ArchivedLogs:Owly the Drug Owl

Owly the Drug Owl
Dramatis Personae Anette, Pete, Teague	2016-01-24 '
Location <NYC> 908 {Teague} - One Sixty-Seven - Upper West Side
With an extravagant view of the surrounding city and Central Park from its ninth floor balcony, this apartment would be more aptly suited for a Bond villain than a ballerina. Perhaps there is a wealthy benefactor involved. Boasting a massive diamond chandelier visible from nearly every room, the space is likely larger than some houses. It might be easy for one to expect to find a formal sitting room to be done up thickly in the Parisian style, heavy on every sinful luxury ...but this four bedroom, three-and-a-half bathroom apartment is almost completely empty. Dust from the work of recent contractors settles in odd nooks and crannies, as well as the occasional abandoned wrench. With it's new stainless steel appliances and marble countertops, the full restaurant-grade kitchen is also empty but for a few packages of Chinese take-out in the fridge. Save for the minimalistically furnished Master Bedroom and Pete's room, every room is a wasteland of naked walls. Although the city down below is covered in a heavy blanket of snow, the winds on the ninth floor have left only little accumulation on Teague's balcony porch. It looks relatively unaffected by the blizzard. Snow settles in small crannies along perimeter bars and against the glass wall that looks into the warm luxury apartment, itself. Heat from the electric fireplace causes the many large windows to fog. Inside, there are just as few furnishings as ever. Every footstep and pin drop bounces off of the snow-white walls and echoes throughout the rest of the unit. At first glance, there is no one around. Now that the storm has ended, it's much easier to fly in. And the lousy conditions below mean that people are still keeping inside whenever possible. Which, of course, is the perfect cocktail for Anette to spread her wings and fly above the city. Having been here multiple times, she had no trouble locating Teague's building or his specific balcony, landing rather gracefully, her boots crunching in the snow. Once again, she makes her presence known by a quick knock on the glass door as she's opening it, rather than waiting for permission to enter. As usual, she would find that the sliding glass door has been left unlocked. Whether or not that is for her specifically is a question for another time. Although the electric fireplace is on, the only other light comes from one of the bedrooms down the hall. Under further inspection, it isn't the master bedroom at the very end of the apartment's main corridor but one of the three smaller and previously vacant side-rooms. Anette frowns slightly, walking slowly as she listens carefully for any sign of life. The lack of light not an issue, she merely wanders through the apartment towards the side room. Once again, she knocks, but softer than before and though she opens the door again, she only cracks it open an inch or two, giving whoever is inside the room, if anyone, plenty of warning to her presence before she actually enters. "Jewel?" she calls out, still a tad hesitant. The room has been sparsely outfitted. In addition to a great wooden armoire, a hospital bed as been brought in, facing another massive wall of windows. In the far corner, the teen in question is curled up in an upholstered armchair. Quite asleep, a blanket pools at the feet of the chair where it has slipped off of him. In the hospital bed, it’s Pete that looks up as Anette enters. Teague’s brother plucks an earbud out. A laptop rests on his upturned knees, which he half-closes as he looks expectantly at the winged woman. “He’s asleep,” he points out as he assesses her with a cat-like little smile. His accent is decidedly not British. Anette looks surprised to see Pete awake and, with a brief glance towards the sleeping Teague, nods slightly. "Sorry, didn't mean to disturb either of you. I can...go. If you want," she offers, ticking her head behind her towards the way she came. "I just wanted to check on Teague after the mission, see how he was doing. How both of you were doing." Yellow eyes scan the other boy a moment. "How /are/ you doing?" "I'm flyin' high," Pete answers quietly. His mouth flattens into a long, satisfied smile as he turns his nose down slightly to scan over Anette with his own lazy, doped-up eyes. The teen shifts in the bed, careful to accommodate the tubes that attach him to a nearby IV drip. "Stay," he glances to the free space he's created on the bed, "Who are you, though?" He pretends to frown and narrow his eyes, but it appears Anette's familiarity with the apartment's layout and his brother are enough. Anette steps into the room once she's invited in, giving a quick shake of her wings to shake any excess snow off. "I'm a friend of your brother's," she says, glancing over to Teague once more before making her way over to him. "I also