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[Gabriel's not exactly glowing, that would be weird. But there's something different about him, something that's a little brighter and hell, he feels good. more alive than he's felt since he got here, maybe even before then. Maybe he had to loose it before he realised how much his Grace meant to him
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[Gabriel pauses. Churches. Churches. He always preferred Temples, big open social places, with noise and life and a feel of ancientness about them. Their Father had once or twice even put in an appearance in them. There was more sin in Churches then you could shake a stick at.] I tend to ignore clergy. Big men who like power? They're normally as evil as they come. [And he'd dealt with one or two of them in the past, dangled them from their own weathervanes.]
Show you? [Gabriel pauses, considering and helping himself to a few Skittles from the bowl in front of him that might not have been there before. It's fair offer. Greed has already proclaimed what he is, or rather, what he isn't, and Gabriel is very keen to, as the other says, stretch his wings.] Remember, you asked.
[And with that Gabriel slips off the barstool, swallowing down the last few Skittles in his hand and concentrates. It's not hard, to pull in all his Grace, to focus it tightly inside himself, the wings flickering and fading, cutting out like the image on an old fashioned TV set once the power's been pulled. That's nothing though, not in comparison to the shift in the air, the howl that comes with it as the power in him is forced and crushed and compressed, ever second building until something has to give, the wind forcing over the stools and chairs, the glass bowl of candies falling to the floor, smashing.
It doesn't stop there though. Not with Gabriel's head tipping ever-so-slightly back, his form fading into light, into a bright white colour, humming softly and then, the light throbs. Once, twice, and then a third time, stronger and brighter, silence so loud it could burst your ear-drums, the wind non-existent, but there is no more bar, there is no more street outside, no more sky above, no ground below. There is just white. No horizon. Just white.
It doesn't seem to last long. But there isn't much way of telling. The white stretches and stretches and stretches, seemingly forever, and then, in a second, snaps, like an elastic band, and everything is back. The Devil's Nest, the stools, the other patrons, the sky outside and the city beyond the walls, all fine. As if nothing happened.
Gabriel is back at his seat, as if he never moved, helping himself to candies. The ones that aren't still on the floor, surrounded by shards of glass. Gabriel is smirking to himself, looking Greed over.]
Now you show me yours, handsome.
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[Greed's body is all still, silent on the Western front as it were. The noise, or lack there of, throbs in his ears. The veins in the side of his head pulse and twist, like larva trying to break free. That's the only movement for a bit - he's stopped breathing, only watching. He can feel that raw power and it makes him so hungry for any of his. The craving is unbearable, hurts like that blinding light of Gabriel's. It burns, but he doesn't flinch.]
[He wants to see the whole show; he wants to see everything.]
[When the light subsides and the 'Nest comes back into focus, Greed finally breathes. But he's ragged, shoulders slumped. His fingers have found the edge of the bar and his nails dig hard. Two or more split and a little bit of blood leaks out. But he ignores it. His shades try to conceal his longing, but they no longer suffice. His purple eyes, wide and hot with numerous wants, needs, desires, grow and bulge from the edges of his sunglasses. The whites of his eyes are bloodshot and dry.]
[He pulls his fingers away from the bar and they tremble.] That - oh that. [He forgets his words, lost in that desire. Oh, what he wouldn't give to have one of those on his team.] Absolutely stunning - fantastic, beautiful! [He's probably getting looks from the other customers - he's loud about what he likes and he really could give less a damn. Greed raises his hands and opens his arms wide.] THAT-! [His jaw is opened wide.] Amazing - you are amazing!
[The tremors sink low and slowly smoke away, as ash would from a snubbed cigarette. He sighs, pulls off his shades, and folds them.] I can't, not yet. Wish I could.
[Greed leans in, close enough to smell the power that left as quickly as it came.] I'm not that, no. Not so bright and blinding. [He taps his tattoo.] I'm a homunculus.
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You've complimented me a lot this evening. [And it's true, Greed has, but Gabe's still wearing a smirk, a pleased gleam in his eyes and okay, so what if he'll never get sick of it?
He stills then, because he knows how annoying it was to not have his powers. He's only jut got them back, Greed. He can fully empathise with you. And to prove it, he pushes the bowl of candies towards the other. Maybe it'll make him feel better.] I can take a rain-check.
