Donovan was in no mood for games, and he had a feeling Aza was. As he approached her, all these little 'shadow foxes' when scurrying away. Shadows... darkness... as if Aza had stolen pieces of Dean, which would confirm Donovan's suspicions that his dark-side's dalliance with Aza in the bedroom on the chaos ship had cost Dean far more than a bit of time.<br/><br/>She congratulated him, sounding even pleasant about it. Donovan barely shook his head. “There is nothing to be congratulated for,” he barked as he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her from her new instrument of locomotion. Aza began to protest, but Donovan wasn't having any of it. He was running low on juice, and if they fucked around long enough, he had a feeling there would be even -more- Monks on fire trying to stop them, and next time, he might not be able to save anyone, including himself.<br/><br/>One thing was for certain: he couldn't depend on the fox-girl. If she had had her way, she'd be lounging in someone's mansion right now, having left Donovan and the others behind.<br/><br/>In order to expedite things, Donovan half-hefted her up under his arm, lifting her off her feet so that they could kick back and forth through the air, as if she were trying to run. His... -urges-... towards her were receding, thank the gods... knowing, or at least heavily suspecting what Aza's foxy little snatch had done to Dean, Donovan was in -no- hurry to find out how it would affect -him-... even if a small part of him really -did- wanna know.<br/><br/>Donovan didn't see Methuseld upon approaching the stables, and his jaw clenched tightly. Couldn't -anyone- be depended on? The warrior-woman had agreed to a very simple task.... or, perhaps in her attempts to complete it, she had met her demise, been caught or worse. The little muscles on the sides of his jaws twitched and tensed, but after a moment, Donovan heard the sound of a horse whinny from nearby, toward the gates.<br/><br/>It -had- to be Methuseld. By Goram's hairy balls, it -had- to be her....<br/><br/>When they hauled around the corner of the stables and approached the nearby gate that led from the city (and freedom, Donovan hoped), it wasn't just Aza who looked wide-eyed in shock and surprise.<br/><br/>Before them with four hours stood the warrior-woman Methuseld, only, it -wasn't- Methuseld. Yes, there were hints of her appearance that gave Donovan the distinct impression that it was her, indeed, but she looked drastically different than she had looked less than a quarter hour ago when he had seen her last.<br/><br/>For a moment, Donovan wondered if he had been hit one too many times.<br/><br/>Aza, meanwhile, had obviously been quite impressed with the sight before her, and decided that riding with Methuseld The Dark would be far safer than being anywhere near Donovan. Aza nipped at him, which had no effect, but her squirming caused one of her elbows to strike the soft flank of his armor just beneath his left armpit, jabbing him right against his cracked ribs.<br/><br/>He bit his tongue hard, drawing blood, but did not let out a sound as he released the girl, who went darting towards Methuseld as if she were her own mother.<br/><br/>“Yeah... good... sounds good,” Donovan nodded, gasping and leaning over for just a moment to take a breath... lungs inflating... ribs protesting further. He managed to grab Aza's bag with his -other- hand just before she dropped it and darted away. Even now, he felt more like a bagman at an inn than anything else.<br/><br/>Steeling himself, he slowly rose upright and approached one of the untaken horses. “Nicely done,” he said to her swiftly, doing his best to breathe shallow. He could make a big deal of Methuseld's change, but he was still too stunned by it, truthfully. Had Dean somehow infected her, as well? Had the two of them been intimate at some point that Donovan hadn't known?<br/><br/>~Dean, Dean, Dean. Haven't I told you time and again you gotta be careful where you stick your dick?~<br/><br/>Donovan pulled himself up onto a saddle, and turned his horse for the gate. The guard – who had been frozen in place fantasizing about Methuseld the Dark, blinked when he saw Donovan and Aza join her, both of them splattered with blood. Thankfully, he didn't like the look of his odds against all three of them, and he sortta stepped aside... wisely... as the three headed for the gate, spurring their horses forward.<br/><br/>“Nice boots,” Donovan called over to Methuseld as they passed out of the bleeding city, heading away from it as quickly as they could, heading away to freedom... they hoped.