sirenspull | 008. Video

[ Nathan has found himself a shirt and tie, and feels a lot more like himself than he did when he arrived. He's set the NV up very carefully, framing himself against a backdrop of the city, as though he's making a political broadcast. The clear afternoon sunlight glances from a beautifully blue ocean behind the tallest of Siren's Port's buildings. ]

Reckon I've got this thing all figured out now. I understand I'm addressing all Newcomers, but I don't know how to narrow this down so I'm just talking to people who've been here longer than I have--sorry about that.

My name is Nathan Petrelli--that's Senator Petrelli. I've got a background in politics, formerly law; I was an ADA. Before that I spent some time as a pilot for the US Navy. Figure that over-qualifies me for a job down at Costco.

To that end I'm looking for someone called Raul Creed, or anyone else who can tell me about the Newcomer Political Party. Also, if it's not too much trouble, I'd like to hear from anyone who can shed some light on getting back into law. Reckon all those years of study have got to qualify me for something. I'll settle for anything gets me out of this rat-hole.

Audio; Private to Peter

We need to talk.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Now?

[ Because he's good now. Action? ]

Now is perfect.

[Sure!]

[ It was Nathan that walked into the Lux a short time later; Nathan in his only suit since arriving in the Port, his hair slicked back and his sharp grey eyes flicking across the dark bar. He shouldn't be so used to places like this, and yet dark drinking spots had made their impact on his life over the last couple of decades.

He didn't know who he was looking for - not by sight alone - and so Nathan swept his way over to the darkest end of the bar and tapped two fingers against the bar. ]

Scotch.

[Crowley arrives shortly after Nathan, though he appears at the end of the bar. It only takes him a moment or two to pick out who he was looking for, out of the patrons -- the only person who would speak in that way, carry himself in that way -- and Crowley moves to stand next to him. The bartender just gives Crowley what he always gets. Apparently he's a regular.]

Senator.

[ He does love scotch. Or at least, he likes what it does for him--which is the problem, actually, because it's not working any more. He takes a mouthful and sets his glass down before speaking. ]

That's me. Not sure I caught your name, pal.

Crowley.

[With some laziness attached to the name, as he focuses on his glass.]

You seem to be drinking away your sorrows rather quickly.

[ He shakes his head, lowering his hand. ]

I got a lot of sorrows to be drinking for. Hasn't everyone around here?

Some individuals will say that they prefer this world to their own.

[Crowley glances around.]

They're happy here.

Here, anywhere else, it doesn't really make much difference. Except that the alcohol here doesn't actually work. This is almost a welcome reprieve from the crapshoot I'm going back to once it's over.

[ He circles the top of his glass with his finger. ]

But you don't wanna hear about that.

Oh, no. Other universes are an object of fascination. It isn't every day I get to experience so many.

[He sips the liquor thoughtfully.]

Why doesn't the liquor work on you?

Hah. My universe isn't anywhere near as interesting as some. Real problem is I spent the last year and a half being a dick.

[ Blunt force honesty. ]

Search me. Reckon it must be a Canadian thing. They never did do anything right.

Edited 2012-05-18 21:57 (UTC)

I manage to find good scotch even here.

[Though liquor, in general, doesn't really work on him anymore. He'd have to drink a sizable amount of it to even begin to feel drunk.]

Then you're fortunate. I could put the whole bottle down and I don't think I'd so much as feel light headed.

Funny thing is a bottle of tequila made me positively catatonic just a few days before I came here. And now-- [ He shrugs. ] Wish I could begin to explain it.

Perhaps it is your special power. The Port grants them to certain individuals, you know.

[Crowley has enough super powers, he supposes, without being given more.]

The inability to become intoxicated.

I already had a special power, but that's not working either.

[ He takes another sip, disgruntled. Normally he wouldn't talk about his ability with anyone, but Siren's Port isn't normally. ]

I had the ability to fly. You ever heard of this place chopping and changing with what people can do?

I've got no idea. The people who would know would be SERO -- they run genetic experiments all the time, so I'm told. But I wouldn't walk through the front doors and ask questions about your superpowers unless you want to be dissected.

Been there, done that, got the diner T-shirt to prove it. I'm fine figuring it out for myself, I reckon.

What'd you get out the ten cent grab bag?

I come with my own fun assortment of abilities, actually. The Port gave me nothing.

[ He shifts on his perch, looking over curiously. ]

Oh? Abilities like what?

I'm a demon, sweetheart.

[And Crowley pulls the bottle forward with a twitch of his fingers -- telekinesis.]

The collector's edition.

[ He arches his eyebrows. ]

Well okay then. [ He picks up his drink almost as though he expects Crowley to take it, sipping again. ] My brother can do that, it's not that special.

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