Show & Tell
The Stonewall Inn
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@the-kings-voice
Intimacy is not who you let touch you. Intimacy is who you text at 3am about your dreams and fears. Intimacy is giving someone your attention, when ten other people are asking for it. Intimacy is the person always in the back of your mind, no matter how distracted you are.
(via babygrindhouse)
Trail of Liquor
“Oh, don’t feel the need to leave on my account,” Metatron implored cheerily, flicking his eyes to the door and windows briefly and wondering whether he ought to seal them. “I mean, I did rush when I noticed you, specifically, were here.”
He levelled his gaze at Kay, searching her expression for minute changes suggesting anything she might be thinking, and asked pleasantly, “So tell me, then, how you know Delilah. You seemed to have been chatting quite a bit already.”
Kay gritted her teeth, face carefully blank as she looked between the two of them, caught flat-footed by the fact that a human and a bloody angel, of all things, seemed to be ganging up on her – and she hadn’t missed the way he’d glanced at the escape routes, either. She wondered if he’d actually stop her if she tried to leave, but then she already knew the answer to that, didn’t she? Even if he wouldn’t, he certainly felt entitled to reminding her that he could, and hiding behind mock saccharine cheer, no less. It filled her with an powerless, familiar anger, the way the higher-ups would even hint at throwing their weight around and expect everything to be on their terms, but she could hardly fault him for it. She’d do the same, after all.
Let him be under no illusion that she was obliged to answer him, however. He was the one who’d barged in, she didn’t owe him one second of her time.
Instead, she took her eyes off the Metatron completely for the first time since he’d entered, and turned to Delilah with a polite smile. “I don’t expect so, no. Not really my part of town. Though if you’ve got anything to talk about – exchange experiences, that sort of thing – I guess I wouldn’t mind finding the time.” She shrugged, and made a vague gesture. “Or not, if you’d prefer – I mean, we only know each other in the first place because of that one time I really needed a drink. It’s not like we share a bunch of hobbies.” There. Now he couldn’t fault her for not answering his question.
It didn’t matter if Delilah would take her up on it or not – she had every intention of doing a very thorough background check on her indeed, even if she had no doubt the angel would make it his mission to be difficult. It was kind of what they did.
No, no, no, no, no, please don’t try and get her to stay of all things. Delilah grimaced when she heard that, hands stilling at what she was doing and earning herself a nudge by the still-alarmed poodle hovering next to her. Reaching out to Sammy for a quick pet, Delilah rearranged her features into a rather convincing look of faint regret, turning to Ruth.
“Well, that’s a shame, then. Maybe some day. I’d hate for you to have to clear time in your schedule just to talk to me,” she said, shrugging vaguely. “We’ll see, I suppose.”
Closing the fridge behind her, classifying remembering to do so a small victory under the circumstances, Delilah gestured at the door. “Please, don’t feel like you’re obligated to stay. You mentioned having somewhere to go, right?” And maybe she did, but it would give both of them a convenient out without offending the angel’s sensibilities.
Metatron glanced at Delilah--was she alright? Something seemed off. He put it out of his mind for the moment, deciding he’d ask about it later.
He turned his look back to Kay, and said with a smile, “If you have somewhere to go, by all means...” He made a sweeping gesture at the door, as if he were a game show host announcing a prize. “I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.”
And he would, he was sure, if his suspicions about her involvement with Raphael were correct.
Trail of Liquor
Kay blinked at the look he gave her, following his glance to Delilah, then connected the dots she’d lost track of when he’d shown up. Of course he assumed she had something to do with Delilah being like that. Well, he wasn’t entirely wrong.
Snorting, her expression turning exasperated, she looked back at him defiantly. “Don’t flatter yourself, I’m not quite that desperate anymore. Besides, you already seem to be getting plenty of attention, I’d hate to intrude,” she said sarcastically, slowly picking up her coat from where it had been folded over her chair, and speculatively eyeing the door.
“That’s not what I meant,” Metatron grumbled. “What’d your power do?”
