Re: Rooftop.
The party was bustling with people, loud and boisterous, and Jack felt more than a little out of place. He'd attended for one reason and one reason only - to wait and see if Alexander showed, despite his protests that his mind had changed.
He didn't join the dance floor. He'd taken a beer, and then wandered behind one of the skylights, watching people move with vague curiosity, searching the crowd for that all too familiar face. He felt calm, and still. The idea of killing a man should have bothered him, he was sure, should have made him nervous or morose, but it was all too easy by now, all too simple. No prison would ever hold Alexander for long, and they could prove nothing. No, he had to go.
He probed his emotions for something more, for guilt or distress, but there was nothing there. He hadn't really expected any more. He'd been a hollow man for some time - the only driving force in his life these days was his ability to make things better for others, whatever the cost to him. That numbness was dangerous, though, and there was always the chance it might lead him back down a dark road, but if he had to pay that price to stay the hands of friends who would carry the weight of killing heavier than he would, then so be it. It was just a drop of blood in the bucket, anyway.
Alright, so perhaps he was a bit morose, but wasn't he always, in one respect or another? He took a brief swallow of his beer, and as he dropped his hand and set it aside, he saw Brielle. He almost didn't recognize her. They'd only met in person a few times, but she'd certainly never worn anything like that. He didn't know if she saw him, out of the way as he was, tucked behind the skylight and sitting on the ground as tipsy partygoers filtered past him to press their hands on the plexiglass and, giggling, simulate the long jump. He took her in, and tried to account for where this sudden change might have sprung from.