who| Heidi Petrelli, Rant, and [OPEN to multiple threads] what| Heidi's first, and as far as she's concerned last, encounter with the (unfriendly) undead. where| The streets; LA when| September Something or Other; Evening rating| TBA, depending on who she runs into. status| Thread, Incomplete, and Open.
Stopping by the Library had been a bad idea so late in the afternoon, and had Heidi actually believed the demonology texts she had requested be transfered from one of the Nebraskan branch libraries would arrive in anything that even resembled a timely manner(She was still waiting for two books on Goblins.), she would have held off until morning. All the same, she had gone, and they had arrived, and three of them were declared unremovable from the premises; prompting her to spend some very dedicated and lengthy bonding time with the copy machines.
Loaded down with stapled, sorted, rubber-band-bound bounty, she bought a bookbag off a college student to avoid serial papercuts on the way home. Much to her chagrin, there wasn't a cab in sight on the streets, which meant walking until she found one. Vampires and other such bumping-in-the-night-business weren't lurking in every alley, but she kept away from them all the same; sticking to the populated and well-lit areas. The downside of which meant every cab she came across was already occupied, and the walk was quickly become three times as lengthy and twisty as usual. Heidi didn't object to an extended ramble--any oppourtunity to make use of her legs--but it was late, it was dark, and if she wasn't back soon the boys were going to start worrying. While the thought of Nathan wheeling out his Flame Thrower of Manly Mobility and Masculine Overkill to wander the streets in search of her was sweet in theory; in practice it meant he would be out trying to set the undead aflame when he should be making sure the boys brushed their teeth.
Taking a quick pause to make sure her bearings were correct, Heidi looked up to consult the street sign at the corner of the populated street and the adjoining empty one. It also gave her a breif respite in which to contemplate her thus far limited experience with the undead. Jared, aside from obvious social stunting, a need for anger management courses, and the fact his face had the peculiar ability to pop apart, seemed perfectly amiable, Angel appeared to be, by all accounts, a cruel, diabolical, merciless, and vicious twit(But then again they'd only clashed once, and at a safe distance), and Spike was the one's who's head you wanted to break something over, but you'd still offer buy him a drink and an icepack afterwards. Not to be accused of slackery when it came to the typical 'Speaking-of' moment, the undead decided to extended her education on the subject of the dead and fanged. In a whirl and a headlock, she was off the streetcorner, and she wasn't alone.
She was almost as offended by the overbite-induced lispy voice hissing "This won't hurt--much." in her ear as the source of the stereotypical line was by her heel in it's groin. Yanking the weakening arm from her throat, Heidi darted forward several steps further down the street as she dug the stake she had taken to carrying in her purse. She was waiting with it when the vampire had recovered enough from the blow to it's bits to attempt a second lunge. What was it Peter had said about catching punches? Keeping her head?--No, that was the part that was implied. Running screaming in the opposite direction?--No, that went against the implied parts. She'd spend enough time being thrown about the Training Centre to remember it. One arm to knock the blow aside(Wrist, not fist.), and another with which to stab. The fist still hit her shoulder, but in her own defense, enough of it was on the ashy side to consider her side the victorious, not-in-need-of-being-Swiffered one.
"A pun," Heidi coughed, and slapped the dust that had once been a vampire, and by undead extention, a person, off her sleeve with distaste. "Why do I feel as though I should have made a pun? Or at the very least a witticism."