Jorvik: A Land of Snow & Ice

Game Master DSXMachina

"Visitor? Lovely. Fetch my smoking jacket, Jeeves, and I'll receive them in the throne room," Sal mumbles loopily in her best posh voice, then looks down at herself. "Oh, wait. This jacket is still smoking. Never mind."

She unfastens her seat belt and reaches across to the door handle with her good arm, still unwilling to use the painful left arm (though it feels better, she distinctly remembers the horribly squicky sensation of the bones moving back into proper alignment under the influence of Kenneth's magic and is reluctant to stress it). She grabs the door frame, levers herself from the car, and promptly topples to one knee.

"Whoopsie," she mutters, then hauls herself to her feet and slams the door shut. Only the fear that Morien would skin her for getting smudges on Frost's gleaming exterior prevents her from leaning against the car as she stands swaying and addresses the dignified butler. "Evening, Fothergill. Please tell me the visitor is Bunny's friend, Aggie? Because that would be great."

Forthergill moves forward to offer Sal the crook of his elbow to lean on with her good arm; "Seemingly not. It's Mr Arjen, he's entertaining himself with a couple of books."

The golden dog bounces out of the vehicle, she shimmers and shakes transforming back into her human form. The butler crooks an eyebrow to match his neck but says nothing - seemingly having seen stranger sights. Bunny pats herself down; "Like, I could give Aggie a call, but I've not got a phone on me...."

Sal pulls a device from the remnants of her clothing. It hangs limply from her fingers, dripping. "No help here, sorry. I'm not sure even a bag of rice will fix this poor thing. You'll have to use the land line, inside. If she'd come help everyone with these burns, well, that'd be great."

Sal shakes her head briefly at Fothergill's offered arm. "Thanks, I'm going to go change. I think others may need to do the same. And Danny's escorting a rather important guest. If you could make them feel at home...?" she says quietly to the dignified man, then turns to her friends, conscious of her role as hostess, however temporary.

"I'm going to get cleaned up. Be down in a while. Please make yourselves at home. We, uh, should probably chat, too." She waves vaguely toward the house, then turns to limp inside to get cleaned up and changed -- carefully.

Danny slides, slowly, out of the back seat.

"Yeah, she might need a shirt to go with those cut-offs my good man!" He grins.

Danny tilts his head towards the car behind him, trying not to wince at the pain in his neck when he does so. (Seeing Sal up and about with those burns, he isn't about to complain about feeling like a tennis ball after a match.)

Danny silently mouths 'FAE' to Fothergill. And is gratified to see the flash of panic in the man's eyes, although his expression never wavers. Danny turns and holds out his hand to assist Laverna from the car.

"My Lady. This fine gentleman is Fothergill. I sincerely apologize, but I cannot in good conscience escort you out looking like this. With your permission I will make myself presentable? Fothergill will see to your comfort. I promise it'll be worth the wait!"

The fact that Danny's entire demeanor to Laverna was polite, to the point of being downright suck-uppish, with no flippancy whatsoever, is the strongest testament to how much Danny was truly out of it right then.
Both Fothergill and Laverna raised an eyebrow.

Danny looked between the two, and sighed.

"Yeah,... I'll be right back,..."

Morien was starting 'round the car to Sal when she waved away help, and remains paused there. She, too, is part of the Look at Danny, although unseen behind his back. The selkie shakes her head as he retreats inside.

Joining Laverna and the butler before the former has a chance to feel that her host(s) have entirely handed her off to the help, Morien notes, "I noticed one of those classic all-copper Turkish coffee sets last time I was here, and I bet that's not just for display." At Fothergills' nod, she asks of the Fae, "Join me for a cuppa? There's nothing quite like it."

Kenneth pulls in behind and kills the bike's engine just in time to hear the offer of food, "Aye, it cannae hurt tae nourish the body...especially given the punishment we've taken. Still, I fear we need tae hold off the snack for a wee bit, as I've a reunion tae supervise... assuming our upstairs guest hasnae left. A'course, 'tis the sort ay thing that could likely happen whilst Sal's cleaning up."

With that, he turns to help his sister off the Commando, "Sorry 'bout the ride, Molly, but it seems Morien was in a wee bit ay a hurry."

Sal's eyes sting from the pain of scorched clothing peeling from scorched skin. Even alone in the sanctuary of her room, she forces back the tears, unwilling not so much to show weakness as to be weak. Her left hand is usable, barely, though the elbow is swollen, blue, and painful. Still, it could have been worse. As she pulls the wrapped string of beads from her arm, she kisses the dangling cross gently in gratitude, amazed that it survived the violence, and hangs it on the corner of the mirror. She surveys the damage to her body for a moment, sighs, fills a basin with water, and picks up a sponge.

Could have been lot worse.

Sal dabs her skin gingerly with a soft sponge as unwelcome tears drop into the cool water. The pain brings a longing for its sessation, the remembrance of a needle's sting and subsequent surge of relief and oblivion.

Damn her.

Those inhuman grey eyes brought back so much she wanted gone forever, and pressed new images into her unwilling brain.

I don't want to think of Lawrence and the Poppy Queen as ever having been human. And Molly. How could she?

Sal knows very well how Molly could fall prey to the Poppy Queen, as so many of her friends had, but the anger is still there. And now that the pain was back, so were the memories.

The fear.

The horror.

The betrayal.

The little tin box now at the bottom of the Ouse, where she thought it would be gone forever. But somebody lives in the Ouse.

DAMN HER.

The voice in her head as she pulled the trigger had been familiar. Was still tantalizingly familiar. A woman. Who? But as she remembered that moment, those gray eyes returned.

She's gone. It's really over. Let it go. You got her. Good shoot. You got her. Good shoot.

Gritting her teeth, Sal carefully pats dry, pulls on a soft red dress that flatters her tanned skin tones, belts it gently, and ties a colorful scarf do-rag style around her head, leaving just a fringe of curls peeking out, the unburned hair that had been sheltered by her arms during the inferno. Soft flats slip onto her feet.

All I want is some sack time, but with fae in the house...

She sighs and moves to the stairs, pausing a moment to listen before descending, assessing the situation as she would survey hostile terrain. Without the Kevlar vest and rifle, she feels oddly naked, but now is not the time to retrieve her gear from Frost's trunk. The urge for protection reminds her that she's forgotten something, and she disappears into her room for a moment. When she returns, the darkened beads of the rosary hang openly around her neck, familiar and comforting.

Bunny bounces inside, uncaring about the night air, the situation or pretty much anything. The youthful werewolf makes herself at home naturally in the surroundings as she sashays past the butler.

Whilst for his part Fothergill makes sure he's ready for the others at the entrance, inviting them inside without a word but an implicit gesture. As Sal walks past him, he passes her a first aid box that he procured from a nearby cabinet. "Master Trip always needed it after his little excursions." His cultured voice is soft with a warm cadence. A brief glance at the box shows it to be a battered tin old military thing, but with perfectly immaculate dressings and contents.

As Danny & Morien escort the Fey Lady inside; Fothergill does nod and with a wistful smile at long forgotten days amongst the suks of the peninsula. "Certainly, we've even a delightful blend of beans. One might be inclined to comment that it is a trifle sweet, being an unorthodox combination." He point Morien to the Snug where the pots are, relying that she knows where the pantry is. As Danny nips upstairs to get changed into a new suit and get cleaned up; the butler leads Laverna inside into the Dining Room.

Molly gets off the Commando stiffly having not been used to riding motorbikes before, her hands had a firm grasp on her brother as the rode. She now looks to Kenneth with glazed eyes, though the bomb might not have hurt her as much physically her mental barrier is still rigid. The haughty demeanour has been scoured from her, dark lines deepen her eyes. Her lips once capable of a cruel sneer or sultry quirk now resign themselves to a thin line. Walking beside her brother, the once fancy Manolo Blahniks' barely lift off the ground. Nearly tripping up the steps Molly enters the mansion as Fothergill directs.

She shrugs off her office-jacket in a practised motion, as she enters the Dining Room.

Only to find Arjen, the Dutch Architect the group had rescued from the Hull drug-lab disguised as a warehouse, sat at an impressive rowan dining table. Mollys eyes widens as a slow realisation rolls through her, shoulders slump slightly as the jacket falls to the the floor with a thump.

Arjen looks up, a confused look across his face mixed with a smile at seeing the lawyer. Molly's porcelain mask crumbles and she starts to fall to the floor, her legs giving out on her. With natural quickness Arjen grabs her before she completely collapses to the ground. There she sobs heavily like a child into the confused Europeans shoulder.

Insight roll if you wish. She'll be like this for a while whilst people freshen up.

Oooh nice! Sorry, been busy at work. Will post something appropriate tomorrow. :)

Almost exactly what he said...

Fothergill returns to the dining room, keeping his eyes slightly averted from the hugging pair. Placing a large serving bowl of steaming peas upon the table he announces politely; "Your naked friend is raiding the larder and will be out soon. I took the liberty of supplying her with a shirt and some jodhpurs."

He walks around the table putting out clean and steaming plates.

Danny tosses Fothergill a tired but grateful smile as he passes the elder manservant and tries not to stumble as he enters the house.

The thought wearily flutters through his tired brain that there is a considerable difference between a 'servant', even a good one, and an 'Alfred'.

Fothergill was most assuredly in the Alfred category.

Danny idly wonders if the huge house is hiding any secret entrances to caves, before he has to concentrate all of his energy and focus on climbing the grand staircase.

Danny shuffles down the hallway, trying to recall which of the 'spare rooms' Fothergill had shown him he could use if needed. He passed one closed door, and thought he briefly heard a sob, like someone crying. But with the thick carpets, and antique heavy doors, he couldn't be certain. He paused to listen for a moment. But the sound never repeated. Danny was too tired to shrug as he moved on. Besides, If it was Sal, she was tougher than he'd ever be. With Ken's magical healing to assist her, she'd be fine. Right?

