RP Remnant of Form

Aurora was right, she had certainly found the Warrior, and he looked every bit as intimidating in person as he had in the Dream. Elizabeth still hadn't taken a seat, mind, instead finding it more comfortable to stay on her feet, regardless of how minor that comfort was. She was fiddling with her phone, swapping it from hand to hand as, she assumed, everyone thought through what they'd just seen, what had just happened.

Her eyes had been locked pretty firmly on the table the entire time, right up until a new voice rang out, one that seemed a lot more- calm? relaxed? than she expected. As everyone fell silent, her eyes pulled upwards to find a sleeping man! Wonderful, things were still absolutely strange. It was all starting to get absurd, and if one of them hadn't just died, she might have laughed.

"Uhh." Wonderful start. Elizabeth's eyes looked the... sleeping man's form over, locking on to a nametag. "Mis- uh, mister Phil? I- I think one of us was... on that plane." Nervously, and somewhat confused, she pointed to the TV, which was still showing the report of the wreck just outside. "Are you the... one who called us here?"
 
Aidan took his seat silently, having pulled over a chair from an adjacent table to place against the side of the table that wasn't facing the booth. His gaze flickered to the other chumps that'd been gathered at a Chili's in the dead of night; titles like the Royal popped into his head for each of them, which was more inconvenient than anything else-- like fighting the whine of tinnitus in your ears while you were trying to concentrate. Okay. So, whatever this shit was, it was at least somewhat real. Still didn't explain how he'd been plucked from his cell in Texas to end up in an airport.

Questions for later, he guessed. No way in hell he was telling anyone about how he'd ended up in the airport; he couldn't trust any of these people enough as is. Besides, some fuckin' bum was showing up at their table to start babbling. Aidan glanced over to the man, and fished in his pocket for the envelope, pulling a twenty out of it and holding the bill out for the man to take. Best way to deal with homeless people and panhandlers was to just give them what they wanted, or tell them off-- and it was a lucky thing he was even feeling magnanimous to begin with. After a moment, he gave the bill a subtle twitch, trying to get the drunk's attention.

"Here." He said, flatly. "Now fuck off."
 
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“I don’t think he’s looking for money.” Aurora said, her voice a touch softer as it seemed the Warrior, she really did need his name titles got old fast, was more than agitated with the whole situation. Elizabeth, the poor dear really should have taken a seat, fumbled her way through a question to the sleeping man and to her credit it was a good question despite her nerves.

“How many of us should there have been?” Aurora asked, taking another sip of her drink to try to soothe the squirming nerves in her own stomach. It only slightly worked. “And are the ones who didn’t make it in time like the Sage?” It felt wrong to speak of the dead in vague dream titles, but there wasn’t much for that was there?
 
Robert's eyes remained fixed on Aidan as he pulled up the chair at their table. He didn't allow his eyes to widen, but with his attentive stare, he'd caught the news report that had been up on the television moments prior, about the very man sitting before them at the table. An escaped death row inmate. His fingers tightened on the glass in his hand, but he said nothing - did nothing - while he approached. Robert was tall, but the man before them was stout, and older, more grizzled. He was hardened. A convicted criminal. A killer.

This won't do wonders for Liz, he thought. He'd noticed her hand shaking as she texted someone.

His mind was running wild. Plan, strategy - already on high alert from what had happened earlier in the day, he was confronted with the much more immediate concern of what to do about the Warrior. Were they meant to be friends? How was he supposed to turn this to his advantage?

The restaurant had emptied, save for them...

...and Mr. Phil joined.

He let Aurora ask her question, while he kept his eye on the new arrival.

Schemer.
 
"Relax, mates, relax," Mr. Phil crooned, holding up both his hands. "You got a lotta questions. Let's see -"

He grinned, then held up his hand. He raised one finger.

"One, nah. I ain't the one that called ya. That'd be, er - tha big man upstairs." He pointed up with the finger, then raised another. "Two, yeah. There was supposed ta be more. Quite a few. Some of 'em might still be kickin', but, er -"

His head flopped to the other side as he shrugged.

"They didn' make it, they didn' make it. They got the callin', it's their choice whether or not they're gonna come. They lost fair an' square."

He held up his third finger.

"Third - thanks, mate."

He grabbed the bill, holding it up to the light.

"Yeah. That's - yeah. One sec -" He gave the bill a tug from each corner. "Stuff like this' got power. 'Nuff people believe in somethin', it gives it weight. Gravity."

