When Darkness Falls ((Stephen)) [PG-13]

[Dakota Fox S6]

((This thread contains PG-13 material. Please read at your own discretion.))

((Set in the winter holidays.))

Dakota sent him a stunning smile. He was a stunner himself. If he weren't, she wouldn't be with him right now, arms wrapped securely across his muscular chest and on her best behaviour. He was how old? Eighteen, she believed. Old enough to be worthwhile, young enough to be led on. Dakota smirked and she tugged at her short skirt. She had made a special effort to look good tonight, so she hoped he was grateful. After all, he wasn't going to see ever again after this evening.

In all honesty, Dakota couldn't even remember his name. He was dark haired, with matching eyes and a smirk forever etched onto his face that screamed arrogance and pride. She knew he thought he had her in his grasp. She knew differently. Dakota allowed him to slip his hand round his waist, gently caressing her through the thin material of her top. Without a word, she leaned forward and kissed him, briefly at first, before he lengthened it, strengthened it until she felt his tongue against her lips and knew he wanted it.

But she didn't.

Frankly, Dakota never had. Yes, she acted like a foxy minx - an easy catch some might say - but she was still an innocent child in those respects. Secretly, she wanted to retain that innocence. It was hers to keep, not to give away haphazardly to men who could simply use you for it and then toss you away like trash. It was men's leverage over women and Dakota would not have it. She always gave her toy boys enough to satisfy - but never the whole package. Never. It was Dakota's... hers until she chose to give it away.

They were seated in the corner of the bar of the inn where it was darkest, most inconspicuous. Dakota knew exactly why he had chosen it, but she wasn't complaining - yet. When she felt his fingers trailing down her stockings, she knew time was up. "Darling," she murmured as she pulled her lips forcefully away from his, her hand running down the nape of his flushed neck. "That's quite enough." He cast her a disbelieving look that rather amused Dakota. "Maybe next time," she said airily, pulling herself up from his lap and draining the last of her firewhiskey. "Thanks for the drinks, babe."

However, she hadn't got very far from the bar when his hand snaked its way around her wrist and held her back demandingly. "You're going to stay," he threatened as he pulled her back so they were nose to nose, his tall body bending down to stare into her defiant eyes. "You owe me for tonight's drinks... You owe me for all those times you've led me on. Tonight, I'm going to get it, whether you want it or not." His grip was tight around her wrist but Dakota did not flinch. Instead, her eyes swept her surroundings, aware of the ignorant people around her. Then, her eyes fell on someone familiar.

Looking back at her date coolly, Dakota narrowed her eyes and said scathingly, "I'm sorry, I don't sleep with people whose name I don't even know. Now if you will let go of me... I think we're done." She snapped her arm away from him before he could protest. Dakota was stronger than she looked. "And don't even think about following me," she warned in a hiss as she turned around. "Not unless you want my father to send you and your whole family to Azkaban for sexual harrassment and attempted rape." Quickly, she walked away from him, heels clipping harshly against the floorboards, until she slipped into a seat in the other corner.

"Stephen," she drawled delightedly, as though nothing had happened before. Then again, she had dealt with such a situation several times before. "What a coincidence." Smirking haughtily, Dakota then hailed the bartender. "A firewhiskey," she ordered, glancing briefly at Stephen's empty glass. "And one for my friend here too." She leaned into him as the bartender left, her lips brushing dangerously over his ear. The firewhiskey and tonight's incident with her previous date had left her rather excitable, and Stephen Donahue was really the perfect target. What luck, to meet him tonight. "How is the anger management?" she giggled.

