Things Fall Apart

[Lion]

[Open by Request]

If he had to look at that ugly motherfucker again, he'd put a bullet in his head. A thought that Glover could entertain but not enact. A dirty fingernail scratched at the indentations on the side of his head just beside the metal ports in his temples where his headband was meant to go.

Stupid Sandborne. Stupid dirty businessman that you clearly knew were rotten fucks, and they got away with it because they were too smart, too rich, or knew too many people in just the right places to get away with it.

Maybe to anyone else, it wasn't anything serious. Seeing his smug face, with that fucking pencil-thin mustache smirking smartly at him as he winked and had Glover escorted out of his office. Suspicion of mage trafficking...  It was a crock of shit, and with nothing on him, their meeting was closed. He supposed the worst they did was knock the cigarette out of his mouth, but even then Glover did not appreciate the rough treatment.

His hand reached into his leather jacket, the worn brown already fading from the years. Fingers slipped around the grip of his gun, standard issue for a detective. And he was tempted to pull it out, aim upward, try his luck and see if the projectile would somehow smash through the 15th floor window and into Sandborne's head.

Glover stood there on that mid-level street, the rush of a car behind him making his spine quiver at the sensation of movement. No, he wasn't worth it. Nothing was, and instead he reached down to pick up the dirtied cigarette. With a flick and wipe against his shirt, he tucked it gingerly against the corner of his lips and ignited the light with his Hippo lighter, momentarily admiring the engraved animal on the back of it.

Another time and a million lightyears away. Or however that saying went. The lid silenced that flame and he wandered away from Mandir & Crowe, Law Associates, another tower amongst the rest of the towers that comprised the steel and glass spinal cord of Tynova.

A long drag through thin lips confirmed what Glover had been feeling most, and he needed a walk to cool off. Bright lights were blinding and in one blink, he went from glassy skyscrapers to older stone, brick and mortar, steam billowed up from grates in the ground. The world was a fucked up place, and folks were the same no matter where you went.

Let the right hand never know what the right was doing, and all that. The same story. He'd heard it before.

Somewhere along the way, Glover found himself wandering toward the rear of some strip club. Red lights glared beneath the bumping vibration of overhead speakers, and they switched to blues and green as he glanced up to see a dancer remove their top and slide closer to the pole they were favoring. His vision blurred and he ignored the heat it brought to his blood and the way his pulse quickened.

He wasn't here to have a good time. The one he was looking for was working out the back rooms. Marian was the name right? Right. If there was one person that would know something useful it was her. And if anything, she'd have something else to ease his mind.

Glover's meeting was short and to the point. And he was flopped out on a ratty cloth recliner that could use a bit more strips of duct tape to be held together properly. And he knocked back the pills and chased it down with a shot of rum. He fought the sensation to be sick, and he paid her with a slap of a hundred on her dresser.  “So you got a lead?” he asked, sitting back up and observing her with those lazy, hooded eyes.

The sight of Marian was one to behold. Supple flesh, amber skin, and tits that could carve ice with how cold the room was right now. He grinned lazily and took another long drag from his cigarette, the orange glow of it igniting the harsh angles of his face, and the shadows under his eyes momentarily lightning.

“You really ought to get some sleep, Glover. I can arrange that for another 500,” Marian giggled, taking the money and folding it neatly before tucking it into her bra.

“I didn't come here for an expensive nap,” he hissed. “You now why I'm here.”

“To get stoned out of your head, and to know where you can find dirt on any schmucks that've made their way through my door. Tough luck, Glover,” she sniffed and sat before her vanity, tossing back that ebony hair. Glover had a mind to reach out and pull it back. He only imagined himself doing it. Hands weren't part of the deal. His hand hung loosely at his knee, but a shift in posture made it grip the inside of his thigh.

“So cut the shit,” he sighed, lips pursing and blowing out another cloud of gray.

“Nothing too interesting.  Sorry, honey. But maybe next time. I'll keep a look out just for you” she said. 

Fucking hell, as if that wasn't a waste of time. It was time he got back to his apartment anyway. Glover sighed and went out the back way, cutting through the alleyway and glancing up at the three moons above Tynova. The stars dotted that abyss and were burned into his retinas, and the high was only now just starting to kick in, and he felt the ground shifting in him in slow motion.

It was going to be a long walk back.

[nephero]

There was going to be a murder.

Wil pinched the bridge of their nose as the soft, jaunty and utterly inoffensive tune continued to singsong in their ear. It was a mark of the waiting room music's volume that they could even hear it, what with the traffic whizzing by on their lefthand side and the typical din of the cityscape at large. The music broke, suddenly, and Wil's heart leapt just a fraction before--

'We're sorry! All our representatives are currently helping other customers! Your call is important to us--'

"AAUGH!" Quite a few other passersby stopped to stare as Wil brought their arm back and chucked the phone straight into traffic-- and action that they immediately regretted when several cars crushed the thing into dust. Okay. That had been dumb. That had been so, so dumb.

To be fair, Wil had hated that phone. Hated it! None of the buttons were buttons, the whole thing was just one tiny sliver of glass, and any phone you had to go digging around to find the actual phone function was, in their personal opinion, a pretty shitty goddamn excuse of a fucking phone! They were almost glad to be rid of the stupid thing, except on the coattails of their little tantrum, Wil also remembered how expensive that phone had been. And the contract they were still under for it. And the fact that now they were in the middle of the goddamn city with no means of getting into contact with anyone they had been previously attempting to get into contact with.

NAMELY! Their goddamn partner! Who had decided in his infinite wisdom to gallavant off and confront the target of their latest investigation all by himself, without any kind of consultation or planning or anything else that might have, you know, involved the person Glover was supposed to be working with. Wil took a deep breath in through their nose, and let it out through their mouth, doing this several times in the mouth of an alleyway in some desperate attempt to get their temper under control.

Today had just been... a very bad day. They had no idea where their favorite hat had went, it was a particularly cold ass day, their leads had gone absolutely nowhere and any attempts to come up with new ones had just hit a solid brick wall. Which was usually how it was with these rich types; if you had enough cash, anyone and everyone was willing to just look the other way.

