[Jarod Nightingale] Some of the coffee shops on the Mile were a little too hip for their own good. Most of the rest of them were Starbucks.
This place was one of the few that didn't fit into either of those categories, which made it more tolerable. It was small, with only a handful of tables, but the coffee was uniformly excellent, and the baristas actually seemed to know what they were doing. Ironically, Jarod was not actually there for the coffee, or the more intimate, homey ambiance that places like these usually provided. Point in fact, he probably would have fit right in at one of those too-hip-for-their-own-good places. He certainly looked like he belonged there, with his $2100 Prada business suit (black - burgundy shirt, black tie). But those places didn't serve Golden Monkey, and this one did.
And Golden Monkey was exactly what he needed right now. (Yes, he was indeed ordering tea in a coffee house.)
He'd been there for about ten minutes now, having swung by on the way home from work. Ilana was at a friend's house until nine, so he had a rare moment of time to himself, and this time was being enjoyed. The cup of tea was settled between his hands, and occasionally he took a sip, closing his eyes and tuning out the quasi-bland indie college station that was playing in the background.
[Molly Quincannon] Molly had a dance class earlier, and she makes a point to treat herself after these classes. Thus the small, intimate coffee shop with the truly excellent coffee. She knows from good coffee and sometimes, she just doesn't want to make it herself. She looks more like she belongs in a small, indie sort of place (or maybe a Starbucks) in black jeans and a nice leather jacket. She's carrying her usual laptop bag, but she's also got a backpack. So she comes in for a good strong cup of coffee...
...And she's seen that man before. Also seen his name on the news feeds, and she was terribly curious about that. But then again, he might not really appreciate the company, so she looks his way and waves, with the sort of welcoming, questioning look that asks if he wants company without actually having to use words. She's expressive that way, sometimes.
[Jarod Nightingale] People sometimes expected him not to remember them. As if he exuded this aura of being somehow separate from the ordinary world, and likely couldn't be bothered to pay much attention to it. He usually did remember, though. People were very high on his memory's priority list, regardless of who those people were. And Molly was Awakened, which automatically made her much more important than most people.
He'd heard her come in, but hadn't looked over right away. His table was in the far corner, by the window, and he was facing the view of the sidewalk outside. A motion in his peripheral vision caught his attention though, and his eyes traveled in that direction in time to catch Molly's wave. After a moment of contemplation, he smiled. It wasn't a warm smile, but it wasn't a cold one either. Something polite and neutral, but friendly enough that it didn't seem as if he minded her presence.
Then, he said, "Told you we'd run into each other again."
[Molly Quincannon] "And I never doubted you for a minute," Molly reminds him as she ambles over to him. She's become a fair bit more open than she had been during their last meeting. "Our bunch do seem to trip over each other, don't they? Plus it's not like I haven't seen you since the last time, anyway. Local news sites were carrying the Tree of Life story just under a month ago. How's that going, by the way? Also, how are you generally?" Then she looks around and grins. "I didn't think anyone really knew about this place, but it's nice to see it get a bit more custom."
[Jarod Nightingale] This was... probably the third time now that someone in the Awakened community had mentioned the news bite to him. Clearly, they were all quite up on current events. Molly also seemed more relaxed and chatty than she had on their previous encounter. That was a welcome change, since many of the people he knew seemed to have been on edge these past few weeks.
She asked him how the company was going, and he contemplated for a moment before responding. "I am tentatively optimistic. There's a huge demand for the product, but new businesses are always unstable, so... we'll see." It was one of those careful observations that a trained PR guy might make to a reporter, which wasn't too surprising coming from him. (Nearly every word out of his mouth was carefully considered.)
"As for me, well... I can't complain." He smiled again, lifted his tea and took a long drink from the glass. It was dark (black), and had a pleasantly rich and mellow scent. "What about you? Any news in the magical rumor mill?"
[Molly Quincannon] "Now that," she says, taking a seat - questions are more or less an invitation to conversation, after all - "depends on how far back you want to go. We had an issue with Fallen a couple of months ago. We cleared them out in the second week of September, but before that ... it was a mess. Property damage, injuries, one capture with rescue - no fall there; small mercies - and ... one casualty. I don't know if you knew Li Daiyu?" Clearly, she also knows he knows some of the more established Chicago mages.
