[There's a tense, focused calm in Cassidy's voice. With as long as Matt's lived and the things he's done, it might be a tone he's heard from himself a time or two before.]
We've got a problem. If you're not balls-deep in somebody, I need 'ya to meet me at the edge of the Wilds. Bring a fresh set of clothes.
hmmmpph [The return was muddled and far away. Someone was in Bed.]
What's-.. [Had he heard 'fresh clothes'? Matt shifted and frowned at his open tome. His comfort versus the oddity versus who was on the other side of it all came into battle with each other but only one was the winner and it had Matthew rolling out of bed to come stand in front of the blasted book.]
Come on, man. I need backup. I've got — are you alone? [Even after he gets confirmation, Cassidy relegates his voice to a loud whisper.] I got a face-full of some kinda pollen, and everything went sideways, and now me clothes are covered in blood. Do you understand what I am sayin', here, mate?
Hurriedly, Matt threw some pants and a shirt on, slipping into his shoes before gathering a pair of pants and his only t-shirt that he'd only worn as long as it'd taken him to get a proper suit. No doubt it'd find a better home on Cassidy than at the bottom of his closet.
All in all and with his celerity granted back to him, Matthew was dressed and out the door in all of a minute and would be strolling towards the edge of town in less then 4 minutes, clothes hanging from his clenched fist. The threat of blood came with so many possibilities and for the first time Matt wished he had his sword-cane with him. Just in case.
"Cassidy?" It was a projected hushed voice, meant to blanket the small area around him without pinging anyone's ears that might otherwise notice him yelling out at nothing.
He Ming and Cassidy hadn’t been far into the Wilds — they’d only retreated a little ways, into a heavily wooded area that then opened up into a clearing. Cassidy was waiting among the trees when Matt arrived, and even as fast as he’d been, Cassidy had had enough time to clean himself up as well as he could — having shed his shirt and used the cleaner parts as a towel for his face and arms.
Cassidy gave a quick, high whistle, followed by a hiss through his teeth. “Over here!”
The shirt in his hands was nothing more than a blood-soaked rag now, and when Matt saw Cassidy, he’d see the gleam of violence still in his eyes. The pollen’s effects hadn’t worn off — they were just being suppressed by more urgent business.
“Come on. He’s through here.” Wiping his hands one more time on his shirt, Cassidy stepped back into the clearing.
He Ming was there. Prone on the ground, on his back, and alive — barely. His eyes were wide and distant, his mouth open in a persistent gasp that every few seconds made an audible gurgle.
There was a gaping tear in his neck, the flesh ragged and seeping a now weak trail of blood onto the ground.
“He won’t have long now.” Cassidy stepped over He Ming, crouched down over him. Studied him for a moment with a raised eyebrow. He’d been easy to give the young man up for dead, but another idea was striking him. “Your thing with the — with the healing,” he directed at Matt, gesturing toward his own neck, “does it work on people you’ve not bitten?”
The hiss caught his attention as intended, drawing the vampire silently in that direction with only a hasty glance around underneath his heavily drawn brow. He could smell the blood on Cassidy's hands and on the rag in them, and there was a hint of familiarity about it all that he couldn't quite put his finger on yet.
"He?" Matt questioned, eyes narrowing with a tightness around them and his short stride became more hurried as he strode after the man.
His feet stopped short at the familiar body laying on the ground before him, chest building with a sudden, incredulous fury.
"Tellement pour ton grand cheval," he growled angrily as his celerity carried him from there to here in less then a blink of an eye.
"No," he answered, voice full of his fire and restraint as he pitched the clean clothes at Cassidy's face before peeling off his jacket and throwing it to the side as he dropped to his knees. His sleeves were rolled up with the same speed he'd used to move and in a half second, they were gently lifting He Ming up.
No, Matthew's spit couldn't close what he hadn't opened, but he'd had the idea many many years ago on how to get around that. The body only need think that he was the last one to rip and tear, if he could scratch enough of the open surfaces, there was a solid chance he'd be able to heal it. Perhaps not as cleanly as his own, but enough to save He Ming's life.
