Joseph
Annabelle sat at home in the dingy slum side house she just finished getting back in order after the break in from the holiday home wrecking bandit. Happy for the money, she didn't complain all too much, funds were low after preparing for Cape duties after all. Speaking of, she was stagnat in that regard, no real progress with the top hats yet, thought she was still surprised Heartthrob and Pendragon still had her back, or at least it seemed that way. Still they didn't have many leads, and she didn't want to stir the pot too much without at least something to go off of, she could get them caught up in serious trouble for nothing and potentially blow the whole lid off what she was doing and set herself back in the long run, possibly irreversibly. Till that changed, she just played hero and worked to be a good strategist and battle technician for them.

Getting that lead... She knew how to do it. She'd planned it months ago by this point, but her back up for the operation was still AWOL. What the fuck had Crawly disappeared to? She'd heard minor tales of his heroics here and there for a bit and then it all suddenly stopped after one strange _bad_ story she'd heard. Had he really gone running for the hills after one bad experience and left her out to dry for their deal? Maybe it was the fact that there were stories at all, he made it a point that this cape business was never really his style. It didn't sit well with her though, he seemed adamant for the information, otherwise he wouldn't have taken the deal. Besides, if they did get what they wanted, Crawly might actually become more incognito in the long run. Something big must have happened to spook him off. 

In the dark of her living room, she kicked her feet up on the coffee table and leaned back against the couch. She whipped out her smartphone and swiped through her contacts till she got to his number. Just, bug. Didn't know what else to put him down as. He was just a phonecall away... If he'd pick up. 

"You better be dead, because if you're not, and you don't answer..." Her brows knit together as her face scrunched with frustration and disappointment. Had to hold it back till after he'd blown her off, if he would.

With one click, she started ringing him up.
Robert
*Kurt's exploits in the last few months would likely put Bear Grylls to shame. He had set up camp deep in the woods, and as the seasons changed, the stubborn Cape had decided to stick with it, adapting as needed. A large camping tent kept the wind and snow out, and a large stack of firewood. He'd made an effort to hunt in Breaker form, mostly going for deer, which he would skin and prepare when he was back at camp. The best part about being out in the woods and alone is that it was quite easy to shift into his bug form.*

*He'd almost forgotten by that point why he was out there, but the buzz of his cellphone, the battery of which was hanging on by a thread at this point, shocked him as he was skinning a deer. He blinks in surprise, almost as if the sound was totally alien to the rugged, wild man he'd become.*

*He tentatively picks it up, and sees the name on the screen as he flips open the screen: 'Annabelle'.*

*'...Blyat.' He thinks.*

*He plugs in the phone to a crank-operated hand generator, giving the battery a little extra juice before sitting down and answering the call.*

"Hey there, kid." *He says, his voice raspy from disuse.*
Joseph
When his voice carried over the other end, Annabelle gripped the phone with a hand shaking tight grip, her teeth bared from her pitch black lips as if to use them as a cage for her anger, and a filter for her worry.

It took her a second to respond, the sound of her letting a heavy sigh out coming through clearly on the other end for sure. "Cee Cee" She called him, for lack of a better short hand. He'd never really told her his name, and Anna didn't blame him for that. People wanted to keep their secrets, and though she'd figured him out, a name still has power with it's absence. "Good you know you didn't kick the bucket. Listen, I haven't heard from you yet man. Heard rumors that the 'bug-man' had started some trouble a few months ago and then nothing. Are you just lying low? What happened man."

There was as much somber care in her tone as there was confusion. They had a deal after all, and it seemed he bailed on her with how no contact he'd gone. Maybe it was partially her fault for not calling out sooner.
Robert
*Kurt sits down on a log that had acted as a chair for him, groaning as he does so. The chemical burns had healed, but insecticide straight to the face was never a good thing, even for a normal person. He was sore, his body still healing.*

*'Cee Cee' causes him to frown, but he doesn't bother to correct it.* "Annabelle." *He says back.*

"I haven't died yet. Got hurt, though. Made some bad choices... But I'm done being the Bug-Man for a while." *He says, grumbling something in another language under his breath.*

"Sorry, kid. I fucked up."
Joseph
Annabelle let out another exasperated sigh as she shot up from her relaxed position and put her feet squarely on the floor. "Hope you don't mind you calling my crawly then till you give me something different. Speaking of, it's annoying when people say vague stuff like that, If it's not something you can get into over the phone, lemme know and I can be out. Got nothing better to do anyways, could use some fresh air and a new environment."

