I cannot defend you, but I'll try and I'll be there.

[callinallfreaks]

All is quiet in the Kashtta lobby. You know, the way things ...probably shouldn't be, considering the Kashtta, but that's beside the point. At least it doesn't stay that way for long

Comments

[idontlikecake]

Kaden has tweaked almost every facial expression possible out of Jessi over the years. This one, however, is not one he's really seen at all. He's angered her before. But this is a completely different kind of betrayal. This is her son he's messing with. He is not her parent. He has no right to do this.

She's not even thinking when she marches right up to him, and smacks him across the face. Thank god for his insane pain tolerance because, she realizes belatedly, that would have hurt. And she also probably shouldn't be hitting people in front of her son. Especially not people who are going to fucking force themselves into his life whether she wants them to or not.

"You don't," she starts, her voice strangled. It's difficult to rein herself in right now. The amount of panic and pain she's experience in the last 45 minutes or so is hard to describe. "Kaden. You don't do that. Ever again."

Justin, on the other hand, is completely oblivious to the fight because zomgicecream. Jessi is very glad.

[doyoulikecake]

Kaden smiles at her expression when he spots her coming toward him. He'd been watching for her; he's actually surprised it took her this long to find them, given that he's her ward and this is her son. But the expression makes the wait worth it. The hints of panic under the anger, and how angry she is in the first place... He knew he'd get something new out of her, now that she's back in his life. He knew it. It's almost a relief.

He does let her wipe the smile off his face, even if his automatic reaction to being hit is to laugh in the face of the attacker, when she smacks him in the face. "I've done nothing to him," he says, involuntarily touching his face where she hit him. "Do you really want to bring that part of our childhood into his life?For a moment he stares at her, eyes cold and not-quite-angry, and then he breaks a bit, with a sigh. It's calculated, and she can probably feel that, but it's also incredibly familiar. Let her wonder how much of his childhood love was a front; it doesn't change the fact that he loves

[idontlikecake]

He did not -- he did not just compare her to their father. Granted, her first reaction to the conflict was violence, and -- no, she can't write it off, even if he deserved it. That would only make her worse. More like him. But it's not like she's honestly found herself in a conflict, stuck between a rock and a hard place in five years. With James, she could easily pull herself out of any little disputes they could have. Not so much with Kaden

[doyoulikecake]

He doesn't need her to apologize. He knows it's there, whether she wants to admit to it or not. She doesn't have to show him anything to let him know she's sorry. Just the smile is enough, the fact that she's putting up the right front -- she never could get away from that. He grins back, briefly giving her a pat on the shoulder before taking his hand away to stir the ice cream he's still holding.

"It's okay," he says as if she had apologized. "I'm used to it anyway."

He takes a bite of ice cream, watching Justin enjoy his. "I'll be sure to let you know," he says, as if that's actually acquiescence to her request. He knows it's not, she knows it's not, but she couldn't have expected him to really just go along with any request she made of him, could she? Besides, he doubts she'd let him take Justin by himself anywhere, if she knew ahead of time

[thehighestwing]

The narration is so sorry, angel, but you're getting a Phoebe.

She's in the Conrad's basement room, too! What are the odds?

It's actually pretty much a rarity these days. The Conrad reminds her of Jo, and Phoebe doesn't like thinking of Jo too often. It makes her sad and Phoebe doesn't like being sad.

It was in this very common room they decorated a Christmas tree, playing with lights and laughing.

Jo didn't laugh often.

Phoebe doesn't let herself think of this as she plops down beside the angel, propping her chin on both her hands.

"Whatcha doing?"

[godtooksides]

The angel's situational awareness is shit. It's gotten him into more than enough situations, but it's hard to concentrate on reality so much. So he's good at zoning out and half forgetting where he is.

Which is why he doesn't actually notice Phoebe until she plops down and speaks. And then he jumps, dropping the marker and giving her a deer-in-the-headlights look for a second as the cardboard hat falls off his head.

"Shit," he says, letting out a breath. He picks up the 'hat', turning it over in his hands for a second before tossing it aside.

