stone_roses

Who: Vivian and Breacan.
When: Now.
Where: New York City.

Rating: R for sexual content and talk of violence.
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I pick terrible times to travel.

The thought came when I exited the warmth of one of Hush’s limousine’s to depart into the bitter cold of New York City Winter. Mac, Fiachra MacLir, had been the one assigned to pick me up from the airport and I wanted to protest having him chauffer me around like hired help, when I could do the job of driving myself perfectly well. Admittedly I was more than a little thankful Martel sent a driver. The busy airport filled with harassed workers who saw to equally harassed holiday passengers, managed to get on my wire thin nerves, and the safety of the warm limousine was a cure to soothing my rattled experience.

( It was a bold move. If I was expected to be part of this arrangement then I should get something out of it too. It may be too bold of a move…  )

Who: Mac. Markus. Vivian.
When: Sorta back dated.
Rating: R for violence.

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“I’m going to kick your ass, bitch.” I faced the first demon I saw. He had to be the biggest one. They stopped and looked at each other, I swore something like amusement passed between their cold stone expressions. Then again, by this point I was on the verge of hysteria and I needed something funny to take the edge off of wanting to freak out. If I could look back on this I’d find it hilarious thinking I was going to kick big demon ass. Oh god, I was going to get crushed.

( Mac wouldn’t lie down in a fight; I had to believe he somehow could magically poof his way to freedom. It was the only way, it wasn’t like he could fly, right? )

Who: Vivian. Marty. Fin. Mac. Eothian. Markus.
When: Nowish.

Rating: R for adult content. Maybe NC-17 for sexual talk about a horse.
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The bar was one of many at the hotel Marty owned. This one was simple in appearance just a normal down to earth bar and Vivian was sitting at one of the tables with two others. Well, technically one was sitting at the table. The other was stretched out on the floor, his ever present duffle bag under his head as a make shift pillow. And a stuffed toy cow lay in the crook of his arm as the other arm lay across his eyes while he gave the appearance of sleeping. The old man didn't snore unlike his older brother who at that point in time wasn't snoring seen as he was sitting opposite Vivian drinking straight Tequila. Her gaze was on him as he drank, more to the point it was wide eyed and she had her mouth slightly opened as she looked at him.

"What?" Mac arched an eyebrow at Vivian who had been starting at him slack jawed for the last few seconds. Mac was never one for much words unless something ticked him off and he would let loose with a stream f-bombs followed by more words than he was generally known for.

(  It wasn't the most shocking thing she had ever seen on a man but on Mac .... Pouring himself another drink into the shot glass Mac gave a rare chuckle. )

Who: Vivian. Marty.
When: After they make a run for it out of Trinidad.
Rating: R for adult concepts.
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The private plane interior was plush. Vivian hadn’t experienced anything so luxurious in a long time. She was no stranger to a rich person's toys and had often been one of them. This was different. What did the man Mac call it: “Business.”

Yes, business. Viv accepted the word into her psyche, even the Viking in her head knew what was business and what wasn’t.

“The hotel will be available for your needs.” Marty sat back tenting his finger tips as he observed the young woman in front of him. They sat alone after the flight out Trinidad and he was filled in by the old man with the necessity of involving him self in the current events.

( “You have forever to think about it.” Marty understood clearly what forever meant. He wondered if Vivian did. )