Scar knew he wasn't entirely human. His parents had disclosed his mythic heritage to him as soon as he was old enough to properly understand what that meant, but he wasn't in possession of any extraordinary abilities.
Apparently, to the hunters, that didn't matter.
Scar could usually pass off the markings on his skin as his namesake — scars — but experienced hunters could easily tell the difference. Scar had hardly ever encountered hunters, let alone those that could see through his lie.
Until today.
Yes, Scar had seen a fairy. Yes, Scar had followed that fairy. Maybe a bit too far into the forest bordering the village. No, he hadn't considered the fact that hunters frequented the forest, especially at that time of night. He simply didn't think they'd be concerned with him.
In all fairness, the hunters did notice the fairy first. Then they noticed Scar, and for a moment, they dismissed him. Then the apparent leader of the troupe had studied Scar a little too hard, noticed the marks on his face and arms, and pointed his crossbow at him.
Next thing Scar knew, he was laying on his back with a poison arrow protruding from his shoulder, three hunters looming over him. His consciousness was quickly fleeing from him, but he was still lucid enough to watch as the senior hunter raised his crossbow again and pointed the arrow straight at the center Scar's face.
Whoops, he thought eloquently. Sorry, Cub.
The hunter pulled the trigger.
The arrow dissolved midair, accompanied by a deafening shriek. All three hunters collapsed, clapping their hands over their ears. Scar couldn't force his limbs to move, even as blood poured from his ears at the awful sound.
His vision was swimming and darkening at the same time, but he could still make out the purple glow of...something...as it leaped into view, claws slashing at the hunters. Blood sprayed across the clearing, the hunters' screams cutting off abruptly.
In the next few moments, there was silence. Scar struggled for breath, the poison burning in his veins.
Perhaps he should have been afraid of the entity leaning over him, bloodied claws ghosting over his face. Maybe it was the poison, but the thing hovering over him had far too many eyes on its face. And arms. And chest. And everywhere.
Scar dropped his head back to the grass and let the darkness swallow him.
~
Scar startled awake, instantly groaning as pain radiated through his entire body.
"Easy," a distorted voice said quietly. Scar's head snapped to the left, gaze instantly locking onto the figure perched on a chair next to the bed he was currently laying on. "The poison is still working its way out of your system."
Scar blinked once, twice, but the figure didn't become any more human. It was bipedal at the very least, but that paled in the face of...everything else going on. It had eyes everywhere, glowing purple and fixated on Scar. Four wings were curled against its back, also covered in eyes, and to top it all off, above its head was a sort of halo in the shape of a broken rectangle.
Scar swallowed a terrified squeak. Think. He was still alive. If this thing had wanted him dead, it could have left him with the hunters. It was keeping him alive, as it had pointed out that the poison was working its way out of his system.
Why?
"Why?" he voiced aloud. The thing tilted its head, several eyes blinking across its body.
"So that you don't die," it replied.
"No," Scar said, shaking his head as he forced himself into a sitting position. His stomach turned and he doubled over, taking deep breaths to negate the nausea. The entity was suddenly kneeling in front of him, clawed hands hovering at Scar's elbows. He startled backwards, the thing jumping away from him at the same time.
With a flap of its wings, the entity hopped back into its seat, still staring intently at Scar. He leaned back on the pillows, his stomach settling slightly as soon as he was horizontal. He turned his head towards the entity, blinking blearily.
"Why'd you save me?" he rasped.
The eyes blinked as one. Its wings ruffled slightly, chin dipping towards its chest. "Because that's my job," it murmured. It hopped off the chair, shuffling over to Scar's side. He fought the urge to lean away, the back of his neck prickling at its proximity as it lifted a hand. Gently, so softly it almost tickled, it traced a claw down the bridge of his nose, and then its touch was gone. "Rest now. You'll feel better in the morning."
"Who are you?" Scar whispered as the entity turned away.
