Fergus R. "Crowley" McLeod | Day 1
The sun was burning bright, relentlessly and Crowley already missed his own home, his mansion, the air-conditioning, the fluffy mattress he’d spend a dozen or more exciting nights on already, his alcohol cabinet and most of all, the fact he could walk around New York without getting his suit full of dust and sand.
Crowley had volunteered to go and see how their tallest branch was doing, had volunteered to fly down there and meet the head honcho.
Jim. Nah, James? Jeremy? Jumbo? Juno? Seriously, something with a J. That much he knew. Who cared about names? Actions made people worth being recognized, not an impressive name or anything as unimportant like that.
They met for lunch, meeting in a fancy restaurant and Crowley actually did feel a little intimidated, but not because he didn’t feel classy enough to be there, no, only the bloody sand that covered his clothes. He felt like a caveman, just .. he’d go get a shower first thing after he got back to his hotel room. He’d been told it has a huge tub with a whirlpool and a rain-like shower. Mhm, shower. Seriously, he couldn’t wait to get back.
Away from that imbecile of a human being.
How could someone as daft as J-whatever-he-was-called be the head of their branch in Texas? He knew the qualifications weren’t really too high, given the fact they were talking about Texas, but still. He wouldn’t even let that guy clean the floors of his bathroom if he had a say in this. Sadly, he hadn’t. Yet. First thing he’d do if he’d taken over the general leading position, re-structure. Oh yes.
After a few hours of shamefully boring talk, they made their way back to the office. J, yeah he’d just call him J, convinced Crowley he had to see his office and how the firm was working all on their own. No caretaker, no babysitter. Crowley was impressed…. Oh yes, really…. Mhm.
On their way inside, they passed J’s secretary. Cute girl. Nice, green eyes. Crowley liked green eyes. They differed so perfectly from his hazel eyes. She didn’t look too healthy right now, though and when Crowley asked why that girl was still there, looking and breathing raggedly like that, J just shrugged, telling him she knew she had to be here if Crowley came to see them. They all had to do their best and nobody was allowed to miss. The sales man didn’t really think it made sense since it was a major turn-off to have someone looking like that right where he passed. It was like a huge sign, shouting at him, spreading germs in the air.
Inside the head honcho’s, oh, name sign. Jesse Falcon. Oh really? Seriously? Crowley eyed the other, raising a brow and rolling his eyes. He still had the small package in his briefcase, holding the present he had been supposed to hand over, but couldn’t get himself to do it yet.
They both have had another 10 quiet minutes, the sun still shining brightly, showing no mercy on Crowley who was used to the dark atmosphere of the city with all its skyscrapers filtering the sun and not letting it hit the roads they walked on. He blinked relentlessly, subtly wiping the sweat off his forehead. Damn heat.
He heard said secretary cough for quite some time before she grew quiet. About 5 minutes later, someone entered the room, breathing raggedly as J-uh, Jesse stood, frowning and shaking his head, motioning for her to get away. When she didn’t seem to listen, he walked towards her, past Crowley and hissed for her to leave and not bother them. About half a second later, he heard said head honcho yell and bum into a drawer and Crowley was up on his feet in another half second, staring at the scene. J was bleeding excessively, sweating and breathing loudly and his secretary was growling and grinning, lunging for him again and with that, Crowley was out of the office, pulling the door shut behind him to see the rest of the office wasn’t better. Blood, people screaming and running and constant growling. Jesse Falcon shouldn't have had the secretary come to work. His own fault and now he ended up lunch himself.
The business man quickly made his way to the elevators, pressing the button a little more urgently than he had to, given the fact he very well knew it wouldn’t change anything. Still, he let his aggression, or fear out on the tiny, silver button, hissing when the doors opened and he rushed inside, again, pressing the close the doors button faster than he had to, waving to another business man who was too late to get inside. Not his business. While the elevator brought him to the lobby of the building, he worked to unpack the present he’d brought from Japan a few years back, smirking a little as his fingers wrapped around the hilt, feeling the fabric beneath. It wasn’t exactly the longest sword in history, he knew that, but he’d always liked the size perfectly fine.
Not too pompous, but still lethal. A wakizashi. Basically, a katana, only shorter, so he’d have to get closer to hold off sick people. When the doors opened, he rushed outside, sword gripped tightly to not let it slip accidentally as he rushed back to the car he’d hired. Driver ought to follow them and wait so Crowley could leave whenever he wanted. Well, he did find the car. Only no driver was left. Except for his hat and a few… pieces of cloth. Oops. The brunet shrugged and hopped inside the car, making sure the backseat was empty before putting the wakizashi on the seat next to him, starting the car and heading for his hotel room.
Crowley had to get there. He had a gun in his suit case, safety precautions, and he could get his clothes and food and water from the hotel before leaving town.
People were going crazy all around him and he knew he had to get away as fast as possible.
