undergrounds | see the world through my own eyes [OPEN]

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see the world through my own eyes [OPEN]

A) HILLINGDON HOUSE

Ringer didn't particularly frequent the House. It was the sort of destination she only recalled when she needed something, be that information, work, or a random need to connect with something beyond her own life. University and her private hunting kept her busy often enough that it could be isolating at times and while she wasn't one to mind the time to herself, the girl knew that she stood a better chance of survival if she had more allies. Besides, sometimes it was nice to spend time with people who could hold a conversation about vampires, witches, and the other allegedly fictitious creatures of the night.

She ran a hand through her hair, a perfunctory gesture to push it out of her face, and took a seat off to the side by the wall. One of the counselors at her old school said she would probably continue to want her back to a wall for quite some time, called it Post Traumatic Stress. The woman may have been right. Ringer considered it a logical and safer choice in places that might be less than friendly. Still, she had taken to talking to strangers and acquaintances alike, trying to follow that whole 'no man is an island' practice. For that reason, she glanced up to the person who seemed unoccupied and offered a simple, "Hey."

B) DARK ALLEYS AND DEAD BODIES

Ringer was an intelligent person. Unfortunately, she was also fairly new at this whole hunting thing and made more mistakes than she'd care to acknowledge. When she came upon a dead body in central vampire territory, it never occurred to her that it would be anything other than a supernatural death and supernatural creatures to deal with. Crouching over the body, she turned the young woman's head and pushed her hair back, examining her neck for the telltale injury. Except there wasn't one. Turning the body over completely, she found the mark instead on the woman's breast and rolled her eyes at the cliche, gloved fingers tugging the clothing to cover in a more chaste fashion.

It wasn't until she heard sirens suddenly roar to life not far away, her black gloves covered in blood, that it occurred to her how bad this might look. She stood from the body, frozen with momentary panic, wondering if she should stay and admit to finding the body or if she should bolt and hope there were no witnesses to her presence here.

C) LIBRARY RESEARCH

The London Library was known for its vast resources, one of the largest such public institutions in the whole of the country. It was here that Ringer went to conduct her latest research, seated at one of the many long tables and absorbed in her own world despite the people wandering by. At least she had the table to herself at present.

It was a two birds with one stone kind of day, her homework from uni scattered in front of her with her laptop to the right, while the research she had yet to do stood in stacks both on her left and in the center of the table. She was nearly finished studying for her exam on psychology, at which point she could switch to studying the horde of archive clippings on mass deaths from the London area stretching back the last 20 or so years.

Unless, of course, someone decided to interrupt.

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Ringer's hand snatches a heavy book from the stack, an automatic reaction to someone sneaking up on her and very close to using it to hit him. Luckily, recognition dawns somewhere in the process and she lets go of the book and instead turns around with only a halfhearted glare at her recent ally. It surprises her to see him in a place like this and her eyes dart around to ensure they can't be overheard before she gestures for him to sit at the end of the table near her, if he wants.

"I'm enrolled in university," she replies dryly. Ringer reaches forward to close her laptop, in case her real name might be visible. It's a force of habit, oblivious to the fact that he knows it already. "Why are you here?"

Faolan raises his eyebrows at the question (and at the way that she's closed her laptop to protect her privacy from him -- she does remember he's been at her house, does she not? He'll have seen a lot more private business there already than he'd ever find reading her school work over her shoulder, he's sure).

"Can't a man frequent a public place without raising suspicion?" he asks her, with a pointed stare, before tugging the chair out of the table beside her and dropping down into it. "I was in the area. It was something to do. Not my usual, to be true, but a way to spend the time. I suppose you don't believe in coincidences either, but it's the truth."

She hates that expression of his. The man seems perpetually skeptical of her. Not of anything she says or does, but of her as a person. As if her personality itself causes him to question. She wonders if the fact that it annoys her is evidence of her coming to trust his judgments in some small way. The thought is easily dismissed.

"I believe you." Ringer lifts a hand to tuck her hair back behind her ear, her mind already calculating how much time she can afford to be distracted before needing to return to her studies. It's been some time since she's seen Faolan though and some part of her worried a little bit that he was dead. In spite of herself, she doesn't like the idea of always being alone. "Can you stay over tonight? There's a vampire who knows where I live. I don't know if he wants me dead."

Faolan can't help but raise his eyebrows further, but he nods slightly. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, I can. Though I have to ask, how in the hell did a vampire learn something like that?" And why doesn't she know whether it's after her or not? One question at a time, Faolan, one question at a time.

"I don't have anything with me," he points out, "I'm going to need a few things. A change of clothes... How soon do you need me there?" He's still not sure whether he'll need to work tonight. That's sort of the problem with being on-call for Kenzi. He never knows when she'll need him and when she doesn't. He supposes he can just leave Ringer at Hillingdon or something, if it comes to that. Safer than staying home alone.

