What a lovely day (open)

[Brandy Johnson]

Brandy had woken up this morning in the sewers of Cardiff, naked, surrounded by dead creatures—weevils, if she remembered correctly—and feeling like shite. The last part wasn't entirely unexpected, but the first two had taken a few second to register. She hadn't been able to get back to her flat in time, so she'd tried to isolate herself in the sewers before shifting. It had worked. Her memory of what had happened was always hazy, but she couldn't remember any humans. There was a lot of hunting these weevils, and quite a few rats. But no humans. That was something, at least. From the way the drunk had sounded, the weevils were intelligent. They did wear clothing. They had attacked her first, though. She wasn't sure what to think about killing them.

Of course, she still wasn't in the best of situations. She'd used her shirt to dress the strange drunk's lacerations, shredded her pants after shifting—or she thought she did; they had gone missing—and the pile of items she'd left by the sewer entrance was missing. Probably picked up by some homeless person, or that Torchwood team that the man had mentioned. She wasn't sure which prospect was less appealing: someone emptying her wallet and bank account, or someone tracking down where she lived and asking her questions about what she'd been doing in the sewers. She assumed they were some sort of...investigative team, or the like. He had known what the creatures in the sewers were, and he had called for backup. Of course, there was always the possibility that he was just a lot more drunk than she realized, and the entire thing had been made up.

She had managed to get a set of clothing off one of the weevils that didn't fit too horribly, even if it was dirty. Brandy was fairly sure she looked terrible, but that only meant it matched the way she felt. She wasn't quite sure what to do about her situation, but the first step was definitely getting out of the sewers. Getting back to Glasgow would be an issue. Maybe she should find a police station. She really didn't want to deal with them—especially after what happened last night—but it would be better than begging for money on the street, or trying to hitch a ride to Glasgow.

Brandy wandered along the street, trying to figure out where to go next. She had a friend that lived in the city, but she couldn't remember exactly where her flat was, and she couldn't call her. Borrowing someone's phone would work, but that was distinctly unappealing as well. A familiar smell made her stop, and she looked towards a coffee shop wistfully. A cappuccino would be fantastic right about now. If it weren't for the whole wallet issue, she'd be all over it. Brandy reminded herself forcefully that this situation was still better than eating humans, and she was lucky. She started walking again. Sure didn't feel like luck.

[Brandy Johnson]

Just as Brandy started to walk again, some commotion from the coffee shop caught her eye. There was a man choking. She stared for a second—there were several other people doing the same—and wondered if someone else was going to help him. She damn well wasn't...wait, why was he pointing this way? She glanced around, but couldn't see anyone else of note. Okay, that was weird. She didn't recognize him, and that was a hell of a way to pick up girls. Maybe he'd decided waiting for help wasn't good enough. Oh, good. He was coughing now. Coughing meant he could breathe. He was fine, and she could keep going, and that sounded suspiciously like her name.

Brandy waited for a gap in the traffic and ducked across the street, looking the man over. No, she definitely did not recognize him. He was still looking at her, though, so it couldn't just be a coincidence. He knew her name, and she had no clue who he was. Great. “Can I help you?” she asked coolly, still trying to figure out why he knew her name. Maybe he was in one of her classes, or he'd been in her store a few times. Oh god, she didn't have a stalker, did she? That would get really awkward.

[Brandy Johnson]

Brandy wasn’t entirely sure why she asked if she could help him. She didn’t help people. Well, not usually. Not idiots that managed to choke on breakfast. Maybe it was just the polite thing to say. Not that she ever held much stock in being polite; for the most part it was unnecessary. Maybe she’d worked in retail for too long, and the phrase had become second nature. Ugh, that would be terrible. One of these days, someone might actually think she cared. She’d have to watch what she said. Be more of a bitch. Hmm, that drunk last night had called her one. She hadn’t lost her touch entirely.

