My Little VentrueChapter 65 free porn video

~~Eric~~

“I’m busy! Come back later,” he called out to the hallway. Please go away. He could have life-altering conversations with other werewolves later. Right now, he very much wanted to fuck the small woman giggling and trembling on his bathroom floor.

“Open the fucking door or I break it down,” the woman said. Avery, she’d said her name was. Hadn’t even seen her face yet and he was hating her guts.

Fiona managed to smile up at him, before she grabbed the tub ledge, and forced herself to standing. “I got mine. Ye can get yers next time we meet.”

Talk about a gender reversal, and not one he agreed with. Fuck. Shitting fuck shit, he was hard enough he figured the veins on his cock were going to burst and start squirting blood everywhere.

“Alright, I’m coming!” he yelled.

Fiona giggled at him. “Apparently nae,” she said, voice a whisper as she picked up her clothes, and slipped them on like a drunk girl trying to sneak out before her mistake for the night woke up. With a wink, she stepped into his bedroom, slipped under his bed, and was gone.

Holy fucking shit that was fucking creepy. Could she sneak in whenever she wanted? Supposedly a fellow named Damien helped her find him, and helped her see into Eric’s place; prerequisites for her strange abilities, maybe? She’d said something about Vrall having a special ability, too.

Eric’s erection died fast. Girl gone as quickly as she’d shown up, new problems at his door, and he still needed another five or six hours of sleep. Fucking hell. Groaning, he walked to the door, dressed in only his pajama pants. Kat was at the door already, meowing a little, and he scooped her up into his arms before letting another set of problems into his life.

“You must be Eric,” an older woman said. A short woman, about the same height as Fiona. Unlike the redhead, the older woman had some muscle to her small frame, and a black ponytail down to her hip. Light tan skin and blue eyes too. Attractive, in a ‘could be a young grandmother’ sort of way.

“And you’re Avery?”

“I am.”

Eric grunted. His nose told him she, and the few others with her, were all werewolves. But he didn’t need his nose to notice that. Every instinct in his gut, every hair on his body, every hint of their body language all said the same thing: we’re wolves, big, bad, unstoppable wolves.

“This,” she continued, “is Clara and Carter. I figured you should meet them too, because they’re your neighbors. Sort of. Different floor, but you get the idea.”

Oh, wonderful. He looked to Carter, a man a bit older than this Avery woman. He was favoring one of his legs; a lifetime of doing that made it easy for Eric to recognize the signals. The long gray hair and beard were intimidating though, like a rocker who’d seen every side of Shitsville, and returned to tell the tale. And his body looked like it was carved out of wood.

Clara was beautiful. God damn. His eyes drifted up and down her body a moment, a reflex she noticed, and returned. He was shirtless, after all. Clara was average height, with the body of a boxer. The dark tan skin, dark brown eyes, and long hair done in box braids, were all terribly attractive, and—Eric, you’re just horny because of a severe case of blue balls. Stop thinking with your dick, and calm the fuck down.

“And,” Avery said, “this is David, and this is Noah.”

Eric looked past the two women and Carter, to the two men in the back. David, based on the gestures Avery made, was the closer of the two. A big guy, with broad shoulders and short blond hair, beige skin. He refused to make eye contact; hell, his eyes kept drifting around, or stopping on something random, like the floor or something on the ceiling. He looked young, too young for what Eric imagined was a rough life, based on the scars, clothes, and musculature on the lot of them.

The other guy was pale as fuck, dark blue eyes with a shaved head, and tattoos along his skin. A lot of his skin. Eric’s eyes lingered on him a bit longer than the rest of them, picking out shapes and images from the lines that adorned the man’s head and neck, and the arms exposed from his black t-shirt. Eric half expected to see images of wolves and shit, but no, the man had tattoos of dragons and mermaids and skeletons and flowers.

There was a theme to the tattoos, at least. One half of him seemed to be more uplifting, while the other had a darker side. Chainlink tattoos — a classic — circled and separated the two opposing themes. A man who took his ink seriously. Eric could respect that, to an extent, until your body started to look like a billboard for manifestos. This guy was riding dangerously close to that line.

“Can we come in?” Avery said.

Eric groaned, and nodded in toward the inner sanctum of his fancy, gilded cage. “Sure.” Sighing, he walked into the living room, and kept Kat in his arms.

The mood was strange. He didn’t know these people, and they didn’t know him, but they felt familiar. Maybe it was because they were werewolves too, but he doubted it. It was more to do with what they were wearing, their posture, their stances, the clothes they wore and the glances their eyes made.

