Trooper Station; Saturday Morning [ 03/06 ].

[colourfulscents.livejournal.com]

What Angua was doing at the station on a Saturday morning was a very good question; if anyone knew the answer, she'd appreciate it greatly if they'd share it. Because she certainly didn't know.

She did know that she was feeling a little restless and a little bored, and maybe some part of her brain had the ridiculous notion that if she came in for just a few hours in the morning, she could make enough of a dent in her paperwork that, on Monday, it wouldn't seem like such a heavy load. A very small part of her brain. One most likely delusional.

Especially since when she came in, it was not to her desk that she went first, but to the coffee maker.

It did seem rather quieter here on a Saturday morning, she'd give it that.


[[ expecting, natch, a particular encounter, but station is SOOOOOO so so very open. So much. And, if Angua's met you and you're different, but you don't mind her being able to still tell who you are by scent, please let me know! ]]

Comments

[solesofmyfeet.livejournal.com]

Sam hadn't woken up in her normal bed, nor had she had any idea just how she ended up there.

She so wasn't going to put it past some evil villain's brainwashing. Which, ew. That place was an office. And creepy.

"Clover? Alex?" She whispered, sneaking down the hall before catching sight of a pretty blonde woman. And oh so stealthily hiding. Behind a potted plant.

[colourfulscents.livejournal.com]

From a werewolf.

That always worked so well, and yet it was an interesting note of history that people seemed to always give it a try anyway.

Needless to say, Angua had expected that if her reflections on the peacefulness of a Saturday in the station were to turn ironic, it would have been Ralph's doing and not at the hands of some sprightly little redhead creeping around the place.

Angua cradled her coffee mug in her hand, taking a sip and leaving it mostly up as she said, "You can come out. I won't bite."*

___

[solesofmyfeet.livejournal.com]

"Oh, of course not!" Sam said, laughing in a way that wasn't nervous at all. "I was just... looking for my friends! Have you seen them?"

[colourfulscents.livejournal.com]

"Looking for them in a Watchhouse?" asked Angua, starting to sniff the girl out a little. There was something distinctly familiar about it, and not at all what one would expect from someone small and ginger and a girl. "Have you checked the cells?"

[one-who-goes.livejournal.com]

Mark Antony still didn't have much of an idea where he was. He was also still wearing a bathrobe, with a kitchen knife tucked into the belt as a poor substitute for a sword.

Nevertheless, he'd been in enough cities to recognize an official building, and this was an official building. He strode in like he was about to claim it for Rome -- which he just might.

"Hello," he said to the woman who seemed to be the only person around. "Is there a master of the guards here?"

[colourfulscents.livejournal.com]

Not if Angua had anything to do with it.

She totally modded timing gave a forlorn, slightly askance glance toward another part of the station as she considered the question, and just barely kept from groaning.

"He's a bit...indisposed at the moment," she said, and then turned to the fellow. "But I am the Sergeant; perhaps I could help?"

[one-who-goes.livejournal.com]

"Sergeant." That was Mark Antony's dubious look, but he relaxed it. No doubt he'd been stolen into some barbarous world where women claimed such titles. "I'm Mark Antony of Rome. I'd like to report a kidnapping. My own."

[OOC: Let's say basically the same but missing those irritating time-travel twinges.]

[colourfulscents.livejournal.com]

Angua just looked at the gentleman for a moment; there was something familiar in his scent and perhaps even his looks as well, but she couldn't quite place it. And, besides, with a statement like that, her mind was rather distracted with things other than scent right now.

Which was actually a nice change.

"Your own kidnapping?" she asked, and looked around the station in a clear indication that he appeared quite by himself. "Rather shoddy work, if you ask me if you can just stride on into the station and report it yourself."

[famous-gut.livejournal.com]

Yes. He looked like Gibbs. Only much younger. And perhaps instead of the scent of gunpowder and sawdust around him it was replaced with the fine aroma of barley hops and clear purified water from the Rocky Mountains.

"Are you a beer drinker?" Not!Gibbs asked nobody in particular as he wandered into the police station. "You know, I've been a beer drinker for a bunch of years. And like you, I've seen a lot of beer commercials. But one beer that people loved before it was even advertised."

He held up a can of Coors beer. The can sparkled in the sunlight coming in from the window. It looked cold. Calm. Refreshing. And perhaps with a smooth finish.

"You see Coors was kind of the beer at my folk's place," he continued with an impish grin. "They thought it was different. Special. That was true before there were any jingles or promotions. It's the product people love not the hoopla."

He gave that fourth wall another grin and held up the beer so everyone can see.

"So when you want a beer that's a little smoother with all the spirit of a great beer.... Coors is the one."

