Predatory Eyes ~*Iblîs*~

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Leon smiled vividly, taking in the bright sunshine and the smell. Italians had such amazing smelling food. His younger brother had begged him to let him tag along, but Leon hated letting Gavri come with him because he could be such a twit. He always ended up having to get his brother out of trouble because Gavri was about as bad as their mother had been when it came to impulse control. Leon sighed. Maybe Gavir was a little TOO much like his Mama.

Leon wasn't sure what time period it was. He never really bothered to pay attention because it was more for the thrill of adventure and exploration that for the history lesson. As he passed through the market square, he caught the smell of freshky baked breads and his stomach whined in protest of being empty. Leon always forgot about that part. Currency. Fortunately he was quite the skilled pick pocket, and had very deft hands when it came to snatching things from a merchant's booth while pretending to hold a conversation.

With his current attire, no one seemed to give him a second glance. Black slacks, a white button shown shirt that had the top three buttons undone because.. well.. it was hot and the unbuttoned collar allowed for air flow. His finger trailed down the beaded chain of his Papa's rosary and tucked it into his shirt. He walked casually by one merchant's table, selling loaves and flat breads. As he wove into the slight crowd that had gathered as they tried to barter a price for their selections, no one seemed to notice the seventeen year old green eyed boy make off with a loaf of bread and jovially continue his way down the cobblestone pathway.

He smirked, the scar in his lip causing the right side of his mouth to twist upwards slightly more that the other, making his smirk all the more obvious. He looked over his shoulder as he took an eager bite of his prize, making sure he was not being followed when he bumped right into someone. He looked down about to mutter an apology when he paused. The kid looked to be fourteen, had bright blue eyes and thick black hair. He almost yelled at him for not staying home when he realized, it wasn't his little brother. "Eh.. Sorry.. You alright?"

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The Italian summer of 1952 was hardly worth noting. The sun was high in the sky, the people were bustling about the street, and cars were meandering. It was the time of the so-called Italian Economic Miracle. Enjoy it while it lasts, Iblîs thought scornfully, because miracles never did last for long, did they? The men and the women were dressed in the mode of the period. The street urchins were dressed in the cast-aways. Iblîs still wore his frayed black suspenders and white shirt. He chewed on a toothpick as pale blue eyes analyzed his surroundings.

The Reaper was busy training Oublié. Iblîs rarely participated in such trainings. He provided the Lord of Time with the pocket universe, creating it as twisted and demented as the Lord of Time needed. By no means was the Reaper his master, but Iblîs found himself willing to do much of what the Time Lord requested of him. “Go check on the sheep, he says,” Iblîs muttered, dodging contact with yet another human. “That will entertain you, Raven, he says.” Well, the dove was quite wrong.

There was no tension in the air except for the regular humans. It was a given that during a time of great economic success that human emotions turned to the dark side. Selfishness pervaded the air, and Iblîs could nearly cut it with a knife and feed. Selfish and immorality. He breathed deeply and shut his eyes, smiling as he smelled the stench of ugly human emotions. The human food made his nose twitch, and he caught the scent of someone very familiar. His head tilted curiously.

Why would Fleur be in Italy? She was in another universe because tormented by the Reaper. But there was no mistaking his daughter’s distinct smell. There were a few discrepancies, however. It was more masculine than his daughter’s scent. It smelled… cocky. He followed the scent, mildly curious. He watched a boy steal a loaf of bread. Nothing odd about that – humans were thieves. Except the boy didn’t smell human. A load of bread was only a hundred or so lire.

The boy looked behind him, and Iblîs cringed as he barreled into the Ifrit. He made a small noise of discomfort as he held his shoulder. He must have forgotten to heal himself of bruises, and he wondered just how littered in cuts and bruises he was.

The hybrid looked annoyed with him for a moment, and Iblîs raised an eyebrow but ignored the boy for the most part, still trying to look for Fleur. The smell was coming from the boy in waves, but… he quite clearly was not Fleur. “Eh…Sorry… You alright?”

The voice. Iblîs looked up sharply, the pupils becoming small as he examined the boy. The speech was distinctly Italian, but it held a different cadence, as though someone had put it through a translator. A TARDIS. He could see the vortex radiation on the boy now. Black hair, vivid green eyes, a scar on his lips. He smelled like Reaper, of Fleur, and Iblîs remembered catching a glimpse of the boy in the Reaper’s memories. He’d been the cause of death. He stared blankly up at the hybrid.

