Up through the sub-basement of the Conrad hotel, out the back entrance, pushing past anyone around him, comes one well-dressed young man who just happens to have the lower body of a goat
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Leona is out for a stroll. She's not afraid of archangel territory - there's a treaty on, after all, and she has a few body men on speed dial. And she's a fucking Rakshasa. Archangels excepted, she owns these streets.
She's passing by an alley when she catches something out of the corner of her eye, and doubles back to see if she was imagining it. Possibly, possibly not; by the time she's at the mouth of the alley the glimpse is off on a cross-street, but now she's interested.
She quickens her pace, making her way back up the block and turning, aiming to cut him off at the next intersection, and...
And there they are. Hello, Ianto, have a rakshasa with impeccable taste in fashion cutting off your path and giving you a once-over. And quite confirming her earlier thought that, yes, those were definitely goat legs she saw.
She smiles. There's no specific threat in the smile, but there is a hint of blood.
"You," she says, "are either very new, very foolish, or hanging balls the size of avocadoes," she says.
Oh, poor baby. Leona is more sensitive to people's emotions than a good many rakshasa, even if she doesn't act on that sensitivity much. Were he one of her boys, she'd be seeing who she needed to kill. Mama will make it better.
Instead, he's a broken-down wanderer in a bad part of town.
Fascinating.
"You know," she says, "there are places in this city where Chicago's Lunatic Fringe wouldn't dare to harass you." The Sunset Vista has a very nice walking park, for example. "This isn't one of them."
Ianto looks up, meeting her eyes. "I really don't care." Those are the words he says, but his expression makes that a lie, makes the real truth I'm counting on it.
He may be looking for one specific outcome, but that doesn't mean he can't leave them hurting while he's at it, and he very much intends to.
After a moment's effort, though, the polite, deferential mask drops back into place. Just a cute, harmless teaboy. Faun. Teafaun.
Comments 28
She's passing by an alley when she catches something out of the corner of her eye, and doubles back to see if she was imagining it. Possibly, possibly not; by the time she's at the mouth of the alley the glimpse is off on a cross-street, but now she's interested.
She quickens her pace, making her way back up the block and turning, aiming to cut him off at the next intersection, and...
And there they are. Hello, Ianto, have a rakshasa with impeccable taste in fashion cutting off your path and giving you a once-over. And quite confirming her earlier thought that, yes, those were definitely goat legs she saw.
She smiles. There's no specific threat in the smile, but there is a hint of blood.
"You," she says, "are either very new, very foolish, or hanging balls the size of avocadoes," she says.
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He doesn't miss the hint of blood in her smile so much as he's past caring right now. About her, about Ja-- J, about anything.
Let the CLF come.
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Instead, he's a broken-down wanderer in a bad part of town.
Fascinating.
"You know," she says, "there are places in this city where Chicago's Lunatic Fringe wouldn't dare to harass you." The Sunset Vista has a very nice walking park, for example. "This isn't one of them."
Reply
He may be looking for one specific outcome, but that doesn't mean he can't leave them hurting while he's at it, and he very much intends to.
After a moment's effort, though, the polite, deferential mask drops back into place. Just a cute, harmless teaboy. Faun. Teafaun.
"Sorry. If you'll excuse me..."
Reply
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