His expression melted into a smile when Delilah set the coffee down in front of him. “Thanks, darling.”
He gave it an experimental sip, and smiled at her even more warmly. “Divine.”
He set it back down to cool off a bit more, and turned to Kay again, smiling once more. “So what brought you here?”
Kay wrinkled her nose at the endearments passed between the two, and raised an eyebrow at Metatron. “Talk to me later and I’ll tell you.“ She glanced down to where she’d dropped her bottle of whatever the human had brought her, reached down to pick it up, then placed it on the table. “Suddenly I’m not looking for a drink after all,” she said with a brittle smile at Delilah, then glanced at Metatron again. “I’d tell you two to get a room, but it’d be more efficient if I removed myself from the situation, wouldn’t it?”
Having settled back down again, sifting through the conversation for anything that drew her attention, Delilah glanced over at Ruth again when her words did just that after a second to realize their meaning beyond face value. Some part of her was relieved that the reason for remembering was trying to make an exit. Selfish, maybe, but she couldn’t quite muster the energy to care about that right now.
“That’s a shame,” Delilah said, more because she was supposed to than genuine sentiment. “I suppose you must be busy so I won’t keep you.”
Placing the bottle back in the fridge, noting very belatedly that she’d been so caught up that she hadn’t even taken the bottlecap off, she took a breath as quietly as possible to try and keep herself centred. Not turning around yet, busying herself with arranging the shelves, she asked, “Will I be seeing you around?”, fervently hoping the answer would be a ‘no’.
“Oh, don’t feel the need to leave on my account,” Metatron implored cheerily, flicking his eyes to the door and windows briefly and wondering whether he ought to seal them. “I mean, I did rush when I noticed you, specifically, were here.”
He leveled his gaze at Kay, searching her expression for minute changes suggesting anything she might be thinking, and asked pleasantly, “So tell me, then, how you know Delilah. You seemed to have been chatting quite a bit already.”
Trail of Liquor
“Yes, that’s right, milk and sugar,” Metatron answered, frowning slightly. She had heard him, right? Had Kay affected her somehow? What power had she even used? Masking his unease, he grinned and asked casually, “Long night?”
He shot Kay a stern look, inclining his head toward Delilah’s turned back, eyebrows raised in question. Keeping his tone easy, so as not to alarm or escalate the situation before he knew what was going on, he said, “I’m sure you’re entirely right. I might even say the same of you. Was this another ploy to get my attention or were you just planning on being mischievous this time?”
“…hm? Oh. Yeah, you could say that,” Delilah answered, trying to keep her voice light as she busied herself with fetching the milk. “Weather was crappier than usual and the sound of the wind kept me up. You know how it is.” She couldn’t quite shake the idea that she hadn’t sounded entirely convincing there, but it would have to do.
It was bad enough that she’d gotten pretty damn close to out-of-commission-for-the-next-week in front of Ruth, she wasn’t quite willing to explain what happened and why to the angel as well. Plus it didn’t quite seem fair to throw Ruth under the bus either, since she hadn’t known just what she was poking at. Even if she did feel that her thoughts ought to remain her own…
Placing the cup of coffee down in front of the Metatron, Delilah smiled at him. “Here you are. It’s on me, don’t worry about it.” At some point, the tax offices would probably beat her door down otherwise…
Kay blinked at the look he gave her, following his glance to Delilah, then connected the dots she’d lost track of when he’d shown up. Of course he assumed she ahd something to do with Delilah being like that. Well, he wasn’t entirely wrong.
Snorting, her expression turning exasperated, she looked back at him defiantly. “Don’t flatter yourself, I’m not quite that desperate anymore. Besides, you already seem to be getting plenty of attention, I’d hate to intrude,” she said sarcastically, slowly picking up her coat from where it had been folded over her chair, and speculatively eying the door.
"That's not what I meant," Metatron grumbled. "What'd your power do?"
His expression melted into a smile when Delilah set the coffee down in front of him. "Thanks, darling."
He gave it an experimental sip, and smiled at her even more warmly. "Divine."
