11451/Angels and demons

Angels and demons
Date of Scene:	03 June 2022
Location:	Brooklyn Docks
Synopsis:	No description
Cast of Characters:	Hayal, Robbie Reyes

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Hayal has posed:
It's coming on towards evening, shadows slanting long between the buildings. And on the still ruined docks, atop what was once a little office building for the businesses once there, there's the gleam of great wings in the sunset lights. First one, then the other, stretched to their fullest span, each primary distinct as a finger.

And song, as well. It's the cheerful, unselfconscious warbling of a toddler with a nursery rhyme, only the language it's in isn't human in the least. Depending on what angle Robbie approaches from, he'll find the angel on the rooftop, with several buckets of water and any number of other things. What is he doing?

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Here's another question: what is *Robbie* doing here when he should be finishing up at the shop, or headed home to take care of his brother? The kid sure has some strange habits, come evening.

He climbs out of his car, slams the door, and lights up a cigarette. Without an actual lighter, of course, as per usual. He cuts a lean, dark figure where he settles against the hood; battered leather jacket, tee shirt, and tight black jeans tucked into combat boots that look like they've seen actual combat.

The sound of.. singing? makes him turn and glance up at the rooftop. And squint slightly as recognition dawns.

Oh. It's that asshole.

Hayal has posed:
That asshole, indeed. Happy as a clam, it seems, and currently oblivious to the Sin Eater below. It looks as if he's painting something on his wings, feather by feather, though it doesn't seem to add color. He curves the pinion around awkwardly to examine each one.

But then he finally seems to wake up to that infernal presence nearby. A moment and a rustle of feathers, and footsteps come crunching up to the edge of the roof. He peers over the broken wall, and says, defensively, "I was here first. I am not stalking you." Not stalking you *at the moment*, really, but that can be let slide.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
It's a fair point. Hayal *was* here first, though Reyes is loathe to give the angel any more ammunition to feel righteous. "I don't give a shit," he mumbles, dragging off his cigarette and sending a furtive glance toward the pier. Like maybe he's waiting for.. something. Almost certainly something, rather than someone. He scowls. "Could you fuck off? I'm busy." Sure he is.

Hayal has posed:
The angel doesn't scowl back. He just looks put upon, and sighs. It's clearly a very conscious gesture, something he's learned. "In a bit," he replies, "I'm working on something. It shouldn't take me too long."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Working on something. Robbie slides the angel a dubious look at that, but doesn't question him further. Instead, he pushes off his car and prowls off a short distance, toward the pier. His cigarette is toyed with absently between his fingers as he scans the water.

Yep, definitely waiting for something.

Hayal has posed:
Oh no, now he's engaged Hayal's curiosity. The angel settles himself on the roof parapet, swinging his legs lazily as he continues to treat his feathers, one by one.

Not even humming, but he finally has to ask, "What are you looking for?" As if he had every right to stick his celestial nose into Robbie's business.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
"What part of fuck off don't you understand?" Robbie retorts, twisting around to look up at the impertinent creature demanding answers of him. "Ain't none of your business. Don't you have anything better to do than hassle me?"

Hayal has posed:
Hayal gives him a rather blank stare. "Well, at the moment, no," he says, bluntly. "I am curious about you. And you are still on my list." List? What list? Presumably the naughty list.

He looks to one side, brushes a stray bit of down from the tip of a feather, lets it float down towards the Rider. "Is it your rider that makes you so angry all the time?" he goes on.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
"You don't actually have a list," Robbie challenges, taking an irritated drag off his cigarette, and exhaling smoke skyward through his lips and nose. His gaze is drawn briefly to the floating bit of down, then pulled back to the angel perched above him on the rooftop. "And who said I was angry? Maybe I just got other stuff on my mind, and don't feel like dealing with your shit tonight."

Hayal has posed:
"Oh, I do have a list," Hayal asserts. He seems serious, but then, this is a creature not good at human expressions. "Not long, I'm usually very quick in crossing things off." Presumably that translates to 'terminating with extreme prejudice'.

"It's honestly sort of fun to irritate you," he notes, before leaning over to snag what looks like a cloth and start wiping his feathers down. "But I try not to. Mostly."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
"Fine." Robbie finishes off his cigarette, flicks it to the ground and crushes it with the toe of his boot. "Prove it." The list's existence, he means, probably.

The boy prowls closer to the rooftop's edge, hands jammed into his jacket's pockets, eyes on the looming angel. The last thing Hayal says simply gets a snort.

Hayal has posed:
He's certainly taking his time about it, wiping whatever it was off the surface of his feathers. "I don't have it written down," he says, pausing to eye Robbie almost coyly over the inner curve of the wing. "But I keep track of what demons and evil spirits I encounter, and you are very unusual," the angel asserts.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
His lip curls slightly, like he's going to sneer at Hayal. "Sure you don't." He hitches his chin toward that feathered wing, wondering, "What the hell are you doing, anyway?"

Hayal has posed:
Hayal shrugs those broad wings, "Oiling them, tending them. It makes it easier to keep from getting waterlogged when it rains." He glances back at the sun descending over Jersey. "What are you waiting for?" he asks again, with parrotish insistence.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
From the look on his face, 'oiling my wings' was about the last thing he expected to hear in response to his query. A few moments are spent just staring at Hayal, like he's weighing his options. Trying to decide whether he wants to come up there and punch him in the teeth, or just refuse to take the bait.

Eventually, better judgement wins out. He turns back toward his car, and pulls the driver's side door open. "Nothin' you gotta worry about," he returns, before climbing inside.