They suck us dry until there's nothing left...
It's not like there aren't demons outside of Chicago. Of course, there are. Why else would there be a sad lack of Archangels in the area if there weren't demons prowling every inch of the world? And not every demon is as inclined as some to want to explore the wonders of the Rift. Some have their own empires to build- some already have empires ( Read more... )
It's really a bad time to let his mind wander, especially after recently speaking with another angel of vengeance, but Ianto isn't here.
So Robin's leaning against a desk, scanning the crowd, absently, when his gaze falls on her, the not real doll. She's different. It's what initially grabs his attention. She's different and she's absolutely beautiful if not... something. There is another factor about her that he can't quite put into words. Magical, maybe, seems to be closest. Mysterious, magical... and not quite... real, that's it.
A fantasy.
And it looks as if she's alone, but still performing almost. For someone.
Robin shakes his head, rolling his eyes at himself as he heads toward her. Really. When have you ever been known to get so philosophical? You think a woman's pretty you say hello and turn on the charm. Don't try to figure out why. Honestly.
"You alright?" is what he says when he finally reaches her.
A number of other first lines had run through his mind in a flash, but that's the one that sticks, the one that seems most applicable to this situation.
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That's the answer that's on the tip of her tongue, but she can't bring herself to say it. He can probably see it in her eyes if there's anything left to see in them.
"Oh I'm fine," she lies in her cute, innocent little Cajun drawl, because she can now and it doesn't hurt at all- well, maybe a little, but she's not sure if that's leftover from the angel part of her or if she just feels bad lying to people. "A little... Lost, I guess."
In more ways than one, obviously.
"I was told to come here, but I wasn't really told what to do when I got here, so it's... A bit overwhelmin'."
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He's always expressive, but he's, also, in control of just what those expressions are. Even if they don't meet with how he's feeling.
Robin flashes her his most charming smile settles himself on to the armrest of the seat cross from her. Not really sitting on it, more like leaning.
"Why were you told to come here?" His tone is light, but he imagines that they both know how many depths exist in it. "Someone recommend the hotel to you? It is very good if I say so myself, not that I spend much time in one of the rooms, but..."
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"I hear it's a good place for... Strays," she adds, her tone a little bit softer.
That's what Luther always said. 'Brando and his strays.' Somehow he was convinced that Brando would have accepted her with open arms if she came here to plead for sanctuary, but Brando's dead and things are a bit different.
"People who have nowhere else to go," she elaborates and then, once again, adds in a whisper, "Angels."
She's still got some of her senses, you see. Not enough to tell what someone is, but enough to tell what someone isn't, and she knows he isn't human.
She doesn't rightly care if he's something that could hurt her. He's handsome and nice, and she's stopped caring about those things a long time ago.
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He studies her for another moment as though if he'd only look closely enough, he'd be able to tell just what it is about her. Of course, a good mystery is never this easy to unravel, certainly not this soon. Robin's a bit impatient, but he'll do his best to behave. Really.
She's human, and yet...
Robin flashes her a brighter smile. "You heard correctly. In fact."
It wouldn't do any good to ask her where she heard it. He knows that the hotel has become rather famous within certain circles. Clearly, she's privy to those circles if she knows about angels.
"And you've got nowhere else to go then."
It's not really a question, but it hangs there in the silence like it is.
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Especially not now when she barely speaks back home (even if it isn't much of a home- more like a prison).
She shakes her head, keeping her head down. "No, sir. Just got in this mornin'. Didn't think much on where I was goin', but I heard good things about this place."
She's so glad she isn't an angel anymore or she'd kill herself with all those lies... Then again, if she were still an angel, she wouldn't be here, doing this. For a demon of the worst kind.
"So I'm hopin' I'm not being too forward in askin' for a place to stay," she adds, finally looking back up at him.
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It's dangerous territory, but as experienced as he is in many of life's downfalls, this is one particular area he's completely naiive about. Possibly, because people usually don't intrigue him like this. He's charming to everyone, sure, flash a bright, cocky smile and take them to bed.
Robin pushes away from the chair. The smile fading just a little. His expression looks vaguely stunned, but it's hard to tell. He should be asking more questions. Most likely. But he's not going to.
"No, not at all." It's almost as if he hears the soft sound of his voice, and then is surprised enough by it, to realize he's letting himself get distracted. The charming smile is back just as quickly, forcing his gaze away from her face to look at the floor around her. "You don't... have any bags or anything?"
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The more pathetic she looked, the better off she'd be is what it really amounts to. Really, she looks someone who spent almost every last penny on a plane ticket and a makeover to make herself look presentable for someone. The song "Fancy" comes to mind. Luther always did have a thing for country music.
