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He’d come out with a pocket full of ‘Part-Time Labor - Call ###-###-#### ‘ slips in his pocket and a small desire for something similar to a social life. Jaro hadn’t been out to do much of anything in a while and the job fair, while good for picking up extra workers he probably didn’t need, was mostly an excuse for him to oggle college hotties or hot professor types.

Instead he’d found some sort of monster, blood, violence and when the masses ran the dark skinned man flattened himself against a wall and watched. Blood didn’t bother him, injuries either, only when he caused them himself to people he gave a damn about….

This was something different. Carnage. Rage. Uncontrolled.

It stirred him.

The scrapped was interested in what did this, what it had caused, and what it really meant.

The auburn haired man peeled himself from the wall, even as wailing injuries prevailed around him. Even as people pursued the monster or planned escape routes, even as blood still pooled on the floor and as police essentially locked them in.

Jaro was invested in this story and it’s outcome, staying low, staying quiet, and going along for the ride.

He wondered idly where Aodh had gone, what he’d gotten himself into, and surprisingly if he was safe.

Aodh was hurt. Everyone was hurt really... but Aodh was hurt.

He knew why it bothered him, Aodh was his employ and dare he say his friend. Aodh was in that special circle of people that Jaro gave a s**t about. The blonde getting hurt took him back to when he'd been a teen, injured by his own fault, the panic he'd done permanent damage followed by the concern he'd face repercussions from the boy's family.

But it was different. A sick feeling when he'd seen him bleeding from the head unconscious, worry that he was hurt permanently or worse. Jaro wasn't used to this level of giving a s**t.

The auburn haired man slid between the bodies, stepped over blood puddles, and rummaged through boxes until he'd accumulated t-shirts, water, and some snack crackers he was stuffing into his pockets. Nurses huddled around severely injured people, one woman who had come from upstairs looked near catatonic - what was going on up there - what were those animalistic sounds - and Jaro simply slipped by.

Perhaps someone else would need the bandage he stole more than Aodh, but he didn't care about them.

He spends his time wrangling Aodh. The idiot's hurt and all he can think to do is try and help. It takes all he has not to talk about how no one else is important. How everyone else has it covered. Jaro isn't exactly a kindly giving soul.

He wondered idly if the guy who Aodh had been talking to before hand had gotten mauled.

The room is still active as more injured come down the stairs. There's no word from the basement but the police seem to be buying the bullhorn groups attempts to convince them there is no epidemic. There's a woman with fangs over there and eventually a man who looks like a werewolf and Aodh and he talk softly, and only briefly, about the stories of the town and how maybe they could be true.

It was exciting. Promising. But Jaro had a distinct impression that others wouldn't agree. Would Aodh?

He has to threaten, guilt and embarrass the young man into staying seated though it's less difficult after the nurse tells him he may need a transfusion for the blood loss. Again that sick feeling in his stomach at the thought of the blonde in a hospital bed hooked up to machines.

No. No he wasn't thinking about that.

Police and paramedics flood in and the only relief he has is that Aodh will get proper care because even with the water and the munchies, he looks pale and drawn and tired.

"They'll take care of you.." He winks and lets the young man be bundled in a blanket. "Tell me what they say at the hospital. Text me."

And that's it. He's not next of kin. He'd not going to ride in the ambulance and he sure as hell doesnt want to stew in a waiting room somewhere while they stick the young man full of tubes. Seeing him like this is bad enough. Better live with the glossy illusion, the time jump from sick to better with nothing in between.

Jaro feels some small pang of guilt at leaving him- but he's in good hands now.

Better hands than his own at least.

Jaro had bypassed police questioning, had slipped under barricades and police lines, and was heading to his truck with a jingle of keys when a curious pedestrian flags him down. It's not like he isn't obvious with blood on his clothing and a couple t-shirt he'd taken hanging from one of his hands.

"Hey man- what happened in there?"

It's a moment before he can reply, pouring through the lies to the police, the reality of the monsters, the massive amount of blood and injury, the deaths.

"Some crazy slasher-" Jaro frowned, doing his best to look a bit shell-shocked but perhaps he is more than he let on, "just went crazy and panicked everyone.. Uh- Sorry man. I had a rough night.. Kinda want to get home."

The pedestrian dismissed him, walking towards the sirens for more info instead of away, and Jaro slid into the muted quiet of his red leather interior and closed his eyes.

It was over.

With just a passing thought he checked his phone, no texts, before he began his drive home.