pieced him back together. Standing all day, he was sore. It’d been a while since he’d done anything other than sit at the chair and work. Dark circles, his brow’s permanent creases. Whatever. He just had to last a bit longer, then it didn’t really matter. It wasn’t like there was much to look forward to besides the daily grind. Heaving a heavy sigh, he decided against lingering in front of the mirror any longer.

He bandaged his broken nose quickly before leaving the little bathroom. Dressing himself below the waist, he’d made the executive decision that he’d find his housecoat downstairs. It was time to relax a bit. A new box of smokes was grabbed from his dresser, along with one of the many lighters strewn about. He’d barely lit up by the time he hit the bottom of the stairs. Oh... Yeah. That’s right. The nimrods. God, he was never going to get to his work today, was he.

His hand had barely grasped the back of the chair, a huff leaving him as the sound of his name being spoken caught his attention. His brow raised as he tried to process just what was before him. The kid coming up and apologizing? With a Whisky in hand? What kind of fuckery was this? The confusion was obvious on his face, glancing between her and the glass as she continued. Well. This was... Off. Not that he was complaining. It was faker than shit when she said the Mr. But. There was something to it that was, respectable?

He’d not expected her offer of help, his hand reaching the back of his neck and rubbing the sore muscles. This wasn’t what he’d expected in the least, but, perhaps he could concede. A bit. Besides, Giving himself a few minute while someone else took care of some of the work might have held a bit of merit. He could dole out a bit of work for what would end up being his shadow for the next little while, couldn’t he? Taking the glass rather carefully, He... tried to look less pissed off. If only for a second. She was a kid, after all.


“Much appreciated, but,... Benoit will do. I don’t need the mr.” He started, bringing the glass to his lips and downing a bit of it before looking back towards the disaster that was the front room. Hm, He thought for a second longer, gesturing over his shoulder with a point of his thumb. “ If you can get the med kit back together, there’s extra supplies in the storage closet in the bathroom. I’ll take care of the real mess before those two wake back up. M’ used to it.” Besides, That much blood and mess was never fun to deal with, Nor was scrubbing the hardwood. She could do that another day. When there wasn’t so much to do. Scratching under his scruffy chin, he motioned towards the fridge and cleared his throat..

” There’s a leaflet for a few local places on the fridge, phone on the wall. Order something out. I ain’t cooking after this. and the perimeter can be unlocked easy enough. Address is on the leaflet. Just tell’em it’s on card. It’ll be taken care of when I come back in.“ A peace offering perhaps. He didn’t mind paying if it meant saving him some time and letting him get back to work while they settled. With her marching orders, the girl was off. And then, there were two.

This time, the nickname barely got a rouse out of the man, a simple raise of a brow as he brought the drink to his lips and downed a good bit of it. He wasn’t going to deny him the mano-a-mano he’d spoken of the night before, and now was the best chance they’d have. No pains in the ass interfering. No one listening in. Nodding and taking the last drag of his cigarette, Benoit motioned towards the door. Age before beauty, as they said.

Grabbing his housecoat to cover his shoulders and back, Leddy opened the back door and followed the old man out. The night was already settling in, twilight well and over with how long ‘repairs ‘had taken. Just a dull bit of light, and a half moon high above. It was peaceful tonight, not a lot moving in the woods. Perhaps the violence of earlier had sated them. Who knew. The cold caught him off guard, earning a muttered curse from the scrappy redneck. With that breeze, August was coming to an end. Damn, and he hadn’t even had a chance to get the salt-licks out. Damn. He’d have to have a chat with the locals.

Seating himself on the porch steps, Leddy swirled his glass quietly. He could take a moment to get settled, knowing the full on interrogation he was about to be put through. Least he had a drink in his hand. A Casual glance up confirmed the sort of cigar the man was intending to light. A Cuban. Nicer looking one. A good choice. By this time of night, on a day like this, tobacco wasn’t usually what he was after. The quiet continued for a while, only broke when Benoit cleared his throat and looked back out over the land around them.

“.... Your boy held up better than I anticipated...” Mused the man, trying to start things off on a positive as much as he could. There wasn’t much he could say, the blood and mess of their fight all around them. Dammit all, When they were able to move, he’d be making them pressure wash the porch. No. Not even. They’d be scrubbing this by hand. Make sure they learned to control themselves.

The Agent set his drink down on the railing of the porch and clipped the end off his smoke with a short ceramic blade, more box-cutter than knife, that had been sitting pretty in the buckle of his belt, unnoticed this whole time, and lit it with his little 'retirement present', taking a deep, long drag off of the aromatic stogie and puffing out a couple of rings before giving any answer. It was a hell of an answer.

"You threw my boy into a fight that he couldn't win. I don't think that's something he's familiar with. Would have been a good lesson if your girl had the good sense to drop him in the first twenty seconds. Instead she just had to try for the happy ending. 'Harder Daddy', really? That what you're into, Red? Not judging, but from the way she talks I figured you for a 'mommy issues' kinda guy." The older man started, not pulling any punches and definitely judging , meaning to throw the ginger off-kilter. He hadn't wanted to see that, and Brooklyn definitely shouldn't have. At the very least, it deserved a low blow or two. That was something no amount of briefing could have prepared him for, and it hadn't been a pleasant surprise.

"...point is, I was led to believe you had that one on a shorter chain. Been lying to upper management, eh? My devildog was doing just fine until he caught a whiff of your bitches' scent." He added, just stoking the fire. It was a lot easier to talk...and think, about the Sikh and the Witch as objects, animals, or pieces on a board than anything else. Because admitting they were flesh-and-blood, with their own thoughts and feelings that mattered, made their job of throwing them into the line of fire that much harder.

