Lionel did get what he wanted.

Having only gotten an earful from Sofia upon his return and a warning of his own, he was assigned back to work, as the station now knew about another refinery in the demon district, thanks to Rædnael agreeing to disclose its vicinity to them, as an anonymous tip, to avoid being targeted again.

But that truly was the last of the halfling's involvement with the Las Flores police department, as Sofia made a request to not have him actively monitored, for his own peace of mind, to allow him get ahead without the looming judgment of law hanging like a guillotine over his neck.

And Lionel really never saw him since. Not around the café, not in patrols, not even among the exiles working around Las Flores, day or night. In the month that has passed since that day at the Rosso Plaza, it was as though Rædnael had never existed, and Lionel might've even allowed himself to believe it, if it wasn't for the rest of his fellow officers ramping up the teasing all over again, not letting their keen eyed coworker - who raved about being able to spot disguised demons anytime and anywhere - forget how he got fooled by a halfling, of all things.

"Missing some chin scratches from your buddy, Private Mittens?"

Lionel grumbled and batted away the hand scratching at his shoulder as he was gearing up for a patrol, not even paying any mind to who it was. "Give it a rest, damn it..."

"Come on, we gotta know what turns that sixth sense of yours off so we can know to avoid it on those crucial mission moments," the other officer laughed, moving his hand to ruffle Lionel's hair before being batted away again.

"Right now you're really close to pushing a different button," Lionel murmured, putting his helmet on after slicking his hair back again.

"Better speak up, little lion, they didn't hear you in the back," their driver walked past him, patting his back, "come on, your bark used to be a lot worse. Or your growl, was it?"

Lionel gritted his teeth, fastening his vest. "Keep that up and I'll show you how good my bite still is..."

"Don't you mean 'how sharp your claws are'?" The driver teased again as they got up and into the patrol car, laughing as Lionel grumbled and hit him over the back of the head, shifting his helmet forward, which he quickly adjusted while getting to his seat.

Lionel climbed to the back, deciding to not give them anything else to bounce off from, doing his best to keep his mind on the mission, ignoring any other feline-related comments and noises tossed in his direction.

But the more he tried to ignore them, the more his mind wondered. He scratched his arm as he looked out the window, wondering if there would ever be a refinery raid where he'd see Rædnael in.

Not like he missed the little doe-eyed traitor.

But he turned tail so fast, that Lionel wondered if maybe he did leave Las Flores, or if he took advantage of Sofia trusting him to go underground and helping all those Tar refineries. That would also explain why he'd just disappear off the streets entirely.

Feeling his thoughts wandering farther in that direction, Lionel frowned and shook his head, rubbing his temple. Why would he even care? He felt like he wanted to rub Sofia's face in it, after she told him off for letting his emotions and bias get the better of him, getting unnecessary reinforcement involved and causing civilian panic.

But wasn't it better to keep the public on its toes when there's a demon going around in disguise? But then, he's only half demon, not nearly enough to alert the public. What if others like him start getting ideas and sneak around in disguises—

Startled back by something dangling in front of his face, Lionel found himself immediately batting at it out of instinct, earning laughs and mock cat noises from the rest of the officers in the car.

"Look sharp, Whiskers, we're here."

"Private Young, I keep telling you - you cannot double up on Shrapnel without proper rest prior," Sofia sighed, treading back and forth in her office as Lionel was seated at the other side of her desk, looking a little pale and mostly disgruntled, having recently recovered from his latest mission...as in, having recently regained consciousness. "And it wasn't called for, in the first place."

"We took down the refinery, didn't we?" Lionel grumbled, leg bouncing.

"Technically, you mostly took it down," Sofia sighed, stopping and looking at Lionel, seeing as he wanted to protest, "these missions aren't supposed to be a one-man operation, Lionel. You got lucky that you didn't collapse in the middle of it, and that your lab results are clear."

Lionel rolled his jaw as he locked eyes with Sofia, but soon dropped his gaze to his knees.

"I take it that this means you understand," she said, sitting down in her chair in front of Lionel. "You've been acting...rather reckless, since what happened at the Rosso Plaza. You're even more eager than usual to engage with taking down exiles."

"You say it like it's a bad thing..."

"The way you're going on about it, it might be," Sofia rubbed her temple, leaning her elbows on her desk, "it's okay to be upset about what happened, but it's been a month. Is this really about what happened with R—?"

"No!" Lionel snapped, reeling back once realizing he raised his voice and was almost rising from his seat, allowing himself to slump back. "It has nothing to do with him, it has to do with those other exiles still making Tar."

Holding back from rolling her eyes by squeezing her eyes shut for a few seconds. "Even if that's the case, your Shrapnel use has increased to the point that our health supervisors are showing concerns for signs of addiction," she handed Lionel a stapled report for him to look over, "they advised to either take you off field work, or give you some paid time off until you cool off and clean up."

Lionel gritted his teeth as he read over the file, fighting an urge to crumple it up in front of her. "It's not an addiction problem," he scoffed, putting the papers back on her desk.

"What is it, then?" Sofia asked, leaning forward over her desk with a concerned look.

