Grace
[Awareness!]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 5, 6, 9) ( success x 2 )
Ian
Bardo
Coffee was one of the better coffee shops in the Denver area - or so
the reviews claimed. The shop was on Broadway, a bit South of downtown
proper and not terribly far from Washington Park. The coffee there was
excellent, and the pastries weren't bad either. Both of these things
were lost on Ian, who did not drink coffee or eat pastries. But
he was there anyway, seated at a table by the wall beneath a large
abstract painting. A Windows tablet was propped up on the table in front
of him, and he sat back with one heel resting casually on the edge of
his seat, his attention focused on the screen and on whatever audio was
currently being fed through his bluetooth earbuds.
A cup of black tea sat curled in one hand, warming the skin of his palm. All in all, a very mundane pose to find him in.
Grace
There's
better coffee at the office, because Kalen always manages to find the
best of everything. But Grace was in the area, and the office is all the
way across town. Besides, this way, someone else gets to make it for
her.
She's wearing her coat today, and has yet to take it off
as she strolls up to the register to order a large caramel frap thing,
all ice and sweet, more of a desert than a drink.
Really, she
wouldn't have to be open to the bend of magic in the air to notice Ian
in the room. It's like a vision out of a menswear catalog wherever he
shows up, like you could just cut a square out of the world with just
him in it, and it wouldn't seem out of place. She stares. If he looks
up, she'll give a little wave while waiting for her drink.
When it does, she strolls over to his table, wincing a bit at the Windows tablet. What is it with Clippy's minions infesting her life lately?
"Hey. What's up?"
Serafíne
Dan isn't especially,
noticeable to mages. Blends in with the hipsters, just a tall, lanky
guy with a nice, full, blond, hipster bear. Hard to tell the difference
between hipster beards and Duck Dynasty beards but in Denver the
nuances are obviously: he's in black skinny jeans and a red-blue-pink
plaid button down with the sleeves rolled up, buttoned over a band
t-shirt (someone you've never heard of, naturally. his tastes is
probably better than yours) with tattoos visible on his arms, colorful,
one blending into the other.
He's not getting a table and
there's a line just then, staggered because it is just one of those
things. People are not ants, marching neatly without stumbling into
each other all over the forest floor.
And sometimes Dan sparks on awareness but tonight either that sense is turned off for him or he's just suppressing it.
See,
that pile-up happens just after Grace retrieves her frap. There's
something malfunctioning behind the counter, or too many special orders
at once. Maybe he catches Grace's eye as she slips past him and gives
her a quiet wave. You know: acquaintances passing each other in line,
that kinda thing. He's intent on coffee and its ordering, is Dan.
For the nonce.
Ian
[Awareness]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 4, 7, 8, 9) ( success x 3 )
Lena Reilly
[[Pre-emptive Magedar! Spec: Uncanny Instincts]]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 7, 9) ( success x 2 )
Ian
Grace's
impression of Ian wasn't an inaccurate one. Today Ian's outfit
consisted of skinny black deisel jeans, boots and a thin grey sweater
that hugged his upper body and zipped up in an asymetrical L-shape. The
high collar was left partly open, so that the edges of it fell away from
his neck and collar bones.
As it happened, he was watching a
movie. Depending on the angle at which Grace approached him, she might
notice the lush colors and cinematography that were notable hallmarks of
a Wong Kar Wai film. Either way, Ian paused it when she approached,
glancing up from the screen as he pulled off his earbuds.
"Hey."
He glanced over Grace's shoulder at the milling line, spotting Dan's
familiar beard. If Dan happened to catch Ian's eyes, Ian would nod in
his direction. A casual acknowledgment. Maybe he even glanced around a
bit to see if Sera was in tow, but she wasn't, so a moment later his
attention refocused on Grace.
"How are things over in Graceland?"
(Ha ha.)
Grace
As
she headed back to Ian's table, her eye was caught by Dan and his
waving. He got a smile, a little wave. She said hi. But then, she had a
place to be.
She raises her eye at Ian, and his 'Graceland'
comment, as though she hadn't heard that a million times in school. "I'm
not a reincarnated Elvis. I think I'd know if I were."
She
slides into a chair at the table, plopping her frappuwhatever down.
"Graceland's good though. I met someone new recently. Jo. Kinda just ran
into her at the DMV. New enough not to believe in fairy tales," she
says, smirks.
