It's Just a Book

[Rorye Shannon-Kearney]

July 27th

2017

 

 

Nina had long since headed home, thank god.  She loved the woman, but she didn't need the twenty questions.  She was feeling guilty enough as it was.  Jesse was in the teahouse as she came in the back door with the mage in tow and a neat paper bag of amazing smelling food.  The shop proper always died down after nine, the teahouse keeping its charm almost until the two am mark when it was like kicking people out on last call.  A few quick utensils were stolen from the kitchen before Jesse had even caught that she was there.  He wasn’t used to her appearing from nowhere.  She was the rock, the staple in the small universe that was her oasis.  Always everywhere, and today… nowhere.

 

Drying his hands on a towel, he slipped something from his back pocket and handed it to her, eyeing her companion with the same suspicion that Nina had.

 

*npc*  This came while you were out.  Dropped off.

 

Dark eyes wandered over the odd invoice.  She’d been meaning to talk to Alistair about these.  Now someone wanted them.  New knowledge about the world made her tread a bit softer with items in her shop.  Nodding quickly, it transferred to her back pocket as she cocked an eyebrow at his surly expression.

 

“What?”  she said suspiciously as he handed her an envelope.  “Is this what I think it is?”

 

*npc* Oh yah… get past the zombies and you’re home free.

 

Smile was wide, weaving through the small kitchen to the tiny table near the back window, there was no hesitation as she pulled two shot glasses and her favorite amber colored liquid from her personal cabinet- along with several bottles of water from the fridge.  If he didn’t want any, she wouldn’t be offended… but there was a bit of celebration here.  Expression darkened, either he would give her an earful or want the information for himself… a pause before she gestured for the trench wearing mage to follow her upstairs to her new toys.  Winding the hairpin turn, the stop at the second floor crossroads of the large Victorian building brought a door up to the roof, or a long hall to the left into her apartment.  Keying the door, she trotted upward toward her small corner of heaven and set the food on the small cafe table along with her procured drink of choice and shot glasses.  It was a corner near the greenhouse polished up for a small observatory.  Nice wrought iron cafe tables and chairs, and her new toys.

 

She left him to his food long enough to pull the covers off of two exceptionally powerful telescopes she had spent the night before preening. 

 

“I’m going after another Grimoire,”  she wasted no time, flipping the caps off the eyepieces and peering into one.  Clouds had finally parted, stepping away to let him take a peek if he wanted before she sat and poured herself a shot and dug into her food.  She’d been so nonchalant, daring to look at him for the first time since she’d dropped the bombshell.  “Interested in being my date?"

[Alistair Greene]

Now what was that conversation about? Alistair lifted a brow slightly at her talk with the other woman - any time zombies were mentioned in conversation, his sort tended to take notice - but for the moment he didn't comment. That was going to come later, he was fairly sure. Not that he was at all certain he liked the idea of where this mess was going to go.

Her seizing of the whiskey was another dark note. Something told him it wasn't going to be a cheery bit of news, even if she did seem to be in a good mood about it. Hopefully her friend was kidding about the zombies.

Of course, Rorye had ducked off to do... something. He wasn't exactly sure what, but it seemed she was the sort to always have about nine or ten irons in the fire. He could relate. Circumstances usually had him juggling the same sort of situation.  When he caught her again he followed her up the stairs, eyes widening a bit at the sight of the telescopes. [alistair]Daaamn.[/alistair] he muttered, letting out a low whistle before he walked over to one.

Alistair was fiddling - gently - with the telescopes. He'd always been a bit of an amateur astronomer, he'd toyed with the idea when he was in high school. Of course, he'd wound up in engineering - chances were it paid better. He hadn't been sure of that at first, but by the time he'd been about ready to bail to college, a few years of robotics competitions had cemented the choice.

