Won't Say A Thing

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Where: Velvet

When: April 13, 2012

What: Tilly checks up on Zan to see if she'll need to have him Haitian'd or not.

The shooting was finished, screaming had died down to crying and patrons calling 9-1-1, waiting for cops and taking stock of injuries. With topper out, Tilly's next point of covering her ass was outside the back door.

The Vida Mala members weren't gone thirty seconds before Tilly was making her way out the back door in the manner most used by cops and there's potentially other guns or bad guys.

Once the Vida Mala had taken themselves out of sight, Zan had turned for the door. But still wary of going inside, he's all that remains outside besides vacant cars. With his back against the wall beside the rear door to the club, he takes a few seconds to stretch his shoulder, working out kinks from having it handled and levered, his head tilted back so it rests against the building. By the time Tilly comes outside, he's sitting on the ground and just beginning to investigate the bloodied patch on his leg.

When the door opens at the Marshall appears, the boy's attention jerks toward it. He's almost cringing, hands coming up to show he's not armed. He makes some small attempt to crab sideways with just the aid of his feet and put a little distance between himself and the door.

"Hey, simmer down cupcake" A hand going out to placate him and calm him. A few seconds later - since the coast is clear - She's sliding the gun back into it's shoulder holster. "Just making sure you weren't worm food out here. You see where they went?" They being the ones that he had jack rabbited after.

It's still a full beat before Zan's hands lower. He takes a couple of deep breaths, calming, head tipping back until it's touching the building again, eyes closed. "They went for the road on foot," he answers. "Not sure which way they turned." His hands lift, elbows braced against his knees, fingers curled and raked through his hair.

"Bah, cops'll get em" She steps away from, closer to Zan in his slump against the wall. White dress with some alcohol stains and the black and white hair mussed. "You okay kid? Don't need to put you in the pile for the ambulance?" She crouch down, heels used to steady herself. "You hit your head or anything?"

"I'm…" Not exactly fine, and it seems inappropriate to say so. His hands drop and he looks at Tilly, steady and somewhere closing in on uncertainty and anger. His eyes drop to the blood staining his jeans, the tear through the denim, the damage that he's sure should be there that he'd only begun to look at before she stepped outside. A second later, his gaze lifts to look at the woman again, a frown beginning to pull his brows together.

Tilly's face to face with him, elbows on knee's and regarding the teen, not following his gaze, just looking him in the eyes.

"Yeah. I shot you." Confession, quiet, filled with regret. "Sorry kid. But I knew what I had to do and that you wouldn't be hurting for than a second. You okay? Because, you know, you still got shot"

"You shot me," the boy repeats. "You just… You shot me." Zan's gaze drops to his leg again, fingers prodding and pulling at the stain and the hole it surrounds. "What do you mean you knew I wouldn't hurt for more than a second? You still shot me, and I'm…" But he's not hurt. And for all the lack of understanding in his voice, the tension causing his voice to crack, he doesn't raise his volume beyond conversational levels. Trying to grasp how it's possible, he looks at Tilly again, searching.

"If I tell you a secret, you think you can keep it? I can't do it again right now, kinda burned out, you know. Like a candle that the flames just-" She squishes two fingers together after licking them. "But if you can keep a secret, in a couple weeks, I'll come find you again, and i'll show you." Tilly offers, lips pressed together, hoping he'll accept.

It looks like he might run away, but Zan remains seated. And staring at Tilly. His frown deepens, mouth coming open. "You shot me and you want me to keep it secret?" His volume raises just a little. He shakes his head, looking toward the street. A humorless grin starts to touch his lips, still tainted by the furrowing of his brows. "You'd better have a damn good reason for me to not tell anyone."

"That's a hole in your pant leg there kid. I saw you poking it. You got some blood too right?" An offhand gesture with her right hand to the leg in question. "If I told you that I could heal, by taking it away from someone and doing it to someone else, how bad would you shit your pants?" She's watching him, carefully.

He looks like he wants to laugh. But the longer Zan looks at Tilly, the less he feels the urge. "You're serious," he asks, incredulous. Barely a beat passes before the boy is shaking his head, denying it. "No. No, it's not possible." Though it is, and try as he might deny it, there's evidence staring back up at him. "No. And why shouldn't I say say anything? Something like that…"

"I'd show you again, but given that Christopher Walken inside isn't dying of blood loss from his gut, means i"m shit out of luck on the healing front right now for a few weeks. Tell you what kid. You and me, we make a date, couple weeks, I'll show you what I can do. But only if you keep your mouth shut." She shrugs her shoulder, as if no, it's not so important a thing.

"Only if you keep your mouth shut. If you don't, well. Lets just say that I have ways of making you not talk"

Zan's frown deepens a touch at the threat, either unused to such or finding greater fault in that one. He looks away from her, a hardened gaze settling on the parking lot. "Fine," he states after a moment of contemplative silence. "Two weeks and you show me. I'll keep my mouth shut. You bail on me." He pauses and looks at Tilly again. "Then word will find its way out that you shot the mayor's son and somehow, mystically, fixed it."

"Ahh, don't worry. I keep m word. Really though" She offers her hand up to him, an offer to help him up even as she's shifting to standing. "I am sorry for shooting you. I didn't want the bartender's neck sliced. I'll keep my promise though" And if he doesn't, well, they have clean-up protocol for this sort of thing. Topper will be experiencing it at least. "So, tell me, who were those people. They seemed to know you"

He'll keep his word, so long as the terms are kept, no sense in pushing his luck at this point. Who knows when it'll run out, especially after a night like this one. Zan accepts the offer of help up, dusting himself off a little once he's standing. "Vida Mala," he answers, pushing his hands into his pockets. "Ran into them once, a few days ago. They'd been beating a guy and I jumped in to even the odds."

"Oof, LVM huh. Not the smartest move that you've done" Tilly concedes, looking Zan over to make sure there wasn't something she missed. "Lets get back inside kid, cops will be showing up, ambulances are almost here. Remember, mum's the word hmm? I'll give you my business card, but I know where to find you, to show you" She gestures to the back door that he'd fled out of and was their way back in.

"I'm figuring that out," Zan replies, barely refraining from rolling his eyes. He'd hoped they wouldn't have recognized him. "Too late for take-backs. Probably would've done it even if I had known who they were before." He pulls a hand out of its pocket and pulls open the door, nodding for Tilly to go first. "I won't say a thing," he agrees, looking less than enthused about seeing the cops again. At least this time he doesn't have a camera to relinquish.

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