Discussion

[Morgan Lake] Morgan is out. She's not got much of a plan, really, but to go shopping - all her books for the coming semester have been bought, at least as many as she can reasonably anticipate, and she has no rent to pay and only occasional groceries to buy. This leaves her with the vast majority of her paycheck as discretionary income. 'Vast' is a bit of an overstatement, perhaps, but it's enough for the occasional nice dress, shoes and purse combo, which is what she's using it for tonight. Well, that and some sort of dinner, likely not at one of the ritzier places directly on the Mile, but one of the little places a bit off of it.

For now, though, day is just starting to turn to dusk - it's a magic time when the water is tinged pink and orange and the sun shines around and behind the clouds that mark so much of Chicago's spring, summer and autumn. It's warm, still, bordering on hot, and girls in cute dresses and shorts abound, but none like Morgan - none so focused on what she's doing, on the 'task at hand', on working out every detail. She's wearing a sundress, light and airy, that floats around her on every hint of breeze, flirty and playful. Her legs are long and lean, with clearly defined runner's muscles and she holds her back straight and her gaze straight ahead of her when she's walking. Her hazel eyes are intense when they land on people, things, and she studies [discerns], marks out things of note with an odd ease for someone as obviously young as she is.

Where she is? In front of a designer boutique, eying a dress she seems to like. She's not difficult to see, all flaming red hair and milky-freckled skin.

[Thomas Taylor] He is just walking along, pretty as you please. He looks better than he has most days only the yellow around his left eye, what remains of his beating. A cigarette between his lips that hags lazily like it could fall at any moment. But it does not, each drag producing smoke that exits his nose and wanders about his person aimlessly.

It was a better day for Tom, no fights last night, not even that bad of a hangover just the air and the heat, he still was not use to the heat his tracksuit top unzipped a black vest top showing underneath and beneath that a hint of the muscles he tried to hide.

He was just wandering, he did that lot it was in his nature and his magic the wandering man looking but never staying. He had a bottle of Budweiser in his hand half drunk and was singing some kind of chant under his breath. He was never too observant but still perhaps he saw the legs, the dress, could be that flirty nature. He was not shopping far from it but he stops to give the woman the once over.
He is of a strong build. Very short blonde hair, crystal blue eyes, a ruggedly handsome face with a day’s worth of stubble on his chin. His clothes are a miss matched, Adidas tracksuit top zipped up all the way to his chin, and old worn jeans with holes at the knees and converse pump s on his feet. They look new like he was almost trying to fit in...

[Morgan Lake] [Why hello there, what are you? (Per + Aware)]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 5, 5, 5, 5, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Morgan Lake] Whereas Morgan fits in effortlessly - she looks like she belongs here, amongst the expensive shops and upper crust, being begged for change by people who don't realize girls like her (with their fashionable dresses and shoes, their quirky handbags, their perfect hair) don't carry anything but plastic unless it's a quarter or two for the meter.

There's resonance, though, and it draws her posture to something a bit different - something like an animal scenting the air, almost. Her head turns one way, then the other where her eyes land on Thomas and a brow raises above those intelligent, intense eyes.

You? Of course him, who else could it be? She eyes him and makes no (apparent) judgment based on his apparel, or the newness of his shoes. What does wrinkle her nose is the cigarette, and the beer. "There are laws about that, you know," she says when his steps bring him near and with a nod at the bottle. "You're supposed to have it in a bag."

[Thomas Taylor] ((Could, woulda, shoulda))
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 4, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Thomas Taylor] ((Sorry that was Perc & Aware))

[Thomas Taylor] He stops a small furrow in his brow as he looks to the bottle then back to her "Really..." He sounds English, but not that gentleman English you hear in the movies no this was more...well common would be the term "Seriously, all that brown bag jazz is legit."

His senses sharpen, and he can tell why she noticed, that discerning nature looking over him like a glass eye. He shrugs under her scrutiny “Well pet, they got the issue I got the tissue...” He grins, confident, cocky a swagger in his step as he moves closer.

