Logs:Netflix and Kill

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Netflix and Kill


Characters: Ramsey, Axle, Fawn, Seraphine, Lance and Jeanie as ST
Date: 2020-03-21
Summary: The Fixers may save you from the monster, but they'll also wreck your apartment and steal your booze. Fair's fair.
Disclaimers:

Location:North Kenilworth - Little Woods

Between Lake Ponchartrain and Interstate 10, and from just east of the lakeside airport to one of the thoroughfares to the freeway, this area is primarily residential, with a few other types of buildings. A bar, a pizza place, an office building that hosts the offices of a state representative among other things. Even a Smoothie King! Some spaces along the lake are older warehouses, some converted, some not. Even a classical plantation house as an event venue. It's on the edge of the rougher areas, but a little denser and quieter in some ways, with patches of overgrown greenery between better manicured yards, but still with the telltale high fences and more bars on windows than 'safe' neighborhoods.

Soundtrack: Weird Al - I Can't Watch This

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Local news may be mostly dominated by Corona, corona, corona lately, but there's been some odd stories coming out of Little Woods lately. A small apartment building that's mostly occupied by students that can't afford anything else has had ambulances show up not once, or twice, but three times in the past three nights. If there had been raging parties, that might have been one thing, but the building has been mostly quiet for days now with everyone hunkered down and rumor has it that each time the ambulances took off a young (and previously healthy) resident in a near comatose state.

Ramsey works the toothpick between his teeth with piched thumb and forefinger, walking along in a white t-shirt with his flannel shirt over one shoulder, his stroll the inconspicuous human equivalent to a prowling wolf, sniffing around. He's glancing to either side, sometimes stopping to lean, his senses veering over to THE OTHER SIDE to sniff the resonance, see what gambols in the dark recesses of these strange borderlands near his hunting grounds. He pauses, sending off a text message, then yawns, his tongue rolling the toothpick over to pull into his mouth, hidden under his tongue like his granddad used to do.

And trailing not too far behind Ramsey is Fawn, who has suddenly decided that when they go off wandering around, it's best not to go empty handed. Does she have a tire iron? A mop handle? Nah. It's cooler than that. Like a kid that was trying to entertain herself, Fawn has picked up a Big Stick(tm) from the ground, and she's holding it between both hands so she can pick little pieces of bark off as they wander. Whenever Ramsey stops to sniff at this or that, Fawn does, too. Not like it does much, but hey!

It'll be weeks and months before Axle's able to get her overalls broken in, since they were new off the rack not long ago. So she has been wearing little else besides them with an ongoing rotation of shirts; red tank top at the moment. It's not too bad of weather, though it's raining, so the curly-haired wolf-blood has donned a sand-colored boonie hat to keep the water off her face and hair. Who knows what all junk is tucked into the various pockets of the overalls; definitely her multi-tool in her bib pocket, and since there's a by-God hammer loop on one side of the pants, she stuck a ball pein hammer in it.


"Are we having a pack meeting or what?" Seraphine suddenly shows up near where Fawn, Ramsey, Axle, Jeanie, Lance, or whomever, are stationed and looks at them curiously. She has a very stylish clear raincoat on over her very stylish outfit, consisting of black ankle boots, which are already totally muddy, black tights, stylishly ripped, a black watch plaid school girl mini and a black hoodie. In her hands is a rather large flask and we can only guess what is in there (bourbon?). She sips thoughtfully (yes, it's bourbon) as she watches the wolves and bloods sniff at things. No telling how she managed to be out here in just the right place, at just the right time to find everybody. She waits til someone debriefs her on the student house, since she hadn't noticed (bourbon) and then waits to see if Ramsey takes the lead. He's good at this stuff, afterall.

Everything might be just a little bit too quiet, but what isn't these days? These after-dinner hour sees not soul on the street except for the Fixers themselves at the moment although the blue glow of TV screens is visible in a few of the windows so some folks are definitely home. THE OTHER SIDE is a bit of a different story for those that can sniff it. SOMETHING has been moving through here and recently, the trail getting stronger up the stairs to a second story apartment that's definitely got some lights on inside although nothing seems to be moving at the moment.

