Still it was a fine evening and the night was still young, in fact, by his standards it had barely started. Eleven in the evening, still in costume, and with a bottle of something that either alcoholic or poisonous in hand. He headed out from the theatre and headed towards the high street. What in the world could possibly go wrong? The world was his scallop, or er, something. Maybe he'd get completely drunk and turn up late tomorrow just to spite Chester, he hated that. In fact, while he was at it he could find something nice and sharp to stab him with.
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Of course, if Grim had known where Chester was and what he was doing there it might have made him a little less gun-ho about attempted murder. Chester was currently stood on a flat roof a few streets away, hoping that the dizziness would subside soon. He did hate travelling like that, not only was it horribly cliché (and Chester really did hate those) it tended to make him light-headed too. Admittedly, travelling through shadows was superficially elegant but in reality... It was far too much trouble to bother with on large scale and it was certainly too much trouble to bother with where Grim was concerned. Part of him wondered why he was bothering at all, familial obligation, perhaps?
Hopefully he could just find this damn assassin soon and pay him (or her, he supposed) off. Alice wouldn't be happy if he let anything happen to their cousin, although goodness knows he deserved it.
((Sorry for taking forever to start this. Also the title is awful, couldn't think of anything else.))