let the sun breathe life once more [pafp, bxb]

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    [ slowly cooking up an idea where the two of them wind up trying to stop and minimize the collateral damage of a "gang" war, thus them finding two different hideouts

    also sorry for the long post whOOPS LMAO ]


    Sorrel rolls his eyes at Jophiel's text but leaves it at read, shutting his phone off and slipping it onto his belt where it'll be harder to dislodge. Putting his hood on so his red hair is slightly less noticeable, he slips past the large machinery they have here, wondering how a gang of all things managed to get their hands on such expensive equipment and wonders, not for the first time, if there's something bigger behind all of this.


    There are two people guarding the door, a tall, lean man with a walkie-talkie and sunglasses, and... surprisingly, it's a short Eastern Asian girl. Not a young woman--but a girl, seventeen, if Sorrel has to guess. That's setting off all sorts of alarm bells already. Both of them are wearing red clothing, and both look bored. The girl's even got headphones on and is looking at her phone.


    He pulls out his phone again, sending Jophiel a rapid text again. Think they've got ability users. Be careful. Just as he hits send, his phone fries, and he startles as the girl with the headphones is standing only a few feet away, smiling almost as brightly as her ridiculous blue hair (it's absolutely been dyed, but why cyan). "Sorry, I'm sure that phone was expensive," she says, sounding almost genuinely apologetic. "But, y'see, we can't afford to have people here."


    Sorrel only barely manages to duck out of the way as a crowbar crashes into the wall behind him, and he curses loudly.


    "Language," comes the gruff voice of the man who'd been standing guard with the blue-haired girl.


    "Oh," says Sorrel, his mouth slashed in an upward, mirthless smirk. "I'm fucked, aren't I?"


    (The message sent to Jophiel's phone reads: Think they've got ab̸i̷l̴i̵t̶y̶ ̷u̷s̷e̴r̵s̵.̷ ̸B̸e̵ ̵c̶a̶r̴e̴f̸u̴l̵.̶.)

    The post was edited 1 time, last by aizawa ().

    //Maybe the hideouts are connected via underground subway/sewage systems? No worries, two can play that game ;)


    /No shit... Jophiel was able to text back before his phone was nearly shot out of his hand by someone in the darkness of the building. Watching it fly through the air backwards, Jophiel was able to lean back a few degrees and snatch it back up, unscathed. Looking at his phone, the screen still shinning in the blackness around him, he could only do what his cocky ass did best - act the leading man. "You guys watch too many action films." He boasted as he showed the phone to anyone across from him, the screen entirely unscathed, with no scratches or blemishes of any kind, front and back.

    With their presence known, it gave Jophiel's assailants no need to hide the fact that they surrounded him, the building lights flashing on with a single switch to reveal the whole cast of characters in the building.

    Eyeing the ones that slowly began to flank Jophiel, he only gave them a sideways glance as he held a finger up to one of them.

    "Ututut!" He warned them sharply, the rest of the gunners raising their weapons at ready, "I wouldn't if I were you." He tsked as he wagged his finger.

    He'd done the math in his head in seconds, accounting for the possible reinforcements that might come from the fire-escape exit should gunfire start. In total, it was around 9 hostiles in the room, with the possibility of even more emerging from the door.

    As ready as they all were to fire their guns, it seemed to Jophiel that they were actually waiting for someone, but who?


    "'Sup?" A voice called to Jophiel from behind, making him tilt his head to the side to see who was behind him.


    The person in sight made him raise an eyebrow in interest; it was the bouncer from earlier who had entered.

    Yup, definitely ability users...


    "Smoke and mirrors, mate?" Jophiel poked at the man's vanishing act with interest, all while sporting an accent from down under.


    "Illusion." The man shrugged, "So, yeah... somethin' like that."


    "Not very useful is it?"


    "And yet you got caught in it."


    "....Then, why do your guys feel like they're trapped?"


    A few rifles and pistols clacked in response, as if the hands, as steady as they once were, became less sure of themselves, now more wary of the man that stood before them. Jophiel could talk a big game, and, much to their misfortune, he could win big too.

    "I said to watch your language," sighs the tall, lean man, adjusting his sunglasses. Sorrel wonders if he can even see out of them, briefly reminded of a friend who also wears sunglasses, a stupid teal scarf, and sports the most ridiculous shade of white for hair. He eyes the man's brick apprehensively.


