They're Hippie and the Bear Who: Gideon and Imogene When: On a street corner Where: Evening
Despite the still-constant throbbing in her ribcage, Imogene had decided to go out. Partially because being cooped up with Ren for the past few days was driving her stir-crazy, but mostly because of the advertisement she'd found in the newspaper; if people were going out hunting those bastard demon-things, she so wanted in on the action. Even though she'd pretty conclusively killed the one that'd gone after her, she still hated feeling scared to go into the woods. And what better way to keep those creatures from controlling her life was there than to go out and kill some more? In a larger, more prepared group, of course.
Problem was, she didn't know the town half as well as she ought to. Mostly she'd learned where to get food and what places were good hangouts. She didn't have a good enough fake ID to try to con her way into any bars, so she hadn't even looked for bars yet. Let alone Anywhere but Here. She sighed and looked around, spotting some kid busking on the street corner and loping over. "Hey! Hey, you!"
Gideon was in a bit of a mood. Had been all day. His playing wasn't exactly cheery, and despite being cute and colorful he had made only a handful of change as a result. It was lucky he didn't really busk for the money. He knew full well that "The Sound of Silence" didn't exactly put a spring in one's step for passerby, but he didn't have cheery early Beatles songs in him tonight. His hair was tied back and he looked tired. The guitar was heavy and solid, and he tried to just focus on that. His feet didn't quite reach the ground from the bench he'd found, and his bare feet swung back and forth, in and out of the direct glow of a streetlight.
He looked up, just in case he was being addressed. He didn't expect to be. Busking made you practically invisible to most people. But the girl seemed to be looking at him. He tried a tired smile. "Hi?"
Street people were rarely invisible to Imogene. Before she'd run off from home, half of her friends had resorted to busking (or outright begging) at some point, and now she was virtually homeless. Sleeping on your boss's couch while you recovered from a beating didn't count. She was, in fact, wearing Ren's clothes; a rather wrinkled, holey t-shirt, a pair of sweatpants, and no shoes at all. And she looked pretty awful on top of that, with a few almost-healed bruises around her neck and moving like she was a good sixty years older. Her rib didn't feel loose anymore, exactly, but it sure as hell let her know when she moved too much or too fast. "Look, you know where I can find Anywhere but Here? 's some bar."
Gideon observed quietly for a moment. Were, and a predator at that, something big and scary. Fortunately, whatever it was must not be especially fond of eating bats. (Snakes and birds of prey gave him the most trouble.) She was clearly injured, but whatever had happened wasn't so very fresh. If she wanted to walk around damaged, it was her affair, though he'd probably ask in a minute if she needed help or was alright. What he really noted, though, was that she looked younger than he did. "Uh, yeah, some bar. Shit, honey, they wouldn't let me in..." Well, until he'd sent them a fangy grin, and they'd had all sorts barging in the doors that day. Gideon probably hadn't seemed like much of a trouble maker, in context.
"Well, I'm not looking to get a drink." For once. "And I ain't your honey." Imogene glowered, the endearment not improving her already sour mood. "Look, I'm just looking for the crazy bastards who want to go out demon-hunting. Not my fault they chose somewhere you can't get into if you're not twenty-one." And she couldn't see why they wouldn't want her. Even a teenage were could do some serious damage if they put their mind to it, and she'd already put down one demon, intentionally or not. "So do you know where it is or what?" She wasn't about to leave without at least trying to get in on this action.
"S'down there, but I wouldn't think anyone's there. I mean, meetin' was a couple days back..." Gideon looked at her with more particular interest now. Yes, she was young, but despite turning sixty next month, he tended not to trust anyone over thirty (which was as difficult as it sounded). She looked solid, she turned into something big and toothy, and she was certainly determined. "Heh, bet I know what banged y'up now. I'm sure folks'd be glad t'have y'an all, but jeeze, those thing's pretty damn dangerous. Bet y'know that, sure. Might wanna git healed up a bit more, first." He could offer her blood. That worked well with a were's native acceleration, though she'd still be in pretty bad shape for a while. Wasn't a cure-all. He wondered if she might like to work with him and Misha. Then they'd just need one more.
