[Emily Littleton] "Oooh," she says, sounding appropriately interested in Molly's baking attempts. In fact, Emily is quite fond of the culinary arts, and rather good at encouraging them in other people. She also has a softness for toffee, butterscotch and salted caramel. Molly's guessed well at something she likes. "Sounds delightful. Cheers," and is rewarded with compliments for that.
The tea is still steeping but she lifts the lid and nudges it toward Molly to sniff at and inspect. "Honeybush masala. It's not tea, perse; not Camelia sinesis that is. Grows in this one, tiny region of South Africa. Similar to red tea, or rooibus." She glances over to see if that rings any bells, before continuing. "It's a little sweet on its own, so I like it like this, mixed with the traditional 'chai' spices."
Emily does not use fingerquotes, but she does link the words masala and chai obviously, in case they weren't immediatley recognizable. She leans forward a little, shrugs out of her coat and hangs it on the back of her chair.
"If you're enjoying baking, I'll send over the pumpkin bread recipe I've been making lately for the House. Seems to go over well enough as it's always gone by my turn in the rotation -- else someone's just binning it and not telling me." There's a wry twist to her smile; Emily's jesting at herself lightly.
"Mmm, and things are good, I guess. It's been a bit of a week, lots of things jumbled up together, sort of busy. But that happens mid-term. You'd cross your eyes, though, at some of the psuedocode I'm seeing from the Freshman in my sections. I'm almost, almost offended by the lack of effort -- save for I'm pretty sure you have to try to make that many mistakes." She rolls her eyes a bit, settles into her chair more fully.
[Molly Quincannon] Molly, with the memory and curiosity that does tend to send her all over the internet when she's searching out a new interest, nods when rooibus gets mentioned, and sniffs the tea when it's offered in her general direction. Then she nudges it to the side of the table, leaving a conveniently clear space, as she addresses Emily's comments. "Hey, sometimes pseudocode is the best kind, for some things. Chuck keeps telling me that some of my favourite code should by rights fry my rig. But then, consider the uses." A grin, a shrug, and yes, she's probably talking about her more esoteric uses of coding. "But in terms of the basics and standard code, yeah, I'd go Gibbs on their asses. As to the pumpkin bread ... gorgeous stuff; that was you making it? Man, now I'm glad I came by with shortbread. We can call it a thank-you. No one said that was you! I'd love to see the recipe, if it's not some closely-guarded family-line secret or something." Yes, more of that little grin. Partly teasing, and partly ... well, she did say 'a couple of things'.
That, she underlines when she reaches under the table for the basket, which she lifts carefully and sets gently on the spot she's cleared on the table. "Thing the second, then." She lifts the lid of the basket and out pops a little feline head - big, slightly tufty ears, big blue-grey eyes, a sort of calico look to it. Molly says nothing; just grins.
"Mew?" says the kitten.
[Emily Littleton] "Oh, I agree with you, and when I can get away with it I adore executable pseudocode. Saves so many headaches. Like that guy, the one that writes xkcd? Randy something. I heard a quote from him recently. That python is executable psuedocode, and perl is executable line noise..." A little smirk. They both wield enough languages on a digital plane to appreciate the jab at the pointerless language.
But then Molly's proferring a basket, and it's Mew-ing at Emily. With those big blue-grey eyes. Soulful little thing. It's cute. It'd make an adorable LoL-cat. (I'm in ur sanctum, eatin ur charmz.) It, clearly, cannot be for Emily.
"Oh!" She says, grinning at the little bundle of fur and chaos and (purposefully) mistaking Molly's intent. "Did you get Neal a friend then?"
She glances from the Kitten to the Cultist with an expectant sort of hopefulness. As if she really did hope that ferrets and cats got along with. That Molly's flat could endure the added chaos of four-paws-soft-tail.
Molly's flat.
[Molly Quincannon] The xkcd comments get giggles and no actual commentary. None's needed, really. All of the commentary is reserved for the comment about the cat. Molly's pretty quick on the uptake when she wants to be. "Well, actually, yes, since you ask! Another ferret by the name of Hardison. This little lady hasn't got a name. She's waiting for her new owner to give her one."
This? With a pointed, playful look at Emily. And a little nudge of the basket towards the new-fledged Singer that gets the kitten teetering adorably before popping her little head back up again, looking at Emily with the soulful eyes.
"She comes with a week's supply of food, food and and water dishes, litter box, litter and a bag of cat toys. Also full vaccination records and a year's worth of pet insurance." See, when Molly does things, she does them right to the hilt.
[Thomas Taylor] Thomas was a busy bee and had been for the last couple of days you could only imagine that meant trouble for someone and much like yesterday that was trouble for him again today but very much in a different manner. The windows outside the coffee shop cut a striking view across the street, what was a pleasant view (What a rare thing in these days) now would by nightfall turn into a Neon paradise with club goers and the elite walking the streets feeling safe in this high society area. The police patrolled here than almost anywhere else and not only that but here they actual took action and had a visible presence.
So one has to wonder how this sort of behaviour made it this far, in one of the windows a face gets bashed up against it with a hollow ‘bang’ heard by most in the Coffee shop, it is of a white man with blonde hair face flat against the glass so it is distorting his features. Then there a shift in the fight and a Hispanic man with long black hair is suddenly the victim of a glass face plant. The other man pushes back off and as the hoody falls you can see the face of Thomas, blood still trickling from his lip and a cocky grin to his lips his cheeks hollow and his eyes daring. The other man spins and there is some sort of exchange at which point Thomas looks left and his eyes widen and his mouth drops and he makes a break for it, running past the windows as if they were a movie screen giving everyone a perfect view of his ‘cowardly’ moment. The other man points and shouts as from the left hand window five men dressed very much like a gang come into view run past the left window to the right and carry on going until they leave the view of the right hand window.
The man who was left behind runs out into the road where a bright yellow hummer screeches to a halt, he jumps on in and sticks his head out of the window and seems to be shouting something as the hummer takes off again.
The crowds have stopped, there some panic but only minor as even on this Magnificent Mile muggings, burglars and drive bys are common enough that everyone just seems to carry on with what they were doing.