So he had found the missing piece in the set.

“Y-yeah, I think so,” Iblîs answered, looking over his shoulder nervously. “Sorry for running into you. I wasn’t watching where I was going,” he said meekly. He rubbed his head, taking a step away from the boy. He hunched his shoulders, making himself small as he looked back up at the taller boy with large, anxious blue eyes. “Just don’t hurt me, signore. I-I have a few lire…”

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Leon stared down at the boy he'd nearly mistaken for his brother and rolled his eyes. “Y-yeah, I think so,” the 'almost Gavri' answered, looking over his shoulder nervously. Leon wondered if he'd acted like such a complete wuss when he was fourteen. He certainly couldn’t remember cowering from people. In fact.. He'd gotten the scar on his mouth and across his face when he was fourteen defending his best friend.  “Sorry for running into you. I wasn’t watching where I was going,” he said meekly, backing away from him and seeming to make himself look small.. “Just don’t hurt me,signore. I-I have a few lire…”

Leon took his thumb and middle finger and flicked the boy between the eyes with a sigh. He replied something in French, but the Translation circuit seemed to garble it, although Leon didn’t notice the difference. “I'm not going to hurt you. Besides.. It looks like someone else has been managing just fine” he nodded towards the bruises and marks on the boy's pale neck. It looked as though someone had tried to strangle him.

He looked down at the bread in his hands and then back to the boy. He couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of sympathy for the strange kid. He didn’t know if it was because his features and demeanor reminded him of his little brother or if it was for the simple fact this kid looked rough, but Leon sighed and offered the boy half of the loaf. “You look hungry.. Here.”

Leon smirked, the scar twisting his smile slightly as he went to walk past, thinking he'd done his good deed for the day. But as he got a few good paces away, he stopped to look over his shoulder, staring at the 'abused' child and shook his head He just didn’t think he could walk away from him without knowing that he would be alright. “You can tag along if you like.”

It wasn't as if Leon was planning to get into anything dangerous. He never did. But Leon tended to ignore that Danger had a tendency to follow him like a plague. But it was part of the reason that he so often would not let Gavri come with him. As much as his little brother annoyed the hell out of him, he wasn't about to let him get in harm's way. That and his mother would skin him alive if Gavri came home with so much as a bruise.

“Anyway, you look like sh*t, Kid..You shouldn't let people bully you. “ he said, sounding more like a scolding older brother than some stranger. He chided himself, reminding himself that this was not his kid brother. “I'm Léonardo Keâts, by the way? Do you have a name or should I just keep calling you 'Kid'?” he asked, stuffing one hand into his pocket as he continued eating his half of the bread loaf.

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Iblîs moved away from the hybrid, looking wounded. The flick between his eyes hadn’t hurt at all, but it had startled the Ifrit. Normally he would have just torn the French boy apart molecule by molecule and left him hanging in deep space, but that would have spoiled his fun. He lowered his head, rubbing his forehead meekly. He would not kill this hybrid – that was a pleasure he knew he should reserve for the Reaper. But the boy was going to pay for harming his dove in blood and broken bones and broken spirit. He took a step back away from the towering hybrid.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the hybrid said. Iblîs stared up at him with wide blue eyes, still holding his forehead pointedly. “Besides… It looks like someone else has been managing just fine.” The hybrid gestured to the bruises and cuts littering the visible skin. Iblîs looked away. He must have looked a sight; bruises from both the Reaper’s hands and mouth dark against the pale skin, the cuts from the blade marking him, and he might have had a bruised eye. Definitely a bruised or broken rib, but Iblîs couldn’t be bothered to worry about something like that. If necessary, he could heal himself with a snap of his fingers.

The hybrid looked down at the stolen bread, and Iblîs stared down at his feet, deciding not to comment on the ‘beating’ the hybrid assumed he received. His fingers brushed against one of the bruises and he winced, wondering how that particular bruise got on him. “You look hungry… Here,” the hybrid said, offering him half the bread. Oh no, I couldn’t, you went through so much stealing this… Iblîs thought wryly, but stared up at uncertainly at the hybrid. He shook his head mutely, trying to hand the hybrid the loaf back, but the boy was already walking away from him.

