Dealing with Demons

July 20 2014: Jericho gets home from Turkey and finds Illyana waiting in his safe house with a solution to the attention he's been getting from her demons.

Jericho's Midtown Safe House

Nice, comfortable and utterly like everything around it.



  • K'nert the demon cat-thing.

Mood Music:
[* None]

Illyana is in his apartment when he gets home, but with all the bugs he likes to keep around maybe he knew that. If he has bugs inside the apartment as well. She's sitting at his kitchen table, booted feet up *on* the edge of the table with a glass of vodka in one hand and the rest of the bottle nearby. In her lap is K'nert, who is for the moment looking very docile as she pets the skinny thing as if it really were some sort of lap cat.


Jericho was treated by the medics on the USS George W Bush and he had the long flight back to apply the polymorpher's regeneration to himself, but he's still got a bruise on his jaw and a burn on his temple from deflecting a mortar round with his wings when he gets back in. It's actually surprisingly normal the way the keys rattle and he opens the door. The interior of the safe house has got some monitoring but no alarms because he hasn't figured out a way to make them that Illyana's penchant for dropping in won't make go haywire.

Still, he's halfway in the door and setting the keys by the table when he spots exactly where she is. A smile quirks his lips up.

"Hey there Illyana… and K'nert."


K'nert lifts its head up and hisses at Jericho, laying back its ears. Illyana flicks one hard with a finger. It turns to glare at her but then settles down with grumbly sort of noises.

"You got hurt again." Illyana says, sipping her vodka in a very calm observation. "What did I tell you about that?" Her tone is rather dry, smirking at him. She picks up K'nert with one hand, which makes it squirm a bit, as she sits up and drops him lightly on the table.

"Bring a couple of glasses."


A cabinet opens in the kitchen and there's a clinking as he gets out a couple of glasses. "Sure. And it wasn't my idea. Someone I know had a friend end up in Turkey. Tracked 'im down and ran into one of those bits of trouble that part of the world is so well known for." The oddest part of that whole bit had been when Paul went all firey and pseudo-demonic and lunged at him because he 'stank of demon.' Jericho is honestly not sure what to make ofthat one.

Over he comes with the two empty glasses.

"What about you? Just relaxin' with the cat?" It's part honest question and part tease since he's never seen her with regular animals, let alone… this… uh… thing.


K'nert dances on the table top a bit, making a sound that seems like a cross between a hiss, a growl, and a sneeze while glaring at Jericho all the while. "Well, you're here so I'm hoping it all went well?" See, she doesn't watch too closely. She leans forward a bit, reaching down and fishes a slim blade from the inside of her boot. There's a reason those things are so tall y'know. She's got her glass of vodka so why she asked for two seems a bit odd. Until she drags the second one over and holds her arm over it with fist closed to give her a good field to apply the knife.


"Well enough. I think this…" He gestures to the burn and bruise. "Was the worst anyone got. Well, in Turkey. Guy we fished out had been to Hell, it seems." The knife gets Jericho's attention. He cants his head slightly as he pours himself a drinks, keeping an eye on the hissing demon on his table while he watches that blade.

"Play nice." He murmurs in a soft warning tone, admonishing the demon. One warning. Then he applies a little pack mentality to this whole thing.

"What's with the blade?" The hacker says, raising his voice back up to normal levels.


"Which one?" Illyana asks, of Hell. She knows a good eight, easy. The sharp blade passes over her wrist, blood welling up in a rich, red rush. She closes her hand into a tight fist as she turns the wound down over the shallow glass to let it collect there. She doesn't bother chastising K'nert again.

"Well. It seems that you've gotten the attention of my demons. That's not too likely to change. So I figure I should do something about it."


Okay, watching Illyana bleed is a little odd. More than a little odd and while Jericho has accepted that she knows a lot more about magic than he's ever likely to, it doesn't make the experience any less jarring. "Uh, well based on the way it was being talked about, I'm going to guess the one with Lucifer. That's just a guess though, it seemed imprudent to ask."

He watches as the blood pools in the glass, remembering an earlier conversation in which Illyana mentioned that magic could be powered by sacrifices. Blood seems a likely component here, then. "Okay… Something beyond giving me the handbook and telling me to slap them when they get uppity, I'm guessing?"


"There've been a number of hell lords that have gone by the name, but recently just the one." Illyana says, glancing up at him as she bleeds without so much as a whimper. "Not a good place to be." She smirks at him then, arching a brow. "Well? I'm going to need something to put over this soon."

