[Morgan Lake] It's early - still early enough that a great many people are at their breakfast, or still waking up, or some such thing. This park - Grant Park proper, the big park, the one that has the symphony and such things - is quiet with its early morning tai chi classes and runners and the like. Amongst all those morning people is a tall-ish redhead in running clothes finishing up her morning short run at a jog, then stretches at the chess table. She's long and lean, and wears red and black running shorts and a red sports bra - even this early, it's warm, and she's been running. Tucked in the waist of her shorts is a t-shirt, but she hasn't put it on yet.
It's cool-down time.
[Natyana Wapanee] In another corner of the park, near the amphitheater, sits a woman in stark contrast to the one near the chess table. She sits in the grass near some bushes, nursing a cup of coffee near as large as her arm is long. Though from the back, she likely looks to be little more than a child herself.
Her dark hair pulled up into a pony tail, wearing a tank top and well worn jeans. A backpack type purse sits on the grass next to her, and some cozy berkinstocks on sockless feet. The tiny native american woman stares off at the bushes she sits near, lost in her own thought.
[James Blake] It's so early that he hasn't been to bed yet. That means two things...he's still wearing a suit from last night and he's smoking. James walks through the park with a burning cigarette between his fingers. His hair was combed once but hours of being awake has mussed it. He needs a shave but his suit is still crisp if cheap looking. With the park abandoned this time of day he can respond to text messages without bumping into someone. That's where his attention is - on his screen. It's a strange sight for those who know he's Deaf. He can't hear a phone call so what use does he have for a cell, right? No one looking at him can tell he can't hear though so he's spared strange looks for now. As he draws closer to the two young women his senses tug his eyes up.
[Morgan Lake] The chess tables - at least the ones where Morgan stands stretching amongst a group of early-to-rise old men in varying bits of the socioeconomic spectrum - are not terribly far from the amphitheater, though she's had no call to look over there to see a tiny woman she's never met when there are people here that she knows. They call her Enid still, these people; she's been running through and around the park for years, been volunteering with various causes and charities for years. Some of these men know her, but are easily enough confused when she pretends to humor them, to be being mistaken for someone else. (Really, it's good to hear the name she was born with again. She misses it.)
Senses tug James' eyes up and he can see Morgan there, a wash of color amongst morning gray and old-man-monochrome. He can also probably see Natyana over there, somewhere, but Morgan hasn't noticed her, yet. She does, however, see James and offer a smile (despite the cigarette) when he looks her way.
[Natyana Wapanee] She blinks a few times, coming out of her little daze and shakes her head. Nothing getting done just sitting here staring at things that can't be fixed. She pushes up to her feet and picks up her bag, sips at the coffee.
One last look at the bushes and ground, then her eyes go to the tree right there, and she turns, starting back towards the path. She makes her way to one of the empty tables and sets the cup down, and goes to reach into her bag to dig for something, but her eyes are tugged. She feels a gaze, and spots James.
A smile crosses her face, and she gives him one of those wide waves that she's seen him do everytime he approaches mutual friends of theirs.
[James Blake] The myth is that people missing one sense will make up for it with others. James is no more visually acute than any hearing person. He does not have hawk eyes but he does have a more developed sense of supernatural awareness compared to others his age or rank. If there were a werewolf or a vampire in their midst he would probably be able to pick it out. He can tell Natyana is nearby because he feels her resonance. Same for Morgan. The difference is Morgan is closer. She smiles at him and he returns the gesture. It's too late to ditch the cigarette. She'll smell it on him when he gets close enough. So he doesn't try to get rid of it before she sees. As he draws closer Natyana waves to him. It's not the small wave of the hearing but the broad wave of the Deaf. He beams, clearly happy, and returns the wave before making an easily recognizable Come here! sign.
He's a few meters from Morgan now. He slows down his walk, makes an apologetic face, and takes a drag off his cigarette. Disposes of it in the bin instead of on the ground. Then he asks How are you? without speaking.
[Morgan Lake] Hey, comes the sign, and the pleasure at seeing him is clear; it lights up her face in a way that makes one of the men look at her sharply first, then with it fading into a smile. He hasn't seen that look on her since before she went to China. How are you?
She's still stretching slowly - a combination of what looks like some basic tai chi moves, and the standard runner stretches. Injuries suck and so do cramps, so it doesn't do to not cool down. And, as she does so? She looks over towards where he's waving, and takes in the very small woman he's inviting over. "Who's that?" It's curiosity, nothing more or less.
[Natyana Wapanee] She starts that way, though there's a hesitant look to her. Eyes glancing to the very tall red head he approaches, not sure if she'd be interrupting anything. But still, she makes her way slowly. She sips at the coffee cup in her hand, and shoves her free hand down into her pocket, and gives Morgan a polite smile when she finally gets there.
Been a busy couple of weeks. She hadn't seen him since the whole man-eating garbage incident. Now's not much the time to delve into business though. Day's still too early for any of that. Her eyes go back to Morgan, the polite smile still there. Despite her size, she doesn't have that classic dwarfism build to her when she's close enough to be seen. What trace of bulk she does have is well toned, but not muscular. It's that in between but a little over average build. The kind that keeps a girl from being overly shapely.
She offers a nod to each of them, then settles her eyes on James to see if he does introductions, or if he's going to leave it to the girls
[James Blake] The Chorister towers over most of the city's Awakened women. Standing next to Natyana he looks impossibly tall. He's never made a comment about this, even if his friend had the first time they met. Morgan asks how he is, and he smiles. Good.
When the Dreamspeaker joins them he takes a step back to make a triangle. He doesn't go for another cigarette. He does as Natyana is expecting and introduces them. He speaks while signing. His voice is louder than it would be if he could hear himself. It's hard to understand him sometimes...now is no exception. "Natyana, this is Morgan. She's a student of Ashley. Morgan, this is Natyana. She's a friend of Molly."
[Thomas Taylor] ((hope you guys don't mind me joining in?))
[Natyana Wapanee] ((I don't mind! :D yay!))
[Morgan Lake] Morgan has met Molly twice, and it's the first impression that's stuck with her. "Molly's the one who ran into a tree. With the laptop, yeah? Kind of short hair, glasses? Nice to meet you, anyway." A hand is offered for a shake, and next to Natyana, Morgan is impossibly tall as well, even if she is several inches shorter than James. He doesn't tower, exactly; the Hermetic is of an above average height and still comes to somewhere around James' chin, comparatively speaking.
Though Morgan is friendly, there's a reserve there, an introversion (a mild snobbery) as she studies the smaller woman that dissolves when her attention turns back to James so he can read her lips, though the question is posed to both of them. "Are you seriously up this early? I only am because I needed a workout." She's a sort of thin that would be skinny, if it weren't for runner's muscles, despite her baking and all that James knows she eats - has seen her eat, on a few occasions now.
[Natyana Wapanee] "Nice to meet you." Chuckling at the descriptive of Molly, though she takes the hand. "That sounds about like Molly, yeah." She gives it a short duration of a shake. Her eyes glancing between the two. She keeps the politeness, but it doesn't seem to get any warmer under the other woman's study. She's used to looks, whether they be curiosity, shock that she's actually over 18 but looks like she stopped growing height wise when she was 9, or just that blatant, down your nose look that come naturally to some. "This is actually pretty late in the day for me already. I like to get up and walk every day and watch the sun rise."
She turns her head to James and looks up at him, giving him another big smile. "Where have you been hiding tall man? Haven't seen you in a week or two."
[Thomas Taylor] James was the sensible side of the morning after the night before, currently staggering through the park is the messy side. He’d been back to the Horse and Trumpet trying to get men of questionable morality to give him more tit bits of the underground crime scene and how it involved a mage cabal war.
This of course meant he had to drink an insane amount of alcohol, buy some cheap ass takeaway and go back to one of send gentlemen’s place of business (his home) in order to get in with the old guard.
To say Thomas was rough was to say the sun did not shine. He staggers through Grant Park, a wobble here, a wobble there, a cigarette between his lips, black bags under his eyes…wearing a black T-shirt that did not look that bad, blue jeans that had a few stains here and there, his tracksuit top had gone on walk about. His converse thoroughly destroyed….
He peers up at the morning and grunts…
[James Blake] "I been up a while," he tells Morgan. He hasn't told her what he does for a living yet. Whatever he does it's enough to afford to rent a room in someone's house and has him dressing up. He must not hate it...he smiles a lot compared to his Tradition mates. Smiles a lot compared to most people come to think of it.
Natyana asks where he's been hiding but it's the nickname that makes him laugh. It's a sudden, loud sound. Most of the time when he laughs he subdues it. Neither of the women have flinched when they've heard him talk yet and they certainly haven't made fun of him. He's relaxed around them. "I know," he tells Natyana. "Had too much fun last time I saw you."
[Morgan Lake] "Shame on both of you," she says with a smirk, teasing if a little removed; even in running gear her posture is straight (relaxed, but very prim). "I don't think either of you is that much older than I am." But it's amused (judgment hidden by the girl who will one day be a judge and more) more than anything else; they're both obviously alright, and it's not really any of her business anyway.
Thomas is noted, and his condition as well - cigarette gets the same wrinkled nose of distaste it would in anyone else's hand, but it's the stagger and the rest of it that has her stepping a bit closer to James, whether to protect of be protected (of course it's the former) unclear.
"That's Thomas," she says with a nod his way. "You guys know him?"
[Natyana Wapanee] She smiles warmly at him. She's seen his more reserved side, and noting that it isn't present in him now makes her relax a little. She starts to take a sip, her expression unchanging despite the way he speaks. She thinks no less of him for not being able to hear, infact, she thinks more of him for it for not hiding it and using it as a crutch of any kind. He never seems to complain, only try harder.
She's not one who naturally talks fast anyways, so she doesn't slow her words down or try to over pronounce things. But when she does speak she looks at James to do it. "Well I've been going back and checking on things every couple of days, but alas, no more need to call in our fierce body guards yet."
She chuckles, looking over to Morgan "Shame on me? For being one of those disgusting morning people?" She wrinkles up her nose and grins. "I am forshamed." Her eyes follow Morgan's when she makes the shift in stature, and she starts to seem to call out, but then she notes his state and frowns worriedly. "I... yeah, I know him. He looks like he got himself into trouble again" Smirks, looking back over to Morgan. "He's not a bad guy... just a bit rough around the edges is all. Once you get to know him though he's actually pretty nice."
[Morgan Lake] ((For what Morgan's wearing:
Morgan Lake
Tue 7:06 am
It's early - still early enough that a great many people are at their breakfast, or still waking up, or some such thing. This park - Grant Park proper, the big park, the one that has the symphony and such things - is quiet with its early morning tai chi classes and runners and the like. Amongst all those morning people is a tall-ish redhead in running clothes finishing up her morning short run at a jog, then stretches at the chess table. She's long and lean, and wears red and black running shorts and a red sports bra - even this early, it's warm, and she's been running. Tucked in the waist of her shorts is a t-shirt, but she hasn't put it on yet.
It's cool-down time.
to Thomas Taylor
[Thomas Taylor] He stops, eyes closing as he shakes his head then watches a woman run past…perhaps morning were not too bad after all
Eyes blink as one hand rubs at them, the other takes the smoke from his lips as he blows it skyward…a homeless man from a bush (perhaps his home) and grabs the cigarette from Toms hand before running down the path cheering at his victory…
Tom stands there bewildered at this; he just had his smoke mugged by a homeless man, from a bush…his head tilts as he watches the man run off with his victory, the rest of the smoke blown from Thomas nose...
