Proof of Concept [Bax]

[Obelisk]

The letter had been sparse in details. It asked for Baxley’s presence in Silvereye at a specific time and date, but little else. The succinct nature of the note and its inability to be tracked to its source indicated typical business correspondence. Jericho had done this a few times before, usually as means to secure aid in a particularly difficult job. The date scrawled neatly on white parchment had come and Jericho was waiting inside his home.

His house was decorated extravagantly. Expensive paintings hung on the walls. The floors were made of the finest wood. The furniture was comprised of perfectly maintained antiques, fancy and exotic. There were collections of books and items of curiosity. For all of its richness, the house did not feel like a home. It stood as a testament to Jericho’s successes, a museum that housed his trophies and demonstrated the wealth he had accrued over the years. He might have been able to retire in comfort, as the shop he owned supplied a steady stream of income, but the call of the under belly was too strong to ignore.

It was a rather lonely place which was why Jericho hardly spent any time there.

He was sitting in a large armchair, staring into the fireplace. Wood crackled and splintered under the heat and the fire had died into a mere smolder. It wasn’t exceptionally cold; he had made the fire only to keep himself busy. Anxiety ate at his gut and he could not keep his mind from recounting the absurd series of events that had put him into a position he swore he’d never be in.

There was a mewl at his side and his eye dropped down to the smirking face of a cat. Its fur was of medium length and deep red in color with swirling black patterns. Deep green eyes blinked at him and the feline’s tail flicked, and it was as if it was enjoying a private joke. He snapped his fingers and the cat jumped onto his lap, lying comfortably and purring its contentment. He stroked the cat and waited with thinning patience.

The cat meowed, as if to chide him for being impatient.

Jericho sighed and looked out of a window and onto the rainy streets of Silvereye.

[Baxley]

The letter had arrived a few days earlier requesting his appearance at Jericho's house of residence. The clean, no details about it screamed at him Jericho's business attitude and it did manage to pull a smile from his mouth. When he wanted to be, Jericho could close up tighter than a clam. It was rather amusing at times to watch Jericho jump from one mask to another, especially when Baxley had wormed his way deep in the man's defenses and seen his real face. Of course Baxley had accepted their meeting without hesitation, and the day had arrived finally. After putting out food for the cat, he had set off for Silvereye.

Baxley hated Silvereye. Despised it with every fiber of his being. All the fake smiles people wore and kindness that was given if you had connections they wanted, it all made him sick. He was not the kind of person that enjoyed the company of people, he enjoyed this type of people even less so than any other. Yes, he could put on the charismatic charms and sweep them off their feet. He could plaster on a brilliant, fake smile and fit in perfectly among the useless flock of sheep, and he had before many times. That didn't mean he enjoyed it.

For a person like Jericho who thrived on having his ego stroked this was a heaven. For a person like Baxley this was torture to be brought among these morons.

Up until he had entered the city his trip had been peaceful, if a little boring with the lack of anything happening. Entering the city changed that like flipping the switch to a light. Throngs of people was his greeting to the streets. Chattering and gossiping amongst themselves, sending him curious or knowing looks.

He wasn't a regular at Silvereye, but he visited it often enough for people to get used to his face, and for a few of them to take it upon themselves to try and speak with him. It set his nerves on end and by the time he finally got away from them and was approaching Jericho's house, his tail fur was standing on end and the appendage was jerking angrily back and forth.

Jericho's house was beautiful just as the man was. Standing in front of it Baxley felt out of place amongst that beauty. He had no rights to be here. He wasn't rich, he wasn't the type of person to long for such frivolous things. Jericho was, and they suited the man nicely, but Baxley was not. They left him feeling awkward and out of place. Jericho often tried to hint that Baxley could do well in Silvereye. Baxley did not think so.

He raised his hand up only to let it fall a moment later. Baxley was feeling ridiculously anxious for a damn business meeting. The last time they had seen each other was that night, and that was a good few weeks ago. Since then it seemed to have gone back to normal between the two of them. Was it any wonder he was feeling a bit nervous? Still he was being ridiculous. He raise his hand up again, steeled himself, and knocked with confidence he didn't have on the door, then waited patiently, tail still fluffed and twitching behind him.

[Obelisk]

It was the same nervousness and anticipation he suffered from prior to the final move in one of his jobs. He would be there, lurking and waiting for the perfect moment to strike, assessing the dangers then finally making an attack. At least then, during his hunts, Jericho had the confidence of holding all the cards and knowing when to play each one. When it came to this – whatever the hell he was doing—Jericho lacked the ability to be proactive. He was left to wait and deliberate and stew in an anxiousness that belonged to a prepubescent boy, and certainly not a grown and capable man.

