Pass the evening, bring tomorrow (How could we know that night would bring us into daylight)
Fritz has made her way to the neighborhood around the Kashtta. She's not exactly the most pleasant-smelling person in the world at this point, which tends to divert the crowd, but she doesn't even notice. This city is a lot more interesting than what she was hoping for.
In the neighborhood around Calisto's warehouse, Aniki salvages more bits of ( Read more... )
In the neighborhood around Calisto's warehouse, Aniki salvages more bits of ( Read more... )
Of course, people kickboxing in the lobby are unexpected. He wouldn't have pegged her for a kickboxer when he spoke to her when he was human, but, well, looks are deceiving. Look at Sydney. He stops to watch for a moment and then starts to get up and head for the door, forgetting for the moment, that it's really hard to open doors when you don't have hands. That would be the downside to being furry.
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With a much gentler and more honest smile than she'd give a person on first meeting she crouches down and hold her hand out toward the glorious dog by the door, making a kissy sound as she does. "Come on, then. It's not a good idea to go out there just now, you know. Especially someone like you. They might think you're one of those shifty people."
And then it occurs to her. He might be one of them. She blushes and stands up quickly.
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He momentarily gets distracted by something lighting up to his left, but he jerks his head away from it and continues to stare at her. Are you finished making an ass of yourself?
That voice in your head is going to sound awfully familiar, Abby.
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"Are you finished being one, Fido?"
And then she recognizes it, and crosses her arms. "It's still stupid to leave without someone walking you. If they're half as smart as they seem to be and really are watching this place, they'll pick you out as a wanderer before you're five feet from the door. And I doubt they like dogs as much as I do."
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He plops down in front of the door and scratches at an itch on his neck with his hindleg without even realizing he's doing it until he's halfway through the motion and abruptly stops. Stupid doggish impulses. They're a problem.
In case it missed your notice the first time we met, I'm a highly trained operative and this CLF consists of common street thugs who wouldn't know special-ops if it bit them on the ass. I think I'm safe.
Bristow certainly isn't going to let a bunch of petty ruffians keep him from investigating and this form is much more discreet than his other form... And if all else fails, he has no problem in kicking their asses naked. It will be more undignified for them than it will be for him.
Of course, he rather not have to go that route, but it's a potential strategy.
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"Well congratulations." There's as much sarcasm in the two words as will fit. "In case it missed your notice, people with talent can still get killed when an idiot gets lucky. You go out on your own and that happens, and you're nothing but a dead dog on the street and no one here even knows you're gone until your corpse is already cleaned up."
This isn't good enough. She stops, furious, and resists the urge to punch a wall. She wants to do something. She wants to hurt something. She hasn't felt this way in a very long time.
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He gets up on his hind legs and paws at the door in a gesture that he wishes wasn't nearly as pathetic as it looks and eventually just gives up, because he's clearly not going to be able to get out of this building on his own. Stupid canine body.
He stops to watch Abby for a few more moments, eyes narrowed to unamused slits as he lays down in front of the door, head on his paws. Anyone who wants in or out is going to have to step over him. How much of this has to do with the CLF?
Where one strategy fails, another rises in its place. Not that Bristow's really good with people, social situations, or anything of that nature.
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I have a daughter, he sends by way of explanation. I think I know a coping mechanism when I see it.
Which is pretty hilarious considering he utterly fails at being able to understand his daughter's emotions, let alone anyone else's. He's gotten better at that though, thanks to being cut off from his job for a year. The problem is he can't be near Sydney without it turning awkward to prove this. Possibly it's just because Sydney utterly terrifies him sometimes.
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"Nothing. It has nothing to do with them." It's not entirely true, but the fact is her current state of mind has very little to do with the CLF at all. She stares in the direction of Silent Hall for a moment, then starts to unwind the protective bandages wrapped around her hands, first one and then the other, refitting them each in turn.
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His human voice, however, is eerily calm over the growl of the animal. You've been down there?
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She tries a few more punches and kicks, but they feel off, and she looks toward the Hall again. "Yeah. Saw someone in there, looked like he needed help."
Abby shrugs, as though it's not important. As though the whispers and the feeling of being watched hasn't occupied her thoughts nine minutes out of ten for the past week.
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You're better off avoiding it. What you see in there can't be trusted. He crosses across the lobby, head low to the ground, eyes in the direction of the hall like a stalking wolf. I've been down there myself.
Back when it first existed, but never since. He can't seem to get up the nerve to go back down there and that irks him like nothing else. It's a hallway.
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Wondering. Hoping, in some horrible way. Stop being afraid of whispers and shadows. Stop thinking maybe Stephen is alive.
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Just old ghosts and ominous presences and things that shouldn't exist. If he can't destroy it, Jack's better off just ignoring it and he'd advise anyone else to do the same. Part of his professional paranoia is just waiting for someone to venture down there and not actually come back.
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Is doggy boy close enough to stop her?
No. Good.
Abby takes a deep breath and ducks under the warning signs, into that bloody stupid Hall.
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