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    Butcher Shop Meet-Up, after hours






    Snickers were great. Snickers were FUCKING great!


    Hulk of a man was leaning against a stainless steel prep table, battered Tims crossed at the ankles as he waited in the cold, munching on the Snickers he'd pilfered from piece of crap party store before finding his way to the meet-up. Smelled like blood, of course... duh. Not so much in the cooler. Why the cooler? Because that's where all the stupid asses wanted to meet and pretend to play mob. So he waited, ate his Snickers and dropped the wrapper into a trash can full of... who the fuck knew? The floor had pooled blood on it in various places, could have been anything.


    Hand slid into the inner coat pocket of his leather motocross jacket, a few envelopes he'd snagged from his actual LEGIT business before he'd headed over to do Pharos stuff. Accountant, square suit and tie bullshit. One from Bakkhos. Had to be. As much as the group was straight laced and proper on the outside, it was always a TRAP!




    Thumb pried at the prissy pants envelope, ripping the flap open. An honest to god fucking invite to...?


    "Crazy bastards," he muttered, stuffing it back into his pocket and looking at the other one. A report from another client. Stupid idiot didn't know his ass from his elbow.


    The click wasn't unexpected. Dealing in shadowy places after hours was never something for the meek. Sigh was slow, taking one last look at the paper before folding it and stuffing it back into his inner pocket with the other.


    "This place stinks, can we get this done?"


    Another click.




    Hands went up lazily as he pushed off the prep counter and faced his "dealers". A girl this time, peachy. They were worse than dudes. Tended to be more aggressive because they weren't in a dick measuring contest. They just fucked you up instead. Hm. The invite did say plus one. She was cute... in a "I'm going to fucking kill you" sort of way.


    *npc* Search him.




    Now he needed to ask her on a date because she knew what religion he was... incredulous expression in her direction was rare for him. She'd just groped his ass. The fuck??


    "Fuck this," it was rare his temper flared, but her pinchy pinch business to find a gun HURT. "No weapons, that was the deal. You broke it first, I'm out."


    Muzzle was placed against his temple.


    "You don't want to do that," dark eyes had trained on the jackass calling the shots. Little spit of a man in his overcoat. "You got balls enough to put a gun to my head, I'll kick your ass just the same....girl or not."


    Why were people always so fucking PREDICTABLE! He was a fast motherfucker, barrel of the woman's gun grabbed as he pulled her toward him and gave her a vicious headbutt. She was down for the count, now he and Dr. Evil were pointing a gun at each other.., this wasn't going to go well.


    So he just shrugged and shot him in the foot.


    The guy squealed but still managed to get a shot off that grazed the Pharos' bicep.




    "YOU ASSHOLE!" finger tugged at the slice in his leather. Okay, so maybe it wasn't just a graze. "You fucking SHOT me!"


    Both weapons were secured, taken apart, throwing all the pieces in random directions. Prissy gun shit. Shotguns... that was where it was at.


    "Dick," he muttered, pushing through the stupid plastic flappy things to make his way outside. Belt slid out with a sizzled snap and he wrapped it around his arm, pulling it tight. Bike roared to life, phone already on his ear as he pulled at the crotch of his jeans. "Dumb bitch pinched my nads..." mutter was irritated as the phone rang. "Please pick up Altheia..." he had another meet-up tonight and didn't want to be bleeding for that one.


    But, it was late... and she was Altheia. And... Altheia was like apple pie, she was probably in slippers and snuggled on a warm couch with infinite comfort items while his ass was getting shot in a stupid stinky cooler.


    He really had to get another job.

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    The hospital had always been somewhat of a safe haven for her. Granted for most people it was a place that they didn't want to go to. More so for those who were in dire need of healing and medical attention.


    To Altheia it was the one place where she knew with out a doubt that she could help people that were in need of it. 90 percent of the time anyone who came through those ER doors were innocents that had either been caught in crossfire or had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. 


    There was never any drama at the hospital. Unless you wanted to count the love affairs that would happen every few months or so. None of which she was even remotely interested in being apart of. Never mix work and love, she thought.


    The day had ended with her heading home after healing only a total of 3 people during the day. It had been somewhat of a quiet one. These were the days she was thankful for. It meant that she still had enough energy to actually do other things than just plop down on her bed and pass out. 


    Instead of going straight to her room to get her warm pj's on she opted to go into her living room and turn on the TV to channel surf for about an hour. It was something she usually didn't do, but she found that she was getting tired of her same routine day in and day out. I mean she knew she had a knack for getting involved in some not so boring events, but for the most part her life was completely and utterly boring.


