Ghosts of Fleet Street

[l u c i d `]

((I guess we'll need to find someone else to join. Bridgette said that Edward is dead.))

Alexis gave a heavy sigh and edged closer to Edward, bending down and placing two fingers near his jaw, searching for a pulse. Her knitted together for a moment or two and then raised with surprise. Another knot of anxiety was forming in her stomach and her all ready pale complexion lightened to a nice creamy white shade as she withdrew her hand. No pulse. None whatsoever. She swallowed a shudder and stood straight, wiping her hands on her dress as if she were trying to wipe away the feel of Edward's still warm skin from her fingers.

"Mr. Hollow..?" she quizzed, her voice was considerably softer than usual, as she turned to face him."What do we do.. with Mr. Quinn..?" She played with her hands and fingers quietly, wringing them then clapsing them together nervously as she waited for his response.

[Egyptian Myth]

He looked up from his blade, black eyes studying Alexis's features for any sign of deceit or jest. All he found was disbelief and growing panic, so he moved his gaze hastily to the floor, his own faint concern slipping into his face. Yet, the worry wasn't there because he had killed someone - it was only there at the thought of what he'd do now. There was nowhere in London to bury him besides a graveyard, but a watch was kept on those... Everywhere was always populated by somebody, no place was secret.
And what about Ms. Bloom? He looked to her, intense stare at first nothing but cold and ready. Would she tell? She certainly looked frightened. If she lost her wits she could go running down the street screaming it. What then? What would he do then..? His fingers tightened on the razor in his hand... but then his eyes softened. He couldn't kill her. At least not now, for this reason. He still kept his razor ready.

His gaze drifted to Quinn and the leaking hole in his side, red slithering to the floor and steadily beginning to pool there. His fingertips felt the intricate designs in the handle of the razor, the feel of its steel on his skin. He liked the feeling of the tool in his hand, and the grim, crimson sight it could produce. Simon looked to Alexis again, gaze as intense as ever but holding no answer to her question. An ominous contentment swirled in the blackness of his eyes.. a visible sort of satisfaction with what he'd done.