City of Love, City of Secrets

Cypher had as foretold been happy enough to see the Bastet and her Motley. They were kind of hard not to look upon with a certain level of at least amusement if not fondness. Though I suppose I was biased, being as I had known her for a time far longer than these others. I, if no one else remembered the pain filled, shell of a woman that she had been as a vampire. I would never forget what it must have taken her to be able to kill Orphan that night on the shoreline in Greece. Then again, if she had moved on, at the very least seeming to have moved passed in one form or another, who was I to dwell on it ? A morose old Vampire was what it was, I do suppose.

But there I sat at the desk that monopolized a large part of my personal quarters on the jet, rifling through various paperwork as well as checking the voice-mails that never seemed to cease piling up no matter how many times I checked them. Running a semi frustrated hand back through burnished gold hair, I let my eyes drift closed for a moment. Our plans were for the city of Paris itself though our first destination was what most would consider a suburb. I knew I should be resting, the sunlight radiating outside of the jet a heavy toll on my body, though one I had worked through many a time before and likely would again. Thankfully it was already drawing near to evening, the flight itself timed that we would be landing with the setting of the sun. The door to the room while most of the way closed was not fully latched, thus allowing for disturbance should any of my passengers decide they felt the need for conversation.

Sleeping had helped, though not nearly so much as she had hoped. Rolling over she began a long minute of squirming and frustrated flopping about that ended with her feet crossed at the top of the chair, and her head and hair hanging down near the floor. The inverted perspective was at least interesting. Though it sucked as a defense against the weight of time, this flight seemed to be taking forever, and she couldn't figure out what to do with herself in the intermediary. Patience was simply not something coyotes were in constant supply of, despite the multitude of times it might have spared them from a veritable cornucopia of bad circumstances.
With her toes twitching in time with the music from her earbuds, she watched Akina and Jack sleep curled around one another like kittens. Dark spooky kittens. Dark spooky kittens with pointy teeth and bad tempers. She wasn't a bit surprised when one of those piercing pumpkin orbs lifted halfway in response to the weight of her gaze, a brow arching in silent inquiry to the reason for her attention. She flashed a smile at him, and wiggled her eyebrows as she glanced between him and the cat lounging alongside his lithe frame.

Tearing cornflower blue eyes away she rolled out of the chair and back to her feet. If she stayed here any longer she would start asking the former BSD what it had been like to walk the spiral. Then he'd be insulted, and people would get pointy. Realistically she thought she might have a pretty good argument that the perspective was worth knowing. If for no other reason then because so few had ever returned from it.

So she showered; dear God the jet had showers. That had killed twenty minutes, another twenty to dry her hair and touch up her makeup. Finally wearing a wife beater, bearing the Union Jack, and a pair of torn jeans that rode low on her hips; she walked into E's room and flopped back onto the bed with a loud, rather overly theatrical sigh.

There were cameras spread strategically as well as covertly about the jet, cameras that should I care to use them would inform me of each of my passenger's every movement. While they had been active from the moment that the bird had been activated for this current trip, I had yet to bother actively looking at what they would show. The favored thorn in my side had yet to come stalking me, a fact that left me both amused as well as vaguely disappointed. Likely it was for the best as we hadn't left Cleveland on the best of terms. Time and effort were likely the only things that would change that as while she had seemed to enjoy the doughnuts that had found their way to her on the playground, she didn't seem the type to be bought with mundane things. Admit it or not, that was something that both left me slightly troubled as well as more pleased than a kitten with a ball of yarn large enough to squash it were it not careful.

Ah but a shower for the here and now. Clothing plucked from my body even as I strolled away from the desk were left here, there, and a bit of an everywhere. The shower was set on to as hot as the various heads would release before my body was set beneath their inviting streams with a quiet sigh of relief. The woman, this Nuisha, was likely to be the death of me in one way or another though I found myself relishing each and every step of the path there. Contradictory to my thoughts of her not being one for mundane gifts, I could still see, or at least hopefully picture her enjoying Saint-Ouen. Known best for it's assortment of rare antiquities and it's popular flea markets, it seemed something just quirky enough to fit her unique style.

Keeping the shower thorough but brief, I stepped back out, the drying process just as quick as the wash itself. Black socks. Black silk boxers over which rode black cargo pants, belted to loosely encircle my hips. Not bothering to don a shirt just yet, a towel was in the process of being used to ruffle the excess liquid from my hair as I padded back out into the main room. Diamond like droplets trailing along a few places of my torso, arctic green orbs swept my room, their gaze landing upon the familiar figure that seemed to have no issue with making herself at home within my bed. No brow was arched, no immediate question given as she had laid claim to my privacy, I would allow her to be the one to speak first, should she so choose.