Starring:
Summary: Dajan takes Matt to see the Hyperion's special features… and Oz.
Date It Happened: February 5, 2002
Where The Local Dungeons Are
Hyperion Hotel
Dajan is completely free this week; it's the week of the new moon, and she doesn't set foot in Celestina's place at all during this week. So instead, she went shopping. Unlike the average Angelina girl, she is not all about the mall. She's a boy-type-shopper. In and out. Which means she returns with a couple pair of jeans and a couple pair boxers, a pair of sweats and a pair of Speed Racer pajama pants, and five T-shirts, so Matt has something else to wear, because the clothes he has are — well, Manky. Which means they got taken to the laundry. In a disposable bag.
She also stopped at the supermarket, there to get a bunch of red meat, because, well. Guest is a werewolf. It's just common sense. Well. Uncommon.
"Hey thanks…" Matt grunts out as he fastens his belt together, having just put on a set of the new clothing and steps into the room as he prepares to leave. "I really appreciate it. But, really, this is going way above and beyond the call of duty. Hell, the futon was going way above and the call of duty." Not that he's been too proud to take the help, even for one second. Now that he's cleaned up in clothing as well as soap and water, he doesn't hardly even look like the street pup he is. He could pass for any old ordinary high school football senior. Well, if it weren't for the scar on his arm from the wolf bite that is, visible now that he's wearing a T-Shirt instead of his many layers of rags. Even completely cleaned up, showered, and changed into new cloths? That odd little blood cologne of his still clings on strong. "This look alright?"
"You look fine," Dajan assures him, as she leads him back down to her own car. It's a used Camaro, a few years old, but well loved. "Figured you'd wanna make a good impression. I found someplace safe for you to sit out the full moon nights. And if you really feel like paying me back, you can when you get a job. But Celestina pays me well enough that this isn't a hardship. Promise."
"It isn't a kennel is it?" Matt asks, a little skeptically as he climbs into the passenger seat. "'Cause I'm pretty sure I've had all my shots, but really, I'd rather not get fixed." While he flashes a good old friendly Montana smile for the crack, the waver in his voice betrays his frayed nerves on the subject.
- * *
"It's not a Kennel," Dajan assures Matthew. "C'mon. You don't trust me to do right by you yet?" She is the good cop to the bad cop. "If I read you right, you don't really wanna hurt anybody when Ol' Mac Tonight rears his head, so I've taken you to the safest place in the city for supernaturals who don't mean anybody any harm." She pulls into a spot, drops a few quarters in the meter, and leads Matt to the front doors of the Hyperion Hotel. "Angel Investigations, here at the Hyperion Hotel." She extends an arm like Vanna White.
"Its not that I don't trust 'ya." Matt explains, as he stays a pace behind Dajan, hesitation in each step he takes. "Its just, last place I thought would be a good place to lock up… well… ended up knocking the door of its hinges." One word in her sentence at the end stalls his steps quick, though. A name he doesn't currently reserve next to puppies and sunshine. "What Investigations?" He's waiting for her to go in first… he isn't about to knock on that door by himself now.
Dajan reaches back and catches Matt's elbow. "It's okay. I know he made a bad first impression, but the rest of his crew are really cool people. And one of them is someone you should probably talk to. Toute de suite, even." With that, she opens the door and walks in. "Hello, the hotel! Who-all's in? Muscles? 'Delia?"
"His first impression was fine." Matt counters as he scoots in, still with more than a few inches of trepidation. "It was that second one, the one with the fangs and that 'you look good enough to eat' glare of his that kinda threw me." He follows Dajan's lead, asking quietly: "H-hello?"
One of the coolest of the cool, of course, is currently in the back, carefully perusing the books. Oz straightens up from peering at the spines when he hears someone out in the main area calling for help. There's a pause and a thoughtful frown as he waits to see if anyone else is around to get it. He's not exactly on staff here, after all. But with a shrug, he decides to give his fruitless searching a break and venture out to see what's going on.
Dajan leans against the front desk, calmly. "Relax, Matthew, okay?" she says, coaxingly. "I wouldn't take you someplace I thought you were gonna get hurt. You seem to have been through a good bit already, and that's not what I'm about. Lifelong promise, lifelong mission, to help people, that's my deal."
