dollymixtures | Open Post

And now he's being yelled at when she was the one inviting him on this impromptu little field trip. He was pretty quick-witted, he didn't think it was arrogant of him to think that, but keeping up with her was next to impossible. He'd tried to talk to Scott about it, but his best friend was predictably useless at giving him any advice. That was why Stiles was the brains of the operation.

"I'm not so sure we can," he responds easily, deciding that today's tactic for dealing with her snippiness is to kill it with kindness - that is, completely ignore all her bitching and answer everything in charming, polite tones like it was a perfectly normal question "I mean, let's face it, pretty much everything we do gets overrun with werewolves, like we're some kind of homing beacon. ...I mean us personally, not the town, because, well, duh."

He starts the engine and heads off, though he's driving for a few minutes before he actually realises he doesn't know where he's headed.

"Wait, where did you want to go?"

Ghostbusters

The relatively discreet sign allowed Thor to know this was were he was supposed to be. He was unsure if these Midgardian 'ghostbusters' were a legitmate authority on the supernatural, but with Loki on the run again and the Avengers seemingly out of contact, he had to resort to other methods.

He pulled open the door and entered.

For once, it's not actually Kevin's fault. The person who's waiting with the magazine wasn't there and suddenly he was, like he's been settled in place for hours, perhaps, like he belongs there. It's not a terribly impressive magazine, though he's seen plenty of them before about how to look your best for your man and what to wear this fall if you're really a winter.

He loves his wife, he really truly does, and he takes every opportunity to try and understand what she does with the same scrutiny she gives to his artisan works. But today, he's looking at the magazine for something to do as opposed to anything else, and he's here to see a certain someone who has been in Manhattan for far too long without stopping by to his shop to visit.

"One second!" Holtzmann called when the door opened, in the middle of some very fiddly soldering. As soon as she had a chance her eyes flicked up to check who had just walked in.

"Oh, about time, did you get my coffee?" she asked a she looked down again. There was a bit and her head slowly lifted.

"Uh...wow, okay, that's... that's an interesting look."

A woman - Thor could only assume, and if he was wrong may the person so correct him - was working on some machinery. From what he could tell, it was quite complex in an almost simple way. He could think of artisans on Asgard who would be very interested in inspecting this gear, and made note to mention as such should this go well.

Then this person asked for coffee.

"I... Is this the establishment of the Midgaridan Order known as the Ghostbusters?" he asked, wondering on her tone regarding his 'look'.

Holtzmann doesn't pay too much attention to the waiting room, she doesn't actually pay attention to the rest of the building when she's really caught up in her work, as is the case now, so it's a little while before she even realises there's anybody else in the room. It's not actually until she's walking by in search of coffee that she spots Hephaestus sitting there.

"Kevin, who is-" she glanced around for their missing receptionist before her brain caught up with her eyes and her head spun back round again.

"Hey! Dad!"

Holtzmann gave him a bemused smile, taking a moment to try and process what he was saying. Was this another of his attempts to sound smart?

"Yea, Kevin you're making even less sense than usual. Good try though."

That was when Thor gave a very confused look.

"I am afraid you are mistaken," he said, with a great deal of patient that most would not think him capable of. "I am Thor, of Asgard, not this... Kevin, of whom you speak. I seek the help of the Ghostbusters in locating supernatural phenomena."

That got a smile out of him as he pulled his cane into his hands and pushed himself up from his chair. Now that he was standing, his size became a little bit clearer; tall, with a pair of shoulders that seemed to go for miles, built like he could punch his way straight through a car. One foot, turned unnaturally, made it clear why he needs the cane, but he moved well enough as he made his way over to her and carefully wrapped a single arm around her shoulders. She got a warm squeeze. All of his hugs were warm, of course, but this one was special.

As he pulled back, he tipped his head towards floor where most of her workshop was situated with a thoughtful frown. Does she have time to spend with him? A glance around the building. And are her coworkers here? He would like to meet them at some point. Abby'd been over for Thanksgiving the one year, which had gone... interestingly. But he liked her, quite a lot really, so it would be nice to say hello to the rest.

Edited 2016-07-18 20:23 (UTC)

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously and she stepped up close, inspecting him before spinning back to her workbench. She grabbed a PKE meter and waved it at him, staring at the display and then up at him and back again.

"...Are you possessing Kevin?" she finally asked.

"I do not deal in possession," Thor said firmly. "I do not know who this Kevin is, nor do I wish to at this moment. I am looking for the Ghostbusters, am I in the right place?"

"What are you doing here?" she asked cheerfully, leaning into the hug "Hey, come see what I'm working on, you're gonna love it," she half danced over to the work bench, waving for him to follow her.

"I've been making some mods to these little beauties," she lifted her pistols, holding them out for him to see. She has the same pride in her work around the others of course, but they only appreciate what they can do, she knows someone like her father would be able to appreciate the artistry and work that went into the creation of them.

"Yeees..." she said slowly, withdrawing the PKE meter but not looking any less suspicious.