He let go shortly though, and sat down with the boxes of chinese, taking a shot glass from her with a raised brow. When she offered the telescope though, he instead downed his shot, letting out a breath just ragged enough to convey his exasperation. [alistair]You know, the second part of what you just said sounds fantastic, but for the life of me I do not understand why you would want to go after a second one of those things. Because, as I recall, the last one you got your hands on was such a phenomenal success.[/alistair]

His tone wasn't nearly the scolding type his words might have suggested - it was a real question, couched in his usual dry sense of humor. But then, Alistair had spent the last seven years diving in and out of various visions of hell. More than once, a grimoire or other artifact had been involved. So, where she might have seen excitement and adventure, Alistair tended to have... well worse associations.

[alistair]Alright, what's the deal?[/alistair]
 

[Rorye Shannon-Kearney]

"Daaamn."

 

"Gorgeous… aren’t they," the look of pride on her features mixed with a sense of fulfillment, sweetness of affection lingering in her eyes as she watched him fiddle with one. "They were an incredible find,"  the rum-rich voice started.  "I remembered on a trip to the old planetarium in high school of all places, they were in part of the tour.  Went looking for them a few years ago, finally found them in the basement of the old burnt out storage building, still in their crates. A bit of an amateur urban spelunker when I really want something unique."

 

She dropped the Grimoire bomb and raised her shot glass slightly to him, tipping it back the same moment his went down.  His ragged breath was not a surprise, she knew it was coming… the date thing was tossed in to help the medicine go down.  She didn’t date, but if she did this would be her perfect idea of one.  She loved her hunts, granted this one was going to take her far out of her comfort zone.  Driving would be a requirement, and she didn’t have a car.

 

"You know, the second part of what you just said sounds fantastic, but for the life of me I do not understand why you would want to go after a second one of those things. Because, as I recall, the last one you got your hands on was such a phenomenal success."

"That one came to me, thought it would be nice for someone to do my legwork and deliver.  Fuck that.  Not doing that again.  This one… nobody knows where it is, but me,"  she chewed slowly for a long moment, watching him.  "I did the research and connected the dots. Doesn’t mean somebody else couldn’t have, but doubtful… see too many books come through, and nobody talks to both sides.  Nice being Switzerland sometimes."

 

Really, she knew she should just hand the information over.  That was the deal she struck with them after all, but… why did she have to give up all her good toys?  Hell, half the books downstairs should probably be turned over, expression darkening a bit.  If she had any other countenance than sliding under the radar of the bad guys to secretly help the good guys, she could really cause trouble.  Selling "trinkets" to the highest bidders though didn't seem to have a long life span associated with it.

"Alright, what's the deal?"

 

"If I give this to you, will you take me with you?  Little bit of a road trip, but I can think of things we can do to pass the time,”  smirk on her lips was brief.  “May not be able to sling spells, but I can find anything if you give me time.  Just want to see it once before you tuck it away in that magical basement of yours at the Headquarters.”

 

If he said he wouldn't help, she honestly didn't know what she would do.  She didn't drive, didn't have a car.  Was wicked with a blade and had dealt with her fair share of zombies like everyone else that had survived... what if she found it and couldn't move it, or get to it?  Or control it.  Hire someone?  Who would she hire?  Leaning her chin on her knuckles, lips pursed as she twirled her fork in noodles....

 

"Like I said, if I figured it out, someone else might.  You don't want this one in the wrong hands."

[Alistair Greene]

Alistair chuckled. [alistair]They really are... Shit.[/alistair] He gave a light shake of his head, looking them over for another few seconds, then laughing at her description of where they came from. [alistair]Sounds like something I would do... I should show you my hangar sometime.[/alistair] Alistair's urban exploration wasn't exactly amateur - not because he thought himself better at it, but because it tended to be his actual job rather often.

