Pascal

After Life [Closed to Pascal]

“No you don’t. You don’t live at apartment 1206 on Cannon Street, because I do. I’ve lived here for three years. I wouldn’t just forget, or mix-up, something like that.” He looked at the door to the room as he spoke, and then back to the girl, who seemed to be trying to get around him to go to the elevator. “No. wait!” He walked around her and blocked her for a moment. “Look. I know that’s my apartment. You walk in, and the kitchen is on your left. There is a bathroom on the right, and a chip on the right side of the sink from…well, one day I was redecorating when I was a bit tispy. Anyway, there is a closet after that, and then the door to the first bedroom, with an en suite bathroom. On the other side is the living room, and dining area.” He paused, giving up on the explanation. Most of the apartments looked the same, and she had just been inside, likely robbing the place. Of course she knew what the apartment looked like.

“And fuck. I don’t even care if you were trying to steal anything. I just… I’ve had a rough night, and I can’t find my keys.” He couldn’t remember his night, which was probably enough of an indicator that it was rough. In any case, she didn’t have a huge bag on her, so he didn’t think that she had gotten away with much, if that had been her purpose.

“Is it open?” He questioned, looking at the door. He didn’t remember seeing her lock it, not that he had been paying the most attention to her at the time. He stepped around her again, and walked over towards the door. “I’ll just go back to my apartment, and give you a head start before I call the cops. Deal?” He went all the way over to the door placing his hand around the knob once more. He was feeling much more aware of what was going on, and had dismissed his earlier snafu as whatever was left in his system. Now, he would certainly be able to do something as simple as open the door and get into his home.

His fingers closed into a fist, rather than wrapping around the knob. “What…the fuck!?!” He yelled, pulling his hand in frustration. “What the fuck did you do to my knob?” He paused, and then began to blush, looking down and then looking back at the girl. That knob wasn’t the one he had meant at all “My door…what did you do to my door?” He questioned, his voice full of frustration.

[Genkai] Magical Drifting [Pascal]

For some reason, the IC doesn't say that I posted, but i definitely did... let me know if you have issues.

[Genkai] Magical Drifting [Pascal]

Thanking the host who brought them to the table, Kieran then turned his attention back to Anabelle. “No, actually. I travel for work. I am not in town very often, actually.” He admitted. Anabelle told him that she didn’t travel very much, but she wasn’t fond of the ocean. He felt like she was telling the truth, but that would mean that maybe she genuinely didn’t know where she had been from. He debated bringing it up right there, but the server came back and asked for their orders.

Kieran ordered a variety of vegetables with some chicken as well, and then chuckled. “I don’t think I am a city guy. It’s interesting, but I feel like a bit of an outsider looking in most of the time.” He explained.

Kieran paused for a few moments, taking a sip of his drink. “Thank you for coming out to lunch with me. He didn’t know how to bring up the next topic, but it had to be done. “I was hoping you would be willing to talk with me... I know that I am a stranger, and I am not…by any means trying to upset you. I just want to understand what happened the other day, when I came into the hospital. And so I am going to start with what I know about that day, and we can go from there.”

Many mages, when confronted suddenly with their abilities, responded with hostility. Elementals were the worst. They could burn down an entire building before they had a chance to take a calming breath. Healers weren’t usually so dangerous, and their lack of defenses was part of the reason that they had been dwindling in numbers. “I was hurt. I was seriously hurt. More than enough for a bandage alone to heal. I’m not a city guy. I wouldn’t have gone all the way out to the hospital if I thought it was something that could have healed on its own. There was no one else tending to me at that time, it was just you.” He could still see the magic on her, but Kieran wasn’t ready to reveal his own hand just yet. He needed to know more about her background before he supplied more information.

The pair was interrupted by the food arriving. Kieran thanked the server, assuring them that he didn’t need anything else for a while. He looked down at his food briefly. There was steam rising from it, and while he probably could have started eating, he felt like he needed to finish his side of things for Anabelle. “I…know people like you. Not many, but a few. But… there are a lot of things I don’t know. Like, what are you doing here? And what do you know about what you do? And-“ Kieran caught himself. If he got himself worked up with questions, he would just overwhelm Anabelle. He was hoping that she could talk to him of her own volition, and he wasn’t going to get that by intimidating her. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I get a bit…over-excited, and you don’t know me that well, but I would really like to hear this from you, rather than just listening to my own assumptions and getting nowhere with them.”

