Who: Birkhoff & 'Kenzi,' whom get interrupted by Killian and the actual Kenzi What: Inari gets hers, bye Felicia When: Backdated to this log, before the sickness plot Where: Birkhoff's abode Rating/Warnings: High for violence, blood and a fae getting chainsawed Status: Complete!
Inari didn’t know a goddamn thing about video games.
What the difference was between a Playstation, an XBox, a Nintendo console was something she didn’t comprehend, and she didn’t know what WoW actually stood for - what was the deal with the Horde and Alliance? Weren’t Star Trek and Star Wars the same stupid thing? Pikachu shat out lightning bolts, though, at least she knew that much. Inari’s lack of knowledge when it came to that sort of thing was purposefully ignored, and she didn’t need to worry about faking it when she arrived at Birkhoff’s oh so luxurious home of technological and gaming paradise because she was here on a pity party rampage and if Killian was being a dickhole, then at least she’d seek comfort in who was her boyfriend now.
Work up the tears, the look of distress and hurt, how Killian was a total jerk to her. How he raised his voice because she was just trying to look out for him, how he looked like he’d wanted to hit her (hey, who says it couldn’t have happened?) and how odd he was acting. The entire thing was all very unlike the siblings, really. They had their tiffs, sure, but nothing of this sort of calibre - not unless one of them was cursed and trying to steal the other’s heart for another curse, anyway.
Those meddled brake lines were well-deserved in her opinion.
“I don’t want to go back,” ‘Kenzi’ concluded her tale with a sniffle, eyeliner smudged a little around her eyes. Birkhoff’s lap looked so cozy, so she settled there, arms looping around his neck. “I can stay with you, right? I do owe you from when I bailed last time.”
The kitsune breathed him in a little creepily. He smelled kinda nice.
While Birkhoff had sort of noticed that Kenzi was acting weird, he could’ve possibly just put it down to the Dreams and/or Bo trouble and/or this apparent issue with Killian. And sure, it could still just be a thing, but he’d been friends with her long enough to figure out when she was just acting odd odd.
Not that he’d have assumed ‘she’s not Kenzi’, at least not without Killian’s text which basically said ‘she’s not Kenzi’ and really, with the dots to connect, he was prone to believing big brother on this one. But the question was naturally, if she wasn’t Kenzi, who was she? Which was why Birkhoff just let her settle on him, his arms settling on her waist as her arms went around his neck.
It was a toss up between what was the awkward thing; the contact or the fact that it was probably some body snatching alien that looked like his girlfriend and… Okay, not helping him relax. “Yeah, of course you can,” there was a reason Birkhoff lived his life behind a computer though, he really wasn’t the sort for deception and shit. He was just awkward. “Like any time, totally.”
It was just a good thing that he didn’t need to smile and pretend a lot. “I’ve been a functioning adult lately, I have more than just energy drinks and take-out in the house.” Which was true, at least, and a handy coincidence really. “Stay as long as you want.”
Alright, it was definitely game fucking on. Whatever that hellish creature was, she tried to bloody well kill him - and that was something Killian didn’t take kindly to. The fake Kenzi’s declaration of maybe I’ll go see Birkhoff meant that there was a good chance Her Royal Twatiness was on her way to his place, or already there - and so, out of love and respect for his little sister (wherever the fuck she was) he was going to make damned sure that her boyfriend didn’t stick his dick into crazy. Who knew what diseases he’d get that way.
And then they’d have to take him to a special clinic or quarantine him or something, it wouldn’t be good.
Anyway, a snag in that plan was Killian getting into his Mustang and, while on the way to Birkhoff’s, crashing - the brake lines had been cut, he should have known, and luckily he wasn’t near a bridge when it happened. Sailing over the guardrail only to plunge into murky water wouldn’t be fun, but no, it was simply a construction site which was now a mess of a car folded like an accordion, orange cones, clay and dust and dirt and concrete. His ribs were cracked because it hurt to draw even the slightest, smallest breath into his lungs - he was also bleeding and bruised, probably had a concussion? Didn’t matter. The smoking remains of his Mustang remained left behind - then, Killian staggered to the nearest lot and did something he hadn’t done in quite some time.
He hotwired a car, the first one he saw, his supplies tossed into the trunk. It’d be a painful drive, he didn’t know what had become of his sister, but he’d get to Birkhoff’s very soon. And hopefully exact revenge he now craved like a drug.