The knocking jarred him from his reverie and he was on his feet in an instant. He would not allow himself to hesitate. Jericho approached the door and opened it without giving himself time to second guess the decision. Dressed in gentleman’s clothing, Jericho was clean cut and nothing like the ragged dog he’d been those days ago. A smile graced his expression and there was a familiar, over-confident gleam in his eye. “Right on time.” He drawled as he gave Baxley a lingering once-over. He stepped aside and motioned with his arm. “Come in and make yourself at home.”

His tone was almost cordial and he kept a respectable distance from Baxley. Jericho was determined not to give into his desire to touch the other man, and he wanted to touch very badly, because he was committed to showing that he could be a gentleman, and not just a wild, inconsiderate jackass.

In short, he wanted to impress Baxley.

Guilt from acting so cruel and cold still weighed heavily on Jericho and put him in an interesting position. He wanted to apologize but words were not enough. The assassin-turned socialite wanted to give a demonstration, a clear and unquestionable sign of truth. “I’ll put some tea on.” He thought Baxley might need something to help him relax after the trek from Red Axe. “I trust the trip wasn’t too horrible?” Jericho disappeared into the kitchen and the sound of cupboard doors closing and running water would require Baxley to speak up to be heard.

Behind and so quiet as to remain undetected was a feline, peeking from behind a doorframe. It spied Baxley’s twitching tail and crouched, padding the ground with its paws at it got into position. It pounced and secured its teeth and claws around what was a decidedly interesting play-thing.

[Baxley]

Jericho was looking much better than he had been during that night. Much more like his old self than the haggard mess that had assaulted Baxley then carried him home. His manners seemed to have returned, too, with the change to his appearance. He was being the good host. Cordial, polite, trying to appear the gentleman.

Baxley hated it, and wished for the Jericho that couldn't control himself.

He kept his thoughts to himself however, and allowed his eyes to rake hungrily over the well groomed body. Always looking so impeccable even in his own home, it just seemed to be typical Jericho. The clothes fit Jericho nicely, but Baxley knew what was under them. Somehow knowing what was underneath made the fine, expensive clothing he was wearing pale in comparison. Maybe that was just to Baxley though. It probably was.

"Tea would be nice, thank you." Baxley watched Jericho turn to the kitchen, eyes dropping down on their own accord and a sly smirk tugged insistently at his lips. He swore he would be good until Jericho made it obvious what the trip was for, but his body had other ideas he couldn't control.

"You mean besides almost being ravaged by those rumormongers and gossips? You know how much I hate them. I barely got out of their with my mind intact and without gutting one of them." Baxley grumbled loudly over the clattering in the kitchen, crossing his arms over his chest as he sauntered nearer and leaned against the doorframe. "The same shit, too. 'Where was I going, who was I meeting with, was I meeting with you, what were we doing?' I thought I was going to lose it."

He was so engrossed with his complaining about the city and its inhabitants that it wasn't until the teeth and claws sank into his flesh did he realize something was going on. The spark of pain that traveled up his tail was not an uncommon one, having a cat himself, but that pain in Jericho's house did not belong. Jericho disliked cats, a lot, but even before he yelped and dropped his green eyes downward, he already knew what he would find attached to his tail. He was not expecting to be stared back at with eerily similar green eyes.

Numbly he reached down and picked up the mewling kitten by the scruff, holding it close to his chest as he looked it over. Dark red, green eyes, so damn similar to his own. The kitten's smirking face stared up at him and it started purring, leaning up against his chest to lick at his cheek.

Jericho had a kitten. A red kitten with green eyes. Jericho had a kitten that looked eerily similar to Baxley.

What the hell?

Baxley knew Jericho could be obsessive and kind of (okay a lot) creepy, but... this? This was beyond creepy. If Baxley had any sense he would have fled then and there. Instead he stroked the purring kitten's fur quietly and stared at it, shocked.

When he gathered his thoughts and could think beyond 'This is so fucking creepy.' he blinked out of his daze and raised his head up. Suspicious green eyes glanced at Jericho, judging him silently where he stood in the kitchen. "Jericho, what the hell did you do?"

[Obelisk]

“Clearly you’re exaggerating.” Jericho’s amused voice drifted out from the kitchen. He knew well just how insincere and prying the social elite could be. They did not have to worry about difficult and time consuming work and had to find different outlets for stimulation. Some fell to drugs and sex, others took to intrigue and gossip. Jericho had explored all facets of Silvereye’s activities and had nearly lost himself in it all, but managed to pull away. He now crept around with expert grace, able to enter where it was fortuitous and escape where it was not.