In his mind, she likely knew about home, and had been taught to hide what she could do because of that. He didn’t want to spend the entire meal beating around the bush and not addressing the fact that he wanted to talk to her about her ability. If they could just get past the part where she tried to deny what she could do, he could find out what part of home kept her from returning, or if she perhaps had been wanting to go back but couldn’t. He hoped to convince her to come back, at least for a little while. She could do so much good back home, and she could be around others who would teach her more about the things that she one day could do, if she wanted.

-.-

Devon. It wasn’t a particularly enlightening name, but it was nice to finally have something to call the man. Rhys agreed to share, and began to open her bag, taking out the things that would perish the soonest. She had some fruit—the banana was not surviving very well in her bag, and some meat that had already been cooked and seasoned a little. As she sorted through her bag, reorganizing things so that the rest of her perishables wouldn’t perish so quickly. While she was organizing, Devon went over to the lake. She watched him a bit, and then laughed as he talked about entering the mind of a fish. “What, is it too big for you and you’re afraid you might get lost?” She teased. Rhys almost laughed once more before she realized that she had said that to a virtual stranger, and she clamped a hand over her mouth nervously. She took a breath before relaxing once more. He probably wouldn’t be that angry with her. She slowly began to part her fingers.

“Sorry.” She said, chuckling nervously. “Sometimes I speak without thinking first.” She lowered her hand down to her lap and shook her head. “Usually, I speak without thinking at all.” She added, teasing herself because it was pretty true, and also because she hoped Devon would see that she wasn’t trying to drive him away—this time.

“Bread would be perfect. I have two bananas that probably won’t last till morning, and a bit of chicken.” She split what she had in half, giving him a whole banana, and some of the chicken to put on the bread. It wasn’t a gourmet meal in the slightest, but it was better than nothing. Rhys stopped conversing for a short while to eat the meal. The sun had set, and darkness was spreading across the sky. “Would you like to take turns and keep watch? Or does your…mind just sort of pick up on when others are around like a sort of burglar alarm?” Rhys asked. She seriously doubted his magic worked anything like that, but if she didn’t ask, she certainly wouldn’t ever know for sure. Besides, if she could get away with sleeping most of the night and still feeling like they were decently safe, she would be ecstatic.

Once that was established, Rhys could only think of one other question she had for the night. She put her bag to the side and knelt down by the lake, refilling her waterskin and drinking from it. “Do you have any place in particular in mind?” She asked, taking her hair out of the loose braid that had rested over her shoulder. She wasn’t going to wash it, because it would be silly to sleep right after, and she was just going to continue traveling. However, she did want to braid it over the other shoulder the next day, and so for the night, it would be loose.

After Life [Closed to Pascal]

Three Weeks Ago- Snyder Research Labs: Irvine, CA
Patient Six-Fifteen is displaying positive signs from the treatment. His brain is retaining the electric impulses for about 3 point 54 seconds after sent through the brain stem and through the temporal lobe. There is very little activity in the frontal lobe. The doctor stopped the recording, and left the room to check on the next patient. Keeping a schedule was important, that way he was able to make his records at the one hour mark for each patient, and comment upon the same criteria every day. Reginald Briggs De’Angelo was left alone once more, apart from the flowers on the table beside his bed, beginning to wilt.

New flowers would be brought every other week, after Reginald’s father had his secretary put it on the calendar for the third Monday of the month. Reginald’s mother’s PA was sent a similar message, courtesy of Reminor’s secretary, asking if she would like to take the first Monday of the month. The personal assistant, a busy woman named Cecily, confirmed such with Reginald’s mother, and the orders were placed automatically with nearby floral centers, paid through the next six months. Apart from the flowers, no one came to visit. A few of the doctors had been surprised at first. They knew that this patient’s family had pushed hard to get him in the program--that he didn’t entirely qualify. They had expected to see more involvement from them coming to visit, bringing the patient tokens from home or something, but the room was barren, apart from a body in a bed.

