THE MOST PAINFUL GOODBYES ARE,

Lying was like a gift to Desmond since he always held an impressive amount of skill in it. Most would believe that would be nothing to possess pride over, but the nephilim held the slightest hint of pride over his capability. He could speak without calls entering his voice and maintain an air of calm confidence over himself. Certainly this sergeant could not know that the troublemaker was the culprit, or at least that is what Desmond believed. Thus, the ginger waited patiently for the stranger to start speaking, already possessing the plan to feign innocence. As far as anyone was concerned, he was merely an innocent bystander with a tendency to harmlessly trick people which resulted in a presumption of him being the guilty party. It was formulated, sensible and seemed like an excellent idea to weasel his way out. Afterwards, he would offer his services clean up as an act of good will. The concept seemed like something of perfection in Desmond's mind; a perfect punishment escape plan.

"Name's Desmond Wilts, and I won't lie, sir, I am a bit of a trickster," the ginger began formally. "Due to that, she likely thought that I placed the trap and my laughter only made the matter worse. I will offer my services to help clean up, since my laughter probably only made it worse."

The words escaped the scout's lips smoothly, making them sound genuine. It made him out to merely be a kind fellow offering to assist in the situation all because a chuckle increased the lycanthrope's anger. As he regarded the sergeant, Desmond's face was devoid of guilt and his arms remained folded behind his back. His posture was kept sturdy, back straight in a professional manner and an open body language. While he spoke, his eyes remained locked on the sergeant instead of flitting away in nervous manners. It was in the way, the picture of a perfect innocent facade. The thought amused him, but he kept it out of his expression and refused it access to dance across his green eyes. The act still needed to be maintained until he was freed from the concept of guilt. There was a determination to not be discovered in his lie, and Desmond was certain he would fulfill that goal.

THE MOST PAINFUL GOODBYES ARE,

When the girl began commenting on the night and lack of crowding, the nephilim offer a small nod. The lack of wandering citizens had made this time favored for Desmond to work since he would usually not have to worry about an innocent passerby and the darkness provided an excellent hiding place. Although, from a more introverted standpoint, the scout would be less probable to completely understand. He enjoyed spending time around people since it did mean possibly finding more victims for his fun tricks. What was a trickster without a victim after all? His night preference perhaps did not exist in that, but admittedly the ginger found night to be appealing, especially in appearance considering the night sky. The dark was perhaps scary, but at the same time it could be one of the most beautiful times.

Watching the gentle moonlight play across the ground, giving everything only a mild lighting; which would look particularly splendid rolling over ocean waves. The way the city lights would twinkle amidst the expanse of dark. Then there were the stars that dotted the endless blackness, speckling it like spots on an animal pelt. Oftentimes the atmosphere possessed a heavenly silence not seen in the bustling daylight. Thus, resulting in an affection for night to the nephilim solely due to its unique beauty and atmospheric effects. As the woman began to speak about her job, Desmond silently listened with slight curiosity gleaming in his green eyes. He genuinely enjoyed learning about people and at times knowing specific facts about a person or making a friendship with somebody could have plenty of uses scouting wise. It was one of the reasons he enjoyed befriending people, which was cynical, but it was the way the waves turned after his ex dumped him.

"Well, I would say enjoying that kind of stuff makes you an artist. I don't do anything like that, but people say I have beautiful handwriting," Desmond commented.

The beautiful handwriting had been learned when he was younger due to his 'need' to forge his father's signatures. Eventually, it had evolved and people always seemed to comment on his excellent handwriting; his teachers even going the length to insist t try calligraphy. When he was asked about his inspiration, Desmond chuckled and shrugged in response.

"How about the inspiration not to be bored? Or the inspiration to get some damn exercise instead of spending a lazy day at home?" The nephilim joked.

Artistically, there was no inspiration needed for Desmond. He merely needed something to accomplish while waiting for the tiredness to make him desire a sleep in the warmth of his safe bed.