She did her best to sound un-phased, in a way she wasn't but, wasn't the whole truth. Kurt was someone she was looking forward to seeing, their partnership notwithstanding. 'Bug-man' was a name that lingered a bit in the air, a moniker she'd coined when they met, and one she used for the story was cooking up. Annabelle wondered if she'd ever tell him that was something she had put to pen and paper. Right now? Seemed like a bad idea, but maybe getting to speak with him and figure out what actually happened could provide the opportunity, if she could turn his mood around.

"What do you say?" Annabelle posed the question to him again, slipping her shoes on in a hurry and grabbing her jacket in the anticipation of his approval.
Robert
*Kurt grunts at Annabelle calling his efficient form of speech 'annoying'.* "You know how I am. I don't like talking about this stuff, especially not over the phone."

*He sighs, grumbling in Russian about how Annabelle was too persistent for her own good.* "Fine. But I'm not in the city. You'll have to go out into the woods outside of town. I'll send you my GPS coordinates."

*He's about to press the 'end call' button, but seems to decide against it for a moment.* "And kid? Bundle up, it's cold outside. Wouldn't want you catching a cold."
Joseph
The woods... Outside of town.. Cold out. He'd have a fire, fire means smoke, smoke in a forest. Easy to spot. Did he think to bring any supplies? Food? Medical? Perhaps she'd better stock up for the trip real quick, she figures.

"Will do, friend, And I understand, just prefer to be direct about it. Don't bother with the coords, I can find you. Have you had food? Not that I think you can't fend for yourself out there, but you're a big guy, full meal's good for you if all you've had is rabbit and squirrel."

He sounded, at least, like he needed a warm drink, and she wouldn't budge on that. Warm soup in a thermus. She got it fixed up as she set the phone between her shoulder and her ear.
Robert
*Kurt sniffs on the line, and the sound of him chewing can be heard.* "Rabbit and squirrel aren't ideal in this weather. Deer is what is necessary to maintain calories, and I've got plenty of that." 

*He swallows, going back to the phone.* "Just be careful, kid. We'll talk when you get here. Bye." *He shuts the phone, going back into his tent as a wind blows through the Hollow. A fire would make it easier to spot him, and so he builds a quick one, tossing on logs and sparking them with some sort of camping tool.*
Joseph
After he cut the call, she finished packing. She wasn't going to flash there, as quick as it would be, jumping three miles at a time across the sky, Annabelle thoguht it betrayed what he'd gone out there in the first place fore. Her motorcycle was sufficient. Anna stuck all her essentials in her side satchels and made sure to lock the house up before she left.

...

Wasn't more than ten minutes before she finally was weaving through the forest paths to follow the trail of light, billowing smoke. Black gloves shielded her hands from the harsh winter wind, and her leather jacket closed tight around her. Her helmet doing the rest of the job of keeping her warm, and with that, she felt she was bundled enough for his sake and her own. Surely he heard the purr of the engine as she rolled up to the small clearing he'd used as camp, not too far from other clearings like it. Almost no one would be out on this grounds during the winter like this, it was a smart choice if what he wanted was to get away from it all in the city.

She tore her helmet off, tossing her hair out of her face and cutting the engine to the bike before kicking out the stand. She scanned the camp with a squinted gaze, resting her arms on the handles.

"Crawly?" She called out
Robert
*Kurt's camp looks like something the pioneers may have come up with, just with better technology. A large tent is pitched in a patch of trees, helping to block out rain, snow, and wind, and a fire is smoldering nearby. Cooking equipment is set out to dry nearby, alongside a pile of firewood and a survival axe lodged into a stump.*

*Kurt emerges when he hears the roar of the engine, and at first its hard to tell if it's even the same person that Annabelle saw last time. His face is covered in what looks like an irritated, red rash, the remnants of some kind of burn. An overgrown beard clings to his face like a dead animal, providing him with warmth (oddly, the beard only helps to accentuate his usual scowl). Layers of heavy coats keep him warm, but makes him look more like an ill-tempered homeless man than the curmudgeonly plumber that Annabelle met in the library all those months ago.*

*He's chewing on some cooked venison, offering her some jerky from a pack.* 

"Yeah, I'm here."
Joseph
Annabelle traded the jerky for the thermos at her side, forcing it into his hands as she took some jerky, making the point with a stern look that she wasn't going to budge on him not taking it.