That hellish creature looked rather homey on top of Seymour’s lap - the ‘kicked puppy’ look she’d worked with Kenzi’s features turned into something that expressed how pleased she was in his answer. In some sly, foxy sort of way, emphasized by how her long, fishnetted legs crossed over the other.
Nerds weren’t Inari’s type but the man had money. A lot of it, considering all the technological junk in his home. Not to mention the diamond-studded heels that she had worn today; not like Kenzi was going to be needed them anytime soon, and she might as well make the best of it all, huh?
This was going to be a good life.
“You’re the best,” purred the kitsune, and instead of showing her gratitude in some humanly acceptable sort of way, her tongue made the debut out of her mouth and all the way up his cheek. The facial hair didn’t even deter her. “Maybe we should take this to -”
Taking it to the bedroom was going to have to wait, kitsune. It was the sound of an engine that caught her attention.
Now that’s interesting. Her eyes narrowed, icily. “Are you expecting company? I thought this was supposed to be us.”
Okay, if he wasn’t already aware that this wasn’t Kenzi, that would have him leaping across the room and asking what the fuck. There were limits to his acceptance of fucking weird at this point and okay, Kenzi had her quirks but she’d always been pretty amazing when it came to his own complete lack of social functionality.
Licking most definitely fell into that ‘lets work up to it’ category of things.
“Oh um…” And damn, he’d already told her that he had food in, so it wasn’t that but fuck he hoped it was some kind of back up to deal with not-Kenzi because Seymour and tense situations led to awkwardness. “It’s a delivery, I um… I kinda got you something, cause you’d talked about the shoe closet and… It was meant to be a surprise.” Dear sweet God what was wrong with him. But he was seriously uncomfortable with that narrow eyed look from this thing, since Kenzi could be damn well terrifying when she needed to be, don’t and in potential body snatcher and expect Birkhoff to deal with it well.
His life was covert spies, explosions and assassinations, not creatures from the swamp or whatever new fae or fairytale shit was going on now. “I’ll just go and um…” Extracting himself from under her with rather careful hands on her hips -not the butt, not the butt- to go and hopefully find someone capable of dealing with this.
The engine purring belonged to a lovely Oldsmobile that appeared to be circa the late nineties - a car that only an old lady would be out chugging along in at 20 mph in the left lane, on the highway, but Killian had pushed its limits and got her to Birkhoff’s place. While simultaneously pushing himself, the pain throbbing and rushing and gathering like a cycling tornado, the kind of pain that bore holes into his brain and determinedly targeted every nerve ending.
He wouldn’t even have to try very hard, to look desperate and like shit run over twice.
To the front door he went, leaving the chainsaw behind - incapacitating the rancid thing first, and then killing her. You caught more flies with honey, as the saying went.
Now to begin with the begging and pleading - thank the gods he was such a slippery actor. Staggering into the house, wheezing and looking worse for the wear, it was like he was prepared to do anything to bargain with an otherworldly thing that was clearly mental, in exchange for the safety of himself and his loved ones.
“Oh, good, you’re alright,” he patted Birkhoff’s shoulder. And still wearing his trousers, that was also a positive. “Is she...she’s still here?”
Inari was still ever present, much to Killian’s dismay. A leech that refused to be killed, a stain on sheets that was too stubborn to be scrubbed off - like the pirate she’d attempted to off for his discovery. Birkhoff was someone she wanted to believe and even let live, but she wasn’t a fucking moron, and something wavered as he spoke. Discomfort, doubt. The feeling that he wanted to get the hell away from her rather than actually take it to the bedroom (he doesn’t know what he’s missing, clearly). It was why she smiled a cheery smile at his words, and it was why she slipped into the kitchen quietly when he went to the front door, finding a knife to slip into her jeans, under her shirt.
“Baaaaaaaaaaaaabe,” called out the imposter, like a siren trying to lure him into a trap - which was also probably known as her vagina - from the kitchen. “What is it?” He either did have something outside for her or there was someone at the door. Someone that shouldn’t be here.
For a moment she thought back to her little prisoner, shackled in the caves, and frowned. No, those cuffs were on pretty tight.
Or so she assumed. Honestly, the method wasn’t important to a good scrappy little thief - all the best ones slipped out eventually, either because the right tool was made available at the right times or maybe, finally, the adrenaline of being pissed off finally pushed through, but it was as if the stars fucking aligned and the Fates of the OC, comfortable on their metaphysical thrones cackled in glee and threw them a little bone.
