Dominic Agostino (_maverick) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2012-02-10 14:06:00 |
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Entry tags: | 2009-08-31, dominic, keira |
Memories like bullets they fired at me from a gun
Who: Dominic and Keira
Where: A bar in Scarlet Oak
When: Evening
All things considered, it had been a long few days. Dominic knew what he should do, and that was go home to the penthouse he shared with Camilla. His twin sister would be out of the hospital and he knew she'd be worried over him, even if he felt she had nothing to worry about. Well, in theory. Dominic could take care of himself, though that usually meant he'd just find his way to another bar and hope it could distract him long enough. Truth was, it never did. And running into that wolf the night before hadn't helped the situation any, for the record. Dominic never liked when he couldn't immediately take control of the situation, and right now he didn't have control over anything in his life. At all. Keira was here, she was fighting with Milla, and god help Jackson if his path ever crossed Dominic's again.
There was only one answer and that was found at the bottom of a beer bottle. Tonight, he'd text Milla and at least let her know where he was. Whether or not he'd be home tonight was still up for debate, but Dominic was thinking he probably would. Crowe would probably try to convince him it was a good idea, if only because the snake's heat lamp was there and he was sick of sleeping in Dominic's car from now until forever. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, about to text his sister, when the scent hit him. It was more than a perfume, but the scent that marked a person for who they were and it was something he'd never forget for as long as he lived. It shot through his body, back straightening, eyes flicking over the bar.
Keira was here.
Chances were she hadn't seen him yet and he drew a breath and slowly let it go. Dominic had thought of a million things he wanted to say to her once he found her again, but those were gone now, considering what had happened between Keira and Camilla. He was going to have to wing it, as the phrase went.
And that meant this was probably going to end badly. Very badly.