Danny reached a door that he was pretty sure was the right room. Heck with it. It's have to do. He wasn't sure he could make it to the end of the hall to keep looking. He entered and checked the closet for towels, sure enough it had a modest selection of men's clothing hanging in it. Good. He'd look pretty silly in a skirt.

Danny winced and hissed as he undressed, feeling every pain, bump and bruise he's gotten in the last day or so. His burnt clothing he tossed in the wastebasket. He was pleasantly surprised to find that his leather jacket, which had done it's job and protected him from the worst of the evening's final fireworks bouncy-ride, was amazingly unscathed. Yeah it was dirty and slightly scorched, but not anything a really good leather cleaners couldn't fix. He hoped.

He turned on the hot water in the shower and let it run as he scrubbed his face clean in the sink. He wiped the collected moisture from the mirror and looked at himself. Ouch. Those bruises were gonna be adorable real soon. They were already purpling nicely. No wonder he felt like a punching bag. He LOOKED like a punching bag. The twins were gonna love that. Gave him a real macho-masochist vibe.
Yeah he wasn't fooling himself. The girls had never seen him without his shirt except at a swimming pool. (Not for a lack of trying.)

Danny sighed and entered the blessed heat of the shower. As he scrubbed his hair into a semblance of cleanliness he pondered,... Maybe he needed an actual 'girlfriend'. Or something. The twins were great, and his new allies were amazing, but there HAD to be a better, SAFER way to relieve stress than diving head-first into an undead's home turf and telling them to give you their best shot. Or playing flirt-tag with a crime lord's daughters. Danny had no doubt that if that line was ever crossed, (Danny forced himself to think IF and not WHEN) that he would most likely not live long enough to regret it. The twins father was very cool and accepting of Danny up to a point. But he was also the definition of over-protective father. Seriously. His picture was next to the word in the dictionary and everything.

Danny felt himself sway in the shower. Oh yeah, he was way too relaxed now. He rinsed his hair and turned the hot water off, making himself endure the sharp cold blast of water for a few seconds to wake up. It worked surprisingly well. It almost felt,... good. On THAT thought, Danny firmly shut the cold water off and dried off fervently.

He dressed himself in clothes from the closet, again amazed at Alfred's,... er, Fothergill's amazing ability to provide spare clothing for guests he had only just met a few days ago, and glanced at the antique clock on the room's mantel. He was surprised at how short a time he had taken. He had thought he might take too long and offend Laverna. And his bruises,... was that one already fading? Danny shook his head and buttoned up his shirt. He was no Fae, no matter what the weird birthmark-thing that had recently appeared might try to hint.

As Danny was transferring his eclectic collection of odds and ends from his abused leather jacket to a denim one from the closet, he came upon a small, carefully wrapped package of pills. He eyed it thoughtfully.

Oh yes. It had been a present from the twins, who while unafraid to try new things, didn't feel the need for artificial stimulation. Much. (When life included running from trolls and weird undead band members, who needed drugs?!?) The twins had said it had been a gift from a 'friend' who was trying to work their way into the 'cool' crowd.

(It amazed him that rich = cool, no matter which side of the Pond you were on.)

Danny realized that he was looking at the package with serious intent. What the heck? He was no druggie. He WAS however very beaten, bruised and tired beyond words. He could barely form a coherent sentence, much less remember the words to a song. AND he had just basically challenged a powerful Fae that she would enjoy her evening. Or HE would regret it.

Yeah. Cold water-work-miracles or not, Danny really needed to be awake for the next few hours. On top of the ones he already HAD been awake for. How long had it been since he had a solid 8 hours sleep? He looked at the pills and their promise of enough energy to survive a late night of partying. Or all night if you took more.

Danny recalled the 'test run' he and the twins had taken. Just one pill had provided enough energy to go an entire night of dancing and drinking with surprisingly little side effects. It also had lowered their inhibitions quite a bit as he recalled. While stopping well short of the 'Your-Father-will-KILL-Me' line, he had seen more of the twins that night (both figuratively and literally) than he ever had before.

Danny smirked in spite of his aches. That was a fun night.

He re entered the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He very carefully weighed the potential pros and cons. He would be awake and alert for hours, able to maintain the required mental alertness for witty repartee that was required when dealing with Fae. Versus the fact that he really didn't care for drugs. He didn't like the way you felt when they wore off. At all.

Dangit. He REALLY needed to be awake to deal with Laverna. He frowned at himself in the mirror. He pondered.

A few moments later, Danny exited the room, signs of fresh cold water on his face, and a pep in his step.

Making his way down the back stairs, (which now that he was awake, he remembered how much closer it was) Danny skipped the last two steps in a gleeful hop. He felt much better. He passed by a doorway, then stopped, and slowly stepped backwards to peer in the room he had just passed.

There, was the unmistakable form of Bunny, (Identifiable by her, <ahem> attributes, despite her head and shoulders being hidden behind a door) shoulders deep in a pantry, her curvaceous rear end bouncing back and forth like a happy puppy.

At least she was wearing clothes. Fothergil again no doubt. Danny grinned at the sight. It was nice to see someone who could be so blasted happy just living in the moment. Then his brain clicked, and he almost facepalmed himself.

"Hey there Bunnicula! Save some chow there for the rest of us!" Danny laughed, entering the pantry room.

Bunny popped her head up in surprise, her arms full of packages and, I kid you not, a sausage held sideways in her mouth. Her wide-eyed look of innocent puppy-caught-in-the-act almost made Danny fall to the floor in laughter.

"It's alright Scoob-ette, I won't tell!" Danny grinned, taking a box of animal crackers from her arms and opening it, joining her in the act of pantry-theft. Her eyes shone in happiness, and she promptly re-enterd the pantry once more before pulling back and kicking the pantry door closed with a very attractive toe.

They munched happily together in silence for a few moments, Danny enjoying the view.

'Easy tiger. Twins. AND this is business, not pleasure.' Danny told himself as he chewed thoughtfully.

"So Bunny. I'm trying to figure out where you guys have met the Fae before. I know the Vamps and their followers luv your club, and so does everyone else, but I didn't know that Fae hung out their too?"
Danny asks innocently.

Danny pondered his next question, he didn't think Bunny would MIND telling him about how she knew some Fae, but he didn't want to jump out and accuse her and Andrew of being Fae-struck junkies either. THAT went over in some circles about as well as being accused as a vamp-venom-addict.

Quirking her head to one side, like a quizzical canine, a motion that brings a smile to Danny's face. "The club? Well it's mostly normal people." Her body seems to sway in a rhythmic motion, as if dancing in the club. Elegant and unconsciously appealing rather than a lurid crassness, the werewolf's movements bring a joyous freedom to her features. "Yeah, Laurence is part owner of the place - I've not really seen his partner before. I think G once said he'd seen her."

She stops moving and is a bit quizzical; "Oh, guess Larry has been fried." Bunny shrugs, her hair bounces which gives off a soft waft of burnt cinnamon. "I'm sure the club will carry on... or I'll find something else to do. Do need any modelling done? Or a dancer for your band?"

After the hopeful query she goes over to put a dirty plate in the sink, before splashing the water as she remembers something. "Oh silly me, you were asking about Fey. The only one I really remember coming in the club was you! Silly."

"I guess I could ask Andrew, but I'd rather not after all he was so broken up after that Princess Diana left him." She pouts a trifle sulkily, this is probably the most angry you ever seen her (even when she was ripping out peoples throats) and rather than annoyed it's more a pouting petulance. "He hardly left his room for a week after that. Super hard to cheer him up after that Diana. Funny that she was named after the royal lady. Did you see Princess Kate's hat last week, so cute. Just like the young prince - she'll make a fabulous Queen." The werewolfs words fall out in a tumble, as she starts to refer to mundane human royalty.

"Wait,...what?" Danny holds up his hands, as if surrendering.

"Hold on Buns."

Danny takes a breath, forces his gaze upwards to stay focused on Bunny's face, and tries again.

"I think I missed a memo somewhere. Are you telling me that Andrew was 'Dating' Princess Diana?!?" He squeaks incredulously.

His wide-eyed expression makes it clear he isn't referring to the dearly departed mundane Royal.

"Yeah,.... That's the kind of thing that might make it hard to cheer someone up after." He agrees, still staring wide-eyed at the wall.

Bunny sure seemed 'miffed' about that particular subject. Totally unlike the usually agreeable Bouncing Bunny. Was that, is that what jealously looks like on a werewolf? Danny didn't like it. It was MUCH scarier than her wolf-ripping-your-throat-out version.

Danny silently filed THAT tidbit of information away under 'If I ever get involved with Bunny, Do NOT dump her for a Fae!'

Ok, part 1. I do have a part 2 coming.

Kenneth winces as his sister releases her grip on his ribs, Ach, I dinnae want tae say anything, but I'm glad she isnae holding on quite so tight. He watches his sister step away, feeling something tighten in his chest as he sees her face, Ach, half an hour ago, she coudnae even focus and needed me tae lead her by the hand from a bloody burnin' building... And now, her walls are back...even with that stunned look on her face. Again. All this power, and here's a blasted wall I cannae get through. Here's just one more that I dinnae seem able tae save, now matter how hard I try...

He winces again as he gets off the bike, more from the mental pain than the physical. At least I ken that the ribs'll heal.. He stands back slightly, watching carefully, Surely there's a crack somewhere in that armour.

When his sister drop her jacket, knowing that the bloody thing must have cost more than the last motor replacement for the Commando, he cocks his head, And maybe that be it. He starts to rush forward to catch his sister, stopping short as Arjen does. Ach, the man has nice reflexes....

He stops, watching his sister, and this stranger, carefully for a moment, his analytical mind trying to process the scene before him.