The observation gets a nod as she wipes the blade on her jeans and slides the knife back away. Guess when you don't carry a purse you need to keep important stuff somewhere. "I thought about it for a long time and finally decided that that was just inviting trouble."


Jericho rises, the observation that, duh, she'll need a compress and bandage for it shaking him just sort of staring. One trip to the CLS bag under the sink and he's back with what he'll need. Peroxide - yes the blade's probably clean by why mess ith it - a compress pad and some cling and cloth tape.

"Here. Let me." He does it really without thinking, taking Illyana's wrist (as his traces light up again) and lifting it a bit to apply the compress and a bit of pressure to halt the bleeding.

"Alright, I guess that's fair. So plan B involves… what exactly." He's still got one eye on K'nert because… cat demon. It's like cat squared. But with less fur and more claws.


Oddly, K'nert has settled down. If settled down means laying on its belly, long head resting on clawed hands while it watches that glass with rapt attention.

Illyana lets him take her hand and clean up the wound. "Just wrap it up for now. I'll let you put a real bandage in a few. I don't want it to get gold." Presumably the blood. Once he's wrapped it to keep some pressure on it she picks up the glass and walks around to Jericho's side of the table. She kicks at one of the legs to get him to turn so he's sitting facing her. Pushing his sleeves up if need be to leave his wrists and part of his forearms exposed, she turns his hands palm-up on his thighs. Then she steps between his knees and nudges his head back so his head is tilted back a bit to look up at her.

"Don't worry. It won't hurt." Talk about famous last words. Picking up the glass her eyes close a moment, and when she reopens them they've gone all-white with her power. When she speaks, the words seem to make the world about him tremble, just a bit, like someone's got the bass turned up really high. His traces light up without her even touching him as the sense of magic rolls through. K'nert is watching, head coming up and its own eyes blazing. Illyana dips her fingertips into the shallow amount of blood in the glass and traces a dripping line across his forehead. She marks his cheek and chin. The line of his throat. The pulse of his wrists.


The light on Jericho's traces when she begins the spell is nothing compared to the bright blaze when her blood touches him. In this particular case it could have hurt a fair bit and there's a good chance he wouldn't have noticed as the HUD overlying his vision goes simultaneously crimson and demonic, with not even a bit of readable English text in sight. He doesn't have very long to consider what the demonic text means, though, because even that oddity is quickly overwhelmed by the sensation of heat and tingles all over his traces. It's not a burning heat, but he does definitely feel like someone hooked up a car battery inside him.

"Woah." That's all the normally talkative Jericho manages to get out.


Illyana's fingers paint symbols, or what he assumes are symbols upon his flesh. The brush she uses, her fingers, are too blunt an instrument for him to pick out the intricacies of it. For a moment her other hand, the one not anointed with blood, brushes a touch against one of his burns. But then it falls away. Finally, she slides her thumb over his lips, filling his nose with the coppery scent of blood.

She falls silent then, and the white fades from her eyes to leave the normal chilly blue. She looks at him a long moment, expression unreadable before she turns, picking up the bottle of vodka and pouring it in over the dregs of blood in the glass. There is the cling of glass against wood as she picks up the pink-tinged liquid and holds it out to him. "Here."


He actually has to shake himself to clear his vision, the combination of magic and touch a bit overwhelming. The noise Jeri makes isn't so much a word as just an exhalation of a breath he hadn't been aware he took. It's a moment before his eyes track up enough to see Illyana standing in front of him, holding a glass of blood mixed with vodka. That's… one way to make a Bloody Mary. Not one he'd ever heard of before.

He takes it in hand and holds it for a long moment, looking up for a moment. The amount of amber in his eyes has grown. A lot. Maybe about a third of his iris now, no longer ember flecks but amber bands running through the brown. He doesn't question her, remembering not to do so in front of K'nert and… whatever that other one's name is (is he still here?). Then he nods, the internal decision to trust her even at this rather odd request, and downs the vodka and blood in one drink.


The alcohol burns down his throat and, perhaps thankfully, there is no more sudden shock of magic slamming through his system. His traces, so sensitive to magic now, feel the buzz of *something* but of course Jericho doesn't have the experience to know much beyond that.

