seveninchmotto | Magnus Bane's Loft, New York, Tuesday Morning

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Magnus Bane's Loft, New York, Tuesday Morning

Isabelle woke up – for once – a little bit later than usual. Maybe it was down to exhaustion. The Angel knew the dark under her eyes had not gone anywhere over the last couple of weeks.

Still, now that she was up, she pushed herself upright without wasting any time laying down. She stretched her arms, then looked over at Flick.

[ooc: NFB, for that guy, CoLS]

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Flick was not as quick to wake up. He was on his side, facing her, breathing deeply and looking totally masculine and secure under the blanket with the heart pattern.

It was warm, at least.

It was the only way to look in this apartment, really.

Isabelle reached out to lightly brush her fingertips against his cheek.

Flick moved a bit, shifting and stretching slightly before trying to roll closer to her and press himself against her skin.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Isabelle murmured, in a gentle effort to coax him out into the land of the awake. Her fingers moved over his cheek and to his neck.

"Where am I?" he mumbled having not gotten past that sleepy confusion that sometimes tended to happen. "What time is it?"

"You're in a guest room which belongs to the High Warlock of Brooklyn," she told him softly. "It's Tuesday morning."

"Right," he sighed, rolling onto his back and rubbing his eyes. "I remember now."

He blinked and then frowned at her.

"You look so tired," he murmured, already concerned. "And you're losing weight. Come back to sleep."

"Did it take you this long to notice?" she asked, teasing, although the humor in it was very faint. She leaned over and pressed a kiss on his forehead. "I'm okay."

Okay enough, maybe.

"We haven't had much time alone lately," he said, sighing. "You need a break. You need to sleep and eat, Isabelle."

"You're one to talk." How much had he been keeping down lately, exactly? She pressed another kiss against his lips. "Pot and kettle."

"I'm fine," he mumbled against her lips, trying to catch her arm and bring her closer for another kiss. "Nothing wrong with me."

Isabelle complied with his attempt. She could stay close for a while. It wasn't like she didn't miss this.

"That's not what Joi said."

Flick laughed against her lips since she'd called his bluff. "What did she say?"

"That you were in a lot of pain, and throwing up a lot."

She didn't laugh.

"But I'm fine now." Sort of. Maybe he was trying to convince himself he was fine. "I just had a bad day."

"Uh huh."

She might not have entirely believed him. But she kissed him again all the same.

"I love you," he murmured, reaching up and pushing some of her hair back behind her ear. "Keep kissing me."

"I can do that."

She went to do just that – but at that exact moment the apartment door buzzer sounded. A second later, someone knocked on the bedroom door — banged on it, really, making it shake on its hinges. "Isabelle. Flick." It was Magnus. "Look, I don't care if you're asleep or doing unspeakable things to each other. Get dressed and come out to the living room. Now."

Isabelle raised first her eyebrows, then her voice. "What's going on?"

"Just get out here," Magnus said, and the sound of his retreating feet was loud as he stalked away from their room.

Isabelle sighed as she moved away from Flick.

"Unfair," Flick groaned, letting her move away before he started to climb off the bed. "Guess I'm wearing the same clothes as yesterday."

At least they didn't stink. Yet.

"No one will care." They all looked terrible, anyway. Isabelle got off the bed and seemed to be halfway to the door almost immediately.

She wanted to know what was so urgent.

Flick was a little slower to move but he was behind her soon enough and padding barefoot into the living room to see what was up.

They padded into the living room to find a surprising tableau. The circle and the pentagram in the center of the floor were shining with a bright silver light, like mercury. Smoke rose from the center of it, a tall black-red column, tipped with white. The whole room smelled of burning. Magnus and Alec stood outside the circle, and with them Jordan and Maia, who — given the coats and hats they were wearing — looked as if they had just arrived. Again

"What's going on?" Isabelle asked, stretching her long limbs with a yawn. "Why is everyone watching the Pentagram Channel?"

"Just hang on a second," Alec said grimly. "You'll see."

Isabelle shrugged and added her gaze to the others'. As everyone watched, the white smoke began to swirl, fast and then faster, a mini-tornado that tore across the center of the pentagram, leaving words behind it spelled out in scorch marks: HAVE YOU MADE YOUR DECISION YET?

"Is that from Azazel?" Flick guessed, tilting his head. "Impatient bastard, isn't he?"

The fiery letters rearranged themselves. I HAVE PLENTY OF TIME.

Jordan cocked his head to the side. "It can hear us?"

Flick shook his head. "Of course he can. Impatient, pushy bastard, then."

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