He smiled as he set the kettle onto the stove. “They do seem rather concerned with my business as of late.” This ‘concern’ was due to Jericho’s prolonged disappearance. They assumed he was off vacationing when in fact he had been engrossed in the other half of his double life. “Let them wonder. It’s always amusing to hear what they come up with.”

Jericho turned around and leaned against a counter, arms crossed over his chest. He was greeted by the sight of Baxley holding the nameless kitten he had taken in on a whim. His cheeks paled a little, as if he’d been caught doing something horrific and terrifying. A single eye rose to meet Baxley’s skeptical and calculating gaze. His mind desperately grasped for an answer and Jericho settled on a tactic. He’d acknowledge nothing and deny any weirdness.

“I got a pet.” He shrugged and pushed off of the counter, taking the few strides to get to where Baxley stood. Jericho reached out and pried the kitten out of Baxley’s grip. The little animal turned its smiling face up to Jericho and mewled. It was striking how similar the cat’s fur color was to Baxley’s hair. The eyes were similar, too, though Jericho thought Baxley’s were far more vibrant, but maybe that was his favoritism showing. “Surely you’ve seen a pet before, Baxley? I do recall you owning a cat of your own.” The kitten’s tail started to sway and twitch, as if it was amused by the exchange between the two men.

Baxley was still staring and Jericho started to feel like an idiot. He hated it. “Shut up.” He spat out, cheeks reddening slightly. He knew what it looked like and Baxley’s summation of the situation was likely right. Jericho had taken in the kitten because Baxley had left and the damned thing was a matching red with a matching set of green (if less vibrant) eyes.

So much for not coming off like a psychotic.

[Baxley]

"A pet, right. A pet that looks eerily similar to me, Jericho." Baxley rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, watching Jericho silently while he held the kitten. The staring was starting to get to Jericho, he knew that it would, but he pointedly ignored it, even when he flushed and barked out at him to stop. All that caused was for Baxley to raise a mocking eyebrow and smirk at him.

Let Jericho wallow in his embarrassment, he deserved it.

He had known Jericho was strange and creepy and got way to obsessed with things before, it was part of why he was interested in the man. Baxley was just never completely sure what he would end up doing until the last second. It kept him on his toes, made him always reevaluate the situation over and over. He was like a puzzle Baxley couldn't figure out, and Baxley loved puzzles.

Jericho left a feeling of sick thrill in him, especially when he did things like this. Some part of him felt even felt pleased to be the target of Jericho's obsession. A larger part of him felt he should be worried. It was probably right.

The kitten was so eerie and disturbing, and yet it just seemed so natural for something like this to happen with Jericho. Baxley eyed the two of them before shrugging. Jericho had done stranger things.

Quietly he raised his hand up and scratched behind the kitten's ears, smiling as it started purring and pressing against his fingers, demanding more attention. Finally he turned his attention back to Jericho by lifting his gaze from the kitten to Jericho's eye. "Alright, so you got a pet. Have you named it?"

He took a step closer towards him, definitely within Jericho's personal space, and smirked teasingly at him. Daring him to comment on it. He was testing the man now, trying to get some grasp on their situation. The presence of the kitten boosted his confidence, but he still thought them to be on rocky ground since Jericho hadn't even touched him yet.

Baxley's tail twitched as he decided there might as well be no turning back. The hand not currently preoccupied by an insistent kitten raised up then and settled comfortably on Jericho's hip.

Forget the man's no touching rule, Baxley needed this. Needed to know where they stood.

"And, is this an actual business trip, or were you needing me for something else?" He'd been curious about that. The way the letter had came was strictly business, but thus far everything leading up until now had been anything but. He wouldn't really have minded either way considering he did enjoy their business together. However, right now, with Jericho's heat and flesh teasing him under his palm, he could think of hundreds of things he'd rather be doing with the man. Business planning was rather low on that list.

[Obelisk]

There were instances in which Jericho questioned his sanity. This was one of those instances.

When he’d first taken in the kitten, he hadn’t thought much of it. The cat’s coloration and its eyes were telling but Jericho, perhaps to save himself from personal embarrassment, hadn’t paid heed to the similarities. There was no denying it now. “No.” He said lamely, looking at the kitten and wondering why he’d never bothered in giving it a name. “It’s just a cat. Cats don’t need names.” The explanation had sounded more intelligent in his mind. The real answer was something along the lines of:

No, I didn’t name the cat because if I did, I’d name it Baxxy or Bax and that’d make things that much creepier, wouldn’t it?

