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serasfanfiction · 2 months

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Cw for blood. No gore, tho. Cw in tags as well. Mostly Alastor being Alastor.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

If Lucifer didn't know any better, he would have sworn Alastor was going out of his way to make certain they ran into each other.

He seemed to be everywhere.

It didn't help that whatever he was doing, Alastor had seemingly decided to pull out all the stops. Horrifically enough, he was good at just being there, right as Lucifer would turn around, watching and waiting as if to see how long it would take the little king to notice him.

(And if he had damn near shrieked the first time it had happened? Well, no one else was around, so who would hold him to it?)

After a week of this, Lucifer was starting to feel twitchy. It was difficult to tell if he was actually sensing eyes on him like a second skin or if he was just being paranoid. The only place he felt any relief was in his own room, which he might have taken to hiding in when it all became too much.

It felt like being stalked. Like he was being hunted.

Lucifer growled to himself, frustrated he had been driven to such drastic measures. Yes, he could totally stand up for himself! He was significantly more powerful than that petty little sinner! He just really, really didn't want to deal with all of this. There was a reason he avoided senseless drama.

He groaned, throwing off his covers and forcing himself out of bed. Enough, he thought to himself. This had gone on far too long and it was past time he and a certain Radio Demon had a little chat.

He donned his suit, building up his armor like he was going to war. Which, he supposed, he sort of was. He settled his hat in place and grabbed his cane, aware he was doing all of this over a lowly sinner, Overlord or not, but he felt the uncontrollable urge to remind Alastor which of them was actually the King of Hell and which of them wasn't.

He was self aware enough to appreciate that if this really was just a matter of the Ruler of Hell putting a sinner in his place he wouldn't have needed to have put on his uniform, but Alastor had gotten under his skin and everyone already knew it.

There was no point in looking for Alastor. Based off of previous behavior, the red head would simply come to him.

Lucifer deliberately kept to public enough areas to invite company, while still being private enough that Alastor would be tempted to sneak up on him.

And Alastor did not disappoint.

Lucifer spotted him out of the corner of his eye while getting lunch. Triumphant, he spun around and pointed an accusing finger. "You!"

Alastor's ever present smile ticked ever-so-slightly wider, but it wasn't showing teeth yet. "And how can I help you today, your Majesty?"

"We need to talk," Lucifer stated, tone brokering no disagreements. Not that the other Hellion was protesting. "Now."

Alastor tilted his head to the side at just the right angle to be unnerving, hands folding behind his back. "Are you actually going to talk to me or are you going to run away again?"

Lucifer allowed himself a deep, calming breathe. Allowed Alastor to see it. The released exhale was hot enough for a whisp of smoke to escape.

There was still no teeth, but it seemed like it was only barely.

"We both know the only reason I've tolerated your behavior is because I promised not to fight with you."

Alastor raised on eyebrow, asking without verbalizing it as to if this wasn't a potential fight.

Lucifer crossed his arms to keep from wrapping his hands around that scrawny little neck. "And I want to keep my promise, but to do that, we need to get whatever you've been going through this last week out of your system."

Alastor laughed, false and mocking. "Ha! I assure you, I have no idea what you mean."

The blonde refused to rise to the bait. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way, but we are doing this." He smiled, tone generous as he added, "I'll even be nice and let you chose if we're having this talk in your room or mine."

Alastor considered him, body language giving away nothing. "You'd give the familiar ground to a potential enemy?"

Lucifer waved a hand at the room in general. "One could argue anywhere in Hell is my territory." He hummed lightly. "But in all honesty, even if your room - the one I built for you - could be considered enemy ground," here he leaned in to make his point, "There's nothing you could do to seriously harm me if I don't let you."

There it was again: the flicker of the dials. It was written all over him that Alastor wanted nothing more than to take that as a challenge and to put that theory to the test.

Lucifer welcomed him to try if it meant they could move on from this - whatever this was. Because that statement wasn't a theory, it was a fact.

Alastor reigned himself back in until not even a hint remained of his control slipping. "My room, if you don't mind. Shall we go?" He held out a hand, gesturing for Lucifer to take the lead.

Which, nope. He was not turning his back on this guy at this point in the game.

With a snap of his fingers, red smoke wrapped itself around them. It was showy and unnecessary, but it was worth it for the way a brief spasm of panic tightened Alastor's smile at just how easily Lucifer could just straight up kidnap him if he wanted to.