"God dammit." Imogene sighed and glowered at nothing in particular. "A 'couple days back' I could hardly stay upright long enough to take a shit. Don't tell me everyone's just gone along home now! Those bastards are still out there!" She gestured rather sharply with one arm, then grunted and held her side. "...fuck." Stupid rib. "And I'm fine. Just a bit stiff, but I'm on my feet and I'm not about to sit on my ass any longer." Besides, how did this joker know so much? She peered at the boy, who appeared to have no more than a couple years on her. He didn't smell like a were - but then again, he didn't quite smell like anything else she'd run into before, either. "What, you one of them or something?"
"Well, yeah, or how would I know?" He leaned forward a bit, wrapping his wrist loosely around Liqin's neck. He didn't put any pressure on his treasured guitar, of course, but the weight was a comfort. "Well, they ain't livin' in the bar. We's all stayin' in contact with phones. I even got one." He made a face. Fucking little monster bit of technology. It was a pity Gideon had never gotten old enough to be a cranky old man. He'd have been great at it. "Groups'a four, an' folk call in when they see trouble brewin' a'the demonic sort. Me'n my partner only have two so far, though." He tried a hopeful smile. "We're both close combat guys. So I guess that's why we weren't so popular. Everyone else was usin' guns, pretty much."
Imogene snorted a bit. Damn, she didn't have a phone and wasn't about to get one. There were more important things on her budget. "Guns are overrated. You practically need to take those thing's heads off to get 'em to stop moving, and most guns won't do that." She much preferred close combat, herself, what with her teeth and claws being her best weapons. But what could this kid do? "What d'you do, play music at 'em?" It occurred to her that she should perhaps be a tad more polite to some kid who could apparently pull his own weight on a demon-hunting team, but she wasn't in the mood. Pain turned her natural surliness into something downright unpleasant. It was a miracle Ren had put up with her as long as he had.
Fortunately, he wasn't offended. He was terribly difficult to offend with ordinary rudeness. Gideon had it in him to be thin-skinned, but he was much more distressed by principles than by attitude. Not that some people didn't rub him the wrong way, but Imogene didn't seem to be one of them. "Be neat if that worked, huh? Though I don't know as anyone's tried." Magic didn't make any damn sense, after all. Gideon couldn't help but think that might be as good an approach as any. "Naw, I'm pretty much all blades. I got a bow, but hell, you'd pretty much need t'put an arrow through an eye t'make a damn difference, an' I ain't that kinda archer. Swords'n knives, mostly. I used t'have a spear, but it broke. Really pissed werefisher. He was a total punk."
At that Imogene's eyes narrowed dangerously as she shifted her weight, completely forgetting the rest of the blather that'd spewed from this kid's mouth. "You hunted a were-fisher with a spear?" There was definitely a dangerous growl to her voice. She was not in any shape to take on a hunter, but this boneheaded kid didn't know she was a were yet (as far as she was aware), so she still had the element of surprise on her side. And swords or no, once he had a bear on top of him he wasn't going to be able to do very much to try and hurt her.
"He had a real, real bad first full moon. He was pretty nice in the mornin', considerin' I hadta give'm a couple real bad pokes. I mean, kinda an asshole, but considerin' the situation, I'da been an asshole, too." Gideon realized belatedly he'd been blathering. He'd done that a lot, lately. His head seemed more and more inclined to wander off without him. "Uh, oh, right. House of Luna." He pronounced each word with a certain pride, even if House of Luna meant he was a jerk who scared kittens. "S'our job t'make sure that bit weres don't go an' hurt themselves'r nobody else. Tough job, but someone's gotta do it, an' there's really not enough'a us. Ah, well. That's life. ...Sorta."
"House of... what, now?" Now Imogene was just confused. Her knowledge in the ways of vampires was sketchy at best, and she didn't even realize that they had different clans, let alone that belonging to a 'house' meant that this kid was a vamp. But she did relax, marginally. He honestly didn't seem the type to go around killing folk, were or not. He was just too damned... sincere. "Yeah, well, whatever. Hmph." Imogene still gave him the evil eye, just in case. "I missed them, then. Fine. Guess I've gotta head back home." Or, well, her temporary home. She couldn't risk sleeping in a tree again quite yet - it was too likely that she'd fall out.
