PEIP was well aware of the existence of powerful people who opposed of dark forces. Usually, however, these people either are unaware of their abilities, or live far from the United States in places where ancient magics still have weight. Finding a Scotsman in the middle of their crisis intervention protocol, swinging a chain already identified as silver, in the woods of Hatchetfield was unexpected to say the least.
( “I thought the only person who would come here from ‘across the pond’ was that duchess obsessed with finding Chumby.” Xander had remarked sardonically after hearing the news. )
She had made a fuss when being escorted back to basecamp and, according to Lowell, still acting surly. He didn’t go into detail, but John could make some educated guesses. Before he went in though, he sent another agent on a mundane fetch quest. He had a feeling in his gut that they might need it, and he tended to trust his intuition. Item recovered now in hand, the door opened to her temporary holding room.
She dressed alternatively, and John could only wonder what had gone on in her life to lead her to fighting demons and their ilk. Before he could talk, she was already talking, immediately trying to establish herself as in charge at this moment. It was almost enough to make John crack a small smile, though his eyes did soften a bit.
Without a word, he set a bag on the table – a creasy fast food bag containing a veggie burger and fries that he pushed towards her. “I figured you might be hungry.” He said, his tone no-nonsense as if of course she would be hungry after fighting demons, who wasn’t? “I apologize for not getting a drink order beforehand.” With that, John sat in the chair across from her.
“My name is General John McNamara, I am the head of this operation. Thank you for helping us rout this threat.” The young woman was clearly on edge, and honestly she had every right to be. “Let me assure you, you’re not under arrest. We will be letting you go, and returning your weapon to you before the night passes. I would like to talk and exchange information.”
“It’s not everyday we meet someone like you in Hatchetfield, after all.”
Huh. So this is...unexpected. Flick’s been preparing herself for shouted orders and invasive questions, not a fast food bag being slid across the table towards her. Common sense tells her to be wary of food offered by military strangers, but she ignores it in favour of unwrapping the burger. Sue her, she’s hungry and besides, what’s the worst it’s going to do-kill her? She doesn’t bother asking how he knows she’d want a veggie burger, honestly stranger things have happened to her in the past week than this, and her only regret is he didn’t think to get her a drink too.
“Flick,” she says by way of introduction and peace offering. While he talks she shoves as much food into her mouth as she physically can, nodding around it to show she’s listening. God, when was the last time she ate? Either it’s been longer than she thought, or this is just a really good burger-maybe a bit of both. She decides not to dive into his someone like you comment, uncertain if he means Scottish, gothic, or monster hunter, and instead focuses on the first part of his statement.
“Exchange information?” she asks once she’s swallowed another mouthful of chips-fries-whatever. “What, are guys like The X Files branch of the army?” good show, that, if a little unrealistic. She supposes it makes sense that there’s some kind of organisation dedicated to this kind of thing, and given that this is America it makes sense that it would be a military one. She sighs and holds the bag of fries out towards General McNamara in offering, “it’s not like I have much of a choice is it? What’d you wanna know?”
prguitarman
titsay
vaporwave
tangentwithtanner
theartofmadeline
areudirty