[colourfulscents.livejournal.com]

See, and this was another moment when Angua missed having Cheery around. Cheery would have, in this case, been the one closest to the floor to help Angua pick her jaw up from off of it.

There were a lot of questions in Angua's head, most of them having to do with age and where the gunpowder and sawdust came from, but, being very good at her job, the most important one was the one to present itself.

"Did you come in here just to solicit beer?"

[famous-gut.livejournal.com]

"Nah," Not!Gibbs said with a sheepish grin. "You see when you have a beer that tastes as clean and fresh as the water that comes from the Rocky mountatins, you don't really need to advertise. You just need a customer who appreciates a beer that's always smooth and never bitter."

[colourfulscents.livejournal.com]

Angua was looking over this clearly Not!Gibbs Gibbs a bit more again, while trying not to smell him and thinking that, hey, this still wasn't the worst of what she was seeing this morning. After all, he still sort of looked like him, and was not little and ginger and a girl.

Although thinking of little and ginger and a girl was enough to want to take Gibbs up on about ten of those beers.

"But what if you happen to like bitter beer?"

[robinthefrog.livejournal.com]

There was a scrabbling at one of the windows, as a superhero tried for a subtle, dramatic entrance. Yes, subtle and dramatic. But...the window wasn't opening.

[colourfulscents.livejournal.com]

Angua glanced toward the window, what with the masked fellow scrabbling to try to get the thing opened and sighed.

Last time she ever came in on a Saturday, that was for sure. And as a frequent user of windows to go in and out of places, she was almost insulted by the ineptitude being displayed.

She strolled over and slid the window open.

"You know," she commented to the boy, "most people take to using the door."

[robinthefrog.livejournal.com]

Hey Gotham police kept the windows unlocked thank you very much. Robin hopped in, automatically striking a heroic pose upon landing.

"But if I used the door everyone would see me." he said. Really it was common superhero sense. This way he had the element of surprise. Plus fewer autograph hounds.

[colourfulscents.livejournal.com]

Angua took a moment to take in the get-up with the bright red vest, golden cape, and very, very short shorts.

"Yes," she agreed, "we can't have anyone seeing you. Not in that, anyway. Is there anything I can help you with? Perhaps a case of stolen trousers?"

People could really stop losing track of their clothes today; Angua wouldn't mind.

[anarchist-queen.livejournal.com]

Local law enforcement was usually a good place to find wanted posters and the like. So after breakfast, Domino found her way there to see if they needed any help.

For a price of course.

"Morning."

[colourfulscents.livejournal.com]

And Angua was left wondering again just why she'd chosen to come in today, and realized it was likely her own damn fault. One of those self-fulfilling ironies, and all that.

She nodded to the girl. "Good morning; may I help you with anything?"

[anarchist-queen.livejournal.com]

"I came in to see if you needed help with anything actually." Domino answered with a smirk. "I'm a bounty hunter."

[not-ironmaiden.livejournal.com]

Upon entering the local police station, Holmes was at first surprised to note the woman was, in fact, in charge. And not there to serve them tea.

But that turned out to be far more helpful than some bumbling idiot of the male persuasion.

"I'd like to report a missing child," He said, holding out the odd contraption that help the boy.

[colourfulscents.livejournal.com]

Well, Angua did say she wanted people to stop losing their clothes. She did not necessarily mean that people had to go on missing larger, more important, more living and breathing things in their stead.

"She's not a precocious and anatomically impossible redheaded girl, by chance, is she?" asked Angua, with at least one silly inkling of hope, until she saw what the man was actually holding out to her. And got hit with a very particular whiff of baby coming from it.

Her heart sank into her stomach.

"Oh. This is a bit of a pre-emptively missing child, isn't it?"

[not-ironmaiden.livejournal.com]

"Indeed," Holmes replied primly. "I woke up in the home of one Tony Stark, a man I haven't met, nor could find on the premises. And, being unable to simply leave a child alone, came looking for the proper authorities."

Meaning you, Angua.

[nofishinmypond.livejournal.com]

Mac was flyin' blind, here. He had no idea what his current contract was, and he hadn't been able to reach the Phoenix Foundation on the phone. The short-term memory loss was troubling, the broken phone more so -- but he was in Maryland today, so whatever was going on back in L.A. would have to go on without him.

Anyway, it was a good bet he was here to help out the police, so that's what he headed to do.

"Anyone call for a repairman?" he asked, as he walked in the door.

[colourfulscents.livejournal.com]

"Err..." Angua blinked at the man who came in, turned her head slightly this way and that to see if anything was obviously broken, and then looked back.

"No?"

[nofishinmypond.livejournal.com]

Mac sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "No, not that kind. I'm with the Phoenix Foundation," he explained. "I'm here to help solve a problem?"

[BTW: Same smell, same appearance, same attitude, just younger and with more mullet.]