[Stephen Donahue S7]

“Crazy huh?” Stephen asked in a cold, deep voice, his hazel eyes narrowing at the man in front of him. It was a quick reaction, a flick of his wand, the mutterings of a curse long held on his lips. The man flew back, losing hold of his own wand, and landing with a sickening crunch against the fountain. It had all happened so fast…Stephen was merely walking to Hogsmeade, okay more like weaving…as he’d already consumed a vast amount of his hidden liquor stash and was far from sober even though the cold air brought some bit of reality to his eyes. It was his way of dealing, come down, have a few drinks, forget everything and sleep until the world fell away. That was the way of things for him, but not that night it seemed. A man claiming to be his father’s best friend, yet Stephen knew him not, had followed his footsteps the moment he had stepped onto the path. He had grabbed Stephen, turned him around, and held him at wand point. It was enough to anger any passerby, but Stephen already had anger problems. This was too much for any man…and far too much for a man that was known to go postal on anyone who touched him.

There wasn’t much to the conversation…there never was when Stephen was involved. He stood his ground, let the man speak his mind, and the moment he was called crazy…well as you can see things didn’t end in the man’s favor. Stephen slipped his wand back into his pocket, fixed his clothes, and turned. The eyes of other witches and wizards diverted quickly from him and they hurried on their way, afraid that he too would punish them for being there, but Stephen wasn’t interested. He had punished the man who had tried to hurt him…by any means it was once again self-defense. Not that it mattered much to him. He was 17 and fully allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts if he wanted to and tonight he did…he had to. A man claiming to be a friend of his father’s and yet he had never even known him was a lie. His father didn’t have friends after the war…and if he did they were too ashamed to show themselves, thus deserving any punishment dished their way.

Stephen didn’t rest too long on this thought as his eyes landed on the Three Broomsticks. This was where he was headed…the perfect place to drink away his world and sure enough that’s what he had planned. Not many steps led him to the door, his hand pushing open the door. Within seconds he seemed to have a drink, his form propped up in a corner booth away from many of the guests who felt as he did. Some were happy, some sad, while others seemed to be on dates. What a great place to take someone on a date…dark, dirty, and full of drunks. Yeah…this was a great place. Stephen rolled his eyes at the thought as he downed his drink; just about ready to flag down the bartender for another drink when the couple he’d been watching suddenly became more interesting.

The flash of blonde hair had made his memory jump and his eyes narrow as Dakota Fox rose from where she was, her eyes full of that same mischief and manipulation. It was no use trying to sink back into the darkness…her eyes had spotted him and there was no way for him to get out of there in time as she found a seat beside him. That was all he needed. There was little time for him to respond…as was normal when he was in the presence of Dakota Fox. She had already ordered him another drink before he had said anything and as her lips nearly touched his ear he pulled away from her, his eyes glowering. “I don’t know, how’s the prostitution going? Get rejected tonight?” Stephen asked in a cold voice. His eyes flashing dangerously at her as if that was going to keep her away. He knew reacting to her was what drove her to continue teasing him, but he could not in good conscience let her win. She was a spoilt brat that needed to be taught a lesson and he was more than willing to do that…but knew he couldn’t. He turned away from her as his drink was refilled and he downed it immediately. The familiar burn taking over and clouding his thoughts. It wasn’t going to take much at the pub, not after he had gone through most of his stash. The cool air had sobered him briefly, but the hot, moist environment of the Three Broomsticks was making his head heavier by the minute. “Why don’t you run along and play with your dollies. I’m sure they’re lonely.”

[Dakota Fox S6]

Dakota felt the instant jab of offence but it was quickly overcome. She would not be offended. She knew that was Stephen's intention - to hurt her enough so she would leave him alone. No, Dakota would not let him have his way. She would have hers; she would stand her ground. She was going to annoy Stephen Donahue, talk to Stephen Donahue, drink with Stephen Donahue tonight, and he was not going to get rid of her. Not until she wanted to leave. Therefore, offence - what offence? Instead, Dakota threw her head back and laughed, feeling the already consumed bottles of firewhiskey rising to her head. Was she underage for firewhiskey again? Dakota couldn't remember. She didn't really care either. The bartender hadn't asked and Dakota wouldn't tell. Firewhiskey tasted nice and she felt good - that was all that mattered.