Investigation (for insight): 2 + 4d3 - 8 ⇒ 2 + (3, 3, 1, 1) - 8 = 2

Well, maybe after wishing for years that I could save Molly, mayhap I've managed it... Though I've thought that afore... and, sadly, 'tis nearly impossible tae save someone from themselves... but this is something new, and mayhap she's starting tae value things other than power... which would be the right direction tae true healing....

Kenneth says, "Careful, Arjen. We were just in an explosion... though a bit ay fae magic saved our lives. There's nae thing broken, but I cannae say there won't be some nasty bruises or scrapes."

He turns his attention to Fothergill, then says quietly, "Sometimes, a body needs a different sort of nourishment than food provides."

Danny:

Hearing the sound of munching and quiet conversation emanating from the pantry, Sal follows her ears (and nose) to the source. Leaning carefully on the doorframe, she waves to Bunny and Danny, then quietly speaks to the latter. "When you get a moment, I need to see you in the wine cellar in the basement. It's important, before you head out to the clubs."

With a faint grin at Bunny's enthusiastic demolition of the pantry, she steps away briskly to her next target.

Morien:

Though leery of intruding on the fey guest and her shepherd, Sal pauses some distance from the coffee-sipping pair and waits for Morien's attention to turn her way. "Excuse me for interrupting, but I need to see you for a moment when you have time, Morien," she says, in something near her practiced, brisk military speech, "I'll be in the basement examining the wine cellar." With a respectful half-nod, half-bow, she backs away and heads for the next victim.

Kenneth:

The sight of the lawyer sobbing in her paramour's arms with her brother looking on stops Sal in her tracks. Utterly unwilling to intrude, she pauses for a moment before quietly approaching the bard and tugging gently on his sleeve. "I'm really sorry," she whispers, stretching up to tiptoe to approach Kenneth's ear, "I need to see you with the others in the basement before you go anywhere. Bad timing, but there are things you need to know."

Arjen ruffles Mollys hair softly as he looks far-away.

Whilst Fothergill nods to Kenneth; "One provides as much as he's able..." He says making sure that the food is prepared and served.

Bunny bounces back into the dining room and starts up the radio on the TV, the friendly werewolf is obviously the kind-of-person at home anywhere & with enough charm to mitigate the ire of a disturbed host.

Following Sal and meeting the others into the basement,... wine cellar,... whatever. Danny stares, mouth agape, at the bag of money.

He continues to stare, mouth agape, as Sal mentions something about a possible cure or vaccine or something for Vamp-venom.

He is still staring, but manages to close his mouth as Sal mentions going to the hospital.

He finally manages to pull his gaze away from the bag as Sal holds out her poor abused cell phone.

Danny looks at the phone, and Sal's hangdog expression. He explodes in a single burst of laughter. Part-amusement, part stress-relief, the tension that had been building in the room, both physical, mental and possibly magical, popped like a soap bubble.

"Holy Bank-robberies Batman! All this,... and your worried about your phone?!? I think you can afford to buy a new one!" He points out wryly, once again gazing at the bag of money.

"Heck, with all this, you can afford to buy a small phone company!" He adds incredulously, reaching towards the bag as if mesmerized. He stops just short of actually touching it, as if afraid that it might burn him or something. Or worse, turn out to be a mirage.

I,... really think that turning it in is a bad idea. Not because I want it!" He adds hastily. "I mean, sure I could use a few extra bucks, but THIS,... this isn't some lost wallet on the street with a few bob in it. THIS is the kind of thing that brings attention. And I think I've had enough of that for a bit."

He looks at the others. "What? I don't ALWAYS have to be the center of attention." He protests feebly in the light of their skeptical stares.

Danny clears his throat.

"Anyway, the money. We can't give it back to wherever it came from. And even if we could, it would probably just go to buy more street drugs or something. I find the thought of taking the bad guy's money and using it against them to be very Karmic. That's my vote."

"Um, hospital? After everything that's happened tonight and the last few days? I think the cops are going to be on high alert and uber-suspicious. Even if they aren't, they will want in-depth interviews with ANYONE who might have been near what went down tonight. I think any medical help we need should come from Tripp and his friends. You know, someone who won't bring the cops into the room before they bring the band-aids? I mean, we've got magic, and Tripp, and now you, can probably afford the finest doctors money can buy."

Danny looks at Sal with a raised eyebrow. "You seem awfully,... upright, For someone who was even closer to the blast than we were. You sure you don't want a second opinion on those burns?" He asks with an innocent smile.

As Sal turns her head to look at Danny directly, Danny prudently takes a single, slow, large step backwards.

"Yes,... Well,... I'M feeling much better nowthankyouforasking. At least, nothing a week of sleep won't cure. I think. Meanwhile, I have a VIF upstairs. A Very Important Fae. Whom I have basically challenged to an evening of enlightened enjoyment with mere mortals. I should probably go and deliver on that sooner rather than later. For such long-lived people, they are very short on patience. So if no one minds, I'll just borrow THIS,..." Danny steps forward and deftly plucks a single banded stack of money from the duffel of evil cash, then steps back out of Sal's reach as he tucks it into his borrowed jacket.

",... For tonight's entertainment, not for me!" Danny hastily assures the group as he backs towards the door. "The rave should just be getting good, and I know a great blues club that should seal the deal. I would really like to end this VERY long week on a positive note with Laverna. I mean, I'm due to have ONE plan go the way I actually planned it, right?"

Danny stops at the doorway to the wine cellar.

"Oh, yeah. I noticed tonight that both Bunny and Andrew show signs of being completely Fae-struck when Lawrence 'gifted' them. That's not something that happens overnight. Bunny mentioned that Andrew used to date Princess Diana. And I don't mean the one we all know and love. Gotta run, See you later!"

"But... this has my contacts," Sal moans.

Kenneth nods to Fothergill, and smiles, "Aye, I wouldnae ask ye tae dae any more.", then steps back, taking a deep breath and wincing, I thought it was just Molly holding on, but I'm thinking the blast may have cracked a rib or tae... Lady, you may lend your Herald a wee fraction ay your strength, but that doesnae make it hurt any less.

He pauses as Sal approaches, then nods, "Aye, I was just about tae give them a wee moment." He follows Sal down, then throws a questioning eyebrow at Danny.

He watches, then whistles as Sal opens the bag, "Aye, that's a wee nest egg indeed."

He shrugs, "I dinnae ken what would be best. That would seem tae be the sort of coin that a body would miss... and 'tisnae usually wise tae be the one found holding the bag when they come looking."

He looks at Sal, "A'course, if they think it be lost, then that could give a body a bit ay time tae dae some spending... as long as ye not be seen spending it, ye ken... though setting up a secret lab may be just a clever way tae dae just that... That, a'course, assumes you can trust that man upstairs, ye ken."

The bard then chuckles, "I think ye have the wrong ay it -- magic can heal a body, and I suspect your situation is more a lingering ache than any real damage that ye'd need tae trouble a doctor with... whereas, it'd blast the data on your phone inta wee bits ay oblivion.. or, tae be fair, mine would at least. Fae magic doesnae have the same effect on technology... as I recall, 'tis something about their nature. Still, I dinnae ken that I'd want tae owe one ay them a favour, 'specially when ye can accomplish most ay that by moving your SIM card."

Kenneth says, "I'd say tae keep enow tae buy yourself some legal papers.... and, mayhap, I ken a body back in auld Reekie that could help if ye'd like tae end up with Scots papers... and tae set yourself up.. at least tae start... though with Trip away, I wouldnae want tae have poor Fothergill get lonely."

Kenneth nods at Danny's statement, "Aye, and I'd best see if my sister truly does have a heart, and mayhap e'en a soul... though I must confess tae having trouble believing it... and if mayhap.. just mayhap... there's enow ay both tae actually save her and have it stick."

He then chuckles, and then whistles again, "Diana? Aye? I dinnae think furball had it in him."

"The money, only we know about it. I'm betting they think it went up with the rest of the lab, in that explosion and fire. Before tonight's explosion and fire. Do things always blow up this much in Yorkshire? Anyway, I think it's ours, free and clear. Question is, what's the best thing to do with it?" Sal shrugs. "I gotta say, I wouldn't mind having a bit to fix up one of the outbuildings here as a place of my own. Mansions... they're not exactly my style, right? But yeah, I wouldn't mind hanging around to keep Fothergill out of trouble."

The idea of a SIM card transplant seems to fill the former soldier with dismay. "I guess I'll need a new phone, then. But that means going to the phone store. And they'll try to sell me a new plan." Sal shivers at the horror of it all.

Kenneth's offer of a source for papers brings a true smile to her face. "Kenneth...you're the guy who knows a guy? I expected it from Danny with his shifty acquaintances," she laughs, dark eyes dancing, "But I didn't expect it from the herald of a goddess! Scots papers... hmm... I understand they were some badass fighters. Real warriors. I could... yeah, I could be proud to carry those." She nods thoughtfully, still smiling. "Don't think I can pull off the accent, but as an immigrant, it might work."

"As for your sister, man, don't be too hard on her. My squad, they were family. I'd trust any of them with my life. But once those things got hold of them, they did some seriously warped stuff, things I know they'd never do. It wasn't them anymore. Maybe Molly will be OK now, once she's off that venom. Give her a chance. If my guys were still alive, I would." Intense and serious, Sal doesn't realize that she's seized the tall Scots' forearm in a tight grip until her speech is over. She hastily lets go, backing away a couple of steps with a mumbled 'sorry', then frowns for a second before again raising her eyes to the bard's. "Do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions? Privately? When you get time, I mean. Nothing urgent."

Kenneth chuckles, "I was also a traveling musician, ye ken, afore I became the respectable body I am now... and so I ken a few folk with the skill tae make papers." He then gestures at the bag of money, "...and I'd imagine ye can find a few pound-notes tae buy a new phone outright.. ye can just tell the annoying salesman tae bugger off."