His eyes wander over her, not in that checking out way men have more wandering, more astute, that’s not to say he did not check her out just there was a more meaningful presence with his eyes.

“In all fairness pet I didn’t ask the guy if I could ‘ave a tiddley on the frog, just went on me way pretty as you please” His left hand comes up and takes the cigarette from his mouth, he blows the smoke away.

[Morgan Lake] "....." Which is to say, she's left staring at him for a moment, trying to figure out what he's just said - 'issue' and 'tissue' she gets well enough and blushes a bit, but is then distracted by the rest. Like being called 'pet' at taller than average, eighteen years old, and clear independence.

"I'm no one's pet," she says with a hint of distaste. "If you need something to call me, you may call me Morgan. And I'm going to guess the rest means you got a beer at a bar and walked out with it." She shakes her head, frowns, and it's cute, really . . . or off-putting, depending on how one chooses to look at it.

"The laws are there for a reason. In some places, they're stupid - but this place is pretty urban, and pretty busy. Impaired judgment and all that. I hope you have the sense to keep it at one, anyway, and to not get arrested."

[Thomas Taylor] ((Is it on target: Dex & Alth))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 7, 7, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Thomas Taylor] He smirks, on closer inspection he could not be a couple of years older than her, if not more battered and bruised. “Morgan, relax, exhale, pet is just like me sayin’ luv, or darlin’.”

He head tilts with every word. “Damn, you seem a bit uptight.” Yes that’s Tom, straight up honest, or at least honest enough not to care. “Don’t tell me, you got sum potter issues right...” He leans forward and winks before leaning back as he turns and throws the bottle into the air before kicking it in a volley...and you never guess what it lands in the bin with a clang...
Both hands go up like he had scored a national goal “Get in there my son!!!” He jumps around then looks back to her and the arms drop. “Sorry pet...” Yes he still called her pet “Didn’t mean to cause a fuss like.” He smiles the cig taking from his mouth and held in his hand. “So, the names Tommy.” He holds out his right hand (The smoke held in his left)

[Morgan Lake] "I'm no one's 'luv' or 'darlin', either," she says pointedly. "But I suppose if you can't help it, you can't help it. Um. Nice to meet you." She looks at his hand briefly before taking it in her own and shaking - no callouses, no scars, no show of strength, just an average handshake before stepping back a bit, to make sure she's not going to get a face full of smoke. A privileged princess, perhaps, except under the 'uptight' and disapproval there's genuine nice.

The scene with the bottle, though, and the drawing of attention got her somehow smaller, and looking around almost nervously - she sighs, takes the arm she'd just let go of, and pulls him at a quick clip half a block away where they duck into a coffee shop (walk up counter and barista, pastry case, no waiters or waitresses here) that's air conditioned enough to bring goosebumps out on her bared skin.

"Do you always make such a scene?" This is impatient, as she runs right hand absently over left upper arm to warm away the chill she'll grow accustomed to soon enough.

[Thomas Taylor] He lets himself be dragged after the shake, grinning the whole way. When they finally stop and she asks the question as he looks to her “No, not always, why pet, are ya paranoid?” An honest question, he was just having fun. He seems more settled in the air conditioning with a sigh. Posh birds, it was always a uphill struggle.
He looks to her and smiles, as rough as it is the grin comes of as charming, that kind of loveable rogue “Pet, no offense, but you seem a lil’ uptight, everythin’ robin?” Concern, for himself, for her it hard to place it could be either or. “You just seem a touch jumpy, it was all skill I assure you, me, the kick the net.” He makes a whooshing nose then a clang, before he puts his hands to his mouth and makes a (quiet) roar of the crowd. “You ‘ave seen footie right?”

[Morgan Lake] "I played soccer for three years, actually, in middle school. And no, I'm not paranoid. I just . . . don't like attention. You were the one who was getting it, sure, but I was right there with you."