Just another day in Chicago
[Molly Quincannon] [[WP for one small fuzzy kitten]]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 6, 7, 7 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Ashley McGowen] Thomas isn't the only person looking slightly worse for wear. Ashley is walking up to the coffee shop in time to see the mugging, in time to see the blond man - Thomas - smack someone's head into the glass window. She tenses, unsure of what caused the altercation, unsure of who the Hollow One has assaulted; anyone watching might assume that she was preparing to run. (She's not. She's preparing to help him fight.) And then she watches him walk in as the yellow Hummer speeds off.
And this is the point where Ashley has to decide if she really wants company today. She just saw another mage walk into that coffee shop, and she's starting to predict convergences now. If she sees another mage out in public, there will be more. They're like deer on the road at night.
But as things would have it, she owes Thomas Taylor an apology. Or a cookie, at least.
When she reaches the door and looks in through the glass she notes that her prediction as far as other magi being present was true: Emily and Molly inside. Ashley sighs and shrugs her black wool coat a little higher on her shoulders as she reaches for the door handle and prepares herself for the small crowd; it's verging on just too many people, and there is no alcohol in a coffee shop to ease her apprehension away. But this is Ashley. She hates being afraid of anything. Social anxiety applies.
There's a bruise, dark and fresh and quite recent, along one side of the Hermetic's cheekbone, and her skin is too pale for coverup to be entirely effective. Sometimes Paradox isn't kind enough to hide under your clothes. But she doesn't seem to be in any great amount of pain, and anyway, she's noticed the kitten. Ashley's expression brightens as she makes her way over to their table.
[Emily Littleton] Emily doesn't want to take the basket. Accepting the basket is taking on the onus of being responsible for another small, vulnerable life form. She doesn't really need anything -- but, oh, those are adorable blue eyes -- that might literally eat her homework -- and when she yawns, her tongue looks all bumpy-scratchy -- or that needs supervision -- at least it's not a puppy.
"Molly.... you really shouldn't have," says Emily, but already there's a note of recanting in her voice. It could be because of the furry paw that's just peeked out, and the look of Intrepid Adventurer that can't help but capture a fellow wanderer's affections.
She's just reaching for the basket, giving in, ceding to this round of friendly advances when there's a loud bang on the window. Everyone in the coffee shop looks over; everyone's attention is captured, including the small kitten's.
She glances over. Pauses in whatever she's doing. And yaaaaaaawns.
Which makes Emily chuckle a little, because this cat may just be ready to survive the Awakened world after all. It earns a wry smile of approval, and the Singer slides the basket over to settle by her feet after all.
But the wryness fades, falls to patent disapproval as Emily asks Molly: "Was that... Thomas?"
Her eyes follow the cinematic progression from left to right across the broad panes of glass until the Hollower disappears. She doesn't, just yet, get up to see if he needs help. Emily's less help in a fist fight than she is in a gun battle. And she doesn't bring a firearm to either church or tea. There's worry creasing her brow; there's something darker in the set of her mouth.
[Ashley McGowen] ((Ignore the last sentence of my post! I thought Thomas walked inside. That's what I get for reading fast trying to catch up.))
Ashley pauses outside the shop, her fingertips still on the handle, and casts a look over toward the Hollow One. "Hey," she says, taking in the blood trickling down his nose. "You okay?" No great amount of concern in her tone. But she's asking.
[Molly Quincannon] Molly glances at the bang on the window along with everyone else, but manages to glance back in time to catch the kitten's reaction ... and, despite the worry that creases her brow a little over who she just saw flattened against the window, she can't help but laugh at the kitten's reaction. "Match made in heaven," she says, nudging the bags of sundries - the cat food, the bowls, the litter box and litter, the paperwork - over in Emily's direction. "I now pronounce you ... well, you know the rest."
Then, though, she looks back at the window, and there's something in the set of her jaw that suggests that she's got a few different ways of defending herself, not to mention coming to the defence of her colleagues, if needs be. "Yes. Yes, it was. And that's Ashley now," she adds, and now the worry creases her brow just a liiiiiittle bit deeper. "And she's wearing a shiny new bruise. "Looks like the problem's sorting. Think they're going to come in, or should we go out?" Then she shakes her head and tuts. "And he gives me lip about having a death wish. Hypocritical limey twerp." There's no rancour to it; she actually sounds more amused than anything, if a bit worried.
[Thomas Taylor] ((As I just explained to Ashley, Thomas is actually still fleeing :) There was confusion there serves me right for trying to do an intro with spice, as such you guys carry on and Thomas will be back in a couple of posts, Ashley knows what he is up to))
[Ashley McGowen] ((Okay. Ashley comes inside then. *grin* You guys go ahead and post and assume my post is here instead of before and she just stopped at their table and whatnot.))
[Emily Littleton] The Singer now has far more to carry than what she walked in with. It provokes a little quiet anxiety. There would, no doubt, be an excessive number of pet care google searches, and queries around to pet-owning friends, and fretting over whether or not her relationship with the imperturbable furball was perfect, was appropriate, was good enough or not. There's also the matter of how to get it all back to her flat via public transport; she doesn't know yet the sort of magic it takes to make that more manageable.
"When all my computer cables have tiny teeth marks, I'll know who to thank," she tells Molly, wryly, but with enough warmth that it reads true as appreciation as well.
"Hey, Ashley," she says, when the Adept approaches. Emily pushes out one of the spare chairs with her foot. It happens to be on the side of the table with the kitten-in-a-basket lurking and longing for some pet-lover attention. "Molly's brought short-bread, and kittens."
Meaningful lift of her eyebrows, then a glance down at the blue-eyed vixen. Who mews, as if on cue, and then ducks back into her basket and away from the rush of resonance. Who will later, of course, peek out with curiosity befitting her species.
Limey twerp, Molly says. "All the same, I hope he's alright." She's reached a tentative peace with the Hollower. Had reached. Might have recently upset. But Emily isn't currently worried after retaliation from her latest bit of bad behavior; in her mind, the matter's settled. Sorted. Over.
