Skip the whiskey and pass the coffee

[roadhouse_mama]

Who; Ellen Harvelle & anyone. OPEN
What; Staying awake at the Roadhouse
Where; The Roadhouse
When; Very late evening June 10th
Rating; pg-13ish?
Status; Ongoing, open. Talk to Ellen, talk amongst yourselves

Comments

[grace_optional]

Anna came in the door feeling as if she'd dodged a bullet (so far.) Lament as she might the loss of her dearly bought humanity, there were times when having an angel's power with the attendant immunities could undeniably be a blessing, and this was one of them. The other people here clearly hadn't been so lucky; everyone looked weary, haunted or dispirited, and some were visibly injured.

She went first to check on Ellen, laying her hands gently over the older woman's to get her attention. "Ellen, hey. How you holding up?"

[roadhouse_mama]

Castiel’s quiet arrival had badly startled Ellen, and she knew he had been coming. As a result, she stood where she could keep one eye on the door, to monitor people coming and going. Not many were leaving. The bar was gradually filling with the exhausted, fearful and wounded residents of the Underworld. They felt safe enough to come to the Roadhouse, even if all she could offer was coffee, bright lights (she’d dialed them up as high as they’d go) and a bit of food for those that still had an appetite.

She grasped Anna’s hands, needing the contact to help ground her for a moment. “It’s gotta let up soon. People are going to start cracking.”

[grace_optional]

She clasped them tightly, wishing there was some more tangible form of help she could offer. "We'll get each other through whatever happens, Ellen. Just like we always do."

She looked around at the room's subdued occupants, trying to think of anything she could do that might be even remotely helpful. Ellen and Cas seemed to be handling coffee detail, though at the rate things were going that would probably need a steadier hand sometime soon. Not yet, though, and it gave them something to keep them occupied for now. There were a few people with injuries that could use some attention, but if she knew Ellen, that had already been offered.

"Ellen, is the kitchen stocked?" she asked on impulse. It was maybe a weird thought that had just come to her, but she couldn't think how it would hurt. "And is it all right if I use it?"

[roadhouse_mama]

Ellen nodded. She was right of course. They’d get through it, the same way they got through everything else; their sheer boneheaded stubbornness and reliance on each other. Her question however, surprised Ellen and she blinked, confused for a moment while her sleep and fear-addled mind caught up. Kitchen. Supplies. Right.

“The kitchen’s pretty well stocked. The delivery from the market’s running late, but I don’t think we’re too low on anything except for coffee.” She gave her a tired smile. “You go right ahead, honey. Knock yourself out.”

[endtheblight]

Alistair was used to having nightmares, but not like this. He moved into the Roadhouse sluggishly, dark circles below his eyes. He'd been up for days, only dozing off momentarily here and there. The first few days he'd been running off of adrenaline, but that was long gone at this point.

He slumped onto a barstool, forcing a smile in Ellen's direction.

"...Evening."

[roadhouse_mama]

Ellen mustered a faint, hollow sort of smile for Alistair. She poured him a cup of strong, dark coffee and slid the mug across the bar with only a faint tremor.

"How're you holdin up Alistair?"

[endtheblight]

"I'm alive." he replied, taking a sip of the coffee. He cringed slightly, it was bitter, not something he was used to.

"How are you?"

[roadhouse_mama]

She snorted and slid the sugar over. "Coffee. It'll help try and keep you up." There was no need to ask about the nightmares or how he was faring. The answer was clearly written on his face. He was as exhausted and worn as the rest of them.

Ellen flexed her hand slowly. "Hanging on. What about the rest of your people?"

[to_rebel]

Castiel had found a place near a corner, where he could keep an eye on things, but close enough that he could slip behind the bar now and again and either brew a fresh pot of coffee or serve a customer Ellen was unable to get to quickly. He kept his own coffee mug full and had snagged a bottle of honey he'd stashed under the bar a week or so ago. He watched the people closest to him, occasionally stopping by to check on Sam and Ellen and whomever ever he knew was in the bar

[voodooing]

Coffee; that was Voodoo's main focus as she walked towards the Roadhouse, she needed to get some coffee and she needed to someone that she knew was actually real. She needed to see someone that she could actually touch if she wanted to, as opposed to whatever it was that she kept seeing and sensing around the corners and in the shadows. There was something there, something that sometimes looked like Hadrian and that always felt sinister, and more than anything, wrong.

Everything was made all the worse by the fact that she couldn't sleep; she'd learned after the first night that sleeping wasn't an option. She'd woken from a nightmare that she'd never wanted to relive with bruises all over her body. It ached to walk, but at least the dull ache helped her to stay awake.

She pushed the door open and walked into the Roadhouse, it didn't take her long to spot Castiel and head over.

"You look good." She forced a smile on her face as she said the words, actually he looked pretty shitty, but she imagined she did too.

[to_rebel]

Castiel sensed her only a moment before she opened the door and slipped through it. His senses were cast wide -- somewhat; they were rather muted -- as he kept track of those inside and coming into the Roadhouse. He grabbed a mug for her and poured a cup, setting it down in front of her as she spoke.

