angelic_gabe (angelic_gabe) wrote in shadowlands_ic, @ 2017-06-17 18:56:00 |
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Entry tags: | gabriel allen |
Who: Gabriel Allen, various NPCs
What: Gabriel goes hunting
Where: The streets of London
When: 17 June 1888
Ratings/warnings: PG, implied (offscreen) underage prostitution
Gabriel was on the hunt.
One of Miss Lydia’s housemaids had moved on (an amenable move for both parties -- the girl had found a better position, and the Academy had been able to provide her with a decent reference), so he went where he usually did when he was looking to fill a position -- he took to the streets of London after things got dark and his people were out and about.
His definition of ‘his people’ was rather broad -- his fellow demons didn’t all work in the oldest profession, and not all people who did were demonic -- but he had an affinity for both circles -- they understood him, and he them, and no-one else gave a damn.
There were always too many for him to make much of a difference, but that didn’t stop him from trying, and tonight, he could help one.
He saw a familiar face while walking under a footbridge, and sidled up to the human woman, grinning, and she grinned back, her face pretty under a mountain of rouge and lipstick.
“Angel,” she cooed, “C’mere and give us a kiss.”
As far as kisses went, it was decidedly friendly as opposed to lascivious, and he laughed a little as she took the opportunity to give his ass a squeeze.
“How’s my favorite gal?” He said, voice low as they leaned together conspiratorially. “What’s new, Bet?”
“Nothin’ worth mentionin’,” she replied, winking cheekily and leaning up to wipe his lips of the stain she’d left behind with a gentle swipe of her thumb. “Can’t complain much, me, and now the weather’s fine, lor, it’s nearly pleasant.” She paused, shrugging. “Heard bout a witch on the East End what’ll take care o’ things, nice,” she added, before flashing a plain tin ring she wore with a flash of her teeth, “not that I need to worry,” she said. “Works a treat.”
“Good to know, on both counts” Gabriel replied, tipping his head. “Hear of anyone who wants out?”
Bet shrugged. “Might try down a few blocks and round the corner, by the laundry,” she said, looking up at him.
“Good girl,” he replied, slipping her a coin.
She bit it, as she always did, and leaned up to give him a kiss on the cheek as she pocketed it. “Fancy a go this time?” She asked, resting a hand on his arm, “wouldn’t cost you anythin’ extra.”
He tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear fondly. “Not tonight,” he said, kissing her knuckles, and she sighed and tossed out a bit of a pout to tease him as he took his leave. The place was easy enough to find, a thin young thing hiding behind a curtain of fine blonde hair hovering by a door, looking nervous.
“You gay, girl?” Gabriel asked quietly, his heart aching a little as she shrugged. “How old?”
“My ma says fourteen,” she said automatically, reaching out to touch his arm. “I’m fresh,” she added, biting her lip.
They all said that -- she couldn’t have been older than twelve, and an underfed twelve at that, and he took hold of her chin, gently, catching her eyes, the purple cast of the circles under them contrasting with her milky pale face. “You have any brothers or sisters, sweetheart?”
She blanched a little. “My sister ent oldern’ eight,” she said, her eyes darting inside, “honest.”
He sighed a little at the implication, and sat on the bench outside their doorway to be more her height. “What would you say if I offered you a job as a housemaid?” He asked her. “Nothing funny, regular hours and a weekly wage, your own bed if you want it and three meals a day, with money to spare to send home to your sister.”
She hemmed at that, distrustful, and he rested a hand on her thin shoulder. “Bet’ll vouch for me,” he said, quietly, “and if you decide you’d want to, she’ll take you to the place.” He gave her a coin for good measure, and she slipped it into her pocket, looking up at him.
“You want to step inside?” She asked, uncertain.
“No funny business,” he said again, gently. “Consider that a down payment towards your first week’s wages. What’s your name, dear?”
“Lucy,” she said, quietly, looking up at him carefully.
He nodded. “Well, Lucy, I hope you’ll think on it some.”
She nodded back. “Shall,” she said, and he got up from the bench and dipped his head a little in her direction before walking down the street, hands in his pockets, the cool night air familiar, like an old coat wrapped around him.