Oz VS The Invisible Crooked Feathers

Who: Oz and Pandect
Where: Lamplighter Motel
When: afternoon

Pandect adjusted the flashing against the vent carefully before lining up the soldering iron. The day manager was standing on the ground below him and Pandect had the sudden uncharitable urge to kick a bundle of shingles down on his head. Mr. Andrew had made a big deal about how since ‘some kid with no concept of effective business processes’ (his words, not Pandect’s) had hired him he expected Pandect to work extra hard to prove himself.

He had barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Mr. Andrew.

But an unfriendly boss was fine with him; he wasn’t interested in chatting around the proverbial water cooler. His only problem was that apparently Mr. Andrew was. He just kept lurking down there while Pandect worked, his wings moving to help him keep his balance, invisible under his seeming. Every once in a while he’d sniff a little more heavily than what Pandect thought was necessary and shuffled back and forth a few times, staring at Pandect from in between a large knit cap and an even larger muffler. “What are you doing now?” Mr. Andrew said and then interrupted Pandect before he could get a word in edgewise. “We’re not going to pay you extra for doing any fancy work.”

“I didn’t think you were,” Pandect said and held onto a bundle of shingles as another wind snapped past. “I’d like to get this done before it snows again.” At least half the motel would be safe; Pandect was not going to deal with mold. Not for all the money in the world. He really wanted to get this done before it got dark.

Oz was out for a walk. And that walk had turned into quite a trek, really. He'd tried calling Gabe's number again, to check on the kid, but had gotten a bullshit 'this number has been disconnected' sort of recording, which just made him worry. Worry that some hunter had got to him. That he'd been taken down. It was the most likely scenario, anyways. He just hated it. So, he'd needed time to think, and therefore had gone to do that. Usually he thought best when he didn't have much in the way of distractions around him, thus the walkies. He was also aware something was up with the kids, and wasn't sure on that score either. And he knew he needed to drag Dean aside for a bit to talk to him too, since Sophie seemed sure that her talk with him and gone in one ear and out the other. As he started to pass the motel, he glanced over at the people talking, though didn't recognize either.

The wind caught Pandect's wings, making them tinkle briefly as he turned, he saw the man so wandering past and set on him like a lifeline. "Look, potential customer," he said to Mr. Andrew, which, really, technically wasn't a lie. Not that anyone strolling along the road was likely to stop at a motel. But it had the desired effect, Mr. Andrew shut up and headed into the office to hide where ever he hid when he was supposed to be actually doing his job. Because that made his evening like no other, especially after his extra special afternoon, he gave the man wandering past a large smile and said, "Evening." The wind caught his wings wrong under his seeming and he had to set his feet so he didn't go blowing off. It was probably time to get off the roof.

Oz glanced up at the greeting, and gave a little upnod, looking at the man through his sunglasses. "Evening." he said. It was probably time he could get away with taking them off, but he didn't really want to land himself with a migraine just yet. That was never fun. So, they stayed on so long as there was even slight bits of daylight left. He shoved his hands into his pockets more securely, the cold wind doing nothing for him.

Pandect began to quickly put his tools back in the old metal box he found in the back, some long forgotten tool chest of a caretaker past. Habit had him setting them in neatly, kids today (he didn't really just say 'kids today' did he?) people today seemed to take so little care of things, but it was a habit so ingrained in him he couldn't seem to get away from it. He was headed to the ladder, (flying from the roof to the ground was one of those attention getting things that he really tried to avoid) telling himself that he should probably pull his wings back in when aparticularly fierce gust of wind caught the stiff shape of his wings like a kite and pulled him clear off the roof, tool box and all. He landed hard on his wings with an inelegant clank, pain twisting sharply where his wings came into his back, his sharp glassy feathers poking him along his ribs. He drew his wings back in sharply a took a couple of deep breaths to register what was hurt. He had bumped the back of his head pretty hard when he landed (probably why he was seeing a couple quick star of black, but his wings had taken the rest of the damage. He was fine except for the two stinging knots over his shoulder blades.

Oz blinked at that, wondering what the living hell had just happened. That had looked...well, messed up was a good word. 'Physically impossible' was another fitting phrase. It looked like the poor bastard had been launched. If there was invisible shit going on now, he was just going to be pissed. But he walked over anyways, pushing the sunglasses up on top of his head as he crouched down next to the guy. "Are you okay?" he asked. "Want me to call the hospital?" Because that couldn't have been fun. And concussions weren't great things to have, he knew, he'd had a few in his day. "You should probably try not to move much..." he added, sort of trying to catch a scent of anything around them, just in case something was invisible, and he had his ears tuned in to anything suspicious as well.