Ramsey opens his mouth, toothpick spinning back out into the usual orientation and he chomps it to wiggle it up and down, a thinking piece. He sniffs harder and then looks over to see Fee and says "Heya, catin," with a quick grin, then looks back at Axle and Fawn before saying "Just out lookin' for trouble. Think we mebbe found it." That little bit too quick maybe. He doesn't seem to mind getting a little wet, his jeans already muddy up to the calf. "Tell you what, there is summ'n up in... That one," he says, pulling his toothpick out to point precisely up at the window with the light on. Folks getting carted off and during the whole shutdown thing. All from this building, I hear. Looks like a trail. Y'all want to hunt somethin'?"

Repeat ambulance calls to what's already a geographic area of interest to Lance are really enough to spark interest in the former EMT. When he left his position with the emergency services, he "forgot" to turn in one of his uniforms and paid the fees for a replacement with apologies and good grace. He shows up now, moving along the street on foot, in his EMS jacket with a familiar looking medical kit slung over his shoulder. Blond hair is pulled back in the tiniest of man-buns, highlighting his gorgeous model looks. He's probably just lost from a photography shoot, or something. Right?

But no, the 22 year old very human swimmer is heading in the direction of the apartment building and slows his roll when he sees not just one, but a few familiar faces. Lance's course adjusts and he's ambling up to the small grouping with an up-nod as if he belongs there, even if he's only pack adjacent. "Sup," he offers, very professionally. Fawn... well, she gets a side-long look that doesn't really give anything away, but there's a little lift of his brows in her direction.


Fawn is suddenly a bit spooked by the Seraphine who.. where the hell did she come from anyway? Fawn gives a glance about, shrugs it off, and gets back to picking at the stick she holds. She's wearing jeans, a simple brown shirt that will probably be soaked by the end of the night, and bird-stomping boots. Her hair is back behind her in one long braid. When Ramsey mentions something being off and up the stairs she turns her face to look, and she draws a slow breath. "Yeah.. something up there, alright.." She hesitates before answering him, though. "..Yeah," she agrees to hunt something. It's about that time that the sound of movement catches her attention, and when she looks over to catch sight of Lance she just stares. Dawn in headlights. Yup. It doesn't last long, however, before she's pushing up a soft smile for him and then quickly looking away.

Axle sniffs around using senses other than the ones provided by the various holes in her head, relying on that third eye behind her forehead or some other batshit made-up hoodoo philosophy like that. When she hears Seraphine's voice, she perks up and heads over there to molest the shorty Changeling, hugging on her and kissing the top of her head. "Dude. Duuuude. Dude!" she greets, grinning and leaving it at that, glancing over as Lance approaches. "Dude... You're becoming one of the usual suspects. We're the friends your mother warned you about; jumping off the bridges and shit."


Seraphine offers Fawn a little finger wave, almost an apology for showing up out of nowhere. Axle gets a great big hug back and grins at the dudes. She gets it. She offers Lance a a curious loft of her brow, but a smile none the less and Ramsey gets an enthusiastic nod. "I'm in! Let's hunt something!" Despite her excitement, she keeps her voice down so as not to alert their prey that they are hunting it. That would just be poor form. She offers bourbon to everyone though doesn't expect any takers.


Ramsey flicks his toothpick into the bushes and grins slowly. "Well, came at a good time. I assume you're snooping the same thing we are. Something's putting the whammy on the kids in the... Christ. Coronado Mangosteen Arms.. Who names this shit..?" He looks at the faded lettering on the halfwall that separates the parking lot, then walks over to it, stepping around through the driveway part and turns to walk backward. "It's no cursed mardi gras float, but I'd keep your eyes peeled. Well, assuming you want to roll with us." Who just decides to commit heroic home invasion like this? Who are these people? Also climbs the steps because that's what he was doing.


There may not be any bridges about, just the stairs to the so regally named if disappointing plain Coronado Mangosteen Arms. Walking, climbing or charging, however folks attempt to get up the stairs is probably a success unless their own feet betray them. Lucky for the crew, the kid that lives in the studio wasn't the interior decorating type and there are no curtains blocking the view into the window. A large TV is definitely the most expensive thing in the room, stuck on Netflix's all too familiar Are You Still Watching? Screen. The presumable tenant is slumped over on the couch, head drooped and arm stretched out. A man in what looks suspiciously like the yellow and blue polo of a Blockbuster employee stands entirely too close, motionless for now.