He then sobers and nods, "Aye. I would have thought so, save that I've seen reasons tae think otherwise. In Molly's case, though, the addiction was power and status, and it came afore she e'er touched venom, ye ken. It isnae that wouldnae like tae believe in her, it's just that the venom be a symptom and nae the disease... and, worse, I couldnae sense any venom in her back at the police station... So I dinnae ken what, exactly, she's been intae."

He pauses and looks about, then nods, "Aye. While it may give her more time tae get her armour up, especially where her loss ay a wee bairn brother be concerned, I dinnae want tae pressure her tae much if she's actually healing... so I can spare a wee bit ay time." He pauses, then shrugs, "Much as I was hoping for a warm shower tae relax the muscles, it willnae knit my ribs any faster."

As Morien follows Danny to entertain their fae guest for the night, Sal gives her a nod and a muttered careful. "I don't like this. We're hurt and now separated. The soldier in me says this would be the perfect time to hit us. Let's hope our enemies have been hurt enough tonight that they can't muster a response," she grumbles, "And I didn't know you were hurt. You should have saved the magic to heal yourself. Keep the medic alive: second rule of battle. Shouldn't have wasted it on me. Though if you want to take a hot shower while we talk, I wouldn't object." She grins wickedly as she rummages through the wine cellar storage, one-handedly depositing a corkscrew, two glasses, and a bottle of dark, rich liquid. She holds the bottle out to Kenneth. "Anesthetic? You'll have to do the honors. There's a good reason you don't find many one-armed wine stewards. Maybe Fothergill can strap your ribs. That should help your breathing. I've seen it done in the field and it's easy enough if you've two strong arms."

"I know what you mean about Molly. There are addicts and there are addicts. Maybe this will shake her enough to change. Or maybe Arjen will help where you couldn't. Sometimes, family is too close and too familiar for us to listen to. If she had any sense, she'd appreciate having her brother around. Not much you can do besides be there if she ever changes. Don't close the door, you know?" Sal shrugs, then winces as the motion makes fabric pull across fresh burns. Her face grows thoughtful as she begins to pace unconsciously, trying to put together the words to address what's foremost in her mind. After a couple of deep breaths and false starts, she sighs and launches into it.

"You said you serve a goddess. How... how do you know. I mean... what makes you think that? Did something happen?" She pauses, then blurts the rest. "Like a voice in your head in answer to a prayer?" Despite her best effort to sound nonchalant, her voice quavers on the last question.

Kenneth shakes his head, "Aye, I ken the wisdom ay that, but 'tis a mite different when the 'medic' is the champion ay a Goddess who's rib'll knit with a few hours rest.... if one ay us need be injured, better tae heal the one who needs it."

He takes the bottle and the corkscrew, "As long as I dinnae have tae pull too hard, it shouldnae be an issue.. I could always magic it away, but I dinnae like tae abuse the gift of my Lady..."

He pours two glasses then sets the bottle down, spinning the wine around in both glasses for a moment, "Best I can dae, there's nae decanter. Still, smells like a rather fine vintage."

He watches Sal carefully, noting the graceful movement of her athletic figure, before pushing down that particular thought, This isnae the time... the lass seems tae have some serious concerns, and, really, I'd almost have tae try tae come up with a bigger way tae complicate things...

He hands her the glass then waits, patiently, sensing her stress, Aye, this may be wee bit more serious than I thought... She seem almost scared tae ask me... He stops, then, as she asks, then whistles.

"Well, afore I heard the call ay Brigid, I was naught but a ne'er do well musician, having left University tae tour around and make music. I mean, aye, I ken ay the auld ways from the tales that my mother used tae tell me when I was growing up and daeing my best tae bade out ay my sister's grasp... or, worse, away from my father's fists."

The bard waits for a moment and stares at the wine, as a familiar ache returns, And, a'course, because we used tae play at being druids, Caitlin... the new followers ay the auld gods.... He sighs and takes a drink, then looks back up at Sal, "And, I fell in with a pagan crowd when I started University... I think most ay them were looking at it as a type ay rebellion or experimentation, but there was something more tae it for me, even then. A sense ay familiarity, a link tae the auld tales, mayhap..."

He chuckles then, then says, "..and, tae be fair, the passion blazing in the emerald eyes ay a gorgeous redheaded priestess may have had more than a wee bit tae dae with that as well...."

He takes another sip, letting the spiciness of the wine and his memories roll over him, Those eyes stole away a piece ay my soul the first time I looked intae them... Like a wizard's soulgaze, where I saw intae her heart and found my happiness there.... and that smile.... and the wee clump ay freckles across the bridge ay her nose... or all the fun of hunting for the rest ay her freckles....

Finally, he smiles, "Aye, sorry, I'm drifting away from your question. All that tae say was that I was already a follower ay the auld gods afore the day that everything changed. Still, that said, other than a head full ay the auld tales, a romantic's heart and a girl far out ay my league that loved me far more than a body deserves, there was naught special about me. I was as mortal and mundane as anyone... even Alasdair. Mayhap more so, given that he was the one with the green hair." He pauses again, downing the rest of the glass of wine, That was both the worst and best day of my life...

He refills the glass to give himself a moment, smiling as he starts to feel a warmth in his stomach, and realizing that it was from more than just the alcohol...Aye, Lady, I ken... I lost them, but you will always be with me....

His spirit reinforced, the bard smiles again, even if the smile is somewhat bittersweet, "In any case, we were attacked by something that wasnae fully human... something that I didnae want tae admit was a trollkin at the time. But it was. It killed Alasdair, kicked my ribs intae my lungs, and dragged away Fiona and Cait.... I remember laying there, staring intae the flame, my guitar having been smashed over my skull.. hearing tae the music from one ay the other acts, some punk rock group with dueling electric bagpipe players... and hearing that blend with the rasp and gurgling ay my blood in my lungs... I was mentally screaming for help, given that I couldnae draw the breath tae dae it for myself."

He looks up at Sal, his gaze even, his eyes seeming to burn with an inner fire, "But, luckily, 'twas Sahmain, and I was in Kildare. The music I could hear from the distant stage started tae fade as I began tae hear a song in the flames themselves. The gurgling sounds faded, or twisted, and the various shouts and squeals I could hear were slowly replaced by a sweet voice. At first, I thought it was my mother, ready tae call me o'er tae the other side, but then, I realized that as much as it was a voice I'd always heard, one I'd always ken, it wasnae her. Instead, on a sacred day, in her sacred city, lying in the spilled blood ay one ay her faithful.. tae, really, if you count Alasdair, though I always thought he was playing rather than an actual believer... it was just enow for Brigid tae reach me. She asked me tae sing along with her, tae let her music fill me... and then she gave me a choice. I could die, and go tae her, tae my mother, and tae Caitlin, who'd been killed fighting back as the trollkin dragged her away... Or, I could chose tae accept the Flame of Kildare intae myself and pledge myself tae her. Tae become her Champion, tae burn with her Righteousness, tae truly become a warrior-bard ay auld.... I could accept the pain, and have it, and her Flame, purify me, tae give me the strength tae fight... so long as I would be her weapon. I accepted, and the bonfire I'd been staring as I lay dying changed.. it became the Flame ay Kildare in truth... and it engulfed me, burning away my wounds, my doubt, my weakness, and a piece ay my humanity."

Kenneth finishes his second glass of wine in a deep pull, then sets it down with a chuckle, "A'course, Brigid's a Celtic goddess, and as a people, we're a wee bit thick and stubborn. Burning us alive is like one ay the only ways tae get our attention. Plus, the fact that I didnae die, and that I had the power tae kill the trollkin.. and tae heal Fiona... was a bit ay a clue also." A'course, all this power, but I couldnae save or heal Caitlin...

He looks up at Sal and shrugs, "I'm guessing that something may hae happened tae you, and that it was a mite more subtle that my own experience?"

Sal listens raptly to Kenneth's story, sipping the rich wine from time to time. From the outset, it is clear that some fundamental change occurred in the diminutive woman that night. Her face has lost its stoic soldier's calm and is alive and demonstrative, telegraphing emotions without her awareness. Clearly, her protective shell has been breached by something powerful.

Her eyebrows rise at the news that broken ribs can heal in a few hours under the Goddess's power. She sniffs deeply when she receives the wine, closing her eyes in appreciation. The stories of University and carefree travels after leave her obviously puzzled, struggling for mental footing with such utterly foreign experiences. A smirk for the attraction of passionate emerald eyes turns to curious interest about pagan activites and horror at the attack. She even unconsciously mouths the word "trollkin" silently, drinking in the experience the handsome bard relates. At the description of Kenneth's choice, Sal closes her eyes, listening quietly as tears slip from beneath her lids.

At his question, she opens her eyes and meets his, ignoring her own tears. "Something like it. I wasn't given a choice. I was ordered to stay. If I'd been asked to choose... I... I would have gone. But you, untrained and unprepared for a life of fighting, chose to stay." She examines the remaining wine in her glass and frowns at it. "I'm ashamed," she admits baldly, "But you. I salute your courage." She again meets his eyes, lifts her glass in a toast, and drains it, then holds it out for a refill. "You give me heart. For so long, it felt like I was fighting alone. But you're like me. Morien is too. Even Danny, in his own way. I don't know how you do what you've been doing, but I've got your back from here on out."

Nodding her thanks at the refill, she leans against the wall with a slight wince as her burns are disturbed, gingerly scrubbing her free hand across her face to erase the tears. "As to what happened, you got caught up in the aftermath. But I think you and Molly and Bunny and Danny were on the way out and kind of preoccupied by ghouls and stuff. You might have missed part of the show."