[Molly Quincannon] "Oh, me too," is Molly's comment in regards to Thomas' general well-being. "But I can hope he's okay and call him a hypocritical limey git and not be a hypocrite myself. Sometimes being fond of someone is intrinsically linked to wanting to smack them upside the head. Which explains a lot of my friends," she adds, thoughtful. Then she chuckles. "That's why I bought the bag of cat toys. I'm sure catnip trumps cables."
Then, for Ashley, a smile of greeting. "Hey, Ashley. How're you doing?" Her eyes linger on Ashley's cheek for a moment, though she makes no direct comment. It's not like she's not hiding a few marks of her own under the sleeves of the jacket she hasn't taken off yet. "And yes, I brought shortbread and kittens. It's revenge for her helping to talk me into filling my home with ferret. Besides, kitty's got nerves of steel, from the look. Speaking of, do you know what's going on with Thomas out there? I think it's going to take industrial cleaner to scrub off that mark his face left on the glass."
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley doesn't have to be invited twice. She lowers herself a little gingerly into the chair near the basket, lowering a hand toward it for the kitten to come and investigate when she's ready rather than reaching in and startling the small animal. The Hermetic peers up over the edge of the table at Singer and Cultist as though reminded that hey, there are people here. "Hi," she says.
Then, "Tom can handle himself." Perhaps an explanation for why she didn't tear off after the Hollow One to go and assist; she knows he's the rough and tumble sort and she doesn't have much interest in a street fight.
One would note, though, that in spite of that vote of confidence her eyes rove back toward the window. Toward the mark the man's face left on the glass, and to check and see whether Thomas is returning. She'll give him five minutes. Perhaps she also noticed the way Molly's gaze lingered on her cheek because she adds, belatedly, "I'm all right. Beginning a war of attrition to see if I can convince a guy who doesn't know he's Awake to come talk to me. That Vito guy you mentioned. I tracked him down."
[Molly Quincannon] Molly blinks, looking nonplussed and the beginnings of horrified. "He doesn't know? Great Google, what--?" Then she shakes her head. "I am so sorry; I didn't talk to him much and Nat and Lara never mentioned he didn't know. Maybe they don't know he doesn't, or are happy to leave him -- no. No way are they that ... well, no, okay, no way is Nat ready to just let someone wander around Sleepwalking that way. Gyeh. Hope you're okay, or are going to be. Um, there's honeybush and that peach black stuff. Just..." She's not quite enough hypocrite to tell Ashley to maybe bring backup, but she does say, "...Watch your back, okay? I get the feeling he's less than nice."
Then she nods. "I know he can. Doesn't stop me caring, or wondering, or worrying. Though on a totally unrelated note, what kind of person drives a bright yellow Hummer? They're gaudy enough cars as is." Says the woman who drives a TARDIS-Beetle.
[Emily Littleton] "I had nothing to do with the ferret," she says, hands lifted innocently, paragon of poise and innocence, before Emily grins and makes with pouring out tea for herself, and then incidentally leaving the pot of sweet-chai smelling tea nearest to Ashley at the table. There's no subtlety to that invitation, at all.
"The HabiTrail as modern art installment, now, that I may have encouraged. Gently."
A little cream goes into the tea.
"Do you want me to go with you, or anything?" About this Vito guy. Emily's not an Adept, but she's got a bit of a way with words. She's good at bending ears and bending truths.
[Ashley McGowen] "Oh, I've already talked to him," Ashley says. "You're right. He's not a nice guy. But I'm not afraid of him." This, stated without any particular bravado; it's just fact. Ashley is an Adept, and she wouldn't have gotten there without some amount of comfort with and confidence in her own abilities. Some might debate that she has too much, but her blood has cooled a little over the past year. She's more cautious than she was.
"Sooner or later he'll come and talk to me. I scared him."
She reaches down and strokes the kitten's ears when she finally pokes her head back out, the gesture careful in case she startles. She hasn't yet gone up to get any tea, but she glances once at the pot when Emily nudges it in her direction. She'll reach for it in a minute; evidently small furry animals are suitable for distracting the Hermetic.
[Thomas Taylor] By the time he comes back into view (This time from the right going left) he is walking and smoking a big grin plastered on his face as he stops outside the coffee shop the cigarette being consumed at an alarming rate. He had spotted Ashley on his jog past (More like felt her, he was very sensitive to that hunger she carried) so when he finally led his quarry where he intend to and let the law intervene he thought he would pop in and say hello.
When he walks on in the blood has been wiped away, his hoody (Molly would recognise it from yesterdays outing) was held in his hand, he had a black T-shirt on and some black cargo pants, he even had very cheap running shoes on like he knew he would be getting chased. There’s a massive smile on his face as he spots Ash and a raised eyebrow to go with it as he spots Info and North. He wanders on over and takes a seat. Reality was having a field day with Thomas recently and he knew he was pushing his luck even with his gift of Arcane. He would have to keep it on the down low after this at least for a few days let his thing do it’s thing. Still for here and now it still kept the other witness’ off his back, sure he looked similar to the guy who was by the window but it could not be him right the other was Shorter...fatter...thinner....taller... reality was mixing the facts and grumbling as it did so.
He wanders up to the table as some residue smoke escapes his lungs and gives his breath an almost mystic quality like a will-o- the-wisp was escaping, his skin is wet with sweat and his cheeks a flushed red from the fight and the chase. I hope the ladies at the table like there men musky because Thomas deodorant is barely keeping that manly sweat smell at bay. “Afternoon ladies, calvin day for a jog.” He does not wait to be offered a seat he pulls one from another table. (Not before offering a charming smile and asking quite politely of the old woman that he could borrow it, she of course didn’t mind and even called him a sweet boy) He falls into with a slump and tilts his head as he was joining a conversation already in progress as he lets them continue attempting to catch up
[Jarod Nightingale] [Awareness]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 6, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Emily Littleton] Calling Thomas a sweet boy was a bit like assuming that Emily was a nice girl. Over-hearing it makes the Singer smirk, looses a little huff of amusement from her lungs, leaves her eyes a brighter with that dark amusement. They are quite a pair, North and South, and likely no one at the table knows just how much trouble they could get one another into.
