milliways_bar | (no subject)

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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.]

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He's got the notepad turned to a blank page, and is starting to sketch.

"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."

"... given the eye thing, I'm thinking the clothes are gonna be less of an issue when it comes to recognizing them."

"Assuming you see their faces," Andrew points out.

He turns the pad around, and shows Sam the sigils he's drawn.

"Point."

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.)

"Also, if they've been hanging around anywhere for any length of time, the local vegetation dies." Beat. "The Bringers, not the First."

"Huh."

Sam looks suddenly thoughtful.

"We've seen that before, but with zombies. These Bringers -- they're not exactly alive, are they?"

"...Hard to say." He chews his lower lip, looking down at the sketched sigils. "I don't think it takes anything special to kill them, but ... no, I'd need to check that out. Why?"

"Well, there are at least a hundred different legends on the walking dead, and nothing that they all have in common, but..."

He joins Andrew in staring at the sigils.

"Fire's mentioned more than once. Silver has some effect, that we've seen -- but also nailing them back into their graves, sort of like the way I gather it works with vampires in your world."

"Well, you don't have to stake a vampire right in his coffin, but yeah." Beat. "Which, good thing, 'cause our vampires don't actually need to sleep in coffins."

"Likewise, as far as that goes," Sam tells him, "but the whole staking thing for vampires is BS."

Beat.

"Er. For us, I mean."

He shrugs. "Yeah, and there are worlds where vampires don't have any problem with crosses and holy water. Except some of them do, sort of psychosomatically."

He nods.

"Yeah. Most of the lore is crap when it comes to vampires where we're from. Anyway."

He taps the sketch, and looks up at Andrew.

"So these guys -- if they show up, are they gonna be on some kind of rampage, or are they going to be acting like everybody else?

He lets out a breath. "Probably not so much with the acting like everybody else. These guys have basically two modes that we know of: stabby and chanty."

"Then -- don't get me wrong, Andrew, you know more about this particular threat than I do, but -- "

Everything about him is intent and focused.

"-- seems like they're not gonna be the most useful minions around here."

"No."

His stomach's starting to tighten and twist into a knot, and it's a conscious effort to keep his breathing even.

"They won't be."

"Didn't figure they would."

He keeps it level; keeps it steady; keeps it matter-of-fact.

"So I guess we better figure out who it's gonna target."

He swallows.

"It'll target people it thinks it can manipulate. If it's coming here after Buffy, it'll target people close to her. People she trusts."

Watch her back, the note said.

"If it's after Buffy, yeah."

A beat. Sam meets his eyes, and doesn't look away.

"And if it's after you?"

That knot in his midsection is tighter now, and shaking.

He doesn't drop his gaze.

"Same --" He clears his throat. "Same deal. People close to me."

He nods, without looking aside.

"It's gonna have a hard time. You know that, right?"

A beat.

"And if this is some kind of practical joke that someone's playing on you, they're gonna regret it."

Andrew shakes his head.

"Sam ... if this is the real deal? The First is good at what it does. Believe me."

"I do believe you," he says, steadily. "But I mean what I said."

A beat, and Sam gives Andrew a wry smile and quips,

"Guess handshakes are gonna come back in style."

A pause.

And then Andrew returns the smile, and holds out a hand.

His own smile broadens into a sudden grin as he reaches out in turn, and shakes Andrew's hand.

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