Spot wasn't the only one making good use of the dingy mirror in his room. In fact, the dingy room wasn't even his, but it worked for the added convenience of what he wished to do- So the mirror sufficed when he cracked the man's face off of it, and the furniture beneath it as well where the man's face met with it at full force. Even the lamp was worked in there some how, the bed sheets and even the rug, and once the struggle had finally come to an end, Jarrett's red suit (his only red suit,t he one he still ironically wore from his false engagement), was now ruffled and crumble and set askew. He paused a moment to observe the mess, but only briefly before producing a bag large enough to stuff the lifeless man into it before cinching it closed and dropping down onto the edge of the bed to light up a cigar.
The sweat from the fight had his clothing clinging to him and made him itchy. He loosened the black cravat and began to flick open the buttons of his red jacket, one at a time. Once the stifling jacket was opened, he loosened his cravat the rest of the way, it becoming undone and hanging loose from his neck as he went to work at unbuttoning the white shirt and vest beneath and just sat there now, looking down at the body shaped bag before wiping off the blood trickling down from his nose. The blood had tickled him and now realizing what was on his hand, he could actually use it, his own blood, to conjure up his blood magic- and in a muttering of words, a flame puffed to life from his own blood at the end of his finger and he leaned forward, and puckered his lips and lit up his smoke.
Blowing out the flame, he wipe the blood aside on his pant leg (it was red clothe anyway..) Then he paused a moment to take in a long drag before exhaling. Well, time to get this corpse and get the hell out of here. Peering over at the window, he contemplate escaping that way, but upon seeing a guard moving towards the back of the alleyway, he decided to try his luck leaving out the front door. After all, no one would question you for carrying a bag with boot shape protruding out of it in broad daylight when they were all down stairs for a drink and smoke. No one could be bothered ina place like this to worry about a simple assassins such as he. It's not like he was out to murder them all anyway. So as he pushed his way outside the door, he threw the bag over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and down the steps he went.
He moved in nonchalance, his face placid and devoid of any emotion, and his hair, still neatly groomed with a piece of it falling and covering one of his green eyes. Though the rest o fhis face glistened with the subtle glow of sweat from the battle he had just one- or rather, the corpse he had just procured. It was messy work, but he had gotten out of it with just a bang to the nose, and the blood produced was already gone- and again, it was put to good use in conjuring up fire from his blood magics as he enjoyed another puff to his cigar.
He was making his way down to the landing where the steps curled and faced the other side of the building and there he was met with a woman's form in his way. She was nearly off the steps anyways, so it was of no consequence when he brushed past her, though it was a tight fit for the taller Jarrett to squeeze by, and as broad shoulder made way to the freedom of the final landing below, he paused in mid-stride when another figure appeared before him.
He wouldn't have known the dingy, soot-smudged face had this man not been there before- and been there several times before. He was grungy, he was hasty- and he was most definitely a Soot Wolf. He was there that time in the sewer, he was there that time in the alleyway- and none of those times he had asked for the favor, but the Soot Wolf silently helped like the shadow he was.
This time when the man came out, hastily reaching for the corpse in the bag, Jarrett's grip tightened, knuckles turning white- and as the lad tried to explain that the city guard was coming around inspecting the area for suspicious activity and he reached for the bag again. It was then Jarrett's fist met to his cheek. The Soot Wolf spilled onto the landing, which held only one final step before spilling out into the main hall,a nd then to the dining area, which smelled heavily of the sweet, dark stained wood of the floor and walls. It also now smelled of Jarrett's cigar, which he gave two irritable puffs upon while glaring down menacingly at the Soot Wolf who gaped up at him from where he lay just beside Jarrett's boots, completely in shock the man had even struck him- considering it seemed before he was at an understanding of all of the help received before. But Jarrett didn't even have to exchange words, for a few seconds later, the Soot Wolf scrambled to his feet and scampered off. He'd have to let the other wolves know about this and get new orders on how to proceed. He had always been cautious of Jarrett- he was an assassin, and a well known one, and he was always curious as to why he and some of the other wolves had to more or less 'baby sit' a very capable killer. But time and time again it seemed they had to rush in like the shadows to save his sorry ass-
But this time, well...
The 'Lone Wolf' bit back, and the other pack animal was not about to forfeit himself to another's 'wolf's' fury. With the Soot Wolf now gone, Jarrett removed his cigar to tap the ash aside, eyes peering off towards where the wolf had been. Then, readjusting the sack upon his shoulder, he felt something give as he took a step downwards off the landing, and the bag came open. Somehow the bag had become askew, and now Jarrett turned to witness, in a flash, the corpse, who had once been 'peacefully' inside the bag, now dangled precariously outside of it, it's neck twisted in a broken and curious manner,a nd glazed eyes now peering back towards the girl who, with a flash of his own, wild green eyes, he turned to observe... was still there at the scene.
And slowly, ever so slowly, he moved to re-position the bag over his shoulders, the cigar in his mouth, then placed a hand over the corpse's head and stuffed Mr. Allendale back inside the bag. He did this all while never once letting his gaze drop from the dark haired woman before him.
THen, just as nonchalantly he reached inside his jacket and pulled something out and offered it to her.
"Smoke?"
It looked as if she needed one.