“To be fair, I did try to offer something far less.. threatening. He just didn’t like the ethics of it.” Rebutted the ginger, not phased in the least by the pricks and jabs. He knew they’d be coming with that she’d pulled. Always managed to make him look worse than she did. Figured. Though, the thought of that coming out of her mouth wasn’t something he was... keen on. Never had been. Her thing. Not his. “As for higher ups... They must have been the ones to tell you she’s under control, I haven’t implied that in the least. Dumb fucks seem to think damage control is the same thing as a leash. There ain’t a chain in this world strong enough to keep her from doing what she wants. All I can do it try to reel her in when possible.”

He reached for his smokes, pulling one up and lighting it. Quiet fell once again, only punctuated when the red head started to cough. Perhaps he’d burned through a few to many today, putting it out and sighing, he ran a hand back through his hair.

“You ever watch a wild animal, Carrow? What’s the first thing they do when they’re cornered?” Mused Leddy, rubbing the back of his neck and staring off into space. “They show their teeth, pull back their lips real tight and start making all sorts of racket. Might be the source of all that antagonism. Don’t think there’s much control to be had when there’s the risk of a neck being snapped. ”

"I only know two ways to deal with wild animal, Benoit. You either tame them, or you put them down. No half-measures. I think I proved I'm willing to do that to mine. Question is if you're willing to take that step with yours. If it's even possible, that is." The Company Man went on, done playing around. Landry knew the score, and sexual proclivities weren't nearly the biggest issue on the agenda. No fucking way has the ginger not noticed exactly who'd head he'd trained his gun on, though he might not have realized just how close the Agent had been to pulling the trigger before the incarnation of naivete had stopped him. Which brought them to the next subject.

"Honestly, I don't care what those two do to each other as long as they perform in the field. Who I'm really worried about is Brooklyn...she's the one that matters. Is she safe in this house, with those two around?" He went on, after a pause for a smoke and a drink that went together just perfect on a night like this. The kid got a real name, because he'd stolen her away from her parents to put her on this job, thinking it was the best of all the bad options. Now he wasn't so sure.

"Hitters are a dime a dozen, we can always get more, but brainpower like that is at a premium. The NSA, the FBI, the State Department, and The Company were all sniffing around her before the Watcher's stepped in and bid the highest. They want her alive and functional, at least long enough to get their money's worth out of her. Things are gonna go....badly, for us, if they don't." There was a hard edge to that voice, real-talk, the sort that Benoit was the only one capable of understanding.

With that comment, Benoit could only give him a bit of a look and then roll his eyes. His boy was alive, the witch was too. While he understood the frustrations, it wasn’t as if he’d not considered the outcome and tried to solve things in a better way. They were... nearly people. They wanted that fight, they’d gotten it. If Carrow dared to take a moment, he’d realize that he had stopped them before they finished each other off.

Besides. It wasn’t such a simple issue. A mental note to watch them in the future was made. With that, he downed the last of what was in his glass, setting it to the side and fetching his smokes. He’d barely managed to light himself up when the old man brought the kid into this, questioning her safety. Safety? Was there even such a thing in this business. Not only that, the girl was a complete disaster when it came to anything bigger than one or two people or the real world. Most kids were. He couldn’t help but bark out a bit of a snide, one note laugh, smirking up towards the old man.

“That depends, is she gonna shoot someone for touching her shoulder. If she keeps being such a sensitive little thing she’s not gonna last long regardless of if she stays here or goes back to her old life. If that was even a possibility at this point.“ There was a tinge of mockery to his tone. Keeping someone like her from any sort of damage or change required a god damn bubble. “ You don’t get involved with this business and walk away without your fair share of scars. While I don’t like involving kids, regardless of their brains, She’s in, that’s what matters, correct?

“She’s a ... decent kid. Long as she doesn't poke the sleeping lion or panther in there, we’ll be fine. She’ll be safe.” The implication was clear enough, He’d look after the little baby. Get her whipped up and into shape. She’d done well enough with target practice, and while it was faker than shit, her attempts to win his favour with her little act earlier was.. Better than most could managed. Least she’d be easier to look after than the witch. His thoughts returned to the little woman drugged and knocked out in the chair, his brows furrowing as he swirled the last drops of his drink. Fidgeting. A long standing bad habit, one of many he was so blessed to have. Breaking his pause, he glanced up towards the old man “Despite what it seems, She’s not usually so... badly behaved. If you’re human and not in the way, you’re safe. I don’t think she’d hurt the kid. Even if she was in the way. She’s got a soft spot for little ones.”

Carrow gave up...Benoit wasn't gonna get it. He wasn't a father, so he couldn't see the girl as someone else's daughter or sister, just a nuisance he'd been saddled with that needed to either get useful quick or just go away, and it didn't seem like the ginger cared much either way.

"Fine, I'll believe you, you know her better, and I don't have much in the way of choices here either way. You keep the little Einstein safe, busy, and at least...reasonably comfortable here, and I'll try to keep the big cats well-fed and lazy. Deal?" The Agent finally relented, figuring he'd negotiated the best deal he could get out of the redhead, without much in the way of leverage to work with.

Landry nodded, He could work with that. He wasn’t about to send a kid out to be hunted down by the watchers. He’d seen what’d happened to those who tried to get out. It was never pretty, especially if money had been put down like the old man had said. A messy situation, to say the least. It was far from ideal, but it wasn’t something he was completely against. Not anymore at least. He’d seen what the beasts inside could do, and that held promise. Now it was just a matter of time, see what the kid could. If she could keep up.

After that, the two men, elder and younger, finished their drinks and smokes in silence, Neither of them entirely trusted the other, but they'd established they could work together towards shared goals, which was more important. Leddy held the door for the older man, debating on another smoke. It wasn’t in the cards. Too much to do. As soon as the door was closed, He made his line to the bookshelf. He fiddled with the security system a bit, peaking in and checking on the poor kid he’d left to the wolves. Least they were sleeping wolves.