THE MOST PAINFUL GOODBYES ARE,

Loud and dangerous were the two words best to describe the situation Desmond was in one winter morning. The illusions made by the gentle, cold air rustling the trees and the lapping of water on the port side suggested a soothing scene. Adding to the mask of calmness were tiny white flakes if snow the descended from the clouds, dancing in the air. There was mostly silence due to the lack of crowd in the area. Precautions were always taken prior to the storm; this was merely the calm. Crouched behind the crates with his grey wings pressed up against his back and a tight grip on the radio, the scout peeked around the corner. He was hidden in the shadows of a warehouse. As expected, the ginger wore the dark colours of the TRS with the accenting meant to associate him with scouts. Desmond kept his distance, watching a pair of fear eaters lurk around the pier. The radio was brought closer to the ginger's face as he relayed information to his hunter colleagues. They had cleared out all the workers and other citizens from the area in order to make it safe for a battle. The answer came as they stated they were almost finished. Thus, Desmond kept watching, silently slipping through the warehouse window.

Like a shadow, the scout moved with footsteps light and silent on the wooden floor. Sometimes the nephilim would peer out the dirty warehouse windows, checking the status of who he followed. A razor and a troublemaker that seemed keen on travelling together. Fluently, Desmond weaved his way through the warehouse shelves until he reached the other side. A door stood between him and the outside. Being a skillful scout caused The nephilim to hesitate a moment, doors provided the risk of squeaking, especially in a dirty, old warehouse. Thus, Desmond teleported, dematerialized to rematerialized on the other side without a noise being uttered. Once the scout felt the cold chill of winter air, he lowered into a crouched and pressed himself against the building.

Shortly, the terrors passed him without knowing about the man who stalked their moves. For a few more moments, Desmond observed them in peaceful silence until the radio buzzed. It was a quiet, static noise that was just audible to the scout's ears. It was not long before the radio was held up to the nephilim's mouth. He listened as the hunters stated that they were hidden nearby, ready to pounce on the unsuspecting terrors. Which meant the noise of battle would soon ensue and the nephilim would retreat a small ways to avoid getting injured. In a matters of seconds the signal was given and the hunters hastily ran from their places to confront the dastardly duo. The sounds of weapons clashing, shouting and agonizing screams from both sides filled the air. Only for a few moments did the nephilim watch before standing from his crouch and spreading the grey wings to their full wingspan before he began to flap them.

Gradually, the man was lifted from his position from the ground and into the cold air. The nephilims green eyes scanned the battlefield while his hands easily worked to secure the radio to its holder on the belt he wore. For a few moments, Desmond hovered above and watched the intense struggle between good and evil. Once high above the action, the nephilim used his grey wings to carry himself forward and do an aerial circle above the fight. The scout's watchful eyes looked for concerning signs that begged the possibility of requiring back up. Alas, the fight was going smoothly and the hunters were accomplishing their part of the mission with ease. With that, Desmond flew back towards the warehouse and lowered himself onto the flat roof. From his vantage point he could witness a majority of the area around the fight, which meant he could report any other terrors or concerns to the hunters. For now, things were quiet as the nephilim watched the brawl with mild interest. His grey wings nestled against his back while the ginger watched; they awaited for a reason to take flight like giddy children. Meanwhile, the scout scanned the premise for anything unusual, holding a silence while he did so.

THE MOST PAINFUL GOODBYES ARE,

There was a grin that crossed the stranger's face when Desmond leaned against the back of the bench. His craze for social attention was high during the current situation; why not indulge himself in trivial conversation? The remainder of the world was blissfully quiet and motionless. When the woman mentioned inspiration, the concept made sense given the beautiful scene sprawled in the park. The sections of untouched snow glittered in the pale moonlight and hunt from the skeleton trees. It was rather breathtaking and an excellent means for collecting inspiration. The mentioning of avoiding the park being a smart idea caused Desmond to nod in agreement. A majority of people considered nightly park outings to be concept of the distant past. The grim reality of the existence of terrors and trips during the evening was often an activity of the past. Nobody wanted to leave the precious safety of home.

