separate the sorrow and collect up all the cream [closed]

[has_a_horn]

Gabriel is walking along near his apartment, when suddenly he winces and whips his head around angrily as if someone had just shouted in his ear. "What!?" After the realization that the TARDIS hadn't just materialized next to him and shouted for him to bring her candy, he realizes that what he'd heard was her praying to him. This is so not good. He pulls out his phone, sends off a quick text, sighs, and then sends few more for good measure.

When she responds, the "Fuck!" he lets out is loud enough to convince the person walking behind him to continue his journey on the other side of the street. Her knowing how to pray to him isn't exactly a turn of events that he'd wanted or been prepared for. Especially since she's so loud about it.

He stops walking entirely and stares down at the screen of his phone, sends off a couple more texts, then slips it back into his pocket. He sighs again, runs a hand through his hair to push it back, then disappears. When he reappears, it's outside the TARDIS. He has brought candy, but he's going to make sure she knows he's disgruntled about it before handing it over.

got a regiment and plan for the day [Open]

[ceciiil]

Cecil is more than a little overwhelmed by his new surroundings. The move from a sleepy desert town to the busiest city in the country is quite a jarring one, even without accounting for inter-dimensional travel. Plus, it's cold. Not even supernaturally so, just...cold. Outside. Cecil considers himself an open-minded and worldly man, but why would anyone do this deliberately? Ugh.

So after a modicum of getting settled (frankly the prospect of decorating, which his new space sorely needs, had been too much to contemplate on top of everything else) he'd fallen back on a timeless classic. "Drink to forget." Also, what better way to learn the ropes, right? Someone had mentioned the bar, err pub, and it seemed like a nice way to kill some time. Try to formulate some kind of...life strategy.

Of course it's nothing like he'd expected. But the pub is nice and homey, and after a brief dispute with the barperson about the definition of rocket fuel vs brandy, he settles in to do some peoplewatching/life reordering. He's dressed in a smart, casual sweatervest, with the addition of the atrocious yeti coat acquired upon his arrival, and projecting his best air of approachability.