Relax? People keep tellin' him that! Still hasn't worked once yet. Cleaned up considerably since he was a few days ago with a new set of clothes and a shower, Matt isn't the coolest of the cool, but at least now he isn't the bummiest of the bum. Matt steps forward a bit on his own at last, venturing to pace a bit and get a decent look at the place. "You really stick to that, huh?" He asks Dajan as he does. "I can't even keep my new year's resolution to switch to diet soda." Its these sweeping glances that eventually have his eyes land on Oz. "Uhm, hi. You don't exactly look like a 'Delia, so you must be muscles?"
Oz takes this all well in stride, of course, just glancing down at his upper arm as if considering if he could possibly be muscles. Not that he doesn't have some, but he certainly wouldn't think to call himself that, anyway. "Just going by Oz these days," he offers instead, neither confirming nor denying. Dajan gets a little nod in greeting and recognition as he continues to move himself properly out of the back.
Dajan turns around as Matt greets Oz, and turns around. She lights a bright smile for the young man as he arrives. "Hey, Oz. I didn't know your band was named Dingo Ate My Baby. You should've seen how confused 'Delia was." She straightens up, and makes introductions. "This's Matthew."
"Am I gonna have to keep denying' this baby eating bit to everyone in L.A.?" Matt asks as he turns back around to look Dajan in the eyes, only half joking. But it doesn't last long, and he turns back 'round to extend a hand to Oz (the arm with the scared up bite marks on it) and at least tries to keep the friendly overshadowing the confused and desperate. "Nice 'ta meet'cha. And I'm really not meanin' to cramp on your bands style here, not on purpose anyway."
"I … don't usually open with that," Oz offers by way of explanation, why he didn't just tell Dajan the name of his high school band. Of course, he acts as if it makes perfect sense this has somehow confused Cordelia. "She dated our lead singer for awhile. Thought she at least knew the name of the band." It's a joke, but like all his jokes, it can be hard to discern from his regular voice. He reaches out without hesitation to accept Matthew's hand, his shake firm but friendly. The bite marks are probably noticed, but he rolls with it as well. "Not … real clear on how you're cramping our style, but it's cool. Going solo these days. For the chicks, you know." He gives a sage nod with that.
"Aw, I didn't mean you, Matt." Dajan shrugs apologetically, and then realizes she was being question-ducky again. "And yes. I do stick to that. That last wish is all I have left to remember my mother by, so I try to do honest by it." Dajan resumes her boneless lean against the front desk, and explains, "The reason I was saying Dingo Ate My Baby was the other guy. The one who snatched the baby the other night. The night we met?" She shrugs, and glances to Oz. "He was …y'know. Australian. The Big Nasty, I mean…. 'Delia told you about that, didn't she?" This might start being confusing all over again otherwise.
Matt didn't exactly turn in his teenage boy membership card the day he joined team scratch and sniff, and so, while still not entirely sure about why, any phrase that ends in 'For the chicks, you know' must be met with a silent 'Oh', a quick exaggerated nod, sly grin, exactly two breaths of a chuckle, and the word "Yeah." He's still keepin' his cards relatively close to his chest for the moment, letting Dajan lead the way in the exact amount of supernatural that is appropriate to speak of. "Well, when you do hear about it," he explains to add to Dajan's point. "No matter what anyone says, I wanted pancakes, swear to god. Just pancakes."
Oz was kidding about the chicks, of course, but he just gives a slight grin to Matt's reaction. But he grows serious more quickly as Dajan starts talking shop. His eyebrows lift and he looks thoughtful for a moment. "I … haven't actually seen Cordelia in a few days," he says, not in a way that should imply worry, but by way of answering her question: no, he hasn't heard. But he looks suddenly very interested in this rather confusing conversation.
"Okay. Here's the lowdown." Dajan takes a deep breath, elbows herself up to sit six inches above the desktop, and launches into an explanation. "There's an Aussie werewolf ragman dude out there snatching babies and trying to turn guys who just want pancakes" — a gesture at Matthew, here — "… into horrible mangy maneaters, when they'd rather not. I thought I'd come here to see if you guys knew a good place for a guy with a lunar cycle issue to kinda wait out the rough spots. 'Delia said, one, the basement" Dajan counts on her fingers. "And two, Oz is the go-to guy. So. Here we are. My boss has hair and saliva off Matt in the hopes of it leading to Mr. Nasty who I was calling Dingo-Ate-My-Baby because he was Australian, but I'm now just calling him Mr. Nasty because it's less confusing. I hope."