"Sleep," it replied evasively.
And then it was gone.
~
Scar slept like a log. When he woke next, the entity was nowhere to be found, light filtering through sheer curtains at the single window on the far wall.
He felt remarkably better than the last time he'd been awake as he pushed himself into a sitting position, rubbing the remaining sleep out of his eyes. His thoughts were clear, and the soreness in his limbs had faded into the background.
Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Scar pushed to his feet, stumbling slightly as he made his way to the door. He carefully pushed it open, peering into the hallway beyond.
Cautiously, Scar padded down the hall, brushing his hand along the pale wall as he did. He ended up walking down a spiral staircase, emerging on what appeared to be the ground floor, lined with walls of windows.
Slightly overwhelmed, Scar turned in a slow circle, pausing when he noticed the figure sitting just outside the back door. Or maybe the front door. Scar had no clue where exactly he was.
He crept over to the door, tilting his head. The figure seemed familiar, but it couldn't have been the entity from before. The newcomer only had two wings and a sandy mop of hair, idly swinging his legs over the edge of the deck.
Scar hesitated, then reached for the doorknob, pulling the door open. He opened his mouth, only to scream as the stranger whirled around, a second pair of wings sprouting from his back and eyes opening all across its body.
Oh. It was the entity.
Said entity jumped to its feet, raising its hands placatingly as Scar scrambled away, tripping over the rug by the door and landing flat on his backside.
"I'm sorry!" he exclaimed. "I-I didn't mean to startle you—I just—"
"It's alright," the entity interrupted, folding its wings tightly against its back. "You just surprised me." It crouched before him, resting its arms on its knees. "How are you feeling?"
Scar swallowed, attempting to relax slightly. "Better," he said. "I'm better. Uh..." He leaned forward, shifting to cross his legs. "I suppose I should say thank you, right? For saving me?"
The entity tilted its head, wings fluttering slightly. "You're welcome," it replied.
There was a moment of awkward silence, the pair simply staring at each other. Scar blinked, taking a moment to finally absorb the entirety of the creature before him. At first glance, yes, it was terrifying. But Scar had never been in the business of being scared of things he didn't understand. Clearly, the entity wasn't hostile, at least not towards him, which nullified most of the fear he may have felt.
Scar shifted onto his knees, leaning towards the entity. It watched him curiously, several eyes flicking towards his hand as he lifted it towards its face.
Scar's fingers brushed the entity's cheek, just behind one of the eyes placed high on its cheekbone. The eyes close to Scar's hand fluttered shut, and seemingly without thinking, the entity leaned into his touch, its jaw brushing the base of his palm.
In the next few moments, the eyes across the entity's body began to close, fading into its skin. One pair of wings folded into its back, disappearing as the second pair bled from white to a vibrant red, highlighted with blue and yellow.
Scar blinked as the man before him pressed his cheek into Scar's hand, his now singular pair of eyes closed contentedly.
"Who are you?" Scar asked, so softly he barely heard himself. The man cracked his eyes open, Scar's breath catching at the sight of the darkest eyes he'd ever seen.
The man seemed to think for a moment, then reached up to grip Scar's wrist, blowing out a breath. "My friends call me Grian," he murmured, blinking slowly at Scar.
His touch was cold. Scar smiled.
"Grian," he said, the entity's eyes fluttering slightly at the sound. Scar pressed his free hand to his chest. "Scar. Good to meet you."
Grian watched Scar for several seconds longer, then closed his eyes, squeezing Scar's wrist slightly.
Fascinated. Enraptured. Scar wanted to know everything about the being in front of him.
What are you?
He supposed he'd have to find out, and he couldn't wait.
Scar knew he wasn't entirely human. His parents had disclosed his mythic heritage to him as soon as he was old enough to properly understand what that meant, but he wasn't in possession of any extraordinary abilities.
Apparently, to the hunters, that didn't matter.