He set it back down to cool off a bit more, and turned to Kay again, smiling once more. "So what brought you here?"
Trail of Liquor
“Testy, testy,” Metatron said lightly, shifting to lean both elbows against the bar. Returning Delilah’s Look with an incredibly amused, incredibly suggestive grin, he continued, “If that was what passes for undressed in your eyes, you haven’t seen anything yet. But, you know, now that I’m here, you might. If you stick around long enough.”
Holding Delilah’s gaze for a brief moment longer, he asked, “Darling, could I have a cup of coffee? With cream and sugar?”
…alright, then don’t answer that. Fine then. Delilah rested her chin on the palm of her hand, eyes flitting from one to the other. Seemed that for all his talk about still being on speaking terms with some of his fallen “brothers”, something about this one had clearly rubbed him the wrong way. Wonder what it was?…
A low whine sounded from next to her. Looking around, she saw Samson having backed away a bit at the sudden appearance of the Metatron and the resulting cold war between him and Ruth, seeming unsure what to do. Digging into her pocket for a treat, Delilah held it out to the poodle, murmuring, “It’s alright, come on…” This was… undesirable, to say the least, but well, it wasn’t like she was expecting this to happen often. Despite seeming to have second thoughts about it, Samson at least trotted up and ate the treat, settling in watchfully again, earning herself a pet in reward.
Distracted and only-half-listening as she was in addition to the medication, the meaning behind the angel’s words took a second longer than it usually might’ve to sink in, faint surprise colouring Delilah’s features for half a second before settling into an exasperated, though fond, look. “Working, love, and I will be for another few hours,” she answered. “I’m not quite desperate enough to have my way with you on company time. Now the coffee, on the other hand, I can do.”
Turning around, she grabbed a cup, methodically starting to make the coffee (thinking carefully about each step, her line of thought and exactly what she was doing nearly slipping away from her once or twice). “Same as usual, right? Milk and sugar?” she asked, not sure anymore if he’d mentioned it or not.
Kay fixed Metatron with a look of absolute disgust, amazed and horrified that he’d be that shameless about his proclivities for hitting on things not of his own size. “Pass me a bucket while you’re at it,” she shot at the (probably) human, and glared at Met again. “Looks like I might just need it. Honestly, with your rank, I would have expected a bit more restraint. But I can already see I got a lot of wrong impressions back when I met you.”
She looked around, still standing awkwardly a few feet from the stools, and flinched when something brushed at her legs. Looking down, she relaxed a little as the poodle trotted past her, towards her mistress. At least it looked like the most immediate danger she was in was being exposed to public indecency, and that was helping her heart rate calm down a little.
She still made no move to sit. Thinking on it, she didn’t need to sit, and it might just be best to leave as soon as possible. Glancing suspiciously at Metatron again, she wondered if he’d let her.
“Yes, that’s right, milk and sugar,” Metatron answered, frowning slightly. She had heard him, right? Had Kay affected her somehow? What power had she even used? Masking his unease, he grinned and asked casually, “Long night?”
He shot Kay a stern look, inclining his head toward Delilah’s turned back, eyebrows raised in question. Keeping his tone easy, so as not to alarm or escalate the situation before he knew what was going on, he said, “I’m sure you’re entirely right. I might even say the same of you. Was this another ploy to get my attention or were you just planning on being mischievous this time?”
Trail of Liquor
“I don’t recall that you needed to be invited to a bar, a popular public venue,” Metatron answered coolly, the smile never dimming. “I was on my way here for a cup of coffee and some conversation on this fine morning. And then I happened to notice a flare-up of demonic power, and of course, being who I am, I was obligated to investigate.”
The smile receded only slightly as he squinted at her. “I know you. The little demon from the church that Michael nearly smote.”
Flinching quite badly when the space that had been unoccupied quite suddenly wasn’t, Delilah recovered after a second, settling back onto her seat and resting her arms on the counter, fixing the angel with a Look. It faded after a second, replaced with mild concern as Delilah’s gaze flicked to Ruth (dimly realizing that that should probably have been her first concern if not for her reaction time being drastically reduced).
