but I know I'll go crazy if I don't go crazy tonight [open like burning]

[notenlightened]

10am: Dani Reese is sitting in a booth at The Kitchen Table, an untouched cup of coffee in front of her. Despite desperately needing the caffeine, her thoughts are way too full of 'how the hell are we getting out of here?' at the moment. Crews is - well, last she checked, he was still in bed. She pauses in her thought process and briefly debates

Comments

[elashte]

Elashte still does keep psychic tabs on the Main Gauche residents. Practically, it's a good idea for security; personally, it helps to ease the itch in the back of his mind that still goads him to use those Neqa'el powers, act as a demon, do something...

He can control them. He wouldn't have survived this long if he couldn't. He just... sates the hunger, a little.

It would seem he and Sylar have something in common.

In any case, Sylar is... dangerous, and that makes him interesting. So Elashte will approach him, all friendly professionalism, and offer a hand.

"You're a new face, if I'm not mistaken," he says, and introduces himself. "Elashte. Proprietor of these apartments."

[technicallykill]

It would seem that this man has some kind of power. Sylar can sense it coming off him in waves, even before he offers a hand to him, even before he himself takes the hand offered in his own for a firm shake that conveys as much of his own ability.

"I admit to being curious as to who owned this place," he replies. "And my name - well, it's a complicated subject, but you'll likely hear others refer to me as Sylar on most days."

[elashte]

"I sometimes wonder if names were ever meant to be simple," Elashte says. His handshake is also firm, and the heat radiating from his skin makes it more than clear that he's a demon. This close, those old Poludnica senses are practically tingling, demanding to be let into this man's mind, to find the threads and mechanics, see how it functions on a cognitive level.

He's not going to. He has to maintain some sense of moral accountability, after all.

"I hope you're finding the facilities comfortable," he says. "You've caught us in a good season, at least." He gestures to the courtyard, its oxygen-farm garden in pleasant summer glory.

[technicallykill]

"Comfortable," Sylar echoes. "Of course. Though I am still attempting to get used to the concept of staying in one place for an extended period of time."

Men such as he aren't very prone to settling down for the long term of things, and though he has been able to quell the urges for now, it's only a matter of time before they come back up, stronger than ever.

[waywardnoblet]

Someone is watching Fred from his spot on the couch. He's an average-looking guy, for the most part, with nothing very remarkable about him except maybe the fact that his hair is extra shiny today.

...and even that isn't really noticeable to anyone who isn't him.

Anyway, he's watching her, eyes a little wider than usual. He's not going to say anything, though, because the last person he spoke to here threatened to punch him in the face for bothering them, and he is far too young and handsome to have a broken nose.

[doneanddoner]

It doesn't take her very long to notice she's being watched, but she tries to ignore it, giving that bag a couple of punches that would definitely break a nose or two.

She might look small, but thanks to the Rift, now she's packing a pretty hard hit.

After another minute or two of punches, she straightens up out of her fight stance and walks over to grab her water bottle. That's when she finally catches sight of her watcher.

"Hi," she says, somewhat breathlessly.

[waywardnoblet]

He nods over at her, more of an acknowledgment than a greeting. "Hello."

She does look small, but not harmless. Chuck's learned that small does not necessarily equal harmless. Small, in his experience, usually equals mentally unstable.

"Nice day to work out aggression on inanimate objects, isn't it?"

[doneanddoner]

"Is it?"

Fred finds a small white towel and uses it to wipe off her face, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

"I haven't been outside yet," she admits.

[teenytinyteme]

Chance is just sitting there, watching with wide eyes as this woman appears to BEAT THE SHIT out of a punching bag. She's pretty impressed. She knows how to punch things--mostly things like other kids' faces. But that looks AWESOME.

"You're really badass," she says finally, when there is a lull in the punching. "I wish I could punch like that."

[doneanddoner]

"Badass?" Fred nearly blushes at the repetition of the word; she rarely curses herself.

"Oh, I'm not sure if I would say that. But I guess I need somethin' to do with all this energy I seem to have picked up lately."

[teenytinyteme]

Chance shakes her head at the woman's reluctance. "Nah. I'd go with badass. It fits pretty nicely."

She cocks her head to the side. "Have you been sick?" she asks. "With the energy thing." She remembers having the flu when she was younger, and how TIRED she was all the time.

[doneanddoner]

"Okay, if you say so."

Fred is nothing if not agreeable.

"Sick? No, I don't think so. Just tryin' to get used to this whole beatin' things up."

[rattle_thecages]

[ooc: Um, on second thought this character makes more sense. Sorry. >.> <3]

The inner nerd in Rachel Dawes likes the smell of books, too. She's also a little bit of an overachiever. That's an understatement really, and since she might be meeting Martha Jones over the weekend to discuss certain legal matters concerning Wanderers, Rachel wants to be prepared just in case.

Always be prepared and don't leave for tomorrow what you can do today. She doesn't have her own law books at hand so she's gone to the bookstore. She plans on staying there for a good while. Time away from the Conrad will help.

So there is Rachel Dawes, surrounded by stacks of law books and a legal notebook. She looks up as Sam walks in and smiles at him briefly.

[wegotwork]

His first priority: find out if anyone's published anything on the Rift. His second: find a decent and semi-used copy of a book he hasn't touched in a while. He's in the mood to do some re-reading, most likely while Dean's out so he won't have to hear about it later on.

He returns the smile as his eyes meet Rachel's, and offers a quick nod in greeting.

[rattle_thecages]

"If you need any of the books from over here, let me know," Rachel says quietly, motioning to the book case behind her. A pencil's in her hand, notebook on her lap and books at her feet.

She hadn't found a comfortable spot anywhere else, but she's aware she might be blocking their way.

[wegotwork]

Sam glances over at the shelves behind her and then shakes his head.

"I think I'll be good, but thanks."

He knows he tends to take up a lot of room himself. The issue of his size has often led to Dean calling him such names as Sasquatch and ginormatron.