Meeeeeeeeemooooriiiiiiiies all ALONE on the paaavewhat?

[K. R. J.] "Bad vibes, I think," Kage says, shoulders lifting; it's an easy shrug, and a small one (delicate). "When one has a frustrating day, one doesn't want to hear that horrible wake up calls make sense." The shrug ends; it was a long one. And, musing - "Maybe people just talk more about the horrible ones. Mine wasn't horrible; it just was. Do you know how your teacher awakened?"

[Ashley McGowen] Ashley is still rubbing at her forehead where Eileen's peck landed: her manner is a touch agitated. Upset, even. But whatever it is, she doesn't comment on it, and Kage probably doesn't want to know. "I guess," she says, and this too is a quiet thing.

She reaches over and takes one of the shots Thomas poured before leaving, draining it before she answers Kage about her teacher. Better to not let it go to waste, really: there are bottles here that Jarod and Thomas both left money for. "No idea," she says. "She wouldn't have talked to me about anything like that. Why? Do you know how Simon Awakened?"

[K. R. J.] Kage raises her hand to - something; the movement is aborted when Ashley reaches instead for a shot. Kage's hand stays in the air for a moment, and she watches Ashley's shot instead, her gaze narrowed, probing, like is this tooth loose. Then she blinks; her eyebrows beetle together, rise. She says, "Because I was curious. That's too bad. That maybe now nobody knows. And - yeah."

[Ashley McGowen] [Whaaaaaaaat were you going to do?]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 5, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 9 (Failure at target 10)

[Ashley McGowen] Kage's hand hangs in the air and Ashley looks at it once. Stares, as though she hadn't put down a third of a bottle of whiskey in two hours (plus a few stouts), as though she had the appropriate bit of brain, as though she were good at this in the first place. But the Orphan is a little inscrutable. She often is.

Ashley just asks her "How?" even though she has nothing to offer on Victoria Kurtz. Nothing but a monosyllabic "Mm," when Kage says it's too bad.

[K. R. J.] [Hmmmmm.... Char + Expression? For .. uh, some thing.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 5, 6, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[K. R. J.] How? Ashley says, and thereby casts a long, long spell of silence. Kage is considering; perhaps Kage is considering whether or not she has the right to tell Ashley; perhaps she cares about that kind of thing. Kage's lashes are low, contemplative (there are two kinds of contemplation [outward (inward)]). "The part I like to remember is the nice part. He stepped outside; and all around him was a voice; he looked up, and he was taken in by - by radiance; and that's when his mind went disconnect, and he forgot a lot of important things -- he says that, too; that he forgot important things; and the world just went loud, and he heard the language of - uh, of music. And the radiance never left; something. He tells it better. Before the stepping outside, though, I guess it came at him sort of slowly; he had - uh - a couple of seizures, and kept hearing things, and - and there were a lot of coincidences. He caught a - a snapped power line, and it didn't burn him."

[K. R. J.] It's worth noting, too; when she says taken in by - by radiance, Kage's hand goes to her heart; her fingers curl over her breastbone, contained. She sounds frustrated, when she says never left; something. When she says a lot of coincidences, she means Coincidences, she means impossible things.

[Ashley McGowen] Ashley listens, and there's one shotglass still full on the table, which she takes and sips from. Doesn't drain immediately; the two bottles will be left here with Janine, taken to the back, probably for the next night she and Thomas are here. She looks sidelong at Kage while the other woman talks about Simon. About hearing the language of music.

"That doesn't sound that nice," she says, and by this she means the forgetting, she means the seizures. "Except for the music." But maybe that would make it worthwhile. Then she says, "What happened to you? Was it just kind of...you woke up, and you just knew?"

[K. R. J.] "Didn't say his was nice," Kage says, with a smile; "Just the part I like. The looking up, and the - " a gesture. "I can't stay it like he does. Like it really happened. You know?" Kage touches her mouth, thoughtfully, follows the curve of her lower lip with her thumb, and then says, "More or less. I just - one day; baboom! Everything. Just - felt different. More concrete. And, you know - Him, suggesting I try this or that, and would I please stop panicking and talking to myself as if He weren't there and I was not crazy blah blah balh."

[K. R. J.]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 3, 5, 6, 6, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 7 at target 6)
to†K. R. J.

[Ashley McGowen] "I know," Ashley says, of how Kage can't say it like he does. Because she's heard Simon, and she's heard Simon speak about things he felt strongly, things he wanted to express. "He speaks beautifully." A last sip and the shot is drained and she sets it down on the table. Flicks it, so that it slides and clusters with the other five, and glances toward Kage again.

At which point she raises her eyebrows. "Yeah. Hearing some guy...that would've been weird." She saw a Serpent and hung from a tree and had a dream and she wondered if she was going crazy. "That memory you showed me. Was it early? Like when he started telling you to try things?"

[K. R. J.] "When did you hear him speak?" Kage asks, surprised enough that she doesn't think to draw her own conclusions. She does, however, move the bottles (scotch, whiskey) away from Ashley, behind the shotglasses. She rearranges them into a pattern, which she judges based on how the light touches the rims; they don't satisfy her, so she readjusts the pattern a couple of times. Something sure, to do with her hands. Also, this - a laughing sideglance. "And - no. Definitely not. It wasn't that nice, really. I mean ... waking up was fine, but being awake ... was scary."