The nephilim took a deep breath of cold night air, finding it refreshing. These freezing night were something Desmond had grown accustomed to. That was when the stranger inquired about his reasoning for being at Crow Feather Park and in response, he offered the girl a small shrug. His main reason for being here was a lack of activities to participate in.

"Didn't have that much to do is all. Plus, don't know about you, but I am a bit of a night person," Desmond said. "Nothin' special like searching for inspiration."

Heading someplace for the sole reason of requiring something to do was not nearly as important as a search for some sort of musing. For a few moments, Desmond glanced at the stranger with a curious gleam shining in his green eyes. He could not help, but wonder if the woman was an artist of sorts; somebody perhaps with some fame. Although Desmond was clueless in the art world, there was a chance to learn something or at least initiate a conversation that the woman could have a passion for.

"So are you an artist or something, Princess?" Desmond ask, giving the girl a nickname.

Nicknames were something that the nephilim enjoyed giving to people at times, that was if he could think of a name to give. When the woman began studying him, Desmond raised an eyebrow for a moment before deciding to ignore it; he analyzed people constantly thus why he considered it unfair to question it.

THE MOST PAINFUL GOODBYES ARE,

The pale moon had rose against the dark sky, like the claw of a cat cutting through the darkness. Stars sprinkled the clear night sky with tiny white dots that generally made an incredible impression. A crisp wind blew when the nephilim left the small suburban house he referred to as a home. As the chilly embrace of winter air came his way, Desmond did not bat an eye. Being a scout had meant hours worked in colder conditions than the current. While he walked down the sidewalks, his air coming out as a thin steam, he began to ponder what the night could hail. Tomorrow he was not required to work, which meant the young man was free to stay up longer without a thought taken towards sleeping. The concept of terrors roaming the streets were never a bother since the ginger was swift and clever at evading the dastardly creatures.

On this particular night, Desmond wore a plain navy coloured coat, a pair of black pants and a simple duo of darkly coloured runners. The clothing was loose, clearly meant for casual leisure than actual fashion. For the most part, it had been the first pieces that the ginger had picked from the closet. Warmth was valued over appearance and it was not as though the nephilim was attempting to attract attention. As the walking continued, his feet led him to Crow Feather Park, which caused a small smile to appear on his face. The young man shortly entered the park, noting the bare trees that stood eerily. The lacking in leaves revealed the numerous lanterns that hung lazily, slightly drifting from the wind. While Desmond walked, he easily noted the sound of snow crunching beneath his feet while his green eyes scanned the area. With simple ease, his gaze caught the woman with long brown hair sitting on a park bench. Her gaze was towards the sky, which suggested a night of star gazing was possibly planned.

For a mere few moments, the scout watched her before deciding to approach. It was mostly curiosity, a simple desire for some human interaction and the chance to learn about a stranger. Given his career, the nephilim genuinely enjoyed learning about people and attempting to understand them. It assisted in making those moments when he was forced to interrogate someone for terror information a lot easier. The lying calls had been learned quickly, and gradually he became rather smooth with conversation. Once the ginger reached the bench, he learned on the backrest of the wooden seat.

"Doing some star gazin'? Don't see many people do that in the middle of the park nowadays because of what's going on," Desmond began simply.

It was an unfortunate truth that some hobbies had been ditched out of simple fear about terrors. In the end, it had resulted in the few nights where the ginger would travel to the park, he would rarely spot a soul. Almost as though the instance the sun fell behind the horizon was when Pandora's box opened and all the hellish creatures came out to play.

THE MOST PAINFUL GOODBYES ARE,

There was an objective with today's tricking that the nephilim known as Desmond was prepared to accomplish despite the particular difficulty with his plans. A few horrible interactions with an arrogant, short-tempered and downright malicious female hunter. Numerous times has the ginger watched her exchange words with allies, sometimes going the length of screaming at them and even one time at him for an accident. He had merely bumped into somebody else, got pushed back and stepped on her foot, even after an apology she still yelled. The scout was fairly certain that at the time other people within the TRS headquarters did not recognize the voice they would have thought murder. Thus, Desmond had used his scout skills in order to coordinate when exactly the woman went into the cafeteria and the table she always sat at. A convenient camera malfunction in the cafeteria alongside a distracted worker had allowed the nephilim to activate his perfect plan.

