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Post by Ezriel on Jun 10, 2008 20:21:49 GMT -5
"But I can be made to Fall. And I'm in a precarious situation as it is."
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Post by Crowley on Jun 10, 2008 20:23:12 GMT -5
He shuddered, recalling his own Fall. "You really should watch yourself, in that case."
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Post by Ezriel on Jun 10, 2008 20:23:56 GMT -5
"I think maybe I should just not... talk."
But I can't stop myself from thinking...
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Post by Crowley on Jun 10, 2008 20:25:24 GMT -5
He frowned. "Do you want to get out of the car? I mean, since I'm a demon and all."
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Post by Ezriel on Jun 10, 2008 20:26:51 GMT -5
"I... no... but I don't want..." *She groaned and buried her face in her hands.*
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Post by Crowley on Jun 10, 2008 20:30:51 GMT -5
He looked at the angel. As a demon, he should probably be trying to corrupt her, but he knew that she probably wouldn't last long in Hell or on earth as a field agent.
"It's fine, I just have to drop you off somewhere."
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Post by Ezriel on Jun 10, 2008 20:31:25 GMT -5
"Okay." *She said in a small voice.*
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Post by Crowley on Jun 10, 2008 20:32:50 GMT -5
He was about to just drop her on the sidewalk and then thought better, remembering how lost she seemed as it was.
"Where would you like me to leave you?"
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Post by Ezriel on Jun 10, 2008 20:33:25 GMT -5
"Le rouge et le .... somethingelse."
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Post by Crowley on Jun 10, 2008 20:35:28 GMT -5
"That Inn With The Long French Name. Got it." He turned down a few streets, and soon they were there. He unlocked the doors. "It was nice meeting you, Ezriel."
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Post by Ezriel on Jun 10, 2008 20:36:26 GMT -5
"Sorry about being holy." *She said regretfully, climbing out.* "If it's any consolation, that was a lot better than endless harp music."
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Post by Crowley on Jun 10, 2008 20:38:28 GMT -5
"It's fine. I'm more worried about you than me. It's easy for me to cover myself up."
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Post by Ezriel on Jun 10, 2008 20:38:59 GMT -5
"Bye, then, I guess."
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Post by Crowley on Jun 10, 2008 20:40:53 GMT -5
"Bye." The car door slammed shut, though nobody touched it, and the black vehicle sped away.
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Post by Yoshimitsu on Jun 16, 2008 1:04:57 GMT -5
*****SOMEWHEN ELSE*****
A small man, quite clearly from the Orient, strolled along the street with hands thrust into the pockets of his dusty, unpressed trousers. His sharp eyes darted everywhere, took in everything, all the pleasant sights and lights of the city. The longcoat he wore hung oddly on one arm, but not so much so that anyone would really notice anything amiss. He seemed to fit well enough into the scenery, despite his Asian features and the strange tangled mess of copper and brass and who-knew-what-else fixtures that sprang from his tightly tied arear hair.
Paris had become the home, as much as a nomad can call anywhere home, and he didn't possess so much as an accent when he spoke clear, crisp French.
He might have made an easy target for the criminal element, given his slight build and smallish stature, but the hilt at his waist and the heavy way his coat swung gave would-be muggers pause for thought.
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