Can’t Win Them All.
Once inside, Eve brush off the drops of water off her sodden cloak, brushing a hand through her hair while her eyes took in the room.
It was funny, how she had found herself back at this place after such a long time. And even then, it hadn’t changed since the first time she had placed foot in. Her hands lazily ran over the furniture’s relief and walls, remembering small snippets of their time together.
Fate had already left to change, leaving his coat and…where was that damn hat? Eve’s eyes lightly narrowed in thought, she hadn’t seen it on his person back at the graveyard.
Clicking her tongue, Eve relieved her shoulders off the cloak and left it just next to the damaged coat. The scent of blood was barely there but with such a high sensitivity it was enough for her nose to catch a whiff of it.
Her face scrunched a little at the smell. Whoever had been the marksman would surely find themselves at the end of their luck as soon as this little ‘visit’ was over.
Upon hearing his voice, her lips twitched into a smile, without looking at the man behind her she continued to inspect the bullet holes, her index finger testing and pulling at the cloth.
“So, can the great magician tell me how he got away from a death penalty~?”
It was a simple question, if it wasn’t that it was Evelynn who was making it. She was sure he wouldn’t try to talk his way out of it. The man loved to talk and she would find the truth one way or another.
Raphael blinked a bit at her inquiry; shrugging his shoulders lightly as he reached into the cupboard grabbing two glasses. “It’s me doll, ain’t no surprise that not even the Reaper can keep up with yours truly~” Fate blow off her question just as expected, truth to the matter was not even he knew. Back outside, back in the rain he could of sworn it was the end. When he heard that voice in his ear however, things cleared up, his deal with the gatekeeper.
However, he’d never tell the Widowmaker of his trip to the Isles. Reaching down into a small container Fate pulled out several ice cubes the clear frosted cubes matched his newly attained skin tone of his left hand. The entire ordeal caused the Cardmaster to chuckle lightly, “Guess I’m just another spook now.” He muttered beneath his breath, dropped the cubes into the glasses before pouring out some bourbon whiskey into each one.
“Why so curious hm? Last I remember, you of all people could of cared less if I was left bleedin’ in a ditch.” It was no secret that Fate still held slightly ‘sour’ feelings of their parting. It left him weak, exposed, and it put a mark on his reputation that he could not so easily rid himself of. Handing one of the glasses to her Fate took a gulp down of his own, this was the routine. If he wasn’t out filling his pockets with the gold of those he hustled. He was here, home, wasting his time drinking all the memories away, awaiting another hitman, or bounty hunter to come end his life. They always failed he’d grown so used to it, there was one whom he knew wouldn’t skip the chance to cause his heart to stop, Malcolm hadn’t yet arrived at his doorstep.
Taking another gulp of alcohol down, Fate blinked, unsure if he should test his luck around this woman. She’d stolen a part of his heart before, what made him so sure she wasn’t back for seconds or more believable, the entire thing. With a light shift of his eyes, the man took a seat opposite of his guest, the soft sound of jazz music playing in the background coming from the record player in his room. “So, you have any good marks lately? Interestin’ targets and such?” Fate wasn’t one for assassination, but during his time with Evelynn, he remembered staying up with her, discussing her work. She always took delight in describing the bloodshed and lamentation of her victims and he always took delight in the spark in her eyes, the glisten of her lips moistened from her almost primal thirst. Fate shook his head, bringing himself back from the memories, this was no time for nostalgia.
(Source: ask-twistedfate)
