Disclaimer: What? Do you honestly think a telltale games writer would be wasting a good scene like this on ? I didn't think so.
Wolf father, at the door
You don't smile anymore
You're a drifter, shapeshifter
Let me see you run, hey ya hey ya
- Wolf by First Aid Kit
Bigby drew a long slow breath, sucking on the well chewed tip of his cigarette before exhaling, his shoulders sagging as the cloud of smoke curled and billowed past his lips, tickling his sensitive nose. He could feel the bruises under his eyes growing with lack of sleep, the glamor reflecting his exhaustion, trapped in a human looking skin as it was.
He probably hadn't even gotten more than an hour or two's sleep before Snow had come pounding at his door, practically dragging him out the door to the sight of the head placed in front of their apartment complex.
Snow...
He took the cigarette out of his mouth, groaning as he dragged a hand across his face, trying to get the blood flowing back into the skin of his glamor.
Bigby'd had to drag the stupid Tweedle twin around the back of the apartment and down into the basement, where he'd locked him down until the police were gone. Until the...Mundies...finished fiddling with Snow's remains and he could get back to work on who was slaughtering Fables left and right it seemed.
He was hungry, fuck, he was fucking starving. He hadn't eaten in what felt like ages.
But at the same time, he felt overwhelmingly numb...Angry...and numb...
He stood, ignoring the way the glamor seemed to be prickling against his skin, forcing himself to breathe deeply. He could see the lights slowly beginning to filter away through his window, away from this horror show that somehow his life had become. He stood up, tossing his half used cigarette into his cheap plastic ash tray, uncaring of how the cinders continued to breathe among the ashes.
Faith's green eyes staring helplessly up at him...
Lawrence, tears streaming down his ashen face...
Snow White...
Bigby clenched his jaw, ignoring how his breath hitched slightly as he made his way to the door.
He didn't give a damn.
He couldn't afford to give a damn.
He had work to do.