fletcher_icon.png sibyl_icon.png

Where: Lots of places.

When: June 9th, 2012

What: Strange locales, unlikely encounters, and new friends.

"Can you crank the radio up?"

Rings out the voice of a woman whose head is lolling in the back of the cab she's riding in. Brown hair falling out of it's bun and into her face, partially covering it. She slurs just a bit when she speaks and throws a hand out to emphasize that she wants the music up. But throwing your hand out in a wide gesture isn't exactly smart in a small cab and so she slams her hand against a window and howls in pain. To which the cab driver chuckles before nodding his head and abiding to Sibyl's request.

As she runs her hands over the fabric of the black dress she's wearing, the song picks up and she grins widely and her eyes half lidded. "You were always on my mind, you were always on my mind." Sibyl drunkenly sings and sways to the music and as the cab makes a turn and she falls over on her seat with a hoot of laughter. "You were always on my mind.."

She's wasted.

Up and out are rarely one and the same. Especially when you're being chased by building security.

A tall, muscular man wearing a simple, dark, long-sleeved shirt and grey slacks bursts through a roof access door, panting for breath as he screeches to a halt. He brushes a leather-gloved hand against the front of his shirt, smoothing down the file folder he's stuffed inside for safekeeping. He has what he came for. Time to escape. From the roof of a three-story building. A roof that's flat, featureless, and devoid of hiding places. A quiet groan creeps from between Fletcher's clenched teeth.

When two security guards burst out onto the roof, there's no one there for them to find. The man has disappeared. They peer about for a few moments, but eventually they both head back inside.

Fletcher lets out a sigh of relief as soon as he hears the door slam behind them. Presently, he's hanging by his fingertips from a satellite dish that's anchored to the side of the building. As soon as he shifts his grip to climb back up, though, the screws holding it in place start to creak alarmingly. First one gives, then the other, leaving both man and dish at the tender mercies of Miss Gravity.

He barely has time for an, "Aw, shit…" before he bounces off an awning, goes flying into the street, and crashes down on top of a passing cab. It's not a gentle fall by any stretch of the imagination. Without the awning, it likely would've been fatal. As it is, he's managed to dent the cab's hood, crack the windshield, and cover most of his body in scrapes and bruises. "Woof," he groans, shaking his head to try and clear it. "Anybody get the number on that… Holy shit. It actually is a cab. Heh."

The cab comes to an immediate halt and Sibyl is thrown to the floor of the cab with a yelp, limbs tangled and dress pulled over her face to show her underwear she barely moves before a soft, "I'm okay.." is uttered. Oh boy. The cab driver quickly jumps out of the car to check if the man who fell from the sky is alright. "Are you okay sir?" he asks as he fishes his phone out of his pocket, a shocked expression on his face.

"You were always on my mind!" Comes from the back seat of the cab, echoing down the street.

When the cab brakes, Fletcher is thrown unceremoniously from the hood to the pavement. "Ow. I hate physics," he mumbles. "Yeah, no, I'm fine. Could you just look at this for a second?"

With surprising speed for a man his size, he pulls a pistol from a holster at the small of his back and brings it to bear on the driver. "So. This is awkward," he begins, smiling apologetically. "I have to borrow your cab. You'll get it back. I'll park it somewhere, tip off the cops, and leave some cash for repairs in the console. Oh. I'm also going to need your phone."

"Oh but.. why.." The cab driver doesn't get to finish his questions because he's taking the phone out, placing it on the hood and then slowly backing away. "Fuck my.. life." He whispers as he looks behind him and then turns to run away. Well that was easy, yeah?

In the backseat of the cab on the floor still lays Sibyl, slightly dizzy and a little more pale than usual. She murmurs the lyrics to the song again, she doesn't know what just happened inside. And there is a big chance that Fletcher has no idea what he will be dealing with while inside of the cab.

"Oh shit, my ass is hanging out." But she doesn't make a move.

Gingerly, Fletcher picks himself up off the ground and takes the driver's phone. "Thanks. Ahem. Well. G'night, then," he bids cheerfully.

