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Plotting [03 Oct 2006|12:15am] 1:47 AM. What Samantha was still doing in her office, she couldn’t remember. All she could see at this hour was the dim lamp flickering at her desk, the files strewn about the wooden surface, and the half-eaten pizza sitting on the floor. Combing over every piece of information her contact within Wolfram &Hart could get her about Jillian Andersen had grown tiresome quickly, but it was easier than dealing with that freaky blond lady with the spinning eyes who kept claiming she was Files & Records. The Slayer’d seen some creepy things in her day, but that nearly topped the list. “God damn,” she muttered to herself, rubbing her temples as she took a deep breath. Ignoring the signs, Samantha leaned back in her chair, pulling a cigarette out of the pack in her leather coat and lighting it up. Taking the first long drag, she smiled and closed her eyes. Sam needed a break. ( Boo. ) reply

Third Chance [03 Oct 2006|01:13am] During Faith's stay in Vegas, the hotels she frequented had slowly dropped from the flashing lights of the tourist trap hotels to the less flashy affordable ones. She might be getting paid to slay now, but that still didn't make her a millionaire. She got by and that was all that mattered. The ceiling fan overhead turned in rhythmic intervals as the Slayer sprawled out on the queen-sized bed with its ugly generic floral print comforter and equally boring off-white pillow cases. Two chairs and a small table sat a few feet away in the small eating area and a little kitchenette filled in the area closest to the door. Her window overlooked into the back of the hotel where the moderately-sized pool was situated. Through the open window, she could hear the sounds of the children screaming and splashing. It was a lot of the annoying, but no way was she gonna get up and start screaming out the window. Then she'd really feel like she was almost thirty. No, instead she just turned up the volume on the TV and went to get herself a drink. As she pulled out a beer, she couldn't help but notice the time on the microwave beside her on the counter. Corbett was due to arrive any minute now, which meant she should probably grab another beer out of the fridge. "Gotta be hospitable and all that crap," she muttered to herself, frowning slightly as she pulled out another one. It kind of sucked to actually have some sort of sense of manners now, but with the shit he'd been through lately, she figured that the least she could do was be nice to her possibly soon-to-be Watcher-type guy. Besides, if she didn't already decide she liked the boy, she never would have invited him over to chat about the proposition she had made when he was half-dead in the hospital. ( Here goes... ) ( We're really gonna do this? ) ( Does she have Angel-brow? ) ( Look! It's the past! ) ( Last chance to back out ) ( Get off that damn island ) reply

Gathering Storm [03 Oct 2006|01:53am] ( Not A Journal Item ) reply

New Acquaintances [03 Oct 2006|09:52am] [ mood | uncomfortable ] Connor pulled a fresh T shirt over his head, then studied himself in the mirror. He'd eaten, then slept for most of the day after being given his room key. The last few rays of sunlight were disappearing, and as he turned away from the reflective glass he wondered what he'd find if he ventured out tonight. He was low on stakes, but he could make some if need be. Besides, weapons weren't always something he needed. Connor did a quick series of stretches, then pulled back the curtain to squint at the fiery ball of the sun as it prepared to dip beyond the horizon. Stepping out of the motel room, he locked the door and dropped the key into his pocket. He'd at least make a casual patrol, look for possible trouble spots. Small towns might not be hubs for demonic activity, but he didn't want to be surprised later. ( Strangers in the Night ) ( Handling Trouble ) ( Fast Food and Awkwardness ) This time, it was Connor who blushed, the tips of his ears going red as he lowered his eyes to the last pieces of fried potato. Hero? No, not him. He was still busy trying to get the innocent blood off of his hands. But he managed to look up before she departed, the ice cubes in the paper cup rattling some more. Maybe he'd call that number after all. He could stand to be doing something useful with himself while he was around. Even if it wasn't going to be permanent. reply