"But we're not totally lost," he muttered, fangs coming out with the words. He hated doing things this way - it was only going to get messier. It was made worse by his own effects; his cock stirred in his pants, throat burning gently for fresh blood, all of which disgusted him. This was not the time for such things.
The crunch of fangs through flesh echoed in his ears, tongue following swiftly afterwards, trying his best to only get the edges of the ragged wound and not healthy, in piece flesh. He Ming's persistent gasping would stop in favor of one sharp inhale that was let out with a faint sound as he took to a more normal breathing.
A good minute passed before Matthew lifted his head, mouth and face smeared with blood in a wholly disgraceful, blatant call to what he truly was, to see his handywork.
"We need to get him to a healer, Cassidy, or risk my having missed something and him continuing to bleed into his lungs." Dark eyes finally came up, and there was something expectant about them. "I must ask - do you chew, or do you just eat them whole."
Because from where he stood, Cassidy had zero ground to stand on about Matthew's feeding habits anymore.
Cassidy raised his arms just in time to fumble the clothes out of midair, and stood in one smooth motion to back up, to give both of them space. At first, he just watched, morbidly curious of what Matt was going to do -- when it became clear that it was going to take more than a few seconds, he set about getting dressed.
He tugged the shirt over his head while Matt was still doing -- whatever it was -- and compulsively wiped the back of his head across his mouth. He thought he could still feel blood there. Even when his hand came back clean, he sucked on his bottom lip, another nervous, keyed-up impulse.
He Ming wasn't going to die. At least not right away. That changed things entirely. Whatever aftermath awaited when people who weren't vampires found out about this was going to come a lot faster. When Matt finally looked up, he'd see that Cassidy's eyes were no less intense than before, only now there was more fear in them.
The judgement prompted a defensive shift in him. His eyes blinked even wider, and he jabbed a hand down through the air in He Ming's direction.
"You don't think I bloody meant for this to happen?! We'd had a coupla drinks, we were out for a walk -- I told 'ya, this is some fairy shite!"
"Of course not," he said, lip curling slightly. Despite his teped fury over He Ming finding himself in this position again, Matt knew what kind of person Cassidy was. Bloodthirsty and violent was not normally in his kit.
"But you need'ta figure out how to control that before you do something that can't be undone."
Wiping his mouth across his forearm, Matthew started hefting and pulling He Ming into his arm, standing with a single swift motion. He'd have Cassidy do it but frankly, he didn't want to risk it.
Being told what to do had Cassidy’s hackles rising, a feeling in his throat like if he said anything, it’d come out as a growl.
A deep drink of blood tended to have two effects, outside of healing any injuries. The first was sobering — it had always reliably kicked Cassidy out of a high. The second was a period of hightened senses. Colors looked a bit brighter, sounds and scents were more keen. Whatever the pollen was, it wasn’t a drug in the conventional sense, but the increased alertness at least made Cassidy aware that it was still affecting him. Gave him an edge, if only a tiny one, in resisting it. For now.
Who knew how long that would last.
Cassidy summed all of those thoughts up in a muttered swear — “Bollocks” — and kicked his ruined clothes into the heavy brush, where they were just hidden enough. That’d have to do. It wasn’t as if any of this was likely to remain a secret.
He'd been called to help and help he would. Unless Cassidy had any brilliant ideas in his head, Matthew was running off of centuries of doing stupid shit and not getting torched for it.
But for now, so long as Cassidy fell into step with him, things were fine.
"We can ding-dong ditch when we get there. I don't know what they'll be able to tell from his neck alone but if they're worth their salt, they'll heal him. The only good news here is that He Ming seems to be... resistant to death."
At least Matthew's go of it was prettier. "We can hope that'll be enough."
Arguably, a 'good' man would stay with He Ming, make sure he was alright. Matthew was not a good man. He'd left He Ming in a similar state with no additional comforts.
“Sure they’ll fix him up so he can get back to bein’ a sex puppet with the rest of us.”
Cassidy spared one more glance over his shoulder as they left the clearing, taking a mental photograph. There was a chance he’d decide that leaving the evidence behind was a mistake.
