October 31st, 2006

[nomorekaraoke]

Ahh, the late October evening air is crisp and sizzling with the bustle and excitement permeating 6th Street. Just an hour or two ago, the streets lay quiet and calm, like before a storm. And what a storm it is. Tonight is the biggest night of the year for Lorne - the only night he can go out with a bang (so to speak), and glam it up without having to worry about mobs and pitch forks and torches and all kinds of peer pressure. He can be lean and green and having a fabulous time. For any other demon with a sense of dignity, Halloween is the be all and ban all of faux pas-es. It's a night where silly wannabes co-mingle. It is just not done.

But Lorne will do it and do it well for every year he can muster. He'll be in his hundreds, old and wrinkly and hunchbacked, and he'll still come here for the big event.

***

And when the darkness has fallen over the city, and the parade lights up the city streets with eerie lights and chilled merriment in equal doses, Lorne dances down the line like it's 1999, all feathered up, glammed up and having a ball.

You never know who you'll bump into, and the best part? You can pop into a coffee shop or a restaurant on the way, get to know someone better anytime you want to. If he should be so lucky tonight, it would be the icing on the cake and the cherry on top.

Comments

[sunnydalealum]

"Human." She laughs hollowly. "What would you or me or anything like us even know about being human?"

(At the far end of the platform, where the track enters the tunnel, there's a steadily growing gleam of light against the tiled wall.)

[nomorekaraoke]

He doesn't say that he knows a great deal more than she thinks. He doesn't tell her that some of the best friends he's ever had were humans (once, in one case).

"Killing yourself would be the easy way out, doll. No more misery, no more suffering, no more feeling sorry for yourself. No more chances for redemption, you just...cut everything off before it hurts too much. Is that what you think you deserve?"

[sunnydalealum]

She looks away from him, and stares down at the tracks. There's a flicker of motion as something small, a rat or a mouse, dives into a hole under one of the rails.

The rumble of the oncoming train is getting louder, and her voice underneath it is just barely audible.

"Maybe."

(Soft and clear in her memory: Took off the mask. See the lies in the truth. Now you know who killed you.)

"If it's that or be a killer for somebody."

(Same memory, different voice: Live through this.)

Her feet are aligned precisely on the yellow safety line warning commuters not to get too close to the edge of the platform. She sways, just slightly, with the wind of the train's approach.

"They would have had me kill you."

[nomorekaraoke]

Chills run down his back, down, down in swirls and edged patterns that make no logical sense, like little teeth.

She's too close, and he didn't see it until now. She's too close to the tunnel and if she stumbles he'll be too far away to do anything about it.

"Because I'm a demon. Because they're not."

He takes one step closer, watching her feet and the glaring yellow line.

[sunnydalealum]

"Because you're a demon."

Her head turns back to him as the train comes thundering into the station, a rushing wall of gray metal and white light and roaring noise, and black hair blows about her masked face in the whack of wind that follows it.

"Because I'm a Slayer."

[nomorekaraoke]

"But you're not a killer."

He looks her straight in the eyes, though he can't see them. His own may seem too bright in the harsh fluorescent lights.

"You don't want to be."

The train stops, the screeching noise of the breaks echoing down the spiralling tunnels and up the stairs into the night above. He's about to take a risk he isn't sure he's ready for.

"...you wanna continue this fascinating conversation someplace else?"

[sunnydalealum]

There's a pause, one that seems longer than it is.

The doors open with their habitual two-note bing-bong.




"Yeah," she says, and turns to step into the subway car.

[nomorekaraoke]

He follows her, finding a seat not directly opposite, but where they're in clear view of each other. A Slayer. Of all the ladies in New York, he had to run into a Slayer. A rogue one, from the looks of it. Which means a certain pretentious pringle and his posse can't be too far away.

Wells. Which can mean either of two things. The Watchers' Council took a dive into an empty pool, or there was a showdown between them and another, nastier faction.

Word on the street says it's the latter of the two. And the girl?

He sighs, knowing he doesn't have all the details. He does have a hunch, however, that Dorothy ain't Kansas no more, and Toto is nowhere to be seen.

"Why don't you pick our destination, pumpkin. Surprise me." He smiles, all big and brightly. Better she picks a spot she's comfortable with, than suspect him of leading her into a trap.

[sunnydalealum]

The last thing she's going to do is lead him to anyplace she's comfortable.

She nods, silently, and turns to study the map on the wall of the subway car.

[nomorekaraoke]

It feels like an eternity, but fifteen minutes later the train stops at the Hunter College station, and without so much as the slightest warning, the young woman stands up and gets off the train, leaving him with two choices. Stay, or go.

