𝙋𝙧𝙚𝙮, John Shelby

- 01

- CHAPTER ONE -

- IN WHICH THE ALLIANCE IS FORMED

. . .

A pink tinge following the newly risen September sun peaked out behind the houses of Belgrove Close, yet despite the hints of autumn, it was still light enough for Rory to watch a grey shadow follow her down the road.

The windows of said houses were hidden by thick materials that kept the sun from reaching the inhabitants. The house on the end, however, was quite the juxtaposition in comparison; the lower floor windows sat on their latches, and a chimney protruding from the left side of the roof was projecting a trail of grey towards the brightening sky.

As she grew closer, she noticed a familiar frowning face sticking out of the window beside the door. The man had purpling bags beneath his eyes, the kind that suggested he'd either awoken just before she had or he'd never bothered to go to sleep in the first place.

The feeling of being watched forced Rory to speed up, but that didn't quite prevent her from steadying her gaze upon the rolling hills behind his house – a place that held many memories that reminded her of a better time.

"Oh, take your time, Lorelai." Billy Kimber's voice had a monotonous buzz that drifted out of the window despite the man traveling through his corridor toward his door.

"Good morning, Billy," Rory plastered a smile across her face, brushing past him to enter the warmth of his house. She folded her arms and added, "There are at least four more hours before I am usually required to be here... I can't imagen business is so full that I must work overtime."

Her ebony eyes danced across his hallway until they paused on a mug containing what looked to resemble coffee. But there was no steam coming from it and it looked to be sitting nearer to the end of the drink than the beginning. Still, Rory walked through the threshold into the kitchen, wrapped her hands around the mug, and took a sip of the bitter liquid.

"That's been there for three hours," Billy's shoulder collided against the brown-painted doorway, watching his cousin pull away from the mug, eye it for a moment, deciding whether she would continue to drink it, and then take another sip. "Now, I've been informed that there's a razor gang trying to fuck us over. Today, we'll be taking a small trip over there."

"A trip," Rory repeated with a curious, somewhat placid tone. "If they're only a razor gang then is there much point in taking a day out of valuable work to intimidate them, could we just write them a note or something?"

"You begin to make sense of my proposal and then you... don't," The Kimber man was hardly unfamiliar with her mind, yet he continued to find questioning moments when he wondered why she didn't have the same need for savagery as himself.

"So, I need you to get me Belvis and Hawthorne. And call Roberts, tell him to get here by nine at the latest," Billy straightened up whilst Rory finished the last of his coffee and drew back from her chair. "It looks like we are about to become very well acquainted with the Shelby family after all."

After suffering through a mind-numbing journey Lorelai was nothing but thankful to feel a cobbled street beneath her loafers. A conversation of financial management moving forward had been replaced by the arrhythmic tune of muffled singing coming from The Garrison. The five took synchronised steps toward the doors.