But they have chaperones just now, so it should stay a bit tamer today. Just a lovely afternoon tea. Playing at social niceties, these mages are, like being normal people on a blustery Sunday afternoon. There's the Architect, the Thrill Seeker, the Bad Boy and the Pusher of Buttons. It's a nice group, really, if you're willing to look past the swirl of egos and drives and needs.
"Hey, South."
She glances over as he settles in, brings the uncouth scent of cigarette smoke to the table. Then it's back to the conversation.
"Doesn't know he's awake like Quentin?" she asks Ashley. Emily feels there's something different at play here, but she's not sure how to differentiate all the levels of Sleepwalking and world-bending, just yet. "Or like when we first met?"
[Molly Quincannon] Molly rolls her eyes at Emily and says, "Oh, come on. You sold me on the Habitrail set-up before I even decided on the ferret. And thus, I had to have a ferret to justify the Habitrail. And you haven't even come by to see the results of the installation art. For shame."
Ashley's comment just gets a bit of a sheepish smile. It hadn't been so much the other way around when she met Vito, but close - he'd pushed her into a pretty atrocious flashback, but at least those have subsided. "Then I'll just offer my congratulations," she says, "and wish you luck."
Then Thomas, and he gets a once-over and a raised eyebrow. "For more than a jog, looks like. Yellow Hummer-guy? Seriously? I--"
Whatever questions she has get, perhaps mercifully, cut off by the strains of 'Take This Job and Shove It' piping up from her pocket, and thus her iPhone. She pulls her phone, looks at it and gives a heavy sigh. "I have a feeling," she tells the assembled, "that I'm going to have to tear out of here in a minute, cursing heavily. I don't know what they do in the server room over the weekends, but one day I am going to find out. Um..." She switches on the phone, sticks it to her ear, and pipes a "Molly here" as she digs in her other pocket for her wallet. She takes a twenty and slides it under Emily's teacup and murmurs, "For the cab. That's a lot of stuff to haul back. No, I was not talking to you," she adds into the phone. "I was -- never mind. Why are you eating my weekend today?" Pause, and then she gets up and gathers her laptop bag. "It's doing what? No, you-- Just-- Just don't ... touch anything. Who hired you? No, seriously, I want to know? What were they smoking?" With that, an apologetic look and a wave to all assembled, she's out the door and off to verbally bitch-slap somebody somewhere before giving a bit of TLC to some server, somewhere.
[Ashley McGowen] The Pusher of Buttons does not seem intent on pushing any buttons today. She's picking up the kitten and placing it on her thigh, curving a finger and rubbing beneath its chin. "Hey, Tom," she says when the young man seats himself at their table. There is a slight wrinkle of her nose, but it's brief; perhaps given that he was just chasing someone down she's more inclined to be forgiving.
A nod to Molly as the Cultist leaves, and Ashley sits back in her chair, letting the kitten wander but keeping her hedged in by a pair of hands. And she had fully intended to apologize to Thomas, but now Emily is present, and Emily is asking questions about a new project (challenge - which happens to involve breaking the Will of a very intimidating man).
"No. Quentin isn't Awake," Ashley says. "Quentin can imitate what we do, but he's not Awake. Vito actually is. He just refuses to believe that he is and he threatened me when I tried to explain." That's almost cheerful. One might imagine it's been a while since Ashley had any resistance from an initiate.
[Jarod Nightingale] There were things that people like Jarod Nightingale probably never imagined themselves doing, like shopping for Halloween costumes for a couple of kids. This entire concept was alien and strange to him, and yet, here he was... doing precisely that. There were four of them: Jarod, Ilana, Ilana's friend Logan, and Logan's mother Ellen. The outing had been Ellen's idea. As a single mother in her late 30's, she had a fair bit more experience with the peculiar world of parental social habits. Apparently this was the sort of thing that people who had kids did when their kids were friends - they all went out together. Jarod himself had been less than enthusiastic about the idea, but it was hard to say no to the pleading eyes of a couple of ten year olds.
They'd been in and out of a handful of stores by now, with limited success. The four of them were currently walking down the sidewalk when they neared the tea shop. A familiar sensation stopped him in his tracks before they got there. It was just a tickle of resonance, but that was all the warning he needed. Putting a hand out, he touched Ellen's shoulder lightly and said, "I need to make a call. Meet you at the park?" She looked a little surprised, but nodded and herded the children carefully across the street. As they left, Ilana turned around and waved, and he smiled and returned the gesture.
Then he walked up to the door of the tea shop and went inside.
[Thomas Taylor] Thomas had very little to add, a nod to Molly as she leaves and he leans back on the chair to briefly catch the waitress as she was cleaning another table and order a pot of tea. The chair comes back forward with a –slam- as he throws one arm over the back rest as he pretty much gets comfortable for the long haul. North gets a wide charming almost dark grin and Ashley gets something similar but with a distant lack of darkness. “North Ash, as you were pets” He looks down at the kitten blinks and shrugs, could be here for any reason really and as the conversation seems to be carrying on he is intent to listen. He has not heard either name before so it like all others are ferried away to be saved for later.
[Emily Littleton] Molly slips her a twenty. Emily immediately tries to hand it back. There's no momentary pause. No hesitation. It's -- stymied, of course, by the Cultist's iPhone and whatever relentless bit of stupidity has prompted that phone call. The one-sided conversation brings out a wince of sympathy in Emily. This time last year she was wearing shirts that read No, I will not fix your computer on a regular basis. She still wore them on campus, but not out and about where she was increasingly likely to run into people of the Awakened persuasion.
So Emily keeps the twenty. And the kitten. Unless Ashley wants to take the kitty home to keep hers company. She'd consider that ploy, but Emily is still a little humbled from their battle of Wills the other night. One does not go toe-to-toe with an Adept, on their home court advantage, and expect it to go well with one's ego.
