How did you get here?

Who: Pandect and Kurt
When: afternoon
Where: streets of Marquette

Kurt had made up his mind, over night, on the car that he wanted to purchase. He and Doc had spotted it on their driving around town the day before, and with the weather it was, he most certainly needed it. Kurt had slept on it -- though not very long and not very well -- and had decided to buy it before someone else did. Doc had talked about modifications, but for now? He just desperately needed his own transportation. He'd caught a cab into town, and was walking from the bank to the place the vehicle was. He would likely have questions about how to get the thing registered and street-legal, but for the moment just to handle the money was enough, he thought.

He was taking his time about it, as the cold weather wasn't doing his still-healing knee any favors. But the day was clear, he didn't mind the cold even if his leg did, and it was nice to be out and walking.

Pandect took a few extra moments to fiddle with his old rucksack, the thing had been with him practically since London. When he was sure everything was secure (he hadn’t liked leaving his things at the Venture, but it didn’t look like he had much choice he needed to bag to carry supplies) he opened the door of his truck and stared a moment at the cold ground. Every once in a while he had to relax a little, unclench and trust. He looped a couple fingers through the strap on the left and held it against his left side like he was afraid someone might try to yank it out of his arms while he snugged on his hat (he really needed to cut his hair soon).

Now was the time that he had been dreading, he closed his eyes for a moment, curled his toes in his wool socks and leapt out of the truck onto the ground, trying to simultaneously find any patches free of snow and get inside as fast as he could. The sooner he got shoes the better, he already looked like something that had crawled out of an army surplus store after shoveling the front walk this morning and running around laying tarps in the rooms with holes in the roof last night (which had been more rooms than he wanted to think about given that he was probably going to have to end up reroofing the whole place). He was a tall thin line, tightly contained into himself, moved at a quick steady pace up onto the sidewalk. His face was made to look paler than usual from the cold with two bright spots of pink on his cheeks and his dark eyes not really looking at anyone, as if he was focused on something in the distance.

He couldn’t help seeing people’s auras, but it helped him not see them.
Kurt blinked as a grim-faced and intense looking man hopped out of a truck and started up the sidewalk in his direction. Two things hit his observant nature at once. One, the man wasn't wearing shoes. Which was something that was just ludicrous in this sort of weather. Two, his face looked undeniably familiar. Not familiar in that seen-him-around-town sort of way, but familiar in ... a different way. The same way Marguerite had been familiar. The familiar that was difficult to place, because it shouldn't be. He'd always been good at faces, it was a survival tactic, and this one tickled something in the back of his mind.

"Excuse me, sir," he was saying in his German-accented English before he thought better of it. It was just that the man was going past, and if he didn't catch him then, the face would drive him mad, he felt sure.

At first Pandect wasn't going to stop, he didn't know any one in this town and the fewer people he got to know the easier it would be to extract himself again. But the incongruity of the accent made him stop and turn, trying to ignore the cold coming through his now soaked socks and blink at the man. His eyes refocused on the man's face, and automatically shuttered at the curiosity there. No, it wasn't curiosity. He was searching Pandect's face for something. Pandect made his face as passively curious as he could, "Yes?"
He had meant to sound American, but with the man looking at him like he halfway recognized him Pandect sounded almost French. Well, he was French, or he had been.
"Can I help you with something?" there that was better, the half Northern accent he had used during the War.

Kurt realized he'd stopped the man with absolutely no pretense. That wasn't like him, generally he was better than that. He groped quickly for something plausible. Now that he was looking into the man's face, the recognition was stronger. The hint of a French accent narrowed it down somewhat, but his old memories still hadn't placed the features yet. "Ahh ... do you know what the next street down is? I'm afraid I am somewhat lost," he said, giving the man a halfway-sheepish smile. He hoped it was enough to keep him talking for a moment. That tugging in the back of his mind had overwhelmed his realization that the guy had no shoes on.

