“I need you to retrieve him.”
She was being a bit vague he surmised as he ran stood but a few paces behind her. The ‘her’ in question was running a brush through her brown-black curls. He watched her work at the vanity in her room, meeting her bright emerald gaze in the mirror. She must have noted the curl of his brow because she stopped, reached for a photo, and held it up to him to take. Which he did.
“I don’t know what his last name is, if he even has one. But he goes by Axel.”
Marcus glanced at the image of the dark-skinned male in a hoodie. It was a pass-and-grab sort of photo. Something someone took on a phone.
“The address where he lives is written on the back.”
“Can I ask what you want him for?” Marcus inquired, finally saying something.
“We’ve talked about this, you and I. The world has changed, and we need to change with it. We need an addition to our family and he fits the bill—alone, poor, no real ties to the world. His skillset will do, even if he’s not the absolute best.” She’d been focused on her hair, brushing it again, but she paused once more to turn and look at him; one hand gripped the iron-metal of her chair back. She smiled. “It’s been jus the two of us for such a long time. Are you afraid, piccolo drago?”
She wasn’t Italian; not by a long shot. But she had the look, in a way, and felt it suited her to favor it when giving him pet names. As for how he felt... he didn’t know. It didn’t matter, regardless, if it was her will. And he would endure, just as he always did.
“What I feel is of no concern; I’ll do as you bid, Isabella-sama.” He bowed even as she smiled on.
She turned back to work on her hair. “It’s in New York, so I expect you won’t be back for a few days. Take the jet, but be mindful of the time. And Marcus?”
“Yes?’ he asked, stopping just before he left the room.
“Don’t be too rough.”
___
To say it was in Marcus’ nature to be spooky would be not be entirely incorrect. Spooky though, perhaps, wasn’t the best word. He wasn’t trying to be, at any rate. Cautious. He was being cautious. And he had every right to be. His mistress had failed to mention to him that the man he was obtaining was in fact therian. He’d like to think she’d simply forgotten, but he knew better.
The moment he’d walked into the empty studio apartment he could smell it everywhere. In his dirty clothes, his sheets, his shower. His nose had curled at the scent and he exhaled in a half growl, half hiss; though, he wasn’t certain if the sound were simply because he could not help it given what he was, or, if were directed at Isabella-sama herself. And why would she keep that tidbit to herself? He would not have said no; there was no one else should ask, or trust, to retrieve him.
But back to being spooky.
He hadn’t been there long before there’d been noises outside the door—keys in the lock. Instinctively, he’d slipped into the shadows. His form didn’t merely burrow into a corner, but instead he invoked the shadows themselves and disappeared into nothing—observing when the therian male finally entered his room. He watched as he tossed his backpack into the kitchenette area’s sink, the chips towards his computer, and then as he himself slipped out of his clothes and into his impossibly small bathroom.
Marcus ran a hand through loose strands as he gazed at the computer. That, in all likelihood, would have to come with them. But he could send people for that; there were those who owed him a few favors in these neck of the woods that would get it done to his standards. He was more inclined to replace it, but knowing what he did from what little time he’d dealt with techs... they didn’t like leaving their... devices... behind like ill-begotten tired toys.
Once that matter was resolved, once he felt as if he’d grown accustomed to the scent of everything, he stepped back out of the shadows; they curled and retreated around him and back from whence they came with not a sound.
Curls, more like lazy waves, of his black tresses were coming loose from the red ribbon he’d tied his mane back with. His attire for the evening was perhaps more imposing than it should be, but he felt better for it given what he was facing.
Black slacks, black long sleeved shirt, and all of it trimmed in dulled gold. The shirt itself was more like a coat, reaching just to his knees. And the whole ensemble looked like something one might see in a modern Asian film. The fabric was comfortable and cut for easy movement—a Japanese silk mixed with something else.
He debated activating his armor and sword, thumb rolling over the ring on his right hand. One didn’t walk about with such things on anymore; not in the modern age when it seemed so out of place and got mouths yapping.
The pup was young... but... the same sense of caution from earlier sprang anew and he made his decision. In a blink, his thumb swept more earnestly over the ring, intention made more prominent, as the sword appeared on his hip—a katana that had seen him through far too many ages. Next came the armor; though, this was a bit newer: silver over the knees in layers and around his thighs, shins, along his shoulders, his arms, and bit along his chest.
Once satisfied, Marcus strode to the bathroom. He half considered waiting until the pup was finished, but didn’t think it was prudent to give him any kind of advantage. Fingers wrapped about the hilt of his sheathed blade as he walked in. The pup was already in the shower; which was good, there wasn’t much space to hold two men outside of it.
“Are you Axel?” he asked into the curtain, half wondering if this were going to be difficult to accomplish. Isabella-sama had said he was poor with no real ties in the world. However, that didn’t mean he’d make this easy. And given that he was a therian... He half wondered if he’d smelled Marcus already. The fact that he hadn't acknowledged him at all made Marcus tense, wondering if he were playing possum this whole time.
Sometimes I feel like a girl~... sometimes I don't~
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Pooch Poaching [Closed] - by skiesofpurple - 03-18-2017, 03:35 AM
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RE: Pooch Poaching [Closed] - by skiesofpurple - 04-12-2017, 08:05 PM