Pandect swore softly in French, (it helped a little) a pushed the toolbox away with one hand and blinked at the stars flashing in the corners of his vision. "I'm fine, I'm fine," he waved at the concerned face, he really was, his wings had caught all of the damage (not that it had been pleasant, but thank whomever for small miracles). "It was just a stupid accident." He slowly sat up rubbing slow circles on the back of his head, where thankfully he had hit snow and not asphalt. He tried to lean on his arm, but a sharp point just over his shoulder blade stopped him. He hissed and leaned forward sharply, taking his weight off his hand. He should have thought of that, basic weight distribution, from his wrist to his elbow to his shoulder to his shoulder blade, and that was the part of him that hurt.

Oz winced. "Hey...take it easy." he said. "Don't try to move around that much...that was actually quite a fall..." Like, a huge fall. So Oz didn't really term it under 'stupid accident' he was more likely to call it 'potential trip to the ER'. "What's your name?" he asked, attempting to remember the kinds of questions you asked to check for concussion. Like the day of the week, and the president and shit.

"Pandect Garnier," he said through clenched teeth. "You don't have to worry about me moving around, I think I learned my lesson. Is...?" Pandect knew this was going to sound weird, and almost wasn't going to say it, but his back hurt just enough for him to be concerned. "Is there any blood on my back?" If his wings had been seriously injured the blood would be visible on his coat, if it was just muscle strain, he'd only have to be careful about how he moved tomorrow.

Oz shook his head. "No." he answered. Then thought it was just possible he should look before answering him. He'd answered because he couldn't smell any blood, and that scent would have hit him immediately. So he made a show of looking. "....I don't see any, anyways." he amended, internally rolling his eyes at himself. "Still, that doesn't mean you haven't fucked yourself up...you sure you don't want me to call the hospital?" he asked, sounding like he thought it would be a very good idea to do so.

"No," Pandect said sharper than he intended. "No, no hospitals." Normally he had nothing against them (hospitals that was), but he could just imagine the conversation ('yes doctor, I'm fine after falling on my back from about fifteen feet up because I landed on my wings') and conversations like that never ended pretty. "I'm fine, and it doesn't feel like I have a concussion." He took in a deep breath and moved to stand up, it really was just his back, he hadn't even scrapped his elbows, knees, or palms (or any of the other usual spots) falling. "Like I said, just an accident, I'll just clean myself off and take it slow for the rest of the evening." And he wanted to check his wings out without his seeming, at least there was no blood. But he might have cracked one of his feathers (sometimes it just saved him trouble to think of his feathers as a weird sort of organic glass) which would hurt and sting healing unless he slapped some electrical tape on it, or pulled it out if he had to, it was something he wanted to get done quickly while he was still dazed.

Watching the guy get up, Oz just...had to wonder what the fuck. He had no idea what he'd just witnessed there, and now Dude was just getting up and saying he was all fine? That was...whatever. He stood straight, still eyeing the guy like he'd grown a second head. "...if you say so...I just think it's a fucking stupid idea." he said, since hey. At least he'd be being honest.

Pandect took a stumbling step (his back! Ow) and decided it was good idea to sit back down. He studied the man for a second, he was obviously a good man, coming to the aid of another, there was honest concern on his face. On the other hand... Actually, Pandect thought, Why not? My family didn't want me any more, there's no one else who'll know the questions to ask.

He looked at the man's aura, Pandect couldn't quite sink his metaphorical teeth into it the way he could a human's, the man was more likely to understand instead of that awkward so what's God like? question and answer sessions. "Sir," he said very politely. "If I could trouble you for some assistance, I would be very grateful."

Oz was slightly weirded out by the formality of the speech of the guy. But then again, this entire last five minutes had been veering off into 'wtf' territory in the first place, so he shouldn't be surprised. Reaching up, he scratched lightly at one of the scars over his left eye, considering. "Sure." he said in the end, because that was generally the sort of person Oz tended to be. And it would be far from the first time he'd been mildly weirded out by people. Walking over he offered a hand up. "And it's not sir. Call me Oz." he offered, sort of half wondering when he was going to get the 'so what the fuck happened to your face?' question.

