Something Different - 6.25.2014 [Abraham]

Molly Toombs

The day has been warm and humid, on account of the gray clouds that choked the skies and insulated the heat and moisture both so that walking through the day wasn't unlike walking through a sauna. Nothing like the southeastern United States, to be sure, Denver didn't get that humid, but it was enough to deter Molly from going out for her stretch and jog routine until after the sun had started to dip and touch the tips of the mountains to the West.

Florence was left at home, she'd taken the dog out for an extended walk today already and the animal had ultimately sprawled on the hardwood after a long drink of water afterwards.  She could skip the run along with her owner tonight.

On account of how long Molly put off getting started in the first place, by the time her jogging routine took her into Washington Park and put her on one of two paths that she favored, the sun had gone down and street lamps had to take over lighting the place instead.  Though the sun was down, sweat still gathered at her brow and made sticky her skin as she bounced her way along a pathway at a stride that was easy-- this was the point where she slowed to catch her breath.

Emerald Isle-red hair was gathered into a high ponytail, the bangs pinned back to keep off her forehead and away from her eyes.  She was dressed in a tank-top and pants that were designed for exercise, made of fabric that hugged tight and breathed well.  Black with white threading and logos, with black running shoes to match.  She didn't keep an iPod strapped to her arm, though, and no headphones to cover her ears.

If Molly was going to be out at night, she'd need to be capable of hearing if feet scuffed the path behind her.


Abraham

That is one of the reasons that emerald isle is so green. It was fed on torrents of red. Hasn't all the world been, though?

From the parched Middle East to the lush jungles of South America. The tree of liberty, here in the United States, had long been refreshed by the blood of patriots and tyrants, but these days it seems there is a greater machinery and it does not much care whose blood greases its gears or how it gets spilled.

This would be a very abstract thought for a young man, seated on a park bench in a pair of simple black shorts and a gaudy Hawaiian shirt, to be idly spinning out of ether. Still, there Abraham is with legs crossed and foot bouncing to the same trot's cadence Molly is running with as she approaches. She continues close along the path he sits beside. Maybe he doesn't even notice he is matching that tic to her jog?

He is deep in thought. The foot bounces in time a part apart.

Organic. Subconscious. Hypnotic.

In any case, it is not so strange a thing to be thinking of, because opened across his lap illuminated by a nearby lamp post is Trotsky's History of the Russian Revolution. He is taking notes with a mechanical pencil. He is engrossed up ahead, there to be noticed and not noticing her just yet.


Molly Toombs

Ever aware, ever alert, the man on the park bench up ahead didn't go missed.  Eyes-- blue, not the green of storybooks and poster children-- picked him out of shadows when she rounded the bend to bring him and the bench he sat on into sight.  She didn't slow her pace, so as not to invite attention, but kept her chin high and her feet tapping on pavement.

The nearer she got, though, the more the tickle of recognition bothered her min.  He looked familiar, and she couldn't quite place it at first.  But then, nearer still, the picture of face and eyebrows and hair met together with a memory of a club, of the tingle-and-smell of something abnormal and magical, supernatural for certain, and a recollection of dancing for some amount of time that she didn't mark on a watch until later.  A name came to mind after testing the letter 'A' and a few names that began with it first.  She had it by the time she was near enough to slow and speak a greeting.

"Abe, isn't it?"

She huffed the words out, breathing impacted by the jogging that came before.  Molly was a woman of soft build, but she was robust.  Even so, she wasn't a machine, so when she slowed about fourteen feet or so away from the bench to walk her approach instead she breathed heavy and swiped sweat from her brow with the back of her forearm.

"Molly," she'd supply when he glanced up, to jar a memory she wouldn't be surprised if he'd lost already-- it was just one night among many, and they hadn't even stuck about for very much conversation after the club closed down either. "Funny place to be studying."


Abraham

The cadence slows, and so does his foot, and it reminds him to pay attention to what is going on off the pages open in front of him.

Abe closes the book, pencil folded between its pages, after he looks up and sees Molly approaching. She asks if Abe is his name and he nods. He does not have too hard of a time picking her out from faces in his crowded past.

"Molly," saying the name even as she offers it, proving he remembers before she can spare him any embarrassment if he cannot.

"Yeah, it is," Abe concedes. His hands grip the thick spine of the book, turned to face her and his palms pressed against its cover. "It's quiet, though," but he does not seem to mind the interruption. He doesn't smile at it, but he doesn't chafe at the conversation either. Doesn't argue whether what he is doing is studying or not, maybe because he isn't sure.

"Not a funny place for a run," uncrossing his legs and standing to engage her fully. The book is now gripped at his side.


Molly Toombs

She came to a stop near the front of the bench.  Didn't clutch her side, for no stitch formed when she finally slowed her pace.  She did settle her hands firmly onto her hips, though, elbows pressed out to let the cooling night air touch and cool as much skin as possible.  Chest and shoulders didn't heave, but they did move more noticeably and visibly than they would had she been walking a normal pace.

The man named Abe was unsmiling, but didn't appear to be unwelcome to the conversation that this encounter presented.  He'd even closed his book up and stood to greet her proper.  She didn't stick a hand out for a shake or anything so formal, though, but instead offered a smile of parted lips and teeth to keep breathing comfortably.

"Nah, pretty common place for a run, you're right."  She glanced over her shoulder, checking to see if any other joggers were coming up behind her-- just in case she had to move to get out of their way.  When contented that there were no such dangers coming up from behind, she returned her gaze and attention more fully to Abe.  That hook of curiosity was still there, embedded in skin like a relic in the mouth of a fish that snapped a weak line.  She remembered quite well that there was Something to this man.  Whether or not she could find what, or if it would be worth it to search and pry, had yet to be determined.

"Admittedly probably not the best time for it," she confessed, "but here's hoping that you have no plans to bludgeon me with that textbook."  She skimmed the words on the book's cover.  "Though it'd be a little poetic, I suppose.  Being revolted against with a book on revolution."


Abraham

Abe looks down at the book and then back up at her. "I think Trotsky would object to that," whether she can see the author's name or not, from that angle or any of the angles he had been clutching the book before he says it, she had definitely seen the title. He hesitates. Thinks again. "He would probably object to that too. He did a lot of objecting," Abraham says, like he can't quite corner the idea he is trying to share. It is almost expressed, though, and he almost gives up figuring that is close enough.

A moment of illumination.

"I think he would want to be the one doing the bludgeoning," he says finally.

"What else might he object to?" He asks it in an off-handed manner. "Running to keep yourself fit? He's probably have ideas for better uses of both our energy and little care for what we would like to be doing. Good thing he's dead," and finally a smile that opens his half-lidded eyes a bit more. Brightens his face a tad.


Molly Toombs

That it took recognizing that a political figure who would rather they be working than running, who would prefer to bludgeon people himself after objecting to other people doing the bludgeoning, for Abe to smile set an expression of piqued curiosity on Molly's face.  The smile urged Molly to mirror the expression, though, at least a little.  It was only polite after all.

Her breath was coming back to her.  Molly dropped her hands from her hips and let them rest at her sides instead.  She didn't entirely know where to steer the conversation next-- Molly could play at polite and social and charming here or there, but she wasn't necessarily the most socially graceful thing.  Competant enough to manage and navigate the waters of meeting people, just as much as anyone else, but that left her equally subject to pauses and lulls when she didn't know what else to talk about, if it would be more appropriate to give the man back his evening or if it was more polite to stick around instead.

She wanted to talk about what she'd felt that night.  Ask him if he wove magic, or if maybe if some blood trail of mysticism ran through his family.  But how did you come upon such subjects?  What was the natural transition for that?

