Red’s smile was tight, strained, but somehow still genuine-looking. He did know the toll this took on the poor girl, and was frustrated at his own inability to do anything without her. He was a God, why not be able to find this man who so wanted to harm him–who was actually getting somewhat close. 

“I know, Liv, I understand,” and he did, in some way, “It’s…selfish of me to ask this of you time and time again with so little in return.” His words died on his tongue, moved by this poor little waif of a mortal who he’d conscripted, but who had genuinely started to enjoy his company. 

Cue the record scratch. 

“I’ve got plenty of contacts out there, I’ll find you something to ease that difficulty, to ensure you’re not as…troubled by this, hm? Something a little less detrimental to your mortality than all that tequila.”

Cocky as he always was, Ray couldn’t help smirking at him, though he was paying particular attention to Don’s lips. “Are the two mutually exclusive? I don’t see why we can’t make the evening a little more interesting, Donald.” 

Of all the people fate could have tied him to, the fact that it ended up being the FBI agent that had been assigned to a task force with the sole purpose of taking him down was the most bitter form of irony. 

“Relax, Donald! You never know with these things, which way the world turns, the… winding road fate is going to take us down. I think this could be fun! Some sort of adventure for the two of us.” 

It’s a good thing he was such a good liar. Honestly, he wasn’t quite sure how this was going to work, but there was no way around it now, they were stuck together. 

Red was sitting across the desk again, watching him work. 

“What?” Came from the man, who had finally grown agitated enough with his audience. 

“I’m just remembering the first time I noticed you.” 

“Oh yeah? And when was that?”

“Surprisingly, not long before I caused that first…vision for you, for that missing girl.” He reveled in the slight shock Donald showed by the minute raise of his eyebrows. “Oh don’t look so shocked, Donald! You really think you’re nothing special, don’t you?” Red tutted at him. “Did you think they were lying to you when they mentioned how difficult it is to get into the magical unit in the Bureau? Did you think you’d somehow….fluked your way into it? Nevermind, I digress. That’s not the point now.” Is he talking to Don or himself? Not even he knows at this point. 

Many immortals began to seem crazy to those around them after a few millennia. 

“Do you remember, before you had your vision, that inconsequential lunch you had in that hole in the wall diner? Of course you wouldn’t have seen me, I was using a simple camouflage illusion, but still your eyes, they were  d r a w n  to the seat I was sitting. You kept gazing there, as though something was catching your attention, despite the booth having been empty. Now, what you don’t realize is yes–I was sitting there, eating my gyro, but more than that. You couldn’t see me, Donald, but you could sense me. Do you have any idea how few magicians are even aware of my ᴇxɪsᴛᴇɴᴄᴇ? Honestly, there were a few times where I thought you could actually see past my illusion! It felt like you were staring right at me!” He laughed, leaning forward, threading his fingers together and placing his forearms on the desk.

“So, what, I’m some powerful magician, that’s it?”

Red’s eyes closed as he took in a breath, exhaled. “No, Very Special Agent Ressler. You’re interesting. Let me tell you, there’s not very many people on this planet that can be interesting to me anymore. Once you’ve seen a few revolutions and technological advances, you tend to tune out and the world becomes this sort of….grey sʟᴜᴅɢᴇ. Like newspaper articles that fell in a river and the print’s gone all blurry. It’s not fun, and unless it’s specifically about me, it doesn’t much matter to me, does it? So why bother paying attention? But when someone can see past that sludge–when someone like me pings someone else’s radar? Well, that’s once in a lifetime if you’re lucky!”

He paused, swallowing, as his veritable tirade about how Special Donald was took a turn. “Have you ever thought about what pain tastes like?”

Donald, deadpan, “Can’t say that I have,” he added, with a subconscious Don’t really care, either.

“Depends on the type of pain, really. I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that magic, your kind’s ability to use it, comes from pain, but to someone like me, the scents and flavors of things like that tend to…swirl around in the air. I tasted it as soon as you walked in. You’d think, with all the trauma you’ve managed to survive, that your essence would be bitter, sour, perhaps mouldy or rotten, just like whatever self-worth you once had seems to have r o t t e d out of your consciousness. But you, Donald, you? Smelled like a $500 dollar steak dinner, a full banquet of savoury and sweet, crossing cultures with spices, something like that–that gum from Willy Wonka. Everything radiating off of you,all that pain and hurt, those years of stuffing it down…somehow, you smelled ᴅ ᴇ ʟ ɪ ᴄ ɪ ᴏ ᴜ s.”

“Well that’s just great, I smell delicious. Fantastic.”

Red rolled his eyes. “It means, despite what you seem to keep telling yourself, that you’re destined for something, something more. Than this,” he gestured to the office, “than all of this. It means you’re special. That’s a good thing.” 

Rᴇᴅ ᴍᴇᴇᴛɪɴɢ Lɪᴠ’s Fɪᴀɴᴄᴇ, Jᴀʀʀᴇᴛᴛ, ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ.