"I haven't talked to him in awhile," Emily says. There's the slam of the chair, Thom telling them to stand down from attention -- not that they'd been at attention -- and Emily glances over, lets that look linger just a bit, and then goes back to her comment. "I feel a little responsible for him, since he didn't much get on with anyone else. But I think he wants us to leave him be."
By now the subtle sensuality and cold of a particularly familiar resonance had brushed over her shoulders. Emily sat a little straighter, even if it was a subconscious shift. She did look over when the door swung open, perhaps with a little chime, maybe just with the eddy of cold air following him in. And today there's a smile for Jarod, something warmer and not at all hidden from the other two mages at the table.
And why shouldn't she be in a good mood? There's friends. There's tea. And someone has bequeathed unto her a kitten. Molly seems to have picked up on her fondness of blue-eyed troublemakers.
[Ashley McGowen] "You aren't responsible for him," says Ashley, who has evidently given up on Quentin. "If we put it in front of him and he still won't take the opportunity, that's his problem." She'd had a long argument with Quentin too; Emily does indeed seem to be right about him wanting to be left alone. Unfortunately Doyle's is a place that has good, cheap beer, so the likelihood of Ashley ever steering entirely clear of it is slim.
A glance toward Thomas and she adds, "Guy we met over the summer," by explanation. A beat and then, "What was the fight about? I was going to help you but it looked like you had it pretty well handled."
At which point the swirl of resonance sweeps in from outside, and Ashley's gaze tracks over in Jarod's direction. At which point there's a quick glance toward Emily, who is smiling, and a quick glance toward Thomas, and then a very attentive look toward the teapot that Emily pushed in her direction earlier while she picks up a cup and pours. "Hi, Jarod."
[Jarod Nightingale] For once, Jarod and Emily's habit of dressing in opposition to each other (she often dressed up when he dressed down) hadn't held true. She was in a dress and heels. He was currently wearing most of a suit: a black vest and pants, black tie, and a dark purple satin shirt. It was the kind of outfit that some men might shy away from (deep purple was still purple, after all), but he pulled it off very well.
He paused inside the door as Molly brushed past him, watching the Cultist leave. Then... there was Thomas, and Ashley. And Emily.
And a cat.
Jarod raised an eyebrow slightly and glanced toward the nearest employee, as if contemplating the wisdom of consuming food and drink in a place that allowed furry animals to wander around. Rather than ordering for himself, he simply walked over to the table and pulled out a chair between the Hermetic and the Chorister. Inviting himself in, as usual. (And why not? They were all fairly well acquainted by this time.) His response to Emily's smile was... a little muted. Something small and reserved tugging at the corners of his mouth before it disappeared entirely.
Ashley said hello. He glanced at her. There were no linger traces of injury on him today. Not even to those who knew how to sense such things through magical means. "Evening," he said.
And then of course, a nod to Thomas.
Back to Emily. "...Why is there a cat here?"
[Jarod Nightingale] [*lingering]
[Thomas Taylor] Thomas thanks the waitress for the tea as he leaves the pot to simmer and looks to Ashley when she talks to him and nods, he was quite the social adept not that you would think it from some of his brash and loud remarks. In the awakened community he saw no reason to be anything but himself and even that had masks (layers) but when not around people he knew or even if he wanted something Thomas could pull out the stops. Perhaps that explains why he is so quiet listening to them speak tilting his head when looked at encouraging them to talk with only a look or a gesture.
His mouth opens when Ashley asks that question but he is saved from explaining anything as Jarod walks in. He nods back in response to the man and lets Catman’s question enter the floor as his head just moves from side to side quickly and he smirks over nothing in particular. Look at them all gathered again like ducks in a row. Thomas looks around them and then pours his own tea but does not look to it like Ashley his purpose was just pouring. Of course it might end like the last TNR but Thomas just was not concerned anymore that night after everyone had gone he took a long hard look at himself and realised he was being far too serious for all that bollocks...
So this time he waits for the fireworks almost expectantly, and this time there shall be no grim face when it all falls apart.
[Emily Littleton] They were all fairly well acquainted -- some more so than others -- and so Emily does not think twice when he inserts himself between her and Ashley. Quietly, Emily assumes he just wants to be next on the adventuring kitten's list of people to explore. After all, he has less resonance than Ashley and he's wearing black. Cats love people in black. The furball starts to make inroads in that direction. She mews. She is absolutely adorable.
Emily, on the other hand, shrugs.
"Molly seems to think I have a fondness for felines," Emily says, with a little bit of confusion, as if she could not possible understand where that thought came from. There's a dry irony to her saying this, to this person. They're both aware of it. "And that I need a pet."
Now, though, there's an askance glance at the bundle of cute and trouble. Like as not, everyone at the table knows that Emily does not need a pet. She hopes they all know that.
"And then she left, so I suppose it's mine now either way."
Intrepid Adventurer Cat is about to step on his pant leg, any second, with that fluffy white-furred paw. Emily clearly feels no protective nature for the cat, yet, as she's going to let her do it. Live and learn, kitten. Live and learn.
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley does have visible injuries - though they appear to be quite recent. There's a bruise that smudges the side of one cheekbone just before it disappears beneath a sweep of hair, and her skin is too pale for coverup to have hidden it entirely. She either makes as much a habit of getting into fights as Thomas does, of beating her face into walls, or Paradox was unkind.
She raises an arm so that the kitten can wander over in Jarod's direction. Animals are intimidated by her resonance, most of the time, sometimes moreso than people are; she tries not to let it bother her. She's been rapidly growing farther and farther away from the mundane world for a while now.
At which point she studies her teacup, then lifts it to sip. "So, wait. Molly just left you with the cat?"
[Jarod Nightingale] "How very responsible of her," he mused with a dryly condescending tone. Perhaps thankfully, he kept the rest of his opinions about the matter to himself, but anyone who knew him (or even had a decent sense of how to read people) would know that he disapproved.
And oh, he eyed that kitten quite dubiously when he saw that it was about to crawl into his lap. Cat fur and designer suits do. not. mix.
He looked at the cat. The cat looked at him.
