[Raphael, in green scrubs, looking altogether less than thrilled. He's washing his hands as he talks.]

Anyone that thinks they can point to a solid line of reasoning for what they've done is making a mistake.

[He pulls a pair of latex gloves from a box, putting them on as he continues, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.]

I had very little to do with my career choice, at least at first, but neither did anyone else. I was earmarked to be a healer. I've never been unhappy with it, or wanted to spend my time doing anything else. [a vague grin] Even after hours.

I had a fair amount of ambition, so after I graduated, I figured I could work my way up the hierarchy without too much trouble as long as I kept a solid record, back when I thought that meant something. But I suppose everyone's naivety has to fade at some point.

[a pause, then offhand--]

God, I hate performing surgery like this.

[There is a hand reaching out from a small pile of blankets, fumbling around in the air.]

Mmmm.

[Still fumbling. Eventually his fingertips reach the wall, and Raphael, eyes half-shut and grumbling quietly, finally bothers to poke his head out of the sheets, shifting into sitting up in bed. A bed that for some reason isn't an elaborate four-poster. And the nightstand he's looking for just isn't there.]


Where did I put that--

[Clink.]

[Clink.]

[Raphael warily lifts his other hand. There's a handcuff on it and a small chain. Raphael stares at it for a second and then, shaking his head, starts to peel the covers off the other person in bed and see just who it's attached to, expression curling into total distaste once he sees his face.]

What are you doing here?

[ooc: Handcuffed to Kira!]

[For once, it's too warm for a sports coat. Raphael's even omitted his customary tie, for once, and his appearance overall is only a little less polished than normal as he sits outside a cafe, a small plate of pastries and a cup of coffee in front of him.]

I'm starting to wonder if the curses this month adhere to a theme.

[Raphael takes a bite of a pastry, swallowing before he continues.]

Specifically, regret, out of season as that appears to be. Not that it's something I'm particularly familiar with.

[Another bite. Another sip of coffee.]

What I don't understand is almost everyone's animosity towards their other version. I didn't realize everyone's insecurities were quite so rampant. Especially when I'm certain they'll leave in a few days the same as the rest of the specters that show up around here. Otherwise this place would be even more banal.

[He looks like he's about to end the feed, but then he pauses.]

Does anyone happen to have any bar recommendations? I'm not particularly choosy.

I hate to point out the obvious, but everyone posting to deny the rumors is only adding a massive amount of fuel to the fire. Sometimes the only damage control you've got at your disposal is the ability to stay quiet about it yourself. I don't see the point in ruining that, especially if the claims are ridiculous anyway. You're only painting targets on your backs.

[pause]

At any rate. I've spent longer getting acclimatized than I've needed. I assume there's a hospital somewhere around this City. Tell me, are there any openings for doctors there? If so, I'd be happy to provide a demonstration of my skills. I've spent almost all of my life in the medical field, and my expertise is unparalleled, I promise you.

[He laughs, dryly.]

I might even manage a few character references.

Lia, I hope you're settling in well. Let me know if you need anything.

[Someone picked a poor weekend to come to the City. Not to mention a poor time of the year to land in the fountain. But there's a soaked, disheveled blond man peering down at the camera, wringing out his tie.]

It's far too cold for a greeting like this to be pleasant. Have I been exiled?

[the tie is stuffed into his pocket, and he straightens up]

This is Raphael. I'm assuming this is enough verification.

[but after a pause, camera blurring, the angle adjusts accordingly, closing in on his face]

Not that this could possibly be part of Heaven or Assiah. But if anyone has any information concerning Gabriel or Sara Mudo, please contact me immediately.

Thank you.

I have had a long day of it.

Night of it.

I'm not even curious as to how many of those marriages became divorces and how many were just annulled.

I seem to always use this space as a questionnaire instead of a real communication device.

[He doesn't look as though he minds too terribly much, fidgeting with a cigarette pack. He's lounging idly on a surprisingly undisturbed sofa.]

As if I can cure my own boredom by alleviating yours. Everyone's favorite subject to indulge in is themselves. And it's usually the same questions from me as from anyone else-- what do you do, what can you do, stories from home, plans for once you're allowed to leave. Theories on why you're here in the first place. Have that few people really accepted being here, that it all has to be rehashed over and over?

[He finds a matchbook on the floor, lights up languidly.]

I'm not in the mood. It's far too quiet around here for me to mull.

[The bathroom's steamy, with the sound of water still running and the glass long since fogged up-- but fortunately, Raphael pops up on the feed a few seconds later, fully clothed.]

[Fully clothed, his raw-looking, red hands covered in blood, spreading up his arms and past his shoulders as a shirt he's only midway through buttoning up rapidly becomes drenched in it.]

This is a kink I don't tend to go for.

[He has a towel he's ineffectively scrubbing with as he talks, though he soon tires of even that.]

... Don't worry, it's really not mine. But it's still bizarre. If it weren't for the lack of screaming posts, I'd ask if anyone else was affected by this.

I wish I hadn't gotten rid of my red shirts.

(OOC: Out, Damned Spot! Raphael has killed more people than his profession would have you believe. Replies will be slow for the next hour or so but will hopefully pick up then, there are some rl issues but I wanted to try and get this in.)

[Here is a face that hasn't graced the device on purpose in-- probably at least a few months. Raphael is, of all things, straightening out his closet while he talks; the ties are in a jumble on the bed while the shirts are mostly folded on top of the ironing board.]

I wouldn't call this the worst month I've had here, but it's probably the most embarrassing. At least that wasn't my favorite clothing store.

[He hangs up a shirt, frowns, and compares it with one of the ties. Apparently it's unsatisfying, though, so the tie's sent right back to the pile.]

I've wasted more time than this back at home, but all the same, old memories are frustrating to mull over and old hobbies get tiresome. I only started half of them out of boredom in the first place. The other half--

[A coat the looks suspiciously like zebra print is pulled out, earns a vague smile, and is hung right back up.]

--was probably, unfortunately, innate. I like to talk, and not always about my exploits. So I'm proposing a trade. Tell me a story and I'll return the favor. But only if I haven't heard it before. I'm sure that's fair enough.

[Raphael, sitting at a table at an outdoor cafe, looking surprisingly cool and refreshed despite the summer heat, in a light pink button-down and trim slacks. There's a small, untouched platter of cookies, and two equally untouched glasses of lemonade on the table, and scraggly gray and white tomcat lounging on the sidewalk beneath him, front paws resting on his foot.]

... I'm not sure why a few of the newcomers here suddenly think I need to ship myself. I have the unfortunate feeling they don't mean by mail, either.

[Much as he's facing the camera, his eyes are on the crowd, searching, scrutinizing. The hopeful, slightly eager look on his face betrays him even if his words don't.]

I'll admit it's one of my poorer offers, but if anyone would care to stop by, lunch is on me. Believe me, your company's the best payment I could ever receive.

(OOC: Fourth wall destruction is go! ... Action for anybody that wants to meet up with him at the cafe. I would rather him not be spoiled, especially not for his ending-- he's from just before Sara's trial, but please have fun otherwise! Threadjacking is, of course, absolutely fine.)

( cut for length and a highly interrupted makeout )

(OOC: Red is Michael, blue is Raphael.)

( cut for length )

(OOC: Sexswap. ... Backdated slightly to this morning. Raphael can best be found sulking in his room but will likely skulk around trying to buy clothes in the shops if you really want action there. Since he's only slightly short on clothes.)

[raphael, looking particularly polished today in a white suit. or overpolished, frowning a little bit and shoving a hand through his bangs.]

I usually hate it when I get the urge to be proactive. It tends to be so much trouble for so little payoff. But lately, I... I don't know. It might still be trouble, but at the very least I've cleared my conscience.

[there's a long pause, and then raphael coughs. and actually tries to smile for the camera.]

Kira, I've been hypocritical. I can't hold you responsible for fixing things with Michael when I'm not willing to let bygones be bygones myself. And you've had-- a rough morning. So I think it's past time that we went out for drinks. Hell, I'll even pay for them.

Messiah, I have three or four dresses you can borrow if you'd like to save some money. Don't worry, they're not overly revealing.

Belial-- [... another long pause, and for a tiny, brief second he looks horrified. but that second passes.] it's been years and I've been rude. I don't think we should meet up, but maybe one day our relations can be more cordial. I'm... willing to make an effort.

Rosiel... well. At the very least, I guess you ought to get naming privileges since you gave me the cat. If there's anything I can do for you as a doctor, I want you to let me know.

(OOC: Cursed with Armistice Day. ... Raphael has a long list of people he detests and really, this is about as friendly as he can manage. But beyond them, he should be responding normally. For the purpose of anyone who wants action tags, Raphael can probably best be found either at the bar or on his way to it.)

[Have a look at Raphael's tiny, mostly unnecessary kitchen. It's in a slight amount of disarray, with various groceries haphazardly lining what little space exists, and liquid dripping out of the base of a blender, down the countertop and to the floor.]

[Interestingly enough there are no dirty dishes.]

[Raphael's back is to the camera as he first glances at, then leans out the window, grumbling at the view. Or views. He doesn't wave back at the bathers, slamming the window shut.]

The one time I'm really not in the mood for hot springs.

[and as he grabs a sponge, he notices the device]

Oh, fantastic.

[Raphael's on a park bench, a bag of what might be groceries but is probably mostly cigarettes on the sidewalk beside him. His pale blue button-down is emblazoned with a huge, ornate "F" in thick red embroidery, and to his own obvious irritation, he seems compelled to point it out.]

My entire wardrobe is covered in F's at the moment, but it's still one of the milder curses I've ever encountered.

... Now, is this supposed to stand for something? Formidable, flippant, flighty...

[and a pause, corner of his mouth tilting ever-so-slightly up for the camera]

Fornicator? The city must have been watching lately.

[He shrugs, as though there aren't a half-dozen other viable options, leaning back, fiddling aimlessly with a lighter from his pocket.]

There's worse ways to brand someone than this. Not all of them physical.

(OOC: Cursed with Scarlet Letter, to his own slight annoyance. ... Optional action for whoever wants to... share a park bench or possibly a cigarette with him as he mulls everything over.)

I think this month has actually been one of the milder ones, as far as curses go. No spilled secrets or random monsters, just idealistic rainbow-chasers and dirty text messages.

Which isn't nearly as different from the norm as you'd hope.

[and he clears his throat]

I've long since resigned myself to thinking of staying here as an unpaid vacation. I hate to say it, but sometimes I still miss-- not my hours at work so much, but my old office. At least, the desk portion of it. The bed gets depressingly uncreative.

... Gabriel, I trust you've settled in well enough, haven't you?

( private, text, unhackable )

[and to video, leaning back idly in his chair]

I saw someone on the street today trying quite hard to smoke three cigarettes at once, and I ended up with about six and a half croissants from the bakery for the price of two this morning. Much as I'd rather it was my overwhelming charm, I figure it's safe to say I don't really merit over commerce, so I suppose we've got another curse on our hands. I only hope no one overdoses on medication.

But at any rate, I have a question. Given the length of time and the people here I'm sure it's been asked before. How many of you have been back home, for however long? Did you remember this place at all while you were there, or would that have even made a difference? Inquiring minds, and so forth.