Hopping on the vehicle, Annabelle left her helmet on the seat, taking a solid few bites out of the jerky and blatantly talking with her mouth full, yet some how still coming through clearly. "You look like shit, I expect an explanation" Was all she said, stuffing her gloves hands in her pockets, eyeing the fire beyond him with a bit of a envious eye. Warmth. Warmth would be nice. " Come on, we can talk by the fire" She said, taking a stride past him and towards one of the logs sitting around the makeshift pit.
Robert
*Kurt takes the thermos, lifting off the lid and sniffing the contents. Soup.* ***Warm*** *Soup. He eagerly gulps down the hot soup, wiping the leftovers from his lips.* "Thanks." *He says, for once not as gruff as before.* 

*He scowls at Annabelle calling him shit, but he sits down on the log, eating more venison.* "Got my picture taken when I was out of Breaker form. Responded to some shape-shifting Cape on Halloween, some jackass repairman sprayed me with wasp spray while I was trying to get some order. Wasp spray makes me... Well, melt in Breaker form. Not good for me outside of it, too." *He says, showing off his hands, which are covered in a similar rash as his face.* 

"I shifted out of Breaker form to not melt, and she snapped pictures of me. So. So many photos. She... That was my worst nightmare. So I left. I'm out. No more Bug-Man." *He says as he starts to build the fire, ending his sentence as he sparks the fire.*
Joseph
Annabelle quit chewing, and instead swallowed hard. There was an undeniable look of panic that flashed across her face before she steeled her self again. " Well.. That's pretty bad. But how exactly can this shape shifter level this against you? Did they have any witnesses? Can themselves do any real damage with it? Was it even a good shot?" The Scenarios ripped through her mind as if they'd been sitting at the line just waiting for the starting gun. Surely there was something bright to this that she could use to clear the clouds for him. The rumors... They were just that for now. Bug man was caught up in a bad situation, law enforcement might be investigating.. But that was it, and it had been at least four months with nothing new on the streets.

" I only ask" Annabelle said " Because it doesn't seem like anything has come of it. Your face isn't on the news, I haven't seen it on any local paper- trust me _i'd know_. I think you're in the clear, so far as your identity being leaked as of now." She scooted a little closer to the fire as it sparked and devoured the new kindle. Anna was still a little blown away by this shape-shifter's audacity to fly in the face of the principles capes relied on. They were toying around with a lot more than they realized. Maybe that was the point, maybe it wasn't, it was still very dangerous.

Her eyes come to level with Kurt's and she clenched her fists. He'd done nothing be keep out of sight and fix problems, and still the world found a way to screw him, again. It wasn't whole yet, but it could be, any day now. He was willing to help her with her goals, even if it was at his benefit too in the end. 

" I don't think they've acted on the material they have yet, maybe they can't even. Either way, I don't see any other choice about it, with evidence like that about your identity, done with cape life or not, we can't let them take the chance to use it against you, more over we can't leave someone like that un checked. Crawly. We need to go after them." 

This was the least she felt she could do for him.
Robert
"Of course its fucking bad!" *Kurt practically spits out, eyes flashing back to Annabelle as anger clouds his mottled face.* "My whole philosophy is centered around keeping to the shadows! To being a better fucking Cape! And I get caught with my trousers down and my face out! So what if I was scarred by the insecticide!? So what if it was at night!? I'm known now!" *He fumes, before kicking over a piece of firewood, watching it go into the flames.* 

"If there's rumors or no rumors, that's ***One*** Person with bad intentions who could use that against me at any minute! And of course its a fucking shapeshifter, which means I don't know if I can trust ***Anyone*** Anymore! One bad night, and I get my identity compromised and my whole... My whole...***FUCK!***" *Kurt yells, practically exploding with anger as he stands up, stomping over to the firewood and chopping savagely into the stump with the survival axe. There appears to be similar marks from past instances of outrage as well.*

*He hacks, and hacks, and slashes at the stump, until he's out of breath, kneeling down in front of the stump, axe stuck into it, like some altar to a cruel god of the forest.* "They haven't acted on it... Because Creepy-Crawly is dead. He's not coming back. I got caught up in Cape games by playing them and thinking I could do it better. I can't. I should have known it was a dumb idea to play hero..." *He says between gulps of air.* 