“‘Resistant to death...’” he echoed as he turned back. “What — how d’you mean?”
Matt slid an admonishing, hard glance over at Cassidy at the quip, disliking the casual, bitter tone in the face of someone Matt cared about dying, but the indignation was tempered by the shallowly breathing man in his arms and the need to mark where his feet were going.
"You aren't the first one to put him on the edge of death here," he replied stoically, eyes on the path. "There's.."
Now that Matt thought back on it, he hadn't had time to ask He Ming what had happened. The lean man was smooth with his manipulation and it was only the thought of it now that let him see. His feet slowed to a stop and he stared sharply down at He Ming.
"I had meant to ask him," Matthew continued, voice now dark but far away as he vocalized his realizations to loop Cassidy in as well as get them out into the air. "But he distracted me. Used my guilt as an emotional hook - merde."
The swear was more present sounding then the rest. "He's not like the rest of them. I don't know how, mon ami, but he's not wholly human. He's too good." Matt looked over at Cass then, to give a little more context.
Apparently, He Ming and the Healers had dropped in priority.
"You may or may not have noticed that when I talk to people, they generally agree with me. A power of my own, not terribly dissimilar in theory to your Jesse. It's a valuable tool, one I can't control, but use nonetheless - he must have something similar. What were you guys talking about?"
The insinuation that Matt had previously put He Ming in a similar situation earned him a wide-eyed, eyebrow-cocked look in return. That implied... a lot of things. Things which Cassidy was going to just file away for the moment.
That same look on his face was replicated when Matt started describing his ability, and speculating that He Ming had something similar going on. The intensity of Cassidy's gaze shifted from Matt to He Ming. The little bastard had always seemed especially magnetic.
"Well, we was — he was havin' a flirt at me. Talkin' about tryin' new things."
"And I'm guessing that got you.. going?" Matt arched a heavy eyebrow at him with the question. "Your 'new things' include any kind of biting, blood play? Or did he just get your engine going?"
Whatever blame his tone had held while he was hunched over He Ming was gone. There was a leveling to be had and that meant a conversation. If nothing else, he was able to start them forward again.
Revelation or not, He Ming still needed attention.
The words nearly exploded out of him. The pollen's effects were still clawing at the inside of his skull, the blood still making everything bright.
"We were — we were kissin', and I stepped away for two minutes, and there were these bloody pod things that burst open and shot pollen at me face. I wasn't thinkin' about attackin' him before then! But then all I could see was that fuckin' sly little pouty smile of his..."
He looked down at He Ming, and his lip curled. He'd never been this worked up over a bloke. Maybe there was something more to this than the fairy magic.
The explosion of an answer had his other eyebrow lifting to match it's mate and a 'well then' kind of expression that was turned back towards their path. Bursts of emotion weren't unfamiliar to him and he'd learned long ago how to be unfazed by it.
Things you had to learn when you were dealing with Malkavians who often went on tangents for no reason..
..Not that he and his clan were any better.
Moving on, Matt glanced down at He Ming before looking back up, judging where they were and adjusting their course accordingly. Nearly there - they'd be coming into the edges of town soon.
"And shutting him up?" A feeling that Matthew often shared, though his solution for silencing He Ming had everything to do with his cock and repertoire he'd built with the man. "Let us hope the Patrons understand, overlook, if they've seen. I don't know how it works."
"Well, what happened last time?" The last time someone put He Ming in a similar situation. "Presumably, not a hell of a lot."
If Matt was still walking about free. If he couldn't point to any sort of punishment he'd suffered. That implied the fairies hadn't seen, hadn't heard, or didn't care.
Cassidy shot one more silent look over his shoulder, realizing he couldn't count on that last option. Yeah, he was definitely going to go back for the evidence as soon as possible.
"Not a damned thing, and that's what worries me," Matt replied darkly. "Either he's dumb or he's stupid or he's fantastically smart. I can't decide."
It was the blunt truth. Not to say that Matthew wasn't grateful; he very much was since no one enjoyed the consequences of those kind of actions, but it put him in debt with He Ming after a fashion and it was that which he disliked so sharply.
"It's possible he might do the same for you."
