Gathering: Summer Party

[concierge]

Outside of the Nexus Hotel, waiters and hotel staff had begun to set up the umbrellas and the tables in the middle of the day. Soon, it became clear that something was happening in the shadow of the Nexus. White tablecloths were draped on the tables and drinks and food were brought out with the help of several waiters and servers, staffing tables with hot and cold foods beside bartending stations. Summery drinks in bright, neon colors are laid out one by one and soon, the afternoon light casts a radiant look on the scene.

Music plays faintly in the background and a note at the front desk invites all the Nexus guests to head outside and join in on the summer party, which promises to continue going as long as there are people to stay and continue keeping the warm atmosphere rolling.

On the lawn, social games had been set out -- lawn bowling, croquet, and tables were set up with chairs for anyone who didn't quite have the will or the spirit to get into such games. Soon, a small number of people had begun to mill around, but as with all parties, there's always room for more.

Comments

[votecrowley]

"You look like someone who would drink more than her fair share," Crowley replied, easily. Not, of course, that he was particularly interested in the words 'fair' or 'share' in the first place. That was a construct humans made to try to stop the fighting, yet inevitably started more wars than it prevented. Faith, in fact, was far less to blame than pure human greed.

Which naturally he really banked on in his line of work.

[sixsciencecredits]

"You're not wrong," Darcy said, her tone easy and dry as she took another long, cool drink and neatly crossed one leg over the other. She had no idea if he was making an attempt at insulting her, but she didn't care enough to bother with getting worked up thinking about it. What was the point?

"You look like someone's rich, weird uncle," she said, hoping at least the 'rich' part were true as his having nieces or nephews somewhere out there had absolutely no bearing on whether or not he could offer her some choice booze. "Nice suit."

[votecrowley]

Crowley opened his mouth to say something to that, then shut it again so that he could mull that remark over. It was always a little surprising when a human came out and had you pegged in a second. He guessed he'd gotten too used to hunters (who he was, lately, uncle-ing about like a creature who was supposed to eat its young but didn't feel like it anymore).

"I do believe you've summarized my entire existence," he mused. "On Earth, at the least. And I don't purchase bad suits, though the good ones tend to get messed up no matter all of my efforts. What's your name, hellion?"

[sixsciencecredits]

"It's what I'm here for, the summarizing of existences," Darcy said, though she smiled. "No use in buying shitty suits that I can see, but I dunno if I'd come to a party like this wearing something that slick. You're just asking for someone to spill bbq chicken on it or some shit."

She patted the seat next to hers, offering it to him silently, and said, "Darcy. Are you an alien? I only ask because you keep saying 'Earth' and I happen to know a few aliens. They also talk like they're about to come in and have a nice cuppa with the missus."

The last line, of course, was delivered in a shamelessly bad English accent, but she thought the point would've gotten across one way or another. Both Thor and Loki had smooth accents, as this fellow did, and she wondered if it was some sort of galactic conspiracy or if aliens just liked to sound aesthetically pleasing.

[votecrowley]

"Mostly I just get shot," Crowley said. "Or stabbed. That's where most of my suits meet their end. I can't say I've ever had chicken spilled on me. Is that odd? I feel like that's odd, now that you've said it."

The sad part was, he had been mistaken as an alien before, technically. But that had hardly been surprising when you put it up to the fact he had abducted a whole lot of people, and then tried to force them to read a rock. In the end, the deeper secrets and happenings of the universe were rather ridiculous in summary. "That was truly painful to hear," he said, speaking, of course, about her accent. "No, I'm that other class of stereotype that speaks in a British accent. I'm the Devil, darling. Not the fancy one called Morningstar, though, he's in a bit of a bind right now and has been for quite some time. Name's Crowley."

[sixsciencecredits]

Darcy was very carefully honing the art of not shouting "Holy shit" when she was blown away yet again by her circumstance, but some instances proved to be more difficult than others. Grace wasn't something she had been naturally gifted with, but then she also didn't want to be known as the annoying, too-excitable girl, so she was working on tamping back her more natural inclination toward exclamation. But again, it was difficult.