-.-

Home. Standing in one of the nicer apartment buildings in LA, the place was jam-packed with amenities. The building had a 24 hour gym, indoor and outdoor pool, in-unit laundry facilities, two parking spots, its own balcony, and stunning views. He found himself in the hallway of the building he knew so well, and he looked behind him to see the elevator. Whatever he had just been doing, clearly he was going back to his apartment. A quick glance to the right and he saw he was on the correct floor, and so he turned to the right, walking down the hall and turning to the left at his door. He paused there for a moment, and then pat his pocket for the keys. He was really out of it. Clearly, he just needed to go lay down for a bit, probably sleep off whatever had ended up in his drink.

He looked down, assessing his clothing. Dark jeans, vest, button-down shirt, but no jacket. He might have gone out to dinner, had something slipped in his drink? Hell, maybe he simply had too much to drink. In any case, he needed to get inside and rest. Though he knew it would be fruitless, he reached his hand out for the knob, willing it to be unlocked. He could look for his keys later, he just needed to get some proper rest. What the…? A confused look spread across his face as his fingers seemed to go through the knob. That wasn’t right. Clearly, whatever drugs he had taken were still messing with his system.

“Calm down. Take a deep breath.” He closed his eyes and stepped away from the door. The door was locked, he was hallucinating. He needed to find his keys. Turning back towards the elevator, he looked on the floor. Perhaps he had been holding them, and he dropped them during his episode. Unfortunately, they were not on the floor by the elevator. He thought about going to sleep right there, but he wasn’t particularly tired. He felt like sleep was what he needed, but it wasn’t what he wanted in that moment. What he wanted, was to not feel like half of his brain was out at lunch, or dinner.

A noise down the hall got his attention, and he looked up quickly to see someone leaving one of the apartments. No. Not just one of the apartments…his apartment. “Hey… Hey you!” He had no idea who she was, but she certainly wasn’t the cleaning woman, he knew that much. “What the hell are you doing in my apartment?” He asked, closing the distance between them hastily, his arms folding across his chest.

After Life [Closed to Pascal]

Makes sense. I had him appear right there before she gets the chance to leave the building, but if you want to change that, I can have it be when she gets back from her walk, with a few edits. He would basically start yelling at her once she began to open the door to "his" apartment.

After Life [Closed to Pascal]

I didn't realize that her father lived there too. That is going to make her look so crazy when Reg shows up. :P

Also, i have work today, so I will probably respond after.

After Life [Closed to Pascal]

It was hot, the kind of hot that could only be satisfied with blasting the AC and holding one’s hands at ten and two to feel the cold air hit them from the vents. Not paying mind to the fact that ten and two had gone ‘out of style’ and was downright dangerous in some cars, depending on the installation of the air bag. Many drivers on the large highway drove with the windows up to take advantage of their comfortable igloos. Reginald Briggs De’Angelo didn’t mind the heat, which was good considering that he certainly had no AC. His custom-made MV-Augusta F4CC wove between the lanes, disregarding the mini-vans and camrys as he sped past them. Reggie had just gotten the sports bike a few weeks before, and he wasted no time in taking it for a spin, leaving his ‘old’ bike to gather dust until he gave it to someone, or donated it to some auction event for charity.

The sun was beginning to set, and though it might have seemed a bit early for bar-hopping, Reggie was on his way to Cecil’s, a bar he had been to only once before. There was something…inherently wrong about going to the same bar all the time in his mind. Yes, the staff knew how to treat the right people with the right respect, opening the curtains, doors, and velvet rope where required. However, it was only when Reggie went to the same bar with regularity that people began to notice him. In this case, ‘people’ was another word to mean women and the kind of men who swung the wrong way a bit. It wasn’t just the fact that women noticed him. Reggie wouldn’t have had a problem with that. He was the kind of person who would be quite content being the last man on Earth, assuming of course that the last women on Earth were all playboy bunnies. The problem with repetition was that women began to stalk people like Reggie. The last club he had enjoyed, called Lion’s Den, was where he was assaulted with quite a common exchange.

”Reg? Reginald? The red-head asked, practically climbing over the bouncers protecting people like him from the grub—common folk. “No, really. I know him.” She told the bouncer, trying to reassure him.

