#notallshapeshifters

[protagonized]

Dates: October 6 and 8.
What: Simon tries to keep his head down.
[ooc: This is a completely open post! Come torment him.]

Covent Garden - Late Evening

Starbucks closed at ten most evenings, and given Simon's class schedule he tended to work closing shifts. That suited him just fine. During peak tourist season it tended to be crowded late at night, but weeknights were almost pleasant now that they were well into October. Tonight, the shop was almost deserted, save for a table of Korean tourists off in a corner, and they'd been nursing their drinks and chatting for over an hour now. Simon was thoroughly bored. He snuck a peek at the phone he'd secreted away in his apron pocket: 21:22. Only forty more minutes until he could kick them out and start closing up shop. Only an hour and a half until he could go home and start drafting that Craigslist ad for a new flatmate.

Only eight hours until he had to wake up and be back in the lab.

He sighed and went back to watching the door, hoping no one else came in.


Redbright Institute - Mid-morning

Simon could have been doing any number of things right now--first and foremost among them being sleeping--but for some reason he found himself drawn to Redbright Institute. His feelings about the place were ambivalent at best; sure, they'd helped him through a particularly tough time in his life, but he still found the place intensely weird and a bit uncomfortable. All logic said that magic shouldn't exist outside of fantasy novels and Disney films, and yet here it was. In London.

He strolled through the library, looking for volumes on shapeshifting. He knew there was plenty of lore about people with his particular condition going back centuries, but what he wanted was something that treated the subject a little more objectively. He needed a history.

Simon paused at a likely volume. Maybe this one, finally, contained the answers he was looking for.

Comments

covent gardens

[stauncherhearted]

Too bad, kid. There's a new customer pushing her way in through the door. Her heels of her knee-high boots clicked on the tile floor as the door shut behind her. Her makeup was dark, nearly over-done, and her ginger hair curled. Nancy had been in on and off, especially around this time of night. It got darker earlier, and that meant vampires came out sooner, and so did all sorts of men that would happily take her into their bed for a few bucks.

Leather jacket zipped up to cover herself as best she could, she could only hope she looked like an early club-goer. But around Covent Gardens? Okay maybe if she were in Spitalfields. But this was Covent Garden, and she had an appointment.

One that she needed- "Grande latte, extra shot, if you don't mind-" in order to get to. She flashed the barista her best smile, fishing around in her purse for some loose change.

[protagonized]

Simon looked up when he heard the door.

"Good evening, welcome to--"

But the woman--the girl, really--was already preempting him with her order. "Right," he said, writing it on the cup. "And that will be with regular milk, not soya?" He always had to double-check. Some people got kind of tetchy about that sort of thing if he didn't.

He eyed the girl while he waited for an answer. She was extremely pretty, if a little overdone for a Thursday night. Maybe she'd been to a show on the West End?

"Did you just get out of a play?" he asked innocently while the milk steamed.

[stauncherhearted]

She knew her coffee, man. But hey, at least she wasn't one of those half-calf, no whip, venti soy pumpkin spiced latte extra hot girls. "Sorry- yeah, regular milk's just fine." She flashes him an apologetic smile before pulling her hand out of her purse with a fistful of change. Thank goodness for pound coins, let's be real here.

"Oh- no." Crap. At least she could lie again. "Going out with some friends." She's not going to explain to the barister in a public place that she's a prostitute. Not if she can help it.

[protagonized]

"Just checking." Simon flashed her what he thought was a particularly winning smile, but he looked tired enough to need the coffee himself. It'd been a long day. Joe, his coworker and sometimes-friend, was watching the exchange with a sort of interested detachment he snorted unkindly when the girl said she was meeting friends.

Simon wasn't quite sure why.

He handed her the finished drink. "There you go. Careful, it's hot. Sugar and everything else is on the counter by the window. Enjoy your evening."

And now Joe was snickering. What was his problem?