Which was good. Let him chew on that tidbit for a while.

They reappeared in the Radio Demon's quarters. The basics had been done per what Vaggie (with a V!) had been able to remember, as she was the only member of the hotel who'd seen Alastor's room. They'd left his personal touches to him, but an honest effort had been put into rebuilding the structure of it.

Glancing off to his right, Lucifer could see that Alastor had rather impressively bent reality (like the elderich creature he was) to morph half of the room into what appeared to be a bayou. It gave the impression that the room was significantly larger than it was. The residue of the magic it took to pull off such a stunt made his teeth itch, the same kind of wrongness the original bar had had.

Various other personal effects had worked their ways around the room. Some of the more interesting ones were the array of trophy skulls, both human and animal, decorating the walls. He had little doubt that Alastor had hunted, skinned, and mounted every one of them himself. The only real question was if they were original to the room pre the hotel's destruction? Or were they... newer?

By the time he turned his attention back to the owner of the room, said owner had had more than enough time to regain his composure. Lucifer was a little sorry he'd allowed Alastor the break, but he did genuinely want to resolve whatever the hell was going on between them. Being stern when needed was fine, but he didn't want to push Alastor so hard he snapped unless he had to.

Lucifer tapped the fingers of his predominant hand against his arm, all weight on one foot and ready to start tapping the other if necessary. He gave Alastor an expectant look. "Well?"

Alastor was nothing if not up for a fight. He may have been knocked off balance, but he was clearly up to being ornery as pay back. With an air of boredom, he inspected his claws, as if looking for nonexistent dirt. "Well, what, my dear king?"

Lucifers fingers didn't pause. "Don't play coy, it doesn't look good on you." He was pleased with the narrowed eyes he got in response. "What has this last week been about? You've been acting weird." Lucfier waved a hand in Alastor's general direction. Added, "Well, weird for you."

Alastor's irritation smoothed out at the implication that Lucifer paid enough attention to him to have come to some conclusion about what might constitute as 'weird behavior.' He hummed lightly, the noise oddly soothing in a way. "Very well, if you must insist. Just don't get angery if you don't like the answer."

Lucifer frowned. Angry? About what?

All thoughts were cut off as Alastor melted away into his shadows (and when the heck had his shadow gotten that close? He hadn't even seen it move). The thought crossed Lucifer's mind that he should have warded the room to keep the sinner from leaving, but ultimately, he needn't have worried.

Well, about Alastor trying to run away.

Because he really should have known better.

He realized where Alastor had gone, just as he could hear the unmistakable sound of someone taking a deep breathe right in his ear.

Lucifer could feel every single one of the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as that breathe was exhaled against his neck, sweat breaking out across his skin as a shiver ran through his body. The only reason he didn't yelp was because he was too busy choking on his own tongue.

Dignity be damned, the King of Hell nearly teleported across the room, hand slapping up against his neck. Eyes widen in horror, he brandished his cane like a rod. "Wha-- what in the seven rings of Hell was that!?"

Alastor watched him like a cat watches a mouse it's having fun playing with. "You asked what had gotten into me." He folded his hands behind his back, as if he hadn't just been sniffing the Devil himself. "That was... curiosity."

Lucifer stared at him incredulously. "Curiosity?" He laughed, a little forced as he tried to reign in his too-fast heartbeat. "If you were curious how I smelled, you could have just asked."

Alastor raised an eyebrow to that and Lucifer belatedly realized he'd just implied all someone potentially had to do was ask to smell him and he might let them do it.

Lucifer flushed but refused to correct his statement.

"Hm, how quaint." Alastor leaned in eye so slightly, just to see Lucifer unconsciously lean back. "Rest assured, it isn't quite so simple."

A pause lulled between them as the blond waited for the rest of the explanation. When he failed to receive one, he waved a hand impatiently for the red head to get on with it.

Alastor turned enough he could look out into his bayou without completely losing track of his guest. The motion drew Lucifer's attention to the area, although he didn't dare take his eyes off the serial killer.

"Has anyone told you what my dish of choice is?"

The question confused Lucifer and his impatience made him feel irritated by what felt like a non-sequitur in the conversation. He'd heard Alastor was a cannibal, so he assumed it was other sinners. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Alastor rolled his eyes, gesturing out into the bayou.

As if on cue, a tree branch snapped closer to the edge of the trees in the distance. Lucifers eyes snapped to whatever had made the noise, making eye contact with ...a deer?