Scar could usually pass off the markings on his skin as his namesake — scars — but experienced hunters could easily tell the difference. Scar had hardly ever encountered hunters, let alone those that could see through his lie.
Until today.
Yes, Scar had seen a fairy. Yes, Scar had followed that fairy. Maybe a bit too far into the forest bordering the village. No, he hadn't considered the fact that hunters frequented the forest, especially at that time of night. He simply didn't think they'd be concerned with him.
In all fairness, the hunters did notice the fairy first. Then they noticed Scar, and for a moment, they dismissed him. Then the apparent leader of the troupe had studied Scar a little too hard, noticed the marks on his face and arms, and pointed his crossbow at him.
Next thing Scar knew, he was laying on his back with a poison arrow protruding from his shoulder, three hunters looming over him. His consciousness was quickly fleeing from him, but he was still lucid enough to watch as the senior hunter raised his crossbow again and pointed the arrow straight at the center Scar's face.
Whoops, he thought eloquently. Sorry, Cub.
The hunter pulled the trigger.
The arrow dissolved midair, accompanied by a deafening shriek. All three hunters collapsed, clapping their hands over their ears. Scar couldn't force his limbs to move, even as blood poured from his ears at the awful sound.
His vision was swimming and darkening at the same time, but he could still make out the purple glow of...something...as it leaped into view, claws slashing at the hunters. Blood sprayed across the clearing, the hunters' screams cutting off abruptly.
In the next few moments, there was silence. Scar struggled for breath, the poison burning in his veins.
Perhaps he should have been afraid of the entity leaning over him, bloodied claws ghosting over his face. Maybe it was the poison, but the thing hovering over him had far too many eyes on its face. And arms. And chest. And everywhere.
Scar dropped his head back to the grass and let the darkness swallow him.
~
Scar startled awake, instantly groaning as pain radiated through his entire body.
"Easy," a distorted voice said quietly. Scar's head snapped to the left, gaze instantly locking onto the figure perched on a chair next to the bed he was currently laying on. "The poison is still working its way out of your system."
Scar blinked once, twice, but the figure didn't become any more human. It was bipedal at the very least, but that paled in the face of...everything else going on. It had eyes everywhere, glowing purple and fixated on Scar. Four wings were curled against its back, also covered in eyes, and to top it all off, above its head was a sort of halo in the shape of a broken rectangle.
Scar swallowed a terrified squeak. Think. He was still alive. If this thing had wanted him dead, it could have left him with the hunters. It was keeping him alive, as it had pointed out that the poison was working its way out of his system.
Why?
"Why?" he voiced aloud. The thing tilted its head, several eyes blinking across its body.
"So that you don't die," it replied.
"No," Scar said, shaking his head as he forced himself into a sitting position. His stomach turned and he doubled over, taking deep breaths to negate the nausea. The entity was suddenly kneeling in front of him, clawed hands hovering at Scar's elbows. He startled backwards, the thing jumping away from him at the same time.
With a flap of its wings, the entity hopped back into its seat, still staring intently at Scar. He leaned back on the pillows, his stomach settling slightly as soon as he was horizontal. He turned his head towards the entity, blinking blearily.
"Why'd you save me?" he rasped.
The eyes blinked as one. Its wings ruffled slightly, chin dipping towards its chest. "Because that's my job," it murmured. It hopped off the chair, shuffling over to Scar's side. He fought the urge to lean away, the back of his neck prickling at its proximity as it lifted a hand. Gently, so softly it almost tickled, it traced a claw down the bridge of his nose, and then its touch was gone. "Rest now. You'll feel better in the morning."
"Who are you?" Scar whispered as the entity turned away.
"Sleep," it replied evasively.
And then it was gone.
~
Scar slept like a log. When he woke next, the entity was nowhere to be found, light filtering through sheer curtains at the single window on the far wall.
