As ever he is awake.
He doesn't need sleep, just as it was before, only periods of rest to recharge his batteries, as his Willow is fond of saying.
His Willow, his Lady. For once to be his, without restrictions, without interference, as it always should have been. Would have been, if he hadn't been playing silly little hide-and-seek games with himself.
But now the time has come to remember again, for things to be the way they were at the beginning.
Briefly, he wonders to himself if perhaps it's the beginning of the end...the final iteration before they take the last plunge together.
If it is, in truth, he looks forward to it. This has been a long, long time coming, and in truth he's simply thankful to have found her, for the circle to complete itself.
In the end, the universe wastes nothing. All things must change.
That day will be many years in the future, naught but an eyeblink in the overall design.
In truth, it doesn't matter. His entire existence has been about the moment, always with an eye to the future but never at the expense of living.
Such as the Shelter. Looking around from the bed he and Avy share, he fancies he can see through the walls - not that he can, of course. X-ray vision would be a little too cliche, and it'd take away some of the unexpected delight of being surprised by some poor fool thinking a knife or gun might be the solution to the lean Irishman.
But his hearing is more than surpassingly excellent, so much so that he can pick out individual footsteps, even heartbeats. And he knows the theater, its layout and acoustics, well enough that he knows where everything - and everyone - is within the theater itself, and can even pick out things well outside the grounds.
Like the sound of a stealthy footstep.
The wards aren't tripped, and he knows the footsteps of everyone in the theater. Not the twins, who are sleeping a few rooms down. Not Sky, who he can't hear thanks to her soundproofed room, and thus knows it's not her. Not Avy, fast asleep at his side.
More curious than concerned, he moves gently away from her, only to look back and find her piercing green eyes upon him, already alert, tense. "Wha' is i', luv?"
He gives her a smile, shaking his head as he pulls on a pair of pants. "Ye worry too much, darlin'."
She glares at him, but there's no force behind it, no real strength. "Ye cannae blame me, ye know...Ah know wha' i's like t'be on th' inside, th' way they work."
He moves in close to her, settling in to curl against her for a moment with a smile that is both tender, and a little scary in its intensity, made greater by the utter conviction in his voice. "They'll nae dare t'come here an' face me, darlin'. An' if they do, they'll regre' it."
Leaning in closer, he puts his fingers under her chin, tilting her head up to press his lips soft and tender, lingeringly to hers. He can feel the hunger in hers as her arms begin to come up to lace around his neck, and he raises his own hands to stop them gently, looking into her eyes with that rogue's grin. "Ah wan' ye t'hold ontae tha' though' fer me, luv." With a wink and a swift peck to her lips, he's gone. little more than the barest streak of a blur.
He's up on the roof, looking over the street below, when he hears her grumble out easily loud enough for him to hear. "Och, ye know Ah hate i' when ye do tha'."
He chuckles to himself, looking down into the shadows. He can hear soft breathing, a heartbeat easily now the walls aren't in the way, and a moment later a short, stocky man emerges from one shadow to move to another, heading for the theater, taking his time, watching his surrounding carefully.
Odd.
The man is definitely watching the theater, though, without a doubt. It's enough to make Finn a bit more curious.
Pushing from the roof, he sails over the man's head, well over, taking advantage of the night's darkness to move unseen and float down to land behind the man lightly as a feather, and almost as quietly. "I's not a good idea t'go sneakin' round this part o'town in the wee hours, friend. D'ye need help findin' summat?"
The man is good, despite his stocky and somewhat goofy appearance - swift as lightning he's turned around, a pistol in his hand, before he relaxes. "Oh. S'you. Yer Finn, right?" The man addresses him with a New York accent, one that he has to fight against wincing at. He's never really liked it much. Without waiting for an answer, he shoves an envelope towards Finn, who takes it from him. "There. Message delivered." Turning around, he stalks away, muttering something about being 'reduced to a delivery boy.'
He watches the man go, shaking his head and wondering what that was about, before turning his attention to the envelope as he walks back towards the theater. Tearing it open, he pulls out the single, thick sheet of parchment inside, expensive paper with a familiar black, red and orange logo on the top. Under it is a handwritten message.
Finn,
After having discussed it with my primary advisers, this proposed project of yours sounds like a worthwhile investment of time and resources. Send me a proposed budget and any other needs you may require at your earliest convenience.
Ed
A moment later he's upstairs, in the room with Avy. "So, love, it seems we'll have no trouble at all getting what we need to pull this thing together."
She takes the letter from him, scanning it over with a widening grin, her brilliant greens lighting up as she puts it aside. "Well, now tha' there're nae more distractions, tha' sounds like a good reason tae celebrate."
She doesn't give him the chance to answer as she pulls him into her embrace, which he goes into willingly. Her lips place a soft kiss on his ear before she murmurs softly to him. "Come t'bed, lover...there's still a li'l night left."
