Damn, he was good. D leaned against the wall, next to the front door. They hadn't been hard to follow, especialy for him. He wore his old black trench coat, his combat boots, the spiked leather guantlets that covered the backs of his hands and his wrists. He had on a simple black t-shirt and army fatigues, his bandana tied low over his eyes. He traced the scars that ran down the right side of his face as he proceeded to knock on the door.

He had four Beretta 92FS semiauto pistols, two in shoulder holsters, two in hip holsters. He had both his K-bar combat knives strapped in an 'X' patern on his belt, at the small of his back. He continued tracing the scars on his face as he waited for an answer.

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Water's fine. It's too late for caffeine. *Then, Gillian heard the knock at the door and the hair on the back of her neck stood up. This couldn't be good, especially considering Don was supposed to be at the church still. She drew her gun and started gesturing for Don to come back. Whatever the hell was out there, she was probably gonna need backup.* Who is it? *If only his door had a peephole, but no such luck. She wasn't planning on moving where she could be spotted, especially when she had no idea how many people were out there. She did, however, turn off the lights. Her heart had started pounding in her chest, but she forced herself to remain calm, while cursing her stupidity.*

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*Don heard the knock as well, but didn't think as badly as she did about it...not until he saw her gun. His face turned a shade paler, but he had to keep his wits about him. It could be any number of things, but this late at night...his gut started to burn at the thought of someone already tracking him down, to get to her or worse.

He moved silently, and out of the way of the door, heading back into the kitchen to find where he hid his gun. He was a priest, but he wasn't an idiot. He always kept one in every room, just for safety's sake.

He cocked it softly, trying to be as quiet as possible. In the lack of light it was impossible to check to see if he at least loaded it or not. Fuck, why didn't he remember if he had or not?

He moved back to where she was. If something was going to go down, no sense in dying on his knees.*

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David's lopsided grin graced his face. Calmly, he extracted a playing card from his jacket pocket, bent down, and slid it under the door. The card was a King of Spades, impaling himself in the head with a sword. He then straightened back up and leaned back against the wall, beside the door. He thought it was awful cute they had killed the lights for him. The reason he wore the bandana low on his eyes was to shield them from the light. He always worked better in darkness.

David cleared his throat, then spoke, his voice calm and even, not threatening in the least, "Ya' can save ya'selves a whole fuckin' shitload a' trouble by puttin' 'em guns up in 'ere. Names "D.", I'm sure ya' heard stories 'bout me round the campfire, Gillian. M'Uncle sent me. Now, we can all play nice, or we can get down an' dirty. Either way, I'm comin' in."

He popped his neck and pulled out a stick of gum, popping it into his mouth. He was the perfect picture of calm, cool, and collected.

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D, huh? I've heard about you, not much of it good. *Great, now what the fuck did she do? She'd never met D, no reason to believe that was actually him out there. But, if it was him and she went apeshit, well let's just say bad things would happen. Of course, letting in a spy or worse yet a Vincetti, could get them both killed. This was a test she didn't want to fail. She could feel Don's presence beside her, and she sighed heavily.* Go into the back room and lock the door. You hear any shit, get out and run, I mean as fast as you can. Don't come back out, don't try to be a hero or any of that shit. If you try that and I -don't- get killed, I will kick your ass. *She sounded a lot braver then she felt.* Now, go. *Then, she turned her attention back to the door.* No reason you and I can't play nice, D. Wouldn't want you sending a bad report to your uncle.

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*He couldn't believe what was ahppeneing, let alone the 'orders' she was giving to him. He could barely make out her features in the dark, but she could tell she was deadly serious.

But he wasn't a pussy, priest or not..*

No. It's my apartment, and I'm staying right here *He hissed back at her. He stared right at her, and was just as serious. If this guy meant business, fine. If it was just someone come to try and take her out, well, at least the two of them would have a better shot than one. And if she ended up dying tonight, there'd really be little reason to go on. Not because he was finding he still loved her, but because she was the only thing keeping him from totally imploding.

