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Through the Halls of Roses and Darkness (Vinaein x Story)

With the garage door creaking to a shut behind him, Leon was adjusting the break and even giving the dashboard a gentle pat, like a man of antiquity reassuring a favored horse it had performed admirably. His eyes fixed back to Juniper as he saw her....fight. There was no other word for it at the moment. Whatever might have ailed her, Juniper seized it and wrenched it back, trying to will herself to some form of normalcy within. Well, Leon supposed, there was quite a bit admirable about this...hell, she was even standing with an effort that could best be described as 'Herculean' now, holding up the bundle of garments he moved to assist with.

Juniper was not a woman who yielded easily, he noted. She also didn't seem one who took being 'wrong' well. She might well insist the world change its opinion to accommodate her. Just before she snapped at him to 'hurry up.' Yeah, he thought. Definitely used to being in charge. Hell, he was considering if he liked it or wanted to show her a proper place...bit of both, mayhaps?

"Well, excuse me, princess," he grumbled as he followed in her wake, rolling his eyes and hiding his relief. If she could snap and snark, she would be fine, wouldn't she? "You've got your clothes?" He began, before...

"Now that's just not fair! I said I've seen them, not participated!" ....Maybe a few times. "And they're very sensible! And you can be the most popular person in an orgy and still be lonely as it gets!" He shook his head, walking to the door to open it. Within, the hallway was wooden, tastefully decorated with an assortment of flowers in vases and little amateur paintings on the wall. Leon held the door for her.

"Can I get you anything? A drink, order food, you need the couch or the bed?" He flicked his hand over his shoulder to the hallway that led to a bedroom. The living room had a chair and couch, made of comfortable leather, a kitchen nearby with a pale refrigerator...

"And need a moment before we...talk about what we know and what we need to find out?" He looked closely at her, hiding his worry. "The way we left, wouldn't be shocked if someone took note...oh, make yourself at home."
 
It was … an apartment.

Juniper slunk past him once he opened the door, bundle of clothes in her arms. Much like a cat, she was both curious and wary as to what she might find once she was inside, her curiosity winning over the general consensus of not feeling well. Much to relief as well as disappointment, the space looked normal. Basic and homey, even.

Though …

“This isn’t a place that you ever stay in, is it?” She had a dry tone to her voice when she asked the question, gaze taking in the cheap art on the wall, the generic furniture that went along with the simplistic decor.

She didn’t loiter too long in one spot. Instead, she wobbled her way over to the couch and dropped down, closing her eyes briefly as she leaned her head back against the cushion for a few more moments than necessary. Idly, she reached up and plucked at one of the dress straps, then with a deep breath, she pushed herself back up so that she was sitting up straight.

“Have you ever considered the fact that you participate in orgies to be one of the reasons you are, as you claim, lonely?” She asked coolly.

Then she was frowning, shaking her head. “We shouldn’t be meddling into these things,” she kept insisting. “There are others, those that do the actual enforcing, that can take things from here now that we’ve uncovered something highly illegal in that club. Though I might still need to take a few statements, especially from some of Nora’s so called friends that she was involved with.”
 
Juniper had such a way of...slinking, found Leon. He wore his friendly smile, seeing the investigator just creep and stalk past. You couldn't really sum it up as 'walking,' honestly. He hadn't seen much like it. Well, the place was nice and comfortable, filled with a pleasant aroma and a tasteful decor. The vampire was glancing over at the good inspector Juniper as she handled herself well enough, holding the clothes. "You know, I can take those. Just...handle them with the laundry?" He offered quickly, with a tilted eyebrow.

"I mean...I don't stay here much," he admitted. "But every so often, it's nice to get away a bit. I mean, I can long for a bit of simplicity sometimes, can't I?" His grin ws frankly dazzling, but he doubted it would be of much affect on Juniper. Still, with them out of danger, he was finding himself able to tease around. Call it a defense mechanism, but it was firmly back in place. He glanced to see Juniper sitting up, inwardly relieved at that as well.