They reminded him of that Beatrice chick, or even a bit of Jessy. Blunt and honest sorts. He’d take them over that suit Julias he met in the sewer any day.

Avery and Clara got comfortable, taking a seat on the couch. Noah and David didn’t seem interested in sitting, Noah stepping to the window to pull the curtain aside and watch the sun peek over the buildings as it rose. David drifted around the apartment, slowly, eyes digging for something. If Eric didn’t know better, he’d figure the man was looking for something to steal, or maybe clues to a murder.

Avery motioned for him to come sit on the couch opposite of her. “So, how much do you know about us?”

That you’re a cocky, stupid bitch if you think you can order me around in my own apartment. He frowned at her, subtle but piercing, made sure she got the message, and stood beside the TV instead.

“Not much, just that you’re the pack in town.”

“Julias contacted me,” she continued. “Surprising, but I guess Jack was busy. He said you had your first change early last night, and caused a mess.”

“You could say that.”

“We’re not your enemy,” Clara said, “you can lower your guard a bit, you know.”

Eric redirected his frown to her, and checked Kat. Kat didn’t seem very interested in these other wolves; if anything, she looked annoyed, and she gave them the same annoyed glare Eric was giving them. Filled him with pride, and hope, that maybe the dumb cat knew other people better than he gave her credit for.

The man at the window, Noah, shrugged. “We’re here to dictate terms for his new life, which he’s apparently been getting a lot of, lately. I wouldn’t want us to be here either.” Evidently, the man was good at putting things into perspective.

Avery rolled her eyes. “I’m not here to ruin your life, Eric. And fuck me, from the little Julias told me before he went under for the day, it seems like you got yanked into the night world by the monsters.”

He said nothing. Nothing to say. So, he stood there, and stroked his cat.

“Look, Eric,” Clara said, leaning in and putting her elbows on her knees. “You’re a brand new Uratha. There’s a lot of shit being thrown at you, and unfortunately, you’re a problem now.”

“Problem?”

“Yes, problem. You have no idea what sort of attention you’ll attract from the other side, in your new state. Bewildered, and ... and ... is that a woman, I smell?” She lifted her head and looked down the hallway. “I know that smell.”

“ ... Fiona was here, to check on me. She’s gone now.” No need to bring up the sexual encounter. Hopefully the smell of sex wasn’t too identifiable.

“You’re awfully buddy buddy with the vamps and monsters,” Noah said.

“No reason not to be. They’ve helped me out.” He gestured to the apartment around him. As long as they ignored the fact it was a cage, and he was under the vampires’ thumb, his new life arrangement was pretty amazing compared to anything they could offer him. “And Fiona is a friend.”

Avery nodded, but the look in her eye made it obvious she wasn’t convinced. “And we have no problem with that. But, we are here to prod into your life a bit. Spirits are going to be a thing now, they’re going to show up in places you don’t expect, makes themselves known, dislike you, or attack you. And with a brand new Uratha like you, they could try and do more. You need to be aware.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

Wrong thing to say, when combined with enough sarcasm you could swim through it. The small woman got up, and jammed a finger into his chest. It was enough to make Kat hiss at her, but Avery glared at the feline with enough malice, Eric could feel the coldness of it. Shut poor Kat right up, and she shivered as she pressed herself back against Eric’s chest, hair standing up.

“You got a problem, Eric? I’ve come here to help you, to keep you from getting killed or worse, and to help stop you from doing more stupid shit like what happened last night. You think the vamps will be a problem if you fuck with the Masquerade? I will personally decorate this city with your innards if you fuck shit up for us.”

Eric stared at the small woman, and gulped. Ok, yeah, he felt that. Something in her eyes cut through the bullshit, and through the wall of sarcasm and cynicism he knew he carried everywhere.

“Alright, I’m listening,” he said. Truce.

“Good.” Avery sat back down, folded one leg over the other, and set her hands onto the back of his couch. Very queenly; and mixed with the jeans and shirt, made her come off as some sort of rocker royalty. He could dig that, much as he didn’t want to be dealing with it right now. “So what kind of wolf are you?”

“Kind?”

“You may not know. Not everyone gets the whole suite of info when they change. But you’ll get some stuff. Basic understanding of the First Tongue, at least. For example, the First Change almost always brings on a bout of Kuruth.”

