kore_logs | can't seem to find our state of grace

Entry tags:

can't seem to find our state of grace

Who: Balthazar and OPEN
What: Exploring and chatting.
When: Day 54
Where: All over the place, but eventually the bar and House 11. Encounter him anywhere you like.
Warnings: Probably none, will update if that changes.

Balthazar's not sure whether to be optimistic about this brave new world or not. There's no question but that certain individuals here are a threat. Raphael and Lucifer? Scary. Whatever's got them all trapped here? Also scary. At the moment, though, the weather is fairly pleasant, there's no looming apocalypse, planned or otherwise, and even the demons here seem to be, if not civil, at least tolerable.

Probably the other shoe will drop before long, but until then he's going to try to enjoy himself.

Hence the search for the bar he hears is around somewhere. He circles through streets, looking over houses, buildings, and...hmm. Rubble. That's a little worrisome. But not too far off he finds what he was looking for, and slips curiously through the doors.

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"I do like kitty cats." He manages to make this sound just a little dirty, but his posture is casual as he saunters over, hands in his pockets. "Nice to meet you in person, Meg. Possibly."

The jury's still out, but she hasn't tried to bite or anything yet. He leans against a table thoughtfully. "I'm curious. Does it take extra alcohol to get you buzzed, or is your tolerance roughly human?"

Isn't everything that comes out of his mouth dirty? Either way, Meg very obviously checks him out, giving him a thorough once over. Well, what's the point of having a gorgeous meatsuit if others don't get to appreciate it? And he does have a rather handsome one.

"I'm sure I could drink you under the table any day, Feathers."

Maybe only 75%. That's still a majority, so he won't argue the point. Notably, he's also not arguing with her checking him out, looking amused, instead. "You think so? I might have to take you up on that challenge, but not on my second day."

"Afraid of being shown up by a demon?" She smirks, sliding a bottle of beer along the bar towards him. Funny how messed up their lives were. Angels and demons sharing a drink in a bar.

"So, settling in alright?"

He catches the bottle easily, eyes the label uncertainly, then shrugs and opens it, taking a taste. Not what he'd pick to drink if he had the chance to be picky, and he's more concerned about that than the ontological confusion. Still, beggars can't be choosers.

"Not especially, but I imagine it wouldn't sit well with the rest of the population if we cleaned the place out." He smiles wryly. "And so far, so good."

"No, I suppose all the squishy little humans would get upset if we drank all their precious booze. Is the world really ready to handle a stone cold sober Dean Winchester? Because I don't think I am." It's a horrifying thought.

"Family reunions going well? Haven't noticed any blinding lights or scorched wing marks on the ground so I'm assuming you're all still playing nicely together..."

That earns her a laugh. Balthazar's feeling a bit more mellow about Dean's presence than he thought he would, but that doesn't mean he's above a laugh at the man's expense. "No, most definitely not."

The family question sobers him up quickly. "I haven't run into the ones I'm most worried about yet, but I don't think there's much risk of getting into trouble with the few I have spoken to. Archangels are the scary ones, you know."

Meg takes a swig from her bottle. The fact two archangels are here (okay, technically three, but she's still unaware of Gabe's true identity) fills her with dread. Especially knowing how super duper popular demonkind are with them.

"Been trying to avoid those feathery bags of dicks." She had had a run in with Lucifer and she's still not entirely sure how she walked away alive. She doubts she'd be so lucky if the ran in to Raphael, especially given her close connection with Castiel.

"No offence, but most of the feather flock are jerks."

"That's probably wise." He takes a gulp of his own beer, privately wondering if knowing Lucifer cares nothing for his 'children' is as painful as it sounds like it would be.

...Come to think of it, he can't be sure his Father cares for His children, either. It's such a strange and bitter thought that he laughs out loud. "We are. We are jerks. Can't help it, it's in our programming, I think."

Discovering Lucifer didn't give a damn about her and all the other demons had been quite the devastating blow - so much for being a Lucifer Loyalist for all those years. She's mostly over it now. She had a new cause.

"Not all angels are jerks." Well, okay, they are. Every single one of them. Some are just less jerky than others. "Most of you just have your heads so far up your own asses you can lick your tonsils."

"We're different kinds of jerks." He sets the bottle down. "Which reminds me. Why Castiel?"