She ignores the pointed judgment and accepts his agreement instead. It shouldn't surprise her that he has questions. Faolan tends to look out for her in a way that's entirely unfamiliar to her and which she often finds both uncomfortable and much needed.

"I assume he followed me." Ringer's not one to elaborate more than necessary. She makes it clear the latter's not a problem, her tone light and nonchalant as ever. "I don't need you there. Come if you can, but I'll be fine if you're busy. He's known for a few days already. Your presence would be another precaution. That's all."

She's planning to kill him when she has time, having made certain that he has no allegiances in town and no interested parties. Unfortunately, exams and studies have gotten in her way as of late, forcing her to put her hunting party on the back burner and focus on keeping her marks up.

Faolan feels like he might as well keep his eyebrows permanently raised around this one. She reminds him something of himself when he was younger. Was he really so prickly? Has he really changed all that much since? He's not really in a position to say one way or the other, still being himself, after all.

"I said I'd come, didn't I?" he counters. "I'll be there. But unless you're volunteering a change of clothes, I'd rather grab some of my own, if it's all the same to you. My standards may be rather low but I do have them, you know."

She nods. He did say he'd come and she's grateful to have him. After a short and very deliberate train of thought in which she determines the logical benefit of having another hunter around, she adds with her usual flat tone, "You're the only one that stays in the guest room. You can leave some clothes for future convenience."

It's not an invitation for him to live with her, nor anything particularly intimate. With Ringer, it's barely a comment of camaraderie if one doesn't know her well enough to understand her paranoia. But because he does, it should mean something of her trust in him, willing or not.

Faolan can't say that he's not surprised at that invitation, but he tries to keep the surprise off of his face, out of his posture. He knows that if he makes it a thing that she might get self-conscious about it, rescind her offer, rescind her request, and just leave. It may not be an invitation for him to live with her, but it's certainly more of a permanent invitation of the sort than he's gotten in some time.

"Alright," he says, after a moment. "I think I can manage to gather some things up for that. I'm going to remind you that you were the one to offer, the first moment you start to regret it, though," he says, with the quick of a smile.

It's alright that she has done, though. It's not as though she's invited him to live with her. It's not a handout. It's just practical. Perhaps that's why Faolan doesn't get as weird about it as he might do otherwise.

Ringer's grateful for the offhand remark in response, borderline teasing. She doesn't even realize that he already knows her mind as well as he does. It's for the best, given how easily she spooks. Instead, she takes it as a comment on his general personality and silently reaffirms her trust in him to at least be around sometimes. It's not like she's giving him a key.

"I'll toss you out when I regret it," she offers with the same light tone, though her lips only twitch with the hint of amusement. It's as much true as teasing and she knows he'll know it.

Ringer makes a mental note to run by the food shop on her way home, wondering if Faolan ever eats of his own accord. It's her subtle way of seeing to his health, in return for his helping care for her occasional wounds. Before her mind can begin questioning whether this might constitute a friendship or not, she glances back down to her book. "I need to get back to studying. I'll see you tonight."

Faolan raises his hands in front of him in something of a defensive pose. "Alright, alright," he says, although his words are obviously in jest, "I can see when I'm not wanted. I'll see you then."

He moves to stand, pausing for a moment, before asking, a bit more awkwardly than his previous manner had suggested, "Do you...want me to pick anything up? On the way over, I mean. I can, if you like." He shrugs slightly. "Least I can do, all things considered."

He's anticipating her turning down his offer, but the least he can do is ask. How he wound up knowing so many generous people is beyond him, but he certainly isn't complaining.

Ringer's gaze lifts to meet Faolan's when he speaks again, having expected him to leave without a word. After a momentary pause, she reaches into her pocket and slides her wallet out. She pulls a twenty pound note out and holds it out to him while her other hand pockets her wallet again.

"Chinese. Take the money now so I don't have to hide it in your bag later." She expects him to reject her offer, the same as she nearly rejected his. It's the small acquiescences that make their alliance work.

Faolan raises his eyebrows and makes like he wants to protest the offer. He doesn't doubt that she's going to hide the money in his bag if he does, though. He knows her well enough to know that. And he doesn't doubt that arguing the point will get him nowhere, except feeling even more awkward about it than he does. It would be... Illogical, impractical for him to refuse to use it once given him either. But that doesn't mean that he's comfortable with this, and the look on his face says as much.

"Chinese," he repeats, taking the money from her and awkwardly pocketing it. "I'll see what I can do." And with that, he turns on his heel and makes for the exit of the library. He's got things to pack, now. And dinner to buy, apparently. If he thinks about it as just her treat, if he saves the change and tells himself that he'll give her back what he didn't spend, then it's less awkward. ...Right?

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see the world through my own eyes [OPEN]

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sorry for delay!!

you are more than forgiven :')

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timeskip? :'Da