Finally, he gave a small sigh and reached over to pick up the kitten, which he then set down in his lap. There wasn't much for it, really, so he may as well just get the fur-business out of the way now. He even rubbed his fingertips gently behind the kitten's ears.
[Jarod Nightingale] [Mind 2 - You will not be using those claws on this suit, cat. Do we have an understanding? Yes I think we do. (diff 5 -1focus -1slow)]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 3, 4 (Success x 2 at target 3)
[Thomas Taylor] Thomas leans his head forward and sniffs the tea with a silent ‘Ahhhh’ on his lips as he takes the milk and adds it and then places two sugars in, stirs for about 20 seconds then leaves another minute to settle. Tea drinking was an art form even a Southern English Trolley pushers knew that!
Eyes look to the cat and it is obvious Thomas wants no part of it. He shuffles his chair sideways enough so the Cat cannot get to him and then finally has a sip of his tea and sits back once more relaxed.
He had noticed Ashley injuries then again if she wanted to talk about them she would tell them, no need to be nosey like that but he is fairly sure she got them for entirely different reasons than he got his. Ashley could handle herself in a brawl for her small size but she did not seem the type to lead with her fists, more the type to lead with her will.
“Wat is it with bloody pets.” It is mumbled, Ferrets, Cats, Dogs did being awakened mean you had to get something alive to look after, Thomas was far too busy keeping himself alive to worry about another living thing. “Best get me ass a goldfish before sumone turns up with sumthin’ bigger...”
He blinks then eyes widen and his head tilts to look at nothing at all as if he had a brain storm “Sum lemons am the best.” He stands pulling out an old beaten folded and grotty notepad, then opens it up pulls out a small pen (The type found in gambling dens) and scribbles something in it. One eyebrow half closes, a few furrows crease his forehead and his tongue hangs ever so cutely on the tip of his lips as he concentrates scribbling away for perhaps 30 seconds before folding it back up and placing it back in his pocket as he takes the seat again.
[Emily Littleton] "Not just the kitten," Emily points out, glancing at the motley assortment of carrier bags she had assumed. Cat food, a litter box, some toys and catnip, the original basket, vet paperwork. "All of this cat stuff, too. I swear. She has more than I moved to Chicago with, and she'll fit in my pocket."
Moue. Anyone with any idea how Emily feels about material possessions can guess at the subtext to this. It's a lot to carry home with her. It's a lot to fill up her flat with. There's a furry someone who might deign to care if she comes home late, or not at all.
"Oh, and shortbread."
It's a bit of an afterthought, but Emily nudges the Tupperware a little with a finger. Sips from her tea. Watches Jarod with the kitten, and her smile shifts to something almost intolerable. It's endearing to see him resigned to tolerating a furball in his designer lap. (Bless.) If he catches sight of that expression on Emily's face, she will never live it down. So it's short-lived. She shifts away from it.
"Am I becoming that crazy cat lady and nobody told me?" she asks them, teasing but also half-wondering what it was she telegraphed to the rest of the world that had her getting gifts of baked goods and fluffy things.
She, too, wanted no part of asking the Adept after her injuries. No part at all. Thank you.
[Ashley McGowen] [Did you just...mind control a kitten?]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley is faintly amused when Jarod deigns to pay attention to the cat - not surprised. She rather likes animals herself and has suffered teasing for it in the past when friends have discovered the fact (well, when Kage discovered the fact. When does Kage pass up on an opportunity to tease Ashley? She's one of the only magi who can get away with it.)
Her amusement increases when she gets a sense of the flare of resonance, recognizes the little tells of altered behavior. They would miss most people, but the Ars Mentis is what Ashley specializes in, after all. "At least she gave you the stuff, I guess," she tells Emily, with a shrug. Her eyes sweep over the assortment of bags. "I'd offer to just transfer it all for you, but reality's kicked my ass enough today."
A look toward Thomas as she raises her teacup again, tilting her head a little as she watches him scribble without looking overlong at the words he's putting down (mutual respect). Poetry, perhaps; she knows he writes too. "You might want to," she says, in a dry tone. "People just kind of dropped mine on me, too. They grow on you."
[Jarod Nightingale] Here was the thing about Jarod and cats: they didn't always like him, but they always reacted to him. And it wasn't merely the potency (less than Ashley's, greater than those of the two Initiates) of his resonance that they were reacting to. They reacted to the same thing that made Thomas refer to him as Catman. It was entirely unavoidable. Like or not, for better or worse... Jarod had been indelibly marked as something feline.
He knew from experience that the only way to make the kitten leave him alone would be to intimidate it, and frightening a kitten wasn't likely to earn him any brownie points. (It was also possible that having a child had somehow unlocked this little part of him that responded to creatures of a young age and adorable appearance with a protective instinct. Maybe. Just a little.)
"You'd need at least three more of these before you can officially claim that title," he responded to Emily's teasing question. "If you do that, I'm afraid I'll have to disavow all knowledge of you." This was stated dryly, but Emily knew his sense of humor by now.
The kitten... seemed extremely happy. It rubbed its head against Jarod's fingers and began to utter a loud, resonant purr. Normally, a kitten might begin to knead with its paws against his leg right about now. It was an instinctive thing, for them, recalling the same action they might make while being fed by their mother. This one did not, however (and yes that was because of Jarod's magical intervention.) Instead, it rolled over onto its back and began to flex and knead at the air while purring happily. He let his fingers wander absently under the kitten's chin, then down to massage its chest and stomach.
"I really don't understand the point of keeping pets," he added, without a trace of irony.
[Thomas Taylor] He looks to Ashley with that answer as he looks very confused “Well guys, as me witness lets not be buy Tommy any pets, ‘cos you’ll just be goin’ hat pope with ‘im.” He raises his right hand and his fingers start waving with the words. “Most folks too nice to not turn down a present, well not me.” He taps his chest with the same hand and then pauses before sniggering to himself because in most cases he turns down nothing
There’s a glance out of the corner of his eye at Emily as he just imagines her all hunched over with cats everywhere. “I ‘eard a urban myth that a cat lady died under our gaff but they didn’t know for like two weeks an wen they found ‘er she was ‘alf eaten as the cats as used ‘er for food...” He nods like that would be a cautionary tale for any would be pet lover (He was not purposefully picking on the cats just that was the tale.) and he offer an ‘almost’ apologetic look to Jarod like it might have hurt his feelings.