Iblîs had already caught enough of his scent to locate him virtually anywhere within two hundred miles. He nibbled on the bread pensively, wincing at the horrible taste. “Thank you, signore,” Iblîs said politely, turning to watch the hybrid leave. The humans brushed against him, still bustling in the street. He frowned and stumbled forward. He finished the rest of the bread ravenously, deciding that street children weren’t supposed to turn down human food, no matter how disgusting. “Signore…?” he began tentatively.

“You can tag along if you like,” the hybrid said, cutting him off.

Iblîs smiled gratefully and sped his pace to catch up with the hybrid. The bruise on his ribs was beginning to hurt, and Iblîs nearly decided to do away with it and use his healing energies. But… reality made acting easier, so he gritted his teeth and continued. Each breath made his chest hurt, and it hadn’t been a problem until he’d begun to talk to the hybrid. Jinn did not need to breathe, but most humans noticed when the Djinn was not breathing. Hadn’t this felt wonderful and euphoric the night before?

“Anyway, you look like sh*t, Kid.”

And I feel so much better, Iblîs thought bitterly, but kept his mouth shut. His eyes were trained on the ground and he winced as each step made his ribcage throb.

“You shouldn’t let people bully you,” the hybrid said.

Oh, you just don’t know… Iblîs stared up at him. “Sorry,” he said quietly.

“I’m Léonardo Keâts, by the way? Do you have a name or should I just keep calling you ‘Kid’?”

Do you have an off button or should I just rip your tongue out?

“I don’t have a name,” Iblîs said honestly. “I don’t have parents. They died when I was very young. Murdered… mainly to prove a point, but I’ve been working to pay off their debts any way I can,” he said. The general theme was true – the Drevnemi were murdered so the humans could assert their power over the Jinn, and Iblîs was still trying to reverse the damage the humans had done. “They mostly just call me Boy… or Kid,” Iblîs said, wincing from the pain in his chest.

The Reaper was definitely going to get an earful when he saw the Lord of Time next.

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Leon smirked shaking his head at the look on the boy's face. It was that same pathetic expression that Gavri made, like he'd been mortally wounded. He replied with a calm and big brotherly "You'll live” before offering the bit of loaf and inviting the boy to tag along. Leon had no particular destination in mind. Not that it would matter if he did. He'd never been to Italy and knew nothing about the layout or the culture or the time period.

After a brief exchange of names, or in the smaller one's case, the lack thereof, Leon chuckled to himself. He didn’t mean to make so light of this kid's 'tragedy' but he felt odd just calling him 'Kid'. But he simply shrugged. 'Kid' was better than “Hey You” at any rate. “Well, kid. You know this city pretty well? I've never been” he asked casually, glancing down at him with a smirk..

As they walked, Leon absently went to unbutton yet another button his his shirt. It was hot, and Leon, no matter how resistant he was to the temperature, hated the heat. He ran his long fingers through his shaggy black hair and smiled down at Kid and a shrug. “I guess you're used to this sort of heat, huh?” He dug into his pants pocket to fish out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, plucking one into his lips. He never lit it though. Somewhere in the back his mind, he could hear his Papa's voice sternly disapproving of the habit.

Even when his papa wasn't around, Leon could never really bring himself to actually defy him and light the cigarette. He smirked a little and looked down to Kid and offered him a cigarette. “Here.“ and practically shoved it into his lips. Tact and Leon didn’t often go hand in hand. As they passed by a statue, Neptune, specifically, Leon looked up... paused.. his eyes traveled the figure of the marble sculpture.. And a snicker escaped him. The Male statues always seemed so... lacking. Leon wondered if it was a racial trait and thanked God and the saints that he at least wasn't Italian. How embarrassing would that be?