Lance's blue gaze lingers on Fawn long enough to take the reaction in before he draws his look toward Axle and a smile curves his lips. "Hey, that's fine. My mom's got shit for judgment." So obviously everything's cool. Cool, cool, cool. It's chill. Lance is chill. His eyes go around. "Heard the ambulance was out three times here," he adds after a moment, explaining his presence as he tucks his hands behind his back. And one of Seraphine's words catch him-- then the whole of Seraphine catches him.

Being that blond haired, blue-eyed sculpturesque type, one might guess Seraphine would take him by surprise. His eyes avert abruptly, and honestly, he looks like he's about to ma'am her, which would be a terrible mistake, although about on par with what may be expected of his spectacular people skillz, honestly. He wisely opts for silence in this moment, eyes open and going to Ramsey. "Yeah, sure." What's a little POTENTIAL MAIMING OR DEATH among allies. He follows (of course he does), probably bringing up the rear.


Quickly turning her gaze back towards Seraphine, Fawn gives her a light smile before she slows her steps and then scoots on over to stand on her other side so that she and Axle make a Sera sandwich. "Hi.. Good to see you," she notes before she takes the bottle and gets a good shot's worth or two before handing it back to the shorter friend. Gawd, that burns! With it handed back over she flashes a grin at Seraphine, then hurries up at a trot to catch up to Ramsey. She's almost like his shadow, wanting to see whatever it is up there, even if it may look like she's just running straight into trouble.

"Lance, right?" Axle verifies of the blond with the man-bun, pointing at him with a one-handed finger gun. She moves to catch up with Ramsey and Fawn, looking into the window toward the tenant, slumped over on mom's good davenport and probably not using a coaster. Voice keyed low, the cocoa-skinned wolf-blood mutters, "Something's off about that dude. Not sure what." Her eyes narrow as she continues to peer through the window, some good quality rubbernecking.


Seraphine looks to Lance again, curious as she hasn't kept up to date with pack-adjacents, but gives him a "Hi there!" when Axle offers the clue to who he is. The Darkling then slips an arm around Fawn (if she'll tolerate it), giving her a hug and a fond smile before letting her go so the girl can catch up with the wolf. And then she too makes her way up the steep stairs to the entrance where Ramsey has spidey-sensed something. Their prey, she guesses.


Ramsey looks in the window. That is some weird shit. He grunts and as the others join him, he growls something in a language none of them understand and grasps the doorknob. It's locked. And yet, the door opens with a cracking sound as he just pushes the bolt through the wood, stripping the short screws. "Knock knock," he says as he steps in uninvited with his impromptu posse, rounding the corner.

"Like what you do to a zit." Lance agrees in his typical eloquent style. His gaze goes fleetingly to Fawn and then catches on the figures in the window. "That's not right," the slumped man, he means. HE NEEDS AN EMT! Good thing Lance is here, y'all! Only, he's not moving. He's furrowing his brow and then his eyes get pulled over to Seraphine and he manages a smile since the greeting is friendly enough. "Hi." Yep. He's smooth.

The blonde haired kid on the couch is CONKED OUT. He might as well be dead to the world. Maybe even really dead, but who can tell from just a glance? Mr. Blockbuster however, very much notices the intrusion, turning and letting out an offended HISS followed by a cry of "YOU SHALL NOT PASS!!!" The man's hands fling up as the khaki and polo'ed figure goes for a Gandalf impression.


"Jesus fucking Christ." Lance is such a man of eloquence as would-be Gandalf strikes terror into the poor humie heart. He's at the back of the pack as these things go, so there's nothing for it but to oh, you know, pull his gun from the conceal carry holster at his back. Because that thing will totally respond to bullets, right? It's fine.

"You shall fuck right off!" Axle yells back at the would-be video store clerk before them, though she's already in a jam from the initial yell, so... No luck there.