Homunculus? [Well, that makes the angel frown] A representation of a man? [And... is that why Greed doesn't seem right? Why Gabriel's Grace reacts so negatively? It means nothing to Gabriel, of course. Handsome is still a very good word to use for the man- man-shaped thing- in front of him. And Gabriel... well, Gabriel isn't exactly man-shaped, naturally. ]
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[Greed leans back and rolls his neck around, back and forth. This whole stiff thing is really starting to become a drag.] Bingo, buddy. [His lips turns up and his eyes seem to soften.] Artificial through and through. Given life by good ol'Dad - [Sarcasm there - contempt laces lightly through his playful tone.] - and forged by a Philosopher's Stone.
[So maybe Greed's talking a little too much, but since Gabriel's been so kind to show off, he'll try to fill him in on the details. Can't show him, but he'll chat.] Not sure if you have those - it's an alchemy thing. [But stories are so damn boring when he can't show off. So he sighs dramatically and pouts - hey, gold star for effort.] Eh - like I said. I'll show ya when the time comes.
[Greed pops a couple more of those candies - not bad, not really.] So now Gabriel - what can I fix you up with? I'll give you 25% off for the display. [He tilts and plants an elbow on the bar top. He extends his hand, offering a shake.] It's a good deal. And as an added bonus, I'll answer your questions when the time comes. As long as you answer mine - if the time comes.
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[Gabriel's pressing the little colourful candies between his lips again, nodding along. He knows about Alchemy. Hell, he knew John Dee at Leuven. Of course... none of that stuff had ever worked. Not in his Universe. But Gabriel would be the first to admit that perhaps he didn't know as much as he'd always thought he had.] We have them. Well, the idea of them. Alchemy... never worked, back home. Magical and soothe-saying. It was... interesting though. The elements, the balance of Humors.
[He ducks his head slightly, looking back up again] I doubt you need me to be telling you this, but artificial or not doesn't matter one whit. It isn't about where you come from. My Dad put me together with light and power. Not much more to me than that. It's about what you do. [Even the face he wears is borrowed. Gabriel and Greed probably have more in common than someone might think]
...It's a fair offer. But you still have to make me a drink that will knock me off my angelic ass. That, or you can give me up a Zombie. I'd settle for that right now.
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[He's after bigger and better things - Skittles just don't cut it.] Ha! I've always said the same thing - doesn't matter who or what you are, it's what you can do. That's what interests me. People are quick to judge and bring their hammers down on whatever is strange. [His eyes thicken again, pupils widening then thinning out.] I want it all; everything. Every reject, every saint, every warm body. [Greed quickly turns, but he can't hide his shivers. His spine tingles and he's so thirsty he could damn well cry!] Everything has a price, a purpose, and a reason.
[He sets a glass down and wields a knife from under the bar. It's small, nothing to do any damage with.] Can't do a Zombie - don't know what it is. But I'll make you something from home - would that suffice? [He doesn't wait for a response. The knife is used to cut a thick piece of lemon off the rest of the fruit. Greed examines it with a calmed face and places it on the counter. He wipes the knife off on a cloth and sets it away.]
[Next comes the alcohol and he hungrily gathers a few bottles up: white rum, vodka, tequila, gin, blue curaçao. He pours them all out equally into the glass on the counter top, then pushes them aside. A bottle of sweet and sour proceeds them and he empties a heftier amount of it into the glass.]
[With the cocktail in hand, Greed paces to the other side of the bar. He cracks open a bottle of soda - looks like a Sprite brand - and dumps it into whatever-the-hell he's making. The drinks sparkles a brilliant blue. Ice drops in after and the lemon slice is placed neatly on the side.]
I'm going to need to borrow some of those - [Again, without asking, Greed snags four of the Skittles. He manages to grab a variety of colors, of which he places on the bar top. Behind the bar he goes, gone for a second and back in a flash. He's got a skewer, shaped like one of those old-fashioned swashbuckler swords, and he proceeds to jam the Skittles onto it. They crack, colored shells splintering, showing the sweet, nugget center. He gets all four on, though they're a little jammed.]