Having already had a decent amount to drink, Reggie wasted no time in approaching the bouncer and the girl, though he made no attempts to tell the bouncer that she did, indeed, belong on his side of the velvet rope. “Do I know you?” He asked, holding some house special whose name he couldn’t remember in his right hand, while his left was dangling lightly by his side.

“Yes, of course… Remember? We met here two weeks ago… We went back to your hotel room…” It was the same story Reg had heard time and time again. Of course they met at a club. Of course he brought them back to some hotel room. He practically had a standing reservation at any of the biggest hotels in the state. He never brought a girl home, because girls met in clubs weren’t for bringing home, and Reggie had no interest in finding a girl in any other place. Other girls required courting. There were dates, and restrictions on activities, and flowers, and dinners, and questions, and pretending that he actually cared about her boring life when he knew that all she wanted was his money. No, Reginald was not interested in a relationship; he was only interested in having a good time. After all, he had money, he had a great body, and he had absolutely no reason to change his lifestyle.

Shaking his head, Reggie shrugged and took a sip of his drink. Wasn’t her name Meredith? That name annoyed him, and as he looked at her once again, he remembered that it was Meredith. He didn’t even want to say that name, and so had decided to call her Sweetie. That had also been the name of one of his cleaning ladies’ parrots. Listening to Meredith speak two weeks ago reminded him of how much that damn bird squawked, which was how he got the name that sounded slightly less sour on his tongue than Meredith. “Nope, don’t remember you.” He said, and turned away from the woman, walking towards the back of the club and ducking down a hallway. He could almost hear the silence of her shock, and smirked as he finished his drink in one large gulp.

Eventually, going to the same club just led to too many awkward encounters, alcohol being poured on his designer suits, women huffing and puffing and throwing tantrums in their discount heels. Reggie didn’t go out on weekend nights to be assaulted by women… Well, sometimes he did, but that was always on his own terms. This new club, Cecil’s, had been recommended by a friend of his, a guy named Andrew. Since Andrew only came to the area like three times a year, the places that he recommended were hit or miss. This one, though, was definitely a hit.

There was traffic on the freeway, not that Reg particularly cared. Two lanes were wide enough for two cars and him, provided they weren’t complete idiots. While Reginald didn’t have a lot of faith in mankind, he did think that survival instinct was pretty high, and that usually kept him safe. Some Camry that had to be from the 90s honked as he sped past, and Reg looked in the rearview mirror as the small car disappeared from sight, no doubt the man was raising Reg’s favorite finger in front of him. In fact, the man honked because he was finishing a text, and Reginald coming up in his peripheral vision scared him and made him think he was in the shoulder, causing him to swerve unnecessarily. Reginald shook his head slightly and turned back towards the road in front just in time to see the large semi hurtling towards him. “Shit!” Reginald cursed and turned the bike sharply, pushing forward on the left handle to counter-steer his motorcycle and move quickly to the left, where there was no one in his lane. Reg had to pull harder than he expected though, as the back of the semi curved out, and blocked the path ahead. Going far to the left, Reginald hit the semi and flew over the median. He didn’t even hear the crunch of the metal when his bike smashed into a car in the other lane, and he fell unconscious before he hit the ground.

Though Reginald had a history of making poor decisions before getting on a motorcycle of vehicle, this time the culprit had been the driver of the semi. The driver, a man named Billy Thompson, had been driving for 13 hours straight, and hadn’t taken the mandatory breaks that he was supposed to, trying to make a deadline. He had, of course, been in the far left lane of the highway, driving south, when he fell asleep at the wheel. The semi managed to make it over the median before he woke, and by then, all he could do was try to slam the brakes before he had a head-on collision with the other cars coming towards him. The momentum carried the back out and to the side, blocking all of the lands, and smashing against a few cars. There was no shoulder for them to go into, the semi blocked all of the lanes, its front slamming into the median once more, and it’s back stretching into the shoulder. The pile-up on the North-bound side of the highway would be 15 cars and the semi, and the South-bound, due to rubber-neckers and Reginald’s bike, would have 5 as well, though only two lanes of traffic on that side would be blocked completely.