After that, though, she relaxes a bit. "Well, that and House security has tightened up a bit after the ... Edom thing; I missed that one but I got a summary, dunno if you were there for that one. We've got a new cabal forming, a whole bunch of new mages hitting town ... and beyond that, it's been simple bits and pieces. Spirit weird, the occasional zeitgeist issue, spooky soul-eating antique shop, life-energy-eating guitar ... y'know, the usual." It says a lot about mages that this is what they consider 'the usual'.
Then she grins a bit. "If you want any detail on that, just ask. I seem to be Chicago's newest data port."
[Jarod Nightingale] [Manip+Subterfuge]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 5, 5, 5, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Molly Quincannon] [[Perc + Awareness (grumbles that her XP expenditure hasn't gone through yet...) Analysis speciality for body language]]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 7, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6) Re-rolls: 2
[Jarod Nightingale] From the beginning, Molly had struck him as the kind of frank and honest person that, when asked a question, would come right out and answer it to the best of her ability. (Possibly with more information than asked for or expected.) As it turned out... that impression had been accurate. These were precisely the kind of people that Jarod liked to have tea with (or coffee - as the case may be), because their willingness to share intel made his life easier. He listened to the string of news that Molly now shared with him, his expression subtly curious.
And then she said: one casualty, and Li Daiyu... and after that, he didn't really hear anything else that she said.
To his credit, he didn't act as if anything was wrong. In fact, his only response was a slight shake of his head, to indicate to Molly that he did not know anyone named Li Daiyu. And so she continued speaking, and he continued to pretend to listen, as if this news meant nothing to him whatsoever (a tragedy, certainly, but a distant one, and all too common among their kind.)
It was a subtle thing, the change, and most people wouldn't have noticed it. The light went out of his eyes - that spark of veiled curiosity that he'd looked at her with when she started speaking. And his neck seemed a little stiff when he shook his head. As if the muscles didn't want to respond.
He took another sip of his tea before responding. "How very lucky that I've met you, then." He smiled a little. "I should really get your contact information. Mind giving me your number?" And here he drew his iPhone out of the inside pocket of his jacket - all business.
[Molly Quincannon] His reaction was a subtle thing, but Molly talks to Ashley, Emily and (most of all) Nathan on a semi-regular basis; she can spot smaller clues and read their meanings more easily than most. It also helps that she cracks code and reads patterns for a living. So when that look hits his face ... oh, sure, she keeps talking, finishes her infodump, but the expression on her face (she seldom troubles herself to hide her feelings) is a sort of horrified sympathy and sympathy. She never met Daiyu, but she knows what loss feels like. Her face says I'm sorry and she does him the courtesy of leaving it as a silent thing, rather than flagging up the fact that she has caught him in a lie.
To his request for her number, she nods. "So long as I can get yours in return. It's good to have the Rolodex, y'know?" She rattles off phone number and email address from memory and draws out her own iPhone at the same time - she would remember his number easily enough but she'll programme the number into her phone now for ease of dialling anyway. "Um ... is it okay if I ask what Trad you're with? I'm ... guessing, on very short acquaintance and your new business venture, that it might be Verbena, but I hate to assume. Old army saying, y'know? Plus I know how many people mistake me for a V-dept."
[Jarod Nightingale] Molly looked at him with an expression of sympathy. He... ignored it. But she probably wouldn't have been surprised by that, given the people she spent time with. It was a game, this. A kind of social dance. (I pretend I'm not upset [it was a long time ago, she was just a rebound fuck and a means to an end] and you pretend that you haven't noticed.) People did it all the time, albeit without quite so much skill as either of them had just exercised.
A number for a number - this was a fair trade. And so they'd each enter the other's information into their matching iPhones. Molly asked for a Tradition, and, surprisingly, made an accurate guess. Jarod raised his eyebrows slightly and smirked. "People usually think I'm a Cultist." Not surprising, given his nature and propensities, and the fact that most people did not associate the Verbena with his kind of cultured urban lifestyle. (See: previous mention of Prada and iPhones.) "I must have painted a big hippie sign on my forehead when I did that news bite."