Not a Zombie, no. But an AMF should do you just fine - I promised a good ass knocking, didn't I? [In sinks the skewer and the rainbows leaking off the Skittles are to die for.] Bottom's up.
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AMF? You're going to have to explain that one to me. [He's pulling the drink closer though, picking up the glass with reverence and his lips quirk upwards at the rainbow of colours bubbling through the liquid. Very nice.
So he takes a swallow, small at first, the mixture of alcohol... surprisingly pleasant and there's that sweet and sour hit, the fizz of the Spite and yes, he likes this. It isn't a Zombie, but he can teach Greed that. As a substitute... well, wow.]
This I like. This I like a lot. Not sure about the ass-knocking yet though. [He grins, taking a longer swallow and very much enjoying it, eyes fixed on Greed as he swallows. There was something the man said earlier that has been tugging at Gabriel's conciousness, and now is the time to ask. He sets the glass down again, fingers still pressed against it's cool sides. The ice hasn't yet, and won't ever, start melting.]
You want... everything? Every reject, every saint, every warm body? What does that mean. I'm interested.
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[Then Gabriel drops the bomb.]
[The big bomb.]
[Greed all but stops, his movements still. Everything stops. His shoulders tense, the veins in his arms and hands quiver. His head bows with a heavy weight and he's laughing. But that jovial laugh has turned a bit ugly, sick in his throat like a fever. Greed can feel that heat rising off his neck, sticking to the leather of his vest. Sweat dots his hidden brow.]
[He gingerly reaches to his side for the scotch, which had been placed there at some point during the conversation. He lulls it down, but even that burns - and oh Heavenly Father, he has sinned. He is sin - flesh, blood, mind, soul. Souls; all mingling into one, forming him. Greed's teeth grind together and they're sharp, sharp, sharp. He doesn't even notice when he slices open the inside of his cheek. Not until the blood pats down from his lower lip to the counter top.]
[And that's all it takes.]
[Greed swallows back his blood and howls - his laughter is wild, untamed, and unmatched. He extends his arms and his fingers are like claws tearing at the air. His laughter winds down, billows like a tornado and starts soft but promises a storm.] Money, women, fame. [He rocks on his heels, turning. The blood is gone from his lip, but a stain or two remains on his impossibly-dagger-like teeth.] Sex, status - [His hands pass by his face, fanning in an elaborate display. Think peacocks showing off to a mate.] - power - [And he's eyeballing Gabriel, eyes hungry.] - I want everything - everything this world has to offer, everything every world has to offer. I want it all. [Both hands slam down on the bar.] I demand the finer things in life! I am avarice, Gabriel. I want everything - I want to see everything. I want to own, I want possessions. I want it all and I tell you what, I won't be satisfied until I have it!
[He pushes himself back and breathes - oh does that chest expand with air. His hands fall to his sides and they find the back pockets of his slacks.] And so did Father. My Father. And in the end - [He can't hold back, not now.] - he tried to kill his avarice. And it killed him. Because working under him, being his never suited me, Angel. He made me with his greed and I am it.
[Calm. The storm is settling.] Not once, but twice did he kill me. I got it right the second time.
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Oh, he's felt need and want, lust before. But nothing on the scale that seems to possess this man. It's like, but not exactly alike, the madness he's seen grip some humans, a raving frenzied sort of thing, but it is not the same. This is... This is a hell of a lot like some of his brothers and sisters, consumed with purpose and without enough Free Will to say no. All they can feel is the need with fills them, the need to do as they were made.
Thank Dad Gabriel got over that one, huh?
As Greed starts to calm, Gabriel raises his glass again, taking another swallow. It really is good stuff.]
You know... we can't always have what we want, don't you?
It's softly spoken. Gabriel is pointing out the obvious, and Greed has no doubt heard the old adage many times before, in his line of existence. And Gabriel has no intention of belittling him.]
And the second time you got it right? You killed him, Greed?
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[- Greed flushes it away. Can't think about that right now.]
I can only assume. [He rubs at his throat, fingers grazing the under palette of his chin. It is very strange to him, the feeling there - yes, his thirst for more, but also that pain. It is minor, nothing special, nothing that really bothers him to the point that he's actually feeling it, but it's there. He shrugs his shoulders and drops his hand.]