“Well, bugger me…”
[James Blake] James can't look over at Thomas and read the girls' lips at the same time. If Morgan hadn't stepped closer he might not have even looked. But she does, so he looks. He sees a wrecked young man wobbling towards them. Quickly looks back to catch Natyana's response. She knows him. The last few times Natyana saw James he had a silver band on the ring finger of his left hand. It's not there anymore but he goes to fiddle with it anyway. His thumb moves over the discolored stripe of skin. He isn't remotely tan but the skin where the ring had been is paler than the rest of him. James turns around in time to see a homeless man snatch the stranger's cigarette. It's too sad to laugh at. He glances back at the girls, then turns and walks towards Thomas. He pulls a pack of Marlboros out of his pocket and holds it out to him without saying anything, but the expression on his face seems to say Here.
[Morgan Lake] She moves to guard, Thomas has his cigarette stolen and James moves past her to offer his own pack - she resists the urge to cough pointedly, just barely - and Morgan stays where she is, still in the widening circle, but a bit removed from it. Distant. Arms cross in front of her and she becomes a bit smaller; she's still a bit too sweaty to put on her t-shirt, but the intent is there once she's dried. (Ah, athletes.)
"Are you alright, Thomas?" That comes first in a moment of not-quite-concern, and then for Natyana, "No, not for being up early - I've been up since five. For . . . never mind."
She keeps an eye on things, does Morgan. She tucks away evidence, stored for later.
[Thomas Taylor] He blinks only noticing James when he is besides him, he looks at him, then the smokes and smiles that charming grin of his “You me man, are a bloody champion.”
He pulls one out of the pack and places it in his lips as he nods to James “Yer to robin, too robin.” He looks after the man then back to James “Poor bugger cud ‘ave asked, he could ‘ave ‘ad a whole cough.”
He then glances past James to Natyana and Morgan when the former speak “Well, well if it ain’t Nat and Le fey…” He nods to the women, his eyes do glance over Morgan a moment then looks back to James “Me thanks mate.”
[Natyana Wapanee] She watches the two guys for a moment, still smiling "Hey Thomas. Meet James" She doesn't introduce Morgan, clearly the woman already knows him. "What have you done to yourself this time?" Her tone is teasing, but the concern is there. Last time she saw him look like crap was because Molly had to kick his ass.
Morgan gets a raised eyebrow, her lips pursing just a bit. "Ok then." She started getting a familiar sense, not one she particularly cared for. She turns the pursing into a polite smile, but turns her eyes back to the boys.
[James Blake] (( Perc + Linguistics - Wot? ))
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 5, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 7)
[James Blake] He has trouble understanding people with accents sometimes...okay, most of the time. Some of the people he deals with every day have thick city accents that he can't make sense of. He's not tired or upset now though so when Thomas speaks he doesn't find himself making an ass out of himself trying to make understood that he just doesn't understand. He does though choke back a laugh. In its place is a broad smile. He nods instead of signing or speaking and takes a step back, then another. He doesn't give Thomas his back until he's sure he's done talking. All the while he just...nods, in agreement or something like it. After a moment to get his nerve up he says, in a voice that lacks tone or control - the voice of someone who has never heard himself speak - "You're welcome."
[Morgan Lake] Natyana's raised eyebrow gets one in return - it's cool and assessing, this, and goodness only knows what the girl's thinking behind those hazel-no-green-no-gray eyes; whatever the shorter, somewhat older girl senses, Morgan doesn't know. Nor does she particularly care, for that matter.
"Morgan Lake equals la Fay in Thomas-speak," she tells James. "Which is understandable. If you're named after figures from the Arthurian mythos, you may as well own it." Not that she's particularly like that Morgan, regardless of how she's portrayed - still. It's amusing, or annoying. Or both.
[Thomas Taylor] Thomas tilts his head as James speaks, he blinks and understands “Yer deaf” No malice, nothing really, he doesn’t even speak slower. He was of the opinion that if the disabled wanted to be treated differently they’d ask, treat them with kid gloves from the off and your just being very patronizing.
He stops talking to James then so he can focus on the ladies. He lights his smoke and looks towards the group, then to Nat as he walks towards them, a small stagger here and there “Don’t worry yerself Nat, am all robin, just workin’ the crowds ‘bout you know.”
[Molly Quincannon] It's hard to follow someone in a park. Particularly bits of the park where there are fewer trees. And Molly likes chess. Not as much as she likes sudoku, but there's something about games of strategy. She likes watching, figuring the odds and the moves. It's good practice for certain things.
And there's a whole knot of people she knows, which makes her life marginally better (though as always these days, there's a certain tension as she hopes these people don't end up on someone's radar because of her). The fact that she genuinely likes at least two of them doesn't hurt. So she waves expansively and heads on over. She's been practicing the sign language and so uses that as much as her words when she says, "Hi, all. How's everything? You guys all know each other by now, I guess? What brings you so early to the chess tables on a grey day like this?"
[James Blake] The darker haired man's jaw actually drops for a second when Thomas doesn't make a face or make fun of him but just makes an observation. He's shocked...not because Thomas is rude but because so few people are forward about it. It takes him a second to recover. When he does it's with a loud exhalation - a laugh, really - and a nod. The sign he makes looks like he's knocking on a door but it's paired with the nod. It's a Yes and it stops when Thomas stops talking to him. He's looking at Thomas for several seconds after he turns away. By the time he looks back toward the girls, there's Molly. And she's signing as though she has been studying it for longer than a few weeks. James actually puts a hand over his chest as if he's having heart palpitations, then walks after Thomas to rejoin them.
[Natyana Wapanee] Something shuts down in her eyes, looking over at Morgan. Something about the woman's posture, or just that overall air of high and mighty. Her face is no less polite, but the effort was put out, not taken, and now her own assessment is finished for the time being.
She sips her coffee and turns her attention to Thomas and smirks. "Long as I don't have to put you in a cab again and you can walk yourself, then it's all good. You remember me mentioning James, right? The other day? This is him"
She looks to James and smiles, though it's somewhat tense. Actually looking like she's contemplating wandering off, but then there's a Molly there. She gives her a genuinely friendly if not tight smile. "Hell if I knew you'd be showing up here I would've brought an extra cup." And as such, takes a drink of said big cup of coffee goodness
[Morgan Lake] Absently (maybe anxiously, but it's hard to tell with Morgan) the t-shirt is pulled from the band of her shorts and put on - black with a red, winged foot on it and 'track and CC' emblazoned underneath. She's not as dry as she'd like to be, perhaps, but as their little bunch grows, she wants to be more covered. That she could use a shower and something done with her hair, and also a cup of tea or coffee, is not lost on her - but there is here, and now, and nothing to be done about it unless she's the one who wanders off.
She knows when Natyana makes her assessment, and knows roughly what it is; it serves her well enough, this assessment.
James returns to where the girls stand and the distance - metaphorical if not physical - between them has grown; there's a hint of relief in the smile that greets him. "New friends, yay." She's uncomfortable - as she'd been when the two of them first met, as she tends to be with people she doesn't know well. She functions in a group well enough, but strain manifests in a lot of ways. (And yes, of course she stays upwind of smoke as much as she can. It's gross, and smells bad.)
[Thomas Taylor] He turns to James, taking his hand and shaking it thereby getting his attention “Nat speaks highly of ya mate, makes ya robin.” He pats his shoulder and gives the man a cheeky wink. Even in his state he seemed to have a smile on his face, the smoke curled into one corner.
“See you been out all night as well, get lucky.” He winks twice to James as he looks at the others, moving so at least James was in the corner of his eye in fact he puts a hand on the mans shoulder as a partial support. “Cheers squire.” He says making sure James can see as he looks to Natyana “Alright, I let Molly kick my face in, I think everyone knows.” He rolls his eyes looking to Molly “Info-slut, hows tricks?”
Tom looked rough, as in all night rough, as in underground rough…where James looked like he been out all night, but had a gentleman’s evening, suit creased but respectable…
[Molly Quincannon] "Eh, I have Mountain Dew; I'm good," is Molly's comment. "Though I'm sure there can be coffee or something later. And what?" This for James, with an impish grin. "I learn things. See me having learned things? I'm a show-off. It's a thing. But it's part of my charm."
For Thomas, signing what she says heedless of any possibility of James being overwhelmed: "Oh, I can speak for James too, quite highly. He backed me up when I was hunting for the source of a recent problem and was entirely awesome with it. Garbage disposal, y'know? He's good people. And tricks are as they are. Much morning, all that. What about you? Business or pleasure?" This as she gestures to the roughness that is his appearance.
Morgan makes her comment and yet does not acknowledge Molly's presence, and ... hell with it; if she wants me to leave, she can man up and tell me so. But she spares the girl a wave and a smile as well; one of them has to acknowledge the other at some point, right?
[James Blake] The Chorister looks confused when he looks between Natyana and Morgan. Something happened when he wasn't right here and he can't tell what it is. He makes no attempt to be something he isn't...he looks worried. It's not hard to imagine why. He doesn't discuss it much - ever, really - but he misses out on a lot by not being able to hear. Before he can ask them what's going on Thomas is shaking his hand. James grins at him. He seems amused rather than flummoxed by the Englishman. "Can say tha'," he answers. When he's used as a support James plants his feet wider and holds a hand up behind Thomas in case he has to catch him.
Molly calls him up on his shock and he laughs...an actual laugh, not the voiceless not noise he had made when he first met Thomas. He's not afraid of scaring anyone here. Though she can probably understand his one handed sign, no one else can. So he speaks, too. "You learned fast. I'm 'pressed."
[Natyana Wapanee] A little nose wrinkle of awkwardness, and a glance to James, but it clears quickly to be replaced by a chuckle and look to Thomas. "I wasn't bringing up why, just pointing out that as long as you didn't need help getting to the cab it was fine."
She does perk up and look at Molly then, grinning. Promises of more coffee goodness? Of course. "I'm gonna hold you to that, for sure."
The worried look on James's face catches her eye, and she gives him a reassuring smile and shakes her head, and finally just finishes off the coffee. Turning to deposit the cup in the trashcan.
[Morgan Lake] "Way faster than I do," Morgan says, and this is acknowledgment - between putting on a shirt over sports bra and running shorts and keeping an eye on James and Thomas and effectively alienating Natyana, she's been a busy girl - and somewhat admiring acknowledgment at that. "I'm still struggling with the basics. G'morning, Molly."
Everyone knows James, so she doesn't bother asking; they greet each other like old friends, and then there's Morgan not exactly outside but not in, either. One foot in the door, and by purposeful design - she takes her time getting to know most people.
It's a free park, public, and Morgan hardly has the right to ask anyone to leave; if she were that uncomfortable, she'd simply give up on trying to be social and wander off herself. But meeting people and getting to know some of them is a good thing for many reasons, and so, here she is and here she stays. "And you do look . . . kind of awful, Thomas." It's apologetic, but truthful. "Worse than last time I saw you. Everything alright?"
[Thomas Taylor] He looks around, he only really knew Molly and Natyana, but he was quick to get himself known and not afraid to speak his mind as Morgan found out, hell everyone finds out.
He seemed to be taking this time leaning on James to compose himself, he winces as the arm gets moved around him, some well hidden bruising. “All info stalkin’ ain’t rosey Le Fey, sum lemons for answers pet, you gotta get dirty…” He leaves it at that.
[Molly Quincannon] "Oh, hardship. Being held to coffee. Woe. Woe is me!" All teasing, eye-rolling overblown mock-distress, that. Then she grins at Morgan and James. "Eh, it's the memory, I think, mostly, and a good eye. But thanks, and I guess at least that means you've got someone else to practice with, if you want. Also, g'morning, Morgan."
Then, for Thomas - "Dude, tell me about it. Though most of my dirty's metaphorical when I do that kind of thing. Oh, also? While I concede you let me kick your face in, please add for the sake of completeness that it was on request. I feel less guilty that way."