Therefore when she tamped her reaction back to a wide raising of her eyebrows at Crowley's delivery of his species, it was a monumental feat of will. She cleared her throat, then took a long drink as she turned that over. She'd never been an expressly religious person, so she had not given much thought to there being demons. Knowing that 'Gods' existed like Thor and Loki was easier for her to swallow in that, as explained through Science, Thor and his brother almost fit the technical definition for an alien as opposed to some sort of deity. She wasn't sure where or how the specifics worked, but neither Thor nor his brother had made her think for an instant that Satan was real, while this person spoke of him casually.

"A devil," she said, finally. "Huh." She wondered then if she should be exercising some sort of caution while speaking to him - devils were notoriously tricky, all the songs she could remember about them said so - but his approach had been casual enough for her to think he hadn't appeared with the sole intention of eating her soul for breakfast. "What kind of devil?" Then, after a beat, "Crowley. There's a song about you, I think."

[votecrowley]

He watched all the cogs reel and click about in her head, waiting for the inevitable reaction. After so many years being rather up front about what he was (one didn't exactly buy souls without also adding 'I am a demon' to the exchange) there were few times he saw a new response to the information. There was the disbelief, the fear, the anger, the rage, the acceptance, the canny 'I'll believe you for now'. There was also the 'huh', which was the one she gave.

Which was nice, he'd rather pegged her as a 'no fucking way' sort.

"I used to be a crossroads demon," he said, "but after a bit of corporate sabotage, I climbed the ladder. I run Hell now." More or less; bucking responsibility, while not usually his bag, certainly had become more of a habit. It was all the human blood; it had tweaked something, he was sure. At the mention of a song, he grinned. "Oh, really?" he asked. "Hm. Though maybe you're thinking of an occultist."

[sixsciencecredits]

Darcy wasn't quite drunk yet, so his explanation of his current situation allowed for a bit more reflection than it might've had he waited to appear four drinks later. It struck her as entirely strange that there were such things as 'corporate ladders' as far as demons were concerned, but she supposed there were bound to be power plays in any species. That she happened to be talking to the fellow that had climbed his way to the top just then was also interesting. Might've explained the sharp suit. Dress for the job you want, right?

"What's a crossroads demon?" She asked, figuring her own ignorance on the types of demons was the best place to start in terms of understanding whom and what she was speaking to. "I'm a bit shady as far as my demon types go. And an occultist? Really? Damn. Here I was hoping I was talking with someone famous."

[votecrowley]

"Well, my dear," he said, because this was definitely not the first - though hopefully maybe the last, since he'd left the role of a salesman behind, or so he'd hoped - time he'd talked about this. "Say you want something - no, you need something. Your very existence seems to depend on it. You head out to a crossroads - one that isn't paved, so hard to find in this age of technology - and you bury a little box of voodoo, and the next thing you know you've summoned a crossroads demon."

He motioned to her with his glass. "Each human body houses a soul," he said. "They're very valuable. Hell will pay almost any earthly price for one. Your crossroads demon makes most of the deals. It's the stuff of all the good horror movies and urban legends."

Finally setting aside the glass, he added, "And I definitely mean to brag when I say I am famous, but alas, I've yet to inspire a good song."

[sixsciencecredits]

Darcy took a long drink while Crowley talked, keeping her eyes on him in a show of interest as she did so, but needing something to do with herself while she thought about what he said. It was a frightening thought to consider that one's soul could be bartered away so easily. Frightening, and strangely fascinating too. Darcy was suddenly very sorry that she'd asked him to explain himself further, as she had a sinking sensation that the solution he'd just explained was the sort that wiggled into one's brain like a worm and set up a nest. She had no doubt that the next time she felt she truly, direly needed something that was far out of her grasp, what he just said would come to her, if only briefly. It was only human nature, and it was a thing that, she was sure, slick motherfuckers like this one counted on.

She resisted the urge to chase that line of questioning even further, settling for a nod, then smiling at his claim to being famous. "Well, I dunno," she said. "Maybe that Ozzy song is about you. Who can truly decipher what he's trying to say anyways? I don't know if you need parseltongue or maybe just early onset Alzheimer's to really pick up what Ozzy's putting down, but it's certainly beyond me."