lt_safe_house | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Date: 18 May, evening
Location: Bar
Status: Public
Summary: This is all so frustrating... I need a drink

Nothing, nothing, nothing! There were lots of different creatures around here that weren't Terran Barbarians, but none of them had given him the slightest opening yet. Well, he had learned to be patient over the past millennia.

Still, there were times when he needed some distraction from his fruitless search for a way home. The bar was likely to be a good place to go looking for it. He'd see if they had some decent wine.

He entered the bar and quickly looked around. There didn't seem to be any guests yet, but the grey-haired man with the cane, whome he had encountered back when that Raphael had arrived here, was busy behind the counter.

"Wine," he ordered as he walked up to him. "Red, dry." Then he waited to see what, exactly, the man would serve him.

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"Of course," Joe said as he poured another cup for the angel. "As far as I'm concerned, a guy's life is hie own affair. Who'd I be to tell him he can't end it if he really wants to?"

Atlan grinned. "I'm a kind of angel as well," he said, knowing fully well that it was most likely safe to say such things, since no one was going to believe them anyway. "At least I come from up there." He pointed up.

This seemed to interest Raphael. "Heaven?" he asked. "Is that why you're trying to find a way home? Did you... Did you lose your wings...?"

At the same time as the redhead, Murdoc blurted out: "Up there? From the ceiling? The attic?" he chuckled.

Raphael sipped his hot chocolate, mind niggling at something...

"Wait..."
The night he had hacked away his wings... He had been in such pain he hadn't been able to grasp the vital details.

"That's why you were looking for a space ship?" Raphael looked at the man. If he were an angel he'd sense a Presence. And he clearly was not a demon. So up there would mean...

"Atlan... Are you from another world?"

As if he didn't know about that already. Where else would he. who called himself angel be from himself?

As it was, he was quite aware that there were two barbarians in the room. Still, what would they think, other than that he was someone with a vivid imagination trying to take them for fools if he told the truth.

"Of course," he said with a tone that might not have been amiss coming from a classroom teacher praising a particularly slow child for having figured out something basic. His lips quirked into an indication of an amused smile, however. "Why else would I be looking for a space ship?"

Murdoc laughed. "You mean like in Star Trek?" he wanted to know.

Man, but that guy had some imagination. He would probably be fun to be around. Of course, if he was boasting with being an alien, he might just as well hide in pain sight - if he laid claims to his former job now, no one would believe it actually was what he used to do if anything came up later.

"Me, I used to be a hired assassin," he therefore said. "Interesting but exhausting work, I tell you. What's it like, being an alien?"

"A little like that," he said. Luckily he had spent some time after waking with sifting through the excerpts of current popular culture his computer had presented him with, thus reducing the risk of both being found out as a non-native of the plant and making an utter fool of himself.

Raphael watched this exchange with great interest. He swallowed some hot chocolate. "The manor is full of supernatural beings," he said. "Angels, demons... humans as well, of course, but what would bring an... alien all the way to this place?"

He was genuinely interested and it showed in his expression.

"Being marooned on this sad excuse for a planet," Atlan muttered. "Having been so for the past ten millennia. Trust me, I'm tired of it."

I lots of people in this place where claiming to be some kind of supernatural being, then indeed one styling himself an alien would not be very noticeable at all.

Murdoc hid a grin as he listened to the exchange quite attentively.

"I know how you feel," he said miserably. "I can't return to my home either. Even without wings I should be able to Ascend but I can't." He sighed deeply, then finished his hot chocolate. "I'd better go," he said, rising to his feet.

"What do you need to ... 'ascend'?" Atlan wanted to know. was it possible that this being was a fellow exile from somewhere? Possibly from even farther away than Arkon?

Joe listened to the exchange, torn between laughing and shaking his head. "It's always nice to have you here," he told Rapahel, who seemed to be turning to go.

"Ascend... into Heaven," Raphael said quietly. He looked over at Joe. "What time do you close? I'll come back and clean up."

"What do you use for it?" Atlan clarified. Maybe they could at least work together...

"I have no set closing time," Joe told the angel. "I close when my guests leave and I no longer expect anyone else to drop by. Or when I'm so tired I can't stand anymore."

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