[James Blake] Natyana gives him a smile, and he returns it, along with a sign that those of them without Molly's crazy computer brain are starting to pick up already. OK. He's not going to press them to talk about what happened and so the conversation continues on. If it weren't for Molly's signing he'd have a harder time picking up what's going on with the conversation. It's focused on Thomas and his evening. James watches the other man for a moment, then taps an invisible surface just inside Thomas' line of sight to get his attention. "You want to sit?" he asks - out loud and with his free hand - before pointing to a nearby bench.
[Natyana Wapanee] She snickers, crossing her arms over her stomach. "Hey Thomas, I'll buy the next round if you get her do do it again." Then she looks to Molly and winks. "Oh! hey. You available wednesday afternoon Molly?"
[Morgan Lake] "There are different ways of getting dirty," she concedes for Thomas and Molly both; goodness knows, Morgan's not spotless, nor is she hands off. "And, I suppose, different contacts to be made depending on the ends you want to achieve."
She doesn't mind being called La Fey, but 'pet' makes her grimace, as do 'bird' and 'love' and other diminutives or potential endearments. It's one thing for a friend to call her something like that, teasing, and it's another thing entirely for a near stranger to do so . . . but she doesn't bother trying to correct Thomas. She's getting that it's just the way he talks, even if she has more difficulty translating him than she does Atlas.
Then there's James's offer of sitting, and she looks at him, smiles - is softer for a moment, though it's likely no one catches it. "Probably not a bad idea," she tells Thomas, though it wasn't her James was asking. "You look like you could use the rest."
[Thomas Taylor] He listens to them banter as he raises his head and looks to Molly “Well ‘ow else wud you ‘ave kicked me arse if I didn’t ask…” He takes a breath the smoke coiling around him now as he stands eyes then come to James and the sitting.
An eyebrow raised at Morgan, but he just shakes his head but not before offering her a cheeky wink and grin, but shakes his head at the sitting, head turned to James and Morgan “Nah mate, was only a baseball bat, real bloody men use a crowbar.” He nods sagely or more worriedly like he knows the difference. He pats James shoulder “Thanks for the offer though.” He pulls the smoke out of his lips, nearly to the tab by now as he exhales blowing the smoke upwards and away from Morgan who made an actual face and stance at the habit.
He touches his side and winces again then looking back to James “You know wat, a lil’ sit down an’t gonna ‘urt is it.” He pushes off from James walking backwards so James can see his face “You stay there mate, Tommy got this…” he then proceeds to walk into said bench which results in his knees buckling on the edge of the bench falling flat on his back and cracking his head… as his tab goes flying in the air, before it can hit the ground a few homeless race for it like it was a million dollars.
Tom raises a hand “Am robin, am robin…” He is still laid flat so James missed the last bit
[Molly Quincannon] Molly looks at Morgan, somewhere between affronted and fascinated, and opens her mouth to quite obviously ask a question ... and then Thomas goes arse-over-teakettle. "Thomas ... you know, if you want pretty purple patterns all over your body? Tattoos are more permanent and hurt less than making sure you're constantly bruised. Are you sure you're okay? Because you said baseball bat. Have you been to a hospital? Or a doctor or something? And who took a baseball bat to you?"
And then, for Natyana, "Eh, probably, depending on what trouble I end up getting into this week. Provided that said trouble doesn't kill me, I might have a window in my schedule. Why?" Because it's easier to focus on questions like those than the one she wants to ask Morgan, or the one she wants to ask James (far more obvious; she's been watching his hands, has noted the missing band of silver, obviously worn for quite some time). Those questions might not be politic in a group situation. Curiosity about Thomas getting beaten up and Natyana's plans for Wednesday is probably safer.
See? Molly knows tact and caution. Sometimes.
[James Blake] James doesn't seem bothered by having another man draped over him. He lets Thomas lean on him as long as he chooses to, and when he pushes off of him to sit down James lets him. He doesn't let him get too far away though. The man looks like he's had the night to end all nights and keeps wincing and holding onto parts of himself. So when he starts off toward the bench James isn't far behind him. He's not fast enough to stop him from buckling his knees or cracking his head though. The Deaf man looks back at Thomas' friends, then comes to stand next to the bench. He feels for his pulse as if he knows what he's looking for. Just to make sure he still has one, perhaps. As he does this he turns back to the girls. He's distracted enough that he doesn't speak as he signs to Molly. Morgan knows he can only speak for so long before his voice starts to go anyway.
I'll get him in a cab. Unless you drive?
[Natyana Wapanee] She sighs, watching the blunder that is Thomas with a wince. "Yeah... real robin. Very graceful there, Tommy boy." She chuckles, shaking her head. "Get up on the bench before you really hurt yourself, would ya?" She steps over toward Thomas and James, giving James a soft smile. The concern he shows Thomas very familiar. "Come on, get up. You have James all worried." Looking down at him, making some attempt to play down her own worry.
She looks over at Molly and snickers. "Well funny you should mention tattoos...." A big grin to the woman "I made the appointment. And you said you'd go with me so I don't lose my balls when they start jabbing and all..."
[Morgan Lake] "....." Morgan is no sheltered lass, other than in the way that she's very clearly upper middle class, and educated, and pursuing more of the same. She swears, sometimes. She drinks, rarely (and never more than half a glass of wine with a meal, these days). She's tried smoking a couple things, and choked and been disgusted with it all. Her speech is that of an upper middle class American teenager - a particularly proper one, seldom peppered with swearing, but fairly normal all the less.
She certainly doesn't mention losing her balls.
It doesn't take much to know at least a bit of how the others see her - uptight, judgmental, snobby - based solely on their reactions to her. They all step closer to Thomas, and Morgan hesitates before doing so as well, but more to make sure James sees her talking to him than anything else. She fumbles with the few signs she knows that go along with what she's saying, more to practice than because she thinks it's actually helping - immersion is reputedly one of the best ways to learn a new language, after all.
"I'm . . . going to go take a shower and study for awhile, I think. Have a good rest of the day, okay?" He knows her number, can text her whenever she wants, and vice versa. But there's only so much of being stared at like an alien when she opens her mouth that she can take.
[Morgan Lake] (Err, fairly normal none the less.)
[Thomas Taylor] He looks up to James as he feels for a pulse his eyes half closed “Don’t fret Jim, am still alive, look my arm is up.” He points to his other arm that was raised and against any protest from James or Natyana he puts on hand on the back of the bench and pulls himself upwards into a sitting position.
He takes James hand and pats it twice with Natyana words of worry as he looks at the man, only then seeing how young James looked, Tom grins; he and James must be about the same age, thought few looking would realise “Don’t fret, am robin, all upper body, Tommy got the cushion for the pushin’ Jimbo nowt pete with me that a pint, two aspin an a full English won’t solve.” He looks to Natyana and pats her shoulder “Am robin Nat, robin!”
He smirks, was that a touch of red in his cheeks, he felt like a right chimp…as his hand moves to the back of his head to rub where it cracked the bench.
He chooses to ignore Molly’s question of what happened, perhaps he didn’t hear her or perhaps this was a need to know basis and at the moment Molly did not need to know.
He looks over to Morgan “Le Fay, don’t let Tommy scare ya day pet, ‘ave a pew…” He pats the bench next to him. “I’ll blow me smoke the other way, no need to be all back of the bus.” A gesture to Morgan, Thomas did not really know her; he had not seen a lot of her upper class attitude (yet). In fact the first time they met Morgan was very quiet with various shades of red, then they met Kung Fu lady and they talked shop and Tom wandered off.
[Molly Quincannon] At the mention of whether or not she drives, Molly beams at James. "I drive, yes. I don't know where he lives, exactly, though. He's been cagey about that. I don't believe I haven't shown you the car yet, though. That needs to be fixed, really. So you can pile him into the TARDIS--" (She has to finger-spell that one; gods only know if James is familiar with the term) "--and I can take him either to his place or, if he won't tell me where that is, the hospital. I know where that is, at least."
The sunny smile persists as she turns to Natyana. "Awesome! Like I say, I'll be there unless I do something irredeemably stupid and get blown up or something. Which ... you know, is possible." Sheepish kind of shrug as she holds up a booted foot to extend her leg a bit. "You know what my life is like. But barring grievous bodily harm, I'll be there. So what'd you pick for the design? What you were first talking about, or something else?"
Morgan's imminent departure ... well, Molly looks genuinely sorry to see her go, despite earlier look of affront. Still, she wouldn't stand in Morgan's way, seeing as she probably does want a shower, so... "Okay; sorry we seem to keep being two ships passing and all. Enjoy the studying thing." Molly does, of course, recall that studying, while still a chore for Morgan, is not the drudgery it might be to other girls her age.
[James Blake] James lets Thomas sit up. He takes his fingers off the other man's wrist and steps back to give him room. He doesn't yank away when Thomas takes his hand, and he's so focused on watching his face that he doesn't look over at Morgan right away. It's as if Thomas is speaking German or some other language that he never studied. The Chorister's brows are furrowed, and one of his hands is ready to make the What? sign but it doesn't move until Thomas turns to Nat. That's when it goes up to the side of his head and makes the I don't understand sign.
Turning back to Molly, he rests his right hand against his scalp. The name of her car makes him grin. That reference he gets, apparently. He looks between the four others gathered here, then rubs his jaw as he tries to decide what to do. He does the invisible tapping thing again to get Thomas' attention. "Hosp'tal or home?" he asks, signing as if that's going to make himself clearer. They can all hear his voice is starting to give out on him. He must have been talking a lot last night.
[Natyana Wapanee] She looks to Morgan at the mention of her leaving, and she frowns a little, but gives Morgan a quick nod before turning her eyes to Thomas. The only person that was really giving any sort of alien stares was her, and Naty's not one to simply continue to try play nice to a brick wall. She knows when she's being looked down on figuratively. Least she thinks she does.
"I could probably get some kind of idea just how bad he's hurt to let you know if he needs the hospital, whether he like sit or not Molly" Her eyes are on Thomas, but her words clearly aren't. A smirk spreading across her lips. "Don't always have to be a stubborn ass, Thomas."
And a nod, finally turning her eyes to Molly. "Yep. Going for the one I told you about. The guy said it would take at least three sittings to get done, but he got all twinkly eyed when I described it to him. And if you don't make it because of blowing yourself up, I'll have to come kick your ass for not calling me to come help"
She looks up at James and chuckles at the look on his face. "It's ok. I give him that look alot too. He's used to it by now.
[Thomas Taylor] He looks about “Guys, ladies am robin, no cabs, no cars, okay” He makes it sound final. ((Guys AFK for 30, on my way home, sorry had to get this in now, see you in 30))
[Morgan Lake] ".....you call your car a TARDIS?" This distracts Morgan from general discomfort and unease for a moment - it pauses her in what may well have been the start of a subtle flight instinct taking over. (Confrontation and conflict are one thing. This is something else, some bizarro world.) "I think I'd like to see sometime, maybe."
There's more depth in that than in anything Molly, Natyana or Thomas has heard her say so far - for whatever reason, the idea of a TARDIS-mobile makes her smile (nostalgically, a bit wistfully, but yes - that's a smile that curves her lips) in a way that she doesn't often. For a moment, it's almost as if she's forgotten how, or the muscles are rusty, but it's an inviting sort of thing when it's fully realized. Once upon a time, Morgan was one of the blessed few - a pretty, popular girl. Once upon a time, she was well known, and well liked.
[Molly Quincannon] Molly returns Morgan's smile and nods. "Yeah; my '62 Beetle. I keep her running, but more than that - I painted her TARDIS-blue, stuck a light on top and stencilled 'police public call box' on the top of the windshield. Then there are the sound effects. Arming and disarming my car alarm makes that 'vworp, vworp' TARDIS take-off noise, while the actual alarm is a Dalek screaming 'EX-TER-MI-NATE!' The horn is Cyberman. 'DE-LETE', y'know?" She shrugs. "I am a total nerd. And Thomas," this with her head turned in his direction, "you're a ning-nong. Seriously, if people drag me to the hospital when I'm hurt, expect the same treatment, alright?" Then, to James: "He insists that there's nothing wrong with him that more beer, painkillers and one of those massive fried breakfasts couldn't cure. Which it'd be nice if Nat could check up on just to make sure, because I don't want him to die of internal injuries."