Lena Reilly
It's not "cool" to
like Taylor Swift these days. Hell, it hasn't ever really been cool to
like her. But since when has Lena Reilly given a rat's ass about being
cool? That's the best part of freeing yourself from the bounds of
societal conventions and pushing your boundaries; you very quickly learn
that what other people consider to be acceptable just doesn't matter. Be yourself, they say, and Lena's all about trying to do that. She doesn't always succeed, but she tries.
And
that's why she's bopping her way down the street in a grey jacket that
rests over a grey T-Shirt with an vaguely anime-like drawing of Rogue
surrounded by glowing playing cards with a banner that reads "Can't
Touch This." Her jeans are black, with her usual sandals dancing their
way along the sidewalk. Her hair is falling free and waving around as
she half-sings along with that most famous of current pop stars that
echoes through her headphones.
"I've been picking up the
pieces of the mess you made, people like you always want back the love
they pushed aside. But people like me are gone forever, when you say
goodbye!"
Yep, that's what not being cool looks like. But she earns points for enthusiasm.
As
she dances along toward the coffee, that feeling tickles its way down
her brain and she smiles a little. With a little side shuffle she
hip-checks the door open, slipping inside as she pulls the earbuds out.
She gives a quick look around and gives a little smile and wave to Dan
on her way toward Ian and Grace.
Serafíne
Ian
catches Dan's eye okay and so does Grace. So: he is noticed. He is
noticeable enough and the guy gives Ian the edge of a smile. One corner
of his bearded mouth. There's some acoustic version of one of the new
tracks from the new Decemberists' album and something about rhythm makes
some part of Dan move unconsciously to it. Just a staccato tap of his
forefinger against the meat of his thumb as he waits.
Sera
isn't in tow: not then, not now, not yet, but that line is one of those
things and she must be around, maybe they can feel her outside or coming
closer, if they are Feeling Things. Her patience is far from
legendary, particularly when she's still kinda coming down from whatever
she was doing the night before, and she hasn't slept and she wants a
drunk. Last night Sera was wearing a cocktail dress seamed with
rhinestones, crystals, diamonds maybe. Tonight she's back to battered
denim cutoffs, fishnets, combat boots. An olive green military-style
jacket, ragged so it feels all authentic, swings open over a slice of
her torso, the suggestion of her own tattoos just visible beneath a lacy
black and lime green bra.
Sera carries a brushed nickel travel mug with her into the coffee shop. Gives Dan a Look because You Are Taking So Long, Dan
and wanders over to Ian's table to wait. Kisses Grace on the crown of
her head. Pulls up a chair without asking permission, gives Ian a look
that is wry and hung over and still kinda rolling. Leans over to inhale
his tea, because she likes tea, Sera.
Offers both Grace and
Ian the chance to sip whatever is in her coffee mug, and if either one
accepts, I'll tell you what heavenly concoction they find therein.
Serafíne
(The curse of posting at the same time: edit.)
Dan's
turning around to glance at the door as Lena comes in and she gives him
a smile and a little wave and he lifts his chin in acknowledgment, blue
eyes tracking her progress through the coffee shop as she dances
through it. Longer than he'd meant to. Sera slips in after Lena, still
finds her way to the table and everything else. Offers everyone (Ian, Grace, Lena) a sip of her Drink, whatever it may be, but is also: still, pretty quiet.
Ian
"Mm, fresh meat," Ian teased lightly. "Don't send her my way."
(As if anyone in their right mind would actually think of him as a responsible mentor.)
There
was a swirl of activity at the counter. The drinks were taking too
long, and soon enough Sera appeared to check on the progress. But she
wasn't the only familiar face to wander in through the front door, and
when Ian caught sight (and sense) of Lena, his eyebrows went up.
"Hey
you." This was offered to Lena with a broad, toothy smile. Ian had
teeth that were too white and somehow a little too sharp and even when
he was relaxed - even when he was smiling - the effect was subtly
reminiscent of primal things. Sera offered everyone a sip of her drink,
but Ian shook his head. He did, however, raise his own cup to his lips.
As
the table began to feel crowded, he popped the stand on his tablet and
put it away, sliding it neatly into the small messenger bag on the floor
beside his chair. The headphones he left hanging around his neck, for
now.
"Don't I feel popular." He winked at Grace. Half a flirtation.
Grace
She
declines Sera's offer, even as she accepts her kiss. It probably
doesn't have much coffee in it. Probably maybe it's straight whiskey or
something. "Sera. Hey," she says, soft and quiet to match her friend. As
Sera leans down, she'll likely feel that winged-ness that is new to
Grace. Wings that are there thought they cannot be seen sprout from her
back, passing straight through the real.
