Because nobody knows that's how I nearly fell, trading clothes and ringing Pavlov's bell.

[nothingsodivine]

Ah, Chicago. The Windy City. Home of the Rift. The Land of the Bucktoothed Snake... Possibly not that last one, although you really never know. It's a hot, cloudy Sunday and there are people out and about doing what people in Chicago do.

Des is, at this very moment, sitting in Buckingham Fountain. How he came to be there is an interesting story and

Comments

[hey_capn_jack]

Jason wants to get out of this city. Really. He does. Any second thoughts on the matter are just the residual effect of him never knowing what the fuck he wants, and... that's not exactly a helpful argument.

In any case, he's downtown. As a dog. Looking for alien technology on this annoyingly 93° day.

Or at least, he was. Now he's found something that might - might - be a fine-state transducer, which might use an element which'll work for his purposes. Or it could be a vacuum tube. Kinda hard to tell.

In any case, he's taking a shortcut through Grant Park when he notices the spray of water coming up from the Buckingham Fountain, and decides to take a detour. (It's a dog thing, right? Dogs in fountains? No one should notice anything odd about this, and he can deposit the transducer somewhere hidden while he cools down.)

Cue one rottweiler splashing about in the fountain, just generally having good canine fun until he turns around and WELL, SHIT. DES.

...have a dog, Des.

[nothingsodivine]

Des is currently shouting something unpleasant at some guy who has taken it upon himself to scowl at him for disturbing the sanctity of the fountain or something by existing in it. "...And, for the record, if people weren't meant to wade in fountains, then why do so many people get shoved into them?"

...It made sense in his head. Really. It did.

He's reassuring himself of this fact when he hears the sound of continuous splashing and sees that he's been joined by a dog. It makes him long for the days with S139 was lurking around the street. He may adore Cy, but he's a dog person.

And Des, being a man not all that accustomed to shapeshifters, doesn't really register the doggy look of surprise. He gets to his feet and kneels, snapping his fingers. "Hey there, pooch. Glad to see someone else gets the appeal of fountain-sitting, since people ain't likin' it much."

...Have some indignity, Jason.

[hey_capn_jack]

Jason's working as a bartender in a family-owned bed and breakfast staffed mostly by teenaged werewolves. Indignity is not something Jason concerns himself with these days.

Right. I'm a dog. I'm a perfectly normal, if uncollared, dog. I'm certainly not your ex-arch-nemesis.

Jason lets his tongue loll out, staring at Des with a calculated look of canine affability. His is not to wonder why; his is just to act like a dog so no one throws him in a cell for war crimes.

...though he's not just going to walk up to his old body-double. He'll just... stand here. And look friendly.

Woof?

[nothingsodivine]

Des purses his lips. Okay, most dogs, when affable, walk up to investigate strange persons calling to them, otherwise they growl or back away or look generally scared. Des, however, master of common sense that he is not, just figures that standing up and taking a few steps closer is the right course of action, rather than, you know, assuming there's anything amiss.

Besides, some dogs are weird. Look at S139. Maybe he's just teasing him to get him to play. Nothing weird here at all.

"You know, running around without a collar isn't the smartest move, fella," he notes, more to himself than the dog, because the dog can't exactly do anything about it.

[homoraptor]

Hot weather is good demon weather. It just... is. And because of that, Malek is roaming the grounds with a half-gallon of peanut-butter-cup chocolate ice cream and an ice cream scoop, because spoons are for people who don't have righteous behemoth hunger.

He stops on his wanderings about to note that there's some guy he hasn't been properly introduced to - a crime, really - being a dork (his people!) with a rapier. Which has at least three puns already crowding the tip of his tongue.

Malek is on an off day. Off days are better with someone to share them with. When it comes to sharing days with people, one either goes for the friendly girls or the big loud guys. Elementary, my dear Barnam.

He wanders up, careful not to cross the path of the sword, and jabs a half-full scoop of ice cream in Aaron's direction. "'ard work, ja? 'freshments?"

[nogettingback]

Aaron, like the exceedingly graceful Barnam, he is was currently in the process of balancing on a bench with no foot up on the back and the other planted firmly on the seat with his sword thrust outwards, but somewhere between noticing Malek and getting himself in that position he forgets that weight should either be equally distributed or not distributed all the way onto the foot up on the back of the bench.

Physics dictates that this means the bench tips backwards and Aaron has a split second to toss the sword before he gets impaled on it, thus ending sprawled on the ground in a sweaty, slightly degraded heap.

And then he's up. Because he's smooth. Totally smooth.

"Yeah. Very hard." He notes, brushing the grass stains off his person, before looking up and staring at what's being offered. "Oh God, ice cream. I could kiss you right now."

Oh, Aaron. Aaron, Aaron, Aaron.

[homoraptor]

Malek officially likes this one. He flips the scoop around, offering it to Aaron handle-first. "Well't, don't gen take payment, but if you're in t'kissin mood..."

Malek is about as subtle as a behemoth to the face.

He offers the ice cream tub as well, and then... considers the fact that he has no hands left to offer a handshake with. He shrugs instead.

"'m Malek."

[nogettingback]

Aaron accepts the ice cream with an arch of his eyebrows, before digging in with gusto. Om nom ice cream. "Maybe after I've taken a shower," he says, wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand.

He digs another scoop out of the ice cream tub. Archangels in training- they have voracious appetites. "'m Aaron," he says around a mouthful. "Aaron Barnam. Tay's cousin."

He gestures back to the Gauche with the scooper and then something hits him and he turns back to Malek, waving the scoop around so wildly that flecks of melted ice cream start flying. "Ohhh you're the guy on the journals? The guy I talked to my first day here?"

