lt_safe_house | Someone left SOMETHING in my bar!

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Someone left SOMETHING in my bar!

Date: April 30, 2003
Status: Public
Setting: The Bar
Summary: Joe finds Ishtar's leftovers

Joe came down to the bar whistling softly to himself. He had slept comparatively well the last night and was therefore in a rather good mood.

His eyebrows went up as he saw that someone had left a box on one of the tables.

Someone had scrawled a message on it in red - lipstick?

Uppers, downers and shake-em-all-abouters.
Help yourselves.
Ishtar.

A glance inside showed him an assortment of things that he doubted were legal. Now what to do with them? He certainly would not leave them where someone could find them. the right thing to do probably would have been notifying the authorities.

Something, however, stopped him. He had the impression that bringing down a drug raid on the manor was not the wisest thing to do.

He moved over to the dust bin to dispose of the box there for the moment.

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A single glass of wine, surely, posed no danger, and it was with that in mind that Gabriel entered the bar just as the barman was moving to the dustbin with a rather large box. He noted the man's legs.

"Would you like some help with that?" He hurried to the man's side, reaching out for the box.

Edited 2010-06-05 10:27 (UTC)

Joe turned to look at the man who had just come in. He fit Duncan's description of Gabriel perfectly.

With a sight smile, he shook his head. "Thanks, but tossing away someone's leftovers - or whatever that was supposed to be - isn't exactly work that requires two pairs of hands."

And the man most probably had not entered the bar to help him tidy up.

"Would you like a drink, though?"

The white robes probably helped, too.

Gabriel smiled back. "A drink would be nice. Leftovers?" He glanced at the box, reading the note. "Ishtar left?"

He had liked the Babylonian goddess; she was warm and friendly, and he had enjoyed their conversation. Besides, he still owed her a drink. Gabriel hoped he would see her again, before the End.

And he had given her a feather... "Do you mind if I check the contents first? I gave her a gift, and," Gabriel hesitated slightly. It could be dangerous in the wrong hands. "I'd just like to see if she brought it with her or left it behind."

Edited 2010-06-05 12:32 (UTC)

"Unless you're in the habit of giving drugs to people, I don't think your present is in there, but feel free to have a look. Just don't smoke, take or otherwise use any of those things in my bar, okay?"

Joe moved over to the counter and behind it, trying to guess what kind of drink the man would like before he asked.

"What may I get you?"

Gabriel couldn't help a small laugh. "I assure you, I do nothing of the sort. Unless you think a feather can be used as a drug." He carefully lifted the lid off the box, and his eyes widened at the array of drugs and... was that lingerie, peeking out from under a hookah? He blushed. At least the feather didn't appear to be in there. Perhaps she was still wearing it at a jaunty angle behind her ear.

"A glass of red wine, please, Joseph. Thank you," he answered distractedly, trying to will away the blush.

Edited 2010-06-05 13:21 (UTC)

Joe selected a bottle of red wine and carefully poured a glass. He decided to risk the assumption that this was, in fact, the one Duncan had spoken of.

"Here you go, Gabriel," he said, putting the glass down on the counter. "And I don't know anything about feathers being used for drugs, but then I'm not in the habit of consuming any, except for some alcohol now and then. Strictly off-duty, though."

"Thank you - wait a minute, I don't think we've met before. I presume Duncan told you of me?" Gabriel took up his glass, letting the wine swirl for a moment before he sipped it. "I'm not sure even Ishtar could use mine as a drug, but then I can't be sure."

"You're right," Joe said. "We haven't. And he did."

He made himself comfortable behind the bar, then he went on: "Are you in the habit of giving away your feathers? Or were you molting or something? Do you molt?" He accompanied that last impertinent question with a grin and hoped for the best.

Gabriel burst out laughing at the last question, carefully setting his glass down so that the wine wouldn't spill. Still smiling, he replied, "No, we don't moult. We're angels, not oversized birds, whatever Loki might say. And as for your other question, Ishtar gave me a gift and I had nothing else on hand to give her in return."

Joe's grin widened a fraction. "Loki calls you oversized birds? He didn't seem that ... rude when I met him. Neither of them did, come to think of it. Was yours the redhead or the blonde one?"

"The blonde one. As far as I recall, he didn't actually call me an oversized bird but did ask if I was going to change into a swan."

Odd, Gabriel thought. He didn't seem at all fazed by the idea of multiple versions of the same god, or of angels and gods coexisting.

"I assume your feathers are white, then," Joe said. "And it's kind of funny - I thought Americans were known for naming their children strange names, but I had to move to England to meet someone called Loki - and then there are two by that name in the same place!

"With hints of light blue," Gabriel answered, sipping his wine. "And I've known a lot of people with names that would seem odd to you, but then I've travelled a lot."