Pushing away from the wall, she resumes pacing, slowly wandering as she sips her wine and very obviously gathers her thoughts. Finally, she takes a deep breath and stops directly in front of Kenneth, watching him intently as she begins, as if willing him to understand. "Sniping... it's personal. A lot of war is impersonal. Droping bombs on ants, programming drones, sending missiles into encampments. Even in the heat of a firefight with people on the next block, your focus is on stopping the other guy from hurting your buddies and yourself, and you don't stop to think about right and wrong. It's survival. Sniping, you get an up-close and personal look at the guy's face as you wait for the wind to be right and to get your target verified. Gives you time to think. Are there little faces somewhere that light up when this guy walks into the room? Did somebody wake up with him this morning and smile at him in love, not knowing that his head would be exploding in a few seconds?" She grimaces. "You don't know this person. You don't hate him. You have to trust your CO, that what you're doing is right and necessary. Otherwise, you'd go crazy. I did that in war. But I never felt like I did tonight. When I saw the Poppy Queen, I wanted to destroy her, and I hated her, hated her so much. Nobody was giving me the go-ahead. And... I don't know what her kind are. Murder is a sin. I don't know if it applies to them, though. But the way I felt... the hate. It felt wrong. So..." She swallows and takes a deep breath, shivering as if the room were a deep freeze. "So I prayed. Vengeance is mine the Lord says, but I wanted so badly to be His instrument of vengeance tonight. I figured if it was wrong, He could make me miss or something, right? So I asked Him for the power to destroy her, if it was His will. And... I got an answer. In my head, a voice. And then that shot... it shone like a shooting star, bright and silver. Never seen anything like it. Hit her square in the forehead. And her eyes snapped up and met mine. She knew it was me. And I wanted her to know that it was me sending her to hell. And then..." The brown eyes are wide and staring at nothing as Sal's voice softens and trails off into silence for a few seconds.

Another deep breath brings her back to the present, still trembling. "Uh, so then, that b!!%& who should have been dead on her feet managed to grab the detonator and push the button. She and Lawrence... there couldn't have been two molecules still attached. Everything went boom. We all went flying." Sal's eyes search Kenneth's face desperately for his reaction. "You believe me, don't you? About the voice? But it wasn't His voice. And the glow. I don't know what it was. I mean, if God was using me to destroy her, fine. But what if it was something else?" An edge of panic creeps into the soft voice.

Kenneth shakes his head, "There's more than a wee bit tae unpack, so let me start with the key message, and what's like tae be the most important thing that I'll ever be able to give you, and it be this: Ye always have a choice."

He looks up and locks eyes with Sal, "Aye, it may be that it was an order and nae a request, but you still have the ability tae refuse. Free Will is the very core ay what it means tae be mortal, and 'tis a true mortal agent that they be looking for -- whomever they may be. So, the lesson is that we who be Called -- we always have a choice tae respond tae the call... else, we're nae better than the Renfields the vamps use. They dinnae want that -- we be Called 'cause they see something special in us, oft afore we see it in ourselves -- and they willnae risk losing those things that make us special by harming the core ay ourselves."

He then smiles grimly, "A'course, that isnae tae say that we willnae have negative consequences ay the refusal. In my case, all ay the things that make me seem special, more than mortal, is the Flame of Kildare within me. 'Tis Brigid's magic, nae mine, and I serve at her pleasure... and she could take it all from me were I tae displease her." His grim smiles turns a little wry, "A'course, I'd still have a head full ay Lore, and my wits and my charm, mind, but little else."

The bard's mischievous smile fades and he takes another pull from the wine, "So, aye, ye always have a choice."

He then waves his hand, as if dismissing Sal's earlier statement, "Ye say that my choice was a brave one, but it didnae feel thus when I made it. If life were naught but a comic book, I'd have had a simple motivation tae have made the choice... It'd be my hatred ay bullies, after having been bullied by my father. It'd be a final rejection ay the sense ay powerlessness I'd known, after growing up with four bloody older sisters, or my father, or the trollkin. It'd be me finally realizing what I was meant tae be, after years ay nae quite fitting in. It'd be hearing my mother's voice and nae wanting tae disappoint her.... and tae be honest, it some or all ay those things were like as nae a part ay it... but in the end, it was far more the burning anger, the blasted stubborness that got me whipped more than once growing up... and, most ay all, it was me wanting tae save Cait... I'd have accepted near anything tae have e'en the smallest, slightest chance ay getting her. 'Twas stupid romantic stubborness... draped o'er an inner core ay faith that had always been."

He chuckles at that, then adds, "And, truth be known, 'tis stupid romantic stubborness that's been the source ay most ay me fighting the good fight, as ye call it. Brigid guides me, aye, and I now have a rather interesting habit ay arriving now in the nick ay time tae protect her isles and the people on it... But still, romantic stubborness and righteous fury be pretty much the core ay what I dae."

He takes a drink from the glass, then holds it up to the light a moment, then says, "But it isnae all fighting. I've met more than one god since that day, sometimes acting as the Emissary ay the Tuatha Dé Danann. Mostly, the Aesir, who seem tae like being here on this world more than Asgard for some reason... I've nae met your God, but from the Lore, the true Lore and nae the tales spread in Sunday schools by the self-appointed lot who've become his PR firm, he's the ineffable, works in mysterious ways type. And he doesnae interact with mortals. So much so that, if the tales be true, one ay the carriers of his three sacred blades doesnae e'en believe. However, afore you start tae panic about the voice, I will say that 'tis his archangels speak tae mortals.. and that they dae it per their own roles and aspects. For all the newer talk ay love and forgiveness, remember, 'twas an Archangael that took up the flaming blade and smote the enemies ay your Lord... and 'twas the Lord that bade him tae dae so... as he, or one ay his, may have then bade you tae take action."

He shrugs, "Like as nae, your faith wreathed the bullet, made it sacred somehow, and allowed it tae punch clean through her resistances... and that she felt the power ay it. Unfortunately, however, a creature like that, and old and terrible evil, can keep itself alive by pure force of will, if only for a short moment..."

He shudders, then, remembering the explosion, Thank you, Lady, holding back the worst ay the blast and letting us get out ay that madness...

The bard shrugs and takes another sip from his wine, then chuckles,"Aye, this seems far more like a whiskey conversation."

He sobers again, then looks up at Sal, "Still, as I said, from what I ken ay your God, ay his mysterious ineffible ways, the doubt that ye feel is like as nae part ay how it's meant tae work. And, from what I ken ay you, it wouldnae surprise me tae hear that 'twas the voice ay Michael ye heard. He's a soldier much like yourself, the leader ay the heavenly host."

Kenneth's assurance about mortal choice seems to reassure Sal immensely, and she visibly relaxes, nodding and chuckling in the right places companionably. When he declines to accept her tag of bravery, her face rapidly assumes that maddening expression every woman knows from birth, the one that says "I'm not going to argue and you can think whatever you like, but you're WRONG and I'll never believe otherwise. Talk on; I'm not buying it, but I'll humor you by listening."

Maybe it's the wine, but the idea of the voice being Michael's sends Sal into a fit of giggles. "I doubt it's Michael," she finally explains, stifling laughter, "I know the voice and the person normally attached to it, though she wasn't there at the time."

The significance of Kenneth's words finally sink through that lovely warm, winey haze and she gapes at the bard in blank astonishment. "Wait. Wait a sec. Are you saying that Maya is an archangel?" Immediately, she claps a hand over her mouth, then mutters "Whoops. Too much wine. Didn't mean to tell you that." She glares at her wine glass, then drains it dry. "That'll show you," she mumbles to the dregs, then smiles brightly at the bard. "Maybe we should switch to whisky? Tripp probably has some pretty good stuff somewhere."

Kenneth smiles, "Aye, likely he does, and that'd certainly be an improvement for this sort ay talk."

He then shrugs, offering his arm to Sal, then starting toward the liquor, "Lead on, milady."

He winces only slightly as Sal leans against him, E'en pain when a beautiful woman touches me is still not likely tae cause me tae start avoiding them... Or tae start loving them..., then shakes his head as he thinks of the other ladies in his life, the policwoman, the warden, then shakes his head, Or tae make me start loving only one ay them... though I see tae like women in law enforcement.

He chuckles at the last thought, turning his attention back to Sal, Better tae think ay her issues than borrowing trouble ay my own... He leans in and says somewhat more quietly, "Tae be honest, I dinnae ken for sure. Really, 'tis always possible that 'tis just that those that your Lord speaks tae dinnae talk ay it. However... aye, 'tis possible that this Maya be an Archangel. The notion that they all be male seems a rather sexist one... I cannae e'en say whether a concept like gender applies tae them. A'course, 'tis also possible that whomever it was wanted tae make contact with a voice ye's be familiar with... So, it could be that there's an Archangel pretending tae be Maya.. Or, for that matter, that she's one ay the Archangels I dae ken the names ay, but in disguise. Or, mayhap, she could be a lesser agent ay one of the Archangels, a recruiting sergent rather than a general, as it were."

He shrugs, gritting his teeth as it shifts Sal's weight against him, Besides, the pain's well worth it..., then says, "Now ye ken why I was suggesting the whiskey... so it's a mighty fine thing we've reached our destination."

Feeling warm and relaxed, aches and pains somewhat buffered by the alcohol, Sal watches the tall bard through quite a pleasant haze. When he offers an arm, though, she hesitates, expecting mockery or condescension. When she finds none in his eyes, she gently slips her hand into the crook of his arm and finds that walking in this manner brings their bodies into distractingly close proximity. The warmth of his arm beneath her hand and his leg occasionally bumping hers as they proceed somewhat painfully doesn't stay where it belongs, but floods through her entirely. His eyes are amazing. Why didn't I ever notice them before? Where have I seen blue like that? Not many places, that's for sure. Maybe in the winter mountains on a clear day, when the sky is so, so blue. And the hair - that's Soho hair. I got so sick of guys in military brush cuts. Wonder what his hair feels like. Nice lips, too, probably soft and... His hands look strong and capable but gentle. Bet he has a bit of scratchy scruff going right now. Why are all the good-looking ones taken? Oh, right - good-looking. I wonder what...