Kuruth. Death Rage. He winced as the memories hit him, of teeth tearing through clothes and flesh, of the screams of his victims, before they turned into a gargling mess of blood. A flash of an image, of blood squirting from veins with the beat of a panicked heart. Ugh.

“I ... I know the word ... Cahalith.”

Avery nodded, and gestured to Clara with her chin. “Clara and I are Cahalith, the Gibbous Moon. So are you, glory seeker.”

Glory seeker? Right, the dream had said something about that. Ancient memories surfacing in his dreams, fucking great.

“And them?” he said, looking to the two men.

“Noah is Elodoth,” Avery said. Half moon. The judges. “And David over there is Ithaeur.” Crescent moon. Spirit talkers.

The meanings came to him naturally; he didn’t have to dig them up, like he might if someone asked him to speak Spanish. These words were ingrained into him with all the subtlety of a chisel hammering stone. He wouldn’t forget them, couldn’t forget them, and he knew it completely.

Avery smirked at him. Fuck, he probably had realization showing blatant on his face.

“Our pack is of the Meninna,” Clara said. That one was a little harder to comprehend. Hunters in Darkness? Meaning came with it, something about defending territory, something about hunting... “Shartha. We hunt the Shartha, Eric.”

The Hosts. Whatever those were. But the mention of them was enough to kick start his heart, getting it pumping a little faster, and earn a quiet growl from him. Something about old things, terrible things, things from before the great divide, things to be feared.

Growling, in front of strangers. Good fucking christ, what happened to him? He knew what happened, he was a werewolf now. But the cliché sounds were so fucking horrible. Or at least, he thought so, but damn, the look on Fiona’s face when he started rumbling in his chest, made him reconsider.

Maybe it was ok to be a bit cliché then, if the results were so acute. And it wasn’t like he didn’t deserve to indulge a little, with all this shit falling on him, shit he didn’t ask for. Instead of brooding about it, maybe—

Finger snaps woke him up.

“Just like a Cahalith,” Clara said, smirking at him and lowering her fingers. Loud snaps, considering she was still on the couch. “Like to narrate your thoughts much?”

Shit. “ ... I do.”

Avery laughed. “And what kind of history do you have?”

“Used to be a fighter, MMA.”

“With cameras on you, I assume? And an audience?” she said. He snorted, and looked down at Kat as more painful memories stabbed him. Cameras, spotlights, announcers, and then fancy dinners, fans, photoshoots. “I can see it in your face. No need to continue, and it’s not fair for me or Clara to pick on you for it. We’re guilty of indulging in a need for glory as much as any Cahalith. What’s the point in being in a story, or creating a story, if it’s not a story worth telling, and retelling?”

Ok, a little admission of guilt on her part, he could appreciate that.

“Alright, so, what’s the plan?” he said. “Far as I was concerned, I was going to continue doing what I was doing. Got a good job, good place to live.” Money to keep my idiot father in high-grade hospital care.

The two women looked at each other, each raising a brow.

“Honestly?” Clara said. “End goal of the conversation is to make sure you’re in the know about Uratha. You need to know spirits are going to make your life hell now, and you need to know you can come to us if shit becomes a problem.”

“ ... and that’s it?”

Noah stepped away from the window and stood behind the couch. “We also could use another member in our pack. The Azlu killed one of our kind, so we’re down a member. And you know the city well; we’re very out of our element, in this city.”

A member of their pack. A new family. Ugh, he hated his current family enough, and that was only one other person. The fuck would he do in a pack.

“Not used to cities?”

“A lot of us did work in Tijuana for a while,” Avery said. “But that is not the same as here. Most of my pack is not used to city life such as Dolareido’s, closer to Las Vegas than anything else. We could use your help.”

Monsters asking for his help, and werewolves asking for his help. He was surprised the vampires weren’t, too. Then again, Jessy told him he should play the field, since he was strong enough to take care of himself against these inhuman foes. Not foes, come on, they’re trying to help you out. It made sense they’d want something in return. But then, that put them on the same footing as the monsters, and no better. The vampires were the ones doing things differently, putting a leash on him while also giving him a new, quality life. Different, but not better.

What to do, what to do.

“I’m not sure what that entails,” he said. “What do you want me to do?”

The pack leader cracked her knuckles, and made a sweeping gesture. “For now, nothing. In the future, we’ll take you on a hunt, then the Shadow, show you what your new life is going to be like.”

“And if I have no interest in joining you on a hunt?”

Noah frowned, but said nothing, and looked to Clara and Avery. Avery opened her mouth, but it was David who spoke up.