Not that he blames her; far from it. But he's curious. It's a rare thing for a demon and an angel to spend time in the same room without killing one another, much less develop any kind of attachment.

Oh man. Trust Balthazar to drive the conversation straight to Castiel and those awkward feelings she's been trying to ram deeply down out of the way. She shrugs her shoulders. Seriously, talking about it is hard.

"Why not Castiel?"

"No reason, just the whole wings and Grace and the close association with Winchesters?" He manages to keep a straight face, just barely.

"Truly, though, I didn't even know you were on his radar until he told me he was trying to protect you and Dean. I'm curious what circumstances drove you together, I suppose."

"It was a business relationship. I needed allies. The Winchesters and the angel were all I could get at short notice." Seriously, she had only ever wanted to use him as a giant angel shaped shield. Then things got messy.

"I became an angel babysitter. You spend all day, every day with the guy and he kind of grows on you."

"You must have presented a convincing case." He has an easier time imagining Castiel rationalizing not killing her than the Winchesters.

Uncomfortably, he realizes she must be ahead of him in time. That's unsettling, but at least it means Castiel has a chance of surviving this insane gambit for Purgatory souls. "And you grew on him, as well, evidently."

"What can I say? It's my charming personality and winning smile. Don't I just have a face you want to trust? I mean sure I killed half of the Winchesters' friends and tried to kill the Winchesters, but to be fair, who hasn't? Come on. We've all tried."

Still, desperate times, desperate measures. She needed back up, they needed someone to look after poor, broken Castiel.

"Didn't you know? I'm the saint who stayed with him when no one else did?"

If he's honest with himself, she does have a fairly sweet face. Or, her vessel does, at least. He's not going to dignify that question by commenting aloud, though, rolling his eyes and drinking some of his beer instead.

But the last bit draws him up short. "No one else, truly? Where was I?"

"I don't know. Didn't exactly do an angelic roll call. The guy was broken, he needed someone to look after him. That someone was me. Apparently if you consume all the souls in Purgatory and then left the Hell scars off a Winchester it leaves you less than healthy."

Still, it isn't really her tale to tell. She was just the babysitter. It was Cas' story really.

She's wise to provide only the sketchiest of details, but even that much is enough to leave him visibly upset. He flounders a moment, drains the entire remainder of his beer, and rubs temples unhappily before answering. "I was hoping it wouldn't come to that."

On the other hand, it seems that Castiel did survive. That's worth something.

She flicks her wrist, sending a bottle of scotch from the wall across the bar to stop just in front of Balthazar. It's not laziness, it's just convenience. And he looks like he can use something harder than the crappy beer.

"I get the feather clan don't exactly appreciate a demon being near an angel. It's unclean. I'm corrupt. I get it, I do. But I am fond of the little tree-topper, 'kay?"

Oh, that's thoughtful, actually. He gives her a distracted nod and opens the bottle. A long drink and a soft cough later he returns his gaze to her face. "I believe you."

It's comes out as an angry growl, but not directed at her so much as the whole situation. "Angels and demons are anathema to one another. I don't know yet whether I like you, and I definitely don't like the situation. But if you want to protect him badly enough to turn on an archangel, then I'd rather have you around him than most of my own siblings."

"Glad we see eye to eye. I'd really hate to have to kill you after we've been getting along so nicely. Isn't it so much better when all the little boys and girls play nice together and hold hands?"

And technically she has the weaponry to kill him, of course, he could smite her from across the room before she ever got the chance to get close enough, but hey, details.

"Sure, sure. No killing." He shrugs distractedly and goes back to the scotch. "Are you planning on killing anyone else, just out of curiosity?"

He's wondering how her and Dean are getting along, but that's really Castiel's problem, not his.

"Crowley will get what's coming to him one day. Other than that? No. As shaming as that is to admit, I'm kind of content not to go around murdering everyone. Of course, if Raphael or Lucifer were to spontaneous combust - I wouldn't be shedding any tears."

Meg and Dean called a truce and then she snogged him, it's a good working relationship all things considered.

"Only met Crowley the once, so I see no reason to interfere there. I think we'll get along just fine, then." He's downed about a third of the scotch already, and pauses to frown at the remainder pensively.

"I suppose I should offer to share this, as you're the one who got it out for me."

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