It took a moment before he realized he was staring at a statues endowments. (Or lack thereof, in Leon's opinion). His cheeks flustered a bit as he looked down at Kid with an awkward chuckle. “Italians don’t have much in the way of censorship, do they?” He looked around at the lay out before him and looked back at Kid. “Well..... I'm lost” He said rather cheerfully “Tell you what. You lead the way”

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“Heat?” Iblîs questioned, watching the hybrid unbutton his shirt. His lips twitched and he felt a cringe of disgust. He didn’t feel the climate unless it was outside of the building of the Council – the severe, brutal inhospitable cold. He could survive it, his movements were just slower. “I never thought about it like that, signore,” Iblîs said blandly. Honestly, how mundane were these hybrids? The weather had never been a fascinating conversational topic… or perhaps he was just used to the Reaper’s conversations. “Of course,” Iblîs drawled, staring at Léon with an eyebrow quirked, “most people who come to Italy realize that it’s hot during summer… similarly, it’s cold during winter. Imagine that.”

The cigarettes were anachronistic. Not only was he a time-traveler, but he wasn’t a very clever one. Iblîs stared at the lighter, trying to place the year. He sighed, staring down at the ground as he continued to follow the hybrid. And then… there was a cigarette in his mouth. Iblîs’ eyes went wide and he stared up at Léon uncertainly. What was he supposed to do with it? He tried to breathe around it, but swallowed it on accident. The Ifrit winced, clutching his throat as he hacked up tobacco and paper. He glared up at Léon, his fingers twitching as he thought of all the ways he could rip out his aorta.

Iblîs doubted the coughing would have given him too much pause had his chest not felt like it was caving in with each breath he took. He clenched his fists and grit his teeth as best he could, face flushing from pain. “Thanks so much, signore,” Iblîs spat out venomously. “I do not appreciate your attempt on my life!” He pouted childishly, looking very much the part of an exasperated child. Still, there was an underlying promise of returning the favor. But that would take time – it wasn’t enough to harm the boy who had killed his Dove. He continued spitting out the tobacco.

He placed a hand flat against his ribs, wondering if the pressure would ease the pain. He discovered, with a sharp shooting of pain that made his legs feel suspiciously like icy fire that no, no it did. Iblîs watched at the hybrid, wondering if it was common to stare at a statue’s penis. How could this idiot possibly have touched his Dove? He felt annoyed, then, because that would have been prevented if Iblîs had met his Dove earlier.

“Large genitals were considered grotesque,” Iblîs answered the unspoken question. “They were taboo… mainly found on hybrids, such as satyrs and centaurs, barbarians, and other such… immoral people. The immature male’s body was especially appreciated by them.” He tilted his head and looked at the hybrid. “They would have sex with young boys very often. They’d force them to.” His voice cracked a little and he blinked, surprised at the genuine emotion the memories of his rape brought.

Let Iblîs lead the way…? He took a step past Léon, then looked at him pensively. “You can’t be lost if you have no direction,” he pointed out, slipping into the bustle. He didn’t know where he was going, and, although he could concentrate fully with the pain racking his body, it wasn’t exactly comfortable. He ducked into an alley and bent down near a grate, removing it. He slid inside it into a pocket dimension. Without the dimension, they’d be slipping into a sewer, but instead his feet landed solidly on a dirty floor.

“I’ll only take a moment, signore. After that, I’ll be your faithful guide… turisto.” Iblîs squirmed out of his shirt uncomfortably, trying not to gasp sharply as he tried to raise his arms. The pain was beginning to mix with piercing pleasure. He was slightly annoyed with himself for forgetting to get rid of the bruises… especially the ones that looked suspiciously like bite marks. “I can hardly tell you don’t actually speak Italian,” Iblîs said, wrapping a bandage around his ribs with a wince. “The translation circuit has done a very nice job, signore.” He offered a toothy smirk.

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“Thanks so much, signore,”'Kid' glared up at him. Leon couldn't help but chuckle at him, reaching to ruffle his hair. “I do not appreciate your attempt on my life!” At that, Leon let out a short scoffed laugh and shrugged his shoulder. “You lived, Oui?” The french somehow managed to slip passed the translation filter.. It seemed to be wearing off. After all, Leon didn’t travel by TARDIS. He was hardly ever on it. His mode of travel was his mother's repaired Vortex Manipulator. “Besides.. You're not supposed to eat them. I usually just chew on the end of them. Never smoked them, though.” He shrugged lightly at that.

There came a pause in their rather one sided conversation. Leon was mostly doing the talking. More rambling, really, but hey. At least he was being social, Right?. In any case.. They had come across a statue and Leon took pause to observe it. Not meaning to be perverse, but the only male form he'd ever seen naked was his own. And while there were obvious similarities, Leon was confused by the disproportionately small genitalia. Was he abnormal? 'Kid' seemed to answer the unasked question.