He's sliding behind the wheel a few seconds later, pushing himself to ignore his bruises and stay mobile. "Jesus," he bitches quietly as he leans back to kick the cracked windshield out of its mountings. At this point, all it can do is obstruct his view. "Fuckin'… piece of… there we go!" On the third kick, it finally flies free.

He has yet to consider the possibility that this cab might actually be occupied.

As the cab begins to move again, Sibyl jolts awake and she raises a hand out that Fletcher would be able to see. "Are we there yet Captain?" she hollers out and rubs her face with her the hem of her dress, which is still over her face. "Because.. I need my bed and my pillow and my comfy comfy comforter. Do you have a comforter?" The young woman giggles sheepishly and answers for her cab driver, "Of course you do you rascal."

"Did you know that Little Rascals is one of my favorite movies?"

"What? Who?" Fletcher has been busy falling and hijacking for the last sixty seconds or so. It's only now that he's noticed he has a passenger. "Ahhhh, shit. Uh. Yeah. I'm a rascal. Look, you should probably hang on. Also, I can see your ass."

The information is delivered as a simple list of facts, though he can't help but smile bemusedly as he slams his foot down on the accelerator. "Seriously, hold on. I'll drop you off in a bit."

Thusly goosed, the vehicle's tires squeal and it takes off at high speed, occasionally swerving around other cars and cutting yellow lights by the closest of margins.

"Hey, wait- …you can't look at my ass!" An obviously frustrated Sibyl yells as she finally gets the strength to right herself and sit properly in the seat, frantically flipping the disheveled hair out of her face her hazel eyes focus on Fletcher. "Oh god, I've been commandeered by a beefy man." The drunken woman throws her hands up and leans over in the seat, near to Fletcher's ear. "So uh.. who you running from cowboy?"

As soon as that question leaves her lips, she's thrown back into the seat as Fletcher tears off into the night. "Ah, I'm gonna puke tonight. I just know it." She says worriedly. Well he did warn her to hold on. "Can we stop by the drug store on the way home? I'm gonna need some ice cream for the morning when I hate myself."

"Sure, there's one at the corner of-" Fletcher stops abruptly in mid-sentence and turns around to peer at his passenger. A crooked, quirky smile tugs at one corner of his mouth. "Nevermind. Yeah. We'll find you some ice cream. Thanks for being a sport about all this."

Now that he's put some distance between himself and the building he just burgled and fell off of, he eases off the throttle and merges back into regular traffic patterns. "Probably best you don't get too curious about what I was up to," he continues after a few seconds. "It's… complicated?"

"You're my savior." The prospect of ice cream makes Sibyl very happy and she's smiling wide now through half lidded eyes at the man driving the car. "Complicated? I'm the queen of complicated, I think.." Her mouth drops open as they merge into regular traffic. "I.. well nevermind." She sinks into her seat and begins to hum and whisper, "And then the banished king returned to claim what is his.. no matter the cost." That statement causes a furrow in Sibyl's brow.

After maybe a minute of silence she blurts out, "What's your name at least Mr. Complicated?" That's two nicknames in the span of fourteen minutes. "I'm.. Sibyl, your go to bartender and all seeing… Bruce told me to be careful with that." Shaking her head, "No more drinks for me."

…the absurdity of that statement causes her to laugh seconds later.

Fletcher reaches up with one hand to massage his temple. He managed to clip it against something during his fall, leaving an angry-looking welt that's already starting to go purple. "Christ on crutches," he grumbles under his breath. A quick tactile and visual survey reveals another lump on the back of his head, a knee that's starting to swell…

"…and that'll be a cracked rib," he sighs, walking his fingertips along his torso. "Pardon? Oh. Sorry. I'm-" a long moment passes as he mentally cycles through nicknames, pseudonyms, and false identities. Finally, he shakes his head and reaches over his shoulder to open the glass partition seperating them. "I like Mr. Complicated. Good to meet you, Sibyl. Err. What was that you were saying about queens and kings?"

