Welcome to Gaia! ::

"Oh stop pouting," Sayn hissed, pushing Albion's hat down and into his face when he passed him. "You look like a two-year-old in need of a diaper change. Here." He tossed a pack of matches at the incubus as they walked to his car - a sleek, black Mercedes, of course - and got in, waiting for the other. "And you look absolutely ridiculous, by the way," he got in one more shot before pulling out of the garage, heading away from the wealthier uptown area he lived to the latest safehouse for Liberation. Someone might think it was dangerous not to stay there, too much of a chance leading someone right to it, but they had that covered. Liberation covered -every- angle.

Thanks to a combination of magic and science, most of the vehicles belonging to Liberation members were untraceable by most magics and most electronic tracking devices. They also wouldn't register in a person's memory - they slid right out, and second after seeing one, a person wouldn't be able to remember what make it was, or what model, or the color, or in fact whether they'd seen it at all. There was always plenty of camouflage weavings over their safehouses too.

Every angle.

"Roll down your window, you weren't born in a barn."

Niqui didn't look up when Aamira entered the room. She knew it was Aamira, from the staccato stiletto click of her boots on the bare floor, and the waft of worn leather that followed her like perfume.

Nor did she look up when the more mature demon stopped near the doorway, nor until she at last aksed, "Nique, must you always look like a slob?"

Niqui gave her a sidelong glance from beneath thick white eyelashes. She took in leather pants, leather boots, corset-top, considerable, suggestive expanses of bloodlessly pale skin.

At first glance, maybe the casual observer might have thought htere was some familial resemblance there, thought this really didn't go any further than a similarity in hair colour and style. Any furhter examination would immediately show that they shared few enough racial characteristics, let alone anything else.

With a sigh, Aamira began stalking around Niqui, scrutinising her. She would have taken in a skin-fitting black tank top, severely torn black jeans and chunky flat boots, along with some silver jewellery... and not much other than that, really. The less mature demon followed the other as much as possible with her white-in-black eyes, before flicking her hair defiantly off her shoulders... with her tail. Aamira wasn;t going to get any more of an answer than that, and she went on, "Why are you here by yourself, anyways?”

"Nguuhdnnuh," Niqui mumbled. "Doncha trust me here by myself?" She snapped the magazine shut with one crimson-clawed hand, and tossed it onto the table, even as she surged to her feet. "Whadderwe up to tonight?"

"... or just shoot me."

The words reverberated through her head. Like a ripple it got louder and louder until finally she closed her eyes to stop it. You'd like that wouldn't you? she thought, That way, I would be considered a criminal. Still the urge was strong. On one hand, she could reckon that he'd let go and she could make a break for it, and he did challenge her. Aileen wasn't a reckless person, but she didn't like turning down challenges. On the other hand, she ha d her set of values What values? The last thought, brought a grim smile to her face. Yeah, any of those I had were gone a long time ago.

To buy time she turned to Keima, "Ah, but you see, lying by omission is lying still."

Then Aileen's attention returned to Marc. She fought the urge to make good on his dare and tried, truly tried to drop the gun. It took a few moments, but she did manage to loosen her grip. Not enough, however, to drop the pistol. She sighed, "Look, you can't let go of me and I can't let go of this gun. So how about we do this at the same time. This is the only gun I still have in my possession all the rest are on the ground. I'll go without anymore fuss. Believe me, if it was my intention to shoot you, you wouldn't have needed to dare me." Her last sentence, was meant to assure Marc that despite her rough beginning she could be trusted. She wasn't sure, though, if it succeeded.

“Speak of the devil," Keima said and Dom let out a laugh, "Yes. Him, him, and her. They’re costing me my date. Please, officer, take them away before they cause anymore mayhem!”

Dominic dropped out of the truck bed, paying no heed to the light rain that settled on his hair and the shoulders of his brown leather jacket, and watched with some amusement as Keima -- who hadn't changed at all since Dom had last seen him -- took matters into his own hands and solved what looked to be an issue between Marc and a strange woman. The older werewolf shook his head at the two younger men, before reaching back into the truck bed for the handle of the hover-platform that had been placed inside to transport the iron cage that contained the sidhe.

There was no glamor on it and the strange captive inside was completely visable to the naked eye. He floated the hover-platform to the base of the iron cage to jack it up.

