Welcome to Gaia! ::

((He can pretty much be wherever you like o_o He's taken to the change into an anthropomorph in a lot worse ways than others from his world, having been adamantly anti-supernatural back 'home'. So he's ended up joining the staff of a restaurant I've created but yet to set up known as 'M'lady Malady's' - an establishment which is strictly neutral ground territory for all supernatural and/or magic-using peoples. He works as 'enforcement' of sorts but has recently become aware that others from his world are around and might very well be out looking for 'em, so it's totally up to you where he is =D))

Marks frowned a little at the sign. ...okay. Maybe there was one in every dimension. Still, that was kind of weird. "If he's drowning his pathetic-ness in booze, he can't be getting in too much trouble," he said, as if it were an encouraging thought. "Let's go fetch us a man-b***h," he invited Vain with a flick of his hand, "Come on, oh compass extraordinaire. We're not done yet."

Alex too had been slightly taken aback by the name, M'lady Malady's... where do I know that from? ...It wasn't important, not for now. Because if Kingsley was here, he couldn't be attempting dangerous, stupid things with Lestat. "Wait up," he called to Skittles, following close on the boy's heels.

The interior of M'lady's was fairly noisy, as usual - and attempting to escape from that noise by leaving and going outside was a black, haired, blue-eyed, vaguely familiar face attached to a well-dressed, be-suited body that while it bore a few similarities to the unicorn in question, was definitely not the same creature. The wings were a dead give away.

The escaping man walked straight into Skittles, stopping suddenly in realization that he'd hit someone. "Watch where you're going," he snapped, more of an advisory tone than a sharp one, before once more trying to get out the door.

Violence was not something the man handled well. For one, he'd never had an apptitude for it, for two he preferred to let the lesser creatures handle it and for three, he really didn't like getting hit. Then again, he supposed, it was unlikely that most people did. Regardless of most people, he had just been struck and that was unforgiveable. "Skittles," he managed to utter, eyes narrowed at the offending creature, voice dark with offense and authority - before a second voice cut through his mind and into his attention.

Kingsley? Someone was looking for him? The man looked back and forth quickly, uncertainly and defensively between the fox and demon, growing more and more agitated with each passing word. There were several keywords upon which to focus here - Kingsley, first. Third eye, more importantly.

Someone was looking for Nicodemus.

Which confirmed a great many of his suspicions. "You've clearly mistaken me for someone else," he announced imperiously to the small, delicate creature called Skittles, "Run along, I've got other things to do."

Of all the possibilities in the world, one of the least likely was surely, "Peregrine?" Alex's tone was soft and cautious, barely audible above the roar of M'lady Malady's.

It had been years... or maybe not so many... but he was almost certain...

"Don't know if anyone else has noticed," Marks pointed out from just behind Vain, literally pointing at the angel as well, "But that thing's got no hooves."

......................Well.

That certainly didn't help things any.

The appearance of Alex and his Ravnos meant little good, and less opportunity to leave unidentified. In fact, none at this point. Peregrine deigned instead for silence, looking over the four arrivals with disdain and shielded apprehension. The day wasn't getting better.

There is an expression unique to unhappy kindergarten teachers, office serf supervisors and stressed airline attendants, one bespeaking of longing for vacation and an intense wish for something very terrible to happen to the person with whom they are having a certain aggravating exchange. Somewhere along the line, Peregrine too had adopted this expression and while some claimed that it was simply his default face, the weaker-willed of those upon whom he directed it tended to think otherwise.

Peregrine deigned to ignore Skittles' questions and move on to what he could only assume was a caretaker for the hyperactive, mentally-challenged creature on his toes, "Apparently not much," he said to Vain, staring balefully at the demon, "Do you have an appointment?"

Okay... So the guy looked a little like Kingsley and interacted with the world in basically the same, yet less loud way. And the guy's--Peregrine's?--presence looked like it was really bothering Rob... for whatever reason. And that in turn bothered Marks a little. Not because he cared about Rob being comfortable, but because if the kid was getting the heebie-jeebies, something was up.

