Well, you know me, I never learn. So peel me off the hook.
Rusty Hunt leans against a tree in a park with his face pressed up against the bark. There's only partial awareness of his surroundings right now. He's supposed to be working. He hasn't sold shit this week. Rusty feels like shit. Sick as fuck. The trashcan sitting a foot away from him is filled with trash and his vomit. He may have seriously fucked
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Something seems entirely wrong about brooding in her presence.
He can't place why. He could try to place why, but he would rather not think about it. Robin turns toward her, half way, enough to look at her face. He does his best to completely ignore the way that she looks. Almost like she's going to... pounce on him or something. And not in the good way.
"To my credit, I came to the roof to brood." His lip quirks into a little smile as he forces the residual emotions away, again. It's surprisingly easy to do in her presence. "It doesn't tend to be filled with people. It's not like it's a major hang out or anything."
Robin turns back to the ledge and stares at the cigarrette, wondering if it's too late to salvage.
"I'm not proud of the brooding even if it makes me mysterious, and in turn, attractive to all kinds of women. In my younger days though..." Robin waves a hand as though he's distracted. "Pfft. Showed it off like it was a bloody medal or something."
Because he is so old now. In angelic terms, he's a baby. In angel of vengeance terms, however, he's... ancient.
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"Well, congratulations for growing out of that. I won't hold it against you this time, then." She reaches the edge of the roof and peers over it, down at the ground below, and then out across the city, in the opposite direction of the lake.
"I can see why you come up here. Peaceful a place as you're gonna get in Chicago..."
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Robin winces.
Why did he say that?
Why do certain people knock down all of the walls and turn him into such an idiot in under a minute?
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He glances at her, too, and then decides that he should stop glancing and stare straight ahead.
"The belief, as false as it is, does a remarkable job of keeping people from bothering me so I don't mind. It's amazing how many people don't want to talk to you when they're convinced you're out to give them cancer."
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"Anyway, smoking helps with the mysterious brooding badass image. I'd hate to ruin that for you." Yes, because Robin is so badass. In his suits.
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"Well. Thank you. I'd hate to lose that image. It's the best thing I have going for me... after looks and brilliant skills at organizing. Of course."
He stares down at the cars on the street, and then sighs, distractedly. Robin looks over at her, again, with a small smile on his face.
"So now it's time for what everyone loves. Small talk." Robin raises his eyebrows. "How're you enjoying Chicago so far?"
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Peacekeeping is all well and good, but they've got that more or less under control here. Things like the CLF, they're just people, and that's bound to make any archangel nervous. Especially with her mother's sterling example of how very easy it would be to start killing humans, and slide just a little further down, and a little more, until...
Julia likes her wings. She'd like to keep them. The smile fades.
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He notices the smile fade.
"Yeah. Honestly when it's demons causing the trouble, at least, it's more simple than Wanderers or humans- well." He frowns and returns his gaze to the street below. There are children playing in the park. Lovely. Robin loves children. This sarcastic narrating should really stop so normal narration can continue. "A... little more simple."
After all, Natasha wasn't simple.
"Anyway, a demon strangled me once so I'm not exactly their biggest advocate."
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"You know, for-" She stops suddenly, tensing, and turns away from Robin, glancing out over the city. Her wings slide out, with a soft rustle of feathers. "Did you just notice anything? Felt like..." Something she can't quite put her finger on. Not quite a wanderer, and there's no sensing demons, but...
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He has no opportunity to think about anything, because she's cutting her own sentence off and tensing. This is not a good sign. He has spent enough time around archangels to trust their instincts. He trusts them much more than he trusts his own.
"No, but I'm not exactly honed for noticing..." Robin looks out at the city and steps back. His back tenses and twitches. It's difficult to keep his own in with her tense like that, but he has to... They haven't been out in a long time. "I wouldn't know one way or the-"
The screaming from below cuts him off. He considers looking down at the street, but looks up instead. His arms drop like dead weight to his sides, and he sighs.
"Of. Course."
A wyvern descends from the heavens slowly. Have fun!
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"This would be the day I decided not to carry a submachine gun up to the roof..." she mutters. She's probably joking. Her eyes are still on the wyvern as she speaks, cataloguing threats - teeth, talons, and she's praying it doesn't breathe fire - but she remarks to Robin after a moment, "You might want to go. Somewhere safe..."
And then she's taking a few steps back, away from the edge of the roof, pulling out a gun, and levelling it at the wyvern. It's just a pistol. A pistol that can pack a hell of a punch, but a pistol nonetheless. She's going to need that thing to come closer. So she flares her wings, always sure to draw attention to herself, and shouts.
"HEY. Over here, you ugly son of a bitch!"
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"Yeah. I should... get help, or weapon, or something." There are several reasons that he never went with Romana on 'action' trips that involved fights. His refusal to learn a damn thing about fighting and his inability to function in those situations are two of those reasons.
The wyvern sees Julia as food (as food that thinks it can fight back). The wyvern sweeps in toward her screeching with its talons out.
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She doesn't flinch as it drops toward her, keeping her pistol level, aimed at the thing's eye. There's no guarantee that she could hit the heart, that she could even locate the heart on a Rift creature, but the eyes are a nice safe place to aim on almost anything. If it doesn't kill them, it should at least distract them long enough to get a killing shot in.
There's not much time to line up a shot and fire, but she does so, and then pulls her wings in close to her back and ducks to the side, dropping into a roll. There's no way she'll get out of the way before it reaches her entirely, but with her head and all vital organs mostly protected, she's hoping she'll be able to get out of it with only minor scrapes and bruises. Don't make me shoot you again...
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But he won't abandon her like he abandoned Romana... and standing here is not helpful at all.
"Oh. Bloody hell, cell phones," he mutters in a distracted, annoyed tone. He uses the door to the roof to keep him hidden as he pulls his phone out and dials with one hand. "Yeah. We've... got a situation. On the roof. No, nobody's threatening to jump at the moment. No one's having sex up here. How would that qualify as a situation? I don't care what hotel policy is that doesn't- No! Proper punishment isn't to film it. Who the hell are you? Never heard of you before. Listen. Listen. Would you shut the hell up and listen, Goddamn you? There's this dragon. Wyvern technically- what do you mean what do I want you to do about it? Get help! There's an army of bloody archangels down there, good, glorious God, you fucking dolt. I'll come down there and ring your neck personally if you don't get off your lazy arse and start acting like a-"
Dial tone.
Meanwhile, the wyrven has been blinded in one eye. It doesn't stop it from flying in low in her general direction with its feet and talons groping wildly for what caused it pain. It misses at first, but manages to turn its massive body and swing out its talons toward her.
Robin drops his phone and shouts, "Watch out!" For all the good that will do. There's not really much time.
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She tucks her wings closer to her back, even though it hurts, because keeping them stretched out is just asking to get one of them torn off. At the same time, she steps to the side, toward its blind side, and fires several shots in the general direction of its head. As long as it's this close to her...
Her gun clicks, out of bullets, and then she stumbles backwards, with a loud yelp of pain as the movement pulls on the talon marks on her back. She's fine. She's had worse. This is only going to get that bad if six bullets to the head don't put that thing down.
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