Chapter 25. Taking a breather.

Although paradoxical at first consideration, thorough documentation of the ailments that the mind struggles to put into words is a big part of psychotherapy. Fascinating.

Turn left, jump the red light, dash through the confused crowd…

Have to leave. Before they get the chance to turn me in.

Though Blake's mind was in utter chaos, its cooperation was not required for her to sprint at breakneck speed, deftly navigating through Vale's streets with great swiftness. Measured, rhythmic, entirely mindless motions propelled her body without any input from her end as her consciousness unraveled. Though a woman of many talents, running was one thing that Blake could say, without any exaggeration, she was great at. It would make sense, too. After all, she'd been plying this craft for her entire life.

Cut through an alleyway, hop over a stray hobo plastered dead in the middle of the narrow backend, take the ladder up…

Have to leave. Before they try to follow me.

The world is a harsh and cruel place. It perches itself atop our shoulders and crushes us beneath its insurmountable weight, or, at the very least, tries its absolute damndest, day after day. Some bear this weight with their head raised high and brazen determination in their eyes as the inner fire of their convictions and/or ambitions fills them with both the strength to openly challenge this world and win… and with a yearning, the insatiable need to do so every day, taking on ever greater conquests until they're finally sated… or lie crushed among the others. Some seek out company, a kinship to divvy up the burden of existence, while others drudge through life in solitude. Whether or not it is by choice varies on a case-by-case basis.

Some enter this world with certain… expectations, whether of the world itself or of themselves. Perhaps a strong moral code, or some great desire to fulfill. The world does oh so enjoy crushing those in particular. As life goes on, the realization eventually sinks in that both principles and ambitions are a very costly thing to maintain, in every sense of the word, and that this mortal coil is, and has always been, a zero sum plane of existence, where the supply is limited and the demand keeps piling up. And so, as the pressure grows and the biological imperative starts to take hold, they are eventually forced into concessions, mayhaps growing disillusioned with some of their convictions, or giving up on certain prospects of life they could have ventured, inching ever to the edge of the putrescent void of the nihili as those concessions slowly erode their very nature.

Of course, for the most part, the overwhelming bulk of humans manage to get through their daily grind just fine, as evidenced by our civilization's very existence, even if said grind is, in itself, just one of this world's many ways to kill the soul. Still, most do find a certain way to remind themselves that they are, indeed, still a live human being, not some automaton of flesh and sinew. Perhaps a hearty sip of good wine on a weekend evening, or maybe a day out in the woods every now and then, or some other kind of activity. Anything beyond what is necessary to simply sustain the shell housing our consciousness.

Unfortunately, those same things can often serve as a means of desperate escapism, a desert full of sand to stick your head into to hide from the unpleasant reality of things should something impact one's livelihood this severely. And the longer said head remains in the sand, the more painful it becomes to return to the real world, and the greater the urge to once again insulate oneself from its cruelty. Thus, what was once a means to get a leg up on reality, a crutch of sorts, if you wish, becomes a shackle, locking one's life in a vicious cycle of obsessions and addictions. Alcohol, drugs, excessive indulgence in pleasures of the flesh, even: all simply the easiest methods to flip the bird to the waking world, and their widespread nature a troubling symptom of just how many people have lost control of their lives. Blake was no exception, even though her needle of choice was an unusual one, to be certain: running away once her problems have amassed into a big enough pile to become insurmountable to her, though one would be hard-pressed to imagine that, at any point in her life, this had actually been a boon to her.

Storm across the roof, clear the gap separating it from the next, sprint across its slanted surface, continue running…

Have to leave. Before they get back to the academy.

This would not be the first time Blake hightailed her way out of conflict, true. Experience showed, however, that unlike most activities, repetition never made it any easier. As much as it tore her heart apart to abandon the comforts of her family nest and to leave without ever saying goodbye in pursuit of a cause she thought just; as horrified as she was to witness firsthand how desperation and struggle slowly but surely perverted both said cause and the people fighting alongside her… this hurt just as much. Though pitifully short in comparison, these six months she spent at the academy felt… different. In retrospect, of course, it was foolish of her to delude herself with hopes that she'd be able to avoid the inevitable conflict with Weiss about their respective heritages, considering how both of them have shown to be prone to confrontation once it had been brought up.