A second vehicle joined the entourage of Team Stay Out of Birkhoff’s Pants. Painted a recognizable yellow, it was a rugged cab that drove up with tinted windows that made it hard to see who the driver and passenger even were, but one thing was a little iconic - the moment the door open, the first thing that stepped out was a very fashionable boot, leather and laced high and covered in a bunch of fucking mud but still fabulous.
Kenzi herself looked grimy, clothes a bit torn and the makeup she’d worn that night still caked and running down her face and while she looked relieved to see the two most important men in her life breathing, there was something that needed tending to.
“I need twenty bucs to pay this guy,” she said, her voice sounding like she’d been gargling with glass shards. There was a cuff dangling from her wrist and, no, it wasn’t meant to be a fashion statement or a sex toy. “I’ve given myself a UTI from refusing to pee on myself, so please tell me the bitch isn’t dead yet.”
Between Killian looking like shit twice warmed in the sun and then flung on a wall, the wail for the kitchen and Kenzi’s rather impressive arrival, Birkhoff’s head was going to explode. He didn’t need to tell the half-dead pirate that Kenzi-Imposter was still there and potentially finding something kill them all with, like heavy objects, blenders, possibly just the kitchen sink, because that could be a weapon. And he was pretty sure that his shitty acting skills pretty much let Kenzi-Imposter know that either he knew, had an inkling or was just a spaz case that was getting kidnapped at the moment. But either way, he really hoped the jig was officially up.
The easiest thing for Birkhoff to do was pull a twenty out for the cab driver that was probably traumatised and might move state soon, and hope to god the wonder twins had an idea to get the crazy out. “She licked me, and now I think she’s planning world annihilation, and I would be so glad to see you two if I didn’t feel like you’d both already been run over by something three times your size. Jesus.”
They were worse than Nikita and Michael.
“She’s not dead yet, but she’s about to be,” and then Killian winced. Because his whole body had been nearly jerked through a windshield. There was probably glass in his thigh, even. “Glad to see you both as well, group hug later - perhaps when my ribs aren’t broken. But alright - “ He glanced at Kenzi, continuing to speak in hushed tones while Birkhoff helpfully pulled out the ‘you saw nothing’ money for the cab driver. “The chainsaw’s outside, give me a minute to get her on the floor and all you’ll have to do will be to let it rip to life.”
Now, ahem. Time to really showcase those acting skills.
Inari was perhaps surprised to see him, when he shuffled into the kitchen to join her, a literally broken and beaten man. But this personification of creepy with a piranha plant for a vagina had to understand that he was not one to die very easily - in fact, Captain Hook was Fairytale Land’s version of a cockroach that could survive even after the atomic blast.
“Look, I still don’t know who you are, or what you want - “ he wheezed pitifully, reaching into his pocket to pull out various silver, shiny offerings. Including the necklace he’d caught Inari chewing on before. “But please just don’t try to kill me anymore. I’m sorry, alright? But we can...we can be friends. It doesn’t have to be like this.”
Inari had been a total sweetheart and paid her a little visit before coming to Birkhoff’s - to tell her all she’d been doing, what’d she’d planned to do, rubbing proverbial salt on proverbial wounds, while Kenzi had been in and out of bouts of exhaustion. Turns out, the kitsune didn’t really know much on how to take care of a human hostage so meals were usually lacking as well as any humane environment. It didn’t traumatize Kenzi - she’d been homeless in her youth, after all, it wasn’t that different - but it suuuuuuuuuuuure got her blood boiling when she found out her ‘clone’ had intentions on killing her brother and sticking things up her boyfriend’s ass.
Seems like Killian’s timing wasn’t awful either, but what else to expect from someone who had half her heart? They were oddly in sync, and if they were sisters, they’d totally be sharing period days.
“I’m here to protect your dignity, babe,” she coughed out and with whatever reserve of energy she’d managed to tap into, retrieved the power tool big brother so thoughtfully brought with him. At least a wrench had been thrown into Inari’s plans; it took more than a car crash (RIP, mustang?) to off Killian, and at least Birkhoff had the mental capacity to not bone her wanna-be doppleganger. “And possibly mess up your floor so, um, I’m really sorry.”
At least the pirate captain provided sufficient distracting, because she wouldn’t have guessed the kidnapped human escaped her captivity situation. Inari spun, knife pulled out a wielded, and now those teeth could be seen. Rows of needles for teeth, a hiss and a defensive stance that was more animal-like.
