Well I'm one of them, and I'm among friends...

[astrongerbeacon]

No one actually told Martin where a certain redhead was staying. He just finds these things out - when you're used to tracking down demons, figuring out where one wanderer is staying in the basement of the Conrad is not difficult

Comments

[coolestscythe]

Soul has been spending most of his time either wandering the Conrad, or wandering the rest of Chicago. In fact, he's been spending almost all his time lately outside, both in order to learn more about the city and to try and find a way to go home. All the running around tends to make one rather hungry--and he's a growing boy, after all.

Soul is already there when Martin walks in, sitting on the counter as he waits for his toast to pop up. He definitely stands out, as he has given up on trying to hide his spiky white hair and red eyes. He raises a hand in greeting when he spots Martin.

"Hey."

[astrongerbeacon]

Martin pauses a moment, blinking at the kid. Wanderer. As if that wasn't noticeable, between the hair and the eyes... Well, Martin's also got his wings out, so he's sensitive to that sort of thing.

"Hey," he says, sauntering over to the fridge and pulling it open, keeping the kid in at least the periphery of his vision as he does. "I'm Martin. You new here?"

[coolestscythe]

Soul has been getting that a lot lately, the double-takes, the stares, the whispers from people on the street. He's not used to it, and he doesn't think he ever will be. What's wrong with a kid with white hair?

And this guy has wings. It's not like this city doesn't have its share of weirdness.

"I've been here for a few weeks now. Been out most of that time, though. I'm Soul Eater."

[astrongerbeacon]

Martin, after examining the fridge for a moment, pulls out a couple eggs, sets them down on the counter, and starts going through the cupboards in search of a frying pan.

He glances back to the kid after a moment, eyebrows raised. "...Seriously?" Alright, maybe it's rude to question his name, but his name cannot be Soul Eater. Wanderers are weird, but not quite that much.

[changingtheodds]

There's a weasely creature peering down at Martin from the top of the fridge. It shivers and sneezes. Ruvin hasn't been feeling that great, and apparently that means her body decided to shift without her permission. She's been huddled in various corners of the Conrad for the past few days, trying to stay unobtrusive.

She gives a little squeak of warning as he comes near her hiding spot. HERE THERE BE CIVETS, MARTIN. THEY BE FEARSOME BEASTIES.

[astrongerbeacon]

Martin hears the squeak, glances up, and stares back. There is a... thing. On top of the fridge. He can't actually identify what kind of animal it is, but thing seems to cover all his bases.

Either it's a shapeshifter, or the Conrad has a really weird infestation of unidentifiable weasel things. Martin's going to bet on the first option.

"Hey there," he says, as gently as he can, and stays very still so as not to startle her. "I'm not going to hurt you..."

[changingtheodds]

She chirps, pacing back and forth along the top of the fridge for a moment before stopping to cough. And then sneeze hard enough to slip half-off the humming appliance. Ruvin makes a squalling noise of surprise and hauls herself back up, then hunkers there shivering and looking at Martin, her ears twitching back and forth.

[astrongerbeacon]

Martin winces a little, moving automatically to catch her as she starts to slip, but then she rights herself and he backs off a little. It's staring at him. Didn't make any obvious attempt at communication, but... maybe it's just a very reserved shapeshifter.

"You need a hand down?" he offers after a second. "Something to eat? ...a veterinarian?"

[gotbottle]

Rachel is waiting in her room. She's peeled back the corner of the paper wrapping one of the chocolate bars, and broken off just enough to fit in her mouth. She's pacing, back and forth, slowly, because it wouldn't really do to make a demand that the responsible party show up and, you know, not be there.

So she's wandering back and forth, pausing to glance at her journal, open on the desk, each time she roams near, and letting the chocolate slowly dissolve in her mouth. Hopefully, someone either responds via journal or follows directions appropriately and just shows up.

[astrongerbeacon]

Martin wasn't planning to take credit for the gifts, but who is he to refuse a lady's demands?

His wings are still out as he wanders down the hall to the appropriate room, huge and tawny things that take up more space than it ever seems like Martin should. When he reaches Rachel's door, he stops and raps his knuckles gently against it before stepping back, hands going automatically to his coat pockets. He assumes she'll be home - she did order him here, after all...