He felt remarkably better than the last time he'd been awake as he pushed himself into a sitting position, rubbing the remaining sleep out of his eyes. His thoughts were clear, and the soreness in his limbs had faded into the background.
Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Scar pushed to his feet, stumbling slightly as he made his way to the door. He carefully pushed it open, peering into the hallway beyond.
Cautiously, Scar padded down the hall, brushing his hand along the pale wall as he did. He ended up walking down a spiral staircase, emerging on what appeared to be the ground floor, lined with walls of windows.
Slightly overwhelmed, Scar turned in a slow circle, pausing when he noticed the figure sitting just outside the back door. Or maybe the front door. Scar had no clue where exactly he was.
He crept over to the door, tilting his head. The figure seemed familiar, but it couldn't have been the entity from before. The newcomer only had two wings and a sandy mop of hair, idly swinging his legs over the edge of the deck.
Scar hesitated, then reached for the doorknob, pulling the door open. He opened his mouth, only to scream as the stranger whirled around, a second pair of wings sprouting from his back and eyes opening all across its body.
Oh. It was the entity.
Said entity jumped to its feet, raising its hands placatingly as Scar scrambled away, tripping over the rug by the door and landing flat on his backside.
"I'm sorry!" he exclaimed. "I-I didn't mean to startle you—I just—"
"It's alright," the entity interrupted, folding its wings tightly against its back. "You just surprised me." It crouched before him, resting its arms on its knees. "How are you feeling?"
Scar swallowed, attempting to relax slightly. "Better," he said. "I'm better. Uh..." He leaned forward, shifting to cross his legs. "I suppose I should say thank you, right? For saving me?"
The entity tilted its head, wings fluttering slightly. "You're welcome," it replied.
There was a moment of awkward silence, the pair simply staring at each other. Scar blinked, taking a moment to finally absorb the entirety of the creature before him. At first glance, yes, it was terrifying. But Scar had never been in the business of being scared of things he didn't understand. Clearly, the entity wasn't hostile, at least not towards him, which nullified most of the fear he may have felt.
Scar shifted onto his knees, leaning towards the entity. It watched him curiously, several eyes flicking towards his hand as he lifted it towards its face.
Scar's fingers brushed the entity's cheek, just behind one of the eyes placed high on its cheekbone. The eyes close to Scar's hand fluttered shut, and seemingly without thinking, the entity leaned into his touch, its jaw brushing the base of his palm.
In the next few moments, the eyes across the entity's body began to close, fading into its skin. One pair of wings folded into its back, disappearing as the second pair bled from white to a vibrant red, highlighted with blue and yellow.
Scar blinked as the man before him pressed his cheek into Scar's hand, his now singular pair of eyes closed contentedly.
"Who are you?" Scar asked, so softly he barely heard himself. The man cracked his eyes open, Scar's breath catching at the sight of the darkest eyes he'd ever seen.
The man seemed to think for a moment, then reached up to grip Scar's wrist, blowing out a breath. "My friends call me Grian," he murmured, blinking slowly at Scar.
His touch was cold. Scar smiled.
"Grian," he said, the entity's eyes fluttering slightly at the sound. Scar pressed his free hand to his chest. "Scar. Good to meet you."
Grian watched Scar for several seconds longer, then closed his eyes, squeezing Scar's wrist slightly.
Fascinated. Enraptured. Scar wanted to know everything about the being in front of him.
What are you?
He supposed he'd have to find out, and he couldn't wait.
Twilight was always a pleasant time of night. The city was sleepy, though there were the few couples that had decided to take a romantic walk in the cool evening air. Other than their occasional murmurs, the world was quiet.
The whistle of the canary shattered the peace. Perhaps this wouldn't have been noticeable, if only the arrow hadn't cut through the air and buried itself in a woman's chest. She collapsed instantly, her companion screaming as he dropped to his knees at her side.
Eyes were directed to the sky as a shadow darted across the sky, momentarily blotting out the stars under brilliant golden wings.