Blockbuster sneers as Axle yells and the mortal tries to pull a gun. "Who let the dogs in?" Who, who, who? Since it was Ramsey and he's still in the doorway, the spirit stops with any of the fancy theatrics and goes kung fu movie now, complete with music soundtrack appearing in the background as he tries a flying leap towards the werewolf.

Seraphine stops to concentrate on the spirit and plants a series of images in its mind of the stunning and frightening beauty of Arcadia which manages to blind him temporarily. She looks to Ramsey to see if he's okay.

Ramsey seems to be doing just fine, shrugging off the assault from Blockbuster, not taking a step back and just meeting force with force to clear enough room to get his foot up and deliver a front thrust kick at the suddenly confused entity, saying "Down, boy."

Fawn is quick to realize that there is little she'll be able to do that can be considered helpful against the Blockbuster man, and so the next best thing? Support! Fawn shifts away from the window and turns to catch sight of Lance and how this whole scenario has him freaked out, so she moves back (still carrying the stick) and she stops by his side. She looks up to him and reaches out, pressing a hand gently to his back just for a second as a silent message is attempted with her gaze. She looks away from him then and watches Ramsey and Seraphine, all while lifting her stick and resting it over her right shoulder. Ya know. In case she gets to whack something.

A religious man (selectively), the human has a mantra: "Jesus fucking Christ," again and again. Could be a song. It's got a good rhythm anyway. The blond's wide, freaked out eyes go to Fawn as she gets to his side. Only Fawn isn't freaking out, only Lance is freaking out. For all that he's not a werewolf, nor even a wolfblood, he does a good impression of a puppy shake, trying to get ahold of himself. "I'm fine." Sure. That's why when he surges toward the door with the intent to duck and weave through bodies to get inside, he ends up sinking to the ground just outside of the doorframe (preferably with wall between himself and Mr. Terrifying), whimpering softly. It's fiiiiiine.


She is of no help against this blind, deaf, but entirely too terrifying menace. Therefore, Axle ducks around the brawling pair of Ramsey and Buster Blocks, darting toward the sofa and reaching down to feel for a pulse on the neck of the slumped over college kid.

"My eyes! My eyes!" Blockbuster's voice raises an octave as he shifts to look remarkably like Phoebe from Friends in a bright orange coat, clutching at his (or her) eyes. She might not be able to see and she might not be able to hear at the moment, but the spirit wants VENGEANCE as it reaches out towards where it last saw Seraphine. "I'll get you, my pretty and your little dogs too!" MWAHAHAHA.

Phoebe.gif


As for the man on the couch? The binge may have gotten the best of him, but there is a very, VERY faint pulse on the neck of the college kid and his skin is cool to the touch.


Seraphine is about to pull out another whammy when she is overwhelmed with the approach of those horrific, very scary, flying monkeys as she tries to make her way down the yellow brick road. She starts to scream, ducking and weaving as her eyes trace flying creatures that no one else can see.

Fawn's brows are twitching as she stands farthest away from the door, but that isn't for long. She's keeping an eye on Lance, and when he makes that rush to the door only to end up slinking down against the wall, she drops that stick and hurries after him. Slipping down onto her knees so she can lean over his side as best she can, Fawn wraps her arms about Lance and brings her lips to his ear, whispering, "It's okay. It's going to be okay. Just breathe, alright? You're safe. In good hands," she says, trying to sound as convincing as possible while chaos erupts around them. She holds him tightly and looks to the new screaming: Seraphine. Fawn takes in the sight of the flailing arms, and she calls to her, "Sera!" If only she could see them, too!


Ramsey was content with some fisticuffs and a bit of a scrap until almost all of his friends start having psychological meltdowns and he just doesn't seem to appreciate it, you know? Something about it. There's a growl in his throat and he snaps, stepping into the gap and does some things that are probably further not great for Lance's psyche what with the Lunacy but he hulks up, growing burlier, hairrier and importantly with claws. With an expertly placed judo chop / backhand maneuver, he kinda catches "Phoebe" under the chin and just carries through until that head is in the kitchen, clattering into the recycling bin.

And that's how the end credits roll on Mr. BlockBuster and a clatter of film reels spins out onto the kitchen floor. Thunk... thunk... thunk...