And then Glover hadn't picked up the phone. Or answered any sort of text. Or anything of the sort. Leaving Wil with the glamorous task of trying to hunt the man down-- they'd tried calling the regular places, of course, and then the less regular places, and then, the even less regular places. They'd gotten surly waitresses, surlier bartenders, disconnected lines, what Wil was pretty sure was a strip club (which made something particularly ugly rear its head somewhere in Wil's chest), the works, but...

The worst was the automated systems. The menus upon menus, either via the dialpad or by voice activation-- and oh the voice activation ones were the worst. Wil hated those; somehow the terminology you used was never enough, never clear enough, or heaven forbid some taxi honked its horn just as you were trying to say something, and inevitably the SUPER PERKY and super NOT A REAL PERSON would be like

'I'm sorry! I didn't quite understand that! Please speak clearly to reach the department you are looking for!'

Wil could just see the robotic 8D face that piece of fucking software probably wore twenty four hours out of the day, and Wil wanted to punch its lights out. Over and over again.

That string of calls had lasted the past three hours. Wil's nerves were in shambles, much like their now utterly broken phone. There wasn't even a point in trying to collect the pieces anymore: car after car had passed, and now the whole thing was just powdered glass on the streets. Wil sighed, shoved their hands into their jacket pockets, and finally decided that enough was enough and they'd just go home--

Wil stopped in their tracks again, sighed loudly, and muttered the most vile string of curses they had the vocabulary for under their breath.

All this, and they'd not even though to check at Glover's apartment. Goddammit. And now they couldn't even call ahead to verify! Goddammit! Well done Wilhelm, very well done. Number one best detective! Sighing in resignation, Wil began what was going to be a very long trek, grumbling under their breath the whole while. Maybe they'd stop for some tea or something-- ooh, or steamed soy and honey. That always worked.

Though they couldn't promise they wouldn't dump the whole lot of it over Glover's head when they found him. Or maybe they could go back, scoop up the phone pieces, and dump those over Glover's head. All great options, in their opinion. They really hoped he was home though. Underneath all the seething rage there was starting to form a knot of genuine worry, and the darker the skies got the larger that knot became. He'd better be home. He had to be.

[Nix]

They had been waiting almost twenty minutes now and he could tell his attendant was getting very antsy. He understood it wasn't the best neighborhood, or the best apartment building to be waiting in the hallway of... the elevator had seemed like it might break down with just the two of them in it as well. He didn't want to go home though. Not without seeing his uncle.

It had been a bad night at his house. Arabelle was being mean, even if he had been a jerk to her first, and his parents were fighting. His dad had said some mean things too. Sevrin had tried to sneak out on his own but his attendant Circiel knew his tricks too well. She let him come though. She didn't try and stop him, she just came with him. Of course now she was getting annoyed.

Her employers basically expected her to do two things. Watch Sevrin and keep him safe. She had long since given up trying to discipline him or stop him from doing as he pleased, but sometimes his whims were really annoying and inconvenient. She totally sympathized with him wanting to get out of the house tonight, she was glad to be out of there too, but waiting outside his uncle's apartment was not a great alternative. Who knew when or if Glover would be home tonight? "Did you text him Sevrin?" She asked finally, breaking the awkward silence of the dimly lit hallway as she shifted against the wall.

Sevrin didn't want to answer her. If he told her that his uncle didn't answer his text she would probably suggest that they go home. He wasn't going home tonight. He just wasn't. He didn't want to go to his grandparents house either. That would just cause more fights. He just wanted to see his uncle. Uncle Glover was the only one who wasn't nice to him out of pity or simply because he was a mage prodigy and good at things. Uncle Glover had always been nice to him and had never treated him like he was broken. Uncle Glover was the only one he wanted to see tonight.

When Circiel got no response from Sevrin she sighed and held on to the handle bars on the back of his wheelchair, ready to override his control of it and wheel him out of this dreary place. "NO!" Came the shout of protest she was expecting. "No let me text him again! He probably just didn't hear the first message... he doesn't check his phone every five seconds like you!" Another sigh from Circiel, but she let go of the handle bars.

Hi uncle Glover are you going to be home soon? I really want to see you

He stared at the screen hoping for a response, looking between it and the direction of the elevators and stairwell. If he didn't answer soon he would plea with Circiel to let him call his uncle first.

[Lion]

The faint buzzing of his phone went ignored and unheard inside his worn jacket pocket. His free hand reached up to pull down the little cap that belonged to his partner. It wasn't like Wil was going to miss it any time soon. He'd bring it back, set it on that little hook just behind the door, or tuck it into the drawer of the Mordecai's desk. They'd know that. Because if it wasn't on their head, where else would it be?

Glover fixed the small cap,  and the scent of Wil's hair filled his nostrils, and the slow motion earth stilled in his vision. The detective grunted and closed his eyes, feeling his phone buzzing now, that sound becoming more and more annoying the longer it went off. 

Nobody important ever contacted him anyway. Except.. Hm, well, maybe, he ought to check it.

Glover's gait jittered and he nearly toppled over as he tried to get a grip on that slippery piece of metal and glass. A Tsamtsun F7. Not the latest model, but still good for what it was worth. Black like his soul and the bright blue screen lit up the crevices of Glover's grim expression. He scowled at the glittering highlights. Black boots staggered.

Hi uncle Glover are you going to be home soon? I really want to see you

“What?  The. Fuck.” he growled and gripped the phone until sound of the plastic lining around the phone threatened to crack. He frowned and ducked the phone back into his pocket. “No...Sev. Not tonight...not like this.”

“You going far with that nice little piece of tech?” someone behind him asked. Glover whirled around, feeling hands on his shoulder and gripping the collar of his shirt. He was already half-dizzied from the pills, his vision spinning as he saw that darkened face and the eyes that bored a fuchsia deep into his rose gold orbs.  And the head that slammed like a truck into his face made him see stars!

“FOR FUCK'S SAKE!” Glover staggered, arm flying outward to catch onto a light post and when the red took his vision, he flung himself forward and tackled the other body to the pavement. They scuffled briefly, hands bloodying his lip and blackening his eye and even in the haze of his high the clarity brought by adrenaline made up for it immediately.  The stranger's hands flailed up and snatched that cap right off his head, dirty blonde waves flying forward.