And then it was over. The Canary was gone, and the woman was laid to rest in a puddle of her own blood.
~
"Did you hear about the murder last night?"
"Who hasn't?"
Jimmy dropped into the armchair across from Joel, holding his cup of tea between both hands.
"I always think it a fun challenge to guess who paid the Canary to kill a random civilian," Joel said, eyes locked on the TV as he slouched into his chair.
"How do you know someone paid him?" Jimmy asked skeptically.
Joel hesitated, then shrugged. "Why else would he kill her? I don't think the Canary is the type to randomly kill for the fun of it." Another shrug. "Beans might be, though."
Jimmy couldn't suppress his snort. Joel smirked, finally glancing away from the TV where a censored version of the crime scene from the night before was displayed. Jimmy's stomach turned slightly and he looked away, lifting his cup to his lips.
He could still feel the pull of the bowstring, the wind of the release on his exhale. The Canary may not have been affected by the thunk of the arrow in flesh, the overpowering scent of blood on enhanced senses, the terrified screams, but it put a foul taste in Jimmy's mouth.
"Oh, cheer up, lad," Joel said, reaching for the remote to turn the TV off. "You didn't know her, and your chances of running into the Canary yourself are slim to none."
Jimmy could almost laugh at the irony, but he choked it down and finished his tea instead. "Right," he said, setting his cup on the table beside him and fishing his phone out of his pocket. "Slim."
Joel grinned, canines a little too sharp. "Slim indeed."
~
Jimmy stared at his reflection in his bathroom mirror, hands gripping the edge of the counter. His phone lay face up on the vanity, a message from Beans glaring up at him.
"Got ourselves a prospect. Meeting with client at midnight."
He'd let the Canary play last night. He hadn't thought someone would solicit his services so soon after the last client; he needed to rest. Jimmy needed to stay in his own head for a few days.
But the message from Beans prickled at the back of his mind. As much as Jimmy wanted to rest, he knew he wouldn't be able to with the temptation at his fingertips.
So he blew out a breath, reaching for the mask propped against the mirror and lifting it to his face. His skin itched just below his shoulder blades, feathers blossoming high on his cheekbones.
"Shall we strike a little deal?" he murmured. A cold smile lifted his lips. "I think we shall."
~
"Bit late, aren't you, mate?"
"Sorry, mate," the Canary responded, brushing past Beans and rounding his desk. He settled in his seat, kicking his feet up on the desk and smiling at his companion. "Right. I'm ready. Send 'em in."
Beans grinned, canines elongated and almost too big for his mouth. He ducked out of the office, only to return a moment later with a boy no older than twenty-one in tow. The Canary raised a brow beneath his mask.
They sat in silence for a moment, Beans kicking the door shut with a slam. The boy jumped, glancing nervously over his shoulder at the Canary's companion.
"What are you doing here?" the Canary asked wearily. "A boy like you has no business here."
"I want you to kill someone for me," the boy said, clearly making an attempt to keep his voice even, though there was still a faint tremble in his tone.
"I doubt you could afford it," the Canary replied dismissively.
"Name your price," the boy countered. "I can pay it."
"With daddy's money?" Beans sneered.
The boy blushed; the Canary sighed and named his price. The boy frantically dug around in his pockets and deposited several roles of cash on the desk. Beans instantly snatched them up and began counting while the Canary sized up the boy before him.
He wasn't in the business of asking questions. The boy had paid, no matter if it was his money or not; it belonged to the Canary, now.
Beans nodded after a moment, rolling the money back into tight, neat bundles. The Canary dipped his head in response, turning his attention back to his client.
"Alright, kid," he said, lowering his feet to the floor and lacing his fingers atop the desk. "Who, exactly, do you want dead?" He grinned, letting the eagerness for the kill finally slip through. "The Canary is at your service."
The prison guard shoved Joel into his cell, muttering irritably under his breath as he slammed the door shut behind Joel. The prisoner spun on his heel, slowly approaching the bars and gripping them as he watched the guard stalk away.