These thoughts ticked through her mind, and the time she spent on them was time left for silence to fill the space that words probably ought to instead.  She blinked, reminded herself to get out of her own head and just say something already, and dove on in.

"So I didn't really get around to asking that other night, but I couldn't help but notice something that evening.  About you, in particular."  Eyebrows went up as she went out on a metaphorical limb.  "You're not really the average guy on the street, are you?"


Abraham

Abraham looks surprised. His eyes open a little more. They are almost as wide as an average guy or gal might be when confronted with such an odd question, except there is something else there. Rather there is something that is not there. He does not seem to think she must be off her rocker. His eyes do not screw up and he does not suddenly look cautious or caught off guard.

Just surprised. A little curious. That curiosity gets brushed under the rug once he gets his own eyebrows in line and the muscles of his face perceptibly more relaxed.

"Not reading political theory in a park I'm not," shaking his head. His chin drops and he looks the way she had been running, then kind of steers himself that way, but doesn't just yet take a first step.

"Yeah, you said something about me not fitting the mold. I get that a lot," brushing it off along with his reaction to her question.


Molly Toombs

[Perception + Empathy:  So you seem surprised, but not too surprised]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 8, 8, 8) ( success x 3 )


Abraham

Molly is absolutely right about what she says and there is a more interesting answer to the question she asks than what he has given. What she picks up on is something about himself Abraham is acutely aware of. The most surprising part is not what she says, but that she is the one saying it. Molly does not seem like the kind of person to notice what is different about him, and it has him spooked. Paranoid. Even as he turn his head he is looking her over. Looking deeper than her exterior. Trying to pick up on anything off about her that lays below that surface of athletic attire and the glow of exercise.

[ Auspex (Aura Perception): Perception + Empathy. Specialty is Paranoid. ]
Dice: 7 d10 TN8 (1, 1, 1, 3, 7, 9, 10) ( success x 2 )


Molly Toombs

"Well, I meant the mold of Man in general."  She spoke the word 'man' with a capital letter that's easy enough to catch.  Abraham had angled himself like he wanted to start walking, but didn't start moving yet.  Molly wasn't sure from reading body language and facial expressions whether he would indicate for her to join or if he simply wanted to be off on his way and to escape the prying that she was doing.

What she did note, though, was that he didn't have any 'crazy' buzzers going off in his head from her observation.  He was surprised as though he didn't expect her to be able to pick up on him, but not by the comment in and of itself.  That in and of itself was worth noting.

While Molly was doing her best to read Abe, he was doing quite the same, looking at her a little more intently.  Molly didn't know that his eyes were searching more than just the physical now, that they were picking up on the layer of energy around her that she wasn't even aware existed.  He'd find the movement of energy slow and typical, he'd find her to be Human and nothing but-- there was no pale to seep into and stain the colors about her.  Dark blues and violets mingled together-- she suspected him and was curious, eager to know more.  This could be a dangerous combination, that's for certain.

While he was reading and making his conclusions, Molly pressed on.

"I'm sorry," she began, and ducked her chin just a touch as though bashful of her own directness (perhaps a play, perhaps a conscious movement to make herself seem less worth worrying about).  "I'm not the best icebreaker.  I'm just... curious.  I sort of study the Unreal as a hobby, you could say."


Abraham

Abraham looks up at her and his eyes find hers if she looks back up. His intensity goes from flatline to redlined with what she says.

"I'm real," he says. Asserts. Sets his feet like it might prove he is material.

"Real as you are. And I am a Man, not a hobby," a chip on his shoulder that suddenly tumbles into an avalanche. There is a lot of anger there, but if she is still reading him the way she might have read psychotic patients or dangerous things that walk the night, the anger is not directed at her. It is no less focused than the usual glaze of his eyes, despite how fierce they are in that moment.

Abraham's fingers strain on the book and the pages fan out like the leaves of a fern. He is not strong enough to tear telephone books in half or throw cars- far from it- but the gesture is there.

When his fingers relax so does he. It fades away or at least is goes back beneath the surface. The latter is a more disturbing possibility as it may still be agitated, just hidden.

Dice: 7 d10 TN8 (1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 5, 5) ( fail )


Abraham

[ That was a Willpower. A Willpower botch. Here is a Manipulation + Subterfuge to hide how he is feeling. ]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9) ( success x 3 )


Abraham

[ Note: Abraham's WP is 6, not 7, but I'm taking the botch anyway. ]


Molly Toombs

The reaction was stronger and more negative than what Molly had anticipated.  She saw his knuckles and fingers strain when he squeezed that frustration out on the cover of his book.  She saw the flare in his eyes when they'd met.  Whatever charm or humor she was trying to carry for the conversation seeped away, scared off like a pheasant from a shotgun blast.  Her hands went up, palms forward, in a reflexive gesture-- not one to indicate that she was worried he was going to charge, but rather a common motion for 'Whoa, easy'.

"I wasn't trying to call you a hobby, Abe.  I'm sorry it came across that way."  Her tone changed, closed up, became more worried.  She didn't back away from him, though.  Instead, eyebrows flexed into something mingled between apology and concern-- concern not so much for his well being or peace of mind, but rather for whether he was going to be flying off the handle and if she'd need to extract herself from the situation very suddenly.

That bit of mysticism, that touch of Something Different, it couldn't be dismissed.  She had no idea what he was capable of, all she knew was that it was something beyond just a punch or a throttling.
"And to be clear, I wasn't accusing you of not being a Man."  There was a pause where she considered her words, how they would be perceived, before she continued.  "Just that I sensed... something."  A frown creased her brow while she tried to explain.  "Like you're More Than, you know?"

Another pause, and she followed up with a tone of cautious hesitation:  "Maybe I should just let you be...."  This is the second time she's concluded that in meeting Abe, he may recall.


Abraham

"More Than sounds real, but I'm not any more than someone who can-" he stops, like he has found himself talking without starting. In the meanwhile his gaze has softened. It begins after she concludes she should leave him be. He does not seem to want to chase her off. At least a part of him does not want to. He is curious now.

"Where'd you learn about Something Different?" He asks it with a sudden realization. Turns the question Molly had asked around on her.

She pulls back. Whatever misunderstanding does not spiral out of control and take them down to a horrible place. It looks like that allows him to get a handle on whatever had come up, reared its head, but again that is the seeming. If there if there is Something Different or More Than at work here it might not be so overt.


Molly Toombs

Caution was worked into Molly's bones and body language.  Fear didn't seep from her pores like sweat did, though.  She was watchful of Abe, aware of how his brow may crease or how teeth and jaw may work behind lips.  She'd sensed the snap within him, knew that what she'd said was wrong.  He was on the spot, and it occurred to Molly that her approach might make him feel cornered.  She didn't like to think on what a man who read about Revolutions and sent currents of supernatural energy into the air would do when cornered.

When the question swung around on her, she seemed to find it to be a bit of a relief, oddly enough.  The spotlight shining somewhere besides Abraham could give him a chance to cool down, and she supported that since she was standing alone with him in a park at night.

"Right here," Molly answered.  She blinked, then clarified.  "Well, not right here in this park, but here in the city.  Things that are Different are under many of the rocks and lurking in quite a few shadows.  I suppose I walked through the wrong shadow, saw the wrong thing."  She shook her head.  She was being ambiguous, but of that was probably expected.  "It didn't make sense, so I looked deeper into things.  Started to learn more, see more, understand more."

