[OPEN] No such thing as simple.

[devan engelica davenport]

"Really?" Her attention had been caught. "Ah, that's cool. I don't have a degree or anything, but I'd gladly help with guitar and vocal lessons after school or whenever you need."

She got along easily enough with others, and it was something to do besides direct the spirits like a traffic jam constantly. She supposed she should pay Deacon a visit and see how his boyfriend was doing.

"Wouldn't expect a pirate to teach at a school," She teased under her breath, knowing they were in public and she needed to keep hush hush.

[thatcher owen finley]

"Nah. I just need someone to rearrange the desks every day, make my copies. Some of the kids have afternoon lessons, the ones who don't play 'band' instruments. Like the guitarists and drummers and stuff. You could help with them." He took a sip of his coke. He wasn't used to talking so much. It felt strange, made him feel like he was normal or something. And normal scared him.

"Guess not. I only started so I could take care of Deacon when his dad died." He hadn't known the boy from Adam, but he couldn't just let him die out there alone. His eyes kind of drew Thatcher in. That boy remained to this day the only person Thatcher had ever cared about. Besides his dads. "Life's been cruel to him. Someone to talented and handsome, trapped inside his head like that." He shook his head. It seemed like a shame to him. The boy deserved admirers as far as Thatcher was concerned. He didn't have a horrid bone in his body. Aside from Death. He did have a horrible temper though.

[devan engelica davenport]

"Not a problem at all, I can get your name and get myself a pass. I'm pretty much free whenever. Unless I get called on the job unexpectedly." She shrugged, watching each of his movements.

The familiar name caused a smile to draw up a corner of her lips. "You know Deacon, huh?" While they had let her age over the years, she was not allowed to continue past a point, but had a choice quite when to stop. Age was a funny thing, really. Especially when you were immortal, when you didn't have a human bone in your body. When you had been created to give angels wings and drag souls to Hell..

She played with a ring on her finger, taking another thoughtful sip from the glass. "Huh, small world. I'm dreading having to drag his poor boy's soul to Hell." She frowned.

[thatcher owen finley]

"Yeah.. When his dad died I kinda took him in.." He shrugged again, taking another sip of his drink. He looked down into the drink. He knew all too well how much that baby of his and his boyfriend meant. Deacon had texted him the other day, told him he was going to marry the boy. He was happy for him, glad he had someone he could touch, someone he could love. Something was different about Deacon because of the boy, though. Like he was all too aware of his quickly time passed, how short human life really was.

"He loves him. Him and that baby of his." He stirred his drink around with his straw, realizing his ice was melting. He hated a watered down coke, and pushed it away, folding his hands together on the counter. "I wish there was something I could do, you know? Like I could give my life for the boy's. Things aren't that easy though. But I would. In a heart beat." He looked down at his hands. He didn't know how Deacon would keep living without the boy.

[devan engelica davenport]

"Yeah," She agreed. "Pretty damn messed up. Guess we do what we can and hope for the best.." She wondered if Deacon would be able to face it when the time came, or if she would have to do all the work herself. The thought saddened her. She didn't want to take away anything that Deacon loved so dearly.

Fishing paper and pen out, she jotted down her name and number and slid it his way. It was getting late, and if Trez was working much longer, she would just need to ask him for his keys so she could go and get some sleep. "I don't have a home phone, so you can always reach me there. And if not, Trez here is your guy." She nodded at the bartender. "Guess he has a habit of sheltering homeless puppies." The words were gentle, but hey. She didn't have anywhere else to go, and in her time staying with him, he had a few familiar faces crash at his place on more than one occasion, mainly the troubled teens around the area. He was a really goid guy.

[thatcher owen finley]

Thatcher took it and put it in his pocket without so much as a glance. He probably would forget it was there, find it the next day and wonder what it was and where it had come from. But that's just Thatcher. "I should be getting home.. My fish are probably hungry and I have papers to grade.." He said, sliding off the stool. He wasn't near as tipsy as he had been earlier, alcohol not lingering long in his system. 'Pirate genes', he thought. Then shook his head. 'No. Alcoholic tolerance. Lack of sleep.' He put his hands in his pockets, looking over at the girl again. His bright, beautiful blue eyes could lure almost anyone in, if only he would let them stay.

"You can crash at my place. I have an extra bed." He offered with a shrug. He didn't much care if she stayed.

[devan engelica davenport]

Devan hesitated. The familiar stranger had offered her so much already with a simply common interest. She shrugged. "If you don't mind." A soft yawn passed her lips and she covered it absently. She was respectful enough, but once you got to know her, she acted like a sibling more than anything. It was why she made easy friends but saw no relationships. Then again, being have angel and half demon wasn't something all that attractive.

Her daring ways made her fun. She was open and curious. She never, however, looked for more than friendship, didn't need a lover to be happy. If happy was what you could call it.

"I don't want to intrude on anything, so if it's too much, or I annoy you, you can just dump me somewhere. I'll wander back to Trez at some point."

Stretching, her back felt tight. She had been sitting far too long.

[thatcher owen finley]

"I wouldn't know what intrude means." He said, pulling his keys out of his pocket. It didn't matter if he had been drinking, alcohol never stayed in his blood long. He slowly walked out the bar, taking his time about the action. When he reached the door, he held it open for her, then slowly started his way to his car. He unlocked it from the remote on the keys, then slid in the driver's seat. He grabbed the baby doll out of the passenger's seat, a little gift he had gotten for Bandit. He put it gently in the back seat, as if it were a real child.

He started the car, figuring it was too late to go dropping it off. Deacon was probably in bed with his boyfriend. He couldn't help thinking the boy didn't seem like the type to go sleeping with the boy, especially after he had just proposed. He pulled out of the parking spot, and started his way home.

[devan engelica davenport]

Devan shrugged, waving bye to Trez and following him outside into the cool, quiet night. She fell silent, enjoying the feeling, breeze stirring her hair gently as she thanked him for holding the door.

Waiting until the doll had been moved, she wondered if he had kids, or if this might just be for Bandit, supposed she would find out.

Closing the door softly, she tugged on her seat belt absently. Didn't matter, it just felt normal though, human. Even if she wasn't. Stretching her legs out, she gazed out the window. "I never did catch your name."

[thatcher owen finley]

"Thatcher." He said flatly, focusing on the road. Not that there was much to focus on; no one was out and about. Which was strange for only about eleven at night. But Thatcher always gave whatever he was doing his full, undivided attention. No matter what it was. He was -as some people would put it- terrible company. He never spoke much. And if you did get him to speak a lot about something, you should probably feel accomplished. There are very little things he talks about in depth. Two of those being Deacon and Marcus.