“– wait, what?” she interrupted any answer to that last comment Ruth could have given, turning to her. “You’re a demon? Seriously? What the hell was all the dancing around the question earlier about, then, before you –” Delilah cut herself off there, biting her lip, not particularly wanting to think back to the thoughtless comment that had caused her reaction. Shaking her head slightly, she amended, “Nevermind. Don’t answer that.”
Turning to the Metatron, she said, “We have a door, you know. She and I were just talking.” Well, mostly she was, Delilah having stopped being quite so chatty for a while. “How do you know her, anyway? What’s this about a church – of all places – and Michael?”
Unable to glare witheringly at both of them at once, Kay settled for a quick, exasperated look at Delilah but didn’t want to take her eyes off the angel for long. Her heart was still racing, and the dangerous iciness in his smile hadn’t gone away. Distractedly, she wondered if she ought to call for backup, but she’d be damned again if she kept running to Raph every time she ran into someone unexpected. She could handle things, for now, unpleasant as it was to suddenly be such a center of attention.
“I remember you too,” she shot back at Metatron, trying to metaphorically puff up her feathers without being too obvious about it - something about the way he described her rattled the long-dormant part of her that had more Pride than brains. Higher-ups were all the same, dammit. “I see you’re actually dressed this time,” she added snidely, as if with enough bluster she could blind herself to the fact that she was being nasty at the person who’d possibly saved her hide back then. “Surprising, really. I wouldn’t have figured,” she said casually, jerking her head with just the barest hint of suggestion in Delilah’s direction.
“Testy, testy,” Metatron said lightly, shifting to lean both elbows against the bar. Returning Delilah’s Look with an incredibly amused, incredibly suggestive grin, he continued, “If that was what passes for undressed in your eyes, you haven’t seen anything yet. But, you know, now that I’m here, you might. If you stick around long enough.”
Holding Delilah’s gaze for a brief moment longer, he asked, “Darling, could I have a cup of coffee? With cream and sugar?”
Trail of Liquor
The moment she headed to the fridge, Kay exhaled softly and steeled herself, shaping and reshaping her power the way it needed to be for a task as slippery and slimy as getting into someone’s head.
“Thanks,” she she said, mechanically closing her fingers around the bottle, relieved when the human turned away again. She’d done this before, and after only a moment of prodding, she was in.
It was… overwhelming, having someone else’s mind so close to hers, and that reminded her to keep herself at a distance, shining a light and observing but not touching. Everything was… tangled, the way something looks when it’s orderly on some level that’s only visible to one select person, and before she was ready for it, the other’s emotions were reaching up at her like the splash of a murky swamp.
Past the slippery chill of it, it felt…. almost familiar, the same cocktail of apprehension and carefully suppressed panic-fear-pain that seemed to lick right at her old scabs. She almost flinched away, but caught sight of a speck of something more structured - knowledge, thoughts, something she could use, and was about to lean in and sniff at it some more-
If not for the startling, niggling sense that something was off, and that she was missing something important. Blinking, Kay swallowed and whipped her focus to her physical surroundings again, fingers half-clenched and her hair flicking out of her face.
Metatron was, on a personal and unofficial level, neutral to demons, and chose to judge them on a case-by-case basis. Demonic nature did not always automatically indicate a malicious or evil disposition, any more than angelic nature indicated a benevolent one.
Regardless, on an official level, demons were still classed as enemy agents to be disposed of accordingly. And Metatron had met enough that delighted in unpleasantness to panic (but only slightly) at the sudden flare-up of demonic power that he sensed coming from the area of Delilah’s bar, where he thought he might stop in for a cup of coffee.
In that moment, of panic, he forgot his resolution to start using the bar’s front door to come in rather than simply appearing.
“Hi,” he said as he appeared on the barstool that he’d judged was closest to the source of the flare-up. Adopting a plastic grin that would be right at home on a housewife in a 1950s advertising poster, he locked eyes with the vaguely-familiar woman sitting on the stool next to his, who he ascertained after a moment was most certainly the demon in question. “How are you?”