She licked her lips to wet them.  That sensation of a situation spiraling near to the edge of out-of-control made her head feel a bit dizzy, but to show that much uncertainty and let it impact her sense of calm couldn't help her at all.  She looked down, broke her gaze away from Abe's with the excuse of brushing invisible dust from the front of her shirt and tugging so it was sitting more comfortably on her sides and across her stomach.  This kept eyes and hands busy so they would reveal less.

"Of course you're real," she wrapped around again, reassuring him that she didn't think otherwise.  "But... Not everyone thinks the same, do they?"


Abraham

"Not everyone. Most people, though, yeah. They do," because Molly says a whole lot and that is the easiest part to respond to. It is no less abstract or ambiguous that the rest, though, so he tries to zero in once he has gotten that out of the way.

Abe cants his head to the side once he starts thinking about it and what he has seen of her, both here and in the ether, and repeats a part of with: "Saw the wrong thing. Yeah, that happens, but it doesn't look like it stopped you walking through shadows, seeing things, asking questions you ain't hear a lot of people asking," he notes.

"You oughta be careful turning over rocks, but you know that, don't you?" His own body language continues relaxing. She is a curiosity of epic proportions. If she had been hooked he is holding the rod and is just as invested in the landing.


Molly Toombs

"You also ought to be careful driving and walking home from work."  She smiled again.  The expression was small, testing the waters.  Curiosity was a mutual thing now, a beast that lived within both of them.  The curiosity beasts sniffed one another, touched noses in the metaphorical plane of space between Abraham and herself.  The fidgeting had stilled and she settled for resting her hands on her hips once more.

"But, of course I know that.  And of course I keep doing both of those things.  Just like I'm compelled to keep turning those rocks.  Like an archaeologist, except I suppose the things under the rocks that I find are still alive.  Largely, at least."

She took another breath, this one slow and filling.  Like someone about to jump off a high dive.

"What is it that sets you apart, Abe?"


Abraham

"I don't want to be apart," he answers and it resonates in his chest, but catches soulfully in the back of his throat. It is a bit forlorn. It is young like that chip on his shoulder. He isn't a child. He isn't even a young adult. He had been locked, though she does not know this, in that premature prime. All strength with none of the wisdom of how to use it.

"I'm not. I try not to be," he continues to answer without actually answering.

"Come on," turning his head again, and his shoulders banking like the wings of a plane as he deflects with words and body language. "Some things are comfortable under their rocks, ain't they? You're not like an archaeologist. You sound like a social worker," he says with a distant laugh that shakes his chest and hums in his throat, shaking his head.


Molly Toombs

Sympathy flashed on Molly's visage, not an incredible or strong impulse, but one that Abe would probably recognize effectively enough to feel something negative from it.  He didn't want to be set apart, he didn't want to be Unreal or anything but Man.  So, to have this freckle-faced curiosity looking at him like she felt bad for him, he probably didn't much care for that either.

When he compared her to a social worker, she tried to flush the look off her face and pushed a chuckle to roll about in her chest lungs and throat instead.  Tried to laugh along with him.

"I don't drag things out from under their rocks.  I just like to peek and see.  To continue a metaphor, anyways."  She wished that her work-out clothes had pockets so she could tuck her hands into them.  She also wished that she was wearing something besides her exercising apparel in general, but for reasons beyond a desire for pockets to hide hands in.  She preferred to dress to impress, so to be caught in social banter with a man she'd enjoyed dancing with and have that morph into a Hunt for Information, she would have preferred to trade sweat an a ponytail for jewelry and a dress.

But, neither here nor there, and as she well knew wishes didn't make shit happen.

"You don't have to share anything.  I mean, it's your life, your business.  I'm not entitled to any of that.  I've just never seen any harm in asking, is all."


Abraham

Woe is he, yes, and Abraham might seem the type to shrug that off like he had tried to shrug off most of what she said that had an effect on him. For most he might. She want a peek, though? That is how she continues her metaphor?

He sees sympathy, catches upon it more than that subtle desire to have donned a fashion forward armor. It eclipses that questioning posture, the warmth, and he stokes it. Cups his hands and fans it from spark to flicker to flame, or tries to, because he has opened up. Shown some rare depth and its surface catches her reflection. Stirs it. Tries to make it a tempest.

Abraham looks back at her to do this, to add catalyst to what is present, to make it reactive and incendiary. It is alchemical in nature. She studies the occult, but this is something she might not understand off-hand, even if she could sense such Different Things.

Throughout it he seems to be contemplating what she has asked.

"Saying would set me apart, though, wouldn't it?" She'd said he didn't need to share, to answer, but she had asked and not seen the harm in doing so. "Asking says I'm not the same. I'm Something Different. Didn't you ever look under a rock and not like what you found? What if I don't want you to not like me?"

[ Dementation (Passion): Charisma + Empathy. ]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 4, 6, 8, 8, 10) ( success x 4 )


Molly Toombs

Something stirred in not just the words that Abe spoke, but the way that he said them.  He wanted to stay the same, didn't want her to turn him away and not like him soon as she found out what he actually was.  Her heart ached and throbbed with that.  Molly wasn't an especially maternal person, she didn't draw comparisons to children in this exchange.  But she did feel for the man.  She wanted very much to know what he was so she could begin to learn, but eclipsing that was a sense to help and to support that nearly burned her chest.

Her expression folded back to something that was almost stricken, but her voice wasn't flinching when she spoke up.  She sounded more genuine than he's heard her yet.

"I can assure you that whatever it is you might have about you, I'm certain that I've come across something far more horrible.  And still, I like them enough to answer their calls."  She offered another smile, and this time it seemed more bracing.

"I've never heard of anything wrong with Different, anyways."


Abraham

Abe's own passions, no matter how outwardly muted they might be, go into it. While he has turned his head, started his body, each time he has stopped before retreating away and left the winding path to whoever else might want to use it. He has not left that bench and now he finds himself sharing his most intimate secret with her: his madness.

She does not even know it, even as it flares and catches whatever fuel has been exposed in her, and can he not at least see her through it? See what it does to her before he tells her how he is different, if he ever does? It is secondary to who he is. Apart and in pieces.

Abraham turns the book in his hand and sits back down on the bench. "That sounds like something that would be on a poster. A bunch of kittens and one of them calico," he says.

"Tell me about horrible. Tell me why you answer horrible's call, huh, Molly?" Won't you? It doesn't sound like the way he talks, but he says it with his eyes. Asks her to share with him to make him feel better.


Molly Toombs

Madness must be an incredibly intimate secret to share.  Molly might find herself honored that he let her see, if she could understand any of it just yet.  She didn't recognize what it was, exactly, that had stoked that flame in her heart, stirred it into a passion that she truthfully hadn't felt since the night over drink and smoke that Flood had implored and encouraged her to continue her plunge into the depths of the unknown.

See how strongly she took that to heart.

So though he offered no verbal invitation to sit along with him, Molly sank onto the bench along with him.  She sat to his left an angled her shoulders and hips and knees just enough that she was still very clearly engaged in conversation with him.  No more playing cool an casual, as was her standard approach to the world, that had been cast to the wind.

He urged her to share more, to tell him about horrible.  Maybe if he knew the kind of horrible that she hung around, he would feel better about whatever it was that he saw in himself as a burden, as a shame.  She saw no leprosy on him, and she wanted very much for him to recognize that (but why, Moll?  why do you give such a shit about this guy?).

"Because they're a good horrible to know.  Because though they may be horrible, they haven't wronged me or betrayed me at all.  Horrible, like you, can still be Man."  She shook her head and set her hands on the tops of her thighs.  "I've strayed a very far way from Normal myself, anyways.  The way back's all caved in."


