Angel: Damn, he IS well dressed.
When: Monday morning, January 11
Where: Main Street
Who: Marcus Hamilton and OPEN
What: The man needs to buy a suit NOW.
Rating: W&H for Wolfram & Hart
Jayne Cobb strode down the street - or, rather, a man who looked like Jayne Cobb strode down the street. He wore Jayne's clothes - the cleanest and least battered he could find, which wasn't saying much - but he was clean-shaven, his hair trimmed almost aggressively neat, and he walked a little too straight. Well, a little too straight for a normal person: much too straight for Jayne. All six-foot-five of him, like a man whose spine had been replaced with a steel rod.
Wolfram & Hart was in town, kiddies. Hide the innocents.
Hamilton needed a suit. He still wasn't sure what had happened to him, but he knew he couldn't go a step further without proper clothing. He'd woken up this morning - and that in itself was odd, because he'd never needed sleep. But he'd woken up in a squalid, filthy hole, in a bed covered in mismatched blankets and dirty clothes, with his body reeking of unwashed humanity.
The favored child of the Senior Partners didn't sweat. He didn't get dirty. He occasionally got dirt on him; he did, after all, work with some of the filthiest, grimiest, slimiest, most unclean demons around. It was part of the job. But this was different. This was human filth.
This was disgusting.
He'd never had to shower before, but on this morning he spent almost two hours in there, scouring every inch of his body until he finally began to feel like himself again. He shaved every single stray hair from that revolting parody of his face, and trimmed the already short hair back to its former military precision. More human things that might have been interesting to experience, if his skin weren't crawling with revulsion.
Even after he himself was clean, there was still the matter of his surroundings. Was he in holding? There was a very real possibility that this was a Hell dimension. But he'd never done anything against the Partners' interests in his long life, so what would he be doing here?
He would have to contact the Partners. In the meantime, he had to obtain a suit. Even the "cleanest" of the "clothes" in this place were ragged, faded, stained... He could barely stand to put any of them on long enough to go out and find a store, but he had no choice.
Which was how he came to be walking down Main Street in a T-shirt and cargo pants, paying no heed to the cold, looking for a high-end clothing shop. The town wasn't promising. He spotted someone passing on the sidewalk and intercepted them with a pleasant smile.
"Excuse me, I'm looking for a men's clothing store. Preferably an expensive one. As you can see, the situation is..." He didn't precisely glance down at Jayne's disreputable clothes, but he could feel them all over his skin. He made a delicate grimace. "...fairly desperate. Can you help me?"
Where: Main Street
Who: Marcus Hamilton and OPEN
What: The man needs to buy a suit NOW.
Rating: W&H for Wolfram & Hart
Jayne Cobb strode down the street - or, rather, a man who looked like Jayne Cobb strode down the street. He wore Jayne's clothes - the cleanest and least battered he could find, which wasn't saying much - but he was clean-shaven, his hair trimmed almost aggressively neat, and he walked a little too straight. Well, a little too straight for a normal person: much too straight for Jayne. All six-foot-five of him, like a man whose spine had been replaced with a steel rod.
Wolfram & Hart was in town, kiddies. Hide the innocents.
Hamilton needed a suit. He still wasn't sure what had happened to him, but he knew he couldn't go a step further without proper clothing. He'd woken up this morning - and that in itself was odd, because he'd never needed sleep. But he'd woken up in a squalid, filthy hole, in a bed covered in mismatched blankets and dirty clothes, with his body reeking of unwashed humanity.
The favored child of the Senior Partners didn't sweat. He didn't get dirty. He occasionally got dirt on him; he did, after all, work with some of the filthiest, grimiest, slimiest, most unclean demons around. It was part of the job. But this was different. This was human filth.
This was disgusting.
He'd never had to shower before, but on this morning he spent almost two hours in there, scouring every inch of his body until he finally began to feel like himself again. He shaved every single stray hair from that revolting parody of his face, and trimmed the already short hair back to its former military precision. More human things that might have been interesting to experience, if his skin weren't crawling with revulsion.
Even after he himself was clean, there was still the matter of his surroundings. Was he in holding? There was a very real possibility that this was a Hell dimension. But he'd never done anything against the Partners' interests in his long life, so what would he be doing here?
He would have to contact the Partners. In the meantime, he had to obtain a suit. Even the "cleanest" of the "clothes" in this place were ragged, faded, stained... He could barely stand to put any of them on long enough to go out and find a store, but he had no choice.
Which was how he came to be walking down Main Street in a T-shirt and cargo pants, paying no heed to the cold, looking for a high-end clothing shop. The town wasn't promising. He spotted someone passing on the sidewalk and intercepted them with a pleasant smile.
"Excuse me, I'm looking for a men's clothing store. Preferably an expensive one. As you can see, the situation is..." He didn't precisely glance down at Jayne's disreputable clothes, but he could feel them all over his skin. He made a delicate grimace. "...fairly desperate. Can you help me?"