If I could attack with a more sensible approach, obviously that's what I'd be doing...

[shealone_stands]

In the training room at the Main Gauche, there's a Slayer with her Christmas present, going through a few sword exercises she remembers from before. It's been a while since she's had a sword in her hands, but now that she does... It's easier to fall back into than she would have thought. Muscle memory comes easily to Slayers

Comments

[stopdropanddie]

When Jack needs agents, the kitchen has become the ideal spot to search for them, as they're usually somewhere around in that general area, so when he walks in, he's not that surprised to find the cat on the counter... Although, admittedly, it would be better if it was a Michael on a counter, as Michael can actually communicate verbally.

Whatever.

"We're long overdue for a talk," he mutters at the cat, completely ignoring Sam, because clearly the cat gets all the conversation in this circumstance. He looks Michael over and grimaces- yes, Michael, your being of the feline persuasion right now is of deep annoyance to your boss. "Despite the fact that this is clearly not the best time for conversation of any kind."

[ducttapewarrior]

Sam glances over his shoulder when Jack enters and starts talking to the cat. He's seen him around the tower, knows his name at least if not much more, but at least that answers his question about whether the cat is a shapeshifter or not. He decides he's happiest just ignoring this conversation.

Michael stares at Jack with a scornful expression not unlike the one Jack so often uses. Just... a cat version of said look. He gets to his feet and shakes himself. It's close to the full moon. What do you want from me? He's either a cat, or he's a wolf with poor control over the wolf part of him, this time of the month. Personally, he thinks the cat is the better choice.

[stopdropanddie]

JACK IS FAR TOO BADASS TO KEEP UP WITH THE LUNAR CYCLES.... Actually, he's just been busy, you know, bein' Jack Bristow. And dealing with the fact that his daughter has issues with him, Vaughn is an idiot, one of his agents is in a woman's body, two of them helped blow up a bank when he left for a week, Dmitri Lang might wind up as a double agent because of him, there's a secret organization he knows nothing about and he suspects he might be on their radar now, Sark isn't in Chechnya but not for a lack of trying, and, oh, basically he hasn't really had much time to get his team established and together again. BASICALLY, JACK'S LIFE IS SORT OF IN SHAMBLES.

Jack gives him a flat stare back. "Do you want to take a walk?" This is not actually a request or a question, so much as it is something that Michael will just have to deal with. Well, he can... Pretend that it's not stupid to discuss anything with an overlarge cat.

[ducttapewarrior]

Michael shrugs - cats are put together in a way that makes shrugs possible, but interesting to watch - and hops down from the counter, wandering towards the door as if it was his idea in the first place. That's as much a Michael thing as a cat thing, really. He's just going to wait until Jack says something - as if he has any other option in this case, really.

[cyfor]

Cy is in the Kashtta. There is no good reason for it. She wanders into the kitchen (I'm going to stop saying 'in her trenchcoat' at some point) and peers at Sam.

"I know you." And then she turns her attention to the cat on the counter who is, she is fairly certain, not a cat of the usual sort, though he reminds her of Ragnar a bit. "Don't know you. Hi. I'm Cy."

[definitivestep]

Sam glances over at her and blinks. "Do you?" he asks mildly. Strange people wandering around the Tower? Fine. What else is new? The voice sounds vaguely familiar, but she's fairly... distinctive-looking. "I don't suppose you could remind me of your name?"

Michael blinks. Twitches his tail. It's not unusual for people to guess he's a shapeshifter - especially in his own Chicago - but still a little surprising. He'd respond, but he's used to Sydney or Fiona being the only ones who can hear him when he's in this shape, and even Sydney can't do that here. So he's just going to stare at her. Introductions don't work well when your vocal cords won't produce speech of any sort.

[cyfor]

She gives Sam a withering look. "I'm Cy. Cy for cypress."

She wanders over to Michael and drags her sleeve back so she can pat him on the head. "What's your name, Mr. Moonstruck?"

[ducttapewarrior]

Sam raises an eyebrow at that. "You were a cat." Sam will apparently be playing the part of Captain Obvious today.

Michael's ears flick back flat against his head, but he doesn't respond much otherwise. Just gives her his usual stoic expression, and sighs. Being petted is undignified. Do you really expect me to pronounce "Michael Westen" in this shape?

[chimaerasaurus]

Well, if he does pop into the coffee shop, he'll find Abby on duty behind the counter and rather enjoying herself. It hasn't been an especially busy day, but she's made herself comfortable there in fairly short order and even has a few people who recognize her already. At the moment she's doing a crossword at the register, humming to herself.

