Fried food can kill me. A mugger can kill me. You're not so special down here.

[trumpeted]

[ n a m e ; ]	Gabriel (formerly the archangel)
[ c a n o n ; ]	The Prophecy films
[ g a m e ; ]	Bein' weird @ teleios

{ ACTION / NETWORK / VOICE / WHATEVER WELCOME }

Comments

[trumpeted]

Oh, you know. From time to time.

[He's got a home. Not much of a home, but really, he doesn't care either way. It's an address, and those are useful to have as a human being, apparently. The truth is as much as he's adjusted no place on Earth is anything but a disappointing downgrade from his own digs, so he doesn't really bother about it.

Besides, he found-- back at first, when he was at his most desperate and destitute-- that most people don't notice people like him. And that comes in handy. And the people that do, whether their acts are kindness or cruelty, that's worth noticing.

There's a flicker that might be a little smile.]

How about you, Charlie?

[irlhero]

Neat-o.

[Small talk, engage!]

This'd be my first time here... you could say I don't stick around anywhere long enough to become a regular. But hey, I see my reputation precedes me! If anyone told you anything bad about me, they were totally exaggerating.

[trumpeted]

You look like a Charlie, that's all.

[He shrugs. He'd dig up actual secrets if he was trying to creep her out, but he's not, here's just here for something to do and something to snack on.]

You'll like the girl three tables up, but, she's got a boyfriend. Thought you should know.

[Helpful non-angel is helpful?]

[irlhero]

Legit. You look like a Harold.

[He's probably not a Harold. Charlie doesn't usually get to name people; she's not that good at it. She also sneaks a peek at the girl three tables up.]

Are you a mind-reader or do I just look like a lesbian named Charlie?

[trumpeted]

A Harold, really? I don't think... I look like a Harold.

[It's not entirely without merit. War-chief. Leader of an army. She could have picked a worse wrong name, but that doesn't make it less wrong.

It's all right. He's really not worried about being recognized these days, you know.]

When you're around long enough... you pick stuff up. [He leans forward a little.] We met before. You don't remember, before you were born.

[And he shrugs, he leans back, like he didn't just say something crazy.]

I figured why let her break your heart, you know? With those baby blue eyes. Windows to the soul, they say.

[irlhero]

Then gimme a name to work with or I'm sticking with Harold.

[Hey, wow. She leans back as well, not digging the crazy. More often than not, this kind of crazy means supernatural shenanigans. Charlie comes to places like this to avoid supernatural shenanigans.]

Okay, what are you? Demon? Angel? Leviathan? [If she's totally wrong, she'll just sound as crazy as him (and Leviathan is probably way off base, but those things have a way of smelling out people that freaks her out).] And, bee-tee-dubs, I'm the one who does the heartbreaking.

[trumpeted]

Is that a dig at my weight? [Leviathan, really, where do you crazy kids come up with this kinda thing? He doesnt look offended, just amused in that faint and eccentric way he has.] Don't worry. Salted sea-beast isn't on the menu tonight, you got some time. [a beat. Actually, the end of days might not be so distant.] Maybe.

[He thrusts a hand across the table to shake, clad in gloves that have seen better days, the fingers cut off.] Gabriel. [When he says it, he puts a faint and odd emphasis on the el.]

[irlhero]

No, they're these souped-up evil things that... probably don't exist where you're from, or you'd already know about them, so never mind. [At least he doesn't seem like he'll be eating her. She can deal with some omniscience as long as she gets to live.

Charlie shakes his hand, still wary. Names that end in iel usually belongs to angels and, from what she's gathered, angels can be total douchebags.] For the moment, I'm Charlie Bradbury, Queen of Moons, but you already knew that.

[trumpeted]

There is the sea, vast and spacious, teeming with creatures beyond number.

[He's not going to eat her. He's never been particularly interested in eating people. There's way more interesting and pleasant stuff to eat down here, anyway. Like donuts.]

It's nice to hear it anyway.

[He's a little bit of a douchebag, sometimes.]

[irlhero]

Less Bible, more like all of the fun and inevitable fear of failure you get playing Call of Cthulhu without the fun and the playing. Think crunchy evil corporation shell and creamy human-devouring shapeshifter center.

[She leans forward and rests her elbows on the table.]

But that's enough about Leviathans. What's your schtick?

[trumpeted]

[If it ain't a great and terrible sea-beat whose salted flesh will be served unto the righteous, it ain't Leviathan, in his book, which is to say the Book, but he can do without arguing over semantics.]

What makes you think I got a schtick?

[irlhero]

[Ew. Just ew. The poor righteous.]

You know my name, you're all enigmatic and guru-y. You've got to have a schtick.

[trumpeted]

[Look it up, the Righteous have a tough gig. There's a good bit of suffering for them, too. It's not for nothing that the meek inherit the earth, they oughta get some reward in the end.

He gives her a funny little smile, like he can't quite suppress it.]

I play the trumpet down the block.

[irlhero]

[Then fuck being meek, bro.]

So you're, what? A psychic, trumpet-playing hobo? [That sounds relatively harmless, but psychic doesn't feel right.] C'mon, really. What are you? Twenty Questions is my least favorite game ever.

[trumpeted]

I just have a long memory.

[Fuck being meek, sure, but you know what they say about pride and where it goeth. Ask Gabriel about that one. Pride is a fall.]

I am what you see before you. [The question is what he was.] What, you need to see my I.D.?

[irlhero]

Riiiight. And you remember meeting me before I was born.

[THAT IS NOT A THING PEOPLE DO.]

I don't need to see your identification. You're definitely not the droid I'm looking for. But how did we meet?

[trumpeted]

I get around. I used to,

[he amends, leaning back, still amused.]

You know, He doesn't deal in absolutes, not often. Things aren't... written in stone, but you can get an idea. A little sense of the possibility waiting in a soul. Fresh off the tree. Every one of 'em.

[And then easily he shrugs.]

Or maybe I'm nuts.

[irlhero]

Is that He with a capital H? Like God He? Morgan Freeman He?

[She doesn't know what to think. Dismissing him as crazy would've been a lot easier before she met the Winchesters.]

I'm not big into God, bit I do recall Gabriel being one of the important angels. I know some guys who met him, actually. He died... y'know, in that universe.

[trumpeted]

Who's Morgan Freeman?

[Since his career change he hasn't really had the time or means to explore that much entertainment, and prior to that he'd dismissed the bulk of monkey culture. He likes music, all that takes is a radio.]

Pretty important. [Neither confirming nor denying. Just a theological point. You seem like a smart girl, though.] Nothing's ever that clean and neat.

[irlhero]

Dude, are you for real?

[How can he not know who Morgan Freeman is? He's obviously not right in the head.]

You really are nuts.

[trumpeted]

I'm not nuts.

[He leans in a little.]

The countless generations of your ancestors who've trickled past me like sand through an hourglass... sometimes you don't see the trees for the forest, kid.