Star night [Zasha]

"I want to the clam chowder please." Zasha placed her hands in front of her as she moved side to side in her chair. Zasha looked at Cyrus, "Not treating me like a lady now huh?" She said in a sly tone. It was quiet in almost in a whisper. Her eyes stared at Cyrus in a intimating way. Letting the smell of his scent washed over her, maybe it was the jacket that was wrapped around her tightly. Zasha loved the warmth and kindness in his voice. He was a real gentlemen. Gentle, kind, caring and very loving, he was giving very good advice to the women. That's when Zasha heard the girl's heartbeat. it was going faster actually getting a reaction of his words. They were hitting her.

Zasha felt eyes stare at her. the people behind her were staring at her. She knew the boyfriend was coming. She could smell the stench of alchol on his mouth. The man came up looking at them especially at Zasha. "Hello~" he then grabbed a hold of the waitress waist. "Is there any problem here?" He glared at Cyrus in a very mean way. Zasha didn't seem to like the idea of her friend getting stare down like that. A sly smile went across her face. As she felt the girl change her posture. It was a stance of pure annoyance.The waitress shook her head, "I was just explaining to them what a beautiful and handsome boyfriend i have. Then this kind gentlemen was trying to find out who you were." She did an annoying little giggle.

"Gentlemen.. huh?" He glared daggers at Cyrus. Zasha slammed her hands on the table. Making everyone quiet down. Her bright pink hair covered her face. A dark atmosphere covered the little girl, it was a very dangerous atmosphere. The Man reached out another to touch her but before he could Zasha slapped his hand away. "How dare you touch me." She said in a dark voice.

Zasha got out of the booth, she pushed the girl back away from her boyfriend. The bartender came running over, "Hey whats going on!!" She smelled of his scent. It was all over his body. Zasha stood in front of the waitress. "Tch." Zasha could feeling everything, the man liked that he was getting treated like this. "I dont like the way your staring at my friend." She said in a childish tone. Sticking up for her new 'friend' she stood in between the waitress and the boyfriend. "Apologize." Zasha said in a very demanding voice. this caught the boyfriend by surprised, "Excuse me?"

Cyrus coughed as the boyfriend sauntered over to their table, the overwhelming odor of stale beer, vaguely covered by a bathtub’s worth of Axe left a followable trail through the restaurant, marking every move he made. His uniform, a simple black dress shirt with black slacks, Would look classy and respectable, with only a minutes work, which he seemed to not be willing to give. His dress shirt hung untucked and misbuttoned, the left side being much higher than the right, revealing the wife-beater he wore underneath it. His hair Was a dark blue, spiked up in a mohawk, every exposed inch of skin covered with obscene tattoos, most notably a large F*** you over the back of his neck In Midnight black ink. How this guy got hired he’d never know.

He yanked their waitress by her waist over to him, like one would yank the leash of an ill-behaved dog, marking his territory. And apparently was trying to expand that territory, His eyes raking hungrily over zasha. Their waitress feigned innocents, making a joke about him being the best boyfriend ever. He snorted his drink at that, trying desperately to not start laughing at such an absurd statement. He passed it off as a cough as they looked at him, the girls eyes almost pleading with his, then looking at the thing holding her by the waist with utter scorn.Cyrus crossed his arms, trying to mask the shoulder holster his pistol sat in. He released the strap securing it in place...just in case.

He eyed Zasha one more time as he commented on her use of “gentleman”, his tone saying all he thought in that one word.Cyrus ignored the little jab, not really caring what idiots thought of him He began to reach his other towards Zasha’s long hair, While still holding onto his girlfriend, and seemed genuinely shocked when, with a look of disgust, Zasha slapped his hand away and quickly shoving the punk off of their waitress. He stumbled on a fold in the carpet, falling down on one knee as his love came rushing to his aide. She helped him up, staring with hate at the three of them. She hated them, simply for associating with their waitress. Cyrus stood, placing himself between Zasha and their newfound friend as Zasha demanded an apology from the punk and his trash.

“Apologize?” he spat at Zasha, as if it was a foreign concept. He stood up straighter, his lovers hand at the small of his back. He looked back for her approval, trying to make sure he was in the right. He seemed the kinda insecure seed that all jerks hold, Not wanting to appear weak for any reason. “You outta apologize for this” He reared his hand back, as if to hit Zasha.

