Bar -- Caritas -- Pikeman's Circle
        Warmth, light and noise are likely to be the first impressions of
someone entering Caritas. Passing through the old warehouse doors from the
street, it's necessary to take a step down and through metal detectors
before getting to the club proper. The bar runs along the right-hand wall,
glass shelves behind it bearing bottles in various bright colours. The
main space is mostly taken up by tables, placed far enough apart on the
wooden floor to allow some wandering around. The chairs are comfortably
padded, and there are a few booths to the left of the doors for the
benefit of those who would prefer privacy.
        For those who would not, there's always the stage. Curved slightly
and taking up a good quarter of the floor space on its own, the performing
space is only elevated by a couple of feet. Spotlights and footlights
direct plenty of attention to the current incumbent, and microphones are
provided on three different stands for varying heights. Turned to face the
stage is something which at first glance looks like a TV screen, but
coupled with the sound equipment off to one side can only mean one thing.
Karaoke.
        The usual clientele of Caritas is limited to those of...unusual
appearance, and those who don't mind them. Metahumans, demons, whatever
you'd like to call them, this is the place for masks and coats to be cast
aside. There's no need to hide how you look in here - there's bound to be
someone even stranger at the next table.

Early in the evening, and Caritas hasn't been open for very long. The
stage is yet empty, the bartender - a perfectly normal-looking human - is
idling, and the only customers are a couple of people with what look like
long spikes growing our of their elbows and knees. Lorne himself is
fiddling with the sound system, and probably qualifies as the
oddest-looking guy in the place right at the moment. Easy listening plays
quietly in the background. <repose>

Kate comes into the club, bar, tavern...looking around with interest.
Definitely someone who's not been here before.

Celliers is the next of the ducklings in the row, padding quietly behind
his wife. He's got the pokerfaced look of someone who's trying not to be
too obvious about his reluctance to be here. He's out of his workclothes
and into jeans, shirt, and jacket.

Kitty brings up the rear, her rather over-full backpack off her shoulder
and cradled in both arms. "That's a metal detector," she comments toward
Celliers. "No weaponry inside." No idea if he's carrying any, but just in
case. And she waits /behind/ him till he's in - no escapes, either,
apparently.

Oo hey, people. Oo hey! Person he knows! Lorne abandons messing around
with the treble and moves towards the door, beaming. "Kitty! Long time. Or
not, but it always seems like a long time when you're not here, sweetie."
The smile, which does nothing to make him look any less sinister, is
turned on the other two. "Gonna introduce me to your friends?" And,
without waiting, he addresses Kate, who's nearest. "I'm the Host. Charmed.
Love the hat, honey, it suits you."

Kate smiles and nods to the compliment, extending your hand. "I'm Kate
Walsh, a friend of Kitty's? And this is Jack Celliers. Buffy commended
your fine establishment to us, but...I guess we're not quite sure how to
go about things? I guess we look at your karaoke roster first?"

Celliers offers a mute nod by way of greeting - he hasn't even blinked at
Lorne. But Kate's introduction gets a sidelong unreadable glance. Her use
of her maiden name, no doubt. He doesn't extend a hand, instead keeping
them loosely clasped behind his back.

Kitty flashes Lorne a bright grin, apparently not put off in the slightest
by the green skin and horns. "Like the lady said - these are Kate and
Jack. And I think you know Lockheed." She manages to wrestle her backpack
open without dropping it, and a purple snout protrudes promptly with a
melodramatic gasp for air. Kitty works a hand around to scratch under the
associated chin before getting the little dragon free of its cramped
confines and back up to its more customary perch on her shoulders. "Kate,
Jack, this is /indeed/ the Host. Jack's got ... something of a problem."
And that's accompanied by a brief, preemptively apologetic look to Lorne.

"Kate, Jack." Hello handsome. Ahem. Lorne doesn't accept Kate's hand, but
nor does he rudely ignore it, smiling at her in return. "Straight down to
business? I'm assuming that you two are looking to solve whatever it is
that's dropped this iron curtain between you, here?" He's empathic. But
even so, you don't have to be Sherlock Holmes. Lockheed's arrival is
pleasing, evidently, and he reaches to tickle the little dragon's chin.
Ah, Kitty explains a little further. The demon turns that penetrating
scarlet stare on Jack again. "You don't really want to be here, do you,
peachpie?" he says, amiably.