    "Sorry, Mr. Carbonell," says the girl, tilting her head slightly. Sorrel wonders how she'd gotten that information--wait. She'd been the one to fry his phone, right? She must be a technopath of sorts. "Mr. Hirotsu doesn't like that kind of language. You've made him angry."


    "Yeah, well, I'm used to that," he says, not letting his smirk falter even a little bit as he wonders how the two of them sneaked up on him so quickly. Sorrel hadn't taken his eyes off of the two of them for even a second and they're already across the yard here. One's a technopath--the girl--and the man, Hirotsu... he must have some sort of speed-related ability, maybe?


    Hirotsu throws the brick at him at near inhuman speeds, and Sorrel throws himself to the ground as the brick turns to powder against the wall with a crack and a shower of dust even as the man lunges with a knife. Thanking his reflexes, Sorrel whips out his own switchblade, catching Hirotsu's blade only just barely.


    What the hell. Hirotsu can't be that heavy, but from the pressure he's putting on the blade, it seems like he weighs a ton. Sorrel grits his teeth, knowing the girl is still watching nonchalantly, and drops his switchblade. He throws himself out of the way as Hirotsu's knife buries itself deep into the ground, cutting through his jacket and leaving a thin cut on Sorrel's shoulder. The man himself topples, and Sorrel swipes his own switchblade off the ground quickly before touching Hirotsu's shoulder briefly to put him to sleep, breathing heavily. The man goes limp.


    "Oh, you're better than expected." Sorrel hears the unmistakable click of a gun being readied, and when he turns around, he can see the girl standing there, pointing the gun at him. Her hand's steady, but Sorrel can easily see it in her eyes that she's more than a little scared, and he realizes how it must look from her perspective--to her, it must look like Sorrel had just killed her partner with a mere touch.


    "Thanks," he says casually, flipping his switchblade in his hands. Judging from the look in her eye, the girl hasn't ever killed anyone before. She's definitely held a gun before, since Sorrel knows she's holding it correctly, but she probably doesn't have the courage to pull the trigger. Sorrel's banking on that.


    His breath heavy in his ears, Sorrel lunges for her, blade pointed first. The girl yelps, clumsily catching the blade with the barrel of the gun--she can do that, at least. The barrel's awfully close to Sorrel's face, and for the barest of moments, Sorrel considers just letting her pull the trigger before he snaps out of it and wraps a tight hand around her wrist, twisting until it cracks and she drops the gun.


    He puts her to sleep before she can yelp in pain, dropping her to the floor and breathing heavily. Sorrel quickly empties out the gun, heart racing too fast, too hard, and it's not totally because of the adrenaline or the physical exertion.


    Sorrel closes his eyes and allows himself to take a few quick, deep breaths, and shakes his head to clear his thoughts. He pauses and takes the walkie-talkie off of Hirotsu's unconscious body, grabbing both his and the girl's cell phones while he's at it. Quickly he opens one, figuring out Hirotsu's password within a few tries, and sends Jophiel a message.


    If you can get this, this is Sorrel. Seriously bad situation. I think this group's yakuza, not just a gang. Sorrel pauses, hesitating over the next part, and figures he has nothing to lose, so he adds, Stay safe.

    "Where's your sense of honor, guy? Eh?" The guys provoked the agent, putting all attention on himself by raising his arms upward with the question. "You really think we're going to waste good men on an ability user?"


    At this, Jophiel was terribly unamused. "....I don't see how gunning a weakened ability user constitutes as honor."


    "Touche." The guy replied back with a laugh. "Hey, I like you, so I'll give you a chance to leave while you still can."


    Heh, I bet some people beg to differ. Jophiel mused at the thought of Sorrel.


    "But...we'll need you're phone..."


    Now that was the deal breaker, and the guys knew Jophiel's answer when he clenched his fist tight around the device.

    The guy noticed right away. "Right... Well, it's been nice knowing you..."


    It only took a single blink for the man's illusionary powers to take effect, causing afterimages - about eight doubles - to appear surrounding Jophiel.

    The agent guessed that his plan was to beat him down and have the gunmen finish the job.

    Honor my foot!


    As soon as the first threw a punch, Jophiel made no move to block or evade the punch. But, sadly the strike rang true across the side of his face, forcing him to turn to the side slightly. The gunners looked more confident now, feeling that their ability user would take this guy down no problem.


