Time together isn't ever quite enough

[stilllookingup]

Misaki Kirihara is in the Kashtta Tower, her arm in a cast and a sling. All the clothes they found for her were a bit too large; she’s ended up in loose sweat pants and a t-shirt. She’s been exploring the building for about an hour and a half now, poking her nose into the empty rooms and trying to busy her mind with information gathering and

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[aint_nosurprise]

Casey has kept to himself since the plagues. The overwhelming feeling of defeat makes it difficult to have any interest in interacting with anyone. He hears the sound of the piano being played, and he sticks his head into the room.

"Sir, I-"

He pauses.

It's not Bristow in here. It's a woman... so unless Bristow was unfortunate enough to have an experience like his own, it's not Bristow.

"Sorry. I... thought you were someone else."

[stilllookingup]

She jumps, going slightly pink when Casey apologizes. Misaki shakes her head. "No, it's all right, I was..." She looks at the piano and pinches the bridge of her nose--

And remembers once again that she's not wearing her glasses. She keeps forgetting she doesn't have them on. She should. Part of her thinks this whole thing has to be a dream. She's needed glasses since gradeschool. It doesn't make sense that--

None of it makes sense. She settles back on that one solid fact once again and bows to Casey. Dream or not, these people are her hosts. "There's no need to apologize."

[aint_nosurprise]

"There's... no need to bow," Casey insists though he assumes it's custom for her.

It feels weird.

He shakes his head and steps further into the room. He could walk away again. It's not like he has any desire to talk to her or anyone else. Bristow is someone who he talks to because he's his boss and he respects him. Forming conversations filled with idle chatter with strangers seems useless but something keeps him standing there.

"Are you new? ... to Chicago?"

She's obviously new to the Tower or he would have seen her in passing at some point.

[stilllookingup]

"Yes," she glances down and away. Self-conscious, awkward, out of place. It all shows for a moment before she slips back into her persona, her job. Just a cop gathering information. "I'm still not entirely certain how I got here."

[xandtheman3]

Xander is out looking for a Thanksgiving meal! Okay, not really. He'll have a Thanksgiving meal with Buffy and Willow and Tay and Piper, but... he's looking for a snack to tide him over. He has some money. He may have found it on the ground... under some rubble. Well, the guy under the rubble doesn't need it anymore.

He got distracted watching a giant catbeast... dragging a vacuum.

"O-...kay then." Obviously he has lost his mind. It's time to do the rational thing about it and pretend like he sees absolutely nothing. Pretending is half of sanity anyway, right?

[cyfor]

That only works when the catbeast isn't dragging said vacuum right toward you. She stops when she gets close, dropping the vacuum and growling at it. "No. You do what I say."

[stopdropanddie]

"Do you play?"

There weren't any footsteps. Jack Bristow makes it a habit not to be heard, even when it's not necessary. One moment, there was no one and the next there's a (fully human) Jack in the doorway just... Staring.

Theoretically, he could turn around and walk off, but he did bring her here and that is his piano, so... He is going to stick around and be awkward. Like he do.

[stilllookingup]

She does not squeak. She does, however, jump enough to send a loud brangle of sound through the room from the piano.

Misaki busies herself needlessly fixing the sling for a moment before inclining her head in a bow. She looks back at the piano. "Not for a long time."

...This person sounds very famili--ohgodreallywhat. Misaki does squeak now, taking a half-step back to bump against the instrument. She bows again, more deeply.

"Sir." He looks like a German Shepherd, even as a person. "I haven't had the chance to thank you properly for your assistance."

[stopdropanddie]

Jack takes both reactions in stride without even a glimmer of emotion. Truth be told, he's a little uncomfortable with that reaction- the bowing more than anything- but it's a cultural thing and he's not going to argue it.

He steps a bit further into the room. "There's no need to thank me," he says, bluntly, "Given the choice, I think only a cold-hearted individual would have left you to die out there."

He breezes past her to stand in front of the piano, studying it for a moment like he's analyzing it down to its molecular structure. After a moment, he plunks out, one-handed, some melody or another. It's rather good for a half-hearted attempt, but, well, Jack Bristow did once hold aspirations of being a piano man before he fell into spycraft.

[stilllookingup]

Misaki responds with the first few seconds of Ravel's concert for the left hand, her expression closing up as she plays. Her fingers rest on the low keys. "On the contrary. It's the exception that does anything to help, concern for a person's life notwithstanding."

She drops her hand to her side. "Who are you? What is this place?"

God, she's been waiting to ask someone that since she woke up. Some of the tech here-- Well. She's dubious that it's anything above-board.

[rattle_thecages]

The last thing on Rachel's mind is Thanksgiving. She knows Alfred would want her to spend it with him and most likely Bruce, but right now she needs distance from it all.

She misses Robin. She's worried about him and Ruvin. Her nearly obsessive research on Christopher Clark that has led her nowhere hasn't been helping either. Nothing seems to be helping. He's nowhere to be found. Rachel returns to the makeshift wall in her empty sleeplessness. She looks over every picture, almost expecting to find him. Hoping to find him there. Hating herself for hoping such a thing, even if it's--

No.

She makes a soft noise of surprise at Portia's voice, at the alcohol that she pours over the shrine. "Sorry," she says almost immediately. She takes a deep breath. "I--I'm sorry."

[takethechase]

Portia eyes her with the wariness one typically reserves for wild-haired preachers on crowded street corners.

One can never be too careful in Chicago. "What for? It's a public place, honey. You can be miserable here just as easy as me."

[rattle_thecages]

Rachel takes no offense to being wary. Chicago and Gotham are similar animals in different universes, and she doesn't blame the woman if she's cautious.

"I'm not--" she stops because who is she trying to fool at this point? "Some people prefer the solitude. I didn't want to...interrupt anything."

[takethechase]

"Nothing and no one to interrupt," she murmurs, screwing the top onto her flask again and tucking it away. She holds out a hand to Rachel. "ADA Portia Kilgaur."

[waywardnoblet]

Chuck is going to pretend that he isn't seeing a giant cat dragging a vacuum around.

Nope.

He is definitely not seeing that.

There's no way.

"I hate this place," he mutters under his breath.

[cyfor]

Cy drops the hose and makes disgusted kitty faces at the taste of dust.

"I hate your face," she says. Yes, Chuck, the big ole kitty can talk, too. "You're in my walking space."

[waywardnoblet]

GREAT. Not only is it a talking cat, it is a talking cat who does not like him.

...or maybe that's a good thing. Maybe it won't want to eat him.

He steps out of the cat's way, frowning. "You could have said 'excuse me'."

Because Noblet judges everyone and everything. He does not approve of your lack of manners, large-toothed cat.