Yet despite the truth quietly gnawing at her whensoever she had the chance to ponder that, despite Darius' numerous forewarnings, at some point she truly bought into the fragile illusion that this could, indeed, be her chance to scrap the past six years of her life and begin anew. And now that it came crumbling down with the same ease as any construct built on lies, the same awful heartache Blake felt when she had abandoned her last two lives came bearing down on her multiplied threefold. At some point, she realized her legs were no longer carrying her across Vale's skyline, but instead she was curled up on some nameless roof in the city's midst, arms wrapped around her knees, weeping her heart out and peering with unseeing eyes at Beacon's towering cliffside, shuddering to look, yet at the same time unable to avert her eyes from the image of home she just lost; one that would haunt her every day from now on lest she left Vale entirely.

Have to leave. Before I have to look them in the eyes again.

A dull thump reached her ears as steel crashed against concrete, followed by a quiet whirring of Dust-powered hydraulics revving down. But after that, silence. A short one, at least, followed by the sound of slow, almost tentative footsteps heading towards her left. When push came to shove, Darius was capable of sneaking his way even past Blake's superhuman hearing, yet this was clearly not his intention this time around as he eventually strode up to Blake and sat down a couple steps to the left of her, also taking in the sight of the academy.

As pathetic as her situation might have been, Blake decided she could at least save a small shred of her own dignity by not debasing herself like this in front of him, pulling herself together in one sharp motion, even if said motion was gritting her teeth to the point of biting clear through her lower lip. And though she didn't mind the pain, as it only hastened her recovery by bringing much needed sharpness to her senses, her body betrayed her still, her chest heaving in a ragged, uneven motions. Without uttering a single word, or otherwise betraying his emotions through body language, the Silva reached inside his cape, soon reaching out to Blake clutching a sizeable thermos he lugged around on any field mission. In the silence interrupted only by her own ragged gasps, she accepted the thermos, greedily sating her newfound thirst with the ice-cold water within. As she handed it back to Darius, Blake found herself unable to look him in the eyes.

You can't argue with him. You know he's right.

Get him to leave.

"Did you follow me to say you told me?" her eyes affixed firmly to the floor, Blake swiped her finger across the lip as she quietly muttered the first thing that came to mind. Though still bloody, the lip had already healed. "'Cause you did. And you were right. "

A short pause preceded Darius' answer.

Still, it was long enough to make Blake quickly regret her choice of words.

"Does that sound like something I'd do, Blake?"

Without saying anything, she just shook her head, lest her mouth got ahead of her brain again.

There was no anger in Darius' voice, no snark or judgement. In fact, there was hardly any inflection to it, and frankly, Blake was greatful for that. She didn't want his scorn, deserved as it may have been, and she certainly didn't want his pity. His quiet sobriety, however, was appreciated. In a situation where words failed them both, silence was the best compassion she could have asked for, and he seemed to understand that. It was… comforting.

"You know..." as seconds ticked away, her eyes once again were drawn to the distant monolith that was Beacon's landmass, prompting the suffocating pain in her chest to flare up with renewed vigor. And as she felt tears once again flow down her cheek, so too began words. "I wondered sometimes why you came out in front of the entire academy. Why just… let everyone know you're a Silva."

Because he doesn't run from the truth. Unlike you.

Blake blinked and wiped the moisture off her irritated, raw eyes, slightly wincing. "I think I get it now. You did it 'cause you knew it'd be much easier to exceed everyone's expectations if they were at floor level. That building yourself up from the bottom like that would leave no sensitive areas where you'd slip up and lose footing like I did." A sob escaped her throat as she took another breath. "Suppose I can't fault you. Certainly worked out better than my method."