"If you need CPR at anytime, I am certified and everything. I mean I don't remember anything of the course, I kept seeing other things and getting distracted but it can't be that hard right?"

Sibyl's head lays back against the seat as she stares from the back window up at the night sky. Peeking up at Fletcher when he gives his "name". She repeats it with a smile. "Nice to meet you too.. Brown Eyes." The seer's eyes widen just a bit at the question pointing towards the 'king'. "Just about a man, a bad man whose come back into town." She whispers barely audible. "No matter what we do, he'll get what he wants. And I can't tell what he wants.. because I don't even know and that's.. well that's just fucking bullshit." She throws her hands in the air and sighs.

"I guess this is why I'm so plastered right now. I didn't want to think about it but there we go, the drunken mind wanders into territories that the sober mind rather not see." There's a pause before Sibyl is curling up in the seat, resting her head on her knees. "Have you ever done anything that you regret and you wish you were blessed with the power of time travel to change it all?"

A line of three LVPD squad cars careen down the street, heading in the direction that Fletcher and Sibyl have just come from. With sirens wailing and lights flashing, they part the proverbial Red Sea of traffic with ease.

The burly man behind the wheel of the cab tilts his head to the side curiously, then reaches up to angle the rear-view mirror so he can get a better look at Sibyl. "Yeah," he admits, his voice low and throaty. He coughs into his fist as the cops pass, then continues. "Yeah. Lots of times. But what's with this bad man? Are you in some kind of trouble? I mean, other than getting temporarily kidnapped by me."

Sibyl doesn't speak at first, instead she just stares at Fletcher through the rearview mirror. She barely notices the squad cars and she's chuckling softly and looking out the window now, "Aren't we all in trouble?" is her basic response. "Don't worry, he won't hurt me. He never has really." Which is true, the man in question never once hurt her physically. But what she saw with her ability hurt a whole lot more. "I have this thing, people think I'm too adorable to hurt and then I kick their ass and their all shocked. It's been working the last twenty-five years. Let's hope it keeps working that way."

"Oh and I don't find this kidnapping particularly scary. You're not so scary to me." She tilts her head studying the man.

Now that the heat has passed them without incident, Fletcher seems quite a bit less distracted. He settles more comfortably into his seat and lets out a quiet chuckle at Sibyl's casual dismissal. "Believe it or not, a lot of people find me pretty terrifying. But no, you're not in any danger from me. And I am really sorry about this. Tell you what…" he pauses to dig in one of his pockets. It takes him a second, but he produces a slightly bent business card that has a phone number on it and nothing else. "If things get out of hand with this banished king guy, call this number and leave a message. I'm pretty good at chasing off creeps and stalkers. Seems like the least I can do."

Reaching out, Sibyl leans forward to take the business card as she stares down on it she smiles. "You are so.. secretive. I like it!" Still leaning forward in the seat, she stares over Fletcher's shoulder at the road ahead of them. "Thanks I appreciate that." Resting her head in her arms, this woman looks like she's just about ready to pass out. "Would it be too much to ask for you to make sure I get into my apartment Brown Eyes? I rather not wake up in the bushes, did that before and now I think my neighbor's teen has ample material to.. 'enjoy' when he wants."

Yes, there was a camera involved as well as screaming, swearing and waving of tree branches. But that's another story.

There's no shortage of brightly lit buildings in Vegas, but a Korean corner market has a way of sticking out no matter what city you're in. Fletcher eases off the gas, signals, and turns into the parking lot. He shakes his head and lets out another laugh, this one throaty and rueful. "Yeah. You got it. You can probably get your ice cream here. I'm going to get us a car that's a little less conspicuous."

After a quick scan of the lot, he sets his sighs on a white sedan. "I'll be in that one by the time you get done, eh?" he says, lifting a finger to point.

