milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Michael pushes through the front door, the sword in her hand vanishing at the moment she registers her change in locale.

It takes another moment for her to push her windblown hair out of her face and tame the too-bright green of her eyes. Then, of course, she moves to the bar for coffee and a newspaper.

It is rather unfortunate that, once she settles down to fill out the crossword, her pen has a tendency to push right through the paper.

Temper will do that.

Ah, well.

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"There are occasions when it is useful."

Her mouth twists faintly, the whole set of her body shifting to something infinitely more casual -- and human.

"And there are other times when it's just a pain in the ass."

Castiel raises his eyebrows.

"I have only ever 'passed myself off' as a human, when the situation called for it," he admits.

"I am unsure I am capable of...pretending in any other respect."

"What have you told people that you are?"

The archangel shrugs, sprawling back in her seat and making herself comfortable.

"I tell them my name's Michael. I usually get work as a bike messenger or something. The details take care of themselves -- you and I both know there's not a lot of difficulty in reading human expectations. And then when they need to know more -- if they need to know more -- I tell them."

Castiel thinks.

"I do not know how to ride a bike."

That particular disguise is out for him.

She shrugs.

"It's not mandatory. But while you're looking into crafts and hobbies -- "

What could it hurt?

"--it is yet another thing that can be learned," Castiel completes.

He does wonder, occasionally, if his superiors had any idea what they were ordering him into.

"There is a near-infinite number. You just have to pick a few."

There's a fine tremor of a more dignified (or at least rigid) cadence under the studiedly lazy persona.

"If I may ask," Castiel says, respectfully, "what things have you chosen?"

He is learning a great deal, but has no idea what will prove useful. It will be good to get another perspective.

"Me?"

Michael raises both eyebrows.

"I've been around long enough to know at least a little bit about everything. This current -- "

She looks down at her body, then back up.

" -- incarnation, as it is, is a member of a pagan circle -- a neophyte, learning Tarot card reading. She drives a Vespa, and I can keep it fairly well in repair. I also like daytime dramas, Derrida, pointillism, and just about anything else that would seem reasonable for a mid-twenties college student or artist. Oh, and punk music."

She shrugs.

"Some people like tattoos and piercings. It depends on who you're going to be."

Half of that has little meaning to Castiel. He makes a mental note to look up certain subjects later on.

"That sounds...........educational."

"I do not anticipate being anyone other than who I am."

"I know," Michael says, standing up.

There's a tilt to one corner of her mouth that may be amused and may be resigned.

"That's always the problem. Anyway -- I should probably get back to putting the fear of God into a few meddlers. But let me know how the adventures in bicycling go, if you decide to take that route, okay?"

She seems, in this moment, very human.

It is not an accident.

"I shall do so."

He shall. As soon as he figures out how to obtain the use of a bicycle.

This is Michael, after all. A Michael, if not his. The suggestion is likely to be taken as an order.

"And I thank you for your counsel."

She flicks her fingers in a dismissive gesture.

"Anytime."

It's not un-genuine.

And then she heads for the door, sword flickering back into place in her hand as she goes.

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