Into the Night

Introductions

Sella stared at the thunderous group clamoring around the front yard. Tattoos crawled on their exposed arms and necks; shiny metal pierced their flesh; their thick muscles tensed ready to pounce at any given notice. One bit off a beer bottle cap and spit it across the street. There was one woman among and she had a fiercer gaze then the whole of them. She had a crew cut and wore a red leather jacket.

"One of these things is not like the other, one of these things..."

While they had a roughneck appearance, he wore a ripped black band shirt he claimed from the wreckage. Then there were his denim shorts that barely weren't too short to be appropriate. Don't forget his concealer and lip gloss.

"Is gay. "

With artificial confidence he stepped on the lawn. It left a bitter aftertaste as he entered their domain. Ash invited him, he was welcome. At least that's what he told himself. Across the street in neighborhood barbecue, he'd find a brief reprieve from the preternatural world burgeoning inside his house.

Invited or not, his presence snapped the group's attention to him.

Their demeanor shifted from a relaxed rabble rousing to shifting eyes as he approached them. One by one they looked to the woman for assurance on their next move. He stopped in his tracks in the middle of the yard as the woman gave him a once over, seeing if he was a threat to her crew.

When the wolves stop howling, is when you should be afraid.

She gave a dismissive smug scoff to her people before shooting a look to a specific audience member. They began to clamor once more before a large waving hand poked out the large crowd. Seven foot tall bulky men stood too tall together for the effeminate newbie to see who it belonged.

With one hand on his hip and a lowered head, he squinted between the spaces. The sideways glances bite away at his conscious, but he pushed that aside as he searched for that person waving for him.

"Sella!"

Ash's head popped up as he squeezed past them. He came from the back of the crowd with a red solo cup in one hand and another in the other. Among the rest of the gang he was of an average height and only slightly toned. Which answered the question, what does a black sheep of a herd of black sheep look like?

"Fashionably late, huh?" He remarked.

Sella shook his head and tried to pretend that the air was thinner. That the eyes weren't searching for every possible weakness and threat that came bundled up in him. A few even sniffed in his direction. Something wasn't right about him.

"Nah, I had to deal with some family drama. Normal everyday life stuff and new friend stuff and I feel like I'm talking too much and saying like too much and stuff too much and much too much. Not at all coming apart at the seems as the pieces of a mystery come together," he rambled before making a conscious effort to shut up and let the conversation continue.

If it wasn't the officer's fifth beer, he might have picked up on that. Yet the alcohol cut the edge of his intellect and let his more primal interests take reign. Instead he focused his attention on what the young man was wearing and how he was wearing it and how it framed everything so well and he was so lucky to have him here...

"Normal life drama, makes sense."

The officer wore a simple white shirt and blue jeans. The same as the night he came to check on his health at the hospital. This time a stubble trailed across his face, highlighting his lips and cutting a deeper contrast in his cheekbones.

He offered him a cup.

"You thirsty?"

His eyes fell down in the cup. Milky orange with ice cubes bobbing around.