If he was here, then Birkhoff knew.
“Trying to figure out who I’d like more to live,” the intruder seethed, her features crossing onto the feral side. “You or the nerd, but you’re a little hard to kill, aren’t you?”
Potential messes aside, Birkhoff was wrapping his head around it all. Thankfully there were directions, he could take those pretty well. Things usually just went to shit if he was left to plan these things himself -then people ended up getting trapped places or shot or something and Birkhoff was aiming for less injuries inflicted upon already injured parties.
But if Killian could get her down -without puncturing a lung- Birkhoff was pretty sure he could help keep her down while Kenzi got the chainsaw out. The plotting of chainsaw murder on his floor wasn’t that big a deal really, sadly Birkhoff had gotten some tips on bloody murder scene clean up, provided Inari didn’t bleed acid or some shit like that they’d be set.
He kept a little further back from the kitchen, visible from the kitchen to where he loitered, but he wasn’t really looking to get in the way, or stabbed, or give anything away since they’d established he was shit at playing cool. If Killian could play out the wounded puppy routine and get her defenses to back off a little…
“Can we get a veto on neither?”
The piranha had teeth, didn’t she? All the better to eat you with - though she’d probably just go for stabbing in this case. Killian still didn’t know what exactly she was, but he guessed some kind of mad cow that was whatever brand of fae liked to kidnap people, put their face on, and try to awkwardly insert themselves into the new life. Kenzi dreamed of quite the fucked up world, didn’t she?
“Oh, please,” he scoffed - and he didn’t really mean a word of this, Birkhoff. But the fellow likely knew he wasn’t being serious. “I’m the one you want to keep alive. If you keep him alive, you’d just be trapped here with nerd games and Chinese takeaway. I can what you want you want - anything you want. We don’t even have to stay here, we can go elsewhere. Start over. You can be Kenzi or whomever you desire - just as long as we’re together.”
He held the silver chain lovingly in his prosthetic hand, watching the hideous creature with a warm, compelling blue gaze as deep as the sea he was promising. “Plus, I’ve got a ship. A big ship - you haven’t seen it yet, but it can be yours too. We’ve got a few things in common, you know, so why not live like how we’re meant to?”
Well, did they have a deal? Promises of freedom and endless shinies, endless plunder - seemed amazing, didn’t it?
Kenzi knew exactly what she was - the kitsune whose glamour powers had spilled onto her own and burned into her skin. In a way, she was sort of right? Super powers were received, but they didn’t belong to her, and the fae had prowled and plotted an entire kidnapping situation so she could insert herself into someone else’s life and live it.
In the dreams, it wasn’t like Kenzi hadn’t asked for help, either - she tried to go to everyone, to Bo and Hale and everyone was too busy to take notice. Dyson had shot Inari, then he and Bo played heroes by rescuing her from the cave she’d been shackled to. This time around? There was no way in hell she wasn’t going to play damsel, there was no way in hell she was going to be left out of getting justice for what happened to her.
Anger was fuel, even on an empty stomach and weak bones. Out of sight is where she’d stay with the chainsaw in her hands, ready to pull the switch whenever Killian got her down. From where she was, everything was heard - including the bluff, and whatever Inari’s response was with her stolen voice.
Inari had options now, was that it? Her tongue ran across her pointed teeth. It was the glimmer of something shiny that caught her attention. “If it’s that easy, you’d make a crap dad anyway,” she hissed, but her posture relaxed like she was thinking about it, and the way he dangled the necklace - the way the light reflected off it - was like a lure. A moth to a flame. Her eyes, that same crystal blue, snapped at to Birkhoff. “Any bids on me, loser? Anything better you can offer? I’m the closest thing you’ll get to your lady again, so you better think about it.”
Oh my god, really? What the hell did this bitch think she was? This wasn’t an E-Bay bid war, damnit, and don’t call her nerd a loser, cuntface.
Birkhoff actually worked in a frown with the ‘nerd games’ and shit, he didn’t take it overly personally, least of all since he definitely knew that Killian planned on killing the bitch and they were both aware that their Kenzi was just fine but why did everyone get so judgemental about the nerd thing? Clearly being a giant nerd was working for him on many levels, thank you very fucking much. Not that he could really get overly worked up. Were they really debating which one of them would die and which one would skip off into the sunset with imposter Kenzi?