Don't get me wrong - I won't tell you a lie, not now, not ever. I rolled out the red carpet for Dad's demise, but I wasn't the one who swung the last hit. No, he made sure to kill me good and proper that time. [And there he is, talking and starting up another drink. He drops four chunks of thick ice into a shallow glass, snags the bottle of scotch, and starts pouring. The scotch is thick, as if it could be made of the sweetest cream, and it slides against the glass beautifully. At least, Greed thinks it's beautiful.]
[He sets the bottle back down once the scotch reaches the brim. And he raises it, tips it back, and begins to really have at it. His throat throbs with every large gulp and a bit of the liquor runs down his chin. He gets to the half-way mark and stops. The back side of his hand makes itself a good napkin as he swipes it under his chin, grabbing the booze there.]
I'll tell you a little secret, Gabriel - there were seven of us. Seven for each sin he wanted cast off - because he actually thought he was better than humans. They all did! Ha-! What's the phrase? To err is human. And what is Sin but a mistake? Well, that's what some people would say - me, I say that at least greed is neither good nor bad. But I'm getting off topic.
[Another swig of scotch.] They thought they were the next best thing, and Daddy dearest thought he could conquer God, conquer The Truth. But you know what happened to my brothers and sister? Want to guess?
[He leans in and his smile fans.] Because I'm going to tell you, Gabriel. I'm going to tell you that they're all dead.
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But then again, why would Greed be a cold creature? Greed would be loud and full of life, full of spirit and lust and hunger and raw need and maybe those are some of the things Gabriel can see now, can see in the way Greed drinks with a never-ending thirst, why he seems to tremble under the weight of everything he seeks.
Gabriel actually feels a little sorry for him. Can he feel anything but that hunger? Gabriel supposes he must, but he doesn't know for sure. Hells, he can't imagine what tvwould be like, his very existence ruled by just the one sin.]
I can't pretend that I know exactly how you feel. But... Well. My brothers and sisters have been fighting for thousands of years, infighting and betraying and scheming and killing each other. Dad isn't dead. I don't think He can be dead. But no one knows where the fuck He is and even if He came back it might not make any difference.
[Gabriel's downing the rest of the cocktail then and shaking his head, smile moving back over his features.] Family, huh? Frankly I'm glad I'm out here. Out here I only have I deal with Head Bitch in Charge and one half of the Winchester Duo. [Not even the better looking half but beggars can't be choosers]
Right, my turn. [He's gesturing Greed to a seat, getting himself off the stool- the cocktail may have made him a little morose but it ain't knocked him on the ass, it takes a bit more to get to an Angel, but still, it's a good try. And Gabriel wants to try his hand at cocktail making now, because hey, if he's making friends with a barman, why the Hells not?] Scotch is no fun. Trust me on this. It's the drink of old boring drunks who don't have a hope of getting laid.
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Winchester duo? [He perks at that and cants his head, showing off one of his eyes.] Are they angels too, like you? [Greed doesn't know a "winchester" if it bit him in his ass, so he'll ask the stupid question.] If you have friends, you should bring them by sometime. I'll promise them the same deal I gave you - I'll give them a percent off for a display, if they're willing. [Because it matters who comes through those doors - interesting people, people wanting to have a good time. And if they're anything like Gabriel, Greed would be happy to bend some of his rules.]
Ehhh-? [His mouth goes slightly slack-jaw in confusion.] You, make me a drink? HA! Mister Angel, you're a riot. Fine, I'll take it. Though I think your bias on scotch is a little upsetting. [The scotch settles down on the bar top and he rounds out from the back, fingers sliding across the smooth surface. No stick there - Greed doesn't like things to be too dirty.]
[He settles into a seat, but he makes a quick shift. Elbow on the bar, ass planted, he throws his legs up into a neighboring stool and sprawls out there comfortably. His fingers and palm cradle his chin.] Surprise me then - give me something.
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[He waves the suggestion that the Winchesters could be angels away. Dad in Heaven, that's pretty much the stupidest thing he's heard in a long time and it makes him grin.] Humans. They hunt... supernatural creatures. Try and stop the Apocalypse. That sort of thing. Dean would appreciate the offer of money-off booze but I doubt he'd be able to do anything but sharp-shooting or hustling pool.
