(no subject)

[gabriel_tam]

Everything about the opening ceremonies for the new Family and Life Support Center is tastefully coordinated in order to appeal to a wide variety of supporters and clientele both.

There's a large platform stage, of course, with tables for speakers and dignitaries set on either side of the center podium. Row upon row of chairs are arranged in gentle arcs between carefully-laid-out aisles, for the ease and convenience of the listening audience.

At the same time, the event planners had been wise enough to realize that the multitude of children expected would never be able to sit still for speeches, and as a result the Center's grassy courtyard holds a small-scale fair, complete with booths and prizes, food and games and all sorts of fun.

Adults and children wander freely back and forth, enjoying the event.

It's a beautiful day.

Comments

[aj_crawley]

Crowley's lips thin into a hard line, and he's silent for a moment - thinking it over.

"I'd prefer you didn't, personally," he says finally. "It'd only cause more hassle."

"But he did, you know, tear your throat out."

[un_fallen]

"Yeah, I noticed that," he says, without irony.

"And burned your hands by extension, I'd say. It's only fair."

The old gleam is starting to resurface in Raguel's eyes. It's good to have a target.

[aj_crawley]

"Just," Crowley sighs. "If I can't talk you out of it, at least make it discreet, alright?"

[un_fallen]

"I am always discreet," he insists.

[aj_crawley]

This time, Crowley doesn't even bother.

"Thanks," he replies instead, wearily, and then blinks at the absurdity of what just came out of his mouth.

" - Why did I just say that? You owe me a drink. And I knew you'd see reason, anyway."

[un_fallen]

"Have I seen reason?" he asks, opening the door behind Crowley.

"I told you, you trust too easily." He slips out before Crowley can protest, adding, "Anyway, how come the one who just had his neck removed is buying the drinks?"

[aj_crawley]

"Stress," Crowley reasons, sliding out behind Raguel, and checking the coast, left-right.

"And I don't trust too easily," he adds, calmly. "I just knew you'd see reason."

(hush, hush, Bright One)
And now, Crowley is too close; and too close, with Raguel, means within range. Crowley is within range, and the pistol full of holy water lies discarded behind them, and the remnants of Raguel's fire are crackling off him in ways as invisible, and as thickly palpable, as the residual heat in the air around him, and it's almost, tantalisingly, a dare. But it's not. I trust who I trust.

(and soon you'll have wings)
"I know you have seen reason."

(hush now)
Crowley smiles, a little bit, and the sliver of what shines through looks hardly out of place on him at all.

(still now)
"Because you believe in redemption."


(we'll go home)

"I trust you can find your way out without getting shot?"

[un_fallen]

He gives a start at Crowley's proximity - almost like old times, he thinks, before he cuts that thought out as efficiently and completely as possible.

"I guess," he says, shrugging uncomfortably, but of course he's not talking about finding his way out.

"See you, then."


Mine, he thinks, trying the word out as Crowley turns toward the melee at the foot of the stage. It seems to settle comfortably there, given Crowley's bizarre concept of ownership.


Satisfied, Raguel slinks back into the enveloping shadows, steps sideways, and disappears. A moment later, the rhythmic beat of wings is lost in the noise of the crowd.