The supplies was easily procured and hidden, which consisted of a simple bottle of washable glue and a paint brush; Desmond could already imagine he would have to clean up afterwards. He would volunteer after all since it was not a bother, plus it would give the appearance of innocence. When nobody was watching, the bottle of glue was dumped on the table and painted across the top alongside on the seats of the chairs. Once the task was completed, the evidence was ditched in a garbage can that was hidden in the corner; Desmond could never explain why exactly it was placed there. Upon the completion, the young man took his seat in the farthest corner of the room since should this turn violent he wanted to be nowhere near that woman. The nephilim's gaze remained on the television and his hand grabbed a bag of gummy bears from his pocket while he waited for the young lady to arrive.

When the doors opened, Desmond's gaze looked over and noticed the tall, irritable woman stroll in with her bag lunch, heading right towards the table he trapped. Despite how much he desired to, the trickster managed to keep the smile from crawling onto his lips and instead allowed his gaze to focus on the television. Acting innocent also meant pretending the trap was a unknown entity in the room, thus his gaze remained on news that was reporting the opening of a new clothes shop in town that was in the public eye. It bored him, but for the time being Desmond could not spare a glance over at the trap he had set for the woman. Some would have seen his requirement for revenge as vindictive, but after the manner she had behaved towards her fellow TRS members he could simply not allow it to go unpunished. There was also the fact it has been a long time since the trickster had discovered a victim to toy with and chances were her reaction would be hilarious.

A few moments later, Desmond's green eyes glanced back over at the woman who was naturally sitting down at her favorite table. Luckily, she failed to notice the glue until her lunch was set down and her hands grazed the glue-covered wood. In an instant the woman screamed which warranted a reason for Desmond to look in her direction. The sight was humorous since she was now standing with a chair stuck to her bottom while she attempted to pull her hands away from the table. Naturally, she was successful due to the lack of cruelty in the trick. Witnessing the sight caused the nephilim to crack into a quiet snickering while he watched her pull the chair off, her hands even getting stuck to it for a moment. Unfortunately, the laughter gained her attention and shortly she was staring daggers as she began to speedily march towards where he was sitting.

For a few moments, Desmond kept laughing until she slammed her fist onto the table and broke a section of it. That was when a thought occurred to the nephilim, if he was correct this woman was a lycanthrope which meant that she was very strong. He glanced up at her, noticing her fist winding back to punch him instead of the usual screaming. Before it could collide with him, the nephilim teleported to the other side of the room; making certain to grab his bag of gummy bears of course. Leaving candy in a danger zone would be a sin!

"Hey, chill out!" Desmond shouted, his voice tinging with annoyance.

Silently, he watched as the woman lifted the chair over her head and launched it through the air towards him. The nephilim dived to the ground, witnessing the chair denting the wall which meant she was likely not using full strength; either way it would be probably to break him. Perhaps this was a horrible idea, especially considering the woman's anger issues; he should have watched from the window. Fortunately, he was in his TRS uniform which was designed for this type of activity, but the nephilim had not signed up for chair dodging. Desmond picked himself off the ground, cautiously backing away from where the lycanthrope was. It was easy to notice when she began lifting another chair above her head which caused the trickster's face to break into concern. The cafeteria staff were watching the exchange now, looking frightened about what exactly was occurring. A mental note was made never to prank an irritable lycanthrope with glue. A few choice were screamed at Desmond, all implying that he could have has to be the culprit of the glue trick; with a string of swears in the sentences.

The nephilim decided it was best not to outright rebuke against the claims for the time being, it was probably best to focus on the chair the lycanthrope was likely to throw. Trying to pacify her aggression was an impossible task if Desmond was to guess, which meant the scout had to think of a method to cease the destructive behavior before more damage was done.