That was Certainly far enough, he thought as he stepped in front of zasha, Drawing his pistol. He quickly took a step foreword, intentionally placing himself in the punks personal space, close enough to lean in and whisper into his ear. he placed the barrel of the gun in the man’s crotch, Shielding the rest of the firearm with their bodies.

“Now, now, You Really shouldn’t hit a lady. Especially not one like her. She might kill you. Now, I want you turn your ass right back around and sober up, then never lay a hand on that woman ever again, or I will blow your left nut off.” He dug the barrel of the gun in a little more, just to emphasize the point. He heard him take an audble gulp of air, his nerves making him sweaty. A Evil smile swam across Cyrus’s face as he leaned in a little more, reveling giving this asshole his just desserts. He breathed his final words into the skinheads ear

“Your call”`

Zasha felt the wind rush when his hand went up. Old Memories came into her mind, flashing at a very high speed. Her mother slapped her across the face, then the grandmother, then the grandfather. it just kept coming the memories that she never wanted to have to remember. then the familiar scent of Cyrus as he stepped in front of her. Zasha grabbed on to the waitreses arm, She could heart he metal clicking in her head.

Zasha acted quickly before anyone saw the gun. She slapped Cyrus on the side of hte head grabbing the gun and sticking it into his jacket. She reached and grabbed his ear pulling him up. "Glupyy!" [Stupid] Zasha said. "Oni lyudi. Ne Kishin. Podumayte , prezhde chem deystvovat'." [They are humans. Not Kishin. Think before acting.] Her deep Russian accent came into view. It sounded as if she was speaking gibberish. Zasha only spoke Russian when it had to concern the Academy. She didn't like people knowing that she was a weapon. Something that can kill anything that moved. She was a deadly weapon and people knowing that, it made her feel uncomfortable.

the manager finally came and looked at everyone. Feeling his eyes on her, "That man... Tired to hit me. I also didn't like the way he stared at me.. Please do something with him. Hes disrespectful." The boyfriend clutched his hand, "You Bi-." He was cut of by the waitress. "Im surely sorry manager. he didn't mean to do anything." Trying to cover for him again. The manager looked at Zasha and Cyrus. His eyes ranking them over and over again.

Zasha made a tch noise and sat back down. Her eyes straight at the waitress, "Coward." Zasha said softly as a sly smile came across her lips. The waitress hurried off as she went to go put their orders up.

He cut Zasha a sidelong glance,wondering why she had stopped him. It was only rubber rounds, and he hadn’t even chambered a round. I mean, for all intents and purposes, it wasn’t even loaded. He looked over his shoulder to see her place into the jacket pocket, oddly enough the one he made big enough to fit the pistol.

With good timing too, because right as it disappeared into the pocket, The manager came running in. He was a man in his late twenties, with close-cut black hair and an air of professionalism about him. He cut a his eyes at his two employees, letting out an audible sigh of annoyance before turning to Zasha. “ Whats going on?” he asked her, leaning in to hear her.

He chuckled a little, rubbing the back of his head where she had smacked him, as Zasha began to play the poor-pitiful little blind girl act, Suddenly turning from the deadly weapon he knew she was, to a sweet, innocent little girl being bullied by the big, mean asshole in front of them. He began to move forward in anger, letting fly another curse at Zasha, as if he was going to try to hit her again right in front of the manager.

He was stopped by his girlfriend, who had surged past Both Cyrus and Zasha, covering her boyfriends mouth with her hand and physically pushing him back, all while simultaneously spouting a fountain of BS to cover for him. Cyrus stared at her in disbelief. After all that, ALL THAT, and she STILL covers for him. And apparently the manager didn’t believe it either.

“Kane, My office. Now”. He said, his eyes cold with anger. He slashed his hand in the direction of a light colored wood door in the back. Kane mumbled something unintelligible to them, then slunk to the back of the restaurant, his ego bruised. The bartender followed him, while his girlfriend hung back, looking longingly at the two of them, before hurrying off, head down, to the kitchen to place their order.

“Im so terribly sorry” the manager said to them. “ The meals on me. Excuse me”. He hurried off to his office, shaking his head. Cyrus turned to Zasha.

“Well, now that we’ve gotten our share of drama for the night, how about we sit down?” He slyly pulled the gun out of Zasha’s jacket pocket before sitting down. “Thanks by the way. Didn't see the manager coming.” With practiced hands he ejected the Rubber round mag, placing both it and the firearm into their slots on his shoulder holster. “and I’d hate to go to jail for something as stupid as that. I owe ya one” The weapon secured, He leaned foreward and placed his hand on the table.