With a deep sigh, she turned to face Darius, who, it would appear, had been watching her intently for some time now, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes flooded with worry, along with an emotion one scarcely saw in him: confusion. Without breaking eye contact, he slightly tilted his head and slowly spoke:

"That… is a good point, Blake. But that's not why I went with my real name."

"Then why?"

"I can tell you later if you like," he shook his head. "Blake… I feel like we're currently on very different pages. I'm going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer it as fully and as honestly as you can. Alright?"

As she felt her own eyebrow slowly rise in perplexity, Blake shrugged, drawing another deep breath and nodding:

"Sure."

"What are you thinking right now?"

They won't accept you.

Leave.

Blake blinked.

Again.

And again, for good measure.

"I…" she stammered. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I'm confused, Blake," Darius pressed on, once again handing Blake his thermos in the meantime. "I can't understand the reason for such a… severe reaction. I understand being angry at Weiss; I understand being hurt and feeling down. But this isn't what I'm seeing. You're straight-up unraveling, Blake, and all I see is desperation and fear, and that worries me immensely. So please, help me understand. You're acting l..."

Interrupting himself mid-sentence, the Silva went silent for a couple of seconds, accompanying the new thought with a quiet 'oh'. Faced once again with the bleak reality of her situation, there was little Blake could do but curl up into herself even more, now realizing she was trembling like a leaf for some time now.

They have no reason to believe anything you say from now on.

You have no credible arguments to warrant staying.

Leave.

"Blake!"

Torn out of her stupor by a rather forceful shaking motion, Blake felt her head being lifted in an upright position by a pair of hands cupping her temples, and as her eyes opened, Darius' face came into her distorted vision, locking her eyes in place with his commanding glare and letting go of her head, instead gripping her shoulders. And although his voice remained even without skipping so much as a breath, his physique betrayed him completely. Even now, Blake could see the Atlesian's features grow sharper by the second, nevermind the fact that the pallor of his face could rival that of Weiss' skirt.

Of course, all the same changes could easily be observed with even greater clarity in his widened eyes. For the briefest of moments, panic and fear flashed through Darius' undulated pupils, before being mercilessly crushed by his unrelenting will, giving way to an overwhelming, domineering presence, firmly pinning Blake in one spot.

"I want to help you, Blake." He spoke slowly and clearly, making sure she internalized every word. "But I need you to work with me. Alright?"

He cannot help you.

"Pl… Please…" She begged, shuddering in his iron grip, but otherwise completely powerless to even move a finger. And although her throat was sore and her mind in too much discord to even formulate a simple sentence, she couldn't help but feel her mind slowly come together, piece by piece, under the subjugating influence of the entity that was Darius' consciousness, an irresistible aura of order and strength radiating from deep within his eyes and permeating into the outer world. "Please… H-help me. I can't… can't… have to…"

"Inhale on five, Blake," he said, referring to a common way of evening out one's breath by strictly measuring it. "Like Goodwitch taught us. Together. A-and..."

As Darius' nostrils dilated, taking in the first breath, Blake realized that her own diaphragm expanded as well, soon breathing out in sync with Darius. And though unpleasant at first, as her body had no choice but to adapt to the changing intake of oxygen, breath by breath she felt the pain release its clutches around her heart and her shaking slowly fade.

Inhale for five seconds.

Hold.

Exhale for five seconds.

Repeat.

And just like her body, the mind soon had no choice but to follow suit as the shock and the guttural horror slowly but surely eroded under the Silva's piercing gaze, replaced by a sense of relief, elation even, as the feeling of control over her own mind and body set in once again.

"I'll let you go now. Alright?"

"...Yeah."

With one last exhale, Darius gently let go of Blake's shoulders, withdrawing himself and shutting his eyes, breaking eye contact. Though disorienting at first, it took her much less time to get her bearings than she expected. She covered her face with her palm, letting her strained eyes rest after not blinking for three minutes straight. And though she couldn't help but feel a sting of fear that the panic may overtake her once again, it too faded.

