Prompt: [I wish I could tell you that everything went as planned, and no one got hurt, but that would be a lie.]
~~
"I wish I could tell you that everything went as planned, and no one got hurt - but," Finley can only grin sheepishly as a bandaged hand rubs at the (bandaged) back of his head, "that would be a lie."
The young man slumped next to him in the booth - a dark-haired fellow named Jack - didn't appear to be much better off in terms of injuries. Fresh bruises peek under his clothes and his arms are wound with a generous amount of gauze. In lieu of defending Finley against the judgemental eyes of the senior witch sitting across from them, he shovels bite after bite of pancake into his mouth with hollow eyes.
"That," said senior witch holds onto that thought, making them wait as she takes a long, loong sip of coffee, "implies that you even had a plan in the first place. Did you really, now?"
"C'mon, Adelaide." Those bright, optimistic eyes and boyish charm that drew people into Finley's orbit could only be described as maddening in the aftermath of a near-death situation. "It's magic we're dealing with here. The unknown! We prepared as much as we could - to ensure our safety and a quick escape if we needed to. And now we're here! In one piece! So -"
Ting!
goes the ostentatious clatter of a fork being set down.
"That's enough, Finley." Jack finally says.
Tiredly, at that.
Now, Finley seems truly bothered by something. "It's - what? Wait-wait-wait. This isn't what we agr- ow!"
Jack shuts Finley up with a pointy elbow in the side without a hint of remorse. Judging by the look on Finley's face, it was the shock that got to him more than anything. And yet, Jack then scoots toward his friend 'til they were pressed together shoulder-to-shoulder. The three huddle together even amid the assured privacy of a lively diner.
"So, uh..."
Jack can't fight it any longer; recoiling so severely that his muscles pull taut and lines furrow his forehead.
"...We summoned a demon last night."
Adelaide's wrinkled hands clench around the coffee cup.
--
"We followed the directions of our tome perfectly. We had to; it was the only one from a credible Occultist not stowed away in a family library or obfuscated by ciphers. It had diagrams, step-by-step instructions, legible prose, recordings of previous encounters...
Fuck, finding it was like finding our own Holy Grail.
Except...
it was written back in the 1960s."
Add the rest here Im sleepy