Ivy didn't know what told her to go to you. Maybe the panic. The desperation for safety. Or maybe, deep down, she knew that despite everything she had done to you, despite you knowing exactly who she really was, you would still help her. It was who you were. You would help Drizella.

Her heart thundered in her chest as she near enough flew through the streets, away from the parking lot of Belfrey Tower. She was always looking back, always anxious, always paranoid that someone may get her while she was out in the open. Exposed in more ways than one. Both in her environment, and emotionally; right then, she was just a scared young woman desperately seeking help.

Ivy slipped into your bar, the place filled with people. Usually that would be an annoyance to her, but not right now. Right now a crowd was a sanctuary. Her frayed nerves began to sew themselves back together, gradually. And then she saw you, meeting your eyes as she approached the bar.

The irritation on your face was visible; she wasn't sure you even tried to hide it. But right now, Ivy just needed to take her chances. She leaned against the bar, her perfectly manicured nails tapping the counter as you neared.

"Uh.. Yeah, we've got a strict 'no whiskey for witches policy."

You snarked, glancing down at the bottle you were holding. Usually Ivy would bristle at your taunts, but she was fuelled purely by desperation and panic. She leaned in closer as you turned to walk away.

"It's about the killer. He came for me."

She said in a hushed voice, causing you to pause. The Witch Killer had gone for Ivy?