"Out here... There is no Capes. Its just... Its just simpler here. There's a natural cycle here: everyone has to eat, and nature sort of... Provides, in a strange way. It makes sense, and everything fits in where its supposed to be. I try my best to eat that which no other animal wants to touch, but its not easy being a... Well, what all Capes are: a foreign entity. We're not meant to exist, to belong among normal humans. And when we do, it just throws everything out of whack. I tried telling them all that... And they listened to the Protectorate instead..."
Joseph
Initially, Annabelle had flinched at his anger. For as tough as she made her self out to be, stuff like that still got to her. He had a right for his anger, to be fair. Could she really say she'd act any less frustrated and lost if it had been her own identity. No, Annabelle figured, this was exactly the kind of response she'd have.

Still she folded her arms as she watched the fight bleed out of him after he'd exerted himself. Anna felt he was, for as bad as things looked, playing up how fucked the situation really was. More over, she didn't entirely agree with what he was saying. Humans and Parahumans was the way the PRT of old divided them, it only stood to strip them of their humanity, even if that was not the intent.

"I think you're denying the reality of our existence. Not in the sense we don't exist, but in so much as you see us as monsters, inherent evils, demons almost." She let herself relax a little as his anger came to a calm, and she felt she could breath again. A tight frown formed on her face as she continued. "You're telling me, I'm not human. You're saying you're not human. Even when there are 'normal' people " Her emphasis was harsh on the word normal "Out there who are and were more out of touch with their humanity than us. " She rose to her feet and her tired gaze watched the fire, the heat of it coming clean off her face as she stepped away from it and the cold wings threatened to numb her again. 

"I'm not defending the heinous things that capes have done now or then, nor in the future, but what I am saying is that this is the world. So long as parahumans continue to trigger, they will be apart of every day life. Maybe you think you can sit it out by living and dying in the forest, but that didn't seem like the intent of the man who blitzed those Nazi's in the alley, or stopped that doll from tearing up our neighborhood. You give up, and you let your ideals die with you. The people you used to help get preyed upon again, or exploited, for a hero or villain's fame or fortune. Gone will be the one unsung savior of the slums, not asking for recognition or payment, just doing what he could because it needed to be done. A hero who didn't let the moniker become more important than those he protected, unlike everyone else." She scoffed with that last line and she started to walk towards her bike again.

When she stopped just short of it and turned around, her face was a twisted expression of disbelief and bitterness. "You wanted to be a better cape, and you were doing it, but I don't think it was the shadows that helped you do that. Not entirely anyways. I likened you to a batman because you sought justice without basking in the glory that come from fighting for it. People _knew_ you already, even if they didn't have a name, even if they didn't have a face, they had your results. I knew you, didn't I? But now you're content with leaving them out to dry, without so much as a good 'ol college try."

She turned back and threw her legs over the motors cycle, turning the ignition as she bit into another piece of jerky. Tasty.

"What ever, I guess, I don't know you. Thanks for the jerky. Keep the thermos, could be useful. A shape-shifter is out there with the intention of breaking the rules and causing _real_ chaos. Normally I wouldn't give two fucks, stay on track for my own goals, that's not someone who can go unchecked. With or without you, I've got to do my best to fix a problem."
Robert
*Kurt stands up, shuffling over to Annabelle's motorcycle, his head lowered, and turns off the ignition. The engine sputters and shuts off, and Kurt offers a hand, to take her back to the fire.*

*Regardless of if she takes it or not, Kurt walks back to the fire, sitting back down on his log. His head still lowered, he begins to tell his story:*

"My name is Kurt Yazovitch. I was born in Moscow, in the twilight years of the Soviet Union. My father was a low-ranking Communist Party functionary, and my mother was a civil engineer. I was less than a year old when the Soviet Union dissolved, and Russia rose from the ashes. My family lost their jobs, but we always had each other, and our neighbors in our apartment Bloc were always there for us. It was simple, then. Some of the only times I was ever truly happy... Until June 18th, 1996. The day that Behemoth leveled Moscow."

*He sniffles, wiping his nose on the back of his hand.* "Capes rose up to protect us, but all it did was lead to further destruction. My family got out, barely, and I watched as Moscow was turned to dust behind me. A city of millions, destroyed in less than a day. I blamed Behemoth, but something always told me that Capes at least had some blame in the whole affair. A nagging feeling that their attempts to fight back a disaster only made the matter worse."

