Maxwell and the gun.

[darkhairedangel]

"Maxwell. Has- to- be- Maxwell."

Rev was quite annoyed now, and she could just feel every muscle in her body tensing up. She could note how her neck just began knotting up without the long hours of the computer to do it. Stress did hell on her body, she knew that and yet, it didn't matter right now, because she was pissed and had no way of expressing it.

Only Maxwell, would have the balls, to walk into a tower, where a few DPS members lived, and shoot up the ceiling. Only Maxwell, mattered. He was the threat, not the number of idiots and whiny teenagers, that served under him. When it came down to it, he was the mastermind, he was the one who started all this shit, and so it was his fault.

She sat on the couch rubbing the back of her neck, staring at the blank television screen, which would no doubt, probably not be talking about the incident. What and cause panic, never. That was a rule of thumb, to keep the masses calm. If only, she'd been there.

Damn Eric, for worrying about a silly door, when there were far worse things on the horizon. Worse things, like Maxwell, and whatever he might be up to.

Reverence picked up the phone and dialed one of the only two numbers she knew. Gazing out the window she sighed deeply, listening to the ringing.

"Come on Johnny, pick up already."

[Johnny Delacroix]

Johnny at that moment had been sitting at his lab table in his own apartment. One hand was in a bag of skittles, bringing them to his mouth absently to munch upon while the other scraped a bit of ground up quetiapine into a beaker of clozapine solude. Occasionally he'd toss a pill across the room at one of the pink and yellow balls of fluff bouncing around his walls and causing all kinds of distraction. "Can't you see I'm trying to concentrate?!" He shouted with an irate air at one of them. A single 'popper' floated down to rest on his shoulder as he nearly ate one of the pills instead of a skittle, carefully setting it back into the grinding bowl and plucking up his candy bag again. 'Those will rot your teeth', the large-eyed fuzzball stated with a conclusive tone. "I didn't ask you, now did I."

When the phone first started ringing, he payed it no mind, staring into the beaker to make sure there wasn't a bad reaction. "If I get this right, you guys can kiss your little asses goodbye." Something he said every time he was -sure- he'd found the right mixture. Which usually failed, of course. "They might not work by themselves, but together -- what is that noise?" Lifting his head, he glanced around the living room. The floor was cluttered with a wealth of books, clothes, and various articles of home decor.. He had a lot of lamps, shelves, molding, trinket boxes, knick-knacks and do-dads, paintings, throw pillows, throw rugs, nice-looking wooden chairs, anything normal homes would have set up for atmosphere to look lived-in if not slightly cluttered. But his were overabundant, and everywhere. The larger piles were covering the furniture he had when he first moved in. Except the couch. When Eric came over for beers, he'd tossed everything that was on the couch, behind it. It had yet to gather a mound again.

So naturally he had to go on a mad hunt. He couldn't tell if the sound was real or if he was imagining it, but it was indeed persistent. Digging through the largest pile, he managed to make a hole in it's center he had to belly-crawl into, sending an avalanche in his wake. But he did find the source, and in record time, too! He found a phone! He had a phone? If he ever rattled off his phone number to Rev, he must have forgotten all about it. But he -had- downed a few beers before the night was over, sometimes when he drank he was clearer than when he was 'sober'. His head canted slightly but he scooped up the receiver quickly from it's base and placed it to his ear, in the way he usually touched things, with just the fingertips. He rarely even touched people otherwise, except that massage he gave Rev in the bar because his doctor instincts took over. "Hello?" Of course that wasn't your casual 'picking up of the phone' hello, it was a clearly perplexed hello from someone who never in a million years would expect an actual phone call. The phone had been ringing for a good minute or two, it was still ringing through his head, therefore he didn't even have an idea whether the person calling had hung up or was very patient.

[darkhairedangel]

Reverence sighed happily when she heard his voice, no matter how confused it sounded. Honestly, she didn't notice that.

"Johnny, hey." She sounded both exhausted and over joyed. "Listen some shits gone down over here, and Latner is being his usual asinine self in said tense situation." She shook her head though she knew he couldn't see it. "Long and the short of it, I think I'm gonna rip my hair out and I really need to cool down..."

Was she really going to ask him to come over? Or, go over there? No. Reverence couldn't do that, could she? Absolutely not, that'd be to weird, they'd just started talking and hanging out as friends. Then again, they were friends, so it shouldn't be weird. Right?

"Wait to see what he says." Her logic said.

[Johnny Delacroix]

It took a moment for Johnny to recognize the sound of the voice on the other end of the line, but upon realizing it was only Rev and not someone asking him to pull an all-nighter at work, or even worse, someone he owed a favor to, he relaxed. He was half-sprawled along a mountain of books anyway, his upper half inside of the hole he'd dug. "Oh thank God it's just you.."

Another moment passed and the entirety of what she'd said sunk in. Brows furrowed as he shifted the phone from one ear to another, batting at one of the fuzzballs trying to bounce off of his head with his newly freed hand. "Shit went down? What kind of shit? What'd Eric do?" Johnny was a curious soul. Reaching into the hole, he nabbed the base of the phone, and flipped over onto his back to slide down the mound enough to settle there on the floor with his back against it. He sincerely needed to clean.

So not to distract himself, he focused on the beaker he'd been mixing in before the phone rang. "You could use some gamma-hydroxybutyrate. It'll fix you right up. I just mixed some the other day, got plenty left." He was a fan of that drug, never left someone unsatisfied when he gave it to them. Though it was banned in most places for very good reasons. Johnny was always a fan of drugs most obviously, but he couldn't stand seeing them being misused. He'd seen and done that enough to understand the full gravity of it. "You'll hafta bring some food with you though, somethin' easy on the stomach but fillin'. Oh and don't drink -any- alcohol. If you're drinkin' now, put it down." Johnny was really certain she wasn't drinking, she didn't really seem the type to be getting drunk by herself at home. He almost added that opiates were bad to take with it too, but that would just be insulting to consider, wouldn't it.

His gaze dropped to his socked foot, which was bopping absently of it's own accord to a tune he had stuck in his head. That was indeed an invite to come over, though it was one made without a second thought.

[darkhairedangel]

"If it will get me away from here and keep me from ripping my hair out, it's got to be heaven. Give me ten minutes and I'll be over with something or another to eat."

She hung up and raided her cabinets finally deciding on the large package of fruit cookies that she'd bought for munching on, when working on the computer. They weren't too unhealthy, so she'd allowed them to grace her cupboards. Shoving them under her arm, she grabbed her card key and was out the door, and down the stairwell to go, pretty much across the street, to regain her calm sanity from Johnny.

Part of her wondered just what the "good doctor" was going to prescribe for her, and if it was legal... and then she realized just what she was saying. She shook her head and retold herself that Johnny, no matter how odd, worked for the DPS and wasn't a law breaker. Though, she would like to figure out, what he was hiding.

Damn her curiosity, it was so damn controlling.

[Johnny Delacroix]

[continued in Johnny's apartment; "A friend in need"]