He turned to look at the door, white-knuckling the gun in his hand.*

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David shook his head and chuckled a bit, "Oh, darlin'... ya' done hurt m'fealin's. All bad? Ya' been listenin' ta' the wrong sum'bitches, 'en. I'm comin' in. If ya' start poppin' off rounds, I'll tear yer boyfriends face off, wipe m'ass wit' it, then I'll pull yer intestines out yer asshole. Got 'at?"

He shoved himself off the wall and turned towards the door. Once more he popped his neck as he laid a hand on the door knob. He turned the knob slowly, then pushed the door open, following that by pushing his jacket back on both sides, to reveal the grips of all four handguns he carried. He stood there just like an old western gunfighter, looking down at the floor with his hands hanging at his sides. Slowly, he looked up, his lopsided grin on his face. His green eyes sparkled out from under the bandana. He then spoke slowly, "Well, ain't 'is a peach. Ya' gonna' use 'm pistols or whistle Dixie? Ya' best be behavin'."

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*When Gillian saw D come through the door, she knew she was fucked. She only had time to glance at Don before she dropped her gun and stood up slowly, hands in front of her.* I ain't gonna shoot you, D. Can I ask why you're here? *Again, her voice sounded just about normal, which was good. She just hoped Don was smart enough to follow her lead and not try to go all Rambo.* Besides, he's a priest. They don't date.

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*He looked him from head to toe, his face not betraying what he was thinking of the guy. D, she called him. Fuck...he was professional, but he was an asswipe to him. Everything about him seemed to rub him the wrong way, like nails on a chalk board, but he kept his face cool, calm, and stone.

Somethings he was glad the Military had taught him. Best of which was to pick your battles. He eased his grip on the guy, used his thumb to turn on the safety, and lowered it, tossing it to the ground. He never moved his eyes from D, but not because he didn't want to 'spook' him, but because he was pretty sure than even if they did what he said, there was a still a fifty-fifty chance he'd kill them. And he prefered to look the man in the eye as he did that.*

You wouldn't shoot a man of the cloth, would you now?

*It was a long shot, but maybe this -was- just to check up on her, and that maybe somewhere in his mind, he had limits. Of course, he doubted it, and the emptness of his words practically yelled that.*

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David still grinned and gave a nod, laughing a bit afterwards. He moved his jacket back in place and stepped inside, closing the door behind him, without turning. He wiped the edge of his right nostril quickly with a thumb, still chuckling, as he shooke his head. "Goddamn, they mus' be makin' me out ta' be the fuckin' Devil, 'round 'ere. Preacher Man, dun' matter much ta' me who ya' are. If I was 'ere ta' kill ya', ya'ld done be on ya' back, lookin' up ta' ol' St. Peter fer help.", he said, as he moved over slowly, getting close enough to kick Gillian's gun away. He wasn't taking any chances, he didn't need anybody getting trigger happy. Hell, he'ld hate to ruin a perfectly good night by filling both of them full of of holes.

He popped his knuckles, then looked to Gillian, with his head slightly tilted to the left, "Ray Ray done sent me ta' see what ya' was up to, darlin'. See, 'ese is bad times fer all o' us an' we can't be takin' no chances. Came ta' get a look at ye' boyfriend 'ere. Ya' know, when ya' signed on wit' 'is outfit, ya' signed on till ya' six feet under an' feedin' the worms. Now, can ya' offer a fucker a goddamn beer? I know 'ese damn priest is all alkies."

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*She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding and had to fight the urge to check herself for holes. Instead, she flopped down on the couch.* Well, you do have a reputation, D. I think you've got Ray Ray to blame for it being a bad one.

I have a question for you, just how long you been tailing me? I'd like to know how long I've been looking like an idiot. Besides, he ain't my boyfriend. He's just a very old and close friend. *What she said was true. He was not her boyfriend now. That didn't change the fact they'd had romantic entanglements in the past and may be headed toward new ones in the future.* Plus, I think he's out of beer.

