<span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-family:Open Sans">Isaiah listened as he continued to cook, moving the pancakes over to a plate as they finished. He looked to Kais as he spoke of his past, trying to comprehend all that he was saying. Isaiah wasn't familiar enough with Kais that he felt it was his place to pry further, especially since he could tell by his body language that it wasn't a pleasant topic. None of it should have been possible, but he'd seen enough at that point that he was done questioning any of it.<br/>
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“It's not that I don't believe you're good at what you do. I just think there are other people who probably need divine intervention more than I do. I've made this this far,” Isaiah explained further, used to being on his own.<br/>
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“I'm not going to complain about your company.” Certainly not with Kais parading around in his naked perfection. It also didn't sound like Kais was going to stop him from doing any of his normal activities. So long as that was the case, and he took care of any unwanted guests of his, there would be no problem with them seeing each other like this, even if Isaiah didn't yet believe he didn't the extra set of eyes watching his back.<br/>
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“I don't know what I of all people could possibly need to do in this lifetime, that someone might choose me as your next assignment.” He shrugged. “Maybe I'm really a test, to see if you'll get too involved. I think, if that's the case, you're failing.” Isaiah was smiling, a flirtatious raise to his brow that made it clear he didn't mind if Kais was failing in that instance. Not if it meant they would at some point end up fucking again. Kais had gone upstairs to show while Isaiah finished cooking, and by the end of it, Isaiah had a large stack of pancakes ready for him.<br/>
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He brought the plate to the table, only using one, bringing two forks despite the fully stocked kitchen. They ate together, Isaiah picking as he and Kais continued to talk.<br/>
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After a few days, and with some convincing on Kais' part that it was safe, Isaiah returned to his apartment where he had a mess to clean up. He was still skeptical, and ever paranoid, but he couldn't stay away forever. He hadn't spoken to Dylan, neither party trying to get in contact with the other. More than likely Dylan was waiting for Isaiah to call him because that was typically how it went, but for the time being, he was occupied elsewhere.<br/>
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Even with an improved mood, old habits die hard, and Isaiah decided to hit the streets once more. After all, Kais said that he wasn't there to stop him from living his life. He'd only interfere if it involved the otherworldly.<br/>
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Isaiah was perfectly at home in his seedy neighborhood. It wasn't ideal, but it had provided him safety for as long as he could remember. It was comfortable for him and familiar. It was a night he couldn't sleep, but there were still plenty of goings on, especially down at his favorite bar. All he wanted to do was drink, and immerse himself with familiar faces. He knew all the regulars, and they looked out for one another.<br/>
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A man in his mid-thirties came to the bar to throw his arm around Isaiah's shoulders. He was tall with dark curly hair.<br/>
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“Isaiah, I have not seen you in a few weeks.” His accent sounded middle eastern.<br/>
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“Kamil!” Isaiah beamed, slightly inebriated already, but happy none-the-less to see an old friend. Not only his friend but his primary dealer for whatever it was Isaiah fancied at the time.<br/>
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“I have something for you,” the older man spoke, opening a little baggy of fine power to deposit a small amount between his thumb and pointer finger. Isaiah didn't hesitate to snort the bump off the man's hand, not even asking to confirm it was cocaine. It quickly became apparent that it was, and the night blended into more drinking, and Isaiah sweating his ass off on the dance floor. His heart was pounding in that satisfying way it always did on the drug, but after he'd run himself out, and went to the back of the bar where he sprawled on the couch designated to Kamil and his 'associates'. While dangerous sorts of people, Kamil had always watched out for him, letting him know who to get involved with and who to stay clear of. Isaiah didn't think of the consequences of being around drug dealers and criminals.<br/>
<br/>
Isaiah couldn't have anticipated the hell was the going to break loose. It started with Kamil shouting in his native language. Isaiah had been too high to comprehend what had started it. A dispute with Kamil and one of his associates, most likely. Either way, there was a man waving a gun that Isaiah didn't know, and Kamil had gotten up, producing a weapon of his own. Either way, Isaiah ended up in the middle of it, with no real part in the dispute. Violence was something he was used to, and perhaps he wasn't as alarmed as he should have been. Instead, he only sat up, expecting Kamil to handle whatever it was. After all, no one fucked with Kamil on these streets.<br/>
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“Get out of here,” Kamil mouthed to Isaiah, and that was enough of a warning to get the young man moving. Maybe this was a less predictable situation than Isaiah had anticipated. The warning was enough for the other man to retrain his sights on Isaiah.<br/>
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“A friend of yours, huh?” the stranger questioned, and it was true. Isaiah and Kamil had shared a bed on more than one occasion and had maintained a friendship for many years. Maybe this man knew this, or he just assumed, and Isaiah was meant to be used to get back at Kamil in some way. Before Isaiah could leave, a gunshot rang through the air, followed by shouting, and many more shots after.<br/>
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It took a few seconds for Isaiah to realize he'd been shot, adrenaline making his body awareness lacking. He'd been shot in the thigh, likely to send a message to Kamil. It probably wasn't meant to be fatal, or the shooter would have aimed for his chest or head. Despite this, Isaiah was loosing a substantial amount of blood. He'd dropped to his knees beside the couch, throwing a hand down over the bullet wound in his thigh, a puddle quickly pooling around him. It seemed surreal, watching gunfire being exchanged back and forth. The shouting was muffled with the ringing in his ears. Those that could take cover did.<br/>
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Isaiah's femoral artery had been severed, and it would take quite a few minutes to get an ambulance out. They were not keen on being dispatched to the area, considering the danger to the medics. Gun violence was quite common in the area, and the police were of the same mind. It was better to stall and let the criminals fight it out than to get in the middle of whatever issues they were trying to sort.<br/>
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Crimson seeped through his fingers, the pressure he was applying not enough to staunch the bleeding entirely. Isaiah had never been shot before, but as comprehension dawned on him, his panic only rose.</span></span>