Kate says "Well, we don't have to get to business...I'm sure a drink would
be the best way to start out. It's just that we're not quite sure how
things go around here."

Celliers doesn't hold Lorne's gaze for longer than an instant, instead
glancing idly around him. "I - that's right," he agrees, quietly, feigning
interest in the sound system. "No offense meant," he adds, apologetically.

Lockheed flips a wing at Lorne, pleased, and gives a little trilling sound
that's half-purr and half-coo. Golden eyes lid partway in contentment; for
a moment he looks almost ready to launch himself from Kitty's shoulder,
but she puts a hand up to hold him there. "No getting lost, you," she
mutters under her breath, letting the other three handle the discussion
for right now.

"Things go however you want them to go, crumbcake." Lorne smiles at Kate
once more for good measure, then looks to Jack. "Oh, heck, handsome, none
taken. If you don't want this kind of help I'm sure as heck not gonna
force it on you. You can let him go if you want to, darlin," he adds to
Kitty, re Lockheed.

Kate looks a bit nervously between Jack and Lorne, and then steps in
quietly, actually rising up on her tip-toes to murmur into Jack's ear.

The Englishman looks back at the Host, mildly. Handsome? "Of course not,"
he agrees, gently. "Though - I don't know precisely what sort of help it
involves, you see?" Lockheed getes a faintly bemused glance. If Kitty gets
a miniature dragon, where's the unicorn he's been wanting all this time?
HE looks back at Kate with one brow arched, and shakes his head.

The pudgy little dragonlet is making a determined effort to get loose,
too, squirming with a will and stretching his wings. "Sure?" Kitty asks of
Lorne, that grin starting to recur despite her best attempts to keep a
serious face. "I'm not sure he goes with your suit." That's all the
warning you're getting, Hostie. Jack's question is Lorne's to field, too -
not knowing what he's willing to make public knowledge about /exactly/
what he does, she hasn't been telling.

Humming quietly to himself in order to avoid overhearing the whisper,
Lorne watches Lockheed for a moment until Jack speaks. "Well, you sing, or
Kate does, and I'll try and put you on your path. Show you the right
course of action. I have a psychic ability related to music," he adds, in
case Buffy didn't point that out. "But like I say, it's all up to you,
sweetpea." Aw, dragon. "Let him come over. If his claws tear my jacket,
though, we might have to reconsider that whole friends thing." Scarlet
eyes cast Lockheed a sharp glance. This means you.

Kate nods to Jack, and settles back upon her feet, standing off to one
side. It's Jack's query that is most important, of course.

Slim, elegant, standing around six three in his expensive yet oh-so-casual
loafers. This is a fellow who obviously cares for his appearance, and his
appearance is an odd one to many eyes. His skin is a light, lizard-green,
though scaling is barely visible at all. A pair of short devil-horns in
dark red push back from his forehead, the tips lost in his hair, which is
short and thick, gold-frosted brown. His face is not entirely human in
shape either, nose and chin a little too prominent. His eyes are the real
kicker, though - bright, startling scarlet.

Currently, he's wearing a suit of an equally startling shade of deep blue
with a shirt to match. The suspenders are in a patterned red and white,
and in lieu of a tie he wears a light green Ascot which ought to clash
nastily with the shade of his skin, but somehow doesn't.

"I don't mean to pry," Jack continues, after worrying at his lip a moment,
sounding almost meek, "But how does it work exactly? I mean, can you
describe it? I still don't understand." There's no warning from his extra
sense, and so many of his friends seem to trust the Host - but he's still
balking.

Kitty lifts her hand and lets the dragon take wing: bat-wings, not so much
for speed but handy for maneuvering. Lockheed settles himself neatly on
Lorne's shoulder, not a particularly heavy weight, and ... /very/ careful
of those claws, really. Tail's good for balance, and so's keeping wings
extended a bit. He can get away without sinking claws in. At all. See? Big
innocent lambent-yellow eyes. Add those to Lorne's green skin and red eyes
and horns, the deep-blue suit, and the dragon's own scales in their
improbable shade of lavender, and ... well, here's hoping none of the
current patrons are particularly susceptible to retinal burns. "If a
demonstration would help, let me know, huh?" Kitty offers, a little
tentative. She'd planned to wait till she was through with one or two
things - but she almost is, anyway.