“Large genitals were considered grotesque..” Leon looked down at 'Kid' uncomfortably. Grotesque? Was it really so bad to be... well... endowed the way he was? “They were taboo… mainly found on hybrids, such as satyrs and centaurs, barbarians, and other such… immoral people.” Leon shifted self consciously. Well, he knew that he was a hybrid.. That made him immoral as well? Whether 'Kid' had intended to confuse the 17 year old boy or not, he'd succeeded. Leon looked away, now ashamed that he was apparently some sort of monstrosity.

He had stopped listening as 'kid' went on to explain the reasons for the culture's portrayal of the masculine form. He only was brought back to the conversation when he heard the break in 'Kid's voice. He mumbled an apology. Why was he apologizing? He'd never laid a hand on this kid.. And he certainly didn't find little boys attractive so why did he feel the need to apologize for something that had nothing to do with him? But he did it again, anyway. “Sorry, 'Kid'“


Kid' took the lead of their little walk. Leon was to the point, he really didn't care where they walked to now. His brain was buzzing over his emotional dilemma. Perhaps he needed to talk to his Papa about it. His papa would know and surely wouldn't lie to him. “I’ll only take a moment, signore. After that, I’ll be your faithful guide… turisto.” and he watched kid vanish to... to... to do what ever it was little kids did when they went to disappear.  “I can hardly tell you don’t actually speak Italian,” “Qua?” came his reply, the translator's effects slowly breaking down. He'd honestly forgotten about it.. “The translation circuit has done a very nice job, signore.” 'Kid' smirked at him “Eh heh.. I guess so.. I dont really notice, half the time.” he mused, trying to remove his thoughts from the prior topic that was plaguing his brain.

“And what about you?.. Obviously, you know.. so.. you use a circuit too or do you actually know Italian? You don’t look like an Italian” Leon tilted his head curiously and offered 'Kid' his hand as he came to crawl back out of his little hiding place. “Hey.. I'm sorry about earlier.. with the cigarette.” he couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him. “I wasn't trying to choke you with it.. Anyway” he shrugged a bit lamely. “Where to first?”

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His lips tugged into a smile as he saw Léon’s expression after his explanation of the male figure. Iblîs casted a rather pointed and contemptuous glance to the front of the Frenchman’s trousers as he talked about grotesque and immoral figures. He arched a brow and put his hands in his pockets, watching as Léon looked away. He could taste the shame and confusion rolling off the boy as one might be able to smell alcohol or bile on a drunkard. His fingers brushed against the cool polish of his dove’s fob watch. Iblîs took a step forward as he talked about the men using little boys.

“Sorry, ‘Kid’.”

Iblîs rubbed his throat and raised an eyebrow at the Frenchman. He didn’t have a reason to apologize, much less twice in a row. “So am I,” he responded blandly, crossing his arms as he led the ‘tour’ across the city. “But I do not dwell on the past. There will come a day when it does matter,” Iblîs said confidently. He was becoming very good at false confidence. It was true that he would never be able to erase Solomon from history, and even if he could… then there would be no Council if the Drevnemi were never killed.

That didn’t bother Iblîs. He did not care if his title of Head of the Council was taken from him. However, he had only been in Sarajevo as the Head of the Council. If he never went to Sarajevo, then he would never meet his dove. As much as he would vehemently deny it, he was too fond of the Reaper. The Vetales had shown him bits of the Reaper’s past, trying to caution him against completely trusting the Time Lord, but Iblîs was constantly enthralled by the man’s intricacy and… well, Iblîs wasn’t sure what fascinated him so completely.

His fingers ran over his shirt that covered his Lamp. He slid inside of the pocket universe, bandaging his ribs and pulled his shirt back over the slim torso. He made a brief comment on the failing translator and smirked at Léon’s response as he attached the suspenders.

“Eh heh… I guess so… I don’t really notice, half the time.”

Iblîs shrugged. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, watching Léon cautiously as he climbed out of the hideaway.

“And what about you?... Obviously, you know… so… you use a circuit too or do you actually know Italian? You don’t look like an Italian,” Léon said, offering Iblîs his hand.

