for @emotioneater -&gt; run for your life if you can little girl

Honestly, Nancy’s exhausted. It’s clear from the circles under her eyes, visible only under layers of foundation and magic, illusions keeping her face in place. It’s a lot of hard work, being her. She’s up at all hours of the night with Bill, work is hell, and she’s been drinking even more. So much so to the point that she’s sure her blood is more gin than actual blood at this point.

There are a few good things about Bill’s return. Perhaps the only one is that, thankfully, Bill refused to put her back on the street. Fagin was dead- there was no reason she should. He wasn't trusting of those at the shop, having come down himself to give Daryl a warning. He didn't like his girl being friendly with other men. Bill wouldn’t have it- he’d been furious to find out about her ex-lovers, raking his claws over their scars, making them his own. It had been romantic, she’d decided. Bill was erasing the mistakes and pain, replacing it with himself, right?

There’s a noise at the end of the darkened street, the low gunning of a motorcycle, and Nancy looks up from where she’s just sent a text to Bill, telling him when she’ll be home. Her eyes are wide when to her surprise, she recognizes the engine. There’s nothing else that sounds like that in all of London.

That’s Cooper’s bike.

Without waiting for him to recognize her, she breaks into a run.