I cannot defend you, but I'll try and I'll be there.

[callinallfreaks]

All is quiet in the Kashtta lobby. You know, the way things ...probably shouldn't be, considering the Kashtta, but that's beside the point. At least it doesn't stay that way for long

Comments

[thehighestwing]

The narration is so sorry, angel, but you're getting a Phoebe.

She's in the Conrad's basement room, too! What are the odds?

It's actually pretty much a rarity these days. The Conrad reminds her of Jo, and Phoebe doesn't like thinking of Jo too often. It makes her sad and Phoebe doesn't like being sad.

It was in this very common room they decorated a Christmas tree, playing with lights and laughing.

Jo didn't laugh often.

Phoebe doesn't let herself think of this as she plops down beside the angel, propping her chin on both her hands.

"Whatcha doing?"

[godtooksides]

The angel's situational awareness is shit. It's gotten him into more than enough situations, but it's hard to concentrate on reality so much. So he's good at zoning out and half forgetting where he is.

Which is why he doesn't actually notice Phoebe until she plops down and speaks. And then he jumps, dropping the marker and giving her a deer-in-the-headlights look for a second as the cardboard hat falls off his head.

"Shit," he says, letting out a breath. He picks up the 'hat', turning it over in his hands for a second before tossing it aside.

"What's it f--look like I'm doing?" he asks. Don't mind his harshness, Phoebe, he's always this defensive. "Fucking making.." and here he waves his hands vaguely at the cardboard, "...signs."

[thehighestwing]

Phoebe will not take it personally. In truth, people's reactions to her can be harsh, if not baffling. She does get baffled expressions a lot. Sometimes she wonders why that is. Others she's surprisingly honest with herself and she knows.

She gives him a sheepish, apologetic smile at his expletive.

"Oh," Phoebe says quietly with a nod. She's bored and she doesn't want to be alone, but she's not about to tell the grumpy angel about that.

Her wings twitch nervously. "You need some help?"

[godtooksides]

The angel stares at her for awhile, trying to figure out what her angle is. What she wants out of this. It's rare that he's had someone just walking up and offering to help him; they always seem to want something from it. Even the angel at the shelter, though he can't figure out what she gets out of treating him like an actual person.

His eyes are drawn to the wing-twitch, and he looks away as though the idea of them existing pains him. He's inside, but that doesn't mean the dullness of his own powers -- especially now, considering that it's too warm in the Conrad to have his sweatshirt on and he's not going to flaunt the wingstubs if he can help it -- or the fact of other angels doesn't bother him.

"No," he says. But he doesn't pick up the marker again. "I mean--fuck, you can stay if you want, I mean, I just. My handwriting fucking sucks." As if he has to offer an explanation for why he can't just write the thing and have it over with.

He kind of wants to put the hat back on. He's not entirely sure why.

[thehighestwing]

Phoebe will merely blink while the angel stares at her, however long the staring lasts. There isn't a whole lot going around in her head. She doesn't always think. Phoebe feels. Right now she wants to help and she wants to distract herself.

It's fairly simple.

"I don't give a shiz about pretty penmanship," Phoebe says with a shrug of her shoulders. "I flunked out of high school and was always given crap about my own handwriting. And my grammar. Fuck Phonics, right?"

She places a bag of candy on her lap as she gets comfortable. Lotus position, but still giving him space!

Jo liked having space.

"Want some?" Phoebe asks, lifting the bag of gummi bears to offer him some.

She will feed you now, angel.

When in doubt, have candy.

[godtooksides]

The angel gives her a weird look, but doesn't try to push her away any more; if she wants to think he doesn't want her around because he's bad at writing, she an go ahead and think that. It doesn't really occur to him that the string of sentences he put together certainly made it sounds like that.

He grabs the marker with one sharp movement, but still doesn't write, preferring instead to twist it around his fingers. "Still have to be fucking able to read the sign," he says. His parents were Angels of Knowledge; he's still got their training in him somewhere, despite the fact that he doesn't consciously remember a lot of it. He can barely remember themNot the point. The point is, very suddenly, gummi bears

[thehighestwing]

Phoebe is not the most perceptive crayon in the box. If there is any outward sign at some point it's the angel factor that's the problem, she most likely wouldn't pick up on it.

"Well, I can tell you if it's legible enough or not?" Phoebe scoots over a bit, not any closer toward him but close enough to look at the cardboard. In her mind, she's going legible! BIG WORD.

"Signs for what?"

She pops a handful of gummi bears into her mouth, her expression growing serious when he flinches. Phoebe's never had anyone be like that around her.

She giggles a bit when he finally takes a few. Something about a very serious, very feral cat-like angel eating gummi bears.

"You're welcome!" Placing two other bags in between them--Twizzlers and Skittles--she adds, "I'm Phoebe! It's nice to meet you."

