Angel's Dust

The night sky, moonless and covered with clouds. The breeze, harsh for it acted as a premonition for an incoming storm. The weather over the past few days had grown rather bad, many were forced to bring umbrellas in case of rain. 

Deadeyes, laid to rest in the RFS while the rest had dinner, awoke with the sound of thunder. A menacing growl, monstrous in nature – he rose to his feet but ended up hitting the roof of the vehicle. 

 "Nice, you're awake," a voice came from outside.

 "Who is it?" hand on where he got injured, the door opened lazily. 

 "Should I answer?" arms crossed with a deep voice, Staxius stared.

 "I do apologize," he stumbled out, fatigue had gotten the better.

 "Let me help you," arms around the broad shoulders, Staxius helped the marksman. "Dinner?" he offered as soon as they stepped foot inside.