Amongst all of the commotion and regular sounds, Zander had a disciplined routine of running the bar (and someone the security) about the place. Especially on a Monday. Ever since that little incident with his boss getting hurt, the Gargoyle didn’t make it a quiet proclamation that things like that were never going to happen. Ever.
He should have caught his brother’s scent but the air was so mixed with booze and sweat and other creatures. It wasn’t until he heard his voice that the younger Gargoyle froze, knowing all to well the only person to whom that could belong to. Hesitantly, Zander turned around to face Grayson. Or, what appeared to be Grayson. Many emotions mixed over his face, ones that normally were surpressed. But being alone of his kind, assuming his family and clan dead..it made even the stone heart quiver. “Grayson.” He breathed, though still not quite convinced.
Not at all giving a shit about anything else in the world around them, he moved closer to observe his older brother’s features. Even reaching out briefly to touch and make sure he was there, eyes saddening at the scars along his face and eye. That was where he’d been split. But was this his brother or some trick? “You smell like...their blood,” it came out almost as a growl. Those who killed him. Zander would never forget how much easier it was to crumple their bodies under the weight of their own sledgehammer, their disgusting human blood taunting his nose forever.
Swallowing, he quickly called for another staff member to cover the bar for him, taking Grayson by the shoulder and leading him to the back so they could speak in private. Zander couldn’t show these creatures weakness. He was still torn between happiness, sadness, and confusion. “How’s this possible?”