She licked him. He was still a tad skeeved out about that if he was honest and the notion of yet more licking was shudder inducing in some ways. “My sole interest in this is to not die, in general. Because that plan sucks, but in case you didn’t notice,” one hand flailed around a little in the direction of the house and the gizmos around it, “nerd shit pays off.”
Even if piracy in the literal form was a little bit cooler. Fuck you all. Could they get to the killing part so that the weird thing with Kenzi’s face went away?
“You were right anyway,” Killian admitted, kicked puppy and solemn words to resemble the kicked puppy appearance - or the ‘I’ve just crashed my car’ appearance. He’d seen the way those eyes of hers caught on the necklace, the delicious little snack. It was a moment that he’d latch onto, to lure the prey nearer. “I thought about it - there’s a certain clarity that comes with the approach of death. I should just save myself the heartache - Regina would never choose me over who she really loves.”
It hurt to say the words; he didn’t believe them, ultimately, but they still spoke to his deepest fears. He was a man who would do anything it took to stay alive - to actually survive. And, ultimately, to protect his loved ones. If that meant stabbing his own self in the heart and twisting the knife, pulling off the ultimate in acting jobs - then so be it.
Tick tock, dearie. He dangled the chain, the symbolic representation of their new life. If she accepted it.
Inari accepted it, the choice made, grinning with her barbed mouth - those teeth almost looked metallic, all the more to smother the shinies into fine powder for some proper fae digestion. Not to mention the kitsune was a bit hungry; human food didn’t do it for her. “Sorry, cutie,” came her very insincere apology to Birkhoff. With a mind made up, she stuck the chain in her mouth and -
Screamed. It sizzled in her mouth, and that’s what Kenzi assumed her cue was.
That chainsaw roared to life, the blade vibrating and rotating - a cue for everyone to move the fuck away. Inari didn’t get a chance to see what was going on until it was too late.
Until something shiny drilled into her, right in the gut, piercing through and out the back with a sickening squish of sliced innards and a spray of blood.
For a second there they were face to face, Kenzi and Inari - it was like looking in a mirror. The actual Kenzi never wondered what she’d look like on the brink of death, but the kitsune’s expression for the most part had given her a window to it.
Famished, filthy and exhausted but with steely resolve, her lips curled back into a scowl. There was no epic speech to spout, nothing about vengeance or even something corny and uplifting like YOU CAN’T BREAK ME HO. Kenzi’s words were very precise, and very simple.
“Bye, Felicia.”
Its power revved up and after a couple seconds, the power tool was pulled out. Whoever Inari was - whatever she looked like beneath that very powerful veil of glamour - never revealed itself. Her body fell, but it was still Kenzi’s image she held.
Even in death.
Birkhoff was pretty sure he had a new nightmare, at the very least he was certain his kitchen wasn’t ever going to be the same. Between Killian’s rather worryingly sincere pleas, the screaming and then the dual Kenzi murder/death thing going on, he was mostly just impressed with the blood splatter.
He was trying to avoid the notion of the dead kitsune on his floor that looked like his girlfriend right then, or the semi-dead pirate too, because honestly everything was just a mess. “So…” That was enough excitement for like ever, and between Killian looking like he was about to keel over and Kenzi looking homeless and now blood splattered, and the body on the floor was just… “That was horrible, please let’s never do that again.”
Cue brother and sister reunion and while Birkhoff freaked out?
He was trying to figure out if there was like an Orange County emergency response that wouldn’t ask questions about the dead Kenzi on the ground while alive Kenzi was there so that Killian didn’t actually die from car crash injuries as well. “Do you two wanna go and not stand up before you die? Call someone to help? I can… Scarily I can deal with that.” The jerky thumb gesture to Inari’s body, he just needed to mix up some of Ronan’s body dissolving mixture and get her to the bathtub.
The scream from Inari, when she put that necklace in her mouth, was like sweet, sweet music to Killian’s ears. “Never trust a pirate,” he told her, and that was advice she’d probably have to take to her grave, sadly. But indeed, never trust a pirate to not take advantage of an opportunity to dip a shiny, silver snack into Dreamshade poisoning - he’d never seen anyone ingest it like that before, but even a scratch on the skin was enough to incapacitate someone while the poison slowly spread like a black weed of death and killed them. Must have really hurt to directly eat it, he assumed?
A nice accompaniment to getting a whirring chainsaw blade in the gut. It was then that Killian knew for certain that Birkhoff was more than a decent fellow - because he was rightfully disturbed by this scene. Yet still savvy enough to know how to dispose of a dead body. That was a skill he could respect.