Iblîs took it cautiously and pulled himself out of the grate. “You don’t look French. But you smell like one,” Iblîs replied pointedly, slipping into French. “And I do not need a translator,” he said, putting his hands in his pocket as he ran his thumb across the watch. “I just know about them,” he answered with a small shrug, leading Léon out of the alley and into a small cobblestone courtyard. There was a cathedral and several small markets. “I’m very well acquainted with a Time Lord…”

“Hey… I’m sorry about earlier… with the cigarette.”

Iblîs raised an eyebrow and rolled his eyes. “Oh, I’m just so touched by your heartfelt apology, monsieur,” he said.

“I wasn’t trying to choke you with it… Anyway… Where to first?”

The Ifrit glanced around them and tilted his head. He looked up at Léon challengingly. “Do you want to have an adventure?” he asked, stepping closer to the Frenchman and staring up at him with feral light blue eyes. “Come on… if you think you can keep up, anyway,” Iblîs challenged, throwing down the proverbial gauntlet. He sped off across the courtyard, climbing the stairs to the cathedral. He caught the edge of a gargoyle and lifted himself gracefully. He shut his eyes to still his nerves about being away from the ground, and leapt to the next gargoyle and climbed up the cathedral, resting on the roof.

“I know a really easy way of getting into the kitchens,” Iblîs said impishly.

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“Do you want to have an adventure?”

Seriously? What the hell kind of question was that? Of course he wanted to have an adventure. That was the entire reason he was here. He just smirked as she looked down at him. He could see the gleam in his eyes. Whatever was cooking in this kid's brain it must have been a good one. At least, Leon certainly hoped so. Leon kind of had this addiction to getting the occasional adrenaline rush. The way Leon saw it, the more risk involved, all the better for him. “Sure. What do you have in mind, Kid?”

“Come on… if you think you can keep up, anyway,” 

Oh hoh hoh! So the pup had a little nip to his sense of humor. Leon actually found himself kinda liking this kid. “If I can keep up? You obviously dont know who you're talking to” Leon beamed as he accepted the challenge and took off after him. Those bright green eyes were simply alight with mischievous glee as he managed to keep an even gait with the agile child.

When the child went to climb and scale the building, Leon tilted his head curiously. Just what did this kid have in mind? He did a light leap to catch the ledge and pulled himself up with a rather graceful ease that came from years of trying to keep up with his dad as a kid. And the added bonus of the lung capacity and the double heart beat meant that he didn't tire easily. He was more than ready for a good climb.

“I know a really easy way of getting into the kitchens,”

“I like the way you think, Kid.” he beamed as he made is way upwards, using the gargoyles as his climbing leverage to get onto the roof. Not only was he getting to run around, getting into lord only knew what sort of trouble, there was a potentially free meal involved? What wasn't to love about the shenanigans he and Kid were getting into? And should it come down to having to run from the authorities, he would more than gladly give the kid a piggy back ride and run for the hills. After all, Kid was being such a good 'tour guide', he wasn't about to leave him behind if things went sour.

“Alright. Lead on. You're running this show, remember?”

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Iblîs raised his eyebrow at Léon. “You have no idea how I think,” he retorted, perched on the cathedral’s roof and waiting for the hybrid to catch up. Oh, if only the Reaper could see him now. Pretending to get along with a hybrid for the sake of entertainment. He stared at Léon as the young man scrambled across the gargoyles. Well, it was all the Reaper’s fault anyway. He rubbed his aching side and let out an annoyed sigh. Honestly, why did he have to like the dove such much? It was quite inconvenient.

The hybrid finally got on the roof next to him. Iblîs stared hard at him, his eyes in particular. They were reminiscent of Fleur’s, and yet different. Her eyes were different shades. Heterochromia. He stood up, sticking his hands in his pockets as he made his way across the roof. He glanced back as Léon told him to ‘lead on’. Iblîs resisted the urge to roll his eyes, remembering that he was supposed to be a demure Italian who was abused more often than not.

“Yes, signore, I intend to,” Iblîs said, sounding infinitely more patient than he felt. He took his hands from his pockets as he crouched next to an extension of the roof. Immediately under was a window. Iblîs hooked his feet on the roof and drew a breath, steeling his nerves as he leaned over, pulling the window open. He dropped from the roof, entering the building gracefully. His legs were shaky and his breathing was coming out rather quickly.