Baxley’s hand was warm against his hip and Jericho’s mind quieted. Baxley’s touch had a grounding effect, like a master’s touch to his hound. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth against Baxley’s in what was a rather chaste show of affection. He let the touch linger before pulling away. If he wasn’t careful, they’d end up with a repeat of their previous encounters. The kettle whistled loudly and Jericho bent down to let the kitten free. “There’s the tea, then.” He set about preparing two separate cups and handed one to Baxley.

“I suppose you could consider it a mix of business and pleasure.” He sipped at the rich tea before continuing. “My recent contract requires some snooping. I need to gauge the situation and understand the mark before proceeding. And in order to do that…” A slow smirk spread across his lips, “…I need to attend a party in the evening. I’d hate to go alone and working the crowd for information is that much easier when done in a pair.” There was a devious glint in his eye.

“And what do you know, here you are in Silvereye.” His smirk turned into a grin. “How fortuitous.” There was a reason the note had lacked details. Jericho knew well how much Baxley hated to socialites of Silvereye. He would never had agreed to a party but if Jericho sprung it on him suddenly and gave him less time to think, maybe it would tip the outcome in his favor. “Unless, of course, you have something better to do while here?”

[Baxley]

The kissed really helped his confidence. No longer did he fear that what they had shared had been forgotten. When Jericho pulled back Baxley was smiling at him which quickly morphed into a grin at the sight of Jericho holding the red kitten. He looked, to Baxley, adorable like that.

When Jericho released the kitten Baxley waved his tail over the kitten's face and back, chuckling as it whipped around and started batting at his tail again. He'd play with it for a while longer like this while Jericho prepared their tea. Pulling away only when the tea was offered, making sure his tail was far enough off the ground that the kitten would lose interest with it. Muttering a small 'Thank You' he sipped the tea and returned his attention to Jericho.

That smirk did not look good, in fact Baxley felt the fur of his tail start to stand on end at just the sight of it. Things only got worse as Jericho went on. Baxley took a step backwards and swallowed, eyes narrowed as his mind pieced together everything before he even finished. Jericho had tricked him. "I... you... you tricky bastard. Why do-? Damnit! You know I hate these people and parties. Parties never end well for me. Ever."

Baxley walked past Jericho into the kitchen and sat his cup down and covered his face with his hands. Breathing hard and trying to calm himself. It wasn't working though and the longer he stood there, the more his tail started to twitch back and forth until it was whipping from side to side angrily. Trust Jericho to do something like this. It was just like the man to force Baxley into something while still making it look like he had a choice. Slowly he removed his hands from his face and turned around, glaring at Jericho while he crossed his arms over his chest.

He should just say no. Tell Jericho to go fuck himself and his party. Then return to Red Axe. Return to his lonely house and his ill-tempered cat and let Jericho steam here at being told off. He should, but he couldn't. Baxley rolled his eyes at his own ridiculousness and grunted, still glaring at the one eyed man.

"I suppose you already have a suit for me to wear since you seemed to have planned for this?" He sighed heavily and approached the man, letting his arms fall once he was standing near him again. "I swear to god Jericho, if something happens I'm going to snap. I hate parties. A lot. I'll go, but you owe me big for this."

[Obelisk]

He shrugged, comfortable now that his plan had proven successful. Any trepidation he had been harboring earlier fled and Jericho’s countenance was one of confidence. His charisma was natural but Jericho kept it muted, knowing that Baxley would see through any ploy he might try to pull. “Consider it a learning experience. A man can’t go through life without knowing how to properly work a crowd.” He didn’t bother to hide his smirk. “I might have had some time to…come up with something.” Jericho set his cup down and motioned for Baxley to follow him.

“This way, if you will.” He led Baxley through his decorated home and up the stairs. The second floor harbored Jericho’s study along with various guest rooms. He stepped into the room next to his own and on the bed was a set of clothing. Jericho opted to keep things simple for Baxley, lest the man outright refuse to attend the party. There was a white shirt, a striped vest, and a pair of black slacks. At the edge of the bed and on the floor was a pair of polished black shoes. Black socks lay next to the clothing on the blankets. “They should fit well enough.” He turned a wicked look onto Baxley.” I have an eye for these kinds of things.” The leer was evident in his voice and he allowed his gaze to wander.

Then he remembered he was supposed to be behaving.