“Here,” he slung his lame arm across his middle, for some kind of stability while he breathed shallowly - his bravado and trickery were gone, this was truly him white as a sheet and about to pass out from the pain. With his good hand, he fumbled for his mobile and passed it over to Kenzi, whom he would hug out of sheer relief as soon as he could manage. “Text Hawke and see where he is - he said he’d come by to heal me. I definitely...I think I need to sit down. If any help is needed with, uh....that,” he gestured to the very dead kitsune, “Let me know but I trust that you can handle it, mate.”
It was still incredibly horrifying to see a carbon copy of his sister so completely mutilated. He didn’t even want to look, and turned away to go find a couch to collapse onto.
Man.
What a dumb bitch.
Kenzi’s well of pent up energy was officially exhausted, no longer with the strength to hold that chainsaw up with her hands - it was dropped, but the impact was cushioned by what was now a fae’s corpse. Like her brother, she looked like hell but survival ran in their blood, which is why instead of some kind of heartfelt reunion (it was coming, eventually), the first thing the mini-pirate did was sluggishly approach Birkhoff’s counter and get herself some slices of bread to stick into her mouth.
“I missed you guys so much,” was what she meant to say, but with a face full of carbs it was a little hard to decipher. Killy’s phone on her hand, she poked at the screen to send some incoherent texts (and emojis, if the dude couldn’t understand her typos then maybe emojis would count), and swallowed.
An appetite could be managed when you haven’t eaten in a minute despite the dead thing in here, for realsies.
Seriously, though. What to do about that? And she was wearing a pair of her nice shoes! Inari, you entitled cunt. “I don’t even care about the stuff she’s wearing, I might as well burn everything she’s worn,” Kenzi croaked. “I could go for a bonfire. But great job, team, for not dying.”
So, there was some kind of service (or friend) that could deal with Killian, and hopefully check over Kenzi too, and he was actually find with them traipsing through the house now, because he was seriously considering moving at this stage. “Okay!” He could probably work up some form of calm for another half hour, “Healing service on the way, dead thing is dead, both of you to the couch.” He’d grab some snacks and crap to toss them both, find some water and or soda or something, he might have orange juice somewhere from Kenzi’s cocktail favours.
He was now only moderately worried about Killian bleeding to death on his sofa at this point. And if Kenzi seriously didn’t want anything that Inari had, thank god, Birkhoff was pretty sure the solvent would work on that, he’d pull it up later, right now he was fine with getting some fucking sheets and covering the mess, chainsaw and all until the pirate-twins were taken care of.
“I’m really terrible at the nursing shit, so someone needs to tell me what they need and I can take care of it.” Directions, Birkhoff worked best with directions. And when they were both definitely not going to die he’d deal with the mess.
Killian made a sound like hmmmmmmm, either like he was contemplating the question or like he just didn’t know what other sound to even make in his deliriousness. “If you’ve got a pair of tweezers or something - “ He meant for where shattered glass had lodged itself into his leg, just above his knee which made walking difficult. “...I’ll take care of that, with some rubbing alcohol and then my friend with the delectable ass can handle the likely cracked ribs. Oh, and be sure to save some of the thing’s blood too. He’ll need that. For whatever voodoo he’s got.”
Using blood to heal was something Killian didn’t quite understand - magic didn’t work that way where he was from - but he trusted Hawke, so may as well have Inari’s splattered innards serve some purpose besides being an actual stain.
“Oh, and...have you got any whiskey?” Because gods, he certainly wasn’t going to be cutting back on the alcohol tonight. “Anything hard will do. The more like paint thinner the better.”
So attractive, with grime and makeup and bread crumbs on her face but Kenzi could totes get comfortable with the idea of sitting - and bathing. Bathing for days, and finally used the restroom because she was pretty sure her bladder was engorged. Everything sort of felt like a dream, like she was almost high or, hell, maybe even delirium? But she found herself next to Killian, processing things like ‘delectable ass’ and ‘paint thinner.’ What was life.
“Dude, you so have the legs for a nurse’s outfit though. But, uh, what he said,” echoed Sharkbait about the whiskey, feeling like she was practically melding with the couch. “Guys. Guys. I feel like we coulda just made our own ‘I Know What You Did Last Summer’ movie.” Kill a bitch, hide the bitch’s body, make a blood pact to speak of it only during holidays for the sake of mocking nostalgia at the dinner table?”
Just without the ominous letters of their deed. Sounded like a plan.