Then, to Nat, "Well, at least you picked one with good craftmanship. I'll have to have a look at his book, see what he've got."
[Molly Quincannon] Then, a grinning aside to Morgan: "So what I meant to say was? My TARDIS a showpiece so anytime you want a ride or just to look her over, say the word."
[James Blake] And he thought Sarah was stubborn. The thought makes him snort but he doesn't verbalize what he's thinking. He turns away from Thomas only when Molly starts translating what it is the Englishman said. His eyebrows raise at that, and he reaches into the inside pocket of his suit jacket to pull out a fresh packet of cigarettes. He unwraps it, pulls the inside paper, and packs the cigarettes as he starts off toward a bin. The rubbish is discarded and he returns to the bench. Sits down next to Thomas. He's still not convinced he's not going to fall over again but he can appreciate when help isn't wanted so he doesn't press the issue. Before he lights a cigarette he tells Molly I would feel better if Nat checked him. He makes the attempt to verbalize what he's saying - he knows it's rude to speak a second language in front of those who don't know it - but though his lips move no sound comes out. He muffles a cough against the back of his hand before lighting a cigarette. Takes his attention off the conversation to see where Morgan is. He looks at her for several seconds, and offers her a smile if she looks over at him. Then he's putting his cigarette and lighter back and looking back to Molly and Nat.
[Natyana Wapanee] She smiles. "That thing is SO fun to ride in. I'm not big on the whole sci-fi thing, but that was just fun. Oh, and yeah the guy has a huge book to look through. Wen to probably a dozen or two different shops before I found him and his style is exactly what I pictured in my head so I made the appointment."
She sticks her hand in her pockets, eyes turning to Thomas with a smirk. "Suck it up tough guy. This is what it's like to have people around that care more about what's around them than stuffed up their own poopers." Her left hand moves around in her pocket and there's a sharp wince, her head tilting as her eyes look him over slowly and shift focus.
[taking sweet slow time, resonance]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 8 (Success x 2 at target 2)
[Natyana Wapanee] [ffs no]
[Natyana Wapanee] [because I'mma tard and put wrong numbers in boxes]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 7 (Failure at target 4)
[Natyana Wapanee] [good thing she's taking her time]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 4, 4 (Failure at target 5)
[Morgan Lake] James look gets met, and she raises a brow as he puts away cigarette and lighter - she's not going to encourage him to smoke for obvious reasons, but she's hardly going to get on his case if he does. She'll just stay up wind, and away from the smoke smell as much as she can. As for Thomas? She's concerned in passing, but she's met the man once. She doesn't know him, doesn't count him as a friend, so when he reassures them that he's alright, she has no problem with letting it go. Her more protective instincts are reserved for those she knows better, maybe, or for different situations. (And the look James gets as her brow lowers? It says something like thank you, though she doesn't verbalize it in any way - aloud or signed.)
"Maybe next time we run into each other," she answers Molly, though she's in significantly less of a hurry to leave now - intrigued by this vehicular oddity, maybe. "I've just got an '01 Taurus, but I bought her myself, and keep her in repair, too. Well. I pay someone else to, but still."
Then there's the flare of magic, and Morgan is fascinated; Ars Virum isn't one she's studied yet. Without thinking about it, she moves closer to James - still standing - folds arms in front of herself and observes. It's always interesting to see how others do these things.
[Molly Quincannon] [[Note: owing to minor confusion about what is or is not coincidental magic (diagnosis being coincidental), Naty's last roll was 2 successes. kk?]]
to James Blake, Morgan Lake, Natyana Wapanee, Thomas Taylor
[James Blake] (( K! :D ))
to Molly Quincannon, Morgan Lake, Natyana Wapanee, Thomas Taylor
[Thomas Taylor] He ((NP here))
to James Blake, Molly Quincannon, Morgan Lake, Natyana Wapanee
[Thomas Taylor] He nods to James when he leaves him, Molly and Nat seem to be getting on his nerves...but he forces himself to remember that they do not know him, they do not know his background.
“I know me body pet, I know wen am bruised, and wen am bleedin’ out, I appreciate the gestures but both of you put a stop to it now yer startin' to get on me tits.” He looks between both ladies as he looks to the floor and eyebrows raise as he leans down and finds...well yes a whole cigarette. “Wat comes around goes around.” He looks to James “Bum a light bro?” he makes a motion with his thumb moving up and down behind his fingers...Tom’s universal sign for ‘lighter’
[Morgan Lake] ((Good with me!))
to James Blake, Molly Quincannon, Natyana Wapanee, Thomas Taylor
[Natyana Wapanee] She smirks at Thomas, blinking and letting her eyes come back into focus. "I know it's getting on your nerves, but really Thomas, let someone worry about you for once. Some of us actually enjoy your company no matter what you think."
She looks to the others and nods, her eyes settling on James while she gives the analysis. "He's fine. Bruised up pretty good and alot of drinks in him, but nothing to worry about."
[Molly Quincannon] Molly considers Morgan's choice of car. "Eh, Taurus isn't bad. Though I prefer my engines vintage. There's more to take apart and customise. It's like with TVs; sure, they got better at some things but they've also been designed to be cheap and disposable, I feel. Still, everybody's car is their baby, so cool. If you want me to have a look-over your Taurus, let me know. I don't price-gouge like your average auto shop. Hell, I only charge for materials and parts and stuff. And I have the premises."
Then she sighs. "Thomas, I'm sorry if you find the fact that we give a shit annoying. We find your refusal to accept us giving a shit annoying. So we're both going to have to deal with things that we don't like. Sorry." Then she looks at Natyana. "So what's the verdict? Is he going to need a hospital? We can talk tats later but this comes first."
[James Blake] The Chorister is mid drag when Thomas asks to bum a light. He finishes inhaling, then passes the still burning cigarette to the other man. Apparently if he can light his own cigarette with the cherry of someone else's he'll have passed the Jimmy Blake Self Sufficiency test.
[Molly Quincannon] [[...*sandwiches her post between Nat's and Thomas' where it belongs*]]
to James Blake, Morgan Lake, Natyana Wapanee, Thomas Taylor
[Natyana Wapanee] ((~moves post after molly and james. Beats significant other~))
[Morgan Lake] Look at Morgan, not staying away from stinky smoke and (somehow) managing not to make faces about it; she just leans ever-so-lightly against the bench at James' side, in easy reach but not touching. (That she's that close to him without tensing says more than any of them is likely to know, or than she's likely to explain.) "I had to pay for half," she says instead, "when I got my license. So my dad helped me pick the best one in the classifieds at the time, in my range. I wouldn't say she's my baby."
That comes with a shrug - she's not particularly attached to her vehicle, apparently. "But she gets me around, and I can trust her. That's what matters, I suppose. Glad you're alright, Thomas." She hadn't hovered, hadn't assumed he wouldn't know - even with the drinks in his system - if he was injured enough to need a hospital. And then, after a moment's thought and James has his cigarette back, she holds out a hand, curious. May I try? There must be a reason people like smoking, after all, and learning through experimentation is a thing.
[Thomas Taylor] He shields James smoke, using the cherry to get his to light after a couple of deep drags...happy it was burning soundly he offers James his smoke back “Cheers". Of course then Morgan wants to try so checking with James he hands James' smoke to Morgan "Frugal drags."
He lays back, one arm over the back of the bench finally glad Natyana had agreed with him about his condition. He looks to Morgan, and then to James, and the distance between them “Le Fey, you wanna sit down?”
Had Thomas picked up on something, he nudges the deaf James and tilts his head to wink at him mouthing the words so only James can see ‘I got ya back, Le Fey wants you!' Another wink as the cockney pushes up to stand, smoke coiling from his nose, as he staggers from the bench looking to Morgan "'ave a pew pet."
[James Blake] James looks hesitant to give a cigarette to Morgan. But the last time he checked she was 18. She's technically an adult. At best she'll take half a drag and cough up a lung. At worst she'll take one hit and become hopelessly addicted. He wants to keep her safe but he's not her father. So James thinks a moment, then pulls a face to match his sign. Fine. A nudge in his side has him looking over rather than jumping. His eyebrows are raised. If he weren't adept at lip reading he'd have trouble making out what Thomas is saying. Suffice to say he gets it. He shoots Thomas a look that's both playful and admonishing. It's followed up with a backhanded smack to the upper arm as he stands. Then he's looking back to Morgan to see how she and the Marlboro are handling.
[Molly Quincannon] Molly chuckles. "Maybe it's just car people, then. I've been keeping the TARDIS running since before she was a TARDIS. Scrapyard refugee. So hey, it's all a point of view."
So Morgan's trying smoking. This is interesting. Molly watches even as she asks Natyana (and signs, so as not to leave James out and to keep up with the practice), "So whereabouts is your tattoo guy, anyway? I mean, what area? Good to know these things, I guess. Usually body artists set up around the most awesome shops, so ... y'know, maybe I went past it or something." Because she's Curious, of course; as much about whether she's seen this tattoo parlour as she is about how Morgan handles her first cigarette.
[Morgan Lake] It's the former that happens, really - this is minutes after the completion of a seven mile run, and she's a clean living girl. Half a drag and she's choking, coughing, and beet red between that and the blush at her sudden ungraceful spasm, and it's luckyluckylucky that she doesn't catch what Thomas is mouthing to James.
"I'm . . ." Deep breath, cough a bit, hand over cigarette, try again. "I'm alright. But if you're getting up anyway . . ." She shrugs, and looks at the other two women - but takes the offered seat if neither of them wants it.
She is eighteen, as of a few months ago - both on paper and for real, though there's a few months discrepancy in the date. And apparently, after that brief moment of flight instinct, she's decided to stay after all.
[Natyana Wapanee] She takes a step back from the crowding in on the bench and digs into her little backpack, pulling out a wad of gauze. Her hand comes out of her pocket, and wraps her thumb, fingers on her left hand curling around it to hold it down and still have a free hand. The gauze thin enough to have a red spot start forming before long. But she answers Molly, smiling. "About four blocks over from where you usually find me having breakfast out at mag mile. Some little hole in the wall type place called Woody's. I almost missed it, actually, cept when I was walking by a couple of big burly guys came walking out looking at the fresh ink they got done."
She looks around, spotting one of those carts that serves coffee in the mornings to people in the park. Her eyes come back when Morgan starts coughing, giving her a slightly worried look. She doesn't make any moves to the opened seat, then looks back to the cart, and back to the people. "Anyone else want something to drink? I'm gonna grab some coffee from right there"
[Thomas Taylor] Thomas staggers a few feet away and leans down putting his hands on the floor as he turns sitting on the floor. He takes each leg and folds it in front of him so they are crossed. He does not seem uncomfortable like this, suggesting he does it frequently.
He looks to Natyana “Be a gem pet an grab us a tea, milk, two sugars...diamond.” He holds a hand out to her and gives her a thumbs up before watching Morgan take a seat next to James, he looks to Molly perhaps thinking back to the conversation they had last night as he smirks and looks back to the group, blinking away the light even if it was overcast.
[James Blake] He actually looks relieved when Morgan coughs on her drag. So much so that he doesn't laugh at her reaction. James takes back the cigarette and drags off of it. Thomas is swapped out for Morgan, and he rubs her upper back as if that will help clear her lungs of smoke. He realizes what he's doing after a few seconds and snatches his hand back as if he's been burnt. At least he's not prone to blushing. His cheeks don't light up. He does stand though, and happens to be looking at Nat when she asks if anyone wants anything. Thank you...no. His voice is officially demolished. He taps the cigarette's filter, then steps back to address the group. I'm tired. I'm going home. Nice to see you all again. Thomas is signaled one last time, and the Chorister plugs the cigarette into his mouth so he can retrieve a notepad and golf pencil. On it he scribbles his full name and phone number with the note "text only" beside it. It's handed over to the Hollow One. He has to practically crouch to give it to him. Once it's given over he waves that broad wave of his and starts towards the park's entrance trailing cigarette smoke behind him.