But the dull, gnawing feeling remained, reminding her still of the situation she was in. Along with a sickening, exhausting sensation of shame. Not just for losing her mind like this, but doing so in front of a teammate, not to mention only coming to her senses thanks to said teammate. Unbeknownst to Blake, her right hand reached out to touch her shoulder, where Darius gripped her like a steel vise. The fact that she wasn't certain how to feel about it was disconcerting.

Get a grip.

With a deep sigh, Blake raised her eyes to see Darius, who sat cross legged barely a step away from her, studying her features with deep concern etched clearly on his face. Yet as his eyes met hers for a fraction of a second, she couldn't help but break eye contact, averting her gaze in shame.

"How do you feel?"

She sighed again.

"...Sick," she answered after a brief consideration, wearily rubbing her temples. "I'm… I'm sorry you had to see me like this. I j..."

"Don't even mention it," Darius cut her off decisively. "We all can use a little lift at some point in our lives. That's what friends are for."

Friend…

Dad would be so mad.

"Thanks..." Her gaze unfocused, Blake slowly shook her head. "I just… Don't know what came over me. I just couldn't think of anything other than running. Felt awful. Still does. Like I was some… some animal, just running for mylife. Fucking pathetic."

Darius maintained his silence, staring attentively at Blake. She arched her brow at him in response, throwing in a mocking glance for good measure. The fact that her snark seemed to be returning to her felt reassuring.

"No deep comments? No hidden insight on that?"

She couldn't help but notice this came out a lot more bitter than she anticipated.

Darius' own left brow shot up in response.

"Do you want any?"

Of course you have.

"Might as well."

"This isn't going to be pleasant."

"Nothing about this day has been. Spill it."

"True enough," he nodded. "I think it's a lifetime of unfortunate decisions coming back at you."

Blake squinted.

"Explain."

"I'm not going to make assumptions on how you perceive yourself, but you're not the most combative type, Blake," he began, already sending Blake's eyebrows skyward in confusion. "You can escalate a conflict, sure, but once you realize that it's shifted - or is about to shift - into the stage of inevitable confrontation, you immediately begin searching for an outing instead of seeking resolution or defusal. It shows in how you both talk and act. Especially act."

He raised his finger for further accentuation.

"In fact, even if I didn't interact with you on the daily, just the things you told me about your past the other day are prime and, the way I see it, defining examples of this behavior. See, for instance, your falling out with your parents. You said you and your father mulled it over, but clearly not in a way that both of you could comfortably live with. Similar situations kept cropping up, overall tension was rising, slowly but surely, until you realized that it had to either be your family or the White Fang."

Blake's eyes narrowed further.

"While we both know what that choice was, the important part is how you went about it. There hadn't been a resolution to that tension: you didn't confront your family with your decision, nothing of the sort. You just packed up and ran, and never spoke to them since."

"Yes, but..."

"Blake, please let me finish," in a fashion starkly contradicting Silva's normally curt and polite demeanor, Darius interrupted Blake nary two words in, firmly raising his hand in his demand for silence. Pressing her lips together, Blake complied. For now.

"Moving on. Your disillusionment with the White Fang likely developed along similar tracks. Your first kill was probably in a life-threatening situation. Correct?"

Blake grit her teeth, rustling up the unpleasant memories.

"Not exactly. Not for me, anyways. My partner, on the other hand… got himself in an uncomfortable position trying to cover me. It was either him or the guard."

"Hm. Close enough. Clearly, however, you remained conflicted about this. Tensions slowly escalated, your kill count grew in numbers while the reasons grew in triviality. At some point, you realized you either had to come to terms… or leave. So..." locking his palms together and gesturing towards Blake with both thumbs, Darius himself squinted. "Tell me exactly how you left them."

