We spend all day getting sober, just hiding from daylight, watching tv.

[hey_capn_jack]

Owen Harper believes, perhaps erroneously, that there is an insufficient quantity of alcohol in the Kashtta Tower. To that end he's grumping his way around the city in a coat - Cardiff never got this cold, or rather, it did, but not as often, and that doesn't mean he liked it - looking for a liquor store, as opposed to just a store that also sells

Comments

[jiiiii]

Matoi is on her way out of a liquor shop.

With liquor.

Do not question this Owen. She has a fake ID. And a fake income. Among other things.

"Oh, fancy running into you," she says, tilting her head to the side, and giving Owen a big smile. Because this is totally a coincidence.

[der_weevilkonig]

Okay, ordinarily, Owen would draw the line at people anticipating his every move. But, one, Matoi is Matoi, and two... alcohol. Owen might just forgive multiple genocide for alcohol, but to be fair, that might have more to do with Owen being a misanthropistic bastard.

He stifles an incredulous grin/knowing smirk, and folds his arms. "Go on, then. What did you get?"

[jiiiii]

"Well, we were almost out of vodka," Matoi says, pulling the bottle out, and handing it to Owen. "And scotch." Have another bottle handed at you. "And tequila." Rinse and repeat. "I would have gotten rum, too, but I thought we would have enough to last the week at least before I'd have to get you more and... oh, did I forget anything?"

The face looking up at you now Owen is very, very worried. She does want to make sure you have enough alcohol in the Kashtta. Alcohol is very important to you. And so it is very serious business to her.

[der_weevilkonig]

Aaaand there is vodka. And scotch. And tequila. Well, that should hold them for a few days.

"Rum," Owen scoffs. "Only good for parties. I don't think anyone in the Tower is too interested in parties right now, do you?" He tucks the scotch into the crook of his elbow, handing the other bottles back. "But, yeah. That should do it. For now, anyway."

He turns, wandering back in the direction of the Tower and trusting that she'll follow.

"I don't suppose there's anything you can do about the weather, is there?"

[allmydiredreams]

Babel is running around the Kashtta's halls, occasionally stopping to talk to the walls. Do not question this; it's just what she does sometimes.

She almost runs into J, but pulls herself up just short and stares down at him for a bit. She can recognize that bodybeat, she can, though he was not fuzzy last time she saw him.

This is immensely pleasing. So she grins, squeaks, and drops onto him, because that's what you do with giant dogs even if they aren't people. "You're fuzzy now," she says.

[hey_capn_jack]

J glances up, raising his little doggy eyebrows at Babel. After a moment, he sits straight up, ears erect and eyes wide, in a perfect posture of mock-dismay before turning around to stare at his own flank. What! Fuzzy? Really? How did I not notice!

...after a few more turns than he intended taking, he plops back down and looks up at Babel, tenting his ears forward.

I don't suppose you can read animal thoughts, can you? How are you today?

[allmydiredreams]

Babel laughs, also sitting up. "Can feel your sarcasm," she says, reaching over to give him a few scritches.

She can't read your thoughts, unfortunately. So she doesn't get that your earperk is more than just a 'yeah, that's my sarcasm for the day, hello'. "Why so suddenly scritchable?" she asks, instead. "Though I suppose it's hard to communicate like that, isn't it?"

[hey_capn_jack]

J!dog snorts. Hard? That depends on what you want to communicate. 'Get out of my face before I bite you' is pretty easy. As is...

He gets up again, rearing up to put his front paws on Babel's shoulders and give her a good lick before he drops down again.

See? Communication. What's all this about words?

[invitedthemin]

Topher has decided that he doesn't really want to think about or question why the Organization (he still hates that name) needs a bookstore. It has everything else! Maybe they own a Starbucks. ...Maybe they invented Starbucks

[sinsofskin]

Well, isn't that something? Someone knocking around an Organization bookstore who doesn't seem to know who she is. Not that she's got the facial recognition of, say, Adam, but she is a faction leader, and one with a certain reputation of exercising more sway in the Org than one might think the whore-keeper should.

But maybe he's new. And that makes him interesting, in a kind of funny pathetic way.