“So, tell me a little about yourself. What language was that back there?”

Zasha flicked her hair lightly, the light pink strands flying. Deep sky blue eyes gazed at the man in front of her. “Russian.” She could smell her food on its way. She listen to people arguing over different ingredients in the kitchen. “I’m from a wealthy Family of Weapons.” She said in a monotone voice as if she didn’t care at all. “I have a little sister and that’s all.” Zasha played with her water taking a sip once in a great while. Waiting Patiently for her food, Zasha played with her fingers. Listening around, thats when she caught a smell of Clam Chowder. her stomach rumbled a little as she smelled the delicious smell of her clam chowder.

Finally the Clam Chowder was down in front of her. She licked her lips a little and and didn’t hesitate to crush the crackers into little bits. Then pour them into the bowl of clam chowder little crumbs getting on the table because she wasn’t careful. Zasha could smell Cyrus steak to making her even more hungry. Zasha searched a little for the spoon touching the cold metal. she grabbed the spoon and put it in her soup and to her mouth. It tasted really good almost like she was out to the sea.

Zasha titled her head to the side holding her mouth. A small blush came across her pale white cheeks. She had a pleasant face on as she tasted the pepper, the potatoes, the calms, all of it tasted so lovely to her. Zasha then took another bite feeling so refreshed.

She the perked up in the middle of her eating, “What about you? Family? Friends?” Zasha asked.

He raised his fork to his mouth, a succulent piece of medium-rare, juicy New York Strip when she asked, driving a rusty railroad spike straight into the one soft spot, the one chink in his armor.

"Had a family"

He placed his fork down, the piece of meat speared on the end not quite as enticing as it was a moment ago. His teeth clenched as his mind called forth from its dark recesses the images from that night.

Bright police lights pierce through the night, hurting Cyrus's eyes as he walked towards his childhood home. The rain pounded against the house, the wind crying out a warning that Cyrus could not hear, the lightning casting flat light across their faces

The policeman's face, an old family friend, shell-shocked and weary. He had been a on the force for the last thirty years, through the "troubles"and had seen some serious shit, But this...this was bad. He saw Cyrus walk up, his gaze fearful and questioning as he began to walk up the cobblestone steps to the house. He stopped Cyrus, his eyes pleading with the youth. "You Don't want to go in there

He pushed past the police officer, not caring whether or not he "wanted to" go in. He had to know what happened. The rain pounded on his back as he pushed open the door, immediately regretting that decision. The white walls were stained red, A chalk outline of a small child on the floor

The back room was a mess,the tools knocked haphazardly across the floor. Much different from his father's obsessive tidiness, In the corner, next to the industrial aln, a desk was pressed up against the wall, a chair lying on the ground before it. They were both stained red-black, a small puddle of the liquid sitting on the table. Sitting in the sinister puddle was a gun, set in dark metal with gold-inlaid engravings. And at the edge of the puddle, one corner soaked through and stained was a card, with the words Happy birthday Son handwritten in black ink, adressed to him.

He came back to the world, shaking his head to force the dark images out of his head. He hoped Zasha wouldn't notice his little slip-up. He picked his fork back up and forcefully took a bite of the steak, putting a conscious effort into chewing and swallowing the seasoned meat. He took a deep breath, forcing the conversation along, and far, far away from that dark seed.

"Berezhonogo bog berezhot.One of the few russian phrases I know, learned it from a russian drummer with eyeball tattoos. Kinda weird, but." He shrugged, stabbing another piece of steak. "Ah well. Its probably a lot colder there than Ireland.And the Russians made guns that could survive up there no problem. Speaking of that, if I may ask...What is your weapon form?" He ventured. He hoped she wouldn't take offense, but at least The topic was off of family

Zasha knew she shouldn't bring up his family. Maybe they died? Sad. That must be tough she thought in her head as she sipped her soup. "Beda ne prikhodit odna. [Trouble never comes alone.]" She whispered as she felt the sadness come from him. He had a different feeling to him that made Zasha feel like she hit him in the wrong point. she didn't mean to strike a nerve with the fellow she just met. she had already caused him so much problems now she was invading his personal life. That awkward silence made her shut up. She didn't want to talk about anything. Most likely she was waiting for him to change the subject and he did.