"Thank you so much, mister," she smiles again, standing up. She likes him, which is strange for her. Normally she's closed-off and untrusting, but he seems to be... Geuninely kind and she hasn't had much of that.
Don't get attached. And that's Luther's voice in her ear, but for the first time, she realizes he's across the country and not in her head and forgets about him for the moment.
"Um... I'm Natasha," she says, extending her hand to him. This is yet another thing she doesn't do- physical contact has meant pain in the past, but she wants to feel his hand in hers- she was always the curious sort. Just one more concept of her personality that gets her in trouble.
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He's always thought so- known at least that he was good at appearing charming, but mysteries have a way of making one rethink what he thinks he knows.
Damn that philosophy.
It's dangerous territory he's walking into, again, but at least, it's not like before. At least, she'll provide a perfectly healthy distraction from the obsession. It can't be nearly as bad to be by her side than to be discussing vengeance with someone else. Right?
"No need to thank me. It's not as if these are my facilities." But Robin's smile widens in a very self satisfied way, despite what he's just said. He glances at her hand when she extends it before he takes it gently in his own, as if he grabbed too roughly, she'd break. Robin is holding on to her hand, perhaps a bit too long, but he likes the way her hand feels in his. The curve of her fingers against his palm.
"Robin."
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"The elevators. They're.. This way, right?" She inclines her head in a certain direction, finally allowing her hand to drop. "I think I saw 'em when I came in."
And for the first time she sort of turns her back to him as if she's waiting for him to go ahead of her and lead the way- make sure she doesn't get lost. With her back facing him, however, it's rather easy to see the vertical scars on her back, obvious due to the backless nature of her dress. They're faded more than they should be, and no wings will ever burst from them again, but they're there- the last remaining symbol of what she once was.
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He has his answer. Fallen angel. Somehow it only brings more questions. Somehow it only adds to the mystery, instead of taking away from it.
"Yes, right this way." Robin walks by her and over to the elevators, trying not to walk too fast.
It's just habit from following Romana around everywhere. He slides his card into the appropriate place and tries not to stare at her. It's difficult. His gaze continues to slide back to her even when the doors finally open and he steps inside the elevator. So many questions are on the tip of his tongue, but he almost prefers unraveling it all himself.
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Even while she's staring straight ahead once she's in the elevator, she can feel his eyes drifting over to her and she tenses, because that sort of behavior tends to make her nervous- people watching her from afar, eyeing her and her not knowing what for.
She doesn't look at him when she speaks, the words tumbling out nonsencially. Sometimes she has her off-moments and other times she's perfectly sane. This is somewhere in-between. "Somethin' interesting about me? They always say that, you know. I've got a kinda glow that people like. Not no more, though, but sometimes people still act like they can still see it."
Have fun with that one, Robin.
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"I can still see it." He's looking at her when he says it, even if she's not looking at him.
And then Robin turns forward with the ding of the elevator doors as they slide open once more into the basement. He steps forward, out of the elevator and into the lobby. He nearly mentions that he's seen the scars on her back and that's why he's looking, but keeps the words in. Thankfully.
He doubts it's something she wants or needs to be reminded of. No matter how curious he might be.
"You're different. No, not the right word. Intriguing. And that's interesting." Not many people can provoke this type of reaction out of him, half sincere, half charm, a little too much of whatever lies underneath it all.
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She flushes, but doesn't look at him. How long as it been since she actually blushed? She's been empty so long, she never thought she'd ever find herself in a situation where she might be a little more than that again. Luther never let her.
She follows him out, looking around curiously for a second before looking back at him when he speaks. "Intriguing," she repeats and smiles so wide that you can see the faint glimmer of light in her eyes- it's dim, but it's there. Those old eyes aren't as hollow as she'd like people to think. "Mama always said we were nothing but common, her and I, so I'm not used to that... But thank you."
Then again, she has a feeling if she were the old her, she would be common. She knows full well what sort of aura she pulsates these days. Intrigue and mystery and things that shouldn't be possible, but somehow are.
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It's such dangerous territory. More than he can even begin to understand.
He smiles at that.
"Oh, you're far from common. Bet your mama was special, too, and just didn't realize it."
Robin walks behind the desk in the lobby to pull out one of those envelopes.
It makes orientation so much easier when he doesn't have to try and explain this place.
"I tend to find people who believe they're extraordinary end up being just a whole lot of talk, and usually, it turns out that they don't have a special bone in their body." He is referring to himself in that group. Not that it's easy to tell or that he's even really consciously aware of his own feelings.
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And maybe pigs will fly. Some people aren't meant for happiness. Natasha's one of them. Any psychic or First who might have met her as a child might have thought she was doomed from the day she was born.
"That sounds about right," she says serenely, because Mama always had a lot to say about pride and the like. "Just a bunch of proud peacocks without a pretty feather to spare."
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