Vhalla laughs airily when Darien tells her he needs to find her a nickname. She would let him call her whatever he wanted to if she made it out of the bar in one piece. The assassin didn't typically spend a lot of time in bars, her drinking habits were more behind closed doors type of things. Plus, after this fiasco she wouldn't set foot in another bar again. After she gives him the option to leave, Vhal is pleasantly surprised that he turns down her offer. Raising a hand as if to silence him, "I appreciate your concern and I thank you, I should warn you that the moment we leave this bar it could potentially be a battlefield," she says seriously. Vhal wasn't one for dramatics but sometimes she wishes she was, the assassin had to be honest with him.

When he insists that he wants to see her safe, a small smile tugs at her lips. She's thankful for the quick thinking when he suggests she wear his jacket, letting him help her into the blood splattered material, it did help with concealing her suit. Giving him a small nod she glances down at the awkward color combination but it would have to do, "I owe you a new jacket," she says absent mindedly. Flashing a grin at him, she truly did play the part well of a drunk, all she would have to do was slur her voice and she would fit the bill.

Doing as he says, she takes her hood and tucks her braid inside of it, slipping it over her head again to conceal the unusual color. "I've been called worse," she chuckles. Feeling his arm wrap around her waist, he easily tucks herself into him, slinging an arm around him to help support herself. Looking up at him, she can feel his breaths on her face as she plasters on her best 'drunk face' and slurs, "I've had waaaaaay (hiccup) too much to drink," she crosses her eyes and releases a giggle as if she were borderline black out drunk.

When he inquires about the men, Vhalla traces his face with her eyes, humor vanishing from her features. "Even if I were to explain them to you it would be impossible for you to notice them," she shrugs, "They look like any other regular joe. I think it would be best if I didn't try and explain, I'll have my eyes peeled so you can just worry about getting your drunk girlfriend home." Before they step out of the bathroom Darien is asking where to take her and she chews over her thoughts for a brief moment. If the witch were to return to his place he could be in serious danger, yet, she knew that there were probably men patrolling her own home.

She had all the necessary medical items at her apartment as well as the means to keep them safe until daybreak. They would just have to chance it. "I don't have any friends," she quickly responds, "But we can try and head back to my place, let's see if we can flag down a cab." Reaching out, Vhalla grabs the door and pushes it open, instantly letting giggles escape through her mouth, playing the part of a drunk girlfriend. She staggers on her feet, not at all acting, and tightens her hold on Darien. Making their way through the crowd, she eyes the backdoor and squeezes the faerie to get his attention so they can alter their paths.

Weaving through the mass amounts of people Vhal holds her breath as they step out into the cool night air. Glancing around the abandoned alleyway she releases her breath and tugs on the fae to the busy street. Lifting her bad arm, she waves down a cab, wincing at the movement but she is successful after only a few moments. The car comes screeching to a halt besides them and Vhalla all but shoves Darien into the back of the seat, sliding in after him, her heart hammering in her chest. Giving the cab driver directions they take off. Clutching the seat tightly, she stiffens as the man drives like a maniac through the city. How she hated cars. Vhal was then acutely aware at the close quarters Darien and her shared, arms brushing each other.

The assassin doesn't say anything and is content to sit in the silence, even if it had a certain magnetic charge to it. She is almost ready to break the silence when she begins to recognize familiar signs of her neighborhood. It wasn't nice. It was more run down and abandoned looking than anything. "You can stop here," she calls up to the front, pulling cash from somewhere in her suit and handing it over to him. Entwining Darien's fingers in her own she opens the door and pulls him back into the cold night.

Warily glancing around she isn't aware that she stills has his hand ensnared by hers. Looking back to him her eyes are narrow and intense, "This is where things get tricky, we are going to continue to act like the drunk couple but if I tell you to run, do not ask questions. You will leave me behind," she says sternly leaving no room for argument and then gestures to an abandoned warehouse roughly a hundred yards away, "See that warehouse over there? There's a rusted and graffiti looking door just around the corner, we will meet just inside," she orders before releasing his hand and slipping under his arm again, firmly wrapping her good arm around his waist.

It isn't long before she can feel eyes watching them, Vhalla knew well enough that these men were not dumb enough to bring guns into this neighborhood, it would cause an uproar and make their job much more difficult. Adrenaline slowly began to work its way through her body as she hears the rustling of a body in the shadows of the alley to her right. Wrenching her arm from Darien, she roughly shoves him forward just as a man appears under the flickering light.

"Run, Darien! I'll be right behind you!" she shouts, praying to God that he does as he's told. Realizing she forgot to engage her weapons in her suit she curses and reaches for her last dagger in her boot. Before she can grab it the man comes barreling out, easily dwarfing the witch, as he swings an oversized pocket knife at her head. Ducking swiftly, she wrestles the blade from his hand, knees him in the groin and elbows him in the temple causing the man to slump to the ground unconscious.

Seeing two more men race from the shadows, she is successful in snagging her blade this time and takes off after Darien, staggering slightly before regaining her balance. She feels dizzy and lightheaded but Vhalla is aware that if she doesn't reach the warehouse she was as good as dead. The assassin could hear obscenities being thrown her way but she deftly ignores them. Sneaking a glance over her shoulder, she hadn't realized one of the men was but inches behind her. Making a swift decision, she turns just enough to send her blade flipping handle over point to bury itself in his chest.

A sickening thud follows as he falls to his knees, blood gurgling from his mouth, she had punctured a lung and cringed at the slow death that awaited him. Facing forward, weaponless, she races for the rusted door, slamming into it to get it open fumbling for the handle. Finally succeeding, she throws the door open on creaky hinges, shoving Darien inside, turning and sending a steel bolt into place before lowering a steal plank to cover the door. A pounding on the door soon followed as she staggers backwards and falls to the ground. Searching for the faerie she watches him tiredly, "We will be safe her."