[stauncherhearted]

"No worries!" She nearly chirped, though the snort had her raising an eyebrow, her laughter dying. Hopefully it was a coincidence. She was far too sober to deal with this. She got enough of it on the regular, anyway.

"Thank you," Nancy said, taking the drink and immediately taking the top off. She had a flask in her purse she was planning on dumping into it, when that kid snickered. This time, both her eyebrows were raised and she turned to him.

"Something funny?"

[protagonized]

"No, luv," Joe drawled. "You go and enjoy your evening, then."

Now Simon was starting to realize what was going on. He shot his "friend" a nasty look and barked, "Joe. There's equipment needing washing in the back. Go do it."

Once it was just him and the girl (and the tourists), he gave her an apologetic smile. "Don't worry. He's been close to getting sacked for weeks now. I think he's finally just sacked himself. I'm so sorry about that. He's a pig."

[stauncherhearted]

"More than you'll enjoy yours," she said as sweetly as she could to this Joe fellow. Once he was gone, she turned back to the barista.

"Oh, no, don't worry about it. No reason to sack him. I'm used to it." Yet, funny how the men who insulted her were the sorts that actually couldn't get laid on their own.

[protagonized]

Simon went back over to the till and started punching in some numbers. "Still," he said, "It was inappropriate and rude." He fished a key out from under the stand and unlocked the cash box, giving her back her £3.55.

"It's on the house."

[stauncherhearted]

"You don't need to do that," she said, putting her hand up to try to reject the money. if he refuses to take it back, it's just going right in the tip jar. She's more than willing to pay for some coffee.

"He's just upset he's going home to his left hand."

Timeskip!

[protagonized]

Finally, it was over. Simon hadn't necessarily forgotten about the girl, but she'd been driven to the corners of his mind, what with closing and all. He was back to being preoccupied by the lab work he had to do tomorrow; their initial number crunching had come up with some statisical irregularities and he needed to check the data. As he was walking his bike over to the main road, he caught a flash of red hair.

"Are you still waiting for those friends?" he asked, concerned.

Redbright Institute

[wolfmarked]

"And this is our library! We have over--"

"I really appreciate the tour." If Skip had to listen to Miss Posh and Perky for any longer, she was going to kill her. Which meant it was time to ditch the guide and find something else to do. "You know, I think I'd really like to look around here, but I wouldn't want to keep you."

"I'd be happy to--"

"No, I insist. I can wait here. You said Mrs Redbright will be back at three?"

"Yes, she will. Are you sure--"

"I promise. I'll be fine. Thank you very much."

Of course, Skip's voice might well be hard to recognise. Rather than the spirited Irish accent that came to her naturally, she, instead, sounded like a complete Londoner from the best neighbourhoods, educated in the best schools. She'd learned to sound as posh as anyone born with a silver spoon in their mouth when she was young, and it helped in places like this.

While she was here, though... She might as well look at some of their books. The wandering led her through various aisles, including down one with books on shapeshifting.

[protagonized]

Simon barely registered the voices in the library; he was too focused on paging through the book and being disappointed by what he found. The Moste Excellent Historie was...anything but. A great portion of it was in Latin, for one thing, which he barely remembered from primary school, and the rest of it might as well have been, given the dense Elizabethan language. Also, from what little he could decipher, the author was of the opinion that shapeshifters were "devills" and an "abomination unto Godde."

Good to know.

Simon shelved the book in disgust and went looking for another likely option. And that was when he saw--

Shit.

It was her.

How was she here? Here, of all places. Was she a witch? Something else? Maybe she was a fellow shifter. Or a werewolf. God, that would be great--losing his virginity to a fucking werewolf. He couldn't even escape this fucked up world when he wanted to.

Simon backpedaled into a shelf, knocking a couple of books to the ground.

"Shit," he hissed, hoping he hadn't been spotted.

