(no subject)

[sunnydalealum]

February 14th, 2007
Manhattan

Nobody on the street (not even the beat cop on the corner) seems to notice anything odd about the fact that very well-dressed people, singly or in pairs or larger groups, have been walking into the closed-for-repairs underground parking garage and not walking out. Nor do they notice anything odd about the people in question, even those whose faces don't appear remotely human.

As with one particular group, centered around a tall figure with a lionlike face.



Angel has drawn the line at wearing the House Varadeem livery, but each of them sports a badge of sorts with Vayan's sigil -- the same intricate pattern on the ring Angel's already wearing. It doesn't make them blend in with the Rrhayaowr, even the human-looking ones, but it makes certain matters clear to the others waiting in line. There's already delighted gossip making its way through the crowd, glances and whispers.

They've learned the club's name by this time, and it's making the oldest members of the team very uneasy. There's a muttered explanation while they wait, kept vague against the sharp ears of the rest of their party. Aequitas: the Latin word for justice. It's just a little too close for comfort to another place they knew once, with a name meaning mercy.

Probably just a coincidence.

The heavy doors at the far end of the lot are just opening, and two big burly demons taking up positions to either side. A ripple goes through the assembled beings, and the line starts to slide forward like (Andrew tries not to think it) like a snake.

Comments

[nomorekaraoke]

Red eyes flicker from one familiar face to the other, finally settling on his long standing patron. Only now does he lower his weapon; clicks the safety back where it belongs.

"If Lord Vayan, renowned for his wisdom and open mind, brings his business into my house, he will suffer the consequences like any other of my guests. However, one wishes not to offend such an esteemed gentlebeing, especially not when the fault cannot be placed squarely on his shoulders." Double meanings and double faces, you should never judge a member of Vayan's species like a book by its cover. Similarly, only someone who knows Lorne will see just how unsettled he is. By all of this.

"Lord Vayan's membership will unfortunately come under suspension for this transgression. For that, and for the lives he has lost, I give my condolences."

His eyes move again to Angel. Gunn. That...Watcher fellow? And Spike. Even Spike had to be here. And back to Vayan, awaiting his next move.

[sunnydalealum]

Behind the kitchen doors, the bartenders and waitstaff are huddled in a loose clump between the walk-in pantry and the enormous meat freezer. Ramon's done his best to arrange everybody out of the way of the cooks and their assistants, and to drop a few quiet words to make sure everybody knows what's what without giving them cause to panic. Only a few of the kids are at all hurt, and only one of them badly, but everybody's scared.

Once he's sure things in here aren't going to melt down, he heads to peer through the porthole-shaped window in the kitchen door to see what's going on out there. One of the newest servers, Emma, follows him; he doesn't stop her, since she seems to be holding together all right.

He sucks in breath through his teeth at the sight of the mess, and of the little group facing the Boss. "Well," he whispers sourly, "will you look what the cat dragged in."

[sunnydalealum]

Another step forward, and Vayan's ears flatten back against his head ... and then, slowly, begin to lift. "And my apologies," he says, flat but ungrudging, "for the damage to my host's property, and for the risk of harm to his people. And for his warriors' assistance against those who sought our deaths, even to assaulting us outside these very doors -–" just the slightest hissing emphasis on those last words –- "we are grateful. Ahm willing."

"Ahm willing," murmur the few of Vayan's guards who remain.

[sunnydalealum]

(When Lorne looks at each of them in turn, Gunn tries to catch his eye with a look that says what's going on here? Angel stares at him as though trying to read his thoughts off the back of his skull. Spike is watching Angel.)

[nomorekaraoke]

"Ahm willing." It's whisper soft on Lorne's part. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have matters to attend to." Like seeing to the wounded and the alarmed and the downright frazzled.

To Angel and gang... There's just nothing he can think to say. It's so much easier to flee.

[sunnydalealum]

"Of course." Vayan's voice is pitched to carry to the watching patrons, a silky purr that is if anything more dangerous than his outright snarl. "And as it seems the noble host is more distressed by the company I choose to keep than by the rabble that have insulted us both with their assault, we shall trouble him no further until that matter is resolved. On this night or any other."

A murmur goes up from the crowd at the verbal cut as Lord Vayan turns his back on Lorne without a further word and heads for the entrance, followed by his guards. The two vampires and two humans who came in with him hesitate until Lorne turns away as well, and then follow Vayan through the splintered remains of the doors.