Abraham

Molly sits and joins him and though she had not been invited to do so, see the way he turns to mirror her. His arm crooks back and rests atop the seat back, settling there and settling him in. He does not cross his legs again, but they shuffle once a little closer to her as he turns to continue the conversation.

"You're a sick dancer, two-stepping with the Devil, but it sounds dark in there," and he seems to understand just how dark it can get in those depths. See Abraham? There he is breathing. There he is, and she hasn't touched him, but hadn't he been warm when he had taken her hand and spun her, or when he had shimmied and shook close enough to put his fingers around hers, a thumb in her hand, or when they had brushed close enough? He blinks. All the signs of life. All the light in his glazed over eyes.

Abraham's arm, cocked up tight next to him, straightens out when he is done.

"Imagine if you knew someone who was just good to know. Not anything else. That might be what gets you killed," he says.

It is not casual, he does not feign like he does not know what he is doing, he actually watches his hand move go until his fingers reach out to play their tips on her shoulder. Make contact. Close that distance, reach across the plane that stretches out, and touch her.


Molly Toombs

"Sounds like a song," Molly commented when he accused her of two-stepping with the Devil.  She was humored, somewhere in the back of her mind, by how on-the-nose he was in his comparison.  She saw how breath moved chest and back and nostrils, noted that his eyes weren't glazed for a lack of blinking.  They'd spent time that they'd lost track of dancing the first night they met, so she knew full well that his palms and chest were warm with life as well.  She didn't worry for him being a vampire, it wasn't the first thought that occurred when knowing that someone was Different, not necessarily.  Besides, it would be paranoid to assume that everyone could be one, even though she did know that they were capable of hiding even their signs of death.

But a will to disbelief was a powerful thing.  It was the strong, strong thread that kept the Masquerade held together, after all.

His arm rested along the top of the bench's back, and this brought his hand near enough for fingertips to touch her freckle-dusted shoulder.  Her skin was still a bit tacky from the sweat of exercise, strands of hair fallen loose from her ponytail clung to her neck and brow in places.  He felt her shoulder move when he touched her, but she didn't jerk away or tense up.  Just offered a smile that was a little lopsided, humored at a thought.  "Abe, there's no such thing."

Her own hands kept on top of her legs, but they slid nearer to her knees.  This stretched her arms forward, rolled her shoulders both forward as well.  Leaned her in only a little more.

"I could greet by name a number of things that could get me killed.  It's perhaps the fact that I know their names that keeps it from happening."


Abraham

Abe doesn't not to what she says, but he looks to be considering it, even if his eyes are still on his hand, or may her shoulder since they almost occupy the same space in his line of sight.

"And like you said, driving and walking home, they could do the same shit. There are a lot of things you could call by name and they ain't anything different than what they always been. They the things that kill you, and dying ain't always the worst thing that can happen, is it? Maybe it's the caving in. Maybe it's having to live like that, apart," he says next.

Her skin is supple under his skin, or at least that is what he would call it, and the way it sticks under his finger tips and to them makes even his light touch nothing so easily romanticized. He does not seem to mind, not that or the fact her shoulder moves. It follows along, unless she shrinks back considerably. Considerable enough to make a point? That is the measure that will get him to stop.

"You ever look under a rock and what was underneath up and bit you?" A leap and a dive, this time from his cautious end, and he watches for her reaction.


Molly Toombs

That the touch persisted didn't appear to bother Molly Toombs.  His elbow and arm scooted along the back of the bench so his hand could move forward as well.  His fingers didn't keep still but touched and smoothed, like interested in studying the very texture of her skin.  Light, though, not traveling far, not invading upon much territory not his own.  She didn't shrink away, and nothing flashed in her eyes to warn of discomfort or an urge to flee.

She'd told him that the path back to Normal was all caved in.  So wouldn't it make sense that she'd be drawn to the only path left to walk, if only to see where it took her?

The question, though, had her raising eyebrows just a touch.  Still no signs of her taking flight from him, but the choice of words did have her wondering.

"Not yet."  Her head tilted a little, and those coppery-light eyebrows (no longer penciled dark, they haven't been for a while now) relaxed back down to instead express curiosity.

"Should I worry that you will?"


Abraham

"You asking if I will or if it's something you oughta worry about? Something to be afraid of?" Territory. They are already in each other's, but their distance is conversational. Intimate? He made it so, but it is still intimately conversational. Nothing more.

Abraham had looked back to her shoulder, but his eyes flick from his fingers, her shoulder, over to hers only when he is done asking a question back.

"I don't think you can turn over rocks and not wonder, want to know, want to be touched, be turned over yourself, feel Something Different," he says, wondering aloud and with some conviction.


Molly Toombs

What he was speaking rang truth, though the words seemed to have two edges instead of just one-- meanings and implications that bled and twined together, coaxed that way by how he'd drawn her in, stoked that need to help, to know in order to know how to help.  Made unclear and tangled by the shared space, the near-touch of knees angled inward, the lingering and established touch.

"I suppose it's fair to say that I'm asking both."

The answer was spoken slow and thoughtful, for it had to be formed through the other things rushing about in her mind, trying to piece and direct and interpret.  His comments about wanting to know and actually be different were like stones that kept sinking deeper.

She sounded almost cautious when she asked him:  "Should I worry?  Are you worried?"


Abraham

"Always," Abraham says, answering both questions with that single word, and tossing another stone into the well, the lake, the ocean, whatever it is Molly will be. He isn't sure about the depth, about how wide her expanse stretches, and haven't they discovered entire oceans underneath the earth? All he can do is listen as it breaks the surface and watch the ripples as another weight disappears.

Abraham's fingers are no longer pawing at her. In a moment they lie flat around the ball of her shoulder.

"You're here in the cave with me, already, though," like it pins her to the spot, another avalanche that forces her deeper down the path. "That's one less thing to worry about," the book forgotten as his other hand goes to hers and takes it by the wrist. Raises it along the same plane as his other arm. His hand, the one on her shoulder, withdraws along her tricep to support it. Does all this if she does not pull away.


Molly Toombs

Always, was his answer.  It was a heavy rock that disturbed the surface of her mind's lake and fluttered concern in her chest.  But the wings of that concerned little moth scorched and burned under the flame that was that Passion that the man on the bench had instilled in her.

He reached for her wrist and lifted it so her hand parted from the top of her knee and hovered in the air instead.  His other hand slipped past the shoulder and curled fingers under her upper arm instead, supporting it up so that her arms were away from her sides.  It felt like she was being engaged in a dance, except their feet weren't anywhere near a dance floor, and they weren't even standing at all.  She took a quick breath and her pulse quickened, but Molly didn't fall to pieces often or easy.

She didn't break away from him or lean back, didn't flash fear or protest to his manipulating her posture.  But he would feel that her arm-- the one whose wrist he held-- stilled in the air, wouldn't move further up or forward if he tried to continue guiding it.

She wasn't a woman who feared eye contact.  She knew that the things who benefited from it could steal it from you anyways.  It was a show of trust and confidence to offer your eyes.  But, more than that, she wanted to do nothing to scorn or wound Abe, so she wouldn't insult him by averting her gaze.

"It sounds like one less thing for you to worry about.  You're making it seem like one more thing for me to worry about, though.  I don't want to be trapped in the cave, I want to find my way through it."


Abraham

"You do. Every morning you wake up and see the sun you do," he says. The hand on her wrist turns. It does not try to bring it to his mouth, but his thumb runs along her forearm. Finds veins. Presses against gently, but enough that she can feel her own pulse as he follows their lines to her wrist.

"And all I have is this," he says, but he had felt her hold it still where it was, and he does not pull it further toward him, nor does he pull her any closer. He doesn't take what she won't give freely.

