I'll keep you by my side with my superhuman might...

[stillaboyscout]

Lessons Michael Vaughn really should have learned by now:

Do not go out into the streets. Ever. Really. It's just a bad idea at this point, but dumb Boy Scouts are dumb and do not know when to say no.

Or maybe that's just Vaughn.

Because he's out, again. Without a weapon. Just tromping the streets, practically looking for trouble. The narration

Comments

[anjelsword]

Here's Aniki, testing her wings. Literally. It's not going particularly well--she spends more time as a horse if she spends time as an animal at all. But sparrows are numerous, inconspicuous, and have the added advantage of flight.

Unfortunately, when you're not experienced flying, there's the problem of wind. Currently the big problem of wind, as tiny half-panicked Aniki!sparrow has discovered. She bowls out of the street on a backdraft from a passing car and wheels straight into Vaughn's head.

[stillaboyscout]

Yaay for birdies to the face! Because they make Vaughn's head go to one side upon impact and force him to utter a few choice words that he most certainly would not say otherwise.

"Fuck!"

He's not entirely sure what crashed into him, but hopefully Aniki isn't hurt. Otherwise he'll have to play Boy Scout to a bird, and he's not entirely sure how to do that.

[anjelsword]

She bounces off of his shoulder and pinwheels to the ground, the whole time twittering a sequence of curses and frustrations and completely lost in the tumble of massive shapes around her. She hit something and she thinks it might have been human judging by the reaction, but now she's just trying to get her wits and wings about her before she ends up stepped on or eaten by something big.

Everything is big, big big big and she fights the sparrow desire to take off and not stop flying until she's well out of harm's way--gods only know where she'd end up. She flutters in a dizzy circle and tries to orient herself, tries to impose human logic on her position and situation.

Shoe, leg, HUMAN, CLOSE QUARTERS-- She skips into the air and twirls in a circle.

[stillaboyscout]

Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. It's a bird that's crashed into Vaughn's head. It's not that he's scared of birds (he's not he's not he's not,) it's that it's such a tiny bird and he's going to squash it.

"Fuuuuuuck!" he shouts, trying to step back. He's got to get away from the bird. He has to get away from the bird because otherwise he'll step on it and SQUISH it and that would be very very very bad. Fuck.

[megstewart]

Meg is headed down the street, in vaguely the same direction but a few feet ahead. She doesn't have a weapon, either, or if she does, it's not obvious. She's also peering at buildings and street signs with that peculiar half-exasperated squint that says she's lost, and she's not too happy about it.

In one hand is a piece of paper. It doesn't look like a map, though, not even from far away. Meg looks down at it, looks up at the latest street sign, and makes an annoyed noise under her breath. Stupid streets. Why isn't the right one here?

[stillaboyscout]

Vaughn has this thing for girls, all girls. It's not that he's attracted to them. It's just that he has this instant 'MUST SAVE' instinct. Or at least 'MUST HELP'.

He can't help it. He's just the Boy Scout.

"Are you looking for something?" he asks. Because Boy Scouts don't need no damn introductions.

Try not to be too freaked out, Meg. He means well, really he does.

[megstewart]

The voice does make Meg jump a little: she's been preoccupied, which is probably not a good idea around here, and now she's realizing that it's *not* a good idea to be preoccupied around here while simultaneously being embarrassed. "Hey. Um."

She clears her throat. Right. How about *not* looking like you should be wearing a tinfoil hat, chickie? "I'm trying to get to Oak Park," she says. "Looked it up on the map before I left, but...well, I suck at navigation."

[stillaboyscout]

Oh. Awkward. Vaughn forgot that sometimes he makes things awkward. So he steps back a little, tries to recollect himself. He is not awkward. Nope. Not at all. He is a Boy Scout, dammit. And he is super cool.

"Oak Park? Uh... well..." he looks around, trying to get a sense of direction. "That's... okay. You're probably going to want to go..." He blinks. "Did you write down any of the directions?" he asks finally, a sheepish grin on his face.

[allmydiredreams]

HERE VAUGHN, YOU GET A BABEL. A Babel who's twirling down the street, appearing to mutter delightedly at the sky. She's actually muttering at a mourning dove on the telephone wire above the street, but it's not as if she's actually looking at it, and not as if anyone watching her could tell she was talking to it anyway.

She very nearly runs smack-dab into Vaughn, turning at the last second a little bit to the right and therefore only smacking him with an arm (and possibly her messenger bag). She half-recoils, an apologetic look on her face, until she sees who it is.

Then she just bursts out laughing, raucously. She's having a good day. "Hi!" she chirps through giggles.

[stillaboyscout]

Vaughn smiles broadly. It's been forever since he's seen his Babel!

"Hi!" he says back. Her mood is kind of infectious. Or maybe it's just seeing her again. "It's been a while since I've seen you!"

Really. It has. And that's probably Vaughn's fault. It always is, stupid Boy Scout.