Once seated, chewing on some chinese while she spoke, he sat back, lacing his fingers together and setting his hands in his lap. Without really meaning to, he was slipping back into work mode. It was easy, he had been told, to forget exactly who and what he was, as easygoing as he tended to be. He didn't like to intimidate, didn't like to put on airs, but he was Top Mage in New York, and among those in the know about such things, somewhere among the top echelon of the most rightly feared combatants in the business. It wasn't a fact he liked to project, partly because it was one he liked people to forget. But when it came to blending personal and business work, it tended to get... messy. And she was trading on their amicable personal relationship and his frankly not secret attraction to her in order to get his help on this.

He wasn't certain if he was more flattered or offended, but while she kept her shields up nearly all the time and he preferred to lower most of his, this conversation was bringing his back up.

[alistair]You do realize you're more like Sweden these days?[/alistair] he pointed out gently, though the joking was gone from his tone by this point. He had seen a lot of people killed by the sort of toys she apparently favored, and not just by the journey to acquire them, either. It made a man cynical by reflex, unfortunately.

But she wasn't asking to keep it. She wanted to look at it. Which, frankly, could be dangerous enough with the wrong text. Alistair considered for a moment, his eyes sharp, though looking at nothing in particular, before he closed his eyes and let out a breath. When he opened them again, he seemed to have relaxed again, reaching for his container of chicken. [alistair]On condition that I go over it to make sure it doesn't have anything face-melty between the lines, sure. I've been looking for an excuse to get out for a while.[/alistair] There were a few reasons. He needed to prove Lydia and Jocelyn could handle things without him, for one.

[Rorye Shannon-Kearney]

"You do realize you're more like Sweden these days?"

 

She sat back in her chair, setting down her fork as she finished chewing and watched him for a long moment with softened coffee colored eyes. Legs crossed quietly as she too folded her hands in her lap and shifted her gaze toward her fingers, unconsciously rubbing a thumb on her left ring finger. The businesswoman didn’t know if she was being complimented or chided for her sometimes daredevil choices.

 

"On condition that I go over it to make sure it doesn't have anything face-melty between the lines, sure. I've been looking for an excuse to get out for a while."

 

Instinct recognized there had been a distinct shift in his mood; confirmed as she watched him in thought before giving her a figurative pat on the head for her “job well done” while he took the scissors from her hands before she ran with them.

 

“You’re not happy I want to go,” it was a quiet statement, she made a living reading people. “Or, you think I’m an idiot for sticking my hands in the fire again.”

 

Set jaw and dark glare snapped off to her right to avoid looking at him, speaking volumes that he’d hit a nerve. It was her turn to focus on nothing in particular, the rage in her skull billowing at more than being held at arm’s length again. Expression was unreadable, touch of melancholy around the corners of her eyes. Fingers reached to pull a loose lock behind her ears only to decide to pull out the entire braid and reconstruct the thick plait. Maybe she was wrong about him.

 

“I don’t have an army,” she started, voice never raising but very precise, the dark eyes moving back to him had the weight of someone without a lick of fear and no need for a babysitter. “Or warded buildings and magic basements. I can’t blow up buildings and fry books. I gave up calling the cops because the cops don’t come. Nobody else stuck their neck out for us down here, so I have to. I do deals with people that hate you, because they give me the things we need in the mundane world to survive. You have to still remember what that feels like. Now you can fry anything you want, do you know how helpless it feels now knowing people can do that?” She still thought of herself as mundane, probably always would. Fingers reached to pull the piece of paper from her back pocket and slide it over to him. “I could just as easily call them, and give it to them. I’m not. I’m giving it you.”

 

Fork was picked up again. She was quiet for a while as she ate, not having a habit of allowing others to see her frustrated with the world. It was weakness, and she wasn’t weak- but it was almost impossible to hide how vulnerable she felt at the moment, always searching for something to help her make others feel safe… and most of all to protect them. Lately she’d been losing an incredible amount of ground, the crushing feel of helplessness setting in to only collide with her stubborn refusal to back down. It would kill her someday and she knew it. Choosing to keep things around that really should be banished... going after books that could fry her to ash in a heartbeat, she was running out of choices, options and dumb luck. She cracked a water and nursed it for a few moments, eyes sliding over her new additions to the roof, fingers rubbing her temple.