There's a sigh, then, and some of the tension leaves now that there's no beer, no scene making, no . . . "Shit, you did drop your cigarette outside, didn't you?" That's not a matter of stress, though - it's a matter of no smoking signs posted everywhere, and smokeless receptacles for butts outside of every establishment . . . everywhere in the city. There are laws about that, too.

But then, there's that puzzled look at his choice of slang, and even a bit of wry laughter - all contradictions, is she. "Does 'robin' mean 'alright'? If so, yes. It's just that discretion is important."

[Thomas Taylor] "Robin hood pet means good.” He looks to his cig still in his left hand and takes a drag off it before positioning it on his forefinger as he flicks it outside the smoke still coiling from his nose...

He suddenly seems to look very innocent “It’s outside now I swear pet.” Both hands held high like he was under a police search “Can even check me Adam.” As an eyebrow waggles to her and his arms slowly lower like she could pull a gun at anytime.

“Jesus, you like a pig, you and the law seem to be like that...” He crosses his fingers on his right hand and brings them up in front of her “Tell me pet, you got a fella, hell you got a woman cos if not you need sum Duracell an a few hours on yer todd if you catch me drift.” He winks again to her, head nodding as he does.

He smiles, if you can get past his crass honesty he would seem friendly, just you most cannot.

[Li Daiyu] [Per+Aware]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 6, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Morgan Lake] "................"

There is an impressive shade of red that only fair skinned people can turn, one that's set off by red hair and freckles, and Morgan turns that just now - a lip gets caught between her teeth, and she. just. stares at Thomas for a long moment, unable to come up with some flippant answer off the top of her head. So the latter half gets ignored with a haughty toss of her head (too good of a girl to dignify it with an answer) while she answers the former. "I work with a private investigator, actually. And I start pre-law in September. So no, I'm not a cop. Coffee or tea?"

Efficient, uptight, and a scandalous shade of red from hairline to chest, but still hospitable - not exactly friendly, perhaps, but nice enough under the rest.

[Thomas Taylor] He smirks, grins as she turns red, but chooses to ignore it and looks to the menu “Earl Grey if they ‘ave it, ‘ave been dyin’ for a decent crew since I came over the pond, if not just get us whatever they got, needs must as the devil drives...”

He then looks to her “No sugar pet, am sweet e’nuff as it is.” He winks and gives an audible click with his mouth to her, his hands find his pockets with not beer nor a smoke to holds. He seems always in some motion even if it is moving on the balls of his feet, like he cannot stop wandering .

“So PI eh, cud’ave guessed, eh pet ‘ows ‘bout we forget this indiscretion eh?” He winks again top her and smiles that cockney charmer. Oh he is trouble it does not take a private investigator to tell that.

[Li Daiyu] It wasn't uncommon to find the Akashic in this part of town on a weekday evening. The Joffrey Ballet studio wasn't far from here, and she spent about as much time there as she did over at White Lotus. Given the amount of physical training she managed to squeeze into her weekly schedule, it was somewhat surprising that she managed to find the time to do much of anything else, but relaxation time was an equally important part of her routine. And that usually involved a cup of tea after practice.

Even if said cup of tea was acquired at a coffee chain with only a scant selection of drinks that she found palatable. One usually couldn't go wrong with a bit of Jasmine, and this was what she intended to order when she stepped inside, but something caused her to pause in the doorway. Two figures blocked the way - one slightly familiar, one unknown. Both... resonated. She glanced between Morgan and Thomas curiously, offering them a warm smile. "Well hello. Nice to see you again." That last bit was directed at Morgan.

She had a goal in mind, though, so with a graceful movement, she slid past the two and and walked up to the counter, offering the barista another friendly smile before speaking in a lightly Asian-sounding accent. "Just a cup of Jasmine tea, please." Payment was given, and the heels of her boots clicked on the floor tiles as she walked over to wait at the end of the counter.