And Glover's eyes shot wide.

“Trying to rob me dickwad! That'll be the last fucking mistake you make,” he hissed through grit teeth and gripped the other man's hair, lifting his head and slamming it repeatedly into the ground. “That's NOT. YOUR. HAT!” Until the other body was still underneath him. Glover pulled himself to his feet, wiping the blood from his lip, snatching the cap up from unconscious bastard's dirty fingers.   He wasn't dead, but the blood coming out his head might leave him with a real bad headache come morning. Glover picked up his phone, that had clattered to the ground in the scuffle.

“You know, I was having a really good fucking day,” he hissed, exhausted, double-vision focusing for a sec to reply to Sevrin.  Hey, bud! Not home now, but I'm right on my way. Can't wait to see you! How'd you get there this time of night? NVM. You can tell me in person. -Love, Glover

He made the walk back his apartment in one piece. More or less. His knuckles was covered in blood, and as he approached the building and his wiped it on the dark side of his jeans.  Glover's head was pounding, throbbing and he didn't want the kid to see him like this. Not when he got to see him as rarely as he did.

And as he came up, eyes refocused on someone else. Glover's eyes were hooded. Nothing new there, as they took in that familiar build, height and weight a blissful change. “'Sup buddo! Just getting in? Me too. Come on up, I can make us a cup o' joe,” he snorted, keeping his face angled away. The swelling around his eye was starting to show, as he chipped the entry code and stepped into the building.

[nephero]

Thank God for long legs.

The little detour to the nearest Tea-and-Leaf had been a mild distraction. Wil had calmed down somewhat in the time it took to stay in line and then explain what they had wanted of the people behind the counter. It was inevitably a bit of a struggle, all things considered, but after a bit a large cup of steamed soy milk doused in honey had been achieved. The first sip was heaven, such that Wil no longer felt anything of the cold when they stepped back outside.

There was just something about honey that set them at complete ease. They swore if they were ever left alone with a jar of the stuff they'd eat through the whole thing, which was probably a wildly accurate statement. Not that it was a theory that had ever been really tested.

But by the fifth sip, by the second block back on route to Glover's apartment, well. That nagging knot of worry had wormed its way back to the forefront of Wil's mind, and was now ringing every last stupid alarm bell they had in their brain. Nasty little images of Glover in some gutter somewhere came rapid fire, each one worse than the other, such that Wil had to stop considering the drink in their hand altogether and simply focus on getting to that apartment as soon as possible.

They were nearly running by the time they reached the last block before the apartment. Wil couldn't key in the code quick enough, grumbling to themself the whole time, and it was no small relief that they rounded the final hallway and saw a familiar faded leather jacket and-- was that their hat on his head?

Whatever relief there was to be felt at seeing Glover was not, in fact, murdered by mage-traffickers was soon replaced by Wil's old friend, Absolute Seething Rage.

"Hey!" They shouted, their pace increasing as terror-induced adrenaline was replaced by I'm-going-to-curb-stomp-you-into-next-week adrenaline, "Just what the hell is the big idea, Daniels! You maybe wanna answer your damn phone next time you decide to run off so I-- oh, hey."

What had been gearing up to be a wildly colorful rant was stopped almost immediately as Wil approached, and finally spotted the other pair that were presently in Glover's company. A woman Wil had never met, and then the tiny occupant of a really fancy-looking chair, a young boy with a sweet face and...

And with an unmistakeable family resemblance.

The eye color aside, it was like looking at Glover in miniature, though this kid did of course lack the general air of being a walking thunderstorm waiting to happen. Kind of went with the territory of still being a kid, Wil supposed, but still. The similarities were uncanny. Their eyes flicked back to the woman in their company, back to the kid, and then back to Glover, trying to piece together what was happening.

Did Glover have a kid? He didn't talk about family, ever, and just got grumpier when they were mentioned-- and for Glover, that was saying a lot. So was this woman...? A quick once-over, and that nasty little something of emotion that Wil had felt when calling a gentleman's club rose up again, though they tamped that down before it could reach their face. Wil instead turned their focus on the kid, their mouth curving into a beaming smile.

"Sorry, didn't realize you had company. Hi, I'm Wil, I work with-" the roulette wheel of potential relations ran through their head again. Maybe a way younger brother? There was just so many ways this could go, and all of them were awkward if Wil guessed wrong. "-With Glover down at the station."

They stuck their hand out for the boy to take, and very much did not do the same for the woman present. Entirely by accident, of course.

[Nix]

Sevrin had been looking at his phone, waiting, trying to come up with ways to bide his time if Circiel decided it was time to go again. He could still argue for a phone call but he knew his attendant was getting tired. And tired of him. He tapped his thumb against the side of his phone, the downtrodden pout on his face actually genuine for a change. Come on uncle Glover...

Circiel watched her charge, watched his face. Often she acted like some aloof bodyguard but she did care about the kid. She had been taking care of him for years and while she had given up trying to mother him, because that had blown up in her face, she still cared for him. That bullshit his parents pulled at home, fighting in front of the kids instead of settling the matter privately like civil adults. It was revolting. She often claimed she stayed because the pay was good- and it was, but despite all the grief he gave her she just couldn't leave Sevrin. He was as close to a son as she would ever have.

So when she saw him looking like this... it was heart wrenching even if it didn't show on her face. "Sevrin... why don't we get some ice cream and go crash in a hotel room for the night? We can arrange a visit with Glover for another time. As soon as possible. Ok?"

Ice cream and a hotel? It wasn't a terrible idea. It meant not having to go home. Somewhere he registered that Circiel was trying to be nice and find a better solution than waiting indefinitely in some hallway, but he was eight. As smart as he was, as talented as he was, he was still eight. "No! I just want uncle Glover! Just go if you don't want to stay! I don't need you I just want to see uncle Glover!" As if on cue his phone vibrated and there it was. The message he had been waiting for.

