we are fallen }}anzie [jb!blitz]

Finnegan Hood

Leon’s sarcastic laughs and mumbling catch me off guard, and I tentatively withdraw my hand, quickly running it through my hair before leaning back against the wall as I watched him pace and talk to himself. I only catch bits and pieces of what he’s saying, but what I do manage to make out causes a smirk to cross my face as I realize what the boy believes to be happening. “That’s very funny. God, I’m such an idiot. Why would you do this to me? I’m about to answer before I remember he’s not talking to me, no, he’s asking himself if I’m really here; if I’m really offering him something for free, as it’s the sort of thing that Finnegan Hood would never do.

He keeps talking to himself at the window, so I stay where I am and wait for his antics to cease before beginning to speak again. However, I don’t get the chance to bring about my reasoning before he turns to face me, speaking in a tone of manner that isn’t common for Leon Krigel, ”Fine, since I’ve been so kindly provided with some kind of entertainment—why are you here? And what could you get for me that I would want?” He doesn’t give me a chance to answer before continuing, his figure slowly coming closer to my own, and it takes every ounce of will not to back into the wall behind me (you make the terms, don’t let them pressure you). “Your life, traded to save mine? Your body? You?”

The slight crack in his voice reconfirms my growing suspicions, and I try my best to hide the hurt in my heart (strictly business, Finnegan). I pull a chair up to face him, and I sit down, placing my elbows on my knees an my head on my hands as I look into his eyes and decide upon what I can manage to give him that might substantially reduce the pain he’s sure to feel. “It’s too late for the first option, Leon, and you know that my business deals with tactile rewards, not ones that deal with death’s grasp.” I can hardly meet his gaze anymore, but I force myself to as I mull over the options of what I can give him. My resources are limited by the time that we have left, and more than anything I want to throw myself around him and embrace him. Leon and Uriel are the only two people I’ve come to call more than clients, and the loss of either one poses the threat of a mental breakdown, the collapse of a sanity that I’ve come to sit so comfortably upon. My eyes are watering, and I will myself not to let tears spill over as I choke out a couple of words that simply can’t mean anything to him, “I’m sorry.”

Finnegan Hood

His words hit me harder than any punch I’ve ever dealt (or received, for that matter), and the urge to back away makes itself known in the back of my thoughts. “Of course. Not even the great Finnegan Hood can defy death.” And even though I wouldn’t admit it, he was right. I could only deal with the things that sat in front of me, because in a match with fate itself, I would lose every time. I was only human, as much as I liked to pretend I wasn’t. I was as human as Leon Krigel and Uriel Kit-Humber and every single other person I’ve ever dealt with but those two, those two were the only ones to realize it, and furthermore, call me out on it.

For Uriel, it had come on a dark night in his home, both of our bodies heaving as we laid in the cold bed. Uriel’s words had caused me to shiver, and the heat that radiated throughout my body suddenly turned ice cold as each word hung heavily in the air before dissipating, “So, Finnegan Hood, you’re just as human as the rest of us.”

My thoughts are brought back to the situation at hand as his words mock me in the same way Uriel’s did. “If it is tactile, then I want to touch your skin.” However, it’s not a request; it’s a demand, something I’m not used to dealing with on his end. I have no chance to say anything before he’s raising his hand towards my face, and my gut tells me I’m about to be punched. I tense in anticipation, but his hand only traces my jaw, lingering once it reaches my chin. I feel myself leaning in subconsciously towards him, and I suppress the smallest whimper as his hand leaves its spot on my chin. I’m too focused on the lack of contact to catch the first few words he speaks, but the last words hit me like a ton of bricks, and I’m trapped underneath them without an answer. “You didn’t have to say goodbye.”

“Oh contraire, I believe that goodbyes are only just the forerunners of something great. And besides, I believe it’s fitting for me to be the last one that you see before you’re whisked away to some new adventure.”