[Damonique]

"Inventory medical supplies...bathroom cabinet....order food...phone, fridge...try to clean up...." Brooklyn rattled off back to Benoit like a trained parrot, arranging everything that needed to be done in her head, task-to-task. Apparently, that was the sum total of what the ginger considered her capable of...it probably wasn't an inaccurate assessment. At least he trusted her to do something right. At his remark about her calling him 'Mr.' she just threw both her ponytail and a few words over her shoulder as they went their separate ways. "Don't lie, you love it, Mr. Benoit. Makes you feel important." In a lilting tone, hoping that it came off as more endearing than annoying. A little salve for her self-respect, at least.

First things first, the blonde picked up the phone and flipped through the numbers taped to the fridge until she found a pizza place, and ordered three pies, making sure one was vegetarian....just in case Kasimir woke up...it was probably a naive hope, but even if he didn't, maybe he'd be happy to know she'd thought about him. After that, she got together garbage bags, paper towels, bleach and rubber gloves, took a deep breath, and stepped into the bloodbath she knew was waiting for her in the living room, her focus settling immediately on the two battered forms lying across from one another, with no-one to blame for their sorry states but themselves. It was so odd to see them there, sleeping harmlessly, knowing now just what the pair were capable of doing, what they had done to each other, first-hand.

First her attention settled on Kasimir...who up until an hour ago she'd thought of as her golden lion, beautiful and incorruptible. Just how wrong had she been? His chest was rising and falling with ragged breaths, like a fitful sleep, bloody shirt torn down to the navel to reveal an off-white mosaic of old injury marring copper skin, made uglier by the black-and-purple bruising just beginning to set in. Truth be told, the damage Eerie had done to him paled in comparison to whatever he had gone through before...each of those scars had a story to tell, and none of them were likely to be pleasant reading. At least Eerie had decided to spare his beatific face, sitting finally at rest, so much softer without the prominent scowl she now realized was meant to keep people at arm's length. Where they'd be safe.

...which was more than he'd done for his ill-fated opponent. Eerie was lying bundled up on an armchair halfway across the room, and the blonde approached her warily. The Witches' face was the only thing visible...but the sight of it was more than enough to kill Brooklyn's curiosity about the rest of her. Ever-so-perfect lines were...not so perfect anymore. Her left eye was swollen and sagging where the orbital had been snapped in two, dainty nose was more than broken, shattered, and the rest of it was a bloody mess of splits and abrasions, hardly an inch of soft, pale skin untouched. It was difficult to reconcile the sight of this battered, helpless victim with the unhinged, bloodthirsty thing she'd gotten a glimpse of in the fight, much less the confident, shameless, and seductive woman that Brooke still hadn't decided if she envied or admired.

Without that ever-distracting front, she was just another girl, her own age...one who'd been savagely brutalized by none other than the man across the room. And the most vexing question on the little blonde's mind was why. Why did he do it, and why did she let him? It didn't matter...neither of them would be up any time soon to give her answers, give her guidance on what she could do to help. So Brooke shoved all that uncertainty to the back of her mind and focused on what she could do instead. Next order of business, medical supplies. Landry had torn through two kits in his rush, and anything he hadn't used had wound up scattered across the floor. Everything used, damage, or contaminated wound up in the trash, while everything still good was put precisely where the legend on the top flaps of the kits said it belonged, and she set both outside the door to be restocked later. Next up...what to do about the floors.

Benoit had been right, really cleaning up the blood and...whatever else had come out over the course of his rush-job surgery was more than a one-person job, but she still managed to sop up all of the worst puddles so it wouldn't get tracked through the house and add to the work. While she was in 'the zone' of that task, scrubbing, bleaching , she came to understand that the hardwood wasn't natural rosewood. It had used to be oak... it was just stained, so...so very stained...and there was no question where than deep, near-black crimson came from. It was wrong, and it needed to go away.

When the food arrived, the girl was still down on her knees, soaked in blood herself, a pile of pink-tinged, blood-and-bleach soaked paper towels accumulating beside her, trying to get rid of a macabre reminder that just wouldn't go away.

[EerieWillows]

As he rounded the corner, the smell of bleach on blood hit him like a brick wall. There she was, Doing what he’d told her to hold off on doing for a very... very specific reason. God dammit all. Something was off about the whole scene. The way she was scrubbing, the sheer volume of paper towel and such. God, at this rate she was going to pass out from the fumes. He could see the med kits sitting off to the side, well packed and placed off to where they were still within reach. Well... seems the ‘wonderchild’ really had memorized the legend. Well done. Nothing to complain about there except the stink of bleach.

His shoulder found the wall of the archway, his brows knit and furrowed as he watched her continued panic. Poor kid. Soaked in blood, forced into something she had no business being involved with. He could remember it himself. Albeit he was younger.. much younger. He swore he could still see it, the spattering on the wall, the floor painted with thick, dark and coagulating pools of mess. A pinch on the skin of his hand distracted him, one hard enough he knew it’d bruise. Not now. There were other things he had to deal with.

A soft beeping noise sounded from the bookcase nearby, grabbing his attention. They’d taken their time, that was for sure. A quick check told him that, yes, the girl was still very much focused on her task. So much so that she couldn’t hear it, and she couldn’t feel the eyes on her back. Well. Company was coming fast, and he had to do a few things. First things first, get the little blonde to stop her relentless scrubbing.

He had about five minutes for the car to make it up the driveway. Five minutes to get things looking a bit better and to get the girl out of there. Not really thinking of much else he could do, he pulled his housecoat off. It was about all he had. Settling it over her shoulders and head, a pair of firm hands held her shoulders. That would be about all he could do to pull her out of her trance. Holding her steady this time, he cleared his throat, keeping her covered with the warm garment.

“You’ve done enough. Nothing more you can do.” A deep, steady voice was the best he could manage. The raspy tone from years of chain smoking adding a sense of familiarity as he tried to get the girl to her feet and out of whatever loop she was in. “Let go of the paper towel. Good. Up... easy now. Atta girl.” Soon enough, he’d managed to get her to her feet. Another sigh passed his lips, this time, far softer. She was shaky, Even he could tell that. Assuming it was from the foreign garment and hands on her, he simply urged her on. While it would probably have been better to use a fresh blanket or something of hers, he didn’t have that luxury. Time was of the essence.