“I should get dressed.” Jericho observed and took a few steps back and towards the door. “Consider this room yours for the duration of your stay in Silvereye. I’d hate to have you holed up in a hotel. It’s a waste of money, after all.” Of course it had everything to do with money and nothing to do with Jericho desire to have the man near. His home could do with a little company; it hadn’t hosted anything but Jericho for quite some time, and he was often away.

Jericho slipped out of the room and closed the door behind him, then entered his own to prepare for the evening. A rap of knuckles fell against the door leading to Baxley’s room and Jericho waited for him to respond. He decided to keep things rather simple for himself as well, as far as clothing went. Jericho was dressed similarly to Baxley save for the color of his shirt. Instead of white, he wore sanguine red, something a bit different and sure to draw attention – just as he liked it. His mane of hair was styled back and tamed, and he truly looked the part of one of Silvereye’s socialites.

“Having trouble?” He teased and fought off the urge to push the door open. It was his house, he had the right to go where he pleased, but he was supposed to be playing the part of the gentleman. This had never been an issue before and he was a little at odds as to why Baxley somehow changed that. Once the door opened and Jericho was afforded a view of the man, he’d be dumbstruck and croak out a throaty,

“Nice..” Eloquence apparently could not survive Baxley in gentleman’s wear.

[Baxley]

Jericho's house never ceased to amaze Baxley. He took in the rich decor silently as they moved through the house and up the stairs, eyes taking in each detail they passed over along the way. Expensive, lavished with the finest things in life, it was clearly the home of someone with more money than they knew what to do with it. It had that lonely feeling to it though, but that, too, seemed to match Jericho. It made Baxley think of his own, simple home back in Red Axe. It was no where near as large or as impressive as this house. The two of them were so different when it came to their lifestyles. Baxley preferred the simple life. Jericho survived amongst the socialites. It was no wonder most people didn't think them friends.

He eyed Jericho curiously as they stopped by one of the rooms - one next to Jericho's, he noted with amusement. Baxley honestly wondered what Jericho saw in him that interested the man so much considering how plain he was compared to him.

The room was toned down dramatically compared to the rest of the house and Baxley briefly wondered if Jericho had been planning his stay for a while now, or if it was just coincidence. With Jericho either option could be true. To lessen the creep factor he'd pretend it was just a coincidence.

He took a few steps towards the bed and held out the slacks, turning them from side to side and then glancing towards Jericho from the corner of his eye. "Oh I'm sure you do," He purred out and turned a positively wicked smirk to Jericho. Baxley raised an eyebrow teasingly. "The, ah, hands on experience probably helped, too, didn't it?"

He waited then until Jericho had exited the room before turning back to the clothes with a sigh. They were rather plain compared to what he normally felt comfortable in, but they would do for last minute planning. He should be annoyed with Jericho, but he couldn't find it in him to be, and that made him annoyed with himself. How could Jericho get to him so badly all the time? Baxley rolled his eyes and shook his head as he raised his hands up to start disrobing. The things Jericho talked him into...

"Just a moment," Baxley grumbled unhappily at Jericho's rapping, fiddling for the tenth time with his shirt sleeves. Jericho had chosen his clothes well, but of course he would have considering who he was talking about. He was just being nervous and it annoyed him that he was being so ridiculous. Here he was, a grown man, and yet Baxley felt like some teenager getting ready for their first date with their crush. It was ridiculous.

Nervousness crept up his spine when he finally reached and opened the door with a frown. He stood there fidgeting once more with his shirt and finally ended up snapping out in annoyance and embarrassment. "Well?" A heated blush touching his cheeks at the silent scrutiny.

The blush darkened for a different reason when Jericho finally answered him. Baxley looked down at himself and frowned silently, not fully convinced he looked as good as Jericho was acting like he did. Still, with the way the man's eyes were raking over his body like he was some kind of treat made his ego swell a bit more and he grinned at Jericho cockily. "You don't look so bad yourself, Jeri." Of course, the fact that he'd look better naked with those expensive clothes strewn about the floor was something Baxley would keep to himself for now. The way he was staring hungrily at Jericho probably gave away those thoughts anyway.

He took a few steps towards Jericho and inclined his head, staring at those tempting lips so close to his own that all he would have to do was lean a bit forward. Unbidden those filthy words came back to him that Jericho had confessed during their night together. Images flashed through his mind, each dirtier than the last, and they teased him with ideas he couldn't act on yet. Not if they were going to get to this party. With that thought in mind he pulled back and cleared his throat nervously. Taking a step backwards to put some space between them and calm himself before Baxley could let his thoughts get to much control of him.

He swallowed and flicked his gaze back up to Jericho's face, trying vainly to quell his thoughts of the bedroom. "So, who is your mark, anyway?" He thought that his voice might sound just the tiniest bit strained there.

