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

[aint_nosurprise]

Casey, upon entering the kitchen, apparently finds that having his own staring contest with cat is necessary. Even though he knows that the cat is Michael and not just any cat.

He is only distracted from the staring by the smell of the food cooking. Casey looks sideways at Sam, who he has seen around before, but never spoken with.

"Didn't know anyone in this tower could cook."

Casey, himself, can make exactly five dishes perfectly. He doesn't think that qualifies him as a good *cook

Edit: Ahaha, I misspelled cook as coke. Doesn't that make for a subliminal misspelling?

[definitivestep]

Michael stares back, sitting still as a statue. He feels sorry for Casey, really, he does. He likes Casey, and does not envy him his position at the moment. Pity does not mean he's at all impressed with this staring contest, though.

Sam smiles a little at her. He recognizes her vaguely, but it was Gwen who dealt with that group coming in, and Sam has been keeping to himself lately. "Someone has to, or we'd all be living on takeout and drowning in pizza boxes." Yes, that really is Torchwood's default state when it comes to food unless someone makes an effort to change that.

[aint_nosurprise]

Casey hates everyone right now and has made it a point to do the opposite of impressing as many people as he can, except Bristow. That would not be good.

He frowns a little in disgust. He is one of the rare people in the world that doesn't really like pizza. Although he might like it now, food tastes differently in this body than it did in his own.

"So you're saving everyone from the inevitable heart attack," he says with a smirk. "What are you making?"

[riversodeep]

Andy has been... around. Tying up some things at her old job. Working out some things at this one. Being badgered by and badgering Owen about one medical thing or another. The fact that she hasn't seen her ward in that time is a bit disconcerting, but, you know, so long as he hasn't been in huge amounts of pain, she supposes there are worse things.

Still, it's nice to know where the person she's supposed to guard and protect is.

She's been conducting a survey of sorts of the Kashtta, and, lo and behold! here he is in the kitchen. She walks up, glancing at what he's preparing. "I didn't know you cooked!"

This may or may not be a very slight note on how she doesn't know much of anything about him.

[definitivestep]

Looking over at her, Sam actually smiles. Yes, having another guardian angel so soon after he lost the first makes him uneasy, but she seems like a nice enough person. "It's apparently a rare talent in Torchwood. And I don't like to let them starve." Or survive on takeout, which may amount to the same thing.

[riversodeep]

Andy chuckles, leaning against one of the counter. "I know the feeling," she says. "I lived with someone once who could burn water. Eventually we agreed that I'd cook and she'd clean - she ate things that weren't lunch meat sandwiches and I didn't have to get footprints on all of the tables getting up to wipe the top of the windows." She glances at the dish he's working on. "Tough with the number of people living here, I think the simplest option might be to invest in a personal chef. I actually know a few around here. Some even give out gift certificates."

[cleverblasphemy]

Raziel is hungry and desperate, and it's coming down to whether he wants to risk taking a meal here with his superior strength and hoping that no one will be over their shock to attack him before he gets away, or venturing back to the wilder area of this city and waiting for a human to pass by on their own.

Venturing so far into human-controlled land was a mistake, at the very least. He's learned this now. And there is no ideal answer.

So, for the moment, he'll take the one which offers a more immediate end to this torment, one way or another. If he can feed and run, he'll be strong enough to rethink his strategies. If he's attacked and sent back to the Spectral realm, well, it was likely in any case.

It just happens to be the Doctor's luck that he's the one passing closest to the maintenance alley in which Raziel lurks when he strikes...

[thatsortofaman]

The Doctor, for all that perhaps he ought to, is not in the habit of scanning the shadows for possible threats. Maybe it's just a smug assurance that he can handle whatever comes at him, or maybe he's just thick, but the end result is more or less the same. He doesn't notice Raziel until he comes out of the shadows.

Luckily, his reflexes are good enough that as soon as he notices something coming out of the alley at him, rather quickly, he's jerking himself out of its path, stumbling back and reaching for his sonic screwdriver, holding it out threateningly. ...Which really won't do anything at all, because whatever this is in front of him, it's obviously organic, at least, but maybe he can convince the thing it's dangerous.

"...Hello. I'm the Doctor." He considers saying please don't attack me, or something to that effect, but then he loses a bit of the dramatic effect with the sonic screwdriver and all.

[cleverblasphemy]

Raziel stumbles when his prey eludes him, steadies himself against a streetlight, and turns his head to look at the human (he assumes) who's decided to introduce himself. His eyes are glowing a sickly blue-green, and lines of energy crackle across his skin. Given more time and he's just going to lose cohesion on his own. He wonders if his robe will follow him to the spectral realm; his half-cape does, but then, it fell with him into the Abyss.

"A doctor," he says, cleft claw digging into the metal of the light. "That is a profession I've not had use for in a long, long time."

[thatsortofaman]

And now the Doctor's interested, fascination overcoming caution. He's still got the screwdriver raised in half-threat, but his expression doesn't match the posture. He leans forward a little, tilting his head to one side to examine the creature a little more closely in the light.

"Well, I'm not exactly your average doctor..." he says slowly. "Sorry, but... what are you, exactly?" Some things the Doctor can't resist.