She’d known something was coming but some part of her, perhaps a little too accustomed to the ways of humans for her own good, had assumed it would be using the door, and was caught completely unprepared by the shockwave that rocked through her as a massive, burning presence stabbed and crashed into the space next to hers. That was the first thing she noticed, and the second thing she noticed was the briny tang of holiness suffusing the air like a chain smoker’s aftershave, her body jump-starting into full-blown alarm mode.
“What the FUCK!” she all but squawked, flinching out of her stool, the bottle swept to the floor in a frantic movement of her arm but not breaking. It took her a moment to realise she knew this angel, and another to see he seemed content so far to sit on the neighbouring stool with a sparkling too-wide smile on his face. Kay blinked, willed her posture into something that looked more in control than she was (and forced her hair to keep still, hoping the flurry of reflexive motion had gone unnoticed in the midst of her full-body jump), and glared at the bloody King of Angels with all the fury she could get her painfully racing heart to get behind. “What are- who the fuck invited you?!” she demanded, staring back at him as defiantly as was possible on such short notice.
“I don’t recall that you needed to be invited to a bar, a popular public venue,” Metatron answered coolly, the smile never dimming. “I was on my way here for a cup of coffee and some conversation on this fine morning. And then I happened to notice a flare-up of demonic power, and of course, being who I am, I was obligated to investigate.”
The smile receded only slightly as he squinted at her. “I know you. The little demon from the church that Michael nearly smote.”
Trail of Liquor
Looking up when she was jolted out of her thoughts by Ruth’s request, Delilah smiled soon enough, relieved that it came more natural now. “Sure. Got any preference for anything or just whatever?“ she asked, getting up.
Giving Samson one last pet for now, she stepped over to the fridge, glancing at it for a second to try and work out if Ruth had ordered beer the last time. Figuring she couldn’t remember if she did, Delilah picked a bottle at random – black sheep ale, apparently. “Here,” she said, placing it and a beer glass down in front of her. “My treat, as promised.”
Turning to the register, she hovered over the keys for a second, trying to remember out how to enter that again for supply purposes, finally remembering and getting to it.
The moment she headed to the fridge, Kay exhaled softly and steeled herself, shaping and reshaping her power the way it needed to be for a task as slippery and slimy as getting into someone’s head.
“Thanks,” she she said, mechanically closing her fingers around the bottle, relieved when the human turned away again. She’d done this before, and after only a moment of prodding, she was in.
It was… overwhelming, having someone else’s mind so close to hers, and that reminded her to keep herself at a distance, shining a light and observing but not touching. Everything was… tangled, the way something looks when it’s orderly on some level that’s only visible to one select person, and before she was ready for it, the other’s emotions were reaching up at her like the splash of a murky swamp.
Past the slippery chill of it, it felt…. almost familiar, the same cocktail of apprehension and carefully suppressed panic-fear-pain that seemed to lick right at her old scabs. She almost flinched away, but caught sight of a speck of something more structured - knowledge, thoughts, something she could use, and was about to lean in and sniff at it some more-
If not for the startling, niggling sense that something was off, and that she was missing something important. Blinking, Kay swallowed and whipped her focus to her physical surroundings again, fingers half-clenched and her hair flicking out of her face.
Metatron was, on a personal and unofficial level, neutral to demons, and chose to judge them on a case-by-case basis. Demonic nature did not always automatically indicate a malicious or evil disposition, any more than angelic nature indicated a benevolent one.
Regardless, on an official level, demons were still classed as enemy agents to be disposed of accordingly. And Metatron had met enough that delighted in unpleasantness to panic (but only slightly) at the sudden flare-up of demonic power that he sensed coming from the area of Delilah’s bar, where he thought he might stop in for a cup of coffee.
In that moment, of panic, he forgot his resolution to start using the bar’s front door to come in rather than simply appearing.
