Jack Sawyer sauntered through a maze of brick and mirror-bright glass, his uniform untucked and his golden hair hanging in strips like broken records across his petal shaped eyes. He was ambling along with a rather loping gait, eagerness for something apparent by the hungry look on his face. In fact, Jack, those eyes fiercely smoking with unseen sulfer, seemed to glitter as he walked.

This wasn't due to any application of make-up or flambouyant costuming. No, Jack's fit torso was clothed in a dirty and torn UPS jumpsuit. Disgruntled Postal Worker, anyone? Ah, but we give the Union too much credit. Jack was a wolf, a predator. A menace. He had not been built through experience, but by a specially bubbling mixture of chemicals and genes. Doomed from birth to be something... quite unpleasant. Not to say that Jack didn't thoroughly enjoy his existance.

It was only a tragedy for those he happened to encounter during lonely, late night excursions into... what, the Twilight Zone? Jack giggled as he walked and pondered this title, finding it far too inventive for his little games. It was always much past twilight when he came out to play, anyaways. The sky would be dark, and the playmate would be dead.

All this, and he was only human. Jack had no traces of demonic or vampiric blood swirling through his veins, just a simple desire to kill. He wasn't driven by evil, though. He was usually just bored, out for a walk... and then his hands would take control.

At the moment, however, Jack found himself with the night off and no new friends. He fingered the pistol resting comfortably in the wide and dingy pocket of his no-color pants. Lovely. Now to find someone interesting.

((Hope y'don't mind me joining.))

The night presented shadows quietly slinking across the street into alleys, stray cats roaming the street, and monsters lurking in the darkness (much to the dismay of the mind that convinces us we're just paranoid). The night also presented the fact that you had no protection when you walked the sidewalks of the city, that it was a life or death situation and you were taunting the latter.

Among those slithery and silent shadows was a figure belonging to a boy that was only nineteen, lanky, thin and half-starved, simply on his way home to his much safer and much warmer apartment. Beautiful wide green eyes set him apart from the norm, sparkling and radiant with a glow that made them seem a light in the darkness.

His lips, deep set, thin and expressionless were glossed with lipstick, a moist and sticky substance that made certain people want to kiss it off his lips. And his face, chiseled by angels into that perfect form of a vague square jaw was possibly too perfect. Hair the color of mahogany with red highlights and layered unevenly set as an almost frame for his face, stick-straight hair falling into his eyes and on either side of his face.

His clothes were nothing special at all compared to how charming he looked tonight; a simple longsleeved black shirt with sleeves that swallowed his hands and alternating black and white strips down the sleeves and heavy black Goth pants that were far too big for his thin figure. Black boots finished off the look, heavy with a two-inch elevation.

Lucifer had grown careless. So careless as he hurried down the streets, boots thudding heavily as the hit sidewalk.

((Nope, I was waiting for anyone to join! XD))

(Jack and Jill went up the hill)

Jack turned at the thumping footsteps, the sound a jumble of thick vibrations to his ears. He grinned brightly, freeing his hand from the pocket and coming up with not a pistol but a shimmery quarter. He began to roll it across his knuckles, the trick coming naturally to him and keeping in time with his own steps as he hurried towards the other.

(To fetch a pail of water)

He turned out of the alley he had been within, placing his right hand on the edge that formed the corner of the brick building he was standing next to. 'J.M. <3s K.T.' was partially obscured by five slim, pale fingers. They began to scrabble gently at the wall beneath them, nails grinding against cement with a sound that was more than slightly grating to most ears. It wasn't that the noise was high-pitched or actively offensive, but simply the fact that anyone listening couldn't help but picture how painful that must be... so much so that their own fingers might begin to ache, that they might be inclined to imagine blood soaking the tips of each thumb-index-middle-ring-pinky, that... well, the sound was unpleasant because of its conotations.

Jack's neck was tensed, head inclined towards the boy that now filled his vision.

"Hey, how's it going?"

(Jack fell down and broke his crown)

The scratching became a bit more furious, a little more frenzied, but the quarter still flopped lazily across the back of his left hand. His face was pretty much expessionless, perhaps showing a mild hint of curiosity. Perfectly normal, -theywantedtohurttheboyohtheywantedtotouchthepistolandp u l l- considering the stranger had his attention for the moment. His fingers were the only things indicative of any... stranger emotions.

(And Jill came tumbling after)

Now if only that guy would hurry up and get over here. It was lonely outside on that dark, empty sidewalk.

Lucifer was curious but afraid when he heard a voice yet continued his mildly hurried pace down the sidewalk, hands nervously shoved into his pockets. It's just a harmless voice, whispers his subconscious, trying to sound convincing. No it's not, his paranoia retorts. Lucifer believed neither of those voices of reason.

He pressed on, nervousness apparent in those green eyes of his. He was afraid too. Cautious, even.

He heard the noise, fingers scraping against brick. He winced. He did not stop, but instead his pace became even more hurried, the beating of his heart faster than the thud of his boots on the sidewalk as he passed by.

Gott in Himmel. Scheisse.

Not again.

Jack raised a brow, something he had always been able to do effortlessly, then exhaled slowly as the boy passed by without a word. He began to shake his head, grinning while his eyes bored into the other's back, then pushed off from the wall and let his own steps carry him softly forward.

Hmmm. A redhead. Wonderful hair. He ran the scraped fingers of his right hand through his own overgrown gold spikes. They were in bad need of a trim, but Jack simpy didn't have the time. This part of the city hadn't even bothered with streetlamps, though, so he really didn't care what he looked like.

"Where're you going? Looks like there might be some rain tonight, huh?"

Said in a perfectly conversational tone, as though he weren't following a stranger who had just blatantly ignored him.

((hey, just to warn you, I'm gonna be in NY tonight 'til the 15th, so I won't be able to post for awhile))

"Home. Yes." It was said in the voice of someone who is terribly late or has been very run-down and tired. It would do no good to let this person follow him, because then he'd know where he lived. But maybe his roommate could shoot him?

He couldn't just stop because he was really giving him the creeps, but he couldn't press on because... oh, hell. It was a vicious circle.

"What do you want?" He stopped suddenly, turning on the heel of his boot to try and squint to make out the shadowy figure.

Maybe he wouldn't be so bad...

((Okays. Have fun in New York.))