(Untitled)

[ladyfirestarter]

[Out of Milliways: And if the fires burn out, there's only fire to blame]

The front door opens onto a hallway in Taos, New Mexico.

Charlie McGee steps in with the slow careful movements of extreme exhaustion, leaning on a cane, and holds the door for Charles Wallace Murry.

"Here we are," she says to him, with a tired but beautiful smile.

Comments

[ushouldcwhatic]

(Likewise slowed since on my way to bed, but if you don't mind?)

Johnny was finishing up his tending shift, and was about to go find a table to sit when he noticed the arriving pair. He recognized Charles, and the woman might seem slightly familiar as he headed over to them.

"Hey, need an extra hand there?"

[ladyfirestarter]

(I don't mind a bit! :D)

She turns to look toward the voice with an automatic smile. "Thank you. I think I'm all right."

A pause, and her brow furrows faintly. He looks vaguely familiar, but...

[thisfatefulhour]

Charles looks up, and smiles.

"John! Hello. It's been a while."

[ushouldcwhatic]

Johnny tilted his head at her a little, but then turned to Charles.

"It has, how's it going? You need anything?"

He then added ruefully to the woman, thinking of the one he threw in the Potomac finally, "Nice cane, and if you're sure?"

[lethe_forgets]

It's concern first. It usually is, really. Lethe is a thing that worries. Charlie's movement, after all, is one belies some sort of pain and she is (fire under her skin) she is Prometheus' person. Worry certainly extends in that direction.

And then there is further motion (ringing) her eyes widen, lips twitch upward unconsciously.

It's been - it has been a while.

There's barely a stop - quick and stuttered, a nearly aborted flutter of motion before a straight-shouldered (still concerned, that does not fade so easily) approach toward the pair near the doorway.

"Hello," she manages after a moment, fingers curled and then unfurled again - a bit uncertain, but offering. "Do you need any help?"

[ladyfirestarter]

Charlie looks in the direction of the voice, blinking, and smiles automatically. "Thank you," she says, "I think I'm all right for the moment."

A beat.

"...We've met." Uncertainly. "Haven't we?"

[lethe_forgets]

She laughs - a bright thing, response not at all something she doesn't expect - and nods, ignoring the messy tumble of curls for a quickly dipped curtsy.

"Lethe," she supplies and the smile twitches again, wry this time. "Prometheus is my - he is family. Pleased to remake your acquaintance, Miss Charlie."

Her head tilts.

"You are certain that there is nothing I can do?"

[thisfatefulhour]

It's about now that Charles -- who disappeared to go find drinks -- returns.

"--Lethe!"

His smile and his voice are both pure delight.

[aj_crawley]

Crowley's in a booth near the door tonight, boots propped up on the opposite bench and a somewhat incidental bowl of fried paradoxes on the table. There are many reasons why she might pick an out of the way table, that's true, but tonight, it's because she's reading a book - purple, white, paperback; the sort where the cover announces the author's name on a substantially larger scale than the title.

So.

Luckily for Charlie (or something like that), the collection's first story sounds a little gruesome for snack-time; Crowley's in the process of skipping to the second, as well as her fried paradoxes, when she's distracted by a flash of red hair out of the corner of her eye.

[ladyfirestarter]

Charlie's slowly making her way toward a table near the door, leaning heavily on her cane.

She hasn't spotted Crowley yet. (And wouldn't recognize ... her ... if she had.)

[aj_crawley]

For those few moments - because of those few moments - Crowley considers letting it pass.

But then again - well.

It is what it is.

She really is moving very stiffly.

"Alright?" Crowley ventures, pitched to carry but lightly enough even so.

[ladyfirestarter]

She glances up, and smiles tiredly. "I'm fine, thank you."

[walking_napalm]

"Mew."

"You're lucky I didn't drop this and kick it under the bed, the way I was plan--" The first clue that Liz gets that her door didn't lead to the hallway is when she feels that dull whump behind her breastbone, the hot pinpricks prickling across the back of her neck and in her fingers.

Her eyes snap up, but she doesn't need to look to know that either she's in Milliways and Charlie's around, or somebody at the Bureau has suddenly discovered a very dormant talent. A startled half-second to adjust to the fact that she's in Milliways, another second to glance around, and -- there.

"Hey," Liz calls, headed toward the table where Charlie is sitting. She's still carrying a nondescript cardboard box under her arm; she's dressed casually in a skirt and a long-sleeved shirt.

[ladyfirestarter]

Charlie looks up a half-second before Liz calls out, faintly startled as her own fire flares in response to the new presence.

She breaks into a smile -- weary but genuinely happy. "Liz. Hi."

[walking_napalm]

Liz slows down as she nears. There's a cane -- handsome as it is -- leaning against the table; there's an empty chair at Charlie's table, so maybe...?

"Hi," she says, slower. "Sorry, am I interrupting--?" Something? With someone who carries a cane (but left it when they got up)?

[ladyfirestarter]

"No," says Charlie, gesturing at the empty chair, "please."

She moves the cane a little closer to herself, to get it out of the way.

[thisfatefulhour]

Charles beams and follows her through. (His smile is rather less tired, but not exactly full of energy.)

"Thanks."

He hikes his overnight bag up on his shoulder, giving her a close look. "Are you coming in?"

[ladyfirestarter]

She casts a quick glance around the room. "...I think I might," she says. "For a little bit."

[thisfatefulhour]

"Don't tire yourself out," he warns, half-teasing.

[ladyfirestarter]

She gives him a wry look. "Little late for that."