He put his phone away and leaned forward. And whatever moment of pause he'd been given, he seemed to have gotten over it, because now he was all sultry smiles. (And he smelled... good. Like jasmine and sandalwood.) "What about you?"
[Molly Quincannon] Sultry smile, jasmine and sandalwood ... and her with 'boyfriend' problems. Life just couldn't get more complicated without a twin brother showing up. But she returns the smile with a slightly wry one of her own and says, "Cultist, actually. It surprises half the planet. I find my bliss in other ways than most. And you don't scream 'hippie'. But you don't scream Cultist to me either. Not sure why. The way you come across is ... more in the Verbena or 'Speaker vein to me. But I have an ... odd sort of worldview at the best of times."
Then she tilts her head to look at him, curious. "So ... you were in Chicago before. Emily and Ashley know you. But you weren't around for the Fallen thing. Where'd you go?"
[Jarod Nightingale] "Canada," he said, simply. No explanation, no detail.
"And now I'm curious. What are your preferred methods of achieving ecstasy?"
This was an exceedingly dangerous question coming from this man's lips. Somehow he managed to make the word ecstasy feel like silk sliding over skin, without even doing much to the tone of his voice. (This word belonged on his tongue. It felt at home there.) This... was probably why people always mistook him for a member of Molly's own Tradition. Molly herself had known better, because she understood the reality that lay behind the stereotype. Jarod's sensuality was more primal in nature. He embodied too much of a predatory persona to really be at home among the Cultists.
[Molly Quincannon] Ah. He's one of those. One-word answers, no details... It's enough to make a girl wonder why it's always the infuriating ones that get her attention.
...That would be because they are infuriating. They appeal to her need for a challenge as much as to her curiosity. She also likes them tall. This is where Molly has to decide whether she wants to be a flirt or not.
"A variety of ways, depending on situation and context," she eventually tells him. "Mostly? Caffeine, adrenaline and endorphins. For the first, there's coffee. The rest ... well, like I say, depends on situation. Physical exertion and thrills sums it up, though. When it's not life-threatening situations, it's bojutsu and belly dancing. Tattoos that I really need to get worked on some more. And a challenge met and conquered; that's always a good one." She's gone for a middle ground; she's teasing, in a not-unfriendly and not-unflirtatious way, but she's not going out of her way about this. She's no gazelle to be stalked, that's for damn sure.
[Jarod Nightingale] No, Molly was indeed... not a gazelle. But neither was he particularly looking for something to stalk right now. (Not with the knowledge of a dead once-friend fresh in his mind, and with a ten-year-old daughter to pick up in a few minutes.) It was just in his nature... to say things like that when the door had been left open for him.
"A thrill-seeker," he pondered aloud, though his opinions of Molly's hobbies (if indeed he had any) weren't really evident in the tone of his voice. "Maybe next time we can compare tattoos."
If Molly was observant, she might have noticed the trailing end of some kind of design marking the back of his hand. The curl of black ink disappeared past the cuff of his jacket, but it was difficult to tell what the rest of the design might look like based on that one clue. This wasn't his only tattoo, either, but it was the only bit that was visible.
He finished off the remaining dregs of his tea before standing up. Evidently, he had somewhere he needed to be. (Unsurprisingly.) But he offered Molly a small, knowing smile before he left her to enjoy her coffee alone.
[Molly Quincannon] "I think that'd be an interesting exercise," says Molly, not mentioning the mangling her tattoos have taken (magical healing is wonderful, but it does nothing to repair the broken patterns of ink under broken or burned skin) ... or just how much privacy would be needed to see all of hers. Most of hers are hidden, though there's bits of what might be gear wheels visible along the inner edges of her collarbones and something on the back of her neck that would require moving of her hair to see fully. "I do like to see a bit of good ink. Enjoy the rest of your night, Jarod."
She raises her coffee mug in a salute to him as he gets up and goes, then settles back to ...well, ponder the whole thing a bit. More for the dossier and hey! Her libido hasn't entirely been killed by two months of Archie-comics dating and two days of torture after all! Wonders may never cease.