Lance really should not have looked. He should've looked at pretty Fawn. That would've been so much better. But no, he had to. Because he has to see about the kid on the couch! What good doctor wouldn't do that? Not Lance. Only when his face turns to look inside, there's Ramsey in all his furry glory. And poor Lance's face completely drains of color, his body suddenly having a fit of tremors all his own.

"YO! MAN BUN! Get your ass over here. Remember your oath," Axle calls from the couch -- and then heads over to physically drag him away from the alluring sight of Cajun Flavored Werewolf and toward the barely-breathing college kid on the davenport. Reaching up to cup his face between her warm hands, she tries to get his attention in the way she knows best. Surprise! Because she tries to kiss him to help him snap out of it. Whether successful or not... Someone should really report her to H.R.


And then suddenly, all of Seraphine's evil flying monkeys that have been dive bombing her for the past, moments, are gone. Her hair is ruffled and out of place now, where it is usually perfect and silky-straight. "Where is that flask." She says darkly, patting herself down to look for it. When she does find it, she takes a healthy drink and offers it around again. Surely someone else is freaked out enough to need it.

Fawn slips back out of the way for Axle, slowly rising to stand and move back against the railing as she watches the other take Lance. She eventually looks away and decides to focus on Seraphine, instead, moving in her direction. She catches the change in Sera, and as she reaches the woman she moves to give her a hug as she asks, "Are you okay? What were you seeing? I couldn't see anything.."


So, this is going a way different way than most people thought their evening was going to go, and there's a sound that Ramsey makes that the others... Haven't quite heard before as the hulking Dalu form of the wolfman reaches down and grabs the slowly evaporating wrist of the shapechanging creature and starts dragging it into the kitchen, having at least the courtesy to go out of line of sight before the frankly not great sounds start happening. It doesn't sound like flesh and bone because it's not, but it does taste and smell like coconut oil and flavicol and corn as he rips into it, subsuming its corpus into himself as he discorporates the thing with... Authority.


From over on the couch, there's a quiet little 'uuuuuuuuuuuuhhhh' sound as either zombies are now arriving or the college kid is beging to stir the tiniest amount.


Man Bun (the tiniest, most adorable of its kind, truly) might, in fact, be in need of the drink that Seraphine is offering around, but he's been dragged away. Him and his bag of medical supplies. He's sort of wide-eyed and honestly probably dumb enough to look back toward where he just was - the door, possibly looking for Fawn? Maybe just wondering what he just saw that's made him go all pale.

But then his lips are otherwise quite suddenly and however briefly pleasantly occupied. For all that this is not an unusual occurrence (college jocks, whatcha gonna do), it's not expected here and it brings a healthier color back to Lance's face as he kisses back (it would be impolite not to).

He breaks away from the kiss as reality reasserts itself and he goes, "Right." It's a little bit of a croak. But then he's turning to the kid on the couch and leaping into more fluid action. Look, guys! He knows what he's doing. It's a quick check with hands over the young man, starting with the expected, "Hey! HEY! Are you okay? Talk to me, dude." You paged Lance with ‘so, you probably can't really recognize WHAT the spirit was doing to him, but it was something supernatural. And the guy's flesh was a bit cold, but starting to warm up and vital signs are improving. Maybe see if there's any Not Beer in the kitchen?’

"Huh... uhhhh... mom? Imma going to class. Five more minutes..." With a sigh, couch-guy tries to swat Lance away feebly and hide his head under his other arm.

"Do we need to call him an ambulance?" Axle offers. At least he didn't endure further psychic trauma from having her enormous hands on his face. The touch of the Monkey Paw can be a bit disturbing for the uninitiated. "Everybody else okay? Walking wounded check?" she calls, eyes flicking toward Fawn, seraphine, and Ramsey, each in turn, glossing over them with a visual inspection to see if there's any limbs off or blurt spurting.

After a just really gross and unsettlingly long bout of crunching and scarfing, the sound of the kitchen sink runs, Ramsey on his feet once more and washing off his forearms and face, then pulls his overshirt back on. Though Axle may have gotten an eyefull of werewolf feeding frenzy and hoo boy. After a few moments there is the clink of glasses, a rustle, some metal being unscrewed and... A blender? Ice. BZZZRRRRZZZGRGGRGGG. Shooooop. Ahhhh. Peeking from around the corner, Ramsey sets several mismatched glasses and cups and a pitcher, plopping an umbrella into the tiki glass he chose, coming around. "Fromargs," he announces, casually.