"She doesn't seem
your type," Grace says, sighs. "I think I'm going to have to grab on to
her and hold on tight before the Techs do."
Lena walks in, and
that's a beat Grace hasn't felt in a while. Her head turns, and her
eyes widen -- so many Mages in this place right now, even the sleepers
must be feeling it -- this curiously thrumming cat with wings notion in
the air. She waves at Lena, after a moment's concern.
And that concern? Why does this always happen? Mage convergences are weird like that.
"Lena! Hey!"
Lena Reilly
Serafine
also gets a smile and a wave as she comes over to the table. She turns
her attention to the whole of the table once they're all converged.
"Hey, you guys. Been a while."
She doesn't
move to take a seat until Ian frees a seat, which is essentially a
silent invitation. She politely waves off the offer of whatever Sera's
drinking and settles in. "How have things been?"
Serafíne
"A-Okay,"
Sera returns, when Lena asks how things have been. There's a drawl to
her voice, like somehow the speed on the record player has been shifting
lower, lengthening like there's a needle skipping the groove, but maybe
that has something to do with Last Night or Tonight or whatever is in
that coffee mug. Look closer.
Languid. That's the word for
it. The demeanor of woman who has not slept in more than twenty-four
hours and is returning, moment by moment, sensation by sensation, to the
confines of her body.
She sips her coffee mug. Sips it with pleasure, sips it thoughtfully.
"I
dunno," Sera interrupts, then, as Grace tells Ian that her new friend
is Not His Type. "Maybe some folks need to be with someone who isn't
their type. What the fuck's gonna happen to us if we don't challenge
ourselves and everyone fucking else? Just sit around sliding into
complacency.
"Sides. I bet Ian's great with lost little lambs. If you'd only give him half-a-chance."
Ian
Ian
put a finger to his lips in a silent hushing gesture at Grace's mention
of the Technocracy. (Speak of the devil, after all.) An echo of his
smile remained when he pulled his hand away.
"And what is my type, exactly?"
The
Decemberists were playing over the speakers, which was perhaps to be
expected in a Denver coffee shop. Before Grace could answer his
question, Sera interjected, and you could actually see the muscle in
Ian's cheek twitch with the effort it took him to hold back his
laughter.
"On second thought..." There was a sharp gleam in
his eyes. Deliberately predatory. But he dropped the act a moment later.
"To be fair, I don't really have a fucking type."
(Oh but see, that was actually not true. It just depended on what variety of the word type one meant to imply.)
He
made a gesture toward Lena, as though to include her in the statement.
(Not like that, mind. They'd never slept together, or been in a cabal
together. But she knew his habits about as much as anyone else at the
table did. Probably a bit more. Or at least, she had known them.) "Life gets boring without variety."
A moment later: "By the way, Justin says hi."
(How the fuck did Ian know Justin?)
Grace
"Things
are," Grace says in response to Lena. "How they got there is a great
mystery." This is obviously Grace being silly, but hey...
"That's
true. I mean, I'd probably still be scoffing at fairy tales or thinking
I was batshit if it weren't for you guys having been there. Jo, she's
got boxes around her thinking habits. I keep thinking of how to break
them. Thought to show her the parallel worlds if only I knew how."
Oh yeah, coffee. She has some. It'll all melt soon if she doesn't get at it. So she slurps up some caramel.
"Things have been amazing, though, Lena. I met someone else recently too."
Lena Reilly
She grins a little at Ian's response to the idea that he might have a type. She did rather anticipate a response like that.
"Having
types makes for a dull way to go through life. My type was always 'has
a pulse.' Everything else is negotiable, for the most part." Which
isn't to say she was ever particularly promiscuous (except for that
little bit of time, but we don't talk about it). But she never was one
to think inside boxes, even before she Awakened.
"And I'm not
gonna lie, Sera...I'd pay good money to see Ian mentor someone." It's
said with the tone of a good-natured tease, a sidelong glance given to
him.
She nods her head a little in time with the folk
rock...not normally her jam, but again. She doesn't have a type and
that goes to music, as well. She looks over at Grace when she says she
met someone else, brows raising in interest.
"Oh really? Who?"
Jo Hamilton
[Do I know what yooou know...is there magic in the room?]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (3, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 5 )
Serafíne
Dan's
line Started to Move and he moved with it. His order did not take long
and as Ian is telling someone (Sera? Lena? both?) that Justin Says Hi
Sera is giving him a briefly sharper look, the arc of her gaze defining a
motion like a scythe, for all that not very much about her seems
bladed.