[allmydiredreams]

Aw, Vaughn, it's not totally your fault! "I've been laying low," Babel says, "sneakysneaky like. Never know when the vigilantes will strike." Well, her version of 'laying low' means 'not being in the city nearly as much as usual and just hanging around Cicero'. So she's not really that safe, just giving herself the illusion that she is. Or giving others the illusion, anyway; she doesn't really think of the concept of self-preservation in the way most do anyway.

"Besides," she continues, dropping the mischievousness for mild annoyance, "I ran out of money at the pizza party awhile back, so it's harder to get fare into the grand ol' town proper." She gives him a hug. "How're you?"

[stillaboyscout]

He grins. "Well that's smart of you," he says. "Being sneaky. Because you shouldn't wander, with the whole... thing..."

Words, Vaughn. You know how to use them.

He hugs her back, for just a second. "I've been... fine." He tries to think about whether or not he's been nearly killed in the time between now and the last time he saw her. He doesn't think he has (it's a lie). "I've stayed out of trouble." Oh, yeah. Jackalope. "Mostly."

Well, that time wasn't his fault anyway. Mostly.

[technicallyiam]

Vaughn, this is not going to be your best day ever.

Right now, there is a demon in an alley. She's been hiding ever since her run-in with the cops several weeks ago, on the lam with Logan and not getting out of this city until she's had her way with Ms. Sydney Bristow. Bitch has her face, bitch has to pay.

And Ms. Bristow hasn't contacted her yet, which means Missy's looking to make good on her promise to start taking her annoyance out on her friends... And oh what ho? Is that Boyfriend walking down the street?

She blends into the shadows, waits until Vaughn is just past the mouth of the alley, and then jerks him inside with her, holding him steady with a switchblade to his throat.

"Hi, Boyfriend."

...Yeah, Vaughn. Not your best day ever.

[stillaboyscout]

Well fuck. Vaughn's screwed.

And it's when he's screwed that he gets to be his stupidest. Yes, stupidest. It's the only word that accurately descibes him.

"I'm. NOT. Your. BOYFRIEND!" he growls between gritted teeth, foregoing the 'oh my god I'm going to die' thought in favor of the 'struggle uselessly!' action. "Get off me, you stupid bitch."

Yes, he's pulling out the big guns. Ooo, words.

...He's so going to die.

[technicallyiam]

"Of course you're not, dumbass," she hisses in his ear, digging the knife a little bit into his flesh- not so much that she's nicked something major, but enough that he's aware that there's a KNIFE AT HIS THROAT AND IF YOU STRUGGLE, YOU WILL DIE.

She has no intention of killing him. She just needs him a little bit bloody.

"How's my double these days? Did she think I was bluffing? Well, tell sweetness that she's got another thing coming."

[stillaboyscout]

Vaughn stops struggling immediately, but only because she mentions Sydney. Oh she didn't. She didn't just threaten her.

"Leave Sydney the fuck alone," he growls. "Or I will find a way to kill you, you bitch. I don't care what it takes. I don't care. I hunt you down, and you will be dead."

He's shaking with rage now. He's going to kill her. He is. He's sick of this bitch messing with his life and he wants her dead.

[prince_stupid]

Lessons Ragnar Gustaffson Coeur de Lion does not realize are worth learning:

Do not go out into the streets. But dumb cat is dumb and... well, you get the idea. He still hasn't found his way back to the Kashtta from when he helped kitten!Luke, and he's getting rather tired of the search.

So congratulations, Vaughn, you've won the random passerby lottery.

Ragnar paws at Vaughn's leg. "I do beg your pardon, but I must ask--could you perhaps direct me to the Kashtta Tower?"

[stillaboyscout]

Vaughn looks down. Oh. Kitty. Kitty that is... talking... to... him.

Why does he always attract the animals?

"Um, I could, uh... sorry, didn't catch your name?" He gives a sort of pained half-smile. This is Vaughn's encouraging face. "I just came from there myself."

And why the kitty would want to go back is beyond him entirely. Crazy-ass building.

[prince_stupid]

He is a boyscout. It's like the Disney princess effect, only more manly. ...Or perhaps less.

"Indeed! I did not introduce myself." He contemplates his rudeness for a moment before continuing. "I am Ragnar Gustaffson Coeur de Lion, Norsk Skogatt, that is, Norwegian Forest Cat, you see?"

He draws himself up. "You are a resident of the tower? How fortuitous a meeting, then!"

[stillaboyscout]

Vaughn blinks. Once. Twice. Three times. For a full minute.

The cat has a longer name than he does. Which is ridiculous. IT IS SO RIDICULOUS.

Oh, Vaughn can't even deal. "That's... a very nice name," he says awkwardly. Because what else are you going to say? Vaughn's still not very good at talking to animals, despite the many times he's had to do so while he's been here.

"Oh, um... I live there, I guess," he says. "I try to avoid it as much as possible. Place gives me the creeps." He shivers, for emphasis.