Illyana watches him with that inscrutable expression, and then her gaze slides over to K'nert as the small demon moves towards Jericho in a slow creep. It pauses, nose twitching. Then moves forward again. Slowly, it flows over the edge of the table and down Jericho's arm. It sniffs at him a bit again and then makes a growlf sound and then… sprawls across his lap. It looks up to Illyana and flicks an ear a bit.

The blonde smirks down at him. "Yes. And you're going to take care of him now for me, alright?" K'nert makes some kind of response and she jerks her chin down towards the hall. "Scat. And get rid of Messy, would you?" Rising back up, K'nert hops to the floor and heads off.


Once the cat-thing is gone Jericho coughs for a moment and tries to find his voice. Maybe it was the sudden system shock or the blood in the alcohol or maybe he's just not quiiite as used to vodka as all that, but it seemed to burn a lot more going down than he remembers.

"What…" He shakes himself and tries again. Ah, there's the voice. "What was that?" He's got a number of questions and he's not entirely sure he'll get answers to all of them. Right now he's a bit distracted by the demonic fading from his vision and his red in his traces slowly and sullenly fading as the magic they absorbed is siphoned off to… wherever it is it all goes. He still hasn't been able to put much effort into finding out.

"Whew, question the second, is your wrist okay?" Now might be a good time to finish bandaging it.


The palm of Illyana's hand cups his cheek, where the blood has already dried. He can feel the tightness of it against his skin. Her touch tilts his head back so she can see his face, her thumb following the curve of his cheekbone as she looks at his eyes. "I wonder if that's my fault." She murmurs, noticing the influx of amber there.

A blink, and then she's seeing him again, instead of just looking at the color of his eyes. "Just a Marking." His words have her glancing to her own wrist, and her touch pulls back from him. "We should probably bind it up properly." She concedes.


"Wonder if what's your fault?" Jericho's voice is quiet. He has time to notice the dried blood on his wrists and can still taste and smell it on his lips. Then he's staring into Illyana's eyes and while hand on his cheek seems to have been unexpected, he oddly doesn't seem disturbed by whatever he does or doesn't see there.

Then her hand drops away and slightly more coherent thoughts return. Ah yes. The cut. He reaches over for the bandage and tape on the table and motions to Illyana for her wrist as he unpacks both.

"Mmmm. A Marking?" He uses the same inflection she did, making it clear that he heard the capital emphasis on the word. Really though, he's just curious. In a sense it really doesn't matter what it is. If he had been worried about it, he wouldn't have trusted her enough to make it necessary to begin with.


Illyana takes the seat next to him so she can lay her arm out on the table and let him tend to it. "Your eyes." She explains. "The color change." Her attention lingers on him, thoughtful. "What did you see?" She asks, voice soft.

As to the question? That gets one of those Illyana Pauses while she puts her thoughts together before speaking. "Essentially, it says you're mine." She says, tone perhaps too easy. Too light.


"My vision turned red and I saw a lot of demonic writing…" Jericho says slowly, thinking. There's a pause as he concentrates on getting the bandage on Illyana's wrist just right. The sensations distracted him a lot from what he was seeing but after the initial shock of magic flowing in… "And then… sort of… disjointed images. Like waking up from a dream and only remembering bits and pieces. Landscapes… fighting… figures…" He shakes his head. "A lot of it is hard to remember. The only thing I can remember for certain is a heart… a big… chrome-like metal heart…"

Ah, his eyes. He's seen the slow change of late though he has no idea what they look like now. "I'm not sure… they first changed color a couple months after I was implanted. It's been going again, slowly… couldn't quite say why."

The revelation that he's 'hers' draws a quirked eyebrow and the ghost of a smirk that's half questioning and half amused at some of the things that could be implied by that. "I see…" It's possible that he doesn't, but the notion doesn't appear to bother him any.


Illyana's frown is thoughtful, and there's the faint flicker of recognition in her eyes but it's pushed away. Nor does she remark on the images that he saw. The writing however… "You should show me later. The writing." The images might have been in his mind, and not in his HUD.

"Well they definitely reacted." Illyana notes with a slight nod. She's sure he'll check it out later. Who knows, maybe it will have faded back to normal by then.

He gets a sidelong glance as he finishes bandaging her wrist at that reply. Most people would probably object to any implied claiming, let alone they weren't asked about ahead of time. Told the details. Read the fine print.

Illyana pulls her arm away as she leans back in the chair and reaches for her glass from earlier. A slow sip is taken, gaze never leaving his. "I wasn't following you the other day." She notes. And then clarifies. "At the coffee shop." However long it's been for him, for her it's been a few days. Or at least, it feels like it.