With a nod, Sibyl shakily gets out of the car dragging her purse with her. She's in the market for a few minutes, there's bit of laughing that can be heard from inside that sounds like it's coming from a man. Almost tripping outside, Sibyl exits the market with a bag of cookie dough ice cream and two bottles of wine. As she hops along to the car where Fletcher is supposed to be in, her dress flies around in the wind. You would almost wish a photographer was around to catch this moment, Sibyl rarely gets to feel like she's free.. right at that moment though, she does.

"Had to get more wine, you can never have too much." Is her reasoning for buying more alcohol when she's obviously too drunk to drink anymore. She tosses something into Fletcher's lap. It's a Milky Way. "My favorite." She grins as she tears the wrapping off her own and begins to nibble on it.

Fletcher is already pulling a small canvas roll from inside his shirt as he slides out of the battered cab. He chose an older car for a reason. Humming under his breath, he spreads his tool roll out on the roof and selects a few choice items. It's the work of a few moments for him to pop the lock, pry out the ignition column, and strip the appropriate wires. He's behind the wheel with his equipment stashed, the engine running, and time to spare when Sibyl arrives. Only human, his eyes stay locked on her as the breeze musses her clothing in intriguing ways.

When she takes a seat next to him and offers a candy bar, he grins appreciatively and tears it open. "Thanks. Honestly, wasn't sure you were going to come back. Most people would've called the cops. Or at least a real cabbie."

"Welcome. I'm told I'm not like normal people.. which I'm not." She laughs as she tears into her candy bar and grins over at Fletcher. She rattles off her address and directions to get to her apartment while eating her candy bar, "Also, thanks for not trying to murder me in my state of dumb drunkness. I really appreciate that." Sibyl isn't lying, then she's leaning forward to crank the radio up and she's shouts, "MY FAVORITE!"

"Hit the road Jack, and don't you come back no more, no more, no more, no more. Hit the road Jack and don't you come back no moreeeee, what you say!?" The precog sings loudly and pretty well, there is evidence of a good voice under that drunken slur.

Kicking a leg out the window, she leans her head back and sings along with the radio. "I love this song." She grins over at Fletcher.

Again, long expanses of leg become very visible. Fletcher is laughing again, too, flashing white, even teeth through his thick beard. "You are something awfully unique, doll. I'll give you that." He says as he puts his borrowed car in gear and pulls away from the market. "So. Where am I taking you?"


"Can't help that my brain isn't normal. Thanks Mr. Complicated." She grins over at Fletcher before she eats the rest of her candy bar and throws the wrapper out the window and it flies around in the wind currents behind them before disappearing. Guess she isn't worried about the ecosystem.

"Well you're gonna go here and then there. I'm like twenty minutes away maybe? Not really if you aren't driving like a grandpa." She rattles off her address and a few directions to get there for the man. "And you're pretty unusual too Brown Eyes, but in a good way." She offers as her head lolls and she sighs. "My bed is calling my name and a burrito." Sibyl's stomach rumbles and she snickers, "Fat ass."

"Having seen your ass, I beg to differ," the big man comments with a dry chuckle and a small smile. The wind rolling through the car's cab ruffles his short hair and tugs at his clothing as he speeds up to catch a yellow light before it turns. Deep breath in through his nose, exhale through his mouth.

"I'm not much of a sleeper," Fletcher admits, shrugging. "More of a lounger and drinker. And eater of burritos, of course. No rest for the wicked, right?"

"Whoa whoaaa, you can't look at my ass!" She says loudly and then trails off, "I can't hear the Whispers.. guess that's why I get so drunk." Sibyl laughs to herself, swinging her head to look over at the man driving. "I'm more than a little crazy, just letting you know." The seer says in a singsong voice. Drumming her fingers on the inside of the car as she hums softly to herself. "But for tonight, I'm a normal person." She doesn't know if she actually can't get a vision while drunk but she never has before. "I just want to be blind for a bit, ya know?" she asks Fletcher as if he knows what she's talking about.

"Well I have this alcohol in this bag, a TV and a 24 hour Mexican restaurant that delivers. If you want to join. I promise to not take advantage of your innocence." Inviting strangers home isn't usually a smart thing.