Don't tempt me. [Gabriel grins, clicking himself behind the bar and glancing around at the bottles, humming softly to himself, pulling a couple towards him and grabbing a glass, and, on reflection, a second one for himself too.] Scotch has it's place. But for a man that wants it all? There are better drinks.
[And it's true. But he thinks he knows what he wants to make, pulling out a gin and Grenadine, some OJ and a lemon, cutting it in half and squeezing the juice into a shaker with the rest of the liquid, glancing up at Greed as he does so.]
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[Because Greed likes a full bar and these Winchesters - well, he's interested. A sharp-shooter and a pool hustler sound right up his alley. But he shrugs and crosses one leg over the other, bouncing his heel. His boots are incredibly pointed and they tap against the frame of the bar rhythmically.] I'm all about temptation, Gabriel. It's kind of my thing. [He loves the guy, really. Reminds him of things lost back home. Fills a spot in his core that's been burning for a long time now.]
Well, impress me, my holy friend and I will take the plunge. [It'd be better with a few gals, really. Greed hasn't had a warm woman in a bit, but he'll take the friendship over it for now.] Looks like you have a few talents on your own - you should be proud of that. If I ever need another 'tender, well - [Greed's grin is wide and spectacular. And lord, does he hold a bunch of promises within those sharp teeth.] - room and board is free and I take care of my own. The 'Nest needs a new gang.
[He leans in as Gabriel does his work and he locks eyes with the angel. He holds his gaze there.]
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Gabriel grins, screwing the shaker lid on tight and making a show of that too. He saw it in a bar in New York once, and that's enough for an Angel of the Lord to copy it.] I guess it's pretty much your area of expertise? [Although yes, he can recall Luci too, with that bright grin and bright eyes and the easy mannerisms and yes, temptation was his forte too.
The shaker is tossed into the air, turning once, twice, three times before Gabriel catches it in one hand, uncapping it and pouring out the red, almost cooper-red liquid over the crushed ice in the glasses, passing one over.] I have innumerable talents. Honestly.
[He doesn't break that gaze, taking a swallow from the glass.] It's called Gin and Sin. I thought it was appropriate.
...And it's a good offer. I'll bear it in mind. But I don't think I can accept. It's not just me. And we're pretty... settled now. She's had enough upheaval.
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[Because everyone wants something, don't they? He watches the drink pour out and that red color is to die for. Literally. Greed has a love/hate relationship with the color red - it's him, locked away under flesh and blood, muscle and bone. The Philosopher's Stone is hot and crimson; bloody, vile, and beautiful. Both times, when he finally met a right demise, it had been for that stone. Now it's his again, hidden away, waiting to explode once his clock's up. A month's time and he'll be ready to fulfill all his promises and show this new world what he's got. Shock and amaze folks - come on up and meet the not-man. He's sure to blow your top right off.]
[Greed takes the glass - he's not breaking that gaze either. Too starved for attention, really. He'll take it where he finds it.] Bottom's up, then. [And he takes a gulp and - oh god that's so good, so sweet, so tender, so bitter, and so grave. He swallows, trying desperately to fill his need for more. More, more, more. Give it to him.]
[Red sloshes down his lips, dribbles from his chin. He doesn't take a break, not until he's nearly emptied the glass. Because it's almost like himself - artificial and tantalizing. It's as if all the souls locked away are beckoning him, clawing at his skull.]
She? [OH - that earns a look! He cocks a brow, extends a grin.] Angels can have themselves a lady friend? Why, Gabriel - that's almost sinful of you. But hey! As I told you before, I won't judge you and I won't take you from your woman. But the offer still stands in case you ever change your mind. [It's disappointing he'll be losing out on a 'tender that's got enough talent in his pinkie finger to burn the whole place down. But a friend, well - he'll settle, for now. There are others that have no where to go and they'll come to the 'Nest eventually. All of their wants, needs, desires and Greed will fill the slot and only ask for a minimal down-payment of loyalty. Sometimes, he'll ask for more.]
You've got skill. [He licks away the booze with his tongue, teasing the edges of his own flesh against his teeth.] And boy, do I love something with skill. It's too bad, really. Could have used a bar keeper like you on the scene.
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