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Anton Flores stood outside a bus station about a block or two away from the Sundown Hotel, waiting for Crais. The Haunt probably didn't look very much out of his element amongst the transients and the debris, with the canvass sack slung over his shoulder and the disheveled air of a seasoned drifter. His eyes he kept straight ahead, flicking them to his right every so often, answering incidental eye contact with a crooked smile which clashed with the ugly hunger staring back through his eyes.
Amelita Cardoso|Striking Looks •• (Curvez)|Presence ••• (Miss Thang)||
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Kreighton shows up a few minutes after Anton does, his car this time a beat up gremlin that looks like duct tape is all that holds it together. One knows not to take anything fancy when you aren't looking for attention, at least. He steps out of his car and pulls the hood of his dark blue hoodie up over his head, his hands in his pockets as he walks over to Anton. "So what's the deal, this place seems pretty run down."
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Anton steps up alongside the beater. He watches for eavesdroppers or bystanders before stepping into the passenger's side of Kreighton's car and beckoning him back inside.
"There's a slice of the homeless community's been fighting back, trying to turn everything we inherited around on us," he crooned. "I've met those faithful, some of them anointed, who'd say this could be God-ordained. That these folks are God's holy bums, stepping away from the sins they were born with so they can shine an oil lantern on us Damned, finding us wanting." The Haunt's voice begins as a jaunty buzz. By the time he reaches a pause, his old voice has become sour and dour.
He breaks through the heavy tone with a terrible rigor-grin. "Me, I'm skeptical. Only way to test it is to carry out our mandates, of course..." Anton adjusts something under his drenched shirt.
"Bishop's asked me to stop down there. Just to see what it all looks like from afar. Mentioned I should take you along with me. Place they call 'Squattaville'. I'll direct. Need to stop on the way for binoculars. Shouldn't take long."
Amelita Cardoso|Striking Looks •• (Curvez)|Presence ••• (Miss Thang)||
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Kreighton shrugs a little, and pulls the hoodie closed around him, zipping it up. "Well, I'm not that great at recon, but if the Bishop's asked, can never hurt to take a look." Kreighton steps aside, waiting for Anton to lead the way, his hair down for the night, strands of blonde with hints of a silvery overtone sticking out from underneath his hood.
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Noting the shrug, Anton's back jerks slightly, bucked violently by a hiss of anger from his Beast. Perhaps the possibility of being burned by street food and stomped into cinders resonated more with Anton's family over Kreighton's line. He remembers the Dawes woman from court and a slack smile forms. She was funny. He lets the ember of the Beast wink out and leans back in his seat. The chaotic tapestry carved into his arms shifts ever so slowly and subtly, forming amorphous scrawl around Golgotha as his fingers dance along the dash. After a moment, his cracked voice returned to him.
"Oh, everything can hurt, Brother. But never mind that. Night's slipping away from us, you and I. Now, you'll want to take the first left here..."
OOC
Amelita Cardoso|Striking Looks •• (Curvez)|Presence ••• (Miss Thang)|
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Sounds Good
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Kreighton drives the two of them there, following Anton's directions. He still drives like a speed demon, even in this shitty little car. It's almost surprising that it still exists, but it gets the job done as he finds a place to park a few blocks away from where Anton tells him to go. "Better to not be seen driving into the place, no?"
He growls a little at his hunger, but lets it slide for now, waiting for Anton to get out.
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Anton steps out of the car, glances around and inhales, sampling the smell of the place.
"True enough, though I don't aim to be any closer to the place than's necessary. Were I you, I'd get to driving less conspicuously, Crais. From what I understand, overnight bail's a long shot. 'Specially where immigrants are concerned. Come on, it's this way."
The Haunt hefts his canvas bag up and starts walking.
Amelita Cardoso|Striking Looks •• (Curvez)|Presence ••• (Miss Thang)|
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Despite the time of night, the area is alive with sound and movement. Sound, from the nearby freeways, river, and industrial areas. Movement, from late night deliveries from transport trucks to the industrial warehouses and from the beehive of Squattaville.
Shanties of boxes, discarded pallets and whatever else can be scavenged dot the area in clusters. Periodically, oil drums provide fires to gather around. In some ways, it looks like a medieval army's bivouac. At the outskirts people walk; foraging, keeping warm, or simply for the sake of walking.
Roll Int+Survival
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2 Suxx
Amelita Cardoso|Striking Looks •• (Curvez)|Presence ••• (Miss Thang)|
Draft this Post
