Gasoline Vigil

[Lincoln King]

Those very eyes he mentioned narrowed, flicking briefly towards the woman who was stepping up to the plate to try and complete a task which Lincoln had decided against. There were a number of reasons why he had made that choice and not just because the pair of them were starting to grate on his nerves which already worn as thin as tissue paper. For one he wasn't entirely sure how much longer he could last before someone else took the reigns, and as a secondary the guy was dead. If it worked then he had promised himself he'd eat a hat, though in the short time between his stepping back and Birdee making her healing attempt his brain had worked through a myriad of other items he could threaten himself with consuming that were far more modern and inconvenient than a hat, as per the old saying's requirements. Butt-hurt, the phrase irritated him and it allowed the perfect opening for him to mentally throw up his hands and resign from the conversation.

The shift was fluid and swift, it occured in the time it took to blink an eye and yet to Lincoln it felt like he was slowly being absorbed into the shadows, sinking into a dreamless sleep. For Kingsley it was a harsh snap, his head turning quickly to look between the two idiots he'd been watching while back seat driving. He ******* hated back seat driving, he'd been having a damn good night until the cold *** twerp and chirpy moron interrupted. It was different for him, he didn't just forget the bad things that happened; no those were his to keep. Kings got to watch every moment and seethe in silence until it became too much for the primary personality to cope with because Linc was far too interested in neat and tidy. This was too messy for him, this was too much and so Kingsley got his chance to point out the obvious mistake. "Well, Wankster, you're dead. Bird-brain over here was trying to use a very special ability which is very useless on your kind. Sucks, right?" His voice was positively dripping with sarcasm, accent blurring into a heavy drawl of disinterest. He lifted his hands, wiggling his fingers in front of him as he whispered theatrically. "Magic." It was around this time Kings realised he still had a cigarette in hand, nearly fumbling it before managing to bring it to his lips and suck in a deep draw.

"A dealer? Shocker. Yeah, there is place nearby that is suitably dodgy that's on my way... If you intend on following." He gestured towards Birdee, giving her a once over.

[Birdee]

All Birdee could do was snort when Heathen referred to himself as a lady. No, a *******, lady. Her hand pressed flatter to his chest, trying to focus, even making a 'shhh' sound as she tried to focus on what she was doing. What she was trying to do. But...nothing was happening. Maybe she wasn't trying hard enough. So Birdee gave it all she got, narrowed her eyes, glared at the hole in his chest and just imagined it...gone. Sealed and healed. But, none of that happened.

Finally, Heathen was the first to make an announcement about her failed attempt at trying to help him out. Birdee dropped her hand and then rolled her eyes. "Should have, but maybe you're special or something." Birdee said, making sure to remember this so she could ask her mentor 'what the ****,' later. Of course, had she half paid attention to the woman, Birdee would have remembered that she couldn't manipulate dead energy, because the dead had no energy.

Her phone was pulled out and passed in Heathen's direction as he kept talking. "Fair deal." Birdee nodded her head, because what choice did she have, really? The last guy she bought **** off of would probably be eating through a straw the rest of his life, if he lived. Not like he wanted to see Birdee any time soon, and the same could be said about her not wanting to see him, either. A suggestion was made, while Birdee kept a watchful eye on Heathen. Not like she had tons of numbers in her phone, but she did have a couple. And those numbers, she just couldn't lose.

Finally 'Eyes,' better known as Linc spoke after their cigarette exchange and it seemed the tides had changed. While Heathens's name calling seemed to have some humor to it, Linc's fell short. Really, Birdee saw Linc as being a dick. "WOAH." Birdee's attention turned off Heathen and focused on Lincoln as he finished up what he had to say, and even gave her crazy eyes. Maybe they weren't so much crazy as a glare, or 'mean mugging' in a sense, but Birdee wasn't having any of it. She raised three fingers, her index, middle and ring. "Read between the lines, asshole." She hadn't called either one of them names, so there was no need for Lincoln to take out his frustration on any names Heathen passed his way, at her. She turned back to face Heathen, a hand out for her phone. "Just in case, there's one in Gullsborough I know about." She knew of others, near her side of town, but that was too far away to even be considered. Once the phone was given back to her, she turned around and crossed her arms and shot her hips out as they came to slap against her pelvic bone. "Suck it, wanker." Birdee wormed her way around Heathen, even gave him a wink with her right eye. "Talk soon." She waved her four fingers at him, before walking away, her right hand behind her head, the middle finger up for Lincoln's viewing pleasure.

[Heathen]

"Don't worry about it." He said as Birdee handed him her phone. His thumb moved across the screen. Swipe. Tap. Tap. And then he began to input his number under 'Heathen', because he was apparently tapped out on witty nicknames. "After I got turned, I cut off my hand to see if I would Deadpool it back. I did. Kinda. Ended up with a withered corpse hand for a few days before it became normal." He said as he lifted the hand which wasn't holding the phone. He wiggled his fingers, his head tipped down, eyes on the screen. "Point of the story is that I'm a real pain in the *** to do any lasting damage to, and these will probably clear up by like. Tomorrow anyway." He concluded before finally glancing up from the screen.

That was around the time that 'Eyes' changed. It was true that Heathen had only just met the man, but there was a distinct change in the way he acted, carried himself and spoke. Milo just wrote it off as the man ironically doing the exact opposite of the advice the vampire had just given. He subconsciously adjusted his stance to widen it a bit, which was simple enough with his loose, swaggering stride. Usually when someone got pissed, they wanted to start a fight. Even if they didn't throw the first punch at him, he wanted to be able to get right into the fray. He registered the way Lincoln talked before he even took note of the words. He was in the process of handing the phone back when the term 'wankster' caught up to him. He almost laughed. If a friend had called him that, he would have openly mocked them for the weak insult. But he really didn't know Lincoln.

Instead, he noted two distinct things. For one, Eyes was clearly living, and probably one of whatever Birdee was. As far as Heathen knew, there hadn't been a memo about magical humans, and he refused to believe that Harry Potter was real. He decided he'd ask her about it later. The second thing he noted was that Lincoln was quick to the sarcasm, even though he could have easily given the woman pause, and explained that whatever magic she was trying to do wouldn't work on Heathen. He then used that as fuel to insult her intelligence. "Yeah, because I'm sure there's a text book out there. Super Powered Humans and Dead **** 101."

Before he could really say anything else, Birdee was gone. He didn't focus on the middle finger though, his gaze lowering some instead.

"So that happened." He said and then chuckled. He respected someone who was willing to stand up for themselves. **** the consequences, right? "Keep it chill, Eyes." He said as he found his way out the way Birdee had gone.