Ah, so he probably only thought that they were humans who shared an odd name. Gabriel wondered what would happen if he saw the blond Loki manipulating fire, or the redheaded one shapeshift.

"So what's your favorite destination?" Joe asked. "My travels have been a little limited."

That was only becaues Duncan had led such a sedentary life the last few years, though, but he could hardly explain that to Gabriel.

"And I believe most swans are more of a kidn of creamy white, rather than bluish."

Gabriel gazed into his glass for a moment, gaze ostensibly fixed on the ruby-red wine. In reality, he was gazing far back in time, at priestesses in ancient temples, pyramids towering before him, the setting sun turning sand dunes a blazing red, and minarets reaching towards the stars.

"The Middle East," he answered softly. "Egypt, Babylon, Arabia... I loved the cultures there. It's a pity they've changed so much. And as for my wings, it depends on the lighting, really. I suppose they might have seemed pure white to Loki." He grinned at the bartender. "Would you like to see them? You can decide for yourself, then."

Edited 2010-06-05 15:49 (UTC)

"I have an idea those places are far less pleasant targets these days," Joe suggested.

For someone who had been raised a catholic, even though he wasn't particularly faithful himself, talking to an angel like this felt somewhat strange. He made an effort to keep his tone light and treat Gabriel just like any other customer.

Still, curiosity battled with a whole lot of other emotions as he contemplated the offer.

"I've been angel's wings before," he finally admitted. "Though those weren't white."

"They are, what with all the wars," Gabriel admitted, biting his lip. "And not all angels' wings are white. Raphael, for instance, has fiery-red wings."

He stood and stepped back from the bar stool slightly, and there was a slight ripping sound as his large, blue-tinted white wings unfurled through his robes, which promptly sealed again.

"I know," Joe said. "About Raphael, I mean. But for him, red seems to fit very well. And those are quite beautiful," he added, indicating Gabriel's wings. "But say - do you always rip your clothes when you unfold them?"

Duncan had tried quite a few things to get past the nightmares that invaded his sleep every time he closed his eyes lately. His latest idea of trying to sleep in the day, in the light, had proven just as futile as any other.

He needed a drink to wash the taste of the dream out of his mouth. Badly.

Thus, he quickly threw on a T-shirt and went downstairs to Joe's bar, looking almost as rumpled and and sleep-deprived as he felt.

As he walked into the bar, he gaped for a moment at the sight of Gabriel, wings out in full splendour, facing down Joe.

"What is this?" he demanded to know. "Are you threatening Joe?"

Raphael? Joe knew Raphael? Gabriel was just about to ask about his acquantaince with the Healer when Duncan entered and interrupted, and he had to bite back his smile.

"Why would I threaten him? He was curious about my wings, that's all."

Apparently the bar was a popular location these days, as Aziraphale had decided to finally leave off the demonic texts in favour of drinking away the headache he'd gotten from them, only to find that Duncan fellow walking in not far ahead of him.

About to turn around - Aziraphale felt awkward around people (who weren't Crowley or Baraq) when drinking, and anyway if the bar was crowded he didn't want to be an inconvenience, and most importantly Duncan seemed to be worried Aziraphale was going to break in two (how sweet, if a bit insulting, the poor dear) - when he heard Duncan demand if Gabriel was threatening Joe.

Oh dear. Not that Gabriel couldn't take care of himself, but Duncan seemed to be a bit on the violent side and it seemed best to help calm everyone down.

He walked over and peered into the bar. Gabriel had assured Duncan he meant no violence, and Aziraphale decided to work off that. He tutted and strode forward. "Gabriel my dear, you oughtn't have your wings out while they're in such a state," he said fondly, "When was the last time you preened them?"

He knew well enough by now that Gabriel wouldn't let him preen them, but still, best to make it sound like wings were normal things as opposed to signs of warfare.

Gabriel blinked, surprised. He hadn't thought they were that bad, but it was hard to reach the roots yourself. And he didn't think he would ever let anyone else touch his wings.

"This morning, actually. Surely they aren't that bad?"

"The parts you can see and reach are just fine," Aziraphale said soothingly, resisting the urge to start preening near the roots, "but near the roots is simply a mess. You'd best put them away before I start plucking out the dead ones I can see from here."

There was a rustle of feathers, and then Gabriel was a normal wingless human again.

He had nothing against Aziraphael, but the Principality could probably guess why he didn't want anyone else touching his wings.

Aziraphale smiled at this and looked to Duncan and Joe. "Hello again, sirs. How fares everything down here?" He let his gaze linger on Joe so the nice young bartender would know he was being addressed specifically. "Anything interesting I could try? Oh, and what manner of payment do you take? The, ah, other bartender was a bit vague on the topic."

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