It takes a minute for Jericho to parse… wasn't… oh! The coffee shop. With Pepper. And the bet. Illyana watches his expression turn into a sort of helpless smile. "The day before yesterday." He nods, knowing she has… timing issues. "Illyana I am not one of those guys who doggedly believes that everything revolves around them. You told me it was coincidence, I believe you." He laughs a little as he leans back, still watching her, and freshens up first one glass, then the other. "Odd happenstance but these things do happen sometimes. Almost like fate or chance or whatever you want to call it has a sense of humor."


Illyana gives him a slight nod of thanks for giving her a point of real-world reference. "Mmm. Coincidence." She says, as though not entirely believing it herself. She shakes her head with an inward sigh and then looks up at him with a chuckle, gesturing to her own face. "You can clean up now." She notes for him. Though the next time he looks in the mirror, his traces might pick up the marks still there. Just no longer something tangible.


Jericho nods and picks up the wrappings for the bandages and compress before travelling to the kitchen do dispose of them and wash all of the odd markings in blood off his face, throat and arms. "You know…" He comments as he does. "Usually when I can smell and taste a friend's blood it means that something's gone horribly wrong." Coming back, it may be sliiiiightly ironic or perhaps slightly appropriate to note that his shirt proclaims Non Timebo Mala: 'I shall fear no evil'.

"What, if I may ask, did you mean when you told K'nert that he's going to take care of me? Should I expect to have him hanging around?"


"Who says it hasn't?" Illyana says dryly, crossing one leg over the other as she swirls the alcohol in her glass. Her gaze slides down to his shirt and her lips quirk. Cute. Of course, she could be taking that as a challenge…

When he asks about K'nert she takes another deep swallow before replying. "K'nert has a talent for stepping disks. I don't know that he can summon them. It could just be that they're attracted to him, or at the very least he can find them. If you're ever stuck in Limbo, he should be able to get you out. And if you ever need a quick escape, he should be able to get you there."

The short answer? Looks like he has a pet.


Jericho's eyes follow hers down his shirt. Ah. "I like these shirts." He grins as he sits back down. "Well you're not dead or dying so, this is a lot better than the last couple of times that happened."

He retrieves his glass and listens, nodding thoughtfully as Illyana explains the cat-demon that will now apparently stick near him. That's… awfully foresighted of her. "I see. He can get into Limbo as well as get out? If you don't mind then, I may take the chance at some point to work on that project we'd discussed…"

Another drink of vodka and another thought visibly occurs to Jericho. "Erm… what does he eat? That isn't people."


Illyana's brows go up at his reply about the shirt. As if to say 'uh uh'. His observation about his friends though… that gets a more serious expression that conveys her sympathy without her saying 'I'm sorry'.

Illyana doesn't manage to rule an entire dimension of demons who, let's admit it, are like cats on crack, without being a smart cookie. Planning and forethought is key to that. She seems to ponder his plan and then nods. "You'll be on the outskirts, so just keep an eye out. My demons won't touch you, and will defend you, but there's always those looking to make a play for power that don't obey me."

The question about the care and feeding of his demon gets a short laugh from Illyana. "He'll eat just about anything. Prefers meat, of course but like I mentioned before, they've got a bit of a sweet tooth for ice cream so who knows. You might need to end up hiding your bread. I had a long talk with him. There should be no attempted people-eating. Do try to avoid corpses though. He might be tempted to take a bite."


The list of things that K'nert likes to eat makes Jericho laugh and shake his head amusedly. "Steak and ice cream. Got it. You know internet occultists had me half expecting it'd be something like virgin's tears or something like that. Glad to see the world makes a bit more sense than they think he does. And I don't habitually hang around dead people… by choice so that should be fine. I'll be careful when 'gardening' too though…" Red light ripples up the traces in his arm and crimson, hooked feline claws made of light briefly manifest on his right hand as he turns it palm up. "… If anyone is foolish enough to think they can push you by pushing me, they might have another thing coming." The smile on Jer's face briefly turns fierce before shading back toward his usual wry half-grin.

"He's a small demon. Not just in size but power and age. As they grow older then they tend to develop a more… refined palate. But they still *can* eat anything. Just getting them to do what you want sometimes…" Illyana shrugs. Part of why she often has trouble with them. She doesn't let them sate their hungers. Not that she demands any less of them than she does herself. She's always 'hungry', in a manner of speaking.

