Log; ongoing

[repairedbywebs.livejournal.com]

When; September 22nd, 9pm
Rating; PG-13
Characters; Brocklehurst razrsharp and mystery!boy repairedbywebs
Summary; Brocklehurst needs to stop following strange boys home.
Log;

He was heading home; but even before then, even when he had been having a conversation at the fountain he had known that he was being watched and followed. It was something he was used to. His shoes hit the pavement, the flat broad heels clicking, drowning out the sound of the other man's shoes, even as the larger blonde used a lighter tread. He pulled on his tailored coat, inky black with just a hint of a pinstripe, and buttoned it with long fingers.

Step into my parlor...

Halfway back, somewhere between building six and seven, he stopped. His instincts were impeccable; his reactions perfect. He waited and finally turned, his eyes adjusting quickly to the dim light. "Do you follow every cute boy home, or am I just lucky?" he asked his timbre deep, his accent sharp and distinct. The words had their own flavor when he let go of the American accent, a lower pitch which, while unnecessary, made him oddly pleased.

Comments

[repairedbywebs.livejournal.com]

He took one carefully and pulled the lighter he had been using earlier from his pocket. As a woman, he didn't smoke; he hated the smell, the flavor, everything, but as a man it helped hide the familiar lack of scent; it threw the werewolves off.

He lit it and took a drag. The edge was off - just a touch. Not enough. "I'm invited but haven't been formally given an invitation," God bless Asher not knowing code, "and intend on being there. Why?"

[razrsharp.livejournal.com]

"I've a green recruit who could use a date with an invitee. Do you have plans already?"

Nicholas lit his own cigarette and took a pull. Old habit but not enough to have stained his fingers and teeth like others with a nicotine vice. He was grateful for it, how the carcinogens hadn't gravely affected his health. All the more reason to quit while he was ahead. Blue eyes studied the warm embers, then he took another drag.

[repairedbywebs.livejournal.com]

"I don't think with a date is the best way for me to arrive." He examined the other man and took another drag. Blue balls. He remembered why he avoided this form. "I was planning on going alone."

He thought about it and cocked his head, "What was your agent going to do?"

[razrsharp.livejournal.com]

Quick of Saya to deduce the objective was anything but to have a fucking good time at Lacroix's little party. Nicholas exhaled to the side as he tapped the ashes off his cigarette. He was a natural.

"Keep his ears open and network. Nothing I wouldn't do, but I'm not going," Brocklehurst shrugged briefly. Christopher didn't want him to go, and what he wanted Nicholas obliged with good reason. It was a shame to pass up the opportunity to don a tuxedo though. Then he would have been the spitting image of the type of men the SIS wanted to advertise.

[repairedbywebs.livejournal.com]

He snorted and brushed imaginary dust from his pants, then crossed the distance between them. He was short, but not so short as to not be able to use some of the extra strength he had.

He grabbed the other man's collar and pulled him down, whispering, "I'll do you one better, Brocklehurst. Expect a complete transcription of the entire evening, every single conversation, with no flaws at all."

He released this hold on his pheromones, the chemical spewing into the air, potently virulent through his skin. He pulled the man in to a kiss, locking their lips for a minute, then smiled and pushed him away. "Games are designed for more than one person," he said, laughing. "No hard feelings." No feelings as all, "I'll see you soon."

He spun on his heel, and walked determinedly through the night.

[razrsharp.livejournal.com]

Imaginary dust to settle the tent no doubt, but Brocklehurst allowed Saya the dignity of doing so without his blatant stare. He just enjoyed his cigarette, knowing if Styles was awake upon his return he'd bloody well hear about it in Styles' own terse yet foreboding manner. May as well finish the fag now. He blew another warm puff into the cool air.

What? Nicholas carefully leveled his ash away from the boy when he took him by the collar, blue eyes shielded and penetrating all at once. He accepted Saya's gesture with cool nonchalance.

"You're--" capable of such tapping, he meant to ask were it not for the unexpected kiss. It played out like classic non-lethal revenge. Not even his cigarette could dull the shock of petulant pheromones that swirled by scent, touch, and taste. Ache.

The embers had already reached the filter by the time Saya pushed him away. Shit. He flicked the wasted fag to the sidewalk and regained his composure.

"Considerably," said Nicholas as the other turned away. Secretive as a woman and a man, but Saya had delivered before, and more than once. He shook his head and checked the time, then calculated the minutes he had between now and the ETA at home. Styles would know and not give.