We spend all day getting sober, just hiding from daylight, watching tv.

[hey_capn_jack]

Owen Harper believes, perhaps erroneously, that there is an insufficient quantity of alcohol in the Kashtta Tower. To that end he's grumping his way around the city in a coat - Cardiff never got this cold, or rather, it did, but not as often, and that doesn't mean he liked it - looking for a liquor store, as opposed to just a store that also sells

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[sinsofskin]

Leona is kinda glancing up whenever people pass her by, because... hey. Contact. That contact should be getting here sooner or later, and she'd quite like to know, when she does.

She was not expecting a Barnam to walk by. Especially not a Barnam she's had a few little run-ins with and would like to finish killing, thank you.

And this is an Organization bookshop! ...not that there's any way to tell the Org-run stuff from the stuff that isn't Org-run, but what are the odds? Especially as Mr. Archangel seems like he'd really rather eat a book than read it.

Quickly, she does the calculation in her head of how likely Organizaton Internal Police are to be hanging about. She saw someone perusing the mystery section who she thinks is one of Arlin's assassins - she might be able to pull backup if things get ugly, but she can't count on it. And, go figure, Adonis is a few blocks away taking care of some other business of hers, and probably not going to hurry back because she said this little meetup might take a while.

So, she should probably not just jump him, no matter how much she wants to.

...it's hard, being a Rakshasa.

She sets the book aside, standing up and smoothing out her clothing - a nicely tailored pantsuit, at the moment, in black and cream. Then she makes her approach, not closing in too far.

"You know, Mr. Barnam," she says, "some ladies might take offense to their fellows ignoring them on a chance encounter. Don't I get a hello?"

[francis_barnam]

"Well, I didn't want to bother you," Francis says stiffly. He's also really not in the mood for a fight, so avoiding Leona had seemed like a good idea at the time. "You looked rather focused."

Giving Leona a strained smile, he places the book (a civil war history book) on the counter, turning to face her. And after a rather dramatic sigh, he finally adds, "Hello."

This really isn't the time to run into a Rak. Not while he's having a mild identity crisis. He's not going to attack her. So hopefully, she won't attack him. Of course, she does seem to have better control than him, so hopefully things will remain civil.

What the hell is he thinking, remaining civil with a demon? This is bullshit. She deserves to die on the floor, drowning in her own blood.

But beyond the few times she'd provoked him into attacking her, what was she really guilty of? She didn't need to be guilty of anything. But... still.

[sinsofskin]

"Wanderers," Leona says. "I like understanding where they've come from. Not something I imagine you'd be interested in." Given how spectacularly pro-Wanderer he wasn't, the first time they met. "I find them fascinating, myself."

...also fascinating is that tone he's taken with her. There's... a distinct and rather concerning lack of venom there.

"Chicago and its treaty are still treating you well, I hope?"

[francis_barnam]

The grimace masquerading as a smile on Francis' face looks chiseled into his face. "They're a fact of nature," he says, shrugging awkwardly. "Obviously their existence alone causes some problems, but that doesn't discredit them as people. But no, I'm not too interested, personally."

Francis isn't even sure what that means, but it sounded reasonable enough to him. Reasonable is what he's going after anyway.

"Well, it's been treating me well enough," Francis lies, and oh, that pain shows on his face. "I'm surviving."

Part of him wants to know if she's really interested, or if she's making smalltalk to make him squirm, making up the details as she goes along.

[sinsofskin]

Oh, she is interested. It's always nice to take a personal interest in the people you've been trying this long to kill, even if her campaign against Francis is more attacks of opportunity than anything. And Francis looks like someone Glaysa'd the fuck out of him - except that Glaysa manipulation doesn't usually manifest like... this. So...

What?

She can't quite keep her eyes from narrowing. He's a Barnam. She's a Rakshasa. They should be at each others' throats right now, or at least itching for it. He should be dancing a fucking fandango trying to keep himself under control, and she kinda takes it personally when people don't have to where she's concerned.