-.-

Five months after the accident - St. Martin’s Extended Care Hospital:

“I don’t care who is asleep, who is in a meeting, and who is at fucking dinner. I expect to speak with the project manager immediately!” Reminor De’Angelo barked into the phone before hanging up. When the accident first occurred, he had come right away. The boy’s mother had taken a few weeks, having needed to finish presenting some new design line for some very important people. Reminor had been angry at first that his son had gotten himself in another mess. He would have tested positive for some alcohol, and likely some sort of drugs as well, but since the driver of the semi had been found to be the cause of the accident, no one pursued the habits of all of the crash’s victims. The company that had allowed the driver to pull such a long trip had to pay damages to a majority of the victims, not that the De’Angelo’s needed the money, or the publicity. No, Reminor didn’t want his son’s name brought up in any of that, and so he opted out of the lawsuit that would have given a decent payout towards his son’s care.

Reginald had always been a troublemaker, and people would perceive it as his fault if Reminor had allowed his name to reach any of the papers. No, as far as Reginald’s friends were concerned, he simply dropped off the map entirely, with rumors flying around of him backpacking through Paris, or modeling for his mother.

Reminor’s phone rang less than a minute later, with the project manager he had demanded on the other line. Another argument ensued, in which Reminor insisted that Reginald would be made a subject of their research study that very evening. The project lead tried to insist that it was impossible, that Reginald wasn’t even a candidate for the drugs given the nature of his accident, and there were days-worth of testing that had to happen before they could ensure that he had the potential to respond to the treatment they had. Reminor, however, wouldn’t take no for an answer. He threatened to cut all funding to their organization, and since the De’Angelo’s had a lot of money to contribute to the group, the man relented finally, and agreed to send two tech that very night to give the boy his first treatment.

The drugs were a cocktail that were just beginning the trial phase. They were meant to help prevent brain deterioration in people with Alzheimer’s, and other neurological diseases. Thus far, they were having more beneficial results with helping to prevent the deterioration of motor function in people whose neurons were not firing properly. They did have a few other patients who had been in comas, trying to test if the brain damage could be reduced, and clearly De’Angelo wanted his son to reap all of these benefits, though he wouldn’t likely benefit from any of it, given his condition. The techs soon arrived, and were able to give Reginald the first treatment, though they would move him to their facilities the next day for follow-up care and treatment, as long as he didn't die from the first concoction of drugs that night. They could not promise any results, of course, but Reminor didn’t care. He wanted the best possible treatment for his son, no matter how much money he had to throw at it.

After Life [Closed to Pascal]

Name: Reginald Briggs De’Angelo

Age: 26

Height: 6 Feet tall

Weight: 160 lbs

Appearance:

Clothing:
*The vest is gray. But he is wearing washed blue jeans, a black belt, a light blue button down, and a dark blue tie (with the white/light blue polka dots).*

Personality/brief bio: Reginald, called Reg or Reggie by his friends, is a self-centered party boy. His father is a director in LA, and his mother is a fashion designer, and former runway model. He grew up with very little supervision, and was used to his father's people bailing him out of his troubles. He doesn't like the idea of having to commit himself to one woman, and would much rather have fun than work. He has never held a proper job, was kicked out a variety of private schools that he attended, and has very few aspirations. He doesn't care about tomorrow, or yesterday, only what he could be doing tonight.

[Genkai] Magical Drifting [Pascal]

“Today, if you are available.” Kieran clarified. “Otherwise, I might have to come back tomorrow to make a payment and ask again.” He continued, a small grin spreading across his face. “12:30, sounds good.” Kieran said. “See you then.” He noticed that her face seemed a bit red, but he didn’t think much of it as he left the hospital once more. Checking the clock in his car, he saw that he had about three hours until lunch. He could go home, but it would probably be more productive to find a place to eat. He figured he needed to stay close to the hospital, so that he could bring Anabelle back to work promptly. Fortunately, a small city had cropped up around the hospital, and so there were quite a few places to choose from. He went into a few different restaurants, looking at menus and layout. He wanted to be able to talk to Anabelle without the din of other conversations bothering him. Of course, wandering around at 9:30 wasn’t the most fruitful because many of the restaurants were closed, and he had no idea how busy they would be at their prime. His decision was made when he saw a location of Genghis Grill around the corner from the square.