[Emily Littleton] "I'm not sure I do either," Emily commented, with a resigned little sigh, watching the kitten so happily linger in Jarod's lap. No doubt, it would be an entirely different story, getting the little beastie home. No doubt, when left to its own recognizance, its tyrranical rule over her neatly-ordered flat would drive Emily insane.
Or, something like Thomas' story would happen to her. Emily's expression turned momentarily rueful, then settled.
"And, on that happy note, I think I'd better get all of this," a quick gesture at the collected bags and what not, "Back to my flat. So much for going by the market on my way, ne?"
There was some apprehension to how she handled the kitten, however it got back to her from the Verbena's lap. As if she wasn't quite certain what to do with it. A kitten, after all, is not a baby. It's pointy on all sides. It bites, and has teeth earlier in life. The kitten, likewise, has some apprehension about Emily.
They're off to a winning start.
"It was good to see you guys," she says, while she's trying to make sure the kitten stays in its basket, and the Tupperware finds a place in a bag, and her jacket is correctly zipped up and ... she's not quite sure how Molly managed this all and her messenger bag.
And so the TNR-redux begins to break up, before anything untoward could really get started. And if Emily scolds the kitten with a somewhat wary hey! as they're headed out the door (and it's half out of the basket again) maybe no one will have the mind to chuckle at her while she's within earshot.
[Ashley McGowen] There's a glance toward Jarod when he says he doesn't get the point of keeping them, followed by a shrug. Ashley rather enjoys hers, but it's the company she likes, and she's not about to admit to needing company (or lacking it) around anyone she knows. "Useful should Chicago ever turn into a post-apocalyptic hell the way it threatens to do," she says, without any real apparent reassurance that she wouldn't actually eat them. The dry tone gives her away.
Emily has left without anything horribly awkward happening, and Ashley doesn't quite realize that this had been a real fear of hers until Emily is gone. It wasn't that she'd worried about a repeat of Tuesday. Not precisely. She, at least, seems tired but calm.
"Good night," she tells the Singer, lifting a hand so she can hold it up in an approximation of a wave. At which point she scoots her feet away from the basket so that Emily is able to clear out, leaving her in the teashop and mildly self-conscious.
[Jarod Nightingale] He was only too happy to allow Emily repossession of the kitten, and for a moment he watched her as she packed up and bid them goodbye. His expression was unreadable, but she held his focus until she'd disappeared through the door.
Then he set about almost immediately to the task of picking stray pieces of cat fur off of his pant leg. He went about this task with the kind of diligent precision that could only belong to someone who was compulsively neat. A curl of something like displeasure touched his mouth, but it was mild at best.
Thom's mock-apologetic expression went ignored.
When he looked up from his lap, his eyes landed on Ashley. He'd noticed her bruises (not the ones that he'd caused, but newer and likely of the paradox-induced variety,) and for a moment he did let his eyes wander over what little could be seen. When Ashley cracked a joke about the potential usefulness of pets during an Apocalypse, Jarod grinned. "I'll give you that one."
After a pause, his tone fell into something softer and more genuine. Not exactly... concerned. But perhaps a milder version of it. "You feeling okay?"
He wasn't just referring to her most recent injuries. There was a lot that he couldn't say right now, in public and in present company.
[Thomas Taylor] Thomas has a big gulp of his tea as he looks to his wrist and watch and sighs. He looks between Ashley and Jarod more noting his tone and a small raise of the brow. Theres was nothing suspious about it, they had known each other longer than he had either of them such a caring tone was not unexpected. He wishes Jarod luck of course last time he tried that with Ashley it all got a little heated. Well as good as time as any thinks Thomas “Sorry folks, looks like Tommy ‘as gotta be on the frog as well, got to see a man ‘bout a dog.” There’s a chuckle at that “Get it...dog...” He waves his hand as he stands and stretches, muscles and definition shows through the T-shirt when he does and bones all over his body give a resounding crack as he tilts his head at the end for the final one and gives an all mighty yawn also. He blinks after wards rubbing some tears from his eyes it was so resounding as then he reaches for the hoodie and puts it on one arm at a time.
“You guys don’t do anythin’ Tommy wouldn’t do now you ‘ear.” He picks up his tea and starts to down it, pointless wasting it
[Ashley McGowen] Thomas gets to his feet and his bones snap like sticks in cold weather when he does. Ashley raises an eyebrow at the Hollow One, choosing for a moment to let Jarod's question hang. "I want to talk to you soon, Tom," she says. She wants to talk to him in order to apologize, but there's no hint of that in her voice; for all Thomas knows it could be something deadly serious.
Though - it's Ashley. The thought of apologizing to a damned Hollow One is deadly serious. Her old cabalmates (and their mentor) would never let her live it down if they knew. Then again, they wouldn't let her live down being close friends with an Orphan, or cabaling with a Dreamspeaker, or doing odd rituals on the side with the primals, or considering adopting a dual Tradition (with the Verbena.) There are a lot of things she doesn't tell Bran and Justine.
"Good night," she adds to him, before he goes.
Jarod gets her response then; would have gotten it sooner if Thomas hadn't been leaving, perhaps. "I'm okay," she says, after a beat. Then, choosing to assume that he's referring to the recent injuries, she says, "My cabalmate got pulled over to the other side...months ago. Back in May. And I'm supposed to be there to help him back over in a few hours, so I was preparing."
[Jarod Nightingale] He watched Thomas get up and stretch, following the motion of bones and muscles with his eyes. It was a lazy curiosity, this kind of observation. But soon enough the Hollow One was bidding them goodnight, and then moving along his way. Jarod offered him a friendly-enough nod as he watched the younger man leave.
It wasn't until Thomas was gone that Ashley answered his question. He took in her response without comment for a moment. Silence didn't seem to bother him, in conversations. Often, he let moments like this hang in the air for awhile before speaking again. Perhaps it was indicative of a careful thought process. He didn't like to speak quickly.
