sunnydalealum | (no subject)

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A door to elsewhere has opened in the heart of Wolfram & Hart's stronghold, and it's letting in one hell of a draft.

The security guards are discovering, right about now, that their internal alarm system isn't working. And neither are their walkie-talkies. Or anybody's cellphone.

It's really kind of impressive how well they're rallying in the absence of any contact with each other or their own command.

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There's a few seconds of blank stare. It's Amy who gives a tentative you're-kidding-right smile, and says "Hi, Harth."

"Evil twin, huh?" says Juliet, and she doesn't seem to think it's funny.

Harth rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. No killing, no dating, no headhunting for rival companies, I know the drill. Nice t'meet you, girls. But yeah, I thought I'd see about that whole equal-opportunity employment thing." He snorts derisively. "I am so sure."

It's possible he's enjoying this 'undercover' thing more than he thought he would.

Which doesn't mean he's very good at it.

"Evil twin," Mel repeats, grinning wryly, and leans against the nearest wall.

"What's the situation, Brat?"

"I was gonna ask you the same thing," he says, catching up to them. "Rest of the party's gone off to their big meeting just fine, but there's some kind of breakdown going on. I was gonna join them for instructions, but girls kept givin' me weird looks, so I figured joining up with you'd be better."

Read: Harth can't remember what spun-ass term the lawyers are using to refer to the Slayers. Oh, and he snuck off from his actual assigned group in the chaos.

"Oh," says Juliet suddenly, and for the first time looks off-balance.

"Sorry. I -- sorry. You're a vampire. I didn't realize."

For just a moment, Harth wears an expression that says what kind of a ruttin' Slayer ARE you? before he bobs his head in feigned awkward assent.

"Ah- yes," he says. "For a while, now. Makes job-huntin' a bitch, I can tell you. Still, we, um. Have counselling."

They channel the rage.

Making Mel laugh in the middle of an undercover operation is NOT ON,OK?

When she's sure she's not going to choke on her attempts not to, she volunteers,

"Yanno, a building full of us, with at least two of these," she jerks her head back to the scythe, "and you still manage to find me? That's ruttin' creepy."

Dignified,

"I have t'make use of the marketable skills available to me, Mel. I'm workin' with my nature t'move on with my unlife."

...Was that too far?

Mel's face is that very special level of utterly blank which it gets when any expression at all could blow everything.

"...how many of those are there, anyway?" Amy asks, eyeing the Scythe. "Emma said -- I thought she said there was only one."

Mel frowns at nothing, then glances quizzically at Amy.

"Why'd she say that?"

Uncertain silence from the two zhirelin.

"Maybe," Juliet says tentatively after a moment, "maybe she meant there's only one that the Council was using."

"Bet that's it," Mel agrees easily. "Council're a bunch of pyromanic lunatics don't know the first thing about us. If that's where she's getting all her information..."

Shrug.

Exchange of glances.

Silence.

Blink.

"What'd I say?"

"Sounded reasonable t'me," says Harth, with an air of considering her words.

It's totally true... in their time, at least.

"She can't be getting all her information from the Council," says Amy doubtfully, "because she says most of what they say is superstition and propaganda."

Mel opens her mouth, and shuts it again, shrugging.

"As long as none of that's going on here," she allows.

"Probably a breakdown in communication, or something," Harth puts in. "Seems t'be a breakdown in just about everything else."

Scythe, Scythes, easily misheard.

"So, um ... where did you get yours?"

Amy's looking at the Scythe with poorly concealed longing, right now.

"Some demon in New York."

Mel rocks at telling the truth. She should get some sort of prize.

"Didn't do him much good, though. I used it to kill him."

Yes, Mel, very good.

"That's m'sister. Always grateful for what she recieves."

Harth will get her flowers when they get back. Oh, wait. That's creepy.

"What'd you kill him for?" The note in Amy's voice isn't shock exactly, but it's definitely got overtones of distaste.

Mel's smile fades, and she looks directly at Amy, not at Harth at all.

"He killed a friend of mine."

Hey, Harth had nothing to do with that.

Astoundingly.

He studiously says nothing, just makes sure he looks suitably serious. Mel would destroy him right here if he mocked the dead kid, even if it blew their cover.