But then Dan's behind her and he has a tray in hand
and he's murmuring something about the match and she tips her head back
and submits to being cosseted and cozened and cajoled out of her
sprawl. She's walking slowly, s if the world were at once infinitely
new and infinitely and there is that strange steadiness about her as she
informs Ian, "I'd like to know how he's doing, sometime."
Low-voiced.
Her gaze briefly caught on her reflection in the window, some strange
echo, contained in her body. Some passing time.
Then she's up. Dan's slung an arm around her shoulders, rests his chin on the crown of her head, and off they go.
Jo Hamilton
"Goooooooooood Evening Denver!"
Call
it intution, caffeine-intake syndrome, Jo Disease, or whatever, but
holy hell do they have targets painted on their backs. Sort of. It's
more like Jo is actually paying attention today, and when she got a
whiff of something familiar and strange in the area, she didn't balk at
the concept of crashing the party.
"It's a lovely evening
tonight, with fluffy clouds and a moon brighter than the lake that
spawned Excalibur!" Jo was half leaned in, her hair a mess, and the dark
liner having been smudged from...sleep? Rubbing it? Who knows, but she
looks closer to a raccoon. She wears a black hoodie with DRESDEN DOLLS
sprawled on the back of it, and a yellow smiley sticker right above her
chest. The pocky she had been rapidly eating was pulled from her lips as
she greeted the fellows.
"And boy have we got a selection for you. I'm Jo, and I'm your host for this evening!" Someone needs to lay off the speed.
Her
sneakers squeaked as she bounced a little towards Grace, pausing to
look after Sera as she wandered off. "Aw man, it's like... all the
chicks just like run out when I'm walkin in. I don't like, smell funny
do I? Hey Grace!" Jo hadn't learned Grace's dislike of people in her
personal space, and thus had no qualms about stepping as near as she
could to her and pulling the fabric of her hoodie closer. "Do I smell or
something?"
Ian
Sera would like to know how
Justin was doing. Perhaps another night, Ian might tell her. But tonight
Sera had places to be. So Ian watched her go with a passing glance.
Lena
would pay good money to see Ian mentor someone. Ian grinned, amusement
showing in his dark eyes. He didn't attempt to defend his reputation.
Perhaps he preferred that people saw him that way. (A bad influence.)
And then? In walked Jo.
Ian's eyes cut to her sharply, and he sat motionless for a moment. Then he said (to Grace.) "You're right. I take it back."
Grace
"Myself,
in a mirror," Grace says to Lena, and would explain further if not for
the exclamation of Jo stepping into the place. Speak of devils, indeed,
Ian.
You've got to hand it to Jo, she knows how to make an
entrance, and she buzzes with excitement as well as resonance. Grace
can't help but smile at her. Hey, everyone, meet the new kid.
"Well, technically, everyone has a smell. It's not like, horrible or anything?" she offers, hopefully. "Not funny, surely."
Grace
does not find Ian to be a bad influence at all. Ian's just Ian. She
still cuts him a little sharp look. Jo's the new kid, right? Play nice.
Or don't, as the case may be.
"Everybody, this is Jo. I was just talking about you, man."
Ian
[Per+Alertness -2 diff from Acute Senses - What DOES Jo smell like?]
Dice: 6 d10 TN4 (2, 6, 6, 6, 8, 9) ( success x 5 )
Jo Hamilton
[0.0]
Lena Reilly
The
funny part of Lena's comment is she would be more worried about how Ian
might deal with the student than she would about him being a bad
influence. She gives a little shrug and then looks over at Grace when
she says she met Herself, in a mirror.
There is no
explanation needed there. Which is not to say that Lena understands,
but she has an idea. Grace has that different feel to her, and Lena
makes no assumptions. Even if that's not the case, sometimes cryptic
things just can't be explained further. Whatever the reason, Lena is
glad for--
Stop. Blink.
That's what Lena does when
Jo bursts into the coffee shop hyped up on...whatever. Lena isn't
worried about what someone may be on or acting gregarious, but this is
someone she doesn't know. And this someone comes right over to their
table. Lena doesn't quite have the cool reaction to Jo that Ian
has...no, she tenses. It might not be obvious outside the table; she
doesn't jerk away or the like. But the way her shoulders and back
straightens, the way she goes still...
Lena has personal space issues, you understand. And trust issues. And...well, other issues.
She doesn't calm, exactly, after Grace makes introduction. She does put on a smile though and gives a little nod to Jo.
"Hello. Nice to meet you."
Jo Hamilton
Hum.
