Victuals & Vehemence - Septiplier

Chapter Eight

Jack feels more like himself after dealing with the pre-heat wave and sleeping a couple of hours. He is humiliated by his actions. Whining like that, offering his neck to an alpha, following that warmth without a second thought. He is ashamed that he thought of Mark during the intimate moments. He is ashamed that he thought of Mark during the dull moments. He can't stop thinking about Mark. The alpha is... intense. There is something about him the omega couldn't quite place, and it only entranced him further. He sits on his bed, staring at grainy photos of killings and sketching out some scenes, just in pants. There's a light knock on the door, and the omega sighs.

"One moment!" he calls, pulling on a shirt to cover his flat breasts. Even if they are flat, they were still considered breasts by society because they grow during pregnancy. He climbs to his feet, scenting at the cracks in the door to make sure it's safe. The smell is familiar, dead, and blank.

"Hey Ethan," he mumbles, looking down in embarrassment as he opens up the door. He knows the room reeks of sex and even the beta's nose wrinkles at the heady scent.

"We're having dinner down at the saloon if you want to come," Ethan offers quietly. The omega rubs his face, feeling weak and empty. Yeah, food would be good.

"Sure," he grunts, turning and pulling on the rest of his clothes. He checks over his gun and hides several knives in the fabric and leather that he dons. More than usual, but as he nears his heat, he can never be safe enough. He lights that cigar from earlier and takes the ash, rubbing it over the inside of his black shirt collar and wrist cuffs. The omega kills it again, heeding Mark's warning and puts it back in a pocket with matches.

Ethan waits patiently, familiar with Jack's dressing routine, and after a bit, the pair sets off. They leave the horses at the stable, sauntering over to the saloon in silence. Jack knows Mark will most likely be there, and he knows he should feel nervous about it, but he just doesn't. He feels as if he knows Mark won't care. In fact, Mark will probably like that he had the balls to show up. He doesn't understand why he thinks that, but he does, and the empath would be loath to not trust his instincts.

The omega steps in ahead of Ethan, and the saloon goes quiet as Jack sets his guns by the door, sauntering to the table of friends. The pianist in the corner starts playing again, and people resume their conversations. Tyler bumps a seat from the table for Ethan, and the beta plops down beside him. PJ and Robin both have omegas in their laps, arms wrapped low around their backs, the other hand high on their thighs. The omegas laugh, coo, and purr as they talk, eyes wide and innocent-looking to draw their customers in. Jack ignores them, going to the other end of the table. He draws out a seat between Felix and Mark, plopping down with a huff. He takes off his hat and ruffles his hair, glaring at the table.

"Jack-"

"Nope. We ain't talking about it. It didn't happen," the omega denies, cutting Felix off. Mark chuckles with amusement, and Jack scowls, baring his teeth at the doctor without a second thought. The alpha's eyes flash, and he changes from relaxed to dangerous in an instant, growling viciously and baring his own fangs, leaning toward the omega. Jack grumbles quietly and gives up, turning away and crossing his arms, pouting. He licks over his canines, wishing they were bigger. Felix chortles with bemusement. He knows the omega is too prideful to submit, so Jack's just backing off, as if deciding now isn't the right time to make a challenge. Though they all know that challenge will never come. He would be a fool to challenge an alpha.

"Ethan said something about food?" Jack mutters, glaring at the table since his instincts have fully realized he's sitting between two strong alphas.

"Yeah, in a bit. We're drinking first," Felix answers, taking a sip of his whiskey. The omega stares at the alcohol thoughtfully for a moment. He glances over at the omega currently serving tables and waves his hand, beckoning them over.

"I'll have a water, dear, thanks," he murmurs tiredly, leaning back and starting to relax now that they aren't talking about earlier. The server nods and hurries off to get him the drink.

"Water?" Felix questions, raising a brow at the omega. Not the usual choice for the Irish descendant.

"Haven't eaten all day, won't hold my drink," Jack shrugs. Really, he doesn't want to risk getting even the slightest bit drunk. It's too dangerous, so close to heat. Felix shrugs in response, giving a non-committal hum.

"Felix was talking to me about past cases your posse has solved," Mark says. Jack slumps down in his seat and sighs.

"What about 'em?"

"Apparently, you're the one who does most of the solving," Mark comments quietly.

"Yah. And?"

"It's just... strange. Most omegas have aversions to violence."

"Everyone has an aversion to violence. Alpha's just want to prove they have a big knot, so they try to show that through doing dumb, violent shit," the omega replies in an apathetic tone. Mark raises a brow at the crass language.

"Get used to it," Felix mutters to the doctor, a smirk on his lips.

"So, the murders do bother you?" Mark persists.

"They bother Felix," Jack replies evasively.

"He doesn't cry after profiling at a scene. Though he told me it's fairly normal for you," the doctor replies, concern lacing his voice. Jack glares at his friend, baring his teeth. Felix raises a brow in amusement, used to the omega's shenanigans. He smiles widely, revealing his own large fangs, and Jack backs off.

"Well?" Mark presses.

"I'm an empath. I feel the murderer and the murdered as they work through their final moments together. The clues are a big part of it, but technically, most of what I do is conjecture. I just... read the room. I don't know how I do it, there's rarely hard evidence for my ideas," Jack mutters dismissively.

"Conjecture or not, he's caught 20 killers with it," Felix adds. Jack huffs, annoyed with the alpha.

"You caught them. I just muttered some stuff while standing in blood puddles," the omega replies. Felix chortles.

"Blood puddles?"

"That's what they are!"

"How dismissive of your talents," Mark notes softly. The omega frowns and rubs his face, letting out a tired groan.

"I don't want to talk about this shit," he says firmly, addressing both alphas. "If we keep this train of conversation, I think I'd prefer to go sit and flirt with one of the whores," he mutters. The alphas laugh and guffaw at that, and Jack smiles, glad his joke lightened the conversation.

"Alright. Well then, let's play cards," Mark suggests. Felix and Jack think about it and shrug. The game starts, food is served, and the posse has a calm night- full, happy with their progress, and tired.

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