Somewhere else.

[jamie]

The second she raises her voice, Andrés knows he's in trouble.

Someone in this city once heard him announce, on the border of Normal Drunk and Grieving Widower Drunk, he would divorce himself from one of his testicles if it meant he would never be on the receiving end of a Witch's wrath ever again. Kiara must not have been the one he told this, or else he wouldn't have pissed her off to begin with.

This isn't really about her, or the cake, or Ned asking Margot if she's okay. Obviously she isn't okay. What happened here tonight would have traumatized someone of the Witch's or the Mad Scientist's experience and strength, but they have their ways of coping. What do the kids have?

A beat-to-shit Hermetic who is staring catatonic out at the world in a manner that betrays how much damage he's actually endured.

Andrés announces, "WHOA!" and holds up his black medical bag like a shield before literally throwing himself behind one of the couches to physically dodge whatever Kiara is unleashing onto the world. Though the effect catches hold of him and then fizzles, Ned is left on his own. No masculine solidarity tonight. The senior Verbena stomps outside, the littler one scavenges for baked goods, and the Etherite prepares one last syringe (well, okay, two, like Ned it takes a second stab to get the kinks out.

Oh Christ. Now Margot is joining in.

"You are WAY too young to be giving me that Look, Miss Thing."

It must not have dawned on him that Kiara has completely existed the building, because a few beats of silence to peel open the blond's left eye, then the right, popping a burst of penlight into both of them, has concern settling on him. He's already unsettled by the atmosphere. When he calls out Kiara's name, it's at a volume that suggests he thinks she's just in the other room. Then she doesn't answer.

"... KIARA?" Oh shit don't leave me with this little asshole he's not coming out of this. "... FUCK. No no no, Margot, don't go, I'm--" He clears his throat. Was that almost an apology? "... I need you to keep an eye on Pretty Boy, okay, please don't hide in your room."

He never says please. And he leaves his bag on the floor, indicating he has no intention of driving back to the city, before springing to his feet and trotting after the only other adult in the area.

---

Denver @ 8:36AM
Hey I just met Doc, and this is crazy, but here's my number, so call me Dedicated Dicing Den!

Doc @ 8:39AM
[perc + aware: he pissed off a Witch, does he even see this coming?]
Roll: 5 d10 TN6 (4, 7, 8, 8, 10) ( success x 4 )

Doc @ 8:42AM
[arete 3: WHOA SHIT DODGE IT DODGE IT. (countermagick rules per p. 545, you're on your own, Ned.)]
Roll: 3 d10 TN7 (4, 5, 10) ( success x 2 ) [WP]

Doc @ 8:48AM
WHILE WE'RE ROLLING DICE:

[life 3: beat-to-shit is not a good look for you, william. blah blah modifiers blah.]
Roll: 3 d10 TN6 (3, 8, 8) ( success x 2 )

Doc @ 8:48AM
[extending.]
Roll: 3 d10 TN7 (2, 9, 10) ( success x 2 )

Doc @ 8:48AM
[mind 1: what's your problem? stupid fucking opposing resonance...]
Roll: 3 d10 TN6 (1, 5, 6) ( success x 1 )

Doc @ 8:50AM
[extending. incendiaré esta puta casa, que juro sobre la tumba de mi madre...]
Roll: 3 d10 TN7 (1, 3, 8) ( success x 1 )

Denver @ 8:55AM
~♥~ Welcome to Dedicated Dicing Den, I love What did you do?. ~♥~

What did you do? @ 8:55AM
Read my Name!