She looked much more dressy than the last time Morgan had seen her, but then... so did Morgan. It was a rather different environment, after all, and neither of them had cause to be in running garb. Daiyu's hair was left loose, hanging straight and silky-black over her shoulders. Her shirt was a deep red silk camisole, and her jeans were dark blue and fitted snugly to her hips and legs. The black suede boots on her feet went up to her knees. A piece of black jade lay against her chest, just at the apex of her cleavage where the neckline of her shirt dipped. It hung there, suspended by a white-gold chain. Perhaps more interestingly, a piece of the tattoo on her back lay visible beneath the delicate shoulder-strap of her shirt: what looked like the tail of a large, winding red dragon.

[Morgan Lake] "I'm not actually fixing your drink, just ordering it," she says with a bit of huff just as Daiyu comes in - the older mage is given a nod, polite, as Morgan sidesteps out of the way, then follows her to the counter and waits for the guy behind the register (somewhere in his early to mid twenties) get the Akashic her tea before ordering, "Earl grey and a grasshopper, please, white chocolate."

Soon enough, both teas are had and it's just her drink that (requires pulling of shots, steaming of milk and the like) remains, being seen to by the young woman at the machine. It's then that she answers the petite dancer (Morgan doesn't know about the ballet, but can see music in the way she moves), while she waits for her drink. "Good to see you again, too. This is Thomas," she says with a gesture towards the Brit. "Don't know if you've met or not. Thomas, this is Daiyu."

[Thomas Taylor] “Steady pet, no one expects the Spanish inquisition...”He stands there hands in his pockets waiting; he notices the Asian woman walk in and actually step aside when she walks up to allow her past. He waits quite patiently even if his resonance suggests otherwise. When Morgan speaks again he looks towards Daiya and a hand comes from his pocket and gives a small wave “Evenin’ pet.” His accent is English, common cockney if she would recognise it.

He nods slightly to her and smiles, but apart from that he just waits, was this a friend, was it an ally was it connected to all that shit over the weekend...

[Li Daiyu] "We have not," Daiyu responded to Morgan's inquiry, and then she was silent as Thomas made mention of the Spanish Inquisition (a pop culture reference that she, alas, would not pick up on) and offered her a casual greeting. The phrase: pet was some cause for amusement, but she didn't offer any vocal objection. She did, however, make a slight correction to Morgan's introduction as she nodded to the British man. "Li Daiyu. You can call me Li. Nice to meet you."

For someone from a non-English-speaking country, her English was very good. Which meant that she'd probably been living in the States for a fair amount of years. Or, perhaps, that someone at home had spoken it. It didn't take long for her order to come up, and Daiyu turned to pick up the cup which contained her tea. "Would you two care to join me?"

She asked this over her shoulder as she began walking for a table, choosing an isolated one by the window.

[Morgan Lake] "Our chief weapons are fear, surprise . . ." Morgan gets an awful lot of pop culture references - she's kind of a connoisseur of such, though most of hers are significantly more recent. Then there's the correction to the name, and the blush this time is just a faint pink and comes with a rueful smile. "Sorry about that. I should have known."

Just then she gets her mocha - white chocolate and mint with espresso, delightful - and nods. "I'm alright with that. We didn't . . . well, I guess we did come here together. But just because we ran into each other outside." She's remarkably more relaxed with Li than she had been with just Thomas, perhaps oddly - or perhaps not. There are girls like that, after all. "You coming?"

The last is with a raised eyebrow Thomas' way, questioning, even as she intends to follow. It's always good to make new contacts (and better to make friends or at least friendly acquaintances with one's mentor's cabalmates). "It looks like we can have proper introductions and talk over there."

[Thomas Taylor] His introduction was never done with Morgan, well not fully. “Nice to meet pet.” He smiles to her, much like Morgan his eyes look over her, wandering as they do over all people, women especially.

Tom could think o f worst ways to spend the evening and though his gut was churning, screaming remembers the weekend he forced it down, become to paranoid and the world turned against you. He does look to Morgan to gauge her reaction to the new arrival. Perhaps he trusted her, perhaps he trusted more that someone evil would not blush so much at his comments.

He watches them a moment then grins “He who dares wins...” He smirks following them to the table, when he gets there he spins a chair around so its back is facing front and takes the seat.

