(no subject)

[creator_raven]

There is a very loud thump as Raven, black-feathered and ragged, drops down from the rafters and into a booth.

The bird is shortly replaced by a tall, skinny man in a ragged black coat over dusty blue jeans.

His hair is very messy.

This has never bothered him.

It does not take a moment for a waitrat with a plate of cookies to approach him. It takes even less time for most of the cookies to disappear.

Raven is very hungry.

It is a thing.

Soon there will be a second plate of cookies at the table with him. He is very predictable.

Except when he isn't.

Comments

[bringonthewonder]

It's been a while.

Angela grins.

"Hey, Raven."

[creator_raven]

Raven grins back.

He may also flick a cookie in her general direction.

He's sharing!

"Angela, yes? Things go?"

[bringonthewonder]

"Angela, yes," she says, catching (for a loose definion of the word) the cookie.

"Things do."

They go all sorts of ways!

[creator_raven]

"You are for wanting lemonade, perhaps?"

This one he won't throw at her.

Really.

[bringonthewonder]

"I could go for lemonade, sure.

"How've you been?"

[creator_raven]

Raven busies himself in pouring Angela a glass of lemonade. Here is hoping he does not make it too full.

"Mostly bored, yes? It is a thing."

[bringonthewonder]

Just full enough. Or close enough. Or something.

"Bored? That sounds bad."

[sleazeoverstyle]

"Friggin' showoff." The voice comes from the booth next door, where the guy with the flaming red hair and matching tattoos at the corners of his cheeks is tryin' to drink his second -- no, third, or is it his fourth? -- beer.

Good thing it ain't a memory contest: it's been a long week.

[creator_raven]

Raven turns to look at the man, head tilting.

The angle of his neck looks ridiculously uncomfortable.

Then, of course, he grins.

"Yes."

He is a vain bird.

"I have very many skills, I am thinking. It is useful."

[sleazeoverstyle]

"Useful, schmooseful. What the hell are you eatin' cookies for when you could be drinkin'? Now there's a skill I could get behind."

After he drains his beer glass, he mutters something beneath his breath. It sounds kind of like not a friggin' babysitter, or close enough to it. Without hesitation, he motions the nearest rat over with a wave of his hand and orders a pint this time.

[creator_raven]

Raven snorts.

Very loudly.

"I am, I think, not so good at drinking. So."

This is a lie. Raven is very good at drinking. largely because he sucks at getting drunk.

It is a thing.

[sleazeoverstyle]

"Shit."

What he's thinkin' is sucker, but fortunately for all concerned he's not stupid and so he doesn't say it. Turning around, he rests his arm over the back of the booth to take a first good look at the cookie-eatin' guy.

"Sucks for you, huh? Me, I been drinkin' since I was twelve years old." It's what happens when you grow up with four older siblings who like to see how fucked up they can make things for their baby brother. But the joke's on them: now he can drink just about anyone under the table and still score a girl for the night.

And that ain't no mean feat.

[creator_raven]

Raven tilts his head, studying the stranger.

He is still grinning.

"You are, I think, not so much older than that now. So."

He is a smug fucker, as some would say. Raven, that is.

Maybe Reno too. Who knows?

[dark-fleet.livejournal.com]

Celaeno doesn't like being inside. But this is where the food is, and she promised Ouranos that she wouldn't hurt anyone here, which means no hunting. While this is incredibly annoying, it is only a minor inconvenience in the grand scheme of things.

On the plus side (perhaps), it allows her to witness such events as this. A bird turning into a man. Or was it a man who turned into a bird who turned into a man? Either way, her head tilts. gaze trained on him steadily.

There is power here; power she doesn't recognize.

She hates that.

[creator_raven]

Mostly it is neither man nor bird.

Not in truth. In reality, however--

Well, that is often a very different thing.

So.

Raven turns to look at Celaeno, grinning very brightly.

"You are, perhaps, so fond of cookies?"

[dark-fleet.livejournal.com]

"No." Likely to no one's surprise, the smile is not returned. "What are you?"

[creator_raven]

Raven appears completely unsurprised by this development.

And he is still grinning.

Sometimes he is very predictable.

"They call me Raven. It is descriptive, yes?"

[dark-fleet.livejournal.com]

Her eyes narrow at him, scrutinizing for a few minutes before she gives him a brief nod.

"It seems to be."

[creator_raven]

"Sometimes there are feathers."

He says this sagely enough. It might even be sincere.

Really.

"You are also for having a name, yes?"

[eirenikos]

Are those oreo cookies being devoured? That'll get her attention almost as quickly as a bird performing a quick-change into a man between rafters and seat.

Which pretty much means Eirene is going to head in that direction anyway and find out who he is.

"Hello."

:D

[creator_raven]

Some of them might be oreo cookies. Raven is not very picky.

He grins at Eirene as she approaches, reaching out to flick a cookie at her.

"Hello. You are so much for being hungry, perhaps?"

[eirenikos]

Raven has just gained himself a friend.

Possibly.

"I think so, yeah. How about some tea to go along with those."

Naturally, she'll grin right back at him.

[creator_raven]

"Tea is not so bad, I do not think."

Raven wrinkles his nose very carefully.

"Coffee is for making my head hurt."

It might even make him sneeze.

No one knows why.

[eirenikos]

"Really? I've become quite addicted to lattes. Those aren't too bad and you can get mocha flavor."

The rats are pretty good about taking drink orders and getting back with them quickly to Eirene. She bribes them with cheese.

"I'm Eirene and may I sit?"

[creator_raven]

Raven makes a face.

"Milk, I think, is not so bad. Still."

Beat.

"I do not so much mind company. You are for wanting more cookies?"

He may have to order another plate.

And, before she sits--

"They call me Raven. It is descriptive, I think."