Leading her away with a quiet, firm grip, Leddy managed to get the poor girl in one of the kitchen chairs. Only when she was good and seated did he let go, stopping for a moment. There had to be something he could do... snap her out of it all a bit more. But no. There wasn’t a damn thing he could say to make what she’d dealt with that night any better. Resigning himself to silence, he simply pat her shoulder gently as he turned away, leaving her and the agent alone.

Spending a moment to fling the paper and bleach mess into the garbage and kick the rug over, he made his way towards the door. A mental note was made. That rug was fucked, they’d need a new one. Fast if the girl was to keep from loosing her damn mind. God damn, he was definitely taking that out of their pay. Fucking brats, he’d kick their asses himself when they woke up. Taking one more moment to nearly admire the girl’s hard work, The man found himself summoned by a familiar knock at the door. Well, At least she’d ordered something decent.

Sauntering over, he was greeted by an all too familiar face. A young delivery boy, Charlie. The boy was shorter than most, but he’d probably not had his final growth spurt yet. Seemingly surprised to be face to face with the man of the house, the boy stammered and stuttered (Much to Landry’s amusement). While he didn’t order out often, he did on occasion. The sheer trek and the... nature of the property had him on file. Mostly to not arrive without giving him a particular time. Lest he give them what for when they got to the door. The young boy seemed flustered, dark hair disheveled and big brown eyes staring up at the towering ginger with a mix of confusion and embarrassment. Leddy couldn’t help buy raise his brow at him, not quite putting two and two together yet.

“G-goodeveningmrLandry.” The young man practically spat out, holding his bag tightly in his arms. “D-did you order a bit ago?”

Oh yeah. He hadn’t been the one to order.

“Evenin’ Charlie.” Well, that was a different voice, Something far gentler than anything he’d used on the newcomers.“Yeah...I did, Good timin’ as always. I know it’s a trip and a half getting out here from town.”

This seemed to make the poor boy even more confused, staring up at the tall bastard and trying to peer around him. Peering back and noticing the new car that clearly was out of place, Charlie seemed to relax a bit. “You’ve got company? D-dang. We could have sworn this’d end up being a prank call. Sorry for the wait being a bit long. W-we threw in a cheese bread to make up for it!”

“Well, thank ya kindly.” He smiled weakly at the poor kid, nodding towards the debit machine on his hip and holding up his card. “Don’t wanna keep you round here long, you know the coyotes and such get pretty bad at night.”

The young man held up the machine out to him, letting the man fiddle with it while he grabbed the goods from within his bag. Ah. Thank god. Something that didn’t singe the nose hairs. The beeping of the machine told him it was time to pull his card out. Charlie took one look at the receipt, then the man, then the receipt again. Bug eyed, he stared up at Leddy till the older man motioned him off. Thanking him with gusto, the boy practically slammed the little piece of paper on top of the stack of boxes and handed them off to the farm boy before promptly rushing off to his car.

“...Funny kid. Like he’s never seen a tip before...” Muttered Leddy, the scowl promptly returning to his face as he felt eyes burning into his back. There were people in his home still, and ones that were awake enough to see him interacting with the poor boy. Great. He didn’t need the inevitable line of questioning that he knew he was in for. The door was maneuvered closed with a foot, The pies moved to one hand while the other settled his card away before locking the door.

The pizzas found their place on the table, plates promptly joining them, but something had come to the front of the man’s mind. Perhaps not a great idea, but given the day and her earlier offering, it was something he could do. Reaching above the stove and pulling out what appeared to be an old, dusty bottle. Something different. He checked the expiration date, finding it to be still well within it’s limits. Good. This was something he’d had for when the weather got colder. A nice treat with coffee. For now, it’d be the best thing he could give the kid.

Benoit worked quietly, ice into a glass and then the thick, heavy cream over top. Irish cream, a go to for those that didn’t really like alcohol, but needed to relax a bit. Settling the glass and chilled offering before the girl, he grabbed another smoke and moved to lean against the kitchen sink. Still, he couldn’t find a damn thing to say. Nothing could take away what she’d seen, nothing could stop the realization that was going to hit her sooner rather than later, the best he could do was try to... minimize damage.

[Damonique]

Brooklyn was still scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing, trying to clean what just couldn't be cleaned. Bleach fumes filled her nose, burned her throat, made her eyes water, but that was fine. It smelled clean and sterile, and those were things her world very much needed to be right now. She ran through one roll of paper towels, then another. Her knuckles were starting to chafe, and her carefully painted rainbow nails were getting cracked and ruined, but she didn't care...caught in a loop, tendency towards obsessive-compulsive behavior ramped up to eleven, as the adrenaline that had been the only thing keeping her halfway-stable began to run out, and things slowed down enough for her to have to deal with them.

Most people would cope by just blocking it out, repressing all that ugliness until it became an afterthought, but she just wasn't wired for that. Her 'gift', the only thing that made her unique, the only reason she was even here, was as much blessing as curse...all it took was the slightest trigger to bring up every terrible detail in perfect clarity. The look of cold fury in Kasimir's eyes when he hit one time too many for self-restraint. The sound of Eerie's cackling laugh and hoarse voice as she begged, no, demanded he do worse. The tell-tale crack of some fragile, essential bone snapping in her neck. And worst of all, the gleeful, malicious taunts of the not-Eerie that had woken up when she'd gone out, a voice that just didn't belong. It was too much for anyone, much less a fragile girl from an idyllic home.