    Dinner was decided on some Ramen with slices of chicken added in. As well as various other spices. Her phone sat on her table as she took a small bit of her food. She always kept her phone out and on because she never knew when she was going to get a call. The buzz and ringtone blared at her as she began to take another bit. Well would ya look at that, she thought. 


    She lifted up the phone and saw a number that she didn't quite recognize, but she picked it up and answered, "Hello, Altheia speaking." She brought up another bite of her food as she waited for the person on the other end to speak. For some reason she had a feeling it was someone that was going to need her healing abilities. Looks like I'm in for a long night, she thought.

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    It was a nick, but damn… right on the fucking edge of the connective tissue on his bicep. FUCK! Eyes scanned the area just in case the idjits had brought back up. That would be the most royally stupid thing to do, but hey they tried to strong-arm him.  Like, jeeeeeeesh, he did have a reputation for being a little quick on the trigger and an asshole. That should mean something, right? Like, NOT shoot him for once. What the fuck were they thinking? He probably was being watched, great… he was being watched as he played with his crotch because some brute squad had given him a pinch bruise. Stupid fucks.


    "Hello, Altheia speaking."


    “Hello Miss Altheia speaking,” he charmed in his ‘I don’t want to come off as needing something but I probably am so I’m just going to hope you don’t notice’ sort of tone. “Where you at? I have beer and I’m bored.”


    Okay, big ass lie. He could stop and get some beer. He needed a damn beer. Shit, she could probably hear the fucking bike through the phone. His gig was up, maybe… she could probably believe he was just riding around but it was late and when was he ever just riding around late and not getting into trouble.


    Like… NEVER.


    “Okay, so I sort of got shot…” he blurted out. “Okay… I know I know, I promised I wouldn’t get shot again. I was waiting all patient-like, and this dude came in like a dufus and his muscle cocked at gun on me then I got searched and I had to headbutt the one and shoot the other…” he reached up to his forehead absently just to make sure he wasn’t bleeding. “Don’t worry, I didn’t kill anybody, but if you get someone in the hospital shot in the foot that was probably me I’m going to shut up now.”


    He was quiet for a moment.


    “Are you free? I can still bring beer. I’m shot. I’m sorry.”


    Throat was cleared softly.


    "If you're not free I'll go to the hospital."

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    • 3 weeks later...

    “Hello Miss Altheia speaking."


    The food wasn't even able to touch her tongue after hearing his voice. She'd know that voice anywhere and she knew that him calling her this late could only really mean one thing. Instant worry began to settle into her mind as she placed the fork with food still attached onto the plate. "I'm guessing this isn't a friendly check up call, is it..." she said matter of fact tone of voice.


    “Where you at? I have beer and I’m bored.”


    If there was one thing that really bugged her about him was the fact that he always had to play it so cool. He had to be tough and he had to be strong. Granted in his line of work both of those things were completely true, but with her he didn't need to be. "There's no way that you are calling just to hang out because you're bored.... I know you and I know the kind of trouble you get into." A short pause was had before she actually answered him. "And I'm at home. It's a block from the hospital. Makes it so I don't have to drive to work everyday...."


    She could defiantly hear the bike and at that moment she knew with out a doubt that he was hurt in some way, shape, or form.


    “Okay, so I sort of got shot…”


    With those words she got up quickly, phone still at her ear as he went to ramble on about what predicament got him into trouble in the first place. She picked up her plate and glass, putting them into the sink and into her living room, standing there. "God damnit, Boone...." she whispered softly. "How close are you to the hospital? If you can make it to my apartment you can come to my place. Or I could meet you at the hospital, but I'd rather not make a big scene there."


    “Are you free? I can still bring beer. I’m shot. I’m sorry.”

    She brought her free hand up to her head and sighed as she listened to him speak. "Of course I'm free. I mean. No. I'm not busy tonight. And you don't have to freaking bring a beer if you're shot. Just get here and I'll heal you."

    At first she was going to say to herself that she couldn't believe that he had gotten shot again, but the split second after that she almost laughed at herself. He was always going to get into trouble and he was always going to be shot at. At this point she should just assume that she was his personal healer. It might not be that bad though. Especially if she'd get to see him without his shirt. She closed her eyes and shook her head. "I'll be downstairs  and out front waiting for you."


