location: o’riley tavern, st. patrick’s day. who: @blackbourned when: before the plot drop transitioning to after the plot drop.
------HE SHOULD NOT have been surprised by her presence, in truth. time spent floating in and out of new york over his many seasoned years had information pouring out of the city like fresh blood from a grievous wound. her name was attached to one of the private investigation businesses ( what little rats those people were ) and she still kept her practiced magic out of circles. he glimpsed her from afar often, but never found it in him to approach. THERE HAD NEVER BEEN A REASON TO. explanations were sloppy, at the end of the day he had no desire to be reminded of his heart as it beat so obviously against his ribs. but now he didn’t have a reason to disappear. there was no reason to avoid her.
clued into her drink from the bartender ( simply by asking, really ) he collected another round for himself and the witch and weaved like a cat through their owner’s legs to her. his expression was the practiced blank it always was when he stopped, though he admired he as he came to approach: flawless fair skin, soft dark hair, wide brown eyes, gentle features, the admirable slope of her neck ... and offered her liquor of choice out to her like a peace treaty. the only war begun between them was the one he’d forged twenty years prior, silently.
“ for you, ms. blackbourne. you look lovely. ”