He takes his earl grey shaking the bag slightly as he lets it settle his eyes wandering between Morgan and Li Daiyu.

His neck moves from side to side “So let me guess, yer both in the ‘no, am not, this is question lemon?” He pushes his tea to the side, what kind of savage does not let a good tea settle. His eyes wander to the window as if longingly, and then he focuses back on the women and to be fair it was not hard.

[Li Daiyu] "No need to apologize," Daiyu offered to Morgan, upon seeing the girl's embarrassment. Point in fact, if it had just been the two of them, she probably wouldn't have said anything, but the idea of Thomas calling her by her given name just felt a bit... odd. He was too much an unknown entity. (And he'd already called her pet.)

This place had bagged tea, but thankfully it was at least of the premium variety: loose tea leaves in a pyramid of sorts. Daiyu's had another minute or so to steep properly, so she left it to do just that as she set the cup down upon the table and took a seat. It was true - next to Morgan and Thomas, she was rather petite. Then again, if one compared her to someone like Ashley or Israel, the Asian woman looked relatively large by comparison. Height was all in perspective, really. That she lived an active and physically demanding lifestyle though... that was obvious. Even to Morgan, who had no idea that she danced professionally. It was there in the way that she moved, and the tight coil of muscles that suggested she might be a bit stronger than her elegant frame led one to believe.

When she sat, she crossed one leg over the other and folded her arms briefly in her lap. Morgan and Thomas soon joined her, and the latter addressed the women with a question. Daiyu had always thought that her English comprehension was close to perfect, but his manner of speaking threw her off. She blinked as she looked at him, attempting to decipher the meaning of his words. "I'm sorry... what?"

[Morgan Lake] "Thank you," Morgan says with relief - she's puzzled everything out so far, but Thomas' last question has her baffled; it's oddly amusing to her that she can translate the century-old scientist who speaks in a way that has to be odd even for then better than she can this fellow who is (or at least looks) closer to her own age. "I didn't get it either."

But there are other things at hand - Li knows, of course, but she offers it again, as is right and proper. She speaks quietly, in a way that's unlikely to carry much further than their table. "I'm Morgan Lake, apprentice of the Order of Hermes." Which, to some, explains a lot.

She sits straight and crosses her legs in front of her like a lady; she may not have the cross training going that Li does, but there's no doubt that she works out - runs, does light weights. It's in the line the muscle of her calf makes where it meets her shin, in the pull of muscles across her back where her dress leaves it bare . . . and it's in the running clothes she'd been wearing the other time she met the Akashic.

[Thomas Taylor] He tilts his head, not getting any closer or further, he was use to such questions. Still Morgan uses her potter name and he notices the subtitles underneath...still if he was one for title...well you would know it "Yer both in the know and this is question time." Yes he spoke normal English if he had too, it was far from his native tongue but that’s the irony, the English depending on what region hardly spoke English

Tom noticed both the womans shapes, how they were different, how each had there grace. As his arms come around the chair he himself has his own share of muscles. The yellow mark around his eyes of a fading black eye, the barely healed lip and the way he carried himself would suggests a brawler if looks can judge the character.

He takes his tea bag out; very gently as he dips it back in and leave it to the side. His hand goes behind his ears and seems to scratch there and when his finger hit the table there is a cigarette there. Those digits dance like a street magician as the cigarette moves from finger to finger as a coin would move with a street magician. Still this stranger save for a name has not given anything, and that gives him pause. “Take it, were all just back of the bus an shit eh?”

[Li Daiyu] Morgan was Order of Hermes, but Daiyu already knew that. She didn't know much else, but the fact that the red-head was Ashley's apprentice was indeed common knowledge. Frankly, Daiyu was glad for the opportunity to speak with Morgan, and possibly know her better than their previous encounter had allowed for. (There was not much room for chit-chat when fighting a mob of the undead, after all.) There were a few things that these two knew about each other, though. Daiyu knew that Morgan was capable and level-headed in moments of crisis. Morgan knew that Daiyu was a great deal more physically dangerous than she looked. But then... this was a given. After all, the Apprentice was already well familiar with at least one other member of the Akashic Tradition.