"I'm new to..." Pandect started and then froze. No. It had been fifty years, no closer to sixty. He knew this man, it was impossible, he had seen him in London, at headquarters. During World War Two. Dark hair, tense eyes, just barely taller than Pandect.

But he hadn't had a German accent then. Pandect realized belatedly that his breathing had become slightly erratic and his grip on his haversack was downright white knuckled. He forced himself to relax. The man didn't have the aura of an angel, he was likely just a descendant, an unlikely similarity. "I'm new to this town as well, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I'd be no help at all."

He tried not to wince at the way his accent had bled through at the corners and spun on his heel, trying to keep a plain non-suspicious pace in the opposite direction.

The big German had gotten good at reading people, if he'd gotten good at anything in his time. The signs were there, no matter how well he covered it up to untrained eyes. He couldn't not follow him, so he did, at a limping pace to catch up with him. he just couldn't place him, and it was driving him mad. Somewhere in France, somewhere in France ... The man was almost his height -- something remarkable in and of itself -- so he didn't feel too bad about clapping a hand down on Pandect's shoulder the way he did.

"I know you," he said, in a quiet rush. It wasn't aggressive, it was just intent. "How?"

Pandect almost wished he could lie. He leveled a steady look straight ahead and picked up the pace trying to dissuade him that way. "Why would you think that?"

The hand on his shoulder stayed there, he fought the urge to shrug it off, but that was against his nature. He looked at the man's aura out of the corner of his eye, if any man's aura was begging for karma... Oh no. He felt the tingle along his spine that usually meant some one was going to slip, or fall or break something. Pandect's hand shot out just in time to catch the German around his upper arm as his feet hit a patch of ice and went up into the air. He lurched sideways, trying to hold up the German's weight, trying not to hurt the man. "You lied to me," he said as their eyes met. "You lied to me and I forgive you. I let you in. I let you in and you killed him didn't you?"

Pandect closed his eyes for a moment and yanked the German back to his feet. "Don't follow me, I'll be out of town in an hour. Please just... don't." Even he heard the pain in his voice.

He would've caught himself if pain hadn't flared in his knee. Damnable ice. Kurt stared back into the man's eyes from his spot on the ground for the moment he was there, and it all flooded back. That's why he couldn't place him, he'd been American then. Or on their side, at least. A second or third in command under a man he was slated to kill. And did, quietly, before slipping out into the country night. He took the help up, though it was more to hang on to the man than anything else. God only knew what his real name was. But what was he doing here? Another vampire? He felt warm enough to Kurt, but he was the first to admit that his knowledge was limited.

"No," was the first thing he said, though it wasn't the best. "No no, I've ... I did kill him, yes, it was my duty, but I'm not that man anymore. You don't ... please, just answer me one question. How is that you are here?" There was nothing surviving from his past but horror, and granted this man had been connected to that in some way, but he was solid flesh, not haunting footage and endless books from Kurt's own time. His desperation showed around the edges as he tried to hold Pandect's eyes.

The weight of the German's eyes felt like it was trying to turn his head, force him to look him in the eye. There was pity growing inside of him, beautiful pity and forgiveness, he could see the anguish of sudden revelation in the other man's face. He could be lying to him again, but somehow Pandect believed in him. He nodded and let the German feel the weight of all his nearly three hundred years, "I forgive you. You are free from that then. Your heart is good, and that can get you a lot more in this world than you'd think," he paused. "You didn't know, did you?" He wanted the German to see the forgiveness, he knew what that could do, he had been denied his own from his family for long enough to know what it could mean to someone.

"How I got here...?" he laughed, a deep, dry sound. A sound that gave nothing away. "How do any of us get anywhere? Currently my mode of transportation is that truck and theoretically, if my feet don't freeze off, my legs. I stay out here any longer in my sock feet I'm going to get a cold."