Cyrus too the bait. He wanted to know more about her. "AK-74" she said in her monotone voice. She hated her weapon so much. She wished that it was different. out of all her family she was the one stuck with the gun. "Maybe sometime I'll let you hold me." she winked. Zasha tried to warm up the mood a little. Although she failed a little. When tipping her head, she looked more childish. Her cheeks turned red as she was trying to make a joke. Hoping maybe that Cyrus would laugh at her maybe. A little. She was hoping him to.

Her long pink hair came over to the side a little. Her bright blue eyes were looking straight at him although one eye was closed like a wink. the tip of her tongue was out of her mouth a little. Her pink lips were not in a smile. It made her look a little weird to be honest. Although the red tint in her cheeks made her childish.

A lite little laugh could be heard from Cyrus as she made a joke, shaking his head a little in the process in a "what am I going to do with you" fashion. He cast His eyes downward to hide his innate interest in her weapon form, before realizing his mistake and looking back up and took a second look at Zasha, her wild pink hair obscuring her unsmiling face once again. Her tone, the way she Spat out her weapon form, made him a little wary, even whilst he leaned in intently. An AK-74...His mind quickly ran through the specs on the weapon, average range, fire rate(650 Rpm at full auto), Spin ratio (1:8). It was in fact one of his favorite rifle designs, greatly enjoying the Russian’s pension for Utilitarianism. “

" Oh really.” He said, resting his head back into his hand. He heard a door slam behind him, followed quickly by the punk boyfriend. He had been fired apparently and had collected his stuff and left. The whore clung to him as he left. Karma came back around, apparently. He laughed a little again as the punk went out, obscenities flying from his mouth, muffled only by the slam of the front door in his face. He continued his previous train.

“Im not going to lie to you, thats actually really interesting. I just saw a mission go up on the board that I want to run, but sadly I haven't been able to find a partner to run with that Im...Comfortable with. So ” he took a little breath. a little pressure in his gut, hoping he wasn’t about to make a fool of himself. Aw hell, no rest for the wicked. “ I already got the range tomorrow, you wanna stop by, get to know each other a little more?”

Zasha listen to him, feeling a warm feeling inside her tummy when he was laughing. It was nice listening to someone laugh. it had been awhile since she made someone laugh before. Her keen ears picked up the waitresses boyfriend leaving the area and cussing a little to himself. Cursing about the job, and the people, and his girlfriend. Zasha continued on listening to Cyrus. How he put his sentences together made her blush. “Are you asking me to be your partner?” She asked straightforward. Not even caring if thats what he really ment to say or not. “or on a date?” Zasha asked finishing her clam chowder up. “If you're asking me on a date. You're too late because this would count as one.”

Zasha waved her hand in the air for a waitress to come over. “Yeah i want some tea please. This might take some time so make sure you bring a pot.” Zasha with a wave of her hand dismissed the waitress. She slowly took his jacket off feeling much warmer now that they had been in the restaurant. She set the jacket down besides her, She then pushed her clam chowder out of the way. Resting her elbows on the table. Her fingers intertwined as she set her chin on her fingers.

“I have some questions too if you want me as your weapon and they might be personal. I don’t like secrets nor do i like liers. “ Her voice was formal now and deep. Although she had a creepy smile going over her lips. Almost like she wanted something from him. When all in reality Zasha wanted to know more about the man that sat across from her from the dinner table. The man that wanted to ‘hang’ out with her at the shooting range. The man she heard when listening to his song and after it was over he let a single tear run down his face. Zasha had to admit to herself that it was rare to see a grown man cry. It was attracting to most girls. A man crying would swoon some of the girls in the academy she bet.

T he tea was delectable, its soothing qualities making it much better than coffee at this particular hour. Especially how he made it, his Cafe au lait being spiked with enough caffeine to cause a epileptic fit in most humans. He sipped it lightly, suddenly straightening his back to the point of absurdity, making a mockery of the "high society" way of sipping tea, Before slumping back down and leaning in to her snake-ish gaze. He set the china cup down on its little white saucer directly in front of him. He then placed his elbows on either side of it, his hands making a mountain over the fragile cup. His fingers intertwined except the index, which made a little steeple for his head, which rest on his outstretched thumbs. He pondered for a moment on her "request" weighing his personal privacy against one of the first decent partner opportunities he'd found. Suddenly his eyes snapped open as his mind hit her question, not yet asked but as obvious as the night. She had bounded in on his vigil, the first to do so. She had seen him at his weakest, had seen him cry, dang it. But...then again, partners were like that.