"On the contrary, Stephen," Dakota smirked in raw amusement, throwing away the crude remark about prostitution as though she had not heard it or did not care, "it seems men enjoy throwing themselves at my feet. Evidently I am irresistable." She gave a wide grin, both confident and humoured at such a concept. "To every man except you, it seems," she added slyly. Dakota observed Stephen with care; he was angry, cold - exactly how she wanted him. Actually, Dakota didn't want a man slobbering all over her right now; she wanted Stephen, a cold, cutting individual who she could mess with, be entertained by, yet know that even if she tried she would never arouse Stephen so much that he would want to touch her the way that boy had wanted to before. If anything, Stephen would want to smash her pretty little face in. If he tried such a thing, it would only amuse Dakota. And she was faster than she looked. That and she was sitting in a place easy enough for her to run if necessary. She doubted she would find such a need, though. Tonight, she would have fun.

Dakota cast Stephen a strange look, but smirked nonetheless. "Dollies?" she repeated, rolling the word around in her mouth with a giggle. "What do you take me for? A six-year-old?" She sent her unwilling companion a scolding look, that of a patronising mentor or teacher. "Stephen, for your information, I am sixteen years old. I have been sixteen for a few months." She tutted and shook her head, eyes glinting at him. "First you accuse me of 'prostituting myself', then you tell me to 'run along and play' with my 'dollies'. Make up your mind, darling. Am I sixteen or six? Am I a pretty little prostitute or do I play with pretty little dolls?" She stared Stephen down challengingly. "I think," she continued airily a few moments later, looking away, "that you are a little confused, Stephen. You don't know me. But you know you don't like me. Well, tough." She smirked. "You're not getting rid of me tonight. I want someone to talk to and I've chosen you. You should feel privileged."

The firewhiskeys arrived. Dakota thanked the bartender with a sultry smile and turned her intent gaze on Stephen again. He was quiet, which was expected. Rolling her eyes, Dakota looked away and drank her firewhiskey. The beverage was hot and cold down her throat, burning her yet it was so intense it was almost like her mouth was being frozen. She swallowed it all - gulp after gulp - until the entire glass was empty. Dakota put it down and sighed. She wanted to feel high. She wanted to get drunk and just lose herself. She wasn't thinking straight. She could feel the man's hand down her leg, his lips against hers, and felt strangely disgusted with it... with him... with herself. It was all so disgusting. Frowning, Dakota tried to avert her attention to Stephen again. That was why she had come to him - he was her saviour of sorts from her usual life of playboys and wooing men. He would never fall for her charms, she was confident of it. He was just fun to amuse, to annoy. That was why he had been chosen. She was safe, right? "S-Sooo... what brings you here tonight?" she asked him with slurred speech, gauging for a reaction - anything Stephen could give. It wasn't long until Dakota was to order her next shot for the night.

[Stephen Donahue S7]

Stephen’s jaw tightened as he tried to restrain himself from showing any emotional response to Dakota’s words. That’s what she wanted, wasn’t it? For him to react to her…to be taken by her? She wanted to play with him and he wasn’t the type to be played, at least he didn’t feel he was. His tongue rolled around in his mouth, his jaw still tense as he brought the glass up to his lips and took a drink. The familiar burn lasted only a second…it never lasted long enough to burn away his memories of the past. Nor did it ever last long enough to burn away the voice of his father shouting at him, yelling at how he was one of those muggles with guns. It was something he couldn’t stand. He was not one of them…he was his son…his father’s son in more ways than one, especially right now. Tapping his glass on the counter the bartender returned with a look of annoyance stretching across his gaunt face as he refilled Stephen’s glass.

”That’s it kid…you don’t need any more than that. So take it easy with that glass.” There was a quick flash of anger across Stephen’s face, enough that the bartender narrowed his eyes, clearly Stephen wasn’t much of a threat to the burly man. ”Careful kid or you won’t even get to finish that drink.” It was most definitely a threat and Stephen had half a mind to capitalize on the moment, but Dakota seemed to be yapping on and on about how whatever he said earlier wasn’t logical. Someone needed to tell the girl that some things weren’t meant to be logical, some things were meant just to insult.

