Owner Pose
Chas Chandler     Sometime during the trip back to Earth, Chas fell asleep. He continued to sleep during the first day after. And the second. And the third. He continued to sleep nonstop until almost a week had passed since his recovery from the Gate of the Silver City.

    Apparently, recovering from being a door is a tiring process as he sleeps for nearly six days straight. When he wakes, it's with a start and a gasp of air. "Where?!" he looks around, uncertain where he is or how he got there. The room is vaguely familiar, there is a sense of the place that lingers in the air and a memory of incense someone close to him is fond of comes to mind.

    Pushing himself up to a sitting position Chas calls out to the room, "'ello?"
Phoebe Beacon     The room was vaguely familiar. Supposedly, legend says that this flat, in this building, had been occupied by a certain magician and his best mate, hence why there was a plugged bullet hole in the livingroom. But someone's made changes.

    The blue curtains were definitely neither John nor Chas's. The stacks of books and bookshelves with a couple semi-abandoned Aikido medals and picture frames turned face down. A couple of boxes marked 'MAGIC STUFF' and 'OTHER BOOKS', half-filled. The unfamiliar hum against any magical senses of wards meant to keep the occupants safe.

    And on the bedstand, a printed out selfie-picture in a 4x6 frame of Phoebe's nose and forehead, Chas cleaning glasses behind the bar, Jon looking thoroughly confused, and in the back --

    The incense was something sweet, Boswellia Sacra, a citrusy blend of Frankensence, meant for protection. It clung around the fabric of the room.

    Someone's put out a pair of pajama pants, a shirt, a sweatshirt and a pair of socks -- bundled with a pair of boxer shorts -- on a chair at the end of the bed.
Chas Chandler     Chas rises from the bed and looks down at his clothes. The all white getup from his time on the Gate are no longer pristine and flawless. They're rumpled and coated with sweat. He's definitely in need of a change. He pushes up from the bed and moves to the chair.

    It takes him a little longer to get the clothes on than he remembers and they are a little on the big size on him, but pulling the drawstring of the sweatpants taught does enough to keep him in the realm of modesty.

    "Our old place but not ours anymore... so Phoebe's place at the Curio..." he says to himself as he moves out of the bedroom and into the living area. "Pheebs?" he calls. "Lighthouse?" he adds. After another moment of waiting he sighs and shoves his hands into the pockets (because sweatpants need pockets--if they don't have them they're useless.) "Not home..." he mutters and moves to the couch before settling down. He takes a look at his hands, wiggling his fingers absently and chuckling. It'd been forever since he could even feel his hands, much less see them.
Phoebe Beacon     Phoebe's apartment. The decor is updated and made comfortable. Third hand furniture, throw pillows. A lonely box of take-out for See Yew Soon with chopsticks sticking out of it on the breakfast bar.

    As Chas is settling down on the couch, a few moments pass before there's the rattle of keys, and the door opens.

    Her braids are still bleached, though the red has turned a pinkish-orange at the tips. She's wearing an orange sweatshirt and blue jeans, though under the thinnest possible GOTHAM KNIGHTS sweatshirt, struggling with several bags of groceries and a flat of bottled water as she makes her way in, at first not noticing Chas.

    She manages to close the door with a bump of her hip, and sets down the water and bags on the counter, trying for quiet before she realizes he's up.

    "D-Cha-Da-" she stammers, looking over the breakfast bar and into the livingroom, her dark eyes going wide.

    "You're up!"
Chas Chandler     "I am" Chas replies with a small smirk at her fumble over whether to use name or title for him. "'Dad' is fine, you know" he adds. "It's not going to offend me or anything. Be nice to hear it more than every blue moon when I can make a phone call or when Renee decides to pick up the phone."

    There's a slight difference in him, something that Phoebe's senses might pick up on. He's always resonated with magical energy, a testament of the enchantments placed on him by his best friend that not only kept him alive (at the cost of a set number of souls in the way of his own) but also the protections against mental intrusion that same friend tattooed on his skin. But now...

    The resonance of magic in him is different. More than that, it's exponentially greater than it had been before his extended sabbatical. Chas is a veritable battery of magical energy now; and it's similar to that of the energy that had been placed on her own person by the Archangel named Sandalphon--but altogether different at the same time.

