WELCOME

[Blaine Casey Dorsey]

Blaine had been on a search that seemed to consume him. But he had finally located Evan, staying in a motel in Queens. He didn’t want to call - he couldn’t - too nerved up. No. This had to be face-to-face. That’s the only way this would work. Although truth be told, he’s a bit more anxious than he should be about this. It was driving him insane. And don’t think for one minute that Clifton didn’t spot that either. Oh no, the old man was well aware.

“Master Blaine, you really must not work yourself up so - it will not be beneficial for either of you.” Clifton smoothed the fabric over Blaine’s shoulders, placing both hands down - one on each shoulder - a reassuring gesture. Blaine reached with a smile, patted one hand. “Thanks Clifton, I know. So, do I look presentable?” He turned around. All he was wearing was a pair of black slacks and black shirt. Simple. Effective.

“Perhaps a bit more color, Master Blaine? Might I suggest something?”

Blaine trusted his butler’s sense of style. He’s always been well-dressed and looking sharp. Nothing less due to him. He’ll give a nod. “Of course.” Clifton disappeared only briefly, to return with a deep green shirt. Same fabric, same style. Just the color varied. Blaine gave a smile, took it and changed.

“Right as usual Clifton. This is much better. Wish me luck, would you?”

Clifton held a gentle smile. “No need for that, Master Blaine.”

Blaine couldn’t suppress a grin at that point. Climbing onto his motorcycle, he zoomed off towards Evan’s motel and pulled into a parking spot with the engine still giving a rumbling purr. Shutting off the engine he’ll pull off the helmet and step off. Clearing his throat, he’ll pause at the door and then knock sharply three times. Shoving his hands in his pockets, only hoping she was home.

Wearing THIS.

[Evan Noel Dalton]

Things had changed so much for Evan over the years, she was hardly recognizable even to herself. The scar around her throat was gone, but there was a reminder of the incident forever embellished in her throat. She could no longer speak at any volume other than a whisper, her vocal chords gone, her ability to hold conversation forever taken from her. She had found workarounds, but not many understood why she talked through a computer, or why she generally avoided conversation and other people. She used to be a talker. She used to be personable. Hell, she even had friends. Of course, one moved to New York, and she'd had a bitch of a time tracking him down, but once she did, she'd had no idea what to say to him, or how to reach him. For all she knew, he'd forgotten about her and moved on with his life.

Still, three years after she uncovered his address, her heart got the better of her, and she had written a letter, merely asking him how he'd been and what his life had been like. She had left no return address aside from a P.O. box in Tempe that she rarely checked. She hated that about herself.

Now, she was sitting in a hotel room in New York where her boys - the band called Legion of Doom - had played earlier in the evening, and sitting behind her computer screen, mulling over life and all it's insanity. She had already hacked the Hotel and had a little fun with the check in/check out times, and other assorted nonsense, wreaking havoc where she could. She had also hacked a few other endless files on other bands in the area, and other people. She had also checked up on her human counterpart to make sure the girl was doing alright.

Despite the misconceptions about her kind - which not many knew she was a doppelganger - Evan had never taken a life, had never wanted to. She just wanted to be left in peace, to live like any other sane person on the insane planet they lived on. She wanted to be happy, to live out her life as long and as well as she could before she died.

Three sharp knocks on her door alerted her to a visitor, and she shifted herself off the bed and to the door, her feet shuffling across the carpet. Sighing softly, the redhead opened the door, the cold knob turning in her slender fingers.

It took her a few moments before she realized who was standing there, and her eyes widened in surprise. She hadn't seen him since she was a child, hadn't thought he knew she was in town or who she was. It had been a long time, but some features stayed the same. His eyes, the anxiety in his posture. "Blaine?" She whispered, all the volume she could manage crushed by the noise outside. This couldn't be real. He couldn't be here. Could he?

[Blaine Casey Dorsey]

Sixteen. He hadn’t seen her for sixteen years. Since he was ten. That’s a gigantic span of time - and the letter had helped soften the blow some - but still. It’s a lot of water under the bridge and people do tend to wonder if they’ll recognize one another after so long.

The door opened with a bit of a creak at first; revealing her. And he realized. That wasn’t the point in this case. No. He recognized her almost immediately. To think that seconds before he had been becoming doubtful and second-guessing. Pondering hopping back on his motorcycle and forgetting about the entire plan.

That went to complete moot when he caught a look at her face. Hell, he even forgot to breathe.