"You, on the other hand, look exactly like you should be cooped up in a lab with all of those," she says. "And you shouldn't underestimate me. I'm a cosmopolitan lady."

She raises an eyebrow before returning to peruse her book.

"And there's one clomping around town, you know. ...if you should see him, just keep in mind that he's mine."

[invitedthemin]

If his grin was any dorkier right now, he'd probably look like an idiot. Granted, it's really hard to look like anything but a dork when you have a stack of books the size of Cleavland and are wearing a sweatervest.

"Who said anything about underestimating?" He shrugs with a slight laugh. "We're all shameless bookworms here and- ...You're serious?" He doubletakes when he hears the word faun and around town.

....Okay, what the hell, Chicago?

He doesn't know what he would do with a faun. Well, he has a few ideas, but brain-scanning Mr. Tumnus is one of those once in a lifetime things that ruins your childhood forever.

"Got it. Tumnus is yours," he says in the awkward way of someone who isn't sure why we're suddenly claiming ownership of fauns. He's accustomed to morally grey and comfortable with it. That's a bit odd. "I'm Topher, by the way. Topher Brink. I'm the, uh..."

He trails off. What the hell is he, exactly? Other than Patron Saint of Memory Manipulation. Awesome job title, that.

"...I'm the neurology guy."

Well, it

[sinsofskin]

There's a very small smile, at that. Leona casually dogears a page and folds the book closed.

"Mr. Jones, actually. Though if Tumnus did fall through the Rift, I've no doubt someone could put him to use. Maybe. His loyalties might prove a bit unworkable. Neurology, then?" She shows a hand. "Black December, or just a few odd jobs?"

Neurology is interesting in that it's useful to have clever allies. Leona herself isn't all that interested in hard science.

[francis_barnam]

Francis is in the bookstore to buy a book, oddly enough. No, what's really odd is the fact that he's noticed Leona. He's walked by her. And he's doing a very, very good job of ignoring her. He's found the book he needs, and so he goes up to buy it.

Yup. Totally ignoring Leona. No Raks in here.

[sinsofskin]

Leona is kinda glancing up whenever people pass her by, because... hey. Contact. That contact should be getting here sooner or later, and she'd quite like to know, when she does.

She was not expecting a Barnam to walk by. Especially not a Barnam she's had a few little run-ins with and would like to finish killing, thank you.

And this is an Organization bookshop! ...not that there's any way to tell the Org-run stuff from the stuff that isn't Org-run, but what are the odds? Especially as Mr. Archangel seems like he'd really rather eat a book than read it.

Quickly, she does the calculation in her head of how likely Organizaton Internal Police are to be hanging about. She saw someone perusing the mystery section who she thinks is one of Arlin's assassins - she might be able to pull backup if things get ugly, but she can't count on it. And, go figure, Adonis is a few blocks away taking care of some other business of hers, and probably not going to hurry back because she said this little meetup might take a while

[francis_barnam]

"Well, I didn't want to bother you," Francis says stiffly. He's also really not in the mood for a fight, so avoiding Leona had seemed like a good idea at the time. "You looked rather focused."

Giving Leona a strained smile, he places the book (a civil war history book) on the counter, turning to face her. And after a rather dramatic sigh, he finally adds, "Hello."

This really isn't the time to run into a Rak. Not while he's having a mild identity crisis. He's not going to attack her. So hopefully, she won't attack him. Of course, she does seem to have better control than him, so hopefully things will remain civil.

What the hell is he thinking, remaining civil with a demon? This is bullshit. She deserves to die on the floor, drowning in her own blood.

But beyond the few times she'd provoked him into attacking her, what was she really guilty of? She didn't need to be guilty of anything. But... still.

[sinsofskin]

"Wanderers," Leona says. "I like understanding where they've come from. Not something I imagine you'd be interested in." Given how spectacularly pro-Wanderer he wasn't, the first time they met. "I find them fascinating, myself."

...also fascinating is that tone he's taken with her. There's... a distinct and rather concerning lack of venom there.

"Chicago and its treaty are still treating you well, I hope?"