He might have been talking about her blood, but he doesn't have it.

"Hunger," he continues, "is the only thing that keeps me going," and his hands open to let her go.


Molly Toombs

His thumb ran down her arm an her eyes dropped to follow the motion, and it was hard to discern whether that was anticipation or apprehension that she wore on her face when she did.  Ultimately, though, he released her from both his hands and confessed that all he had to keep him going was hunger.

She suspected that he didn't mean for food, and frowned.  She ached for him, sincerely.  He said this was all he had-- didn't clarify what 'this' was so she could assume that it was something in the here and now.  Hunger was no positive sensation, it signified want.  If it was the only thing to keep him going, it meant he was forever wanting, and there was a sorrow for the man's condition that swelled up into her throat and had her swallowing hard.

Molly lowered her arms and straightened up.  She drew in a breath that filled her chest and for a moment it seemed like she may try to fold him up within her in an effort to muffle that hunger and want, to comfort and pull that clear conflict out of him.

Instead, she asks:  "Do you have a phone on you?"

The answer would be yes, and either by her thumbs or his own Molly's phone number would end up plugged into it.  She didn't ask him for his, but instead offered hers.  "I don't want to put you under a microscope, Abe, I just want to help."  She soon after stood up from the bench and pinned up licks of loose hair back off her neck and brow again with a couple bobby pins that held things together.  She had to go, she said, but she wanted him to call.

"We can get a drink.  Talk about that hunger, and that help."

She'd jog away, and sincerely hope that he would.

People Who Are Also Cobras - 6.24.2014 [Alex][ST'd by Shayla]

Alex Fisher

Its been all work and no play for the last little while, it was fire season after all and with Denver on the edge of a desert there was no shortage of scrub fires and other accidental burns. It meant that even the downtown fire departments usually reserved for inner city fires had been busy out in the wilderness.

But tonight Alex is free, free to roam and to drink and to do whatever the fuck she felt like doing, because this is her right, and her desire. So for the first time in a long time, Alex called Molly. Not to discuss all the dark things in the world, not to discuss their close calls with the unknown. But to go out, and maybe just maybe have fun on a level that doesn't involve that mutually shared act of horror.

So its in the arts district that Alex waits, for once the heavy leather coat is missing, but the dress green tonight is present. It was just to damn hot for thick and bulky leather. For once Alex's body is not hidden by that armour and she appears to be all the more amazonian without it, muscles and a fairly tall body will do that.

Shes waiting in front of a gallery, of which was already closed up, the curators already off to their own debauchery.


Molly Toombs

Molly was the type of girl that always dressed up when she went out.  Casual clothes existed in her closet, sure, but those were reserved more for around-the-house days or when she was exercising.  She liked her skirts and her pretty blouses to counter-balance the plain scrubs that she wore at work, the utilitarian way her hair needed to be worn to keep from being grasped by patients that get wheeled through the emergency bay doors.

So, when Alex called and invited Molly out (and she, of course, agreed-- she liked Alex, after all), the smaller woman with the red hair arrived like she had someone to impress.  She was dressed in a white skirt that came to mid-thigh and was worn high on her waist, peppered with little red-and-green flower patterns.  A white tank-top tucked into the skirt, and over that she wore a light denim button-up shirt that was left open and tied together rather than buttoned, with the sleeves pushed and secured up above her elbows.  Make-up, bracelets, hairspray all topped it off.

When she came about the corner to some parking lot or another, Molly spied Alex up the sidewalk.  She smiled, gave a little way, and walked on the flat bottoms of strappy summer sandals to meet her.

Eyes crawled curiously to the front of the closed gallery that the other woman was standing in front of.
"Hey Alex.  This where we're going into, or...?"


Alex Fisher

Alex stood near the wall, perhaps curiously close with her back to it. It looked for all the world like she wanted to lean up against it, like that was her usual way of doing things but to do so would be to drag the delicate fabric of her dress across the hard brick surface. She seemed to fidget as she tried to find a good medium between standing and leaning, and seemed to thankfully give up when she spied Molly and brought up two fingers to offer a salute to the woman.

"Hey Molly, and not unless you feel like doing a bit of break and enter to look at some really bad art." She said gesturing to the locked door and the shuttered windows. "I mean, I  can't see the desire, but if..that's your thing." She let a grin break across those lips, small as it was, tiny really as her hard eyes met Molly's.

"Lookin' fucking good today, you trying to impress someone?" She inquired with a wink as she stepped up to her shorter friend and gestured down the sidewalk, before setting off in that direction.


Molly Toombs

"Nah," Molly said with a small shake of her head and a grin, when inquired about breaking in to view art.  She came to stand a few feet from the tall woman who leaned on the wall.  One hand was dedicated to the strap of the small brown bag she was carrying her things in, and the other hand settled on her hip as she evaluated the building.  "In my experience, breaking into places never ends well."

No, it ended with blood mages and gruesome carnage and attacking pieces of furniture.  It ended with shadow-creatures trying to suck the life out of your friend's face and your needing to shove him and yourself out the door with milliseconds to spare in saving yourselves from a terrible leeching death.

The compliment was met with another grin and a shrug.  They started walking down the sidewalk, and Molly found pace beside Alex. "Hey, you never know who you're going to run into.  But thank you.  I like your dress-- green's a good color."

And such nice conversation may happen to fill the next few minutes as they walked, depending on how far they had to go.  They would make it maybe a block or two before Molly asked:  "So what'd you have planned?  Are we just seeing what's around?"


Alex Fisher

They walked on, pleasant small talk taking them down the streets of the cultural heart of the city. Molly eventually asks the smart question, what were they doing, where were they going and Alex grinned as she shook her head to answer the woman's question.

"Nah fun as that is you pretty much never find anything, theres a band playing in fifteen, bit of a rock, punk, classical vibe...yeah i know weird shit. But they aren't half bad. Figured it would be a good atmosphere to have a few drinks, enjoy ourselves." She gestured on ahead to a small bar with an old metal sign above it. It seemed that 'Friendlies' was where they were headed.

"So much happening in your world?" She asked as they drew closer, a small group of individuals hanging around out front, smoking away like chimneys.


Molly Toombs

Molly had no qualms with the band that they were going to see.  She didn't offer up any strong objections to the genre that was being described, anyways.  Live music was live music, and she almost always preferred that to a jukebox in her bars.  Eyes found the sign that Alex gestured to, and then dropped to do a quick survey of the people out in front smoking.  Molly wasn't a confrontational person, she didn't go out looking for fights, but she was smart and had been in the city long enough to know some simple rules of self-preservation.  One such law was to always be aware of the people around you.

When asked what was happening with her, Molly shrugged simply.  She could be truthful and explain that she was currently spending her free time studying to learn how to summon lost reflections back to this plane, and how she was coordinating with the owner of said lost reflection on when a good time would be to have the ritual take place.

Instead she settled for:  "Just a lot of work, honestly.  That and I've been trying to get out and do more hikes this year.  Now that I have a car, I have no good excuse.  Florence needs the exercise too, so..."  She trailed off and slipped her hands into pockets that were sewn into the skirt.

"Been thinking of planning a vacation.  It might be healthy to get out of the city for a little while.  Breathe some air other than what's here."  Here it ran electric with the supernatural, and she was forever on edge for fear of having her essence leeched through the soles of her feet by some Great Unknown that was nesting beneath the ground.

"Maybe Europe."


Alex Fisher

Alex looked to Molly as she explained an entirely mundane existence since they had last met in the park to discuss things other then such common day issues. Part of her believed it, but the slight rising of one fine brow over those watchful eyes might give Molly the impression that the firefighter thought there was more to it then that.