[Obelisk]

“Of course I don’t.” Jericho was far beyond the point of pretending he possessed a shred of modesty. Those were niceties preserved for specific occasions wherein he was to play the part of a demure, polite and obliging gentleman. He could be a gentleman for Baxley, too, but not at the expense of sacrificing all aspects of his true nature. Besides, Baxley was completely aware of Jericho’s ego so there was no point in disguising it.

He knew precisely what was going through Baxley’s mind simply by the look on the man’s face. Jericho knew but he refused to acknowledge. His determination to keep things cordial was rock solid and, as many knew, Jericho was an impossibly stubborn man. Jericho, looking nonchalant, turned and motioned for Baxley to follow him. As they walked, Jericho began to outline the true reason for their presence at the party.

“A man by the name of Bartholomew Jacobsen.” He moved down the stairs continued fluidly. “For those privy to the social circle in Silvereye, which I imagine you may not be, he’s known as the one to talk to when it comes to fair priced exotic goods.” Jericho threw a glance over his shoulder to make sure Bax was listening. “My employer is a competitor of Mister Jacobsen and has come across irrefutable evidence that the man is finding his goods through less then legal means. Which is why he is able to undercut his competitors by a sizeable sum.”

Jericho locked the door behind them and stepped onto the streets, flashing those who looked their way a smile and a word of greeting. Automobiles rumbled down the street and the citizens of Silvereye continued with their daily chores, blissfully unaware of the intrigue and conspiracies taking place all around them. “This is more a scouting endeavor. I need to know more about Jacobsen before I make and real moves.”

Speaking business made it easier for Jericho to keep his mind where he needed it. No amount of temptation could dull his working brain. He looked to Baxley. “I hope you don’t mind walking.” The mansion was not far off and Jericho rather enjoyed stalking the streets during one of the rare occasions where the rain stopped momentarily.

The house was extravagant and spoke of an insane amount of wealth. The people inside were dressed to match with no sense of modesty to spare. Jericho and Baxley were dressed mutely in comparison. This made them stand out and such was Jericho’s plan. He always felt that a bright smile and charisma outshined any amount of ridiculous regalia.

There were a number of women that looked Baxley’s way. They covered their mouths as they giggled and talked quietly amongst themselves. Jericho flashed the man a smirk and quirked a brow. “Looks like you have admirers already.” It was always Jericho’s goal to have the prettiest thing in the room on his arm and this time around he’d arrived with it. His ego was pleased and he quelled the urge to grin when a number of women came over to introduce themselves.

Jericho took to socializing with easy. He was all smiles and clever quips. Soon a delighted flush appeared on the faces of the young women as they giggled and bashfully asked him questions. There were a few heckling Baxley and Jericho sent him a hidden look, amused by how he handled the situation.

[Baxley]

The walk to the house had done nothing to quell his nervous thoughts. While Jericho spoke cordially to those they passed and flashed that winning smile, Baxley, by comparison, was much more meek. Opting to instead keep his hands in the pockets of his slacks and only turn a smile to those that greet him specifically. Otherwise his head was bent slightly down and he stared ahead as he walked. Jericho was social enough for the two of them.

What he wouldn't give to be able to just turn around and go home right then and there...

They approached the house and his nervousness returned full force. Even outside the quiet hum of talking could be heard outside the grandiose doors, and it only got louder as they approached. He sent one final, panicked look towards Jericho as they doors opened and they were ushered in.

Baxley swallowed thickly as the attention turned to them, and inside his mind he was cursing Jericho for doing this to him. They stood out among the crowd and were thrust on display. Everyone else was dressed to impress the crowd, and here they stood, standing out. Of course they did, it was all Jericho's doing in the first place - the man just loved to be center of attention and he knew Baxley hated it. Why did it surprise him that Jericho had done something like this?

He watched warily as a group of girls blushed and giggled at him, batting their eyes and smiling coyly at him. Baxley knew their type. "Admirers, yeah, right. Just waiting to get their claws into me and whatever money I may have." Baxley spoke low enough so that only Jericho would hear as the women started approaching them. Most went to Jericho as normal, but Baxley seemed to have a gathering of his own.

Against his will he found himself dragged farther away from Jericho over time as he plastered on that fake smile that the girls swooned at. Those that knew him however would see behind that smile. The way he held himself, the way his tail seemed to be stiff or stiffen whenever one of the girls 'accidentally' rubbed it, nothing about his demeanor said he was calm at all. He could fake it with the best of them though, and it wasn't long until the girls were blushing and giggling and stuttering all over him. Offering him drinks which he politely declined and dragging him out to the dance floor time and time again. Baxley had them in the palm of his hands and with that, the information started flowing. How could a girl refuse such a handsome gentleman?

