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SIMON SCOTT<br/>
<span style="font-size: 15px">VAMPIR/MAGI</span></div><div style="background:url(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/8f/c4/da/8fc4dac5d70c67cfe959810dd0c42c5b.jpg);
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font-family: Marcellus;"><b><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#000"><abbr class="bbc-abbr" data-trigger="hover focus touchclick" data-xf-init="tooltip" role="button" tabindex="0" title="THE MIRAGE"><i class="fa-map-marker"></i>LOCATION</abbr> |  <abbr class="bbc-abbr" data-trigger="hover focus touchclick" data-xf-init="tooltip" role="button" tabindex="0" title="PICUS | JELANI | CIAN"><i class="fa-comment"></i>INTERACTION</abbr> |  <abbr class="bbc-abbr" data-trigger="hover focus touchclick" data-xf-init="tooltip" role="button" tabindex="0" title="TEVY | LEVI | ZEMORA | ULRIC"><i class="fa-comments"></i>MENTIONS</abbr></span></b></div><div style="margin: auto;
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text-align: justify;"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#0099cc">"I've got it, Picus,"</span> Simon started, a keen smile fixed on his lips. And boy, did he have it. As he should, after all, the discussion involved making the biggest decision of their lives this year -- er, month. The biggest decision of this month. Which was just as big a decision as it was the year before, which meant it needed careful and serious consideration. And Simon had given it that much for at least a week. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#0099cc">"I know what we should dress up as for Halloween this year."</span><br/>
<br/>
With those words said and finally grasping his best friend's attention, Simon sat up in his seat. He pressed his back straight against the glass window of the bus and folded his arms across his chest. By the way he was seated on the vehicle of public transportation, one would have assumed he owned the place -- or to be precise, that they owned the bus. With his legs laying across Picus’s lap as if they were back in their apartment discussing anything and nothing at all. But they always carried that sort of energy with them wherever they went. It was a talent, truly.<br/>
<br/>
Was he comfortable? A little. Riding the bus to get anywhere and everywhere in this city is what he had been doing since he was old enough to get on it by himself. In rain and in snow, always grabbing the best seat in the middle and if possible, next to a window. It was far cheaper than a cab or an Uber. And the particular route they were taking was an all too familiar one. One that he wouldn't have minded walking if the rain hadn't begun to pick up in a less than welcoming matter combined with the cold air outside. <br/>
<br/>
Luckily, the heater of the bus was on full blast. It was almost <i>too</i> hot, he was beginning to sweat a little under his knitted sweater. But it was easy to ignore when his mind was focused on the more significant matter at hand. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#0099cc">"The March Hare and the Dormouse."</span> The brunet announced proudly, <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#0099cc">"It'll be easy to put together. We could make it ourselves, maybe Zemora will help us with those artistic hands of hers. So even when we party hop looking a little disheveled it'll only add to the animation of the costume."</span> Geniuses like him were only born once in a lifetime. <br/>
<br/>
It was simple and silly, but he was one to feed his own ego when he could. Especially if those ego-feeding opportunities were presented by none other than himself. Picus didn't help in deflating that ego at all and he loved him for it. He didn't dwell on his own genius for long, however, his mind began drifting to the others regarding the same topic. Zemora, Tevy, Levi, Ulric ... Cian.<br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#0099cc">"What do you think the others are going as?"</span> Simon rested his head against the glass of the window and hummed. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#0099cc">"I bet they'll have really nice costumes."</span> They always did. <br/>
<br/>
<div style="text-align: center"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#0099cc"><i class="fa fa-bolt faa-pulse"></i> <i class="fa fa-bolt faa-pulse"></i> <i class="fa fa-bolt faa-pulse"></i> <i class="fa fa-bolt faa-pulse"></i></span>​</div><br/>
Great. They had reached their stop and his umbrella was stuck. Simon supposed it was what he deserved for buying a small umbrella from a dollar store. He was one to fall prey to cheap, pretty items, and it had been both pretty and cheap. Now it was cheap and broke no matter how much he tried to push it open, it was a losing battle and the passengers behind him were growing more irritated with each passing second. And next would be the bus driver.<br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00688b">"Are you getting off?"</span> The driver grunted, causing Simon to turn his head and smile sheepishly. He was used to being put in embarrassing situations. This was nothing new or extraordinary, but it didn't make him shameless. One look at the annoyed look on the driver's face and he knew it was time to go.<br/>