Okay, so he really didn’t like heights. There was no reason for Léon to know that. The only person aware of his fear was the Reaper, and Iblîs trusted the Time Lord with his very being. He stretched, trying to get rid of his nerves. The room that they had entered was used as an attic – old items being held, gathering dust. Iblîs crossed the room, pulling open the door. There was a darkened spiral staircase that led down into a hall leading into the kitchen.

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Leon blinked curiously as 'Kid' stared at his eyes. He shrugged blithely. He was used to it by now. He always got funny looks when it came to his eyes. It was the only real give away he possessed that he wasn't really human. To be honest, he didn't really know what he was. He knew that somewhere in the mix, he had some sort of mix of human and time lord... and whatever his Papa was. He gave a cheerful smirk at 'Kid'.

Leon watched as 'Kid' hung off the roof and swung into the attic of the building. He arched a brow curiously, hooking his boot in the lip of the roof, to make sure he didn't fall off and snap his neck, and leaned down to peer into the window. Surely, there had to have been an easier way to get into this building. Ike a back door or a window closer to the ground. But Leon eventually shrugged it off. Where was the adventure if it was easy?

'Kid' really didn't say anything once they were inside. That smirk widened into a cheeky grin. So it was a covert operation, now? Leon was just fine with this. He ruffled 'Kid's hair playfully, something he would often do to Gavri when he was playfully messing with him, because he knew Gavri couldn't stand it when his hair was messed with. He came to the doorway beside his guide and leaned in, cautiously looking before making his way down the stairwell in front of 'Kid'.

He pressed against the door and slowly eased it open to take a cautious glance inside. It was empty. This was too easy. Not that Leon was complaining. He certainly wasn't about to turn down free food.

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Iblîs narrowed his eyes Léon touched his hair. He pulled away irritably. Only the Reaper could touch him. “No,” he said flatly, sounding much like a parent berating a three year old for sticking their hand inside of the cookie tin. He glared at Leon’s back as the hybrid made his way into the kitchens. He twisted the lock on the inside of the door and closed it behind him, locking them inside. Once inside of the kitchen, Iblîs sat on a kitchen counter and threw a package of food to Léon. “Want to see something really cool?” he asked cheerfully.

Without waiting for much of an answer, Iblîs picked up one of the wooden spoons and twirled it between his fingers briefly. He threw it at the window and it crashed loudly. The desired effect was immediate – a series of voices and gasps all headed towards the kitchen. Iblîs sat cross-legged on the counter, waiting cheerfully for the cathedral workers to burst through the door leading out of the kitchen and into the main part. “Thou shalt not steal. That’s a law, is it not?” Iblîs asked thoughtfully.

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Leon just stared at 'Kid', dumbfounded at the window shattered. “Are you crazy?” he exclaimed, flapping his arms frantically as he heard the approach of voices. His immediate reaction was to try and go back the way they came. Leon grabbed the handle and much to his dismay, the door had somehow locked. He muttered a rather vulgar french swear under his breath before looking at 'Kid', his bright green eyes narrowing.

“Well good job, runt!” he snapped, perhaps a bit hotly. Well, 'Kid' could stay here if he wanted to and get caught, Leon wasn't much for authority figures. He hopped up into the counter to kick out the remaining window and looked over his shoulder at the small boy and sighed.. Miffed as he might have been, it didn't feel right just leaving him behind to take the fall, even if this whole mess had been his idea. He marched over and grabbed kid by his waist and tucked him under his arms as he moved back towards the window. “Tuck your arms and legs, 'Kid'!”

Just as the kitchen staff burst through the door too check on the commotion, Leon smirked his signature smirk, resting two fingers alongside his brow, casually flicking a salute before scrambling out the window, one very disgruntled 'Kid' under his arm. There was just enough of a ledge to gain some footing as he skirted along the edge, just barely keeping his balance with 'Kid' raising a fuss.

He saw a large truck carrying crates of chickens and other small livestock puttering down the street and Leon smirked even wider, setting 'Kid' down just for a moment, before shoving him off the edge to land neatly in the back of the truck. Leon leaped shortly after and as he landed, casually rolled off and landed on his feet and continued running.

Hopefully, 'Kid' wouldn't been too keen to follow him after that. He decided that kid was nothing but trouble.