(Within the club, only the very sharpest-eared would be able to pick out the receding snatch of conversation outside.

Vayan, dark but very composed: "You will, of course, tell me what there is between you and Krevlornswath."

Angel, very flat: "Really don't think I will."

If there's any more, it's lost in the distance.)

[nomorekaraoke]

It's a cut that glides right off the gracious host, and one that he pays no attention to; Vayan knows the rules, and he knows Lorne cut him a great deal of slack. What's done is done, and his business is not of anyone else's concern, even if the demon lord saw fit to make it everyone's business. No skin off his back. He's got more important things to focus on than high society drama.

"Angus, darling, call the cleaners, get everything tidied up. Thanks. Oh, and make a call, check what the damage to the doors and so on will cost me. You're a life saver." One Yes Gov' later, Lorne's pushing open the door to the kitchen (an ambulatory kitchen, how fab is that?) to check on his staff.

"Darlings, kittens, how are we doing?"

[nomorekaraoke]

Ramon is the first one to speak up, being one of the senior, senior staff. "You want the optimistic version or the not so optimistic one?" He lets his right eye roam tellingly over the frightened faces and various states of disarray that make up the wait staff and bartenders. Mostly scrapes and bruises, but one of them wasn't so lucky. Seth, bleeding badly and propped up against the far wall, his concerned friends watching over him. "None of us are dead."

Lorne's concern swiftly takes over, and just like that, the boss face fades away ever so slightly. Just enough. "Oh, no. Seth, baby doll, what happened to you?"

[sunnydalealum]

Seth lifts his head and tries to smile. "Table shrapnel," he manages, wincing as one of the bartenders crouched next to him presses a clean towel to his bleeding shoulder. "I'm okay."

[nomorekaraoke]

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that, Sparky." Lorne smiles, shrugging out of his suit jacket as he crouches beside his fallen soldier. He wraps it up into a bundle and gently places it behind his neck. Then, off with his tie. "What do you think your mother will say when she finds out you got nicked while under my watchful eye, huh? She'll have my head, you know."

Yes. He is actually going to use his tie to cut off the blood supply to Seth's wound. Life is more important than fashion. 'Nuff said.

[sunnydalealum]

She's standing by the freezer door, watching, arms folded tightly around herself. Seth's still so pale, deep shadows like bruises under his eyes, but even worse than that is how still he's lying, all the animation and grace gone out of him. Bleeding out of him.

And it's another squeeze to the heart to watch Lorne with him, and she has to blink hard. He cares. He truly does.

"Can we," she says, "is there ... I don't know who to call. Can we get him a doctor?"

[nomorekaraoke]

"Ramon, take my cell phone, I got Doc on speed dial. It's in my breast pocket, thanks darling." He's getting his hands dirty tying his tie up good around Seth's shoulder, but for what it's worth, he's as calm and collected as if he was talking about the weather, or dishing about a cutie over a drink. "We'll get you patched up in no time, sweetie. You want something to drink? Maybe some OJ will put the glow back in your cheeks."

Ramon says nothing, but does as told, reaching into Lorne's breast pocket for his cell. Within seconds, he's out of the kitchen and on the phone.

Lorne turns his head to the side, eyes and smile aimed squarely at Seth, always at Seth. "Emma, win my everlasting devotion, get some orange juice for the big boy."

[sunnydalealum]

"Got it," she says with a quick nod, and turns to ... realize that she has no idea where the orange juice is kept.

"Make it a, a screwdriver," Seth puts in, with a weak and gasping laugh, as she catches the eye of one of the kitchen assistants and mimes an appeal for help, or at least direction.

[nomorekaraoke]

She's a bright young woman, she can do this. Lorne's priority is keeping everyone as calm as possible. "Hey, no drinking on the job, Mister. You know the rules - you booze you lose. Unless you're the boss, 'cause then no one can tell you what you can or can't do."

Wink-wink, nudge-nudge.

[sunnydalealum]

There's a ripple of more general laughter at this; the group is slowly starting to relax.

"Is everything okay out front, Boss?" asks one of the more senior waitstaff, as Beth comes back with a glass of orange juice and a straw. (It's one of the narrow kind meant for stirring drinks more than for drinking through, but it'll be better for him than having to tilt the glass.)