He'd only caught sight of Jericho a few times during it all, and only once was the man looking at him. Amused at Baxley's situation no doubt. Finally though he was able to extract himself from his 'admirers' and make his way carefully back towards Jericho, or at least where Jericho had been last. Green eyes scanned the crowd quickly looking for the one eyed man amongst the bunches of higher class.

Where the hell had the man slipped off to now?

"Hmm, where did he go?" Baxley mumbled mostly to himself as he made his way through the crowd. Nimbly moving around the clustered bodies chattering away loudly over this and that. When he found the man he'd approach him with an exasperated sigh. "I swear if I have to dance one more time..." He rolled his eyes and settled closer to the man so they wouldn't have to speak so loudly to hear one another. "How has your night been so far?" What have you learned.

[Obelisk]

“Believe me,” He spoke with a secret smile, “It’s not your money that they’re interested in.” It was with those words that Jericho left Baxley to fend for himself amongst a gaggle of over-zealous young women. Sink or swim, Baxley, Jericho thought with a wicked swell of humor.

He took to completing rounds amongst the different cliques within the party. Jericho was known by some and through his charismatic personality, generally well-liked. There were a few suspicious and envious glances thrown his way but he carefully ignored them, playing the oblivious gentleman perfectly. Though he appeared to be involved with those he spoke with, Jericho was aware of Jacobsen’s position at all times. Going straight towards the man would be too obvious; the practiced assassin chose to circle around his prey, judging the scenario from a distance before closing in. Jericho was also aware of Baxley’s position and kept a careful eye on the man, lest he be dragged off by over-eager youths.

There was a small group of women near a table that kept throwing glances Baxley’s way. They spoke amongst themselves and their body language indicated that the gossip passing between them was of special concern. His curiosity got the better of him and Jericho expertly excused himself from the politician he’d been wooing. With an easy smile and comfortable gait, Jericho approached the group and eased himself in.

At first they were reluctant to divulge what they knew – women tended to keep certain gossip exclusive to their own gender. Jericho was not to be outwitted or out maneuvered in the field of conversation. He managed quickly to persuade them to enlighten him. His good humor slowly dampened as they revealed that someone had seen Baxley in the company of a barmaid recently. The blonde-haired girl made the obscene comment that Baxley had deflowered the woman somewhere in a backroom of the establishment.

Jericho’s charming grin turned brittle at his edges and he was careful to escape their gathering before his mask completely crumbled. His heart beat was faster than normal and he could feel his pulse in his ears pounding away angrily. The sudden revelation had put him off balance enough that he had lost track of his target. After scanning the room, Jericho found Jacobsen absent with no hint as to where he had slipped off to.

There was an exasperated sigh to his left and Jericho allowed the owner no sympathy. He didn’t bother looking at Baxley. “Fantastic.” The single word was clipped and edged. Jericho turned an eye onto Baxley and it was obvious at that point that his demeanor had shifted to the opposite side of the spectrum. There was no warmth or kindness, only the cold blade of Jericho’s vindictive personality. “In fact, your presence is no longer required.” There was violence beneath the controlled façade he was presenting and had they been in any other environment, Jericho may have allowed that control to slip. “Go play with your admirers.” A pause, an ugly smirk. “Oh, that’s right. You prefer to keep company with tavern whores.” He allowed what was likely a bewildered Baxley no chance to respond. Jericho brushed past him and maneuvered his way through a demanding crowd and out onto the balcony.

He’d been mindful to grab a glass of wine off a tray before exiting.

[Baxley]

"Huh?"

Well that was eloquent, wasn't it?

Baxley stood dumbstruck as Jericho roughly pushed past him. Blinking at where Jericho had been, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. He only stirred when a hand was pressed against his shoulder and a voice spoke him name in concern. Twisting his head to the side, he stared down at a fragile looking young girl who started fretting over him and asking if he was alright. Baxley pulled on a smile that didn't reach his eyes and nodded, shooing her along until her concerned face was no longer looking at him.

If he was honest with himself, he didn't know if he was or not.

Baxley leaned heavily against the wall behind him and sighed. What had happened this time? Things had been going so well. Jericho wasn't being the usual closed up ass he normally was. He was letting Baxley in. Letting him see something besides how he normally acted. Baxley had started seeing the real Jericho.

