What was the sense of familiarity with nothing to attach it to?

It was a question he’d confronted - and avoided - too many times of late, largely when lying in the dark, bathed in the glow of a TV screen, knowing what was about to happen next and not knowing how he knew. Deja vu, or something like it - presque vu, as Elaine had suggested - and all the associated dissociating discomfort of feeling like he stood outside of himself, watching his own actions as remotely as if he was, himself, one of those bright figures on the screen.

But this, too, was familiar: to feel the buzzing absence of himself in his own head, and observe from a distance, was something he knew and had known when he was someone else. This made it hard for him to grasp what, exactly, it was that was rendering him unsteady and lightheaded - whether it was the things he’d spent the last hours putting into his blood or the things that were no longer in his head because he had taken them out.

He was not quite stumbling, but he was weaving on his feet as he peeled away from a party he had not been invited to and had seamlessly worked his way into. Party crowds ran older nowadays than they had, he knew somehow. This, he supposed, was because the younger generations were growing disaffected and attached to their own screens, while those people his age - no, better not to think of them that way. Better not to think of any of it. In any case it made him easier for him to insinuate himself, chameleonlike, into a crowd where no one knew him and everyone was ready to think that someone else did and had been responsible for inviting him; easier for him to smile over a drink he hadn’t paid for and say the things to make the person across from him like him - or like the simulacrum of a person he put forward. Easy to do all those things, to overindulge, to at the end of it submerge himself entirely in the disembodied hum of remote familiarity on purpose, because it was the closest thing he had to anything like a real comfort.

Weaving gently down the dark sidewalks - dangerous, he knew, but his charms had not extended to securing a ride in this age of Uber, especially since he had left far too early - he attempted twice to light a cigarette, failing. On the way in he had cut an unmistakably stylish figure, and he was still to some extent carrying it, but the sweat of the crowd had plastered his hair down to one temple and dancing had rumpled the immaculate lines of his clothes and he was ruining the effect, generally, by huddling down into his scarf against a chilly wind.

He was never in this neighborhood, and did not know his way around, and managing his maps app was too complicated to consider in his current state. Too many big apartment buildings; too nice. Out of his budget, even if it wasn’t exactly wealthy. He looked like he belonged here more than he did - or he would have, if he was not on his third attempt at lighting a cigarette, his feet carrying him in a serpentine wobble across the salted sidewalks and occasionally gently careening him towards a snowdrift he narrowly avoided falling into.

There were some people out here. People did walk, in decent neighborhoods. He should, he thought, approach one of them and ask for a light or possibly directions. Not that anyone carried a lighter anymore, in the age of vaping. Gone with easy houseparties to sneak into on every corner. Gone with getting an easy ride home from a designated driver. Gone with whoever Sawyer had been. He paused, however, and turned towards the first set of footsteps he heard approaching, to assess whether he could reasonably turn towards them without getting mugged. No, wrong type of neighborhood. Without getting maced.

—

And she might have.

Maced him, that is. Even if she did know him. Even if he looked perfectly harmless in his current state—though that's not to say that drunk men weren't more than capable of being the very opposite of that. But it was Kay, and while she knew next to nothing about him besides his name and the fact that he took to lying the way fish took to swimming, he'd never struck her as someone who was capable of being physically violent with anyone. Of course, she'd been wrong about him before, so when he turned to her she stopped in her tracks, brows knitting together as her expression quickly turned to subdued irritation as she looked him over.

She had options, but macing wasn't one of them (though that wasn't just because she didn't actually carry mace). Unfortunately for her, leaving wasn't one of them either. He was drunk and, she noticed, Chaos seemed to enjoy preying on the late night drunk and partying crowd. They naturally made for easy targets, and would be none the wiser if they woke up feeling extra groggy however many hours later because it was easy enough to blame that symptom on the alcohol.

Now, not every drunk in Destiny City was her responsibility, and she wouldn't go out of her way for perfect strangers who weren't in any immediate danger. But she knew Kay, even if it was just those two—well, now three—things about him. And she knew he was more than helpless in his current condition. As much as she might have hated him, she was hard-pressed to leave him on his own knowing what could possibly be out in DC at this time of night and what could possibly happen to him if he crossed paths with one. She didn't have to like him to protect him, if things came down to that.

