As much as the subway was Emmetâs domain was night Grimsleyâs, so it wasnât so unusual to see him out at this hour, meandering these desolate hours in search of the next auspicious splash of neon light. The station became liminal in that regard, existing in the moments between exultant highs and sobering lows. No, that wasnât the real reason he had taken this detour. Grimsley had jested light-heartedly that he should come and abscond with him while he was detained in a work meeting and even if there was no meeting to extricate him from he had arrived back here all the same.
There was something eerie about the station at night and as the last commuters began to disperse, exhaustion etched in their sluggish strides, the large, open space took on a bleak atmosphere. An experience totally unique to negotiating the same walkways whilst they were congested with an afternoonâs worth of passengers. Empty enough that Grimsley takes notice the moment someoneâs voice resonates, clamorous, through the otherwise stagnant silence. It wasnât the only one, however, and that piques his interest. Emmetâs commanding voice accompanied it which meant his suppositions had been correct, the conductor was still roving these halls long after the traffic had tapered off. The scene that unfolds before him is aberrant, unequivocally wrong. He doesnât afford it much thought before heâs closing the distance between them, his strides purposeful.Â
These sorts of nights were often full of these inebriated sorts, loitering at the bar, their voices dissonant against the gentle lull of music. Stumbling through the streets, laughing so loudly that otherâs retreated a step or two back to avoid colliding with them. It meant he had gotten accustomed to it, navigating each interaction with the sort of refined grace it often took to convince them that he wasnât their enemy. It wouldnât take much for someone to become belligerent if they felt their authority was being challenged, even if they had no such right to it in the first place. Emmetâs posture wasnât rigid as he had become accustomed to and there was something distinctly disconcerting about the way he was attempting and failing to retreat from those encroaching hands. Grimsleyâs hand comes to rest on the manâs shoulder, decisively, it takes only a moment for him to wedge himself between the conductor and his passenger, as compelling as he was convincing.
â Weâre all friends here.â His voice is low, scarcely a murmur, one hand resting now on the manâs shoulder and the other grasped in the strangerâs own hand, a sickening vice. The perspiration slicking his palm made his skin unpleasantly clammy, wide, startled eyes searching the eliteâs face for something; he couldnât be certain what that was. Grimsley gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder which was enough to soothe his quickly escalating frustration if only a little. â So thereâs no reason to raise your voice like that.â The gamblerâs smile was amicable but the fluorescent lights over-head turned his blue eyes glacial. The manâs disorientated state meant he was more than likely seeing several repetitions of him and was unable to appreciate the sharpness to his eyes. Even if his breath reeked of alcohol and Grimsley was certain he would have to abrade his hands raw to get the viscous remnants of the manâs last drink off of his skin he remained unperturbed. He had encountered drunken strangers many times in the past, often incensed for one reason or another, this made him far more experienced in navigating this than his friend. With a side-long, perfunctory glance towards Emmet, holding his gaze for only a moment as if to assure him it was alright to breathe, take as long as you need, his attention returns to the man who was now grappling with his sleeve. He lets out a soft exhale, it would most likely have to be dry-cleaned now.
â Your destination isnât far from here, only a few streets away.â The man nods sluggishly, furrowing his brow as Grimsleyâs hand extended towards one of the nearby exists. â But you wonât make it back like this, shall I call someone for you? â After a moment of inertia he nodded again, slowly, as if he was gradually piecing together what was actually transpiring right before his eyes. A cab would get the man home, at the very least he wasnât shouting any-longer, those were his least favourite people to deal with, especially when they were appallingly intoxicated. After a brief phone call Grimsley finally addresses Emmet, his smile remains but is more sincere now that heâs no longer pinned beneath a barrage of hot, repugnant breath. â This gentleman wants to know how to get to the entrance, thereâll be a taxi waiting to take him home, heâs very sorry for the inconvenience he caused you.â He lowers his gaze back down to the man expectantly who begins immediately apologizing, words still slurred together but at the very least it was somewhat coherent.Â
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