[stauncherhearted]

oh. there was the boy from the coffee shop. she couldn't recall what his name badge had said. well. it didn't matter. she tosses her hair back behind her shoulders and smiles, another lie already on her lips.

"oh- no, no. I met up with one but he had to rush off. so I'm just trying to figure out a few things." she put her hand up to her neck, where just a bit before she'd been given two fang marks. they were still there, she realized. this kid was magic though. she could sense something about him.

[wolfmarked]

The sound caught Skip's attention, and it took her a moment to place him. She didn't sleep with so many guys that she couldn't remember them all, but one-night stands are kind of supposed to be forgettable. Still, she knew who he was after a moment. Then, she smiled a bit at him. And, well, it might have been a smirk. Because his reaction is priceless.

"Hey there."

[protagonized]

Simon smelled blood. A lot of it.

The girl reeked of it; any other scent or perfume she may have been wearing was overwhelmed by copper and iron.

Simon paused.

"This is going to sound strange, but are you...okay? Are you injured?"

Convent Garden

[constantprisoner]

It's not often that Sirius has money.

He's grown used to being broke most of the time. It comes with the territory of being on the run from the law. So far, he's managed to get by without it. Of course that's meant giving up his dignity a few times, but that also, he figured, comes with the territory. But scrounging around trashcans had actually helped for once. He'd managed to find five pounds, likely dropped by the last person to throw something out. And since there was no way for him to find that person (though he probably could have if he tried really hard), Sirius figured he could make the best use of it.

Which led him to the Starbucks since that was the only thing open. He could probably find something there to eat. Even if it was just a scone or something.

He stares at the cabinets, trying to figure out how much he could stretch the five pounds.

[protagonized]

Fuck.

Simon backed against the stacks with a forced smile. "Hi."

His luck was pretty shit lately, wasn't it?

"Didn't expect to see you here." Or ever again.

[wolfmarked]

"Promised t' bring somethin' by for the school," she admits with a small shrug. It seemed appropriate to make them something for their loss, and she'd promised the dean that a little while ago. Time to deliver on that.

"You a student here?"

[stauncherhearted]

Nancy blinked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why?" Had he seen the marks in the awful street light?

[protagonized]

Simon looked up at the man who entered. He looked a bit shabby, down on his luck, not like the tourists and theater-goers Simon usually served.

But that wasn't why Simon noticed him.

There was something immediately familiar about the man, something that instantly unsettled him. The smell, maybe. Even though Simon wasn't in dog form, he could feel his hackles rising.

"Welcome to Starbucks," he said, sounding a little more severe than he really meant to. "What can I make for you this evening?"

[protagonized]

"I was," Simon shrugged. "I took evening classes here when I was younger. After..." Well, it was a common story here. If Skip was here, he was sure he knew it. "Mum and Dad thought I was in a support group. GCSE stress."

He smiled sheepishly. "You too?"

[protagonized]

Because you smell like the inside of a blood bank.

"I thought I saw...it's stupid. I thought I saw blood."

[wolfmarked]

"Born an' raised in Munster. Me da taught me what I needed to know."

And, of course, there was the whole 'went to school in England for awhile.' But that was just complicated and not the kind of thing to chat with a one-night stand about. So, she just gave an easy smile.

"So," she's been lucking out, apparently, with hitting up the supernaturals on her last few hook-ups, "what're you? Witch? Meta?"

[stauncherhearted]

Shit.

"No, I'm fine, really." Thank god she wasn't cursed to tell the truth anymore. Though, truthfully, she was fine. Just a normal night on the job for Nancy Fagin, nothing new to see.

Time to change the subject.

"Did that boy get sacked?"

[protagonized]

It was a common enough question, one that Simon had been expecting, but... "Shifter," he finally admitted. "It was a bit of a shock, the first time it happened." Which was a complete understatement. What fourteen year old wants to turn into a fuzzy white puppy when stressed? Who wants that in their lives? "You? Are you a witch or something?"