Devil, Interrupted|| Reza & Daejun
Daejun generally hated the heat, preferring to stay inside his air conditioned, organized space than to brave its inescapable rays. He had no issues spending his summer quietly entertaining himself talking to clients, or tending the garden after dusk or before dawn. It was lazy, certainly, but he figured that he deserved a while to just be himself, alone, rearranging his furniture or hunting for cat trees and toys that didn’t clash with the cool-toned gray aesthetic the place held. He didn’t mind the inactivity. He liked to think he was recharging his darker side. One of these days, he’d stumble into a plan to end all plans, settle back into his devilish role, but for now, deep-cleaning the place was the height of excitement.
He handled solitude with minimal restlessness, but Gremory was another story. The damn creature stuck to him like a second skin, always around his ankles, or on his thighs, or curled up around his head during the night. He tried to make her sleep in her own bed, he really did, but she had a terrible habit of ignoring his commands when it was convenient for her, acting like she’d suddenly gone deaf and blind and could only cling to him harder and purr louder. Although, her presence was actually soothing on the days he woke up groggy, separate from reality, or from nightmares of being underground. Feeling dead was difficult to do with tiny black goblin claws kneading his neck and meowing like a thousand-year-old river monster.
In fact, she was so devoted to staying by his side, when he left the house for a walk, she’d follow (don’t ask him how she got out, because he still didn’t know), silent, yet cheerfully trotting along. The first few times, he didn’t even realize until she got tired and cried loud enough that he turned around, which of course meant he had to carry her all the way back before continuing, and she’d come running again only to get under his feet in a high stakes game of chicken which he had yet to win.
It was frustrating. She was quite the escape artist when she felt like moving. Daejun just wanted peace, and freedom to actually do what he set out to do when he went out in public. If she wanted to come with him so badly, she could, he just wished she’d act more... normal. Though, to be fair, he had no idea how cats were meant to act, so maybe this was natural?
His solution, until he could teach her to stay put, was to bring her along in a tiny harness and leash, and a small cat-sized sling he strapped to his chest (just in case he needed to keep her close while using both his hands) (nobody had actually attacked him while he was out with her so far, but it was better to be safe than sorry in these situations, plus it made him feel something... important, maybe? Needed? She never minded his overprotectiveness, and in fact, the few times he’d actually put her there when there were loose dogs around, she’d never been so smug or content), allowing her to retreat onto his shoulders and rest there when she grew tired. It was good exercise for her as well, because the most she did otherwise was bat around a few toy mice and launch herself at him from anywhere and everywhere, including the floor, the fridge, his cupboards, and once, from a precarious perch on top of his bedroom door. She was just lucky he caught her every time. It provided some well-needed stimulation to her and kept him from turning completely to stone.
Of course, the problem with this arrangement was that Gremory loved people as much as Daejun despised them, and she’d abandon him in the blink of an eye to stop in front of passers-by, padding straight into their path and burble-chirp in excitement until they either cooed and petted her, or exposed themselves as a coward and gave her hairless body and glowering, scar-faced owner a yellow, disgusted glance before hurrying away. Daejun hated when people touched her without his approval, but he despised it even more when they fled. Neither he nor Gremory should have to suffer their judgement.
So in an effort to escape both the day’s punishing rays and human contact, he took to walking at night, armed with the silver blade holstered safely under the black sweats covering his calf. They didn’t go anywhere particularly dangerous, sticking to the sidewalks of the residential area and 24-hour gas station linked with a fast food restaurant, never more than a few miles from home, avoiding any parks or areas associated with cult activity. He also felt much more badass being active after dark, recalling with vivid detail when he was practically nocturnal, out dealing, fulfilling wishes, and gathering information well past the witching hour ended like any drug lord should. Walking a cat so she didn’t get sunburned was, admittedly, less thrilling, but the cool air put adrenaline back in his veins again.
The two of them had just reached the gas station, where Daejun would typically buy a water bottle and rest before turning back, the graveyard workers long past being surprised when he came by with the cat perched on him like Pinocchio's missing conscience. It was almost unheard of for anyone else to show up there so late, which was why tonight, a presence at the pump outside put him on his guard.
Some kid with hair that stood straight up in a neat, stylish peak, slender body covered by a leather jacket, was standing around filling his death trap of a bike up with gas. Though his back was turned to them, Daejun kept his distance, prepared to leave just as silently as he’d come, unwilling to risk an encounter that could possibly cause harm to Gremory.
Gremory, though, had other plans, because she left the safety of his shoulder, trotting towards the guy and going so far as to hop onto the seat of the motorcycle and pose like she was oh so pitifully starved for attention (she wasn’t) one paw lifted and slightly outstretched in a dramatic plea. She let out a hearty beast-noise in greeting, not too loud, but demanding and out of place in the still night.
Did she even remember that she was attached to Daejun with a leash? Probably not. Biting back a sigh, he stepped closer so as not to pull too hard at her harness. “Gremory, no.”