With a start, she realized the object of her musings had begun speaking to her again, leaning disturbingly close, which she found she didn't mind one bit. It's been a long time since I've been this close to a man without being high as shit or needing a fix. Or in a cage. She shivers involuntarily. Now I'm clean and free and... damn if this doesn't feel amazing. It's not like we can do anything anyway. We're both too damn beat up from tonight. She pushes the thought of goddess-given recuperative powers back into the hole it peeked out of. He's with somebody already. Stop thinking about... yeah, that. Stop it.

"I can't imagine an archangel would bother with me. You're right, she's probably a recruiter or something," Sal replies aloud, proving that she was paying attention to the topic at hand and not her own racing heart. "I think I'll go visit her and talk. I asked once why she bothered trying to help that artist. She said it was her job. Wish now I'd followed up on that, but things got a little crazy that night at the gallery."

With a gentle tug to stop Kenneth at the right place, she makes a pained turn of the antique doorknob with her injured arm, pushing the door wide with her foot. "Ta-daa," she smiles, nodding towards the room thus revealed, "I found this on one of my, er, days of exploration when I was alone here for a month. Pretty much alone, anyway. I think it'd be called a man cave today. Don't know why. I think it's pretty great, and I'm not a man.

Removing her hand from Kenneth's arm with some reluctance, Sal leads the way to the shelves full of golden and amber liquor. She surveys the labels. "Honestly, I have no clue what any of these are. I never tried 'em. I was worried about falling off the wagon and starting heroin again." The statement flows naturally, without the former cringes of shame that used to accompany references to her addiction. "But tonight changed me. I never had trouble with booze or drugs, ever, not until they started me on heroin. And I beat it, all alone, because I didn't want them to have that over me anymore. I'm not stupid. I'm never going to touch heroin or any of its friends again. But I'm not going to let them Poppy Court take away my chance to enjoy a glass of wine, or to try a good whiskey." She looks up at the tall man next to her, scrutinizing the rows of interesting labels. "I was still in the cage, even here in Britain, until tonight. Now I'm out, and all I want to do is live. Really live." The realization that the reign of the Poppy Queen is over finally settles into her battered brain, and that thought paints a smile like a sunrise across her face. "Pick something good, and I'll try it," she commands the herald, and laughs for pure joy.

Kenneth whistles as he starts looking at the selection, "Gey crakin'... Every single bottle here seems tae have been born in a year that started with a 1... Enow so that a body wonders if Tripp was trying tae save a distillery or a wholesaler from Y2K."

He gingerly sets Sal down in a chair, then says, "Still, this be a special occasion, the end tae a rather interesting day, and the first drink in a while... So I think we'd best find a single malt that's at least seen the 80's....Let's see now, aye, Royal Lochnagar, that's the Scotch ye'd expect in an English manse, just because Queen Vicki were a fan in the day..."

His eyes light up as he pulls out a bottle, "Bunnahabhain. Aye, that'll dae. I've had the 25-year old, just once, mind, but this label gives this one twice as many years, so I'm rather expecting it tae be twice as good. Like as nae, it was far more than twice as expensive."

He takes two glasses and pours, holding up the glass with a smile, "Aye, that's the dark hue I'd expect. And I willnae allow a fine blend as this tae be watered down, nae even with ice."

He passes a good three-fingered glass to Sal and smiles, raising the glass, "Tae the woman who single-handedly ended an evil that be centuries old, if nae older, and in daeing so, like as nae is responsible for the extinction ay the Poppy Court."

He holds up a finger and says, "Nae. Drink first. Protest later."

He closes his eyes as the warmth of the liquid dances across his tongue, a complex blend of spicy and fruity notes, with a hint of chocolate and smoke, before the smooth, sweet ending. "Aye, now that's a drink worthy ay epic deeds, and ay rewelcoming a bonnie woman like yourself tae the world, free from any cage."

He smiles again, ..and a bonnie lass she be, at that..., though the smile turns a bit wry as he pushes away that train of thought.

"Now, I've just one thing tae say tae ye, and it be the same thing that I saw ye thinking when I said the some similar things about meself earlier. Ye said ye cannae imagine an archangel bothering with ye. Well, b%+@+&+s tae that. Truly, dae ye think it be any stranger that ye be called, than a bloody goddess taking a university drop-out travelling musician as her own? I said it afore, Sal, but those that send the Calls, they see the things in us that we dinnae see in ourselves afore the call... Hells, it may be that they see what we cannae see in ourselves... or, mayhapp, they see only the potential that we can reach.. I dinnae ken, as mine isnae the mind ay a Power that can take on a Herald, Emissary or such. But, I will say that I think I'd be scared ay anyone who ever got a Call that felt they deserved it, that wasnae humbled by it, because they'd not spend their lives trying tae prove themselves worthy."

He debates filling his glass to the brim for a moment, but opts for self-control instead, taking a seat on the fine leather couch This may be the most supple thing I've ever touched... This bloody room is far, far nicer than my flat... and certainly worth more than everything I've ever owned... Hells, it may well be bigger, tae.. well, other than the altar I've got in storage-space....

He then looks up and locks eyes with Sal, with a bit more intensity than usual (or than he intended), "And, a'course, there's the other issue, which is that ye dinnae see just how remarkable ye be. The rest ay us watch you, without e'en a hint of supernatural ability, stare down horrors that make e'en those with power, as limited as it may be... nervous, shall we say? And, more impressively, ye're not blundering intae it, but ye ken full well what horrors you'll be facing, and ye face them anyway. Now, truly, tell me how that isnae the act of a woman with courage? What ye forget, Sal, is that it isnae the doubts and fears that define a body, but how they react tae them.... And, tae be fair, there's also the issue ay how familiarity breeds contempt. For the rest ay the world, we met a strong, powerful, beautiful, graceful woman, with an inner core ay steel.... but tae ye, it was Thursday."

Sal takes the proffered seat very carefully, finally slipping off her flats and curling up with her legs under her in a position that doesn't put pressure on the still-painful burns. While Kenneth looks and pours, she carefully tucks her skirt around her legs so only her toes peep out.

The big Scot's musings about whiskey bring a smile and quiet chuckle. "Choose what you like. I won't know the difference. Our whiskey of choice in the service was Jack."

Her tune changes when she gets a whiff of the contents of the glass. "Mmmm. Smells like somebody is cooking pies over a campfire on a clear evening, way out in the hills." And just as she opens her mouth to protest the toast, Kenneth shushes her. With a sigh, she takes a sip.

Oh. Oh my. Scottish papers will be just fine, especially if they come with a bottle of this stuff! "I can never drink Jack again," she murmurs, taking another, larger sip and letting the delicious warmth slide down her throat to her belly with a sigh of contentment. She rests her chin on the high arm of the soft leather chair, watching Kenneth as he talks, and really listening this time, remaining quiet while the man finishes speaking his piece.

Her mental horse trips momentarily over one word. Beautiful? He thinks I'm beautiful? Me? That thought deserves another sip of the dark liquor. Probably in a spiritual sense. That must be it. Get your mind back on business.

"I think your Call may have been clearer than mine," Sal finally says slowly and carefully, making sure not to slur her words, "I am not sure what He wants of me. I... I never planned to be a killer, Kenneth. My brother," she chokes a bit and takes another sip, "My brother told me to get out of the barrio and the military was the way out for me, out to a better life. I had a talent for shooting, that's all. I wanted to do my time and leave the service. As for a Call, I'm willing, truly. Maybe that's all it takes, somebody who will answer. I've been happy saving ordinary people from things that go bump in the night. I can't take credit; I was pretty much dragged into that business, and somebody's got to do it. But... but Kenneth, I'm not certain I want to be God's Executioner. I don't really want REALLY OUTSTANDING KILLER on my tombstone. There needs to be something more. I've got to go talk to Maya, and the sooner, the better."

She takes another sip and is surprised to see the glass is empty. Licking her lips to get every drop, she's tempted to lick the glass, too, but that would be very unladylike. "I have a question for you. About you," she says to the bottom of the glass, unwilling to look at Kenneth, but bolstered enough by liquid courage to ask the question. "My squad - my friends - they were taken over by the influence of the Reds. I know now that it wasn't really them anymore, doing... the things they did. They were just regular people taken over by something bigger. That artist was another guy taken over by something using him. And Danny said that Andrew and Bunny were - what, "fey-struck"? - so some fey were influencing them? They're far from ordinary people, but they were taken over by something bigger, too. So, when you told me about your Call, you said something like, the Flames burned away your hurts but also your humanity? So, Kenneth. Are you like them? My other friends who have been taken over by something bigger and aren't themselves anymore? Or are you still yourself?" She finally looks up at the big man lounging on the soft leather sofa, her eyes full of doubt and questions and hope and fear. "Are you human?"

Kenneth laughs quickly, "Aye, all tae human...", then stops as he looks into Sal's eyes and realizes that she's serious. Aye, let's be a heel, 'tis the best way tae show a body your humanity...

He says, "Sorry. 'Twasnae a question that I was quite expecting, though, I suppose I might have a bottle ay wine ago... and I dinnae mean tae make light ay your concerns."

He pauses for a moment, a thoughtful look as he tries to reach through the growing alcohol-haze to the right words, I could burn away some ay the alcohol, but that seems such a waste... Finally, he looks up at Sal again, "First, I would say that 'tis unlikely that your God be looking for a wetwork specialist, despite all the well-earned reputation ay the Old Testament." He chuckles again at that, then adds, "I cannae speak for what's happening tae you, as I'd think Brigid is rather a mite different sort ay deity... but I will say that as much as I be her Herald and Emissary, I am also her Blade tae be raised in the defense ay her people and her Isles... 'twas, quite literally, what I signed up tae be. And, that's the thing ay a Calling, and ay Free Will.... There's nae gain tae tricking ye intae accepting something, as ye always be free tae say nae at any time."