Hey, bud! Not home now, but I'm right on my way. Can't wait to see you! How'd you get there this time of night? NVM. You can tell me in person. -Love, Glover

He smiled and held the phone triumphantly up to Circiel's face. "See? He's coming! I told you! Just go already if you want. Uncle Glover will be here soon. We don't need you."

Circiel should have known a kind rational gesture would be met with stubborness and irrationality from an upset kid. But she tried. She was about to answer his outburst when the phone went off and Sevrin tried to shove it in her face, even though he couldn't reach that far. "...I'm not going anywhere Sevrin you can say that as much as you want but you are stuck with me." Well. At least till Glover got here. She looked down at her own phone and started to search for a cheap but relatively clean motel nearby. If she had been taking Sevrin somewhere she would have been looking for a nice hotel but for herself it just needed a bed really.

After a bit of staring towards down the hall finally someone was heading this way! Oh... two someones from the sounds of... more arguing. He frowned. Someone was yelling at uncle Glover. More yelling. More fighting. Did it just follow him? Maybe it was his fault. The person seemed pretty though he couldn't really tell if they were a man or a woman, and how could she (?) be mad at his uncle? Uncle Glover was great. The greatest person he knew. It didn't make sense. Now he just wanted to leave. He didn't even take the stranger's hand he just looked around him (?) to try and see his uncle. "Uncle Glover?" His voice cracked a bit and came out sounded far more sad than angry.

[Lion]

What otherwise might have been a blissful reunion, as ever, was ruined by Lambo's penchant to never take anything in stride. The seething coiling fire was met with the placid high that Glover had been hoping to achieve that night - unceremoniously crushed to fucking death by that would be mugger. His face betrayed nothing of the hollowed out feeling inside the cavernous hole that was his chest. Glover just gave them that stupid amused grin. Because something about being chewed out by Wil Lambert gave Glover a warm and fuzzy feeling all over.

Glover was right behind them, doing his best not to roll his eyes. It was nothing new, and he said nothing in response to it. As if there weren't more serious problems to deal with and when he was still behind their back, only then did Glover pull out his phone and check the long list of messages that Wilhelm clearly left him. All 437 of them. ...  Wow, that must have been some kind of new record. The last time that happened, Glover was passed out in a back alley somewhere, missing a shoe and his shirt.

That had been a bad night. And one that Glover desperately wanted to forget. All ready he had a head start.

Eyelids scrunched tightly together when he heard that familiar voice echoing just around the corner. Oh that's right! Shit, Sevrin!  Why now of all times? His vision was doubling and Glover reached a hand to the wall to steady himself, a deep breath, and he pulled out a rag from the inside of his jacket to wipe at his brow, cleaning his clammy face, the blood and trying to look less like the homeless bum he felt like.

Tucking the rag back, he finally appeared from around Lamb Chop's back. "Hey, buddy!"Glover beamed, and that warm fuzzy feeling came rushing back ten fold. His stomach clenched, seeing that all too familiar wheel chair, and the attendant behind him. "Thanks Circiel, for bringing him out here. I'm sure if he waited any longer though, you would have taken good care of him.  And Sevrin Daniels would have been a good boy, and listened to someone that's just looking out for him, right?!"

The question was pointed, and maybe just a little accusatory. One look at that cute face though and Glover could only tilt his head and teeter in as gracefully as he could. He squatted in front of the kid and wrapped his arms around his small thin frame. "I'm glad you came by. You know I'm always happy to see you." The hug lasted longer than it should have mainly because Glover was having a hard time trying to pull himself back and maintaining his balance. His right arm steadied himself and he gave Sevrin a toothy grin.

Rose-gold eyes flicked up to his attendant. She didn't deserve any of the nastiness that Glover normally reserved for other members of the Daniels household. It wasn't her fault that she worked for fucking snakes. He pushed himself to his feet, forcing himself to focus and reaching out to take her hand. "Thanks, again. I can take care of him from here, if you want. You look like you need a break," he said. And remembered he hadn't come here alone.

Oh right, there was Wil. Waiting right behind him to rip his ear off and the cigarette out of his mouth. "Circiel, this is Wil Lambert. Y'know in case you weren't being completely rude, Sevrin. Lambo, this is my nephew. Now that's all settled, can we all just get out of the hallway?" It wasn't a question so much as an "I'm going inside to make some coffee if I can stand on my two feet long enough."

He opened the door and maneuvered behind the wheel chair to push Sevrin inside. Thank the fucking gods for that contraption. Because right now it was the only thing keeping him from falling flat on his face.  "Oh, Circe, you're welcome to come inside. Have some coffee?  You came all this way. Come on Wil, I think you need a drink too from the that look of placid calm on your brow." And he flashed a wide-spread grin and winked at them.

[nephero]

Big, dumb, stupid, wonderful grin aside, there was no real hiding a swollen cheek and stilted movements. And therein lay half the problem; every time Glover seemed to pull one of these stunts where he didn't answer the phone or any kind of message, it was never a good sign. Like that time in the alley, or whatever this latest mess meant.

It was like the man was trying to self destruct, or drive Wil absolutely insane, or a bit of both. Not that they had much chance to inquire what this latest escapade had entailed, because somehow Wil had a feeling it was not exactly the sort of conversation that should ever take place in front of a child.

At the very least, Glover was alive, not stabbed or shot to death in some dank alley for asking too many questions with too little backup. That was one missed opportunity for Murder, and one more opportunity gained for Cirrhosis of the Liver. Or Lung Cancer.

Wil rubbed at the bridge of their nose, before taking the last long swig from their now-thoroughly cooled soy drink. Glover finally introduced everyone, and suddenly Wil's demeanor became that much more genuine. Or at least not nearly so cold to who was apparently the boy's-- Sevrin's-- attendant. They gave Circiel a little smile, from one exhausted handler to another, and gestured for her to step inside first before following suit.

At Glover's comment about needing a drink, Wil just cocked one eyebrow right upwards, leveling a "placidly calm" stare at Glover to let him know that their previous conversation was far, far from over. But it could wait, especially with that shiner blooming over Glover's face, and the fact that there were now witnesses.

"You sit down," they said, once they were inside and had removed their jacket, hanging it up by the doorway as was custom. After all, this was Glover's nephew, he and Sevrin deserved some quality time. It... somehow didn't seem like they got much of it. "I'll get the coffee."