Seraphine doesn't have to be asked twice! She walks right over and helps herself to an adult beverage! "Thanks Ramsey." She smiles happily at the mixologist and begins to suck down the tropical elixir.


Following into the apartment, Fawn takes a look about and smirks a little when it appears that Ramsey has made drinks. She snickers to herself and stands to the side, hands clasped together. She doesn't take a drink just yet, but what she does do is watch Lance.


"With COVID going on?" Lance asks distractedly as he continues checking over the college kid whose color is improving. "Nah, not yet anyway." Then the street doc turns his head, just as he did in the door, but there's only Ramsey over there near the kitchen. It's fine. He didn't subconsciously twitch or anything. "Hey, yo! Ramsey, is there any, like, Gatorade in there? Need to get this kid to drink something and see if he perks up." He glances back to Axle, but since she's moving on his blue gaze finds Fawn and he bites his lower lip a moment before re-focusing on his patient, giving him a couple gentle shakes, trying to get him to sit more properly.

Axle glances back and forth between Lance and Fawn -- discreetly. She's not an asshole. After Lance answers, she drops a nod and puts the phone back into her bib pocket with her multi-tool and tape measure, because apparently she is turning into a carpenter. She finally takes a moment to take off her boonie hat and rakes both hands through her hair, shaking out the curls and heading over toward where the drinks are. Whereupon she can discreetly say something quietly to Fawn, eyes meeting the other wolf-blood's.

At some point there was the sound of a car's break screeching as Jeanie saw a commotion of very familiar figures at a door way not knocking politely. It took a while, but she managed to make a u-turn and find a parking spot and run up the steps. Her eyes widen as she looks at the damage to the door, but she pokes her head in anways. "Hello? Fawn? Ramsey? Axle?" Can she has party too?

Ramsey hears his name and glances over that way, before saying "I think yeah, hang on." His voice trails off as he leans over, rooting in the fridge. "Oh man. Blue flavor. Nice." He flips it end-over-end then walks into the living room and underhand tosses it the last foot or so to Lance before going to lean against the busted doorframe and look down at the parking lot with his margarita. The umbrella is very important. "I think it was something that had been feeding on his couch potato addiction." Sip. "Oh, hey Jeanie," he says laconically. Like your cousin after eating too much at thanksgiving but feeling proud of himself.

Fawn stops the outright staring at Lance soon enough, and she turns to start heading to the kitchen. In doing so she meets up with Axle, and to her friend she offers a little nod. She murmurs something back before giving another little smile and stepping into the kitchen to get a drink. She takes one, though doesn't really drink it. She's too busy people-watching.

No one heard that last, "Jesus fucking Christ," that Lance said under his breath at Ramsey's words after catching the Gatorade too good to really give to couch potato, but seeing as how it was his to begin with, the jock will suck it up. Now is not a moment to share drinks among strangers, so even with it freshly cracked, the blond will do the right thing and not endanger his patient before he sets to work getting him situated, with arm around the dude's shoulders like they're best bros (and like Lance does this a lot for super sauced teammates).

Only it's hard to manhandle him and get the drink unscrewed. It was a poorly thought through plan, but poor Lance has been through a lot tonight, so he raises his voice and since Fawn is the one looking at him and he definitely knows her name he holds up the bottle and calls, "Hey Fawn, can you give me a hand?" His eyes flick briefly to the new arrival and his brows furrow like, oh hey, he knows her. Jeanie gets a distracted up-nod.

"Jeanie. Jeanie. Bo. Beanie." Axle points serious monkey finger-guns at their incoming friend. Like, sniper rifle barrel length finger guns. No sense trying to act casual in the midst of their home invasion which has probably not upset the neighbors much since most of them are wearing gaming headsets and shouting about fucking one another's mothers. "You want a quarantini?" she asks, picking up one of the cups of maragarita that Ramsey cooked up in the kitchen of the fellow whose apartment they are currently occupying.