How does it work? Lorne blinks, and ponders that, reaching a hand up to
balance Lockheed. There's a good dragon. "Maybe, kitten," he tells Kitty,
because she seems to find that nickname so amusing. Looking to Jack again,
the demon says carefully, "When you sing, you open your soul. And I can
see it. I'm afraid I don't have a neurological basis for it or anything
like that, darlin."

Kate looks between the two...well, masculine beings. "Perhaps I could try
first, as a test? And then you decide if you'd like to try it, Jack?"

It's galling to think that he'd send his wife into something unknown
before him - but the idea of someone being able to see his soul stops him
cold. "Oh," he replies, voice very quiet, but one can nearly see that
vague unwillingness settle into more concrete refusal. "If you would like
to, I shall hardly try and stop you," he notes, to Kate. "But it's not
really necessary."

The nickname in question does its usual job of causing Kitty to try to
revert to being about fourteen for a second - she ducks her head with
another grin and half-blush, which lasts just about till Jack speaks. Then
she straightens again, and eyebrows lift. Now /there's/ something
interesting, apparently.

Hrm. Lorne raises his free hand, ducking his head slightly so it doesn't
look quite so commanding. "Not to be difficult or anything, sweetlings.
But I can't read somebody in front of somebody else. Everything I see is
purely confidential." Saying this, he casts an unamused glance at Kitty,
before looking to the others again. Most specifically, he looks at Jack,
honeyed voice lowering a little. "There's nothing to be afraid of. Nothing
goes beyond me and thee, cutie. I'm not here to pass some kind of
judgement on you. I'm here to help."

Kate has already picked up a list of songs that the machine is able to
play, flipping through it with a thoughtful expression on her face. "I'm
curious," she says. "And sometimes, it's easier to make a decision based
on informed results." She smiles as she looks between the others, and then
writes down the catalogue number of her song choice, walking over to hand
it to the person MC'ing the stage and karaoke machine.

Now Jack blushes a little, color a bright contrast against his former
pallor. "Please don't think I meant to cast any aspersions on your
discretion," he asks the Host, gently. "Your help's been suggested by
those whose judgement I esteem very highly. And you're very kind to offer,
really." He finally loosens his hands, though he promptly starts fidgeting
with them. But then Kate speaks, and he looks at her with obvious
surprise, before his color deepens with embarassment. "As you deem best,
dear,"

Unamused glance? Kitty tips her head a little, mildly perplexed - which is
a change from the nod she was starting to give, to Lorne's 'not in front
of somebody else' statement. Something she's missing here. Kate and Jack
aren't diminishing her confusion any, either.

Lockheed, meantime, has flipped his wings closer to his back again and
lifted his head, apparently intent on backing up Lorne through body
language alone. At least the dragon's got a handle on all he cares to know
about what's going on.

...huh. Lorne turns, carefully so as not to dislodge Lockheed, and gives
Kate a narrow-eyed look that might well be a frown. "I said no,
sweetheart," he says, mildly. "If Jack needs help, then it's Jack who
needs to sing. And that's up to him." Said fellow gets another smile. It's
okay.

Kate pauses, and turns away. "I'm sorry," she says apologetically. Her
eyes flicker to Jack, and she walks back to stand almost to the edge and
behind Jack. "I'll not bother, then."

Now he's on the spot - and making things worse again, so far as he can
see. "I think," he suggests, "That Kate might be in as much need of help
as I am. I don't believe that I'd be able to sing tonight, anyway,"
Certainly not while stone cold sober. He looks utterly sheepish - this is
supposed to be for his benefit, and he's still heeldragging like an
obstinate toddler. He offers Lorne a wan flicker of a smile, about as
convincing as a plastic rose.

And Lockheed is /still/ careful not to get claws hooked in the jacket.
Apparently he understood either the threat or the glare just fine. Kitty
darts Lorne another apologetic look of her own, to match the one from
earlier. It doesn't /take/ being an empath to read 'Stubborn friends.
Sorry.'