"And how can the ghostbusters help you, Mr Thor who looks suspiciously like Kevin in cosplay."

He could indeed and he took a moment as she pointed them out to take them and give them a proper once over. He was, after all, an artisan who made all manner of wonders and filled all sorts of needs. Innovation was his stock and trade, but he would always have a special reverence for a clever weapon. That's why his eyes were as obsidian and the flames of Etna as he used his true senses before the strangeness faded away and he smiled over at her. One finger slid in a distinct shape across the handle and a mark burned there in bright red before fading away invisibly. He handed it back.

...it was his little girl. And the work was certainly worthy of his blessing.

"My brother, Loki, has made his way to Midgard. He has managed to conceal himself from Heimdall. Without this Sight, it is possible that Loki could cause much chaos." Thor looks serious. "I have hard the reports on what you are able to do concerning the spirits of the deceased. While the energies my brother's magic gives out are not the same, I believe they are not so dissimilar that they could not be tracked via your equipment."

Holtzmann did a little dance when he blessed the pistols, she'd been kind of hoping he would but it was always a mark of pride when he chose to, it let her know she was right to have confidence in the things she built, because daughter or not, she knew Hephaestus would never bestow a blessing on something sub-standard.

"It's really good to see you. How are you doing? How's mom? Can I get you anything? Oh! Come check this out," chattering away happily, she bounced over to the bear trap and started charging it up.

"Maybe I'll just... lie here for a bit..." he was still feeling pretty dazed, but he was joking. Mostly.

"How do we even get home?"

Damn right, he wouldn't. If he blessed every little thing she did, what kind of incentive would that be for her to work harder at her craft? No, the pistols were an excellent weapon, a pinnacle of design for their purpose, and he was quite proud of her for them.

But then he had a bear trap to see as he hobbled his way over.

To the question of himself, he kind of shrugged. Mom, that got a smile. The man was in love with his wife, after all. But he waved off the offer of 'anything'. He wasn't hungry quite yet; actually-

"Do you have time for dinner in a bit?"

And his voice, so rarely used, held the clanging of hammers and the shifting of magma, a physical warmth that spread from him. In some ways, he could hide his deity. In others, not so much.

"I'll take you home," he says with a snort and a shake of his head. "Really, Tony. You worry too much."

And there was another little victory dance, because sometimes Holtzmann suspected the fact she so enjoyed talking was because of the satisfaction she got when she managed to lure rare words out of her father - there was only so much rambling someone could take before they had to say something. She loves her father's voice, even though she knows completely that he can't use it that often, especially not in front of mortals, so it's all the more special when she gets to hear it.

"Of course I have time for dinner, always time for dinner with you dad."

Her and her mother. It always made him feel especially warm to see her delight, and the smile he gave her held that warmth to share with her. And there was an arm put around her again along with a squeeze as well. But then he lifted a hand, gestured to the rest of the building. The question in the gesture was clear.

Did she want to invite any of her friends?

The highways of America (and everywhere else, for that matter) are haunted. Tales of white ladies who seek rides only as cover for the brutal revenge they seek on those who abandoned them. The "homecomers" who only want to go home to one that no longer exists.

And then, there are the hitchers. The ghosts who can live for a day in a borrowed coat, who long only for a ride, the feeling of wind in their hair, and some greasy diner food. A small taste of the life they lost on the road, longing to have seen more, done more.

Some have their own stories. Some have many, many stories, with a grain of truth hidden under layers of sleepover ghost-stories and campfire tales.

Like the Girl in the Diner. The Phantom Prom Date. The Girl in the Green Dress. Professor Laura Moorehead has written a lot about this particular urban legend, one that seems to transcend the little township of Buckley, Michigan where Professor Moorehead has traced the most likely living name for the story. Rose Marshall, who was run off the road in 1953 at the age of 16, on the night of her prom.

-

Tonight finds Rose in a diner and truck stop at the outskirts of the boroughs, a little place at that boundary where the arteries that are highways and interstates feed into the smaller veins of streets, bringing in all the things a city needs to live that it can't produce itself.

She has a jacket, but there are only a few hours left until dawn. She'll either get herself a ride, or fall into the Twilight, the spirit realm, for lack of a better descriptor. One way or another, she won't be here too long.

Now. If she could just get someone to buy her a burger.

"Hey!" Peter perked up as soon as he saw her coming, if it was possible for him to perk up even more. At least with her being here he had something to channel that excess energy into, even if it did take the form of him giving her an excited little wave and half walking towards her, before realising that they had to go back the way he had come from and stopping to wait for her to catch up.

"How are you? You ready for this?" he spun on his heel and gave a little flourish towards their destination. "You want to take a look around first or go straight for dinner?"

"Loki... and... Thor, wait, wait, I know those names!" Holtzmann stabbed the air triumphantly "Like the gods? You want us to track a god?"

Anybody else might look amazed or awed or even worried by the request, Holtzmann just looked excited.

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Jillian Holtzmann | Ghostbusters 2016

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