He follows.

[sunnydalealum]

When they come up into the October night, she leads the way around toward a large abstract sculpture in black. There's a low stone ledge there, anchoring the railing around the entrance to the subway; it's wide enough to serve as a bench, and that's where she sits down.

It's not too cold out. Not cold enough to be uncomfortable for some time.

[nomorekaraoke]

You know what they say. You'd better be careful what you wish for, and don't Lorne know there's a damn good reason why. Wishes, like dreams, are tricksy, finicky little things by nature; more often than not they live a life of their own.

Kind of like fate, really, if only he could get over the Powers that Be-yotch. Because Fate with a capital eff is one thing. Knowing all your lucky breaks were (or are) orchestrated by a nefarious entity Hell-bent on...well, Hell just brings a whole new level to sour grapes.

He lights up another cigarette, this time offering the pack to his new 'friend'. "So, here we are. Strangers in a strange land, tryin' our best to keep our masks in place. Neat and tidy even when the make up's flaking like something outta Freddie Mercury's mindscape, bless his sweet little soul..."

[sunnydalealum]

She shakes her head and raises her hand palm out in a no-thank-you pantomime at the offer of cigarettes.

"'The Show Must Go On,'" she says involuntarily, placing the reference.

[nomorekaraoke]

Fine. No cigs for the healthy girl. Good on her, really, for not taring up her lungs. Goodness knows what it's doing to Lorne's innards; he doesn't, and he wouldn't want to know if he could. Self-destructive tendencies, he finds, are the best when you can live in complete and total ignorance of the consequences. Bliss.

"So... You mind me asking what it is you're hiding from? If you do, I'll shut it. Promise."

[sunnydalealum]

She gives a bitter laugh behind her mask.

"You got three hours?"

[nomorekaraoke]

That mask is getting on his nerves, but that's beside the point. He doesn't need to see her face to listen to her voice.

Which is exactly why he turns to look at her, really look, one of his eyebrows arching ever so slightly in wry amusement.

"Honey. Do I look busy?"

[sunnydalealum]

She's sitting leaning forward with her elbows resting on her knees, her fingers twining together, and has to turn her head practically over her shoulder to look up at him. Really look, just the way he's looking at her, a long hold.



"I'm not good at this," she says finally. "The hiding. One guy already found me, and he didn't -- he wasn't with any of the people I'm hiding from, he just wanted to help. But he found me, and that was months ago. I feel like maybe if anyone else was seriously, like seriously looking for me ... they'd have found me too, by now."

A beat. She's not looking at him anymore.

"But I don't know."

[nomorekaraoke]

There are times when you sit back and listen, let people talk because that's what they need. Other times, you have to coax it out of them because you know their head'll pop if they bottle it up much longer. Some times, all you need to do is tell people what's what.

This is feeling more and more like something between number two and three.

Whether consciously or not, Lorne leans forward to mimick the young woman's body language, turning his eyes to the dark sky.

"Hiding is one thing. Not trusting people is another thing. Paranoia? Paranoia will kill you, darling. Even if you're on the run, you gotta get networking, get a safety net. Living on the edge is expensive."

Just small talk. Just making comment. He's certainly not asking anything with his thinly veiled innuendo.

[sunnydalealum]

She swallows.

"Okay," she says, a little unsteadily. "I'm gonna say two names. And if neither one of them means anything to you, maybe I'm gonna keep talking."

[nomorekaraoke]

"You don't have to tell me anything." He's serious about that, no matter how intrigued he is.

"But it's your call."

[sunnydalealum]

"The Watchers' Council."

The thing is -- she's got to know. Even if it's the bad news, even if it means she has to run again, she's got to know.

So she's watching him hard for a reaction, with a nice long pause between the first name and the second.

"Wolfram & Hart."

[nomorekaraoke]

Oh, there's a reaction all right, though maybe not the reaction she expected. The first name makes his nostrils twitch - but he keeps watching the sky. The second has his lip curling in barely reined in disgust.

"Also known as Rock and Hard Place."

He knew it. He knew it.

[sunnydalealum]

She knew it.

Her laugh's ragged, close to tears. "Pretty much yeah."

[nomorekaraoke]

If there's one thing that always gets to him, it's tears. They cut through his little shield of cynicism like a hot knife through butter. It's the only reason he reaches out, attempting to wrap his arm around her thin little shoulders.

"Hush now, honey. I know. ...sort of."

[sunnydalealum]

Her shoulders tense under his arm, and then slump almost as quickly.

She doesn't pull away, and for a moment makes no sound but the wet undignified gulping noises of trying not to cry.