 

“I’m going to get that book, and a few more things I’m looking into. I’d rather not go alone anymore... hopefully I'm more than just an excuse for you to get out for a while. I'd like to be helpful, at least."

 

Lips quirked slightly, changing the subject.

 

"Food is great by the way," she got up from her chair, pulling one of the stools over to the larger of the two telescopes and flipping open the cover. Looking into the eyepiece, she pulled an unusual portion of the Nevus into focus. "Found this particularly interesting spot yesterday," she got up and gestured for him to take a look, moving to focus the other.

[Alistair Greene]

Alistair lifted a brow slightly when his geopolitical comment went apparently unappreciated, and he made a waving motion with his chopsticks before he explained. [alistair]Sweden. Officially neutral, unofficially a pretty clear NATO ally throughout the Cold War. It's more apt, taking recent behavior into consideration.[/alistair]

That much said, he went back to eating, rather back into his good spirits until shespoke up again. He drew a breath in slowly through his nose, then let it back out through his mouth, a touch of a hiss at the end as the air passed through his teeth. Here we go. Suppose this one has been coming for a while.

It was at that point that she gave him a speech he had to imagine was some time coming. It was a bit too well put together not to have been planned, or at least one she'd made parts of over and over again, if only in her head. She thought him cold, then, did she? Some kind of superbeing lording it over the rest of them? He didn't say a word, not while she berated him, not when she tried to change the subject, though when she adjusted the telescope he ignored it, pulling free the button on the cuff of his shirt and drawing the sleeve up to his elbow. Alistair usually wore gloves, though not always, but he nearly always wore long-sleeved shirts. They hid the intricately branching scars that twisted their way up his left arm before they disappeared back under his shirt.

[alistair]I don't usually show off the battle scars, like I've told you before, but this one, in particular, I think is illustrative. Because it's not a battle scar. I didn't get it fighting Order flunkies or vampires or demons. This one is all me. This is one fuckup, with my own magic, and considering it takes less than twenty milliamps to stop the human heart, I'm fairly lucky I didn't get myself killed.[/alistair] He pulled his sleeve back down, shaking his head a little bit.

[alistair]I don't think you're an idiot. I thought until a moment ago I'd made that clear, but I suppose I'm a poor judge. But there is this disconnect here. Yeah, Resonance dealt me a pretty good weapon in all this, and you know what it got me? I get to see the worst of it all the time. The worst of what people do with more power, what it does to them. If we show up to a disturbance and the least that's happened is someone got themselves killed with magic they didn't understand, that's the second to best scenario in our book, because nine times out of ten, it's not just them who gets killed.[/alistair]

He let out another sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. [alistair]So then there's you. You have a power yourself, one that's not half bad. You took out a vampire, and not a youngling, and you've got a spirit that might be one of history's great badasses riding shotgun, so you can handle plenty. It doesn't matter what I say, what anyone from ARMA does, you don't trust us to look out for you, and because I am well aware of our numerical limitations, I suppose I understand that. But I worry about the method you're choosing to go about it. Because I have seen this go desperately sideways more than once, and I just don't think I'd be able to take seeing something face-sucking jump out of that book and make a meal of you.[/alistair]

[alistair]You're smart, and you're tough. But smart, tough people...[/alistair] he paused, pointing at himself. [alistair]... fuck up plenty. So you bring this to me, you want to look at this book, and my instinct is to be careful. Because I think you're finding the same thing I always have: once you get a little power, all that seems to matter is what you could do with more. Because there's people out there with more. Somehow, there just always is. And it's a very dangerous chase.[/alistair]

