milliways_bar | (no subject)

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So what happens when the mun wants to toss Angel at three separate entrance posts, but doesn't have that kind of energy right now?
Angel gets his own entrance post, that's what.
So: Couch by fireplace, pizza, fuzzy gender line - standard fare, for Angel. Have at.

(OOC: Tags may occasionally be slow, as am a bit scatterbrained and theoretically getting useful stuff done. But yes.)

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"All right then. I... kind of fell into it by accident. One of them had come back from Boston to see the others for Christmas, and he got mugged before he made it inside. New York's not the safest place at night, sometimes even if you know what you're doing. Anyway, I found him and helped him get cleaned up, and then we went back to catch up with everyone else, and... it's part 'the rest is history' and part the story just gets longer from there."
Angel's got one of those 'best thing that ever happened to me' smiles, even tangentially mentioning Collins like that. Hmm, looks like something else that 'just isn't done.'

"Sounds like your good deed was amply rewarded," he says with a gentle smile.

Angel's still smiling. Rather than reply to the side commentary, he carries on with the story.
"So when we met up with Collins' friends, we found out their landlord wanted them to pay a year's worth of rent all at once. Their landlord used to live in the building with them, and promised them they wouldn't have to worry about rent when he bought the building. He wanted to turn the place into... some kind of recording studio thing, I still don't know all the details. Or why he wanted money from them, really - he married rich, so it shouldn't have been that big of a thing." Angel shrugs.

"I don't suppose those conditions were in the lease."

He's somewhat curious what kind of recordings would have been made there. Somehow he has a feeling Angel isn't talking about phonograph records. However, it's not likely a pertinent part of the story.

"I'm not even sure whether they got anything written down on the matter. Circumstances have changed since then, so it's not so much a problem. Anyway, we all wandered around the East Village - that's one of the neighborhoods - for a while, and then one of their other friends staged a protest of the whole studio thing. That's most of the information I have on it, which is why I'm reluctant to fill in details - she does... highly metaphorical stuff, when she puts her mind to it."

A headtilt and a raised eyebrow in response. "'Highly metaphorical'? I'm not quite sure I get what you mean."

"I think she was using a lot of allegory to get her point across, and most of it referenced stuff I still didn't know all the background for, at the time. Some of it I'm still wondering about. But Maureen... is something else entirely, so in retrospect it's not surprising she went for the strange route.
"Anyway, after she'd said her piece, we all went out for dinner, and found out landlord guy had beaten us to the restaurant. So he snarked at the others for a bit, and then we all toasted everything in general and nothing in particular until he left. Was a lot of fun."

He nods in encouragement. "What did the landlord do after that?"

"Locked them out of their building for a week."
Angel shrugs. "If he shows up in here, I plan on asking him a few questions, mostly about why he thought he had to do what he did. I mean, there has to've been a way to get what he wanted done without alienating his friends."

"There does. He could at least have given them more notice, or worked something out where they could pay a certain amount for rent from then on, plus a little more to pay the rent from that year retroactively. Something a little more diplomatic, at least."

"That, or... he said something, when he came over ot bother them, about the studio thing being at least partly their idea as well. Got no idea why all the more help he wanted was money they didn't have, in that case."

"Which, if he was a friend, was something he probably should have known already."

"One would think. I don't really know well enough to say with much authority, but I think he lost track of himself somewhere along the way. Got too caught up in trying to make a profit, or something."

Thomas nods. "Not that making a profit is necesarily a bad thing, but there are always things it shouldn't overshadow," he says, with a very slight edge to his voice.

Like safety.

"Well, according to one of my friends, the guy paid for my funeral, so presumably he remembered where he started somewhere in there."

"That's something at least. So all's well that ends well, or at least somewhat?"

"Something to that effect, certainly. Hopefully I'll be able to get his side of the story one of these days. Meanwhile, I've got friends around."

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