Castiel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
godsspeed) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
heartfesterthroes2019-06-13 01:02 am
godsspeed) wrote in heartfesterthroes2019-06-13 01:02 am
Statement of James Novak
"Hello? Is anybody there?" A man in his late thirties peers in through the door, looking disheveled and sleepless. He has an American accent, and is wearing a rumpled tan overcoat over a suit. His tie is on backwards, but he doesn't seem to have noticed.
When Jimmy told the first person he came across that he'd woken up in an alleyway (true) and that he didn't know how he'd gotten here (not true, but he didn't feel up to trying to explain angelic possession to someone who clearly already thought he was a drug addict), they'd shrugged and pointed him here. At the Magnus Institute.
Half jokingly, disdainfully, with the sort of tone that really suggested they didn't believe a word he was saying and that they didn't have much respect for the place, but it's the best he's got right now. The building certainly looks important enough, but maybe that's just how most old buildings in London look to his American eyes. Best case scenario, they're some sort of hunter's organization or something, and can help him get back home. Worst case... he doesn't know. They kill him, probably. Maybe worse.
Still, whatever these people could hypothetically do to him can't be much worse than the timeless void of existing in tandem with an angel. He'll take his chances.
What he's assuming is the secretary's desk was empty, though, and after waiting for as long as he could stand it he'd wandered further into the building, looking for any signs of life and knocking on doors as he passed them.
"Hello? I was told you could help me?"
When Jimmy told the first person he came across that he'd woken up in an alleyway (true) and that he didn't know how he'd gotten here (not true, but he didn't feel up to trying to explain angelic possession to someone who clearly already thought he was a drug addict), they'd shrugged and pointed him here. At the Magnus Institute.
Half jokingly, disdainfully, with the sort of tone that really suggested they didn't believe a word he was saying and that they didn't have much respect for the place, but it's the best he's got right now. The building certainly looks important enough, but maybe that's just how most old buildings in London look to his American eyes. Best case scenario, they're some sort of hunter's organization or something, and can help him get back home. Worst case... he doesn't know. They kill him, probably. Maybe worse.
Still, whatever these people could hypothetically do to him can't be much worse than the timeless void of existing in tandem with an angel. He'll take his chances.
What he's assuming is the secretary's desk was empty, though, and after waiting for as long as he could stand it he'd wandered further into the building, looking for any signs of life and knocking on doors as he passed them.
"Hello? I was told you could help me?"