Oh, she knew how to deliver a hit, didn't she? "I didn't say I participate, now did I? I said I saw them. There's a difference. you know, you don't have to take the irritation out on me." He grinned at her. "I already find you lovely enough without snapping at me all the time." There, just a little teasing. Sure, she was lovely and abrasive which had its own appeal. But that should help get his head back on straight.

"Why don't you get some rest? We can handle any illegal activies after you've slept this off?" He gestured towards the bed. "I'll help you locate said friends of cours and get those statements. Shame you'll probably be back in that formal outfit for it, you look pretty great in heels..."
 
Juniper called bullshit from a mile away when it came to the vampire she already detested making the acquaintance of. The bit about being lonely had her head snapping in his direction, lips twitching - but not with any kind of humor. In fact, the Inspector looked relatively apathetic and slightly aggravated when he shone his dazzling smile in her direction. Rolled her eyes at him, too, then gathered up her bundle and sighed as she pulled herself to her feet, slower than a grandma and looking unhappy for it.

“Let me guess,” she offered dryly, already looking down the hall and wondering which door led to the bathroom. She had already humiliated herself once having to change into her current … ensemble in an alley; she was going to have the decency and privacy of his restroom when she changed back into something much more her. “Your usual place of residence is an absurdly decadent mansion but you’re so sad and lonely to be wandering the halls all by yourself while you live a life of complete, hedonistic luxury.”

Someone was bitter.

His words about taking her irritation out on him only made her scowl deeper, pale brows drawing together as she stared down at him. Somehow. Juniper was petite, especially then when she was barefoot. “And there is no reason for your sarcasm when I’ve had a shit night,” she snapped. Irritably. And stared at him in a way that challenged - dared - him to say something about it.

Not that she gave him an opportunity to do so. As soon as she had finished with her staring, she set off down the hall in hopes of finding the restroom.

It took her a couple of doors, but once she was inside, the bright light made her squint as she slumped against the closed door for a moment. Processing, really. Then she snickered a little, shook her head, and changed from the dress back into her sensible slacks and blouse. Flats on her feet. The dress she left in a puddle on the floor, though she toed it with her shoe with a look on her face that suggested she never wanted to wear a little black something ever again. Opening the door and flicking off the last, she wandered back into the living space and slumped back on the spot of couch she had claimed.

“Fine, we sleep,” she reluctantly agreed. She had only put her flats back on her feet before they were off again, a weary look making her look even more haggard than before. A little self-consciously, she pulled her legs up onto the couch with her. “But I don’t think I’ll be wearing heels ever again,” she muttered, taking one of the decorative pillows and fluffing it next to her.
 
Leon was now walking to his shelves, searching his books there. He did not have as many as he might like here, he thought with a disappointed click of his tongue, before he glanced back at Juniper with his masking smile in place. Was it his fault she was rather attractive and cute under the abrasiveness. He could see she didn't exactly like him, which....fair, he supposed. He'd brought her into danger, bitten her neck-

Yes, hadn't he? The memory of how good she tasted came back, but he was attempting not to let that show overmuch for the moment, sighing as he shook his head as she walked down the hall. "Last one on your left!" He called. "Private bathroom, too!" He said, feeling guilty about having made her change in the alley. The comment about the mansion made him roll his eyes a bit. "I enjoy the mansion very much, thank you." He shot back, just a touch acerbic in response, with an amused twist to his mouth. "Come on, I'm a lot of things...but I'm not a cliche. Look, I'm sorry for the bad night," he muttered to himself, knowing she might not even hear it before she headed off.

Yeah, he'd forced himself along, treated her...less than ideal. Not really his finest moments. He was retrieving his own clothes, wondering why Dora's club had an Unseelie symbol on the doors.

And what they could mean....He didn't have time to wonder long when Juniper returned, looking more...Juniper. "And good to see you again, inspector," he said, considering his next words, before she mentioned the heels.

