SPN AU: Havdalah

[dormouseketeer]

It was the Saturday evening service when the men in the black suits showed up, too nicely dressed for Havdalah services at the tiny Reform synagogue in the Northwest suburbs of Chicago. Which was perhaps the best time--only a few congregants attended, and it was after Shabbos, so the rabbi could do work. Like, apparently, translate the leather-

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[dixietech]

Tuck was still getting used to the idea that the world had a hidden depth to it: angels, demons, witches and monsters. What took even more getting used to was the idea that he had been involved before. A vessel for one Archangel Gabriel right up until his death in the Elysian Fields

[dormouseketeer]

"Shit!" She combed a hand through her bangs and began to walk back to her car, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Tuck wasn't following her, peering around the parking lot for any sign of men in suits. Her nerves were strung tight and waiting to snap and she had to piss like a Russian racehorse and she couldn't stand the thought of another drive-thru meal. But like hell was she going to sit still for an hour to wait for this place to open.

Because that small leather book was tucked inside her pink fleece North Face jacket, and that made her an automatic target. Doubly so, since she knew how to read it.

"Shitfuck-damnitall. My luck. Fuck a duck." The muttering only seemed to grow less coherent as she fumbled to unlock her car again. Exhaustion was catching up quick.

[dixietech]

His eyebrows loft at the sudden expletives. It didn't take a psychic of Rhys's caliber to pick up on how stressed and strung out she looked. "Hey, easy there, darlin. I've got an in with the owner. Let me give him a call, see if we can't get you inside for a little coffee and something warm to eat?"

Tuck dug out his phone, punching in the mage's number.

"Is everything all right? You look like you haven't stopped in a few days, and this place isn't exactly right off the highway."

He wasn't going to mention that something was pinging oddly off his senses either. Residual psychic flashes from Gabriel were common, and he was starting to get used to them. Most of the time they were memories of his, or a few odd bits of knowledge bubbling to the surface. It was best to just let it work its way to the surface so he could make sense of it.

[dormouseketeer]

"Fine, sir. Everything's peachy." A blatant lie, trying to defend herself from what's obviously intended as kindness. She turned around, leaning back against the car and rubbing her eyes as everything seemed to catch up with her at once. That was bound to happen, really--she had stopped.

The tears, though, she worked hard to hold back. They had no place here and now, not in front of a strange man like Tuck. Her father was dead--that was bound to happen someday. Her mother had probably been next, unless the suits thought to hold her hostage for the book. But she couldn't deal with that, not right now.

Now, now, now. That was what she had to do, concentrate on this moment, surviving this encounter. Making sure this wasn't some creep out to hurt her. Out to take the book.

She just wasn't sure how much more now she could take, before breaking down completely.