Fletcher's smile stretches out, but only across one side of his mouth. It's an odd, lopsided expression. Taking his eyes off the road for a moment, he turns to look intently at Sibyl. "Whispers. Memories. I think most people who get stinking drunk on the regular do it because there's something they don't want to see or know or remember." It's a statement that's simultaneously wistful and sympathetic.

His eyes are on the road again. "If I were you, I'd be more worried about me taking advantage of you. Not that I'm complaining. Or declining."

Sibyl leans forward and pinches the breaded man's face. "You may be on to something yet young one." She says in a whisper with a haunting smile before she's looking out the window again. "Oh please, I can break your wrist in two moves before you put your hand anywhere near my cooka." The younger woman laughs and waves her hands as if to say she's kidding.

"Well I've invited you and you've accepted which means, I have a house guest. I think I cleaned before I left, can't remember so don't judge me. Yeah?"

Though he's not usually much for physical contact, Fletch actually tips his cheek to the side and makes it more accessible. "Cooka?" he queries, letting out a snort of laughter. "I like your confidence, in any case."

The Oldsmobile glides around corner after corner before finally coming to a stop at Sibyl's place. Fletcher separates the ignition wires and cuts the engine. "I'm not worried about your mess. No reason you should be. Shall we?"

"Whoop, here we are to my humble apartment." Sibyl doesn't wait for Fletcher to follow, she picks up the bag of alcohol and weaves in and out on the pavement until she gets to her front door, which conveniently is on the first floor of the complex and facing the street. Her many tattoos have an eerie look in the orange streetlights of the night. The wind picks up one more time before she opens the door to the dark apartment and she waves Fletcher inside before going in and turning on the lights.

The first thing you would notice is how clean the place is, and then not so much.. there are notebooks upon notebooks piled up on a bookshelf in the corner. The only sign of disarray in the apartment. There's a couch and a couple comfy chairs in the living room, a short hallway leads to her bedroom and the one bathroom in the place.

Kicking her shoes off, Sibyl pads over to the kitchen and grabs glasses to pour the alcohol in, gesturing for Fletcher to find a seat in front of the nice sized TV in front of the furniture. She got it off Craigslist for super cheap. There's a brief moment of silence as the woman leans against the counter staring up at the ceiling before she walks over and climbs over the couch, placing the bottles and cups on the coffee table.

"Welcome… to my lair."

"Said the spider to the fly," Fletcher quips. He sprawls on the couch as well, wincing a bit as he settles into a position that's more comfortable for all his scrapes and bruises. Again, his eyes come to rest on Sibyl. It's not a sexual sizing-up. More curiousity. He even tips his head to the side slightly, as if a different angle might grant him a different perspective, or reveal some hidden truth.

Finally, he smiles. "I like you," he admits. "It's sort of nice to be in someone else's lair for a change. Mine's not as nice. Or as clean."

Handing Fletcher a glass, she takes her own and drinks a healthy bit of it before slamming it down on the table and look at the man out of the corner of the eye. "I like you to." She says shortly, "You don't look at me like I'm a psycho." She chuckles, "But maybe I haven't done anything to psycho yet?" rubbing her hands together she takes the remote and turns on the television. "Oooh my favorite." Some show about dragons, castles and warriors. "Having a dragon would be badass." Sibyl says before she's tucking her feet under herself and the next thing you know, her head is resting on Fletcher's shoulder and she's breathing heavily.

Nighty night.

It all happens pretty fast. Sooner rather than later, Fletcher is serving as a pillow. His mouth pulls into a small, surprised 'O' shape. Then, once again, he smiles. One arm curls around Sibyl and pulls her gently against his chest. Though he doesn't sleep, he does relax. For him, that's enough.

It's hours later when he tugs himself out from under the young lady and lays her out on the couch. "Sleep tight," he whispers, then kisses her chastely on the cheek.

He left a note. Three short words. Some people might find it intriguing. Some might find it ominous, or even intimidating. It's left open to interpretation.

'Be seeing you.'

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