entranceway | 004. [video/action]

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004. [video/action]

[ Guess who's back, back again?

If the guess was 'the demon known as Meg', well get yourself a cookie out of the cookie jar. She is back, and having herself a fit of nostalgia. Not the good kind, though. When she arrived the first time it was on the very beach she finds herself on again. Before, though, she was fit to be tied, trying to zap out of Wonderland with no luck whatsoever. Now, though...well, it's a completely different story.

She's managed to prop herself up against a nearby sand dune, looking for all the world like she's just lounging around, enjoying the sunshine. Except she's not enjoying any of this, and she's currently looking pretty beat up and bloody - not to mention blonde. If her legs were cooperating, she would probably be doing some form of her previous anger stomp along the beach, but right now she just can't. It's another cherry on the sundae that has now become her life.

Obviously, this is the best time to announce her return, and when she turns on the video she ignores the blood on her face, figuring she'll just clean it up later. In the end, who cares. Without preamble, she starts in: ]

So, who does a girl have to bribe to get a beer around here? [ Look at that, alcohol is her priority as always. The more things change, and yadda yadda yadda, whatever. She just needs a damn drink. ] I think I've earned myself about two or eighteen. Wouldn't say no to some whiskey, either.

[ Hand delivered, of course. Like hell she's going to belly crawl up to the mansion, give her a little credit here. The plan is basically wait until she's healed up enough to walk, then stumble up to the room she's learning to call home and pass out for a month or two. She's tired.

There's a pause, and she looks like she's going to say more. It's like an itch, the need to call Crowley out and challenge him, but she holds back on that. There's no telling if he's still there anymore, and besides - the longer she can go without seeing his face, the better. So, she'll just cut off the video, without so much as a toodles or a good bye. ]

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[ It's amazing what a year of being a frequent victim of torture will do to a girl's complexion. Not to mention the new hair color.

Meg's a little surprised to see him, but in a way she prefers someone who doesn't know her entire background and history, someone who probably won't grill her about the injuries or worse pearl clutch at them. She'll be just fine in a few hours anyway.

She can sit up enough to reach, gripping the bottle tightly before settling back down with a huff. His comment earns a laugh out of her, and she takes a sip. ]

Tell me something I don't know, broody. Just waiting out these injuries so I can skip on up to the mansion and clean myself up nice and cute for the house.

[ She appreciates the bluntness, though. ]

[ He just watches her. She is capable of snarking, and she's a demon, so he figures she'll be just fine - especially with her comment about waiting out the injuries. ]

Hm. I thought this was a new fashion statement...

[ And while she's drinking he takes a few steps over to a nearby palm tree and then just leans against it, crossing his arms as he keeps watching her. ]

Yeah, didn't you hear? Bloody Blonde is in this year. [ And she'll take a long drink of whiskey before talking again. ] Maybe I should go for your look. Blood doesn't stand out so much on red capes, right?

[ Really, she's not bothered by the amount of blood. She grew desensitized to it a long time ago. In a way, she's just defiantly not cleaning it up. Why pretty herself up when she can just chill on the beach, drinking whiskey? ]

I wouldn't know... my cape eats blood...

[ This is a straight-faced lie. ~~It's actually his shoes.~~ ]

[ His answer earns a smirk. Hey, he may be dressed a little on the side of drama and flair but she can appreciate some jokes. ]

Handy. I'll have to invest in one if this whole being beaten up thing becomes the norm.

[ It won't, but damned if she doesn't feel like it. Hard to completely get over that little year of torture and pain, no matter how many times she's dealt with it. Now it just makes her pissed more than anything. ]

I will put in a word with my tailor for you...

[ Being beaten up is really not fun so he feels sympathy for her there. ]

Good news for me. [ She'll just take a look at those shoes of Vincent's, pointing at them with the index finger of the hand holding her bottle. ] Just don't point me in the direction of your shoemaker and we're golden.

[ She will never rock the clown shoes, he can keep that all for himself. ]

[ He glances down at them before shrugging. ]

If you're sure... I am certain a pair could be made in your size.

[ She'll snicker at that one. She may not be super girly in her clothing choices, but it will be a cold day in Hell before she runs around in his get up. ]

I'm good. Wouldn't want to copy your style or anything, seems to be working for you. [ She'll drink a little more before addressing his clothing choices again. ] This typically how folks dress in your hometown, or are you just a special snowflake?

[

What... like this?

... in any case, he considers mentioning his father's unusual clothing choices, but the less said about that the better. So he shrugs a little ]

... the years of wearing the same uniform suit day in and day out got to me, I suppose...

[ Exactly like that.

It's funny, because Meg herself (and most demons and angels for that matter) tend to wear the same thing over and over. Some kind of supernatural being habit, even when the clothes are wrecked they just get more of the same.

So, she gets it. A little. ]

Was it straight up business all the time, then? [ Her eyes narrow as she studies him, trying to imagine him in a suit. ] Nope, can't picture it.

