Faolan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
reticence) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
undergrounds2015-06-18 12:29 pm
reticence) wrote in undergrounds2015-06-18 12:29 pm
Entry tags:
[OPEN] I'VE SEEN TROUBLE ALL MY DAYS
A. WORKING HOURS
It's a slow day. With no clients booked for the afternoon, Faolan's finding himself with an unusual amount of time on his hands. Not one for being idle, he finds himself roaming the streets, rather idly, hands tucked in pockets, looking as nonchalant and unassuming as one can. Which isn't hard, considering the fact that he's a wiry little Irishman, standing 5'6" at full height. Looking a bit like he'd rolled out of bed only hours ago (perhaps he had, in all honesty), with a healthy growth of stubble on his face, curling into his rough brown leather jacket despite the warmth of the sun above him, he doesn't exactly make himself look approachable either for that matter.
It's going to be a long night. A long night after a long night the night before, and as he blinks up at the sky above him -- is that really the sun though? -- he decides that coffee is in order. In desperate order. Stopping in the nearest shop he can find, he orders himself the simplest drink he can and sits huddled against the counter, curling over it and willing the caffeine to do its work and snap his brain into functioning as well.
B. PREP WORK - HILLINGDON
Despite the lack of clients for the afternoon, Faolan's got a job that evening. As people start to get out of work and shuffle home to their normal families and their normal lives, Faolan decides to head over to Hillingdon House and see if he can find anything interesting to use on his hunt that evening. If there's anything that can be counted on, it's the fact that if anyone's at the "Hunter's Retreat", as they call it, then they might have some goods to share. Or to at least show off, if nothing else.
It makes the fact that he has no one to go home to and nothing but the hunt ahead a little more bearable than it otherwise might be.
C. ON THE HUNT
Faolan should have known that the tip had been shady. McCoy was good for some things, but details certainly weren't his strong suit, and Faolan had been less on the ball about his research than he probably should have been. He should have known that getting a lead on the location of the vampire he'd been after for the past week was too good to be true, that he wouldn't be alone, but he hadn't been thinking too hard about it. He'd killed four children, three of them under the age of ten, and Faolan wanted him dead.
So he'd gone in alone and unprepared for not one, but five vampires to greet him. He's a good shot and he'd made every one that he could count, but as his gun clicked empty and two of them still advanced on him -- two of them with their pet werewolf for that matter -- Faolan knew that he had a problem. So he ran, throwing himself down the stairs, through the closest window and off the fire escape down one storey to the alleyway below. He has just enough time to assess that the damage from the fight before, breaking through the glass, and falling from that height isn't too bad that he can't go on, before he hears the sound of the wolf scrabbling after him from above. Making a split second decision, Faolan stows the gun behind a dumpster nearby -- hoping the thing will be in the same spot when he comes back in daylight, since it won't do him any good now -- before he takes off at a run towards the nearest open area he can find. It won't follow him out into the lights of the street and the lingering evening crowds around, will it? God, he hopes not.
D. CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE
What it says on the tin!
It's a slow day. With no clients booked for the afternoon, Faolan's finding himself with an unusual amount of time on his hands. Not one for being idle, he finds himself roaming the streets, rather idly, hands tucked in pockets, looking as nonchalant and unassuming as one can. Which isn't hard, considering the fact that he's a wiry little Irishman, standing 5'6" at full height. Looking a bit like he'd rolled out of bed only hours ago (perhaps he had, in all honesty), with a healthy growth of stubble on his face, curling into his rough brown leather jacket despite the warmth of the sun above him, he doesn't exactly make himself look approachable either for that matter.
It's going to be a long night. A long night after a long night the night before, and as he blinks up at the sky above him -- is that really the sun though? -- he decides that coffee is in order. In desperate order. Stopping in the nearest shop he can find, he orders himself the simplest drink he can and sits huddled against the counter, curling over it and willing the caffeine to do its work and snap his brain into functioning as well.
B. PREP WORK - HILLINGDON
Despite the lack of clients for the afternoon, Faolan's got a job that evening. As people start to get out of work and shuffle home to their normal families and their normal lives, Faolan decides to head over to Hillingdon House and see if he can find anything interesting to use on his hunt that evening. If there's anything that can be counted on, it's the fact that if anyone's at the "Hunter's Retreat", as they call it, then they might have some goods to share. Or to at least show off, if nothing else.
It makes the fact that he has no one to go home to and nothing but the hunt ahead a little more bearable than it otherwise might be.
C. ON THE HUNT
Faolan should have known that the tip had been shady. McCoy was good for some things, but details certainly weren't his strong suit, and Faolan had been less on the ball about his research than he probably should have been. He should have known that getting a lead on the location of the vampire he'd been after for the past week was too good to be true, that he wouldn't be alone, but he hadn't been thinking too hard about it. He'd killed four children, three of them under the age of ten, and Faolan wanted him dead.
So he'd gone in alone and unprepared for not one, but five vampires to greet him. He's a good shot and he'd made every one that he could count, but as his gun clicked empty and two of them still advanced on him -- two of them with their pet werewolf for that matter -- Faolan knew that he had a problem. So he ran, throwing himself down the stairs, through the closest window and off the fire escape down one storey to the alleyway below. He has just enough time to assess that the damage from the fight before, breaking through the glass, and falling from that height isn't too bad that he can't go on, before he hears the sound of the wolf scrabbling after him from above. Making a split second decision, Faolan stows the gun behind a dumpster nearby -- hoping the thing will be in the same spot when he comes back in daylight, since it won't do him any good now -- before he takes off at a run towards the nearest open area he can find. It won't follow him out into the lights of the street and the lingering evening crowds around, will it? God, he hopes not.
D. CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE
What it says on the tin!
no subject
His stomach twisted, tighter, a sudden rush of anxiety rushing over him. With it came a strange, compulsion, something tugging deep in the marrow his his bones, something that just felt as natural as breathing air. The hairs on his arms stood up stiffly, and he found himself reaching for something within him, a well, and untapped pool of potential.
He doesn't have to notice you. You could slip away, fade into the background, you could-
Danil, already pale, whitens a few more shades, corners of his lips pulling tight, the muscles of his jaw standing out, harsh. He didn't need such things, wasn't going to be seduced by them. He could get along just fine. Another slow, breath and the tension faded away and he could look Faolan in the eye again. "Let me buy you a cup then." He tried a smile on, and added on, lying, "Sorry. Tired. Working nightshift and all."
my apologies for the delay, work this week was rough ;;
"Yeah, alright," he says. He looks around for the nearest bin to toss what's left of his coffee in. "You just getting off shift, or going on then?" he asks
Not to worry!
They walk in silence for a long moment or two, when Danil belatedly realizes that maybe a little small talk should be in order. "You've been in the city long?" He asks; it's an innocuous enough question he hopes.
no subject
"What about you?" he asks, turning to the other man. "What kind of job do you have, to be joining the ranks of us lucky few to be going in to work just now?" It's not asking too much either, he figures. Considering he is still wearing his own coffee, after all.
Hah, now this time I was the super slow one. Sorry.
no problem~
"I imagine taking the night shift doesn't hurt either," he comments. At least, that was his experience -- one tended to get paid more than usual the later it pushed you into the night.