Pronto let out a long, low whistle at the sight of the bullet his companion produced. The the gentle movement of the liquid contained within it and the calming effect it induced fascinated him enough that for a couple of seconds he found himself not staring at Araceli but instead at the projectile in his hands. âCan I see it?â He took the bullet as the other pulled out his gun with a look of anxiety written clearly across his face.Â
âNice,â Pronto nodded appreciatively at the finely crafted firearm, absentmindedly twirling the bullet in his fingers. âTo be completely honest with you I canât say for sure if I have this sort of ammunition,â he admitted, holding up the bullet to the light and squinting slightly as if he could determine itâs contents if he stared hard enough. The fact that it wasnât just an ordinary bullet was obvious, but he swore he could feel a small undercurrent of power thrumming through the bullet itself, almost like a jolt of static electricity that was transmitted to him through his fingertips. âWhere or who exactly did you get this from?â he asked with genuine curiousity, returning the object in question back to itâs owner, fingers lingering maybe a fraction of a second longer than they had to when they brushed against the otherâs hands. Or maybe not, looking at how casually Pronto returned his hands into the pockets of his soft blue hoodie.Â
Araceli nodded at the shopkeeperâs request, quietly passing the cartridge to the other boy. He was still a bit hesitant to let Pronto (or anyone, for that matter) see his things but it was just natural for him to be paranoid. He returned the gun to his satchel with a quiet âThanks,â before blinking up at Pronto attentively. Ah... well. It was understandable if the shop didnât sell something like that. He had a feeling the projectile was custom-made (transparent bullets filled with a mix of blessed water and seraph tears werenât exactly very commonplace), but he needed to try anyway. Doing his job would be a lot harder once he ran out.
Araceli took his bullet back from Pronto a bit bashfully, rubbing the cold metal across his fingers. After a moment of brief consideration he vaguely replied. âAn exorcist.â