The evil eye was noted and appreciated. Gideon almost enjoyed being glared at when he was in a certain mood. Made him feel like he was accomplishing something, at least. "Well, y'missed most'a 'em, yeah, but I'm right here. Plus I think y'cain call, like, the main lady's number an' she'll stick y'somewhere. Ain't like we couldn't use more hands. Specially me'n Misha. We're just the two'a us so far." And while Gideon felt they were a most effective and intimidating two, there was some degree of regulation in the group, and there were meant to be four. He remembered the routine the day of the meeting and tried to mimic it, though he wasn't entirely clear on the details. "You do anythin' special? Besides, like, bein' a werewhatever. Which is a pretty good skill."
"I don't got a phone, and I'm not about to go buy one." Imogene didn't have the budget for it, especially considering she didn't even have her own clothes anymore, or shoes, or enough cash for a week's worth of groceries. These things were more important than phones. "So how'm I supposed to talk with her? And... hey! How do you know I'm a were, anyhow? You one too?" Once again she was glowering at the cherubic hippie, figuring that his nose must have singled her out. Seemed that was how most weres discovered one another, and maybe he had a better sense of smell than Ren did (or one that wasn't dulled by excessive smoking and other sundry drugs). "You're right, I'm a fucking were. Already killed one of them bastards, what else you need?"
"Huh? Aw, no, wish I was. Vampire. Anyway, payphones? Or use mine. Turns out y'cain git these things, like, practically at a grocery store, as long as y'don't give a fuck how good they are or whatever. All this little bastard's done so far is git me called in for an extra shift at work." He scowled at his pocket, which was pretty ineffectual. "Um, how about maybe y'cain come along when I go see Misha tomorrow? Only, wait, I'm meetin' him at that club place..." Gideon grimaced. He wasn't looking forward to that. Big parties had always made him really nervous. Pressing crowds and lots of noise weren't fun. Add in his sharpened senses and the smells of too many bodies, alcohol, and bad perfume, on top of the confusing lights and booming music, gave him a pretty fast headache.
"Vampire? Fuck, there's all sorts in this town." Granted, considering Imogene hung out with a mermaid and was shacking up with a were-coyote, she couldn't really judge. She did, however, give him an extra-wary once-over for a long moment before she continued the conversations. "If I had cash to spend on payphones, I'd just buy one of those cheap pieces of trash, y'know? Wait, you're going demon hunting in a club? That don't seem particularly... uh... effective. Sounds like they stay away from the more populated areas." Why else would they meet up at such a place? Clubs were only good for getting drunk older people to buy you excessive amounts of alcohol, as far as Imogene was concerned. The concept of 'hooking up' was entirely foreign, and she didn't consider the pounding music, flashing lights, and unholy body odor any more entertaining than the vampire did.
"Nah, he owns the place. I'm meetin' him there just 'cus it's where he's prolly gonna be." He supposed someone had to own nightclubs, and Gideon was rather glad to find Misha was one such person. He was so much fun, and so intimidating himself, that Gideon was sure he wouldn't mind the place once he managed to locate his new partner. However he did that. "He's been real busy fer a few days. Which is kinda irritatin'. I wanted t'git right into this stuff. Longer I go without takin' down more'a those things, longer I'll stay scared'a 'em." Gideon was completely healed now, but for a slight itchy feeling in the eye that had been gouged out, if he paid attention, but the memory was a lot nastier and it hadn't gone anywhere.
"Tell me about it." Imogene grunted and grimaced at her own less-than-pleasant memory. "Wait, you got jumped too? Damn, everyone got off better'n I did." She sighed and scratched absently at the healing slice in her side. It itched like hell, but at least it was finally closing, and not leaking so much anymore. Probably would leave an epic scar, though. "Right, fine. I'll gang up with you and club-owner-man, so long as it means I get to take another piece out of those bastards. And convince my boss I'm not crazy." Of course she'd been hopped up on pain and adrenaline when she'd first described her encounter, but Ren still insisted that there was no way her attacker had fire for eyes. The ass.