Lucifer stared, that feeling of being hunted roiling over him as it dawned on him what had happened. He didn't have to look at the Radio Demon to know he was watching him like a predator watches his prey.

Lucifer swallowed, hard. "I... I don't know what you..."

There was no mercy, no quarter in Alastor's eyes as he near stalked over to the Devil. His smile was all teeth as he ran a finger along the brim of Lucifer's hat. "When I saw those ears, I was curious if you would still taste like an angel or if you might taste like something more to my ...preferences."

Lucifer was fairly certain his brain was short circuiting. Some wire must have gotten crossed, because what came out of his mouth wasn't 'you're a freak,' it was:

"If you got your taste, you'll back off?"

The two stared at each other, Lucifer unsure who was more surprised by the question.

Alastor's grin was every inch as wicked as everyone only thought the actual Devil was but really wasn't. "Are you offering a deal?" The hand he'd used to near caress Lucifer's hat fell into the offer of a hand shake.

It was Lucifer's turn to roll his eyes. He shook his head vigorously. "Nope! No deals!" He glared, slapping the hand aside. "You'll likely find some wiggle room no sane person would think to look for and I am not interested in being on the menu indefinitely."

Alastor didn't even bother to look contrite. He simply looked disappointed. Since the offer wasn't on the table, he withdrew his hand and straightened his posture. "Then what are you proposing?"

Yes, self, Lucifer thought, what are we proposing? He felt like he'd lost all direction in this conversation because he had no clue how his day had gone from 'put Alastor in his place' to 'let's let an actual cannibal bite us.'

Lucifer grasped for the last shreds of his dignity, realizing that he might have finally found something that ranked high enough to be added to the Top 5 Insane Things I've Done For My Kid list. It didn't stop the ever-so-slight tremor from creeping in, even as he tried for stern, as he offered, "I'll bring back the deer attributes, you get to satify your curiosity, and then we go back to whatever our usual is."

Alastor's eyes narrowed. "To be clear: I get to draw blood and you won't retaliate?"

There was no official deal, but it still felt like they were making one. "Yeah." Lucifer shifted, trying to shake off the last of his nerves and at least seem like he was confident. He was still absolutely sure Alastor couldn't deal him damage faster that he could heal from it, but his nerves didn't want to settle. "You get a freebie, no punishment or retaliation, in exchange for returning to the status quo."

Alastor's teeth sharpened visibly, the room growing darker around them.

"Deal."

Still feeling like this was going to come back and bite him in the ass - or, well, neck or arm, if one was being literal - at some point in the future, Lucifer made his way over to one of the chairs near the room's fireplace. He set his hat down on the seat, before pulling off his coat. He had a feeling this was going to be messy. Neck wounds often were, and he had a feeling Alastor wouldn't be satisfied with being offered anything else. He regretted the amount of layers he'd dressed in, even as he used untying his bow tie and unbuttoning the first several buttons of his shirt as a desperately needed delay tactic to simply breathe through what he was about to do.

Judging by the indulgence he could almost hear coming from Alastor's spot in the room, he held no such disillusions as to if the red head knew that he was stalling.

Taking a deep, steadying breathe, he pulled the shift over himself, falling deeper into it than he had during the trust exercise. Blond ears flicked into existence around small antlers on his head. Goat hooves morphed subtly into deer ones. A fluffy, equally blond tail twitched slightly at the base of his spine, in mirror of his anxiety.

Burrowing it all down, down, down, Lucifer gripped the edge of his shirt, yanking it down as he spun around, finally allowing a grin fit for his reputation to spread across his face from ear to ear. Tilting his head to the side in invitation, he asked, "Well, Alastor? What are you waiting for?"

Alastor control snapped with an audible static screech. Moving across the room with a speed that had kept him alive during his fight with Adam, Alastor near pounced onto his prize. The force of their collision sent them toppling to the floor, Lucifer's head just barely missing the seat of the chair. The impact with the ground drove the air from his lungs, and Lucifer didn't have the chance to even attempt to recover as he felt razor-sharp teeth sink into the tender flesh of his throat.

Lucifer's body spasmed as it attempted to draw in air, lungs needing a second to remember how to work and he was startled by the pain of attack despite knowing it was coming. He was finally able to draw a desperately needed gasp in as those teeth withdrew. Lucifer could feel it even without seeing the damage that of course Alastor had gone deep. It was definitely going to take him a hot second for it to heal, but heal it already was.

