In a matter of hours, the crew five strong dropped to one. The leader was gone. The hotheaded pimp, the brother left behind, and the urban legend - all gone, leaving the volatile cryptid on his own. Truthfully, Jersey didn't care as much as he probably should have. The people he worked alongside for years were dead and his first thought was that maybe, for once, he could get a little bit of peace and quiet.
He had never liked Fabletown much - or New York, for that matter - but, now free from being someone's hired help, the man thought things might start looking up. That hope lasted all of several hours, crushed as soon as he found his glamour stash gone, replaced by a single note written in all too familiar handwriting.
"Come on, Leeds," he hissed, eyes narrowing behind tinted lenses. True, the circumstances of his birth gave him control over transitions, but using a glamour was much more comfortable than forcibly sending what was left of his broken wings through skin or feeling his human bones crack and morph into his true, more cervid frame. Of course it wasn't enough the witch refused to help any longer. Oh no, she had to take the cryptid's remaining glamours as well - just an added kick while he was down.
If it had been anyone else, Jersey would have confronted them. When your supplier worked on the thirteenth floor and you were certainly not welcome at the business office, however, things got a bit more complicated. There was no way he could easily get in contact with her and both of them knew that well from the start. The witch had, out of the blue, used that fact to her advantage and it made Jersey's blood boil. It took everything he had not to lose it and change right there in the back of his store out of sheer rage.
Leaving the hastily scribbled message on the table, he returned to the front area of the pawn shop, hoping that maybe being within view of anyone on the street - not that there would be many folks at all this time of day - would keep the transition from triggering. Though he wanted to punch something, break anything and everything he could get his hands on, he resigned himself to simply pacing back and forth beside the empty glass case still reserved for the axe he so deeply loathed. He didn't know exactly what he was going to do, but he would get back at Leeds one way or another - that much he was sure of. All he had to do now was calm down and wait for an opportunity to present itself.