Damn conscience, she thought, frown deepening at the idea.

"You're gonna get yourself killed," she eventually said, her tone as cold and biting as the chill wind that gusted past them from down the alley just to their left. "What the hell are you even doing here?

—

Urgh. Destiny City doing that thing again, he thought. A city ruled by narrative necessity.

“Never having to pay for my own drinks,” he said, attempting a charming smile that probably wouldn't have worked on anyone and definitely wasn't working on Mel. “And serving.” This, with a vague gesture at his clothes. “I think I'm less likely to get killed here than in my own neighborhood.”

If he had been sober - and in a less dire mood, in which he felt an intense craving to pick at the scabs of his own existence - he would probably not have answered at all. He would probably, as he had outside Elaine's apartment, aborted a rueful smile and taken himself away in shamed silence. And he did, in fact, momentarily brace for snowballs that did not come. But their failure to show only bolstered him into continuing, speaking around his cigarette as he finally, mercifully, coaxed it into cooperating.

“Nice place. You live around here? Tax dollars doing you a solid?” This was more aggressive than he'd meant, but he couldn't take it back now and only momentarily flinched, turning away from her to exhale. “That was combative and I didn't mean it to be,” he confided. “Anyway, to circle back.” A pause of momentary drunken bewilderment as he attempted to recall the impossibly distant past of five seconds ago. “I don't plan on getting killed anytime soon. What are you doing out alone? Surely if I'm gonna get killed you are too. Do you need a bodyguard?”

—

It may well have been disgust that crossed her features when he smiled at her. It wasn't unlike the way he smiled at her on their date, and she hated that he still looked perfectly fine with it on his face even after everything. It changed nothing, of course, and she in fact took a step away from him not just because he managed to light the cigarette he'd been talking around. She wasn't a fan of that either, but to each their own. What wasn't going to try to put it out just because she didn't like him.

Though she'd have shoved it straight into his mouth if she were close enough, after what came out next.

Or maybe mace would have been better. That stuff was flammable, right?

Mel scowled at him, even as he tried to walk it back and smooth out what he meant. It was hard to imagine he could make things any worse between them, but he seemed more than capable of actually doing it if he was drunk enough. Exercising more patience than she thought she could manage for him, and only because he was drunk, she snorted.

"I'll manage. Besides, even if I did I doubt you'd be much of one even if you could walk straight."

Sighing, and cursing her conscience for the second time that night, she glanced around and immediately noticed the lack of other people. As if it wasn't a bad enough situation, it had to be convenient for Chaos to swoop in completely unnoticed right then, too. Hoping to find a way that didn't involve her following him from the rooftops in secret, she started going down another list of options, this time on what she could do to get rid of him while also making sure he got home safely.

"So were you just planning on walking all the way home like this?" she asked, her gaze landing on him again after a long moment. "So I'm guessing you live nearby?" Considering what he paid for dinner back at the restaurant, he probably did okay enough to at least blend into a neighborhood like this.

—

Maybe the cigarette had steadied him a bit. But inwardly he felt a gnawing certainty that it was the fact that this stranger, who despised him with good reason and who owed him nothing, was not simply antagonizing him but instead - if he was following her gist correctly - attempting to do what was decent by him. It would not be decent to let a drunk wander through a Destiny City winter night alone and unprotected, even when the drunk was himself.

It would have been easier, he thought wistfully, if she was less decent. More of a scumbag.

Whatever the reason, he paused, not answering her question and instead fixing her with an absent look that took a long few seconds to settle into something that tried very hard to be sober.

“I can take care of myself,” he said, strangely quiet and suddenly grave. “You either get it or you don't. But don't - I can take care of myself,” he repeated, as if telling her something very important.

It did not for a moment occur to him that she might, actually, get it. Only that maybe if he said it steadily enough she would do what she never had any reason to do, and believe him - or else do what she had every reason to do, and abandon him in disgust.

“You don't know me,” he said, very strangely. Almost arrogantly, in fact. “We already went over it. Goodnight,” he added, turning suddenly to leave her, swaying a little as he did so. “Stay safe,” he added vaguely.