"I'm sure you'll do fine. I wouldn't have mentioned it if I thought you'd be in real danger." If anything, Illyana's more worried about Limbo's corrupting influence than the demons that like to stir up trouble.


Jericho doesn't really know enough to be worried. Illyana may or may not have figured out by this point that 'stupidly loyal' is sort of part of what he is and so even if he did it's possible that it wouldn't deter him.

"Alright, well hopefully it'll help," He says with a hitch of his shoulder. "Have you had a chance to eat anything yourself lately? I'm sure I can scare something up here if you're going to hang around. Might be good practice for the outcome of that bet anyway."

"Isn't there some fortune cookie wisdom about not visualizing your own defeat?" Illyana says, though she nods to him. "Sure, I could eat." She tends to save what real money she has for overpriced coffee and sweets, and eats normal meals in Limbo. Even if his cooking is bad, it probably ranks better than that.


"Probably, but I don't get Chinese that often." The grin on Jericho's face turns into a smirk for a moment as he heads to the kitchen and opens the fridge to see what survived Messy. Fortunately once he picked up on the fact that Ice Cream was preferred over all other things, the attrition of his perishables went down significantly. Hrm… veggies… chicken breasts… stir fry it is. It's quick, easy and in his opinion, fairly good eats.

"Pepper was nice enough though, to set up a Win-Win for us. Regardless of who wins, the three of us all get a nice dinner. That woman could probably do a lot of good in diplomatic circles with negotiating talent like that. No wonder Parti likes her so much."

Meat hits the skillet to brown a bit while Jeri goes to work on the veggies. "Say, if you don't mind my asking, were you expecting me in tonight or just figured this is where I'd come back to eventually?"


"I knew there was vodka." Illyana jokes, and then shrugs. "It was as good a place as any to hang out. If you didn't show up I was fairly sure there would be no rabid wolves bursting in and I think I've figured out the DVD player." So basically, she was making herself at home and if he showed up, it was gravy.

"She seemed like a nice lady." Illyana says with a nod. Of course, that doesn't always encourage Illyana to hang out with them. Being around the demon queen can be a terrible curse to nice people.


Jericho's grin is visible through the 'window' that separates the dining area from the kitchen itself. He'd kind of hoped Illyana would avail herself of his safe houses if only because it's seemed to him on a few occasions that she's in nearly as much need of refuge as he.

"Am I gonna need to find some new things for you to watch, or do you still have a few things to work through?" His taste in movies runs an odd gamut, but there's a lot of sci-fi and fantasy in it, some of it good, some of it odd, some of it hilariously bad and owned for that purpose. Vegetables are thrown in with the meat. Warning, dinner immanent. There's some clinking as he gets plates out, ready to go.

"Pepper? She is quite nice, yes especially for someone who could afford, in a few senses, to be self-absorbed."


Probably one of the reasons she doesn't hang out there more when he's not there is… he's not there. For all that there's that bluster about wanting her space and privacy and whatnot, she prefers to have company. Even if they're not doing anything together. Having other people around, instead of demons.

"Nah, I'm good for now." DVDs too, are on her list of 'things to spend my actual money on'. Conjuring DVDs just really doesn't work. At all. "Well, at least it smells good." She teases him, sipping at her drink again.


"Well that's step one." He grins over at her as he plates to large helpings of the stuff and then as an afterthought takes some of the extra chicken and throws it in a bowl for K'nert. Moments later piping hot dinner is served and Jericho is easing into his chair with fork at the ready. Navy food may be good, but home cooked meals are better. He's not the world's best or fanciest cook, but so long as he respects his limitations he can put a meal together.

"Soup's on, K'nert." Jericho calls out though he's got no idea where the cat-thing is or if it prefers to eat in privacy.

"Staying over tonight?" He asks between bites. "Or are you busy? Mmm, comes to that, what have you been up to, if you don't mind my asking?"


Illyana gives a nod of thanks as he slides a plate her way, napkin placed across her lap as she starts to eat. "Rounding up dangerous magical artifacts." Illyana answers, and then with a smirk. "No, really." A slight sigh and shake of her head. "Someone decided to try to steal a tainted object and well, it went bad for them. I've been working with someone on better ways to contain dangerous magical items. It doesn't help that there's been a lot of Summonings in New York lately. By amateurs." Which is dangerous for the civilians.

The innocent question gets a smirk and an arched brow. "Well, at least you bought me dinner first." She teases him in a slow drawl.