He should have known something was going to go wrong when he was feeling this good.

Eyes scanned the room quickly noticing more than one curious look tossed his way, but no sign of the man. Baxley cursed softly and swallowed down the latest drink that had been shoved in his hand; no longer concerned about what could be in it. He needed the alcohol burning his blood system, and one glass of wine wouldn't cut it.

Baxley made his way determinedly through the crowd. Brushing past chatty little things and men looking to do business with him, seeking out that head of brown and silver that was so familiar. When he spotted the man out on the balcony he made his way there, picking up a matching glass of wine as that held in Jericho's hand.

He swallowed thickly and hovered just inside the house still. Watching the man silently for a couple of minutes. Trying to determine what the man was thinking by staring at the back of his head.

"Jericho?" His voice thick with concern as he eased his way out onto the balcony behind Jericho. "What was that all about?" He gently settled to the left of the man and leaned on the balcony, casting a sidelong glance at the man. Jericho had a violent nature at his core, and while he might be safe because of the crowd behind them in the house, Baxley wouldn't bet on Jericho to keep sane if pushed. The glass of wine in his hand didn't help his confidence that Jericho could remain calm. "What about some tavern whore? I've never... You should know better than to listen to gossip, Jeri."

Baxley had no clue what Jericho had been talking about. That night he had spent drunk with the tavern girl had been long since forgotten once he was sober. Even if it hadn't, Baxley was telling the truth. He hadn't slept with her. They had gotten drunken together and that was it.

He drained the wine glass in his hand again and set it off to the side. Licking his lips clean of the taste, and then turning to face Jericho a bit better. Eyes looked the man over quietly as he wait for some kind of response. His tail twitched and curled nervously as the silence stretched on before finally curling around his waist. He needed a response. Any kind of response, though obviously he would prefer it to be nonviolent. Just right now he wanted something. Anything.

Talk to me, Jeri, let me in your head. Don't push me away again.

[Obelisk]

The cool night air did nothing to calm Jericho’s mood. His temper was a quick fire that once ignited, refused to extinguish until it burned itself out. Footsteps followed shortly behind just as he knew they would. Jericho’s delirious pride would have him think that he felt spite and only spite with Baxley’s refusal to allow him his peace, but there was satisfaction buried there, and not so deep as to be completely ignored.

He said nothing when Baxley made the expected attempt to debunk what Jericho had heard. A sharp green eye stared fixedly into the contents of his glass before, affecting an air of forced nonchalance, he drank down too much wine to pass as casual. Optimism, especially in way of relationships, was not in Jericho’s nature. Baxley was lying in a concerted effort to fool him. This was the conclusion Jericho had reached (immediately) and clung to (determinedly). He smiled tightly and schooled the warring emotions bubbling inside into a dangerous and deceptive calm.

“So you say.” Words so clipped and smooth offered little explanation. He stared ahead into the cityscape of Silvereye where lamplight flickered in the dark of night. The city felt at that instant all too claustrophobic. A million people. A million heartbeats. A million saints and betrayers. His vagabond blood started to rise and grow insistent; it was an instinctual response to unexpected and undesired circumstances. Fight or flight.

His blood said flight.

“But men like us say many things.” He set the glass onto the balcony’s railing before turning to settle an unreadable but distant gaze onto Baxley. “To meet desired ends.” There’d be repercussions to leaving the job unfinished. His reputation would take a hit but he could knit those wounds with expert precision later. The right words at the right time worked wonders. Jacobsen was granted a reprieve that night. He no longer mattered and this was precisely why Jericho’s better judgment had warned him against pursuing Baxley. Anything beyond a business relationship complicated everything. His logic had warped, his blades had dulled and completely missed their mark.

And he’d only himself to blame.

“The ruse is done.” There, in the gentle sigh that followed his words, was the slightest indication of defeat. What Jericho meant by ‘ruse’ – the party, the investigation into Jacobsen, them – was not explained. Baxley was likely perplexed and this was Jericho’s signature move, leaving people in the dark while he held all the cards. He thought it was his maintaining a shred of dignity. It was only cruelty.

The distant look is his eye turned hard and he gestured to the room full of socialites. “Stay and mingle or go. Do whatever and whomever you want.” He straightened his vest and drew in a breath. “I’m leaving.” A pause as he leaned forward. His voice dropped into something dangerous. “And don’t think that you should follow.” The soles of his boots were quiet against the balcony floor as he took two steps back. He turned away and started towards the main room.

He wanted to escape without causing a scene and, if he knew anything of Baxley at all, he wagered the man would comply, if only to avoid embarrassment.