There is a moment's pause. Lorne considers, then reaches up to gently lift
Lockheed from his shoulder. "Just for a second, little guy," he tells the
dragon, apologetically, offering him back to Kitty. Then the demon looks
to Jack and says pleasantly, "Could I speak to you alone for just a moment
or two, muffin?"

Kate looks down at the floor, her face turning red. She's also clearly
biting her lip and not saying anything for a long moment until she
whispers, "Jack, I think I'm not in as bad a situation as you. But I can't
force you to do anything."

Jack's watching Kate with an expression of utter, transparent guilt.
Someone pull a stopwatch to see how long it takes him to dissolve into a
puddle of apologies. But at Lorne's question, he snaps back to blink at
the Host. "Certainly, if you like," he agrees. "Lead the way.

Kitty gathers up the dragon - no, she's not letting /him/ loose
unsupervised in Caritas, thank you - and resettles him. "There. Gotcha."
And she steps over by Kate, to keep the other woman company. Lorne did say
/alone/.

Moving off a little distance, to be just out of earshot of the girls,
considering the background music, Lorne turns to face Jack and addresses
him gently. "Honey, I don't know what it is that you're so guilty about
and she's so angry about. But I do know that it's poking cavernous holes
in any chance you two have of making this relationship work. If you don't
feel that you can use my help, I'm begging you, get *some* kind of help.
Or just talk to each other. Because this thing will eat you both alive
soon enough."

Kate turns to Kitty once Lorne and Jack are out of earshot and says, "Do
you think they have anything reasonably strong, here? I'm in desperate
need of a drink. Right now."

"You're quite right," Jack agrees, in his most colorless voice, as he
thrusts his hands into his pockets. Rude, yes, but it'll keep him from
that incessant fidgeting. "And we will, I'm sure." Because he's obviously
going to get the verbal beating of his life, once he leaves here, and Kate
has the abillity to cow him into nearly anything. He's looking firmly at
the toes of his boots.

"Bar's this way," Kitty assures Kate, taking her by the arm and guiding
further away from the pair of men. Alcohol for the pilot - and Kitty's
trying desperately to ignore the beseeching looks from the little dragon
on her shoulder, too. For him? Huh? Please?

Hm. Lorne glances off at Kate, then looks back to Jack and says, very
quietly, "And just to throw in my own personal two cents? I think the two
of you could benefit from some time apart. Don't be here because she's
guilt-tripped you into it. Be here because you *want* to be here. Because
*you* want to try. Am I making sense to you, sweetie?"

Kate sighs and shakes her head as she settles down on a stool next to
Kitty. "You know, I don't understand it. I just don't understand it."

Celliers nods, glumly. "She didn't, truly. And we are apart, at the
moment. It was - not working out, recently." Yet another point towards his
'Master of Euphemism' badge. "You are making perfect sense," he affirms,
following the Host's look to his wife. "And you might well be able to
help. I'm just not sure I'm in any condition to accept that help."

"'You don't always have to understand,'" Kitty quotes absently Kateward.
"He's trying. That's at least something, I guess. If we can figure out
/anything/, the nature of what's going on with him, anything... it's a
start." She shrugs. "If /he/ can figure out anything, that's /more/ than a
start. What're you drinking?" The patrons with the long spikes don't even
get a second glance.

"Well, there's the rub, mon cher." Lorne tilts his head, gazing at Jack.
All-but gazing *through* Jack. "There are very few people I can't help at
all. But I can't help anyone if they won't accept it. Just - consider.
Think about what you might want to do." He smiles. "You're welcome here
any time, even if just to sit. This is a sanctuary."

Kate says "I don't know. Scotch, I think. I suppose I ought to have it
with soda."

Celliers looks away from Kate, to meet Lorne's gaze candidly and actually
hold it this time, though it takes an effort of will. "Thank you," he
murmurs. "I shall certainly do so."

Kitty quirks eyebrows at Kate, even as Lockheed - despite having a snout
rather than a face - manages a more hopeful look. "Don't /ever/ let Pete
hear you say something like that last," she warns the woman cheerfully.
"Just so you know."

"Good." Lorne brightens, and inclines his head to indicate the ladies.
"Should we rejoin them, or shall we stay over here and pretend to be
discussing something terribly manly, like football or cars?"