"Europe huh?" She doesn't pry though....not this time anyways. Molly had already shared plenty that she didn't need to, probably shouldn't have really. "I've always wanted to see the Mediterranean..go to all those little islands. I hear there's all kinds of interesting things to see and do out there. Personally though, I think I'd rather hit the pacific, Hawaii, Japan, China....you know if life ever lets me get further then ten miles outside the city limits." She snorts at that as they draw close to the bar, the thing obviously tiny, and probably already packed.

As they walk by a young man exits the bar, heading away from it all when he seems to pause, perhaps even abruptly after looking down the alley beside the bar. He paused...and then turned to head down it, moving slowly, listlessly.


Molly Toombs

"I'm not gonna lie, the Pacific scares me a bit."  It might seem like there was going to be some very xenophobic comment that was about to follow, and maybe Alex was going to learn something about her freckled friend.  But instead Molly swung a conversational left and followed with-- "I mean, in all of the reading I've done, I've learned about some of the things that live out there.  If you thought monsters in the United States were surreal and horrifying things, some of the shit that lives out in the wilds and cities of China would...  Well, it's enough to keep me from wanting to go there."

So she wouldn't talk about the supernatural things in her own personal life, but she was comfortable speaking about them as a general topic in casual sidewalk conversation.  She did so with Jack whenever they were spending time together, so the speech and subject were easy and comfortable for Molly.  But then, Jack also actively sought and studied these subjects (and he was a Vampire, but Molly didn't know that).  Alex was still only half-convinced herself.

The young man that paused suddenly didn't go unnoticed-- not much slipped by Molly.  Her attention was pulled away from the conversation she was having with her taller friend by watching as the young man started to amble his way down the alley-- idle rather than with intent, as someone typically would if they stopped and spotted something out of the ordinary.

With a curious and suspicious crease to her brow, Molly nodded her head to point the unfurling scenario out to Alex.

"Wonder what's up with him."


Alex Fisher

Alex had indeed noticed the young man stop and start to move down the alleyway. But unlike Molly her supernatural detector was not yet set to maximum gain. Where Molly saw something suspicious, Alex just saw what looked like a drunk young man wandering somewhere that wasn't likely to end in a way that was particularly prideful or clean. 

"Probably just drunk." She commented looking around. "I mean we are at a bar." Alex snorted briefly, that smile of hers stretching ever so slightly to become larger. But then she noted the look on Molly's face and the smile stopped growing, instead it turned to look down the alley as the young man started to disappear from sight [from where they were at least].

"What? You think something else is going on?" She asked quietly, looking from Molly to the alleyway, her hard eyes seeming to steel themselves further.


Molly Toombs

[Perception 3 + Awareness 2: I might think that, yes...]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (3, 4, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )


Molly Toombs

When she learned that ghosts and vampires and magic-wielders existed, Molly had to learn how to be alert in ways beyond just the physical.  She'd come to recognize, after much exposure that gradually turned to hunting and searching, what it felt like when there was something beyond the Ordinary happening nearby.  There was a particular energy that currented through the air, like when electricity prickles the hair on your arms before a storm.

For this, though, Molly sensed a dread in her spine that dribbled down it like cold liquid metal.  She breathed in deep, and the breath shuddered just a little as she did so.  The feeling wouldn't shake, it just sat there in her back and seeped into her shoulders, her neck, her skin.

"Absolutely," came the answer to the question.  Alex was steeling herself already, but Molly didn't appear steeled or braced, not so much as she appeared intrigued and curious.  Cautious, absolutely-- the crease to her brow didn't lessen any, but there was a recognizable determination there to know what was going on.  An opportunity to experience, witness, and learn couldn't be passed.

So, without collaborating, Molly switched her direction ever-so-slightly so that it was clear she was headed for the alleyway instead of the bar doors.


Molly Toombs

[Perception 3 + Alertness 3]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 1, 3, 8, 9) ( success x 2 )


Alex Fisher

[Per+Alert]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (4, 6, 6, 6, 7) ( success x 4 )


Alex Fisher

Molly was in tune with the supernatural universe, it both gave her the opportunity to experience and learn just as it gave her the ability to run, to get away if absolutely necessary, certainly something she had done previously. Alex was also in tune with this universe though her training came from her work as a firefighter, alerting her to danger that others would miss...it had saved her and her colleagues on many occasions. But this wasn't a burning building or scrub blaze. This was a bar, outside at that with plenty of people...Alex just wasn't attuned to this sort of situation...not yet anyways.

So when Molly started towards the alleyway Alex joined her, heading for the mouth of the that great brick throat. As the pair drew up near it, perhaps peeking in from an obtuse angle that they would spy what others perhaps even avoided seeing.

The young man was making his way slowly towards a man dressed in a old denim jacket and a pair of jeans, the man looking like he was stepping out of the eighties with all that denim on his body. This might seem normal enough...but as the young man drew close the man in denim stepped to the side, drawing the youth along towards the side of the alley, stepping into deep shadow.

Of course....both of the woman could see what happened, both of them were keen eyed enough to see the second that young man stepped into the shadow arms wrapped tight around him and a gasp was quickly muffled.

"The fuck." Was all Alex could utter as she peered through the darkness.


Molly Toombs

The alley's mouth found itself with two extra body's crowding nearby.  Molly didn't step directly into the alleyway, but peered ahead first.  She didn't comically hold onto the brick wall and lean around it to peek inside, but she did stand at an angle, lean forward to get a better perspective of what was happening.

The man in the dated attire was taken note of.  The younger man walking toward him as though through a fog of hypnosis was taken note of as well.

When the shadows deepened, shifted, and reached out to wrap around and swallow the bodies whole, Molly's muscles tightened and her body language went stiff, but she didn't call out in surprise or horror.  She did swallow hard, though, because she's seen and encountered some terrible beasties that could manipulate shadows before.

She had a hunch, given the appearance of the man in outdated clothing, but didn't speak that hunch out loud.  Molly's eyes hopped up to Alex, to the side of her friend's face.  She didn't want to have this woman dragged too deep down, didn't want her to become a blip on the radar of the vampire community like she herself was.  She could only hope that she was wrong, and looked back forward to the murky mist of manipulative shadows once more.

"Could be a number of things," Molly advised in a soft voice.  "None of them look too good for that kid."


Molly Toombs

[Perception + Alertness]
Dice: 6 d10 TN7 (1, 3, 4, 4, 4, 7) ( success x 1 )


Alex Fisher

[Per+Alert]
Dice: 5 d10 TN7 (5, 6, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )


Alex Fisher

They were being cautious, avoiding entry into the alleyway, trying to avoid making whatever lurked in those shadows aware of them. Or at least Molly was. As Alex watched the events unfold, watched as the shadows swallowed the pair and a gasp, lost to all but them fell on deaf ears she was tensing, her jaw clenching all the more when Molly said things didn't look good for the young man who had just stepped in way over his head.

"No shit." She said as they squinted harder, trying to resolve details. Molly could barely see the outlines of the two men, the smaller younger man pressed up against the brick wall, as if in a lovers embrace. But there was something slack about him, something entirely pliant.

Alex could see more then what she wanted to see, she saw lips wrapped around the young man's throat, and all the more besides and her features twisted into an unhappy grimace.

"We cannot let this shit happen, guys practically a kid. I bet hes only just legal, one way or another this shit is wrong." She said looking at Molly.

"Come on." She said as she turned around the corner, taking those first few steps into the alleyway, moving quietly..slowly, after all you don't want to alert the dragon your walking into his lair. Not before your ready to cut off his head.