Joel sighed, pressing his forehead miserably against the bars. His sentence wasn't long, only a few months, but he had still ended up in prison again. Lizzie had told him that the next time he was behind bars, he would serve his sentence. In other words, she wasn't going to bail him out again.
A tap on the bars pulled him out of his thoughts. Joel glanced up from where he'd been intently studying a stain on the floor just beyond his cell, spotting the book being offered to him from the cell to the right of his. He could already tell who exactly was offering him the book from the pale, slender fingers, marked with faded scars.
"Come on, Joel. Take it before the guards do."
Joel huffed, snatching the book and tossing it back onto his bed. He reached over to swat the offending hand, though his companion retreated before he could.
"Can't believe you're still here, Etho," Joel muttered, but he couldn't deny the relief warming his chest.
"I've been here the other three times you've served time," Etho replied easily. "I don't know why you were expecting anything different this time."
"Well, your sentence has to end at some point," Joel pointed out. "Unless it's a life sentence. You know, you still refuse to tell me what exactly you're in for."
"Let me guess," Etho said evasively, "more minor felonious larceny?"
"That was a lot of big words, Eefo. Did you just hand me a dictionary?"
"No, Bdubs brought me Robin Hood. That's what that is."
"That feels like you're trying to make a point."
Etho draped his arms through the bars of his cell. "Bdubs is the one who chose it — is he making a point?"
"Why can't you ever answer directly?" Joel sighed, stepping away from the bars and trudging over to his bed.
"What'd you steal?" There was a creak, presumably Etho sitting on his own bed.
"I'll tell you when you tell me what your sentence is."
Etho had the gall to laugh, a low chuckle that made Joel's eye twitch.
"That's a story for another time," Etho murmured after a moment.
Joel huffed, turning on his side and sliding the book towards him, tracing a finger lazily over the letters on the cover. "You say that every time."
~
Etho settled next to Joel, close and warm as he pressed against the latter's side.
"Clingy, as always," Joel mumbled around his mouthful of food, even as he leaned into Etho. "So obsessed with me. You were just waiting for me to end up back in here, weren't you? Counting down the days?"
Etho huffed a laugh, pulling his tray towards himself, his shoulders curling inwards. He tucked his chin towards his chest as he pulled the medical mask over his mouth and nose down. Joel averted his eyes, pushing the bland food around his tray.
"Is that Joel?"
He barely suppressed a groan as Scott settled across from him, delicately setting his tray on the table. Joel smiled thinly at the man, Etho pressing his shoulder harder into Joel's.
"I suppose it was too much to hope for that you'd be long gone," Joel sighed, resting his chin on his hand and dropping his fork unceremoniously. Scott laughed, lacing his fingers and placing his head atop them.
"Oh, Joel, you know I'm in here for murder — I'm not leaving for a long while."
"Parole is a thing."
Scott's smile only grew. "Not for me, it isn't."
"First degree, Joel," Etho said quietly, still focused on his food. "'Life without chance of parole' is his sentence."
"Shame," Joel said, still glaring at Scott. "Lucky for me, though, I won't be back after this."
"You said that last time," Scott sang, finally turning his attention to his tray. "And here you are."
Joel's free hand curled into a fist, Etho's eyes flicking over at the motion. Scott clocked the movement, his lips quirking upwards. "Ah, right," he said. "Your boyfriend will protect you."
He knew better. But Scott had a special way of getting under his skin. Joel shoved to his feet, Scott leaning back as Joel slammed his hands on the table and leaned towards him.
"Watch it, Smajor," Joel spat. "I don't need anyone to protect me, and if you doubt it, I'll shove your precious ego so far up your—"
"Joel," Etho warned, grabbing Joel's arm and squeezing. Scott grinned and blew a kiss towards the pair.
