>>5339334Again, you shout to grab Boleski’s attention, your voice echoing through the night air.
Through the darkness, you see a head of shaggy hair whip in your direction, green gaze landing straight on you. His wings flare out in alarm, glowing acid gathering across the length of them as he prepares for an attack. In the back of your mind, it dawns on you that Boleski might not be in his right frame of mind ever since he ditched Maranzano Jr.– moreso than usual without access to his medication.
If that’s the case, then you’re in for a world of trouble, and you brace yourself for the hailstorm of Boleski’s acidic wrath by throwing your arms in front of your face.
It’s by some miracle that you see a flash of recognition in Boleski’s eyes at the last possible second, to which his shoulders relax as he no longer looks ready to fight.
“Boleski.” You greet once you land on the roof adjacent to him, heaving a sigh of relief as you brush the dust off of your legs.
A quick glance at Boleski shows wounds both old and new, the smell of scabby, old blood intermingling with his acid. In fact, most of the injuries seem to have been inflicted by his own acid, rather than anyone he might have fought. While it tells you that he’s been going strong with the nighttime vigilantism, it also tells you that he’s long overdue for a trip to the Healer’s.
“Kelpie,” Boleski returns cordially, heavy accent coating his voice. “What doing on this side of town?”
“Fighting some cop-killing mutants,” You tell him in hopes that might ring a bell for him; and it does, as you see his eyes light up in interest.
“What happen?” He asks, shaking the excess acid from himself with a couple of rapid flaps from his wings.
“We beat them up and took their ringleader.” You inform him. “We plan on interrogating her soon.”
<span class="mu-i">“Naprawdę?!”</span> He exclaims before clearing his throat, abashed at forgetting what language he’s supposed to be speaking. “Sorry. English still not good.”
“Don’t worry about it.” You wave him off, because you know what he’s been through. You’re not one to judge about those kinds of things.“Follow me.” You tell him with a gesture of your arm, hoping that Boleski will follow.
>(1/?) 