"Sure. Then we just need one more. Hopefully someone okay with a first aid kit." Gideon frowned. He'd be okay, but all he'd have to offer the weres would be his blood. "An' I didn't look so good at the time. Vampires heal real quick, an' my neighbor patched me up, too. But my eye only just grew back in time for the meet-up." Yuck. He could still feel that again any time he lowered his mental defenses. How long was it going to take to get over the sensation of a sharp rock tearing up half his face and taking a small organ along with? "Y'know where Shimmer is? There's still fliers lyin' around from when they had that supernatural friendly party." He still wished he'd been able to go, even if it had been at a nightclub. Just to make a point.
Vampires healed a fuck of a lot faster than weres did, then. Imogene couldn't help but feel a bit sour over that, but then again, they were dead, right? "Least I didn't have to grow anything back. And no. Do I really look like someone who goes around hitting up all the nightclubs in the area? I mean, really." She hadn't once stopped scowling through the whole conversation, but the jabs weren't as sharp as they'd been in the beginning. Most people either got terribly offended by her attitude or tried to keep up with her, but Gideon seemed to genuinely not care, and that was just about more baffling than anything else about the boy. Gene didn't quite know how to take it.
"Well, if it doesn't freak y'out, vampire blood heals a li'l bit faster. Won't git y'like, at my speed, but might quicken things a bit." He was still annoyed with himself for slipping some to Alanna without asking. He'd just been afraid for her. He didn't think it'd be easy to worry about this girl. She reminded him of many of the scrappy runaways he'd known. Some of them had found what they wanted, some had ended poorly, but they'd all done it on their own terms, and Gideon had been one of them, after all. "An', well, no, but I git the impression it's kinda a big building. Or somethin' you'd maybe notice? I dunno. Ain't been yet. That's tomorrow." He twirled the end of his ponytail around one finger.
As much as Imogene would protest to being called 'scrappy', that was a fairly accurate description of who she was. "What do you mean, vampire blood heals faster? I got were blood, not vampire. What, am I supposed to drink it or something?" The idea wasn't exactly appealing, but Imogene was curious. It wouldn't be the strangest substance she'd ever ingested, and at this point she'd try anything to not have to deal with the pain anymore. "Ah, whatever. I'll find it, somehow. Maybe Ren knows where it is, he's been around for a while. I mostly stick to work and the woods... or I did, anyway."
"Well, I mean, yeah? Also works just gittin' put on open wounds, but it don't hardly seem like y'got any'a those." And just smearing it about on skin wasn't particularly useful, except to result in the side effects coming through pretty strongly. Gideon had had to use enough of his own blood to know what kind of dose was safe. "So s'fine if y'wanna. What'a y'turn into?" He was just curious. He could tell big predator, and he was sure he'd smelled it, or something very close, before. Still, she smelled like a lot of things, like anyone who lived in a city around people did, and even the core scent he was aiming for wasn't quite what he recognized.
"Sure." Imogene stepped closer, glancing around to make sure no one was watching or listening to closely. "Why not? I'll try anything once, I suppose. Wait, that was what that whole thing about hospitals using vampire blood was about, wasn't it?" She'd recalled some sort of fuss over it during May, but her mind had been on other things. Like trying to avoid suspicion so her former friends and neighbors didn't try to burn her at the stake. "Bear, okay? Don't go spreading it around or you'll be asking for it. I don't care how many swords and shit you got." It was her choice alone who to spread that little secret around to, but it seemed important, if she were going to go hunt demons with this guy.
"Oh, that's why I knew the smell." He nodded pleasantly. He'd lived with a bear for twenty years, after all. She must just be a different source from Chongde. And though Luna House vampires and the weres they were bound to certainly smelled different, explaining his difficulty, Gideon didn't see a very important distinction. Even when they became creatures quite contrary to their natures and when their human bodies exhibited some really unrelated features, there was something of the creature in them, and certainly in their scent, to his discerning nose. He smiled a little, remembering the rare sight of his energetic, lanky, wise teacher in the guise of a fat, sleepy bear. "Well, here." He reached under his colorful shirt and produced a long, slim dagger, making a small cut on his hand.