He shrugged off any other answers by sliding out from under the German's hand and making a beeline for Marquette's local shoe store.
Kurt pursued him, as there wasn't much else to do. It was a thread to his past, as tenuous and bizarre as that was, and he wasn't about to let that go. The emotions evoked from ... the forgiveness, he tucked neatly aside to sort through later. There was business at hand, and the business was this man and how he hadn't aged a day in sixty years. If he'd suffered the same fate as Kurt ... perhaps he knew a way to get back. And why that idea got his blood pumping, he couldn't say, but it did.

"I need to know," he told Pandect, following him and watching a bit more carefully for ice. "I do not understand how I came to be here, and if you know anything, I need to know it as well."

Pandect stopped and sighed deeply, "I can't believe I'm doing this. Fine. Come with me, I need some shoes. We might as well talk while I get them." He wasn't going to get involved, he wasn't. But the man wanted his help. He closed himself up as tight as he could and kept his head down. He knew how spectacularly he had failed the last time he had tired to help someone with something really important. He had lost everything.

The German would probably follow him anyway whether or not he agreed, he'd rather not come to fist to cuffs in the middle of the sidewalk and seemed to be his only other option. (That or making him slip again, but Pandect could see how he was limping.)

"This is against my better judgment I hope you realize," he gave the German's aura another look, at least he knew the man wasn't a demon. His allergy, if it could be called that, wasn't acting up. And the man didn't seem like an angel. But then what exactly did angels seem like? "So what? You were displaced?" he almost winced at his own sharp tone.

Kurt was more than willing to follow him anywhere he wanted to go, and shoes seemed like a reasonable sort of thing to get. He kept his voice low as they walked into the building, and gave a furtive glance around. The place wasn't even close to busy, so that felt safe enough. "Displaced? Yes, that ... that's a word for it," he said, still keeping close to the other man as though he might get away at any time. "I went to sleep in 1943 and woke up ... roughly four months ago, here. I don't ... do you know? Do you know anything?" He was trying not to be impatient, but he just craved answers so badly. Against the man's better judgment or not, he wanted to know. Not knowing had been slowly driving him mad for months.

Pandect looked over at the sales clerk, a teenager chewing gum and not paying any attention, and led them in between a couple of tall shelves. He didn't know of any angel strong enough to send someone forward in time, no matter what they had done to pile on the bad karma. But if they had, they might leave some sort of mark on the German's aura. "There's one thing I could try," he said softly to himself then shook his head. Even if a thing were possible he doubted he would be able to discern it, or even tell who had done it. And even if he could, he would have to reveal himself to the German and then there might be other angels. No, that was a very bad idea. His family's rejection was quite enough, merci, without going into his past.

"We will have to use logic. Three things could have sent you back," he studied the sole of a boot. "Curse, blessing or accident. For now let's assume the first two. We can guess which by the consequences of your... displacement," he looked questioningly at the German.

"Consequences?" he echoed, not quite following what the man was looking for. Really, this all seemed very roundabout to Kurt. He still hadn't gotten an explanation on why this man was in this time and not aged by more than a decade. Kurt felt a dull flash of temper, though it didn't show through his expression at all. He wanted straight answers, dammit. Was that so hard? He understood discretion, but this was important. "I went to sleep there, I woke up here, exactly myself, without any ... discernible consequences."

Pandect apparently found the boots he was looking for and switched his wet sock for dry ones before putting them on, studiously not looking at the German. "No, I mean-" he waved one narrow hand. "Were you happy in Germany? Have good things happened to you since getting displaced that sort of thing." He was seriously considering making a run for his truck, but he couldn't... The German... Pandect's head was confused and torn, he kept his face passive, but his eyebrows gave him away, like they always did.

"Is anybody truly happy during wartime?" he asked, though it was one of those questions that had no answer. He stared down at Pandect, though he was fully aware he wasn't being looked at on purpose. It wasn't something he could hold against him. Their previous meeting, in that other life ... it hadn't been on such good terms. "I had purpose in Germany. I have had to find purpose here, and I have. And love, for a time. But bad things have also happened, it's ... it has just been life, what does that mean?"

