stilljustandrew (
stilljustandrew) wrote in
milliways_bar2009-11-22 11:31 pm
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The front door opens, and in steps Andrew Wells, hands in his pockets and shoulders slightly slumped.
He's got a note to leave -- but it turns out the intended recepient is already here.
After that conversation, Andrew finds himself in a somewhat better mood -- right up until he reads the note that's been left for him since he was last here.
He's sitting at the bar reading it. Feel free to interrupt him; it's not like the words have changed since the last three times he read it.
[ETA: Mun has gone to bed. Thread is open until it scrolls off the front page.]
He's got a note to leave -- but it turns out the intended recepient is already here.
After that conversation, Andrew finds himself in a somewhat better mood -- right up until he reads the note that's been left for him since he was last here.
He's sitting at the bar reading it. Feel free to interrupt him; it's not like the words have changed since the last three times he read it.
[ETA: Mun has gone to bed. Thread is open until it scrolls off the front page.]
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He flicks a sideways glance at Andrew.
"She'll be fine, I think. No one knows about her."
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He lets out a long breath. "This sucks," he says unhappily.
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"Yeah, well, we're not telling. So."
A beat; long enough for Sam to take the last swallow of Coke and push the glass back to the other side of the counter. When he turns back to face Andrew, his expression is pretty well neutral, save for the slightly wry smile that's playing at the corner of his mouth.
"Uh-huh. Tell me something I don't already know."
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A beat goes by, while Andrew fumbles for the thread of the conversation.
"...So you want to get Dean's okay before we start looking into whether it could work?"
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He's not moving forward on this alone again, not after how talking to Ash and Ellen about it turned out.
"Anyway, you said the spell's not even finished yet."
That wry smile doesn't look like it's going anywhere.
"It's not like there's any rush."
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His eye falls on the folded note, lying on the bartop.
"Listen, though, in the meantime -- something I should probably tell you."
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"What's up?"
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"Uh-huh. And?"
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His voice is flat. "And that it knows Buffy's here, and likes the idea."
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He looks ready to face a sudden strike from any direction: every line of him drawn in stark relief, every muscle and nerve set to react in an instant, and every bit of him focused.
"It's here?"
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A beat.
"Does it know you're here?"
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His throat works.
He's clearly had this thought already, and just as clearly been trying not to entertain it.
"I don't know."
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"Okay."
Grimly determined.
"How did you guys stop it before?"
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He shakes his head. "It's not gonna be doing that here. Whatever it's planning, it'll be something else."
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"It can't touch anything," he says, and now his tone's level and matter-of-fact again; reporting on the situation. "Or anyone. It's incorporeal. But it can look like any, like anyone who's died. Even if they've been brought back."
(He's thinking of Jonathan. And Warren.)
He reaches for his pocket notepad. "In terms of physical threat, what you've got to watch out for is its minions, the Bringers. I can show you how to recognize them."
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Something dark and haunted flickers in his glance for an instant before he shakes it off and cranes his neck to see the notepad.
"Let's have it."
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"The Bringers look mostly human, but they've got these sigils sewn into their faces where their eyes should be. They usually wear reddish robes, but they might show up wearing anything."
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He turns the pad around, and shows Sam the sigils he's drawn.
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Sam studies the sigils carefully, committing them to memory.
(He'll be drawing a copy of them later in the journal he keeps for Milliways-related supernatural phenomena -- separate and apart from their dad's journal.)
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Sam looks suddenly thoughtful.
"We've seen that before, but with zombies. These Bringers -- they're not exactly alive, are they?"
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