“You might be 16, but that doesn’t mean you don’t play with dollies or prostitute yourself out. Though I think it’s fairly obvious you’re just a tease. How many men have you actually given yourself to Fox? Have you at all? Are you one of those pretty little virgins that are too afraid of giving yourself away to just any guy that comes along?” Stephen snickered under his breath as he watched her face, looking for anything that might betray to him her real situation. “Do you really have a heart after all Ice Queen? Or is this just part of some grander scheme to show the world that you’re just a b with an itch?”

Stephen met her challenging eyes for a moment, hazel orbs burning into hers, wanting to prove to her that he wouldn’t back down. He was incapable of backing down today, incapable of doing much of anything other than attempt to anger her. There was something about her that just drove Stephen to try to get under her skin. With anyone else he would have just shrugged it off and went on his way, but Stephen wanted to get at Dakota, wanted to destroy her like he was, make her feel for once. The world wasn’t a safe place and it definitely wasn’t a place for a Daddy’s Girl like her. Her father wasn’t going to be able to keep her safe forever and Stephen felt it was his job to prove this to her. Downing the last of his firewhiskey Stephen quirked his brow at the innocent question that Dakota asked. It was almost too innocent, like she was really trying to make conversation with him.

“Same reason you’re here princess,” Stephen said as his eyes locked on the bartenders back and he quickly reached over the counter and grabbed a bottle of firewhiskey. “Come with me.” Digits wrapped around Dakota’s wrist as he pulled her after him and then up the stairs of the little bar. He knew there were beds up there, specific for those out of town folks who were too trashed to Apparate back to their homes. “If he won’t let me drink down there we’ll just take it upstairs where he won’t notice.” Stephen pushed open the first door he arrived at and slid in, releasing Dakota as he did so. He dropped on the bed and held the bottle up, a smirk falling over his features.

[Dakota Fox S6]

Dakota's smirk - slightly wonky, but a charmingly pulled-off smirk nonetheless - flew wide at Stephen's retort. "What sort of sixteen-year-old girls do you know?" she giggled drunkenly, flicking a strand of golden-blonde behind her shoulder. Her neck felt flushed from the bubbling firewhiskey, and very soon the small black wrap on her shoulders was shaken off and flung over the back of her chair, neglected and unneeded. "Oh Steeephen, how can you ask a girl that?" Dakota's giggles descended into a mini fit of laughter, before she tried to redeem herself by finishing off another firewhiskey and waving the bartender over again for another bottle. "I am a tease, though," she whispered seductively, leaning towards Stephen and staring deep into his eyes. Had Dakota been her usual sober self, she would have noticed the swirling darkness that masked the rage in Stephen's soul, but the alcohol saw nothing but fun and games. "Am I getting under your shirt, Stephen? Want to find out what sort of man I'd give myself to?" Her breath tickled the bottom of Stephen's lip, their faces were so close, before she winked and drew away again, a hand steadying her swaying form on the seat.

"I-Ice Queen?" Dakota threw her head back and laughed in true amusement, hair falling over her shoulders; strands ghosted her half-bare back. "That's a first. I've been called a lot of things, but Ice Queen I am not. I'm quite the opposite of frigid." Giggling, Dakota's hand darted forward to run a cheeky finger down Stephen's jaw. "Want me to prove it to you? I have a heart too, a heart that eats men like you for breakfast." Licking her lips, Dakota withdrew her finger and kissed the tip of it, watching for Stephen's reaction, if any at all. This boy was so hard to crack, it was both frustrating and delightful. "If anyone's icy, Stephen, I think it's you," she proceeded to point out, grabbing the firewhiskey that settled beside her, full and replacing the empty bottle that had been taken by the bartender. "Thanks, love," she motioned with a hand.

