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Thorne was laying on his floor, contemplating his life and his werewolf boyfriend and his other not-werewolf boyfriend.

It wasn't a very interesting activity nor did it require much activity on his part, so he'd been doing it for the past three days, staring at his ceiling and letting his cat lay on him like a papasan.

"What if I have to buy a leash?" he asked no one. Millie rolled over on his body and stuck her tail in his face.

Thorne closed his eyes and groaned. He was probably too caught up in bemoaning his situation to pay attention to the footsteps coming up the stairs or what was about to happen next.

Thorne wrapped Millie around his shoulders as he got up to open the door. Everything in him was on the verge of shouting don't do it, but then again, when had he ever made a good decision in his life?

The door swung open, and he stared at Jeremiah with a slight frown, mouth parting into a question - but which one? What are you doing here seemed like a good place to start, considering they'd hardly talked to each other during the hell-show that had been the mansion after Autumn's disappearance. Want some coffee? Was that too companionable?

But all that came out was, "My boyfriend is a werewolf and I'm thinking about punching him in the face." Pause. Consideration. "Got any tips for that, mister detective?"

Thorne got another look as he let Jeremiah in. Blue-green eyes narrowing just slightly in a do I look like the kind that drinks coffee sort of way.

"Water is fine, unless you've got a strong black tea." The older man closed the door behind him before he was approaching Millie. His hand was held out, palm up, with fingers stretched for her to sniff. (Jeremiah was a cat person, this was a fact.) He was about to respond, to say something else, when his phone pinged.

He snorted and brought his phone up a moment to catch a candid picture of Thorne to send back to Aleksy.



The phone was slid away again and Jeremiah focused his attention Thorne. This time he would not be distracted. "It's been a series of long weeks," he replied, "and I would argue that it's likely not wise to punch your boyfriend - regardless of his status as a werewolf - because in most cases they punch back. Usually harder." He paused. "Also because domestic assault is taken very seriously here."

Thorne narrowed his eyes. He was not, in fact, oblivious to being photographed. Millie, on the other hand, was completely at home with the attention of the detective, sniffing only enough to decide yes, this one is good, before butting her head into Jeremiah's open palm.

"Is there any reason why you're taking photos of me, or is that just casual conduct?" Thorne asked, mildly amused. He shrugged one shoulder and turned to open a cabinet. "I think I have something that can do the trick."

It took him some searching to find the black tea his brother had sent over as a gift (and also a failed bribe), and he didn't feel much guilt in using it on Jeremiah instead of himself.

"I figured as much," Thorne retorted, glancing at Jeremiah and raising his brows, "but in that case, do you have any non-violent alternatives? I'd rather not infuriate him, but Autumn basically gave me a notice that all but said 's**t is happening on the eighteenth and your boyfriend might try to kill you.'"

Yeah. That sucked. That definitely sucked.

"Am I a wanted man, detective?" Thorne asked, amused. "Just who sent you, anyways?" He couldn't imagine anyone being invested enough to get a detective to do a drop-by, but then again, Ashdown had a way of surprising him.

"Sugar?" he added as he went to work making a cup for the man, happy to give himself something to do other than go stir-crazy with his hands, restless with another man in his apartment that knew Ashdown the way he didn't. At least, not yet.

At the mention of Lucas, there was a visible tremor that went through him, and Thorne had to bite the inside of his lip to still the sudden flow of adrenaline. "Did he just tell you he was a werewolf, or is this some sort of common knowledge I just tripped over by accident?" Thorne turned back to Jeremiah, leaning his hip against the counter and crossing his tattooed arms. "I'm not fluent in this Other-world s**t yet. Is there... someone who's taking him there? Or is he just going to drag himself to the other side?"

s**t, this really was a ******** class="quote">

azuredreams

"That's new," Thorne replied, but his smile was easy and loose and he gave a slight laugh. "Well, thank you then. I'd ask if you're alright, but you seem - used to this kind of stuff. If not completely done with it."

He nodded, figuring as much. At least if there was one thing he was good at other than getting more boyfriends than he could handle and falling face first into conspiracy theories, it was making tea.

"It's been a rough morning, and I figured the detective from the mansion would take it a little better than the old lady next door." Thorne offered the cup of tea to Jeremiah. "There's some truth in the fact that getting things off your chest helps the whole not going crazy thing." He shrugged and shook his head.

He was glad in some part that someone was taking Lucas. But a part of him riled, pissed off.

"Good," he said, and the word was a sharp crackle of sound that sounded less pleased and more pissed. He glanced at Jeremiah and shook his head. "Thank you. I mean, for being open about all of this. And for everything that you might do in the future." He shrugged. "And I'm not sure I'd call it luck."

Thorne cocked his head, nodding. "So I'm learning," he retorted, mildly, his eyes flickering to the window and back to the detective. "Well I guess it's a matter of adapting or dying, and I know which one I'd prefer not to do."

He shrugged, smiling, the expression wry. "I don't really know where to begin. Autumn said something about it being a cycle. Do we just keep dying and coming back until we get it right?" He shook his head, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter. "For people that can't find the entrances like Finn and you... is it a matter of will and wandering until you stumble into it?" He tilted his head, curious. "Is it sentient, at all?" His lips quirked into a humorless grin. "Can I expect to find more of those ******** Fae in there?"