Blood and Smoke's Assassin Rp

After about an hour, mercy had begun to gently doze on the sofa, his breathing slow. A little while after he stirred himself, forcing himself to get up and give kipper to cross, before tugging his shirt on and crashing back down on the sofa, passing out within seconds, his breathing soft and slow.

Mercy woke from nightmares at around 7 in the morning. He got up, used the bathroom and got himself a glass of water, then quietly curled up on the couch, turning the tv on and flicking through the channels, trying to forget about his nightmares. Instead, he found himself worrying about when his husband would come looking for him. He always found him sooner or later.

Mercy hummed at the question, brows furrowing as he strained to remember. ‘I dunno... two days ago?’ He vaguely replied, gaze barely shifting from the tv. After a moment he forced himself to look away and sit up, blinking tiredly over at Cross. ‘Why?’

‘I’ll come.’ Mercy replied, getting to his feet. His ankles had all but healed. Angel blood in his veins was at least good for one thing. He grabbed his jacket and slid on his shoes, then waited patiently for cross to sort himself out, tiredly gazing at the floor as he did.

‘I wasn’t hungry.’ Mercy responded, following cross out of the room, his gaze distant, still lost in his mind as they began to walk. He wasn’t going to admit to the guy for a second time that he was scared. That was just embarrassing. Back in Los Angeles, he was pretty much the most feared assassin on the streets. Here nobody knew him- and he wasn’t about to tarnish his rep.

Mercy glanced at him warily, but settled anyways and began to search through the menu, humming lightly. ‘I’ll just have pancakes with syrup.’ He said, running a hand through his hair, before turning to see if they had any green tea. Sighing disappointedly at the clear absence of it on the menu, he set it aside. ‘And a coffee. Don’t care what kind.’ He turned to look out of the window, realising that something was bothering him. He searched the streets, but saw nothing out of the ordinary, so turned his gaze back onto cross and leaned his chin on his hand.
‘So where’s your parents now?’ He questioned.

Mercy’s gaze saddened, and he looked away. He didn’t apologise- it wasn’t a helpful thing to say. He glanced up as their drinks arrived first, and he stirred some sugar into his coffee- at least three of them- and then sipped at it. ‘My ma looked after me until I was seven. Then she dumped me on the streets. We had some trouble in Angeles, you see- a little war going on. Didn’t have time for a b*stard son. I wasn’t angel enough for her.’
He ran a hand through his hair. ‘She’s probably a vessel for a fallen somewhere. The nephilim could never have hoped to have won that war. Let’s just say that heaven wasn’t happy with either parties.’ He shook his head, sipping at his drink again. ‘She was a b*tch. Deserved everything she got.’

‘Thanks.’ He snorted, slightly amused. He looked up as their food arrived, and quietly began to eat, finally putting some food into his stomach.
‘Nah. Angels aren’t all they’re made out to be. I guess people just want to hope that they’re going somewhere better than here.’

Mercy didn’t respond to that, instead dropping his gaze to his plate and continuing to eat in silence, deciding to finish the conversation there. He onceavain glanced out of the window, still feeling like something was wrong. ‘We goin back after this, or do you have stuff you need to do?’ He asked, yawning.

Mercy relaxed and nodded, the situation pretty much the same for him. He was to rest and recover until they needed him again.
He finished up his food, then his coffee, before thanking cross for feeding him.
He frowned, feeling the discomfort again, and looked out of the window. He froze, seeing a shadow disappear around an alley.
‘Cross,’ He softly said, trying to keep the fear from his voice. ‘He’s found me.’

‘It’ll be safer for both of us if I just go to him.’ He mumbled, a small tremble in his voice now. ‘You can’t kill him. You can’t hurt him, either.’ He said, getting to his feet and picking up his things.

‘I didn’t tell you what he was.’ Mercy mumbled, guilt on his expression. ‘I’m sorry. I thought maybe this time- I could get away- I-‘ he raked his fingers through his hair.
‘He’s a fallen, Cross. He doesn’t feel pain. He can’t be killed.’ He mumbled, moving towards the door. ‘I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have come to you.’

Mercy shakily dropped his gaze to the floor, still wearing a heavily guilty expression. He moved off to the alley, the assassin seeming to shrink in on himself as he disappeared inside. Not a moment later, a sharp cry of pain echoed out, followed by a hard thump, and something hitting a wall.

‘Shut up.’ The fallen murmured, sliding his hands into Mercy’s hair and dragging him back to his feet, starting to walk, pulling the assassin along with him. ‘How many times have I told you to stop running off?’
Mercy struggled to stammer out a response, but instead cried out again as he was thrown to the floor.
‘This is the last time, Elijah. I mean it.’ His husband said, glaring down at him with hawklike eyes. ‘I’ll lock you up if I have to.’

((Sure!! Maybe cross could find both of them in a club?))