He turned, looking her straight in the eye. [alistair]You're not just an excuse to get out. You're a reason to. I like you. I hope that's apparent enough. But clearly the two of us are stubborn as hell and have more walls up than we care to admit, which is fine. I'm just trying to be honest. And I hope you'll take this for what it is: a man who has been badly burned telling you to be careful when you're dealing with fire, because I care, and I don't want you getting any more scorched than you have to be. We'll go together. But please bear in mind that this is my area of expertise, and I'm going to have some opinions on how we go about it. Fair?[/alistair]

[Rorye Shannon-Kearney]

He was unusually quiet as she said her peace and just wanted to let it lie. She stopped her fiddling when it was apparent he wasn’t interested in her redirection, hands resting in her lap as she surveyed the lights across the city instead. Most people went along with her changes of subject. Her stoic, gentle personality was persuasive… graceful. Why had she even assumed he would? It definitely wasn’t his reputation, in the back of her mind it was why she was even sitting there having something that could be loosely described as a “date”. Every day she got everyone out of bed, fed… at night she tucked them in safely. The mother metaphor was as close as it got. She didn’t ask for help. Didn’t want to be disappointed. Coming to terms with calling ARMA in exchange for magical items that crossed her path hadn’t been her idea, placating Nina’s fears. He was someone she didn’t have to pick up after, to feed, to reassure everything was okay when she knew full well things were going to hell... someone she could stand next to instead of in front of to protect from danger.

 

It was what had drawn her in.

 

Lowered lashes took stock of his scars without judgment, listening quietly, the realization that she was in the same damn boat as the rest of them prying open a wound she thought she’d closed. She was a fighter, and had come out of the Resonance fighting… surviving. Not stumbling with power, paying a terrible price for the cementing of her countenance. She had the same scars as the rest of them, invisible to everyone but herself. Walls so thick in a hole so deep even she had a hard time dealing.

 

She never asked for help, never had. Insulted when people assumed she was weak, determined to survive when the rest of the world was going to hell. Never tipped her hand- a packrat for the worst kind of power grab. A noble intent in her own mind, now laid out by the man in front of her like a virtual map of destruction.

 

He was right, on all counts. She didn’t trust them. Didn’t want to ask for help because it would mean she was weak, and most of all- failed. His rather sleek way of giving it to her straight pissed her off, and simultaneously diffused the smolder. Nobody spoke that way to her, ever. Even Nina. Eyes met his without a waver when he delivered his final words, surveying the city again to lull into a heavy silence.

 

“Two.”

 

Her voice was quiet, thrum in her chest from the smoky timbre reserved- as if dead ears could hear her. She got up, leaning her hip on the railing and crossing her arms.

 

“I’ve killed two.”

 

The reminder of the worst betrayal imaginable brought her eyes down to the newly laid tile. He’d pulled up a shade slightly to let her peer through his wall. She felt she had to reciprocate. Here she was, on a rooftop by her own invitation. She’d invited him, and had effectively shut him out. She could have been more of a bitch, but not by much. Defensive mechanism? She didn’t know, she never tried to head shrink herself. Pulling her chair around next to his, she sat, the urge to lean against him and just prop her head on his shoulder and watch the night lights squelched, the suddenly shy girl at the proverbial lunch table trying to come up with what to say. There was so much, and everything sounded completely stupid in her mind.

 

Fingers instead found the sleeve he’d pulled back down, partial stalling to organize her thoughts, more to satiate her curiosity and find some sort of way to kick a hole in the walls that refused to budge. For her… it was painful. Incredibly and truly aching; the slightest whisper of her fingertips tracing the intricate lines on his arm as she navigated words together.

 

“I hit the ground at the Resonance fighting for my life. No time to adjust, to get my bearings. I was scorched from the beginning,” expression was thoughtful. Throat cleared quietly. “The world since has been… my enemy. What do you do after you kill the one person you thought could never betray you... who do you trust...” it wasn’t a question, it was some sort of reasoning. “…find a deathwish. A way to stay strong, to beat everything that threatens anything you have left.”