The Radio Demon, seeming to realize this, sunk his teeth in again. Lucifer's hands flew up to grab onto Alastor's arms at the new wave of agony coursed through him, squirming as he resisted the urge to shove the larger figure off of him. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood himself as he braced himself for Alastor taking his pound of flesh.

There was a creak, like bone grating against each other. Alastor shifted, teeth unmoving as he moved. As he made himself more comfortable, Lucifer realized as the shock of it finally began to abate and adrenaline flooded his system in response to the trauma. He had to swallow down the urge to laugh, knowing it would be more hysterics than actual humor.

He grunted as those teeth withdrew, surprisingly without taking a chunk of his neck with it. He was confused until he felt a warm, wet tongue slide over the wounds, chasing blood the color of gold regardless of what form the seraphim donned. Without meaning to, Lucifer flinched at the odd sensation. It was not quite pain, but not quite soothing.

As the pain began to recede, Alastor seemingly merely content to fill himself up with one of the rarest delicacies in Hell, Lucifer was able to take stock of his body. The bruises along his back from his fall were already healing almost as fast as they appeared. The deer tail, smaller and thicker than his normal, whip cord one, protested being squished the way it was. His ears twitched as they followed every noise Alastor made, the sensation odd.

Since this appeared it was going to take a moment, unless Alastor decided to go for his throat with his teeth again, he decided to try and relieve his poor tail to distract himself from the fact that it felt like there was a tongue digging into one of the still open wounds.

Alastor's own ears twitched as the shifting of Lucifer's hips caused the sound of clothes rustling to sound through the room like a shot. Lucifer was tempted to reach up and pet one, but that would have moved all of this into territory far too close to something intimate, which this very much wasn't, thank you very much.

When the pain finally disapaited, the lapping of that insidious tongue moving from stinging to something far too close to ticklish for comfort, Lucifer decided he'd had enough. "Alright, I think you've had enough."

He was far too proud of the fact that his voice didn't shake.

Much.

His fingers dug into red sleeves as he could feel Alastor's smile brush up against the base of his ear.

"And if I haven't satisfied my curiosity?"

Oh, no. Absolutely not.

"Nope, you're done." Lucifer bucked, shoving off the grinning asshole, who went with all the grace of someone who'd gotten thier cake and ate it, too. Lucifer sat up, glaring as Alastor looked barely rumbled while he knew he himself looked like a mess.

"There, you've gotten your taste. Agreement upheld." Lucifer pulled back up his shirt, wincing at how much blood had soaked into it.

"Hmm, perhaps." Alastor placed a finger to his lips, eyes half lidded.

Something about the way it was said raised Lucifer's hackles.

Alastor merely stared back, not adding anything to his comment.

Right. Okay. Whatever.

Lucifer stood slowly in an attempt to hide the way his legs trembled. Once he felt stable, he began putting his facade back together. Buttons all buttoned up. Blood vanished with a mere wave of his hand (to Alastor's obvious disappointment).

He was slipping on his coat when Alastor rose to his own feet. Lucifer felt it was massively unfair that all it took was some minor adjustments, and the Radio Demon looked as put together as normal.

(Almost, an insidious voice whispered in the back of Lucifer's mind. Look closer, and he could see the little ways in which Alastor was affected. The slight flush to his cheeks of a successful hunt. Unhinged smile replaced with something more peaceful. The satiated hint of hunger quenched for the first time since they'd met.

This way lays trouble.)

But Lucifer shook it off, just like he shook off the foreboding feeling of Alastor holding the Crown of Hell.

He was already in too deep.

He slipped his hat on, letting the deer attributes he'd donned finally disappear. "Well, see you around, I guess."

Alastor hummed in agreement. For his own sanity, Lucifer refused to read into it any deeper.

And if his portalling out of the room was straight up turning tail and running?

Well, it wasn't like it was the first time he'd done it that month.

Tbc

Part 4

#radioapple #alastor #lucifer morningstar #deer lucifer fic #tw: blood #cw: blood #i have no idea what theyre doing at this point #im just the writer #know i said that before but its still true #theyll probably let me know what the hecks happening #right as im trying to sleep #like they did this time 🥲#oh god i just remembered i gave the user name to this blog to someone i know irl #whelp too late to turn back now 🙃

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tibby-art · 5 days

Text

hitman au save me .. its been seven years ..

haven’t been able to draw/write much of this au lately but i want to write a few little scene snippets i have stored my brain :’D ill include them under cut

=+=

“This better be something good,” Scar muttered to Cub as they stepped out of the elevator. The hitman, while bound to his contract, considered ‘boring’ missions to be a waste of his time.

