Buildings and bridges are made to bend in the wind to withstand the world...
A car loaded with teenagers pulls up in front of the Conrad. Finding parking in downtown Chicago is never easy, and Buffy is not willing to wait. She springs out of the car and races into the lobby - only to realize that while she knows the basement is where they keep the wanderers, she has no idea how to get there. Um.
The Doctor is wandering ( Read more... )
The Doctor is wandering ( Read more... )
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A nip on the ear from his bat reminds him the real reason he's heading out - so Azeroth will stop complaining about being bored. It's not that he's lonely, see, it's that Azeroth gets so lonesome, right, and he's not adjusting well to being nocturnal, so they're heading out during the day...
Oh look. There's a fairly pretty blond woman in the lobby. That might be a good place to start. Struggling to figure out what to say, the young artist heads towards Buffy, carrying his easel and canvas, his paintbox tucked under one arm.
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She's just about to go to the reception desk when she notices Jamie (it's the red hair that catches her attention), and she blinks before smiling a little. As long as he's going to come talk to her... "Hey, you wouldn't know the way down to the basement, would you? I was supposed to meet a friend there, but I've never actually been down there, and I didn't think about it until I... got here... and I sound like a total ditz, don't I?"
She's pretty well convinced she does, anyway.
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Oh, talking in code in public is always fun. Still better than trying not to talk about her life as a Slayer in high school, which always led to talk of umpires and trout. ...don't ask.
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This might be because Willow is hidden behind the stack of books she came through the Rift with.
"Buffy!" she calls out, and attempts to wave, and only ends up dropping everything with a squeak.
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She clings back for a moment, then, when the oxygen deprivation starts getting to her, squeaks out, "Buffy? Um, kinda need to breathe..."
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She's been here for a year. And she loves Tay and Piper and everyone, but she missed her friends from home more than she would have thought possible before she left. She's kind of fighting the impulse to cling and never let go.
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"Martin!"
Phoebe lights up immediately once she recognizes Martin, running toward him. She was about to tackle him into what could have been an awkward and very, very baffling hug for Martin when she notices the state he's in.
"Rough night?" she asks him, wide-eyed and worried "...the other dude's worse off, right?"
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"For some reason, demons are really attracted to me." Pause. "Not that way. But yeah, the other guy's definitely worse off." Dead in an alley, in fact, but, uh... It really was self-defense. At least, until instinct took over.
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Phoebe gingerly raises her hand, using the edge of her sleeve to wipe off some of the demon blood still on his face.
"Oh, Martin." She sounds sad and worried but mostly royally pissed. She doesn't like it when demons attack her people! "So much for that treaty."
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He pauses, and smiles a little as she reaches up to wipe the demon blood off his face. "Careful. That stuff stains."
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She is currently standing on a street corner, looking in each direction. Potato the German Shepherd is sitting beside her, looking a little mulish. Bean spots the Doctor, faintly recognizes him and trots on up.
"Um, excuse me sir, but, um, do you know where The Bead Gallery is? I could have sworn it was like around here somewhere but I think I got turned around or something..."
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Bean shuts up.
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The Doctor's kind of a sucker when it comes to tinehgirls needing help. And she just looks so disappointed, and hey, he's wandering around this area anyway... "Are you sure it was a Starbucks? Not... some other coffee shop? An exploding one, maybe?"
...the Doctor's too familiar with that sort of coffee shop. He'd be bored by a plain old Starbucks.
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Well, the smell of demon blood is pretty distinctive, and there are similarly distinctive black splatters on the man's face and down his front, and it doesn't take an idiot to figure out what all this means. Metis freezes instinctively. Then he moves off to the side to let Martin pass, hoping he won't notice him; though part of Metis can't help but be curious. Mostly because he would like to know if Chicago's status as the Switzerland of the Great Lakes region has just been revoked. He hasn't been here quite long enough to really know how things work here.
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He eyes the man for a moment. He doesn't feel, to Martin, like another angel, a wanderer or any kind of supernatural, which leaves demon. Something rises in his chest momentarily, not quite anger, not quite hunger, but pure and uncompromising instinct. Kill him, kill him, kill him NOW-
Martin chokes it down. "I'm not going to pull out a gun and shoot you in the face, if that's what you're worried about. ...I mean, unless you do the same thing first." Actually, he won't be pulling out a gun at all, as he decided to not carry a concealed weapon for once today (never making that mistake again), but the demon doesn't need to know that.
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Somehow he manages to screw his face up into a semblance of a smile.
"No, I, ah...have no real desire or intention. To do that. I was just going home." His eyes flick to the side. "Never had much interest in fighting and all that..."
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"Then we're fine. I've really had enough of fighting today myself." And he doesn't want to fight before he at least sees a healing angel or Grace about the arm. He doesn't think it's broken, but he might have sprained something, and a fistfight with another demon won't help that.
He smiles tightly, lifting the hand of his uninjured arm palm-up in an attempt to reassure him. Alright, maybe the fact that he's flecked with black blood that's just barely cooled might not be the most reassuring thing to a demon, but there's only so much he can do about that right now.
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