milliways_bar | (no subject)

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To be brief: there is a snoozing demon onna sofa. Bare feet and ankles sticking out from what appears to be silky jammies what have become bunched against the armrest, and a ~~smoking frock~~ robe. Asia seems to be a subtle theme. When you're hobbling, you have to take what you get, even if it's a loveseat, and you're six foot something. Not the best match, but it'll do. Besides, the fireplace is fabulous.

In actual brevity: snoozing demon onna sofa. Crutch onna floor, within easy reach and out of the way of waitrats and slightly bigger footsies.

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A certain short young man approaches, cautiously. They've never actually met in person, after all.

"Lorne?"

One of the pros of being one of a select few people with the likes of his particular complexion is people tend to remember your face. You're easily recognizable, at any rate, and that can be, well, a case of the grass not always being greener, and so on and so forth. In this particular context one gets the feeling it could go either way.

Dark, red rimmed eyes blink open and focus slowly on the strange (but adorable) face. "That's my name, sugar pie."

"Jonathan", he introduces himself. "Levinson. Friend of Andrew Wells... can we talk?"

You don't have to know the demon to notice the slight flicker of suspicion in his eyes. He tilts his head, regarding Jonathan, Levinson, friend of Andrew Wells with calculating calm.

Then he pulls his legs off the sofa and pushes himself upright. Feels like this is a time for sitting up, even if it makes the sling around his arm horribly apparent.

"Sure," he replies, offering a tiny little smile. "I'm a great conversationalist, or so I'm told."

The suspicion is very clear, and Jonathan nods slightly, perching on the edge of the sofa.

"I'm not here to hurt you. I'm the one that sent Spike and the others to the apartment... and I want to help more, if I can."

He vaguely suspects Jonathan here wouldn't hurt a fly. Well. Maybe a gigantic, mutated fly. Nevertheless, waxing philosophical couldn't be farther from his mind right now. This guy sent backup when nothing could've been more welcome.

Some of the tension fades as this little factoid sinks in. "Thanks, sweetie... I, I don't know what to say." But that's a lie. He knows exactly what to say. "You wouldn't know anything about Emma? Is she okay?"

He's only partially right about that. Jonathan doesn't hurt the innocent...

"You don't have to thank me. Emma's safe", Jonathan assures him quickly. "And we're keeping her that way. Looking into how to settle all this."

He nods. As long as she's safe, he can focus on getting better. "Good... I was worried. I wasn't exactly--"

He was out for the count too long, and when it mattered the most.

"You were hurt", Jonathan completes. "And we should have realized what the girls were planning sooner. That's why I'm here now."

'Self-destructive' is the word Lorne would use if he had any respect at all for introspection. "You couldn't have known, sugar. Or maybe you could've, but maybe you plain weren't meant to."

He hopes Jonathan isn't here for a reading. That'd just be awkward. "Pain can obscure a great many things. Grief, too."

"That's true", Jonathan allows. "And we all mourned Kennedy, but... anyway. I didn't come to excuse what they did, either. I came to fix your leg, if you'll let me."

He almost, almost says too much. Like It's not my leg, honey bunny, it's my heart, and I don't care how cute you are, I'm not about to let you touch my tush just because you asked nicely.

But just almost. "Fix my leg? I'm a Deathwok, sweetheart, I'll be fine before you know it."

"Yeah", he acknowledges, "but we owe you. Even looking at it from the Council's view, you held our girls up long enough they couldn't cross the line."

"Yyyeah," he drawls bitterly. "Because it's perfectly fine to plan murder and break into someone's home by way of executing said plan."

But just as soon as the words are out there, he sighs, slumping into the backrest. "Never mind me. I'm a grumpy ol' bitch lately. Those girls were hurting, and real bad. I don't blame them for getting carried away."

"It's not fine", Jonathan says quietly. "They still went rogue, and they won't get away with it, I promise. We won't handle it how the old Council would have, but there will be punishment."

He nods, lips folding inward for a quick swipe of his tongue. His mouth feels too dry.

"Listen... Is there any way I could get to see Emma? Any way at all?"

Jonathan considers this.

"I'll see what I can do. I'll have to talk to a few people, let them know you're coming... and if I have to, I'll swing myself a guard shift."

His mouth makes a beeline to the right, scrunched up in a moue of his own brand of deliberation. He's lived too long and seen too many ingeniously sneaky plans backfire to want to take any unnecessary risks.

He smiles just the same, touched by such a generous offer. "I appreciate your willingness to go out on a limb for me, but I don't wanna get Emma into any more trouble than she's already in. If I'm there, it's gotta be official business. I don't care if I gotta go through a mountain of paperwork and who knows how many invasive tests and searches."

"I was hoping you'd say that", Jonathan admits. "It'll make things a lot easier... and there likely will be checks. Searches, magic... They won't take just my word for it you're not a danger."

He doesn't like the idea of background checks, but he supposes he'll have to grin and bear it if he wants to be there for his girl. He draws in a deep breath, and suddenly wishes not for a pack of cigarettes, but a pack of marshmallows. Or something to calm his nerves. Oh, well.

"And I'm glad they won't. You can never be too careful with strangers."

"I know you won't do anything, though", Jonathan states calmly. "You wouldn't risk it counting against her."

"Right you are, doe eyes. Right you are."

Jonathan eyes him, visibly amused but trying to look affronted.

"Doe eyes?"

"Soak it up, buttercup. I'm not taking it back."

Okay, so he isn't at his normal level of cheeky flirtation, but he's making an honest effort. Jonathan's cute, he gets to hear it.

He doesn't, all that often. Girls tend to like guys taller than them, at least in his experience. Plus there's the Sime tentacles - although in certain circles, they're not really a disadvantage.

"I don't think I could make you." He can't help a crooked grin.