    With that she opened her door quickly and made her way down the 2 flights of stairs and out the front door of her building. It had some security, but it wasn't Fort Knox or anything. She was sure the doorman might say something when Boone got here, but she'd tell him everything was fine. Yeah, completely normal like always, she thought in a sarcastic tone to herself.

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    "I'm guessing this isn't a friendly check up call, is it..."


    …awwwww hell… American honey had a bite to her. She always did. She was the only person who ever gave him hell for fucking up. No no, that wasn’t true. His boss at Pharos was constantly pissed at him for one reason or another but he was just an asshole too sensitive for his own good. He thought the damn git would burst a blood vessel when he ended a conversation a few days prior with ‘Ok Boomer’. Dude looked like he would explode, but just told him to fuck off for the day. Then there was Bakkhos, but he hadn’t fucked up for them to be mad at him. They would probably try to kill him or some shit like that. Give him an offer he couldn’t refuse.


    "There's no way that you are calling just to hang out because you're bored.... I know you and I know the kind of trouble you get into."


    If a wince was audible she could probably hear it… air sucking through his teeth at her dig.


    “Yahhh….” he said rather dejectedly.


    "And I'm at home. It's a block from the hospital. Makes it so I don't have to drive to work everyday...."


    That was unexpected.


    "God damnit, Boone...."


    If a puppy dog look could also be audible she could probably hear it, or at least the pebble his toe was playing with as he sat on his unmoving bike.


    “I’m sorry,” he didn’t know why he said it, just felt like it needed to be said.


    "How close are you to the hospital? If you can make it to my apartment you can come to my place. Or I could meet you at the hospital, but I'd rather not make a big scene there. Of course I'm free. I mean. No. I'm not busy tonight. And you don't have to freaking bring a beer if you're shot. Just get here and I'll heal you."

    “Ten minutes maybe?”


    He squinted in every direction. He knew where he was, but it was human nature apparently to always double check like idiots.


    “I'll be downstairs  and out front waiting for you."


    “Okay,” he said quickly and hung up. Coat was pulled off for a moment… “…colder than a witch’s tit in a brass bra…” he muttered to  himself as he stabilized the wound again to try and mitigate the bleeding.


    Hurt like, FUCK… hard to steer his little beast with a weaker side. Smirk recognized how wrong the thought sounded. Coat back on, he wiped the blood on his dark shirt under his coat as he zipped it up and tucked his gray wool scarf tight around his neck. It was the end of the rides for his bike, would need to store it for the winter within days he suspected. Pull out his Brute. He hated winter. Sucked balls.


    As promised, ten minutes or so. He drove past it at first… an idiot wandering around on her street trying to find her was stupid. Drive past, confirm where she was, park decently and look like he was supposed to be there. Kept suspicion down at least. Going around the block, he returned and parked across the street, kicking the stand and stuffing both hands in his pockets. It was bleeding down his arm under his motocross jacket, he could feel it. A few more feet and he would successfully have not made a spectacle of himself after getting shot for the first time in HISTORY. He felt pretty proud of himself.


    Looking both ways, he trotted across the street.


    Eyes had already surveyed the place for idiots. Just him, all safe except a doorman. Smile was brilliant and a bit sarcastic.


    “Hi,” he said to the door guy, looking toward Altheia. “She knows me.”


    He stomped a bit of wet slush from his Tims, hands stayed in his pockets. Blood. Blood was bad.


    “I forgot the beer,” he whispered to Altheia loudly. “Sorry… we'll have to find something else to do.”


    Stupid grin was cast back to the doorman. She was gonna Gibbs-slap him. As soon as they were alone he was gonna get hit.


    "Like watch TV," he finished quickly, thinking twice about it. If she decided to punch him in the arm, all his stealth shit was for nothing...

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    • 3 weeks later...

    The wince she heard through the phone was most certainly a confirmation of what she thought was really going on. He had been hurt again and of course as always Boone was being Boone and had to act all manly and tough. It was times like these when she missed running into him at his bar. In a setting where she didn't have to worry about healing him from injuries that were somewhat life threatening to him. 


    This was her life though. This was who Boone was and even though every single time he got hurt she absolutely hated it; she'd never want to change who he was.

    “I’m sorry." 


    His apology made her feel slightly guilty for scolding him, but he had gotten hurt again. Then again it would mean that she would get to see him again. I have a problem, she thought silently to herself.


