London is grimy, grey, and gory. The streets are lined with remnants of God knows who's rubbish, thrown away Metros and the upper class shops. People jostle and bustle around Charing Cross station. The next stop is – Catford Bridge. Alight here for... The mechanical grind of schoolkids on theatre trips and the floral, fruity stink of vapes coming from new males who act harder than they are. A boy grabs and pulls on his mother's hand as he begs for a sweet treat – she has made her mistakes. Beep beep beep. You can cross the road now. Tubes squeal down the lines, Euston, Kings Cross Road, St. Pancreas.

Centralised, romanticised, kissed with the air of rich folk with no idea of the struggles the other 99% face. Bells ring. The London Eye frivolously turns around, scrambling for a chance at sexuality with the striking clouds, held in the palms of concrete. Museums, galleries, fountains, workplaces. "Really? He's a dick," Teenage girls giggle down the paving, drinking from coffee cups their parents supply them with. Upmarket actuality.

Pigeons are screaming. LET ME OUT. LET ME OUT. LET ME OUT. We don't like it here. "Excuse me". "Pardon." "Can I come through here?". Amicability dissolves into fear of one breath slipped up, rapture of isolation. Band practise in downtown home. Tapping drumsticks, tuning the guitars, vocal warmups. 1, 2, 1 2 3 4! It's dismal to see red lights from a place you thought was nice. It's Bonfire Night, not Skyscraper View all the way from Dulwich, Catford, Rushey Green. Couples neck on in the middle of the street. Fuck off, I don't need to see that. Ew.

Scared city. Cowered.

Niall finally wakes up, eyes stuck together with the remnants of the sandman's gifts of dust. He stretches his limbs, cracking bones, and joints. He is talking to Kristoffer again today, train rides back to the Starshine Committee. He scrambles out of his bedsheets, throwing on the smartest outfit he has in his cupboard on. He pulls thick-soled boots with a considerable heel onto his feet, lacing them without much thought. He flies out the door, he will be late if he doesn't get out there soon. Luckily, he reaches Kristoffer's office not to late and without too much strife. He knocks on Kristoffer's office door. The door swings inward, presenting Niall with Kristoffer in more casual clothes than he usually wears, seeming more relaxed than last time Niall saw him. Kristoffer looks Niall up and down, biting his knuckle to stop himself from laughter. Niall folds his arms over his chest.

'What are you laughing at?' He queries. Kristoffer can't cover his laughs, his deep, rich laughter echoing around the walls, 'What?'

'Are you wearing high heels, Niall?'

'No! Whatever, let's go to lunch.'

Kristoffer and Niall walk to a local restaurant in thick, awkward silence. They finally reach the restaurant, and once they're sat down, Niall sucks in a breath and asks, 'Did you do it? Did you say sorry?'

'Why do you care so much about Ashton all of a sudden?' Kristoffer responds, cocking an eyebrow at Niall. He only rolls his eyes and tuts.

'Well, it is odd to you. You know, me changing my ways and wanting to help someone I hurt, wondering if they're okay? Jesus Christ, I'd hate to be him and live my life with you,' Niall suddenly bites. After he finishes speaking, he places his head in his hands and pouts. Kristoffer sighs deeply.

'I did say sorry. And I didn't blow our cover, either,' Kristoffer assures. Niall nods, pale ears slightly red in embarrassment, 'I don't know why you think you should be a dictator of relationships, especially one you're not in or between one person you hate and one person you've attempted to murder about fifteen times. Your idea of love is different to other people's ideas.'

'I guess so. I've never been married, especially not to someone of... the same gender. I don't know how these things work Kristoffer. I'm 41. I barely know who I am,' says Niall, voice catching in his throat. Kristoffer is slightly confused, but lets him continue to speak, 'You seem to know who you are. You've got a job, a house, friends, and a partner, who, frankly, loves you and seems like a great guy. You're twenty-eight. In a way, I'm jealous of that. I haven't got a proper job, no one who loves me, no friends... It's not a safe way to live.'

And I know I deserve it. I'm a horrible person. I used hurt people, and I still do now. I'm trying to get better at being nice, but I'm guilty of all these things, and I know it,' Niall stays utterly deadpan as he speaks. Kristoffer is reconsidering his entire life. Niall admitting to something? This has to be Alexis pulling a shapeshifter prank on him, 'I don't understand why I want to change. I'm just going to.'

'Okay. I understand,' Kristoffer doesn't truly understand what to reply with. Niall groans intensely, lamenting all the words he has just expressed.

'Uh, give me a minute. I'm going to go to the bathroom.'

Niall rushes off. As soon as he's in the vacant bathroom, he jerks his hair and thumps his elbows down on the border of the sink. He looks at himself, eyes sunken deep into his face. He splashes cold water on his face. He didn't mean to pour his heart pour his heart out like that. He suddenly feels something hit him square in the back of his head.

*

'Hello Niall.'

Niall is roped to a chair, feeling awfully groggy and disoriented. The room is dark, no lights at all. He feels the sensation of frigid metal pressing the underside of his chin, pressing his face up. He can feel the person's hot breath on his forehead.

'Who are you?' Niall quivers, arms cramping in terror.

'None of your business. I'm here to tell you something,' The person hisses, the anger in their tone palpable, 'It's more of a favour. But if you say no...' The sound of a trigger being played with echoes into his ears, 'You're dead.'

'What do you need from me?'

'Well, the police and the rest of the world are close to discovering the mysteries of the Order of the Wren. We need your help to keep us undercover. Stop following us around. Stop trying to solve our murders. Keep us a secret. Don't report back to Eddie, to the police, to Kristoffer. Anyone. And in return, we'll leave you alone too.'

'Why should I do that?'

'Because,' The person is enraged at this point, pushing Niall's wrinkled face higher. The metal of the gun digs into his pale skin, leaving red imprints, 'If you don't... You're dead. Kristoffer's dead. Everyone left who you love... Dead. Capiche?'

'Fine. But don't bring me into your murders.'

'Good man.'

The ropes around Niall's body slip down to around his thighs, slipping off of his trousers onto the floor. There's a door in front of him; it clicks open, flooding his vision with white light. No one else is with him. As he exits, he finds himself on the roof of the Starshine Committee.

*

'How was work today?' Ashton asks, nestled up to Kristoffer on the sofa. Kristoffer sighs and leans his head back against the arm of the sofa.

'It was fine. But I was going to have a meeting over lunch, and they ditched me,' He responds, knotting a hand into Ashton's copper hair. The feeling subsides him, the silky smooth sensation under his fingers consoling him gently. Ashton turn his head slightly, raising an eyebrow.

'Who?' Kristoffer begins to feel nerves overtaking him.

'Eddie. We're working hard to the centre of this case around Stuart's death,' Kristoffer fleetingly justifies himself, not changing his expression. Ashton shrugs and accepts it. Kristoffer breathes an internal sigh of relief. But he also feels deep guilt drenching him like iced water; he can't keep lying to him.