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*Don let out a breath as well, turning on more lights as he moved to the kitchen, reaching for the soda in the fridge, and pulling a bottle of scotch out of the cupboard.

He decided to forgo the glass, and placed it on the counter, cracking open the soda and taking a pull from it. He looked at the man, wondering if he really should have supplied him with alcohol or not.*

You'll forgive my lack of beer, I hope. And yes, how long -have- you been following us, and why?

*He pressed the question a little further. Now it seemed the man would merely kick their asses rather than kill them, which oddly put him in a strange state of ease.*

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David chuckled again, immediatly looking to the floor when the lights were turned on. He walked further inside, dropping his jacket off his shoulders, then taking it the rest of the way off. He slung it over his shoulder as he copped a squat in the middle of the room. He kept mangling the gum in his mouth, as he motioned to the priest to give him the bottle. He looked down to the floor again, his voice going a little more quiet and cold, " I ain't all bad, jus' been delt a bad hand."

He then shook his head and looked up, to each of them, "I been watchin' y'all all night an' ya' can't bullshit me 'bout 'im not meanin' somethin' to ya' deeper than a goddamn friend. I know 'is shit, believe me." The seriousness in his tone was evident as he puased, then, he continued, "Reckon y'all need ta' tell me the exact nature o' yer relationship an' reckon 'at ol' boy...", he puased to point at the priest, "... needs ta' figure out if he's wit' us. Can't have no emotional shit fuckin' us up, so I figured we needed ta' know if 'attin' needed protectin'."

David looked to the floor again, running a finger down the scars on the left side of his face, staring at the palm of hs other hand, "Done happened one to many times."

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*Now, she wished that she'd been the one requesting booze. She hadn't quite figured out where things with Don stood yet, and now she had to explain it to a stranger. If it wasn't so deadly serious she'd find it amusing, really she would. Like it or not, D was right. This had been what she was afraid of and in less than a day, hell less than half a day it happened. Gillian cleared her throat, looked at Don briefly, than looked D in the eyes.* We grew up together, back in St. Louis, and long before I was Angel. We were engaged once, but I ran off and found my way into "the business". *She looked over at him again, and she found herself smiling.* I ran into him at the church where he works as a priest. Don't worry, I wasn't going to confess or nothing. I'd be saying Hail Marys till I died. If you've been watching us all night like you say, you know what happened after we left the church, so I don't need to refresh your memory. *She looked down at her hands, unsure what to do with herself.* I told him this type of thing could happen. I just didn't think it would happen so soon. As far as the relationship now, well that's pretty much in the air. *She chuckled, but she really didn't feel any mirth in the given situation.* It probably won't stay that way for long, though. *If he was smart, he'd forget he ever saw her and move on.*

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*He looked at her as she spoke, and then to D. So it was all about seeing is he was a loose end...how loose, and if he was in for the long haul or not. What he answered right then and there would determine two things. If he lived past the end of the night, and if he ever say Gillian again.

He was silent for a minute or two as he sat there, pndering his ultimate options in this, and he finally came to a conslusion: he really didn't have much of a choice. His future was practically stamped and sealed when she walked into the church. He looked D dead in the eye, as he had a feeling the only thing this guy respected was standing up for onesself, no matter the odds.*

I'm a priest. And I have no clue what will happen between Gill...Angel and myself. *He shrugged lightly and continued* But whatever happens, it stays between me, and her. Whatever she does for her employers, that's between her and them. Whatever I'm told is between her and me. As long as it dosen't affect her professionally, it's none of your, or anyone else's goddamn business. Forgive the language.

*He continued to stare at D, wondering what his reaction would be.*

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David's eyes snapped to the priest. That answer wasn't acceptable. His eyes, changed, turning the dull shade of grey they did when he 'went cold'. He never took his eyes off him, no grin on his face, nothing there. Sure, he was crazy. He had every right to be. He spoke to Gillian first as he eyeballed the man hard, looking right through him. Vietnam vets called it 'The Thousand Yard Stare', when a man's been in the shit to long. "We're efficient, darlin'. We hafta' be. We got enemies ever' where. Ain't no goddamn use in conffesin' shit, God ain't gonna' listen ta' a buncha' sinners like us. We're already damned, honey. I'll keep whut I think a' ya' doin' 'at ta' 'is boy ta' m'self... now..."