[nomorekaraoke]

"Situation is officially under control. Bad guys down, no major boo boos. We're good." Said smoothly as he takes the tall glass of good stuff from Emma, smile at the ready. "Here we go, pumpkin. How you feeling?"

[sunnydalealum]

"Kind of ... perforated," Seth says, and makes a small noise of complaint at being unable to reach the straw with his mouth. It's moved closer and he takes a deep sip, closing his eyes as though exhausted by the effort.

"...'m I still bleeding?"

[nomorekaraoke]

"Doc's on the way," Ramon supplies quietly, more than just a tad relieved. Lorne nods reassuringly. "Won't be long now. You stopped bleeding, don't worry. I can't tell you how glad I am you didn't try to pull this momma out," indicating the sizable, stake-like piece of OW embedded in his shoulder.

"I'm sure it's just a flesh wound, and even if it isn't, Doc'll fix you up good. No problem."

Pause. "Say, did I ever tell you about the time I had the utter misfortune of getting my head chopped off? I survive that, you'll get over a splinter. Don't make me break out my Gloria Gaynor, I'm warning you."

[sunnydalealum]

Again Seth laughs, and again it's barely audible; even that slight movement makes him wince and shudder. "I guess," and the words come out a few at a time, in between careful breaths, "I should be glad ... 'm not a vampire?"

(He doesn't see Emma stiffen and press her lips together, staring at the sharp sliver of wood.)

[nomorekaraoke]

"Sorry, darling, I didn't mean to make you laugh." He smooths the back of his fingers down Seth's cheek. It's good that everyone's spirit is lifting from their friendly banter, but he doesn't at all like the sickly, clammy feel to his darling, cheeky employee's skin. "Vampires are wusses. Everyone knows that. No offense, Mika," directed at one of the more nondescript members of the kitchen staff.

"None taken."

"Are you cold, Seth? Would you like a blanket? Anything you want."

[sunnydalealum]

Seth's eyes flutter open, tiny blue eyelash-feathers like fine penstrokes, and he cracks a smile that looks like it's struggling not to be frightened. "Painkiller ... 'd be favorite."

"I can get some," Emma says, low. "Or should we wait for --?"

[nomorekaraoke]

Just then, there's a knock on the door and a whispered "Come in," from Ramon. There's no response other than a nod and a smile, and the sound of bare feet padding across the kitchen floor, the soft rustle of fabric as a woman kneels beside Lorne.

"Hello, Seth. I'm Doc. I'm here to help you." Wearing a plain dress in muted blues that don't quite match her brown eyes, she's one of those people whose age is hard to tell. She could be in her thirties, she could be much older, and her grayish brown hair does nothing to define her years. Her eyes are as warm as the urn she carries under one arm, and despite the crisis, her calm permeates everything about her, right down to the way she gently nudges the host out of the way. "He needs space to breathe, not sweets to distract him. One of you can stay with us."

Lorne nods, getting to his feet, and starts motioning for everyone to get back to their jobs, what ever that may be. "You heard the lady, darlings. Let's go make ourselves useful."

[sunnydalealum]

Slowly the watching staff start to clear away, moving back to their work. Ramon takes charge of herding the bartenders and waitstaff out to their places. They're going to be busy; the guests will be talking up the attack, eager to prove how jaded and blasé and unruffled they are about it all, and talky people drink more.

He catches Emma's eye and signals her to stay put. She nods, and hunkers down by Seth's side in the Boss's former spot. She's a little pale, Ramon notes, but otherwise composed; kid's got a level head, she'll do all right.

[nomorekaraoke]

With slow movements and composed grace, the woman known only as Doc reaches into her urn with her right hand, sets it down with her left, and then places that hand squarely in the middle of Seth's chest. "Relax now. I'm going to have to hurt you, but it will only last for a little while." To Emma, "Hold his hand."

---

Outside the closed kitchen doors, everyone stops what they're doing, not just from the cries of pain, but from the fact the room beyond has started to glow.

"Ramon, sweetie," Lorne interjects by the bar. "I'll be in the office freshening up. Won't be long - you keep everything under control here, won't you."

[sunnydalealum]

Ramon tips him a vague two-fingered salute, takes another long look in the direction of the glow coming out of the kitchens, and turns away. "All right, kids, break's over. Smile pretty for the guests -– everything's fine now, let's make sure they know it."

Keep everything under control. He can do that.

Especially if it means the Boss gets a break of his own for two seconds.