He doesn't need sleep, just as it was before, only periods of rest to recharge his batteries, as his Willow is fond of saying.
His Willow, his Lady. For once to be his, without restrictions, without interference, as it always should have been. Would have been, if he hadn't been playing silly little hide-and-seek games with himself.
But now the time has come to remember again, for things to be the way they were at the beginning.
Briefly, he wonders to himself if perhaps it's the beginning of the end...the final iteration before they take the last plunge together.
If it is, in truth, he looks forward to it. This has been a long, long time coming, and in truth he's simply thankful to have found her, for the circle to complete itself.
In the end, the universe wastes nothing. All things must change.
That day will be many years in the future, naught but an eyeblink in the overall design.
In truth, it doesn't matter. His entire existence has been about the moment, always with an eye to the future but never at the expense of living.
Such as the Shelter. Looking around from the bed he and Avy share, he fancies he can see through the walls - not that he can, of course. X-ray vision would be a little too cliche, and it'd take away some of the unexpected delight of being surprised by some poor fool thinking a knife or gun might be the solution to the lean Irishman.
But his hearing is more than surpassingly excellent, so much so that he can pick out individual footsteps, even heartbeats. And he knows the theater, its layout and acoustics, well enough that he knows where everything - and everyone - is within the theater itself, and can even pick out things well outside the grounds.
Like the sound of a stealthy footstep.
The wards aren't tripped, and he knows the footsteps of everyone in the theater. Not the twins, who are sleeping a few rooms down. Not Sky, who he can't hear thanks to her soundproofed room, and thus knows it's not her. Not Avy, fast asleep at his side.
More curious than concerned, he moves gently away from her, only to look back and find her piercing green eyes upon him, already alert, tense. "Wha' is i', luv?"
He gives her a smile, shaking his head as he pulls on a pair of pants. "Ye worry too much, darlin'."
She glares at him, but there's no force behind it, no real strength. "Ye cannae blame me, ye know...Ah know wha' i's like t'be on th' inside, th' way they work."
He moves in close to her, settling in to curl against her for a moment with a smile that is both tender, and a little scary in its intensity, made greater by the utter conviction in his voice. "They'll nae dare t'come here an' face me, darlin'. An' if they do, they'll regre' it."
Leaning in closer, he puts his fingers under her chin, tilting her head up to press his lips soft and tender, lingeringly to hers. He can feel the hunger in hers as her arms begin to come up to lace around his neck, and he raises his own hands to stop them gently, looking into her eyes with that rogue's grin. "Ah wan' ye t'hold ontae tha' though' fer me, luv." With a wink and a swift peck to her lips, he's gone. little more than the barest streak of a blur.
He's up on the roof, looking over the street below, when he hears her grumble out easily loud enough for him to hear. "Och, ye know Ah hate i' when ye do tha'."
He chuckles to himself, looking down into the shadows. He can hear soft breathing, a heartbeat easily now the walls aren't in the way, and a moment later a short, stocky man emerges from one shadow to move to another, heading for the theater, taking his time, watching his surrounding carefully.
Odd.
The man is definitely watching the theater, though, without a doubt. It's enough to make Finn a bit more curious.
Pushing from the roof, he sails over the man's head, well over, taking advantage of the night's darkness to move unseen and float down to land behind the man lightly as a feather, and almost as quietly. "I's not a good idea t'go sneakin' round this part o'town in the wee hours, friend. D'ye need help findin' summat?"
The man is good, despite his stocky and somewhat goofy appearance - swift as lightning he's turned around, a pistol in his hand, before he relaxes. "Oh. S'you. Yer Finn, right?" The man addresses him with a New York accent, one that he has to fight against wincing at. He's never really liked it much. Without waiting for an answer, he shoves an envelope towards Finn, who takes it from him. "There. Message delivered." Turning around, he stalks away, muttering something about being 'reduced to a delivery boy.'
He watches the man go, shaking his head and wondering what that was about, before turning his attention to the envelope as he walks back towards the theater. Tearing it open, he pulls out the single, thick sheet of parchment inside, expensive paper with a familiar black, red and orange logo on the top. Under it is a handwritten message.
Finn,
After having discussed it with my primary advisers, this proposed project of yours sounds like a worthwhile investment of time and resources. Send me a proposed budget and any other needs you may require at your earliest convenience.
Ed
A moment later he's upstairs, in the room with Avy. "So, love, it seems we'll have no trouble at all getting what we need to pull this thing together."
She takes the letter from him, scanning it over with a widening grin, her brilliant greens lighting up as she puts it aside. "Well, now tha' there're nae more distractions, tha' sounds like a good reason tae celebrate."
She doesn't give him the chance to answer as she pulls him into her embrace, which he goes into willingly. Her lips place a soft kiss on his ear before she murmurs softly to him. "Come t'bed, lover...there's still a li'l night left."