One might notice that he hadn't gotten himself any tea. The presence of a cat at the table had probably turned him off of the idea. The fact that he was still here probably meant that he'd come in for other reasons in the first place.
"Well, I wish you luck with that." And then, after a beat, he added, "And I hope... that everything's okay. With us."
[Thomas Taylor] She says she wants to talk to him, he casually nods “Am sure we will catch up soon pet, if you need me in the mean lemon get me on the dog aye?” He nods to the Hermetic with a wink and a click from his mouth. It could be deadly serious but until he knows it was pointless worrying about it. His hand moves to the table and places a few dollars down for his tea, his hand hovers over the dollar and his fore and middle finger tap it and the table three times then raises them back up again and places a cigarette in his lips...he certainly did not have it before tapping the table.
He nods to Ashley first then to Jarod, the bit about cabal mate is caught just before he turns and leaves, the door opens and he back out into the wilderness as his zippo comes out the cigarette is lit
[Ashley McGowen] He wishes her luck with Gregor, and Ashley just nods at that. It's difficult to tell how she feels about it, really; Gregor's been gone a long time. She's reasonably sure that things will go smoothly in bringing him back over (but she doesn't know.) A lot of things have changed since he left, and she couldn't find Wharil, though, she supposes, there's always time for the Euthanatos to show his face late. She doubts it will happen. "Thanks," she says.
Silence doesn't seem to bother her either, and she's patient with his response, though she doesn't look directly at him.
After the beat, after what he says next, her gaze does slide sidelong toward him, and then it's her turn to pause. That wasn't something she'd expected him to say, and while she isn't angry she isn't sure of what to tell him. It's all a bit outside her usual range of experience. "Everything's okay," she says. "I'm not angry at you or anything."
A beat and she raises a hand to the back of her neck, takes a sip from her cup with the other hand. "That usually just isn't...something I'd do, so..." A wave of the hand once it falls away from the back of her neck. "I'm just figuring out how to navigate."
[Jarod Nightingale] This was unusual territory for him as well, though not in the same way, or for the same reasons. What had happened between them... was not an entirely new experience. It was not so much that he felt uncomfortable speaking about it (very unlikely, considering this was... Jarod) as that it was difficult for him to come down from that moment and attempt to show a little consideration. Ashley hadn't been expecting him to say something like that (to check in with her), and it was no surprise that she felt that way. This was not his usual MO.
But it had been eating at him a little, because Ashley was... not exactly a friend, but not one of the interchangeable masses either. They'd had both good and bad moments together. They knew a little about each other, if not a lot. At the least, he probably felt like he owed it to her to make sure that she was okay. They hadn't been gentle with each other.
She said that is wasn't something she normally did, and a small smile crept onto his face. "Could have fooled me." (Coming from him, that was a compliment, and he meant it as one.)
"I wouldn't care if you were angry. Mostly I just wanted to make sure that..." his eyes flicked briefly around the room, noting the other people around them and how well within earshot they might be. "I didn't hurt you more than was welcome."
He hadn't really thought that he had, but it was important to make sure.
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley smiles, recognizing the compliment for what it is, and lets the cup come to rest back on the table, letting her fingertips continue to rest on it, light, while he says he just wanted to make sure.
It amuses her a little that Jarod is taking so much care now to make sure that they aren't overheard; what happened in the park was quite public. Enough that she has avoided the park for the past few days out of utter mortification, lest anyone come back to the spot and recognize her. Unlikely as it was, Ashley was quite shy for the better part of her childhood, and while it's shifted into a reserved demeanor as she's gotten older, much of that introversion persists.
She'd cried after he left. Not because of him; it had just shaken a lot of bottled emotions loose, forced them to the surface, and when they were gone she'd just felt tired and hungry. Distantly sad. But at least not angry anymore.
She doesn't know that this is unusual for him. She can't really tell. But she smirks and says, "You left a couple of pretty sick bruises, but no." She usually doesn't use slang, but it's dropped in a dry tone. After a moment she glances him over and asks, "Are you okay?"
[Jarod Nightingale] She'd bitten his lip hard enough to draw blood. There ought to still be a scab from it, but there wasn't one. Neither were there any remnants of the bruises she'd left, or the marks where her nails had raked his skin. That much she wouldn't be able to see while he was dressed, but it was easy enough to guess that he'd healed himself shortly after their encounter. He was a Disciple of Life, after all.
When Ashley turned the question back around, he shrugged lightly and smiled. "Do I look okay?"
Naturally he did. He looked gorgeous, as always. (And that purple was a very nice color on him.) But whether or not he looked okay wasn't really an indication of his actual state of being. Looks could be deceiving, especially in his case. It didn't matter though. For the purposes of Ashley's question, he was just fine indeed. And he didn't seem to be holding onto any lingering anger any more than she was, so perhaps the encounter had been suitably cathartic for both of them.
"Anyway, I should get going. I'm supposed to meet someone soon." He pushed back his chair and stood up. "Have a good evening."
[Ashley McGowen] She hadn't been asking him about the injuries she left. Jarod was as angry as she was, and Ashley has a complex, rather traumatizing sequence of events that had led her to act the way she did Thursday afternoon. If it weren't for that personal experience, she wouldn't have asked the question; she wouldn't have wondered if maybe there are things he isn't talking about either.
But he deflects, and she lets him deflect, because if he does have things he isn't talking about she didn't expect him to start talking about them now. It's what she would have done (it's what she did do, just a few minutes ago.)
So she just smiles at the question, suspecting that it was meant to be rhetorical.
He's leaving, and she hadn't expected him to linger long (she hadn't even expected this conversation at all), so she just nods to him. "Okay. Good to see you," she says, and means it. "Good night." She didn't see him out with his daughter, has no idea who he's going to go meet, and doesn't think long on it. The tea that Emily gifted is gone and she has a cabalmate to help back into town, and so she's soon to leave, herself. Not immediately after, though. She's not about to follow him.