"There's something..." Pandect started but stopped himself and stared in between his new boots. "I don't even... Are you willing to let me do something a little odd?" Pandect asked, finally looking up at the German.

Kurt got very close to asking if there was anything about this encounter that wasn't already odd, but he'd already countered with one rhetorical question, and knew how frustrating not-straight answers were. From very recent personal experience. So instead he bit his tongue and just nodded. He doubted anything dramatically bad would happen in a public place.

"There's one thing I could check for," Pandect said before standing. He looked around one more time and lifted the German's hands, holding them palms up, wincing a little at the mark in the German's right palm and reached for the left one, looping his long fingers around the his wrist. The touch wasn’t completely necessary, but it helped him focus. Indistinct waves of death, deception, washed over him and he had to force himself to relax, not to inflict karmic recompense on the poor man, he had been through enough.

"What's your name?" he asked, still focusing on where his hand was looped around the German's wrist. "It was rude of me not to ask before," he paused. "You can call me Pandect if you want."

He gave the other man an odd look as he took Kurt's wrist, but didn't pull away from it. He was constantly aware that he didn't know much of anything, and it was always possible that everything was more than met the eye. So he just waited. "Kurt," he answered, voice a touch quiet. It was his real name, something he never would've given away in his former life. "Kurt Petersen, it is ... interesting to actually meet you." He didn't remember what the man was going by back then, but was fairly sure he would remember 'Pandect' if he heard it again.

Pandect let himself sink into Kurt's aura, really seeing it, focusing on it, "Likewise Kurt."

There was something there, he could feel it, it was big and sharp and not like anything he had ever felt before. Pandect wove slightly as he stared hard at Kurt's wrist before catching himself.

There was a sudden sharp sting behind his eyes and he almost fell over. He braced his feet, he could feel his wings stretching at his back, wanting to get free, but he didn't let go. Something big had done this, but it wasn't an angel. Pandect stumbled back and nearly went down on his knees. That was enough then, he saw all he needed to see. Releasing Kurt's wrist, Pandect straightened himself before feeling something wet hit his lips, Pandect realized he had a bloody nose. And his shoulder was killing him.

Taking a deep breath, he straightened himself and wiped at his nose with his handkerchief, determined to act like he hadn't been three seconds away from opening up his wings in the middle of a shoe store. "I'm not sure," he said nonchalantly and focusing on stopping the blood flow as nonchalantly as possible. "I don't think it’s anything I can help you with. I'm honestly sorry." He refused to pass out in the middle of the store. He wasn't going to do it.

A line appeared between Kurt's eyebrows, and he suddenly had a Very Bad Feeling about what was transpiring here. Last he'd checked, he didn't give people spontaneous nosebleeds. He ... wasn't really good with that. Not at the moment, with his equilibrium already thrown so horribly off. He took a step back; the calm exterior from the other man wasn't helping things much. Now would likely be a good time to leave, and try to get in touch with Doc. "I ... no, I am sorry. To have bothered you. I don't ..." He gave up and turned on his heel, heading out of the aisle and away from Pandect in a quick limp. It was a bad way to abort, but he didn't see any faster way out of it. He did know that he probably should not have stated his last name.

Pandect took a deep sighed and tried for his best paternal voice, something soothing the panicking German would respond to, "Kurt, I'm alright. Whatever did that to you, displaced you, it was very strong, very... odd. I just looked a little to hard at it. It's fine."

Kurt wasn't dissuaded, the feeling that he wasn't in a good place too strong to ignore. He'd stayed alive by trusting his instincts, and this situation wasn't any different. He glanced back only briefly as he hit the door that led out to the street. Perhaps their paths would cross again, but he wanted to be more prepared when they did.