(( Thanks for the scene, all! It's 3:30 in the morning here, have to bail! Catch you all later! ))
[Thomas Taylor] ((See ya later! Thanks for the scene))
[Molly Quincannon] Molly looks sympathetic to Morgan's hacking and sputtering. Man, has she been there. (She does smoke on occasion, but only socially; thus far, she's managed to avoid becoming an addict.) She refrains from patting Morgan on the back but she does offer the girl a sip of her Mountain Dew, if she wants it. Natanya gets a grin, a five-dollar bill and the request, "Coffee with as much espresso as they'll put in it. If you can get a large cup of just espresso - full, I mean - then awesome."
Then, questions, of course. "So what's your plans for this evening, Thomas? Out rough-housing again, or are you going to take it easy for once?"
[Morgan Lake] There's momentary tension at the touch, but Morgan relaxes under it until James pulls his hand away - there's a raised eyebrow, questioning, and a signed text me soon? before her attention returns to the rest, to the question, to the offered Mountain Dew (which she accepts, and sips just enough to clear the disgusting taste from her mouth, and particles from her throat) and all. "Thank you," she says, wiping her spit off the bottle before handing it back to Molly.
"A mocha, please? I'll buy next time," she answers Natyana, and she's trying at least. (Has been since the start, in fact, but there are only two options after one looks foolish in company - be more friendly, or more stuck up, and Morgan decides to go with the former.) "I just . . . don't bring a lot of money with me when I go running."
[Natyana Wapanee] She nods to each of them as they accept offers, except James. James gets a warm smile and broad goodbye wave before he departs.
Then she turns and heads towards the cart, the five left in Molly's hand untouched, and Morgan actually gets a wink. "Don't worry about it. My treat." And then she's out of earshot heading for the coffee cart.
[Thomas Taylor] He smiles at James then takes the paper with a nod to the singer. He gives him a wave as he turns back to the group folding up the paper and jamming it in his pocket as molly asks him that question.
“Well I didn’t intend on any bother, you know, so am thinkin’ sum ale, then a passin’ out might be in order.” He nods, he keeps it casual and cheery, anyone would be hard pressed to tell if he was serious or joking half the time and that was just the way he liked it.
He looks to Morgan “Am not surprised pet, don’t wanna be chinkin’ on the run, or worse make it look like you gotta a fat ass padded with notes.” He nods, it did not sound like a complement but if you listened to how he phrased it he suggested she did not have a fat ass at the moment, who knows?
“So then Le Fay, James yer durcell.” He gives her a click an a wink “Lad seems sound as a pound!”
[Molly Quincannon] Molly smile. "Well, there are worse ways to spend an evening. Hopefully it works out that way for you. I notice sometimes that ... um, 'bother' happens when you least expect it, don't you?"
Morgan gets a grin and a cute little wrinkle of the nose. "Thomas is right; stop stressing over how much money you do and don't bring on runs. Sometimes it's okay to let people treat you. As you've noticed, I guess, it's common. Even when you're trying to pay your own way." She looks ruefully at her five-dollar bill, then stuffs it back in her pocket. "It's what friends or friends-ish do, I guess."
[Morgan Lake] James your Duracell?
She doesn't have the excuse of a cigarette in hand when she chokes on that, though she does have the excuse of choking for the blush . . . or something. Thomas has seen that shade of red on her before, knows how it spreads to her shoulders and upper chest (she'd been wearing a sundress that day, after all), and probably knows she's going to avoid looking at him (or anyone else) until it fades away. "He's a friend," she says, talking to her knees. "And you're really, really blunt."
And more than a bit nosy, really.
"I'm not stressing about it. It's just hardly fair to have near-strangers buying me coffee and things all the time."
[Natyana Wapanee] She's over there for a good minute while the person fixes the drinks to order. The cups put on one of those nifty travel trays, and she pays for it, adding a yummy looking blueberry muffin to the collected cups.
Then she's on her way back, the tray balancing on one hand while she picks at the muffin along the way.
[Thomas Taylor] He grins a little “Blunt, honest, forward ‘ave ‘eard ‘im all pet, but I want intendin’ to be nosey...” He raises a hand apologetically “Think he likes ya thought pet, who can blame ‘im.” He offers her a wink and one of his more charming smiles, he would be handsome if not for the bags under his eyes, the cig hanging from his lips and that fact that you knew what kind of diarrhoea escaped his mouth.
“Fair pet...” He raises an eyebrow, okay he was starting to size her up a little more now, easy to embarrass, nice ass, conservative and now entered the category of ‘Posh Totty’. He knew she was a potter, still compared to most she was easy to handle...so far.
“Take all the freebies Le Fey, he who dares wins!”
[Morgan Lake] "Well, of course. If you don't dare, you may as well die - or at least get out of the way," she answers with a snort. "But it's not daring to have people buying you things all the time - at best, it's mooching. It's daring to take care of yourself, or rather, to make sure you can."
[Molly Quincannon] Molly rolls her eyes at Thomas' antics and Morgan's reaction to it. "Don't worry, Morgan. He does this to me all the time, one way or another. He's infuriating, but he's alright if you don't take him too seriously. But whatever, I think it's awesome that you two are making friends. I think he could use a few more in his life." And so could you, is the thought, but she'd never say so.
She doesn't tell Thomas to go easy. She doesn't even give him a funny look. But one of these days? He's getting pranked so. Damn. Hard.
[Natyana Wapanee] She steps back over and shifts the tray to both hands and moves it to rest it against her stomach, then starts handing out the drinks. Once that's done, she lowers down onto the ground and sets the tray between her and then, pointing to the muffin. "Pick at it anyone that wants some. I didn't bite it." She picks up her cup and takes a sip, sighing contentedly at the aroma coming from the cup.
[Thomas Taylor] He looks around at the group; his face looks innocent until he winces as he turns too far. “Le Fey, it’s just a sayin’, take it easy treacle.” He rubs his eyes the pain fading slightly as he pulls the tab from his lips and pushes it to the concrete path with a twist.
He blows the smoke away from Morgan, away from all the girls if he can. He has a sip of the tea, then makes a little face “Yep, another bloody shit brew.” He sighs, there must be one somewhere. Molly had given him the leaves of course, but what he didn’t want to tell her is he lost them somewhere from where she beat his face in, where Natyana carried him or where he got rolled out on the curb.
He was fairly sure he had been called a moocher... "Pet, wats the fucks a mooching?"
[Molly Quincannon] "It's letting someone carry you financially," Molly replies to Thomas. "Letting them pay for you when - or because - you can't yourself. And if you want," she adds to Morgan, "just think of us less as near-strangers and more friends-in-training, or something."
Then she frowns to Thomas. "Run through the tea leaves already? I can point you to the coffee shop I got 'em from if you want..."
[Morgan Lake] "I know a couple of really good tea shops," Morgan offers. "In Chinatown if you want authentic, though it tends to be the cheapest version of what you get there, so not all that great. Or on the Mile, there's one that specializes in salon teas." She's Chicago born and bred, this girl, even with the travels she's had - skiing or camping here and there, a few months in China, but Chicago's home. She knows it (bad and good) like the back of her hand. "And Molly's right about mooching."
The bit about 'friends-in-training' gets amusement, as does the part about James needing more friends, and what she could likely extrapolate from expression and tone if she bothered to try. "I guess," she says skeptically. Anyway, thank you for the coffee, Natyana."
[Natyana Wapanee] She tips her cup to Morgan and nods. Still not completely thawed out, but the little Hell-Popple isn't going to just outright be a bitch when it was just looks. Least Morgan didn't call her a brown leprechaun. That gave her points. "Don't mention it."
[Thomas Taylor] His eyes widen at the mooching. “Oh right got ya, well ya I’ll mooch...” Said honestly “But the same lemon I’d let peeps mooch off me if they were short of bread, robin folks give an take, a robin mate sud owe you bread an yet at the same lemon you owe ‘im sum, you get me.”
“Well thanks for the advice ladies; I’ll check sum of them bad boys out gypsy cannot be as sorry as this...” He holds up the cup up then places it by his side. “James looked like a wild one, reckon I cud get ‘im on board for sum right sessions! Luvley!” He rubs his hands together, he had Soot man lined up, now Jim, soon he’d have a weekend bunch, a boys night!
“Mooching...” says the cockney in a lower tone “I like it...now just gotta slang it.”
[Molly Quincannon] "I wonder if you slur with sign language," Molly muses. "I mean, when you get drunk or something. I suppose you must, as your signs get less clear. Bet reading lips would be a bitch when drunk. Huh. Never really thought about that. I wonder." Curious, oh hell yes. Then she grins. "Dude, you're going at putting together drinking buddies like some people put together professional hit squads. I don't know whether to admire the effort or not."
Then she turns to Nat, though the question's addressed to everyone. "So besides getting the ruined leg tats retouched--" No, she's not saying how she managed to ruin leg tattoos - Thomas and Nat know, and Morgan can ask if she's interested. "--any recommendations for my next tattoo? Seeing as Nat's found an awesome hole in the wall parlour?"
[Morgan Lake] ".....it already is slang." This gets a furrowed brow, amused and confused both - not slang that makes no sense whatsoever (to her), but something she's grown up hearing. She knows, of course, that some slang doesn't parse into other languages - things in Chinese that don't translate into English and vice versa - but by base appearances, they both speak English. Sort of.
Then there's the question of tattoos, and Morgan - conservative, uptight Morgan - smiles. "I think I might get justice scales after I finish my LSATs or bar exam. I don't know, what have you done or are you interested in that's worthy of stamping onto your body forever?"
[Natyana Wapanee] She chuckles at the talk about moochers, and the drinking posse rounding up "Oh that'll be a funny group to watch. You, Wharil, and James?" She looks over at Molly, grinning. "I would think there's some way to slur sign? I mean.. especially if you know you have two hands but you see four."
She tilts her head, contemplating some of the pictures she's seen out of all the books she'd been out flipping through. "You know? I could see you getting maybe some kind of bands around your arm or something, like those tribal bands I've seen? But instead of tribal it could be like... circuitry lines. Subtle ones, not like a big power grid or something."
She looks over at Morgan and her input on tattoos and smiles. Not something she expected to come from the redhead. Contemplating tattoos? Trying smoking? Next thing you know it'll be spiking the punch bowl and rock music. Maybe she's not so bad.
[Thomas Taylor] He looks to Molly “Get a no entry sign on yer ass, or ‘eaven this way on yer thigh...” He chuckles, it hurts but he could not help it. “Ot better yet sum comp code, get it running over yer arm perhaps, gypsy might even be able to you know...” He lifts his right hand and wiggles his fingers “Do yer mojo through it.” He talks like he has some himself, though if he does no one can see them.
He then looks back to Morgan, an interested and curious look on his face that just comes over as confusion “Wats a LSAT Le Fey? Oh wait that yer PI thing...” Yes he remembers their conversation.
"Oh 'ows the trainin' with Li going, if you want sumthing a bit more street, I'll teach ya sum brawlin' moves, ain't kung fu but will put anyfucker down." He nods to the red head.
[Molly Quincannon] Morgan's question gets a blink. "Well," she says, "a lot of it I'm already wearing, actually. Just I've gone a bit less visible with it today." There are, in fact, signs of tattoo if one looks closely - peeking out from the sleeves, collar and hem of her T-shirt, indicating quantity and possibly more beneath. "I'm going to have the ankle tats reformatted to flames, definitely - I've earned that. But the code and circuitry is an interesting idea." She nods to Nat and Thomas. "Depends on the code, though, and what I might want to use it for. Circuitry's something I could probably wear now; code ... that's for something else, I think."
