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Angel heads by the Waterfront, running into Harlow and Had, and meeting Ellen and Ken, the latter of whom owns a training ring. And Ellen is a fellow hunter.
4/20/2016 1:00 AM
Marina, San Francisco
Marina and Waterfront[]
Beginning with Ghirardelli Square in the west, the wharf curves around to the southeast in a long series of jutting piers, the most well-known of which is Pier 39. The Embarcadero is the long street following the coastline which allows a good view of most everything in the area for those who care to drive through. Just past the square is The Cannery, and beyond that the North Point Shopping Plaza. A bit fraught with tourist traps, it's not the most popular with locals, but visitors seem to flock here. A bit farther inland lies the crookedest street in the world, the section of Lombard that runs between Hyde and Leavenworth. The far eastern end of this street wraps around the circular base of Coit Tower, stretching up into a tall, dome-capped white cylinder and offering an excellent view of the bay and the Embarcadero.
North Hill also contains what passes for the City's "Little Italy" and the dining scene strongly reflects this. The area bustles with activity during the day, and at night offers somewhat tamer diversions than elsewhere in the city.
It is in the middle of the night.
In the spring months, chilly mornings give way to daytime temperatures reaching up to 70?F. It's raining hard and the winds are strong.
Hadraniel is not brooding. That is Angel's shtick. He is, however, not walking anymore. When Ken waves through the window, he glances to the side, then surreptitiously over his shoulder, before deciding that he is being waved at. He smiles, uncertainly, and lifts a hand to wave awkwardly back. "I don't know. His name is Ken. He said he might give me a job," he answers Harlow.
Harlow Tjader looks into the window, reaching out and dropping the mostly emptied cone into a wastebin along the path and inclining her head in greeting to the fellow inside the gym. "It's closed," she points out to Erik, as though to concern herself with the etiquette of the situation. To keep walking, or to hang awkwardly outside seeing whether an invitation will ensue? Well, she doesn't leave, at any rate. Not while Erik has a job in the mix. She's briefly distracted by Ellen and her purposeful stride, but she doesn't gawk. That'd be rude. She returns her attention in toward Ken inside the gym with a pleasant little tilt of a smile.
As she approaches others, Ellen's stride slows slightly, and she glances toward the gym, one eyebrow raising ever so slightly. People are gathering in front of it for some reason, and that draws her curiosity as much as anything. She finally stops, glancing in the window. "Isn't it considered a bit rude to stare in at a muscular, half naked man, even in San Francisco?" Not that she's objecting to the view. Momma's got needs too, dammit.
Hurrying towards the door, Kenneth opened it up. "Come in, come in," he urged. "Everything's fine. Business hours are done but you guys are always welcome, any time." Ken smelled strongly of gym-brand deoderant and shampoo, having likely recently showered or something to boot. Inside, the song ended and so started Whitesnake's 'Here I Go Again.'
Hadraniel tilts his head a little, looking more than a little confused by Harlow's observation. More of those human things... He's still puzzling over it when Ellen makes her comment, and he looks toward her with a startled expression. "Is it rude?" He seems genuinely concerned, and the implication clearly went right over his head. He glances toward Harlow, and wonders, "Are we being rude?" Then Ken appears, and he looks that way, mildly alarmed. "Hello. Um. Sorry, we didn't mean to interrupt."
"I should hope not," Harlow replies to Erik (aka Haddypants). "Mr. White is an acquaintance of ours," evidently. That's for Ellen, of course, to let her know that they weren't just ogling the fellow like some piee of meat (though, possibly, that, too, all things being equal). "Good evening, Mr. White. It's good to finally see your place of business." And, invited within, she lofts a brow back toward Ellen, but he'll wait for Erik to take the lead, since he has more pressing business with Ken than she does.
"No judgement here." Ellen offers with a teasing smile at Hadraniel, before looking to Harlow and then to Ken, eyebrows raising a bit again. She could use a sit, after hours of patroling the city. That's what happens when your car breaks down during a supply run. You stay the night, and try to make a little difference, right?
"It isn't rude at all, come on in. Welcome welcome. So surprised to see friends out this late!" Ken said with a chuckle. Then he asked Harlow, less Hadriel, "Did you take this guy on a date?" he teased. Then he tch'd, "and here you and I are still to see an opera show." Still, he would step out of the doorway, holding it open for the lot of them. "You, too, young lady," he told Ellen. "Please come in if you like. Welcome to Jim's. I'm Ken."
For newcomers, this was a surprisingly well-kept yet rustic representation of your classic boxing gym. The most modern conveniences were the showers, an office space, and a computer. Everything else seemed to be very old-fashioned, from the mats to the weights to the safety equipment. And it smelled like sweat, effort, vim and vigor and a little blood from the boxing that occasionally went on.
Angel walked by the Waterfront...he'd managed to change since his battle in the park earlier tonight, and now once more wore clean clothes that don't show signs of battle. Never knew what'd happen the rest of the night. He does recognize Had and Harlow, though. "Hey..." he says. Not a man of many words, usually.
Hadraniel nods a little, still looking not completely certainly as he glances to Ellen, doubtfully. He drops it, though, and goes inside when invited, just barely missing Angel's appearance on the street. "Hi. No, this was not a date. We had dinner and went for a walk." Sounds like a date, Had. Regardless, he adds, "You had mentioned needing help here." Because that totally explains why he's lurking around the gym in the wee hours of the morning. Yep.
"He wouldn't even let me buy him a cone," Harlow adds to Erik's answer with a dry humor to her voice, entering and lifting her chin to scan the place with a discerning gaze and the subtly flared curve of a nostril. That's an odor, that is. "Yes; Tosca is the weekend after next. We should finalize arrangements soon," she agrees, since he brought it up. And here's the detective, again. Harlow is surprised by the oincidence, but not so much as to be caught speechless. "Detective Angel," she greets him.
"I don't quite need help. But I'm happy to provide assistance to the disenfranchised who need a little help finding their place," Ken said quite professionally. "In other words, are you looking for a job?" Right to the point. "Tosca is in two weeks then? I'll clear my schedule, just for you, Harlow." How sweet. "You get the tickets, and I'll pay for dinner?" he offered with a slightly flirtatious smile. And then someone referenced a detective. Ken lifted his eyes to spy Angel, and gave a nod. He waved the man in - may as well. "Door's open even if the sign says closed."
Angel comes in...and looks around the gym. "So, you offer classes here?" Because it'd be interesting to see what kind of classes this man offers. Ken moved like a very well trained fighter...it's not the sort of thing people who knew could ignore.
Hadraniel tilts his head a little, looking at Ken with a nonplussed expression. "Yes, I am, but if you don't need help..." He sorts through all that, then narrows his eyes slightly. "I do not want anyone to help /me/. That is the opposite of the point..." He trails off, going silent with a confused sort of look.
"I have the tickets already. Box seats, compliments of the Bay Area Opera Society," Harlow replies, looking rather cool in the face of the flirtation, but nonetheless pleased with herself and the swag she'd scored from the society. "I had thought to cook something, but going out might be a more convenient option, especially if my house isn't ready yet. I'll leave that to you, then," she concedes the part of the planning with the air of someone who rarely gives up that sort of control.
Watching the others move off toward the gym, Ellen smiles faintly and nods to the crowd, slipping off to continue on her walk. Her pace is easy, but for those familiar with the supernatural community, she's most definitely a hunter, and she's on the prowl for something that feeds on innocents.