They say it's just a matter of time and place...
Jeremy Taylor has made his way to Chicago proper. He's walking through the streets in a nice suit, wings hidden beneath his jacket. He's painfully ordinary, blending into the crowds, and if he sees an angel, he won't engage them in any way. Just... Make notes. Prepare to hunt. You know, the usual.
Also wandering, rather close to Jeremy, in fact, is Schrödinger. Today, he has decided, is a day to wear skirts and glitter. As such, he's looking a bit more femme than usual, unless you notice just how flat his chest is, or the fact that he's got an Adam's apple. Most people won't, as the sheer amount of sparkly on Schro is rather dazzling.
Boots finally decomposed to the point where he had to tell her to go back to being dead. He doesn't feel bad for her in the slightest, but he was rather fond of her, so he's being Excessively Shiny as a way of distracting himself. Either he'll wind up with something cute and willing to take him home, or he'll end up in a graveyard with a shovel by the end of the night. Either way, he'll feel much better about himself afterwards.
Shepherd Book is sitting in the park just across from the Conrad, reading the Bible. This is the first time he's left his room since the incident with the fear gas, and he seems tense. He's heard there was only one casualty at the Conrad, and that was with a chair leg -- therefore, not him -- but it bothers him all the same, worse because he doesn't know who he hurt, or if there was anyone there for him to hurt at all.
For all that he seems troubled, he wouldn't mind company, and will appear to cheer right up if anyone would like to talk.
Meanwhile, at the Main Gauche, Suzie Costello has once again left her room. She's in one of the sunrooms at the moment, browsing poetry on her laptop -- Whitman at the moment, though she'd be much happier with real books. Feel free to say hello. She won't bite, and she's forcing herself to get used to the shadows.
Eric Delaflote is also in the Gauche at the moment, sitting with his back to a tree, a glass of wine in his hand and a laptop on the grass near him, which happens to be displaying a webpage listing assorted clubs and venues in the Chicago area. He's plotting something, and the fact that it's a perfectly benign plot doesn't make it any less fun. He's also sampling the emotions of people nearby (his entire reason for being out in the garden, in fact) and smiling faintly.
Also wandering, rather close to Jeremy, in fact, is Schrödinger. Today, he has decided, is a day to wear skirts and glitter. As such, he's looking a bit more femme than usual, unless you notice just how flat his chest is, or the fact that he's got an Adam's apple. Most people won't, as the sheer amount of sparkly on Schro is rather dazzling.
Boots finally decomposed to the point where he had to tell her to go back to being dead. He doesn't feel bad for her in the slightest, but he was rather fond of her, so he's being Excessively Shiny as a way of distracting himself. Either he'll wind up with something cute and willing to take him home, or he'll end up in a graveyard with a shovel by the end of the night. Either way, he'll feel much better about himself afterwards.
Shepherd Book is sitting in the park just across from the Conrad, reading the Bible. This is the first time he's left his room since the incident with the fear gas, and he seems tense. He's heard there was only one casualty at the Conrad, and that was with a chair leg -- therefore, not him -- but it bothers him all the same, worse because he doesn't know who he hurt, or if there was anyone there for him to hurt at all.
For all that he seems troubled, he wouldn't mind company, and will appear to cheer right up if anyone would like to talk.
Meanwhile, at the Main Gauche, Suzie Costello has once again left her room. She's in one of the sunrooms at the moment, browsing poetry on her laptop -- Whitman at the moment, though she'd be much happier with real books. Feel free to say hello. She won't bite, and she's forcing herself to get used to the shadows.
Eric Delaflote is also in the Gauche at the moment, sitting with his back to a tree, a glass of wine in his hand and a laptop on the grass near him, which happens to be displaying a webpage listing assorted clubs and venues in the Chicago area. He's plotting something, and the fact that it's a perfectly benign plot doesn't make it any less fun. He's also sampling the emotions of people nearby (his entire reason for being out in the garden, in fact) and smiling faintly.