"Shame, you look great in them." That surprised even him, come to think of it, he thought as he went to the fridge, taking some cold water to settle himself. On reflection, he poured Juniper a glass as well.

"You can take a bed. It'd be more comfortable. I could just order in some food in the morning and we can go over things then," he offered, trying to think of how to make a simple apology...

Which was harder than it should've been.
 
Juniper’s night had been less than ideal, yes. But part of it had been her own doing. The fact that she felt like hell was … her own doing. As bitter as she was that the vampire had tagged along and inserted himself into this case more than he should have - she could have done something about that, too, and had chosen not to. As far as the Inspector was concerned, this night and its outcome were all on her own misguided judgment and her refusal to put a firmer foot down.

At least Leon hadn’t left her in that … place. That actually surprised her, though she supposed that leaving her would mean more of a liability to him and his own assets. If anything were to happen to the Inspector assigned to look into him and his whereabouts while she was noted and scheduled to be interviewing him - well.

Then he would just look guilty.

Juniper still wasn’t convinced he wasn’t complicit in what she had discovered in the club, given his association with both the deceased and the owners of the club. But that was something she filed away in the back of her throbbing, headache riddled mind.

Best to keep track of him.

With that thought intact, she did settle herself down on the couch, finally picking up on the chime of his voice that she had ignored while changing in the bathroom. Her response was to groan and curl up, head resting down on the pillow, eyes squinting. “I’m sure whoever the heels actually belong to looks just as good, if not better,” she muttered her response at him. “And I’m already comfortable,” she finished.

Because she wasn’t about to drag herself off the couch now that she was settled in. And she was tired, though she suspected that her host was not done with her for the evening. Unfortunately, her eyes had closed, too heavy for her to force them to stay open. If she noticed when - if - he rounded back around from the kitchen to the couch, she made no indication. And made no move to open her eyes or lift her head.
 
Leon was lifting up a glass of blood, frigid and cold compared to what vampires usually imbibed. He sipped it, tweet even so. Frowning to himself, he tried to think over everything that had transpired earlier. So much to put together, he thought, and he was nowhere near to piecing together what a bloody mystery all this was. So, of course, what did it mean? Why was there an unseelie sign? What had his friend died for? He was frowning grimly, also detecting that just maybe Juniper did not care for him overmuch...

Leaving her would've made his life easier, wouldn't it? But he had never bothered to even contemplate leaving her behind. He didn't want his damn family to cover for him. He didn't want to 'get away' wth anything. What did he have to 'get away' with? He wanted to just get to the bottom of this whole affair with Juniper...

He was even finding her presence tolerable. If not enjoyable. She was like a thorny little brush, all prickles to her to go along with aesthetically pleasing sharpness. And willful...he wondered what had led her to enter the life of an inspector. Hopefully she'd calm down, too, he thought as he walked back.

"In the morning, we..." he stopped short, seeing her there on the couch with her eyes closed, completely and utterly in repose. A small smile came to his face and he walked past her to a closet, opening it to remove a blanket. Walking back to Juniper, delicately as not to disturb her, he slipped the blanket around her, biting his lip for a moment.

"Thanks...and sorry again," he whispered, judging her asleep. He made sure it was comfortable and snug about her, the couch already soft enough to serve as a pillow while he walked out...getting out papers, knowing he'd get little sleep...

In the morning, though, Juniper might have detected the scent of something cooking. Something particularly enticing.
 
Tomorrow was another day. Juniper was already on the cusp of sleep by the time Leon came back around with his glass of blood to tuck her in underneath the blanket. Just not quite asleep. She heard his words even if her sleep-blurred brain wasn’t keen enough to want to respond to him just yet.

Tomorrow.

So once he left her there on the couch, darkness was quick to consume her thoughts, thrusting her into a void of strange dreams that included her own past nipping at her heels. The fae were not so unfamiliar to her as she hoped she was leading on. Juniper preferred her place in life as something of a hedge witch, easily overlooked and a mutt besides.

