The various homes, flats, and other dwellings of London are located throughout the city. You can visit a friend at his home or even have one over or enjoy an evening in with yourself. Your choice!
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by: Niklaus Schmidt
How the bloody hell did women make this look so easy and natural? All this felt was anything but natural. It was awkward. He didn't do tears or hugs often for that matter, and he didn't know if he was supposed to let go now that Matt was talking or if he was supposed to keep hugging. Maybe Matt knew better. He'd had a girlfriend more recently out of the two of them. If he was still hugging, he'd hug but just a little looser to indicate to Matt the situation was in his hands. Still, after a few moments, he found himself letting go and taking a step back. Klaus had never really been the affectionate sort. He was mindful not to create a huge gap, though. Matt needed to know he was there, but Klaus needed to not be so close as a hug for too long.

"Well, she did. Probably still does. I honestly stopped paying attention or caring. Fuck Jones," he said, glancing back toward the front of the building with a sigh. "Look, we gotta get you cleared because I can't deal with all the phone calls Tom Thumb manages to make from here on out. Because he will. Once he's not upset with me for being emotional back there."
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by: Matthew Cox
Matt stood back when Klaus let him go, wrapping his arms around himself. He glared at the roof between them as he tried to tuck the explosion of emotion back into himself. How was he supposed to wrangle all of this internal flaring while balancing the outside inferno? And then on top of that, the spiritual turmoil he was in was pulling him in so many different directions.

Tom. Klaus has seen his family today. Matt felt his heart break again and he groaned in emotional pain. They didn’t know anything about anything that had happened to him. They couldn’t know any of it. And then Klaus was saying ‘we.’ He was still with him. He was still his friend, his brother. Matt felt his spine sag and relax from the tension he let go. His life wasn’t completely gone.

”Just don’t get yourself thrown into the fire with me, okay? I’m in a safe place to recover, so that’s not an issue, but I don’t know what my next step is. Get better. Don’t die. Don’t get arrested. Don’t get c-caught...”

Panic slapped him across the face again, tripping his tongue on the idea of being enslaved again. If that happened, well, he’d probably just roll over and give up if that happened. He panted until he reined in the adrenaline spike. Hello, PTSD symptoms...
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by: Niklaus Schmidt
In a safe place to recover? What did that even mean, entail, when you were considered a domestic terrorist by MI5 and had a kill order over you thanks to that? It wasn't like he was in trouble with the police. He was in trouble with their domestic intelligence branch for actions he claimed he made while under some curse. It wasn't that Klaus didn't believe Matt in that, but it just seemed so bizarre and, though he would never admit it, scary to think some individual could hold that sort of power over any of them thanks to the mere fact that individual could use a wand and they couldn't. Honestly, he was trying to wrap his mind around that concept.

"Safe's one thing," Klaus said after a moment, "but adequate is another. What resources do you have open to you, Matt? Who's there who can help you?" Honest questions, real talk. And truthfully, Klaus hated to admit he didn't know if he could trust Matt's answers--not because he believed his friend suddenly a liar but rather because of this magical component of a spell that had once been used to control him. What was to say it wasn't to some degree still in effect? Perhaps he shouldn't think that way, but all angles had to be considered.
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by: Matthew Cox
Adequate? Matt's brow furrowed at that and he gave the idea serious consideration. It hadn't even been his ambition to have adequate shelter. Hell, if Tris hadn't come down into the sewers after him, the likelihood would be him living on the streets. Matt didn't believe that such was an option for Tristan, but it was more desirable than having all of 5 descend on the one person willing and able to show him mercy. So, for Klaus' questions, all Matt could really reply with was a shake of his head.

"A couch to sleep on, food to eat, basic hygiene needs met...but that's not...not what you meant, is it?"

trauma recovery was something that Klaus studied more than Matt had. Matt's specialties, if he wanted to be honest about it, was to cause trauma. Klaus had actually studied ways to combat it. If it weren't for the fact that Klaus would be suspect number one for him to try to go back to, Matt would be plying his friend for the help he probably needed.

Probably? Hell, definitely needed. Nightmares, rage issues, paranoia, sensory over stimulation...he was lighting up like a bingo board of anxiety and PTSD symptoms...he needed help, but how was he supposed to get that when he had a price on his head? How was he supposed to live like this? How- As the thoughts continued to spiral, Matt choked on his mounting anxieties. It felt like a vise was around his chest, blocking him from breathing in or out. Instead of a breath, he made a quacking kind of gasp, desperately gulping for air like a fish.
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