spend all your time waiting

[angel_of_prey]

The basement has been rather quiet since most of the Wanderers moved out. Egon doesn't mind; he doesn't really get the whole crowds thing anyway. Though he feels a foreign pang of regret that Eloi left with the others, he's not sure how he feels about having a son. He's grateful for the chance to reflect on it, if nothing else. So, of course, he's

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[somebodysdeath]

If he happens to wander into the cafeteria, Dinah is there, making food. It's kind of what she does.

Actually, she's preparing it, setting the whole spread on the table for any hungry angel or even wanderer (there are a few still down here), who might want something to eat.

And she'll smile at him when he enters.

"Hello. Don't think I've seen you around before. Are you new?"

[angel_of_prey]

Egon smiles back, just a little, enough to satisfy social niceties. "Basically. Just passing through, mostly." He hopes, anyway. "I'm Egon Lothar. Archangel," he adds after a moment's thought. There seem to be several types of angels hanging around, and he figures it might be important to know which ones are which. Could come in handy later.

[somebodysdeath]

"Got it. Yeah, I never plan to stay anywhere very long... but then there's always something that keeps me for longer than I planned. So then I stopped planning."

Dinah smirks, a little, and then shrugs.

"I'm Dinah. Just an angel of death." Which tends not to be useful in battle situations. Unless there's a need to have her walk around, meeting people's gazes, and leading them through their death.

[angel_of_prey]

Egon lets out a quiet snort of laughter, his thoughts turning to his unexpected son. "Tell me about it."

He's not really in the mood for a meal, but he does take the opportunity to grab a coffee while he's here. It seems to be the thing to do, anyway. "Dinah," he acknowledges. "Much call for angels of death around here, is there?"

[of_rageandruin]

Romana generally doesn't make a habit of lounging around the common areas, but she's not lying in bed, she needs to be accessible if one of her angels needs her, and her usual pacing around the basement isn't going to work considering the gunshot wounds in her leg and hip haven't healed yet. So she's in the common room, in one of the armchairs, trying to pretend she's not in pain - which she very much is, because at her age, most drugs have stopped having much effect a long time ago.

She's currently jotting down quick notes in a psychic journal - someone has to know where her damn lieutenant is - but certainly approachable, assuming her mere existence doesn't scare people away.

[angel_of_prey]

Even with only a description to go on, it's fairly obvious who she is. Egon observes her for a moment, then approaches as respectfully as possible. She is the first First he's met, if you'll pardon the wording. "Hello. Romana Angelos?" he says with a hopeful smile. "I'm Egon Lothar. Vincent Sterling brought me here a few days ago."

[of_rageandruin]

Romana glances up at the sound of her name and smiles pleasantly, brushing lightly over the surface of his mind just enough to get a name and a general sense of identity, who and what he is. She holds up one finger for a second, glances back at her journal long enough to finish the note she was writing, and then closes the journal and sets it aside before rising to her feet, not quite as smoothly as she normally would.

"Of course. I suppose he brought you here before he took off, or this conversation will have to wait until I find him and beat him." The way she smiles after she says that implies it's a joke. Mostly.

[angel_of_prey]

Egon smiles back, a bit of his social nervousness dissipating. He's never good at meeting new people, but she seems friendly enough. "He seems to be rather good at vanishing unexpectedly," he says. He doesn't think it's the best of strategic moves - a commander should know where her right-hand man is, after all - but if Vincent needs rebuking, Romana will definitely handle it. It's none of Egon's business.

He does notice her injuries, however, and he's aware of how much it probably hurts. He moves slightly closer to another nearby chair, letting her decide whether they should speak standing or sitting. He'll follow her lead.

"I don't know how long I'll be in town for," he starts, "but I don't want to interfere with any strategies you may have set up in regards to the local demon population." It's her territory, after all. Stealing her targets would be rude.