Now, the only thing keeping her from total breakdown, panic attack, possibly even a full-on seizure was knowing that she was trying to do something, that there was a task in front of her and that she couldn't rest until it was completed. But this...just wasn't getting done. This room had seen...too much. Every layer of stained evidence she got rid of just revealed another below it. Left to her own devices, no doubt she would have kept scrubbing at those same few feet of flooring until her body broke down from exhaustion. But then, something soft, smelling of cigarettes, gunpowder, woodsmoke and and a hint of aftershave, still warm from someone else's body heat. It was...nice, a set of different, better sensations to distract herself with. A voice in her ear, Leddy's rasping voice, but for once there wasn't a curse word or a put-down to be heard, just a familiar tone of concern and confusion. The one people used when something she was doing was worrying them..a warning that if she didn't get ahold of herself right now, she'd be up for another battery of tests, another fistful of pills to take, and another shrink that couldn't even begin to comprehend her. Nope, not now. She had too much work to do.

So at the man's gentle urging, she finally let go of the paper towel in the hands and calmly removed her gloves, stood up and let him lead her sedately to a seat in the kitchen, baby-blue eyes wide and unfocused, like a sleepwalker. Carrow was there...he looked as concerned as Benoit had sounded, but she didn't have the right words to convince him she was fine..so she didn't try, just bundled up her feet under her knees, pulled the somehow comforting garment closer to her body, and listened in on the conversation taking place by the door. Landry was being...oddly nice to the pizza guy. Honestly, she was surprised he'd let someone 'normal' even come up to the door, given the sort of welcome they'd gotten, but these people seemed to know him. Or at least thought they did, anyway.

In a calmer, more familiar atmosphere, Brooke began to regain a bit of clarity...there wasn't anything in this room to immediately remind her of all the things she wished she hadn't seen. Just Carrow looking tired, , Benoit mixing a drink, three pizzas on the table. All very normal things she could process, that she could understand. And then the glass was in front of her, smelling for all the world like a mocha-latte. Irish Cream. She'd had it before...it was good. The blonde gave a half-smile at the gesture, looking at Landry Benoit with fresh eyes, realizing now he was shirtless, having given her his coat, and blushed lightly. She knew she should offer to give it back instead of just staring...but couldn't, not quite yet, using it like a stand-in for a stuffed animal or a therapy doll. Something soft, something safe. She looked away and mumbled to herself for a moment before trying to talk for real. She didn't do too great a job at it, but at least they were actual words with spaces between them instead of one long thought.

"Thanks....Leddy, for that...in there. I...just got stuck, is all. It happens sometimes...it's been...a long day. I'm sorry I'm...." She trailed off, sorting through the many, many epithet's she deserved, settling on one that didn't sound too much like she was fishing for pity. More of that was the last thing she needed. "...so high-maintenance."

[EerieWillows]

Remaining ever so quiet, Leddy couldn’t help but feel for the poor kid. Despite her... eccentricities, she was still very much a kid. And a rather soft one at that. Her little outburst was far from the first panic attack he’d seen, having had to pull countless kids and people involved with these things out of them. Albeit it was usually with far less grace. Considering that they’d soon be working together, a gentler hand was used. That and he felt for her. Having to deal with the sight of those two assholes going at one another like that. They could have dialed it back. Even just a bit. Getting the last bit of the morning’s coffee.

Not that he got to enjoy it. Thankful for his leaning near the sink when an all too familiar nick name caught his ear. He nearly choked, again. Wiping his mouth with a paper towel, he let out a string of grumbling for a moment. What the hell had happened to Mr. Benoit? God damn he was just getting use to it. Between the witch’s harassment, The two other men deciding Benny was appropriate in any form, and now the girl decided to use something he’d long since found... unfitting. Great, any semblance of respect directed towards him was tinged with those childish nicknames. Great. Just great. Least she was calming down from her attack. Though, her self prostration wasn’t needed. No one took this sort of thing well when they were starting out. Leaning back against the sink with his good hip, he shrugged and brought what was left of his drink to it’s final resting place.

“ Less work than a 22 year old, 300 pound football bastard in the midst of a complete shut down, waaay less. You’re far from the first, and far from being the last kid seeing ‘way too much, way too fast’ that I’ll deal with in my life. “ Mused the Ginger, trying to dissuade her from blaming herself, waving off her self-admonishment with a flourished wrist movement before rubbing the back of his stiff neck. Perhaps he’d done a bit too much in hauling the soldier’s ass back into the house. “Considering the bloodbath outside, I was expecting it in some form. Not nearly as bad as I’d been bracing for, so there’s kudos for that. Just take a breather the rest of the night. Eat a piece or two if your stomach can handle it. Don’t worry bout much else. I’ll watch over those two till they wake up. I know Eerie won’t be down for more than a few hours unless I keep her down. I’m sure soldier boy is much in the same. I’ll make sure they don’t try anything stupid, so take that off your mind... if you can. You’ll slowly get use to this sort of shit, but that was an... interesting first day..”

There was a moment of silence, the... oddly kind nature of the statement, however gruff it’d come out, was clear as day. Damn his bleeding heart. Kids. Fucking kids. They always managed to get him. He looked as if he was about to open his mouth to spit something out once again when an all too familiar sleazy guitar his their ears, his phone going off in his pocket. Excusing himself from the conversation, he settled back into the corner near the pantry.

A simple call, a hunter needed something, and he was out to do it. Well. There was no time like the present. Amidst his nods and ‘uh-huh’s, he managed to get his laptop and a notepad. Settling opposite the girl, he spun a pen on his finger as the hunter on the other end rattled things off at him. He’d been so busy with things, he’d not noticed a few missed calls. Damn, this was going to make the night much busier than it needed to be.

Within moments of seating himself down with a heavy drop, he was back to work. Brows furrowed and focused upon the task at hand. There was far too much to do. One hand scrawled down messy lists in handwriting that rivaled a doctor’s chicken scratch, the other scrolling through emails. His eyes moved from left to right as fast as he could manage, skimming and scanning through each email as he tried to get a handle on just how much he’d have to get done in the next... few hours. Damn, it was a fair bit. Taking but a moment to glance around the room, he noted that the others were still lingering, simply watching.

