(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

[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.