With her eyes closed shut, Blake tiredly rubbed her face with her palms as memory after memory, the events of that fateful day came flooding back in, as fresh as if they happened yesterday. In fact, she could all but feel the gentle breeze of the wind in Forever Fall on her face, the smell of frayed circuitry and boiling hydraulic fluid invading her nostrils, the ringing of bullets and the grinding of steel upon steel overwhelming all four of her ears… and the overbearing guilt and shame as she struggled and failed to look her partner in the eyes, his shock and confusion haunting her until the moment his train car disappeared from sight. The same shock her parents must have felt when they realised that she wasn't coming home.

And the same guilt that was currently stopping her from even looking at Darius.

"Do I have to?.." she whispered.

For the first time in their conversation, Blake could sense her friend's resolve waver. The insurmountable, monolithic barrier of will that accompanied his every action until this point compromised by the cracks of spreading hesitation; it was as evident to her intuition as the sound of his teeth grinding against each other was to her ears. Yet even that only lasted for two short seconds at best, and after a deep breath, all hesitation perished.

"I can see that it hurts you just to think about it, Blake," he spoke, even slower than his normal pace, and though he was clearly more deliberate than ever in his choice of words, somehow it did not detract at all from how sincere they felt. "And… I'm sorry for making you remember. But I want you to know that I'm not judging you. In fact, I understand completely why you chose not to fight against your family or your kin. But you too have to understand that both of those choices changed your life significantly, and that the way you made those choices still impacts your behavior. It's textbook conditioning, Blake, and believe me: animals aren't the only ones susceptible to that. I wantto help you. But every therapy begins with clearly outlining a problem."

Therapy, eh?

Suppose I could use a shrink after today.

"I know that today hasn't been pleasant, but I promise that it gets easier. So please, tell me how it happened."

A strange sensation of warmth spread across her right palm. As her eyes darted down towards it, Blake saw Darius' hand cover hers with a strange, yet not unfamiliar gentleness. Intercepting her eyes, the boy slightly tilted his head to the right, all the while raising his left eyebrow in silent inquiry, tentatively backing off.

I guess Weiss was right.

Perceptive bitch.

Before Darius got too far, however, Blake herself reached out, this time taking hold of him. If she were to be completely honest with herself, she would find the contact… calming. Entirely different in nature to the mental straightjacket that his eyes put her through, almost forcing her mind to get itself back together, the gentle warmth and the faint pulsation of blood reaching her fingertips felt reassuring. Relaxing, even.

Looking Darius straight in the eyes, Blake took a deep breath and nodded.

"We had a… a forward base of sorts, deep in Forever Fall. We relocated there after we got word that in about a week a large transfer shipment would go to Vale's SDC filial via the nearby rail. Raw Dust, supplies, security mechs… Lots of things that we wanted, and just as many things we didn't want SDC to have. At least I thought so. Two people were on that raid: me, obviously… and my partner. The same one whom I had saved by… well, by killing." She slightly shuddered. "Entering itself went off without a hitch: we boarded the train, fought fifty or so mechs, the usual. 130s, if memory serves right. You know... the ones that came either with paired blades or dual miniguns."

Darius nodded.

"So we opened one of the crates to check the intel. One train car chock-full of unrefined Dust, just as we were told. Then A…" she stuttered. "Then he pulled out the explosive charges. On a train filled with a civilian crew. I don't even know where he got them from, I thought we were just gonna break the couplings and leave them with nothing!"

She could feel her heartbeat quicken with every word as she went on with the play-by-play, soon finding her breathing labored and her heart thumping against her ribcage in a most unpleasant fashion. Unbeknownst to her, her own hand only tightened its grip on Darius' palm, mere moments from breaking skin. Completely ignoring that fact, he only nodded, prompting Blake to continue further.

"Go on."