    He looks the same though, maybe a little slimmer and possibly more muscled at the shoulders (if that was possible, he was a bear of man before he was taken after all) and his smile is just as open and friendly. "How've been, Lighthouse?" he asks, opening his arms in an offer for a hug from his newest daughter.
Phoebe Beacon     Phoebe comes around the breakfast bar and into the livingroom, cautiously, a little more wary about approaching magical powerhouses now. She can feel those wards and warnings that she cut her magical-sensing teeth on, taught by another. Wards and tattoos that she studied, but would never have, probably. The resonance of Chas was so different, and she, touch-avoidant as she is, wraps her arms around herself and shakes her head. "I can't." she whispers, regarding the hug, and she sinks down to sit on the coffee table and look to Chas, and she takes a long, shakey breath inward.

    "It's... it's been a hard time. Y'know. Between barring myself from feeling anything like anger or horror or sadness, St. Michael trying to kill me in the street and then, y'know. The whole hole in the ceiling... trying to establish healthy boundaries while absorbing the Will of the Host into my body to try and become more likely to survive the next encounter... went to Quito. Punched a conquistador in the face. Normal stuff for teenage girls." she attempts to shrug off the whole 'fought a giant battle for your sake' thing. She takes off the sweatshirt, folding it over her lap. HEr left arm has an athletic sleeve hiding the burns and scarrification.

    "Did you sleep okay? I grabbed some clothes and cleaned them up the best I could, but most everything in the flat was kinda junked." she replies quietly.
Chas Chandler     Chas drops his arms and nods. "Fair enough" he says. "I saw all of that you know. I saw... pretty much everything you went through and I've been looking over the old place when I had a moment. Mostly when you slept..." He says that like it isn't a strange thing to consider. "Most of the artifacts there can be salvaged. But yeah, most of my shit is ruined. It's... unimportant right now. What isn't is..."

    He leans against the side of the couch casually. "I slept... more than okay. It was like a grave without the inevitable darkness at the end." He cringes at the implication in his words. "Sorry. I... you've done well, kid. Better than I could've expected given well... everything." He doesn't mention the loss of family or anything, he doesn't need to. "So... what's your plans for the future. I know you're in junior Bat school. Thinking of making it a full time gig?" he asks. "I'd understand if you wanted to step away from the JLD stuff. War will do that." He talks as if he knows about it... and maybe during his time as a door, seeing the passage of humanity... he did?
Phoebe Beacon     "... Batman wants me to pull away from the JLD because I had no oversight. He figured out I was going to use a portion of the Celestial Will to try and open myself to The Light more to fight Cait on her level. Didn't end up happening at all, but..." she gives a small shrug, nervously pulling at her hands, worrying against the bracelet and the leather strap on her left wrist. "Red Robin says I belong in Gotham, for now, so I can recover from the trauma of the last year. Jon and most of his friends seem to think I need some sort of therapy, since the acceptance of not having a happy ending *apparently* is bad." Phoebe rolls her eyes a moment. "So... I got a grant, I'll be going to Gotham U. I'm in the PreMed program." she explains.

    "What about you? Have you called up Asriel yet? Or Geraldine?"
Chas Chandler     "I've been awake for all of 10 minutes, and 5 of it have been talking to you" Chas says with a shake of his head. "So no. As for Geraldine. Renee never told her I was missing. Going 4 months without hearing from Daddy isn't out of character for her life. I'll call her. Maybe Renee finally folded, or Geraldine managed to find the letter you sent her." He adds. "She got the drawing. But not the note that came with it." He snorts. "Typical Renee."

    He blows out a breath, finding the action suddenly strange in the feeling of it. Maybe it was a side effect of not doing it for so long. Internal shrug engaged. "I intend to give Asa" (he pronounces it ah-sah), "a call tomorrow if I don't tonight. You and her have grown close. I'm glad. It was one of my worries..." he offers her that lopsided grin. "And something I meant to see to before... well..."

