voice;

[paterelohim]

[With how much Chuck loves doing video post, the fact that he's sticking to voice should be the first red flag. The choked tone in his voice is another.]

Fred- Winifred Burkle. Has anyone seen her?

Her NV's offline, she isn't answering it.

[There's a long, sunken silence.]

I think... she's gone.

I want to say she'll probably be back, but I just don't know- I haven't seen it yet. God, what's the point of seeing the future if it doesn't help?

Anyway, I just- thought everyone who knows her should know. She's out.

Comments

[paterelohim]

[Drily.]

Yeah, I'd hate to bring down the quality of the place.

[He's pretty sure Cas collected half his whores there.]

[uberboned]

It's a very classy place, Chuckles.

[AND JUST LIKE THAT, GABRIEL IS AT THE BAR... He didn't actually teleport this time. He just... was upstairs on the balcony watching everything like a creeper.]

Are you gonna drag ass all night or what?

[paterelohim]

Dude, it's after sirens.

[uberboned]

You're not even in the bar? Really? [You can't see him, Chuck, but he's legit peering over the edge of the counter like he's going to find a secret hatch down there on the floor.] I thought you had a hobbit hole down there or something.

[paterelohim]

[Eyeroll.]

You should install a tunnel to my apartment. Or a... Portkey.

[uberboned]

Or a portal. Are you really gonna make me drag ass to your apartment just to bring you my booze that you're drinking on my time while you write the Great Canadian Novel?

[paterelohim]

If you want me to drink on your time and talk about things that aren't feelings, then yeah. Pretty much.

[uberboned]

You might as well be wearin' a skirt, at this point. [Give him ten minutes.]

[paterelohim]

Hey, I said aren't feelings! Aren't.

[uberboned]

Implying that if you don't have booze in you right now to bring your Man Points back, you're gonna start weeping.

[paterelohim]

That's just insulting. I always have booze in me.

[uberboned]

[Okay, whiny, Gabriel's here.] How nice for Canada. [Look, he brought vodka. BEST FRIEND EVER.]

no gabriel you don't get access

[paterelohim]

[YES best friend. Chuck isn't even surprised by the angel intrusions anymore.]

I think Canada appreciates it.

[Time for Vonnegut to greet his favoritest archangel ever omg yes. Chuck doesn't even bother getting up to greet Gabriel, since the hellpuppy is taking care of it. He does, however, give a smartass little wave from behind his hyper welcome wagon.]

What've you got there?

He comes and goes as he pleases anyway.

[uberboned]

[Hello, hellpuppy. Gabriel reaches down and scritches the invisible hell abomination that is weirdly cute and lets him sniffle at his hand for a bit before wandering over with the bottle.] The good stuff. Don't tell Jinx. I'm only doing this because your girlfriend left.

but is he a tame lion?

[paterelohim]

Thanks.

[He gives a small smile and produces two clean glasses from the minifridge doubling as an end table.]

Are you kidding, her mascara is still running from the wedding. I think I get a freebie.

[uberboned]

[Scoff] More like she enjoys making Claudio work doubles because all she has to do is bat her eyes and that poor sap jumps. [He hands off the bottle.] Which he might have to get used to if you leave us for your legitimate writing career.

[paterelohim]

[Time to pop out some ice from the teeny freezer and pour two drinks.]

Are you kidding? If I could write a whole book without anyone noticing, I could have spend years living a double life.

[He hands Gabriel a glass and raises his own to clink.]

Right under your nose.

[uberboned]

Except the part where you're about as subtle as a brick wall, Chuckles. [He clinks his glass.] Your idea of a double life would be Groucho Marx glasses and a heavy New York accent.

[paterelohim]

[He chuckles and promptly takes a drink, because that conversation just got a little real for him.]

Hey, if I can lie to the world about being a prophet...

[uberboned]

You didn't lie. You just appealed to the mass media to write your Gospels, you sellout.

[paterelohim]

Like you're not a sellout, Mr Brady?

[uberboned]

Please. I don't have 2.5 kids and a dog, unless you count Trauma and Claudio and the furry cow.

[paterelohim]

And the unicorn.

[uberboned]

And the mold creature. Basically, we're the Munsters, not the Bradys.

[paterelohim]

They were sellouts too, just... hipster.