"...Right," she breathed out, taking a second to recollect herself. "Killing guards and cops was bad enough. At least they had weapons and were trying to kill us back. But now he wanted me to derail a train full of civilians. I... honestly had no idea what to do. I wanted to make a big deal out of it, but I also didn't want to put the mission at risk. Fortunately..." she couldn't contain a nervous snicker as she uttered that word. "Some kind of… spider-droid showed up and we had to run for our lives. It kicked us around for a bit, we tried to dent it with our swords, it didn't work, my partner told me to buy him some time until he got into the right position… and that's where I saw my chance. I did as he asked, so while he was busy finishing it off, I… I ran to the other car and broke the coupling. He got done about the time the two started to part."

Blake's voice grew quiet. Just five minutes ago she probably wouldn't be able to stop herself from tears, so painful were the memories. But right now she was far too tired for that.

"He just stood there on the edge and watched. And I… I couldn't even look him in the eyes. I could barely say 'goodbye'."

"Did you feel guilty?"

"Yes. Horribly. I felt like I'd betrayed everything and everyone all at once. The cause, all the sacrifices we'd made for each other by that point..." she drew in another breath. "All the lives I've taken by then… but it had to stop somewhere. I was fine with being a wanted criminal. Came to terms with that years ago."

Blake felt her voice betraying her as it started to quiver.

"But not a terrorist. I've never killed civilians, I swear!"

"I believe you," Darius nodded. She felt his hand squeeze hers ever so slightly in reassurance… and something warm slowly trickle down her wrist. Cursory inspection thereof revealed that something was, in fact, blood slowly seeping out of four small crescent-shaped marks on Darius' palm left by her nails, as evidenced by the red staining their edges. Completely unfazed by his own injuries, Darius pressed his lips together in brief contemplation, before reaching for his cape and wiping off the excess blood with the inside as his wounds already began pulling together, shrouded in black mist. After a brief glimpse at Blake, currently wracking her mind on where to get anything resembling a tissue, he promptly extended the same offer, that is to say the cape. Out of ideas herself, Blake reluctantly accepted it.

"S-sorry..."

"Don't worry, it'll come off in the wash. Don't stop."

Not really what I meant.

"There isn't really much left to say. He… clearly stopped caring about that some time ago. I don't think I could tell you when exactly that happened… but it did. My friend was gone. And so was my last reason to stick with the White Fang. It felt awful to make that choice at the time... but in retrospect, I really didn't have any other one. I rode the train all the way to Vale and laid low, and once I got my head back together I started thinking what I was supposed to do next. Then I saw that..."

She pointed to the side and up, towards the cliffside where Beacon academy stood, as proud as ever. "Probably… no, not from this roof. The angle was definitely different. A-a-and now I'm here. Sharing my worst memories with..."

Noticing her abrupt pause and fully aware of what usually followed after this, Darius' left eyebrow slowly rose, while his lips, for the first time in their conversation, distorted into a faint shadow of a half-smile, expecting the obvious followup.

Blake, on the other hand, just shook her head, slightly smiling in return.

"You know what… No. Not even gonna go there this time. Thank you, Darius. I had no idea how much I needed this."

"I'm glad to hear this."

"Raises the question, though… What am I going to do with Weiss?"

"I take it you're not intending to leave anymore?"

She sighed.

"I don't want to. I really don't." She paused. "But I don't know how I'm supposed to sort things out with the girls. Weiss hates me. Ruby and Yang won't trust a word out of my mouth anymore. I… I just don't know what to do. I don't think a 'sorry' will cut it for this one."

Darius shook his head.

"I think you're assuming too much. Weiss had a lot of pent-up anger and pain caused by the White Fang that she, like any Atlesian, repressed until she snapped at you. Once she comes back to her senses, she'll realize that your ears don't make you a different person you were yesterday and that, perhaps, there is a reason you left White Fang. Maybe even the very same reason she gave you so much shit for."

"Those are some assumptions."

"Are you calling me a bad judge of character?"

Blake bit her lower lip. Got me there.

"No... But I do wonder where this kind of judgement comes from."

"Books, mostly. You'd be surprised how much material you can find about people if you look for the right things in the right places."