[whateverthemess]

"Cooper." Have a Murphy, Hawkes, complete with ever-present easel case holding her sword. "Do you even know where you're going?"

Given how... turbulent the Prophet seems to think Chicago is, letting either Vansen or (particularly) Hawkes stray far just seems like a bad idea. She resettles the easel case and watches the show in the fountain, unconsciously profiling the crowd as she does so. "For someone who's supposed to be the future of the military, you make yourself pretty easy to spot."

[monitorthebirds]

Hawkes looks down... Way down. He didn't think they made people that tiny or maybe that's just a side effect of bein' a Tank. Everybody looks small and easily breakable or somethin'.

He makes a hrmph noise and goes back to watching the girl dancing in the fountain. "Ain't used to just sittin' 'round waitin' for somethin' to happen. If that Prophet guy thinks we're supposed to be here, I might as well see what the hell it is I was brought here to do exactly."

In other words, he's five steps ahead of you, Murph. He knows that there ain't nothin' in this crowd that he couldn't take out, even if situational awareness wasn't worth shit. She ain't seen a Tank fight yet.

"'Sides Vansen's around." He knows she is. Because Vansen's everyone's mom and if he wanders off, she'll be following, even if she thinks he's not aware.

[whateverthemess]

"You could have asked me for help, you know." It's quieter, accompanied by a shrug. "I might not know much about angels or demons or the rift, but this city has been my home for..." She sighs. It ends in a laugh. "Probably longer than your or Vansen have been alive."

She can't help it--she feels protective of the pair of them. They're young, for one thing, military or not. For another, she's lonely. There's a blush of envy in her at the fact that Hawkes and Vansen came through together. Seeing them talking, planning, commiserating, somehow makes being in this place alone that much worse.

[monitorthebirds]

"Ain't exactly used to askin' people for help." Especially people who pointedly aren't the other 58th or McQueen. It's nothing personal, Murphy. Hawkes is just one big floppy puppy who is not a people person. "But... Thanks."

He guesses it doesn't hurt to be sorta polite.

He goes back to watching the girl dancing in the fountain. "What's she doin' anyway?"

There you go, Murphy. Deal with the In Vitro who is very naive about things like... Whimsy. It happens.

[duology]

Ace is still refusing to let Dev out to play, and she is distracting herself by making wider and wider circuits of her neighborhood. She's passing Grant Park right now, and is debating whether to leap into the fountain herself. She likes the heat more than the cold, but it gets annoying after awhile, and with fewer clothes there are that many fewer places to hide weapons.

She skates to a stop near the fountain and spots Des. And she can't help it; she smirks a little, almost enough for it to be called a real smile.

"Hello, Huntsman. Or are you the Little Mermaid today?"

[nothingsodivine]

Des splashes at her a bit and sticks his tongue out, because Des is about as mature as a ten-year-old boy and probably half as endearing, depending on who you ask. "I had a problem with a client. She decided I needed a good dousing, but the joke's on her, because this is precisely what I needed."

He stands up and wades a little closer to the edge of the fountain. "In other news, it's really fuckin' hot outside. How are you, Ace?"

[duology]

The smirk broadens and--yes, even Ace will admit it, she does smile a little when Des splashes at her. She steps aside, but still gets a few droplets on her arm.

"Awful nice of her, then. Almost thinking of joining you." And she would, in a heartbeat, but wet guns are useless, and the gun tucked into the back of her shorts is one of her favorites.

She cocks her head. "Well enough, I guess. Not hunting much. You?"

[nothingsodivine]

"Anything I can catch," Des says, kneeling back down again and gathering some water into his palm and splashing his face a bit. "Which isn't much these days. I think the CLF is spookin' all my clients. Did catch a poltergeist with a friend of mine a few weeks ago though."

He shakes his head a bit and continues wading. "Hunting's kinda sparse when you have to keep watching your back, even if it has been quiet lately."

[beanshield]

Bean is sitting on a park bench near the fountain, finishing up the last of the amulets for Torchwood. She has been sitting here in the shade for the past two hours or so, spaced out and in many ways off in her own world. Potato is lying beneath the bench, taking advantage of the extra shade.

She comes back to reality with a contented sigh and smiles at the completed amulet. She looks up and sees a man sitting in the fountain.

She blinks. She has absolutely no idea how he got there. She certainly didn't hear the telltale splash.

Bean sets the small pile of woven and beaded amulets aside and gets up, going to the edge of the fountain. Potato opens one eye to watch her and make sure she doesn't stray too far.

"Um! Mister? Are you okay? You're in a fountain!"

[nothingsodivine]

Des is ruffling his hair by splashing water on his head and shaking about like a dog and then stops acting like an idiot the minute he realizes he's being watched and sort of stares at the pink-haired personage addressing him.

"Am I?" He gapes, like this is news to him. He looks down at the water and splashes a few times as if testing it. "Guess that explains the water."

At least he's being sarcastic in a nice way?

[beanshield]

Bean giggles a little. He doesn't seem drunk, at least, though he might still be crazy or something.

Then again, maybe he was just hot. Bean is only just now noticing how hot out it is.

"Well, sometimes people need someone to tell them that they're in a strange place. Sometimes I end up in strange places and have no idea how I got there! But you're okay, right? You're not crazy or anything?"

[nothingsodivine]

Des smirks and lifts his foot to yank one of his boots off- he likes those damn things too much to let them get water damaged. One shoe off and tossed out over the edge of the fountain, he goes to work on the other one. "I promise I'm not crazy, but I know a bunch of people who would disagree with that."

Other boot off and over. He moves onto his socks. "If it helps, I'm pretty sure I'm the harmless kind of crazy." He holds up one sopping wet sock and wrings it out. "And ending up in a place and not remembering how you got there sounds pretty dangerous. How does that happen? You sleepwalk?"