“The spirits will find you, Eric. They do not like Uratha, and they will make your life miserable.” He came up to Eric, and looked down at him. David was a decently big guy, but the constant distraction he wore in his gaze made him seem shy; even now he didn’t look Eric in the eye, his gaze on the floor, and flitting left and right.

“I don’t care if—”

“You’ll care.” David reached up, and set a hand on Eric’s shoulder. Anyone else, and Eric would have shoved him away, but this David guy didn’t have any of the body language of an aggressive person. Sort of like how, if someone moved their hand slow enough, they could slap you, and you wouldn’t defend yourself due to the slowness not triggering a defense.

Eric tilted his head to the side, and tried to catch the man’s gaze. No good. David’s eyes weren’t dodging Eric’s, like a shy person’s would. They were looking at things Eric couldn’t see. Insane? No, he was a spirit talker. He was seeing things, things Eric probably didn’t want to see. He was having enough trouble stomaching the mountain of shit falling on him right now; he wasn’t going to go looking for more.

“Fine, I’ll do the new employee dance, go through the indoctrination crap. But I’m telling you now, I have no interest in any of this shit. I didn’t ask to be Uratha, and I have no interest in hunting, or guarding any fucking ... anything. Just want to live in my new digs, bounce at the club, and have sex with the pretty ladies.” Which you fuckers put a stop to.

Maybe Fiona was there, waiting for him, under the bed? No, she’d have left, or the Uratha would have sensed her presence or some shit. Fuck. Fuck!

The four werewolves looked between each other, and let the silence sit there, like a wet, cold blanket. Or they did, for a moment or two, before they all started laughing. Even the David fucker managed a smile.

“Give it time,” Avery said, “you’ll feel different.”

~~Jack~~

“This is a pretty great place for a group meeting,” Jessy said.

Damien nodded, and gestured to the telescope he brought. Without hesitation, Jessy put her eye to the lens, and scanned the horizon. Horizon in Dolareido was nothing but a bunch of large buildings, but Damien had found a convenient location on a high rooftop that allowed him to watch many of the apartment buildings Invictus Kindred slept in.

“I can see into my place from here!”

“Yes, you can,” Damien said, face completely deadpan.

Ah shit. Jack raised a hand to hide his grin from the man; poor guy just walked into it, and Jessy turned around to catch it like a frog catching a fly.

“Damien, you son of a bitch. You spy on me?” She grinned a hyena grin, and waited for his inevitably plain and easily teased response.

“I spied, and spy, on everyone, Herrington.”

“Seen me having fun with my ghouls then?”

“I have, yes.”

“Perverted fucker.”

The Mekhet frowned, slightly. “You put your body on display for the whole city. Some are bound to notice.”

Jack raised a hand. “That giant sex spirit did say you got a bit more to you than you let out, Damien.” Ah well, might as well throw a little gasoline on the fire.

“Giant sex spirit?” Jessy said.

Jack nodded, and motioned for her to sit down. The three of them on a rooftop, no one else around, only them and Jack’s two crows on his shoulder. He fed Scully and Mulder some oats, and told the tale of the sheriff’s phonecall, the strange ritual, the trip to see the Begotten, and his journey into the Shadow realm. No need for any details about the mysterious damage, and looming threat over Dolareido; him, Damien, the Begotten, and the sheriff knowing about that was plenty.

It wasn’t like he didn’t trust Jessy, but the woman wasn’t exactly good with delicate matters. If they told her some sort of evil, mysterious force was coming for them, she’d take it as a proclamation of war, and bring it to the council. No, better that others didn’t know, so Jack — and now Damien — could continue hunting for the truth in secret.

“Those fucking wolves,” she said. “They really think the other world is theirs, don’t they?” Damien and Jack nodded. “Well, fuck that. It’s not theirs. You say it’s a sister world of Dolareido, a shadow of it? Well, we own this city, and we own its shadow.”

Damien shook his head. “The Uratha would sooner say something like ‘we guard this territory, not you’ or something.”

Yeah, they would. Jack shrugged, and watched as the Gangrel returned to the telescope. “Prince tells me other shit happened last night too. Eric’s a werewolf as well?”

She threw her hands up, but let them drop with a groan, before she resumed scanning Dolareido with Damien’s telescope. “Apparently! Like, the fuck are the chances? I guess Fiona recognized it in him, before he ever truly became one.”

