audette rousseau

How uncomfortable the rich laughter behind her made her feel. Here she was, with a gun pointed to her back, her very life upon the line, and they were laughing. The sound caused a shudder to run down her spine and yet, the woman was nothing if not completely trusting of the stranger beside her as he reached into his pocket for the wallet they so feverishly demanded. Audette nibbled on her bottom lip in a nervous gesture, the woman hardly anticipating the very powder that coated his fingertips or the damage it would do. The last thing she anticipated was that breath of air and the slap of his hand against the gun of the barrel - the action alone causing the infernal thing to go off. The very noise of it, and the veritable shock, caused a startled scream to leave Audette's lips as she instinctually jumped. The French ballerina hardly had a chance to truly comprehend what had happened when the fae's strong hand grasped her own - her fingers intertwining with his as he dragged her from the alleyway. Admittedly, Audette hardly required much coaxing at all, the girl most certainly not desiring to stay with those now shouting men and the acid that scorched their faces, sending blood trickling down from those holes in their flesh. The very sight of it caused a look of horror within the depths of her clove colored irises - making her all the more eager to be gone.

The man's sudden insistence that she should get into her car, however, caused her head to shake ever so slightly. Her French accent was altogether prominent as the young woman informed her companion that she, regrettably, did not have a vehicle to escape in. Moving from one country to another left Audette rather....without a great deal of things that Americans clearly viewed as a necessity. That look of surprise she was given, however, was brushed over as the ballerina's clove colored irises skirted towards the red substance that flowed down his arm. Blood. It was blood. He was bleeding. Softly, Audette insisted that he should get to a hospital. It was a suggestion that the fellow was all too quick to shake off. A small glimpse of bafflement crossed her features as the man shook his head, outright rejecting the idea with the insistence that she should know what would happen if he did. Were things that different here? Should she be concerned in the inevitable event that she got hurt too? What would happen if they, whoever they were, discovered she was a fae? "Oh." She muttered, only for her gaze to shift to the still shouting men in the depths of the alleyway behind her. That inquiry of whether or not they should leave, at the very least, was one that her rescuer was all too quick to agree to. His inquiry of where her home was, however, caused the girl to glance down the street. "Maybe twenty minutes? It is where the North meets the West." How familiar she'd gotten with the route over those months since her move - her first evening having taught her a great deal of just which streets and alleyways to avoid.

With a small gesture, Audette led the bleeding man down the sidewalk, her gaze often fluttering back towards his arm with a clear hint of concern. A part of her worried the blood loss might be too great and feared he'd collapse on her, another part of her too feared that with the growing lateness, the scent of his blood might lure out those undead creatures, or even worse, the Hunters that sought to murder for their mere existence. Thankfully, her worry was rather without merit as no less than twenty-three minutes later, Audette was bouncing up the steps of her building to fetch the door for the man behind her. She led him up the stairs to her own apartment, her gaze skirting briefly over the edge of the door frame habitually before she let the fellow behind her inside. "I will get you some bandages." The ballerina called behind her as she made her way towards her bathroom though truly, she found herself contemplating just how much it would help. Audette, after all, had yet to see the extent of the damage.