The watchman stopped on his rounds and looked up at the apartment door. The place didn't look like much, but then, he wasn't expecting much. He checked the address again, dug a piece of parchment out of his pocket, held it up. The numbers matched. He looked around the neighborhood and shook his head, then looked back up at the door. He didn't bother knocking - if she was home, she'd find it when she went out again. If she was out, she'd find it when she got home. Either way, his work here was done. He set the duffel bag down on the steps and rummaged in his coat until he found the veil - a minor enchantment he'd purchased for a song from that gray-robed wizard with the pixie problem, something that would keep anyone but the intended recipient from noticing a certain bright orange duffel bag sitting right out in the open. He whispered her name, and the bag faded from his sight.
He nodded firmly, looked up at the place again, and walked away whistling, hands tucked in the pockets of his long black coat, silver badge glinting in the lantern light. It wasn't like he owed her anything. To tell the truth, though, anyone who took the time to dig a bullet out a stranger's shoulder - on a barroom floor, no less - was alright in his book, and he made it a point to try to help out all those little lights against the darkness.
He figured a level three trauma kit - and a little black bag filled with vials of morphine, codeine, and advanced painkillers with names so complicated he wasn't even about to pronounce them - just might help this little light shine a little brighter.
He nodded firmly, looked up at the place again, and walked away whistling, hands tucked in the pockets of his long black coat, silver badge glinting in the lantern light. It wasn't like he owed her anything. To tell the truth, though, anyone who took the time to dig a bullet out a stranger's shoulder - on a barroom floor, no less - was alright in his book, and he made it a point to try to help out all those little lights against the darkness.
He figured a level three trauma kit - and a little black bag filled with vials of morphine, codeine, and advanced painkillers with names so complicated he wasn't even about to pronounce them - just might help this little light shine a little brighter.