BLAKE CASTILLO | @blakecastillo
when + where january 29th, late evening. at thane auto shop
Andy hated not having the clubhouse. Nights like these were made much simpler when he could sit at the table, had everything he needed right there in front of him, or within twenty feet. Now, he’s in Jeremiah’s office at the auto shop, long past closing time, working through the finer details of the club’s latest shipment. He didn’t mind the details -- Usually this was his forte, but his mind was everywhere but with himself tonight. The quiet was welcomed, just the sounds of music playing softly in the background while he worked. It’s not a common occurrence, between the MC and the four kids running around his and Rowan’s home. It’s a welcomed change, even though he’s getting through his work painfully slow, mind wandering.
Had there been anything other than Fleetwood Mac playing, he wouldn’t have heard the sound of someone at the door. It’s a light sound, but it has him narrowing his eyes, reaching for the gun tucked into the waistband of his pants. Andy waits for a moment, watching the door as he debates on what to do -- Part of him, a piece that’s far more paranoid than he wants to admit, braces for something worse to come, for bullets to come flying through the window. Only when it doesn’t, he stands slowly, crossing the office hesitantly as he pulls his gun out, ready to shoot at a moments notice. Hand on the knob, Andy takes a deep breath before ripping the door open with his gun drawn. He’d rather deal with the guilt of pulling a gun on friend or some poor stranger, than go in with his guard down.
On the other side of the door, however, is something he could have only come up in a nightmare. Blake’s slumped against the doorway, covered in blood and bruises, and what looks to be a gun shot wound. Andy knows exactly what this means, a hollow feeling sitting in his chest because of it -- He didn’t think putting Blake on this job was a good idea, for the most obvious reasons. Jace isn’t even a month old, and while he can understand the feeling of being stir crazy, his mind goes to every worst possible scenario long before she shows up here. The last thing he wanted was to be right, to see now that what happened tonight was something far worse than anything his imagination could come up with. Shoving his gun back into the waistband of his pants, Andy wastes no time getting to her. “Blake,” he begins, eyes wide and wild as an arm comes around to her to try and steady her, pulling her into the auto shop. “Blake --” He says again, unable to find the right words to say in that moment. “C’mere, I can -- Get in here.” Andy pulls her into the office, dropping her into the chair he’d been in moments ago as gracefully as he can. “You’re okay, kid... It’s okay, just -- Fuck.” Once she’s in the chair, he moves to shut and lock the door, taking a deep breath as he gets a good look at her. Andy knows the shipment is long gone, and given that Blake is alone -- Jamie is as good as dead. Pulling his phone from his pants, he makes a quick call to Rowan, leaving details vague but conveying the severity of the situation.
His eyes never leave Blake, jaw clenched as he approaches her, setting his phone on the desk. Kneeling so that he’s at eye level, his hands cup her cheeks so that she’s forced to focus on him and not the pain she’s clearly in. “What happened, Blake?” He begins with the obvious, tone level but firm.