It was exactly what he was looking for. The waiters came around to fill drinks, but the meal itself was something that the individual was able to build. Anabelle (and Kieran, himself) could get exactly the things they liked, the chefs would stir-fry it up, and then deliver it to the table. It wasn’t particularly expensive, but the food came out quickly, and they could stay for a while and talk, if such was permissible for Anabelle’s schedule. Kieran hadn’t been sure when she accepted the offer if she would be able to spend the afternoon with him, or if she only had a set duration for her lunch break. He knew that the lengths could vary from 15 minutes to around an hour, and he hoped that she had closer to the latter, so that way they wouldn’t be rushed.

Kieran spent the next thirty minutes wandering around one of the nearby shops, and then made his way back to the hospital to pick up Anabelle. She was standing outside the main entrance, which made Kieran’s life a bit easier, since he didn’t need to go back to the desk to ask for her. Instead of parking, he simply pulled around to the front entrance and parked the car to allow her to get in. The vehicle wasn’t new by any means, but the light blue 2005 corolla had been well-maintained. The interior was clean, largely because Kieran rarely used the car, and hadn’t formed bad habits like leaving trash in it, or trekking through the mud before getting in it. He didn’t think about the fact that he had said his injury was a car accident, and the car was clearly undamaged. Kieran wasn’t even sure if Anabelle knew about the excuse he had made for his injury—the beginning of the night having faded from his memory a bit.

“I hope you like Genghis Grill.” Kieran said as the door opened. The radio, as usual, was off. Kieran hadn’t even messed with his uncle’s preset stations after inheriting the vehicle. He didn’t know much about music, and none of the things he had heard particularly captured his interest. “If not, we can go somewhere else…I just love that you can pick out your own food, so you know exactly what is in your meal.” He explained. Having grown up in a place where going out to eat meant that the food was some sort of mystery meat, restaurants like this one were a breath of fresh air.

-.-

Rhys could hear someone else’s words in her mind. She froze, afraid at first, but she recognized the voice. It belonged to the man behind her, the one who had stopped her from exploding before. She turned to face him, his magic ability making sense to her now. He could read minds. It was how he had known that she was unable to control her magic, and likely how he had been so easily able to press her buttons when they spoke outside of the tavern. Somehow, knowing this fact about the man made it easier for her to think about speaking to him again. Before, she had felt utterly exposed, like he knew everything about her, and she was too self-centered to realize why. Now that she had something as well, even though it was small, she felt like she could regain control of her situation, at least a bit.

Taking another deep breath, Rhys began to walk towards the man once more, closing the distance between them. She wasn’t sure if he was still in her head, and she didn’t really want him there anyway, so she spoke to him. “I thought you might prefer your privacy. Yesterday, “ Rhys paused, and then shook her head. “Can we start again?” She asked instead, changing the topic a bit. “I’m Rhys.” She said, holding out her right hand to shake his. “I was thinking of going North, but I don’t really have a place in mind. If you would like someone to travel with, I wouldn’t mind tagging alone wherever you’re going, at least for a while.”

He might have laughed at her, or called her stupid, but if he humored her right now, then she could try to not think of him as a hostile figure. Of course, getting a name to call him by would be very helpful as well in that plight. Rhys lowered her bag beside her when he accepted her company. “I got some stuff in town this morning, if you want to share.” She offered, trying to be friendly. She hadn’t gotten anything that needed to be cooked, because she hadn’t been sure when she was going to be stopping for rest, and she wasn’t very good with fire anyway. While she could manipulate flames once they were present, it was usually by accident, and she didn’t know how to put them out with her magic, or to start a new flame from nothing. Since she had been planning to travel alone, the idea of a fire was also dangerous in terms of bandits seeing the fire in the dark, or the smoke when she started the flames. Though she had a small blade on her person, it wasn’t something she could really use to defend herself, if a group of bandits were to come upon her.

In truth, traveling with this man would likely help keep her safe, now that she was more relaxed, and felt like perhaps she could trust his man—so long as he stayed out of her head.

Advanced Writers, Please!

Bump.