It's in Your Blood [Lukas/Victoria]

THE CITY OF LIGHTS
The dimly lit room had the pleasure to call itself Lukas' bathroom, one lightbulb sitting amongst four other empty sockets. His gaze met only by his own, as fingers traced from the right of his neck down.

A dull throb, more mental than physical. No phantom limb bullshit, at least. Lukas' shoulder bare, a mottled mound of stitched flesh, an organized binding of tendons and sinew. Reflective under the light, so fresh was the scar tissue. Sighing, the man bandaged the dismemberment, slinging a jacket over his back. Silver fur brushed along the trim, a a deep navy canvas stretching in between.

The streets were cold and busy, breath hanging in the air. Trails of smoke littered the early morning sky, clouds ever shifting to suffocate light. It made the training hall's warmth so much more inviting; the clinical lighting notwithstanding. The floor was well kept, no debris or damage aside from the rare scruff mark. Definitely more care and maintenance than Lukas tended to give - after all, it could always be rebuilt.

As the door closed behind him, Lukas' eyes swiveled across the room, catching on the figure of an older woman, her back turned to him. The information he was allowed to pull on personnel rarely gave him much to know, and Victoria's file was thin, practically new. But from first glance, he was unimpressed.

"Glad you showed up, Victoria." His voice raspy from lack of use, faint bags trailing under the intensity of his gaze. Lukas had made effort to contact anyone with half a record of mentorship or training since returning from Africa, asking to meet and discuss. He was new at this, after all. And, if he could find them - teachers for his own lacking areas.

"They tell me you're a teacher."