When Thomas rephrased his question, it was slightly more understandable, but Daiyu still had to take a moment to process his meaning. The precise reference he was making wasn't clear, but one could infer, and she was a reasonably clever woman. "You mean to say that we're all Awakened, yes?" This was spoken quietly, so as to avoid eavesdroppers, though anyone who did hear them wouldn't have much of an idea of what they were listening to.

"The answer is yes. I'm with the Akashic Brotherhood. Vajrapani." Thomas may or may not even know what that last title meant, but Morgan probably would, given all the time she'd spent talking to Austin.

[Morgan Lake] "The . . . fists," Morgan asks, as indicated by a slightly upturned end and a raised eyebrow. "The warriors. Right?" She's heard about each of the factions, a little - but not being her own Tradition, she's retained only the basic, truly essential details, with a few small other bits. And then, by way of explanation, "Boyfriend. He's not here anymore, though."

Then Thomas, and he gets a similar raised eyebrow - and my, the girl's eyes are piercing for someone so young. It's some combination of intelligence and charisma that does it, really, and that she's a pretty young lady doesn't hurt at all. "Orphan or Hollow One? Those are my guesses."

Not that she knows terribly much about the former, and the latter covers a wide, wide range of paradigms and practices, but by her thought? If he were a member of a real Tradition (even a primal one), he'd have said already. It's a thing, and for all that she's a fairly nice girl when she starts relaxing, she's not above a bit of Hermetic snobbery.

[Thomas Taylor] He listens to both women, processing what they say; he knew nothing about either of them, they he had head of the potters and the Kung fu’s as he called them the last bit went over his head. His eyes dart between the two women as he makes a call, a call from his gut and instinct. “Am Tommy, Order of the hollow, brotherhood of the council estate.” He nods slightly as he speaks not expecting a positive response from either woman…

His eyes flick to the window again before it comes back to them “Don’t fret pets, it’s all robin, ‘ave seen the number 10, am all on yer captain, done the rounds no need to fret.” Both hands rise up defensively, a small show of no harm. “Am all legit pet’s? Pretty as you please.” The cigarette keeps moving between his fingers of his right hand, even with it raised as they slowly lower back to the table, his finger tapping on the table, tap, tap, tap as the cig moves between those fingers.

He smiles, that smile never leaves his lips half way between cheeky and charming the man is comfortable with who he is and what he is doing. The cig gets put into his lips as if on instinct then he gives a frown and brings his right hand up to take it from his lips with reluctance.

“Nice to meet ya Le Fay an Lei...” He smiles looking to each with the nicknames “Don’t mind me callin’ ya Le Fay and Lei do ya...” He carries on like they would not “Nice to meet sum more of the crew.”

[Li Daiyu] Morgan clarified the purpose of the faction, and Daiyu nodded in affirmation as she lifted the bag of tea leaves out of her cup and set it down on the edge of the small plate beneath it. She took a drink of her tea while Thomas spoke, watching him over the rim of her cup.

Most of what he said may as well have been in greek, for all the sense that it made, but the basic gist seemed to get through, at any rate. He was a member of the Hollow Ones, and seemed to have friendly enough intentions, for all that he was probably the type to get into a fair number of scuffles, as evidenced by the faded bruise under his eye.

She watched him as he flipped the cigarette back and forth along his fingers, noting the way he instinctively put it to his lips before taking it away again. He probably wasn't entirely pleased with the strict American laws regarding smoking inside eating establishments. Sadly he wouldn't get much sympathy from the Akashic in this front. She didn't smoke. Or drink. Or eat junk food. Or any number of other unhealthy things.

Point in fact, she was not overly fond of the nick-name he'd decided to bestow upon her, but she didn't feel it was worth voicing a complaint over, so she merely raised her eyebrows a bit and shrugged.

"I'm afraid I don't really know much about the Hollow Ones," she admitted honestly. "Have you met with Ashley yet?"