He shrugged, pretty indifferent whether it was a date or not. "N'importe quoi, ma cherie" he said, "though that'd probably make all my Other girlfriends jealous. " he leaned in closer, a finger over his mouth. "Don't tell 'em"

He got up, throwing back the last of the tea in one fell swoop. "C'mon. Lets take a walk" He said. He didn't want to be in such a...crowded place. Just cause he was gunna share with her, doesn't mean he had to share it with the world. "Ill tell you what you want to know"

T he tea was delectable, its soothing qualities making it much better than coffee at this particular hour. Especially how he made it, his Cafe au lait being spiked with enough caffeine to cause a epileptic fit in most humans. He sipped it lightly, suddenly straightening his back to the point of absurdity, making a mockery of the "high society" way of sipping tea, Before slumping back down and leaning in to her snake-ish gaze. He set the china cup down on its little white saucer directly in front of him. He then placed his elbows on either side of it, his hands making a mountain over the fragile cup. His fingers intertwined except the index, which made a little steeple for his head, which rest on his outstretched thumbs. He pondered for a moment on her "request" weighing his personal privacy against one of the first decent partner opportunities he'd found. Suddenly his eyes snapped open as his mind hit her question, not yet asked but as obvious as the night. She had bounded in on his vigil, the first to do so. She had seen him at his weakest, had seen him cry, dang it. But...then again, partners were like that.

He shrugged, pretty indifferent whether it was a date or not. "N'importe quoi, ma cherie" he said, "though that'd probably make all my Other girlfriends jealous. " he leaned in closer, a finger over his mouth. "Don't tell 'em"

He got up, throwing back the last of the tea in one fell swoop. "C'mon. Lets take a walk" He said. He didn't want to be in such a...crowded place. Just cause he was gunna share with her, doesn't mean he had to share it with the world. "Ill tell you what you want to know"

A tint of pink went over her cheeks. It was quite cute as the rose color spread throughout her body. His comment made her blush and it was usual. Zasha could feel the hotness get to her as a corner of her mouth twitch a little. His comment was funny and cute. There wasn't just one girlfriend it was more so it made it even more cute. Zasha got up out of her seat grabbing her wallet from her pocket. She set down some money on the table. She then walked past Cyrus touching him very briefly as she went right on by him. She then waited at the exit of the restaurant having the door open for him as she waited for him.

She didn't know what she put on the table. Usually the only thing her wallet was 20's. Since she couldn't see the money it was hard to tell from ones, 10s, 20s. It became a pain to her so whatever chance she got she usually put it in her pocket and kept 20's in her pocket.

"Actually.. I change my mind. I don't want to know." Zasha said a little loud. she felt the cold breeze on her. "When you're ready." Zasha said as her head was pointed the other way so she wasn't facing Cyrus. Its not like she didn't want to know. She did want to know. She wanted to know everything about this man. Although bringing up memories was hard. " If you dont want to tell me then fine. I will not rush you. I am not one of those people to get into others people's business. Unless it was necessary."

He liked that little blush she had whenever she laughed, a bit of color finally coming to her white-washed cheeks, a fresh canvass on which her emotions are shown, in vibrant hues. She got up to leave, her fingernail lightly tapping against his shoulder bone. Cyrus rose to leave as well, almost knocking over a busboy, his arms laden with plates, which tilted and whirled at impossible angles. They both gasped in a mixture of anticipation and dread for the *crash* that would herald the precarious stack plummeting to the hard-wood floor, which thankfully didn’t come. Cyrus excused himself, sidling past the man in the narrow alley between the boy and the table.He grabbed Zasha’s money off the table, a 20 dollar bill, old and crinkled from days of rough riding. He palmed it, placing down enough for both him and her, along with a gracious tip, an apology for her recent relationship issues.

He met Zasha at the door, thanking her for holding the door for him, it was most ki- he stopped mid sentence as he “tripped” over the door jam, one hand on her shoulder for “balance”, the other placing her money he had palmed into her pocket. He didn’t know if it would work, because usually slight-of-hand deals with people who have an entire other sense to worry about. He cleared that thought from his head though, simply because there was nothing he could do about if if she had noticed. Crying over spilled milk, as it were.

