(Untitled)

[gotbottle]

Rachel Conway is back in Grant Park, squinting curiously at the statue of Abraham Lincoln. At the lap that had been her landing point, when she'd found herself here, in this Chicago-that-isn't-hers. Nothing else has really worked for her, in terms of finding out what happened, why this happens, and how to escape it--she's not quite ready for Des

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[astrongerbeacon]

"It's not going to talk." The comment comes from an angel who's been prowling the park, possibly on orders from Vince. You find one demon breaking the rules of the treaty, it's not a bad idea to keep an eye out for others, see if she happened to have any friends.

Martin saunters toward her, glancing up at the statue, and then back at the girl - wanderer, he can sense that much, though not one he recognizes. Well, it's not like he's been paying attention lately. "At least, it's not going to talk as far as I know. It's not like I spend a lot of time around it, and I'm not a Chicago native, so who knows?"

[gotbottle]

Rachel nearly jumps at the sound of his voice, so engrossed was she in staring the old President down.

"Yeah. He, like, totally didn't say anything last time, either."

Belatedly, it occurs to her this is a perfect stranger, and she'd been warned to keep a low profile, so she adds, "Uh. I mean, last time I was here. You'd think I'd learn by now, yeah?"

She favors Martin with a friendly smile. "But thanks for the warning all the same. I'm not a Chicago native, either. Where are you from?"

[astrongerbeacon]

He grins a little, trying to reassure her. He knows the wanderers are jumpy lately, and for good reason, but really, he's not threatening at all! Just a big puppydog in angel form. Who happens to kill demons every now and then.

"A... lot of places. Germany originally, but... archangels like to travel." Of course, it wasn't Germany when he was born, but that's the name they use now. "Where're you from? Anywhere even... analogous to this universe?"

It's worst for the ones who come from completely different universes, not much better for those who come from a world similar enough but centuries off... But this woman seems like she's a little more secure here, so maybe she's one of the lucky ones. For a certain value of... lucky. Martin still wouldn't trade with any of them.

[gotbottle]

"Analogous to this..." Rachel repeats, blinking. "So, you... you know."

She bites her lip, trying to hold back the rushing case of nerves she feels coming on, but it's no use. All the things the Doctor and Des told her about all the troubles people like her have here, and all she can think of is, have I been found out?

She draws in a breath, and, before she can stop herself, she's launched into a verbal torrent, fueled by anxiety and worry and just plain being scared.

"I'm from New York. Not, like, New York, like, here, though, apparently, but like, New York on the other side of the Rift. I was totally minding my own business, at home, like, all asleep and everything, and next thing I know--"

She points up at Lincoln.

"--I'm sitting in his lap. And I have, like, no idea how I got here, or what happened, or why. Why? Why me? I didn't do anything wrong. I didn't ask for this, I didn't ask to be here, and I just, like, want to go back, I want to go home, I don't belong here or, you know, have any sort of business being here

[astrongerbeacon]

Martin is... well... impressed. He's met a few angels of knowledge who could ramble that impressively, but not many, and then it was usually rattling off technobabble or interesting (to them) historical facts, and he usually tuned out before they really came to any sort of point. This is just a bit fascinating

[gotbottle]

"It's... yeah, it's... cold. Kinda. And yeah. I'm like, done. Promise. It gets better, too, you know, I won't always do that, not, like all the time, just, you know, when I'm kinda nervous. Like now. Oh, but I won't do that again. I mean, like, not right now. I'm okay. Mostly. Just fine. And also shutting up now. Seriously. Done."

She pauses for a moment, watching Martin. He'd seemed to take that rather well in stride, really; even the query as to whether or not she'd finished was polite. It figures it'd take a supernatural being to deal with one of her nervous nonstop rambles without gaping.

"Anyway. No. It's fine. Like, don't bust out your wings out here or anything, not if it'll get you in trouble. Later. I'll just take your word for it now. And I won't freak out. Much. More. I'm okay, honestly. I just..."

Rachel sighs.

"...Don't suppose you can send me back, though, huh?"

[astrongerbeacon]

Martin grins at her a little as she starts to edge into ramble territory, and then backs off pretty admirably. Good for her. He didn't mean to make her nervous and rambly in the first place, but... well, it happens sometimes. Probably especially when you're in a brand new universe.

The smile turns sympathetic at her question. "Afraid not. There are a few people - very few - who can control the Rift, but even they can't send people back. Wish I could, honestly." Some angels resent wanderers. Martin just wishes he could do more for them than hang around and try to keep them from being torn to pieces by demons or crazy mundanes or what have you.

