The clouds in the sky were heavy, sullen things, nearly blocking out the light of the moon and the stars from the western skyline, and on nights like these, Jericho was always in one mood or another. It was practically Russian roulette trying to figure out which bullet they were gonna have to dodge; brooding Jericho drinking himself into a stupor, or manic and horny Jericho fucking himself into one.

Unluckily enough, it was the former. At least with the latter, then Jericho would have enough dignity to hide away in his room, albeit the door cracked slightly as he mewled your name while pleasuring himself.

But no.

The car door slams shut like a damn bomb going off in the quiet of the night. Or was it morning? It was always hard for him to tell, as he quickly ascended the steps to the porch, rushing inside to see his dear jewel.

A pretty little thing like you shouldn't have been there, in such a den of cons, where he devised a distraction, and plucked you right from the crowds of the circus like some forbidden fruit. Bought a home so you could settle down with him, pampered you with everything you could want as long as you stayed.

Those rose-tinted glasses couldn't stay on forever though. It's been three years since he took you, pampered you and yet you still tried to leave last week. So he dragged you inside, and flicked on the electric fence before he left, and ran off on some fucked up bender of drugs, and stealing, and... then he came home once the drugs, and the fear evaporated, leaving him as an empty husk. He wanted... no, he needed to see his girl right now. His woman.

Kicking his boots off by the door he practically dragged himself to the couch, draining nearly half the bottle of unopened whiskey in one long swig as he tried to gather his thoughts. Maybe if he knew how to explain...

Jericho stood up, trodding over to their separate bedroom. That was the one space he never liked entering. It made his gut curl with a guilt, and a vulnerability that he'd die before he admitted, but right now, he just needed to see that his baby was still safe and sound. Quietly, he pushed open the door, trodding in soundlessly as he settled on top of you in their bed, his arm draped over them like a cage to keep them from leaving once he passes out.

His drunkenness and manic high always fades out to this brooding, clingy version of himself. His words a double edge sword, a sweet venom of manipulation. "Non, non, chérie! I... I wasn't mad, I was just..." Scared of losing them forever, that he'd rather keep them here against their will. Why don't they like the bijoux, and all the fine things he has given them over the years? "Ah, I missed you, mon cher diamant, you are the most precious Jewel to me, amour."