William find it the most comfortable in the park. It doesn't have so much of the things he doesn't understand. Plants and trees, these are things he can connect with. The city was bustling, and he every time he allows himself to wander, he runs into something else he can't understand.
And he tries to make sure he doesn't look too out of place. His clothes are changed, even if he finds them uncomfortable and odd. His words, however, are not.
"A lion among ladies is a most dreadful thing," he says as she approaches the tree he is sitting under. He plans on going to a poetry reading tonight, possibly a slam, to see if he can pick up some more money. It's one way to make a living.
"No," Shakespeare says softly, almost absentmindedly, as if he is thinking about other things. Which it would be fair to say he is. He's thinking about much more than Faith right now. Very rarely is he focused only on one thing. Though the girl is pretty. He will look at her, but he does not feel like moving to woo her properly. "Be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust upon them. Be afraid of greatness separating us, exasperating us until we have no other recourse." He shrugs, as if that answered her question well enough, even though really, it wasn't much of an answer at all. "Women can be tragic, but unfortunately, I have seen, the strong ones are the tragic ones in the end."
"Everyone is tragic in the end," Faith says, shrugging and dropping to the ground near him. "I mean, that's life, isn't it? You struggle to be born, you struggle with money, with relationships, with...everything. And the only easy part is the exit."
Robin has been Robin. He does not go outside if he can help it, but he's in the park going from Point 'B' to Point 'The Conrad Hotel' when he happens to notice that he's walking by that Wanderer he had sex with. Right.
He stares at her, considers not talking to her at all, and then stops.
"Are we collecting sticks for a campfire? You don't strike me as much of a girl scout."
He assumes girl scouts make campfires if boy scouts do.
Dean's usually more discreet about the whole gathering wood thing - you wouldn't catch him wandering around a park with a bag in his hand -, and the vampires from his world might be a bit different, but when he sees the girl, he thinks he knows what she's doing. Really, there are only two options: being totally crazy, or being some kind of hunter.
Either way, there's a hot girl wandering around the park and Dean plans on spending his day as far away as possible from books and research, so he decides to go talk to her.
"So," he says as he approaches, "you about to fight some kind of monster or are you just really, really itchin' for a campfire?" Dean's pickup lines have gotten a little worse than usual lately. He blames the rift.
Faith glances at Dean, then raises her eyebrows and looks him over, slow and blatantly appreciative.
'Cause his ego needs the help, clearly.
"Why do you ask?" She smirks, licking her lips suggestively. "You offering to..light my fire?"
Yeah. Faith's just like that.
This is gonna be an -interesting- conversation.
(Sorry! Sorry! Had a bad case of the sicks and couldn't brain for responses for a while, but I have always wanted a Dean-Faith interaction and now I get it! Yay!)
Dean's not a starer; he likes to think he's a little more subtle than that, but when Faith looks him over like a piece of meat, it's hard not to reciprocate.
"Maybe," Dean says, his voice a bit lower now. He takes a step closer. "I'm Dean," he says, and it's more an invitation than an introduction. Dean gets a feeling Faith cares about as much for pretense as he does.
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And he tries to make sure he doesn't look too out of place. His clothes are changed, even if he finds them uncomfortable and odd. His words, however, are not.
"A lion among ladies is a most dreadful thing," he says as she approaches the tree he is sitting under. He plans on going to a poetry reading tonight, possibly a slam, to see if he can pick up some more money. It's one way to make a living.
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She stops in her tracks and turns to him, eyebrows raised.
"....you have an objection to strong women?"
Oh, Will. Be careful, honey.
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Slayers are given to morbidity. Part of the job.
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He stares at her, considers not talking to her at all, and then stops.
"Are we collecting sticks for a campfire? You don't strike me as much of a girl scout."
He assumes girl scouts make campfires if boy scouts do.
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Right. They banged once and she hasn't seen him since. Just the way she likes it. "No, we're collecting sticks to carve arrows out of."
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Either way, there's a hot girl wandering around the park and Dean plans on spending his day as far away as possible from books and research, so he decides to go talk to her.
"So," he says as he approaches, "you about to fight some kind of monster or are you just really, really itchin' for a campfire?" Dean's pickup lines have gotten a little worse than usual lately. He blames the rift.
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'Cause his ego needs the help, clearly.
"Why do you ask?" She smirks, licking her lips suggestively. "You offering to..light my fire?"
Yeah. Faith's just like that.
This is gonna be an -interesting- conversation.
(Sorry! Sorry! Had a bad case of the sicks and couldn't brain for responses for a while, but I have always wanted a Dean-Faith interaction and now I get it! Yay!)
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"Maybe," Dean says, his voice a bit lower now. He takes a step closer. "I'm Dean," he says, and it's more an invitation than an introduction. Dean gets a feeling Faith cares about as much for pretense as he does.
(No worries! :])
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She drops the bag; a bow, some lethal-looking hand-carved arrows, and the end of a sword poke out of it.
She's not planning a campfire.
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