current events [spear]

[black]

Although the Reaper was not blessed with psychic abilities, he had been doing his job long enough to have a strong sense of when death would occur. He didn't always bother acting on these senses, as he was typically not in a rush to collect souls, but on occasion he was bored enough to stakeout a spot where he felt misfortune would follow, and wait. Ivan never attempted to interfere in the impending deaths - that would have broken a cardinal rule, and he'd never cared enough about a human to risk upsetting the balance of the universe or whatever gods might have existed.

He stood on a street corner now, outside a coffee shop that he had barely acknowledged, although the inside of it appeared much more warm and inviting than his chosen post. It was snowing; not too hard, but the wind blew the flakes around in little flurries and sent his coat and tie to flapping about. He felt the cold - it was uncomfortable, but it wouldn't kill him, and so he did not bother to try to escape it, although doing so would have made him look much less odd. A well dressed but forlorn looking fellow standing outside in a snowstorm probably drew questions from people looking out the windows of cozy residences.

Not to mention the fact that he'd been there for almost three hours now, and had barely moved, except to occasionally kick snow off his shoes and brush it from his sleeves. He'd scarcely noticed the passage of time, though it had been growing steadily darker as he'd stood there. The things he had noticed were observations he had gathered within moments of his arrival: Nighttime on an icy road was dangerous, even if the road was not a busy one. The lamp across the street from him had gone out; repairmen wouldn't be out to fix it until morning. It was the holiday season, people were still out, drinking and making merry. These facts, combined with the sort of sixth sense that comes from vast amounts of experience, had told him that this place was relevant, and it would be worth his while to be here. And so he waited, with an eerie calmness ill-fitting a man standing alone in the cold.

[Spear]

Lily's not particularly fond of coffee. It's not a dislike, per say, but enough that she does not actually have enough desire for coffee to come to coffee shops. The thing is, she likes coffee shops: they are a cozy sort of uncertain, full of people just comfortable and warm enough to have lowered their guard. She's not a thief, doesn't use them, but at the same time likes to eat up their feelings of vulnerability. Maybe she should have been born a succubus (do those even exist?).

So she's been in this coffee shop for who knows how long, on a third or fourth cup of coffee. The barista is staring to give her odd looks, and almost everyone has left. It's cold out, she ought to go soon. As she mulls over her mostly cooled and half-empty cup, it occurs to her that there's been something in the corner of her eye for quite some time, something outside that doesn't quite fit that's crept in under her skin. That's her shtick. But Lily is a forgiving person - she is more curious than she is vengeful. She's close enough to the window to consider this anomaly from where she sits, so she takes a few long moments to take it in. What an odd man, doing such an odd thing. Yes, for a quite moment, she simply considers. And then she gathers her belongings, and rises.

Curiosity killed the cat, but what did it ever do to the wolf?

Her approach is quiet and modest, and she stops and simply stands a couple feet away, staring into the same distance as him. After a moment of trying (and failing) to discern what's drawn his attention, she decides instead to make her own amusement. "Hey, now," she starts, teasing and light, "Isn't it awfully cold here?"

Without missing a beat, she continues: "Standing in the cold and staring into nothing's a hell of a hobby - one of my personal favorites, really - but," she turns her head only slightly now, just enough to potentially catch his eye, "you've picked an awfully odd spot for it."

There's a strange tone to her voice, but it's not disapproval.

[black]

He sensed the woman's approach but did not acknowledge it immediately; Ivan had no fear of social interaction, but he assumed she would stand around for a few seconds, get bored, assume he was insane and then walk away. That was what they usually did, unless he made a real effort to seem normal - and so he was surprised when she spoke, although he did not indicate it.

She asked if it was cold. He recognized this as human small talk, and oddly enough, this was something he'd always had quite a talent for. At least he considered it a talent - he wasn't sure (or didn't care) what the humans actually thought about it. "I have a coat," he said...and he certainly did. Demonstrating his incredible skill in small talk yet again, the man grabbed one side of his coat and held it open, as if he wasn't sure if the woman had noticed it. Or perhaps he was inviting her inside it too, since she was clearly quite cold. There was nothing strange about a man standing on a street corner, offering his jacket to young women while he was still wearing it.

"Standing in the cold and staring into nothing's a hell of a hobby - one of my personal favorites, really - but you've picked an awfully odd spot for it."

Regardless of how she'd reacted to the coat offering, Ivan proceeded to offer his explanation for the strange post he was choosing to keep. "I'm just waiting for something to happen," said the man, and as if that statement had triggered it, something did happen. A man approached the intersection from the other side of the street; a car came along from another direction. There was a screech of brakes, tires skidded across the slippery road, and then there was a crash - more of a thud, really - and with that, something had indeed happened. The man wasn't going to die from the impact, he was going to die because the roads were icy and help would not arrive in time - Ivan knew that not because of any sort of psychic ability, but from experience. He could add up the variables of the situation as easily as breathing (though he didn't necessarily need to breathe), and he knew how this was going to end.

As if the horrible event hadn't just occurred a few yards from where he stood, Ivan turned to face the girl who stood with him, waiting to see how she would react. He didn't bother disguising the fact that he was studying her, figuring that she'd be distracted by the accident. "What a coincidence," he said flatly, and even he wasn't sure if it was meant to be a joke or not.

He was capable of acting human. He simply didn't feel like not making it completely obvious that he was some kind of fucked up creature from outer space.