Pulling up next to a building, Matt gestured with his head for Cassidy to take the lead. "I can't look around corners at this moment, wanna..?"
The way Cassidy said it, he was mired in his own indecision. He didn't know whether he admired or despised He Ming for being so wily. Probably a bit of both.
"One sec." He brushed past Matt and around the corner of the building, giving it a second before: "Yeah, it's all clear."
"At least he's more then just that," Matt conceded. It might have been a shallow point but if they were going to be manipulated, it might as well be from someone worth the suffering of it.
At Cassidy's word, Matt rounded the corner and glanced back at the taller man.
"Stay here."
It was a good four or five hundred yards between them and the healer's door and Matthew blurred as he tapped into his celerity, traveling half the distance in the space of a half a breath, reaching the door more quickly then the pair of them ever would have.
Ding Dong Ditch was a common practice for 14 year old shitheads and it was a practice Matthew employed now, carefully laying He Ming down on their stoop, knocking, and legging it around the nearest corner. A second later, he was coming up around the back of the building they'd started at.
"C'mon," he hissed softly under his breath. "Time for us to fuck off."
Cassidy was a bit goggle-eyed at the speed with which Matt had executed that move — while it wasn't the first time he'd gotten a glimpse at Matt's celerity, it was the first time he'd gotten a really good view of it. He'd follow if Matt headed off, keeping pace as long as it was possible.
"Now, there's plenty of places to lay low." He started counting them off on his fingers: "Hysterium, our respective rooms in the castle... heard there's a hookah bar I've not been to yet..."
"Legging it is a particular Clan talent of mine," he said darkly, choosing to ignore the best and primary use he'd had for it not too many decades ago and the nickname he'd earned being clean amid the trench of blood he'd caused.
His pace was kept reasonable when with company that couldn't move as quickly as he could, but he looked sidelong at Cassidy as they walked, keeping well within the treeline.
"Secret speakeasy might be the ticket, but there's drugs in my room and that's where I'd like to be. You coming or am I forcibly relocating myself?" Because no, he wasn't just going to 'let him go' after coming to clean up a rather ugly kind of mess. He wasn't going to chance taking any responsibility as the Elder, for this mishap.
“The secret speakeasy that’s not so secret,” Cassidy sneered, by way of agreement. “Plus, paid-for drinks versus free drugs? Castle it is.”
Now that the primary concerns had been taken care of, there was space for the predatory gleam to slip back into his eyes. It was there in the sidelong glance he sent in Matt’s direction before focusing on the path in front of them.
Maybe Matt was only thinking about getting to his stash. Cassidy was thinking back to their previous tumble out in the Wilds, and how the balance of power had come down in one particular direction, and how he’d rather like to try returning the favor.
"Kill enough people and it will be again." It wasn't humor - his mind was too busy, whirling around between his ears in a way that left him not minding what came out of his mouth as they treked over and under branches. He needed a hit, he needed the distraction, and badly so. He could feel his feathers ruffling again with a restlessness he couldn't quite define.
"But good. Saves me the energy otherwise spent on a smile. Speaking of, have you managed to get a hold of any of the mushrooms yet? Considering how poorly we failed at our task last time, I'm thinking of sending one of the humans out to do it. A pretty please and some bullshit about it opening at dusk or something.."
It didn't sound like a joke, and it hit Cassidy's ear oddly in the nanosecond before he remembered, oh right, he had just almost killed someone.
"You hopin' to stop me from some sort of rampage?" That was a joke, or at least was meant to be one. Then he felt the thirst at the back of his throat. He stepped on a twig, and the snap of it stabbed into his ear. "...that's a solid plan. Good thinkin', mate."
The mushrooms — something else to think about for a stretch. "Haven't made a lot of treks out this way. Probably for good bloody reason. We should've stayed in the bar; then this never would've happened."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Audio; April 15th
Mate.
[There's a tense, focused calm in Cassidy's voice. With as long as Matt's lived and the things he's done, it might be a tone he's heard from himself a time or two before.]
We've got a problem. If you're not balls-deep in somebody, I need 'ya to meet me at the edge of the Wilds. Bring a fresh set of clothes.
