I get it now, I'm the face, I'm the cause of war. We don't have to blame white coated men anymore.

[changingtheodds]

Aniki is curled up in an armchair in The Coffee Shop, reading a book. Terrier, to be exact, though she seems to be reading the same section over and over again, running her fingers over the pages with a lonely look on her face.

Murphy is out drinking. It’s Holy Week. What else is a quasilapsed Irish Catholic Knight of the Cross to do

Comments

[akablackkitty]

Marshall doesn't really go to bars. Ever. It was one of those situations where the bar just happened to be open and he needed directions to one place or another and, well... Things happened.

Which is why there is an awkward Marshall trying to disentangle himself from a very drunk woman of dubious moral character as he tries to edge his way closer to the bar (and thus closer to Murphy)

"No, actually, I, uh, already, um... have a girlfriend. You see, she's, um... I uh, oh. Ow." He backs into the bar. The woman presses against him and starts toying with the buttons on his shirt.

"I won't tell if you won't, cutie," she grins.

"Uh. Someone. Help?" Marshall squeaks. "A little help. I'm... Pretty sure this isn't legal." He considers pushing her away, but he wonders if that might get him an assault charge.

[whateverthemess]

For a moment--brief, brief moment--Murphy debates whether or not she wants to get involved.

And then the voice in her head that sounds disturbingly like Harry says, Murph, you always get involved.

She sighs and sets her her drink down before swiveling around on the stool. "Lady, there isn't even an absence of a no for you to justify this to yourself. Paws off."

[akablackkitty]

"Mind your bee's wax, sugar," the woman says, her words slurring a little drunkenly. "Mister and I are just havin' a little chat."

She's having a little bit of trouble with the next button, so Marshall takes this as an opportunity to wriggle away and get behind Murphy.

"I'm not with her... Just in case that wasn't, er, obvious or anything."

[whateverthemess]

"I got that." She crosses her arms. "And it looks like he's with me now, so back off, or--" Murphy digs out her badge and flips it open. This woman's too drunk, she's guessing, to notice the differences between her shield and this Chicago's. "This little chat is going to turn unpleasant for everyone but me."

[justashitmagnet]

Mike's not Catholic, but he's out drinking as well. Well. He's kind of always out drinking, when he can. He doesn't have much in the way of money--very little of it, in fact--but he manages to get by. Or something.

He glances at the woman across the bar before quickly looking away. He's not very good at this whole 'talking to people' in bars thing, and like hell he's going to buy her a drink--that's a douchebag move, and Mike isn't a douchebag.

So instead he'll content himself with sneaking occasional looks before going guiltily back to his drink, feeling like a pervert.

He really should have been a Catholic.

[whateverthemess]

The third time Murphy catches him looking, she picks up her drink, walks over, and sits down next to him. For a moment, she doesn't say anything--just sips away at her glass, looking disinterested. Then--

"Is there something you need?" She sets the glass down and turns a mild glare on him.

[justashitmagnet]

Mike stiffens as she sits down next to him and then speaks. Nice job, Mike. You're not a fuckup or anything. Noooope.

"Nothing, ma'am," he says, deliberately looking at his drink so he won't look at her again. "Unless you're looking to give someone a job, in which case this is the oddest job fair I've ever been to." He takes a sip of his drink to stop the flow of words. Ball's in her court, which is a safer place for it to be.

[whateverthemess]

She softens a bit at his uneasiness and the statement both, sighing into her drink with a careworn smile. "No, sorry. I'm... self-employed as it is."

If that's what you call taking care of a pack of semi-refugees nesting in a sectionally-renovated theater. She holds out a hand. "Karrin Murphy. Didn't mean to jump down your throat."

She's just been expecting Michael to come sneaking around some corner and try jumping her again. The tension is starting to tell.

[callyourselfa]

WAUGH kitten!

One For Sorrow jumps, flapping to perch... slightly farther thataway on the traffic light, and then preens a few breastfeathers back into place compulsively. One For Sorrow does not get startled! One For Sorrow startles others!

Except, apparently, when it comes to Cy.

He gapes for a moment, then shuts his beak with a click. "...tripped, eh? Going to learn flying next? Can't just stick to climbing trees y'can't get down, can you!"

Forgive him. He'd be more witty, but he's still getting over KITTENS SHOULD NOT BE ON STREETLIGHTS in his brain.

Like Cy pays any attention to things kittens should or shouldn't do.

[cyfor]

She's never been very good at that.

Cy wobbles on her perch, haunches wriggling. "Mine," she informs him, taking a cautious, uneven step forward. "One-for-Mouthful. One-for-Toothpicks."

She pauses, as though considering her own words, and then waves a paw at him. "My bird!"

[callyourselfa]

One For Sorrow sighs, hopping a bit further away. There are cats he finds threatening, but Cy? If nothing else, he's pretty sure he can fly away better than she can pounce on him.

"Well, what am I to do with you?" he asks. She's... a little heavy to fly down to the ground unless he went into his Road form, and birds aren't as good at that as the entire family felidae. Knowing her, she'd just try to eat him for the trouble. "You'll break your furry neck if you just jump down, and I am not explaining that to the King."

[cyfor]

"Brick-a-broken." She shakes her head, trying to dislodge the feeling of the rift and the other Chicago. It makes her feel like her head is in three pieces, or three places, and not in the normal way either. "The King went for a romp in the wilds and got lost."

[ducttapewarrior]

Maybe visiting the Coffee Shop the day before leaving Chicago is tempting fate, but Michael's there anyway. He doesn't believe in fate, so it can deal with being tempted.

He pauses near the doorway as he notices Aniki, and considers turning around and walking out again. He's not very good at saying goodbye. Just avoiding her until he heads for the airport seems like the best plan here. But he's not walking out just yet.

[anjelsword]

Aniki looks up as he walks in, and her expression gets caught somewhere between lighting up and closing up. She tucks the book away, out of sight, and slides to her feet.

"Now, with a face like that, my lad, one would think you weren't happy to see me." She smirks up at him, tweaking his chin.

[ducttapewarrior]

Michael forces the wary expression from his face, but he doesn't quite manage a smile. "I wasn't expecting to see you," he says simply. Which is entirely true, if not the whole truth. He's not entirely sure she needs to know that now.

[wearsnomask]

One never does forget a talking cat.

Incidentally, Rachel Dawes is wearing the bracelet Cy managed to procure for her, whether the cat knows it or not. Whether Rachel knows it or not.

She sighs when she stops at the sidewalk before crossing the street, and notices said kitten perched atop said traffic light.

"How did you wind up there?"