—

It took a second, but she caught it. The certainty when he said those words. He knew what was out there, what could come for him at any point between here and the relative safety of at least being indoors and out of sight of prowling Chaos agents, senshi, youma, or even just Destiny City's own ******** during this time of year.

And he could take care of himself.

Her brows lifted at the realization, though the surprise was brief and her scowl quickly set in again.

The idea that he could be an Order ally was something she would prefer to not think about. It was bad enough that there would always be the chance of running into him in her civilian life. If he was an Order ally, could she even trust that he would have her back if worse came to worst? Or would he just try and sly his way out of a bad situation, tuck tail, and run?

She wondered if it was more palatable to think that he might be part of Chaos, since they could technically also take care of themselves in the same way that she could. And apparently he could, if she was guessing the meaning in his words correctly.

It wasn't. That she had the thought actually made her stomach turn unpleasantly.

"You're right," she said finally, sidestepping before starting to walk again. "I don't know you. And if you say you can take care of yourself, then fine." She passed him soon enough, waving a hand as if to get rid of any wayward cigarette smoke that had followed her. "Good night."

—

It might have given him a little laugh, to know that he now was traversing the exact same path of thought that Mel had been moments before: wondering whether it would be a good idea to find some way to discreetly follow her. She probably did live somewhere close - why else be out? - but still, any time alone after dark in Destiny City was a risk. And it would have to be discreetly - a man following a woman alone was never going to be anything but suspicious, especially a man barely above stumbling.

He was hardly in a state to act the savior to anyone, but probably better than the unequipped civilian she was - a label he had mentally applied to her so firmly that he did not even question why he had. Maybe because of her trust in him, which he found incompatible with the life he himself led.

He meandered, considering his options. Maybe he would just circle the block once and make sure everything was clear. That wind coming from between the buildings really was unusually knifelike - sharp in a way that felt almost tangible. It was wrong, he thought - a thought that had only a moment to mature and mellow in the delayed synapses of his chemically-altered brain.

He was already turning on sheer instinct before he had even consciously registered that the air was moving in a way that it shouldn’t, the air sounding like it had no right to sound. Adrenaline was always a handy leg up to sudden sobriety, and he was not nearly so unsteady on his feet as he turned to move briskly back in her direction, first at a hurried walk and then breaking out into a jog.

He had lost the cigarette as he caught back up to her, but hopes of simply getting out of range of whatever was back there had already faded. A glance over his shoulder showed him as much. So he settled for calling out to her, instead, even as he caught her arm in the same moment to urgently encourage her along.

“Go,” he said bluntly. “Run.”

There wasn’t much time for more.

He turned into the literal teeth of silent pursuit, inwardly quailing to see something as awful as what he did, and with unmistakable purpose he put himself solidly between the monster and Mel, fairly throwing himself into the way of it and whistling sharply in an attempt to pull all of its attention off of her and onto himself.

If he had been sober he might simply have started to lead it off, kiting it somewhere safe to avoid blowing his cover. But in the confusion of panic and alcohol he instead fell back on instinct that told him, as it told any cornered animal, to make himself as frightening as possible.

Which wasn’t actually all that frightening. But he could move faster this way, at least. He did not turn back for her. He assumed - had clearly intended - that she would run, as he had suggested, and leave him to deal with what Destiny City threw at him tonight, because he could, as he had said, take care of himself. And also, possibly, of her.


—

She didn't look back. Why bother? He could take care of himself, he said, and practically told her to get lost. He'd already stopped her from getting to where she intended on going in the first place, so she didn't need to be told twice. She bit back grumbled words of irritation and thoughts of wasted time as she pulled her phone out to check for messages. There was one—her friend apparently managed, finally, and so didn't need her help anymore. Mel shook her head, sighing, though her thoughts had quickly shifted away from both her friend Kay and on to the prospect of a good cup of cocoa—there was a cafe that stayed open late just nearby—in the time it took to tuck her phone away.

Thoughts that vanished at the sound of Kay's voice.

"Wha–"

He cut her off. She glared at him, but something from behind him caught her eye again and before she could actually say anything, never mind do anything, the man had put himself squarely between her and the whatever-it-was. Winter-themed wolf, it looked like.

