milliways_bar | (no subject)

It's probably not terribly obvious, but there's a patron a few seats over who glances up from his battered file folders every so often to look warily in Faith's direction.

Not terribly obvious to someone who's not Faith, that is.

Faith is accustomed to being looked at warily.

Usually not by people she's never met before, but hey, maybe he's a vampire?

It's mostly reflex that makes her pull the cross necklace she's wearing out from under her shirt, a reassuring safeguard that all Slayers carry, a safeguard Faith has more reason than most to believe in.

And now he's staring. It isn't like demons can't wear them. It's just that he's never seen one pull out a cross for his benefit.

After a moment he realizes what he's doing and looks back at his papers. It's not really any use, though. Concentration's shot.

"Evening," he says finally, nodding to her.

Faith nods back, and pulls her headphones out.

The music which blares from them, should it matter, is classical tonight.

Possibly entitled 'Air on a G String,' but classical nonetheless.

"Evening."

"I just, um. Thought I should tell you that's not really necessary," he says awkwardly, with a pointed glance at her necklace.

"It is if you're a vampire," Faith says, honestly. "And usually when people look at me like you were, they're a vampire."

"Oh," is all he can think to say. "Well. Angel, actually. But I didn't realize that--" He frowns and leans forward unconsciously.

"It's just that I thought there was a demon nearby, but you don't -- you don't seem familiar."

Faith blinks at him.

"Oh. That would explain it. Uhm, I hunt demons. Or used to. But I get the ability from...well, there's a demon tied to me."

"Tied to you?" A rather horrified stare, and another glance around, as if he expects to see a demon crouching behind Faith, ready to spring.

"Sounds awkward. Where is he? I mean... it?"

There are reasons he keeps them dissociated in his mind from everyone else. Knowing Crowley doesn't help.

"...inside me."

Faith taps her chest, lightly, apologetically.

"Its spirit is...subsumed, I guess is the word? Into mine."

"Shit." A bit more gaping.

"That, um. That helps you, does it? To go after other demons? How the hell did you get roped into that job?"

Faith snorts. "'Job' isn't the word I'd use, I don't think. 'Calling' is better. 'Job' would imply that I got paid for it, which I didn't." She shrugs, lightly. "I was Chosen. By my world's higher powers."

"It's your function," he says thoughtfully, nodding.

"I wouldn't usually choose that term for a human, but I don't think anything else would serve as well." There's a hint of sympathy in the look he gives her.

"You're able to choose, to an extent, though - aren't you? There's more to you than your function. You're more powerful than the demon, obviously."

Faith nods. "I am, yes. I didn't even know a demon was where my powers came from until five years after I got it. And yes, I'm able to choose. I've, uhm, retired."

"Huh. Yeah, I guess I'd have done the same thing long before now, if I could." He smiles weakly, and there's a half-second's hesitation before he asks the next question.

"So what happens to the demon?"

"Oh, it's still in there. Part of me, now."

"...Forever? Wouldn't it-- don't you want to get rid of it?"

"I don't know if I'd survive getting rid of it," Faith says, with a slight shrug, "and anyway, it comes in handy, sometimes. Makes me hard to kill, which is nice whether I'm Slaying or not."

"Mm," he says, thoughtfully.

"Well, if you change your mind... or if it gets out of hand, somehow. Maybe I can help."

Maybe he'd destroy the both of them, too, but let's not jump to conclusions.

"I'll keep that in mind," she says, and means it. "Thanks."

Then, realizing they haven't been introduced, she holds out her hand. "My name's Faith, by the way."

He reaches out, only hesitating for a moment before he shakes her hand. It's getting easier, for better or worse.

"Raguel. Pleased to meet you."

When she hears his name, Faith's face drains of all color, and she jerks her hand back.

She knows that name.

Bernard warned her about the Vengeance.

He freezes for a moment, then withdraws his hand slowly and leans back. There's an uncomfortable pause, and he reaches into his pocket for the cigarettes to fill it.

"Reputation precedes me, I guess?"

"I used," she says, very quietly, "to be Security here."

Beat.

"Crowley is a friend. Aziraphael too."

"Ah," he says, and the first cigarette is lit with the flick of a thumb on metal. His lighters click together as he drops one back into his pocket.

"Little more than just reputation, then."