Yes, she's ignoring the comments about the 'no entry' sign. No, she doesn't exactly look pleased at the joke, but she's not saying anything about it, preferring to keep the conversation light and not something she'd want to do something unpleasant to Thomas for. Let them think her tension stems from something else; perhaps the query of what she's done that would merit a tattoo, as if inferring that Morgan thinks she cannot have done much to merit such a thing. Then, curiosity. "Where would you have the scales, Morgan? Shoulder blades? Small of back? I figure if you're going for senate or whatever, collarbones and upper chest are probably out. Might show if you were in a fancy blouse or formal gown."
[Morgan Lake] "No, the PI thing is just to make sure I can pay for the rest. I've got scholarships and grants, but I'm trying to avoid taking out loans if at all possible, and it was an interesting job with an interesting person. So, I made it obvious to him that he needed me." That's with a grin, and there is a certain charisma about her; somewhere in there, there's a likeable girl. Even if she is often uptight, and sometimes (more than) a little snobby. "LSATs are Law School Admission Tests. Bar exam is to become a member of the Bar Association, and legally allowed to practice law in the state where I take it. Here, in my case. Technically, I could take it without going through the law school rigmarole, but then I'd miss out on the contacts I could make." She shrugs and, yes, notices how much more approving they are when she mentions the possibility of a tattoo on her own as yet pristine skin. This is a curious thing, to her, but she doesn't question it - if they don't like her, that's fine. If they do like her, that's fine too.
"I haven't started working with Li yet - haven't had time to get to the studio. But since it's part exercise and part self-defense, I don't see how learning a little dirty fighting could hurt. Aaaaand . . ."
The word gets drawn out, thoughtful, as she considers this. "I think the inside of my wrist, just small. It'd be something for me, and you're right, it'd have to be either hidden, or something that could go unnoticed." However Molly's taking her earlier question, Morgan's either pretending not to notice or really not noticing. It's part of that 'like me, like me not' thing, one supposes.
[Natyana Wapanee] She smiles and picks at the muffin, then sips the coffee before leaning back on her hand with the wad of gauze around her thumb, looking to each of them at input and curiosities. Enjoying the quiet company. She blinks at all the lawyer type talk and chuckles a little, that bit not overly surprising. She seems intelligent enough.
[Thomas Taylor] Tom listens to what she says, a nod here and there as the socially aware do to let the speaker know there paying attention “Networkin’ pet, you gotta network, as Info says it works the same way be it in the backstreets or up on boards.” He tilts his head scratching behind his ear as he pulls a cigarette out...from behind his ear...”There you are...” He smiles moving the cigarette over his fingers as a street magician would a coin.
“Well, let me give ya me dog number, an you can give us a buzz on the blower if yer interested.” He goes into his pocket and pulls out and old and beaten phone. He goes to slap it and then stops, it had not played up half as much since Molly fixed it. He puts the phone down in front of him licks his finger and wipes something from it, for those close to him it looks like blood as he starts finding his number, his other hand still moving the cigarette between the fingers.
[Molly Quincannon] Molly recognises hubris well - oh, yes she does. She truly and distinctly hopes that she doesn't wear hers on her sleeve quite the way Morgan does, then decides she probably doesn't and moves on to whatever other thoughts occupy a brain like Molly's...
And then Thomas talks about networking and contacts, and Molly apparently has an idea. A rather wicked one, to all intents and purposes. But what she asks is... "Hey, Morgan. You got any friends or family who're into the art gallery scene?"
[Morgan Lake] "My dad knows some people," she says automatically, and then . . . never mind that one. "Actually, if you call up that woman at the Northwestern costume shop that I gave you the number for, she'd know quite a few more people than I do. I haven't done much with the gallery scene since I graduated."
High school, she means, and oh, if Molly only knew. But then, the same phrasing could apply to Morgan - right now, at least, she has no idea she's being hubristic. "Why, what're you looking for?"
[Natyana Wapanee] She just stays leaned back on her hand, sipping at her coffee and letting them talk. Not bothered the the conversation around her, just listening and content that there's no spirits pouncing her and giving tree hugs. It's a relaxing day, and she's enjoying it. Enjoying company and not having to input on stuff she doesn't have too much knowledge on.
[Thomas Taylor] It does not surprise him she mentions art galleries; she was only talking last night how she likes them. He puts the smoke in his mouth as he lifts his T-shirt slightly and moves his hand under it and to his side flinching a couple of times as he touches the wound.
He blinks once, then twice, the looks around...no wait he did not have his top with him it was...well gone would be the best term, he starts patting his pockets, he must have a spare light...he taps his pocket and his hand moves in fishing out some matches “Bingo!” Small victories.
He lights one, hand cupped around it as he lights his cigarette a deep sigh erupting from his lips, as he to looks to Molly and Morgan. Thomas was not high society, he was common, he did not fight it, and art galleries were over his head. But he listens; every conversation has some merit...except girl talk....no merit what so ever!
[Molly Quincannon] "An in, mainly. There's going to be a private gallery showing in a few weeks, headed by a charity for orphans that we suspect to be really hinky." There's a stress on 'we' that indicates the Mage community in no uncertain terms without actually coming out and saying it. "I want to check it out. My other option's seeing if I can fanangle a press pass out of a friend of mine but I want to keep my options open. So if I can find a contact who could get me an invite to this shindig and I can meet a few people that I can later talk to and find out what the unholy hell is going on, as well as having the press pass option, that'd be awesome."
So ... not an art afficionado in this case, anyway. This is Intelligence Gathering.
[Morgan Lake] ".....I'll write a note, and you can pick up an invite from Liza. If she doesn't already have an extra, she'll know who does. Which gallery?" Such a slip, mentioning her dad, but Morgan pretends it didn't happen and hopes it slides; better to draw no attention to it and let it go away than to make a big deal. "If you want, anyway. And I might be able to get access to legal paperwork - 501c3s and the like, as they're bound to be a non-profit - if I bug Mr. Galloway to let me use his stuff."
She doesn't know if this will be any help or not (she'd think so), or if 'they' have it already, but the offer's there.
[Natyana Wapanee] She tilts her head at Thomas's quietness and points at the muffin with little pieces broken off from it, then picks up her coffee and sips at it again and smiles. Molly, always working, always thinking. Was no wonder she was the bucket of info, really.
[Thomas Taylor] He adds Daddy’s girl to the list. He takes a couple of drags on his smoke taking a moment to think back on his father, then with a deep furrow in his brow a slight darkness to his eyes he comes back to the here and now, putting it behind him where it belonged.
He reaches forward and picks up a bit of the muffin “Cheers Nat” He winks to her. His ears were on molly’s conversation with Morgan though, the whole reason he went through what he did last night was because they were all heading for the same goal...stopping a cabal war
[Molly Quincannon] Molly smiles and names the gallery. "I'd ... wait a few days, as it's kind of top-secret. Nobody knows about this thing yet but the charity and a couple of gallery organisers. And I've got their legal stuff as far as it goes, with all the crossed Ts and dotted Is." (read: I have hacked their database, but she's not saying that to an aspiring senator. Sometimes, you gotta play dirty.) "On paper, I know everything about them; I just want to put names to faces, get a ... y'know, feel for them. It's not always easy, with this crew--" (Read: Resonance-masking fuckheads and that Arcane thing gives me such a headache...) "--but if I can get even a sniff, I can let others have a look and see what's what later. Israel's pretty good at making headway from little memory snippets thrown at her."
Then she frowns. "Though maybe I ought to stick to the press pass idea primarily. Unless I can find a date or something. Wonder if Alex has a licence to carry concealed. No, then I'd have to bring in Riley, and that could end in fire. Um. Nathan, maybe? Though if they're screwing with ghosts, bad idea. Damn."
[Morgan Lake] "Wharil," she says easily, and she's been allowed to see him without his arcane up, and thus remembers more about him than most do. "He's skinny and not particularly physical, but I'm pretty sure he's more than handy with a gun. "Or Li, if you want someone with the society pull I think she must have, and I've seen her kick some pretty serious ass."
[Natyana Wapanee] She nods when Thomas thanks her, and takes one more drink from the coffee cup before laying back in the grass to fiddle with the gauze. She rolls onto her side, still listening, and thinking some about some possibilities, but she's coming up a bit on the empty side for alot of options to help Molly there. She digs another wad of gauze out of her bag, dropping the now pretty soaked first wad into the grass next to her and wraps the fresh gauze. Once done, she curls her fingers again to hold it in place and stands to take the ruined gauze to the trash can.
[Thomas Taylor] “Just take Chuck Info, be a date an Info, so for you a double date...” He nods taking a drag on his cough. “If you cud get me a staff pass I’d be ‘appy to play server, givin’ out drinks an like, gypsy comes to the worst no one wud ‘member me.”
He pulls a steep drag from his cough as he blows the smoke out taking a moment to concentrate “If I need to, I do not need to use slang, true I will still carry this cockney tang but if I focus.” Which he was very good at when he had to “Then I can be fairly normal, at least for an evening being a butler.”
He shrugs to Molly, he was just trying to give her suggestions, and they did not have to be good ones. “The same cud apply to anyone pet, you an sum bloke on a date if you don’t wanna take Chuck, if there’s a better choice, one as a server, the other as the chauffer, back up an extra sensin’, coverin’ bases.”
He gestures to Morgan “Le fey ‘as it, Soot man, and Lei, a reaper an kung fu, cannot go pete at all!”
[Molly Quincannon] That gets a frown. "Li? I ...'ve heard the name before, but never met her. Hmm. Have to fix that." Then she shrugs and grins a bit at Thomas. "Yeah, I was thinking I should maybe be a little less paranoid about it. I dunno about butler or chauffeur ... but I guess," she adds, pondering, "I could actually make a show of society something if I wanted. Though I dunno if I fit the society mould very well. I mean, I can tidy the hair and put together a pretty airtight ID but..." She looks at her stompy boots, contemplates her wardrobe and then sighs. "Really? I'd probably be a lot better off playing Trendoid Freelance Journo-Hack. All I need's a photographer, and that could be anybody."
Then she looks sheepish. "Guys, please, don't let me monopolise the conversation with my random plotting and scheming crap. I mean, I may have to resort to the old standby of 'read any good books lately?' or something." Then she realises that she actually wants to know and says, "So ... have any of you read any good books lately?"
[Natyana Wapanee] She chuckles, sitting back down after dumping the gauze. "Molly, you know I don't care. I like watching you work. And yeah, actually, reading my favorite. Again. Found it at a bookstore yesterday and have like two chapters left of it already. Ever hear of Tailchaser's Song by Tad Williams?"
[Thomas Taylor] He blinks to Molly then looks to Morgan “Get Le Fey to go in, she will fit right in all back of the bus, no doubt know sum of ‘im as well, she is the perfect choice.” It was just an idea but it did not take a genius to figure out when going high society take high society. "Play yer best 'and, play to yer strengths."
He looks to Morgan “you don’t after if you don’t wanna pet, an wud ‘ave to be filled in on wats goin’ on if you ain’t already in the know.” He smiles, nodding as he looks to Natyana. “Sorry pet am not thinkin’ this is yer cup of tea more than it is there’s.” He picks up the cup and shakes it his cigarette starting to burn low.
“Last captain I read was this potter number, all theory like but a robin read,‘elped me with...” He waggles his fingers again, you get the feeling he is not referring to Harry Potter.
[Morgan Lake] "She's in with Ashley, group-wise," Morgan says, meaning cabal as opposed to Tradition - obviously. "So's Wharil. They're both good sorts." For primals, maybe - there is that subtle-but-there snobbery, after all. And she gives them significantly more credit than she might others of their Traditions simply from their actions.
