( colligo ¬ get collected ) → threads and logs.

WHO: Claire Bennet, Ben Braeden, and Jo Harvelle
WHAT: Claire is trying to keep Ben preoccupied. Jo's coming over to help.
WHEN: Shortly after this and this.
WHERE: Apartment #206A.
RATING: TBD (doubt it'll be too high)
STATUS: In Progress

( Sam was right. )

WHO: Future!Cas and John Winchester (with a cameo from God).
WHAT: Drinking and exposition.
WHEN: After this.
WHERE: A bar.
RATING: TBD.
STATUS: In progress.

( They had been drinking for a short while, not saying much, sitting in a silence that wasn't entirely uncomfortable. )

Who: Cas and Sam
What: A date
When: Sunday night, after Sam asked Cas to move in to his apartment. (backdated)
Where: An upscale restaurant in town
Warnings: Possibly boy kissing. Will update if necessary.

( About the only thing that could distract Sam then was going on a date with Cas. )

WHO: Tom Riddle & AJ Crowley
WHAT: Snakey conversations in the park.
WHEN: July 28th
WHERE: The Park
RATING: PG
STATUS: In Progress

This place was odd. Tom wasn't completely sure what to make of buildings this tall or all of the lights everywhere. London was something, definitely, but nothing like this. Overwhelmed by the area, Tom had sought out the first thing that had made sense to him. The park was hardly the open English countryside that the orphans all visited during the summers, but it was a happy medium between the tower buildings that inhabited this place and the slightly less refined urban environment of early 20th century London.

The park also offered something that the city streets didn't: company. There were plenty of people in both parts of the city, but Tom had never really been interested in the company of other people. People judged. People ignored. People hurt. The tiny garden snake at that currently curled around his finger had no such preconceptions or issues. In fact, she just seemed grateful for the conversation.

"I don't like it here," Tom hissed, pulling his knees up to his chest, half buried in the bushes near the walkway. "How much longer am I going to have to stay?"

"It is hard to ssssay," The reply was quiet, reassuring, and about as motherly as Tom had ever experienced as she twisted, resting her small head in his palm. "Some people stay a week, otherssss a year. We shall sssee."

A week. Tom thought he could handle a week.