newcastlesâ:
Constantine exhaled, gray smoke curling around his face and into the frame of the door. She was small and clearly nervous. He always had a soft spot for frightened kids. âWell now, I donât imagine many people go around smashing glass for a good time in the middle of the kitchen. Weddings, maybe. Wild party. Maybe a fit of dramatic rage. Had a break up go that way once. Picking glass out of the wall for weeks. But this is hardly worth making a fuss over.â
His fingers itched. A little spell to repair it. A mending. Maybe turning back time if he was wild. Instead he went for the pantry to find a small broom and dust pan. âLetâs get this swept up before you go walking all over. Wouldnât want glass in your feet, hm?â
Rahne canted her head at the new person who stood in the doorway, her brow furrowing as she tried to place his face. She didn't know it but the accent was familiar - south of the border for her but the same damn island at least. That was its own kind of comfort. She nodded obediently and waited as he fetched the broom and dust pan, taking the time to carefully pick up the larger shards for him, setting them on the counter.
"Thank you," she murmured quietly. "I could have jumped it but it gave me a fright," she admitted. The wolf would have had no trouble with glass in her paws but she didn't like to turn inside. It always was more of a mess than it was worth.
