    The ability user only laughed, the annoying sound echoing from each one of his doubles. "I respect the prediction, but if you were just stupid, it sucks to be you."


    Looking at the ground for a moment, Jophiel wiped the side of his face as he turned back around, only to get another punch to the face.

    However, this time he was ready for it. While the fist recoiled back to its person, Jophiel made a move to grab onto it, his finger digging into the wrist with a burst of contact power, making the the guy's double's disappear immediately, indicating that his power was consciousness-based, and that Jophiel was certainly successful in surprising this man. Staring the guy down, down into his dark brown spheres, Jophiel had no emotion, no sign of effort, especially as he brought his open hand down on the ability user's forearm in a single fist, knuckles protruding to execute a single violent jab to the limb. This made the man shout out in pain as he tried to pull his arm back away from Jophiel.

    But, as he did, he turned to look back to his arm; it was still in his grip. And that grip was strong.

    Dark recesses in his skin could now be seen around where Jophiel's fingers pressed into his skin, strong enough to even block the blood flow within his arm.

    At this, the gunners now reverted back to their uncertainties. "Shoji! You okay?" One of them called out unexpectedly in concern."


    "Wh-what are you standing around for? Take him out!"


    But even as the bullets left their barrels, Jophiel made no move to avoid them. But, for his own sick pleasure, he would pull that man Shoji closer to him, close enough until they were able to embrace each other.

    And then Jophiel watched as the first few bullets peppered the man's back, immediately watching the faces of those who shot him with great pleasure.

    After all,


    it wasn't his fault.

    [ gonna apologize if this post is unbelievably shitty I’m on mobile ]


    No response. Sorrel frowns, and wonders what’s going on with his partner—had he also run into trouble? He can’t help but feel concerned, and doesn’t bother with denying that emotion; that’s just going to be a waste of time, energy, and brainpower. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Sorrel forces himself to focus on the mission at hand. Before everything else.


    Sorrel swipes his own, fried phone off the ground as well; better safe than sorry, even if the thing’s beyond repair. He considers calling his informant, but he has no idea if the lines on the two phones he’d taken are secure; Lynx would fucking kill him if they weren’t. He’s already taken a risk by sending Jophiel a message.


    Right, the walkie-talkie. He sets it to the lowest setting so it doesn’t startle him ignore it ends up coming on, and, taking another look around the area, makes his way to the now unguarded door, his head spinning slightly. Sorrel grimaces; the two guards should be out for a couple of hours with no hope of being woken up, but that also means Sorrel’s going to be a bit lightheaded for the next twenty minutes.


    Oh well.


    He pokes his head inside and is almost instantly assaulted with a barrage of noise, and he nearly winces out loud. Sorrel slaps a hand over his mouth and draws out instantly, gritting his teeth. What the hell was that? On the outside there’s absolutely no sound—it’s uncannily quiet for a demolition site, even—but inside there’s a cacophony of… of something. All he knows is that they have some serious soundproofing technology or another ability user.


    Sorrel thinks it’s screaming, curses his imagination, and takes quick breaths before reaching into his pocket for something to use as earplugs or something. He’s not really surprised when he comes up with nothing—wait. Scowling when he realizes he has to make his way back to the two unconscious guards, he swiftly retrieves the girl’s headphones, blinking when he realizes there’s still music playing—wireless, then—and fits them on his head. It’s barely better than the noise inside, but it’s something, he figures, as he turns it down a little.

    Well that certainly made a statement. Jophiel could only look pleased as the death of the ability user by their own hands took their only source of confidence from them and stripped it all away in an instant.

    And, if they were smart, Jophiel reasoned. They would regroup.

    And to Jophiel's good fortune, that's exactly what they began to do.

    Abandoning the warehouse, they immediately made their way back towards the fire escape,

    Though Jophiel had an incentive to go after them, he thought it best to leave the warehouse and regroup as well. Sure, this would let the members of the gang roam free, but in Jophiel's mind it was a step backward now in order to move three steps forward later.

    You missed all the fun. He texted to Sorrel.

    They actually brought real guns this time.

    Glad you had fun, jackass, Sorrel replies with Hirotsu’s phone. They had a technopath and probably a teleportation or speed ability. Fried my phone. Anyways, I found something big, I think. There’s some serious soundproofing in the area.