<br/>
Shoving his broken umbrella into his bag, he pulled the strap off his shoulder and used the bag in whole to cover his head as he ducked into the rain. They still had a block to walk to their destination, but they wouldn't be soaked by the time they reached it if they were fast enough on their feet. And they had had enough running practice during their childhood well into their adulthood. It was a survival skill, one needed for two who found themselves in trouble every other week. But Picus’s leg wouldn’t allow him to move so swiftly, not anymore. <br/>
<br/>
The bag over his head did very little to protect him from the fat drops of rain he dashed through but kept a slower than normal pace to stay by Picus’s side. His face and parts of hair were wet and cold by the time he reached the Mirage. The dryest part of his body was the top of his head, but even that was only temporarily when he removed the bag from his head as he opened the shop door for himself and Picus. At least he was mostly damp and not soaking.<br/>
<br/>
The difference in temperatures inside compared to the outside was immense. The warm air hit his face first, giving him a little shock and shiver followed by a pleasant sensation. He was damp, but at least he was also warm.<br/>
<br/>
Still, Simon used whatever dry parts of his sweater sleeve to wipe at his wet face and hair. It was a poor attempt to fix his appearance before facing the shop manager. Though he doubted how the young magi would look and be more concerned about what water damage they may cause in his store. It didn't mean that Simon didn't want to look anything less than presentable though, been if the little bell jingle had alerted him of their presence already. Besides, given the news he had been carrying with him for the day or two now, Cian would have something else to think about. <br/>
<br/>
His cheeks were slightly rosy when he laid his eyes on the familiar strawberry blonde. It was because of the cold obviously. Or the cold had once been. From his position at the entrance, he gave the man a cheeky grin, a grin that died out when he noticed the man was in conversation with another. <br/>
<br/>
Simon took a good and long second eyeing his figure. He was well-dressed, well-groomed, good-looking, but he wasn’t Cian. And when he happened to be standing across from him that much was clear. But Simon had tuned in just in time to hear him invite Cian to a party. <br/>
<br/>
His stomach twisted, and he was moving before he even knew what he was going to do or say. But he didn’t have to know, because he was speaking on instinct. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#0099cc">“Cian already has plans with me,”</span> Simon interjected, sliding in next to the barely taller male. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#0099cc">“Er, us. He has plans with us.” </span>He glanced at Picus, pleading with his eyes for backup. <br/>
<br/>
Maybe he was lying, maybe he was making a prediction, maybe he was acting out. But this guy was in his spot and bumping him out of the way didn’t seem like the smartest thing to do, so instead, he leaned against the counter and smiled. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#0099cc">“I mean, why would he go to your party when he could be partying at <i>Dionysus</i>.”</span> He kept eye contact with him just long enough before turning back to Cian.<br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#0099cc">"Hello, Cian,"</span> Simon greeted him warmly, sweetly, <i>micheviously</i>. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#0099cc">"We've come to keep you company on the last hours of your shift."</span> Per usual. He would have found any excuse to come over and hang out with Cian, but it was easier when the others were around. He felt more confident and less obvious in his presence then. <br/>
<br/>
It was if though he never had spoken with the other man at all, it was common practice when he happened to have a conversation with some of his more flirty customers. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#0099cc">“I also carry great news. But first…”</span> Resting his elbows against the countertop he leaned in a little. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#0099cc">"In good holiday spirit, I'll buy something. Maybe it'll raise your spirits a little... That was not a pun, I swear."</span> An awkward chuckled followed after that statement, but his grin was very much real and warm. <br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#0099cc">"And, you would rather hang out with us at <i>Dionysus</i>, wouldn’t you?"</span> Simon hoped he sounded as confident as he meant to, and if not, then he hoped the look in his eyes did the trick. <br/>
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