    He takes a moment in silence to consider her choices. "That's fair. And I'll support you in the decision. I don't know about this whole 'oversight' business from a guy who feels an entire city is his responsibility and doesn't have any himself but..." he shrugs outwardly. "If it's what -you- want, I'll support it. As long as you don't become a recluse and keep in touch." Almost as an afterthought he adds, "You and Jon found a replacement for your leadership position?" he asks. He had a few names he could put forth, but he'd have to see if they even -wanted- him in the group anymore. Especially since he forced them into a war of his own making over a stupid decision of not reading the fine print.
Phoebe Beacon     "I haven't had the chance to talk about it with Jon. Not like it matters; Cael had an excellent point when we spoke. I mostly did my own thing, be rash and stupid and she occasionally yelled at me that my ideas were stupid and had concern about the damage and fall out." Phoebe draws one foot off, kicking off her shoe and her colorful happy frog sock showing, she sat her chin on her knee.

    "What I want doesn't matter, not really. I have some opportunities. And I know at one point I'm going to have to choose working with Batman, or working in the Occult. It's not the first time I've walked in more than two worlds." Phoebe points out quietly, and she gives a wan smile. "And magic is in my blood. Literally."

    But the idea of Batman not having oversight almost makes her laugh. Poor, poor Alfred. Long Suffering Alfred.

    "I heard Jon, Cael, Martin and Agnes were going to the Alps pretty straight-away, and I had some bigger concerns, like 'how the heck do I move a giant of a man into my bed' and 'oh balls I haven't had food in this apartment in like, three months."

    Phoebe raises her eyebrows, and gives a small smile.

    "And I think it was more wishful thinking. Asa and I have had encounters, but other than an art exchange, we're not close."
Chas Chandler     Chas frowns. "I think you're wrong there on both counts... what you did -was- rash and dangerous as hell; but so was Normandy if my viewing of it was any indicator" he says flatly. "War calls for rash decisions and often people outside don't understand or condone those decisions, but they get the job done... which is what's important in the end."

    "And what you want is more than important. It's essential. If I teach you anything, let it be that. Never -ever- disregard you own desires or put them behind what someone else says is 'good for you.'" He fixes her with a hard gaze and his eyes are so very blue. "You're an adult now. Barely but that distinction is important. Never let anyone dictate what you do because -they- think it's what is good for you. In the end, you're the arbiter of that and other people can shut up and deal. Even Batman and Robin."

    He puts a hand to his stomach. "I'm... not terribly hungry... I mean, I could eat sure. But it's strange. I..." he shakes his head. "I don't know. I suppose I wouldn't say no to a sandwich." He moves forward to help with putting away groceries, if she'll allow it. "Look, Lighthouse, there've been a lot of... changes in your life. But... I was gone for a while, but I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere else if I can help it." This is where he would usually put a hand on her shoulder, but she's been clear in that she doesn't want that. "If I have to be the stable force in it for you... then I will."
Phoebe Beacon     Phoebe nods, and hops up, slipping her other shoe off -- her other sock has ghosts on it. Not matched, and she pads over to pick up the bags of groceries she's dropped, setting the flat of bottled water -- in fun fruit flavors like 'this might be lemon!' and 'this remembers being a raspberry!' -- on the counter. "The water from the sink's fine for coffee and tea, but there's still an alert to boil the water while they're still working on some of the pipes." she comments, weighing her words a moment as she puts some dry sundries away -- rice going into a clear bin. A box of breakfast cereal.

    "You've got your own recovery to consider." she comments, "You were gone for a long time. The bar's in shambles and whatever person tried to nail down the tarp did a poor job of it." Phoebe states -- being the one who nailed down the tarp. "John, last I heard, married Meggan and they've gone off to the Faerie. I text him questions every once in a while and traded a bottle of whiskey for some knowledge..." she trails off, and then she reaches down, and curls her fingers against her arm.

    "There's been a lot of changes." she agrees. "With both of us, I think. You're something closer to Michael than even I am."
Chas Chandler     Chas stops mid-placement of a box of kraft dinner and stares at Phoebe. "Excuse me?" he says. "Umm... what?" he chuckles. "I'm just a bloke from Liverpool with some souls trapped inside him. Just because I was on that door doesn't make me angel of anything..." he says, though there's hesitation in his tone.