“Hi,” he said as he appeared on the barstool that he’d judged was closest to the source of the flare-up. Adopting a plastic grin that would be right at home on a housewife in a 1950s advertising poster, he locked eyes with the vaguely-familiar woman sitting on the stool next to his, who he ascertained after a moment was most certainly the demon in question. “How are you?”
January Ninth
Pulling a glass out of the ether, Metatron poured out a generous measure of the vodka and sipped on it carefully, making faces as he did.
"Sure," he replied with a nod. "I c’n ‘rrange for him not to find out. Wouldn’ want’cha to get in trouble."
"My hero." Delilah snickered, finding a bottle of red wine and uncorking it. Pouring it into a glass, she raised it to the angel. "Cheers, then. To England’s traditionally shitty weather."
Putting the glass to her lips, she took a long swig, draining just over half the glass in one go.
“Y’wanna talk about shitty weather?” Metatron asked, screwing his expression up as he took a mouthful of vodka. Swallowing and making a disgusted noise, he added, “Y’should see it on other planets. At leas’ here all y’have to worry about is getting wet.”
He frowned as he watched her. “Sure y’should be drinkin’ that fast?”
January Ninth
"Well, froufrou maybe. Stupid, no, not at all," Metatron finishing off the second cup. "But you know that already."
He went quiet for a moment, eyes sliding closed and head pleasantly swimming a little as the alcohol started to seep into him and take hold. The thundering of the rain outside made the lack of the usual sounds of a bar inside all the more noticeable.
"Say, Delilah," he began, eyes agleam as they snapped open again. "I already know the front door’s locked since I actually did try it before appearing in here, but why don’t you close down for real? I don’t think you’re going to get any customers the rest of the night in this weather."
Raising an eyebrow at his words, Delilah couldn’t help grinning at them. “I really shouldn’t. If the boss finds out I locked it in the first place, it’ll be a world of trouble for me.”
Helpfully filling the angel’s cup again, nudging the alcohol and another teabag his way, she pretended to give the matter some Weighty Thought before adding, “Although I suppose that’s only if he finds out, of course. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Or me, for that matter.” She winked.
Pulling a glass out of the ether, Metatron poured out a generous measure of the vodka and sipped on it carefully, making faces as he did.
"Sure," he replied with a nod. "I c'n 'rrange for him not to find out. Wouldn' want'cha to get in trouble."
January Ninth
"No?" Metatron inquired, sipping his own tea as he watched Samson go back to bed. "Were you not a dog person? Or did you just not like poodles?"
"Well, you know," she said, making a vague gesture. "They have this image of being stupid froufrou dogs, you know? High maintenance, too. I like dogs just fine, but I couldn’t see myself owning one. Especially not one like the image people have of poodles. I couldn’t have been more wrong, though."
"Well, froufrou maybe. Stupid, no, not at all," Metatron finishing off the second cup. "But you know that already."
He went quiet for a moment, eyes sliding closed and head pleasantly swimming a little as the alcohol started to seep into him and take hold. The thundering of the rain outside made the lack of the usual sounds of a bar inside all the more noticeable.
"Say, Delilah," he began, eyes agleam as they snapped open again. "I already know the front door's locked since I actually did try it before appearing in here, but why don't you close down for real? I don't think you're going to get any customers the rest of the night in this weather."
January Ninth
Laughing, Metatron reached up to stroke Samson’s ears as the poodle licked him. “What a sweetheart!”
Scratching behind one of her ears fondly, Metaton kissed her snout. “Good dog. I can see why Delilah kept you.”
"It’s one reason, sure." Delilah laughed, reaching over the counter to give her a pet. "Good girl. C’mere, Sammy.”
Ears perking up, the poodle got back down and trotted back to her dog bed, curling up again.
With the tea cooled down a bit more, its owner sipped her tea. “I didn’t think I’d like poodles this much, honestly.”
"No?" Metatron inquired, sipping his own tea as he watched Samson go back to bed. "Were you not a dog person? Or did you just not like poodles?"
January Ninth
“Oh, she’s still just a puppy,” Metatron cooed. “Can I pet her?”
