kirapctel:
Kira had heard about the violence that had gone on within the city due to the organized crime. A part of her life she’d left behind a long time ago, at least until recently when she found out that the father of her child was still very much apart of that lifestyle. While she’d put distance in her own personal life, her professional one had only gotten more engulfed. Her days in shelters were often spent with the forgotten. The ones who suffered violence first hand and were often left to carry that weight on their own. Whether it came from violence directed from loved ones or from criminal activity that their partners were in — the women and children bore the weight of its impacted and were often discarded. Most of the time, their lives intertwined with that of another who had chosen a life of anger and violence. Perhaps it was for this reason that the knowledge that Damien was still involved in criminal activity and that Lyla could be affected directly rubbed her the wrong way.
As she arrived at the woman’s shelter for her shift, the brunette barely had the time to close her door when a voice echoed out. Devil. While a little dramatic, it held some sort of truth. She hadn’t been the nicest or most sane person in her past. “Still as dramatic, I see.” She quipped as she closed the door behind her and folded her arms across of her chest. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I live here now.” If anything, she wanted to see his expression when he realized that he’d have to get used to running into her. “I work here, baby. I’ve been around kids for a long time,” not her own, but she suspected he’d remind her soon enough. “But this is a woman and children’s shelter so maybe you’d like to tell me what the hell you’re doing here, hm?”
--
“Ah, okay, so just not your own. I think I’ve got the picture.” He chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest, mirroring her own stance. “What? Forgotten the name of your own employer?” He arched a brow, his condescension as thick as the curls that played at her back. “My right to be here is written all over the company that signs your checks.” Serafin laughed, rocking back onto his heels. The man didn’t pull status often--it just wasn’t his style. He’d much rather be the serving leader (perhaps that was fatherhood bleeding into his work life) than one that pranced around talking about it all the time, but something about the way she looked at him beckoned him to put her in her place.
