dated — january 24, 9:46PM located — unknown alley with — @disasterxsong status — closed
It's not often you see your history walking down the street. The streetlights overhead cast shadows perfect to hide in, and curfew comes and goes, every good mutant tucked away into their homes; except this decade makes 'good mutant' an irony. In this new decade, there's no such thing as a 'good mutant' anymore. This suits Eoin just fine, of course, as he's never counted among that group in the first place. Out after curfew is kind of what he does, blending into shadows and alleys with the hood of his vest over his head, watching. He might as well be nineteen again, when he first met her.
Eoin knows what she can do. God, how could he forget that voice? He glances around the corner, shoulder propped against the alley wall, a vague shape in the dark of it.
He's twenty now; just let go, Bea. You're not supposed to be scared of them, let them be scared of you. But he rules Dorchester with an iron fist curled around the throat of its streets, and no one but a choice few know his name, his face, his true nature. He's the face of death, the last thing you see before you see nothing at all, until you're evened and stomped into the concrete of those streets. Make them scared of crossing you, Bea, they'll listen. And if they don't, they're worthless. If they don't, take their heads off.
She'd always been fine with him doing it. But that was years ago, when it was just a handful of them and you couldn't trust anyone. In the end, of course, Eoin realised that you couldn't actually trust those close to you either. A hard but important lesson that chased him into the streets of Chicago, with all its filthy politics. Eoin's hand clenches by his side.
With quick movements, Eoin grabs his old friend by the arm and pulls her into the alley, shoving her back against the wall. His hand is over her mouth, but Eoin knows that if she really wanted to, she could obliterate him despite it. "Bea," he breathes her name into her ear, "it's me." Leaning back so she can see his face despite the shadow his hood casts over it, Eoin removes his hand slowly.
He shoots her a faint grin. "Don't take my head off." Or do, if you really want to, it's all the same to me.