Mutts just didn’t get adopted or looked at as much as purebreds.

So when she drifted off to the sound of Leon’s retreating footsteps, she finally relaxed in an uneasy way that came with the territory of finding herself curled up on a stranger’s couch instead of in her own bed.

…And felt the effects of it the next day when she woke, fuzzy headed and cotton mouthed, lashes fighting the good fight against her heavy lids to keep her under sleep’s reprise. Except the scent of food wafting into the living room made her nose twitch, and that was the thing that finally dragged her eyes open.

She had a crick in her neck. That was the first thing that she knew.

Groaning softly under her breath, June pulled her hands out where they were tucked underneath the blanket and pushed the pale wisps of hair that were almost-blonde out of her face and grimaced as the feeling of having slept in yesterday’s clothes caught up with her before she finally pushed herself up into a sitting position, clinging to the blanket as she pulled it around herself.

The queasy feeling in her stomach was gone, at least. So was the headache except for a twinge between her temples that no doubt signified that she was dehydrated. That and the twang that rolled through her muscles as she crooked her head from side to side. Eventually, she relinquished her hold on the blanket edges and scrubbed a hand over her face.

“Ugh,” was her morning greeting, the sound that might have been a word slurred and thick still with sleep.
 
What a new day to a vampire? Philosophers had pondered the answer to that question to no avail. It certainly did not mean what it did to humanity, now did it? It certainly didn't mean that one was one day nearer to the inevitable end of their existence. No, being a vampire meant that you faced the new day as simply repetition. Or as what else you could make of it. Who knew what it might bring? The thought of that was what kept Leon going sometimes.

It was also hiding that he felt terrible. His friend was still dead. He was not any closer to answers as to what had claimed her and killed her. His other friend had dark magic in her establishment and he couldn't be sure if she was a danger now. Hell, did Leon even have friends? Of all those living, he couldn't even be sure of that...people hung around him for power, status....

He also knew Juniper didn't like him and that...made him oddly sad. Prim and harsh she might have been, but...

Juniper was honest. She was upright to almost a fault. she deserved better than this...than ridicule and laid back, spoiled idiocy.

But how else could he act? He didn't know another way around authority. He...what? He respected her? He couldn't just say that, could he? He liked her? He thought she was...

What? Special? Intelligent? He let her sleep there, in his safehouse, warmly blanketed up as he walked to the kitchen. He took out yeast, baking soda, salt and flower, took out frozen ground pork and eggs. He began to get to work, mixing a batter to make pancakes, frying sausages and eggs to go with it, seasoning them just right.

He didn't eat like humans did, but he liked to cook. It was something...productive. Something nice. Something simple where he could watch someone enjoy something practical. Nothing to be gained except the simple enjoyment and Juniper would likely need food and energy.

He could hear her in the kitchen, pouring a glass of water. He'd grated potatoes to fry up, retrieving fruit for a small salad when it occurred to him he had no idea what Juniper liked for breakfast.

Maybe she preferred Johnny Cakes.

"Hey," he said as he emerged, his smile a touch bashful, his eyes earnest. "Morning, inspector...I made breakfast. If you're hungry." He sounded weary himself, a bit of an awkward grin muddying his typical arrogant look..

"Figured we can make sure you're rested, and well fed before we get back to work..."
 
Juniper wanted to go home. Shower. Take another nap in her own bed. Get a change of clothes. However, even she had to admit that the smell of fried hash browns smelled divine. Not to mention eggs, sausage. Were those pancakes as well? Her stomach grumbled in agreement as her bare feet hit the floor and she lifted herself up, back groaning in protest as she stretched herself up and rolled her neck to try and loosen her muscles. Once again, her hand even scrubbed itself over her face before both sets of fingers combed through the tangles the bright halo of her hair had ensnared itself into.