The sheer bluntness that that came out manages to get Matt's jaw to hang wide open in surprise as Dajan relates the tale. The fact that she's doin' the Sabrina thing when he looks over to her doesn't hurt either. He goldfishes a bit before he simply shakes his head, turns back to Oz just to add. "Well, uhm, yeah, that's 'bout the gist of it."
"Let's table the confusing question," Oz suggests, since he's pretty sure it's still pretty confusing, but that's not really the important part right now. Still, despite the long and winding tale, all the reaction it gets is a slight lift of his eyebrows. "Rogue werewolf guy. Yeah, I … ran into him," he states simply, though with enough meaning there to suggest it wasn't just a casual run-in at the Moon Pie or something. He glances over at Matt now, giving an understanding nod. "Basement is probably your best bet. There's a pack I know of, but your, uh, Nasty Dingo guy," He shoots a sidelong look at Dajan here, "Has been giving them trouble too."
Dajan looks between Matt and Oz, as Oz calmly takes the whole ramble in, and replies as if he understood it. "So, Mr. Nasty is trying to — what? Were-out all of LA? He bit that mom and her baby, I'm told. Which means somebody may need to help them through their lunar cycle issues too." She pinches the bridge of her nose. Baby werewolves. Werecubs? Werepuppies? She tries not to ponder such an idea too closely. "So — now I've got you guys to meet each other. Either one of you know where to find the mom and the baby in the two weeks we got before the moon becomes a rather urgent issue?"
"When we found the kid" Matthew explains to answer the best he knows how, "I let that Angel guy take care of 'em." The word 'let' being given out with about three extra helpings of sarcasm. "That other wolf guy did somethin' weird to their eyes, like… took 'em away, only… not." So descriptive. "So he's probably the one to ask about that." The mention of Jack's further misdeads manages to take a lot of the humor out of the pup, and he's delivering the next few lines. "'Fraid I didn't make much of an impression with Mr. Nasty, not sure if he wants me skinned a live, or helping him reduce the population, but either way I'm no keen on seein' him again."
"If it's the same mom and baby, I gave the mother Angel's card. She'll call." Oz is pretty certain of that, considering he has a darn good idea what she'll be going through the next lunar cycle. He doesn't explain how he was in a position to give them the calling card, but it perhaps has something to do with his own run-in with Jack. "I don't know what he wants. I thought he was just trying to stir up trouble for the pack, but it sounds like it goes deeper than that." He glances to Matthew then, nodding. "Use the basement here. If there's anywhere you'd be safer, it's … probably in another city. Outside of Southern California."
Dajan hops down off the …air above the desk. "Great. Sounds like you two have a lot to talk about. Most of which is gonna be over my head. I'm gonna head home. Matt, you feel like you wanna crash at my place again, just come on by. No worries about a scrunchie on the doorknob." She casts her eyes skyward with wry amusement at the line. "Oz, always a pleasure. Tell Angel …sorry I missed him." Dajan can do sarcasm too, it appears. With that, she raises a hand to bid both guys goodbye, and turns to head for the door.
Matt's mouth begins to goldfish again as Dajan starts to leave him here, and he has to force it into a friendly grin with quite a bit of willpower. "Thanks Dajan, you're a life saver." Is his farewell. Once she's out of sight, his entire posture changes as if an entire mask is taken wearily off. What is left behind is something much more serious, and much more grim. "Sorry to drop in on ya like this. I'm still kinda new to this flees, blood, and violence bit. She's… something else."
Oz's eyebrows lift a bit as Dajan makes her speedy departure, and he just nods at her instructions on what to tell Angel. He pauses for just a beat before looking back at Matt again, offering a wry smile of understanding. "Trust me, I know exactly where you're coming from," he replies with a sage nod, though it's maybe not quite clear whether he means the werewolf stuff or the idea of being caught up in it with someone who's 'something else'. "You'll get used to it. I mean, I'm expecting to any day now," he notes wryly.
