Chapter Text
It isn’t an uncommon occurrence for Julian to stop by your shop, but this is the first time in a long time that he has done so at two o’clock in the morning. Through the window. With a stack of blotted papers in one trembling fist and eye bags more pronounced than you’ve ever seen them before.
“MC, you have to help me.”
“What’s going on? Do I need to help with an alibi? I can glamor you again if you need-“
“Oh no, nothing that simple. I hate to get you involved like this, but I can’t rest until I see this through.”
Now you’re starting to get a little concerned. In three long strides, Julian’s tossing the curtain to the back room aside and scattering his papers across the table with a flourish.
“I need you to help me make this,” he shakes one stray page, “a reality.”
You approach cautiously. You recognize his abominable handwriting, you had spent quite some time sorting through it when you were studying his research on the Plague. Is it coming back? Is he working on a cure for some other affliction? Is it a medical instrument he needs help building? You squint at the wrinkled pages. Is it … a script?
“Julian, what is this?”
He sighs and flops into one of the chairs, limbs sprawling haphazardly. “The community theatre needs new material. Don’t get me wrong, bashing Lucio is always fun, but it’s time we had a real story. What do you say, MC? Star in it with me? We’ll put on the best performance Vesuvia’s ever seen.”
It takes a moment for your half-asleep brain to process. The lanky, sleep-deprived doctor in front of you has written a play and wants you to perform in one of the roles. “Um … what role do you want me to play exactly?”
“So you’ll do it?” He’s clapping his hands, a maniacal grin spreading across his face as he gets up to pace. “I knew you were the right person to go to first. The rest will agree if you’re doing it.” You watch him pause in front of the backroom table, muttering as he flaps all the pages into a crumpled stack again. It becomes clear he’s lost in his own thoughts, so you try to get the rest of his speech out before he leaves.
“If I’m doing what, Julian?”
He’s in front of you in a flash, dropping a kiss to the back of your hand before he tumbles back out of your window and into the foggy street. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Prince Charming!”
There’s no point in calling after him. You know if he’s still fixated on it in the morning he’ll be back. You also know that you’ll need more sleep to handle that level of intensity, so you’re double checking the locks before heading back up to bed. Whatever mess you’re going to get into, there’s no way it’ll be as difficult as defeating the Devil.