[Morgan Lake] "I'm not fey enough to do Le Fay justice," Morgan says with a smirk. "I'm actually pretty straightforward. Anyway, I can't promise I'll answer to it, but I guess it'll do. Though . . ." here, there's a thoughtful pause. "If she was Awakened, and not faerie like the legends say, I don't think she was Hermetic. The methodology seems wrong."

Not, of course, that Hermeticism doesn't cover a wide array of things as well - she could simply have been of one of the Houses that Morgan doesn't know quite as much about, or . . . any number of things.

And, for the record, Morgan is notably unsympathetic on the smoking front as well - drinking, she hasn't done since she Awakened (other than a glass of wine here or there in China, and the one night with the bottle), smoking she can't stand. She bakes, though, and a great deal of what she makes could be considered junk food, if slightly healthier than the average fair in that she uses real cream and butter and the like when it's called for. She's also eighteen, and though she keeps trim and fit? She's no saint. She likes to enjoy what she eats, and sometimes junk food is just necessary.

"I think that's part of what he said - that he met with Ashley, I mean. Also, I've been meaning to talk to you."

[Thomas Taylor] He nods to Li “Course I ‘ave pet, wat did you think I meant ‘bout the number 10, gotta say for a potter she is alright.” He nods remembering his conversation with her grinning as he does finally bringing his tea back in front of him and having a sip, tea bag still in the cup. Then Morgan tries to examing fairey tales and he juts looks confused, brow furrowed one eyebrow higher than the other then Morgan says she needs to talk to Li.

“I can leave you on yer todd if you wanna talk shop, Tommy don’t mean to be in the way...” He brings his tea up and drinks most of it in one hot cup...his hand waves past his lip as he does “Bloody gypsy, that’s as hot as the fuckin’ current!” He sticks his tongue out.

[Li Daiyu] [May as well do something useful. Forces 2 - coincidental - diff 5 -1(focus) -1(taking time)]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 5, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 3)

[Li Daiyu] Morgan filled in the blanks of what Daiyu hadn't quite gathered in Thomas' words, and Daiyu nodded. It was probably lucky that Morgan was there, frankly, else very little of what Thomas said would be properly understood. She still couldn't figure out what he meant by the number 10, even having the answer explained to her. It put her at a slight disadvantage, but for all that, she didn't seem particularly flustered. This was certainly not the first time in her life that she'd needed a translator. The Apprentice mentioned that she'd been meaning to talk to Daiyu, and the older woman lofted an eyebrow in curiosity. "Oh?"

This was when Thomas teased her, but when he mentioned that Ashley was alright for a potter, Daiyu just smiled (a bit enigmatically.) "Yes, she is." Then he asked if they needed him to leave, and she let Morgan answer that one. "You're more than welcome to stay, unless Morgan wishes privacy?"

Before the Hermetic had a chance to answer that question though, a bit of an outburst came from Thomas' side of the table, and Daiyu smirked ever-so-lightly. After a moment of contemplation, she lifted her hand and made a slow, graceful gesture through the air. Like something from a dance. When her hand passed over the cup that housed Thomas' Earl grey, some of the heat seeped out of the liquid, dispersing into the air. It wasn't visible, of course, but anyone who was familiar with the Forces Sphere would be able to detect what she was doing.

Then she smiled. "Should be better, now."

[Morgan Lake] Morgan's been sipping her too-hot mocha since not long after they sat down, and hasn't seemed overly bothered with the temperature a bit of a wince at the first sip or two, perhaps, but not more than that. They've been small, those sips, and very lady-like. "It's not shop, exactly," Morgan says with a shrug. "I don't mind if you stay."

Thomas is given time to make a decision, and then, whichever way it shakes out, Morgan says, "I saw the way you fought, and wondered if you trained somewhere here, still, or practiced on your own. And . . . well, if you'd mind teaching. Not the fancy stuff, really. I mean, I used to go to a place for self defense classes, and I don't anymore." She has her reasons, of course, and she doesn't share them; her private business, she keeps private.

