Seishi - Friday, August 24, 2001, 1:12 AM

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Holmes' Apartment - Elm Hollow Road

This is a relatively small, dingy apartment that is nonetheless blessed with a large living area. The window is small, and barred, despite being on the second floor, and the walls are solid. The furniture is clearly secondhand, acquired piecemeal from thrift stores and discount outlets. A broad threadbare couch and a few creaking, corduroy armchairs with pointless curlicues on the stumpy legs rest before the tiny fireplace. Tossed carelessly on the ground is a pile of cushions and pillows, and the overriding sense of the living area is clutter. Piles of books are stacked on the floor, on tables, under tables, on each other, mostly cheap, second- and third-hand books on gruesome and esoteric subjects. A stack of scrapbooks are jammed in one corner, newspaper clippings protruding out and fluttering slightly in the air from the ventilation duct that sticks into the room in an ungainly fashion. A door leads back to a bedroom that contains a bed and nothing else. Whoever lives here apparently lives in the main room, and is a smoker, the pungent odor of tobacco lingering in the air.

        The kitchenette, visible from the living area, has some kind of chemical apparatus in the sink, but is kept appallingly clean, even when at its most cluttered.

There's a full-throated roar of a motor from outside - despite it's mechanical nature, it manages to sound smug, like a well-fed tiger. It subsides, leaving Jack to knock a few moments later. He's dressed quite differently from the previous evening.

Holmes is standing at the window when he calls out that Jack should come in. He's playing his violin and he's playing it deeply, clearly he's been at it for some time. Hours, perhaps. His hair is a little bit sweaty, a little bit wild, his dressing gown swirls and sways as he plays a slow and easy and powerful dirge for the end of the world.

Jack settles lazily into the armchair, not bothering to remove his jacket. He simply observes, letting his eyes half-lid. His posture is very relaxed, an odd contrast to his usual self.

Holmes finally comes to a slow and uncertain end. "How are you this evening, Jack?" he asks.

"Well," Jack allows, kicking his booted feet out before him idly. The elastic that holds his hair back is tugged loose, and put in his pocket. "Considering," he adds, after a moment.

Holmes nods a little. He fetches a bottle and tosses it down onto a pillow next to Jack. "It will be over soon. We'll succeed." he says. "By a very very narrow margin."

Jack plucks the bottle up to examine it idly. "Of course," he replies, utterly calm. One would suspect that he's tracked down some source of opiates, save hat he shows none of the symptoms.

Without ceremony, almost without even so much as the sound of feet on the stairs (she jumped them), Seishi throws open the apartment door and strides in, windblown, skin faintly sheened with sweat and flushed with exertion, dark eyes brilliant, every movement full of barely-restrained energy. Only her expression is composed, incongruously so. There's a ring of raw skin around her left wrist as from some kind of restraint, and a red rose in her hair.

Holmes bows deeply to Seishi as she enters, eyes alight with a strange fire.

Holmes sweeps past Seishi to open the door. "Enter, Barbara!" he calls out.

Whisper enters the apartment.

Whisper has arrived.

Whisper enters, a large plastic-covered cake under one arm, balanced on her hip. "Good evening." Her face is a little paler than usual. The end of the world, one surmises, will do that to a girl.

Holmes seems completely charmed by the cake. "Put it there on the counter." he says gratefully. He's holding his violin, wearing his ratty and comfy looking dressing gown, slacks, and socks. He looks completely comfortable, but a little sweaty as if he's been through some long exertion.

Jack is draped languidly over one of the armchairs, skeptically eyeing a bottle picked up from the pillow next to him. "Holmes, time is literally too short to drink cheap scotch," he notes, deadpan.

Seishi breaks off from whatever it was she was about to declare, eyes fixing on Barbara as she enters. Whatever she's been up to, she fairly vibrates with contained energy, and she too is sweating--and windblown besides.

Holmes says apologetically, "It's all I have, Jack. What little money I have was spent elsewhere."

Jack sighs a touch melodramatically, but picks up a glass and pours out a few fingerlengths.

Whisper sets the cake down and settles into a chair. "Thank you. If I'd thought of it and, um, had the money, I'd have brought wine," she tells Jack. "On the other hand, the world might /not/ end, in which case I'd like to have an apartment of my own at some point, before Ray kills me."

