Who: Aud & Cian What: Audrey is hysterical Where: Cian’s house When: Starting shortly after this (4/16). Rating: R-ish, mentions of murder, lots of bad language Status: Complete
She made her way silently through Emillion’s streets at night under the veil of vanish. She didn’t want to be seen, not after what she had just done. Her steps had lead her to one place only as she stood outside of Cian’s home, staring at the door with a frown. There was no sign of life on the streets, everyone tucked away at such an hour, and Audrey reached out to press the intercom. “Cian? Cian it’s me. Open the door,” it was the last line that sounded pathetic, “please?”
Tiny had the devil’s own luck, sometimes. More often than not, Cian would find himself still out at such an hour, especially with the festival traffic still hitting his various places of business, even with the festival itself done and over with. But his shitty luck in the hoverbike races seemed to have carried over tp the roulette table; three losses in, he’d cut and run.
Better luck next time, or what the hell ever. (He’d deny it if asked, but the lost race was still pising him of.)
The ring, therefore, came just as he’d finished putting together a sandwich, and the voice that sounded through the tinny speaker at the door was unmistakable.
He considered ignoring her, but her tone was pretty fucking distressed. And, he reminded himself, she was a client now. Sort of. So, with a sigh, he set down the sandwich and went to the intercom, pressing the button to say, “What? It’s late, tiny.” he did not, yet, disengage the locks and security.
She gazed around again, as if looking for anyone who might possibly be eavesdropping on them. Finding no one she went back to the intercom, and pressed the button. “Cian, please? I did something bad.”
“Fuck’s sake,” he muttered. But it was that which decided him -- if she wound up dead on his porch because someone had followed her (or she’d made a mess of a cover-up, whichever), he would never get paid. And money was something he understood.
He pulled the master disarm key from his pocket, activated it. “Door’s unlocked,” he said into the intercom, “traps disabled. Hurry up.”
And if he found out this was about something dumb, they’d have words.
Audrey’s hands scrambled to open the door, sliding in and once inside reappeared. Reaching the stairs, she let out a loud sigh looking up at the several flights of stairs. It took her couple of minutes to climb all the way to the tenth story. Finally reaching the top, she dragged herself over to the right door. Resting against the door frame she brought her hand up to knock on the door.
It swung open moments later and she was greeted with a scowl. “Tell me you didn’t lead anyone here,” he said without preamble. “At least tell me that much, tiny. And get the hell in here.”
Audrey weakly shook her head. “I was invisible,” she mumbled in response. Stepping inside, she had managed her way over to the couch before falling over on it. Her arms reached for one of the pillows, hugging it close as her body curled up in a ball. Her hair was still moist from the shower she had taken at Loch’s and while the foreign clothes were clean, she still felt red. Her hands were dirty. “I didn’t mean to,” she hugged the pillow tighter, hiding her face in it.
Well, at least she hadn’t brought a tail to his door, which was a point in her favor. He stood over her, arms crossed, and watched her in her obvious misery. What the actual fuck was going on here? “You’re going to have to be more specific,” he said. “What didn’t you mean to do, exactly?”
“He tried to stab me,” she mumbled into her pillow. “So I restrained his arm and he ran into his own blade,” she looked up at back at him, panicked. “I swear!”
Cian gave her a long, uncomprehending look before asking, “Did you clean up?”
Audrey’s face found itself hidden in the pillow as she shook her head no vehemently.
“You didn’t clean up?” he asked, eyebrows rising. “Tiny, what are you, a fucking idiot? Prison sound like a nice place to go on your honeymoon?”
Ripping herself from the pillow she shot a look of complete helplessness. “I didn’t mean to do it! It wasn’t in the plan, it just… happened!” Her breathing picked to the point of hyperventilating as she sat up, trying to calm herself down. “Loch and I,” she held her head, “we went to do a job. And the guy tricked us. We were stuck in a basement of flan, so after we got rid of the flan he came back to get his better share thinking we were dead or gone. Loch got mad and I tried to stop her but then he attacked me.” She swallowed, her breathing not getting any better. “I tried to stop the bleeding but it was so much. And we could hear more flan in the basement and we had to go.”
Cian pressed the tips of his fingers into the bridge of his nose, as if trying to stave off a headache. “You, I get. Lemach should have known better.” And why was he dealing with this? Faram, this idiot woman owed him.
“Address,” he said, pulling out his communicator. “Think fast, tiny, time is money.”
She didn’t skip a beat as she gave him the address, hands fidgeting as she watched him type away into his communicator. Audrey swallowed, “W-what are you doing?”
”Cleaning up your mess,” he said simply, continuing to type. “Anyone left alive on-scene, aside from the flan?”
Audrey shook her head. “No, he had cleared the way for us.” Audrey lifted her legs so she hugged them on the couch. Her eyes gazed up pleadingly, “Don’t kill anyone else!”
“Not planning on it,” he said dryly. The final message was sent, and the communicator once more placed in his pocket. “Trying to keep you out of the king’s hospitality; you can thank me any moment now.”
She looked away from him, putting the pillow in between her stomach and her thighs. “Thank you.” Her face pressed against the pillow again, forehead resting on her knees as she clung tightly to herself. There was some silence before she spoke. “Did you ever feel this bad?”
He thought of laughing her off, of telling her no. Instead, he said, “You learn to get over it.” Walking into the kitchen, he fetched his ubiquitous bottle of whiskey, poured some into a glass, and walked back over to the couch. “Drink,” he instructed. “All of it, one go.”
Looking down at the glass he had given her, she stared wide eyed at it before drifting her gaze back up to him. The blonde had been about to argue, but obediently she took a big swig of the glass and had down the liquid in one go. The glass clinked against his table as she set it down, the back of her hand wiping away any left over whiskey from her lips. Blinking hard, she shook her head at the taste. “Is this the only thing you ever drink?” But like magic, her breathing had begun to slow as Audrey rested her head back on the couch, regulating her breathing.
“If you have to get drunk, you might as well drink something that’ll get you there fast,” he said. He saw few other reasons to drink. “Sorry if it’s not up to your standards, but it gets the job done.” She’d gotten some color back, and didn’t look quite so pathetic. “You done crying into my pillow now?” he asked, without any real hostility in his voice. He didn’t feel sorry for her, exactly, but he could sympathize.
Just not aloud.
“You’re getting me drunk?” Audrey raised her brow looking down at the empty cup.
“I’m calming you down,” he corrected. “Drunk is the quickest route.” He took back the empty glass, quirking a brow as he asked, “You need another, or are you good?”
“One more for the edge.”
“Got it.” He went back to refill the glass, tossing over his shoulder, “You can sleep on the couch. If anyone asks -- and I really fucking hope no one asks -- I’ll cook something up as to why you spent the night here. Better off scandalizing your darling betrothed than getting pegged for murder.” He said the word coolly, expecting her to twinge, but she’d have to get used to it.
Audrey had taken the last shot, letting her body warm to the alcohol. Taking the blanket handed to her, Audrey fluffed it over her, taking the pillow in her arms and lying down. She watched as he went back into his room, leaving her alone in the living room.
(A few hours later, when she drunkenly attempted to crawl into bed with him, his patience at last hit an end; she was summarily kicked out and threatened with maiming, but then, she probably ought to have expected it.)