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What's-.. [Had he heard 'fresh clothes'? Matt shifted and frowned at his open tome. His comfort versus the oddity versus who was on the other side of it all came into battle with each other but only one was the winner and it had Matthew rolling out of bed to come stand in front of the blasted book.]
Come again?
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Painfully so, I'm afraid. Hold tight.
--
Hurriedly, Matt threw some pants and a shirt on, slipping into his shoes before gathering a pair of pants and his only t-shirt that he'd only worn as long as it'd taken him to get a proper suit. No doubt it'd find a better home on Cassidy than at the bottom of his closet.
All in all and with his celerity granted back to him, Matthew was dressed and out the door in all of a minute and would be strolling towards the edge of town in less then 4 minutes, clothes hanging from his clenched fist. The threat of blood came with so many possibilities and for the first time Matt wished he had his sword-cane with him. Just in case.
"Cassidy?" It was a projected hushed voice, meant to blanket the small area around him without pinging anyone's ears that might otherwise notice him yelling out at nothing.
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Cassidy gave a quick, high whistle, followed by a hiss through his teeth. “Over here!”
The shirt in his hands was nothing more than a blood-soaked rag now, and when Matt saw Cassidy, he’d see the gleam of violence still in his eyes. The pollen’s effects hadn’t worn off — they were just being suppressed by more urgent business.
“Come on. He’s through here.” Wiping his hands one more time on his shirt, Cassidy stepped back into the clearing.
He Ming was there. Prone on the ground, on his back, and alive — barely. His eyes were wide and distant, his mouth open in a persistent gasp that every few seconds made an audible gurgle.
There was a gaping tear in his neck, the flesh ragged and seeping a now weak trail of blood onto the ground.
“He won’t have long now.” Cassidy stepped over He Ming, crouched down over him. Studied him for a moment with a raised eyebrow. He’d been easy to give the young man up for dead, but another idea was striking him. “Your thing with the — with the healing,” he directed at Matt, gesturing toward his own neck, “does it work on people you’ve not bitten?”
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"He?" Matt questioned, eyes narrowing with a tightness around them and his short stride became more hurried as he strode after the man.
His feet stopped short at the familiar body laying on the ground before him, chest building with a sudden, incredulous fury.
"Tellement pour ton grand cheval," he growled angrily as his celerity carried him from there to here in less then a blink of an eye.
"No," he answered, voice full of his fire and restraint as he pitched the clean clothes at Cassidy's face before peeling off his jacket and throwing it to the side as he dropped to his knees. His sleeves were rolled up with the same speed he'd used to move and in a half second, they were gently lifting He Ming up.
No, Matthew's spit couldn't close what he hadn't opened, but he'd had the idea many many years ago on how to get around that. The body only need think that he was the last one to rip and tear, if he could scratch enough of the open surfaces, there was a solid chance he'd be able to heal it. Perhaps not as cleanly as his own, but enough to save He Ming's life.
"But we're not totally lost," he muttered, fangs coming out with the words. He hated doing things this way - it was only going to get messier. It was made worse by his own effects; his cock stirred in his pants, throat burning gently for fresh blood, all of which disgusted him. This was not the time for such things.
The crunch of fangs through flesh echoed in his ears, tongue following swiftly afterwards, trying his best to only get the edges of the ragged wound and not healthy, in piece flesh. He Ming's persistent gasping would stop in favor of one sharp inhale that was let out with a faint sound as he took to a more normal breathing.
A good minute passed before Matthew lifted his head, mouth and face smeared with blood in a wholly disgraceful, blatant call to what he truly was, to see his handywork.
"We need to get him to a healer, Cassidy, or risk my having missed something and him continuing to bleed into his lungs." Dark eyes finally came up, and there was something expectant about them. "I must ask - do you chew, or do you just eat them whole."
Because from where he stood, Cassidy had zero ground to stand on about Matthew's feeding habits anymore.
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He tugged the shirt over his head while Matt was still doing -- whatever it was -- and compulsively wiped the back of his head across his mouth. He thought he could still feel blood there. Even when his hand came back clean, he sucked on his bottom lip, another nervous, keyed-up impulse.