"Oh?" Dakota's voice, husky with alcohol, grinned stupidly at her company. "And what is my reason, Stephen?" Before she could elicit an answer, she felt a firm hand fall against her wrist, and she was quickly pulled from her seat into the crowd. The irrational side of her mind giggled in ecstasy. "Sure thing, babe. Where're we going?" Dakota's almost non-existent rationality registered the fact that they were ascending stairs to the second floor of the bar. That was all it could assess before the Stephen helped her tumble into a room, the door sliding decisively shut. "Oh, a one-on-one drinking session?" Dakota's grin stretched. "Count me in. This is much more enjoyable that what... whatisname proposed." Her eyes zeroed in on the smirking figure of Stephen, sprawled across the bed with a bottle of firewhiskey in hand, and she found herself smiling despite herself, thanks to a mixture of alcohol and loss of inhibitions. "Sooo," she slurred, falling towards Stephen and finally landing gracefully in his lap. Her legs straddled his hips, her smirk mirroring his as she gazed down at him. "What now?" Her whisper caressed his forehead as a stray finger stroked the back of Stephen's neck, brushing the nape of short hair.

Then, and against her better judgement - despite warning bells sounding like alarums in her fast-fading rationality - Dakota leaned down and captured Stephen's lips in a bruising kiss.

[Stephen Donahue S7]

There was always a point in the drinking binge where all sense and form of reason disappeared. It was the brink just before alcohol poisoning would set in, where the mind was clouded to the uttermost point and yet the body wasn’t feeling sick quite yet. That was always the point in which Stephen tried to find himself. The all consuming numbness worked it’s way through every nerve and fiber of his being, reminding him of nothing of the past, washing away the vivid images of his father as he stood there beside him, shouting at him in a deathly form. It was all too much for the 17 year old and as such he found himself drawn into the girl that sat with him. He had always thought of her as a shallow frigid witch, but there also seemed to be something deeper inside, something far more intriguing, if that was even the right word to describe it.

There was a confidence within her, even now when she was well on her way to being pissed. Stephen smirked as she leaned in to whisper to him. “Yes, Princess, you are a tease, but maybe you’ll grow out of that someday…preferably sooner as opposed to later,” Stephen replied with a simple cluck of his tongue against the roof of his mouth. She really did think her game bothered him, but the joke was most certainly not on him. Stephen had a knack for not caring about much of anything, including the simple words of a simple little girl. “Oh you miss understand me. You may appear warm and sweet on the outside, but inside it is nothing more than an icy cold heart…You can deny it, but we both know that it’s true. You’re an Ice Queen because you won’t let anyone in. Don’t think I didn’t notice the display of affection over there, or should I say the lack thereof as you were the one who wanted away from him, not he from you. You use and abuse us men, like we’re just property that you can claim…now tell me how is that not equal to you being the Ice Queen?” Stephen shrugged more to himself than her, as he didn’t really want, nor did he expect, a response. It was the truth through his eyes, which was pretty much meaning that it wasn’t quite to the obvious level yet, but close, however his body tensed as Dakota ran a finger down his jaw, leaving behind a fiery burn where her finger had touched.

Stephen’s body hardly moved a muscle as she kissed her own finger, her eyes still watching him, taking in his every piece of clothing. “I may be icy, Princess, but I don’t thrive on social situations, nor do I thrive on being treated like a 2 knut prostitute whenever someone comes by that might be interested in me,” Stephen holds his hands up before taking another swig of his drink. He wasn’t much for stating the truth, but when it got to this point Stephen felt he had to tell her exactly how it was, or at least how it looked to him. She wasn’t going down the same path she had been, why though had she diverted from her path? That was a question he didn’t even know how to answer, or ask.

After pulling her upstairs Stephen found the world falling into alignment around them. The whiskey bottle in his hand was hardly necessary as they were both far beyond pissed. The bed was far softer than he had imagined it to be and as he laid there, the weight suddenly shifted. Hazel orbs shifted to watch as Dakota slowly straddled his lap. He couldn’t stop the smile that rose on his face, it was a dangerously sly smile…a smile that would mean more destruction and pain for anyone involved, or so it seemed. His hand rose to brush her hair back behind her ear for a brief moment before her lips met his in a bruising, demanding kiss. It was all that it took for Stephen to lose control of everything…including himself. He snapped so to speak, not even daring to pay attention to the cries he knew would be coming from Dakota as he took over. “This Princess…this is what you were here for.” The words were muttered not long before the innocence that had been ripped from him was now ripped from someone else by his hands alone.