When she assures him that she's quite serious Jericho quirks an eyebrow at her and slows his eating a little. "Call it my lack of experience with the arcane but that sounds bad. And dangerous. Little bit like telling me that highschoolers were going to run a nuclear power plant." His eyes narrow as he considers. "My plates' a little full at the moment, but let me know if there's ever anything I can do to help, 'kay?"

The drawl gets an amused snort and a wink. "Yeah, that's me. Picture of a gentleman." He adds dryly. He's a lot of things, but a gentleman is one thing he doesn't fancy himself for some reason.


Illyana chuckles and nods. "Don't worry, I'm not afraid to haul in the cavalry if I need it. Usually it's stuff I can handle on my own, it's just minimizing how much others get messed up by it." The analogy has her tilting her head back and forth. "They don't tend to have enough power to make it anything dangerous on quite that scale but bad enough, yeah."

His joking gets a more serious look, though it's still touched with a quiet smile. "Chivalrous, courteous, honorable, loyal… Which one aren't you, Jericho?"


"Having seen you at work, I believe that." Jeri nods to her assertion that she can usually handle things just fine. "I'm glad there's someone keeping an eye on that though. Unseen worlds are a bit easier to deal with in my head when there's people I trust making sure the things that go bump don't knock anything over."

The change in Illyana's look and smile makes him pause in his eating. "That's just how people should be…" He says quietly. "But thank you, Illyana." His smile is small and subdued but real.


Illyana chuckles, low and soft. "'Should', maybe. But rarely are." There's that quiet huff of amusement from her as she lays her fork down and looks at him, long and hard. "How do you manage it?" She asks, almost wistfully.

"Imperfectly most days…" Jericho has laid his fork aside, regarding his dinner companion, resting his head on one hand. "I guess… by saving it for the people who matter…" He says after a long moment's silent' thought.

"There's courtesy, you know, little c. Upbringing and all that. Casual manners are just part of how I was raised. But the stuff you're talking about…" He finally smiles a little and raises an arm, palm up, trying to explain and feeling like he's not doing as well as he should. "It's for the people who matter. The people who are worth pledging honor and loyalty to. The people who are worth giving your ironclad word to and then keeping it no matter what. I don't have many of those people, but the ones I do have… well, that's how I show them what they mean. Does that make sense?"


Illyana tilts her head. "I think I understand." She assures him. "Most people… I don't care what they think, what they feel." She frowns then, and elaborates. "Well, it's a bit more than that. I know it sounds terrible but I can't… bring myself to care. If they live or die, it's mostly academic." She saves people not because she cares, but because she's *supposed* to. She doesn't bother to mention she didn't grow up learning those same manners. Jericho isn't the sort to forget.


The soldier in Jericho quite understands. "Yeah, I mean it does sound terrible to say, but it's true. You can say that a hundred thousand people died and if you didn't know them, it's sort of… impersonal. It's just a number. Hell even if you see it happen it can be that way." He shakes his head, looking up slightly and remembering. "Even folks you work with… you say you care, for example, if a platoon of soldiers from another brigade gets taken out but… it's too distant. You offer sympathy, say you feel for their buddies but… how much do you, really?

Letting out a slow breath his gaze slides back down to Illy. "Even normal folks, they can only care so much."


Illyana gives Jericho a wan smile and a quiet nod of thanks. For making her feel more human. Her inability to connect with people easily is sometimes one of the more telling things about how removed from humanity she is. There's a quiet moment and then she chuckles, looking back up to him. "Seems like I'm always dragging the mood down into the depressing, eh? Must be because I'm Russian." She jokes.


"Well you were never Navy." Jericho winks as he picks up his fork again and takes the last couple of bites on his plate. "So maybe that's it. Don't worry about it though. You're nowhere near as depressing as some I've known, and a damn sight nice to be around too." Which, rather amazingly, is true. Illyana tries really hard to be… well, as she is, he knows and that puts her waaaaaay above regular folks who just don't try at all.

"Mmmm. Well, I think Messy left some Ice Cream in the ‘fridge? What do you say to that and a movie?"


"How could I say no to ice cream?" Illyana asks, pushing up to her feet. Jericho might notice that the bowl of meat? Yeah, that's gone. Like. The whole bowl. He might have to take up dish-hunts on occasion if the damned thing doesn't think to return it later. She brings her empty dishes over to the kitchen for him at least, instead of leaving them on the table for him to collect.

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