And that is, of course, paired with appreciation for what Li's done - it's a handy skill, that, and out of Morgan's reach still. She'll learn, though, and it won't be long.

[Thomas Taylor] He listened to the two women once more, sensed Li magic at work, he had a basic understanding of forces, he has a fugue sip of his tea and happy it was at the right temperature he downs it “Cheers pet.” As he lets out a satisfying sigh and puts the cup down.

But of course that meant he just had a brew, and he needed to smoke. The cig stops in his hand as it is placed behind his ear. “Well, am all on me jack, yer two in a bush I’ll take me leave.” He steps up from the chair spinning it back around and placing it under the table. He did seem interested in the conversation, in fact he seemed very interested just he had needs...

“Cheers for the earl Le Fey. Lei nice to meet ya, hope yer all robin’ no doubts catch ya again.” He nods slightly too both ladies as the smoke gets brought from his ear to his mouth.

“I ‘ave to see a man ‘bout a dog you know all hush hush...” He winks with his right eye twice and then puts some money on the table from his right pocket, a few crumpled up notes. “The next r’und is on me.” He winks to both ladies as he turns and starts to head out.

[Wharil Choc] "Tea. Coffee. Coffee. Tea. My fucking kingdom for a place that serves a decent Chai. Alright, lets try this..."

Wharil was talking to himself again. Which, along with the disheveled clothes and the darkness under his eyes, meant he wasn't getting any sleep. The fact that he was looking for something sugary and caffeinated meant that it was self imposed.

He steps in and takes a step back from the counter, eyes scanning the menu before he orders.

[Li Daiyu] Thomas had to see a man about a dog. Daiyu laughed softly and nodded a goodbye. "Good evening, then. I'm sure we'll meet again." (But of course they would. This was Chicago, after all.)

But Morgan had asked her a question, so once Thomas had taken his leave, Daiyu turned her attention back to the red-head. The question elicited a small, knowing smile. "I have a friend who owns a dao chang - a martial arts studio - in Chinatown, called White Lotus. That's where I do a lot of my training. If you're interested, they have classes, but if you're looking to learn one-on-one, I would be happy to teach you some basics." Not Do, of course. That was something she reserved for members of her own Tradition (and only ones that she deemed properly dedicated, at that.) But the gateway arts (kung fu and tai chi) were a good place to start.

She finished off her own tea, then glanced around, pondering. She hadn't brought her things inside with her, so she had to stand up and walk over to the counter to ask for a pen and a piece of paper. When she returned, she wrote down the name and address of the studio, along with the owner's name (Sifu Hu Jinhai). "He's an ally to us," she said as she tapped the pen against the man's name, letting Morgan know that should she need to, this was someone that she could be honest with. Then Daiyu wrote down her own name, and her cell phone number. "Why don't you give me a call tomorrow, and we can work something out."

She smiled then, turning as a familiar resonance and a familiar voice suddenly popped up at the periphery of her senses. "Ah, Wharil. You've arrived just in time to wish me goodnight." The Akashic smiled at her new cabal-mate, then turned and winked at Morgan. "I'm glad we ran into each other."

Then, she was on her way out, giving a wave to the two of them as she went. "Have a good evening!"

[Morgan Lake] Before Li leaves, there's a portion of the paper torn off and Morgan's own cell number written down for the Akashic. "Thanks, I appreciate it. Since Austin went back to San Francisco . . ." She shrugs, and there's that rueful smile again.

It's funny, in that funny-odd way, how parts of her can be so at war with herself - there's the stiff, proper Hermeticism and the very modern girl next door, and they have a hard time meshing, sometimes. Still, after that trailing off, the smile shifts from rueful to true. "Hey, have a great evening. I'll see you around."

That was easier than she'd anticipated - she's hardly shy, Morgan, but she's far more reserved these days than she's ever been in her life. It's harder to get out there and meet new people, to form more than the most transient of bonds with them. This is, maybe, a step in the right direction.