Re: Michael/Janus - No. 5
Janis was discovering that it was a strange crew that had pulled her out of Hell and into this new frontier of egg hunting, berry picking and soul trading; no one was as simple as he seemed and few people had the sort of problems with which she was accustomed to dealing. One thing she did know for sure: Michael was not 'very boring.' He had something ever so slightly off about him, but Janis had no idea what it was because 90% of Repose residents had something "ever so slightly off' about them, and she got tired of diagnosing it.
She coughed up a laugh and handed over the flask with the rest of her amusement. In her mind flasks were battered things stained with coming rust, and they all had shit about ex-girlfriends (before the Dear John) or more bloodthirsty labels with kill count. These days nobody had a flask that meant anything. The times, they are a changin'.
"Birds?" separated her from her thoughts, and she paused in her steps to follow the direction of his gaze with growing concern furrowing her brow. "Lot of them," she murmured (haha) as the cloud rose upward in a flexing shape of shadows. "Seems like they're coming this..." and that was all she had time for before they were moving.
Janis didn't think. It pissed her off that anything would come after her and she threw herself sideways into Michael because she'd been thinking about fucking Vietnam and you didn't leave the guy next to you standing when you went down. A cloud of hellfire, white and blue in color and with the smell of charred rock and old ash, billowed outward in the place they had been. Janis slid sideways in the mud, swearing up a storm.