"Y'all having a party?" Jeanie walks in past the remains of the door. And the fight and noticed the super drunk renter on the couch with Lance. The laconic Ramsey is given a suspicious glance, but is post-feast really that much different looking than super stoned? She's distracted anyways by Axle's offer and shrugs. "Sure, why not. But can you really have a quarantine without a door?" Important questions, even if she is glancing over the entire home invasion thing.

A little rolling shrug of the shoulders and Ramsey says "Napsey here is an old friend. We heard that he needed some back up, so, you know. Good times. Even if it is a little unsanitary in here, you know?" Sure, Ramsey. "You know the Nap Man?"


"Yep," Fawn calls from where she stands off to the side. She sips the drink quickly an then puts it down so she can hurry on over to Lance and take the bottle from him. As she takes it she gives another small smile to him, and she then looks to the bottle, twisting it and cracking the cap open. The cap is twisted off and she lifts the bottle close to the apartment-dweller's mouth, a hand slipping beneath his chin to lift it just a little. If Lance tries moving him, Fawn will be walking right along with him while offering sips to the one needing it. Even then she's still a bit distracted, eyes cutting to Lance every now and then, and soon she even tries to murmur something softly under her breath to him. If Lance is going to take the kid out, she'll follow.

Axle draws a swallow from one of the cups of slushy goodness, pinching her nose when she gives herself brain freeze, huffing and sticking her tongue out until the intense agony passes. "Uh, YEAH. The fresh air keeps the germs out, Jeanie. Jeeze!" She flashes a grin at her, plopping her boonie hat back on top of her head and going outside to look around and make sure there are no other signs of potential mayhem. These days the Fixers seem to have coaxed all kinds of critters out of the woodwork in their attempts to kindle the Locus.

With college student's color improving, the street doc does, indeed, want to get him up and moving. Largely, Lance has checked out of the ongoing conversation to attend to his apparent duties as nursemaid (or at least 'make sure he doesn't need to call 911 after all'). He walks with fawn, one of the kid's arm's over his shoulder as the college student slowly starts to come 'round. "Think you drank more than you realized, bro. Gettin' you to your bed." Lance offers to the kid before glancing over at the helpful brunette. He lets out a breath after a moment and shakes his head. "Nah, but lemmie give you my number. I'll try to come by tomorrow." He'll probably be coming to the area to check on this dude anyway. What's a doctor's care without a follow-up appointment? It's kind of hard to tell what Lance's tone is for Fawn, but it's not unkind, just focused -- distracted. "I'm gonna stay with this guy a little while longer make sure he checks out okay."

"Is the Nap Man like the Muffin Man?" Cause Jeanie may have heard he lives on Druey lane. There's a laugh for Axle as she raises the frozen goodness. "And the booze is for disinfectants! But for real though, I don't know what you were doing, but it's loud enough that if the landlord is around he may or may not be poking his head in soon... Drinks to go?" It's a New Orleans tradition after all.


Nodding to Lance, Fawn says, "Oh yeah.. Of course. Sure thing." She smiles a little again, then gives the kid a bit more to drink. Once he looks like he has it under control she hands the bottle off to the guy, then says to Lance, "Just text me. You have my number still.. I hope?" Her brows lift at that and she gives another little smile before stepping out of the apartment to get some fresh air.


Ramsey puts on his best British accent, which is not very good, which is english by way of american english by way of french. "Capital idea, we shall carry on." He looks over at Lance for a long moment, as if deciding something, but apparently settles on 'likes him and doesn't think he's a narc' so he's not violating the Oath of the Moon, since he's clearly been exposed to the supernatural before. "Catch you later, doc. Good luck, Napster." He lifts his ill-gotten drink, and then wanders out into the night.


"Lemme see if I can..." Axle says as she heads over to fart around with the door that 'Battering Ram' busted in like an asshole; she even leaves her drink behind while she does it. Should be *him* fixing the door. She tries to turn it back and forth on the remnants of the hinges -- at which point the entire thing comes off the frame and into her hands. At which point... The little shit arranges the door to block the doorway and takes off, not even saying a word to the others. She's not going to get blamed for finishing breaking the door, damn it!