[Ashley McGowen] She hasn't told Kage much about the time she spent in Boston, most recent: spoke a little about her lessons with Hannibal, about the frustrations with Robert Ariel. Carefully avoided the topic of Simon, because Kage always avoids the topic of Simon and there are times when she does try not to prod. When she makes some attempt at sensitivity. "We talked when I was in Boston last month," she says.

It seems like a long time ago, now. Her eyes track the bottles as they move away, as they slide along the table, but not overlong. She meets Kage's eyes with that sideglance. "It would've been," she says, and she means for herself, "if my dad didn't explain right away. Well...like two days after. Three? I don't know. Lost count."

[K. R. J.] "Oh," is Kage's reaction to Boston last month. Just last month? Almost two months ago, now. And then, this -- a quiet inhale; then, smirking: "I didn't run into another -- someone else all wakeful -- for, Jesus. A couple of months. And then it was another couple of months after that until one of them was all, Whoa, wait, you don't know what you're doing?" A pause, and, "There was this one time. Early. Like, really early. I - heh. Aquired some medication, and I kept taking pills, one after another, hoping that He'd just shut up, stop touching me, go away, and he told me I was being stupid, that I didn't wake up for that, that He - He chose people who weren't so pathetic, and that the pills wouldn't keep me from seeing him anyway, they'd just kill me and break my family's hearts, and then the pills got really dark, and I could see which one would be the one to - " Kage swipes a finger across her throat. "I would've liked a nice, trustworthy family member to say, Hey, it's cool. This is what's happening."

[Ashley McGowen] Ashley can't recall Kage being quite this open before: maybe it's because she's so drunk, might not fully remember later. Then again, they're friends, and they've talked, and they've talked about Kage's dad and Ashley has seen Him and they've talked in a way about why she doesn't Believe. Kage tells her about acquiring pills, and which pill would've been the One, expresses that wish. And the Hermetic looks at her with a kind of sad, troubled understanding for a few seconds before she looks away, before she rests her elbows on the table and places one hand over her fist and rests her chin on top of her fists.

People get this once in a while, that understanding. It's rare (it's rare for a reason.) But she doesn't know what to say, beyond a heartfelt "Sorry." So in the end she reaches for one of the shotglasses but it's just to spin it, to look down into it while she slides it between her thumbs. "My mentor kind of did that," she says. "Well, said that stuff. When I got like that."

[K. R. J.] Kage's inhibitions are lowered; it's true. But Kage isn't that drunk. The alcohol didn't work on her the way it worked on the others; she'll remember, and likely be haunted by, some aspects of this conversation -- at least, she will be if she lets herself be haunted. It's likely; Kage is confident enough about (almost) everything she deals with, but a lot of that confidence is autopilot. She shrugs. "Don't be; I mean, there was cool stuff, too. There is cool stuff, still. For instance - I was recently dropped down an elevator shaft," and she grins, "but no problem, because I just opened a door to somewhere that wasn't a horrible, mangled death at the bottom of the elevator shaft. I'm glad I'm awake, and I kind of - " Abrupt halt. Kage blushes.

And says, "What'd you do when your mentor was like that? She sounds like a horrible person. Why'd you stick with her?"

[Ashley McGowen] Kage assures her there's cool stuff, and Ashley smirks a little at that. Because there are cool things about being Awake; she can do a lot of cool things herself. (She doesn't think they were worth the price. Perhaps Kage does, for herself. Perhaps she doesn't. Best not to think on it.) "You kind of what?" Ashley asks, curiosity roused by the abrupt halt, by the flush she can see creeping over the Orphan's cheekbones like it bled out of her hair.

She spins the glass between her thumbs a few more times, shrugs once. "I didn't really think anyone else would be better," she says. "I mean, I saw Hannibal with Bran and Justine and it took a long time to realize that he wasn't...he didn't really do shit to them like..." Beat. Hannibal wasn't cruel; she has difficulty articulating this now. She gropes for words, gives up. "Besides. She was right. I just didn't like it."

[K. R. J.] " - I kind of what?" Kage asks, as though perplexed. "What does that mean?" Right; maybe that misdirection will work. Kage crinkles her nose up at mention of Hannibal, of Hannibal as a teacher. She listens, and then she says, "Eh. There's a point at which perfection becomes a flaw. The flaw. Like, it's the symptom of - itself being broken. Is too too. From what I remember hearing, after I first met you. I don't know. I'm being inarticulate. There's right and there's left."

[Ashley McGowen] Misdirection seems to work, for a few seconds. Ashley looks at Kage, stares at that perplexed expression, and her brows furrow. And she's silent for a few moments while she tries to work around what just happened. "You...you were gonna say something," she says, turning an index finger in a slow circle and watching it, then turning it counterclockwise as though mimicking the twists of the thread. "Like about...about you being glad you Awakened, and then you stopped."

