Ugh- Too many things to remember. There were just too many things to remember. Bad things, all of them, naturally. Memories that come when you weren't searching for them are often unpleasant, and Parker was no exception. Andrei was out of her life, and good ridence. Since they'd been together her shoe had broken, her purse had been mugged, her office set on fire, and not to mention the money and a few devestating blows to her ego.

Well, she was done with that.

She was back, and with her usual vibrant red lipstick and softly curled hair. A cream silk blouse and a black skirt absolutely screaching money and sex appeal to boot. But that morning had been rough, the day slow and she had only just stepped out of a taxi with the driver whom she had payed copious amounts of cash to drive her 'anywhere with liquor'. Of course, it probably wasn't wise to go to this part of town at night, dressed as richly as she was. But Parker wasn't afraid. Well, not immediately. She walked in to the bar, suffered a few once-overs from some unshaven drunkards, and sat down at the bar stool, waiting for the busy bart tender's attention.

He doesn't really have to come in the door, but he finds it attracts less unwanted attention if he does... less unwanted attention, more of the wanted kind.

He throws the door back and enters, grinning at the patrons of the Empty Glass as thoughthey were all close, personal friends. One say, they'd all be getting close and personal with him... why waste time?

He's glaring white in the seedy pub, standing out like an angel among ashes. His hair is a couple of inches long and left loosely curled, not gelled. it's stark-white-- bleached, probably. His skin is white-pale and stretched tight over his skeletal frame. A thin, long white scarf is wrapped around his skinny neck-- it hangs almost to his knees, which is quite a ways. He's wearing a blindingly white leather trencoat thrown loosely over his shoulders, a white tank top, and white jeans. Silver hoops spiral up each ear and down each arm.

His eyes are heavily outlined in black eyeliner, which only serves to outline the fact that they are starkly white. White cornea, black ring, white iris, black pupil. Cold eyes. Inhuman eyes. Like Andrei's left eye.

The bartender had finally seen Parker, and raised both eyebrows in surprise that a woman like her should be there. Hm...She was thinking along those lines as well. However, he came forward and asked her what she wanted. Parker thought for a moment, no knowing exactly how she wanted to get home- Drunk and happy for a moment or sober and unhappy for a life time. The prior, perhaps? Parker looked up at the bartender and asked for some simple gin and tonic.

But the bartender wasn't looking at her. Not anymore, anyways.

The bar had become quiet for a moment, and the bartender was looking over Parker's head to the door behind her. The sound of someone walking in had reache dher ears, yes, but she was a paying customer. Her fine eyebrows puckered slightly in her puzzled confusion until she looked over her own shoulder at someone that made her heart stop. Just for a moment. All white, not a spec of dirt, and he was smiling like she'd never seen nayone smile before. She felt cold on her skin, but otherwise she was too distracted by this seeming apparition to notice.

Her jaw droped as she saw his eyes...

"Oh my god..."

The tall, bone-thin stranger walks in and closes the door behind him, having stood the necessary minute in the doorway, outlined by light. He moves lightly over the sticky floor, still grinning. He pauses to give a low, mocking bow to a half-gone drunk, who twitches at this attention. He waves feyly to a tough biker-type in a back corner, giving a deliberately provocative smile to which the biker-type sneers.

And then he folds himself gracefully into a seat at the bar, five down from Parker, sitting like a frost sculpture and watching the bartender intently.

"White wine, please." His voice is absolute zero, so cold it sears through the ears into the mind, touching icy, carressing fingers into the nooks and crannies of the primitive brain. It holds a universal promise. Right now, it also holds the request for alcohol.

Parker, unfortunately, had not caught the irony of her last exclamation. What she did catch, though was an incredibly icy voice, not unlike the voice Andrei had once slipped up with. Of course, it brought such cold that it could almost be confused with heat. Dry ice. White wine. White eyes.

All of these sensations were bubbling in Parker's skin, the cold, but also her own human adrenaline. Her breathing had deepened, and as the bartender set her drink down, and asked her if she was ok, she simply nodded and took a sip. Or, to be perfectly specific, a gulp. The bartender then went to search for the stranger's white wine, she supposed. Her brown eyes were on him, drinking him up slowly. Oh it was not possible! Was it? He seemed...Well he didn't seem young, but he didn't seem old. Ageless maybe? Well at least to her eyes. Well that gulp had definitely given her a boost because before she knew it she was standing up.

She took one very deep breath, as if it were her last, and she should cherish it, and walked over. Taking the seat next to him she gestured for the bartender to bring her drink over. Obviously he didn't seem up to the task, but he brought it over nonetheless. At first she wasn't sure if she could bring herself to look at him, but the mere thought of this rang with curiosity, and she pivoted her body to face him.

"Is it Aleksandr?"

The tall man leans his head down on one hand and drops the snow-white eyes onto Parker. His pale lips curve into a smile.

"Aleksandr?" he asks, the russian name rolling off his tongue with imnpeccable pronunciation.

He flicks his eyes up and away, running a pink-pale tongure over his lips. His attention is still obviously focused on Parker. "Not usually, but it can be if you want it to be."