“Yall get something in ya, the pizza’s nothing like the stuff you can get in city, but it ain’t half bad either. Rest of the night is yours to do with what you will.“ He mused, waving them off as if to dismiss them. He had work to do.

[Damonique]

Carrow could take at least a shred of confidence in this venture from the way Benoit dealt with the kid, yeah, he'd done this before alright. The Agent was lucky...in certain respects, at least, that he'd never had to deal with any survivors on the missions the Watchers had put him on so far...at least, none that hadn't been better off with a quiet pill to the head by time he got to them. That would be an aspect of how he handled things that Sing might make... difficult, but they'd cross that bridge when they came to it.

For now, the old man of the house just ate in silence and thought ahead on what exactly he'd be able to do to keep his psychotic 'operatives' in check once he was out in the field. Benoit was able to handle his witch well enough....but there was an arrangement there that wasn't likely to extend to Carrow. There was no doubt that when it came to the actual bloody work, the old man wouldn't have to do much, just sit back and watch the Carnage unfold. But there was a lot more to the job than just doling out violence, and that's where they'd run into trouble, between Eeie's flippant disregard for common decency and Kasimir's misguided idea of a moral compass. They'd be butting heads there...and it would be up him to make sure they didn't end up baiting one another into starting round two, which he just couldn't let happen. The witch came back from anything, but Kasimir, while tough as nails, was all human...too many no-holds-barred beatdowns like that at he'd wind up a cripple or worse.

As... distasteful as it might be, the Company Man couldn't help but wonder if the unmistakable sexual tension there might not be the best thing to keep that pressure cooker of conflicting personalities from boiling over. Singh could play holier-than-thou all he wanted, but in Carrow's experience, hormones beat religion every damn time. If it didn't, he wouldn't have caught so many Arab sheiks with prostitutes. Most people were just ashamed hypocrites, and Eerie was clearly very good at making them show their true colors.

Which brought his attention back to Benoit...that one, he still hadn't figured out. On the surface, he seemed harmless enough, at least by the new standards set by their murderous duo...a gunfighter, something of a loose cannon, with a lot of experience in the business. Reasonably sane and smart enough to know what he should or shouldn't do. But that was the surface... and there was a lot of black ink on his files that could be covering up god-knew-what. The Agent was sure the ginger caught him looking his way, trying to read behind the mask of frustrated confidence. Good, better keep him wary. Eventually he got full, drunk enough, and bored of side-eyeing the other man, so he made a show of standing, stretching, and letting out a long yawn.

"Well, I'm done with today. You kids don't stay up too late, and Benny, make sure the pets stay snoozing, at least till tomorrow. Just because they could get up, doesn't mean they should, and I'd rather not wake up to whatever racket they're sure to make when they do." The older man stated pointedly, and headed for the stairs, stopping to pay Brooklyn lightly on the back as he passed her.

"You did good today, brat. I mean it. Having a heart isn't a bad thing, you just need to take care of yourself before you try to take care of the rest of us, alright" He added, and vanished upstairs to 'his' room and a hopefully uneventful night's rest.

-------------------------

Brooke sat and sipped her sweet, mildly alcoholic beverage quietly, now and then nibbling at a slice of pizza, though her stomach wasn't quite ready for real food yet. She was thinking, considering, looking back, forward... trying to get a grasp on what she was really trying to do, or even capable of accomplishing. All the had to go on was a piece of sage advice from a pissed-off old man...to do what felt right, to her, Brooklyn, and nobody else. It wasn't a question she'd ever really been asked before...she didn't really make decisions. Just find patterns of behavior and stick with them until some impetus forced her in a different direction...but usually that push only came from one direction. Up. Parents. Teachers. Doctors. Shrinks. There was always someone there to keep the time, set the schedule.

But here, it was....worse than college had been. No time to prepare, no time to pick an outfit and time the moment of arrival just right. For her, recurring deviations from the holding patter, like holidays and birthdays, were weeks-long events in the year, planned almost minute to minute, well in advance. Here, things just...happened, and there were no real authority figures to turn to, besides Carrow, who was being much more Yoda than Picard right now. And where did Benoit fit into the whole thing? Her boss or her teacher, both or neither? So hard to tell, most times he was cold and distant, but there would be the occasional flicker of something warmer. A mystery. A puzzle. She liked those.

Carrow left them alone, and the atmosphere grew tense. The ginger clearly expected her to be off on her merry way like the Agent, but sleep...wasn't on her mind right now, the gears were spinning too fast. So she watched Benoit work with a clear curiosity, scooting her chair a bit closer, trying to formulate the grumbling under his breath and the tell-tale keystrokes that she could at least mostly read by ear. Everyone learned the same Werner method of keyboaring...it was the statistically most efficient system, and it was easy to predict based on stroke length which set of keys were being typed. Figure out the combination of words that could be formed with those keys, and then find the most likely candidate. It was like boggle, a game she loved....because it pretended to be random when it was really just math and vocabulary. Her siblings stopped playing with her around the time she'd memorized the dictionary...always losing was no fun for them, and losing on purpose was no fun for her.

Back to the keystrokes...words, messages, details....

[EerieWillows]

God, this was the last time he took an afternoon off. The sheer volume of tasks ahead of him was nearly double what a normal day held, and yet, he had only a few hours to get things done. If he hadn’t been doing this for the last five years, and only this, it’d be damn near overwhelming. Accommodations, diagnostics, funds and transfers, information and research, Interference on the side of the police, supplies, weapon recommendations, reports. The list just went on and on. His shoulders were already tensing from the sheer breadth and weight of it all.

Not that the gazes raking him over from the side fucking helped. He noticed the old man first and foremost, his eyes narrowing in return as if to tell him off for the strict way he was being watched. Like an interrogation. Fucking Christ. What the hell was he trying to get out of him? Trying to get him to spill what he was working on? The frustration only seemed to build and build within his aura. Anyone would be able to feel it, especially with that icy, accusing glare narrowed back at the old man. Thankfully, he seemed to finally either get bored, or realize he wasn’t getting anything out of their little stare down.