When she spoke his name, it was soft. Hitched just a little higher than a whisper, but it was still moving. It shifted something deep within him that seemed to have been lying dormant until she came back into his life. Even if at first - it was with one simple letter - and now here she is. And he’s both nervous and excited at the same time. It was great - but oh god what to say?!

It was like he couldn’t function. What the hell was the matter with him? She had spoken and here he was standing there like a fool - saying absolutely nothing.

Okay doofus, if you don’t say something soon she’s gonna think you’re a creep and then where will that land you?! TALK ALREADY. It’s never been this difficult before!

No, never had been. But those girls were not Evan. Evan was different.

There was a brutal, rough clearing of his throat. “Hey Evie.” Equally as soft, eyes searching hers.

[Evan Noel Dalton]

Evie. It had been a long time since she'd been called by that name, and her eyes closed as she remembered why people had stopped. The 'accident'. The brutal attempt on her life. Everyone had fallen away after that, which left her standing. . . nowhere. She had been alone at the age of sixteen, and no one had seen her through the healing process. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, taking a step back from the door to allow him inside.

"How. . . did you find me?" She asked, resigning herself. If Blaine had found her, how long before her attacker? Her fingers trembled as they scored through her red locks again, and her bare feet slipped over the carpet as she went to get a glass of water. Her throat was rapidly drying, as she wasn't used to talking, and if she was to keep this conversation going without having to resort to half-assed sign language or her computer, she would have to keep her throat wet.

Sixteen years was a long time to wait to see someone again. Sixteen years was a long time to go without being friends. It was a long time and people changed. Evan had grown, chopped her hair short, started wearing different clothes, effortlessly shifting to something closer to steampunk than anything fashionable. Her jeans were sleek, slender, her tops, occasionally ruffled in a peasant style. Her boots, which were in the corner, were decorated with metal butterflies and chains, and a pair of handcuffs dangled around her throat in a necklace.

"How have you been?" Her voice was a dry rasp, barely audible and she winced, took a drink of water, and repeated the question.

[Blaine Casey Dorsey]

Damn, she looked so good. Mentally, his mind was chaos right now. And he wasn’t sure if that was such a good idea or not. Mainly because Evan or ‘Evie’ as he’s always affectionately called her - was different than other girls. Hell. She was the girl if you wanted to get technical about it. In all his years and all his relationships; she’s the only one he’s never been able to pursue. Due to the fact she’s been out of his life for sixteen years. That kind of puts a major damper on things.

Not to mention at the time he was ten. And that’s more thought-levels of a sixteen year old. Little too young to be harboring mushy feelings towards the opposite sex.

Wait... am I paying attention? There was silence beyond his mind. Fuck! No! What’d she say? Something... about how’d he find her? Right. Got it.

“I have my connections,” Yeah, that was an answer. “but finding you wasn’t easy. You like to hid a lot, don’t you? In trouble with the law or something, Miss Evie?” There was a wicked grin set on those features. He knew it couldn’t possibly be true. No. Not with her. Well. Maybe. She always did have a keen mind. But the law? No way.

“How have I been?” His voice seemed to mirror the question. Giving a slight shrug of the shoulders, those eyes would capture hers. “I can safely say I’ve missed you... so that means. You’re getting one of these, and no trying to squirm away!”

Snatching her into his arms - and he smelled of leather and musk, highly intoxicating - he’ll give her a good sound hug. Closing his eyes and enjoying the feel of her in his arms. Wow. And to think he had planned to do something a little more intimate, but while that’d be bold - it might also scar her away. Not something he wanted.

[Evan Noel Dalton]

“I have my connections, but finding you wasn't easy. You like to hide a lot, don’t you? In trouble with the law or something, Miss Evie?” Her eyes widened momentarily before she regained her composure. Connections. Who else had them? And how long before another merry band of hunters found her? Was her hourglass already running out? Panic flooded through her veins and she had to take a deep breath to steady herself.

"Something like that." She replied, wondering how it was he managed to hear her over the sound of the traffic outside. She hated that she had no voice, no way to speak, no way to communicate fluidly like other people.

"I can safely say I’ve missed you... so that means. You’re getting one of these, and no trying to squirm away!” Evan's eyes widened as he caught her in a tight hug, and after a moment, she relaxed into it, hugging him back, deciding that he wasn't actually there to kill her. She hated feeling so paranoid about everything, so paranoid that someone was going to kill her. She just wanted to live, damn it.

"You remember me all too well. I wasn't keen on affection growing up, was I?" She mused, after breaking away. "You look good, Blaine."