Jack says "Any of you all need any?"

Whisper considers this for a moment, "Sure." she finally says. "And I'm going to cut the cake, too. Anyone want any? It's chocolate with raspberry stuff in it. I'll grant it doesn't go well with Scotch, but then, I don't know what /does/, and I'm babbling."

Holmes says brightly. "Thank you, no." He then says to Whisper, gallantly, "Anyone who brings a cake to the end of the world is the /right/ kind of person. We can find some accommodations for you, I am sure. Don't you agree, Seishi?" He steps nearer to Sei-chan.

Jack holds up the bottle. "Anyone?"

Seishi nods once, a sharp and decisive motion. "If all else fails you can have the couch," she informs Whisper. "I'm not sleeping anytime soon." That's the truth. She's flying on adrenaline right now.

Holmes says gracefully, "And how did you come to be handcuffed, Sei-chan?" He goes to the fridge and gets out some chilled soda to go with the cake. He pulls a very sharp knife out of the wall and presents it to Whisper to cut the cake with.

Whisper shrugs, "Well," she says, moving toward the kitchen, "I /haven't/ ended up on a beach with Colin Firth yet.." A raised gaze toward the heavens precedes an, "And I'm quite disappointed by that, just so you know...but if there's going to be an Apocalypse, there should be chocolate. And, um, friends. And where do you keep the plates around here?"

Holmes produces several mismatched plates from one of the cabinets, too.

Jack makes an odd motion at the mention of 'cuffs, having set down the bottle of scotch on a crowded end table - moving to cover his wrists with the opposite hands.

Seishi gives a short, fierce laugh. "Getting one last blow in before the world ends. Here, Holmes-sama, I have another present for you. You can't keep this one, though." She digs into her jeans pocket and comes up with a soft little package--a napkin from Blue Notes, wrapped around something.

Holmes raises his eyebrows and unwraps it eagerly, finally laying aside the violin and bow.

It's a bracelet, delicate and beautiful and clearly a very valuable antique. Anyone who's been to the museum lately will recognize it as something they last saw in a display case there.

Whisper cuts cake, and manages to do so while watching the gift-giving. Her eyes widen a little, and she whistles, a sharp sound quite unlike her easy, drawling voice. The cake is cut and smoothly transferred to a plate, and she pours soda into glasses, then takes both plates and glasses around.

Jack just arches a brow, sitting up a little.

Holmes ohs. "It's lovely!" he says. "Thank you very much." He looks at it closely in the light. "Your hand?" he says to Seishi, extending his own gracefully.

Seishi lays her hand in Holmes' without hesitation. "If the sun rises tomorrow," she tells him, "you can take that back where it belongs. I'd do it, but I don't feel like getting arrested."

Holmes puts the bracelet on Seishi's wrist with a deep bow. "You stole it fairly. It was stolen from it's previous owner anyway. You have as much right to it as any. Keep it as long as you like. There is none who I would rather have wear it."

Simon enters the apartment.

Simon has arrived.

Whisper returns to her seat and surreptitiously removes the sandals, politely studying her cake as Holmes and Seishi converse. Oddly enough, she's smiling at it. Must be good cake.

Seishi blinks, several times, and fixes Holmes with a look of intense focus. "I went," she says distinctly, as soon as she trusts herself not to babble, "to a lot of trouble to recover that. It ought to go back to the museum."

Holmes nods crisply. "As you wish." he says respectfully, then selects a slice of cake for her and one for himself. To his armchair, then, with a swirl of the dressing gown.

Chiana enters the apartment.

Chiana has arrived.

Seishi takes the plate, but can't sit--cake in hand, she restlessly paces the breadth of the room and back.

Whisper eats cake and sits. It's something to do, eating cake. And now she watches Seishi pacing.

"If we time this right we might even get a meal out of it," Simon says to try and tempt the little grey alien as he leads her towards the apartment.

Chiana looks dubious. "Yeah, but who are these people?" Chiana says, flicking a hand absently at her not-white hair. "I mean, do they party, are they big in town, do they push, what?"

Holmes says brightly, "Tell me about becoming a mist, Barbara. How does it feel?"

