Extracurriculars
After going to the library and looking up city ordinance to make sure he wasn't breaking any laws, Avery had gone to the park with his new crossbow and a bag full of empty soda cans. Just to be on the safe side, he ventured further into the park where he wouldn't be disturbed by late night joggers. The vampire set up the cans on a fallen log. This was bound to be a better idea than practicing in his apartment; Avery had patched up the holes in the paint as best as he could, but he didn't need to inflict any more damage than he already had.

He stepped back several feet and loaded a wooden bolt into the weapon. Squinting one eye, he aimed, fired...and watched as the arrow sailed off into the foliage.

"Oops."

Thank Christ he wore dark pants.

It wasn't the shortest route home, but when you'd downed as many spirits as Whistler had -- and considering his constitution (and the plethora of drinking contests he'd shared with Rhi and a few select others through out the years, many equalled a fuck of a lot more than a normal human constitution could handle -- common sense short-circuited his internal GPS. Besides it was a nice night in Chicago and as he'd agreed to make the city his base of operations for the coming future, a stroll off the beaten path, get the lay of the land, was always a good thing. Even if he'd lost his way three times already.

And at least he was in what he thought was a secluded area of the park when the call of nature reared its ugly mug and demanded attention. The maple tree was a good a place as any, and didn't seem to mind a bit of extra watering. Had he been more sober, Whistler might've heard the rustle through nearby brush and the (slowing) whizz of the wooden missile as it locked on and cut through his stream of... consciousness.

Another inch and he would've had an interesting, albeit painful piercing.

Whistler looked down at the arrow and cringed. A hunter in the woods, possibly a Slayer? Mistaking him for a vampire? He'd laugh if he wasn't busy pissing himself.

Thank Christ he wore dark pants.

Avery lowered the crossbow and ventured past the bush to retrieve the errant bolt. As he swatted leaves away from his face, he caught sight of the man standing there. "Oh, jeez, sorry." He averted his gaze, and slowly tip-toed past the other man to dislodge the arrow out of a pine tree a few feet away from them. "It didn't graze you or anything, did it?" The vampire turned around slowly, eyes dutifully staying northward.

"I honestly thought there would be no one in this area. I don't make it a habit of accidentally shooting strangers, especially when they're...yes." He trailed off and cleared his throat.

If he wasn't embarrassed enough... The hatted man swivelled leftward, ignoring his surroundings and the younger man until he righted himself. He took a moment to breathe, in through the nose, out through the mouth. The condensation reminding him of the chill in the air and that he hadn't dressed properly for it. "Yeah well," Whistler began, "most people aren't playin' William Tell at three in the mornin', are they?"

He turned back just to assure his surprise visitor that he wasn't injured but stopped short. Only one of them was releasing carbon dioxide into the atmosphere. He was a hunter alright; but not the kind the Agent expected.

"If I had known, I would have brought an apple," Avery replied wryly as he once again found himself looking away. He twirled the bolt idly in his fingers. "And you shouldn't be wandering through the park at this hour. You never know what will pop up." He winced, then, at the poor choice of words. "I mean, lurking. In the shadows. Yeah." He set the crossbow slowly on the ground to show he meant no harm.

He didn't want this strange man running off and calling the police on him. Not only did he not look old enough to be out past curfew, he was in a park after closing and shooting arrows into the trees all willy-nilly.

Short breaths through the nose could've masked the lack of 'visible' C02 from the twitchy stranger, Whistler had to admit. But there were two other problems inherent: one, not many people -- no matter how young and foolish -- would willingly disregard curfew. And two, there was the small matter that the boy didn't have a heartbeat.

Whistler quickly assessed the situation. Vampire. Bow and arrow. Teeth. A secluded park the Agent was unfamiliar with. No way was he gonna get to his Blackberry and text Rhi in time to save his ass. Not that his needed saving. Hells no. Whistler could hold his own against a Slayer; he'd even taught her a few moves in their first days together (though there were no beds around that the vampire could trip over to hit his head on a nightstand). He'd get by.

Wait a second. He... hadn't meant to hit Whistler with the arrowhead. That's what he said, right? And he kind of apologized. When was the last time a demon felt stupid for almost killing someone? Why was it... he just standing there fiddling with the wood and not attacking? Why wouldn't he try to get as far away from wood as possible? Like the original Green Lantern, wood was it's weakness.

This made no sense.

"You... you are a vampire, right?" the hatted man queried.

Avery froze for a second, not expecting the man to realize what he was. After the initial shock, he nodded slowly. "Well, yeah." He glanced down at the bolt in his fingers, then held it up. "Oh, about this. I'm teaching myself how to use a crossbow so I can fight this other vampire. My friend who said she'd help me is currently in the hospital, and I got impatient so I came out here to give it another whirl. It didn't turn out so well, as you can see." He spoke casually, as if there were plenty of benign vampires waltzing through city property.

"Wait. How'd you know?"