A raise in the pitch of her voice, and an elongated vowel every now and now, put Jessy’s words in a new light. Normally she spoke with a bit of bite; it was her natural state, to bite and snip and snap with her voice, even when just being playful or kind. But there was a softness to her voice now, subtle but there. Julias’s training paying off.

“What’s the plan with him?” Damien said.

She shrugged, and turned the telescope around as she squinted the one eye with ridiculous exaggeration. “He’s gone from being a useful set of eyes and ears, in a high traffic zone, to being an extremely useful set of eyes and ears in a high traffic zone.”

That was true. Much as Kindred had great eyes and ears, Uratha’s were better, and they had a great nose to go with it. They also had aggressive tendencies to go with them though, which made Eric’s position at the Bloodlust an issue.

“If he doesn’t break someone in half for looking at him the wrong way,” Jack said.

Jessy laughed, and shook her head. A smile crept onto her face, one he doubted she realized was there. It was damn adorable on her. “Jack, you should see this man’s cat. Kat the cat. She is the nicest creature on the planet. You can’t be an asshole if you have a cat like that, unless she was fucking lobotomized. Never had a cat rub up against me like that, you know? Not since being embraced. It was so ... so ... why are you looking at me like that?”

Shit, he was wearing his expression on his face again. Shaking it off, he shrugged. “Nothing, just sounds like you two are getting along.” More than getting along.

“I haven’t seen you parading yourself in front of your window, as of late.” The assassin’s smile returned, and he held out his hand for one of Jack’s crows. With a small nudge from Jack, Mulder jumped to Damien’s hand, and the man fed the crow some of Jack’s oats. Good training, for Mulder and Scully to be comfortable with other Invictus. “Could it be you’re hesitant to engage in your typical sexual endeavors, if you like this man?”

“I gave my ghouls a break, Damien, nothing more. I’m too god damn old to be going one-on-one with any man, or woman.” She sat down beside him on the roof edge, shrugged, and pulled out her phone. Checking messages or news updates, no doubt. But the tiny lip twitches, and quick glances of her eyes in Damien’s direction, gave her away. “And besides, aren’t you interested in Fiona? I know she likes Eric. And I know firsthand she’s a firecracker.”

They didn’t need Jessy’s words to prove that, not with the unusual sex spirit’s words still clear in their minds. It was clear in Jack’s mind anyway; no doubt it was for Damien too. The man looked down, tiny frown on his lips as he offered Mulder some more of his oats.

“You know I’m a man of the cloth, in a way, Jessy?”

“You didn’t take a vow of celibacy.” She shrugged, reached out, and offered Mulder some rubs of his breast feathers, before rubbing the back of his head. Scully, envious, pecked at Jack’s hand, and bit him a little too, hard enough to earn an ouch, before he rolled his eyes and began to scratch her, as well.

“Can we talk about something other than sex?” Damien said.

“Can we?” Shrugging, Jack set Scully back on his shoulder, and Mulder flew over to join her, opposite shoulder. It earned a smile from him, when his crows willingly came to him. Animalism had been the tool to establish their first link, but since then, he only used it for communication. The crows came to him on their own, happy to help in exchange for food and attention. “It’s Slut City, right? Sex kind of sneaks its way into everything we do.”

The assassin glared at him, and Jack had to do his best to not grin like a giant jackass. The Julias grin, the grin the man gave whenever he let a conversation prove him right. Dance, puppets, dance.

“Unless the hunters hire a prostitute,” Damien said, “and that somehow becomes a lead for us, I don’t see it helping us in our main objective.”

“All work and no play makes Damien a dull boy,” Jessy said. Heh, nice dodge on the Jack name in the original quote. “Much as I’m all for focusing on the job, because the job currently involves saving our asses from getting murdered, I do think we should always take time to enjoy our second lives, Damien.”

“I—”

“And hey, I know you’re a priest boy, but you didn’t take a vow of celibacy, and far as I know, your religion believes in embracing being a monster, right? Scare people into the awaiting arms of God, or whatever. Well, Fiona’s a monster. Should be fine to fuck her silly, right?”

“ ... I—”

“And yeah, I know, fucking a monster doesn’t really help in your religious goals, but maybe if you learned to relax a bit, you might recruit more followers. I mean, how many have joined your church since the Prince let you start practicing again.”

Ok, maybe it wasn’t a good idea to tease Jessy; she didn’t take it very well. Girl played dirty.

“I have yet to tell others the church is open. And the great cathedral is Maria’s home; I must contend with that barrier, that the place I will give my sermons is the place one of the more terrifying Kindred sleeps.”