Girl Talk (Or Something Like It) [03 Oct 2006|07:53pm] It had been over a month now, since "the fourth of July liplock". It was so teenage to name events like that, but it was a big event for her. A year of childish flirting, beating around the bush, and goblets o' sexual tension had led to a mysterious kiss and an equally mysterious disappearance of a certain tattooed handyman. Destiny Brown wasn't happy one bit, and she was more than a little confused. Make that really, really perplexed. The disappearing act felt like it was a dig back at her, and it was with mild annoyance that Destiny conceded it was probably well-deserved. So, when the guy you've been crushing over kisses you... where do you go? Teenage movies said you'd call your closest female friend and squeal. Seeing as the closest female friend she had wasn't the squealing type, Des figured that it probably wasn't the best course of action. However, when she found herself obsessing over it so much that she'd space out in class, the Slayer figured she could at least talk to Em. She stood outside Unseen Insight, hand resting on the doorknob. If Em was one of her best friends, why did she feel so awkward about it. Destiny took a deep breath, girded her loins, and stepped into the shop. Emmy often found herself caught in the middle of something or other when people happened by the shop. She’d knocked her head on the underside of the counter more times than she cared to mention, dropped books and even sent grapes rolling off to corners unknown on one occasion. She was perpetually on edge, seemingly always ready to be startled. But not today. No, today, she was far too engrossed in the book she was reading to pay any real attention. She didn’t notice the figure outside the door, or even hear the bells as they chimed upon entrance. She stood leaned over the counter, elbows resting on the glass top; she propped her head on her right arm, fingers curled against her lips as her eyes drank in the words from a brittle yellow page, the left hand poised ready to turn the page. Seances were really quite dangerous, at least by that particular scribe’s estimation. But, the one account she was reading had happened a few hundred years prior, in all fairness. Perhaps it wasn’t quite so bad. Destiny was not surprised in the least that Emmy hadn't heard her come in. Seeing that her bookworm friend was buried in a rather old and lengthy tome, she crept up to the counter, leaned over the counter so her forehead was close to Em's and her arms echoed Em's. A grin came over her face as she affected an innocent face and asked with a slight giggle, "Hey, Em. Whatcha readin'?" “Seances. I’ve never done one, did you know? You’d think, with everything… I mean, the thought hadn’t even occurred, speaking to the dead – the sort, you know, not walking about with fangs and the like – never really entered my mind and now that I read, well it’s fascinating really. Though it can go badly. Horribly, even,” she replied in a quick, nearly breathless parade of words. Learning something new was something of an addiction for Emmeline, and she was flying high. She tilted her head to the side, brow furrowed as she surveyed one particularly gruesome engraving in the book. A medium had been channeling something she very well shouldn’t have, and upon its final exit, it had split her into halves. Charming. “Now that’s just disgusting…” Emmy muttered, shaking her head. After a long moment of staring at the page, her thoughts cleared and she realized on a fully cognizant level that she had a visitor. “Destiny! Oh, it’s good to see you, and I was just talking about you the other day – only good, of course – but when did you come in? I didn’t even see you!” "Of course you didn't see me. You're enjoying research and the carnage that is pictured within. You get into Watcher mode and the rest of us mere mortals just watch as you devour book after book." Destiny straightened, but kept her hands on the counter, leaning slightly. "So this affords the question... seances? Why? Who? Where? Can I come?" She paused, scratching the back of her head with one hand. "Okay, so that was multiple questions, but who's counting?" ( Clever Segues ) ( Kiss ) ( A Plan ) reply

Two Girls on a Helicopter Ride [03 Oct 2006|10:03pm] “Hey! Watch where you’re putting those fingers!” Later, Hannah would feel mildly guilt about hollering the guy’s ear off. He was only trying to give her a boost into the helicopter. But with a couple glasses of champagne in her 5’2” system, and only a sausage and cheese hors d oeuvres, her head was all wonky and her mind was playing tricks. And really, he did get a whole pinky finger inside her shirt waist! That’s the kind of behavior that gets misconstrued. She plopped down in a luxury leather seat and waited for Julie to get on board. This sight-seeing trip was a long time coming. Originally she planned it to take Julie’s mind off stress, and now Hannah needed it just as much. Life had a way of sidetracking you in Searchlight. The company wouldn’t let her postpone it any longer, and deep down Hannah figured it was probably a blessing in disguise. “Wow.” She bounced up and down lightly on her chair. “This thing’s pretty pimped out.” Other sweet features included some giant earphones, so they could hear the pilot if they wanted, and yet another tray of goodies to eat. The airsick bag tucked underneath was kind-of a mood killer, but at least they were prepared for the worst. Julie was feeling a little giggly as well, having had a few drinks on an empty stomach. The werewolf smiled at the pilot as he helped her into the helicopter; he was pretty cute and if Hannah didn't want him Julie didn't mind flirting a little. She nodded in agreement at Hannah's comment. The interior of the helicopter looked for all the world like a pimped out limousine. "Where's the on board jacuzzi?" Julie smirked at her friend as she picked up a piece of cheese off the tray and plopped it in her mouth. The two women had been meaning to take this trip since before the Fourth of July and here it was closing on Halloween; time just had slipped away. "Thanks for the invite Hannah," she told the petite blonde after swallowing. "This was a great idea." “Yeah.” Hannah nodded to herself and sorted through the tray with a toothpick. When she came across a couple of grapes, she speared them in succession. “I thought it might be cool to see Vegas like you do on the post-cards. You know, from up high, all lit up at sunset and glamorous? Plus I never flew before.” That didn’t make her a nervous flyer. Hannah liked adventures, and apparently helicopter crashes were infrequent. She did a little Googling just to make sure, and she bought the insurance. “Did you?” Hannah gave Julie a curious look and stuffed her cheeks full of grapes. ( We're Clear for Take-Off ) reply

