Re: Stairs to the roof. The shadows. [Belated Swearing warning?]
The Ghost sat up slowly, working through a bruise on his spine where the Wolf had managed to pin him without meaning to, his hand flat on the stair and his brown hair disarranged. He'd acquired color as well as substance, the sweet suit bringing new hints of male and crude oil, and he realized when he looked up into a lack of anger that the Wolf hadn't meant him harm. "Fucking weird," the Ghost commented, more to himself, straightening the flaps of his loose tie over his chest.
The Ghost rolled over onto one hip, caught himself, and brought a runner's foot up underneath him to climb another step above the Wolf. He put a knee on either side of the other and held a Dolce & Gabbana silk handkerchief from his suit pocket to the Wolf's neck again. "I don't know how you've got any blood left," he said, quietly, newly chastened by this brush with a second death.