It were the final minutes of the battle, that short time between coming up with a plan and Eve jumping off a roof. Eve and Stone were fighting Dorian in the lobby, or were they fighting each other? Ezekiel was busy gathering the bystander photos from the cloud and manipulating them to fit the image of the Colonel. Cassandra's head on his shoulders was getting heavy and she seemed unimpressed that he was somehow Photoshoping photos using just the keyboard. As much as he liked her, she smelled faintly of puke and he kind of wished she would leave him to it. Time was of the essence, after all – Dorian was known to be a frivolous, short-tempered chap.

'How are we doing, Mr Jones?', Jenkins said as he entered the dimply lit lair.

'I'd be a lot better if there were batteries in that computer mouse. I doubt that Vogue's retouch artist does it all on a keyboard.'

'I'll be sure to leave a note for the criminal mastermind.' Jenkins sneered. He approached and laid a hand on Cassandra's shoulder. 'Care to join me for a bit of fresh air, Miss Cillian? Apparently this may take a while.'

Ezikiel just pretended he didn't hear. It wasn't the first time Jenkins underestimated him. While Jenkins was helping Cassandra up, he just muttered under his breath: 'Five.'

'What?', Cassandra raised her head but was distracted by Jenkins who offered her his arm and lead her towards the balcony. Ezikiel hadn't even noticed it in the dark, but there it was: a small balcony with a stone bench and another weird-looking spiky plant.

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The air was chilly and Cassandra snuggled closer to Jenkins on the bench. He was sitting on her left, just as any knight would have done to keep his sword a safe distance from his lady. In this case, he was closer to the door and thus between her and any possible danger. Or so Cassandra's fuzzy thoughts went. Ever since she learnt about him, the real him, she couldn't help but see him as the dashing knight he once was. He had already, very recently, wielded a sword and saved their lives. She envied Flin for being an eyewitness but she imagined he didn't pay nearly enough attention. Besides, he claimed he didn't remember. What she wouldn't do to see Jenkins in action, his silver hair full of wind and sun...

She sighed and let her head fall on Jenkins' shoulder. His hair... Memories from earlier in the evening started coming back to her. Did she really say she wanted to touch his hair? Her soft chuckle drew Jenkins' attention and she felt him turn his head towards her, expectantly.

'I've never been drunk before,' Cassandra said. 'I'm not sure if tonight counts, but I definitely discovered new things about myself. Like, I hallucinate even more than usual, and...' She stopped herself, self-conscious.

'Yes, Cassandra?' Jenkins' voice was soft in her ear.

He rarely called her that and it was always a treat. Like a cup of hot chocolate after a long walk in the snow. Cassandra suddenly felt brave. She reached out her wounded arm, which still throbbed painfully, reached around his face and placed her palm gently on the back of his head. His hair was magnificent, all soft, and warm, and comforting.

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Jenkins forced himself to stand still. 'I... Well...hmm...' His brow furrowed but he closed his mouth and just let it happen. It had been a long time since he had let anyone touch him but this was innocent enough. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of her fingers slowly stroking his hair. He felt the handkerchief wrapped around her palm and for a second experienced almost physical pain, thinking about the wound underneath it. Being immortal (semi, as he constantly reminded himself), he was deeply affected by how frail and temporary human bodies were. He shook his head slightly. No, he'd rather concentrate on the luxurious feel of her fingers threading through his hair.

Her arm was just inches away from his face and he caught a scent of her perfume. It was unexpected and he reacted on instinct. He reached for her hand and pulled it to his lips to lay a kiss on the inside of her wrist. Cassandra stiffened slightly but didn't pull away, and Jenkins held her hand against his heart. His steady, if a bit quickened heartbeat seemed to lul her, because her arm grew heavy in his and her breathing became slower.

'I am being extremely clever up here and there's no one to stand around looking impressed. What's the point in having you all?', Jones' voice came from Dorian's lair. 'Jenkins? Cassandra? Come get this to Baird before she totally freaks out.'

Jenkins sighed.

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Cassandra distinctly remembered hearing voices, some kind of commotion and finally, being laid down on the bench and then silence. She would later wake up in the Annex, warm and safe, with just the faint memory of two strong arms and a loose strand of silver hair.