Pandect shook Oz's hand with a small smile and looked him up and down, the man had scars, deep enough that he didn't even try hiding them, like someone had gone at the side of his face with claws. Battle scars. He wore them easily, Pandect wished he had a bit of that ease himself. Pandect was about to let out a sigh of relief at that, but thought better of it and swore in French a little before offering a slightly strained, "Nice to meet you Oz. I wish no..." too formal, this wasn't the 19th century anymore, not by a long shot, "I don't want to come on too strong, but you have to understand, or I suppose you will, that this is a bit of a risk for me. So I hope you don't mind me asking, you're not quite human are you?"

That had the werewolf blinking, and he instinctively took a step or two back. Jesus damnit christmas, that was one hell of a way to start things out. He was used to people sort of hedging the topic when there was one to be hedged. He looked around quickly, even though he knew he would have caught the scent of anyone else nearby before he saw them. Still, that wasn't exactly public conversation to be having. "For fucks sake, man, what are you on?" he asked. God, this just kept getting weirder. "Lower your goddamn voice." he hissed.

"Here," Pandect held up a key. "Room 7. And there's no one around, this is the Lamplighter after all. No one comes here except for apparently me. I need your help, I'm not... I can't..." he took another deep breath, he wasn't used to this, talking about it. "I'm also ah... not quite human, and I think I may have injured myself coming off the roof. If you can help me get over to my room and stand a little light French swearing I could really use some help."

Oz felt vaguely like this was a fairytale set up. And the original fairytale set up, not the shiny everyone lives happily ever after disney version. Like the kind where the kindly elderly woman in the forest asks for just a little help, and really they just want to lure you back home to eat your ass. And werewolf or not, he didn't think wolves, big, bad or no, figured into those kinds. Being reminded there was no one around wasn't exactly helpful either. Oz could handle himself. He knew he could, he was well aware, and he even had hold of his shifting. But still.

Standing there for a few long moments, he eyed Pandect very suspiciously. "Okay, I'm getting pretty creeped out here." he told the guy. "And just for a head's up, calling people on shit, then owning up to your own isn't the best way ever to instill confidence. Generally it's just kind of making me wonder if you're trying to lure me back to gut me or some sick bastard shit like that, so....how about we try this another way. You tell me what the merry fuck is going on, and then I'll decide if I help you or not."

"I'm sorry... I'm not very good at this," the pain was starting to ratchet up. He could do it, he fought in both World Wars, he fought a bear once in Canada (well, he was chased by a bear and shot it twelve times after it had treed him in Canada, he had been very grateful for his wings that day), this was nothing. "I understand why you would feel wary, if it makes you feel more secure you can search my room first," (it would be a short search, Pandect wasn't much on possessions), "I do have rifle under my bed, but its unloaded and I'm not much for using it, nevermind using it in an enclosed space. And I have no interest in gutting anything, I have a hard enough time with fish they give you this pathetic look with their big fishy eyes, how are you supposed to kill that? And granted I'm pretty sure you don't have big fishy eyes," he was rambling now, he needed to stop rambling and get back on point, "but all the same, I'm not one to harbor injurious intent on any one. Well, mostly anyone. Mr. Andrew is fast becoming the exception. But I've... I've been on my own for a while, my-"

Pandect cut himself off abruptly, palms up toward Oz. He knew he at least looked like he was in his thirties, and Oz was just a kid, what happened to respecting your elders? "I'm not used to talking about this with anyone. So I apologize if I'm doing a piss-poor job of it. But I landed on my wings and they feel half broken, and if you don't want to help me then I should probably try to overdose on Advil and see what I can reach myself. But the shock is starting to wear off and that means the pain is getting sharper. So a quick decision would be appreciated."

Well, if that tirade wasn't going to run the poor man off, Pandect didn't know what was.

Oz was vaguely reminded of when Thia got on a good ramble, when Pandect started going on about big fishy eyes. Hooooly hell, this was all just...fabulously strange. He wondered if there were cameras out of sight somewhere, some weird supernatural version of punk'd. He caught 'wings' there. Which...if that was true, then it might explain the whacked out physics experiment that was the guy's fall. Maybe. "Explain 'wings' to me." he said. "...and not 'they're stuck to your back and help you fly'." he clarified, just in case he needed to idiot proof the whole inquiry. At this point he so couldn't tell.

"I," Pandect said stiffly, "am an angel."

