There were very few days that I ended the way I had originally intended to. I had woken up and planned to go to work but had decided that there were a great too many things penciled into my schedule that I needed to play hooky. One of the most fortunate things about being a subcontractor was the affinity that one might possess to simply go missing for a day. With no supervisor, who was ever going to be the wiser? I had been between translation jobs and with no analysis necessary on any other documents at the firm, it was very easy to skip out and enjoy the blisteringly cold day in the city taking care of other matters. So, fancy that. This decision was made last minute, however, and so I ended up in the front seat of my '72 Challenger dressed as professionally as I might have intended for a meeting at the office. With nothing ventured in that particular venue, though, I found myself in the pink office of a construction firm that was going to fake-transport me tools to fix my apartment. I did the work myself, but when the neighbors complained about the noise that had been transmitted by my (duel...?) unresolved conflict with a Hunter, I wanted a simple cover up in the form of a lease and construction plans. I had managed to fix my apartment, wash my car, and settle a shipment at the shop all before the time I would have originally been freed from the regulatory confines of my office. That left time to meet several clients on the way home and make a handful of actual cash to be quickly blown on a pack of cigarettes I didn't need to buy, but the gratification was instant and hey... Who am I to deny myself on this day of refuge?

Due to the time of year, it was dark when I pulled my car into the parking whatever. I honestly preferred it that way, happy to bask in the absence of light and the irritable mood it often shocked me into. With a cigarette lit and between my lips, I slipped around the other side of the building that I generally entered through as it made it look like I was entering a different building when it was simply an illusion I wove. After the evening jaunt with Azrael, there was no way I was going to put myself at that kind of risk, again. I had felt the lasting effects of the excessive use of light and electricity for days; without an outlet (ha. Literal and figurative outlet) I had static shocks from every surface, still. Even now, I would bet my right hand that if I rolled around on the carpet, I'd come away with my hair at every angle possible. After the first exhale of my cigarette, I realized I'd missed that the lock was already open, and I hesitated before opening the door further. Did the stupid fucking Hunter actually come back...? Suddenly nearing irate, I flicked the cigarette into the window of the next apartment before gritting my teeth and pushing my own door open.

" Rodger, if you leave the door open like that again I'm going to -..." I trailed off, having mistakenly assumed it was one of my minions who had arrived. Rodger sold the drugs I grew or created, often giving me the freedom not to deal with clients as I often loathed customer service. I know you don't YELP review drug dealers, but I would have no business if it were my department. The last time said minion had left the door open? I'd dropped an anvil on his head to reenact a scene from a cartoon. The entire situation was incredibly humorous if you ask me. But now? The air smelled different, it felt different.

Church, my cat, crept from the side of the couch quietly, his tail curled at the tip like he had a secret he wasn't going to share. When he sat down in front of me and simply began cleaning himself as if there was nothing amiss, it dawned on me that he only acted such a way around a handful of people and said people were generally my sisters...

I lit a cigar that I had left in my coat pocket, giddy with the desire to rub it in his face that I had one and he didn't before leisurely dropping my own back onto the floor haphazardly. Once the lock was melded shut, I cleared my throat before reaching for the magic that was so close to my surface in order to lash out with it and flip the couch over backwards so that my brother might be knocked upside down and forced to look up at me as I paced over. A wicked smirk dawned on my features, making my bright blue eyes flash before I could shake my head at him, an eyebrow rising as if it were merely a mistake that he ended up like this. Shame, the floor had just been cleaned from the wreckage, too. What a waste of a beer.

" I broke your xbox like last year, and scrapped your car for parts. I also may or may not have drank your scotch, gotten drunk... and lit your bed on fire. However, I consider your arrival your apology and I shall graciously accept."

With a lackadaisical flourish of my shoulder, I reached around the couch for a beer and popped the top off without even thinking about using a bottle opener.

" With my petty though totally deserved behavior behind me, I have decided to give you mercy. You can bow, now," I mentioned thoughtfully, my accent harsher in my words to him than it had been in quite some time. The relief was immense, honestly. The ability to fully wear my own shoes and shed the layers that it was necessary to wear on a daily basis was astonishingly familiar, and it brought a less wicked, more impish grin to my face.

"Next time I move, I won't leave a forwarding address. This could be a fun game."