"Okay, but why, though? Why psychology, of all things?"

Darius smirked. It reeked of cynicism and falsehood.

"Couple of reasons," he said. "In a nation of people where self-repression is a cultural staple, psychotherapy -and analysis is one of the most lucrative areas one could venture. It pays big dividends to have this kind of knowledge, and since I'm clearly able, I'd be a fool not to."

"Never thought you lusted for gold, of all things," feeling a smirk crawl across her own face, Blake challenged. "I can't help but think less of you."

"Have to keep a backup plan in case the Hunter business doesn't work out. It's just smart."

"Fair enough. And the real reason?"

Before she could even blink, any trace of a smirk was wiped off Darius' face.

"During our time together, you may or may not have found out at some point that I'm rather fond of biology, or, as the name suggests, the study of living. That would include humans, all of whom consist of body, mind, and soul. If I were to neglect any of the three, it would leave my knowledge incomplete and skew my judgement..."

Looking Blake straight in the eyes, the Silva shook his head:

"And that's just not how I do things."

Something in his tone suggested to Blake that, despite what they were talking about mere minutes ago, perhaps seeking confrontation on this exact subject wasn't the best idea.

She sighed.

"Suppose. What about Ruby and Yang then?"

"What about them? Ruby, if you remember, is enough of an idealist to have let a Silva on the team. With infinitely less prior knowledge of me than she's had with you so far. Yang, meanwhile, has a vested interest in keeping you around, so I wouldn't worry too much about her."

"That being?.." As Blake's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, the sudden flash of realization had her pressing her lips together in poorly contained embarrassment. "Oh. Right."

"Glad you still have some of your wits about you."

"And… you really think it'll be fine?" she asked, her voice suddenly hesitant and her fingers nervously fidgeting in a balled-up fist.

"I think they all understand that no one chooses the life of a Hunter if they want things to stay as they were."

His expression somber and his voice without a trace of irony or snark in it, Darius slowly stood up and extended his hand to Blake, inviting her to follow suit.

"And I believe they're all willing to give you the chance to make the changes you wanted... even if it may take a bit for the realization to sink in for some. It'll be a little rough around the edges at first, but I promise: no matter what, I'm with you."

With a brief glance at Darius and an even briefer consideration, Blake accepted the gesture and firmly grasped the extended appendage before hopping up, locking eyes with the boy for a brief second. Though she struggled to find words, or, frankly, even vague thoughts that would describe what she glimpsed deep within them, something about that felt… right.

But for now, she let go.

"So… now what?" she inquired.

Darius sighed.

"Well… as I said, it'll probably take the girls a bit to drive the point home to Weiss and, more importantly, for her to come to grips with herself. Probably the rest of the day. It would be wise to… not agitate her with our presence during that. And that goes for me, too: she's probably fuming at my treason.

"And how are we supposed to do that?"

A spark flashed deep inside Darius' narrowed eyes, soon growing into a full-blown flame full of promises of malicious intent and wacky hijinks.

"How about a night on the town?" he asked as his features were split ear-to-ear by a sinister grin. "I keep hearing that Vale only gets more beautiful at night, but so far I was really not seeing it. Maybe some company will change my perspective."

"Are you..."Caught completely off-guard by the nigh instant shift of attitude, Blake couldn't help but feel her cheeks slowly growing hotter as the implications became more and more apparent. "Are you straight-up asking me out? Is that what this has been all about?"

"I'm proposing a way for the both of us to get out of Weiss' sight until morning," not fazed in any way, shape or form, Darius simply stepped closer to the roof, throwing a sweeping glance across the skyline, before looking back at Blake. "A proposition you should be extremely excited about, as my planned activities for the night may or may not involve getting some answers as to why the White Fang keeps robbing those Dust shops. Is that something you're interested in?"

Returning the look with dime-sized eyes, Blake could only shake her head in utter disbelief.

"This has got to be among the worst ways to ask someone out on a date… I'm in."

Freakin' unbelievable.