Wil made their way into the kitchen, pulled out a couple mugs that weren't too awful, and quick washed the few that were still in the sink while the coffee dripped. That just left the question of what there was that Sevrin could drink. Not that there was much-- liquor, beer, one quart of milk. It took a bit of digging through the cupboards before Wil found the remnants of what might have once been a spice rack, most of it never used or otherwise never refilled. Still, there was cinnamon, and there was milk, and there was sugar. Wil could work with that.

After a few minutes, Wil left the kitchen, setting down four mugs on the coffee table and tossing a plastic baggie of ice into Glover's lap, with some quiet flippant comment about how Glover should really stop running into lampposts.

[Lion]

There was a right damn lack of correlation between that fancy wheelchair and the rather unkempt state of Glover's apartment. It wasn't that it was a right mess, but...fuck it, it was a mess. Two bedrooms, nothing fancy, and certainly exemplative of what he could afford on a detective's salary. The neighborhood wasn't all bad, but it certainly lent water to the fact that Glover didn't want Sevrin hanging around here by himself in the middle of the night. Even inside the building.

One of the few moments Glover's timing couldn't have been more impeccable. A feat he might have been more conscious of managing in his younger days. Now though, at best, it was a fluke.

The state of the apartment definitely could use some TLC. And once they were inside, he shifted around so that he could help Sevrin out of that fancy chair - a shining example of the wealth the Daniels family had - and hoisted him up into his arms and gently transferred him to the sofa. "Okay there, bud. You're getting heavy! Geeze, you eating all your fruits and veggies? Because at the rate you're growing I don't know if I'll be able to carry you anymore. Heck, i'll certainly try though," he chuckled.

His eyes carefully flicked between his nephew  and his partner and Circiel that was awkwardly standing by the chair. Oh he knew that look, seen it many many times before. Yeah, it was an argument, however, that could wait. For now, he pulled Sevrin in for another hug and ruffled the kid's hair.

Oh...right the ice.  Glover plucked at the bag and pressed it gingerly to the developing shiner.  The ice was heaven against his warm face, and he hadn't realized how flush he really was compared to his usual pallor. Glover sighed and snorted. "Don't mind, Lamb Chop. They're used to me being all clumsy as all hell..."

Circiel cleared her throat and gave Glover huge eyes.

"Sorry. Heck."  And stuck his tongue out at her.  Telling him how he could talk to his own nephew. Besides it wasn't like he kid hadn't heard worse coming from his own parents.  And Arabelle...don't even get him started on that brat. Then again, it probably wasn't her fault she had such a bad attitude. Glover was still a Daniels, no matter how much he wished he wasn't.

"Sevrin, you know I'm going to ask you. So I want you to answer honestly. What are you doing here so late?" Glover murmured, reaching for that coffee, black and enticing, and he met Wil's gaze momentarily as if to express a wordless thank you.

[Nix]

Sevrin was glad for the hug but uncle Glover seemed a little off. Like he had too much sugar and was on the down slope of the rush of energy that followed. Or like when you have a fever and are kinda loopy. His face was all banged up like he fell too. Sevrin frowned a bit and was about to ask if his uncle was ok when he got admonished for misbehaving, introduced to this Will guy (?), Will was a guys name right??? And then soon found himself being rolled inside, the wheel chair automatically reading Glover's fingerprints allowing him to wheel the kid inside. It was indeed a fancy high tech wheelchair, probably worth more than anything in Glover's apartment.

"You walked into a lamp post uncle Glover? Are you ok?" He asked, no longer that upset about the arguing in the hall. Uncle Glover was hurt after all.

Once inside Glover picked him up and put him on the couch without a fuss and Circiel was both annoyed and envious of that. The kid fought her at every turn when she had to pick him up or help him out of the chair. She didn't throw him under the bus now though. She quietly thanked Glover for inviting her in and took a seat, making no fuss about mess or decor. Just because she lived in the Daniel's home now didn't mean she was a snob. She understood all too well not everyone could live in a picture perfect estate, or even house, or apartment. Sometimes shit was just a mess. The slip up by Glover earned a look more because she was trying to teach Sevrin manners so she had to consistently enforce stuff around him than her actually caring about the word usage. She wasn't really that much of a hard ass but Sev was getting to that age where 'because I'm an adult and you are a kid' meant nothing to him. She smiled a tired but genuine smile at Wil and thanked the other for the coffee, before turning to look at Sevrin while the boy explained their late little visit.

"I wanted to see you... I drew you a picture, its in my chair. Circiel can you please get it for me?" He asked nicely because uncle Glover was here. Circiel got up and opened the bag attached to the back of Sevrin's wheelchair, wondering if the kid was going to bring up the real reason they left the house tonight, but she didn't say anything about it and just handed the folder with his art work to Sevrin before taking her seat again.

Sevrin smiled a bit and pulled out a drawing he had made with his new drawing kid. It was a picture of Glover and him and a house and some trees. It was good. More like something a twelve year old drew than an eight year old. He had some artistic promise if he practiced... even if his dad thought it was a stupid waste of time. Especially for a talented mage. He handed the picture to his uncle, hoping to be praised instead of over looked. He was good at so many other things... exceptionally good, scary good for his age, that no one cared about his drawings. And it was the one thing he actually enjoyed doing. "See? It's us."

[nephero]

It was genuinely heartwarming to see Glover be so doting with Sevrin. It was heartwarming seeing him be so doting with anything that wasn't a carton of cigarettes, but there was something a little more so to see him be so good with the kid, to see how genuinely the two seemed to care for one another. Wil couldn't remember ever being this close with any aunts or uncles, and the way Glover gave all his attention to his nephew, well. Wil wasn't sure they'd ever seen Glover act this way with... literally anyone. It was sweet.

They sipped at their own mug of coffee, perching on the armrest of Glover's chair and more than grateful for that opportunity. You never quite realized just how much you'd run around the city until you finally sat down, and today had involved a lot of footwork. Wil rotated their ankles a bit, taking another swig of coffee-- more cream and sugar than coffee, really-- and seemed perfectly content to just sit back and watch uncle and nephew interact. It was just too cute not to.