[godtooksides]

He shrugs, putting another gummi bear very carefully into his mouth and looking back over at the signs. He doesn't actually answer her question; hell if he's going to explain it when the signs are pretty clearly of the 'homeless - anything helps' variety. He supposes the homeless bit is a lie, given that he's technically got a place to stay, but not a lot of people would call the shelters home and he's certainly not capable of staying in the Conrad for very long. As he has found out the hard way. "Legible's important," is what he says instead, kind of mumbling around the bear.

And man this girl has a lot of candy. He stares at it for a moment, looking even more weirded out and no less like a wary cat, but just eats his last gummi bear instead. Like the candy's going to attack him. Honestly

[thehighestwing]

Okay, so he doesn't give her a name. It doesn't really matter when he manages a tiny smile. Phoebe might be inwardly EEEEing about that. She views it as progress. Oh yes, she does. Her smile brightens to the point it might be blinding. "Hi!"

She places one of the candy bags on her lap, tossing a gummi bear high up into the air and catching it swiftly in her mouth.

... This is how Phoebe entertains herself sometimes.

The smile grows subdued when she focuses once again on the cardboard signs. "You really don't have anywhere to go?"

[godtooksides]

He watches her flip the gummi bear into her mouth, eating another one of the ones in his hand while she does. He doesn't quite know what to do with this girl, but she seems okay. Maybe more than okay.

Especially since she's not pressing the name issue.

Of course, he winces when she asks that instead. "I don--no. Not--not really," he admits. It's easier to just say it than try and explain why. Sometimes people don't ask. Sometimes.

[thehighestwing]

Phoebe is one of those people that won't ask.

Not because she doesn't want to, but because she knows what it's like to have no place to go. She knows what it's like to have a reason for not having a home, and not wanting to share those reasons.

Besides, she got him to sort of smile and eat gummi bears. She doesn't want to interrupt all of her progress!

"Okey dokey. Not gonna press. Sometimes it's really annoying, isn't it? You don't gotta tell me nothing," she says cheerfully, grabbing a Sharpie so she can help him with the signs.

"Warning: I use glitter."

[godtooksides]

The angel nods at the question, the near-smile hovering around his features again. He doesn't like people who press, she's right, though less because it's annoying and more because it's hard to put the answers to their questions into the right words, for him. So instead of say anything, he pops the last gummi bear in his handful into his mouth.

He nearly chokes on it a second later, flailing a hand at her. "That's--no. No fucking glitter," he says when he can breathe again. The narration finds the idea hilarious, but the angel most certainly does not.

[thehighestwing]

Phoebe sighs, as if she is very put upon instead of it being the other way around. "What is it with people and their hatred for glitter?"

Pursing her lips, she looks at him. "Fine, no glitter. You don't need to curse, yanno. I'm trying to be your friend here."

She manages to sneak in a few drawings of flowers and peace signs around the cardboard. Maybe, if she keeps talking to him and distracts him enough, she can add a bit of glitter while she's at it.

[godtooksides]

"It's just--just not the fucking right message," the angel says. As if that actually explains anything. He just doesn't know what's so hard about no glitter. If she were going to use the signs, she could put all the glitter she wanted on it, but she is not.

He sighs, picking up the marker, fiddling with it, and then putting it back down to get a twizzler. "I'm not--it's--sorry," he mutters. It doesn't really register to him how much he actually swears. It's a verbal tic, not anything personal.

He's only fiddling with the twizzler when he looks over to her sign and sighs. Yes, she has very nice handwriting, but the flowers were totally unnecessary. "You could just fuc--just draw if you wanted," he says. Yes, he sometimes does catch himself, Phoebe. When attention is drawn to the tic, anyway.

[thehighestwing]

"Oh. Well, no, maybe not. You're right. I just thought... I mean, if it looks nice more people will look at it, yeah?"

She flails internally when he apologizes. She's used to being disregarded and now she feels awkward. That's not on. "It's okay! I mean, if you like the word you can say it. But. I dunno. When someone talks to me and uses that word it usually means they're mad at me."

Phoebe decides not to use the glitter after all. They're his signs after all.

"I just want you to have a place to go if you can't stay here," she says quietly, with a slight shrug and then she's back to smiling. It might be a bit sheepish but the awkward goes away quickly. It's Phoebe.

[godtooksides]

"I don't really--" he starts, then interrupts himself to take a bite of the twizzler. It was in his hand. He might as well eat it. He is hungry, after all, and candy is somewhat bite size, so it's easier to eat. "I don't really fu--think about it. Just say it. It's not just a--a word for--"

And there he goes again, ending a sentence in the middle of the thought. It happens. Much like interrupting himself with candy. That happens less often, though he's done much the same thing with cigarettes on numerous occasions. God, he could use a cigarette.

He shrugs, trying not to think about cigarettes anymore and instead giving her another tiny smile. "I can um. I can always stay at--at the um, park." He waves the marker in what he's pretty sure is the direction of Grant Park. It's getting warmer. He might start doing that anyway. Inside is never good for the long run.