helped him bring you here." She picks up the blanket that dropped on the floor and gently drapes it over Teague's sleeping form before leaning up against the wall in lieu of sitting down anywhere. "They've still got you...hooked up?" she asks, waving her hand casually to the hospital equipment attached to Pete. "Seems like you've spent enough of your life hooked up to this." "Withdrawel," Pete answers simply with a theatrical shrug. "You helped bring me here?" He asks, dark eyebrows flicking up into his forehead. He's markedly more expressive than his brother, "You called something a minute ago..." The drugged teen's eyes drift over to where Anette had been standing a moment ago. When he goes to look back at her, he has to search the room to find her again. "/The Mission/." He laughs quietly, "So, is your power flying?" Teague shifts softly but doesn't wake. He curles up further under the blanket for warmth. Anette can't help but grin at the word 'withdrawal' but she doesn't elaborate further. She stiffens a bit uncomfortably at his questioning. "I don't know how much you know. There were a few of us that helped get you out. All friends of your brother." She watches the boy curiously as he seems to struggle with staying coherent, though she does smile softly as he questions her abilities. "Flying, among other things." She holds up her talons as Exhibit B. "I'm more or less an owl." Anette’s grin prompts Pete’s to broaden further, even if he’s truly in the dark as to what it’s about. “Funny, I don’t ever remember him being very good at making friends,” he says wryly out of the corner of his mouth. “That’s cool, though. Can you control owls with your mind, too? And talk to them?” The teen blinks very slowly, “What do they have to say?” Pete's comment gets her glancing to the side. "You know...I actually don't know how he found us." She looks back towards Pete, chuckling and shaking her head. "Sadly, no, I can't do either of those. Just wings, talons, enhanced sight and sound and a couple other quirks that aren't as useful." She crosses her arms in front of her chest as she watches Pete curiously. "So...you have the same powers as Teague then?" “Yeah,” Pete gives another drunken shrug, lips pressing into a small pout, “No.” He looks over towards Teague and his attention lingers there, “Yes and no.” The teen gently pushes his laptop aside to sit up more. He reaches down to lift up the t-shirt he’s worn to bed, revealing his stomach and ribs. Growing up the side of his body is a cluster of embedded diamonds. Where their bulbous faces protrude from his flesh, the skin appears to be in the beginning stages of peeling away. It might give the impression of an entirely secondary layer of diamonds just under the surface. Anette watches curiously as Pete lifts his shirt, her eyes widening as she notices the diamonds protruding from his skin. "So you...shed diamonds? Does it hurt?" she asks, leaning forward away from the wall just a bit to get a close look. Pete throws his knuckles into his armored side, testing the glittery layer with a few light blows. "Nah," he answers, eventually sliding the t-shirt back into place, "But I mean, again, I'm mother fuckin' /rollin'/." He chuckles, smiling over to Anette. "Sorry, what was your name?" Pete asks, narrowing his eyes and leaning in. Anette grins and glances to the IV. "The cocktail you're drinking, a house could land on you and I doubt you'd feel it." She turns back to Pete and gives a quick nod and warm smile. "Anette. Pleasure meeting you. So have you had any other visitors or have you been stuck with ballet boy this whole time?” “You’re the first,” Pete scoffs, “Can’t exactly tell people where to send the flowers.” Still smiling, at least with his eyes, he tilts his head, “So, you HAVE to stay. And play cards or some fucking thing with me. This house has goddamn nothing.” Anette chuckles and glances towards the sleeping Teague. "What, you mean he hasn't been fun and exciting? /Shocking/." She glances about the room briefly. "I mean, I would but I'm pretty sure he doesn't keep a boardgame closet around here. I have no idea what we'd do." Pete snorts out a laugh, "Well, you've got the wings. Think you can score me some of that sweet Monopoly action or something? Or is that not terroristy enough?" "Please, Monopoly is the most terrorist-y game there is," Anette says, finally standing up from the wall. "Fine. I'll see what I can do. Think you'll be alright here alone with twinkle-toes?" Pete’s expression grows dry and for the first time, there is some family resemblance besides just looks, “Please, he couldn’t even handle this shit. He fell asleep in ten minutes.” He flicks the IV. Smirking, he keeps his lazy eyes on Anette, “You’re alright, Owly.” Anette raises an accusing brow at Pete but says nothing. "Alright, I'll be back in a bit then. And you're not so bad yourself." With a quick grin, she turns and leaves the room, closing the door behind her.