Joel could take Scott. He could. But that was just what Scott wanted, the antagonist. Reluctantly, Joel sat back on the bench, folding his arms atop the table.
He listened to the idle chatter of the cafeteria for several minutes until Etho pulled his mask back onto his face and leaned fully into Joel. Scott finished his own food and pushed his tray back, resting his elbows on the table.
"How long's your sentence this time around?" he prompted Joel.
He thought about saying something smart but ultimately decided against it, tapping his fingers against the table. "Three months," he grumbled.
"Pretty short, don't you think?"
"I didn't choose the sentence, did I, lad?"
Scott shrugged. "Always wondered why they stuck you in here with us with your misdemeanors."
"They're not misdemeanors," Joel muttered petulantly, though he was unsure why he was defending his felonies, as if thievery could compete with first degree murder.
"It's grand larceny," Etho supplied cheekily.
"Oh yeah?" Scott snickered.
"Yeah," Joel snarked. "At least you can commit grand larceny more than once. Get caught doing your bloomin' murder and you can never do it again."
"Never say never," Scott retorted, wagging a finger at Joel. He only rolled his eyes in response.
~
Joel hissed through his teeth, Etho's hand firm on his jaw while his other dabbed at Joel's tender nose.
He couldn't help it, okay? Joel knew he was quick to anger, and he'd been in prison with many of the same inmates several times now; he knew them and they knew him, and antagonizing each other was just part of the game.
And breaking each other's noses. That was part of it, too.
Unfortunately, Joel's nose had taken the brunt of the damage, though Martyn hadn't escaped the scuffle unscathed. Etho and Ren had pulled the pair apart before any real damage could occur. The other inmates had already been distracting the guards to keep severe punishment from Joel and Martyn, something they only did because they all feared or respected Ren and Etho.
A thank you was stuck in the back of Joel's throat as Etho braced his thumbs against the base of Joel's nose, the words dissolving in a shriek as Etho snapped his nose back into place. Etho's hands cradled Joel's face, waiting until the latter stopped squirming to begin cleaning up the blood smeared on his upper lip.
"Way to make a statement," Etho finally said.
"Martyn has a very punchable face."
"A lot of people say the same thing about you."
"Why?! I'm very handsome and loveable! No one wants to punch me!"
Etho's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled beneath the medical mask. "Yes," he agreed with a nod. "Very handsome. Very loveable."
"Don't patronize me, Eefo."
"I'm being serious." Etho tucked the cloth he'd been using into the collar of his jumpsuit, leaning back on his bed. Joel frowned down at the man, then puffed out a breath and flopped back to lay down next to his companion.
The bed was hardly made for two people, but Etho turned to lay on his side, pressing his back against the wall and making room for Joel to stretch out on the bed beside him.
"Three months, you said?" Etho murmured, lowering his head to the pillow, knuckles brushing Joel's side.
"That's what the judge said," Joel replied quietly, turning his head towards his companion. Etho shifted his head to nestle deeper into the pillow, blinking slowly at Joel.
"Did you talk to Lizzie?"
"I called her yesterday, yeah."
"And?"
"I'm in for an earful at the end of May."
They sat in silence for the next few minutes, Etho closing his eyes and pulling his mask just below his nose. Joel dropped his hand to rest over his companion's.
"You think very loudly," Etho mumbled without opening his eyes. Joel scowled.
"Come on, Etho! This may be our last sentence together."
"If you can keep your hands off people's valuables."
"I can."
"Mhm."
Joel gave Etho's hand a punishing squeeze. "Come now," he urged. "Tell me your sentence. What are you in for, Eefo?"
Etho cracked one eye open, then promptly shut it again, shifting to tuck Joel's head under his chin. "Just trust that the next time you're in here," Etho murmured, draping one arm over Joel's middle, "I'll be here."
And perhaps that was the best Joel was ever going to get. He sighed, butted his forehead against Etho's chest, and closed his eyes.