The night was cool and crisp, the stars bright even through the city lights. He looked up at them,taking a moment to marvel at the complex patterns they made, Gemini and Pegasus at odd angles, different from where thy were in Ireland. A tiny tidbit of information, a trivia eye-floater in the web of his thoughts, raced on about how seamen in colonial times used the change in constellations to plot their whereabouts. How that was relevant he did not know, but it was something at least. He saw Zasha begin to walk to his left, headed off down a cobbled street, street lamps illuminating the two of them every fifteen feet. She suddenly switched conversational tracks, saying she didn’t “really” want to know, even though she had hungrily brought up the question. He shook his head once, marveling at her stiffness, her formal tone, so straight and narrow he could probably level it, enough starch in her posture to make a general’s wife go nuts. The US army would just love her, he would wager.

He looked back up at the stars, stopping for a moment and tapping Zasha on the shoulder to let her know. They were a good distance out, the only two around as far as he could tell. They were in front of a bookstore, the lights off and sign saying SORRY, WE ARE CLOSED in re d letters. He put his back to the lightpost kicking one foot up against it casually. “Na, I might as well. Partners can’t have secrets, can they?” he sighed , running a hand through his hair and down the back of his neck. This would be the first, and hopefully only, time telling anyone the truth. Not even his second family, the people he knew in New Orleans, knew the truth, just that there had been a death in the family. He took a deep breath and began quickly, before he talked himself out of it. “My mother died when I was little, only ten, giving birth to John Jr, my little brother, named after my dad. He was a gunsmith up in drogheda, Ireland. I ran away when I5, with the clothes on my back and a bass guitar, to New Orleans, where I stayed, playing music until I got the call that...” he stopped, the memory coming back in waves, until, through sheer force of will he pushed it down and continued. “ that they had both been killed. Kishin egg, nasty little bastard that sliced up his victims alive. And so...” He held His hands out theatrically, a Ringmaster for the circus oh his past. “here we are.

Zasha had notice when he bumped into her that he slipped her money in her pocket. He was like a gentlemen really. She couldn't help but sign at his weirdness. Such a person was treating her so kindly, although he might be pitying her. It was natural for people to do that. Even children would help her across the street, she was grateful for their kindness but deep down she didn't want it. It made her feel useless in this world. Like her grandmother had said to her, 'there is no need for a useless person Zasha.' Those words had moved Zasha forward inch by inch.

Zasha didn't say anything like a normal person would say. "That sucks." She said in a casual voice. the feeling of his touch on her skin made her feel warm like the jacket. "Here we are.. huh." Zasha then signed softly. "I come from a rich family of Demon Weapons. We are only aloud to marry into the family." Zasha signed a little wondering were to begin. "Well i have a little sister. I dont know what her name is or anything. Although i do no one thing is that i can't be around her. Since i was born the head of the family." Zasha shrugged thinking how her parents through her out of their house to live with her grandparents. "I was train everyday of my life to enhance my skills. Beaten, bloody, and bruise." Zasha then lifted up her shirt a little to show one of the few scars on her body from the whip her grandmother used.

"I have wished for them to die may times in my life. Although i know in the end i will cry if they do because they are family." Zasha then smiled a little, "I think the happiest part is when they cast me off like mama and papa telling me to go to the DWMA because there was no need for me." Although she lied straight through her teeth. She actually felt like no one needed her after that. She felt that there is no point in living if no one needs her.

Treas rolled down her cheeks. Zasha turned away in a hurry and bent down. her pink bubble gum hair flowing over her. It touched the ground getting all dirty. She hated people to see her weakness. Even when Zasha was a little girl she would hide when she was crying. She had no one to run to. No one to hug when she was sad, no one to dress her wounds when she was bleeding. Her family had rules and she had to obey them.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned against the light pole as she crouched on the ground, curling up into a ball as the tears fell down.He averted his eyes, looking up at the sky as he pondered these events.On one hand, he wanted to be there for her, comfort her. He hated seeing people in pain, the internal scars being the ones that hurt the most. But something stopped him, the way she tensed up when she slipped the cash into her pocket, when he tried to help her. She didn't want to be helped, acting as if it made her weak, useless as the fabled third wheel....For once he was at a loss of what to do, the question of how to save someone who does not wish to be saved buzzing through his mind, so wrapped up in this that he didn't notice the clouds gathering over the half moon, nor the sudden moisture in the wind that blew down the cobbled street, sending zasha's long hair whipping around her form as the first raindrops began to fall. Cyrus watched the raindrops for a moment as they slowly increased in number, from a light sprinkle to a steady roll,before moving off the lamppost towards a covered archway a little ways ahead, the rain breaking the awkward limbo they were both in. He stopped in front of her first, tough.
"C'mon, lets go. Cant have my partner catching cold now, can I?"