All of these lines upon my face tell you a story...
Who: Brando, OPEN
Where: Mickey's Bar in the South side of Chicago
When: 7pm
Summary: The rift is widening. Brando's looking for new recruits for the hotel. Specifically underground the hotel. Everyone there is part of the army. The army's never quite big enough. Not exactly his job, but he likes this better than his job. And Brando tends to get ( Read more... )
Where: Mickey's Bar in the South side of Chicago
When: 7pm
Summary: The rift is widening. Brando's looking for new recruits for the hotel. Specifically underground the hotel. Everyone there is part of the army. The army's never quite big enough. Not exactly his job, but he likes this better than his job. And Brando tends to get ( Read more... )
Comments 133
She's tired but the makeup does a good job at concealing that. Some might think her shy or even a little sad with the way she keeps her head tilted downward but that's not the case at all. She just doesn't want to risk seeing something unpleasant.
She'll take a seat at the bar a few feet away from Brando, order a gin and tonic, and not once look in his direction.
It's been a bad night, just work with her a little.
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Brando smiles to himself.
The silence never lasts very long. Not once in 980 years.
A death angel. It's not conducive to the army, but it's someone who knows and who can be aware. The more information they can share, the better.
He stands, slow and quiet as one learns how to be after hundreds of years of moving and walks over sitting next to her.
"Gin and tonic. Classic choice." His voice is deep and if it were loud enough for anyone else to hear. It would capture their attention.
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She knows who he is, all of them do, but she can't quite bring herself to show him the respect he surely deserves.
Eyes closing, she takes another sip of her drink. "What are you doing here?"
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"I wouldn't say never."
Brando smiles. He knows that she knows, which is nice... he can skip the whole explaining. And after a little more noise filters through, he knows that her counterpart. Toast. Already lives at the hotel.
"Looking for help," he says, plainly. "The rift's expanding."
Most First Angels would not explain. Do not even accept being asked and certainly wouldn't give a straight answer. Not that she would know any of that. Most don't ever meet a First Angel. Ever
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She's drinking.
Alcohol, it must be admitted, is not her numbing drug of choice, but she's broke at the moment, and she has to get this last death out of her head, because it was just too much.
(Poor little Jessamin, she was only eight, she was so scared and hurting so much--)
She doesn't understand how people can be so... despicably cruel to each other.
She doesn't look up, though. She doesn't want to risk seeing another, not so soon after the last one. So she'll just sit at the bar, staring at the wood and drinking a beer.
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He lights a new cigarette and presses it between his lips, blowing out a smooth trail of smoke.
"You can look at me. I'm not going to die," Brando says in his smooth, deep, commanding tone. Just like liquid.
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"You know, it never gets less weird, having people just... know about me," she comments, taking a swig of beer.
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After 900 years of living, he's not really opposed to dying. It doesn't take long, looking in her expression to see just what it is that has her drinking this time. Of course, without the helpful (annoying) psychic connection, he'd known. A death. That's what always has an angel of death drinking or doing drugs or slitting their throats...
He smiles at her next words and glances sideways at her. "It will, sweetheart. It just takes some time."
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Nevertheless, she smiles. Because this place has a lot of people, and she likes people, he does. Humans were always fascinating, always full of trouble or life.
And she'll wander up to the counter, waiting to order something. Probably water. Lame, right?
Blue eyes flicker to the cards. To anyone, she might look far, far too young to be in the bar, roaming about helplessly. But her eyes prove her age.
"Were you going'ta play a game?" She leans her head on her arms against the countertop, looking up at the man.
Maybe she should be intimidated. Maybe. But she isn't.
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He knew before she spoke to him who she was.
It is always fun when they come to him.
"I wasn't planning on it, but you never know when the opportunity may strike." He shuffles them between his hands. "Did you want to play, Lavendar?"
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"Have I met you before?" Don't mind if there is a light giggle. And at the mention of playing cards? Well, she'll sit up very quickly, leaning a little closer to him to get a better look at the cards.
"What game were you gonna play? I love playing cards." She's been taught many games by a few of the children in the park. But they always have to go away after a while. Some of them never come back, either.
Griiin!
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He knows nearly every card game ever invented.
It's what happens when you live so long and you make sure you're never without a deck of cards.
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He wandered down the streets, holding his bag close to his chest before finally finding himself in a bar, he didn't drink, didn't like the taste of alcohol, and he didn't have any money anyway. He rummaged in his pockets to check, and realized he had £5, which was worthless here.
Biting his lip nervously, Regulus found an empty table and decided to people watch until he was asked to leave.
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Brando raises his eyebrows, listening a little more and then standing and sitting across from him.
"Regulus. You're a long way from the Inn to be on your own."
Nevermind him, he's just protective of what he considers his. That includes those who come through the rift.
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"I got bored, I wanted to explore a little," Regulus replied sheepishly.
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Brando nods and shuffles the deck on the table. "Just try to find a someone to go with you next time. I would hate for you to get lost in the city..." or killed/kidnapped by a demon.
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