    The biting cold of the air outside of her nice cozy apartment made her really wonder how Boone could go around riding on his bike. It's freaking cold... shit..., she thought as her arms crossed over her chest and she moved around slightly. Winter had never been one of her favorite seasons. The cold made her always feel like bad things were going to happen. She had always had a really great Christmas with her family. But after everything changed they hadn't really been that great. It was now a season and a holiday that actually made her a little heartbroken.

    There was a faint sound of a bike and her head lifted up and looked down the street. At first she wondered what he was doing, but then realized he was just being cautious. She'd really hope there was no actual reason and that he was being paranoid, but ya never know these days. 

    Her head tilted to the side, taking in the sight of him as he walked across the street. She was already trying to assess just how bad he was off, but it was hard with his jacket hiding the blood. She smiled back at him and turned, keeping herself somewhat close to him as they moved inside. 


    “Sorry… we'll have to find something else to do.”


    A soft roll of her eyes at his words, but she smiled at him. "Oh I think I could have you fix up some things. My sink has been acting up lately. I will just have to put you to work," she kept the smile on her face as she stared at him and then shook her head. She turned to the stairs and gave him a nod. "Up two flights. I would offer to carry you, but that might look weird," she said in a teasing voice. 

    After making it up the stairs she lead him to her door and she unlocked it quickly, waited for him to come in then shut and locked the door. She turned back to him and sighed softly at him, "So how bad is it?" She was half scared to even see what he had gotten into, why, or how he had gotten hurt. It was no lie that she was scared for him on an almost daily basis. She knew his job was dangerous, but she also knew that he loved what he did.

    She moved over to him and stood in front of him ready to get her heal on.

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    "Oh I think I could have you fix up some things. My sink has been acting up lately. I will just have to put you to work."


    “I can do that,” he said without hesitation. He did know if she knew exactly how handy he was. Their encounters had been mostly based on him doing something to get his ass injured, and then the healing chit chat that came afterward. Other than that…. his bar. He loved his bar, wait… that sounded like a bad country singer’s attempt at a failed side gig... moving along….


    "Up two flights. I would offer to carry you, but that might look weird.”

    “Careful, I’m heavier than I look…” he grinned. He knew she was aware of his abilities, but wasn’t sure if she understood exactly what he was. He trotted up behind her, already sliding his leather coat off.


    "So how bad is it?"


    “Mother foooo…” he grumbled as he shrugged off his leather. His right arm was bound tight at the bicep in a swath of tee shirt he’d torn from the bottom of the one he was wearing under his Henley. Knife was pulled from his hip, the make-shift bandage cut off with a swipe and a hiss. Not much blood until now. The arm of his tee shirt underneath was starting to soak quickly and he yanked that off too, winding the bandage higher on his bicep above the wound to stave it off like a tourniquet.


    The grunt when bare skin hit air was annoyed.


    JEEEEEBUS it was fucking cold, every muscle tensing for a moment as he wiped the blood off his arm with his now decimated tee shirt to prevent it from getting everywhere in her rather clean place. The tourniquet wasn’t doing much anymore. He needed stitches.


    “Colder than a witch’s ti…” he stopped himself. “It’s just a clip, but it hit all the wrong spots.”


    Half dressed, bleeding, covered with goosebumps, and with nipples so hard they could cut diamonds in front of a pretty girl was NOT where he’d imagined he’d be when he got up that morning!

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    • 1 month later...

    “I can do that."


    That reply to her words weren't really that surprising. She could see Boone fixing things that needed fixing. So far nothing had broken in her apartment though, but then again she had been living her for a while and it was probably only a matter of time before a pipe burst. If push came to shove she probably would consider asking him to help. That felt all too weird though. Asking a handyman to come over and "fix" something. Stop thinking about that, she thought to herself.


    At first when they got inside her apartment she was half self-conscious with how mildly messy it was, but she shrugged that off. Boone wouldn't give two shits if her place was untidy. She'd been so busy with working at the hospital and that would sometimes make keeping up with the household chores a bother. 


    “Mother foooo…”


    As soon as he took off the make shift bandage her eyes widened at the sight of just how much blood there was. A few quick steps to her right and she grabbed her med bag, pulling out and ripping open some gauze. She placed it on the wound after he had tied the tourniquet higher up his arm. She looked up at him as she held the gauze there. "Damnit, Boone. I told you to be careful," she paused for a second. "Sometimes I really do hate your line of work." Admission that she did constantly worry about him. Worry about what he was doing to get himself into trouble, hurt, or killed.