Faintly delicious chills accompanied that voice. Parker forced her brown eyes to stay on his, and tossed her blonde curls over her shoulder in a gesture of confidence and vanity. She turned towards her drink, running her finger on the rim for a moment, as if suddenly enamoured with the feel of soft glass. She was thinking. How exactly to word this? How does one approach the situation? She turned back to look at him, red lips smiling softly.

"I know your son." She said simply...There, that wasn't that difficult now was it?

One bleached-white eyebrow lifts, and the other follows.

"My son. Really." He nods to the bartender and accepts his white wine, but doesn't take a drink. His eyes slide back to Parker.

"And who is this son?" he asks, his tone curious.

"Andrei Petrov," She answers helpfully, suddenly making it seem that it was he who had come to her. She took another sip of her gin and tonic, and began to relax a bit more. Well obviously the drink was helping, but she was also back in her element. Parker had gone through meetings upon meetings where her sole intention was to make the other person as uncomfortable or as nervous as possible. Now, of course, this man did not seem the type to quiver in fear under Parker's gaze, but he was a match nonetheless. She signalled for the bartender to fill her glass again, even though it was only about half empty.

"He's been looking for you."

The almost-skeletal fingers play over the glass of wine as a smile plays over his lips.

"Petrov... Petrov... Anna Petrov's boy?" A reminiscent grin appears in the corner of his mouth.

"I'll bet he's been looking for me... I'll bet he has."

"Oh you don't need to bet, babe. I've been helping him" she said, the gin definitely loosening her tongue a bit, "...until recently." She took another sip. Parker wasn't a big drinker, but she was nowhere near intoxicated. For a moment the nightmare replayed in her head again, her eyebrows puckered a bit in pain as she relived it for a moment. She looked over at him for a moment, finding him strange and inriguing beyond words. If she wasn't careful...

"Listen, the kid's got some problems. Go see him," Was that an order?

The stranger in white leans in closer to her, and his breath is oddly cold, devoid of body heat. His eyes rest on her, like snow covering the frosty autumn ground.


"I don't think he'd want to see me. No, not yet."

She could feel his breath...Odorless and chilled. As if his words were made of ice a cooling his breath. For a moment she leaned back, a gesture showing she wasn't exactly as comfortable as she was making out to be. It also made her out to be the pey. She then went back to her usual position, still looking at him with warm brown eyes.

"I beg to differ. He wants to know things about himself that I think, only you..." Her voice slowed for just a moment, as her eyes looked over his white hair, and then flickered between his eerie white irises, "...can answer."

He lowers his lids for a moment, his black lashes a dark curtain over the too-white eyes.

Leans closer. Lowers his voice. Whispers.

"What sorts of things?"

he knows.

This time when he leaned in she made a point of not reacting. She felt like closing her eyes, though, and listening. It was a strange intimacy and familiarity that made her forget exactly what she was trying to say.

"Like why he heals so rapidly...And why he doesn't bleed..." 'See? You are an angel', "And why he shares nightmares."

Parker ran a hand through her long blonde hair, taking a sip of her drink. She wasn't looking at him now, but rather at the liquid in her glass, and with distant and remembering eyes.

"That's easy." The white stranger strokes a finger down her glass, leaving a trail of frost in the condensation.

"Because he's a demi-god."

Pause. Wait for reaction.

Parker's breath catches, but softly and inexplicably feminine. But she doesn't move. She watches the frost and then looks up at the stranger who is all clean white and flashiness, all closeness and careful distance. Her eyes were wide, but not in fear, in wonder. She wasn't entirely sure what he said was true, and if it was, if he even meant it. Suddenly she broke out in an easy silvery laugh. Her red lips stretched over perfect teeth in a pretty smile and her hand rose to her mouth as she laughed.

As her laughter died down, she watched him closely. "You aren't serious?"

"I'm dead serious." And this is amusing because she doesn't yet know the pun.

"Do you believe me?" he asks, voice still soft, low, and as oddly unnatural as always.

Parker's smile hadn't completely faded, but he such an expression of conviction that it soon did. "Give me time," She replied softly, looking down at the glass for a moment, and then rubbing off the frost on it's side with the warmth of her thumb. "So, that would make you a whole god, correct?" She didn't wait for an answer, as she often did, "And how exactly are you expecting me to believe this, exactly? I'm not a believer of gods, you'll have to give me proof." Obviously to Parker placing a bit of frost on the side of her glass wasn't enough, and so she demanded more. Smart move...But the fact was that Parker read legal papers all day- If there wasn't enough evidence, it was easy to toss outside the window.

"You want evidence without even asking what I'm god of?" he asks, the corners of his mouth twitching into a distinctively sinister smile. He reaches out and strokes his hand down her sheek. His fingers are cold. No body heat. None.

"Oh I know what you're the god of..." She smiled as he touched her, trying not to show the fact that she felt like leaning in to him and falling into a very, very deep sleep. But she was good at pretending and her lips formed their usual sweet smile, as she watched him carefully. "You're the god of...bleach?" She raised a fine eyebrow at him, another silvery laugh escaping her.

His lips pull into a lazy, secretive smile.