Seriously? Seriously? A... boy, preparing to fight another vamp to the death, teaching himself to use a weapon heretofore completely unknown to him, and because someone who was supposed to 'help' him with a new skill was in hospital? That had a hard time processing in Whistler's brain.

Certainly there was no love lost between creatures of the night. That was a White Hat's biggest weapon. Most people mistake wooden stakes and crosses to be the most effective, but if they'd considered the consequences should vampires form a union or something as seriously evil, they'd be a much bigger threat to the world.

If he could be taken seriously, that meant someone with the necessary skills trusted this kid. That screamed Slayer. Rhi would've said something, she wouldn't have held this back. So it meant another, one he wasn't aware was currently laid up somewhere, healing from some kind of attack. That Rhi might know of. Which would go a long way in filling in the blanks.

Speaking of. Whistler tried to push into the boy's brain to get information. The frustration showed across his face when he couldn't gain a foothold. Either he was a psychic before being turned or the Powers decided on the fly that they didn't want their Agent to know the possible outcomes. All he got was a name.

"Avery." Huh. "I'm Whistler. I know stuff."

The vampire slipped past the man and retrieved his bag, slipping the crossbow and arrow back into it. "I suppose this is where I ask you how you knew my name." Avery was silent for a moment before relenting. "Okay, you're going to have to give me something more than 'I know stuff' because that is only slightly creepier than the fact that you haven't...put that away yet." He hadn't heard of any Whistler, other than that painting that used to hang in his father's study back in New Jersey.

With a casual tuck and zip (there wasn't a chance in hell Whistler was going to project anything other than an 'I meant to do that' attitude) he struck the lad with a hard gaze. "Maybe you haven't, but I bet your friend has. Wouldn't surprise me if we travel the same circles.

"My point being," he continued, "I obviously know shit about you, so you have to ask yourself why I know it, and whether or not this was preplanned." When the Agent needed to, he could bluff better than Daniel Negraneau. "And if the answer to that is yes, then your personal flow chart should point to, can the guy in the fancy hat and bitchin' wardrobe offer me somethin' other than a quick dustin' by the closest Slayer?"

Assuming, of course, this is what the Powers had in mind.

Avery blinked a few times. "And I've been told </i>I</i> talk funny?" He straightened as he crossed his arms, the gesture looking about as intimidating as ...well, as a skinny teenage kid in the park alone after dark could. "My friend in the hospital is a Slayer, actually, and I know she wouldn't stake me. So, you know...watch out."

The vampire paused. "What do you mean by preplanned? Are you one of those guys I read about in the paper, who wait behind trees and jump out at the next unsuspecting person with your...your equipment hanging out? Because if so, mister, that's just not my scene."

Whistler butted his head against the tree. "You must've just been turned 'cuz seriously, you're so fuckin' naive," he chided. "I'm gatherin' that by acceptin' the nature of good an' evil, that there's more things dreamt of in your tiny little philosophical world due to the fact you died and came back... that there's gotta be more than just vampires in the world, yeah?"

"For your information, I've been a vampire for forty-eight years," he said, offended. "I just...haven't gotten out much before." Avery adjusted the strap of his bag. "I know that. I just have no clue what in the world you could be. Witch or demon?" He didn't dispute the 'naive' claim, but he was trying to make up for lost time by reading the texts in Thoth's Library.

"Besides, I'm pretty sure Faith would have warned me about you," he muttered.

A chuckle exhaled from the Agent's lips as his body slightly shuddered from the damp cold south of his personal equator. "Faith don't trust many people," he replied. "Now maybe if you'd been talkin' with someone with less of a shaky past, a Slayer who's been in the game maybe not as long as your favorite brunette with a penchant for big knives, you'd know who I was."

He fished out his Lucky Sevens and lit one up. The fire from his zippo gave his eyes an otherworldly spark. "And only half-demon. Do your homework, Avery."

Avery regarded Whistler, a faint smirk evident on his face. "I'll make a note of it, but so far most of my research has centered on why I don't have an appetite for human blood. Results, so far, are inconclusive." There was a bitter tinge to his voice. "I'd offer you a ride to...wherever it is you live, but you'd have to sit on a towel. It's leather interior."

It was kind of his fault that the man was in that state, anyway.

That information was something to follow up on, along with why Faith was helping him prepare for a fight. And why he thought a bow and arrow was appropriate. "You'd do better with bullets that shatter wood splinters on contact," the hatted man offered. "More bang for your buck. But considering your aim, maybe it's best to try and maim as few people as possible."

He took a long drag of the cigarette and let the puff of smoke trail in front of him. "And not that I don't appreciate the offer, but I have a thing about getting into cars with people who can tear my throat out with their incisors, even if they swear they've gone vegan."

Avery shrugged and glanced over at where his vintage Chevy was parked. "Suit yourself. But just so you know, I've had a Slayer, a witch and a Destroyer ride with me with no incident whatsoever." It was as close to a perfect driving record as he would ever get, since he didn't exactly have an official license. He was pretty sure his one from the '60s expired a long time ago.

