Why are all attractive guys who like me evil?
Sent Exley & White back to HQ. It was the end of their shift anyway, and they were getting kind of loopy. Unlike me. I'm just caffienated past all sanity. It's very quiet now at oh-dark-hundred; Anne's finally flaked out on the couch, Lorne's resting on one of the cots, and Virginia's doing some meditation to prep her for the spell in a few hours. Fred's hanging on. Just. Barely.
Sleeping would be pointless, so I'm on the phones, directiong people to other shelters or this one, getting supplies, talking a couple of panic cases down. Calls have tapered off in the last hour, thankfully.
The last few naps I had were segues in bizarre anyway. First I'm undressing Brendan Fraser (in Mummy Returns mode), and just as I'm getting to the good part, I wake up with people screaming because some nutcase is throwing fireballs in a public area. For Christ's sake, he couldn't have invited his target outside?... So we get that dealt with - mostly thanks to Anne,, whose self-defense courses are *definitely* paying off, and Virginia, her macking on flaming nutcases aside - and when the panic finally subsides, Lorne comes in with Fred, who's clinging to life by a thread. This thing never stops.
I caught a few zzz's later, and dreamt I was getting drunk with aforementioned flaming nutcase, who, in my dream, replaced the jacket he destroyed and teleported me home. Weirdest part? I have a new jacket right here. Hunh. Anne must've gotten it out of the donations box.
So I'm going down my track record: Angel, who always had that threat of Angelus lurking underneath. Never got past steamy looks and death threats, and I do *not* count the bite marks as a farewell souvenir. Jack in New York, who was really hung up on someone else anyway, no matter how long we were together. The guy who keeps sending me overly-accented heavy-breathing mash notes in my LJ, who at the very least is condescending. And wickedly charming evil guy, who gets my subconscious drunk and maybe buys me jackets, and who's probably gay or married or both as well as evil, knowing my luck.
It's enough to make me look sideways at Anne, who I could've sworn was checking me out earlier today. And wonder if she's evil. Lorne said something about her aura...
... like I'm going to take the word of the horned guy I just met, no matter how awesome his voice is. Besides. Anne and I compared vampire crush stories years ago, so I know she's both straight and has my kind of luck with men. Angel issues aside, she's no more evil than I am.
These are just the strange thoughts that wander through your head at 4am, when you can't stop the apocalypse, save your friends's lives, stop the bad guys, find the allies who are lost in the city, call for more Thai takeout, or even look forward to the sun rising.
Take no notice of them. I'm fine.
Sleeping would be pointless, so I'm on the phones, directiong people to other shelters or this one, getting supplies, talking a couple of panic cases down. Calls have tapered off in the last hour, thankfully.
The last few naps I had were segues in bizarre anyway. First I'm undressing Brendan Fraser (in Mummy Returns mode), and just as I'm getting to the good part, I wake up with people screaming because some nutcase is throwing fireballs in a public area. For Christ's sake, he couldn't have invited his target outside?... So we get that dealt with - mostly thanks to Anne,, whose self-defense courses are *definitely* paying off, and Virginia, her macking on flaming nutcases aside - and when the panic finally subsides, Lorne comes in with Fred, who's clinging to life by a thread. This thing never stops.
I caught a few zzz's later, and dreamt I was getting drunk with aforementioned flaming nutcase, who, in my dream, replaced the jacket he destroyed and teleported me home. Weirdest part? I have a new jacket right here. Hunh. Anne must've gotten it out of the donations box.
So I'm going down my track record: Angel, who always had that threat of Angelus lurking underneath. Never got past steamy looks and death threats, and I do *not* count the bite marks as a farewell souvenir. Jack in New York, who was really hung up on someone else anyway, no matter how long we were together. The guy who keeps sending me overly-accented heavy-breathing mash notes in my LJ, who at the very least is condescending. And wickedly charming evil guy, who gets my subconscious drunk and maybe buys me jackets, and who's probably gay or married or both as well as evil, knowing my luck.
It's enough to make me look sideways at Anne, who I could've sworn was checking me out earlier today. And wonder if she's evil. Lorne said something about her aura...
... like I'm going to take the word of the horned guy I just met, no matter how awesome his voice is. Besides. Anne and I compared vampire crush stories years ago, so I know she's both straight and has my kind of luck with men. Angel issues aside, she's no more evil than I am.
These are just the strange thoughts that wander through your head at 4am, when you can't stop the apocalypse, save your friends's lives, stop the bad guys, find the allies who are lost in the city, call for more Thai takeout, or even look forward to the sun rising.
Take no notice of them. I'm fine.