The Plan [03 Oct 2006|11:25pm] The apartment was a bad place for Hayden’s frame of mind. There wasn’t anything physically wrong with it. The trouble was with space. Suddenly there was too much of it. Every time Hayden went still for a few minutes, he was struck with the overwhelming absence of things. Women had a way of taking up rooms and really filling them. When they left, a vacuum got left behind, along with the lingering smell of their skin and hair, the echoes of their voices, and forgotten items that you stumbled upon when you least expected it. Like the razor Kris used to shave her legs. Insignificant in meaning, but it still had weight in his mind. He could get sucked into that void for hours if he wasn’t careful, so he got out whenever he could. He played pool outside town. He ate dinner in the diner. At night he slept on the couch. On this particular afternoon, he wasn’t in the mood to avoid. He had things to do, and that meant walking into the building where Kris wasn’t and getting his job in order. Now that the crisis with Sonya had been averted, Hayden needed another thing to occupy his brain. Work was the perfect excuse, and besides, he knew the town could only dodge bullets for so long. Time to work on one particular piece of the puzzle; A piece that had been his alone, and would continue to be until he found away around it. So he went looking for Emmeline. Emmy liked to think she was a decently generous person. She let nearly everyone she met, who seemed kind enough and trustworthy, borrow her books without charge. She kept expensive herbs and charms on hand on the off chance a friend might need them. She lost money on most of the in-store merchandise, feeling terribly greedy when she sold the needed items at market rates. But at times like these… when she wanted - no, needed -- a particular item from her inventory, only to find it either missing or nearly out of stock, she could very well scream with the frustration. "Damn it, Aidan," she muttered to the empty shop. After all, who else would have taken a half pound of whole star anise? There were few real practitioners stopping by the shop as of late, and Emmy herself hadn't used any in ages. And even that had only been to put a bit of spice into her tea. "I'd better have some left in the jar at home, or he's in for it," she grumbled to herself, the noise of her own voice filling the quiet of the shop front. The sound of feet interrupted the relative calm. Hayden came down the stairs in a rush because he had something on his mind, and was hoping to catch the shopkeeper and landlord before she took off for the day... Or before he lost his nerve to ask this favor of her. It had to be that same anxious edge that made him move faster than typical. “Emmy, you got a second?” He put his hands that smelled of cigarettes on the countertop and looked around. The shop was nearly silent, but it wouldn’t pay to have townsfolk -- or really anyone -- hearing this particular conversation. Once the coast was clear, he shifted onto his other foot and added, “I hate to even ask.” She could say no. That didn’t escape him, and then he’d be back to square one. Emmy glanced up with a friendly smile, annoyance dissipated. Anxious though Hayden may have seemed, it was always good to see a friendly face in the shop. Hands full of varying herbs, she busied herself braiding them into a thick, rigid stick for later burning, tying the ends and middle with a soft twine. "Hello, Hayden," she said, affecting a somewhat cheerful tone in response to his edgy demeanor. "Sure, I've got nothing but time lately. Ask away - what's on your mind?" No sense beating around the bush. “Cloaking spells.” He watched what she did with the herbs for a minute. Given the confidence in her hands and what he knew of Emmeline’s gift, he figured it was safe to ask. As far as Hayden knew, the shopkeeper had the most magical know-how in the area. Which made him lucky. Hayden scratched his temple and leaned against a stack. He crossed his forearms and made himself slow down and think through the conversation before he blurted out words that could send red flags to anything listening to the airwaves. No telling if Elfleda had managed to get her invisible friends into the place to keep tabs. “Temporary ones. Do they work... Can you do them... And would you do one for me?” ( Cutting to the Chase ) reply

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