Going quiet again, Lionel scrunched his nose, as if not knowing whether it's better to be falsely accused of having a potentially addictive personality or admit to the real reason behind his actions. "How much time off would I have?"

"The Health Department recommended a week, without a renewed mental evaluation," she answered, looking at the crinkled papers, "and after that, we'll see if you've cooled down enough to return to the field."

"You realize that forcing me to go and take some time off is what started all this, right?" Lionel crossed his arms, trying to save face.

Sofia calmly smiled back at him. "And what is it on your previous time off that has affected your performance this much now, hmm?"

Lionel groaned, uncrossing his arms and getting up, taking the documents from the table, muttering as he left.

"See you in a week, Sergeant..."

Finding it hard to really calm down and busy himself in his free time, Lionel tried taking into working out, but with either getting bored fast or just going sore trying to push himself, he ended up trying to pick up more domestic hobbies. He found reading to pass the time well enough and cooking being something productive, both not requiring him to put the time into learning a new craft.

Still feeling a need to stay active and getting antsy staying inside, Lionel would go out on walks around the city, sticking mostly to the human district instead of the mixed one, knowing he wouldn't have to be on the lookout.

But...on a lookout for what?

More often than not, even while trying to engage in his supposedly calming pastime activities, that something was always on his mind.

Whenever he even thought about going outside, there was a gripping sensation in his chest of running into something. Someone.

Not because he was afraid, even without his gear he could outrun most exiles and could still call local units to his location if something happens. He wasn't afraid to go outside, then...why did he stick to wandering around where exiles and their kind couldn't come to?

As the sixth day of his mandatory time off rolled around and these conflicting thoughts kept floating up, he decided to go on yet another walk outside. Being increasingly distracted even from just walking around, Lionel's legs took him by force of habit to the plaza, warmly lit by lamp posts and string lights hanging between shops.

But even in what should've been a calming scene, Lionel felt a twist in his gut as he looked around, especially when his eyes landed on some happy couples enjoying their date night. Reigning himself and looking away to not appear like some bitter jerk glaring at happy people, he turned around and hurried to leave the plaza, pulling his jacket around himself, even though it was hardly cold outside, even as he moved away from the more crowded area.

He huffed to himself, unable to get rid of this feeling and hating it. This feeling of betrayal. Of hurt. Of loss. He scratched his arm again, remembering Rædnael brushing his tail around it the last time he saw him. What was that for? Why did it bother him so much even after washing and scraping his arm? Was it a spell? An allergy?

And why was he still being nice after everything?!

Why, even after all the disguises were off, did he insist on acting like he was some righteous saint? How did some lowly halfling make him look like a bad guy in this whole mess?!

Trying not to grumble to himself out loud, to not have potential passersby think he's mental, before he needs to be evaluated again, Lionel found himself stewing even more in the same thoughts he tried to escape by taking this walk. He stopped under a street light by a bus stop, looking around to figure out where he was. As he was trying to figure out how to get home the fastest from where he was, he picked up on a panicked cry from one of the alleys nearby, sounding like someone's been crying for help, being in dire peril.

Alarmed into his protective instincts, Lionel took his phone out to dial the station and hurried to the alley without second thought and with no protection other than a taser gun. He ran through the alley trying to contact an available unit, but right before the call went through something swooped from above and smacked the phone out of his hand, and before he could tell what's happening something else lurched from the dumpsters behind him, tackling Lionel and pushing him farther into the poorly lit corridor.

Head spinning from hitting the ground, Lionel just barely managed to roll to the side as the thing that took his phone swiped at him, managing to claw at his arm instead of his chest, and was forced to turn immediately to the other side as something slammed right where his head was.

In a very brief moment of clarity, Lionel managed to piece out there were three exiles around him, only seeing the demonic reflective eyes staring down at him and teeth glistening in the far street lights and the moon above, before feeling pain rippling through his face as he was bluntly struck from the side, almost too dazed to pull his arms up right at the last second as he was struck again, unfortunately leaving his sides exposed. Not having any protective clothes, every hit sent a surge of blinding pain through his system, leaving him on the brink of passing out, hardly aware of what accusations the exiles were violently hissing at him.

On the very verge of blacking out, feeling like they were going for the kill, for a moment he thought they managed their goal because the hits suddenly came to a stop. Hearing his heart beating in his ears, he barely heard the sound of spray going off and bottles breaking, feeling the chemical sting of cleaning supplies at the back of his throat as the exiles around him hissed.

Unable to move, he heard someone shuffling next to him, unable to see who or what it was, before he was blinded by a strong red light shining beneath them. Fully expecting to be burned by hell fire, Lionel squeezed his eyes shut, anticipating scorching heat, but instead felt himself falling through freezing air in the dark, briefly seeing another red flash before being thrown back into the darkness.

And then it was quiet. Too quiet.

He couldn't see anything.

But something shifted closer to him, breathing heavily.

He wanted to fight the pain and defend himself, but everything hurt too bad.

Would he even see the light again if he surrendered now?

Even with his eyes wide open, the darkness was so overwhelming that he didn't even know when it crept into his vision as his body gave in.

The last thing he was aware of was a soft, painfully familiar voice, as faded as his consciousness became.

"...Lionel?"