𝗨𝗦𝗘𝗗 𝗧𝗢 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝗔𝗥𝗞𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗦 | the boys 1

ii. 𝐀 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐌𝐀𝐍, 𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄

~𝙏𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙄 𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙮 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚, 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙞𝙛 𝙞𝙩 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙨 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙮 𝙣𝙚𝙘𝙠, 𝙑𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙮 𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙮, 𝙄'𝙢 𝙞𝙣 𝙖 𝙥𝙤𝙤𝙡 𝙤𝙛 𝙬𝙤𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙨~

"Oh, yes! Yes, he's alive. Oh, okay pull over - I wanna' get out." Hugh sighed with immense relief.

"What?"

"Pull over!"

"No, Hughie, you don't understand - this is a fuck-sight worse. He's seen our faces." Butcher silenced the car.

Realising she was officially stuck in the same shit as the other two, the hushed adolescent opened her mouth to say something but furrowed her eyebrows when nothing came out. "Is there something you wanna' say? You can spit it out, come on." Butcher kept the opportunity open. She shuffled forward and whispered something into his ear before pulling away with a minuscule smile, feeling reasonably comfortable with her decision.

'Rowan,' Butcher mouthed the word as he looked ahead on the road,"Is that yours, is it?" He asked softly, a smile forming on his face. She nodded and stared at her feet,"And you're tellin' me now?" He was intrigued by her more than ever.

"Safe..." Rowan shrugged and laid down on the back seats again, yawning and stretching.

"Well, cheers. That means a lot." He nodded,"I know a guy, top bloke - he'll know what to do." She curled up in the back seats of his car and her eyes closed so that she could preserve energy. Now that she was comfortable to be off-guard around Butcher. Now that she was safe... kind of.

____________________

A few hours later, she was woken by Butcher who carefully nudged her awake and led her and Hughie into an alleyway, only to stare blankly at a door that was so subtle against the wall it was practically invisible. He knocked on the door rather harshly, and they were greeted by a gorgeous young woman within seconds - amazing, jet black hair and piercing ocean eyes,"Morning, love. Frenchie in?" He inquired, smirking at her.

Her eyes landed upon Rowan first, followed by giving her content pat on the head with a small smile before staring at Hughie and smudging his fairly terrified and confused face for an incredibly uncomfortable and long ten seconds. Now satisfied, for whatever reason, she turned back to Butcher and stepped aside to let him in.

"You'll love this guy." He told Hughie as they vigilantly crept in.

Rowan found the man inside very, very intriguing. He was shorter, skinnier and had black hair and a beard buzzed almost down to the scalp, he wore no shirt and worked stood at a desk piled with complicated weapons, most of which she recognised. In fact, she knew how to use a lot of that stuff - some of it she hadn't seen in months.

But the sound. The sound that filled her ears and washed out the liveliness in her eyes in return for thick clouds of wonder. Loud French hip hop boomed through the hardly adequately lit room that Rowan loved the sound of, showing an enlightened grin as she gazed up at the ceiling, tugging on Butchers sleeve.

"What is it?" He spoke quietly against the heavy bass, looking down at her because otherwise, he'd have to crouch to reach her eye level.

"That sound..." She gasped exasperatedly, her smile lighting up the room.

"You mean music...?"

"Music." Rowan repeated slowly, in some sort of scoff, gazing around the room until her eyes landed back on Frenchie who she stared at again, her head tilting slightly. She was familiar with sound. But not proper music - not for a long time. She hadn't seen or heard anything but blood and screams for quite a while, now.