"No, darling. I'm the god of your dreams, your nightmares, and your mortality."

The fingers run tesingly through her hair, then pull back.

"Hm, then lucky me that I met both you and your son..." She said softly, trying to hide the fact his fingers through her hair had brought warmth to her cheeks. She looked down at her glass queitly. Something inside her was screaming. Something inside was yelling for life. How could this man have possibly known that one of Andrei's powers had to do with nightmares?... Her breathing became deep again, at her command, to calm her fast beating heart.

"Your mortality, especially." And this his mood switches, his grin widens, and the dead-white eyes twinkles with amusement. "Let's go somewhere else."

He rests a hand on her shoulder and the bar fades to grey around them. It doesn't dissapear-- no. It fades into the background, and suddenly they are the only two real things in a world of ghosts. Everything but them, their stools, the counter close by is grey and transparent and etheral. The bartender, still visible, moves in another world. No one seems to see them. No one seems to notice their... disappearance.

She barely heard what he had said, but the hand on her shoulder was real, and when she looked up she was met with quite a shock. She looked over her shoulder at the others in the bar, who were still drinking laughing...Did they not see? Why were they just sitting there? Parker looked back over to him, her eyes wide as they flickered from his eyes to his lips. "What do you call yourself?" This was her proof...She didn't want to ask where they were.

"Many things. Azrael. Aisling. Aleksandr, once..." he sighs reminiscently, then glances down at Parker.

"God of Death and Dreams, to you. Your imagination. Your mortality." The cold hand moves up to cup her cheek in his palm, briefly, before he pulls back.

"Why did you leave Andrei?..." She asked suddenly remembering her now long gone and fired employee. But this was it! The answers she was looking for, they were all here, in this coincidence, in this climax of information. She was suddenly focusing only on her own success, the fact that she- yet again - conquered. That is, if she were ever to get out of this grey bliss.

His brows draw down, briefly.

"What use would I have for a child?" He waves it off, fingering the untouched white wine.

"Better left to a mortal woman."

Parker had a moment of instant anger, but it was washed out by her reason. The fact was...How could he have stayed with Andrei? She imagined the God of Death (capitals well deserved) helping Andrei on his first day at school. The image made her laugh in an easy going way. Hm, yes, she realized it was a silly question.

"You're right," She replied after having finished laughing. She took a sip of her gin, becoming accustomed to the dim grey around her. It was like an old washed out picture. She looked around again, looking again to see if anyone noticed them...She expected what she noted. No one.

"I took us outside of life for a moment," he explains, noticing her watch the faded world around them.

"One step away from living. They can't see us here. They don't want to." his voice is almost speculative.

And then it softens as he brushes a curl away for her face. "And now, now do you believe me?"

"Yes I believe you. But then again it's a matter of whether or not I really want to," She replied, smiling softly, "And so you don't have to ask, yes I want to believe it. It explains...alot." As cold as he was, it didn't seem to scare her anymore when he touched her. Either she was getting accustomed to it, or...She was getting colder here to? Thoughts swirled lazilly in her head. She looked over at Azrael. "Thanks for the answers."

He gives her a slow, shallow nod, as if aknowledging her thanks, and then leans in close. He brushes past her cheek and stops with his lips almost to her ear. There is an intimacy to the action, here where there's no need to whisper.

"You haven't asked all your questions."

"All of the ones I need to ask, I have," She replies, also lowering her voice to a whisper, probably purely from his influence. She then leaned back and looked at him. Brown eyes meeting a God's eyes. She was all of a sudden struck by the fact that he was a God. She knew it of course, but knowing is very different from realizing, which is what washed over her now under his white-eyed gaze. "Unless you have questions?" Again, her red lips smiled

"Yes. I'd like to put my progeny out of mind for a moment and ask...' he compensates for her leaning back by leaning even closer.

"...what would you say to this?" He kisses her, cool and quick, on the vibrantly red lips. One hand cups her head. The other rests on her leg-- not so far up as to be advancing without invitation, but there.

Parker would have lied if she said it was a shock. But the feeling was a shock. She felt herself go weak, in almost every aspect. Parker Maitland, the man hater.

But he wasn't just a man.

Safe to say, she retaliated to the action, and with a vivacity that explained much of her attitude. Eventually she pulled back from their lock, her eyes flickering quickly between his. "I don't think I would say anything..."

"Good," he breathes, his voice cool. His hands are cool, too, as they begin to explore her beneath the prim clothing. He leans in again, lids dark, eyes utterly white, like angel feathers.

This time she is the initiator, and takes his lips hungrilly, her hand reaching behind his neck to bring him closer, and eventually moving smoothly up the back of his head, loving the texture of his white hair.

He moves closer still, thin body somehow lithe. He's cool all over, his skin is almost chill to the touch-- not unpleasant perhaps, but unexpected.

Thrills. Absolute. Parker's free hand moves to his shoulder, where it pushes off his clean white leather jack, her warm hands having the urge to warm his cool skin.

The white trenchcoat slides off and then dissolves into white smoke, which hangs in the air for a moment before dissapearing.

He pulls her off the stool, gently.

((Curtain call, methinks!))