And then, as if that wasn't enough of a surprise, he was suddenly someone else entirely. And not even just another knight but one that she recognized, no less.

Mental whiplash absolutely had to be a thing, because Mel found herself gawking for longer than she normally would have at something like that. It wasn't like she was new to the whole knight business, after all. But Kay?!

She found her thoughts momentarily tugged toward the Code and wondering what standards it had for the sorts of people to bring into the fold. But then again... He had thrown himself between a civilian, or at least someone who looked like a civilian, and very obvious danger, which was something she was sure anyone of Order would have done as equally without a second thought as he had. So maybe the Code did have a standard (like she'd always believed prior to just now) that wasn't just whoever its proverbial finger was pointing at after a round of eeny, meeny, miny, moe.

Mel snapped back to the present just in time to see the wolf lunging at Maus.

"Look out!" was all she managed to do in that instant, her mind still reeling.

—

The sound of her voice gave him an inward stab of what came very close to being anger but settled on frustration - both because it meant she had not, actually, run, and because it meant that she had both seen him become someone else and was now doing what he’d been trying to do himself, and catching the wolf’s attention.

He recalled it sharply with another whistle, circling a little as he cast his eyes around for a weapon. Not having one of his own was becoming a problem, and he found himself - appropriately - flashing back to that conversation with Ekstrom about pot lids.

The great benefit of often getting into fights when drunk is that one knows how to fight while drunk. He hardly even seemed hindered, in fact, by anything else other than the fact that he could not grapple a wolf, or dodge a punch that wasn’t thrown. A brief game of what might fittingly be called cat-and-mouse ensued, buying him time to keep the thing’s attention on himself, lure it further down the street, and then nimbly yank a stake out of the ground being used to support a sapling in a grassy square between the sidewalk and the road, all performed within a few seconds.

He might not be able to grapple a wolf, but he’d probably beaten someone with a pool cue at some point, or something close to it. Better yet, this thing had something like a pointy end, even if it was not quite as pointy as he might have liked.

“Told you to run,” he called without looking back towards her, instead seizing the moment of distraction this caused to charge - apparently to some effect, if the resultant yelp and howl were any indication, and the ensuing moment of chaotic violence, during which the wolf began to look strangely ephemeral, like an image on a screen half-perceived through static. This was an encouragement, at least. It was hard to look dignified whaling on a big dog with a stick while trying to avoid its teeth. Good thing he hadn’t looked especially dignified anyway, up to that moment. “So ******** run.”

—

Mel watched, still frozen to her spot, as Maus called the wolf's attention back to himself again just before darting for something a bit down the street. It reinforced the uncomfortable (and incredibly surprising) truth that he actually had some sort of virtue in his character, which further set her expression into one of incredulity as she then watched him both successfully fend off the wolf and tell her, again, to run. It was that, more than anything else, that fully set her priorities straight given the situation. With her fists clenched and her eyes settled on the wolf, which still had its attention fully on Kay, she stowed her disbelief for parsing later and dashed toward it, calling her shield to her as she went..

Ekstrom was holding fast to it an instant later, fully aware that her magic was still out of the question but not looking the least bit worried about it now. It wouldn't do much good against this thing anyway. Rather, she fashioned herself into a battering ram, her shield held up in front of her as she ran at the wolf at top speed.

She felt the full weight of its form slam against her just moments later, coupled with a crunch, another yelp, and then a snap of freezing cold biting her arm through her shield. She grimaced against it and skid to a halt, lowering her shield only once she felt the weight of her target come off and watching as the wolf rolled a short distance before hitting a snow drift with a muted thud and lying still. It flickered briefly, its form seemingly fading against the white background, and she felt confident enough to tear her eyes away from it to look at Maus.

"Happy?"

She did run, after all.

—

“Always,” he called after with forced vivacity, with cheer through gritted teeth.

He stood in the sudden silence of the street and watched the wolf flicker once more, only to be borne away by the wind a second later. There was howling somewhere distant but not distant enough, and Maus dropped back down into Kay, trembling a little, and reached for his phone to fall back on the expedient of seeing if Elaine was either going into or getting out of work to give him a ride.

“Can take care of myself,” he repeated under his breath in disgust. “Barely.”