Jeff would be the first to admit that he fucked up pretty royally.
He was blissful after he returned from the honeymoon, but damn, was he starved for violence. The fight he practically instigated at that movie night proved as much. He was really happy, then, to get back out on the town. Crack some heads. Paint some walls.
Too bad he did too much in too short a time in too small an area and now bobbies were out looking for what was obviously a serial killer.
He needed to lay low until the trail cooled to a reasonable level.
He had to do something to fill the time. He had to or he would probably stab someone in the flat, and he really didn’t wanna do that. He wasn’t about to lose so much control of himself that he stabbed Adrian or something, but he had to do something.
Running in the earliest hours of the London morning seemed to be the best solution. He couldn’t kill just yet, sure, but running helped a little. It was dark and quiet and there was no real pace since, for once, he wasn’t being chased. He was the only one on the road. He thought.