[gotbottle]

"Yeah. I didn't think so. I guess, you know. No harm in asking."

Rachel sighs and looks back up at the statue again. "I guess... I guess I was just still holding out hope that I wasn't stuck here. Avoiding having to face up to that fact. I just..."

She falls silent, chewing the inside of her cheek, momentarily afraid she's going to do something unseemly, like, bursting into tears or something. She takes a few long moments to compose herself, and then she turns back to Martin, a faint smile turning her lips.

"Thanks all the same, though. I appreciate that you wish you could, even if you can't, actually."

She holds out a hand for a handshake. "What's your name?"

[astrongerbeacon]

Martin reaches out to shake her hand - her skin's warm to his touch, especially in the cool outside air. "Martin Raske. Archangel, like I said. I'm one of Vincent's, at the Conrad..." He hunches his shoulders a little against the cold - not as cold for angels as humans, but he swears, whenever he leaves Chicago, he's going south. "And you?"

[gotbottle]

Rachel offers Martin a warm smile to go with the handshake. His fingers feel cool against hers, but she chalks that up to the chill in the air. "Hi, Martin. It's nice to meet you. I'm Rachel Conway. When I lived in New York, I was an editor, trying to be a writer."

She draws her hand back, and then stuffs both her hands into her pockets, shifting her weight to her other foot. "I'm staying at the Conrad, too. Down in the basement. I'm still trying to figure out what to do. One of the men I met gave me the name of a person to go see to get papers and stuff, things I'll need to establish a life here. I guess I was just... putting it off."

[astrongerbeacon]

"Nice to meet you too, Rachel."

He folds his arms over his chest as she pulls back, still smiling at her. "It figures. I'd say I should probably recognize you then, but it's an improbably big basement." He doesn't even want to work out how it's bigger on the inside. One of those mysteries of life. Like the Rift itself, but less horrible.

"Yeah, that's, uh... over in Wicker Park, I think. If you want someone to take you there... I mean, in case you're worried about being out alone. I've been sort of volunteering to take wanderers around..." Because of the CLF. But we don't talk about that out loud.

[gotbottle]

"It's a totally ridiculous basement. I've gotten lost there, like, at least once a day."

Rachel's smile softens, and she glances down at the ground for a moment, before looking back up at Martin. "That's not a bad idea," she agrees, shrugging. "I still don't know my way around, and I've been a little nervous about being out alone too much, because... you know." Exactly. Let's not talk about that.

"I mean, only if it's not too much trouble, though."

[astrongerbeacon]

"Trouble? God, no." He glances around briefly, scanning the park instinctively for demons and any of the other beasties that like to lurk in the park. Nothing that he can see, so that's something, but...

"There's been a sort of treaty around here between angels and demons. Treaties make archangels pretty bored pretty fast. There are worse things I could be doing than escorting a lovely wanderer such as yourself to our local forger and okay, that sentence just got a lot stranger than I'd like a lot more quickly than I expected it to."

Really, Martin knows how to talk without sounding creepy. Honestly.

[gotbottle]

"Did it."

Rachel laughs softly, before deadpanning, "...Like I ever thought 'normal' would include, you know, standing around a park in Chicago talking to an archangel wearing a leather jacket."

She laughs again, tucking a bit of her hair behind one ear. "Don't worry, Martin. I understand. Totally. I'm glad it won't be any trouble, and I'm glad for the company."

Martin may be worried about sounding creepy, but Rachel isn't finding him so. In fact, his presence and his offer to help have done more to put her at ease since anything else that's happened while she's been here.

"Shall we?"

[astrongerbeacon]

Martin tilts his head to the side, a little bemused. "Does the leather jacket actually make a difference?" Yeah, these are the questions he thinks to ask. He shakes it off after a moment, grins at her and turns in the direction of the Conrad.

"We can borrow a car from the hotel, unless you have any objections. Archangel privileges, and... frankly, I don't fancy walking in this weather."

[gotbottle]

Rachel laughs; sure, maybe it sounds like a silly question, but--

"Okay, see, where I'm from, archangels--or, at least, you know, the ones in books and stuff, 'cause it's not like they, like, walked the streets like you are--they wore robes and chain mail and things and carried swords and had halos or auras or whatever. So. Yeah. Leather jacket. I like it. Not what I was expecting, but it suits you."

She takes a step closer, standing at Martin's side. "And I've got no objections. A car sounds fine. What other privileges do archangels enjoy here in Chicago?"