It's bitterly cold, it's snowing, and the sun gleams brightly in Liam's
hair as he stands on Kitty's doorstep. What with the daylight, he had to
walk it, and he's shivering a bit, leaning on the cane. Cold and shadowed,
he knocks.

Despite it being morning, the response is quick - actually, the response
is quicker than it is at night. The door's opened: Kitty, in jeans and a
blue T-shirt with a golden apple, Pete's long and somewhat bettered black
coat worn over that with sleeves rolled up and hem trailing. "Liam! Come
on in. Coffee's hot, d'you want some?" She's far, far too cheerful for
this hour, let alone this weather.

Liam is not cheerful; he's a little low on energy and sleep both, after
spending the night soothing a frantic demon, but he manages a faint smile
for Kitty. "Nah, can't stay, just need a quick word."

"So come in while you're having it, and you can at least warm up, right?"
Door's held open for him, closed after him if he does come in; Kitty's
sobering without losing any of that alertness. Morning people are scary.
"What's up?"

... it looks warm in there. OK. Liam limps his way inside, brushing snow
from his shoulders. "Our black-winged friends, them as aren't me? Paid a
visit to Lorne last night." He adds, quickly, "He's alright."

It /is/ warm in there, comparatively. Kitty's laptop is running meekly;
there's half a cup of coffee left by it. She pays both of these things no
attention whatsoever - though the instant of horror is somewhat
forestalled by Liam's addition. Somewhat. "Fuck," she says intelligently.
"Fuck, fuck, /fuck/."

So much for not swearing in front of the angel. Kitty's words echo Liam's
sentiments exactly, and he looks grim as he swipes half-gloved fingers
through his hair. "Aye," he replies, evenly. "That about covers it. Put a
bloody scare into him, they did. Ruddy bastards taunted him a while, then
sang at him." Pause. "All he saw were blood, an' everyone dyin'."

Kitty tries, but there are limits. And at least she varies it a little.
"Shit." She mirrors his gesture, pushing curls back and tugging at them.
"Yeah. I've seen it. But I'm betting /they/ didn't bother to show him the
ways through it. So, basically, that 'he's alright' means physically,
huh."

"Aye. You could say that." Liam's hand moves to the back of his neck, and
he rubs it there, habitual gesture. His teeth gnaw briefly at his lower
lip. "Think he'll be alright, he were a lot better this mornin'. Not sure
if he'll be showin' up at dinner tomorrow or not." He pauses. "Ah.. he
asked me to come by because he didn't want to talk about it, himself."

"Yeah, I bet he didn't." Kitty's eyes are shadowed just for a moment,
before she shakes it away. "Should I take that as meaning I shouldn't come
look in on him yet, either? This -" This time, she manages to hold back
the cussing, turning it into a frustrated breath. "I was trying to keep
that off of him. He didn't need it."

"Ah... if you give it a day or two, I imagine he'd be more appreciative.
An' I'm tryin' to get him to come tomorrow. Where, I might add? We're not
goin' to bloody discuss any of this." Liam's lips twist slightly. "Because
I would like one night that's /not/ full of angst, blood an' death, an'
I'm sure you can agree."

Kitty assures him dryly, "I'm /all/ for that, trust me. Actually, I'd like
a whole lot of them. In a row. Sequential. Going on for a long, long time.
One's a start, right?" He ought to see Pete's opinion of the whole
situation. Except that can't really be expressed properly without time, a
great deal of alcohol, and room to stamp around and gesticulate and rant.
Still, it's sort of cathartic to listen to.

"That'd be bloody nice, wouldn't it?" Liam's response, equally dry. He
drops his hand from his neck, letting it fall limply to his side. Kess'
tailoring is much better than on his last coat, fingers no longer lost
within overlarge sleeves. "Anyway.. he doesn't know where they went,
after, an' I'm afraid I haven't much of use to offer. Only thought you
should know."

Which might be a disadvantage in the winter, except that the pockets are
probably very warm. "Thanks," Kitty answers, quieter. Eyes intent. "For
the warning. I was hoping they'd take longer to get out. Guess not. I'll
start getting the word out for people to be careful."

The pockets and lining are quite warm, indeed. Liam gazes back at Kitty,
his own navy gaze tired, and worried, but undaunted. "You take care, lass,
alright?"

"Will do." Kitty flashes, perhaps unexpectedly, a sudden grin. "I'll start
with talking to Kess and seeing how she's doing with the bloody Kevlar.
Trust me - I don't plan on taking /any/ chances I don't have to. You
better not be, either."

Of course not. Because when you're Liam, wandering the bad areas of town
alone, late at night, counts as 'have to'. His answering smile is just a
touch wry. "Careful as I always am. Ta for the warmth, then, an' I'll see
you tomorrow. Have you convinced Wisdom yet that he can live without meat
for a night?"

... frequently works that way, admittedly, for Kitty too. But there are,
as always, contingency plans. "Nope," she admits, "but I've convinced him
he's not getting a choice." Ah, the lack of repentance there. "We'll see
you then. And, hopefully, Lorne too." And there will be no horror, and no
feathers that aren't Liam's, and no balloons, and no blood. None. Thus has
it been decreed.