Peregrine... yes... definitely him, from that expression. Only he hadn't noticed Alex himself yet - or was ignoring him - or--or--so this Peregrine was either a Peregrine of an entirely different dimension or not only vampires were coming over from their old world...

Drawing the distinction between himself and his brother quite clearly, Peregrine did not rise to the bait of the insult, instead shaking his head and glancing for a moment at the two former vampires he recognized. Admittedly, he wasn't yet aware that all four of the new arrivals had vampiric lineage...

This was not the ideal situation. He was, for now, forced to acknowledge Alex and the Ravnos - which would do absolutely nothing for his quest of departure, especially not from problems. "They too, may come back with an appointment then," he said shortly, attempting to push past Vain once more and get the HELL out of the area.

To stop Peregrine now would be to incite anger, argument and all sorts of nasty reprecussions... But to let him go --no, his words suggested that this place, this 'M'lady Malady's' of questionable familiarity would be the place at which to meet him once again.

Besides, this required all sorts of new thoughts, the kind that the newly-minted angel didn't really need to be bothered with.

"Think it runs in the family?" Marks asked simply in Vain's general direction. He hadn't known Three Eyes had siblings... it didn't necessarily surprise him, but it begged the question why Three Eyes was still alive.

Having no intention of aiding the annoying foursome in finding him again, Peregrine did not respond to Vain's inquiry - Skittles' grasp of a feather was, however, a little more interest-worthy than a simple question. So interest-worthy as to be infuriating, really. Peregrine had never, ever been the touchy-feely-type, or even the hug-type. Contact with the wings he found himself so wary of was thus even more unnatural and unforgiveable to him than a brush of shoulder, or... walking into a stranger, really.

Any reaction, especially a harsh one, would likely prolong this ordeal, and some part of Peregrine knew this - but one is not often thinking when one reacts to things unwanted. Harshly, the man jerked his wing away from Skittles' grasp, unthinkingly spreading it to a longer length than would be advisable for the close quarters of --well, anywhere inside. "What are you doing?" he snapped, halfway out the door yet still captured by his inability to let things go.

"You know," Marks commented in that offhand manner to Skittles, "I think you would've gotten the same reaction if you'd started plucking leg hairs."

About this man, there was no telling what to think. Marks was already inclined to dislike him, but not in that aggressive way. Mere distaste. It was the way he moved and spoke - authority. Ugh. Authority. Authority was meant to be at worst thwarted, at best broken and twisted. And Peregrine reeked of the assumption that other people should be listening to him...

"Oh God - Skittles!"

Marks nudged Vain with his elbow, "Ten bucks on the b***h."

In the way of self defense, Peregrine was woefully challenged. Thus when Skittles pounced, all he could think to do was raise his arms in defense and subsequently be bowled over. Being attacked was never on his list of priorities, and of late hadn't even been on his list of expectations either - seeing as he tended to keep to the establishment. Which was the problem now, wasn't it? Cooping himself up here. Things just never seemed to go his way...

"You little brat!" he snarled, shoving the smaller male off roughly and staggering to a standing position. When he wanted to be tackled by toddlers he'd turn himself in to a insane asylum day care center - this was just unbelievable.

Observing the now clearly mismatched fight with an air of disinterest, Marks began to regret putting his money on Peregrine. Unless it turned out the angel had some weird demonologist-like trick up his sleeve, it looked as though the tussle was clearly in Skittles' favor. Bah.

"No--it's just--" Alex couldn't quite find the way to articulate, he never had under pressure - not that there was any real pressure here, just uncertainty and a great deal of consternation over the appearance of the man currently being mauled. Skittles really was an engima...

"Isn't he being a little rough?" he ended lamely, running a nervous hand through his hair, other arm crossed over his chest.

........What? A feather? How ridiculous. Immobilized about the ankles before he had a chance to retort, Peregrine resisted the urge to viciously kick the creature. It was probably retarded. Violence wasn't going to get him anywhere. Except satisfied, that was...

Again resisting his more inflammatory instincts, he snarled at Skittles, "Go, to, a craft store," he spoke slowly. "There are lots of feathers there for psychotic little vermin like you to choose from."