Marc stared heavenward, and slowly counted to ten in his head. Stalemate, still. Oh, he could have wrenched the damned thing out of her hand. He could have squeezed her wrist, pressing on those tendons that would have made her release her grip, but goodness only knew what Keima would go and do if he hurt the woman.

He had gotten to seven when Keima reached around him to liberate Aileen of the pistol.

"I was about to do that..." he pointed out, as the elemental tossed the weapon up into the air.

"... But not that," he observed, as Keima jolted the thing with a burst of electricity.

"There," the fox-like youth said. "Now the both of you can stop playing your useless game of power and go.”

"Thankyou. Shall be glad to do so." Marc led the woman as gently as he could over to the truck, as Dominic was loading the cage into the back. He released her wrist only after he had opened the rear cab door, and even then positioned himself in such a way that she could not go anywhere except for into the otherwise sealed rear section of the truck cabin. "I promise this won't take too long," he said gently to her.



"I was out on the town for a bit," Aamira told Niqui. "Didn't find anything interesting, though."

The less mature demon just shrrugged.

"Care for some chaos?" Aamira went on. "I'm bored; the Liberation doesn't have to hide like this. I feel like caged rat again. Let's have some fun."

"Thought you'd never ask," Niqui muttered as Aamira started toward the door.

“Feel like a city wide black out? Power plants are such ridiculous things, one little surge and you can throw an entire city into darkness. Maybe if we’re lucky we’ll even get a visit from those obedient Bureau mutts, I have yet to introduce myself.”

Niqui's entire bearing changed: the nochalant slouch dissolved away, her eyes brightened, and her crimson-glossed mouth split into a grin full of needle-pointed teeth. "Hell yes," she hissed, her tail lashing expectantly.

"That," Sayn said cooly, an unaffected smirk over his lips, "is absolutely none of your business." He pulled up outside of the nondescript building, invisible to any wandering mortal eyes. He jerked on the parking break, eyes sliding right to gaze at Alby for a moment as the smirk deepened. Turning towards the boy abruptly, he ran a finger down the male's cheek, face inches from his, dark eyes heavily lidded. "Despite how much you want to make it your business," he said silkily, tracing down to the younger's lips…and then just as abruptly pulled away, throwing off his seat belt and opening the door. "Come on, we're late," he said in his typical even, cold tone, all trace of flirtation gone. The door slammed shut and he walked to the entrance, his boot heels crunching on the gravel. He didn't even wait, or look back at the other or anything, completely expecting him to follow behind. He always did.

He paused at the door, brushing off his long-sleeved silk shirt, colored a dark burgandy wine, his favorite color. It was left untucked (he thought it looked better, allowing the whispy material to contrast nicely with his boot-cut leather pants.) Pushing his long ponytail over his shoulder, he went inside, not even caring if Alby was behind him or not.

Pausing at the enterance to the main room, he leaned casually against the door frame, arms crossed and smiled at the other three members of their little band of merry mischief-makers. "Hello ladies," he said pleasantly enough, voice smooth as satin.

Aileen could only watch as her own pistol, her beloved pistol, was wrenched out of her hand and destroyed. She could feel the tears well up as one of her precious weapons was reduced to useless pieces, but none the less she was grateful. But he didn't have to destroy it. Said the part of her brain that still dwelt on it.

She was being led, but it was hardly necessary. She would've gone with him anyway. Marc stopped at a cab and opened the door,only then, Aileen realized did he let go of her wrist. Even now, he thinks I may make a break for it. Then aloud, "Your lack in faith in me is astounding." With that she got into the car.

((Sorry... I just realised that my last Marc post may have been a little confusing: I meant cab as in truck cabin. It might be just be an Australian term. After all, mostly we rarely call what Americans call "cabs" anthing other that taxis. ^^;;; ))

"Your lack of faith in me is astounding," Aileen declared as she flounced into the rear seat of the truck.

"It's a habit," Marc shrugged in reply, leaning against the side of the truck. "I'll leave the door open, for now. That rear section seals airtight when it's closed." And I might even tell you why when we leave. I wonder if you'd believe me when I told you about the vampires. "I don't feel like playing fetch tonight, but I promise I can outrun you within a few paces."

He waited for Dom to finish with the fae in the cage.