Molly Toombs

Blue eyes went wide in a moment's panic, of sorts, when Alex whispered for her to come on and started forward.  They couldn't let this happen, Alex advised, and Molly shouldn't be surprised.  This was how she'd reacted when she saw the man getting pulled apart by zombies in a basement, and Molly had to convince her that to go in there would be to go to their deaths.

This time she didn't make any motion to physically try to stop the other woman-- Molly knew that if Alex wanted she could break free from her grasp without much trouble.  Molly wasn't a fighter, you see, but an intellectual.  So rather than trying to forcibly stop Alex, she instead walked along after her, steps soft on the alleyway and her voice a strained, hushed tone.

"What are you going to do?"

Molly could see the denim-clad man leaned into the younger man, how he had him pressed into the wall like they were kissing hard.  But she was smart, and she'd seen some things in her time.  Molly knew better than to suppose that this was just a passionate encounter in the alleyway.  A condom wouldn't be suitable for saving the youthful bar-goer from the dangers of this particular meeting.


Alex Fisher

"Scare him off. If that doesn't work...." She paused and looked around, as if searching for some kind of weapon. "Well lacking any conveniently placed lead pipes, forcing him off with our bare hands if necessary." She said as they got closer. "The guy ain't that big." She added, as if that would be enough to convince Molly this was a fight they could easily win.

She did pause however, looking over at her friend after a moment, as if the urge to act instantly, reacting to a situation rather then thinking it through had faded and she asked. "You got any other ideas, any...particular know how or something that we can use to stop...whatever the fuck this is?" 

Whether it would be enough was another question entirely. They could only stand there for so long and discuss quietly after all, soon they would have to act, retreat, or more then likely, be discovered by the denim man as he feasted in what he believed, to be a secure and quiet place.


Molly Toombs

The more that Alex spoke, the tighter together Molly pressed her lips.  By the time that Alex was speaking of using her bare hands, her friend looked about ready to start gnawing on her lips and cheeks in anxiety.  Her eyes were wide still, and to look into them you could see that Molly was rapidly processing the situation and predicting particular outcomes.

The fact that the firefighter in the green dress paused was a relief, as it meant that Molly could stop too.  When she did she touched her fingers to the alley wall, almost like it was 'safe base' in a children's game, like it would protect her from the attention of the night-monster presumably drinking his fill in the cloak of shadows around him and his victim.  When deferred to, Molly looked to Alex and though her shoulders and bust didn't heave with breath she did seem breathless all the same.  For a moment, she didn't seem to know what to say.

But, then...

"I'm pretty sure that's a vampire," she said quietly and quickly.  "They can be strong and fast, so please don't try to wrestle him away from what he's doing.  He might not kill the guy, but just leave him weak.  I doubt he'll be scared off, but maybe we can.... distract him.  Or..."

Her eyes hopped here and there, to and fro, back and forth along the alley walls and the dumpsters and other bits of debris that could be found there.  She was processing still.  Thinking on the spot, on the fly.

"A wooden stake to the heart'll freeze him, at least, if he tried to attack.  I could distract him, if you can find something to wield...."

She sounded like she very much didn't want to do this-- like she'd rather walk away and hope that the vampire didn't take too much from the boy.  But Alex was made of the Stuff of Heroes-- she was a champion of the people, you see, and couldn't just walk away from a person in need like Molly could.  But, while Molly could abandon a perfect stranger without much guilt if that's what it meant to save herself, she couldn't just leave a friend there alone.

So, she offered a plan.


Alex Fisher

[Per+Empathy]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 3, 6) ( success x 1 )


Alex Fisher

Alex never aw herself as a hero, never the sort of person to be the one to save a city or even a building. She was a person, a person who, though tough on the outside held a deep reserve of empathy for her fellow man and could not stand by and watch others suffer or fall prey to monsters.

So she felt for the young man who should be enjoying his life, and not having it drained away into the pit of some creatures stomach, vampire or not. But she also felt for the woman at her side, who though she was putting on a brave face was obviously more afraid then she had ever seen her before. It put a halt in Alex's actions, caused her brain to work harder.

"I know your scared Molly...but we can't let the guy die...this one we have a chance to save unlike that other guy." She said slowly, quietly meeting her friends gaze. 

"But i get it, I do....if you can tell me, tell me with really really good certainty that this guy is gonna leave that guy enough blood to survive or whatever the fuck it is hes taking. Then we can walk. But if not..." Alex pointed to an old broom propped up against a garbage bin next to the side door of the bar, left there probably by one of the bartenders within.

"Then we take this guy."


Molly Toombs

The women were still nearer to the mouth of the alley than not, and the spoke quietly to one another near the shadows that could keep them somewhat masked from the feeding vampire.  He was wrapped up in what he was doing, and if they bided their time further the poor young man wouldn't have much blood left to give.  Molly knew this, and glanced back to the embracing couple of men against the wall, but then looked back to Alex.

Her expression was grave and her mouth was set.  She spoke quickly, urgently, but quietly still.

"This isn't about being scared.  It's about our chances.  If we fight this thing, there's a very good chance that we don't walk away from here."  She paused, glanced briefly to the broom, then continued.  "Let me try to talk first.  Try not to let him see that you're here at all, keep low and silent.  These vampires aren't....  They aren't all necessarily monsters, okay?  They can be reasoned with.  Or bargained with, at least."

The last sentence had the bridge of her nose wrinkling up, like Molly knew that bartering with a bloodsucker would be an unpleasant and possibly even demeaning experience.  But, if it saved a life...  At least, that's what Molly told herself while trying to get on board with this whole 'good samaritan' thing.

With a deep breath, she nodded.  "Here we go."

And then she straightened up, took her hand away from the wall, and started a slow approach that was meant to look more like a non-threatening meander than a stalk, bringing herself more apparently into view of the feasting nightwalker.


Alex Fisher

Alex looked at Molly like shed suddenly grown a pair of very, very large balls, of which were potentially hanging from her chin. It was a look of surprise, but a look of respect as well and after a quick look over at the vampire, she nodded. "Your call Molly, but if he makes a move for you. I am coming for him." 

She watched Molly start to walk toward the vampire and she herself took a deep breath, before scuttling over to the dumpster and grabbing the broom...she would be prepared, just in case.

But this is Molly's moment, she is striding forward to face the creature who was at the moment draining one of their fellow kine, that or taking their very..very sweet time about taking very little. As she drew closer, and didn't seem to be moving on past the vampire stopped, turning in the darkness to stare at the woman as the man slumped listlessly in his arms, trapped in the throws of the kiss.

"Help you?" He said abruptly, unhappy with being disturbed...but not yet aggressive, points to them..this one wasn't fresh out of the ground.


Molly Toombs

[Manipulation + Subterfuge:  Cool as a cucumber, I swear]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 6, 6, 6, 8) ( success x 4 )


Molly Toombs

Though her chest fluttered anxiety and doubt, though she was currently calculating the chances that the predator would abandon one set of prey to go for the second that presented itself alive and healthy and kicking, none of that showed in Molly's approach.  Her steps were comfortable and even, they swished her skirt some when she walked.  Her shoulders were square without being challenging, and her head was high without looking confrontational.  She cooled cool and casual, she may as well be the Fonz without all of that arrogance and obnoxious attention grabbing.

She came to stop several yards away from the vampire, out of reach, outside of the cloud of shadow that he'd wrapped around himself and his victim.  Her hands came out of her pockets to show that they were empty, and they rested folded together at the front of her skirt, fingers curled loose about one another.

It's with a small raise of eyebrows on her freckled forehead, and with a small smile that only ghosted the corners of her eyes and edges of her mouth, that she answered.