Then with a skeptical look thrown in the vampire’s direction, she padded into the kitchen area with all the awkwardness of a stranger entering someone else’s space. She felt strange, self-aware of her own rumpled appearance and yesterday’s clothes, which made her draw her brows forward and scrunch her face in its usual bitchy with a bad attitude that she had adopted upon meeting him.

It was a defense mechanism, kind of. She was uncomfortable here.

“Don’t vampires sleep during the day? And why do you have food here? As far as I know, vampires also don’t eat food. Just blood…” She trailed off at the last as a phantom tingle ran through her neck where he had bitten her last night. All healed now, but her memory triggered the sensation. She now knew why humans could become addicted to it.

She also understood why it was outlawed for his kind to keep blood slaves.

Still, she pulled herself up to the breakfast bar that divided the rest of the room and the kitchen and plopped herself down on a stool, before tentatively asking, “Do you have any coffee to go with this?”

Grimacing, she at least had the decency to look abashed. “I mean to say, thank you for … all of this. You didn’t have to cook. I could have grabbed something on my way back to my own place once I got back to my car.” She fixed him with a serious look. “Since I still need to draft up a report and send it in. That is the work that I need to do.”
 
When Leon had emerged, there was a curiously...earnest expression on his face and the audible rumbling of Juniper's stomach confirmed he'd done a good dob at cooking. He tried not to look triumphant, but managed a rather pleasant smile, his eyes practically shining as he saw her before him...even disheveled and trying to comb her hair back into place, entering his kitchen so hesitantly, timidly and nervous as though he might grow fangs and strike at her...

The food was down across the table, with a fork, knife and...juice and water on their side. "We sleep when we want. I got a few hours before daylight. As for cooking..." He shrugged. "I like it. I'm good at it, I guess. And it makes other people happy. It doesn't involve giving them money, it's...simple. It's practical. You get to see them enjoy it. It's just something that a lot of people forget." He, of course, wouldn't need to eat for a while after the blood packs he'd had, and the...

Drink he'd had from Juniper's own soft neck. He thought suddenly of her blood, the taste making him pause for a moment, but he managed to banish that temptation with no small amount of effort. He could have taunted her about the bite, but...

"I have everything stocked here and since not many know what I am, it helps to preserve the illusion. Besides...I like to cook. And...COFFEE now?" He gave an overly dramatic sigh. "I work so hard, and yet..." He tsked, almost sadly. "Alas, I see there are demands of me anew." Truthfully, he'd gotten the pot ready already, with simple, decent coffee brewing. He filled up a hot mug, taking out cream and sugar and placing it beside her breakfast.

"Inspector. Juniper. I'm...sorry about last night. For...more than one thing." He said it quickly, with the air of someone not usually given to apologizing. "I just wanted to say that. The breakfast...it's not an apology. The apology's the apology. This is just...me wanting to do something nice for you."

His confidence was back as he shrugged. "Reports, hm...you gonna put in that we found an illegal Unseelie symbol and what happened then? Anyone you know who could tell us what it might be?"

He did know many in the occult bookshops, after all...
 
For the time being, Juniper focused on the food set out in front of her, unable to ignore the rumbling in her stomach that reminded her that she hadn’t had dinner the night before. And, apparently, being mojoed by foul magic and throwing up … whatever it was that had crawled through her system like sludge - well, it left her with an appetite. Juniper was even surprised that Leon wasn’t lying about knowing how to cook. So, she scarfed down half of what was set in front of her before she touched the steaming mug of coffee that he had settled in front of her, though that was what she wanted to relish.

Bitter and black. She didn’t bother putting sugar or cream in it as she leaned back in her chair, a strip of bacon dangling between her fingertips and the mug pressed to her lips as she considered him with a new kind of interest. Respect, almost. And something more akin to open curiosity than she had the night before.

“Is this what you used to do for your human … friends?” She wasn’t going to push the questions with Nora, though that was her angle. She wanted to see, still, just how close he had been to the dead woman that had started them off down this track.

