DeathHasConsequence

	Nathaniel watched two of the drunkards be blown with a detached interest, black flames surrounding his fist as the last one had started charge at the woman who'd offered such a kindly helping hand. “Oh, you're a woman?” He said, smiling. He didn't increase the speed of  his steps and for a moment it seemed like the man would reach the woman before Nathaniel. In the blink of  an eye, however, he was between the man and the woman purple eyes shining in the sunlight. “I couldn't quite tell from there. Apologies.” He could practically smell the alcohol seeping through the man's pores.

His mother and father had tried to instill the idea of restraint into him ever since the day his power manifested. Usually, he was good about it. Usually he was a kindly person, always offering a smile and a helping hand wherever it was needed. But sometimes a button got pressed and the idea of restraint went out of the window and got lost on the wind. As it so happened, they'd managed to press a button. Had this woman not shown up he would've had lot more fun.

He supposed he'd have to make due with this.

He clenched his fist tighter and the flames swallowed the entirety of it. “Is it worth dying over?” He asked the man just as he passed into striking range. The man's eyes widened when Nathaniel ducked and he anticipated him coming up with that fire coated fist. Only he didn't. The acrid scent of urine filled the air around the man and a large wet spot started to seep through his pants. Nathaniel smiled and stood, the flames disappearing as the drunkard started bluster and babble, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. “Is it?”

“N-No!” The man cried.

Funny how the threat of death was often much more effective at curbing confrontation than actual death.

“Will you apologize to the ladies?”

The man got on his hands and knees and begged forgiveness.

“Good. Don't do shit like this. You'll meet people like me and none of them are as nice as me.” The man nodded and promised that he wouldn't do it again and Nathaniel smiled, looking over to Octavia. She smiled back and nodded. The drunkard took that chance to make his escape.

His father had always told him never to kill people unless it was truly necessary. In all the fights he'd been in over his lifetime, he'd never once taken the life of another. He'd seen people die, of course, and with that the consequences of those deaths. A single death could affect the lives of hundreds and you wouldn't even notice. He turned to the woman and gave her an uneasy smile.

Her energy made him nervous.  A person who could dole out death with a smile? Definitely not someone he would want to make an enemy of. “H-”

“Hello.” Octavia's voice immediately set his anxieties at ease and he surrendered the situation to her.

–

“My name is Octavia.” She greeted the woman with the slightest of bows and motioned to her friend. “And this is Nathaniel. I just wanted to say thank you.” She didn't need to kill them, per say, but that was of no consequence to her. They were pigs and they got what they deserved.

She was thankful that Nathaniel hadn't betrayed himself on her behalf.

She didn't intend to stay to talk with the woman for very long. Death clung to her and to Octavia that was a bad omen. What interested her, however, was the weapon the woman wielded. The scent of gunpowder clung to the air around the woman as if she were a walking powder keg. If she had to take a guess, though, she would say it had something to do with the metal tools the woman used. “I ah... who are you? And why'd you help us?”

It was almost too convenient. Her eyes narrowed imperceptibly and she tilted her head. “Sorry if that's rude, I'm just curious.”