"My family was granted asylum in the United States after this. We moved to Denver, Colorado, and my family worked for the city. We never made great money, but we were safe there. I graduated from high school and went to a university on the East Coast. My parents were so proud of me. Their little boy, who had seen so much tragedy and carnage, would transcend his past and blossom into something more." *His voice cracks as he tells this part, and he starts to cry for a moment or two. He sobs quietly into his hands until the moment passes, and then sniffles and continues.*

"I was a freshman in college when Gold Morning hit. I was sleeping at the time, so I had no idea when Scion annihilated the Eastern Seaboard that I was among the dead. I simply went to sleep in my dorm... And woke up here, in this forest. On this Earth. I was among the first to get here, the first wave. We were scared, but the story started to come together the more waves came. Scion did this to us. ***The*** Hero did this to us. He turned on us, and brought more destruction, more death, than any Endbringer attack. I started to look at how society was run back on my home Earth, and remembered that Scion was our protection from the things that we feared. He was our nuclear deterrent: a man, with the power of suns. I cursed myself for not seeing earlier how keeping people so much more powerful than everyone else, who could cause so much mayhem and destruction if they decided to abuse their powers, as our saviors was our fault. ***We*** Caused Gold Morning, by not recognizing how dangerous the culture we had created was."

*His face clouds with anger, but it is an old anger, one whose subject was long ago, and aimed at different people.* "The last wave came then. Scion was dead, killed by... Something. The question became what we were going to do: how would we survive? A few Capes were among our number then, the earliest Protectorate members. Everyone was so eager to go right back to the way everything was before, but I spoke up. I shouted over them, and I asked them why we should ever hold Capes as our saviors ever again. Why should we deify those which brought us all here? I pleaded with them to understand... And they all just stared at me. Like I was a madman. And then they looked back at those first Capes, smiling once more, and cheering for New London's birth. It was my worst nightmare: we had an opportunity to learn, to grow... And they decided to put us back in the same place that we were before all this. The same rotten system. The same toxic dependency."

*He exhales, the anger passing and sadness returning.* "I lived in the slums from then on, out of choice. The place no hero wanted to go. The place that villains thought wasn't worth the trouble of controlling. I lived there, bitter and angry, until I was mugged one night. I was beaten within an inch of my life on a sidewalk, and a Cape flew overhead... And did nothing. I Triggered in that moment and became who I am now. But... I have never gotten over how, through some twist of fate, I became the very thing I thought was so dangerous. Keeping to the shadows, spurning fame... It wasn't just an act, it was a rejection of all that I despised in Cape culture. But... Maybe playing the game at all was the problem. Maybe there is no way to avoid that which makes Cape culture dangerous to ordinary people. Maybe... Maybe..."
Joseph
She stared at the hand for a long second before taking it. Annabelle couldn't anticipate the heart wrenching memories that came after.

His story reminded her somewhat of her own in ways, at least in so much as it had come to gold morning, the days before. She kept quiet, listening, but inside she was battling with the rising memories. She wasn't old enough at the time to see past the symbols, the heroes and villains, the trouble that was in store for her was completely flying over her head at the time. Her dad indulged her more around that time, and in the last few years she wondered if maybe he knew something bad was coming, and couldn't bring himself to worry her about it. He'd had the news on more and more. One day was the tipping point, she could still hear the panic of the tv anchorman's voice when he said Brittan was just _gone_.

She was included in that first barrage of deaths too, she supposed. The attack on eastern seaboard hit her part of Canada too. She remember distinctly holding her father's hand. Not what they were doing, it seems less important now, fuzzy. The only thing she remembered after that was the warmth of that hand disappearing an instant later.

His words, his _tears_ shook her to the core. Couldn't stop a few drops escaping her eyes. Annabelle wiped them away with the palm of her gloves and breathed slowly to calm herself. She'd still had been listening to Kurt as he spoke about why it really was, that he was out here in the woods now. Why he'd even tried to be different. He spelled it out for her plainly. On that end, she didn't think she had any chance of convincing him anymore, and her gambit to play to his ideals, now seemed more than a little embarrassing. Annabelle scooted closer towards him, drawing an arm around him and pulling him close, as much for warmth as compassion. She contemplated saying sorry, but figured that her gesture said it for her in a way she couldn't with words. Did she agree with his view? Still.. Probably not, but she didn't have to. This wasn't Kurt trying to sway her in any manner, He was just letting out for what seemed to be the first time, all the feelings he'd already spun around in his head for years.

