Loft Apartment -- Chinatown This room has an impression of space given more by the lack of furniture than any real claim to size. The comfortable scents of old wood, paint and drying herbs are in the air. A broad window lets in the light, with thick green curtains that can be easily pulled across to block out the world. Several plant boxes are visible on the sill outside. One corner of the room holds an easel and paints, while another has a dresser and a slightly-faded futon bed. The kitchen appliances are nearly antiques, as are the old, rough-hewn table and chairs. Bundles of herbs hang from the walls, along with several watercolours of peaceful wildlife scenes. Between two doors on the far wall is an old stone fireplace, complete with small stack of wood, and comfortable if tattered armchair. Across the room from the fireplace, a sturdy wooden railing prevents anyone from falling down the stairs which come up from the street. The entire room has a warm and welcoming aura. ****************************************************************************** Today's Weather: The air is moist and wet, as a rain stings the ground as it falls. The sun is entirely obscurred by the clouds overhead, with the sky remaining a dull grey behind them. A small breeze wisps down the streets, forming a thin, crispy layer of ice on the ground. ****************************************************************************** Early evening, and freezing rain. Liam's absolute favourite weather in the entire world. Which is to say that he just got in, taking a break from the world outside in order to at least warm up for a few minutes. He'll go back out later, most like. Because he's like that. His coat is spread in front of the fire and he's running a towel through his hair; knocks at the door below are greeted with a half-irritable, "Aye?" Only half. He might be needed. "So rumor has it," Kitty's voice calls from the far side of the door, appropriately muffled, "that there's somebody living here who appreciates a drink now and then. But rumor /has/ known to be wrong, so I /could/ just take this and try next door..." "... Kitty?" That gets a pause. He's been doing his habitual flyby of the Pryde/Wisdom residence, but he hasn't stopped by in a little while, and there's a reason for that. Liam hesitates. But, "Come in, lass, it's bloody miserable out there." He drapes the towel over his shoulders, grateful for the fact that he won't need to put the wet coat on again just yet. What with Kitty sort of knowing about the wings. And he won't need to go down to get the door, either. Kitty phases in, her backpack already cradled in an arm and being unzipped when she reaches the top of the stairs. And she blinks at Liam for a moment, there. "Don't take this the wrong way," she says, "but wow, do you ever look like a drowned rat." Not that she doesn't, ahem. "Ta ever so much. Somethin' about a pot an' a kettle, isn't there?" Liam frowns slightly, blue eyes concerned. Wouldn't want anyone catching cold. Not that it stops /him/ from going out, double standard moving right along. "Sit yourself down by the fire, you must be freezin'. I'll fetch you a towel. What brings you out in this?" "No, I'm mostly good - Pete's coat," and she's /still/ stealing it - sooner or later she needs to get herself a new one, "is pretty darned waterproof. But I won't object to the chance to melt my hair again." Kitty's tone's amused, but she /does/ move toward the fireplace - extracting a silver thermos from her backpack and offering it toward Liam instead. "Well, proximate cause is wanting to find out whether you liked this at all. Not to mention make sure you hadn't turned into an icicle." Liam takes the thermos with a quirked eyebrow, subtly careful not to touch Kitty as he does so. "Not yet. An' what's this, then?" He'll go set it on the table before he ducks into the washroom for a moment, returning with another towel. This one to be tossed amiably in Kitty's direction. "Hot chocolate. And whiskey. And some other stuff." Kitty accepts the towel at least to drape around her shoulders and catch meltwater from her hair - the curls practically /collect/ ice, long as they are. "Thanks. Have you been okay?" She doesn't add 'And Lorne?', for once: clearly she's been to see the Host recently. Either that, or this is really a clever Kitty-bot. "Aye, well enough. Bloody cold an' waitin' for spring, but that's nothing' new." He looks alright, for Liam. A little tired, a lot wet, but not bad. The angel moves into the kitchen long enough to retrieve two mugs, limping his way back to the table. Hot chocolate with whiskey. Always good. Other stuff? A bit bemused, but he trusts Kitty, so drinks are poured before Liam wanders over, handing one down. "An' yourself? Pete?" "Trying to get around to getting things done again." Okay, that's mildly convoluted syntax. Kitty takes the mug with a quick grin and settles down by the fire: cross-legged, as usual. "I kind of stalled out for a little while after what happened at the beginning of the month, I guess. But we helped out with a big accident on the docks a couple days back, and Pete's been planning something - I'm not sure exactly what. So things are starting to get back to normal." More or less. She's paying an unusual amount of attention to her drink rather than to the little angel, though. There /is/ something else in there besides hot chocolate and whiskey, but it's not by any means unusual or unpleasant; just adds a richer, smoother quality to the taste. Almost toffee-like. There are three large pillows stacked against the wall by the fire, if Kitty would prefer to snag one of those. Liam takes the chair, since she isn't going to, and settles back as he takes an experimental sip of his drink. Pause. "That's /nice/," he comments. "Ah.. the drink I mean, not the accident. Hope no one were hurt?" "Several injuries, only two really bad. They're both in stable condition now, though. I've been keeping an eye on 'em." That last is half reassurance and half admission; if the hospital hadn't been able to help, Liam might well have been getting a knock for a different reason. And then Kitty gives a pleased, half-embarrassed little grin. "Thanks, by