He Ming wasn't going to die. At least not right away. That changed things entirely. Whatever aftermath awaited when people who weren't vampires found out about this was going to come a lot faster. When Matt finally looked up, he'd see that Cassidy's eyes were no less intense than before, only now there was more fear in them.
The judgement prompted a defensive shift in him. His eyes blinked even wider, and he jabbed a hand down through the air in He Ming's direction.
"You don't think I bloody meant for this to happen?! We'd had a coupla drinks, we were out for a walk -- I told 'ya, this is some fairy shite!"
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"But you need'ta figure out how to control that before you do something that can't be undone."
Wiping his mouth across his forearm, Matthew started hefting and pulling He Ming into his arm, standing with a single swift motion. He'd have Cassidy do it but frankly, he didn't want to risk it.
"C'mon. Him first. Then we'll worry about you."
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A deep drink of blood tended to have two effects, outside of healing any injuries. The first was sobering — it had always reliably kicked Cassidy out of a high. The second was a period of hightened senses. Colors looked a bit brighter, sounds and scents were more keen. Whatever the pollen was, it wasn’t a drug in the conventional sense, but the increased alertness at least made Cassidy aware that it was still affecting him. Gave him an edge, if only a tiny one, in resisting it. For now.
Who knew how long that would last.
Cassidy summed all of those thoughts up in a muttered swear — “Bollocks” — and kicked his ruined clothes into the heavy brush, where they were just hidden enough. That’d have to do. It wasn’t as if any of this was likely to remain a secret.
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But for now, so long as Cassidy fell into step with him, things were fine.
"We can ding-dong ditch when we get there. I don't know what they'll be able to tell from his neck alone but if they're worth their salt, they'll heal him. The only good news here is that He Ming seems to be... resistant to death."
At least Matthew's go of it was prettier. "We can hope that'll be enough."
Arguably, a 'good' man would stay with He Ming, make sure he was alright. Matthew was not a good man. He'd left He Ming in a similar state with no additional comforts.
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Cassidy spared one more glance over his shoulder as they left the clearing, taking a mental photograph. There was a chance he’d decide that leaving the evidence behind was a mistake.
“‘Resistant to death...’” he echoed as he turned back. “What — how d’you mean?”
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"You aren't the first one to put him on the edge of death here," he replied stoically, eyes on the path. "There's.."
Now that Matt thought back on it, he hadn't had time to ask He Ming what had happened. The lean man was smooth with his manipulation and it was only the thought of it now that let him see. His feet slowed to a stop and he stared sharply down at He Ming.
"I had meant to ask him," Matthew continued, voice now dark but far away as he vocalized his realizations to loop Cassidy in as well as get them out into the air. "But he distracted me. Used my guilt as an emotional hook - merde."
The swear was more present sounding then the rest. "He's not like the rest of them. I don't know how, mon ami, but he's not wholly human. He's too good." Matt looked over at Cass then, to give a little more context.
Apparently, He Ming and the Healers had dropped in priority.
"You may or may not have noticed that when I talk to people, they generally agree with me. A power of my own, not terribly dissimilar in theory to your Jesse. It's a valuable tool, one I can't control, but use nonetheless - he must have something similar. What were you guys talking about?"
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That same look on his face was replicated when Matt started describing his ability, and speculating that He Ming had something similar going on. The intensity of Cassidy's gaze shifted from Matt to He Ming. The little bastard had always seemed especially magnetic.
"Well, we was — he was havin' a flirt at me. Talkin' about tryin' new things."
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Whatever blame his tone had held while he was hunched over He Ming was gone. There was a leveling to be had and that meant a conversation. If nothing else, he was able to start them forward again.
Revelation or not, He Ming still needed attention.
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The words nearly exploded out of him. The pollen's effects were still clawing at the inside of his skull, the blood still making everything bright.
"We were — we were kissin', and I stepped away for two minutes, and there were these bloody pod things that burst open and shot pollen at me face. I wasn't thinkin' about attackin' him before then! But then all I could see was that fuckin' sly little pouty smile of his..."
