Unity divides; division will unite.
All around the city, various people are doing things which, for once, are completely unrelated to the Carnival.
Gene Hunt is at a bar, waiting for one Vincent Sterling. Both of them could use quite a few drinks, it seems, and then Vincent's grand tour of Chicago, emphasis on where one might find the local scum.
And honestly, the thought of something to do with good, old-fashioned policing makes Gene a happy ex-copper.
The Other, for his part, already has an extensive knowledge of the city, and, after careful consideration, has made his way to the Conrad Hotel, having decided that's probably the best place for him at the moment. He won't know for certain until he stops by to take a look.
The question is just how to get down to the basement in the first place, seeing as the elevator requires a key card. He's relaxing in the lobby, watching the elevator in question. Anyone going down may just be approached by a Time Lord.
The Prophet has been spending quite a bit of time setting up a new (and more secure) base of operations. Thanks to Elashte's help, he has a building -- the Empress Theater, to be exact -- and just barely enough money to re-renovate the building to something a bit more friendly towards Riftcomers. But with Victoria dead, the days of them conjuring money out of thin air are long past. Once their current money and food run out, that's it.
...It might just be time to take a more proactive approach when it comes to fundraising.
He finds something distasteful about attempting to get money from his followers, however, especially when so many of them are needy, themselves. So he's thinking it over by the stage, resting his chin on one hand.
The Rift will provide, he's quite sure, but there's no reason not to help it along as much as he can.
Amber McKeenan is sitting on her bed at the Main Gauche, playing a sappy love song on her guitar. Not that she likes sappy love songs or anything, but she's been having these dreams, and... yeah.
This has nothing to do with a weird crush on the current mayor. Nope. Nothing at all.
The door's open, so anyone passing by might hear her, and she doesn't mind company at all.
And, finally, Charlie Walker is sitting in Grant Park, staring at a very creepy house. Every so often, he'll walk up to it and knock on the door, calling, "Doctor! Can you hear me?"
Because Charlie really needed to lose his ward to a creepy house. Oh, yes.
Gene Hunt is at a bar, waiting for one Vincent Sterling. Both of them could use quite a few drinks, it seems, and then Vincent's grand tour of Chicago, emphasis on where one might find the local scum.
And honestly, the thought of something to do with good, old-fashioned policing makes Gene a happy ex-copper.
The Other, for his part, already has an extensive knowledge of the city, and, after careful consideration, has made his way to the Conrad Hotel, having decided that's probably the best place for him at the moment. He won't know for certain until he stops by to take a look.
The question is just how to get down to the basement in the first place, seeing as the elevator requires a key card. He's relaxing in the lobby, watching the elevator in question. Anyone going down may just be approached by a Time Lord.
The Prophet has been spending quite a bit of time setting up a new (and more secure) base of operations. Thanks to Elashte's help, he has a building -- the Empress Theater, to be exact -- and just barely enough money to re-renovate the building to something a bit more friendly towards Riftcomers. But with Victoria dead, the days of them conjuring money out of thin air are long past. Once their current money and food run out, that's it.
...It might just be time to take a more proactive approach when it comes to fundraising.
He finds something distasteful about attempting to get money from his followers, however, especially when so many of them are needy, themselves. So he's thinking it over by the stage, resting his chin on one hand.
The Rift will provide, he's quite sure, but there's no reason not to help it along as much as he can.
Amber McKeenan is sitting on her bed at the Main Gauche, playing a sappy love song on her guitar. Not that she likes sappy love songs or anything, but she's been having these dreams, and... yeah.
This has nothing to do with a weird crush on the current mayor. Nope. Nothing at all.
The door's open, so anyone passing by might hear her, and she doesn't mind company at all.
And, finally, Charlie Walker is sitting in Grant Park, staring at a very creepy house. Every so often, he'll walk up to it and knock on the door, calling, "Doctor! Can you hear me?"
Because Charlie really needed to lose his ward to a creepy house. Oh, yes.