Making the best of it, playing the hand you get...
Casey is off-duty for the first time in a week, and kind of hoping she can get through the day without something exploding. Just today, that's all she's asking for - things aren't allowed to explode on her day off. She's jogging in the park, hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, sweating a little despite the chill. It's good to be out in her city
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And Casey's an old friend, so what better way to greet old friends by jogging up beside them and casually remarking, "You know, Case', one of these days you gotta consider leavin' this city and runnin' away with me."
We're sorry, Casey.
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"If I were going to run away, I would have done it when I was a teenager. It's kind of gone out of fashion at this point." She's sticking with this city for life.
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Nope. Telling him these things will not work.
"Well, it was a lot quieter when you were a teenager, I bet. That coffee shop didn't explode every month when I first came here, I know that much. But hey, keeps things interestin', although I could do with a little less chaos than what we've had here lately. Did the whole city just decide to go nuts overnight or I've just not been paying enough attention?"
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She shakes her head a little. "This is the first time City Hall has blown up. And... don't talk to me about the coffee shop. Just. Don't." She and James get dragged in to deal with it when that one more often than not. "Though I'm pretty sure you haven't been paying attention either. That might have something to do with it."
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"Humans and their fondness for destruction," he mutters. "Insofar as I could tell, I must say, this was an entirely functional building."
It could be your imagination, CJ. Or it could be the good ole curse of Bast kicking in.
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She looks down at the cat, blinking in confusion. "...function never has anything to do with it. Except when it comes to deciding a target... Is there a pack of talking cats somewhere around here that I haven't noticed until now?" Do cats come in packs? Whatever it is you call a group of cats...
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"Have you ever heard of terrorists? I guess it's not a big thing with... cats, probably..."
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He managed to find clothes from all sorts of different places. Mostly stolen, but he was cold, and that's how they did it in India! He has a coat on that's a couple sizes too big, but a coat is a coat and this one is new.
Jamal doesn't trust adults for the most part, but he turns and snaps a photo of CJ anyway. He takes the polaroid photo from the camera's mouth and waves it about so it will show up faster.
"First one? For you? Free," he says, and then holds the picture out to her and smiles.
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She takes the picture, smiling faintly at him, glances at it and then at his face. "...thank you. What's your name?" CJ's not around children a lot, but she can manage. (It's when you give her turkeys to deal with that she starts flailing.)
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"Jamal," he says, and then holds his hand out toward her to shake. Devon taught him that one. "What is yours?"
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He doesn't usually go anywhere alone. There tends to be a posse of people who are willing to wait on his beck and call. It's possible that they're just around the corner in a restaurant, getting ready for something. The election keeps getting pushed back as the city has to deal with crisis after crisis. It's getting on his nerves. He's getting restless.
It's never good for anyone when the devil gets restless.
"It's a real shame," he says, suddenly, with absolutely no other warning or sign that he had walked up next to her or had been standing there for nearly half a minute.
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She draws a breath, calming fairly quickly - being the White House press secretary does wonders for your composure. "Well, it's not what I'd call a good sign..." In the middle of a mayoral election. City hall blowing up. Yeah, that's probably one of the worse omens they could have had.
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He knows that the CLF didn't do this. They're all confused and pissed over it, pointing fingers at each other. Chaos is chaos. It's always fun to stir the city up.
He'd much prefer to stir the world up, but one step at a time.
"With any luck, that will all change within the next week, barring further catastrophes." Flagg turns toward her and smiles, not bright and charming for once, just a smile. An all too normal... smile. "You're not nervous, are you?"
The polls show Flagg is ahead by a ridiculously large percentage. It seems strange for him to ask if she's nervous about something that looks like a sure win. Maybe he's not quite asking about that, necessarily, but he's not about to clear that up. It's difficult to tell what all he knows at any given time.
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She settles, finally, for sighing and smiling somewhat wryly. "I'm always nervous before an election. And there's always the chance someone will try to take a shot at one of us..." There are a number of wanderers on the campaign - not that it's common knowledge, but it's enough to make her nervous, the way things have been lately.
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