Well, a lot of people probably would have had a hugely reverent reaction to such a revelation. A lot of people would have dropped down and started asking about God or what have you. Oz wasn't one of those people. He scowled for a moment, and sighed. "An angel? Oh for fucks...look, no offense? But I've met someone like you before and the guy was a dick. Let's just say we aren't facebook friends." he admitted. Fuck. Another angel. His experience hadn't been a positive one when one was forced to stay at his home for a few days. "I don't really mind helping out, but maybe I can do that by calling someone else, or...shit, I don't know." he said, dragging his fingers through his hair.

Pandect threw his head back and laughed, "Sorry, its just a bit of a relief. For all the good press angels get... Well, let's just say I concur. Angels can be dicks. If it makes you feel any better I'm more of a roofing sort of angel than a basking in my own awesome glory kind. If you can just help me get to my room, maybe carry my tool box in for me, I've got some electrical tape I can use in there. Its enough that you want to help, makes me feel a little better at least." He laughed softly again before wincing.

He hadn't expected a laugh as a response, but Oz was belatedly glad the guy didn't decide to take a swing for dissing on like his whole race. And he supposed he knew it wasn't really all of them, just the one he'd dealt with he hadn't so much got along with. The comment about not basking in his own awesome glory thing though was something Oz could quirk a little half smile for. "I can get you to your room, and get your toolbox." he said. and y'know, if the guy tried anything, Oz could also hamstring the fucker and run, so...

Pandect smiled back at the half smile and extended a hand to be hefted up with, "At least all I have left to do is the shingles. I don't think it would be a good idea for me to get up on that roof again for the next couple of days."

"I'd suggest a big fat no on that score." Oz agreed, helping the guy up, then standing back again. "Question, if you had the wings out when you landed, why didn't you catch yourself from the fall?" he asked, basically just wondering about the logic of it, or if he missed something. It was entirely possible he did, after all. He turned into a wolf, he knew fuck all about flight.

Pandect gritted his teeth against the throbbing in his back and got his legs locked straight, "Every angel's wings are a little different. My wings are kind of stiff, the feathers aren't like bird feathers, I'm more of a glider than a flapper if you know what I mean. The wind caught me like a kite and," (Pandect took a moment to use some classic swearing vocabulary), "and by the time I realized I was going down I couldn't catch myself. Do you mind if I...?" He made a vague gesture toward his back. It would probably help if he could get his wings out, let them stretch a... actually stretching was probably a bad idea, but he still needed to check his wings out.

"No, go ahead?" Oz suggested. He hadn't seen them before, he didn't figure on getting a view now. He knew sometimes there were things people just didn't see. They looked around, or...whatever. Up until recently, spirits, for instance. "Interesting about the wing-thing though. All of them are different, huh? That's something."

His wings opened behind him with a soft discordant tinkling sound that made Pandect wince, there really was damage back there. He wished Oz could take a look a them for him, but that just wasn't possible, and he wasn't really in flying form. He reached over his shoulder and prodded gently and the stiff feathers along his shoulder blade. He couldn't quite reach them, it hurt too much. But he hoped that would improve once he took twelve Advil or so. "Everybody's different," Pandect said through gritted teeth, he was much for philosophy usually, but it helped distract him. "Angels are no different, even if some of us think they are, everyone can be great, can be good, everyone can make horrible mistakes. There's no monopoly on living life. Could you maybe... right at my shoulder, there's a feather that feels like its bent wrong, you can probably feel the funky angle, if you could just bend back. Just be careful, they're a little sharp around the edges." He leaned heavily on the wall by his door and concentrated on keeping his left hand steady as he tried for the lock. His fingers were feeling loose and numb, like they some times did when he was tired, but sometimes staring his arm into submission helped. He stopped and considered while switching his key to his right hand (no point in making any more spectacle of himself), "I guess that means everybody's the same then."

"Everyone's a special snowflake, just like everyone else?" Oz put in. Being told there were invisible sharp implements jutting out of the guy's back didn't really help that whole relaxing about things angle, but Oz reached out awkwardly to try and feel what he was talking about. And, as weird as it was, he did catch it. So he tried, carefully, to put it back right, using a fairly gentle sort of touch. He didn't want to hurt the guy more, and he didn't want to slice his hand open either. As far as Oz was concerned he and his entire pack had shed more than enough blood for the decade. "...any better?" he asked, sounding slightly doubtful that he'd managed to do anything.

Pandect just held back a sigh and shifted his wings, "Much better. Thank you. You'd be surprised at how much an out of place feather can hurt." He smiled a little at the careful way Oz reached toward his wing, but it was an understandable caution, he had warned him. "You don't have to be quite that careful."