Then there's the switch of subjects to books, and Morgan is pleased - she reads a lot. "The Hunger Games trilogy, but it's YA - easy, quick reads, but entertaining. Lord of the Flies meets Brave New World, sort of. The third book comes out later this month. Everything's Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Froer. Me Talk Pretty Someday by David Sedaris. The Sookie Stackhouse books are way better than the TV show. There are bunches."
And a shift again, and Morgan looks at Thomas with an arched brow. "I . . . could go in, yeah. I doubt anyone would know me, and though I don't disappear, I don't stand out either."
[Molly Quincannon] It somehow doesn't surprise Molly that Morgan is a reader. "I've heard of most of those - they get mentioned on forums and stuff from time to time - just I've never had time to read any of them. Might give 'em a shot just to see what everybody's talking about. Except the True Blood thing," she adds with a bit of a grin. "I actually like the TV show better. The actors actually gave some of the characters a personality. Plus I like Lafayette and Harris killed that poor bastard off in the second book."
Thomas suggestion gets hesitation. "I ... thought about that? Morgan going in? But I'm really kind of intent on going in, preferably with a cover that will get me access to people I can ask questions about. I know you'd be great, Morgan, and I could get you all the information you'd need to ask stuff no problem, but it'd be a serious infodump. Plus there's a lot of people who would look a bit hinky at an eighteen-year-old asking the kinds of questions we might need answers to, stupid as that is. That in and of itself would attract attention. More to the point," she adds with a little impish grin, "I've never been to one of these things and I want to go. We could do the divide and conquer thing, I guess, but then it might get messy and complicated and communication would be an issue."
The snobbery? Gets ignored. It's subtle, therefore it can be ignored. Nat gets a grin. "I dunno. Nat might be an art lover. But there is the matter of kind of standing out just by virtue of being concentrated awesome." Which is now her euphemism for 'small-but-scrappy' or just plain 'short', where Natyana is concerned.
[Natyana Wapanee] She smirks, snorting and shaking her head. "Oh hell no. There really are some things... that I don't think I could follow you into. As shocking as that is. It sounds like something to play dress up with and I am all over having nothing to do with it." Laughs, looking over at Molly. "I like art? But don't do the galleria thing. That'd be like dumping Thomas off in a china shop after a few rounds at the bar with the boys"
[Thomas Taylor] He blinks to Molly then looks to Morgan “Get Le Fey to go in, she will fit right in all back of the bus, no doubt know sum of ‘im as well, she is the perfect choice.” It was just an idea but it did not take a genius to figure out when going high society take high society.
He looks to Morgan “you don’t after if you don’t wanna pet, an wud ‘ave to be filled in on wats goin’ on if you ain’t already in the know.” He smiles, nodding as he looks to Natyana. “Sorry pet am not thinkin’ this is yer cup of tea more than it is there’s.” He picks up the cup and shakes it his cigarette starting to burn low.
“Last captain I read was this potter number, all theory like but a robin read,‘elped me with...” He waggles his fingers again, you get the feeling he is not referring to Harry Potter.
[Thomas Taylor] ((Ignore that, did not copy))He looks to Molly “For everything you gave there I ‘ave an answer, she ain’t just 18, she 18 with a daddy, obviously sumone respected, she;’as the background, the breedin’ the attitude...” He holds a hand out to Morgan
“No offense, for posh totty yer all robin...” He carries on “An Info, sum lemons you need a take a step back, let sumone else info dump, yer curiosity as robin as it is don’t mean yer the best choice...wat they gonna think by a lil’ punk techno gothgettin’ in, covered in ink, not knowin’ ‘ow to walk proper in high heels, gettin’ distracted by everythin’ around ‘er cos she needs ot know, bein’ too brave an less lady like?” He looks to Molly, he was not being mean just realistic, and to him Morgan seemed the best, not Molly. He hoped she understood that.
“Then again this ain’t me rodeo?” He looks around “I used that right, this ain’t me rodeo?” Thomas was trying to adapt, to use more common phrases, as much as they found it hard to understand him he struggled with there slang
[Morgan Lake] The implication that maybe she couldn't hack it gets Morgan bristling (much as the not-even-implied bit that had gotten Molly earlier, about the tattoos); apprentice she may be, but this isn't just about magical know-how. "Thomas is right, frankly," she says with a haughty toss of ponytail. "But whatever. If you want it to be your show, it can be your show. And I can get into a gallery opening easily, without a lot of finagling and calling in favors."
She shrugs, and may well show up with or without Molly's okay - see who fits in better, indeed. And then, Thomas gets a look, eyebrow raised, questioning. "What is a 'posh totty', exactly? And I suppose 'rodeo' could be the right word, but that's more likely . . . you know, outside of the city. Where there are horses and other livestock regularly."
[Molly Quincannon] Thomas has not known Molly long. However, you'd have to be blind, deaf and brain-damaged to know that there is nothing guaranteed to anger Molly more than suggesting that she cannot do something. More to the point, there is nothing guaranteed to make her dig her heels in and stick with her own plans no matter what than to be told that she can't do something. "See, that's why the journalist cover makes the most sense, Thomas," she says, and her voice is cold. "I've seen the sorts of people who train for this kind of reportage. Art majors minoring in journalism, bitter as fuck that their own art didn't make it. I went to college in New York, eff eff ess! If you think I don't know what a pretentious art journalist looks like, you're sadly mistaken."
Morgan ... surprisingly, gets it easier. Morgan, in fact, gets an apology. "Okay, I'm sorry I phrased things in such a way as I sounded for even a brief moment like I was the one doubting your capabilities. Of course you could do it." She's not being sarcastic. She's pissed, but she's being honest. She struggles with it a bit, but she leaves it there. Oh, she's angry and she's obviously dying to say something she might regret later, but instead she comes out with, "Thanks for the offer, anyway. I think I'll do okay, but it was nice of you to offer the invite up until the rest of it." She's not going to say 'until you showed you have no faith in me and basically flagged up that I am a scruffy freak'. She wants to, but she won't.
Then she gets up. "I'll see you all later, okay? I've ... had kind of enough of this, thanks."
[Natyana Wapanee] She slowly raises an eyebrow, and the sudden shifting into the estrogen flinging brings a sigh from her. Not just from one of the parties involved.
"Ok, hold up. For starters, the attitudes need to just go. No need for it. Molly's been busting her ass on this stuff, and it's who she is to connect the dots and collect the dataz. So she's used to having her hands in everything, and most of the time questions don't come to her until she's looking at it and more questions come up. Don't get all insulted because she was looking at it from a different angle and start acting like the wounded princess. Try listening first, ok? And the posh totty, on a rough guestimate, would be uptown girl."
"Thomas, you're right on the angle of Morgan being able to slip in with the society angle, but the large scale picture was missed there a little in translation. Not a huge issue, but remember that delivery thing? Yeah... this would be one of those cheesestick moments"
"And you, calm down. He didn't mean it like that. He was suggesting an alternative, not saying you couldn't do something. He just had that charming man's eye delivery on it. No one's saying you can't do this. Not at all. You offered up the tidbits and wanted input chica, and that's what you got."
"So how about just chilling, enjoy the coffee, and put the topic back on something that has less grounds for misinterpretations and accidental insults. I could pass around some midol if need be."
The most she's said all morning. She looks to each of the faces in turn, and sips at the coffee. Her tone not insulted, not aggravated. But then, her breathing was steady and regulated at the moment.
[Thomas Taylor] He looks to Molly he was shocked she had just decided to leave. Disappointed certainly Natyana speaks but he had enough, anger in his voice, the first no doubt any of them had actually heard it “Pet go to yer pope an cry to mommy if yer can’t take a bit of criticism, yer justifyin’ it too yer self, I cud justify bein’ the prime minster of the United Kingdom, don’t mean I fuckin’ sud be.” A sign of wisdom perhaps, or maybe he got it wrong. “Well, like I said, yer show Info, do wat you will but don’t get yer knickers in a twist cos sumone said sumthin you didn’t like, yer not always right” As he watches her stand and get angry over something that was only an opinion, and a wise one at that he thought. No he did not know her long but it started making sense in his head. “Yes you ‘ve done more than anyone on this, I’ll be the first to admit it, like Nat says, you ‘ave put in more than anyone...trudgin’ through data, workin’ shit out, god knows i cud’nt do it which is exactly why I gave the police number to you, I cud’ave trtied to do it, bit or corrie, pushin’ on through, but it wud not be the same because you.” He points to her “Are better at it than me”
“Info, ‘member if you got an issue I got the tissue... sit back down, but if you don’t then stay safe an if you take this to ‘eart then it’s yer problem, not mine.” He sighs pulling a smoke from his pocket anything more at this point would just start a full on argument, and neither needed that, he looks to Morgan, the posh totty comment really did not seem right to answer anymore
[Morgan Lake] Molly's not going to say her bit any more than Morgan's going to say 'until you pointed out that I'm "just a kid", and that you apparently don't think I have the brain capacity to store and process the information gleaned in something like any number of events I've been to through my life, thank you very much for that by the way'. She does, instead, look at Molly inquisitively, as if she may have grown another head, for just a second. "Did you really just spell out text speak?" It's incredulous, that - sure, she uses it when it's necessary but only (when it's strictly necessary) on her phone, or in IMs. She is still bristling. She is still clearly Not Pleased by what was said, both outright and between the lines. (By more than one party involved. She works for a PI, for goodness sake.)
She can let it go (for now).
"Chilling and enjoying the coffee sounds great," she says after a few seconds of remembering to breathe. She offers no apology, sarcastic or sincere (she doesn't believe in saying what she doesn't mean, or apologizing for standing up for herself). "I think, if the rain holds off, I might have to come back later with my books and a picnic. I think there's supposed to be a concert tonight."
[Molly Quincannon] It's Morgan she answers, with a raised eyebrow and a bit of a grin - a bit sheepish, but mostly just amused. "Yes. Yes, I did. You know that whole thing about typing how you talk? Well, sometimes it goes both ways, especially when you type as much as I do. Thus, I will come out with things like eff-eff-ess or eff-why-eye, just now and then. It's a quirk. We all have them."
Then she shakes her head and sighs. "I'd go into detail about why my knickers aren't in a twist just because someone said something I don't like - I've had way worse - but if we're supposed to be chilling, then never mind. Suffice to say that no, my knickers are twist-free, not that you will ever find out first-hand, and just ... forget I said anything, okay? Coffee. Chilling. Right."
[Natyana Wapanee] She sighs and looks down, bringing palm to face.
Almost comical, really. The one that's typically one of the first to open up her mouth and let the diarrhea come splattering in the most blunt of ways.... used some tact and logic. She peeks up though, through gapped fingers, and when everyone seems to be simmering back down, she blinks. A smirk. A chuckle. A shake of her head.
[Thomas Taylor] Thomas looks to the floor he pulls out a match and lights his moke, first time the match nearly snapping. He takes a couple of drags the smoke being blown out signalling he had it lit as he puts both hands under his head and lays down, his legs uncrossing. Thomas looks up to the sky, the smoke being drawn in the blown out...
He takes a few deep breaths then tilts his head so he can see everyon. Hhe is slient, he has nothing else to say at the moment...but to fill the air ”So pets, you were talkin’ ‘bout captains? True bloods, an stuff”
[Molly Quincannon] Molly chuckles a bit. "Oh, probably best not to start us in on True Blood, Thomas. We just got off one argument and there'd be a 'book versus TV series' one starting right up once we got on that one." But she does explain: "Series of books about vampires and psychics and shapeshifters and I dunno what else. By Charlaine Harris. HBO's been turning it into a series that's in its third season. I like that it's a fair bit more streamlined but it's one of those ones that could only ever show on HBO because they're not shy about showing people having sex. It's kind of like somewhat tasteful supernatural porn, with plot. Well ... sometimes there's plot, anyway," she adds with a grin. "More so than Meyer, anyway."