[thatsortofaman]

The Doctor was kind of hoping for Lisle, but then, she didn't respond when he asked for her on the journals and he's been trying not to think about what that means (besides that he's thick, which hasn't even crossed his mind), but upon stepping inside he saunters up to the counter, leaning against it and grinning in as friendly a fashion as possible.

"Hello! Could I- oh, it's you." Said with more surprise than distaste, but Abby still makes him nervous. The Doctor and secret organizations (or former employees of secret organizations) don't get along. Ignore Torchwoods Three and Four.

[chimaerasaurus]

Yes, Doctor, it is Abby. She makes a face at him. "Could you..? I'm working right now, Doc, don't make me act unprofessional."

Yes, Doctor, she's working in Le Coffee Shop O'Doom.

[thatsortofaman]

The Doctor makes a face right back. Possibly just to mock her. Nine hundred and four years old and he still hasn't managed to pick up too much maturity along the way. "First - you work here?" As soon as he realizes that the other option meant she was behind the counter for the fun of it, he quickly moves on.

"Bit of a step down. In that case, first - or second, whatever you want to consider it - can I have a hot chocolate? With peppermint? Oh, and do you have any of those... little chocolate slivers you sprinkle in?" Because what the Doctor needs in his life is massive amounts of sugar. Hey, at least it's not caffeine.

[changingtheodds]

And, because she's been keeping to herself lately, I have decided that a particularly violent bout of homesickness has turned Ruvin into a dog. Again. She's not happy about this, but was even less happy about the idea of waiting in her room to change back, staring in frustration at the books whose pages she CAN'T TURN. So here she is, sitting in the mouth of an alley experimenting with scents--and how well she can pick them apart.

So absorbed in this is she that she does not notice the animal control specialist sneaking up behind her with one of those leash-stick-things.

[thatsortofaman]

The Doctor recognizes that dog. And he notices the animal control officer approaching her, and decides he really ought to intervene before something unfortunate happens. He doubts Ruvin will bite them, he just thinks animal control might be a little confused by suddenly having a naked girl in whatever cage they put her in.

So he drops into a crouch, hands on his thighs, and calls, "Ruvin! C'mere girl. Cooome on!" ...He means well, really.

[changingtheodds]

This is the sound that Ruvin's thoughts make: Dot. Dot. Dot. She gives the Doctor her best ...excuse me, WHAT? look, completely oblivious to the encroaching doom that is now paused behind her, looking slightly confused and irate.

"Is this your dog?"

She yelps a bit and whips around, quietly scolding herself for letting anyone get that close unnoticed, particularly when she's like... well. Like this.

[thatsortofaman]

The Doctor shoots Ruvin a look. You really should have just come when I called. He straightens a moment later and smiles apologetically at the man. "Yeah, sorry. Opened the door and she just took off - bit headstrong, this one." He holds out a hand to Ruvin again. "Come on, girl. Good doggy!" He grins, obviously well aware just how much she's going to hate him for this.

[girlorgun]

April's been thinking, about a lot of things. She blames it on her personality, and the fact that she's had the pictures on her new datapad to make her homesick for various people and places. But it got her to thinking about people she cared about before she left, that she hadn't exactly spoken to since returning.

So, despite the cold weather, she falls into step next to the Doctor with two ice cream cones - both chocolate fudge brownie, because it's a chocolate kind of day. She holds one out to him without a word, and hopes he'll even recognise her.

Oh, he will. She knows that. She just worries sometimes.

[thatsortofaman]

The Doctor starts a little when someone suddenly appears at his side, and... oh. She may look a decade older than she did the last time he saw her, but he recognizes her. Of course he does. For a second, he just stares at her. And then he takes the ice cream with a smile, eying it speculatively for a second before licking it. Brownie. He likes brownies.

"People keep giving me ice cream," he remarks, as if nothing ever happened between them, as if years haven't passed - for her, anyway. "Just... out on the street. I'm wondering if it's becoming a trend. Not that I'd mind... Not bad, as trends go."

[girlorgun]

"Clearly there's something about you that just begs to be given fatty foods," she comments, looking him over. "Maybe because you're so skinny."

Like she's one to talk.

If they have anything to work out, they can do it later. April's surprisingly glad to be speaking to the Doctor again.

Though she won't touch him just yet. Some things... linger.

[thatsortofaman]

The Doctor scoffs, shooting her an affronted look. "I am not skinny. Just a bit... wiry. There's nothing wrong with looking like this." Because that's totally the word. That doesn't stop him from licking the ice cream, though. Like he's going to turn down sweets.

He'll live with the fact that she's not touching him now. He missed her enough that her presence is welcome on its own.