    But he hasn't felt hungry, despite six days of not eating. Or four months and six days if you count his time in Heaven. And he's not injured. And he feels more... alive than he ever did but more alone internally if he thinks about it.

    He manages to set the box down before his hands start to shake. "Phoebe..." he says, her name enough of a testament to his rising panic, "what happened to me?" he asks suddenly. "I... I'm still me, right?" he asks, his tone tinged with alarm.
Phoebe Beacon     Phoebe pauses making the sandwich. Her eyes go wide a moment as it hit her like a ton of bricks, and she looks over to Chas.

    And she sets her things down. She turns to him, and she takes his hands, those big, strong hands, and with her own callouses built up from martial arts and cutting herbs and snuffing out candles between her finger tips, she reaches to hold his shaking hands in her own.

    "There is not a force in this universe that could stop Chas Chandler from being Chas Chandler. Bloke from Liverpool who played roadie to Mucous Membrane. Geraldine's dad who she loves more than any one of her dolls and does her best to understand. Best Damn Cabbie and Bartender." she states, going to squeeze his hands. She tries to ground him, not with magic, not with anything with capital letters, just by being there.

    "Even when all seemed lost, you always had faith in everyone around you. So, you've got a new shine to you. Your pants don't fit right and your shoulders are squared. That does *not* change the fact that you give the best hugs in New York City, that you have the biggest heart even if you're a bit of a doorknob now and again." Phoebe smiles, falling back into old vernacular.
Chas Chandler     Chas takes a deep breath and tries to steady his shaking hands. "Okay. Okay... I'm still me. Just..." He pauses and looks up. "Did you just call your dad a knob?" he asks with a smirk. "Cute." It seems the joke did the trick as the shaking has subsided. "I'm... closer to Michael. Are you saying I'm an angel?" he asks. "Is that even possible? I mean, some sort of twisted parting gift for the bullshit fine print?" he says, staring at the differences in their hands. "And if so... what does it mean?"

    He takes another breath, realizing each and every time that he hasn't needed to, it's more a motion of habit than anything he needs to do. He frees one of his hands to pinch the bridge of his nose. "God this is going to be confusing as hell, isn't it?" he asks. "And trust me, I've seen it. It's confusing. Worse than anything the Queen put together with the Commonwealth, that's for damn sure."
Phoebe Beacon     "Face it, sometimes? You are." Phoebe ripostes, and gives a small grin, having pulled him back from a panic attack. Goodness knows how many she's had this year.

    "I Mean, theoretically possible?" she shrugs "There's at least two humans who have become angels in the Bible, according to apocraphyl and Book of Enoch."

    Her hands are smaller, darker. Fingernails painted black except for her ring fingers, which are bright orange.

    And Phoebe gives a little smile. "You're talking to someone who hit puberty and found out she could form balls of light between her hands. I know about sudden and confusing powers... a little bit." she states gently.

    "... it's gonna be confusing. An' I kind of with Constantine was here to kinda huff and bollocks about it... but until he comes around, you've got me." she breathes out. "We'll figure it out."
Chas Chandler     Chas takes another forced breath and grins a bit wider at her affirmation of the jab. "Maybe Asa can help too... I mean she is one as well so maybe she has some insight into how and what it means." He reaches down and gives her hands a quick squeeze before letting her go. "Thanks, Lighthouse. I mean it. Looks like you're going to need to put on a teacher's hat for a while. But... I trust you."

    He looks at the kitchen. "But first... sandwiches. Let's see if I forgot how to do that in my time as a door." He steps back and returns to the mundane task of putting away groceries and making food. That at least, he has something of handle on, even if everything else inside him is completely alien to his muscles and senses.
Phoebe Beacon     "Right... we'll start with figuring out what you can do." Phoebe replies quietly, and she releases Chas's hand, and goes to put away the refrigerables... milk, eggs, cheese, the rest of the lunchmeat and grabbing out peanutbutter for her own sandwich.

    And she pauses, and turns back to Chas.

    And, if he lets her -- she hugs him from behind, putting her face against his back, and taking a deep breath.

    "I'm so happy you're back."