He looked down at He Ming, and his lip curled. He'd never been this worked up over a bloke. Maybe there was something more to this than the fairy magic.
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Things you had to learn when you were dealing with Malkavians who often went on tangents for no reason..
..Not that he and his clan were any better.
Moving on, Matt glanced down at He Ming before looking back up, judging where they were and adjusting their course accordingly. Nearly there - they'd be coming into the edges of town soon.
"And shutting him up?" A feeling that Matthew often shared, though his solution for silencing He Ming had everything to do with his cock and repertoire he'd built with the man. "Let us hope the Patrons understand, overlook, if they've seen. I don't know how it works."
And that bothered him more than anything else.
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If Matt was still walking about free. If he couldn't point to any sort of punishment he'd suffered. That implied the fairies hadn't seen, hadn't heard, or didn't care.
Cassidy shot one more silent look over his shoulder, realizing he couldn't count on that last option. Yeah, he was definitely going to go back for the evidence as soon as possible.
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It was the blunt truth. Not to say that Matthew wasn't grateful; he very much was since no one enjoyed the consequences of those kind of actions, but it put him in debt with He Ming after a fashion and it was that which he disliked so sharply.
"It's possible he might do the same for you."
Pulling up next to a building, Matt gestured with his head for Cassidy to take the lead. "I can't look around corners at this moment, wanna..?"
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The way Cassidy said it, he was mired in his own indecision. He didn't know whether he admired or despised He Ming for being so wily. Probably a bit of both.
"One sec." He brushed past Matt and around the corner of the building, giving it a second before: "Yeah, it's all clear."
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At Cassidy's word, Matt rounded the corner and glanced back at the taller man.
"Stay here."
It was a good four or five hundred yards between them and the healer's door and Matthew blurred as he tapped into his celerity, traveling half the distance in the space of a half a breath, reaching the door more quickly then the pair of them ever would have.
Ding Dong Ditch was a common practice for 14 year old shitheads and it was a practice Matthew employed now, carefully laying He Ming down on their stoop, knocking, and legging it around the nearest corner. A second later, he was coming up around the back of the building they'd started at.
"C'mon," he hissed softly under his breath. "Time for us to fuck off."
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Cassidy was a bit goggle-eyed at the speed with which Matt had executed that move — while it wasn't the first time he'd gotten a glimpse at Matt's celerity, it was the first time he'd gotten a really good view of it. He'd follow if Matt headed off, keeping pace as long as it was possible.
"Now, there's plenty of places to lay low." He started counting them off on his fingers: "Hysterium, our respective rooms in the castle... heard there's a hookah bar I've not been to yet..."
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His pace was kept reasonable when with company that couldn't move as quickly as he could, but he looked sidelong at Cassidy as they walked, keeping well within the treeline.
"Secret speakeasy might be the ticket, but there's drugs in my room and that's where I'd like to be. You coming or am I forcibly relocating myself?" Because no, he wasn't just going to 'let him go' after coming to clean up a rather ugly kind of mess. He wasn't going to chance taking any responsibility as the Elder, for this mishap.
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Now that the primary concerns had been taken care of, there was space for the predatory gleam to slip back into his eyes. It was there in the sidelong glance he sent in Matt’s direction before focusing on the path in front of them.
Maybe Matt was only thinking about getting to his stash. Cassidy was thinking back to their previous tumble out in the Wilds, and how the balance of power had come down in one particular direction, and how he’d rather like to try returning the favor.
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"But good. Saves me the energy otherwise spent on a smile. Speaking of, have you managed to get a hold of any of the mushrooms yet? Considering how poorly we failed at our task last time, I'm thinking of sending one of the humans out to do it. A pretty please and some bullshit about it opening at dusk or something.."
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"You hopin' to stop me from some sort of rampage?" That was a joke, or at least was meant to be one. Then he felt the thirst at the back of his throat. He stepped on a twig, and the snap of it stabbed into his ear. "...that's a solid plan. Good thinkin', mate."
The mushrooms — something else to think about for a stretch. "Haven't made a lot of treks out this way. Probably for good bloody reason. We should've stayed in the bar; then this never would've happened."
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