The first, a Slayer, Whistler assumed was Faith. The Destroyer was Connor. That there was a witch in town was news to the Agent. And if they were ever going to work a containment spell on Lincoln Park's underground horde, they'd need at least one witch on board. "Well if you put it that way," he countered, "a towel doesn't sound so bad."

Avery broke into a grin, his youth becoming even more apparent from the gesture. "I keep one in my bag for emergencies. Always be prepared, that's one of my many motto's." He pointed to the red convertible. "That's my car." He led Whistler to the vehicle. "And if I give you a ride, I can add supernatural chauffeur to my ever-growing list of talents and uses." The vampire was considerably more cheerful now, though some would chalk that up to his questionable attention span.

I keep one in my bag for emergencies. Of course he does, Whistler thought. The more he learned of Avery, the more convinced he was that the vampire was a Boy Scout Leader before being turned. And since he was turned off blood, he probably led the troop in camping trips even after. Always be prepared... "So how do ya survive?" he asked nonchalantly. "I mean, vamps need blood to circulate through their systems to keep the brain alive and the muscles from atrophy and whatnot." He resisted a comment on the Chevy. It put his car to shame.

"Pigs blood. From the butcher," he explained, opening the passenger side door before circling the car and unlocking his own door. He dug the towel out of his messenger bag and tossed it over the hood to Whistler. "The one near my apartment, if I go Thursdays the blood is really fresh and the guy gives me a discount because I go in so often. Also, I'm the only person who buys the blood from him, I'm pretty sure. He doesn't ask questions, though." Avery slid into the driver's seat, keys in hand.

Alright, that made sense. Whistler wasn't sure why he thought Avery had fore sworn blood altogether in exchange for something like peanut butter. That reminded him that he needed a supermarket run for a few items. It'd have to wait until he was cleaned up. He climbed into the passenger seat after the vampire laid down the aforementioned blanket. Damn, if it handled the road like it felt just to sit in the vehicle, the car was indeed cherry.

"I'm about three blocks north and seven east." At least Whistler hoped he was. He was still a little fuzzy on directions. "If you see a church next to a cigar store and then a pawn shop with four floors of shoddy apartments on top, that's me."

He put the key in the ignition and nodded, the car starting up immediately as the engine hummed quietly. The radio came on, as he hadn't turned it off before parking. It was tuned to the oldies station, as per usual. "I know the city like the back of my hand. Almost forty-six years of wandering around at night." Avery pulled out of the spot and switched to drive. "Have you been in Chicago long, Whistler?" He turned up the radio as a Four Seasons song came on.

"Fairly new to the surroundings, lookin' for a permanent residence as the flea-bag monthly rental ain't exactly long-term," he answered, drumming his fingers along to the beat of 'Big Man in Town'. So the kid was local; could prove extremely useful if he was indeed a White or even a Grey Hat. "So you've met Connor, huh?" Good to know another ally was in town.

Avery nodded as they drove north along the park. "He just moved in with the girl that I'm seeing. They're roommates." It might sound like an odd setup to an outsider, the vampire realized. "I guess you can say we're friends. We have some things in common, and he doesn't seem to mind that I'm a vampire, so that's good." After a few moments, he made a right turn. "I think he finds me amusing, though."

"Clearly, seein' as he hasn't dusted ya." Female roommate. Could be the witch. Whistler pressed his luck. "Well I guess she's off limits then, haha. Wouldn't want him Destroyin' my property."

The vampire kept his eyes on the road. "It's not that she's off limits, per se. I mean, she can make her own choices. I would be upset, though, if someone were to try to get between us." He tried to keep the terseness out of his voice, he knew the man was only joking. Maybe. "Fran met Connor through a Craigslist ad. I met Connor because he thought I was about to eat someone. It's a tangled web we weave, truly," he said, only slightly sarcastically. It was just funny, how small the city could seem at times.

"Now, my other friend, the witch I mentioned...she's rooming with a Slayer, I think. A non-Faith one."

Witch rooming with a Slayer. Gods the world was funny when it wanted to be. "Don't worry, Avery, I'm one o' the good guys in pretty much all respects."

Avery pulled to a stop and pointed at the building. "Is that yours? You know, I know a nice multi-unit in Rogers Park, I could put a word in with the owner." He glanced over at Whistler. "Not like I'm asking you to come live in the same building as me or anything. I'd have bad flashbacks to Mary Tyler Moore." The vampire paused. "You'd be the Rhoda, just in case you were wondering."

"That's the one," Whistler remarked. It was possible he meant to get lost on the way home just to delay returning to the dilapidated building. "If there's a vacancy I'd grab it.

"And so's you know, Avery, I'm a better Lou Grant." The Agent chuckled. "At least you didn't mark me as Phyllis. She was gone after the first year. At least Rhoda got her own spin-off."