[Morgan Lake] "Oh!" There's sudden glee (or as near to it as any of them has seen the young Hermetic, at any rate) found in a clap of hands and a lit up face. "Is it that books rhymes with captains and . . . crooks? Like 'good' rhymes with 'hood' and there's Brave Sir Robin?"
It must be close, she figures, or she wouldn't have asked at all - she'd have kept trying to find (discern) the pattern.
"Anyway, yes, books. The Last Unicorn. The Neverending Story. And oh god, not that Twilight crap. More than half the girls were obsessed with Edward, Jacob or both," she finishes with a silly face - crossed eyes, wrinkled nose, tongue poking out. "So many pages of whining and being a milquetoast little . . . little twat."
[Natyana Wapanee] Her hand drops back down and she watches the three of them, falling quiet again. Going back to her contented state of letting them talk. So long as they behave themselves apparently.
[Thomas Taylor] He looks to Morgan “Captain Hook pet rhymes with books an robin hood rhythms with good, yer gettin’ it.” He nods approvingly. He reaches out for his phone bringing it to him as he looks at the time. He lays back and sighs, the day was getting on and he only felt a touch better.
He looks to Molly as he speaks “Sounds like that goth crap, best find sum more shit out otherwise be out the loop on the railroad.”
[Molly Quincannon] Molly shrugs with a smile. "I like Harrison, myself. Interesting take on magic. Though scary, depending on point of view. Also the Dresden Files - books, not TV show, in that case. But I admit to not being much a reader. Well, at least not unless it's on a computer screen. I keep thinking about getting a Kindle but so far haven't bothered. And most of my books got stolen in the Great Luggage Heist last month. I only saved a few, haven't built up the collection again yet. Which is why I'm curious about what people are reading - I remember all the books I've read--" she taps her temple - she has that memory, of course "--so maybe it's time to get new ones."
[Natyana Wapanee] "I.... actually don't have an easy time just sitting down and reading. So not a whole lot I've read. I like most fantasy style from an animal's point of view, like Tailchaser's Song, obviously, my favorite book. Other than that... native american themed adventures, but those are hard to come by with any kind of flair that isn't completely rank with writings of that hollywood image. So mostly I stick to the animal stuff."
[Thomas Taylor] Tom like Natyana just listens now, most of the books he ever read were magical books, and as interesting as they might be everything seemed too normal to bring it up so he keeps quiet head tilted towards the sky as he stares at the clouds very peacefully with a few drags taken on his cigarette as he blows the smoke upwards.
[Molly Quincannon] Nat's comment gets an inspired look from Molly. "Oh, you ought to try Richard Adams, if you like animal pee-oh-vee stuff. Watership Down's the best known but there's also The Plague Dogs and Shardik. Though that last isn't entirely from the animal's--"
And then, her phone starts playing 'Take This Job and Shove It'. "Aw, hell, now I really do have to go. When they call me like this, it means one of the monkeys manning the servers let something melt again. See you guys later. If you still want a look at the TARDIS at some point, Morgan, let me know - Nat and Thomas have my number. Speaking of, Nat, text me with a when-where for the tat thing, okay?"
With that, she's off, talking in low but not-really-happy tones into her iPhone. Someone's getting a royal verbal bitch-slap. At least it's a way to vent stress.
[Morgan Lake] Just like that, Molly's gone - this leaves Morgan alone on the bench where she'd sat next to James, still stinking up workout clothes, and Thomas and Natyana laying on the ground, quiet. Without the obvious book conversation to carry them, Morgan's somewhat at a loss; what she has in common with these two, close to her age but from a different universe, is beyond her. Finally, though, she offers, "How long have you been in town?"
It's a bit weak, but then, Morgan's never seemed particularly outgoing since Thomas met her, and this is the first time Natyana has.
[Natyana Wapanee] She lifts her head enough to catch Molly's quick departure, and blinks. A glance to the other two. All three of them, really, even to look at them from completely different worlds, and Molly was no exception to that either. She turns her eyes to Morgan and smiles a bit. "Just a couple of weeks, how about you?"
[Thomas Taylor] His head tilts as he watches Molly go for a moment before turning back to the sky...this was peaceful; he could easy sleep here for a good twelve hours...for all they know he might just do that, he certainly did not seem made of money.
He lays there a moment of two as with the cigarette nearly burnt down the tired beaten man places both hands on the ground and pushes himself upwards finally sitting up.
To answer Morgan “Pet, me ‘ave been ‘ere nearly 3 weeks, not too long but ‘ave managed to be possessed, run from the pigs, get involved in this war so all in all, ‘ve been busy.” He smiles, tilting his head looking over Morgan....he tilts his head to Natyana she speaks as he looks back to Morgan.
All three of them, about the same age completely different background. “Well I don’t wanna be the first to say it, but we might not get a robin convo going.” He grin, was that a joke. “But were all in the same boat, so ‘ow ‘bout this, ‘ow you findin’ it, were all about the same age, all this mojo, politics, lifestyle, I mean ‘ow you two doin? A shaman an a potter?"
[Morgan Lake] "I've lived here most of my life, except for a few months in China," she says easily - her name may not be the same as it once was, she may distance herself from the father who still lives here and the mother who doesn't (usually), but most of her history she keeps the same. And what Thomas has been into in the three weeks since he arrived gets an eyebrow raised - it's a lot. She's been involved in less, but it's arguably impacted her significantly more. The question, though? That gets wry.
"I'm relatively new to it - less than a year. But I'm doing alright, I think. I've made a few fond acquaintances."
[Morgan Lake] "How about the two of you?"
((Stupid tab key.))
[Natyana Wapanee] She chuckles a little. "I leave the politics to the socialites, thanks. I'll just stick to the sidelines and hold up the score cards once in awhile. Too many people at once and I'm retreating into my shell anyways. Pretty easy to do when you're my size. I'm not here to play the games, just here to do what I can to help and then call it a day. "
"If that means helping you with the possessions, Molly with the man-eating garbage, and Alex with possessed kids in the park, so be it. But I guess really it was my fault we got into that mess. Really hard for me to tell the spirits no when they pounce me and hug and beg. Alex was actually innocently drug into it."
[Thomas Taylor] “Me...” He puts a hand on his chest “18, spent the next couple of years travellin’ around compiled to wander to try an learn” He grits his teeth a moment but it passes “Not much to say, ‘ad to pick up wat I cud, no doubt took me longer but am me own man, the Goths took me in, ‘epled me master it, took me on the magical mystery tour.” Both eyebrows waggle
He looks to Natyana then back to Morgan “That’s the luck of the draw though right, gotta make the most of wat you got.” He slowly stands stretching as he does, those muscles he keep hidden showing just for a moment as he leans his neck left to right an audible click being heard as he touches his side with only a little flinch.
[Morgan Lake] "I'm eighteen now," she says, though they've both likely guessed at closer to that than twenty anyway. "I was seventeen when it happened at Halloween, just before graduation in December." So she's school-smart, but both have likely already guessed that, too.
"And yes, you have to do the best you can with what you've got. I was lucky in a lot of ways - I had Wharil, Ashley and Kage all helping me and telling me I could choose for myself. And an Akashic boyfriend, for awhile." Akashic is not only a Tradition, after all - there's an 'Akashic Corner' bookshop somewhere over Bronzeville-way. "So, I've got to learn a lot, from a lot of perspectives."
[Natyana Wapanee] She smiles to the both of them warmly. "That must've been pretty cool, having all those options. I've... ever only known one way. We aren't known for gathering much, so I lucked out. The woman pegged me before I awakened I think... had been teaching me since I was really little... like just a kid. Then when I was about fourteen, she let me take my first vision quest and that's when it happened. Another five years with her, learning, and she sent me off to find my niche."
She looks to Tommy and chuckles, then Morgan. "Hell I'm twenty now and you two make me feel like the baby here on world experience."
[Thomas Taylor] He looks around both women then looks to Morgan chuckling “Post totty means yer a posh bird, hot but from bread; otherwise you’d just be totty.”He grins as he says it
At least he was honest as he looks to Natyana “Each experience bring sumthin’ new to the board, don’t rule yerself out pet from wat info told me she cud not ‘ave done that rubbish stuff without ya.” He chuckles “Every trad ‘as it’s place it’s just every trad ‘as a different view on where that place is, if only everyone wud just settle everythin’ wud be robin.”
He takes a deep drag on his cigarette
[Morgan Lake] [let's see how this goes, shall we? WP!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 5, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Morgan Lake] There's an arm around her and suddenly Morgan's tense, as tight as a sharp guitar or piano string and quivering, ready to snap - she doesn't pull away immediately, not until she's reminded of the cigarette (as it's brought to his mouth, making the smell that much stronger, that much more likely to linger in her hair and on her clothes), and then she's up and out of reach like a shot, with the ability to explain it away as not wanting to smell like smoke. It's distracting, that, and so it's a moment before she remembers that they were talking about something.
Oh, yes, experiences and Traditions.
"That's an awfully optimistic line of thought, Thomas," comes with an attempted smirk and an abundance of wry. "It seems like sure, some of us can work together outside of those lines, but we all have our stereotypes and preconceived notions. Potter." That's with a sniff, a bit amused now that she's removed from contact by distance and a few seconds. "Good stories, sure, and great for getting a bunch of kids to read and believe in magic. But there are so. many. problems with the paradigm of that world. Or rather, the lack thereof."
[Natyana Wapanee] She smirks, and shrugs. "She could have done it without me, but my way was guaranteed no more people got hurt. Including the two of us. Her way would have probably burned down half of bronzeville" Laughs. "And I'm sure Alex and James were alot happier with my way if not wanting me to figure it out faster. Glad they only had one to deal with though, they could've gotten seriously hurt."
Her head tilts to see Morgan, raising an eyebrow at her sudden movements and oddities. But then she smirks. "Lack of paradigm, but the concept they have with the sleepers was pretty close to it. You can't always contain it, and they just emphasize how important it is and why."
[Thomas Taylor] “Wud you rather me focus on the negative, am a glass ‘alf full kinda guy Le Fey.” He does not seem to taken aback by her moving, you could almost say by the look of him he expected it “Call me Tom pet, or Tommy, Thomas is too formal.”
He tilts his head to her as he takes a deep drag and takes a step or two back, she was moving away from him, and something he did. He blows the smoke away “Don’t mean to get yer back up pet, I’ll be on me way.” He winks to her and then looks to Nat “Be in touch pet” He then looks back to Morgan
Both hands come up peaceful as he starts moving away “Tommy needs ‘is sooty.”
[Morgan Lake] "I tend to focus on Truth, myself. Which is really neither positive or negative, but in the way it's perceived. And . . ." There's a shrug, almost rueful as she watches him back away, but offers no explanation. "I'll call your phone so you have my number. Have a good day, yeah?" For Thomas - or Tom, as she can't manage Tommy - of course, and then her attention returns to Natyana. "Actually, I should take off too - I really am pretty rank after working out and not showering. It was nice meeting you."
[Natyana Wapanee] She smiles to them both and offers a wave, not in any clear hurry to get up from the ground yet. "If you need anything, Tommy has my number. Was nice meeting you too"
Her eyes go to Thomas. "Get gone you lush. And quit getting yourself beat up, huh? We have practice soon as a spot's picked out."
[Thomas Taylor] He walks away, a hand moved around his chest as one hand cradles it. His free hand raises up as he offers a wave to the two ladies. The man is no longer staggering a smoke trail left in his wake. His voice sounding small when it carries back to Natyana “Tommy be fit as a fiddle you’ll see...”
And he was out of ear shot, walking away towards a blissful sleep.
[Morgan Lake] ((Thanks for the scene!))
All That Glitters Is Not [paused]
14 years ago
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