Though then he apologized and that made both fair eyebrows raise up near her hairline. Juniper hid her smile behind the mug, but wry amusement still flickered in her eyes. “That apology sounded like it took effort, Mr. LaCroix. But there isn’t really anything to apologize for. I willingly put myself through … all of that. Something that you, no doubt, experience on a regular basis. I still find it distasteful and don’t wish to have a repeat experience, but…” She trailed off, setting her mug down, then shrugged, watching him.

“That is still very kind of you to offer your hospitality,” she offered, waving a hand around the table. The last of her casual input before a thoughtful expression ran itself across her features and she was again leaning back. This time her eyes drifted, roving over nothing while making it seem like she was taking in the room. Really, she was mulling over what she should tell him or not. Finally, “I know what it is. What I don’t know is why it’s there. I want to send a team down to investigate what the ward was hiding. I removed the ward, but …”

Well, he knew the rest. Her eyes flitted back to his face, scrutinizing.

“These things are not meant for you and I. There are others who are more adept and trained to deal with these things. My suggestion is that you go back to living your life as you have been, Mr. LaCroix, and allow me to handle things from here.”
 
Leon couldn't help but smile as he saw Juniper set to her food. Well, something common when people found he cooked and cooked well. But Leon enjoyed that expression, to see people enjoying what he created. And after the terrible night the two had, he was suspecting she must be ravenous. Juniper ate without delicacy or ceremony, devouring the potatoes, eggs and the rest that he had put in front of her, with her focus then on the coffee. While Leon was having a mug of blood, having warmed it up and sipping it slowly.

Vampires tasted things differently than humans did. For him, the blood was rich and sweet, unlike how terrible he would find the taste of coffee. It was, to put it bluntly, a total pain in the ass to figure out how to cook when you couldn't taste it and Leon had to go by recipes to figure out what people actually enjoyed. He supposed it was like trying to draw when you couldn't picture things in your head. It required intense practice.

Juniper, as per his guess, took her coffee strong, dark and without sweeteners. He didn't suppose she liked sweet things...but her eyes were fixing him with some expression he'd never seen before. And this time, it was not a negative impression. He liked that, giving her an almost bashful smile, with a delicate shrug.

Then she mentioned Nora. Unexpected. He should have been prepared, it shouldn't have gotten to him. Yet it did, his eyes hooded, his mouth frowning in unfeigned grief. "Actually...I learned to cook for her first. Expanded...after all. You're lucky you're not trying my first attempts at hash brown potatoes. Closer to charcoal than anything else." He laughed with slight mirth, before shrugging. "I'm not used to apologies," he admitted. "Most people never have me making them, even when we really should be." He looked close into her eyes.

Were they...getting on now? He couldn't help but...enjoy himself as he sat down, staring at her eyes while she enjoyed the food and coffee. "I...had honestly considered that," he agreed. "The only issue....we left in quite a hurry, inspector. While the safehouse might not be safe, my own identity is well known. I doubt whatever's there is done with me, even if we wish to be done with it."

He let that hang there, tapping his fingers on the table. "Indulge my curiosity, Inspector Juniper...how would you escalate this? Whom would you inform? What would happen next, if I went back to my life? Not that I am....opposed now, mind."
 
His watching her eat made her self-conscious enough that she slowed down, until she was using her fork to pick at the food left on her plate and shovel more daintily into her mouth than her ravenous stomach decreed. It still moaned and growled at her for more, as if the curse that had been guarding those stairs was still not fully purged, and the only way to rid herself of it was to eat more.

Regardless, she dropped her eyes from his more penetrated stare, unnerved by the sight of him sipping warmed up blood that she could smell from across the table. Copper and salt and something already dead. A question bubbled up on her lips, but released in a sigh of breath before she could ask it. Does live blood taste better than dead blood?

Not her business. Not something she really wanted to know.

Instead, she used the exhale of breath to sigh, nose crinkling on her face as she considered what she should tell the vampire. One shoulder lifted in an uncomfortable shrug, made even more so by what she saw in his eyes when speaking about the dead woman she was investigating.

