sunburnt breastplates, dying laughter, bruises, rumors of fresh reserves, memories of high treason
{{Wobbledy-dated? IT HAPPENED SOMETIME.}}
J is not terribly happy as he's escorted to the Kashtta Tower, and most of his attention is focused on keeping his hackles down. Despite the fact that he threw himself to the mercy of the archangels of his own volition, being here - rehabilitative custody, as if it's not a joke in implication - everything ( Read more... )
J is not terribly happy as he's escorted to the Kashtta Tower, and most of his attention is focused on keeping his hackles down. Despite the fact that he threw himself to the mercy of the archangels of his own volition, being here - rehabilitative custody, as if it's not a joke in implication - everything ( Read more... )
She's coming down the stairs less than a minute after the archangels and the prisoner arrive, doing her best to look something other than exhausted and like she wants to cry. She can't quite bring herself to manage a smile, and probably wouldn't want to anyway.
It seems like every time there are archangels in her lobby, they're here to kill her, or take bodies off her hands, or just further complicate her life... She'd really like to change that one of these days. She reaches up to tap her headset as she hits the bottom of the stairs, murmuring softly, "Sam, they're here."
She focuses on the archangel with the clipboard, though she knows perfectly well Vincent's the one in charge here. "So that's it, then? Just... sign the form and he's ours?" Their problem, their prisoner, and isn't that right where they started with all of this?
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This is delivered with a sidelong look at Vincent, though she stops her tone from being sharp enough to signal insubordination. Anyway, she was the one who didn't want to join the South American front. Now she gets to deal with it.
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She signs her name, and, as she hands the clipboard back, can't help glancing up, past the woman to Jack. The prisoner. Whatever name he's going by now, and she's going to have to make him tell her soon, because this mental tapdancing to find the right thing to call him is getting exhausting in and of itself.
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She glances to Vincent, then tilts her head to the door. Know you have business, but are we dismissed?
Behind her, J is... still at parade neutrality. Neutrality is safe, and it's not his place to run anything. He would try to make this as painless as possible, he's just... not entirely sure how to do that. Minimizing pain was not where most of his training went.
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The last thing he wants is to make anyone more uncomfortable with the situation. There's already plenty of that going around without adding to it.
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The archangel seems like she's eager to wash her hands of this, and given previous experience... Gwen's not going to ask a restless archangel to stay in her Tower any longer than necessary.
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He gestures vaguely, figuring Gwen knows an empty room close enough to talk in and casts one last suspicious look at J, like he's wondering if everything is going to go to hell the minute he turns his back.
He's not entirely wrong in that assumption.
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She glances back at Jack momentarily, and then pulls open the door to the office, holding it for Vincent. As soon as he's inside, she steps after him, and closes the door behind them.
"I wanted to thank you for... taking care of this, as much as you have. It... You didn't have to, and I appreciate it."
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"It needed to be done," he says out loud to confirm as much. He casts a look at the door and cringes. "Look, if it's gonna make your team uncomfortable havin' him set loose in here, we got other places." Places as far away from Chicago as possible. "I know what the judge ruled, but she don't have to live with the guy."
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She looks up finally, and forces a smile. "I think we'll manage. I understand the concern, and I can't say I don't share it, but... if anyone is equipped to deal with him, I think it's us." Which is not the most comforting thought, but she'll try not to dwell on it.
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He rubs the back of his head. "Guess we won't take up any more of your time. Figure between him and havin' more archangels in your place, your whole team's gotta be wound pretty tightly. We'll get out of your hair now."
He turns towards the door, prepared to head out and wash his hands of this place. Truth be told he's not too keen on spending too much time in the place a bunch of his kids got massacred, whether they brought it on themselves or not.
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This may be something which calls for a moment of shock and then running full-tilt in the direction of the gunblast, but even if Vincent and Gwen do choose that option, they won't make it quite there before the younger of the two archangels skids into their hall and pulls himself up into an almost comically-hasty salute.
"Uh... someone shot our prisoner. Sir. And I think some local angel is trying to kill him. Iswearweneversawitcoming.""
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She's not so concerned about the prisoner - he's dead, he'll be back up, the damage has already been done. She would, however, like to keep any further homicide from going on in her building.
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"...Ain't that one of yours?" Vincent asks Gwen, regarding the first one, suddenly forgetting his need to knock heads together. The second one... Doesn't sound like anyone he knows. That, however, is not the point. The point is that is pretty much insane.
Vincent is starting to get the feeling that he is going to have to get so very drunk tonight.
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"Excuse me," she says, not exactly managing calm, and steps past the archangel to run back to the lobby. She really can't leave things alone for five minutes in this building, can she?
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