you are alert as a tigress at a common table with her fate
Life for the past year has been a series of motel rooms, cheap bars with hollow carvings in their jukeboxes telling stories she doesn't care for, and empty beer bottles lined up on the counters she uses later for practice. There's the occasional postcard to her mother and traveling down the open road from one middle-of-the-fuck-nowhere town to the
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Fortunately for all involved, Leona is not doing anything particularly demonic. Her wings aren't showing, she's not all bloody, and her expression is more mild annoyance at the weather fading into curiosity with a fine veneer of concern when someone bloody and armed does step out of an alley in front of her.
Wanderer. They're practically falling into her lap, these days.
She adjusts her umbrella, clearing her throat softly. There's no need to startle the girl, especially as she's got that Where the fuck am I and why? look common to new arrivals. "You look a bit lost, honey," she says, voice all amicable concern. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
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There's a moment suspending itself in time, and it happens every time she's in a bind, in which Jo asks herself what Bill Harvelle would do in her place so she can follow in his footsteps. It kills her that she can't be sure. It kills her that for all of her stubborn attempts to cling to the memory of her father, some things are fading.
Jo angles her chin upward when she's asked if there's anything that can be done to help. "You tell me."
The annoyance isn't directed at the woman. She's just, you know, pissed she's not where she was five minutes ago and the sonuvabitch got away because of it.
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"Chicago, Illinois," she says. "I'm going to take a shot in the dark and guess you were elsewhere, a bit ago. Welcome here. It's April 7, 2010, and you've fallen through a rift in space and time."
She tilts her umbrella hand toward the alley.
"Or a tear in the fabric of the world, if you'd prefer, or a portal leading here from another plane. I've heard just about all the descriptions. And if you'd like help, I can see you to the people who handle this sort of a thing for people who fall through, like you. Unfortunately no one knows how to see you back home."
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Jo has seen and heard all sorts of strange crap throughout the years, from the time she was little and hunters at the Roadhouse would cough up stories about everything that went bump in the night.
Her life has never been normal, and Jo's a little twisted for the fact she's more than fine with it. Still. There's never been anything like this. While she's reluctant to believe the woman, Jo did see the damn vortex close right up.
"Great." Jo studies the woman for a moment's pause, fighting to curb her annoyance. She needs answers, and driving off the woman that's giving them to her isn't gonna help. "There are people who handle this sort of thing? You're telling me this happens often?"
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He stops at the sound of footsteps in the alleyway beside him and turns toward the sound of it.
Unfortunately, it's just some wanderer who's armed, not anyone that he can kill first and ask questions about later.
Danny raises an eyebrow and smirks at her. "Nice gun."
Because this is the correct way to start a conversation.
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As in, she hasn't lowered it completely just yet.
"Mind telling me what just happened or are you only here for the wisecracks?"
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It's when she asks what just happened that makes the smirk fade.
"Well, fuck." He looks behind her, but doesn't see anything of interest. It's just an empty alley. "I'm gonna figure you just fell out of a Rift between time and space. Lucky you. You have any idea where you are?"
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Even when she was a little girl, she'd get in trouble for fighting. Once, she nearly left a kid without his balls. She's pissed right now and it's hard to keep that temper in check. "Yeah, real lucky. I'm about to throw a damn party."
She lets out a small, irritated sigh.
"No clue. Enlighten me."
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Jo is not the something shifty.
The something shifty recently went into a burger joint. Rogue is pretty sure Mr. Shifty is eating a Big Mac.
So much for that.
She's starting to move back toward the hotel when a light catches her eye, followed by a voice. "This city's like a damned crane game," she grumbles, picturing a giant claw hanging down from one of the taller buildings and just grabbing folks up and dropping them down onto the streets below.
Rogue jogs a bit closer, her head tilting to the side. "Hey," she calls out, and her voice is already carrying a bit of an oh hell tone. "Just get here?"
Duh, Rogue. Duh.
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Ordinarily she's a leap-before-you-look kind of gal, but right now caution's gonna have to be the name of the game. It doesn't help she literally has no idea where she is or how she got here.
The adrenaline that surged through only minutes before ebbs and flows away until it dwindles into nothing.
Goody. I get a welcome wagon.
"Who wants to know?"
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Rogue's not surprised to be met with some frustration and suspicion. If she's right, the gal just got yanked away from her home.
"I'm Rogue," she says, remaining where she is. She nods toward the alleyway. "The light caught my attention, and seein' as how I got yanked on over here to Chicago a few months back, I figured you mighta had the same thing happen."
She shrugs a bit and scratches at the back of her arm. "If I'm wrong, though, I'm surely sorry for buggin' you. I just thought I'd see if you needed any help, yeah?"
She already feels bad for the other woman, but she doesn't figure that would be terribly welcome.
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Except, Rogue claims she's been in the same sitch.
Jo stares at her, contemplating her limited options, before finally coming to a decision. "I'm Jo and last time I checked, I was in Arizona."
Anyone that expects her to be more forthcoming than that is shit out of luck. Which doesn't mean she's gonna tell the stranger that wants to help to shove it.
"Help me how?"
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