“Right, Whatever.“ He remarked in regards to keeping the cats at bay. Of course he fucking would, but not before he finished this nonsense. Bringing the last of his coffee to him and downing it with gusto. He’d need to make another pot. Later, once he was done with his never ending list of other, more pressing tasks. His cup met the hardwood of the table and he was out of the gate once again, the bigger of the two pains in the ass gone for now.

Illegible to anyone other than him, the man seemed to burn through his legal pad in mere moments. Lines and circles and chicken scratch that most would deem that of a madman. But it all had purpose. He was fast with his keyboard, but the pen, the shorthand, it was always far faster for him. Probably because he’d spent far more time without said computer and in libraries and occult collections. He’d had to learn how to research things as fast as humanly possible. Every moment was another life, and he was keenly aware of it. Another hunter in the line of danger, another average joe about to be stalked and devoured, another child about to have everything they’d ever known ripped away from them in the blink of an eye. Once he’d filled one, he tossed it off to the side, into a trash can and off to the side. It was for working things out. After that, it was to be burned. Either in a big one outside, or in the fireplace.

Hours passed like minutes, he hadn’t looked up once. Every stroke of a pen or a key was filled with intent, but it was starting to sputter. The long day, the clean up of the nightmare that was in the other room, the sight of it all again. Fuck, it had worn him down more than he’d anticipated. Sweat beaded at his brow as he looked down, expecting to see a number and instead staring at a list of items. Fuck. He’d done the math in his head? No, he’d remembered writing it down. Oh shit, had he put that in the wrong pile? It was only then that he looked up, freezing as he realized just how... close she was. Hadn’t she followed the old man up?! God damn! She’d nearly given him a heart attack! What the hell was she doing.

His knuckles cracked as he moved to sort through his papers, still watching the girl as if he were trying to figure out what her game was. He cleared his throat to try and get her attention, and to let her know he’d caught onto her game. She was clearly listening in, was she trying to figure out what he was typing? What he was doing? His eye twitched, why was she still focusing so much? Their stare off continued, but not for too long, the sound of another email coming in broke his stare. Frustration spilled into his muttering, eyes narrowed at the screen as he went back over the notepad in his hand. Maybe he’d moved on by accident? Flipped the wrong page?

Another number showed itself on a page three ahead. Mental math bounced back and forth, spilling out in his inarticulate speech. Tense digits drummed against his temple as he read it over and over. Brows furrowed tighter and tighter, his scowl pulled tight before he tossed the pad down in the table. God dammit, this wasn’t it either. Where the fuck had he written it down?!

He didn’t even bother continuing to look. He’d just had to do it, again. What a monumental waste of time. Leaning back into his chair, he ran his hands over his face, trying to wake himself up. How could he loose a number that’d been on the tip of his tongue? Deft fingers pinched the bridge of his sore nose, his eyes closing as if to give them just a bit of a break. Exhaustion was starting to weigh down not only his neck and shoulders, but his mind. This whole day had been an absolute cluster fuck. The only good thing that’d happened is that the girl managed to get a handle on things pretty fucking fast.

The only thing that broke him from his lament was the sickening snap and crackling from the other room. Leddy nearly shot straight out of his chair, rushing over to the archway and peeking around. There was a sound from time to time, but, there wasn't any change in breathing. Heavy shoulders dropped as he cupped his head in his hand and sighed. Well, that wasn’t the worst of things.

“Seems her face is resetting itself.” The weight of that statement felt like the world on his shoulders, Tired eyes looking over the two in the other room as they rested. As much as he wanted to stay, to watch and make sure things were... healing alright. He couldn't. Not yet. Heaving a heavy huff once again, he reached for his smokes and made his way back to the table. Now. To find that stupid fucking number.

[Damonique]

The odd pair sat like that, without a word passing between them for an hour, and then another, the ginger writing and typing and grumbling, the blonde paying laser-focused attention the every scratch and tap and uttered syllable, piecing together the best kind of puzzle....one where the number and shape of the pieces were unknown, and the only clues were the odd word or phrase she recognized that required cross-referencing and process-of-elimination to decipher.

Some of it made perfect sense right off the bat...numbers, decimal points, and a whole lotta zeroes. Financial records, transfers, tell-tale patterns of routing numbers and account codes. Leddy was moving money around, absolutely stupendous amounts of it, too. That, at least, Brooklyn understood...the rest was hit-or-miss, though. Names that could just as easily refer to people as places, esoteric jargon that she lacked any frame of reference for....just filtering out the information she couldn't use took up a huge chunk of brainpower...which was exactly what she needed, a deluge of fresh information to dilute the excess of reality she'd faced in the last few hours.

And throughout it all, Landry.... completely ignored her. He didn't try to explain what he was doing, much less ask for help, appearing to do his level best to pretend she wasn't in the room. For the longest time, the closest he got to saying anything was when the blonde stood up and refilled his coffee cup for him, earning her something muttered that may have been thanks, just an instinctive reaction when someone gave you something. Was that how it was always going to be, when Carrow and Kasimir and Eerie went off in search of evils to put an end to, and she was left alone in this big, empty house with him? Oh did she hope not...as bad as she was at it, Brooke needed people to interact with, at least in small doses, to remind her that the world was more than just screen after screen of code. Without someone, anyone counting on her to show her face regularly, she'd slip back into habits she'd fought hard to break, go back to being a recluse, a non-entity in the 'real' world.