"You don't have much practice lying, do you?" she asks, stepping over to sit on the arm of a chair... a little bit nearer him. "Oh, I've known an angel or two who could lie their own wings off if they put their mind to it. Your granddaddy still keeping you here?" She snorts. "And no war yet. Sooner or later we're just going to naturalize you, you know. Or drive you stark raving mad."

[francis_barnam]

"Don't really find a lot of need to lie," Francis admits, edging a bit further away from her. Reflex often out powers resolve, and he's not attacking anyone until he gets this all sorted out. Well, maybe killing her will fix everything. No. Killing her isn't going to fix anything.

He hasn't killed in weeks. He doesn't need to. He can survive without it.

"And... no, not really. I've been asked to go home."

Francis knows he should go home. This place has poisoned him. It's making him think things that are unthinkable, for lack of a better word. But he also knows going home will kill Katja.

[sinsofskin]

Eyebrows up. Why is the Barnam retreating? That makes as much sense as a dog meowing.

"Well," she says. "Right out of our little den of hotbloods and coldbloods living in peace, to a place where the question never arises. I suppose that'd be a little more comfortable for a man of your breeding."

Still. Who recalls their ground troops before they invade? It's not as though he needs to run back in order to report; this is the age of teleconferencing, and she's sure the Barnams aren't quite medieval enough to eschew technology altogether.

[francis_barnam]

"I'm considering the offer," Francis says, nodding. As if anything Grandfather said was an offer. Family gave orders, not offers. If he stays, he knows things will get ugly. He knows that they know he's gotten unstable, for lack of a better word. He's not sure how they found out about Katja, but they did.

And so he needs to go home. But that would kill Katja. It's a Catch-22. He can let this city slowly drive him insane for the one person he's ever loved or he can kill her. And well, he definitely can't kill Katja. And he's already insane or else he wouldn't be in this situation.

"But there are complications."

[sinsofskin]

The fact that they're having a conversation that isn't about who's going to be lucky enough to rip out which of the other's vital organs has not become any less strange.

Leona likes strange. Sometimes. ...when she thinks she might be able to work it out and manipulate it to her advantage. She's... on the fence about whether or not that'll be happening here, but so long as he's volunteering (however grudgingly) information, she'd be a fool not to work it out of him.

"There always are," she says. "Life doesn't go to anyone's plan, does it? Least, not any life worth living. If it did, they might as well make robots of the lot of us; the effect would be the same."

Come on, Barnam. Tell your nice Rakshasa archnemesis what's going on. She wants to talk about your feeeeeeeeeelings.

[francis_barnam]

"Yeah, but it should at least be somewhat predictable, or there'd be no reason to get out of bed in the morning," Francis grumps. Of course, he knows that he should have seen this coming a long time ago. The signs had been obvious. But somehow, he'd overlooked them all. Love really is a stupid, stupid, pointless emotion, and he'd like to be rid of it. That would make his life a lot more understandable.

"However, I ought to get going anyway. I doubt you really want to hear my problems. Have a good day, miss."

And he needs to buy this book anyway. But he isn't turning away. Not just yet.

[sinsofskin]

"I'd love to hear your problems," Leona says. "And not just because I'm curious as to what didn't crawl up your ass and die today. Hard as it might be for you to understand, I really am... interested in people."

She stands up, taking a couple of slow steps toward him. She's not entirely convinced she won't trigger him into a fight, and she'd like to be able to control that if it does happen. As much as a demon ever does control a fight with a Barnam.

"I don't suppose you'd be up for coffee?" This is a ridiculous question. He's a Barnam. Her blood runs black. Their callings are to kill each other. ...still. Curiosity kills the cat and makes Leona Sandric take odd risks from time to time. At least she's not trying to abduct him by force. "We could sit at different tables and everything."