Whisper blinks as she looks over from Seishi's pacing. Odd question. Still, not a bad one, and it's something distracting. "A bit like coming apart at the edges, actually. It was...really unsettling at first. I'm there, I'm thinking, but there's.." She chuckles, "I never quite realized, before, that I actually /had/ a body, you know."

Holmes seems intrigued. "You mean you /started/ as a mist? I am fascinated." Just like Holmes. Spend potentially the last moments of his life learning something.

Seishi paces the room again, then gives up, setting the plate with her piece of cake on it down on the table with a firm *tnk!* before she's overcome by the temptation to throw it. This isn't accomplishing anything. She sits down on the floor next to Holmes' chair. Long, deep breaths.

Simon raps on the door as they arrive, shave and a haircut rhythm, just for kicks. "He's only one of my boyhood heroes," Simon says with a grin. He's a bit too excited, really. Almost giddy. And more nervous about this than any date in recent memory.

Whisper shakes her head, fingers curling around the fork. Not clenching, and there's probably a bit of self-control in that. Certainly her voice is higher, less calm, than usual. "Oh, no. I meant...I wasn't conscious of having a body before I gained the power. Never really thought about it--it was just /there/."

Chiana purses her lips. "Heroes. Like the kind John used to tell me about? The one who ran around in red underwear and a cape, and the other that used to dress up in a rubber rodent suit?"

Holmes mms. He puts his hand on Seishi's head very quickly, once, just graceful and present. "I didn't mean to pry." he says amiably. At the knock, he says. "That's Simon. Come in!" he calls out. He's wearing his comfy dressing gown and slacks and socks, and just finishing up his cake.

Simon looks at Chiana with a big smile. See that? He knew who it was! By his knock! The possibility he heard him speaking doesn't occur. "Not that kind, but they exist as well." He turns the handle and opens the door. Unlocked, how disappointing.

Whisper smiles a little. "Not prying. I...don't really need secrets from everyone anymore, and you're trustworthy people, and the world's going to end, so ask whatever you like. Oh, good. People. More people."

Holmes laughs gracefully, "Simon, hello. Have you met everyone?" He gets to his feet, lets Seishi recover her center.

Chiana follows Simon in, visibly curious. And well, grey skinned and curious. She looks around curiously, wrinkling her noise a little at the smell from the chemicals. Must be drugs.

Seishi's dark eyes look up quickly at Holmes in vague startlement, then turn toward Simon without recognition as he enters. Chiana, however, she clearly recognizes; a faint smile flickers to life on her face.

Holmes tilts his head a little bit, looking at Chiana very curiously.

A quick glance at Holmes' two companions. "One, actually, though she may not remember it as such." Simon has a smile for Seishi. <I'm not taking anything this time, you see?> he speaks in Japanese. "This is Chiana. She did me the favour of finding my wallet." In his back pocket.

Chiana smiles back at Seishi, giving her a wave of gloved fingers. "Do you live here? Are you making drugs?" She waves then, at everyone else. "How ya doing."

Whisper turns and smiles as Chiana and Simon enter, "Good to see you again, Chiana." She's curled on the sofa, eating cake, but seems a touch too rigid, her eyes too bright--she's repressing fear and not doing a great job of it. "Drugs?"

Seishi is on her feet in an instant--"/You?/" she demands incredulously of Simon.

Holmes says gracefully, "I am pleased to meet you, Chiana. This is Barbara, my roommate Seishi...no, I am not making drugs at the moment. I'm an amateur chemist. Seishi, I see that you've met Simon?"

"She met Nicolas, rather," Simon amends. "And if I were to guess, I might say the tension in the room arises from this most critical night. You're quite sure there's no drugs then?" It's only a half joke.

Chiana smiles. "Hi." she says to the ladies, and back to Holmes again. "Do you have any food?"

Whisper gestures to the Scotch and the cake. "Alcohol," she says, "and chocolate. Other than that, no. And yes. There's cake," she tells Chiana. "Help yourself to a piece. I cut slices already."

Seishi just lays her head back and laughs, full-throated, ringing laughter with a bright, brittle edge to it.

Chiana says curiously, "What's cake?" Alcohol, she understands. She makes a beeline for the food, though.