As he worked, she scooted closer, listening intently for patterns, arranging every bit and byte of information she could pick up into anything legible she could make from it. She was just beginning to get the hang of the pace, the timing of his furious writing and typing when suddenly it just all...stopped. And the intense, disheveled man finally looked her in the sky-blue eyes with his own intense sapphires. It was a sharp look, confused, accusatory. Brooklyn looked around, wondering what she'd done to offend him now...and only then realized that she'd leaned halfway out of her seat striving to get closer to the only source of stimuli in the room, Benoit himself. Brooke startled far, far more animatedly than the ginger, nearly falling out of her chair before sinking back into it, looking back at him sheepishly, embarrassed. She expected him to tell her off, snark about it being close to her bedtime, something, anything. But instead he just...tried to get back to work. Emphasis on tried, because she knew the blank expression he got when he looked back at the mess in front of him. The look people got when things didn't add up, when they'd forgotten something. Brooke didn't know what that felt like, and didn't want to. The very idea of losing even the smallest shred of information was...antithetical to her view of the world. But it was something that happened to other people, just like it was happening to Leddy now, frustration mounting, plain as day.

Also plain as day, to her, was exactly what piece of data he was looking for, the only possible place he could have been the moment before she'd accidentally distracted him, flipped an extra page without noticing and missed a beat. She didn't have to know what any of the words or numbers meant to know that was what the man was looking for, and couldn't find. Going back didn't help because unless he accounted for that difference, he's always end up an extra page off in one direction or the other, thinking he had the right spot. And he did..more than once, frustration mounting, and it was infuriating. Completely, and utterly infuriating, because Brooklyn wouldn't, couldn't have made that kind of mistake. Never would have had to refer back to anything, ever...the entire notebook, the chicken-scratch, the arrangement of thoughts in physical medium was colossal inefficiency. And Brooklyn despised inefficiency. Not quite as much as she hated nonsense jargon in science fiction, and pop singers using synthesizers to make their voices more perfect than any actual human being sounded, but inefficiency was up there. She had to say something, even though she knew he'd be mad at her for 'eavesdropping'.

"Two pages back, second line from the top. Eleven numbers, two spaces and three decimal points. You typed half of them, missed...something I couldn't catch. You were referring back when I...uh...upset you, I guess." She rattled off in one long burst of words, followed by a deep breath, only to find him still staring at her, cockeyed...confused. She nodded sagely, reached over, and flipped back two pages, placing a cracked rainbow fingernail at the indicated piece of math. Despite a bit of worry over Benoit's reaction, there was an unmistakable self-satisfied look on the little blonde's face at knowing that, weather he appreciated or not, she'd given the right answer.

[EerieWillows]

Barely having the time to light up, Benoit settled back into his chair and started looking over his papers. The distraction of the woman’s recovery and the state of the other room forgotten for the moment as he tried to get back to work. His head was still buzzing. Tension settling in once again as he desperately flicked back and forth. Would it have just been easier to re-reference it and write it out again? Probably, but he was stubborn. Obviously, he’d written it out once before, he didn’t want to redo the work just because of some stupid short circuit in the back of his head. After all, It had to be somewhere, this was a fresher pad! And he’d just done it up!

The furious flapping of papers, the crinkling of his nose and the furrow of his brow were easy enough to read. He’d just about reached the point where he’d usually just throw the damn pad across the room when the girl once again word vomited in his direction. It took a moment to process, his frustrated expression replaced with wide eyes and a tightly closed mouth. Two pages back, second line from the top? He went over where he’d been mentally. He had been reviewing the number when he’d caught a glimpse of her. Damn. He stared for a moment, trying to figure out just how she’d done that. How much attention had she been giving his work. He’d half expected her to whip out her phone and start fucking around, researching more on the members of the household like she’d obviously done the night before. But no, she was paying attention. Far too much attention.

As par usual, his gruff attempts to mask his embarrassment at being caught like that. It wouldn’t normally have happened. That being said, nothing about the day was a normal day. It wasn’t hard to assume it’d be a running frustration in his day to day workings. Though, he was perhaps being a bit rough on the kid. She probably needed something to do, something to distract her. Hell, He wasn’t doing anything different when it came down to brass tacks. A distraction from everything. Pour every last drop of every moment into work and pray that he’d just pass out where he dropped. Wake up. Rinse and Repeat. Not that there wasn’t adequate distraction with a never ending, always back logged job like this.

Well I’ll be damned....” It was barely a murmur past the ginger’s lips, his fingertips massaging his temple as his hand moved down the page. There it was. he’d simply skipped a page. they’d stuck together, or perhaps he’d just been rushing to find his place after being startled by the girl’s... proximity. It wasn’t like this sort of thing happened often, it was usually when he was interrupted. His concentration broken and some other hellish task demanding dealing with right in that moment. Ah, but he’d made a mistake none the less, and right in front of the new kid. Regardless of that, he had to admit when her was impressed. How did she remember the exact location of that string? He’d always had commendable memory, better than most of his peers, but this? Maybe Carrow wasn’t just blowing smoke up his ass. Rubbing the back of his neck, Red relented. He nodded towards the girl, lips still pulled tight before he managed to get it out. “... Thanks.”

The sudden break had given him time to process yet again, his cup, it wasn’t empty? He did the mental math. Damn, he’d probably gone through two to six cups, leaning towards the latter. Never once had he refilled it, so she’d been running for him? The pen spun in his hand as he tried to mental out something. Just letting her sit there quietly, It wasn’t something that would be helpful. Perhaps he could distract himself from the task at hand. Considering she’d point out his mistakes and such, it was worth a bit of trouble.

“I wasn’t planning on showing you this sort of thing for a few days. Let your brain settle a bit.” He mused, trying to start... some sort of conversation. As much as she was obviously bracing herself for full on vitriol, it wasn’t in him. The kid was just trying to help, to learn, like she was meant to. Who the hell was he to turn her away from that, especially if she was anything like him. Work distracted from the reality of their.. predicament. He’d become numb to it, but her? Hell, she was still probably just reeling from it all. He cleared his throat and tried to get back to it, a slower, more careful pace now . “.... must seem inefficient, but scratching away on paper helps me get a handle on things. “