My department rarely got vacations... but my hair was shorter then.. if that helps.

[ Well... usually. He had worn it long when he was a teenager, but it got annoyingly in the way sometimes, and then of course Veld used to like to "accidentally" yank it just to be an ass, so it hadn't lasted more than a few years before he cut it shorter again. But Meg doesn't really need to know his life's story like that. ]

Sounds about right, for a banker.

[ She'll give him a knowing look before drinking again. Even if she's not able to see into the minds of others quite like angels can, she can read people, and this guy? No banker. ]

Can't picture you with short hair. It would ruin that whole one is the loneliest number look you've got going on. Can't have that now.

No... I suppose I can't. ... besides...

[ He uncrosses his arms long enough to fish around in a pocket for a pack of cigarettes; the closets were good for something, after all. ]

short hair wouldn't be as... mysterious, would it?

[ Nor as comfortable and easy to hide behind, but snark serves that purpose just as well. A banker, though... He's fairly certain he would have gone crazy as a banker. ... well, crazier, anyway. ]

Better keep up that mystery, or someone will catch on to your secrets.

[ Says the one who has a whole bushel of secrets herself. Meg gives no fucks if her shady past, or the terrible things she's done, come to light. It's the things that have most recently changed her that she would rather keep to herself, out of everything.

She'll give him an expectant look at the sight of that cigarette, though. Hey, don't hold out on a girl just 'cause she's laying practically dead in the sand, Vincent.

Well, maybe not practically dead. She's healed up enough that she has the feeling back in her legs, so that's progress. ]

[ He sees that expectant look and debates being an ass about it, but after clamping his own cigarette between his lips and lighting it, he tosses the mostly empty pack and a lighter at her. If she lights herself on fire or something, he won't stop her, though he might splash some water on her or something. Maybe. But if she can pick up a bottle, she can probably light her own cigarette.

All the finer things in life, right? ]

[ Meg manages to catch the pack one handed, rolling her eyes as the lighter lands in the sand beside her. Such a gentleman, that Vincent.

Securing her bottle in the sand on her other side, she'll pick up the lighter and light the cigarette, tossing it right back to him without a second glance. She's pretty sure he'll catch it, he seems like the type with quick reflexes.

So there is silence as she smokes, taking another drink from her alcohol. Isn't this cute, just hanging on the beach with her new broody friend. What else could she possibly want? ]

[ To finish healing, maybe, but that will come in time.

In any case, he does catch it and pocket it again before resuming his gloomy, broody pose. He definitely is a quick reflex kinda guy. Maybe it comes with the demon thing. Or maybe that's just the quick healing.

He doesn't say anything, though, content to hang out in silence until he's confident that she'll be able to walk and all. ]

[ It's strange, to just sit in silence, but hey. Maybe it's just what she needed. Sometimes, the talking everything to death thing gets real old real fast.

After a few minutes, she's finished the cigarette and half the bottle. She pushes herself up, feeling slightly light headed. Hey, she's a demon and all but that doesn't mean she isn't affected by the damage to the body.

This is irritating, though.

She manages to get to her feet with little trouble, and she tosses her hair over her shoulder. Right now? She's going to haul her ass to her room and clean herself up. ]

Thanks for the company, broody. Don't know if I could have handled it without you.

[ The funny thing is, she's a little sincere. For the most part, Meg doesn't give a shit if she has company or not, but if she had a choice the tall, silent, broody kind isn't so bad. She throws a suggestive smile in his direction. ]

You think of any way I can pay you back, give me a heads up.

[ Oh, she's not just talking about favors. All that innuendo in her voice could topple buildings. ]

[ He watches her get up, paying close attention to how steady - or not - she is. But she seems fine enough now, even if she still looks like a complete mess. Still, if she's fine to walk back, he's not gonna stop her. He drops his own cigarette butt into the sand and steps on it (clearly he's not too concerned about litter, but hey at least it's mostly paper, so it should decompose in theory), nodding to her thanks. However, her remark on not being able to handle it without him nets a lifted eyebrow of disbelief. And her last comment prompts him to raise the other eyebrow. ]

Is that so? ... I will keep that in mind...

[ Is she serious? He... is not completely sure. The idea is... definitely not unappealing. And it's been a very long time. It'd be a bit of stress relief, a bit of fun in this strange and at time very dull place, and yet it worries him a little as he thinks of the monsters inside him... ]

[ Meg eyes him for a moment before grinning. Her criteria, admittedly, isn't always on the side of picky, but he's interesting. Way interesting, and she wouldn't mind finding out what's going on under that red cape of his. ]

Good. Later, Broody. Don't glare at that ocean too hard, you might hurt its feelings.

[ And without waiting for him to say anything else, she starts on her trek back up to the mansion. She is about ready to get the blood and nasty off her person. ]

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