Not Until We Are Lost

The discussion with Cas had revealed quite a bit more about the two former angels. Mary had also been able to straighten out the misconception that Johnny was her ‘mate.’ Though unfortunately, it seemed a little late for that since he’d already talked to Johnny and Mary could only assume that he’d used the same term with him. She just couldn't be sure how Johnny had taken it. At the meeting, he'd seemed unphased by the assumption, though there had been a lot going on. She could only assume that it was more uncomfortable when used in a one on one conversation by someone who was a part of her life. Worse, she wondered if he thought that she’d been the one to give Cas the idea that they were an item.

They'd fallen so easily into the charade of husband and wife that there were times when she had to remind herself that it was just that. That he'd made it clear that he couldn't make any promises, that he wasn't ready to be what the Johnny of her time had become to her. She was okay with that, but she could respect that it might be difficult for him to feel that way and then have others jumping to incorrect conclusions.

She stuck the key in the lock and let herself in, not quite sure where she would find the man whom she was currently sharing an address (and a fake name) with.

She headed into the kitchen first and fixed herself a drink with some gin that they’d been allowed to take home. She fixed Johnny a drink too, knowing full well that it wouldn’t do much for him unless they had 8 bottles of the stuff. It was still more of a comfort thing than anything. She returned and took a seat on the overstuffed armchair, setting his drink in front of him.

“I heard that you talked to Cas. I’m... sorry I didn’t get the chance to correct him about that whole ‘mate’ thing before you two talked.”

She could only assumed that that would have been awkward for Johnny, that assumption. They did have a precarious dance going on and people assuming things only made it more difficult for them to keep things platonic, assuming that was the correct word. He needed time, and she could respect that. Unfortunately, it was hard for others to understand what was going on unless she explained it. And explaining the circumstance meant explaining everything and while she understood that it probably needed to be done, she didn’t feel that it was her place to do so until he was ready.

( Honey, I'm home! )

Max had been looking. Not too deeply, but he was looking all the same. Frank had warned him away from it, which only seemed to increase his interest in it all. He hadn't focused all of his attention on the murders and missing women. No, he actually had time to look into a few other cases. They were quick and easy things, just a little information was all he needed.

Max sat quietly pondering the article that Frank had been looking at the day he'd come in. There were girls missing. There were dead girls found. There were people who were scared, and he supposed he didn't blame thing. Life was crazy after all.

They'd left the "Help Wanted" in the window. He hadn't had a cute little broad tucked away in his trench coat, which was unfortunate. Then again, maybe having a young woman come in might not be a good thing. She could be in trouble. He sighed softly, picking up the mug to have a sip of coffee. Alcohol was in a drawer somewhere, but he wasn't jumping for it. Not yet anyway.

Piotr got Rayne settled into a hotel room and took one of his own nearby. They'd run into a little bit of trouble with the money thing, discovering that the money he carried did not look at all like the money that their current planet used. Rayne did something that caused the clerk at the desk to trust that they would pay, and gave them the rooms. Piotr knew that he was going to have to find a job, he couldn't let Rayne down. She had also done her thing to assure that the room was safe for her to be in during the day. He hadn't asked questions, not wanting to risk her being distracted before she got a chance to finish her work. He figured he could ask later, when the sun wasn't threatening the horizon.

He'd decided to go out and gather some supplies while she was sleeping, and to see if he could find a suitable job for himself. The fact that he had a Russian accent was going to play badly for him in this era, as it had already started to show him. He hoped that if he continued to claim to be a defector, that somebody would eventually grant him work.

Most of his morning was a failure, manager and owner after manager and owner turning him away without hesitation. He had a feeling that he was going to have to resort to manual labor. Something with construction or heavy lifting, something that he could keep his mouth shut for. Prove himself with his ability to lift more than the humans here. If he could reply to questions in monosyllables and play dumb, maybe he could get by.

Before he continued that quest, however, he decided to stop into a book store. He wanted to get Rayne a few things to read, and some for himself as well. There was a small, quaint chime of a bell when he opened the door.