Porous concrete held spray paint like nothing else; there was barely any runners, though it was fresh enough that the smell of paint was still in the air. Jellal studied the cartoon mailbox's toothy mouth open in vicious hunger with mild interest. Anything to keep himself distracted enough to not obsessively check his watch again. He told himself when he first walked in that once half past came, he'd call her a lost cause and go on his way. Thirty minutes late was more than generous enough.

If he checked now, he'd see thirty had come and gone.

The wall next to the one that held the doodled mailbox was packed full of tags. He actually liked graffiti. Tagging, though? It didn't take much skill to scribble your name on a wall. He wondered if Erza ever scrawled her name there when she was young. He was checking when he heard a decisive click of a pair of heels. He turned slowly and felt a thrill move through him at the sight of her. The heels of her thigh-high leather boots never dipped into the cracks in the concrete and the short black dress she wore never came up further than it was meant to, betraying her. She'd forgotten a jacket, though there was still a bite in the wind; Jellal didn't think that the long-sleeves of her dress would be enough.

"I didn't think you'd still be here."

"Didn't I say eleven thirty?" Jellal fibbed.

Erza's smile came free. "Sure, we'll go with that, and I'm on time." She held up a clear grocery bag full of lime wedges. "Cut and salted."

Jellal pulled a brand new tequila bottle from the pocket of his beige trench coat and opened it and Erza crossed the final distance between them. Jellal offered the bottle to her first and she took out a lime. "You think you would have learned your lesson by now and not drink tequila."

"It's not always bad to me."

Erza got a mean glint in her eye and Jellal knew she was determined to make it that way for him tonight.

It took eight shots to pull out the shopping cart. Erza wanted him to climb into it this time so Jellal shucked off his coat and did the honours. Erza pushed him despite her heels, the tequila bottle still awkwardly in her hand.

"Give it to me," Jellal told her before they could really pick up speed and she shook her head.

"You'll drop it. Lie back." She grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back to the front of the cart. It wasn't comfortable. He stretched out his legs and put them over the cart. Erza looked down at him and there was life in her eyes. Her fingers tightened on the cart's handle and then she started to run. She weaved through pillars and empty parking spaces, her hair like a fiery trail, her laugh catching and spreading. Jellal joined her. Corners taken tightly made the cart come up on two wheels. Jellal leaned with Erza and brought it back on all fours. She picked up speed and did it again. This time, when the cart rocked and they corrected, they went too far and the powder-coated steel met the ground on the opposite side, spilling its cargo over the dry but cigarette butt-dusted ground. Jellal scraped his elbow and his knee, tearing his jeans and the navy button down shirt he'd put on, but otherwise, he was unharmed.

Erza staggered over to him, much less coordinated now. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Jellal got to his knees and stayed there for a moment while his head spun pleasantly. "Let's go again."

Erza's smile widened as a thought came to her. "We will. After."

"After what?"

With purpose, her steps became even again. As she prowled, she took the cap off the tequila and made a circle around him, stopping in front of his knees. "Remember?" she prodded in a voice like honeyed thorns. Jellal looked up the curving line of her body; the only light that dared eek in here was moonlight from the garage's entrance. It was enough to set her hair ablaze. It took so very little effort to lose himself in her. He did the same thing he always did when Erza turned her attention on him and forgot everything he knew. She lifted the tequila and like she wanted, he opened his lips and she poured the tequila in. Some splashed over his cheek, getting his shirt and his chest wet, some spilled on the ground. It wasn't champagne like that first time but it did go down smoothly. Erza took a drink herself and then sat in his lap. She used her tongue to gather what had slid down his neck and her fingers undid the buttons of his shirt. Jellal held her by the hips and, with his eyes closed, tipped his face to the ceiling. He couldn't taste lipstick or the gum she'd been chewing earlier; just tequila on her tongue.

"Your shaking."

"It's been a long time since I've had to do this," Eileen said.

"Does it make you sick?"

Knotting her fingers in Kyouka's hair brought back memories of late nights gone by. This was a very different kind of encounter. "Knowing you betrayed me does."

"You knew I was meeting with him," she spat angrily. "You should have said something. Or stopped it before it went on so long."

"Why would I? I wanted to see how far you were willing to go."

"As far as I had to."

Kyouka was always in it to win it. "I never would have let you live, Kyouka, but bringing my daughter into it assured your suffering."

"Erza." Kyouka laughed. "You're going to regret bringing her home. She's a dog that will bite your hand just as soon as she has the opportunity."

Eileen pulled Kyouka's hair tighter. "I know who my daughter is and, as I looked for your betrayal, I'll watch for hers, too. I'm not alive because I've been stupid, Kyouka."

"If you truly weren't stupid, Tante, you'd kill me because I won't stay here. I'll get out of this room and make you regret every time you've laid your hands on me. You won't though, will you? You don't want to kill me. Too many memories? That's it, isn't it? Sentiment makes you weak. Kill me!"

She was right, it was harder to torture her than Eileen thought it might be, considering, but maybe she shouldn't have been surprised, they'd had a long and colourful relationship. "I'm going to keep you as a pet, Kyouka, and whatever I feel now... I'll practice and practice until I feel nothing."

She started then and didn't stop until Kyouka was crying.

Gildarts waited by the bar with a martini. Eileen took it from him and put herself between him and the counter, closer than she normally would bother getting. They had done this dance enough times that he knew. He stepped into her and brushed her scarlet locks from her shoulders.

"I'm not going to be very nice to you tonight, Gildarts." She was in the mood to tear. He should be warned; he'd earned that much.

"You're never very nice to me, Tante, because you're not very nice."

"At least you know." Tomorrow, she'd regret it but for now, she let herself get lifted up and used Gildarts as a distraction. By the end, he, too, was bleeding. With his sweat on her tongue she wondered vaguely if Acnologia would be as foolish as Gildarts and invite a spider into his home. As she said to Erza, he had his uses still but he wasn't yet pliable. Men were most tolerable when they were in appreciative awe of beautiful and deadly things. Before she killed him for all of his transgressions, she wanted everything. For a man like Acnologia, who only had everything, stripping him down to his skin before slicing his throat would be the greatest blow.

This story is being continued. The sequel is called Nightshade.