[h2][url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4228033]Abigail Harlow[/url] and [url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4228510]Brooks Lockwood[/url][/h2]
[@Rhabdophobia]

Brooks squinted his eyes as the harsh afternoon sunlight stuttered through the tall pine trees surrounding the road leading seemingly nowhere. Lifting the hand that was previously hanging out the driver's seat window to slap down the sun visor, Brooks let out a low irritating guttural noise to clear his throat, accompanied by the scratching of his slowly thickening beard, Brooks wasn’t particularly thinking about anything specific. For him, this was nothing but another normal drive on a normal day at his normal job to lead a normal life. “Almost there.”

Abigail murmured something incoherent in response, pushing the side of her head off the window pillar whilst rubbing her eyes blearily. “Uh-huh?” she continued, already starting to tidy herself up. She checked out her appearance in the wing mirror, tucking loose strands of hair behind one ear. One hand reached out to grab the large book spread open on her lap. “I hope we didn’t forget to pack anything this time…” she mused, snapping the book shut and pushing it into her backpack. 

“They really need a grocers up there.” he’d nod in agreement, reminiscing about the countless times a toothbrush had been forgotten home. Abigail groaned in agreement, chuckling lightly.

“They love to boast about having a fuckin’...big library and research lab but god forbid you run out of tampons up there. Maybe we should ask-...” Abigail paused, frowning. “That’s the other thing about them, there’s no complaints department. Or manager. Or-...anything, really.” She looked over at Brooks searchingly.

“Hey, don’t look at me. I don’t stick my nose nowhere it don’t belong. I go for work, I do my work, I get my pay.” Brooks shot Abigail a glance as the pick-up truck finally turned its tenth swerve and onto a straight road, giving her a pursed-lip look while simultaneously lifting his fingers off the steering wheel and shrugging them along with his shoulders. 

“That doesn’t piss you off?” asked Abigail incredulously. “What if it’s all some big ploy and we’re being controlled by the government? We- you- might just be a pawn in some large-scale manipulation of the supernatural world, unable to-”

“Alright, Jerry Fletcher, put your notebook away.”

Abigail cocked her head to the side. “Showing your age there you old fart,” she retorted with a smirk. Her smile faltered. She looked out of the window. “So uh-...did you get any targets for this week?” she asked reluctantly.

A contemplative sigh followed by the sound of Brooks’ beard rustling under another instinctive and thoughtful scratch, “Nothin’ yet, nah.” As the truck nears a dirt path splitting off at a seemingly random location on the road, Brooks gazed briefly into his rearview mirror to ensure no incoming car would see the transition before doing so. Abigail was less subtle - she twisted around in the passenger seat and squinted out of the back window.

“Doesn’t look like anyone’s coming…” she rolled up her passenger window and tugged idly on the straps of her backpack.
“Mhrm, doesn’t even matter really.” was the last thing Brooks said before, around forty minutes later, the pickup truck found it’s destination at the entrance of the large, abandoned mansion that was the SCION headquarters. Abigail was the first to get out, shoving the door open with her shoulder and slinging her backpack onto her back in one fluid movement.

Brooks remained silent and waited as the pickup truck came to a halt before the S.C.I.O.N headquarters, still planted in his seat with the engine running. He’d silently watch her get out and make way towards the large front door of the seemingly abandoned mansion, at which he’d honk the horn to catch her attention: “You got shit in the back, carry it up.” Abigail jolted at the noise and wheeled around, thrusting two middle fingers into the air as she stomped back across the gravel to the pick-up truck.

“Fuck you too.” 

“-Language-.”

Abigail shot Brooks an accusatory glare as she passed the driver’s window. She stacked and grabbed the three cardboard boxes with a grunt and gingerly made her way back inside. Luckily, Abigail didn’t need to see where she was going - she knew the route to her room off by heart and she couldn’t hear anyone coming her way. Plus it was always easy to find Abigail’s room, even if you don’t know your way around the Headquarters; there were always odd lights dancing from underneath the door and a floral “KNOCK BEFORE ENTERING” sign seemed to be affixed onto the door at eye-level without the use of an adhesive. The door swung open as Abigail approached. She entered, remained in there for a few minutes, and then left again to wander the corridors.

...At which point, Abigail discovered Ash staring wistfully at a window. She cocked her head to the side with curiosity before jovially approaching the vampire and flashing one of her signature smirks. “Y’know, if you want to go outside it’s as easy as putting on a coat and a hat...think I got a pair of sunglasses lying around in my room too, somewhere.” Her face scrunched up in concentration as she tried, in vain, to remember where she misplaced her shades. “I should probably look into making some sort of potion to get around that whole daylight thing, but I haven’t the foggiest where to start. Anyway, how’s things been around here?”

With the pickup truck stowed away, Brooks didn’t waste much time and made his way towards the kitchen. Still groggy from the drive, he aimed straight for the fridge with nothing but a grumpy grunt of acknowledgement towards anyone present. He rummaged through the shelves until he found a tupperware box with his name scrawled on with permanent marker. He slammed the box into the microwave, peeled the lid off, slammed the microwave door shut, jabbed at some numbers with his calloused fingers and pressed the start button.