sirenspull_logs

[The music pulses in the air, bass vibrating in her bones a little. It's just loud enough to drown out excess thoughts, but not so loud a person can't hear a voice two feet away from them. This club is a little too dark and not quite crowded enough and the wrong kind of sleaze for Chuck's cup of tea, but here she is.

It's not her usual place. She makes use of Castiel's pet hookers (a strange choice in pets to adopt, but okay) often - at least with her normal male body - and has a couple favorites he's nice to and who appreciate his unassuming service and tendency to offer them beer, food, and not ask questions when they vanish into the bathroom.

This isn't the club they work at. This is where one of his other girls works, a tall, angry woman named Lucy who mutually dislikes Chuck and is bitter for all the right reasons. Not that Chuck blames her, but she can't be in a room with Lucy for more than five minutes without some snide comment that suggests the woman doesn't care about taking Chuck's money.

Chuck is here tonight. Seeking out someone who hates him. Who doesn't pretend to laugh at his jokes. Someone with cold hands.

She isn't drunk this time. There's maybe two drinks in her- stone-cold sober by her standards. Alcohol would magnify her emotions tonight, make the recent losses (another angel down) all the more present in her mind. It would numb her.

When Lucy spots her from the stage, with the faint sneer that says Lucy knows she might not just be stripping tonight, Chuck thinks she doesn't want to be numbed.]

[Lucy came into work five minutes early, as usual, because the train either drops her off early or late, and she endured the kisses on both cheeks from the manager, same as usual. She dressed amidst the babble and gossip of the other girls, and listened to the chatter with little interest and a lot of drowning it out with sound of her own humming.

And then something very different happened.

As she was walking out of the restroom, a black cloud assaulted her, and Lucy wouldn't remember anything until later that evening. (When she asked coworkers what happened, and they called her unusually inspired without explaining what it meant. She’d ignore it, and hope the sinking feeling of not knowing would go away. But that’s neither here nor there.) The thing wearing Lucy's body cracked her neck, and turned back to look into the mirror. Not bad. A little more intimidating than she went for, because she liked being underestimated, but nice enough. For now.

Lucy grinned into the mirror and her eyes went black as pitch for a split second as the demon surged under the surface.

Oh, yes. She'd do nicely.

When it was Lucy's turn, she got up and performed, careful to keep to the choreography. Wouldn't do any good to get lazy in the middle of the act. This was nothing new. It was a long game, and when she caught sight of her target she nearly gave it away.

Her pacing always went out the window when she smelled blood in the water.

But when Lucy's break comes, she surprises the other girls by taking it out in the other room, slipping on a thin robe before heading to the crowd, and her grin is sharp when she ignores the girl asking after her with some real concern.

She comes up behind Chuck with feigned annoyance and drops into the chair beside her with an ease born of slipping in and out of bodies like dresses. Her own was actually safe in a storeroom, locked up tight and abandoned like a dead thing. It fit better than this borrowed skin. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, and there was something sweet about going through with a plan. ]

What's a girl like you, doing in a place like this?

[By this point Chuck is depressed, drunk, and out of it enough that she's numbed to the Hellfire scrape of having a demon close. She simply doesn't notice- what's one note of discomfort to a constant soundtrack of unhappiness?

She looks at the stripper-slash-hooker dully.]

It's me, Lucy. It's Chuck. Whenever you're done dancing, I guess- I'm not really in a hurry.

[Even with a bitch he hates, Chuck doesn't like to demand too much. On some level, she thinks She lost the right to demand anything many, many centuries ago. So even to this person, he'll lie down and be a punching bag. To go at her convenience, not care when she insults him (because she knows he won't steal, and that Castiel could kick his ass), and pay her well for her tender affections when they're done.

Feeling vaguely guilty for taking up her time, she shrugs a shoulder.]

I guess. I mean, it's after sirens and all, so I can't exactly go anywhere, but whatever.

closed - Wednesday - all the warnings for this log are here :|

Warnings for Meg. Being Meg. And causing all the problems.

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closed - Thursday, Mercy's old place

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