Wine O'clock (E 1.2)

The towels are an intermixing swirl of crisp white and scarlet sanguination. Princy seems to be peacefully at rest, but I know it is only his body protecting him by shutting his mind down. Every moment he can rest now will pay off later.

I stand, wiping the last of the blood from my hands. Wendy is still shaking from her tears while Dez pulls her into her arms. John is remarkably and surprisingly reassuring to have nearby, she looks both attentive to making sure we are undisturbed even in this relatively unreachable location. She is also considerate of us, giving us the space we need to do what needs to be done. I look for Lucius but see no traces of his presence.

"Did any of you notice where Lucius went?" I glance over to the lifeless body of Blue Light.

John kindly agrees to help me carry Princy to his bed. She supports Princy’s legs at my request. I sit him as upright as I can against a throne of pillows, and leave him in the dim light with Wendy and Dez to watch over him.

I thank John for her help, and on the way back to the bloodstained den, I usher her to stop at the wet bar I was working at just earlier in the night, before everything went to hezmana. I set a single crystalline lowball glass on the counter and slip the corked stopper out of a bottle of whiskey. As I pour, the subtle scent of apricot, honey and almond flits about the room. I instinctively stop pouring at the two-finger mark, but immediately resume pouring, stopping somewhere closer to 4 fingers.

I reach behind the counter and pull a second bottle with a fresh seal, and hand it to John. "Thank you for your help. It means more to me than I know how to say. If you would, kindly keep the events of this evening between us; though if you can’t, I understand."

I escort her back to the elevator, mustering what I can of a smile, "May the next time we meet be under significantly more enjoyable circumstances." She boards the elevator, exchanges pleasantries (or condolences - I can’t remember) and I watch until the doors close and I hear the quiet hum of the elevator's descent.

Like the burned husk of a home after the fire has been extinguished, the urgency seems to have vanished at some point, but the damage has been done - and there is so much work to be done. Now in the den, I survey the scene before me, making a mental list of the things that need to be done. Deal with the body, clean up the blood, get word about this to Parker, find Lucius, talk to Canary, find out who put Blue Light up to this.

I notice the .38 special laying on the ground - now soaking in a pool of blood. I pick it up and press the cylinder release, letting the cartridges fall into my hand as the cylinder falls open. I pocket the three remaining bullets and two empty shells. I wipe the gun down with a towel and set it aside. I’ll thoroughly clean and see if there is any identifying information on it later. I’ve never carried before, but those three bullets might have some names on them soon.

I get to work cleaning the pools of blood, using the profusion of already-bloody towels to sop up what I can. The next couple hours is a whirl of soaking, mopping, rinsing, and scrubbing. Lucius can wait.

After tonight there is no way I’m going to Tower security to report or deal with this situation. I need someone who operates outside of these walls. Someone who has experience with the grittier side of the Isles. Someone I can trust just a little bit. A few names come to mind, but I think Litch could help.

End Scene