He then looks back to the bar, "Ach, I should have brought that bottle with me when I came o'er here. Here's where being a poxy wizard'd be quite useful."

He puts down the empty glass wistfully, then turns back, "And, aye, I agree that ye'd best look intae just what they're asking ay you, though I dinnae imagine it be anything sinister, given the players. Fact is, oft the first taste ay the power ay faith is, in effect, a free trial -- the power is lent tae a body, tae allow them tae see and feel what they can accomplish with it, tae see how it aligns with them, afore they agree tae taking on any mantle or what have ye. Especially if that power was freely given, rather than offered with conditions. So, aye, look intae it, and trust yourself tae make the right decisions, one way or another -- both now, afore any real offer be made, and later, if and when the power be yours.

He smiles at Sal, then nods his head in an apology, "And tae answer your question... the one I laughed at, aye, I'm still me... and I'm still human.. though I also be something more. 'Tisnae just a matter ay my faith being strong enow tae protect me, though there is power tae me faith... but more than that, I've been changed tae hold the goddess' power. There's a sliver ay the Flame ay Kildare within me, always. 'Tis my link tae the Flame itself, how I can connect tae it and draw upon it, what lets me dae the magic tae strike down the wicked, tae heal the innocent, tae inspire the bards.. And that wee bit ay Flame within me be always there, always working. It will burn away the damage tae me ribs o'ernight, most like. Were my wrist injured like yours, now after I've healed it, I'd be well in a few hours, at the most... sometimes, when I need it most, I can heal away sprains in a manner ay minutes. On the down side, I'll need more ay this sweet amber nectar, and soon, tae keep this wee buzz in my head... On the plus side, I almost cannae be hung o'er."

He shrugs, "I cannae say it's burning away my humanity, despite the poetic language from earlier, but it's certainly had its effect. I say that it burned away me doubts, but tae be honest, those are still there. They're just... different... now... in that I ken that I'm the Chosen ay a gooddess, and that I dae have the strength tae act, when I once might have backed away. It seems tae have magnified parts ay me personality, the romantic poet's soul, that makes me both warrior and bard... but then, I'd always had a head full ay tales and dreams ay being the heroic sort... and now, there's literally a wee flame ay inspiration burning in me. I cannae say I've nae be changed, but tae say how much ay that is the Flame's effect and how much ay that is just the new experiences, having me eyes opened tae the great big world and the true things that go bump in the night, or the new confidence that comes with being Called, and having saved lives... that, I dinnae ken."

Kenneth pauses, and then sighs, "But, there's more than that... The Flame is also burning away my human frailties. The healing is a gift, but it's hard tae think about what it means. From what I can tell, from the Lore, given time, I can recover from anything that doesnae kill me outright... And, I dinnae ken what that means in practical terms.... I wonder, then, will it heal away the effects ay age 'pon me, like we see in those movies with the Wolverine? Will I stay in me twenties for decades, or centuries? Will I watch those I love age, grow old and die while I keep fighting the good fight? And, if that be the case, how does a body -- nae, how does a soul -- keep himself grounded? Stay connected tae his own humanity, and the humans that he's tae defend? Will I just lose touch? Shall I, in the end, have only the half-fae and the poxy wizards as friends, tae spare myself the loss ay love?"

He looks back up at Sal, "I chose this, aye, I answered the Call, and I am the willing servant ay Brigid.... but I dinnae ken how it'll end..." He laughs at that, though there's a slight edge of melancholy to the laugh, "...though, tae be honest, I like shouldnae worry tae much about the retirement benefits ay a job that rather seems tae have so high a mortality rate."

He shakes his head, and stands, walking back to the bar to retrieve the bottle, "Aye, and there's the problem with just one wee glass ay Scotch. The complex flavours bring out the complex emotions, when this night is about celebrating... celebrating you, in fact."

He smiles and refills the glasses, setting the bottle on the table before settling back onto the couch and taking a drink, "So, as ye can see from the moment ay folly there, I'm still meself -- I would normally say I'm e'en a better version of such, but little moments ay self-pity make me doubt that last bit at times. All ina all, though, I think it safe tae say that, e'en if the Flames were tae leave me, were I tae once again be a 'normal' mortal, I'd still be a changed man."

With that, he raises the glass in a toasting motion, then takes another drink, "And I cannae be anything but glad ay the changes."

"I don't know what changed, but I do like the results," Sal smiles, "I thought maybe when you answer a god's Call, you become... well... maybe an angel?"

"Don't laugh!" she laughs, "I'm serious. And I don't know if I could stand to be an angel. Or to be with one." She frowns at the dark amber fluid in her glass. Why the hell did I say that? I meant 'around'. Didn't I?

"I know it's dangerous to say yes to some things, so thought the Call might be one of those. As far as dying goes, I'd think dying for a good cause would be a good death. That part doesn't really scare me. And I'm used to being alone, sorta. The idea of changing into something else is a little creepy. But if you are still human, really human..." She shrugs with her good shoulder, then sways. I need to get up and move around before the booze knocks me out.

Rising from her chair, Sal paces around the cozy room barefoot, taking deep breaths and swaying only a little, but not setting down her glass. "This stuff goes down a bit too easy. Whew. But, yeah. I was afraid to say yes. Like the thing in the river. I probably shouldn't have taken its offer of help. But I was just waking up and hurt and couldn't tell up from down and cold, so so so cold. I... Hey, I bet that was my choice! You were right, Kenneth. I could have said no and would've probably drowned. But I said yes, and so I didn't die. I really did choose to come back." She wanders to the shelf full of old bottles and apparently browses them as she continues.

"But I had to say yes. I thought... I thought I'd just killed you. Drowning would've been the easy way out, too good for me. I had to go back and see what happened. Even if it just meant dragging bodies out of the fire or... whatever. Even if it meant getting eaten by those ghoul things. I couldn't let you die without trying to stop it. You know?" A hand rises to brush at her face, though she tries to cover the motion by reaching for a bottle and holding it to read the label.

"Then when I got near the light and saw you standing there... all of you, standing after that explosion. I... I should have made sure you were clear before I took the shot. It was all my fault. I was in such a damned hurry to put that thing down, I didn't think. But you were still alive. It about took me to my knees, I was so relieved." Lightly clearing her throat, Sal returns the bottle from the shelf and continues pacing. "So whatever bargain I made with whatever was in the river, I'll keep it. It was worth it."

Stopping by the couch, she looks down at the sprawled young man. "You sit down here and listen to my fears and teach and reassure me, when your sister is recovering from God knows what and you're dying for a hot shower. You're probably starving, and there's hot food just upstairs, but you haven't tried to hurry me. Your ribs are on fire with every breath because of my fu--failure, but you haven't said one word of blame. All you've ever done is heal, console, teach, reassure, protect, and comfort me, and all you've gotten from the deal is a couple of glasses of really really good Scotch." She smiles a tiny smile, her eyes warm and soft. "Is it any surprise I'd think you might be an angel?"

Upstairs

Whilst the pair below floors have a liquid meal, in the dining room, as Danny enters Bunny is tucking into the food with gusto. Despite her svelte frame she rips into the food with a hedonistic passion, the evenings exertions requiring it's own payment. However Andrew is-dour and unfocussed as he slowly eats beside her, each bite is an effort but something that consumes all his efforts. The single-mindedness of the young werewolf artist suddenly strikes Danny as the actions of a man with other things on his mind & that he's trying to forget them. Andrew glances at Laverna for a moment before turning back to his peas.

Arjen and Molly are sat at a pair of oaken seats, so close that their legs are gently in contact as if they could not bear to be parted again. He looks at his paramour with soft eyes of concern as he fills her plate from the generously portioned platter, without removing his vision from her. For her own part Molly is softly smiling, a trifle melancholy - whether coming to a revelation or saying goodbye to a part of herself that she long put too much importance into.

Whilst through it all Laverna stands by the fireplace, leaning upon the mantelpiece artistically posed. As the musician comes over to join her she laughs softly, like a wind-chime of icicles - Andrew's spine straightens and bows backwards. "So you are going to show me something good, even better than a night of gluttonous passion and hedonistic decadence? Well this aperitif of metamorphosis is an acceptable start." She says coolly, each word chosen carefully with a slight rejoiner about his promise.

"Come let us drift into the night, as those of the Fey are won't. Times are changing and so they should be, for those of the auld blood should nary stay still lest the Erkling catch you." She turns his elbow and places her soft hand in the crook of his arm. "Maybe if you are good enough I'll tell you a story in exchange for your favour..." Laverna starts to lead him to the doorway....

"A story? I'm flattered My Lady. But please, allow me to keep my promise before teasing me with rewards. At least until I prove myself worthy of them." He says merrily. His energy and enthusiasm seem,... undimmed by the recent events. Despite the fact that earlier he could barely walk up the stairs.

Danny holds open the door as they reach it, bowing slightly as Laverna passes him to use the door first without a second thought.

"My sincere apologies for the delay My Lady." Danny replies smoothly as he glides his elbow back into place with her hand. (Somehow managing to again pronounce the Capitol Letters.)

"But you must admit, this day has been a bit more, trying, than anticipated. If also more,... entertaining? And alas, despite my many talents, I am but human. And a human body can only take so much 'excitement' in one day." He smiles as they reach the car, Morien somehow having magically made certain that she arrived before them, even though Danny didn't remember seeing her leave.

Morien had enough time to re-shine the car, (Danny supposed) as it gleamed as it always did, like a sparkling ice sculpture. She opened the door as the two approached. Danny handed Laverna into the car as if they had practiced it a hundred times, the Fae woman pouring herself into the back seat, then subtly raising an eyebrow. An invitation? Or an Invitation?

Danny was suddenly very glad that he was too tired and sore to worry about 'temptation' at the present time. He climbed in as gracefully as his battered body could manage. But despite his best efforts a small grimace of pain crossed his face. It was gone when looked back to Laverna.