[francis_barnam]

Francis stares at Leona blankly for about six point three seconds. He's barely noticed that she's moved closer until she's finished talking. She's asking him if he wants coffee? He's pretty sure that's what she just said.

"Coffee?" he asks, just to make sure. And then he takes another step back. He's very tired of nothing making sense, and Leona's just thrown it up to an entirely different level. Raks do not ask archangels how they're feeling. They do not invite them out for coffee. "Did you just ask me out for coffee?"

He's doing a very good job of keeping his impulses under control right now. As much as he'd like to rip her throat out right here and now, he's sure that will only make the situation worse. And it looks like she's not going to just let him walk away. Which is ironic, considering that would probably be the best end to this he can see.

"Fine, coffee," he says. "But you're buying."

Like a cup or two of coffee would make a dent in either of their respective wallets. Still, it's symbolic.

[sinsofskin]

This is why you don't base your preconceptions on racial stereotypes, Francis. You meet actual people and it all gets thrown to hell.

"There's a coffee shop just around the back," she says, hiking her thumb at it. "I'll let you get your book, and we can head over."

And with that she turns and heads for the door. She's not quite walking over just yet - she is going to watch him follow her, just to make sure he's not going to up and run away - but she doesn't need to crowd him now that she's got him at least kinda agreeable.

[francis_barnam]

He wasn't planning on meeting actual people. Unless meeting actual people involves cutting them to bits. It's kind of like meeting them. It's certainly getting to know them intimately.

Still, he can't help but mostly roll his eyes at her as he goes up to the counter to buy his book. He tucks the receipt inside of the book before turning to go meet Leona at the coffee shop. And she's not quite over there yet. Since when had his guard dropped so low? She could have attacked him in the time that he bought this.

He could be dead. No, his reflexes couldn't be that broken. He couldn't be that broken. Dear lord, he really does need to go home. But-- Katja-- Perhaps this is proof enough that he shouldn't be having coffee with Leona. He can't afford to get too close to anyone in this town. There has to be something in the water. He couldn't have honestly felt, feel that way about Katja.

"This is a horrible idea," he points out to Leona as he makes his way into the coffee shop.

[sinsofskin]

But note please that you are not dead, Francis. In fact, Leona has made up her mind to be a lady for this, insofar as she really knows how. (She has a feeling the traditional sort of being a lady does involve such arcane social dancing as "not killing the damn angel" and "not starting a scene".)

"I enjoy horrible ideas," she says, flagging down a barista to come to their table and take an order, because when your business is subsidized by terrifying people and one of them wants a sit-down restaurant experience, you fucking obey. Leona slides into a chair and smiles at the girl who walks over. "They tend to turn out a lot better than you'd expect. What would you recommend, honey?"

The girl glances nervously from Leona to Francis. "The gingerbread latte is very good..."

"One of those, and whatever he's having," Leona says.

[francis_barnam]

Francis sits across the table from Leona, not able to get the loathing out of his look. As much as he is having a seriously difficult time with this whole, 'Demons are People Too' bullshit, it doesn't change his physiology. His Calling is still very much intact, even if he's working so hard at suppressing it. But as the girl suggests a gingerbread latte, the look of loathing is transferred over to her. He has very, very serious questions about why a coffee shop would even have a drink that is a gingerbread-flavored latte. Don't get him wrong; he understands drinking lattes, even if they're not his cup of tea. But who seriously thought it was a good idea to make milkshakes and put tons of whipped cream on coffee? Who thought, "Oh, gingerbread is delicious. Espresso is delicious. LET'S PUT THEM TOGETHER."?

However, Francis knows that the inanity of her job is not a good reason to be hating on her. So as soon as he tells her that he'd like a large coffee, he transfers the loathing right back to Leona. She's tried to kill him. He has every right to be hating on her. Just... he's not sure he should rip her to pieces like he wants. So badly. "So, then how are you expecting this unexpected coffee moment to go?"