    He pauses, then adds, Bring earplugs. You’ll need them, if you’re joining me.


    Sorrel peers at the door again. It seems that all of whatever they’d been carrying in has been taken inside, since there’s nobody going in or coming out. Nobody’s seemed to notice the two guards’ disappearance, either. Sloppy.


    He casts a glance at all of the construction equipment and frowns, approaching it. If they’re going through all the trouble of having noisy equipment, why…


    His hand passes through it. An illusion. Of course. That makes it at least four ability users here. What the hell? Sorrel’s starting to get the impression that maybe the disappearances of superpowered individuals is linked to this mess. Well, he’s suspected for a while, but this just is making everything more clear.


    There’s something wrong, he texts to Jophiel, already removing the headphones. Don’t come here. I’ll meet you back at the hotel.


    Sorrel grimaces, knowing what he’s about to do is going to cost both him and the guards. He bends down to the sleeping guards and closes his eyes, pressing his hands to the two of them until he’s on the verge of passing out. It’ll keep the two of them asleep for at least two days, he figures, and stands up shakily, ignoring the way his vision swims dangerously.


    Casting another nervous look around the empty area, he quickly leaves again, steps unbalanced, but he’s gone several days without sleep before; he’s used to that.


    Well, that particular hideout is going to be extra on guard, but Sorrel needs to think things through better; he needs some support. He hates it, but he works better with Jophiel, he knows, and practically totters his way back to the hotel, knowing he looks drunk as hell.


    [ I hope this makes sense I’m half asleep ]

    //Looks fine to me

    /Suit yourself. Jophiel shrugs, as he writes off the small response back.

    And also, He thinks to add, you might wanna think about requesting an agency phone that won't get blown to bits.

    Looking around the now empty warehouse, Jophiel sighs in disappointment at how quickly the people had evacuated. He knew it couldn't be helped, at least, not long term anyway. But he always felt losses, even if they were minor.

    Jophiel started walking out with Shoji's body in mind, knowing very well that this warehouse was probably 'abandoned' for quite some time - that's how it appeared on the outside. Just having the body there would stink up the place real soon. As he stepped into the doorway, he paused for a moment, lost in thought.

    Should I?... Would it..

    Nah, never mind. he shook off the impulse, not once looking back at the body.

    However, as he walked out towards the sidewalk, he passed a parallel-parked car, to which he slammed a closed fist on the side of the passenger door, enough to set off the car's internal alarm.

    It was better to let the local police handle the cleanup.


    The warehouse wasn't that far from the hotel surprisingly, only about a few minutes there and back. He made his way past the hotel's revolving glass doors and was met with a sight he'd been meaning to see all day - the girl at the front desk from last night. Quite the flower, one of those J-pop-looking girls that could have easily posed for American song artists. Though she was leagues paler than Jophiel, her cream-colored skin only accentuated her soft, peachy lips and raven-black hair. Though she wore her usual staff attire, she'd chosen to leave her chest bare, devoid of any tank top or shirt that would otherwise hide a rather rebellious pair of black, lace lingerie.

    Immediately, she turned to meet his gaze with nothing but a coy grin, but her eyes told Jophiel everything.


    "Evening." He sauntered over casually, placing his arms crossed over the counter to look at her. She was practically the perfect height, both by superficial relationship standards and according to the situation. Jophiel was able to look right across the desk, even though he bent his back at an angle to meet her gaze, perfectly eye level with the girl.


    "Evening, Mr. Frost," She greeted him as she placed her hand casually out to the side, no subtlety indicated by the centimeters of distance between her hand and Jophiel's forearm. Looking at his hand, she showed a bit of genuine concern. "What happened, sir? You didn't get into a... fight, did you?" Now she definitely wasn't being subtle - she pulled Jophiel's hand out and rested hers on top of his.


    Looking at it casually, he noticed that the side he smacked the car with was quite red from the impact. Though pain wasn't a concern for Jophiel, he could tell the redness was still visible to the eye. "Oh," He smirked casually at the question, drawing himself closer to her, 'til their lips were inches away. "And what if I said I did? Hmm?"


    "If I didn't know any better I'd say..." Her words drew out slowly as her hand walked across his forearm, making their way past his shoulder, and sliding down past his coat towards his button up, fingers slipping under the buttons to tease at his chest. "...You're one of those assertive types."