She hummed. The subtle movement of the fan as it pulses, spinning round
and round inside of the computer case everyone forgets about. The hum
just behind the ears, emanating from the electrical lines that flow down
the street. Constant. Never changing. Ever present. A sign that
civilization is around you. That was Jo.
"Right. Right. Jeez,
semantics. I mean like I don't smell horrible right? Like a rotten fish
or something? Cause I mean WOAH if I do. Where did I find rotten fish?
Be like some body snatcher took me up and walked me all around Seattle
or something. " Her lips curled back into a wide grin.
Jo
turned on her heel, pushing the pocky between her teeth, giving it a
quick SNAP, then crunch crunch. She lifted her hand up and flashed the
others a brief rock sign. "Me? Little ol me? Well TCHT no wonder I felt
my legs tingling and my ears wigglin. "
"Whatchu you got?
I'll get us some more. Cause I need coffee. LOTS of coffee. And.. Oh.."
She turned to look at the menu and found herself distracted... "Are
those donuts? LEMON BARS?"
Ian
"You smell like a 13 year old's birthday party. Way too much sugar. No fish. What the hell is that, some kind of novelty soap?"
Jo
was standing across the table from where Ian sat, but he didn't
actually need to be standing next to her in order to pick up on the
details of her scent. Grace shot him a look that was as much of a
warning as Grace was likely to give, and Ian... well. He just looked at
her innocently. (Or at least, as close to it as Ian was capable of
getting.)
Lena's response to the new girl's sudden presence
did catch his attention though. Ian looked at her for a long, quiet
moment. Whatever he was thinking wasn't broadcast on his face, but there
was a minute softening around his eyes that might have been something
like concern. He didn't say anything. Just tipped his head lightly to
one side. (You okay?)
Grace
For once, it isn't
Grace whose back stiffens. Look how casually she took Sera's kiss, eh?
Look how much she doesn't mind Jo (and Jo's scent of 13 year old's
birthday party for that matter).
Grace recognizes it for what it is, and ignores it, because it's what Lena would want her to do.
"I...
Lemon bars are good!" Because hey, free food? Jo has become her
dispenser of such things lately. Sucks to be Jo. Grace doesn't turn down
freebies. Unless it's probably maybe straight whiskey.
Ian
looking innocent has that sharp look evaporating into a crinkle-nosed
smile. Well, that's new. Have honestly never seen that before.
Lena Reilly
She
takes a slow breath and looks over at Ian when he turns his attention
her way. There's a brief little shrug and a smile, as if to say Yeah. It's more of a Close Enough when her full reaction is taken into account, because okay
would be a bit of a stretch. But she's able to control herself and
make herself be okay. Pushing limits, right? She isn't one to force
people to constrain themselves for her, and if she's uncomfortable than
it's her problem, not Jo's. So it's something.
The attention
of the whirlwind that is Jo turned elsewhere, she is actually able to
adjust a little and adapt. "So, I'm guessing you've been busy then,"
she says to Grace with a little smile, more natural than the one she
gave just previous.
Jo Hamilton
Her nose
scrunched, and Jo whipped her head to look at Ian in mocking, quizzical
scrutiny. "Been to a lot of like 14 year old birthday parties lately?
EH? Dude.. way to go all mighty-morphin-creeper mode." Her rail-thin
hands were pushed into the pockets of her hoodie, the pocky having been
eaten into oblivion...or that piece anyhow. "It's unicorn poop. It
smells like sunshine, rainbows, and goodness." Her tongue pushed out
from behind her teeth momentarily, and she gave him a wink.
"L.E.M.ON.
BARS. L.E.M.O.N Bars." It was becoming a mantra that energized her
steps towards the register. Had she noticed Lena's uneasiness? She
didn't seem to show it. Maybe she was a bit obtuse, when it came to
things like that
Ian
Ian gave a little roll of his eyes at Jo's comment. "You asked."
And as it turned out, the soap in question had an even more ridiculous name than he'd imagined. Which, well. Fitting.
He
took a last sip of his tea and gathered up his things, sliding the
strap for his messenger bag over one shoulder. "I'll catch you guys
later."
And, with that? He was off to do whatever it was he got up to in the late evening.
Grace
"Oh
yeah. Busy busy. Got the room of laser awesomeness almost finished. And
then there's also Jo. And the me-thing. So, busy. But it's a good
busy."
Jo goes on about lemon bars in line behind her, and
Grace's eyes find the ceiling. Heh. Lemon bars. She gets worked up over
everything.
"Bye, Ian. See you. Come by the place soon, I'll show off our training arena, okay?"