"Right..." Imogene hadn't met any other were-bears (or any other weres at all, before coming to Scarlet Oak), but she imagined this kid must've, if his job was to go around keeping bitten weres in line. She didn't envy him the work, and she'd never even seen a bitten in action. Lucky for her. She grimaced a little at the cut. "Don't you have like, a cup or something? That's just nasty." Standing in the middle of the street, practically, slurping blood out of some guy she barely knew's hand like a dog? No thank you.
"Uh, no?" Well, he had the sliced-off coke bottle he'd been collecting change in. Gideon reached out with his intact hand, dumped the three dollars or so into his lap, and held the cut above the plastic. He only let a few drops fall, though. "S'potent shit. A real head rush even in moderation, an' not recommended in any other dose, gotta say." He wasn't entirely clear on what happened when someone had too much of his blood, but he didn't approve of it. "There, well, just lick it up I guess. Yeah, s'gross, but hey, you'll feel a good bit better."
Imogene took the bottle with a raised eyebrow, but she had no reason to disbelieve the kid, so she tilted the bottle back and lapped up the small spot of blood. The stuff did have a kick, she was surprised to find, as liquid warmth spread suddenly from her gut to ease the pain from her cracked rib and the general aches that still remained from her fight. "...impressive." It took a few moments for her to shake off the feeling, blinking at the vampire in a rather unfocused way. "Uh, thanks man. Fuck." She prodded her rib a little and winced. Nope, better, but still broken. Ow.
"Yeah, it pretty much does that. Still, awful handy in a pinch. Stops bleedin' fer the most part. Still wish we had someone who knew better what they was doin', I gotta say. I cain put on bandaids, but that's about it. Weren't a trick I never picked up." He shrugged. He supposed that might be the next thing he turned his attention to. One of the perks of immortality was unlimited time to improve oneself. Even if one had an especially low IQ and all the common sense of a Labrador retriever. "So, like, if y'know anyone. Otherwise I guess we keep lookin'."
"Eh, nah, not me. There's only a few people that'll put up with me anyhow. I'm pretty sure Charlene's not any good at that stuff, and Ren's idea of first aid was to wrap me up, give me advil, and tell me not to bleed on his couch." A bit of an exaggeration, but she couldn't see Ren helping, even if he did know more about first aid than he let on. "I wouldn't know where to start looking for that sorta shit. Ask your other friend, I dunno." Imogene shrugged and handed the half-bottle back to Gideon.
"Yeah, that's what I figured on." He blinked at the chunk of plastic. Putting it back into use didn't seem exactly hygienic. He couldn't get sick, and blood couldn't possibly rattle him, but he still found he couldn't really justify tipping his handful of coins back in. He tossed the half-bottle over his shoulder, landing in a nearby trashcan. He didn't like to just use his guitar case. He was almost as fond of Liqin's house as he was of the guitar herself, and he had a faint idea that the instrument was valuable, and more so with case, though he had no intention of ever selling. It was still kind of fun to raise looks of mingled horror and jealousy when he walked into music stores and the guys behind the counter had to watch what they saw as some dumb kid with a dream guitar.
"Well... whatever. I guess I should get your number, in case I need to call. I suppose I could borrow Ren's phone." When he wasn't looking. The man probably would want to know who she was calling, and why, and yadda yadda. It was like she was back living with her mother, sometimes. Or maybe he wouldn't care at all, but it was still easier to beg forgiveness. "But otherwise, guess I'll see you, what, tomorrow?" And kick some demon ass. That was most important.
"Yup. Guess so." He had to check his pockets for a while to find the phone number he'd written down. He'd never had a good memory for them. He didn't think he'd used the phone for anything other than saying hello to his very few relatives who'd moved away from Harlan when he was still alive, and he had to keep every number in a little notebook, and then written down again elsewhere, in case he lost that. He had a pencil on him, at least, and made a quick copy. "So catch you then."