@dcmentia
He’ll be the first to admit that finding dead bodies just didn’t bother him anymore - racking up a kill count in the triple figures did that to a man - but it’s not the half-bloodied corpse of his would-be target that surprises Shane– instead, it’s the sight of the familiar face painting next to the body, as if it weren’t there and it was just some casual art scene. The conduit recognized the other from times that have long since passed, when his powers didn’t exist and maintaining an innocent facade was much easier.
Shane thought that Tim didn’t do murder, and the same was probably true for vice versa. But maybe it’s about time they both stopped making assumptions about each other. He approaches tentatively– not nervous about being seen, but nervous about wondering if he’ll even be recognized anymore, after all this time.
——ϟ “…Tim? Is that you?”
His most recent kill was messy. Not the whole killing process, but what came after. The blood gathering, the painting and the hiding of the body. He heard someone come after his target and, as his target was twitching in the grassy ground, pleading for air, the only thing Timothy could do was place the half empty jar of white ink next to the slit he made on the other’s throat, watching how the thin liquid mixed with the paste. it was all he needed to finish the panting.
Of course that moving away from the body would be the best idea. He could blame it on anyone else that was around the place for the guy’s death, but upon hearing such a familiar voice, he smiled, eyes never drifting away from the painting. Shane. Oh how he missed the guy. Maybe he had picked up on the whole ‘red to grey’ paint case.
“Shane! Long time no see. How’s time treating you?”