Holmes laughs a little. "It seems superfluous." he says to Simon, then bows to Chiana. "We have cake, and I believe I have some leftover roast beef in rose petal sauce from dinner." Apparently he wanted his potentially last meal to be gourmet.

Simon on the other hand looks for that alcohol. "It will do," he says agreeably. "She either did not tell you," Simon says looking wounded, "Or my style was not appreciated. It's almost upsetting."

Holmes looks between the two. "You caught him stealing something." he says to Seishi. Then he looks with great interest to Chiana. Great interest indeed. Of course there's not time to dissect her before the world ends, so.

Whisper finishes her cake and sets the plate down on the counter. "Style? Hmm?" As she talks, she holds a hand in front of her, adjusting her fingers as if on some imaginary instrument, going through various positions. It takes the edge off, at least a little.

Chiana in the meantime, has picked up a slice of cake, presumably chocolate. She sniffs at it experimentally, hrmming to herself.

Seishi drags a hand over her eyes, regaining her composure once more. "I'm sorry, but, my /God/ I feel like the world's biggest fool. Yes, I caught him sneaking out of the bloody Museum. He cuffed me and dragged me off the roof."

Simon steals a glance at the great detective, and does his best to maintain tight control over himself. The young lady might be displeased if she found out the truth. "Mind yourself. She has a mean right hook."

Holmes laughs a little. "Seishi has much more than that." he says. He seems relaxed, and looks to Chiana. "Is that sufficient or would you prefer something with more substance?"

Whisper continues adjusting her fingers in the air, talking with a little less tension in her voice this time. "Sounds like the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

Chiana takes an experimental bite of cake, chocolate on chocolate with raspberry. She then suddenly stands stock still, as her eyes slowly lid, and she lets out a rather breathy moan. "Furlow's tits! This is what John must have meant when he was talking about this chocolate stuff." And with that, she eats a bit more quickly, gotta getta high.

Holmes purses his lips, clearly very amused, and drops back into the chair with a long sigh, rubbing the long bridge of his hawklike nose.

Simon arches his brows. That's a new swear on him. "Which would make you the formidable roommate she mentioned." He rubs his jaw as he grins at Whisper. "Believe it or not, I have had worse starts with meeting people."

Seishi sits back down on the floor, tucking her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. "That's possible?" she asks Simon dryly.

Holmes says gracefully, "Seishi is very generous." He steeples his hands before him and looks almost unconsciously at the window.

Whisper giggles at Chiana, though it comes out shrill. "What was it? Ten reasons why chocolate's better than men?" A shrug at Simon, "Oh, there are. I'm sure. I...can't think of any now, but..."

"Try looking down the twin barrels of the Lady Croft's 9 mms," Simon says sagely, reaching for a drink. Beer, wine, it doesn't matter at this point.

Seishi smooths a hand unconsciously over her hair. "Getting threatened by Lara is the only proper way to get introduced to her," she says distractedly.

Whisper bites her lip against another giggle. The end of the world is definitely getting to her. "Funny," she says, with taut humor, "I thought most men /liked/ that."

Chiana is busy eating chocolate and licking her fingers with a delicate pink tongue. "Why's everyone so tense, anyway?" she asks.

Holmes says gracefully, "In a few hours the world will end," he says to Chiana, "or we will all be very relieved."

Simon flops onto any avaiable seating spot, stretching out in a very comfortable looking sprawl. "Is it true, sir?" Simon asks with child liek wonder. "Everything I read?"

Chiana blinks. "Wasn't that supposed to be yesterday?" she says, pointing at the clock. "The guy that bragged to me it was going to end said it was yesterday, and it's today now."

Whisper shrugs, "I--don't know. I sort of came in on the second reel of this one, I'm afraid."

Holmes shakes his head a little. "Not all of it." he says to Simon. "The details are wrong and it was in the wrong order. But in general, it was accurate. Yes." To Chiana: "Someone bragged to you about it?" he says curiously.

Chiana nods. "Yeah. Bought me dinner. Was pretty attractive, for a human. Nice e'ma."

Holmes tilts his head. "What did he look like?" he asks curiously. "Because it was tonight that everything was supposed to happen."

Simon leans back, growing a bit contemplative himself. Astounding. It should affect his life in some profound way but inariably won't. A coin is produced, golden and two headed, from a pocket. Simon starts rolling it up and down his knuckles distractedly. "Maybe they simply meant past midnight?"