[gotbottle]

Rachel nearly falls over herself in her haste to get to the door. She's about to yank it open when it occurs to her that maybe seeming so eager might be... unseemly. Or something. She stands there, hand on the knob, and calls out, "Just a moment!", like she's not totally standing right there. She waits about ten seconds, and then pulls open the door.

And is met by the sight of Martin and his wings taking up her doorway. And much of the hallway beyond.

"I, uh. Hi. Wow." It's probably even more unseemly to just openly stare than it would have been to leap at the door like she did, but, seriously, she's so not thinking of her manners right now.

"...Sorry," she says after a few moments, refocusing her attention on Martin's face. "Martin. Hi."

There's a pause, and then Rachel headtilts slightly, a faint grin turning her lips. "And to what do I owe the honor of this visit, hmmm?"

The police officers on CSI never come out and ask a question directly. That just gives away information. She has a story to check out, after all.

[astrongerbeacon]

Martin, fully aware that his wings are extremely noticeable and probably very distracting to those who aren't used to wings at all, gives her a moment to stare, just smiling slightly at the expression on her face. As soon as she tears her eyes away from his wings, he tucks them a little closer to his back, though not properly folded. He's spent enough time hiding them lately that he's reluctant to put them away.

"Well, it just so happens that I got some orders to present myself here. And I make it a point never to disobey orders. It's an archangel thing." Not... precisely true - he's disobeyed some pretty serious orders in his time - but we pretend those things didn't happen in the first place.

[crashiscoming]

Scout has discovered the kitchen. This means bad things for anyone else in the vicinity, because it means she has also discovered pots and how much NOISE they make when you bang them against things! She loves noise.

So here she is, banging two pots together gleefully, again and again, BANG BANG BANG. She's also yelling at the top of her lungs--some might call it singing, even though it's horribly off-pitch and awful.

At least she's happy?

[astrongerbeacon]

Martin heard the chaos from a ways off. He kind of hoped he wouldn't have to deal with it. Arriving in the kitchen, those hopes are shattered. He stops and stares at the girl, brows furrowed as he tries to work out just what she's doing and why. ...yeah, he's got nothing.

After a moment, he clears his throat and asks, hopefully loudly enough to be heard, "Are you, uh... alright?"

[crashiscoming]

Scout does a rather impressive drum solo, laying off the vocals for a second, then yelling at the top of her lungs. In response to him rather than singing, but still.

"FINE!" she shouts, giving a pan an extra hard smash. "FINE FINE ALL FINE NOTHIN' HERE BUT NOISE YEAH? NOISE AN NOISE AN MORE NOISE." She sticks her tongue out between her teeth and pounds furiously, her mouth stretched into a gleeful grin.

[astrongerbeacon]

"Yeah," Martin says slowly. "I can see that. Well. Hear that. The noise."

He pauses a second, frowning at her. "...you think maybe you could lay off the noise?" Before he gets a migraine... This is the sort of thing that drives archangels crazy, you know. Insane wanderers.

[mustardwithat]

In strides a woman with the blushed-olive complexion of an Eastern European, wings out, skin glossed with a fine layer of sweat. She's wearing nothing but a sports bra and sweat pants and seems completely unconcerned with that fact. Her shoulders, back, and part of her belly are all covered with intricate tattoos.

Fritz barely seems to notice Martin, heading straight for the fridge instead. She grabs a carton of milk labeled with someone else's name and tips it back, drinking straight from the mouth.

[astrongerbeacon]

Martin blinks at her as she walks past him. Not someone he recognizes, and he's been in the Conrad long enough that he knows most of those who've been staying here for any length of time.

"...You know, that's extremely unhygenic," he comments after a moment. "Not that I care, I just feel I should point it out."

[mustardwithat]

"Mmmnfh?" Fritz says it around the milk, which causes a little dribble to meander past her chin. She scrubs at her lips, pops the top of the milk closed, and puts it back into the fridge.

"What?"

[astrongerbeacon]

"...I said it's unhygenic," Martin says, nodding to the fridge. "That's what we use cups for. Though I'm gathering that's not exactly your concern..."

Martin wonders if he should put a Post-It note on that milk to warn people or something. Not that he thinks they keep Post-It notes in the kitchen...