"Well, If that tawdry display was an aperitif, then your going to LOVE the main course!" Danny decreed as the silver limo smoothly began to move.

"My Lady. It is my intention to provide you with an evening displaying both the best, and the worst, that humanity has to offer. Not simply passion, or violence or hedonism, although that may be a part of it. I am going to provide you with something that most Fae would die,... or maybe just kill, to get. A chance to understand,... TRULY understand, Humans."

Laverna's reaction was so subtle that if Danny had been less tired, more focused and his usual wise-cracking energetic self, he would have missed it completely. Inwardly he smiled. He had her attention.

NOW all he had to do was keep it,...

"All I ask,... nay require of you this evening is that you see what happens before you tonight,... TRULY see, not just the physical actions, but the mental, the spiritual even." Danny continues, his voice taking on the cadence of a salesman,... or a carnie con artist.

"I do not know what will happen. But I promise you this. Observe closely, and you will see humans change, evolve, right before your eyes. Mankind's greatest gift, and curse, is his free will. Tonight, before your very eyes, you will see men and women not simply making choices, but changing destinies. Their own, their friends, maybe even yours. Who knows? And if I have my way, you will not only see it, you will understand it."

"Such is my goal for you tonight. If the Fates are kind. It is the least I can do." He finishes with a bow of his head and a flourish of his hand.

Danny kept a mental count, his innate sense of musical timing allowed him to keep an almost perfect internal clock. So he knew that it had only been a few minutes ride so far. So WHY did it feel like an eternity? Was it because of how bone-tired he was? Or was it because he knew that the longer he was allowed to keep talking, the more likely he was to say something to the Fae that he wouldn't be able to talk himself out of? Maybe both.

Fortunately the first address that Danny had given Morien earlier wasn't that far away, despite Danny's nerves. And the silver limo soon glided to a stop like a ghost in front of an old warehouse.
Morien soon opened the door, and Danny climbed out then held out his hand to assist Laverna.

"My Lady? Do not be fooled by it's commonplace appearance. Like so many things, it is not what is outside, but what is INside that counts." He quotes smoothly as he escorts her to a side entrance.

A brief knock and murmured password later, and Danny escorts Laverna into the dilapidated building,.... and into a Rave in full swing.

As they entered the warehouse the first assault to the senses comes from the monotonous thud of the beat. The aural ambush pounds deep within the chest, reverberating with a sense of purpose.

A second wave, more insidious assault was the smell permeating the open area. Sweet, pungent earthy tones of the revellers, stale sweat, beer and a sweetness of the other alcohols pervade the scene. The artificial smoke from the stage overlaps it all as it does visually masking the area and creating a euphoric haze.

A kaleidoscope of colours and flashing lights cannot quite cut through the clouds and illuminate them as an alien neon on a foggy day. Avoiding the direct glare of the scene, the fae pair are surrounded by groups of people of all ages. Mostly in a state of mild undress, despite the unseasonal weather outside, the rave-goers are wearing a mixture of costumes and clothes that depict a wide range of humanity as Danny hoped.

There's a pervasive heat to the building, the vast warehouse is filled with a warmth that's not wholly unpleasant or unwelcome - especially from it's natural source. Reminiscent of some of the summer parties in terms of the frenetic, vital energy however the scene is infinitely more human and much less staged. A frantic mortal energy, showing the vicissitudes and fleeting lifespan is played out in front of Laverna's watchful gaze. She seems to eat and drink in the scene, a voyeur with a different perspective upon her existence.

To Danny it's wholly different to the scene earlier that night, where life and death was at stake - emotions and love ran true. Instead here, at this old sugar warehouse everything becomes ephemeral and slightly unreal despite the grounding in reality.

Music seems to transform from a staccato of pounding bass thumps that rock the body and grip the host to writhe to the rhythm. Metamorphosing into something more primal with nuances and crescendo's of emotions.

Smoke lays a sheen of uncertainty to events, a confusion that piques the interest as it creates an unreality to the scene. The mundane pressures of life seem to slip away from the ravers it's easy to sympathise with the loss of everyday frustrations. The unfettered nature of the events unleashes the revellers animal passions and spirit, there's a loss of self. A communion to something other.

Laverna takes Danny's hand and they move into the mass of humanity, dancing care-free and in time with the others. Upon one side, there's a small stage and a man sits behind a musical deck drilling out the music to the enthralled revellers. A large haze of smoke surrounds him whilst his hands slide across the machinery and electronica.

Danny follows Laverna into the swirling mass of humanity. (Although he wouldn't discount the possibility of there being a smattering of other races hiding in the throng.) He feels quite uncoordinated next to the lithe fluidity of the Fae princess, but if anyone else noticed they didn't look twice. At him anyway.

Danny gyrates in time to the music, being far too much a slave to the beat in his own work to fight it. However, he loves counter-percussion, and soon holds his own next to the graceful fae. A spanish-style-counter-punctuation to her ballet-esque sweeping moves.

Sadly, while he does smile in enjoyment, Danny is unable to fully immerse himself in the moment. He is far too tired, weary, worried, and still riding his earlier buzzes, adrenaline and otherwise, to let go fully. And he is SURE that Laverna knows it. Another worry. ARRGH!

Danny rotates so Laverna is just out of his line of sight, and tries to crowd watch while working not to think about it.

There's a pair enjoying themselves a little too much. The kind of partier who you hope doesn't bump into your instruments, or worse spill something on them. Harmless, as long as your not the one who has to clean up the mess.

Danny spies a few souls dancing with complete abandon. A few A little too desperate let go. Most likely very lonely people desperate to make a connection, physical or otherwise, no matter how ephemeral. So sad to think that two people just needing to talk to someone might be dancing next to another who feels the same way, but will never make eye contact. Danny turns again, 'accidentally' bumping hips with a guy swinging by, forcing him to stumble into a girl. They both reach out to steady each other, neither was in danger of falling, but packed this close they can hardly react any other way. Eyes meet. Danny mutters a 'Sorry' and continues to move away. The rest is up to them.

There's a guy who can't stand not being the center of attention, and a girl who rivals him for hair-of-the-week. And another who couldn't dance if you paid him, completely not caring and clearly enjoying himself. A few trying to forget their troubles, and a couple clearly looking for it.

One guy almost forces himself into Danny's vision. What is it about this guy? He's dancing, but not paying the least attention to his feet. He's smiling, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes. He carries a frou-frou drink that he's not drinking, and in the space of a minute touches a pocket at least three times to make sure something's there. And it clicks in Danny's' tired brain. He's not dancing. He's hunting.

Danny shakes his head sadly. Why can't we all just get along? The drink is probably drugged, all prepped and ready to be handed off to his evening's victim. Jerk. The place was full of willing participants. But THIS @$$hat couldn't be bothered with (oh I don't know) TALKING or anything. Danny can't repress a grin at the thought of the dork trying his 'charms' on Laverna. Sadly, while it would serve this jerk right, it was NOT the impression he was hoping to make on Laverna tonight.

Catching the eye of a bouncer he recognizes takes a moment, (MAN the place is jumping tonight!) But an uncharacteristic arms up gyration, complete with both hands pointing to the predator in time to the beat. (Right behind the clueless jerks back. Idiot.) Gets the message across to the experienced bouncer, who nods confirmation and begins slicing through the crowd towards the would-be predator. A shark hunting a wolf.

Danny wonders what is passing through Laverna's mind as she swings back into his field of vision. She appears to be drinking it all in. Literally. She sniffs the air full of fog fluid, cigarette and drug haze as if smelling a gourmet meal. Her wide eyes miss nothing. Not one flash of a strobe, or a movement of a person in the throng. She gyrates likes a dandelion seed, and sighs as if savoring the after taste of a fine wine.

And just as suddenly Danny is certain that she is watching HIM as much as the rest of it. For the umpteenth time he wonders if the Fae can read minds.

Slowly Danny realizes that his own situational awareness wasn't all that and a bag of chips too. When, exactly, did they end up in the exact center of the dance floor? Or more exactly, circling the exact center? Laverna's alien grace (and Danny's adequate ability) had garnered them the coveted spot of 'center stage' on the dance floor while he was busy being a worry-wort. (Yay for letting go?) But instead of claiming it as was her right, (as Danny fully expected her to do) whenever the crowd began to give them room, Laverna would, somehow, include another in their dance, and again, constantly diverting the very flow of focus around them as easily as handing off a baton. Danny felt a surge of hope. Was Laverna passing on the attention in order to observe and not become the moment? Could his hair-brained scheme really work? All he had to do was stay awake long enough to find out.

Allowing Laverna to spin him, Danny takes the slim fingertips, bows over them, and kisses them gently. He shivers slightly at the sudden cold shock that brief touch gives his senses, and again at the warmth that follows.

'Dang! Easy tiger! One wild, explosive ride a night is my limit!' Danny firmly tells himself as he looks at Laverna, not wanting to miss the bewildered look on her face.

Ah hah. Perfect. Kodak moment! WHY did he never have his camera ready when it counted?!?

Laverna arched an eyebrow high enough for the short singer to walk under it. Then held up her fingertips, silently demanding an explanation.

Smiling, Danny gave it to her. He reached up and turned on the cheap, LED finger-tip flashy lights that he had slipped onto her fingers. Then turned on the ones on his own fingers, and waggled them at her with a grin.

Danny continued to follow Laverna around the floor, Napoleon to her Josephine, watching her incorporate the twinkling lights into her dance. (She could easily have done far better with her own powers, but she seemed to actually, enjoy?, playing with the toys.)

Danny knew that Fae couldn't change. They were what they were, as opposed to humans who were always evolving and changing. (A wizard acquaintance had tried explaining it to him once. But all Danny really remembered of that talk was 'Blah-blah-blah') But he was pretty sure that they could LEARN. And IF Danny was right, Laverna was at least learning about humanity a little.

Now,... if only he could get her to understand,...