They leaned forward in curiousity at what kind of drawing would pull an eight year old and their caretaker out of the house so late into the evening and into such a... neighborhood as this. And almost immediately their face split into a wide grin, dark gaze flicking over the entirety of the picture before settling on the rendition of them both. It was an amazing likeness-- there was absolutely no mistaking who either of them were meant to be, right down to Glover's almost constant grumpy aura-- even if this tiny little drawing version of him happened to be smiling at the time.

"Ohh, look at that. You even got his cowlick right, that's amazing. Did you have a photo or did you do all this from memory?"

Once again, the same sense of overfondness filled them, that wonderful warming sensation settling in their chest and growing by the minute. Okay, so maybe this was almost something to trek all the way to this neighborhood over-- Wil snuck a glance to the side at Glover, as if trying to catch the man looking just as pleased as his little drawn self. Which, of course, might have been like hoping to spy a unicorn, but a person was allowed their dreams, after all.

[Lion]

It took a certain degree of 'hard-ass'ery to put up with Sevrin's antics. If anyone knew that it was Glover. Even if the kid was prone to good behavior when he was around, he couldn't help but see a younger version of himself in Sevrin. That both sent his belly afloat and gave Glover a soured feeling just watching the boy pull out his little piece of paper and the artwork that was displayed across it.

Such a simple piece, and the ice against his face momentarily slipped. His lip quivered and Glover had to tuck it into his lips in order to keep it still. The throbbing was forgotten. The coffee as well, when he saw that drawing and he sucked in a deep breath. "You did this all by yourself? Wow!" he said, voice low as he displayed the drawing for the rest of them to see.

"See how talented my nephew is?! Look at this! What a bloody damn good artist you are, Sevrin. You keep this up and we'll have to put your work in museums all around Tynova. I know I'm for sure going to hang this up right here in this apartment. Gonna frame it and everything," he declared proudly and even let his free hand gently touch the yellow crayon used to color his hair. "Cowlick!? Hey! I do not have a cowlick."

A temporary distraction from looking over Sevrin's work, and he squinted accusatory eyes at Wil. Of course Lamb Chop would have something smart to say. Glover leaned back against the couch and gently closed the folder, tucking the drawing back inside. He didn't want the thing to get ruined now, and the ice baggie was starting to drip with water now.

"Isn't my nephew amazing, Wil? He's just full of surprises," he beamed, feeling nothing short of pride swelling in his chest.  He leaned his head against the boy's just smiling and letting the heat rush back to his face from the motion. All this way? To show him a drawing. Seemed like a damn good reason to him.

"Sev, bud. You're one dedicated artist that's for sure. I'm glad you showed this to me. I don't think I would have wanted to wait until morning either. But Sevrin...it is pretty late though, aren't you tired? I mean, look at Circiel. She looks like she's been dragged underneath a fence and through muddy waters to get here. No offense."

[Nix]

Sevrin was beaming proudly. "I drew it from memory." He said to Wil and his uncle leaned against him and praised him. They both praised him. Sevrin decided that this Wil lady (?) was nice after all.

Circiel had said she liked it too but Circiel didn't count. Uncle Glover and this stranger did though. Mostly uncle Glover. "See? That's a house for us to live in." He explained to his uncle pointing at the picture and smiling as it was put away for safe keeping. His uncle was going to frame it and hang it up! He didn't voice that he wanted to be an artist though. Because it was dumb and he was a mage so he couldn't be an artist, he had to be a mage and do some typical mage job. But uncle Glover didn't have a typical mage job, cause he was a special kind of mage too.

When his uncle mentioned it being late and Circiel looking beat, Sevrin hid his face against Glover's arm and hugged it tight, as if to say 'I'm not leaving' without saying it.

When nothing else was said by the kid Circiel paused in drinking her coffee and frowned a little looking between Glover and Wil. She sensed their visit had interrupted something happening between the two and didn't for a second believe the lamp post story like Sevrin did, but she wasn't about to pry into a the business of two detectives. As a bodyguard herself she understood. Of course part of her appeal to her employers was that she didn't look like a bodyguard despite her skill. "There were some...disturbances at the Daniel's estate tonight. He doesn't want to go home. He just wanted to come here." She explained since Sevrin wouldn't.

[nephero]

At the mention of the house being specifically there for Sevrin and Glover to live in, Wil just about lost their mind. That was so adorable, so wonderfully adorable and yet... utterly heartbreaking at the same time. What with what the caretaker-- Circiel-- was saying about "disturbances", Wil could only imagine what would make a kid want to run away with their uncle. It certainly didn't sound like much of a place for a small child to be, and more and more that imaginary house for just he and his uncle sounded better by the minute.

That tiny face disappeared against Glover's arm, and Wil's heart was fit to melt right out of their chest, every last paternal instinct going berserk as they finished their coffee and set the mug down on the table. They chewed at their lip, thinking for a moment, weighing the options before deciding to hell with any kind of propriety, they were just going to blaze ahead with the idea.

"...Maybe he could spend the night?" Wil began, quietly, looking to Glover first seeing as it was, in fact, his apartment. He'd have the final say, though for Wil's part, well, they were prepared to make every effort to see that the idea was agreed upon. Up to and including unleashing puppy eyes if necessary. "I mean, it couldn't hurt matters, it's already dark... We could take over for the night."

It was subtle, very subtle, but the implications still remained. "He" could spend the night, "we" could take over. Even if Circiel had proven to be simply Sevrin's caretaker, that didn't mean Wil had to like her being around longer than necessary. And with everyone looking so exhausted, "necessary" was becoming quite the bold line. Besides, having both Sevrin, and Wil, and Glover, and Circiel trying to share this apartment did not seem like it would do anyone any kind of favors. The sleeping arrangements alone were not somewhere Wil wanted to let their mind linger.

"I sure wouldn't mind seeing more of your drawings," they offered, specifically to Sevrin, smiling at how that tiny frame curled into the other detective's side. Too cute.

[Lion]

Lamp post. Shmamp post. 