((Didn't know what else to add without setting off all the censors on the board.)

[Dakota Fox S6]

Dakota laughed confidently. "I doubt that, darling. Me, not a tease? I was born to tease, it's in my nature. The day I change will be the day someone calls me innocent." She eyed Stephen through a haze of alcohol and adrenaline. "Warm? Sweet? Sweet. No one's ever called me that before." Dakota propped her cheek in her palm against the table and looked up at Stephen with a long, rather intoxicated smile. "People call me all sorts, but you're the first to call me warm or sweet. Maaaybe I'm doing something wrong?" A giggle escaped and she clutched her glass tighter, unwilling to let go. "I've been called uh... Let me think. Sexy. Flirty. A vixen - you know, like my name? Fox?" Dakota seemed to find her in-joke amusing and she laughed stupidly against her wrist. "I do let people in," she protested with a pout. "People who are of value, of course. I talk..." Swallow. "Talk a lot. I'm not anti-social, darling! I was all over whatisface before. Or did your blind eyes not catch that part?" Dakota smirked, eyeballs rolling as her lashes fluttered temporarily shut. "He was cute but all he wanted was some action. I'm not that easy, Stephen."

Dakota made a tutting noise in her throat, echoing against her cheek. "But you mean make it so eeeasy. You have it coming, for goodness sake." Her eyes flashed feral for a moment, before rescinding back to a glassy daze. "Men are driven by two things: competition and lust. S-Since we live in a patriarchical society, women should take all the advantages they can..." She flicked her wrist carelessly. "We only take advantage of you because you let us. Some of you," she chuckled darkly, "want us to dominate you. But..." Dakota's eyes settled against Stephen's again. "I'm sure you're not one of those sorts of men, Stephen." A low purr sounded in the back of her throat, like a feline, as her head rolled against her hand.

"T-Thrive!" Dakota barked with laughter. The alcohol in her system was amused. "You mean you thrive off us?" A twirl of blonde rounded her little finger and she looked upon it boredly, her eyes unable to focus on the miniscule, meaningless action. "And don't give yourself so much credit. Men always think they're in control. They always think we are interested in them. On the contrary..." Dakota's hand slipped onto Stephen's knee, encouraged by her bubbling adrenaline. "I'm not even the slightest bit interested in 90% of the men who experience the pleasure of my company. I just think it's funny; amusing; utterly hilarious, to watch you fawning over me just because you think you're going to get a bit of action. You're all such fools." With each accented, exaggerated word, Dakota's fingers spidered up Stephen's leg, wandering dangerously close to restricted territory the normal, sensible Dakota would have said, 'That's enough now - stop.'

But she didn't stop - not when he led her to a room upstairs, not when she pressed herself against him, not when his lips met hers, equally eager. Dakota had never wanted a man more. Perhaps it was the danger that pulsated tangibly from Stephen, maybe it was a fatal combination of her raging hormones and fire-like alcohol that drove Dakota on, on, on. It wasn't until she realised, lying underneath Stephen, against a feather-soft mattress, hair wet against her cheek, that she didn't want this. Her horror fought the numbing alcohol, until all desire disintegrated, leaving only nauseous fear and a piercing scream in her throat. However, Dakota was soon silenced by a painful burn against her lips, which then ghosted her jaw towards her ear, muttering the words that would haunt her for years to come, and all she could do, helpless and scared, was choke desperately, tears staining her face as she felt her innocence break.

That night, Dakota Fox's world came crashing down. The Dakota Fox of the past, infamous for all the wrong reasons, died. All that was left, thanks to Stephen Donahue, so intent on teaching Miss Fox a lesson, was an empty, haunted shell; a shell that would, from that night on, vow to exact revenge on the man who had so cruelly taken away her innocence, and left her behind to rot in Hell.