Kate slumps onto the bar, her head pillowed on her crossed arms. "You
know, I don't know what to do. I've been trying everything that's been
suggested. I've /tried/ to be more upbeat. I've tried to do the little
things. At least at the beginning, Jack seemed to want to look for
solutions, things that might help. Anything...and here we are, and
nothing. Nothing! Kitty, what can I do? I don't want to be a shrew. But if
I just sit and wait for him to do anything, it looks like I might as well
wait for the Doomsday!"

Football is considered manly, as are cars. Jack files this away. "Ah. I
fear I don't know much about either," he admits. "Though I have a fairly
decent motorcycle. But I suppose we should rejoin them." Another glance at
Kate. Cut the lack of enthusiasm with a knife.

Kitty puts her hand on Kate's shoulder. "Hey. Courage. Remember? We're
looking for the tower. That might get us other answers, if we can find
that one." 'We,' not 'just you,' not 'just Jack' - nice and inclusive.

Lightly, Lorne taps Jack's chest with the back of his hand in a gesture
that would, really, put to rest any lingering doubts about which side he
plays for. "Oh, honey, let's not. Tell me something, did you get warned
about the way I look before you got here? Because you took it very well,
and there was hardly any panic involved at all." Grin.

Kate draws in a deep breath. "I know, I'm responding to all this horribly,
I am. I talked with Liam, that helped for a bit. I just feel so
/helpless/. Demons, cultists, Yakuza...no problem. But hit me in the
heart, and I don't know where to start."

For most, anyhow. Jack really is oblivious. Enough so that he blinks
quizzically at the Host for a long moment. "You don't have wings," he
explains. "At last, I don't see any, if you do. Nor do you look like a
jellyfish. And from what I understand, it's those who are supposed to be
angels who are the source of trouble, at the moment. So - anything else is
really just window-dressing. I suppose I've been here long enough that I'm
jaded."

Demons had better not be a problem around /this/ place. Ahem. Kitty's hand
stays on Kate's shoulder as she orders for the other woman - just Coke for
her, and the poor dragon is /not/ getting alcohol despite his most doleful
eyes. Well, not right now, anyway. "Yeah. I understand, Kate, believe me I
do. But you're not helpless, at all. if you can manage to be patient, and
not panic..."

"I'd be careful about tarring all angels with the same brush there,
honey," Lorne says, and his tone is mild while his eyes are anything but.
Just watch what you say about my...uh. Friend. "Thanks, in any case, and I
could only wish the entire city were jaded." Bastards.

Kate looks over in the direction of Jack and Lorne. "Do you think that
Jack might change his mind? I think we don't have many other options to
follow up."

Celliers bobs his head, all innocent agreement, realizing he's made a faux
pas. "Oh, of course. I've met some that were more than presentable. I owe
my life to one, in fact." He brushes non-existent lint from the arm of his
jacket, blushing again. "But I'd been warned that some of the local ones
were rather destructive...." he trails off.

"He might. He might not. The important thing was letting him know the
option's /there/." Kitty straightens up with a little indignant noise from
Lockheed, and rubs at her closed eyes with her fingertips. "We've got a
couple. Trying to identify stuff from the dreams. Pete's sister is
probably going to be here later this month; she might be more helpful than
John. And I half suspect there's something else going on, that we're not
seeing yet, that might help."

"Not half as destructive as some of the local humans, cutiepie." Lorne
says that without much of an edge to it, though, the smile returning.
"Just be careful in general."

Celliers ducks his head, conceding the point. "Unfortunately true. We'd
need legions of the heavenly host to equal the damage they've done," he
murmurs, tone going a bit dry as he wipes a stray lock of hair out of his
eyes. "And I will be careful." Though it goes without saying that Jack's
definition of 'careful' doesn't match up very well with most others.

Kate says "Do you think that hypnosis might work again? REM investigation?
I guess if Jack's leery about the supernatural routes, I wonder if those
would be better. I just don't know."

Kitty glances aside at Kate. "Do you know /any/ scientists you'd trust to
get into this? Or hypnotists, for that matter?" It's not a no; this is
Beacon Harbor, it's a valid question.

"I hope you are." Lorne adds gently to Jack, "And - darlin, whatever you
do, consider my help as an alternative to doing anything drastic. I'm not
implying anything. Just - making a comment. I'm pretty sure I can help
you."