“We can place you under protective custody if your identity is at risk, Mr. LaCroix,” she assured him, the professional creeping back into her voice. “So if you are worried about any repercussions coming your way for discovering something illegal, especially considering your affiliation with the owner, that will be taken into account on my report.” She tried to smile, but it turned out bland. “And … as for your other inquiry, once I submit my findings, the Syndicate will likely be involved.”

This next part made her hesitate. Uncertainty as to how much she should tell him warred on her features before they turned resigned, “Ah, but that might prove to be trickier than I thought, considering that we have learned that the fae are involved. One of the fae queens … owns the Syndicate, and so …”

She looked guilty. She even cleared her throat.

“One of the Unseelie queens,” she added, softly, looking down at her nearly empty plate. “So, I think I … will need to submit my report to someone else, a more neutral party. Then they will send a pair over to the club who are armed and warded against whatever might be down there. Professional ass kickers, you might say. I just push papers,” she finished, like it was her only defense. She didn’t remind either of them of the fact that she had removed the foul wards protecting the hidden room. Let alone how or why.
 
Leon had always enjoyed watching Nora eat. It was a little pleasure she, to her boundless credit, had liked to taunt him about. Teasing him that those little, simple pleasures were beyond him with little winks whenever Leon would claim that positively nothing was 'beyond' a man of his means and status. He was Leon LaCroix, the world was entirely his for the taking. There was nothing he could not do.

And yet Nora had shown him doors he had never envisioned existing, let alone being closed to him. There were simple, inescapable facts in this reality and he was not immune to them for the accident of his birth. Knowing this did not make it any easier. Knowing he could not bring back the dead did not make it easier to have lost her.

Lost her, as though she had fallen out of his pocket like a collection of stray pennies, never missed nor mentioned again. She had been murdered and the Unseelie Court was involved and he had no idea why. His father had ever warned him to steer clear of the Unseelie Court. They were beings of the natural world, forces as natural and powerful as a hurricane. They would destroy whatever stood against them in their path, as surely as a mighty typhoon would smash away a dam and bear it no hint of ill intent.

The Fae were dangerous to involve oneself with, along with their strange magics that defied the barrier between possible and myth. What had Nora said? The ancient waring of "If thou wouldst dress the dead and dance among them, thou shalt join their ranks."

So too was it for the Courts of the Fae, in their decadent Danse Macabres from which so few in this corporeal plane returned. Beings of unrestrained carnality, though they scarcely involved themselves with this reality. If something had, if Nora had encountered such a thing and that led to her murder...

It had infected Juniper, already within her body. He pondered that over a warming sip of the blood, glancing to her at her next sigh. "Protective custody? You're so certain I shan't trick my escort and go off in my wastrel ways?" He was not, in fact, concerned with his own safety. He barely had a life to lose. He was a useless rake, everyone knew it. Only Nora, along with a scarce few others had ever shown him he might be anything but.

"The Syndicate..." he traced that word, tasting it with the last bitter copper droplets of his last sip. "My family may object to my protective custody. Not that I am objecting, mind you, just stating the obvious- "

He stopped short, looking at her with the most serious expression he had ever given another human being. Unblinking, his stare fixed her eyes. "Inspector Juniper." He said, his voice grave. "Did I just hear 'professional ass kickers' escape your lips?" He grinned at her, the smile lighting up his face. "I'm impressed, I did not think any oaths of profanity might form themselves in your mind, let alone be given voice! Perhaps we'll make a rogue of you yet!"

He did not suppose she would appreciate it, but the seriousness of the rest did not escape him. His tongue trailed over his lower lip, moistening it as he sighed heavily. "...WIll you at least allow me to do some research, Inspector?" He folded his hands upon the hard wood of the table, looking at her. "I scarcely need say, this seems to have evolved in a way neither of us expected. I'll leave it to your experts, but I might know more than you realize."
 
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