David stood slowly, tilting his head to the right as he pulled his bandana off his head. He stuffed it in his back pocket and undid the straps on the guantlet that covered his right hand, never taking his eyes off the priest. He held his hand up, turning it to show both sides. Through the palm and the wrist were scars, on either side, clear sign of crusifixtion. As he started to restrap his gunatlet, he spoke to the priest, "Does 'at look fuckin' fun ta' you, boy? Does 'at look like buisness ya' can keep ta' ya' goddamn self, huh? You listen an' you listen good. Yer' in Nawlins, yer conncted ta' her. Yer buisness is our fuckin' buisness if ya' don't wanna' end up deader than all fuck. Ya' gettin' me, hoss? Is it sinkin' in?"

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*Oh great. Now she was in even more trouble. After the events of this evening, the last thing she needed was a little 'talk' about her prior bad acts. As things stood now, she wanted to cry. But she didn't. It wasn't the time, or the place, or the company to cry. That would come later. She watched D's little demonstration for Don and was shocked by what she'd seen. Crucifixion was torture for a reason. What the fuck had D done to get that kind of hell brought down upon himself? She didn't know what to do or say, so she did nothing. If only she hadn't gone into that church last night...it wasn't worth doing this to him. She deserved it, but not him.*

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*He stared back, but not with the same intensity as D was giving to him. He was a cold, hard killer, and Don was -not-. He'd killed before, but never anything like what this man, or even Gill had likely done. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. When he reopened them, he looked to Gill, and then to D.*

Fine.

*He stood, taking the bottle of scotch from him, and took a long hard pull. He didn't even know why he kept it around, he hated scotch, and the look on his face more than conveyed that. But he needed something with more kick than soda.*

In for a penny, in for a pound. *He paused and took another drink*

My business is your business. No loose ends. But I swear to god if anything happens to her, whether it's because of my involvement or not...you'll wish you died on whatever they nailed you to.

*It wasn't idle. It wasn't to intimidate D. It wasn't even a threat. It was fact. And while his look wasn't as cold or intense as D's...it was just as deadly serious. It wouldn't matter if he died fulfilling it, he would -no matter what-.*

If that's a problem, then kill me now. Because that's the only way it's going to go down.

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*Gillian just watched the whole thing in shock. She'd have given it a 50/50 chance that D would just draw one of his guns and shoot Don in the head, closely followed by Gillian herself the way he shot his mouth off. As soon as the door closed, Gillian started shaking uncontrollably, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.* That was very brave of you, Don. I can't believe you said that you'd...if I...*She was about thisclose to having a total meltdown and didn't trust herself to do anything but grab the bottle of scotch and take a long pull herself.*



---------------------------------------------------------- *The scotch was getting around tonight. He collapsed onto the couch right next to her, took in a deep breath, and started to shake just like she was. He reached out for her and just held her close to him, not saying a word for a number of minutes. Just sitting in silence, and holding her. Soon he left go of her, and just continued to sit there, rubbing his temples.*

Well, there's really no need to go through all the trouble of the priest and confessional now, is there? The Devereux's will know soon enough that I'm someone close to you, no matter what we end up as.

*He paused for a moment, licking his lips. He wanted more of the scotch, but it would probably make him puke. He really -didn't- like the stuff.*

And I meant every word of what I said, for better or worse...And the fact that I'm still breathing means one of two things...either he took it to heart, and understands I'm not a threat to them and that my only concern is you, or...*He trailed off again, turning to her. He didn't really know what the 'or' was. Just that he was thankful to be alive. He could handle himself, but even if he did one day for after D for the reason he promised...he would probably be the one to pay the price.

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