"Oh, I was just curious about whether you were going to be leaving enough in that young man to be able to walk himself home."  One shoulder hopped in a little shrug.  "And/or offering to walk him home for you when you're finished, I suppose."  The smile spread further, like warm butter.

"Just a concerned citizen, is all."


Alex Fisher

[Per+Subt]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 5, 6, 7, 10) ( success x 3 )


Alex Fisher

Molly was cool as ice as she approached, her knowledge of vampires and their reactions to humans a boon in this moment. Alex would have just come in charging, others might have quivered in their heels...Molly went up to the beast and TALKED to it. Spoke to it like it was someone committing a social faux pax and looking to help them with it.

The vampire licked its lips as it looked at Molly, its meal still held by its arms. It seemed confused for a moment, as if it was uncertain how to deal with this interceding human...or was she human? Its eyes narrowed as it looked from Molly to the man and then back again.

"Concerned Citizen huh? There a particular reason I should give a damn about what you have to say Dudley?" He inquired with a hint of a smirk. "Or are you just sticking your nose where it really shouldn't be?"

Alex for her part kneeled beside the dumpster, broom held like a spear, ready to charge if all else failed. She listened, amazed by her friends surprising courage. After all, this was the same woman who before had fought tooth and nail NOT to get involved...


Molly Toombs

"Oh honey," Molly answered back.  She didn't actually chuckle, for that would be condescending, but her voice carried a bit of a lilt like she found humor in the situation anyways.  Not laughing at the vampire, certainly not directly, but at his reaction to her more than anything else.  She glanced down, briefly, and smoothed her skirt under her palms before settling to let her arms rest still at her sides.

She looked back up to the vampire, directly at him, like she couldn't harbor a thought in the world about him bringing her harm.

"Did you think I meant I was concerned for him?"  She nodded her head forward, and though she wasn't near enough to clearly gesture between the man and the human quivering and defenseless in his arms, it was clear that she was motioning to the human instead of the vampire.  "I just wanted to make sure that there wasn't some scene left behind, is all."

She smiled next, and the expression was apologetic and gracious.  "I'm sorry, that's presumptuous of me.  I'm sure you've got it under control, but-- well, I just thought I'd offer."


Molly Toombs

[Charisma 2 + Subterfuge 2:  Golly I'm such a liar, but aren't I charming?  Spending WP because JESUS DON'T EAT 44ME.]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (3, 4, 7, 10) ( success x 3 ) [WP]


Alex Fisher

[Per+Subt]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )


Alex Fisher

The vampire seemed poised for a brief moment, poised between violence and acquiescence. Perhaps it had been lost in the moment, ready to drain this poor soul dry for its own appetites, why shouldn't it enjoy its meal to the fullest after all...to many vampires, humans were nothing but a food source.

But this one seemed to see the sense in it. It looked to the man in its arms one last time and leaned in suddenly. Molly might think it was going to finish him off, or simply kill him. But it licked at the man's neck..before pulling away and letting the man slump to the ground. "He's all yours then Dudley." He said with a smirk as he stepped towards Molly, now flush with life that was not his own.

"If I didn't have places to be...I'd offer you a drink." He said with a wide grin, the edges of his teeth still rimmed with blood. "You should come on back sometime...we could chat." He offered as if it were a perfectly sensible, perfectly reasonable thing to do.

"See you around..." He said as he stepped past Molly, coming oh so close to her before continuing on and out, the shadows receding to a normal state as he stepped out onto the street.

A moment later Molly could hear Alex step out from behind the dumpster. "Holy shit on fried roadkill." She said as she looked from Molly to where the vampire had gone. "How the fuck did you do that?"


Molly Toombs

Though adrenaline did its best to flood her system and send her heartbeat hammering out its own crazy tune, Molly kept her cool gathered.  She was taking cues from vampires she's interacted with before.  She knew the confidence they wore around them like fine cloaks.  She's watched their mannerisms, knows that there's a certain sense of flirtatiousness and seduction that ran in their behaviors as well.  She did her very best to mimic it.

Apparently that was enough, for after consideration the vampire seemed content to believe that she was one of them, as she was hinting at-- lying about.  He couldn't see through the lie, perhaps because of the fact that he was caught in the middle of the feeding.  Maybe he just wanted to believe that Molly was what she claimed to be.  Either way, though thrill rattled around in her chest like a bird in a cage, she still just smiled graciously.

"Well, the offer's appreciated none the less.  Perhaps I'll see you around."  The perhaps is accentuated, spoken like a tease or a promise.  She watched the man go with that smile still riding her face, and it stayed until the shadows had gone back to normal and the denim-clad bloodsucker had continued on with his night.  It was only then that Molly's posture slumped at the shoulders as though a great weight was taken from them.  When she looked over to Alex, Molly appeared in a state of disbelief.  She could hardly grasp that she'd pulled that off at all.

"Well," Molly said, but found that her voice was catching in her throat, which had gone dry now that the chance to reflect on the danger of the situation had come.  She cleared her throat and tried again, gesturing Alex over.  Molly had turned to look at the man slumped onto the ground against the wall, but didn't approach him just yet.  The vampire would've probably told her if it was too late for him.

"They were people once.  Many still are, though they're warped by what they've become.  I just...  approach them by people who are also cobras."  She blinked a few times, then added:  "I'm also fucking lucky."

With that statement made, she went to check on the state of consciousness and health around the man who was now probably down a decent amount of blood.


Alex Fisher

Alex seemed to be looking at Molly in a whole new light now, it was not that she saw the woman as cowardly or weak...that was impossible given how they had met, and the steel that Molly had shown at the time. But this...this was something else entirely. It was like watching Steve Irwin face down a hoard of rattlesnakes with a smile on his face and a laugh from his throat.

Molly was hardcore in ways Alex had not yet begun to fathom. "Ill keep that in mind next time I've got a vamp staring me down, hopefully I can pull that shit off just like you did." She said as she shook her head and the both of them approached the man who lay against the wall, dazed but alive.

"He's weak...but if we get him to the hospital there shouldn't be any serious issues." Alex said, simply taking part now, her gaze occasionally shifting to the mouth of the alley as if to make sure the creature really was gone. "You have gotta teach me more about the shit you know Molly." She said as she went to take the man by one arm.

"And i mean alot more, cause I got a serious feeling you've only been giving me crumbs after seeing that shit go down." She got a grip on his shoulder and gestured for her to take the other. "On three alright?"


Molly Toombs

The way that Molly was being looked at didn't go missed.  She wasn't avoiding Alex's eyes, but she didn't seem to be particularly flattered or puffed up on her own victory based on the borderline astonishment and admiration that she found there.  Instead Molly looked a little grim.

Still, she moved along with Alex to help the man up off the ground.  He was dazed, hardly about himself.  Molly spoke to the man directly, advised him that they found him here and sick and that they were going to find him someone to help.  He may or may not have heard and understood all of that, but with it out of the way Molly stooped down (knees together, ever mindful of that skirt of hers) and looped his other arm behind her neck and over her shoulders.

"One, two, three--" and they hefted the man up.  Molly spoke as they helped move him.

"You're right, but it's for your own good."  About how much information she was sharing with Alex-- she was only getting bread crumbs, this was true.  But according to Molly it was for her own good-- one could imagine that Alex loved being told that.

"I know so much, Alex.  I don't know where to begin to share it all with you.  I don't want you to know how to interact with those guys because they're dangerous as hell and they'll use you.  In ways besides how this poor guy was, too.

"But I'll tell you.  I'll answer your questions."

They were friends, and they were both in this after all.