"What's it f--look like I'm doing?" he asks. Don't mind his harshness, Phoebe, he's always this defensive. "Fucking making.." and here he waves his hands vaguely at the cardboard, "...signs."

[thehighestwing]

Phoebe will not take it personally. In truth, people's reactions to her can be harsh, if not baffling. She does get baffled expressions a lot. Sometimes she wonders why that is. Others she's surprisingly honest with herself and she knows.

She gives him a sheepish, apologetic smile at his expletive.

"Oh," Phoebe says quietly with a nod. She's bored and she doesn't want to be alone, but she's not about to tell the grumpy angel about that.

Her wings twitch nervously. "You need some help?"

[godtooksides]

The angel stares at her for awhile, trying to figure out what her angle is. What she wants out of this. It's rare that he's had someone just walking up and offering to help him; they always seem to want something from it. Even the angel at the shelter, though he can't figure out what she gets out of treating him like an actual person.

His eyes are drawn to the wing-twitch, and he looks away as though the idea of them existing pains him. He's inside, but that doesn't mean the dullness of his own powers -- especially now, considering that it's too warm in the Conrad to have his sweatshirt on and he's not going to flaunt the wingstubs if he can help it -- or the fact of other angels doesn't bother him.

"No," he says. But he doesn't pick up the marker again. "I mean--fuck, you can stay if you want, I mean, I just. My handwriting fucking sucks." As if he has to offer an explanation for why he can't just write the thing and have it over with.

He kind of wants to put the hat back on. He's not entirely sure why.

[despite_myrage]

Robin Rice is not happy. He has very little reason to be happy at the moment, and he doesn't have the energy or desire to pretend like he is when he isn't. Robin doesn't have the energy to live openly in his current emotional state either, which is why he's wandering the Conrad basement in a state of perpetual annoyance.

He has to go over to Wyatt's later. The thought makes him sick.

He steps into the common room, pausing in the doorway and staring at the... mess of cardboard and the angel with a hat on his head. Well then.

"What are you doing?"

Robin doesn't mean to be an asshole, except where he kind of usually does. Or he used to. It's just been awhile.

[godtooksides]

The angel jumps violently when Robin speaks, the hat falling off his head; he hadn't noticed there was someone else nearby at all. Damn his shittastic situational awareness. For all the times it's made him blissfully unaware of the rest of the world -- which helps, when the rest of the world can set you into panic -- it certainly makes times like these really difficult and annoying.

He shifts his shoulders, hand going up unconsciously to rub one as he glares at Robin. At least it's a good day, and he wasn't startled enough to let the wingstubs out, he supposes, but this guy's an ass.

"The fuck's it look like I'm doing?" he counters, defensive. It's not a growl; he's more sullen than growly. "Making fucking signs."

[despite_myrage]

Robin folds his arms across his chest and leans against the doorway.

"It looks like you're wearing a hat and playing with cardboard in the common room. It's not as though it's obvious," he says, lifting his chin up as he looks down at the cardboard on the floor. "And you're making signs about..."

He steps away from the doorway and walks further in to the room. It's not that he's really interested, but he needs a distraction at the moment. His mind keeps straying. It's never good when it strays, because that leads to the rage... and the rage will lead to-- Robin takes in a deep breath and shoves the thoughts aside.

[godtooksides]

The angel doesn't stop glaring. "What's wrong with that?" he asks, gesturing with the hand holding the marker. The gesture doesn't really mean anything; it's more like he's punctuating with flail or something.

When Robin starts walking toward him, however, he leans away from the man, looking away. "Why's that--even fucking matter?" he mutters. He doesn't really want to explain why he's panhandling when there's a perfectly good Conrad in existence, especially not to this guy. Doesn't seem the type to understand.

[aint_nosurprise]

Casey walks into the Kashtta lobby after a long day of kicking monster ass. He's bruised and covered in some kind of blood. It's not his. He hasn't been sleeping well so his feet drag on his way in.

He stops at the sight of the wolf flying on to the desk.

Casey stares and then shrugs. Just another day in Chicago.