    He didn't stop her. In fact he was all for it, reach with his other hand for hers at his chest, helping her unbutton the first few to get her soft touches where they wanted to be. "I don't know what you're talking about." He looked at her with a serious face, though his voice lacked every tone except scandalous mischief and sarcasm.


    Looking into her eyes for a few moments, Jophiel wondered who was going to make the first move; after all she sounded so driven on having him take her.

    But his question was answered almost at once as her lips forced themselves upon his, locking Jophiel into a moment with her affections.

    And, without hesitation, Jophiel pulled himself from her lips, took her hand as a gentleman would over the counter to lead her away from it, and then made his way over to the restroom corridor, where they resumed their sensual ministrations.

    Sorrel stumbles into the hotel with a curse, catching himself on the wall and wondering if Jophiel's already back. Judging from his quick responses, he's fine, which is good, at least, but Sorrel's not totally sure he's the greatest judge of that at the moment, especially considering the fact that he could barely read Jophiel's texts in the first place.


    He ignores the concerned questions of the staff as he makes his way towards the room he's sharing with Jophiel, cursing his ability's side effects vehemently and very vocally under his breath as he passes by the bathroom. Sorrel pauses to take a breath by it, mildly disgusted when he can hear various noises through the walls.


    Which turns to pissed off when he realizes who's on the other side.


    Feeling not at all sorry for Jophiel, he opens (more like collapses on, if he's being honest) the door--it's not even locked, what the fuck. "Jophiel, you f-f-fucking--" dick, he wants to add, but his legs choose that time to fucking fail him, giving out on him and sending him sprawling onto the bathroom floor.


    "Fuck," he snarls, pissed at his own pathetic self, pissed at Jophiel for being a horny bastard who can't keep it in his damn pants, pissed at the boss for sending him on this fucking mission, and pissed at the assholes stirring shit up in this fucking town. The world spins dangerously as he tries to pick himself off the floor.


    I hate this, he thinks, gritting his teeth.

    Though most lovers would be shocked at a sudden intrusion - and believe me the desk girl let out quite a shocked gasp as she clung to Jophiel's shoulders.

    The agent was nearly about ready to drop his drawers, attesting to Sorrel's frustrations, his bright red boxer briefs revealed through unbuttoned jeans. He'd taken his coat off - of course; with how hot he was, he would have been sweating if he kept it on. However, he still wore his button up, though not a single button was linked in place, revealing his well-defined chest and midriff.

    It was probably the girl that Sorrel should have been more worried about, dropping all portions of her black uniform and wearing nothing but the black ensemble.

    And still, Jophiel responded quickly to his partner's collapse, pulling up his pants to his waistline and kneeling down by Sorrel's side.

    The girl, after dressing herself a bit more adequately, then decided that now was time for her to leave, so she tapped Jophiel's shoulder as she let herself out.

    He then dismissed her with a nod, leaving the two back in the room.

    "You've really got to work on that limited vocabulary...." Jophiel commented as he watched Sorrel cursing face down in the bathroom. As Sorrel propped himself up with a hand, Jophiel lent one of his own out to help pull him back up off the floor.

    "You," Sorrel wheezes, "can eat my shit." He would say suck my dick but Jophiel doesn't deserve it; well, he'd add that, but currently he's trying not to pass out on the floor of a public bathroom and he has more important things to worry about than that.


    He doesn't bother complaining about needing Jophiel's help and grabs onto Jophiel's hand, ignoring the discomfort that has nothing to do with Jophiel but rather just physical contact in general, and lets Jophiel pull him up to his feet. "Fuck," he groans when the world spins again. "Why... are my powers like this..."


    The only fucking upside to this is that at least he can pass the fuck out for now. But he is not about to let Jophiel carry him. He has that much pride left at least.

    A simple, but strong pull got Sorrel up on his feet fairly quickly.

    "Geez," Jophiel shakes his head at Sorrel's question, "Twenty-one long years of your miserable, cynical life and you still have to ask that question? I thought you would've figured it out by now; it is your power after all."