They were both infinitely more sober by the time Dakota was shivering in the corner of the bed, back against the wall, never far away enough from the man who sat listlessly on the other end, staring at her soul. Dakota's hands, trembling, clutched at the blanket as though it would bring her salvation, holding it up against Stephen like an impenetrable shield. Tears no longer shook her slight frame, but her cheeks glistened fresh; her eyes rolled wild with nightmares and her hair ran askew over her face in the only source of light, streaming into the room from the window. Dakota, safe from the accusatory moonlight but still very much facing her monsters, could not look Stephen in the eye. She could not speak for fear of breaking down in front of him; of confirming everything he had suspected of her. "Y-You..." she began, stuttering, close to breaking point but still clinging to some inner strength. "You... are just... like the rest of them." Dakota spat the words with corrosive hatred. "Y-You take everything that's innocent a-and you rip it into shreds, because you can't stand beauty, because you can't f-ing CONTROL YOURSELF!" The scream rammed the wind out of her, shrieking against the walls. Dakota fought to catch her breath. Her anger, her fear, her revulsion - all falling into one as she trembled like a lone leaf.

"I hate you." Dakota's voice disintegrated into a whisper as she bowed her head into her knees, arms wrapping, useless, around her frailty. "I hate you so much." And then she wept for the innocence she'd lost prematurely, that she had kept so safe for sixteen years. Dakota Fox's eyes had been opened and her world would never be the same again.

[Stephen Donahue S7]

((apparently fags isn't censored, but f a g is. But you know I mean cigarettes you American folk so don't take offence))

At what point he lost control Stephen was not sure. All he knew that as he sat there on the edge of the bed, not even looking back at the girl he found himself without feeling. As the drunken stupor wore off it still left him with a numbness that seemed impenetrable. Elbows rested on his knees as he ran his hands through his hair, it was the first time he’d moved since…well since God knew when. The tension and fear that surrounded Stephen seemed to be the only thing on his mind as he reached down to the ground, grabbing his jeans he pulled out the familiar rectangular box. Subconsciously he seemed to pull out the fags and the box of matches. The flick of the match on the box became the only sound in the silence before he brought it to the tip of the f*g. Breathing deep, he relished in the toxin that settled into his lungs and body, relaxing the tension that had begun to form as he thought of a way to deal with the problem behind him.

Stephen took one last deep drag from the f*g he had just lit before twirling the end to release the cherry and save the rest of it for later. Hazel orbs traveled around till they landed on Dakota Fox, the one girl Stephen had said he’d never have anything to do with, yet here she was sharing a bed with him…or more trying to back herself into a corner away from him. That was fine by him. There was no remorse in his eyes, no regret at all for what had happened. So what? He’d lost control, no big deal. It wasn’t like Fox hadn’t been asking for it up till right before. That was her own fault for being such a horrible tease. She deserved to be where she was…deserved to have her masks and walls broken down to rubble. There was nothing special about this girl, nothing that made Stephen care in the slightest for her one way or the other. She was simply another means to an end for his own problems…another life he helped destroy, another soul murdered.

If he was supposed to react to Dakota Fox’s words Stephen didn’t know it. The walls were thicker than ever and one had to even wonder if a heart did exist somewhere behind the many bricks within him. He moved in a careless manner as he rose from the bed, pulling his clothes from the ground and dressing. Paying no mind to the weeping figure behind him Stephen reached into his pocket retrieving a few gifts for the girl. Eyes spotted the still near full bottle of firewhiskey. Popping the lid off he took a heavy swig of the burning liquor before tossing the gifts onto the bed. The three galleons clinked together as they landed. “Next time I’ll bring you a doll,” Stephen said without even glancing back at her again before opening the door and slipping out. Another swig from the bottle came as he made his way down the stairs, out of the bar, and back into the crisp night air.