Holmes nods slightly, then slouches again, reaching for his pipe, which he lights with a few graceful motions of his long fingered hands.

Whisper's fingers continue the patterns in the air, and she takes some deep breaths. "If it's the one I'm thinking of," she says, voice faint, "he has a habit of doing that. E'ma?"

Chiana starts describing Angelus in detail. "He was really full of himself, but in that attractive sort of way. D'argo gets like that sometimes, and Crichton when he's ranting." she pauses. "Y'know.." she points to her rear. "E'ma."

Seishi looks up slowly from a bout of fierce introspection, brow furrowed. "Holmes-sama," she asks haltingly, "...when will we know, one way or the other?"

Holmes says tightly, "According to the clock, we are saved as of four minutes and twenty seconds ago. However, this is not scientific. We have at least two more minutes until everything is definitely safe."

Curse that handsome devil and his E'ma. Simon can't but wish that Holmes had told them this two minutes from now.

Holmes doesn't watch the clock. He has a more accurate one in his head, and right now he doesn't much like it.

Whisper chews on her lower lip, staring off into space. "Oh. Okay. Um." Two minutes. Just two more minutes. You were doing /fine/ before you realized that, Barbara, so breathe. And she does. Very slow, very deliberate, and then starts singing under her breath. "Never set the cat on fire/You only will annoy it..."

Chiana eats. Chocolate is good. And ooh! Alcohol is better!

Seishi stands once more, running her fingers agitatedly through her hair. "I wish I hadn't asked," she confesses miserably.

Holmes suddenly gets to his feet and walks over to the phone. It then rings. He picks it up and is about to say something. But then he just blinks at the phone and puts it back in the cradle. Slowly he walks back across the room and sits back in his armchair.

"Damn those late night salesmen," Simon says at Holmes. Tell us! I know the answer but dammit tell us!

Whisper watches Holmes pick up the phone, arches an eyebrow, but doesn't ask. "Er. Want to sing?" she asks Seishi. "Might help. Something else to concentrate on, anyhow."

Chiana pours herself some alcohol, and looks quite pleased when it tastes as she recalls it should. Some things, it would seem, are universal in their flavoring.

Seishi startles at the shrilling of the phone, and fixes her attention on Holmes. She, too, does not ask aloud, but "the speaking eyes" ask it more than clearly enough.

Holmes picks up his violin then, and puts it on his shoulder, and adjusts the bow slightly. To the assembled, he says, "How men lay upon the gods what is their own folly. It's over. Everyone is alive." And with that he leans his head down onto the violin and begins to play. Light, jazzy, warm, music, hauntingly familiar and deeply satisfied, begin to slip into the room as Holmes enters a musical reverie.

Chiana quirks, looking up at Holmes. She seems to find his announcement utterly nonsensical, but that thing he's using to make the music is interesting! She rises, walking closer, her back arching as she peers down closely at the violin.

Simon lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, and downs the rest of his drink and heads back for seconds. "Anyone know the protocol for celebrating all of existence?"

Whisper lets out a breath that seems to come from somewhere deeper than just her lungs. "Thank God." Her voice is intense, sincere, and her hands shake as she stands up, rather hurriedly. "Excuse me for a moment." And she disappears into the bathroom.

Seishi closes her eyes. It's over. Just like that. On her quiet sigh fly away several years off her age, at the same time as all of her pent-up energy seems to drain away like water from a broken bottle.

Holmes says softly, "It's a violin." to Chiana.

Holmes keeps playing. Nobody has ever heard this music before and nobody ever will again. 

Chiana reaches out a gloved finger to touch it. "It's pretty." she pauses when he continues, and she smiles. Zaahn would love this, she thinks. 

"Don't touch," Simon urges softly. Let's all just be people and listen to music for a moment.

Whisper returns from the bathroom after a few moments, slight moisture around her hairline. More relaxed now, she sits down on the couch again, curling her legs up and resting her head on the arm as she listens to the music. Her eyes close, and a small smile appears on her face.

Chiana seems to get an idea in her head. "I'll be back." she whispers, and slips out the door. Of course, when Chi says it, she may mean she'll be back in a few minutes, or a few months. She looks longingly after the violin, though.