    Of course, Jophiel couldn't complain - his own power had no noticeable drawbacks, at least to the naked eye. He seldom used it too, onlly choosing to use its passive and innate effects it granted his body more than the actual power itself. That was what made the agency keep close tabs on him - that was what they were afraid of. Of course, being in the agency for several years, he'd only had to unveil his power a handful of times, each ending in a completed mission, though it followed with a long, lengthy lecture about the safety of the organization and how his power jeopardized it.

    That, he guessed, was the drawback... being a danger to humanity and all.

    With so many restrictions, Jophiel was just glad to find a place where others like him could put their abilities to good use.

    "Now go back to your couch," Jophiel instructed Sorrel, "I'm not doing the report just because you pushed yourself to the limit - that was your choice."

    “Let me at least bitch about it,” Sorrel grumbles as the two of them make it to the room and get inside. “Thanks for your fucking concern, asshole. If I’d known you were gonna be doing the nasty when I got back I would’ve let the girl shoot me.”


    He flops face first onto the couch, relieved that there’s no more need for physical contact and just lying there for a few long moments so his breathing can even out and he doesn’t feel so much like puking. Thankfully the couch isn’t white because while the cut on his shoulder’s long since scabbed over, it’d probably still get something on it.


    Sorrel rolls over onto his back, cursing again and flipping Jophiel off before the smarmy bastard can make a single comment about his foul language. “Anyway—at least four ability users in my location. Technopath. Speed or teleportation ability. Some sort of soundproofing. Illusions. Let me borrow your phone to make a report later; technopath fried mine.”


    He waves said phone, or he tries to, but it slips out of his fingers and drops on his stomach. “For fuck’s sake,” he groans; if he can’t even hold a fucking phone he’ll be pretty much useless for the next four hours. “At least two of their ability users won’t be awake for another two days.” Sorrel pauses. “What happened on your end?”

    "If you wanted someone to shoot you, why didn't you ask me?" He poked at the thought of Sorrel requesting the room service to end all.

    As Sorrel slammed face down into the couch, Jophiel sat across from him on the bed.

    He stifled a laugh, seeing Sorrel turn around with just enough strength to flip him off - of all the things he could have done.

    "They've got some info on us, it seems," He told Sorrel, "Another illusion user with some grunts to head me off. It was 1v1, so yeah, I'd say it went well. We'll have to deal with the others later though."

    Jophiel would have continued, if not for Sorrel's inability to pick up the phone. "Seriously?" He muttered.

    Apparently, if Sorrel had any energy at all, it would probably be spent whining about how miserable he was - either that or trying to drag someone down with him. Hardly a surprise.

    Tossing his phone onto Sorrel's stomach, Jophiel pushed himself further onto the bed until he lay on his back. "There; pace yourself when you can actually lift it."

    "Wow, thanks, really feeling the love over here." Sorrel sighs, settling onto the couch and shifting so he's on his side rather than his back and doing his best to ignore the vertigo again. "Just. Just gonna take a nap," he mutters, not even sure (or caring, really) if Jophiel can hear him. If there's a single upside to this shitty, shitty ability--it certainly isn't the fucking irony--it's the fact that he can usually pass out after using it. The headache that follows is horrible (just like everything else about his ability) but the sleep is absolutely worth it.


    Sorrel closes his eyes and is promptly out like a light.

    -

    And there it is, ladies and gentlemen and otherwise! The fucking headache.


    Sorrel blinks blearily awake, head practically splitting in half. "God, the morning after's the worst," he croaks, voice dry, and wondering if Jophiel's even around at the moment. He's gotten drunk exactly once in his life, when he was sixteen, and it was probably one of the worst experiences of his life. The hangover is pretty much how he's feeling now, without the benefit (? Is being drunk even a benefit) of having gotten drunk the night before.


    He presses a hand gingerly to his temple, not moving for a solid minute, and calls through the pounding in his head, "Hey, jackass, if you're there, get me a Tylenol." Then, he adds, "Or a gun. Put me out of my fucking misery."

    This morning it was Jophiel's turn to batter Sorrel's nose with scents, particularly the solitary aroma of raw, black coffee. It had filled up most of the room, ridding it of that faint cigarette atmosphere from smell.

    "A Gun? What kind of sadistic person would I be if I didn't let you live your miserable life?"

    Plucking a glock from his suitcase- honestly, why didn't he bring it yesterday - he once again tossed it by Sorrel, the cold piece of metal landing on Sorrel's stomach just as the phone did before. That being said, the phone wasn't on Sorrel's person anymore, probably taken back by Jophiel during his 'nap'.