“I hope so,” Cub hummed. “Hope so.”

The ConVex swung open the doors to the NHO conference room, not bothering to check if their bosses were actually ready for their meeting.

“Holy mother of—! Knock next time, will you?” A man setting files down on the conference table jumped visibly as the doors slammed open.

“The Vex require a dramatic entrance, Beef,” Scar said casually. Cub snickered.

“Sure, whatever.” Beef furrowed his brow, used to this behavior. He didn’t have time for this. “Okay. Doc was supposed to do this briefing, but he’s busy with his machines I guess, because of course he is, so.” He huffed, composing himself. “Your new top-secret project. This one’s a doozy. Have a look.”

Beef slid the folder across the table. The hitmen flipped it open, absorbing its contents with hungry eyes.

What caught their eyes immediately were the photos. The person of interest looked nothing like a powerful crime boss or a dangerous anomaly. A young adult with glasses, dark eyes and short, sandy brown hair stared back at them.

“Who’s this?” Scar raised an eyebrow. Is the NHO asking them to assassinate some normal-looking university student?

“That is Grian,” Beef explained, both hands planted firmly on the table. “Grian has been with us at the NHO for months.”

“I’ve never seen him before,” Scar remarked.

“Grian’s case is top-secret. He’s been staying in high-security, private quarters… as well as our research laboratories.”

“I thought you guys seemed super suspicious lately! I knew they were hiding something from us, Cub,” Scar nudged his partner with a grin. Cub did not budge as his sharp eyes combed through the documents. He hadn’t heard a single word spoken to him.

“Cub? What’s the deal?” Scar asked. He preferred to let Cub read their mission files and summarize it for him, anyways. Dyslexia and top-secret government files were not a great mix. Oh, what would he do without Cub?

“Watchers?” Cub finally spoke, looking up at Beef with a quizzical frown. The other man nodded slowly. “You’re kidding.”

“After months of testing and analysis, we can confirm that this individual is the only currently documented case of a mortal possessing Watcher abilities,” Beef nodded slowly.

Scar had heard whispers of the Watchers only a handful of times. As a vex, he knew plenty about the realm of magic, the divine, the fae, you name it! But Watchers were said to be ancient entities, perhaps as old as time itself. So old that they were widely considered to be a myth.

“So this is not a hit,” Scar said after a moment.

“This is not a hit, Scar, good lord, do not kill this person,” Beef put both hands on his forehead and let them slowly drag down his face.

“Mortal, you say?” Cub raised an eyebrow.

“Yep,” Beef said. “She was a completely normal citizen until he got these abilities in some freak accident. Lucky for everyone involved, the NHO was able to take control of the situation before anything… dangerous happened.”

“So,” Scar narrowed his eyes slightly, “If this isn’t a hit, then what do you want from us?”

Beef sighed. “After months of testing to determine Grian’s situation, the NHO has decided that he is too important to return to life as a normal citizen at this time. Instead, we’d like to utilize his abilities in our goals to maintain order in Hermit City, and we need someone to train her how to be a special agent in the field.”

“You want the ConVex to train a Watcher how to be a hitman,” Cub said with a slight smirk at just how insane that sounded.

“Yep.”

“Huh.” Scar put both hands on his hips. “Well, that’s not what I was expecting.”

“I suppose we could give it a shot,” Cub said. Although the ConVex were bound by a fae contract to work for the NHO, the vex took every opportunity to feign control over their situation. There was no choice here. Beef had given them an order.

“Sure, sure! We are very good at our jobs, after all,” Scar grinned. Whatever happened, good or bad, would at least be entertaining, surely.

“You’ll come back here to meet her tomorrow morning,” Beef instructed. “Hand me that file back and be here by 9, will you?”

“Sure thing,” Cub replied coolly, sliding the file back to the man. Scar couldn’t help but grin wider when he noticed Cub’s hand casually in his pants pocket, some folded white paper barely visible in his grip.

“Don’t be late. I’m serious this time,” Beef called out as the hitmen turned and exited the conference room.