It was a cover story that while meant more for Sevrin than Circiel, was one even Glover couldn't buy at the time. And he was in a position to buy just about anything that anyone was selling. The only commodity present in that room - other than the good ol' fashioned talkin' to that awaited him the first chance Wil and he were alone - was the fact that Sevrin was buried rather deeply against Glover's arm.

His belly lurched, and that jolt made a soft noise erupt from him, blonde hair falling forward and he turned his face into Sevrin's. Something smelled like peach jam. Oh wait, that was just Sevrin's shampoo. Damn Daniels and their luxurious scents. It was better than alcohol and cigarettes that was for sure. Marian at the Red Randy certainly made it smell fucking amazing though.

Peach jam. Yes, it was preferable.

Glover was chewing on his lip when Circiel mentioned 'disturbances.' He didn't even dare repeat the word. Because he knew damn well just what they meant. The lurching in his stomach twisted and the clarity that came when beating that mugger's head into the pavement returned, he found his arm tightening around Sevrin's small frame, and he buried his face into the kid's hair. Damn Evangeline. Damn that fucking Freddie!

Freddie could ban him from his household all he wanted - Glover would rather visit when he wasn't there anyway - but he couldn't keep the kid hostage in his own home! Glover was glad he was here and that little warmth of anger melted away. Momentarily. Really, it was just stored away into a compartment he reserved for reasons to hate stupid fucking Freddie and his stupid fucking rules.

He perked up at Wil's suggestion, tilting his head to them and nodding. "You're staying the night," he replied, voice affirmative, with just a lilt of anger behind it. A swallow of the rest of that coffee shoved it right down. "I'd love to have you spend the night at your good ol' uncle's. You can even have my bed if you want."  However, Wil's emphasis with "We" and "He" were momentarily lost on Glover.

When did Wil grow two heads? Glover blinked hard to combine the doubled vision, and he sniffed, giving them another stupid grin. His arms were still firmly held around Sevrin, planting a kiss to his forehead. "Aww, well, if you're tired, Circiel, you can go. I love having Sevrin here. He'll be fine! You have my number if you need anything, okay? But can crash on my couch if you want. I don't mind. Plenty of room. Whichever you decide. I'll uh...take care of the dishes."

Yeah, that'll do it. And give Glover a chance to wash his burning face. Careful prying freed him from Sevrin's grasp, and he tapped where he was sitting with the boy. "Show Lambo your other drawings, Sevrin! He's amazing! Really!"

Maybe it was bit too much over-enthusiasm, however much the comments were genuine. Glover plucked up the cup of milk and cinnamon and handed it to Sevrin, who didn't seem to have a chance to enjoy it before the other mugs were collected by their handles and Glover made it to the sink without breaking any of them.

Glover: 1. Mugs: 0.

[Nix]

Sevrin hugged his uncle tighter when he said he could stay tonight. Wil had suggested it. He definitely liked them now. Yes, this one was good. This... ok was Wil a guy or girl? He took his drink when his uncle gave it to him and inhaled the warmth and aroma... it smelled good. What was it? He took a sip. Oh. Oh it was really good.

Circiel could barely believe that this attractive stranger was threatened by her. It was almost too ridiculous to be true, but her senses had never failed her and the way Wil wanted her gone. It reeked of jealousy. It was amusing though, some how complimentary in the strangest of ways. When Glover decided Sevrin could stay and then off handedly offered to let her stay she stood. "No I am going to get a motel in the area. Please call me if you need anything, and let me know when you need me to collect him. I will also keep you updated on any messages I receive." Meaning if his parents actually worried about where their son went. Though they would more than likely message Sevrin directly then.

"Bye Glover, Sevrin be good for your uncle and his partner ok?" She said before turning to Wil and extending her hand. "It was nice to meet you." She said and then softer, "You have absolutely nothing to worry about. Trust me." So that only Wil could really hear. And then left with a tired smile. Man was she going to be glad to just rest tonight. Hopefully Glover could keep Sevrin for most of the morning too. She considered texting her employers but past experience said it was better not to. By now hopefully they had retired to separate ends of the estate and texting each other was like trying to disarm a bomb in a three alarm fire. Pointless and just looking to get caught in the explosion.

They probably had no idea she and Sevrin had left, and only gave a shit if he was physically hurt or dead. Appearances. Fucking parents of the year.

Sevrin was happily drinking his beverage and picked up his folder with his drawings so he could show Wil, smiling big at them now that he was staying and has something sweet and warm in his tummy. "Wanna see mr- ms..." He frowned a little. "Are you a guy or a girl?"

[nephero]

Wil hoped that their utter delight upon learning that Circiel was intending to get a motel room didn't quite show on their face. Or at least, didn't show nearly as hard as they were feeling it. Because they were utterly, utterly delighted to know that she would not be spending the night. When Glover had initially suggested that Circiel crash on the couch they nearly snapped out of their goddamn mind-- completely irrationally, of course, and they'd have certainly felt bad about it in the morning but...

Sometimes their emotions got the better of them and it took some serious effort to keep those emotions in check. Such as the emotions labelled "I swear to the gods I see one single handprint I will rip this building apart and throw it into space". Those were a little harder to hold back some days. Luckily for everyone involved, though, whatever fuse there might have been was nipped in the bud, and Circiel stuck her hand out for Wil to shake.

Which Wil did, with a smile in return but one more of relief than anything. "I'd uh, give you my number to call, but my phone ah, broke earlier. I'll make sure Glover keeps his on, just in case."

They were not about to go into any sort of detail about how their phone was broken because they threw the damn thing into traffic. Nope. That would be between Wil, those random pedestrians, and the gods.

Also, they might have been a little busy being embarrassed that Circiel seemed to have caught onto their little 'game' and had actually went out of her way to reassure them. Okay, that was totally humiliating, like good lord Lambert, you're meant to be an officer, not some kid having a tantrum. Somewhere in the future Wil owed her some kind of a proper apology. And maybe a cupcake.

Wil returned to the couch once they'd shown Circiel out, and sat down where Glover had once been so Sevrin could show them more drawings. They blinked in surprise at the question, before laughing softly and making a wishy-washy kind of motion with their hand.

