see the devil living in those eyes

The words which had sprung, those three little words, filled with the venom she had so long tried to coax from him. The emotions he had tried so hard to school from his features during their interactions. The discipline he had tried so fucking hard to instill in himself to not rise to her goading, her taunts, her general irritations... All that came undone in those three little words following that stupid mockery. It wasn't even her biggest or worst mockery to date! If he had the time to reflect - or even the notion to do so - perhaps he could chalk it up to the complete surprise of her just showing up as though she hadn't just disappeared into thin fuckin air, leaving him to handle everything. Then perhaps he could blame the breakage of that façade he worked so hard to establish on her unexpected departure coupled with her unexpected arrival coupled with the fact that, oh yeah -- he's currently getting his ass absolutely handed to him in pieces right now! Forgive him if he isn't in quite the introspective mood now or later.

Whatever she had seen in that brief eye contact between them was interrupted by a heavy fist smashing into Spencer's face, knocking him to the floor. He hadn't the time to realize their new acquaintance when one hit turned into many, only a flickering thought that he was going to die getting pummeled to death by these assholes while that bitch watched making the experience only that much more bitter. He'd have rather she come back any other day but no, of course she'd have chosen today of all days to return.

He should have burned this place to the fuckin' ground.

While Spencer hadn't the slightest hope of hearing her approach over the pain ripping through his body as the fists and kicks began in earnest, focused more on trying to protect at least his head and face from the worst of the blows, apparently his own attackers were far too preoccupied to notice her until it was too late. Which, knowing her as he unfortunately did, the fact she was there in the room meant it was too late for them. Still, Spencer was grateful for the brief reprieve from the assault, trying to stifle his pained groan when one more boot cracked into his ribs for having the audacity to breathe. The blinding pain rocking his vision convinced Spencer at least one - maybe two - ribs had been cracked in the assault as he was hauled partially upright, balanced awkwardly on his knees. Unable to really pull back when their foul-breathed "leader" leaned in to sneer something about Spencer "leashing your bitch", it took a moment for him to process who the man was referring to. The sound of a hand connecting with someone's face (not his this time!) the words clicked and he could not stop the bloody sneer from crossing his own lips. He would pity these fools if he could, yet he had no pity in him. Only the spite and- dare to admit it - vengeful glee of a freshly beaten man.

Maybe he didn't completely regret burning this place down. Yet.

Despite the vengeful glee of knowing they would get to experience a taste of her wrath, Spencer knew he was very much the continued weak point when the inevitable clash began. Yet he was still stuck, unable to retreat from the midst of this growing clusterfuck like he wanted to. He was no fool to think he could stand his ground in this ring that was so foreign to him. He would have no escape until these thugs dropped him, they were far too strong for him to muscle his way to freedom, so how, how could he - All thoughts of escape ended abruptly when he nearly hit the floor on his face, so suddenly released that his balance gave out completely. Barely catching himself before he hit the floor, his head snapped up trying to identify what the hell happened when -

Oh, that was new.

His attention lasered on the dying man, completely unaware of the movements that separated him and his aggressors. Pushing himself back onto his knees, supporting his left side with his right hand when pain nearly interrupted his focus, Spencer observed the men cluster to their leader but only because they now blocked his view of the dying (dead?) man. "What the fuck did you DO?!" Yes, that was indeed the question. The blood dribbling from his nostrils, eyes, the blood-speckled foam - what had she done? That so mirrored the effects of Spencer's concoctions, yet none were here and especially not in her hand. No, that had to come from her. But... how?

"Of fucking course," Spencer groaned when his attention ripped to the sounds of the transforming men, bones cracking and reforming like a grotesque concert. This, this was truly the worst part of these goddamned shifters - the sounds they made as their bodies changed to the beast. This, this was the inevitable clusterfuck that he had been dreading. Knowing the lethality of these creatures having experienced it firsthand times before, he stumbled to his feet and further behind Askaree, acknowledging her "sacrifice" by catching the discarded jacket thrown at him. Though maybe acknowledgement was a strong word as it was more, said jacket thrown at him hit him in the head and was caught by chance when he instinctively reacted at the impact. He had half the mind to flee from the area but he was not so panic stricken he did not recognize that the safest place for him was behind her. What a strange turn in events that the safest place for him was behind the bitch of a woman who had threatened to murder him so many times before. Still, if he was going to get to examine that body as he so desperately wanted, he would have to... god this almost hurt to say... he was going to have to trust her. Her ability to handle the predators was not in question though, especially not after seeing this side of her.

Despite how often she had threatened him, how much he knew what she was, to see it in person was... horrifying. He could feel his heart thunder unwillingly against his chest, no more able to stop it than the dead - and he was most certainly dead now - man could stop that venom coursing through his veins. His back pressed against the cold wall, eyes darting over the room as the combatants seemed to weight their options, their attacks, the reptile in front of Spencer seeming to wait with a patience he hadn't thought her capable of.

Hopefully she didn't make too much mess in their little shop.

single | warlock | notes: