Please do not post if you are not Murdering Crows or myself. However, you are welcome to follow along :)

Mick Marshall

There wasn't much else to it. He was finally alone, gathering and collecting his own thoughts with nobody else there to judge him or try to pry on how he felt or what was running through his mind. For a moment, he could feel free, not being bothered by anyone but himself. Trapped within himself was something that Mick was, but this seemed a bit different than normal. He wasn't thinking of anything bad, nor did he have the urge to suddenly cause chaos. He was finally calm, and in a way, that made him feel something he hadn't felt in a long time, or perhaps never. That thing was happiness. Strange, wasn't it? Twenty-three year-old Mick had never felt such a feeling until this moment as he drove to the nearest stopping point.

Mick had been on the road for two days now, stopping in Maine for the meantime. He had never been there, seeing that he was from Ohio, and nor did he ever had the time or efforts to make it this far. To be fair, it wasn't something that Mick had always wanted to do - it became a 'spur of the moment' sort of thing. Maybe he would regret it, maybe not, but he wasn't complaining now so it must meant that something good was (hopefully) going to come out of it. A time away from his family, in which he knew he probably wasn't going to be missed, and Mick wouldn't miss them at all, either. Some would say that's maybe fucked up to say, but hey, what's going to stop Mick from it? He was finally doing his own thing, and didn't have to worry about his homophobic father or the screams and laughter coming from his younger siblings during the summer while he had to work.

But now that he thought of it, Mick would miss those screams and fits of laughter. But not enough to make him even urge to return back to his shitty home. Mick lived on the south side, had minimal education, and took care of his seven younger siblings since he had turned fifteen. His mother was God knows where, while his father was a drunk who didn't give a damn about his children. It made Mick sick thinking that his siblings may have to deal with Weston, their father, but he knew that they were old enough to take care of themselves. They didn't need Mick anymore, and maybe that's what he had feared.

Mick only decided to take this trip in hopes of distracting himself, but instead, he was pondering his actions. He couldn't do that right now. The point of leaving was so he didn't have to worry anymore. He inhaled, driving into the night as he had found himself turning into a small parking lot, filled with three or four more cars. He looked around for a moment, seeing the bright neon sign saying 'Diner' across the top of the building. Mick shut off his car and climbed out, slipping his keys into his pocket as he entered.

Mick looked around, the others' eyes landing upon him but he didn't bother to look back. He took a seat at the counter, a waitress approaching him. "What can I get you, hun?" She asked, looking him up and down. Mick's tired eyes looked up at her, in which he thought for a moment. "Just, uh, black coffee," he replied, shifting his weighting ever so slightly within the comforted stool. "Will do," the waitress said with a slight smile before she had went to the other end of the counter, grabbing a smaller mug and poured steaming black coffee from the pot.

She returned with the mug, setting it in front of Mick. He nodded as a thanks, beginning to sip on it. Mick appeared rather out of place. He was dressed in light jeans, with Timberland boots, a shirt, and a plaid flannel layered on top of that. He inhaled, furrowing his brow as he simply stared down into the cup, in which the liquid slowly disappeared with each sip he took.

(Hopefully this works :D)

Earth was unpredictable, imperfect, and fast-paced; all things that delighted but also scared the angel. Humans were the reason for this so not oddly, Cassiel was nervous to be around such chaotic little creatures who were scared of everything- including each other. They were both worrisome and fun: like a bunch of rowdy little ducklings without a mother to protect them from predators. In other words, the humans would ultimately be their demise.

-

As much as Cassie found the humans interesting he was on earth with another goal: finding Maliel and dragging her dramatic ass back up to heaven. Maliel was a rather childish and impulsive angel so Cassiel naturally felt protective of her although she had twice earth's lifetime on him. That meant that the annoyed angel willing flew down from heaven into this hectic world filled with vulnerable meat bags that were walking disastrously. The angel hoped he could find his friend sooner than later to make sure that he was alright because if he wasn't- Cass shook his head, not letting that thought take over his mind. The angel could not let his only companion (besides Shelly of course) fall. Cassiel wasn't exactly fond of the other angels, they were rather boring creatures which was an insult to himself considering that Cass was a model citizen when he wasn't breaking protocol to go find Heaven's greatest prankster.

-

Glancing at the clock, the redhead decided that it was about time to stop for the night to rest. It helped him stay sane to be able to get out of his gurgling goblin of a truck to stretch. Seriously- this thing has startled the angel multiple times due to the sheer noise level that is produced when the machine starts. Of course, who was Cass to complain? He didn't even have a job and had to win everything he did own by betting or purchasing with money that he got from bets with drunks- particularly drunk human men with large egos.

-

It took some time but eventually, a diner caught his eye. The parking lot was small with not many cars and the turn was a bit awkward but it was close and quiet. So, without much time to hesitate Cassiel took the turn and pulled into one of the front parking spots. Luckily the parking lot wasn't full or else Cass would be dreading backing out.

-

Shelly let out a small whine- alerting him to the fact that she probably wanted to get out and stretch too but also the fact that she probably needed to release the blatter. Cassiel cut the engine and helped the fluffy dog out of the car once he had clipped her leash on. He let her explore for a few minutes and took the time to get an idea of where he was.

-

Judging by the size of the parking lot this diner either wasn't popular or was small and/or family-owned- maybe older as well. This would generally mean that the food and service were rather pleasant or perhaps sub-par, something Cassiel wouldn't be able to tell unless inside.

-

"I'll make sure to bring you something back." The tall man said gently, coaxing the dog back towards him so he could lift her back into the truck.

-

Taking a moment to lock the truck up, the red-haired man took a second to straighten his leather jacket and fix his hair before making his way towards the diner. He looked like he would be more at home in a city with his black ripped jeans, leather jacket, and sunglasses- sunglasses? Yes, the angel was dramatic enough to strut into a nearly empty diner with sunglasses at night. Cassiel made sure to look as dramatic as possible while he could and one could say he was fulfilling that desire.

-

"Good evening ma'am," The tall angel greeted the waitress, giving her a small nod before taking a seat at the counter, leaving a spot in between him and a man who, in Cassiel's opinion, either got off work or preferred to dress like a lumberjack. Either way, he looked like someone who liked to eat at diners.

-

The waitress brought over a menu with a polite smile before walking off, presumably to serve other customers, which made Cassiellet out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. Sure, Cass's body language was that of a confident man but in reality, his palms were sweaty and his eyes were focused on whatever person happened to be close to him.

-

"Ready to order yet?" The waitress asked, still very much polite which wasn't enough to relax the angel.

-

"Yes, I'll have the fish and chips with some water. Thank you." Cass said, flashing her a charming smile before glancing over at the man next to him. The redhead took a few moments to study the other and after some contemplation decided to strike up a conversation.

-

"A penny for your thoughts, stranger?"

Mick Marshall

The sound of another vehicle turning into the small parking lot made Mick turn his head to glance outside the diner, only to see another man and his companion, a dog, in which peeked Mick's interested but not enough to confront anyone. His icy eyes landed on the waitress, in which he gestured for another cup of coffee, and she delivered his request within a few moments. He shifted, sipping on his coffee as the distant voices of others became rather quiet - people were leaving. A couple left, climbing into their respective vehicle before driving off. Mick sighed softly, tapping his finger on the counter.

Mick heard the door swing open with a familiar chime of a bell, alerting anyone that someone or perhaps a few people were entering. Mick turned his head to see a tall redheaded man, approaching a seat at the counter. Mick raised his expression-riddled eyebrows, seeing him wearing sunglasses... At night... In a diner. He licked his lips, causing him to bite his bottom lip as he shook his head ever so slightly and looked away, hearing his voice.

Mick sniffled slightly, taking the last sip of his coffee before he had pulled out his wallet, placing a couple of dollar bills on the counter. "Keep the change," Mick stated towards the waitress, in which she smiled yet again. Mick turned to remove himself from the stool, but was stopped by the fact that the taller redhead had turned to him first and sparked a conversation that threw Mick off-guard. Mick was half-tempted to say "The fuck are you looking at," but he didn't, seeing it would be unnecessary and he was perhaps too tired to even speak to anyone at this point. Mick inhaled, situating himself back in the stool as he faced the man.

The man was a redhead, which was probably the more obvious thing about him. He was more taller than Mick, in which Michael stood at a measly five foot nine, which this tall man was probably around six foot, maybe a bit taller seeing the height different between the two. His build was rather fit one, matched with high and defined cheekbones and dark brown eyes, rimmed with longer lashes, in which Mick's were a bit more faint but still dark. He had a slight scruff of facial hair, matched with a leather jacket. Mick looked away, deciding that he would stick around for a moment to see what this man wanted. Who was sparking conversations late in the night, when Mick's tired eyes maybe gave away how he was feeling?

"Depends on how much time you got," Mick huffed slightly, tapping the counter with his right index finger. The waitress returned, slightly confused, looking at Mick as she went on to question him.

"Are you sure you're leaving?" She asked, looking at the empty coffee cup and the dollar bills on the table. Mick shook his head, "I guess not, huh?" He said, looking at the redhead. He looked back at the waitress. "But, uh, keep the change, I'm good on everything for now. Thanks."

As the waitress left, Mick turned back to the taller man. "I also don't know why you'd be invested in my thoughts when you seem like the kind of guy that could ramble on and on about himself cause he's selfish," Mick stated, his tone laced with some sort of sarcasm. Mick was already being a dickhead, which was no surprise. He made impact-ful first impressions most of the time, but maybe the man sitting next to him would put up with his asshole remarks. To be fair, maybe he could expect the unexpected?

Mick looked around for a moment, observing everyone else. The man next to him looked out of place in a way that Mick didn't - in which he meant that Mick looked out of place because he wasn't from Maine. The redhead looked out of place like he also wasn't from here... Like he was from another country, per say. Everyone else in here fit into this area nicely, unless you were Mick, but he still fit in to an extent that he didn't stick out like a sore thumb.

"But, I guess if you're so invested what I've got goin' on up here," he pointed to his head before resting his hand back down on the counter, "you can explain to me where the hell you're from."

WIP, BARE WITH ME

Mick Marshall

Mick wasn't about to sit here for longer than he needed just to hear some random dude talk his head off because he felt like it. Mick was obviously tired, but was rather intrigued by the fact that the red head had chose Mick. There were a select few others in the diner, two couples sitting in booths and one other person sitting on a stool near the counter. Mick wanted to question "why me?" but he kept his mouth shut as he situated himself back in the stool and didn't bother to really even look at the stranger next to him. As much as he was interested, he just wasn't that interested.

Mick finally turned to the man as he finally spoke. He inhaled, letting out a soft exhale as Mick's tired ice eyes were slightly widened as he raised his eyebrows. He gave a soft glare at the man's statement, but he couldn't also help but give a playful scoff. "Yeah, well, I don't, so best we get on with whatever this is, yeah?" Mick said, making few gestures with his hands. It was his way of talking - gestures and his eyebrows. Yes. Mick had rather expressive eyebrows, which constantly were raised, narrowed, or just doing whatever when he spoke. Deep down, some said it was entertaining. He found that statement a tad creepy, but hey, he took what he could get.

Mick shook his head as the man went on to speak about Mick's appearance. He was rather simple in his fashion sense, mainly because Mick never really had a good one. But regardless, Mick couldn't help but immediately shoot back an answer. "At least I would make a fuckin' living with my 'family logging business' and not have to worry about people lookin' at me when I walk into a twenty-four hour diner with sunglasses on," Mick scoffed, shifting slightly as he replied.

There was something about this man sitting next to him that he couldn't quite understand. Still. Was it the fact that he wasn't from Maine? Was it the fact that he was indeed from another country? Maybe in a metaphorical way; but other-worldly? Mick bit the inside of his cheek. He decided it didn't matter, as he would end up finding his answer within

WIP

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Would you like to continue our roleplay?