"It changes a lot. You can just call me Wil, you don't have to worry about 'mister' or 'miss'." Normally this sort of question would have them rolling their eyes and making some sarcastic comment or another, but with kids it was always different. Plus, Sevrin seemed so sweet, Wil had a hard time even considering that he'd have a mean bone in his tiny body. "So, you want to be an artist? Professionally, I mean?"

[Lion]

Somewhere in the back of Glover's mind, he wished Circiel did stay. Not for any direct purpose other than to serve as a buffer for the shit storm that was awaiting him about the missed calls and messages - all 437 of them. Gods! Did he just not hear his phone go off? Glover knew that deep down he must have heard it and simply chose not to answer. Because he was too busy storming into an office building under the premise of getting Sandborne.

Just getting him to do....anything. Confess his connection to being a slimy mage trafficker, to get scared that the walls were closing in on him, to do him a favor and throw Glover Daniels out a fucking skyscraper window and finally end it all. It'd save him the bullet that was for sure. His palms were clammy, gripping onto that kitchen sink, and the cool metal making him gasp. A brief intake of breath, and he flipped the faucet on.

Maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe he could still catch Circiel by the door. Maybe -

CLICK!

"Fuck," he whispered softly, the sound of running water thankfully drowning him out. Somewhere in the background he could hear Wil and Sevrin speaking. Good. At least Sevrin would be a minor distraction. There would always be time to rip Glover's head off, but not with his nephew in the room. That would have to wait until after the little kid was already asleep. And he wondered if he'd eaten anything...  Probably, but he didn't want Sevrin to go to bed on an empty stomach. And when was the last time they actually had a meal together?

Glover quietly washed the dishes, dampening his face by the end of it, water dripping down his nose and mug, just listening to them talk and put the cups away. Checking the fridge proved...disappoint ing. Come to think of it, he was hungry too. And needed a smoke. Later though, on the fire escape. Oh...

"Leftover noodles and baloney, yes," he whispered and within seconds he had a pan going with some oil and threw in chopped up pieces of baloney and fried noodles - which were now being double fried - and sauteed them for a few minutes. Keeping everything in the pan was harder than he thought, Glover cackling at the few pieces that flew out of the sheet of metal.

"Okay Sevrin! I hope you're hungry. Because if you're not, I'm going to have to eat this all by myself," he announced, serving it steaming hot on a clean plate. The only plate that wasn't chipped or had half the design scraped off, or was old beat up plastic tupperware that now served as petri dishes for new alien lifeforms in the back of his fridge.

This plate in particular was a ceremonial one after graduating from the police academy. And had the Tynova P.D. emblem emblazoned on it. Ugh, why did he even keep this plate? Glover served the food on the coffee table, pulling it forward and following suit with his own plate and one for Wil.  He eyed his partner, squinting eyes into their doe-eyed browns. Stupid Lamb Chop and those stupid eyes. Stupid, stupid. That look of course was meant less for Glover to be lost in them and more like "You're gonna eat this food. Because I made it it for you. And it's delicious."

[Nix]

It changes? Was Wil an alien? Or a fairy? Probably a fairy... he wondered if he.. she- they had wings... he would have to look later. But he was pretty sure the answer was yes. He pulled out some of his favorite pictures. Wil was actually really nice. Then again they worked with uncle Glover so they better be.

"Ok, just Wil then... but you have to tell Circiel that its ok so I'm not in trouble for being rude." He said scrunching up his lips a bit. He had gotten in trouble more for being a brat to the maid than not calling her Ms Alyssar. But that was what he had taken from it.

When Wil asked if he wanted to be a professional artist he beamed... for all of two seconds. "I can't be an artist. Its a stupid waste of time and not a job for mages." He muttered softly. And then luckily uncle Glover came with food! He had eaten some earlier but lost his appetite due to the fighting and didn't even finish it.

He wasn't sure what this food was supposed to be but it smelled yummy... like that drink that he didn't know what was. He had another big sip of it and then took his plate, pushing the food around a little bit with his fork before trying it. It was yummy. "Thank you uncle Glover. This is really good!" Uncle Glover was the best at everything.

[nephero]

The sound of cackling and something being fried was not a good sign. Somewhere, Wil began to wonder if Glover was concussed. Or drunk. Or both. Still, nothing seemed to be on fire just yet, and almost immediately Wil's attention was pulled back onto Sevrin, just in time to see his little nose wrinkle. Oh, okay, that was too cute. Wil couldn't help a laugh, shaking their head in reassurance.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure no one yells at you for it. I'll even put it in writing, yeah? So you can just pull our your badge. Like your uncle!" they winked down at the kid, figuring that would certainly be something he'd enjoy.

Wil's own smile faded by quite a bit when Sevrin explained just why he could never be an artist. It was an unfortunate circumstance, but a true one-- there wasn't much room for what you wanted to do when magic was involved. It all boiled down to what you had to do. It was what it was, but still... it was a shame to see the effects of such things on someone so young. Wil tried to remember back to when they were Sevrin's age, and what they had wanted to do when they grew up-- but try as they might, they couldn't remember. Had it been ballet? That didn't seem right...

About to open their mouth and try to say something comforting, Wil was again distracted, this time by Glover returning with a mix-match of dishware filled with... something that had something to do with noodles. Catching Glover's eye, Wil was under the distinct impression that they had absolutely zero choice in the matter of actually eating it. Not that Wil could possibly misunderstand; it was hard to look away from Glover's eyes on the best of days, and the days where he was doing The Staredown-- forget it. They picked up their fork, and chanced a glance to the side where Sevrin was already eating.

Kids were picky eaters, right? If Sevrin was eating it and liked it, it had to be pretty decent, right?

Though Wil had read somewhere that your taste buds change drastically over the course of your life, so maybe that was just eight year old tastes talking. Wil took a careful bite, didn't immediately die, and took another. Okay. Okay, for being basically old noodles and... what looked like some kind of cut up lunch meat, it wasn't bad.

"You're right, he's really good." they said, finally, gesturing to Sevrin's picture folder. "Better get a damn good frame, that picture's going to be valuable when Sevrin starts filling out museum exhibits."