He looked good, did he? Probably as good as she or any other of the residents of this place did. "I really do not." She, at least, didn't look too badly injured. It was a start.

[voodooing]

"I think this is the most amazing thing I've seen all day." She took the cup, smiling thankfully, and sat down across from him.

"No, you don't." She shrugged. "But, I'm pretty sure nobody does at this point."

[casaeroticafan]

He was more making rounds than anything else - checking up on certain, key members of the Underworld's population.

Under the guise of seeking out a slice of pie and a cup of coffee resembling caffeinated syrup, he slipped into the Roadhouse and shot a cocky smile in the direction of the establishment's hostess. The smile quickly fell into a frown, which he quickly attempted to cover with a smirk. He strutted up to the bar and leaned over it far enough to smack a loud, damp kiss to her cheek. To offset the playfulness of the smooch, he slid his hands over hers and gave a gentle squeeze before sprawling across one of the stools.

"How's it hangin' toots?"

[roadhouse_mama]

The presence of family as well as that of her regular customers went a long way towards helping to offset Ellen’s general state of restless anxiety. She was still a jittery, upset mess, but keeping her attention focused on others was the best she could do to cope with the situation.

Gabriel’s entrance, complete with the smack on the cheek and the subsequent sprawl that seemed to require the removal of at least three key vertebrae, elicited a wearied but affectionate smile. The archangel was quickly working his way towards becoming one of a select group of her favorite Roadhouse regulars. Her movements slow and deliberate, Ellen poured him a cup of coffee (she didn’t quite trust shaky hands to handle much else) and slid over the sugar for him to dive into.

“It’s hanging. It’d be a little better if we could sleep.. but we’re managing for now.”

Barely.

[casaeroticafan]

He accepted the coffee with a grateful noise, snagging the sugar and dumping in enough that just looking at the brew could give a lesser being diabetes. He took a sip and savored the thick, syrupy sweetness of it. He didn't require sleep - or the pick-me-up of caffeine - but he still appreciated a good cup of joe. He directed his attention back at Ellen, concern making a vague wrinkle in his brow. She looked like she'd gone a round with some pretty nasty nightmares, and he was regretting his decision to quit with the dreamwalks. As it was, he was tempted to reach out and touch her with his grace - to smooth over the frazzled edges of her energy.

"Need anything?" he asked, kicking his feet up on a nearby stool. "I can manifest a mean white Russian, and you look like you could use something to take the edge off."

[roadhouse_mama]

She leaned her hip against the bar and watched him dump a positively indecent amount of sugar into his coffee with a vague smile. At the offer, she shook her head slowly. “As good as that sounds, I can’t. If it took the edge off, I might fall asleep. None of us can. There’s..” she trailed off, well aware of how ridiculous it sounded. A fear that something was out there. A vampire lurking in the shadows, or some other monster ready to snatch her away from her loved ones again. Her rational mind knew that nothing was out there. But waking up from terrifying nightmares to long, shallow cuts along her arms kept throwing that rationale clean out the window..

“It’s not safe,” she continued lamely.

[hellsbellsharry]

It takes him a while but eventually Harry makes his way in, leaning heavilly on his staff. Like the others, he was tired but it carried and extra edge of exhaustion. He'd been casting, working,trying to find something that could work all to no success.

Pausing just inside, he looked around. He'd figure he'd look like trouble, 6'7", a pair of scars on his face, dark and much scruffier than usual, but when he sees Ellen he gives her a warm smile as he can manage and heads for the bar, staff thumping on the floor every second step.

Once there he sank gratefully onto a stool and peered around.

"Well... this is a damnn nice place."

[chosefamily]

"Or a nice place to be damned. One or the other." There aren't a lot of guys in the worlds who can give Harry a run for his money in the height department. Not outside of the NBA, at least. At 6'5", however, Sam made a good effort.

He has gauze over a good portion of his left forearm and a few fingers of his right hand. His hair's unkempt and he mostly looks tired as he places a cup of coffee in front of the newcomer. "Actually, I think I prefer the former. Not sure there's ever a good place to be damned, nice or not."

[hellsbellsharry]

He looks up at the younger man and managed a tired as all hell smile. He accepts the cup, gratefully and raises it in toast.

"Let me on a little secret. There's never a good place to be damned. If you're damned, you're screwed."

He set's his staff against the bar and offers his right hand, reaching out with more than just his physical senses.
"I'm Harry." he says, gaze flicking over Sams face without ever meeting his gaze. If Sam has any talent, he'd feel the tell tale tingle of someone with power, and maybe he could feel just how much.

[chosefamily]

"There's damned and there's damned." Sam raises his own cup before taking a sip. "Screwed either way, but at least this one tends to come with less burning."

Sam doesn't try to meet his gaze, either. "Sam. I know the woman who runs this place."

There's talent there. Not magical, but closer to some sort of psychic talent.