=+=

The conference room was tense that morning. Towards the end of the table sat the NHO - Beef, Doc, Etho, and Bdubs. On one side sat Cub and Scar. Across from them, Grian sat alone.

“So, how about introductions?” Doc clapped his hands together. “Er… Cub and Scar, this is Grian. Grian, this is Cub and Scar. You guys already know the deal. Grian is going to come with you on missions from now on.”

The ConVex hadn’t taken their eyes off of Grian since they entered the room, unable to resist their curiosity. They had both read the files, but still found it hard to believe the person before them was a Watcher. Grian sat rigid in his chair, fiddling with his hands, looking tense and exhausted. She eyed the vex curiously as well.

“Well hello there,” Scar greeted. “I’m Scar, and this is Cub.”

“Hey, hey,” Cub said quietly.

“Hello,” The corner of Grian’s mouth twitched in a possible attempt at a smile.

The three continued to stare at each other until Bdubs cleared his throat.

“Wonderful introduction. Now that we’ve broken the ice, let’s talk about your next mission.” The man picked up a small remote, and the large screen on the wall behind them illuminated.

“Before we send our agents out into the field, we meet like this to discuss the details and ensure that the mission is clearly understood,” Doc explained to Grian, throwing a disapproving glare in the ConVex’s direction.

A lengthy file on some high-profile criminal appeared on the screen, as Bdubs proceeded to read off the information. Scar slumped back in his chair. These mission briefings were the worst. It was time to zone out and have Cub tell him the details later with all the fluff cut out.

At about ten minutes in, Scar yawned absentmindedly.

“Oh, are we boring you, sir?” Doc interrupted Bdubs to shoot a piercing stare at Scar.

“Oh, not at all!” Scar said cheerfully, but slumping in his chair slightly lower.

“As I was saying,” Bdubs continued loudly.

Scar glanced over at Grian. Her eyes quickly darted back to the presentation when they made eye contact. Scar looked over at Cub and found he had still not taken his eyes off of Grian. Hopefully Cub was at least somewhat paying attention, because he sure wasn’t.

Grian continued to fidget with his hands. Scar felt a pang of pity for him. The vex were used to this sort of environment, but according to the NHO, Grian had a completely normal life up until a few months ago. Now suddenly, he gains these terrifying powers and spends months in a top-secret lab having tests run on her all day. Who wouldn’t be overwhelmed?

Scar yawned again, this time more intentionally. He earned another death glare from Doc, but Bdubs droned on. He glanced over and saw Grian rubbing a hand on his cheek to help hide a grin.

The art of annoying your boss was a delicate one. Timing is everything. Let enough time pass until they’ve forgotten, or they think you’ve stopped, to continue the game. Scar lets about ten minutes pass before his next yawn, bigger this time.

“Quit it,” Beef hissed. Even Etho glanced over. Doc kept his eyes on the screen, but his jaw was clenched. Grian let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

Five minutes later, Cub clears his throat rather loudly. Bdubs stutters over his words for a second, but because Cub is Cub, none of the NHO seems to be able to tell if that was a deliberate cough or not, and they decide to ignore it. Cub shows no emotion.

After an hour that felt like an eternity of Bdubs explaining every possible detail about the case, it seemed to be almost concluded. That was, until a rather loud yawn was heard throughout the conference room.

“WILL YOU LET ME FINISH, FOR GOODNESS SAKE?!” Bdubs finally erupted, whipping around in his chair to face Cub and Scar.

The hitmen stared back blankly. They glanced over across the table, and Bdubs followed their gaze, where Grian sat with both arms over her head in a large stretch.

“Sorry,” Grian said simply when all eyes were on him, lowering his arms. “Just had to stretch a bit.” He stared back at Bdubs innocently.

The NHO stood there, confused. Bdubs was at a loss for words, unable to get a read on the new recruit. He sighed and turned back to the screen. “Well, regardless, I think we’ve about summed things up,” he grumbled.

Scar made eye contact with Grian once again. The two cracked a smile at one another for a second, too quick for the NHO to notice.

Scar had a feeling that him, Cub and Grian were going to get along just fine.

=+=

#if i write more scenes ill probably combine them into one big fic that is just. random chau scenes part 57 or whatever #im better at writing silly character interactions than big plot stuff <- not a writer #convexian hitman au #grian #cubfan135 #goodtimeswithscar #chau #hermitcraft #sketchbook #art tag #convex #grub #desert duo

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