Elijah turned to see Gemma by the door he had just exited from. He hadnât seen her inside, and she didnât look like she was dressed up to be spending a night out at Sapphire, but he couldnât think of any other reason sheâd be around. Especially not with the events that had recently taken place. Apparently there was some gunman out there who didnât mind taking down a full on member of the Sinclair family on her wedding day, so whoâs to say they wouldnât even think twice about taking down any of their loyalists.
Looking to the pack of cigarettes she held out to him, he reached out and took one, quickly pulling out the lighter he had with him at all times and lit the end of it. Taking a deep drag, he reveled in the feeling of nicotine entering his system again, then exhaled the puff of smoke upwards so as not to blow it in Gemmaâs face.
He looked back to the young bar tender, honestly kind of relieved to be with someone who was probably going through the same thing he was. Confusion, anger, fear, resentment, sadness, determination. It was a potluck of emotions for him, and each one was fighting to be the prominent one felt. Well theyâd have to take a backseat to the numbness he kept trying to layer on until he was given something to do. If there was someone he could beat up to make things better, he wanted to do it. Needed to do it.
Taking another drag from the offered cig, he nodded his head to the building behind him, still hearing the thumping of the music from inside.
âCome to forget too? Or were you just in the neighborhood?â
The beat from inside rumbled the wall behind Gemma, the vibrations oddly soothing against her back. Soothing as the repetitive vibrations were, it felt so wrong that the rest of the world carried on as if entire worlds hadnât just been, quite literally, blown to shit. Â
Everything was just so unbelievably fucked.Â
Gemma took a long drag and shook her head. âKind of just ended up here, honestly. Now I think trying to forget might be a half way decent idea?â She exhaled, the nicotine finally calming her shaky hands. âBut fuck if I can handle that crowd in there.â Gemma flicked the ash off the end of her cigarette and scoffed.Â
Under normal circumstances, Gemma was bright and friendly and the most sickeningly upbeat, people-person to grace the face of this Earth. Today, though? Today, that girl was nowhere to be found. Who was to say that sniper wasnât in the club, waiting for as many Sinclair affiliates to show up as possible? Only to mow them all down in seconds. Gemma thought the fuck not, thank you very much.Â
At the same time, the thought of being alone made Gemma nauseous. So, outside the club she remained, endlessly debating on going in or just going home. Neither of which sounded all too appealing.Â