Good to know it wasn’t just Jack that was scared of Maria. He knew that already, but hearing it confirmed, especially by one of the few ancilla Kindred of Dolareido, was reassuring.

“Mulder and Scully reported seeing a woman that fit Azamel’s guess as the shaman’s description,” Jack said. “But I’m sure a lot of women fit that description, in Dolareido.”

“Better than nothing.” Jessy took some oats from Damien, offered her hand, and the two birds pecked from it for a moment. “That ritual must have been a terrifying sight.”

“Yeah, that’s putting it lightly.”

“Nice of the sheriff to share the info. Good to have friends on the inside.”

No way was the sheriff his friend. He doubted anyone could be, considering the man might as well have been made of stone, or ice, or both. But, the first night Jack slept with Antoinette, on the journey down the tower, he still remembered what Daniel had said to him: ‘Be kind to her, young Kindred. She is more fragile than you know.’ The words were carved into his brain, never to be forgotten. But if they were true was another question, because, yeah, man was stone, and probably thought everyone was fragile. If that was the reason Daniel was helping Jack more directly, to keep Antoinette happy, well, he was cool to roll with that.

Would Antoinette be able to handle Jack dying, was not a question he wanted to think about, and probably part of why Daniel was helping him.

“It is,” he said at last. “I’m pretty sure I’m not the focus of Daniel’s efforts, but, yeah, nice of him to share. He’s going to keep looking, and so’s Natasha, for more leads linked to the ritual. Best we can guess is it was for information, and now we know it probably has something to do with spirits, and Black Blood. Why this shaman working with the hunters needs to ... do those things, with the pictures and the sacrifice and ... I don’t know. And Azamel said the shaman has done this ritual in the past, in different cities. Is Black Blood elsewhere? I doubt it; seems localized to Dolareido. The red wraiths seem involved, so maybe they’re elsewhere? Or ... or did someone come to Dolareido with the shaman?”

“That’s the conclusion I would come to,” Damien said. “Something must have come to Dolareido with this shaman woman, if Azamel was telling us the truth.”

And she probably was. The more they found out about the shit happening in Dolareido’s shadows, and the Shadow World evidently, the more it seemed like Jacob had been working with other-worldly entities for some time. The shaman, whoever she was, brought more insanity into Dolareido.

City Night had mentioned other names. Red Tide, and Street-Tail King? Maybe one of them.

“ ... do you guys ever miss when things were normal?” he said. “What was it, something like a year ago, I walked into Bloodlust, scared as all fucking shit because I ran into the Prince. She made me sit down with her, and flirted with me, just to watch me squirm. I remember before that, going to the Invictus ball, and being scared shitless of talking with Viktor. I managed, but it was rough. Not long before that, I’d awoken from a frenzy, and found I was on a rooftop, with the corpse of a woman ... Mrs. Pavala.” Pavala. Christ, that name grabbed his mind, dragged it through the blood-soaked mud, and made sure to sink some sharp rocks into his soul before he managed to pull it back out. “Honestly? I’d take all that shit, over this. I’ll take dealing with scary vampires, and still struggling to stomach drinking blood, over fucking Cthulhu and kin nesting in our city.”

The Gangrel raised a brow, and leaned in a bit toward him. “That include the werewolves and monsters? Figured, since you keep getting drawn into this intermediary role, you have to have a soft spot for them.”

He threw his hands up. “I do! Even Avery, a hard bitch, and Azamel, a colossal bitch.” Damien raised a brow, and Jessy laughed. Yeah, calling them both bitches was uncalled for; and it didn’t really fit his normal dialect. Bit of Jessy coming out of him, there. “Because they’re still people, deep inside. We are, they are, we still got a fucking soul inside our guts, and it means something. We can talk, we can communicate, we can settle our differences with fucking words!” He got up, and started to pace. Just like on the phone, something about focusing on the words forced him to get up onto his feet, and move, so he could feel the feedback of solid mass beneath him. “Sometimes I feel like I’m the only person on this god damn planet who remembers we can always communicate, even with people we’d consider to be monsters. People, they’re people. Maybe not normal humans anymore, but still people, capable of fucking reason, and logic, and if we can just find a way to communicate, we can make progress!” Mulder and Scully stayed with him, and for a brief moment, Jack had to wonder what the image of him was like, pacing around with philosophical thoughts falling out of him while two crows adorned his shoulders.