Moments before midnight

Between

John reached for his pocket looking for the pack of cigs he was realizing he left in the car , annoyed he considered stepping frothe booth to go out to his car but he wanted to be rid of this woman and didn't want to have her following him to the car.

"Alright , spill the rest of what you aren't saying. " she raised an eyebrow a bit surprised by his statement
" as i said I've been around. "

"The Council made sure to reach out to the League of Endymion, but you know how that shadowy organization works. They rarely offer up any real information. This time, however, they're cooperating, which is rare. Apparently, they've run into the same issue. Their own sorcerers and mages are being attacked too."

Without saying another word, she pulled out her phone and slid it across the table, the screen already unlocked, showing a hidden gallery. John's eyes scanned the images: mangled bodies, twisted in grotesque shapes, their limbs torn apart in ways that could only be described as animalistic. In each photo, he noticed the telltale marks of magical societies—brands and sigils carved into skin, still faintly glowing in some cases, remnants of once powerful sorcerers. But now? Now they were little more than shredded bodies, as if they'd been thrown into a wood chipper. It was brutal, primal, and nothing like the clean, precise killings of assassins or the ritualistic sacrifice of dark magic.

John couldn't help but laugh, the absurdity of it all cutting through the tension. "So, you're here because the Council snapped their fingers, huh? you're beholden to them.."

She gave a slight smirk, leaning back in the booth. "Beholden or not, I don't have much of a choice in this. You're not the only one who finds the Council unbearable." Her eyes sparkled with a hint of amusement. "But since I'm already here, at least I can appreciate the view."

She paused, her gaze sweeping over him.

"Though I must say, for someone who looks like that, you pick some pretty questionable places to hang out."

His mind raced with mental checklists—fae, creatures, organizations—each crossed off or reconsidered with every grisly detail laid out on the pages. But what lingered most in his thoughts was the kidnapping, the recent rumors of the childersnatch. Lorenzo had hinted at the council's growing interest in him, and John wondered if this assignment was just one more piece of a larger game being played around him.

He didn't dwell too long in his thoughts. Rising from the table, he pressed his hands against its worn surface and lifted himself, slipping a stack of bills from his jacket. He flashed Helena a thin smile, one that didn't reach his eyes.

"Usually, when I'm asked to take on a job, I'd ask for a way to contact who I'm working for. But with you here, I guess it's one of those 'don't call us; we'll call you' arrangements, isn't it?"

Helena smiled, clearly pleased he understood the arrangement. "Exactly," she said, nodding, her eyes glinting with a satisfaction that only deepened his annoyance.

As he laid the bills on the table, she reached across, placing her hand on his wrist. He fought the urge to pull away but held himself still.

"Tab's already paid, John," she murmured, her voice softer now. "Thought I'd cover it since I had to drag you into this."

John chuckled, caught off-guard. It was, he realized, the nicest thing anyone had done for him all day.

He was about to take his leave when she interrupted again, her tone laced with a quiet allure. "What are you doing tonight, John? Any plans?"

Even through the haze of his drink, he could hear the implications. Her eyes held a spark, an invitation of sorts, wrapped in that hint of mystery she carried so well. There was temptation there, enough to make him wonder what "later" might look like. But he caught himself before his mind drifted too far. Now wasn't the time.