    “Colder than a witch’s ti…”


    She giggled softly at his words and shook her head. A sigh before removing the gauze and placing her bare hand over the wound. She closed her eyes lightly and focused on healing his arm as quickly as she could. "Just a few minutes," she said softly as she sort of began getting flashes of the reason he got hurt. She remembered what had happened last time. She knew she'd probably get burned again, but it was only a little pain and pain isn't what scared her. 


    After those few minutes she removed her hand and opened her eyes. Her hand was burned very slightly and covered in his blood. She closed her hand for a moment and opened it after it had healed. She looked up at Boone and tilted her head. "Stop. Getting. Hurt," she said sternly before going to her kitchen to clean the blood from her hand. "You know. One of these days I'm not going to be here to heal you. Then you'll just have to suffer the pain and then have scars from all the stitching," she said.


    He'd never stop doing his work, she thought, and he's always going to be getting hurt. It was who Boone was. It was who he is. 

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    • 10 months later...

    He'd always wondered why healing wasn't a part of his abilities. He could change his density, alter his skin, become something else, but he couldn't close a wound. It was almost as if his body had a memory; when he altered it, it would return. A good thing he supposed. Being molten forever or a pile of skin and bones would kinda suck balls.


    He was checking out her place, nonchalantly, as she put her hand to his arm. No dudes. No dude stuff anyway. Didn't smell any dude cologne. Good, no boyfriends would be walking in the door at this awkward  moment.


    "Damnit, Boone. I told you to be careful. Sometimes I really do hate your line of work."


    Eyes flicked up to her from the wound, then back to it, "I'm actually an accountant. Started in the Motor City. Came here after shit went to hell. I just collect things for fun."


    It was the first hint he didn't just live in his garage. Healing always felt funny, as if she was mingling in his ability to snap his atoms back together. Maybe it was just the reminder of a life before chaos, anger and recklessness.


    "Stop. Getting. Hurt"


    He blinked at her.


    "You know. One of these days I'm not going to be here to heal you. Then you'll just have to suffer the pain and then have scars from all the stitching."


    He showed up next to her at the sink, rinsing off blood when she was finished cleaning her hands.


    "Self-stitches suck," he said absently, rinsing carefully by getting his hand wet and 'squeegee-ing' it off his skin. He'd done this many times before, that was obvious. "You wanna go on a date? I have this... accountant work thing."


    It was so nonchalant, moving to pick up his shirt and coat to clean them up as much as he could.


    "Interested? I gotta wear a tux, so... you would have to wear an evening gown. A fancy one. You have a fancy one?"

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    • 2 months later...

    Her eyes had glanced at his face a few times, noticing him glance around her apartment. She wondered for a slight moment at what he was searching for, but shrugged off her curiosity and went right back to work working on his new wound. If there was one thing Boone knew how to do it is to keep me busy, she thought.


    "I'm actually an accountant. Started in the Motor City. Came here after shit went to hell. I just collect things for fun."


    Her left eyebrow went up ever so slightly at his words. "Uh huh and I've been killing people on my nights off for the fun of it," she smiled softly after she spoke her words. He, of course, would know this wasn't true. There's no way in hell she could ever hurt anyone. At least, she was pretty sure there wasn't. Unless I'm around Boone when someone goes after him, she thought.


    "You wanna go on a date? I have this... accountant work thing."


    She froze for a second and then turned around to look at him as he collected up his things. At first she wasn't sure what to say. It was like someone turned on a flood of nervous energy inside of her. Of course she wanted to, but it was just so sudden of a question. It, for the most part, had caught her off guard. "Accountant thing?" She looked at him and tilted her head.

    "Interested? I gotta wear a tux, so... you would have to wear an evening gown. A fancy one. You have a fancy one?"


    All at once she felt embarrassed. She looked down at her feet and then back up at him and shook her head slowly. "I don't really have anything fancy to wear," she paused for a moment. "I don't really get asked out on many dates..... or to functions," she stopped and turned back to the sink to clean up the water on the counter. She could feel the heat rising on her cheeks slightly. She took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. "I suppose I could go shopping for one though or maybe even ask some of my friends at the hospital if they have one I could borrow."


    What is wrong with me, she thought. "I wouldn't happen to be in any danger at this accountant thing, would I?" She asked the question with a slight serious tone, but also a playful tone. To be honest she really wasn't worried about danger. If there was she was sure that Boone wouldn't let her get hurt and she'd be there if he needed her healing abilities.

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    • RESONANCE - 18+ 3/3/3

      • A modern/fantasy, intermediate+ collaborative writer's rp. Caters to an experienced player base (25+) with a slower, more relaxed pace.

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