His closed eyelid twitched as he looked to Aidan. It might've been an attempt at a wink. Lifting the bill above his head, he gave it another tug, and another. Both times, it stretched a little more, bleeding between his hands into the air like dye in water. Then, in a swoop, he smeared it down. The colors shivered, folded, then congealed into -

A door. A simple door. Plain wood with an old iron handle. Mr. Phil stepped around from behind it, rapping on it twice.

"There we go. See? Simple as."
 
Oh. The guy was here for them, apparently. Aidan didn't buy it until he watched the drunkard address the questions of the others at the table, hand falling slightly as he allowed his arm to rest on the back of the chair next to him. He would've been content to listen to Phil, had he not felt the distinct pressure of a stare boring into the side of his head.

He turned to look over, and found another set of eyes on him already. Magician. Aidan held the man's stare for an uncomfortable amount of time, trying to figure out if he knew the guy from somewhere. A blank stare-- barely a twinge of the brow, more confusion than anything else. Was he being mad-dogged, right now?

"Yeah?" Aidan asked, as non-threateningly as a man like him could muster. His tone was markedly neutral, offering that flat gaze as to not escalate things; he'd had a few decades in the can to mellow out. Still, though, there was that curiosity as to why he was getting a side-eye. Had the Magician been watching the TV? If he was gonna say something, well-- fuck it, he guessed. Not much he could do about that. If people had a problem with him being here, he'd cross that bridge when he got to it.

For now, though, he had bigger fish to fry. Phil took his money while he was busy looking at the Magician; the gaze broke, and he offered a glance back to the drunk, brow furrowing. Aidan wasn't keen on giving up twenty dollars like that, but he wasn't about to make a scene to get it back. Especially since Phil turned the bill into a door a few seconds later.

"Hm." He muttered, eyes flashing with a bit of muted surprise. He had just woken up in an airport halfway across the country, after all. Hard to shatter expectations once the bar for that had been cleared. "What's on the other side?"
 
“Wait, they lost? That’s—” The old woman had said something like that too hadn’t she? About this being a game but what the hell sort of game left an airplane crater on a tarmac? Did that mean everyone else on the plane was just unlucky? Perhaps they were all just ticking bombs moments away from taking a bunch of people down with them the moment they were late for whatever sort of esoteric meeting this was.

Then, before she could spiral much further, Phil turned a twenty into a door. Which, despite everything else, made Aurora place a hand on the table behind her for support. She simply stared at it for a very long pair of seconds before she hit the back of her left heel against her right calf. It did hurt, so perhaps this wasn’t a dream. Right. Aurora did the second most reasonable seeming thing and downed a sizable portion of her glass before she placed it down onto the table behind her. Maybe someone else needed something stiff right now, who was she to drink it all?

She took a step towards the door, giving her best effort at keeping her posture straight and keeping her knees from giving out. They didn’t, which was nice.

“Who is behind the door?” She asked, stopping dead right before she could reach the handle.
 
It was a good thing Elizabeth hadn't taken a seat. Really, it was a good thing they hadn't fully processed any of this, because if she had just finally finished puzzling out everything they'd seen up to this point, and then saw a man who was clearly still asleep take a twenty dollar bill and turn it into a door, she may have passed out. Frankly, she felt like she was pretty close to it already regardless. She took a step forwards and gripped the back of one of the chairs, glancing around to the rest of those gathered. So many titles, and yet none of them knew anything.

Aurora and the Warrior (she'd need to get introduced later) both asked the question of the day, hoping to learn where the door Mr. Phil had just created led to. Hoping to avoid too much redundancy, and wanting to at least try to feel a little more in control, she decided to go a different direction with her own question. "Who do you mean, the man upstairs? Like... like, God? I don't- uh, sorry. Just a lot to figure out." If this was how she found out she should've been paying a bit more attention on Sundays back home, she'd have to text mom an apology for all the mornings spent griping.
 
There was... a door.

There hadn't been a door before. Al wasn't paying much attention--the day so far had really knocked her about--but she was fairly certain that there wasn't a door in the middle of this Applebee's. God, especially not one like this, all wood and iron- plain and unassuming, were it not for the surrounding plastic gloss of the diner, and the odd position in the middle of the room, and the fact that it had just appeared out of thin fucking air.

She hadn't taken a drink, but she was starting to regret that.

"Big man upstairs..."

The one who was supposed to be on their side, right? Or, at least, had somewhat of an interest in keeping them alive- what, with them apparently being his, as opposed to... well, she didn't actually know what pieces that strange woman held. Pilots, maybe? Planes? The laws of physics? It was all getting a bit Final Destination- she had thought that last time, that it was all getting a bit Final Destination.

"Is he, uh- is he likely to tell us what the fuck is going on?"
 
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