 

Hands drew down his arm as if to acknowledge the deed, pulling his sleeve back down and buttoning the cuff only to pick up his knuckles and press them to her lips and then a night cooled cheek.

 

“Been losing ground now for almost a year, has to be another way,” she let his fingers go, leaning back in her chair to watch the irregular lights twinkle. Legs crossed at the knee, hands quietly in her lap as she leaned against him and did the unthinkable- at least in her eyes. Cheek tentatively rested on his shoulder as she watched the night sky, the soft sigh escaping her lips handing over the worry for a moment to the one with more expertise. Dark lashes opened to look up at him a moment, placing a delicate kiss on his jaw before going back to her quiet sentry.

 

“Fair. Doesn't mean I have to like it though.”

 

Lower lip was rolled through her teeth, her relaxed quiet on the outside hiding the complete chaos on the inside.

 

“Could leave in the morning… from here.”

 

Maybe he'd catch the heavily veiled invitation, maybe he wouldn’t… either way, the leap for her was huge- successfully having kicked a proverbial hole in the Fort Knox that had been her life as of late. Trust. She was trusting someone, on their word. Hell was going to freeze over… hopefully she’d be around to see it.

[Alistair Greene]

Alistair paused a moment. Two, huh? So, one before he'd known her, most likely. He probably would have heard about it had it been more recent. It was a moment of curiosity, but not something he was going to push at that point. They were prying a little deep as it was, just this moment. There were limits to how far to press. Thin ice, and all that. But for some reason... it didn't seem like she wasjust talking about another attacker. Sure, the whole killing thing hadn't necessarily come easily for Alistair in those early days, but the whole 'or die yourself' issue tended to clarify the situation pretty quickly. It had bred a certain pragmatism in most people who had to deal with it. She had always seemed that way to him, so what was the problem with the other vampire she killed...?

He stayed cautious though at this point... he wasn't sure entirely if she was actually mollified, or if he'd just started a fire smoldering. When she reached for his arm though, he thought it was the former. Either way, he turned his palm up, letting her take his arm and push the sleeve back up. Ah.... so that must have been part of it. Now there was a few new details. As soon as the Event hit? Someone she was with then... and then his mind drifted back to the vampire skull. Okay, that was weird. He hadn't thought much of it (he'd seen creepier artifacts after all) but now he was starting to wonder, and he wasn't sure what to make of the thing's presence on her shelf. That might well have been some dark shit there.

Scratch that. Probably was.

She kissed his hand then, surprising him a moment, but when she put her head on his shoulder and kissed his jaw... Huh. Go figure. He'd been halfway certain his backdraft on her earlier comments would somehow backfire, seemed like everything had worked out better than expected after all. For his part, he put his arm around her, letting out a slow - and not just a little relieved - breath while he did.

[alistair]Deathwish only gets you so far, you know. Gotta work on something to live for. Cliche as that sounds.[/alistair] He gave a wan smile, leaning his head a little against hers. [alistair]I could stand to stick around until morning...[/alistair]

[Rorye Shannon-Kearney]

He was unusually quiet, expecting a browbeating perhaps?  Did she do that?  Yes.  She did do that a lot. Sigh was quiet.  For what, a puffed up sense of duty to try and barricade her own corner of the world.  And Alistair, actually doing something about it instead of her- who huddled in a building with her books and trinkets, looking for a solution that was likely to get her and the rest of those she looked after killed.  Was it selfish? Maybe.  Her world was small, hell… she’d never even ever really been out of Hell’s Kitchen. The Arma headquarters was the most adventurous place she’d been in a long while.  Never wandering outward, never trying to find other solution except call them to her. She didn’t know why she clung to this place. She cared about it, it was beautiful.  It brought her joy and a sense of comfort in a world that had delved into complete chaos.  But, it had also become her prison.