In that, she could understand. She'd still hardly come to terms with her issues, or wanted to face them in that manner. If she did now, she might lose the drive, as he seemed to be doing now. She couldn't let that happen to her self, not yet. 

Annabelle didn't speak quite yet, the thoughts still turning over in her head. She'd told herself she hadn't believed in what he was saying, about parahumans, about how he saw their influence as the instigation of scion's wrath. She agreeed with one thing though, and that opened the door in away. She knew it was odd, how survivors from bet end up here, old capes from the protectorate, new triggers. They'd found themselves uniquely situated with a second chance, and they blew it on going back to the status quo.

She thought about how Behemoth had shown up, and she'd witnessed first hand the death and destruction happen all over again. Surely he'd seen it too. She wondered how that had to be one more nail in the coffin for him, one more confirmation that things had seemed like they were going to repeat themselves. She didn't have a come back. As the realization of it all hit her, She sat there stunned and mired in hopeless confusion, barely fighting back against it.

But she did.

Her disillusion with the situation turn to frustration again, and she scowled, tightening her once gently grasp on Kurt. "Maybe." She said "Maybe we could still do something in spite of it. The place is still young, Behemoth only just showed up. We have no Scion. There's still a chance to turn the situation around."
Robert
*Kurt is surprised by Anna's gesture of kindness towards him, the arm around his shoulders met by an arm of his own. It was all his cynicism, all his bitterness, let out in a Deluge upon someone who seemed so driven, so willing to struggle for something better. He felt bad, knowing that he'd potentially dampened that spark of hope.*

*Hope. The cynical side of him points out that hope is illusory, that you can never catch it. Hope is always just beyond the horizon. But, then again... The reason why its always beyond the horizon is because people keep chasing it, in spite of everything else. To hope for something better proves that there was good in people's hearts. That they wanted the world to be better, and, by chasing that hope, they get a little better along the way.*

*The horizon of hope casts long shadows... Shadows that he could dwell in, and make safer. To make ready the path for a better tomorrow. To clear it of monsters and the predatory things that lie in wait, using the light to draw in the unsuspecting. It was a place a Cape* ***Should*** *Be. It was where* ***He*** *Should be.*

*He sits up slowly, arm tightening around Annabelle as she tightens her hold as well. One arm becomes two as he hugs her, the beard a little scratchy on her neck.* 

"Maybe... Maybe." *He says, before abruptly standing up, dowsing the flames, a scowl back on his face.*

"Smoke brings attention to the camp. We don't want people knowing we were here." *Like a man possessed, he begins packing up his things, dismantling his little camp and grumbling about how much he needs a shave.*
Joseph
Annabelle leant into the embrace a little, a bit of that fatherly-like warmth that she'd missed for so many years, though she wasn't exactly sure how she felt about describing it that way. She shot to her feet as his did, Quickly jumping at the chance to help him get packed up. She asked in her hurry "Kurt?"

The tone of her voice, what they'd both just talked about, the ideas and new found invigoration, it all played a role in making the single word an entire sentence with her inflections. She looked to him, handing him supplies he'd had lying on the forest floor. 

Was he saying he was accompanying her? Was he coming back? Would he help her deal with the shape-shifter.
Robert
*Kurt looks up, blinking at Annabelle as the scowl seemed to lessen slightly. He looks at the supplies in her hands, taking them and nodding. It had been a long time since someone he trusted said his real name... Or that he had anyone to trust at all.*

*Once he has the supplies in hand, he stashes them away, looking back at Annabelle with an expecting expression.* "Well? What are you waiting for? Unless you want us to walk all the way back, I'd suggest getting the bike running. Flying's not an option, *Solnyshko*. Especially in this weather..." *He says, before grumbling about how much he can't stand how cold feels on his bug wings.*

*As he looks away, however, he smiles. He couldn't let Annabelle know it, of course. He still had to play up being the grumpy, misanthropic Creepy-Crawly a little bit, after all.*
Joseph
Anna couldn't help but smirk herself, the phantoms of tears fading on the edge of her cheeks. She helped him load his things in the side satchels of the motorcycle they were revving down and between the trees before long, both renewed a little with the hope of a new tomorrow fresh on the winter air.

\- - -