WHITTAKER.

whittaker eagerly accepted the cup and held it tightly between his frozen palms. eating and drinking proved to be a mess if he wasn’t careful ( a skeleton didn’t exactly retain anything put into it ), but he knew better than to be impolite or reject any of his hospitality. he briefly rested his cup on the table as he wiggled his gloves off his hands.

❛ work, but also you, ❜ he answered truthfully. ❛ i was asked to do some research for an exhibit being planned, so i figured i would hit two birds with one stone and see if you had come back. ❜ the research was nice to immerse himself in, but it was good for him to step away from libraries and archives for at least one evening.

❛ but you’re the one who went on the adventure, not me. how was it ? ❜

                     _{———❝ OH, I HATE TO TALK ABOUT WORK. it makes me feel like i ought to be paid more. ❞
a smile, followed by a scratch at the temple. the man had told the other of his upcoming travels to beijing and seoul, how he’d booked the flight first-class, how he brushed up on the languages daily. it was hell getting over the jetlag, and worse doing it while he’d politely accepted drink after drink from coworkers and clients.}

       _{he hadn’t said a word about the kill.}

most business trips for the firm did not involve blood. needless to say, it was not planned, a mere reactionary incident involving the right place at the wrong time. his curse meant getting his hands dirty ; it was survival.

❝ truthfully, i wish i could tell you more — it’s all a blur. ❞