[center][h1]Loom: Midtown Swait District[/h1]
[i]Day 2, Evening, 2254[/i]
Roanne, Ian, and Zadkiel[/center]

The white van slid smoothly through city streets like it was meant to, nearly anonymous but for the soft green logo on its side. A stylized tree shooting up from a seed, BTD lettered rising along its side, it was surprisingly and exactly what it looked like. It didn't have rocket jets or gimmicks, it didn't have an after-market engine or fancy tires--it was an outreach van, plain and simple, but it had pulled its weight time and time again. Steady and reliable, exactly how Jasper liked it as he sat in the passenger's seat and closed his eyes so as not to have to stare at the improbably long red light in front of them for yet another minute. It had been that way for more than two now, significantly higher than the city average, and if he had to admit it he was starting to--

Move. Thank God.

A few minutes later the van slid to a halt across Beacher K's Pawn, its thick white door sliding open to reveal Alba's massive figure in the doorway. He filled it almost completely, stepping out and rolling his neck a moment to uncrink it before steeping to the passenger's door and opening it. Rubra was already making her way around the front, her red hair worn in a tight, high pony-tail that cascaded down her back in a shock of color that was almost alarming considering the muted palates of her monochromatic companions. Certainly Jasper, as he stepped from the vehicle, was not nearly so stylish. White on white, wraithlike, he accepted Alba's massive hand with a murmur of gratitude and stepped down to the sidewalk properly, sliding his hands once more into his pockets.

Roanne seemed to be her usual cheerful self, making friends and insulting people. The angel was dedicated, which was admirable, but also had little patience for those that she didn't feel felt as deeply as she did. It could be...trying, though the young man she spoke with was doing a good job of not rising to the bait. He was certainly no miscellaneous bystander judging by his aura and instrument, certainly interested in Roanne despite Jasper having [i]specifically[/i] requested her not to draw attention to herself. He sighed, stifled a roll of his eyes, and let his face clear into a pleasant smile as he stepped forward towards the pair, Alba and Rubra falling silently in step behind him.

"Making friends, Roanne?" Jasper offered by way of introduction, making his way with slow, achy steps. For many people it was difficult to determine what to make of Jasper, his mild memory modifications constantly adjusting not perception but the memory of it. Though he wore nothing but white and his clothes were pristine, most people remembered (and 'saw') that he wore a brown suit and tie. Though he walked bare-foot on the cement and blacktop of the city most people remembered ('saw') him in loafers. And though the pair of massive white wings that stretched from his shoulder blades nearly touched the ground on either side of him, most people didn't remember those at all.

But musicians were not most people. If Ian's guard was up at all he would not be so easily fooled. The man was an angel--a barefoot, dressed-in-white angel--and Jasper doubted if he would see differently.

"I hope she hasn't been rude to you. She's in pain, as you can see, and not herself. Ian, you said your name was, do I have that right? It's a pleasure to meet you, Ian." He added, offering a thin hand and a weary smile. "My name is Doctor Jasper Dial. These are my associates, Mr. Alba and Ms. Rubra." The latter of them did not extend a hand, watching Ian from behind her glasses wordlessly. The former of them was already padding towards the unconscious gangsters, moving to check pulses and sling them over his huge shoulders to haul back to the van.

"Thank you for taking care of her. It's amazing how the lights in this city can completely ignore you, isn't it?" His conversation was pleasant and easy as he moved to kneel beside the guardian, doing his best to conceal a slight twinge in the process. He lay an easy hand on her shoulder.

"It's good to see you, though I wish the circumstances were better. Let's get you patched up."