 

"Deathwish only gets you so far, you know. Gotta work on something to live for. Cliche as that sounds."

 

She swallowed then, chest failing to rise and draw breath for a moment.  She lived for this place. Why?  It was a constant reminder of death.  He was going to say something else, lip drawn through her teeth and already regretting her invitation.  She was not ready for this, punching a hole in her loneliness.  Surrounded by people but always alone, eyes wandering over the table and wanting to be anywhere but here… for no other reason than she was terrified to move beyond anger and grief, lashes lowering as she felt him lean in.  She didn’t want to admit it, it felt too good.  Calming.

 

"I could stand to stick around until morning..."

 

“The one you know, the other vampire was my husband,”  swallow was quiet, almost inaudible.  "He found his gift from the Nevus, and I found mine keeping him from killing me."  Terrible timing, or maybe perfect.  They all had bruises, and wounds.  He’d confessed his sometime earlier when she’d assumed about his necklace.   She did listen- it was her job after all.  This was different, ignoring the fact she listened too much and had been walking a thin line with him.  Too much, and her brain yanked her back into her widowed hole, and did so yet again.  This was stupid, pulling from his comforting silence and warmth to lean forward and pour herself another drink, which was downed just as quickly, the glass clinking gently on the table.  Fingertips paused over her lips, the moisture from the whiskey rubbed beneath as she considered her words carefully.

 

“I’ve had nothing to live for since, except vicariously through others,” another shot was poured and disappeared.  “I would give my life without a thought to keep them safe, but I’m terrified to let you stay until morning... even though I want you to,”  lip was drawn through her teeth, cheeks a bit hot to admit in her own voice that she had even suggested it.  Because… he’d leave and then she’d be alone again?  In a silent house that throbbed in its stillness?  Or, because she had the audacity to admit there were more men in the world.  She got up, the heel of her hand on her forehead as the swirl from the whiskey lightened her shoulders, other hand on her hip.

 

“Fuck it…” the quip was quick, turning back to him, knee sliding between his to rest on the edge of the chair between his thighs, fingers pulling his face up to hers to leave no doubt she wasn’t backing down from her offer.  This time, it wasn’t Red’s heat behind the kiss, it was all hers. 

[Alistair Greene]

Well. Now there was a hell of an admission to make. Alistair didn't look shocked though, just slightly pained on her behalf, turning to look back up to her. [alistair]I figured it was something like that. Context clues, mostly.[/alistair] he said softly. She wasn't shocking him away with that news, anyway. She wasn't the only one he knew who had a story like that, unfortunately - and certainly not the only person in the city to have been badly wounded by it in ways that stitches didn't do a damned thing about. Not that it diminished the situation, but as many people as had turned into something ravenous when the Event hit... it was bound to happen here and there. There'd been a lot of screaming when he first woke up that night - not all of it because of the fire he had accidentally started in his sleep.

She seemed to be working through something on her own though, aided by the good old lubricant of high proof whiskey, so he just nodded a bit, letting her follow the train of thought she was on to its final stop. He wasn't sure what impact interrupting would have on that, which was why he kept out - derail it at the wrong point, and the opening up she was clearly trying to do might invert itself in one big damned hurry.

There was one comment that drew a smile, though. He knew the feeling pretty well. [alistair]Hey... worst most of the world can do is kill you. This kind of thing is way scarier.[/alistair] It was a funny part of how the human mind worked that many people seemed to fear rejection a lot more than they did death. Of course these days there were plenty worse things the world could do than just kill you, but that really wasn't a complication he needed to throw into his witticism, it would just muck up the works.

Somewhat abruptly then, she swore and moved into his lap, pretty much all at the same time, and he put his mostly-empty glass down in a hurry as he moved to meet her. He certainly wasn't doing any complaining about it.

[alistair]I agree completely.[/alistair] he breathed afterward, a lopsided grin creeping onto his lips.