After a second, he sighs and pulls out his hand held tranquilizer gun.

"So if you can understand me, I mean no harm. Safe place, Chicago, rifts, no going back home, deal with it." He sighs again. There's that exhaustion hitting. It's making him more apathetic than he normally is. "If you can't understand me, I'm sorry for making you sleep but I'm not a huge fan of getting bit. You understand." He chuckles. "Well, no, you don't. That was already established."

[callinallfreaks]

Huck's ears and nose twitch toward Casey when he walks into the lobby before she glances over. The stare and the shrug don't bother her too much, though she hasn't seen this woman around the Kashtta before -- or at least, she doesn't remember seeing her. It's been awhile. At least a year, right?

The ears go back again when the gun comes out, and Huck scoots backwards in a rather undignified manner so she's kind of behind the desk. "Don't need no fuckin' drugs," she says. "I know where I am'n'how th'fuck'm I talkin' here?"

Because she's still in wolf form. Yeah, she was talking in Narnia just fine, but that was Narnia. It was weird enough that she was even in the place that talking just seemed like a natural extension of the weird. But this is Chicago. There was no talking wolves in Chicago so far as she remembers, and she sure as hell wasn't one of them.

[aint_nosurprise]

Casey did not expect this. At all. He'd hoped that this would be a simple situation, as simple as the Welcome to Hell speech can ever be.

When the wolf speaks (and what the fuck, why not?), he holsters the gun. It's not like he'll have to use it, since the wolf actually speaks in a language that doesn't involve howling and understands him and knows where she is. He's kind of... weirdly relieved that he doesn't have to hurt anything else. As fun as it is to kick ass, to kill those who need it, it gets exhausting.

"Then I don't need to shoot you," Casey says, walking over toward her. "I don't know why you're talking here. You came through a Rift. It has a habit of screwing with the way you think things should be."

[callinallfreaks]

When Casey tells her he's not going to shoot, Huck wanders back out from behind the desk. "Good," she says to that, giving Casey the best 'I'm not stupid' look she can muster as a wolf. She'd gotten pretty good at that look even before she went to Narnia. "'n'I know 'bout Rifts. I lived in Chicago m'whole life," she adds, going to sniff at the lobby doors. "Guess y'get another power ev'ry time y'fall in here."

Well, she supposes that's useful, at least. Now she can actually yell at people while she's wolfy instead of just snarling at them and hoping they get the picture. And don't shoot her, like this woman was going to.

"D'ja know th'Rift'll take ya t'Narnia?" she asks, still sniffing at the door. "What day is it?"

[jiiiii]

Matoi is just going to stare at Huck for a long moment.

Jiiiiii.

It's quite possible that Owen will want the creepy wolf from nowhere. Maybe she should give him the creepy wolf from nowhere.

Or maybe. Maybe she should just keep staring at it.

Jiiiiiiiii.

[callinallfreaks]

It takes Huck a second to register that she's being stared at, because she's suddenly back in the Kashtta. And noticing she's being watched takes second fiddle to suddenly being in her old home.

But she does notice, eventually. And so she scoots a little warily backwards, ears back, so she's partially hidden by the desk. And stares back.

[jiiiii]

Matoi peers over the desk, staring back at Huck. Her eyes get a bit rounder as she stares, slowly turning red in intensity and then fading to orange. Silly wolfthing from nowhere in the Tower.

She presses her lips together softly, the spoken onomatopoeia more like a hum than a word. Jiiiiii

Oh, Wolfthing from Nowhere. If this is going to turn into a staring contest, well, Matoi's never lost one of those.

[callinallfreaks]

Huck snorts in exasperation when Staring Girl peers over the desk. Seriously, what the hell is her problem? At least she's not attacking, though now Huck is half expecting her to smile and reveal a mouth full of needleteeth or something. Because this staring? It's fucking creepy.

"Th'hell're y'starin' at?" Huck snaps, finally. Then just looks surprised, because talking. She's a wolf in Chicago, and talking. This wouldn't have been weird about ten minutes ago, but it is now.