    "Safety's on, so you can just press it to your head and... y'know.... ice your head with it."

    Honestly, that sentence had double entendre written all over it, and Jophiel enjoyed nothing more because when people heard him say things like this, they didn't know whether he meant the literal, the figurative, or both.

    Sorrel scowls. “God, don’t tempt me,” he says, picking the gun up and throwing it at Jophiel. He hopes it hits the back of the dick’s head, but he doesn’t have high hopes; he’s pretty much incapacitated (which the smell of coffee is not helping, what the fuck, Jophiel), and Jophiel’s a competent fighter.


    Exhaling slowly, he sits up, scrubbing at his temple, hard, and uses his foot to drag his suitcase over, opening it and digging around for a pill bottle. “Stop me if I take more than needed, because trust me, I am sorely tempted,” Sorrel says absently, swallowing his dose dry, having long since given up on getting water anytime soon.


    It’ll take a while for the stupid drug to kick in, which means Sorrel gets to suffer more in the meantime. Fucking hurray. Jophiel’s enjoying this more than he should he, the fucking asshole. “If you have time, can you please at least get me water?” Tea’s a completely ridiculous request at this point.

    Adding bad to his list of *ss titles, Jophiel casually catches the gun, snatching it from the air by the barrel and slipping it back into his own suitcase. In return, he did, in fact, happen to pack water with his things.

    And, as before, the bottle landed onto Sorrel's stomach, the clear liquid sloshing within on impact.

    Other than this, there wasn't much to say; after all, Jophiel usually got his kicks from preying on Sorrel's anguished b*tch moments. He was an opportunist, in both combat and conversation.

    "By the way, thanks for the help on that report last night... ya lazy little f-"

    And, before Jophiel could utter one of his first moments of profanity since the beginning of the mission, a knock sounded at the door.

    Though Sorrel wouldn't like who was behind it - though honestly, Jophiel couldn't care less, Jophiel knew immediately who it was and could only smile as he got up to answer the door.

    "Surprise." He said sarcastically as he opened the door to reveal the girl from last night.

    Sorrel wordlessly opens the bottle, drinking and not bothering to waste any energy on Jophiel being petty. His head's pounding a lot less, which is good. As he screws the cap back on, he hears the door being opened once more, and Sorrel sighs deeply.


    "You don't get to call me a lazy fuck when the first time I've slept in two days was less than ten minutes ago, and it was only..." He checks the time. "Six hours. Dickhead." Sorrel drags his hand across his face, sighing deeply and ignoring the girl's presence. What he'd said about not being petty is a lie because he's going to be the most obnoxious cockblock possible.


    Standing up, he staggers slightly, still mildly disoriented. To the girl, he gives an apologetic incline of his head before turning his flat stare onto Jophiel. It still smells like coffee. Nasty. "If you two are gonna bump uglies, please do it somewhere other than here," he sighs as he heads for the bathroom. He gives Jophiel the stink eye as he passes him. "I told you that if it smelled even remotely like sex in here I'd rip your balls off, and I meant it..." He pauses, and then very meaningfully says, "dear."


    Then he sweeps into the bathroom and slams the door behind himself.

    "No, that's not why Yuna's here."

    Jophiel rested himself on the doorframe with an arm as he leaned against it, speaking to Sorrel from behind the bathroom door.

    "She's here because you're... well... in there. She's off today and offered to take photos while she accompanies me around to the different locations. They'll be killer for the Insta-page."

    Of course he didn't tell the girl about them specifically, that much was implied. But the subliminal message was that somewhere in that impulsive mind of Jophiel's, the agent preferred human presence over isolation... unlike the recluse on the think tank.

    "We're starting uptown. If you stop feeling like trash, feel free to come find us."

    "Imi gaja..." Yuna pressed herself against Jophiel's shoulder playfully as she wrapped her own arms around his bicep, "Naega aiseukeulim-eul sajulgeoya."

    "Al-ass-eo, nega meonjeoga. naega bakk-e neol mannalgeoya." Jophiel replied shortly after as he shooed her out the door.

    Knocking on the door, he spoke to Sorrel again,

    "Hey, take a shower; you like a mess." And with that, the agent left, shutting the door behind him.