Of course, almost as soon as the man spoke up again, she began to regret that train of thought. He found her wallet?! She could have hugged him…if she ever hugged anyone. Still, the corners of her mouth twitched upward. “Really? That’s…thanks.” She replied awkwardly, not quite sure what the correct response—other than hugging him—was. It was a pretty amazing coincidence. For a minute she wondered how he’d found the items, considering she’d left them in the sewers, but that thought was brushed aside. It didn’t matter. She had a chance to get home without bumming a ride. She picked up her wallet and phone and returned them to her pockets. Her can of pepper spray was nowhere to be seen, but that was by far the least important item she had. It wasn’t really an issue. Wait, was she actually smiling now? Weird.

His offer caught her by surprise. Was he hitting on her? No. He couldn’t be. She was wearing sewer-clothing, probably looked like hell, and he was just…being nice. Yes. Some people did that. He did have a worryingly nice smile, but she could avoid that. A cup of coffee was really appealing right now, anyway. She’d had a rough night. After a second’s hesitation she nodded. “That would be nice. You need a new sandwich? I’m buying.” It was the polite thing to do. He found her stuff.

[Brandy Johnson]

There was something awkward about this situation—besides the fact that Brandy was wearing homeless-clothes—but she couldn’t quite pin it down .There was something strange about the man. Wait. No. She knew what it was. He smelled weird. There was something off about his reply, too, but she wasn’t quite sure what. Her creep alarms weren’t going off yet, though. Maybe he was just a little…mental. That was probably it. He was nice enough, though, and he had found her wallet. She could put up with him for a few minutes. Hell, she was happy enough to play nice, even.

She hadn’t really noticed that the man hadn’t introduced himself until he gave his name. Huh, Ras. That was different. And…was he bowing? Maybe he wasn’t from around here. “I’m Brandy,” she replied back automatically, before remembering that he already knew that. Oh well. “But…I think you figured that part out. I’ll go get some coffee. You look like you could use one, too.” It didn’t matter that he’d declined a sandwich already; he was getting another latte whether he wanted it or not. Brandy turned and disappeared into the coffee shop, mostly to avoid further embarrassment. She’d figure out a better reply by the time she got back outside.

She doubted he’d say no to a second cup of coffee. Vanilla latte, double or triple shot, with whole milk. She’d spent a year and a half as a barista, she had a good memory for color, and she was really good at picking out scents. There was a pretty good possibility he’d wonder how she managed to tell what he was drinking. She’d say it was luck. Well, mostly luck, and some magical barista skills. He’d probably leave it at that. If not, well, she’d disappear before he got suspicious. Oh hell, he knew her name. He could manage to track down where she lived. That would be…bad. Very bad. She decided she’d deal with the situation if it came up, though, and just ordered the coffees. Double shot vanilla latte for Ras, plain coffee for her. Large amounts of it. She’d had a really rough night.

[Brandy Johnson]

Brandy looked around the coffee shop as she waited, more out of boredom than anything. Cute little place. Homey. If the circumstances were any different, she'd be inclined to stick around and enjoy it. As it was, however, she felt like it was best to sit and talk with Ras for a few minutes, thank him again, and then get back to Glasgow. Oh, and finish her cup of coffee. That would help tremendously, she was sure. She had a growing feeling that getting out of Cardiff was a good idea, though. Maybe it was the fact that there were monsters in the sewers. Or that strange drunk last night. Either way, she figured it was safer to get back somewhere sane. Before last night caught up with her.

Their drinks arrived after a minute, and Brandy paid before returning outside with them. She placed Ras's latte by him, and took a seat on the other side of the table. She took a sip of her coffee, and looked down at the cup apprivingly. Hmm, it was good. She was pretty sure they were roasting their own beans. She watched Ras over the top of her cup, wondering what he was thinking. “Pretty sure that's what you had. Vanilla latte. Don't know how much sugar you wanted,” she added, not really sure what else to say. Maybe she should ask him about how he found her things. She had left them in the sewer. It was kind of strange. The fact that he found her today, too? It was one hell of a coincidence. Maybe she should be more suspicious than she was.