Picking the cup up again, he sipped it carefully. “I understand what you mean. I mean, I was expecting this world to be ash and nothingness 20 years ago. And yet here we are, in 2015.”
"By poodle standards, yeah, she is." Delilah smiled. "Sure, why not? Samson," she pointed at the angel, "go say ‘hi’."
Veering up immediately, the dog trotted around the counter and bounded up to him, using the counter to be able to lick his face, tail wagging wildly.
Laughing, Metatron reached up to stroke Samson's ears as the poodle licked him. "What a sweetheart!"
Scratching behind one of her ears fondly, Metaton kissed her snout. "Good dog. I can see why Delilah kept you."
January Ninth
"Absolutely," he murmured, nudging his cup toward her. "So did you get her recently? She seems young."
"She is," Delilah said, pouring hot water back into the cup. "She’s two and a half years old now, though I got her later than that. My neighbours got her but they had to move and their new place didn’t allow dogs, so I said I’d take her in until I found another owner for her."
She put another tea bag into the cup and added another shot of alcohol. “Funny how things work sometimes, you know?”
"Oh, she's still just a puppy," Metatron cooed. "Can I pet her?"
Picking the cup up again, he sipped it carefully. "I understand what you mean. I mean, I was expecting this world to be ash and nothingness 20 years ago. And yet here we are, in 2015."
January Ninth
Rather than say anything right away, Metatron took a long drink of his tea, nearly draining the cup. His head felt significantly lighter.
"Well, can’ say it’s too inappropriate," he mused. "Delilah an’ Samson. That’s real cute."
"Wasn’t my idea," Delilah grouched, rubbing her temples. "Tried to get her used to a different name but she wouldn’t budge. Guess it’s appropriate enough, though, so there’s that…"
Patting Samson’s shoulder, she sipped her tea again. “Want me to fill that back up for you?”
"Absolutely," he murmured, nudging his cup toward her. "So did you get her recently? She seems young."
January Ninth
"Well, technically yes," Metatron answered, smiling as the dog came over. "Officially speaking I acknowledge the importance and value of all Mother’s creations. Personally speaking, though, I would say that I like dogs infinite times more than I like insects as a whole."
He took a sip of his tea, and a different sort of warmth started spreading over him. “Is Sammy short for something?”
"Can’t fault you there. Insects are useful and all, but very low on cuddleability, you know?" she mused, petting the dog some more.
"…it is short for something, actually.” Delilah fixed him with a look. “Before I say anything, I’d like to point out that I did not name her and don’t you dare laugh.” Taking a sip of the spiked tea, quietly regretting that it was too hot to drink more than that since some alcohol would be appreciated, she said, “‘Sammy’ is short for ‘Samson’.”
Rather than say anything right away, Metatron took a long drink of his tea, nearly draining the cup. His head felt significantly lighter.
"Well, can' say it's too inappropriate," he mused. "Delilah an' Samson. That's real cute."
January Ninth
"That is perfect," he replied, pulling his teacup away when he was satisfied with the amount.
He sipped it, and made a face at the altered taste. “Yes, perfect.”
Setting the cup back down, he stretched slightly to look over the bar. “I didn’t know you had a dog.”
"Hm? Oh. She’s usually right beside me," Delilah said, putting the vodka bottle down, "but she was at the vet when I met you. Jut all her Sammy, I guess." It wasn’t like she was going to mention the actual name for a while to an angel…
Making a clicking sound with her tongue, she grinned when the dog got up and trotted over, reaching out to pet her.
"Do you like dogs at all or is it more of an ‘all creatures great and small’ thing for you?" she asked, taking the tea bag out of her own cup and — after glancing around furtively for any signs of witnesses — adding a generous sip of vodka to it.
"Well, technically yes," Metatron answered, smiling as the dog came over. "Officially speaking I acknowledge the importance and value of all Mother's creations. Personally speaking, though, I would say that I like dogs infinite times more than I like insects as a whole."
He took a sip of his tea, and a different sort of warmth started spreading over him. "Is Sammy short for something?"
