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

[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.

[nomorekaraoke]

There is no dignity in being on the run. No dignity in hiding, scared, hiding from something too big for you to control. But when there's just two people... When there's just you and someone else, there can be something very similar to dignity, even if one of you struggles with it.

"Wolfram & Hart ruined my life." It's something like the truth, though what really happened is far too complex. He won't go into details. Like the young woman, he can't trust anyone, no matter how much he wants to. So why is he trusting her with this?

"I got in way over my head. Nasty consequences. Real nasty."

[sunnydalealum]

She tries to wipe her eyes, and makes a tiny sound of frustration when her hand comes up against the mask. With a sidelong glance at him, she pulls the mask slightly away from her face, enough to let her slide one hand up under it to reach her eyes.

"If you know them," she says, her voice low and thin, "you know that they ruined my life and I got in way over my head doesn't necessarily translate to I'm not working for them."

[nomorekaraoke]

He'd offer something, some small little token of compassion, but he feels like he's just out of all options. Except just being there, not moving away.

"Would you believe me if I said I don't? Be honest."

[sunnydalealum]

A hard sniff, and another, and she pulls her hand out from under the mask and rubs her palm fretfully against the fabric of her jeans.



"I'd want to."

Beat.

"I'm scared to."

[nomorekaraoke]

And, boy, doesn't he know that feeling. Wanting to believe, to trust and put faith in someone. Not just acting like you do, but doing it.

He rubs her arm, not moving away, but not taking it any further. Maybe it isn't making her feel any more comfortable, but he hopes against hope it's at least somewhat comforting.

"I don't work for Wolfram & Hart, but you don't have to believe me. You don't haveta trust me either, pumpkin. Just sayin'. I don't expect you to."

[sunnydalealum]

She wants so badly to lean into him. To just be held by someone, someone who maybe dimly understands.

Someone she's not lying to.

"I think maybe I technically still do," she whispers. "I never got the chance to quit."

A half-hysterical giggle escapes her.

"And I never got my last paycheck, so."

[nomorekaraoke]

He chuckles, a low, murmuring sort of sound at the bottom of his throat.

There's a pause, as something rather depressing occurs to him. Wolfram & Hart, and contracts that reach beyond death.

"I don't think you're ever allowed to quit. Lawyers and their fine print..." He groans, disgusted.

[sunnydalealum]

She shakes her head silently.

And if he hasn't already guessed, that'll probably confirm it for him: that that's why she ran. Why she's running.

[nomorekaraoke]

"...this is probably gonna sound real weird - and I mean weird as in crazy - but would you at all mind humming a tune for me?"

He's not yet sure what all this means, this seemingly random encounter, but he's already cursing his bleeding heart. He's like the cliché kid dragging stray animals home, begging momma to let'im keep'em.

"Doesn't have to be fancy. I need to know you're legit, sweetie, nothing personal."

[sunnydalealum]

She twists around again to look at him.

"...humming a tune?" Her voice is bewildered, and incredulous.

(And a touch wary.)

[nomorekaraoke]

"It's what I do. Call me a fancy lie detector test with an added pinch of attitude."

He shrugs, meeting her eyes as squarely as he can. He's hating the mask more and more every second, but if she needs it, he won't knock it.

"Some people read tarot cards, others jiggle a bag of bones around. Some people just read people, one way or the other. Me, I'm in the last bunch."