He’d always been so careful about popping into Liv’s place, because though he didn’t think it was a big deal, he understood and respected how she wanted to keep this relationship between Red and herself secret from her police officer fiance. So he usually tried to check in some cosmic way, before he came in, make sure he wouldn’t open the door and find them on the couch together, or even worse–Jarrett alone. 

Of course today Red had forgotten, he’d simply bypassed his usual system and as the door’s deadbolt began to jiggle and twist, Jarrett’s concentration snapped to the door. He was up and pointing his service pistol at the door before the lower lock began to jiggle as well. He knew the difference between someone struggling with keys in the lock and someone breaking in, and he wasn’t about to let someone bust in without knowing exactly whose home they were breaking into–that of a police officer and his soon-to-be wife. 

Red opened the door like nothing was wrong and came face to face with the barrel of the gun. 

“Ah. You must be Jarrett!” 

Bowie, perhaps thankfully, hopped off the couch and enthusiastically began to shove his face under Red’s hand, expecting pets.  Jarrett kept the gun on him, but the stiffness of his position softened. 

“How come my dog knows you an’ I don’t? And why’re you breakin’ into my place?” 

Red smiled, “Relax, officer, lower the weapon–wouldn’t do you too much good, anyway–I come in peace. I know your fiance, Liv.” He didn’t seem particularly scared, which made Jarrett wary, but he lowered the weapon 

“How do you know Liv?”

“I ah, hm. Perhaps that’s something we should all talk about together–when will she be back, do you know?” He keeps eyeing the gun, thankful it’s no longer pointed at his face. That’s when he has enough time to really see the blonde, mop-headed man. “Oh, now that’s ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇsᴛɪɴɢ! I wonder why she never told me she was engaged to an angel. How handy that must be for her, especially considering her hands.”

Whatever bit of tenuous peace had started to fall between them instantly fell away. Whoever this was could see him–really see him. The gun goes back up. 

“Honestly, the gun’s not going to do anything if you try to sh–”

“Listen, mister, I don’t give a right fuck. You’re gon–”

“I didn’t know angels could swear, what an in–”

“Shut up!” he cocked the gun, “Shut up or I swear t’God I’ll shoot you.”

Red paused. “Wait, are you even allowed to cause harm? Isn’t there something in your cherubic handbook about that? How on earth do you continue serving the police force if you can’t sh–”

The gun was awfully loud. People would be calling 911 any minute now. Red just looked down, frustrated. 

“Do you have any idea how much this suit costs?” 

Jarrett had half a mind to shoot him again. It made him feel better, even if it looked like only the clothes were affected. “I don’t, and I don’t rightly care, neither. Stop. Talking. Tell me who and what the fuck exactly you are.”

Red watched him for a moment, fascinated. “You can call me Red. I suppose, in the grand scheme of things, I’m somewhere across the spectrum from you, a little above on that side of the graph, but not quite on the level of your Exalted Father. Some of the fae-folk call me a god, but I think that’s more a pandering to my ego than my actual description,” He inclines his head, a bit of a nod. “Liv’s a wonderful little GPS when things are proving particularly difficult to find.” 

The gun only went down because Jarrett really was about to shoot him again. Bowie was shoving at the hand the gun was in, whimpering, he knew guns in the house was bad. 

“It’s fine, Bow, I’m good,” a pause, “ah, shit, the cops’re gonna come to the house if I do–”

“Don’t worry about it,” Red interjected with a flick of his wrist, the faithful tick-tick-tick-ing of the clock stopped. “I’ll be right back.” 

Jarrett was left immobile, mid-scratch on Bowie’s neck, as Red just disappeared. He really only was gone about a minute or two, and the tick-tick-tick of the clock started up again and Jarrett nearly fell forward when he regained the ability to move. “What the hell was that?” 

Red grinned at him, “No one heard you shoot at me now. Don’t worry, no one’s coming. Sit, I’ll make some tea–or perhaps some whiskey if you’d prefer–and we’ll get to know each other.” 

Damn. This was a tight spot, and there wasn’t enough time to properly treat it. The flames were closing in, and the air was barely breathable, thick with ash and heat. His throat was dry and hot, he tried to hold his breath when he could. 

“Let’s splint it, quickly. We’ve got to get out of here, the place is caving in.” One good thing about a burning building, the decimation around it, there were pieces of wood and metal that made an effective splint. It didn’t take long for Red to tie up the pieces around Miles’ leg, keeping it from moving too much, and providing an improvised tourniquet for the bleeding wound. 

Once he was sure it would hold at least long enough for them to get out of the building, Red helped him up. “Come on, lean on me. We’ve just got to get out of here, no problem.” 

He considered for a moment, tongue idly tracing the inside surface of his teeth, head cocked. 

“That depends on what you’re expecting of me.”

Red raised an eyebrow, though he was smiling, it wasn’t as warm as it ought to be. 

“You know I’m not your anything, Zoe. But we are fated to end up in each other’s hemispheres every so often for the rest of our lives. I can’t say I mind that too much.”