Who: Bo and Sam What: Some info. When: Friday night (and the feelin's right!) Where: The Roadhouse Warnings: Um, bar, succubi, take your chances
Bo figured showing up early wasn't a bad thing. She had checked and so far heard good things about the place. At least about it being safe, even for people not of the norm. Still, she wanted to check it out herself. So she arrived somewhere around eight thirty and ordered a beer. Keeping in mind that if asked, she was going to slip the word 'displaced' in the answer as smoothly as possible. Until then, she'd sit back and enjoy a not so watered down beer and know that she wouldn't be quizzed on how old it was or what made it. Okay so maybe some good points to a non fae bar too.
Her wardrobe rarely changed much and considering she hadn't really had time to go out and get more clothes, her style was pretty one note. Dark jeans, dark low cut top, dark leather jacket. Oh and dark boots. Yeah come to think of it, The Morrigan might have a point when it came to fashion. Oh well, tomorrow's problem. Tonight's was bigger. So far as she could tell, the 'displaced' were people, beings really, from other worlds. While hers wasn't too much different than this, that wasn't always the case. Seals, broken in order to let Hell rise brought them there. Lucifer, who she was still trying to understand was THE Lucifer, wanted this guy Sam. Well more wanted his body. The secret to defeating the bad guy? Take away the vessel. The problem with that? Killing a human.
Bo wasn't one to kill if she could help it and had more than once taken on the job of body guard instead just to find another way around it. Time was relative and so far it didn't seem anyone had found another way. She didn't claim to be the smartest person but a fresh perspective might give a new idea. So here she was, hoping to hear the whole story and maybe, just maybe, be able to help out. Getting home would be nice, but she understood not ending the world, a bit nicer.