the way." No pillows for her, though. Some people just find floors comfortable. Freaks that they are. "How've your rounds been? Besides cold?" "When you take out cold, not sure what's left to say." Liam makes a face. "Just got in from some, be goin' out again later. This time of year, the shelters're full. An' there're always the blokes what're too proud for shelters anyway. Them as are left in the street are bloody miserable." Slight sigh. "Bring 'em all in here if I could." He never brings them home. Even the ones that show up at his door are treated and gently ushered out again. There's the matter of the wings. And the matter of need. Space to himself, a little rest from the pull. He will grant himself that much, for survival. Kitty managed to get her eyes off of her cup and up to the angel sometime in there, watching for a few moments. Quiet. Then she takes a careful breath and asks, "Could you use any help? I mean - I'm not a whole lot of use with some of the stuff you do. But if nothing else, I can carry things, and we've got a little spare money to /get/ things to carry with." It is possible that he is not entirely surprised at the request, though Liam raises his free hand to scratch behind his ear. Watching Kitty, his own gaze calm and dark. The angel smiles slightly. "/They/ could use a little help, aye, sure. Though I'd feel obliged to remind you, the last time you came along we were attacked. Ah... which isn't common. Really." Kitty points out reasonably, "This is Beacon Harbor. Getting attacked isn't exactly /rare/, either." Besides. No more angels of fear. No, really. She's going to believe in that firmly, thank you. "You make a good point." Liam takes a sip of his hot chocolate, which is really very good. "Ah... I may need some sort of signed promise from Pete, though, that if anythin' happens in my presence he won't immediately kill me." Dry, that. "Think we've used our quota for the year." Kitty stifles a laugh. "I feel like a little kid getting permission slips to go on a school field trip. Okay, I'll talk to him about it." She's so much less concerned than Liam. Then again, that's not necessarily a /good/ thing. "You, lass, can do whatever you like. It's permission for /me/ I'm worryin' about." Liam is joking, really, but he /is/ concerned -- not because of Pete, but because of Kitty, and because something is subtly wrong with Kitty and he's aware of it. But he continues, affably, "Don't keep much of a schedule, really, but I do go out most nights. Just wander around, see what I can find an' where I'm needed. Mostly Chinatown an' down Southland." "Chinatown's got the clinic, too." Subtly wrong, yes, but now she's aware of it too, and she's struggling toward coping with it. Kitty lets her eyes go half-unfocused as she thinks. "I can't go out near as often, there's too much other stuff Pete and I handle, but sometimes, at least - and it doesn't actually have to be together, does it? As long as it gets /done/ - though I've got to admit, when the weather's really bad, I'd kind of like to know you're not out in it by yourself." Angel icicles are /still/ an unpleasant image. "Nah," Liam is quick to amend, "I didn't mean I were expectin'... look, anytime you like is fine, is all I'm sayin'. Glad for the company. An' if you're wantin' to go about on your own, well, be careful of it, but you know that." He looks wry. "An' I get enough lecturin' about the weather from a certain green bloke of our acquaintance." "Yeah, well, threatening to go out on my own is at least a good way to get Pete not to worry about me keeping you company, isn't it?" Kitty glances up at Liam, flashing him a wink and a quick grin. "I swear he chain-smokes every time I'm down there... and gee. I /wonder/ why 'a certain green bloke' might lecture you about the weather. Aside from his half freezing every time he puts his nose outside the door." "Aye, well, /that's/ all the more reason for him to stay inside, but will he listen to me?" Liam sounds vaguely aggrieved, and then vaguely amused. He rolls his eyes at the ceiling. "Don't say it. Any of it." He's going to finish his hot chocolate now. "An' I'd lecture about Pete's smokin', but since he's not here it's a bit lost. Might be you should just mention to him what Constantine were coughin' up that one time." "All I'm going to say is: at least it makes him layer up on the sweaters." Vaguely amused herself. And then it's Kitty's turn to regard the ceiling. "I /did/. He went kinda pale, but he didn't actually stop. He says he's going to, though. Eventually." Code word for 'sometime conveniently far enough in the future that you'll forget, ahahaha.' "Oh, aye, I'm sure." Liam believes that promise about as much as Kitty does. And he makes a face, because nothing annoys him so much as his friends deliberately doing injury to themselves. He's only going to have to heal it, again and again, every time he touches Pete. Oh well. He leans down to set his mug on the floor, next to the drying coat. "... when we get somewhere permanent," Kitty says more quietly, "I think he'll quit. But right now, he needs it. And it could be a lot worse." She doesn't set her own down; it gives her something to fidget with. "Could be a lot worse," acknowledges Liam. "Only... where's permanent? Nothin' ever is, an' I'm thinkin' Beacon Harbor even less than most places." Kitty gives him an amused, wry expression. "Yeah, well. That's the problem. I've been researching the Infinity Effect for a while now, trying to figure out a way to make it /less/ non-permanent, but no dice. At least I'm getting caught up on the research. Slowly." "Aye?" Liam's interested. An eyebrow raises. "Didn't realize you were an expert. What've you found out? Know next to nothin' about it myself, only there's a big hole what you can toss pebbles down." "That puts you only about two steps behind the experts," Kitty assures Liam: just a bit of wry humor. "About all we really know for sure is, we don't know what we're talking about, we don't know how to affect it, and we don't know how to predict it. Oh, and it seems to select for Earth-type worlds, but we don't know /why/. Obnoxious as heck. I think the pebble-tossing is more useful."