He toed the door open and stepped into the room, it looked unlived in except for the haversack resting against the headboard. He winced before stepping into the room, "Just put the tool chest on the bed. There's... there's one more, halfway down my back, left side. Could you maybe?"

Oz looked in after him. "I'm not really keen on actually going into your room." he told the guy, not meaning offense, just he'd been through enough insane bullshit in his time to have build up a more than healthy paranoia. He set the toolbox down just inside the door though. "So come back this way and I'll see if I can find it." he offered. Because he still wasn't above helping, just...he was going to do it on his own terms.

Sighing Pandect moved slowly (why is it when his wings hurt everything else seemed to want to hurt too?) and turned, leaning against the doorjamb carefully. "Perfectly understandable. I'd do it myself but-" he looked over his shoulder at his wings,this must be really weird for Oz, he had a feeling the man hadn't much wing experience before now. While Pandect could see his green wings curved stiffly down his back (and that was a crack there wasn't it? That was just great. At least he thought he could reach it once he got some pain meds in him) he knew they were invisible to just about everyone else. "Thank you for helping me today. I really appreciate it."

"No problem." Oz answered, still completely unsure about the whole thing, but he hadn't been attacked yet or anything. Just massively weirded out. "...just for a word of advice for you." he said. "Don't go dropping this shit on people. It's going to get you killed." he said. Which, judging from the guy's age, he should know. But then again, he wasn't entirely certain about how angels aged, so maybe that wasn't the case.

Pandect stuffed his left hand in his pocket so it wouldn't hang funny like it sometimes did when he was hurting and looked over his shoulder at Oz. The battle scars, the pensive expression, "You're a good man. And sometimes you just have to trust people, you in the broad sense, not you as in you you. The world's a dangerous place. And no one's gonna cry if I get capped, so if I get killed over something its just gonna be me by myself. So I'd rather, if I die, I die telling the truth - believing in someone - than any of the other stupid reasons there are to get killed." He made a bit of face over that, "I didn't mean for that to sound as dramatic as it did. I've just lived long enough that I have a different set of priorities now. I like to believe there's enough good in people to trust them. The same way I trusted you."

"I'm sure that's a nice ideal and all, but I'd still advise against it. Especially lately." Oz said. Since really? The world seemed to be headed to hell in a handbasket. But he wasn't really there to talk philosophy, and besides that, what did he know? It was just his opinion, at the end of the day, and whatever worked for people. He wasn't pack, so it wasn't his place to make an attempt to shift someone's point of view, or at least get them to comply with certain basic safety measures. Like 'hey, don't go calling people on not being human right out where anyone can overhear' or 'don't tell a stranger five seconds after meeting them what you are'. He tried to find the stray feather Pandect was talking about, to fix it, and thought he managed, but it was still very strange trying to work with something he couldn't sense. Really, for a werewolf, it was driving him nuts that he couldn't sense what he was touching.

Smiling to himself Pandect turned, and leaned against the doorway (falling off roofs sucked), "I've only ever told two people I was an angel before, the last ones been dead for quite a few years, died of old age," he clarified for Oz's caution. "This isn't something I do every other day." He paused and looked at Oz, assessing, letting experience guide him, "There's something odd about this town isn't there? Its too clever for a town. It keeps trying to pull at people. Pull at me."

Oz wasn't sure what to say to that, beyond what he figured was the truth. "Yeah, I think so." he agreed reluctantly. "I don't know what it is? But...I would guess yes. I've been here a few years now, and it's kind of a hot spot. Things just seem to happen here, centering on this town. We've even had some things that have only hit this community." He didn't feel like it wasn't okay to warn the guy. That if he felt pulled in, who knew what trouble might come along with that pull.

"Just my luck," Pandect muttered to himself and moved to offer up his hand to Oz. "I should probably go take some Advil. But thanks for your help, I owe you one favor, good for most situations."

"Don't worry about it." Oz said, not really the type to expect repayment on things. If that was the case, he both owed a ton, and was owed a ton, so he just never kept track of that shit. It went against his nature, which was just if he could do something, he generally did. It was why even if he had a ton of money from an insurance policy that still payed out, he didn't have near the savings account he could have. "I hope you feel better though...take care." he said, starting to head off.

Pandect closed his door and laid down face first on his bed, digging through his haversack for the bottle of over the counter pain meds he kept stuffed somewhere in there for moment just like this. Although he had never been quite stupid enough to fall off a roof before. If Mr. Andrew had issues with Pandect's decision to take a break, well, he could just deal.