Pause. "I don't...I mean, it's something you seek," she says. Because this is Hermetic belief. "But that wasn't what I meant, perfection. More like she'd say shit like...the world won't spare you conflict, so I won't either. Stuff like that. And I fucking hated her, but if what she was trying to do was prepare me, I mean..." Frown, then. Her feelings are complex: people's often are, about parental figures.

[K. R. J.] "It's not - " a pause; she flushes, again. Ardent, and people - look. Blushing, flushing, it isn't this delicate maidenly Victorian thing, guaranteed, ladies, to enhance your appeal. It's a wash of embarrasment or frustration; the mark of some sort've passion. Kage's ears lower; so do her shoulders. " - important. I don't want to jinx anybody."

And so - perfection. Something you seek. "Yeah, but - " But that isn't what Ashley meant. Kage listens, eyebrows drawn together, and then she says, "I know. I mean, what you meant - like, the pathetic thing; I didn't choose you because. But that's just - that's turning perfection into a flaw. I mean, for some people. Not everybody responds well to constant - to that kind of massive - " Kage shapes a shape no doubt meant to be massive. " - I don't know. It's just, you don't get a practice life. You just have your life. And everything that happens in it is all ... Not practice."

[Ashley McGowen] Kage is flushing again, and if possible it only piques the Hermetic's curiosity further, to know what makes Kage blush like that, why does it happen. People are a strange wonder, sometimes, in part because she can't fully wrap her head (her jaws) around them. "You wouldn't jinx anybody," Ashley says, "just by saying."

The shotglass gets another spin, so she loses the trail for a few moments, for maybe longer, because when Ashley said that she fucking hated Victoria Kurtz it wasn't something she said lightly. Because it takes a lot to earn Ashley's hatred. "Well, I guess that was kind of the point," is what she says. "That kind of...you know, if it breaks you you aren't worth her time sort of thing. I guess the guy she had before me, a couple years before, actually did kill himself, but I didn't hear about that until she died."

[K. R. J.] "That's how jinxes work on the schoolyard," Kage says, "And I don't think you're in a position to by me a coke." At this point, Kage remembers the potato skins, and chomps on one, trailing it through the melting sourcream. Listens, and when Ashley is done, says, "The point for her. Not the point for you. That's sad." She doesn't sound surprised about the student-before who killed himself; maybe that's something Hannibal mentioned to her, back before. Kage tends to remember things mentioned in the Awakened world, because those things tend to come up again, or to be useful, important.

[Ashley McGowen] Ashley has lost thought of jinxes, can't really remember what she was asking Kage about anymore. Wants to argue just to argue, except that she doesn't think she can properly argue Kage down right now; she'll just embarrass herself. She also wants to argue about whether it's sad, point out that she's stronger for it, that she's okay, that she's better off.

And she might, under ordinary circumstances. But right now she's putting her head down on the table, letting her forehead come to rest against the coolness of the wood tabletop. "I kind of feel sick," she says.

[K. R. J.] "Maybe because you've been drinking without eating, like an irresponsible teenager, all running across the meadow to sweeping music, while his first beer dances on the other end, draped in seven veils." My, that may have been a note of criticism. Beat. "Here, drink some of this - " This, being water.

[K. R. J.] ooc: ahem. 'draped in seven veils, doing the come to me dance.'

[Ashley McGowen] "It was a very alluring dance," Ashley says. But she does reach to sip at the water.

"I was gonna eat," she says, "but there was...I thought it would make me throw up. After the whiskey." It likely would have. Of course, she'll probably end up throwing up anyway when she goes home. "And Janine would have my guts for garters."

[K. R. J.] "Mm." The sound is noncomittal; it isn't even neutral. Just - noncommittal. Kage runs her fingers through her hair, and shakes her head, just as if she's suddenly walked through a patch of cold air; something bracing. Then she says - " - well, then Janine could name another pub in poor taste," and the righthand corner of her mouth, see? Snicks up, easy as moonlight. "I'll give you a ride home, if you promise not to throw up in my truck. The truck's been having a bad week." A beat. "I suppose you could stay in the back."

[Ashley McGowen] There is a muffled giggle against the table when Kage mentions naming a pub in poor taste, something stifled that cuts off. She misses how the corner of Kage's mouth lofts, cool, but perhaps she can hear it. "I can't make any promises," she says. "But you can put me in the back. 'S not like it's a long drive."

At which point she picks up her notebook and manages to wiggle her way out of the booth after Kage. She doesn't wobble much when she stands up, or when she's walking, manages to seem much more sober than she is.

Regardless of where Ashley ends up, the truck manages to stay unmarred, which, after its week, is likely a blessing.

Social Animals

[Ashley McGowen] Ashley started to wonder if she was spending too much time at the Hung Drawn and Quartered when she started to recognize other people and which days of the week they showed up at the place. She doesn't always drink in large quantities when she goes - beer, after all, is expensive when it's good, and Janine has started to raise her eyebrows at the Adept a little. But she usually has one or two. At least.

Janine Hughes doesn't know Ashley very well, not yet. They talk once in a while when she comes here: the consor will invite herself into the booth with Ashley, perhaps feeling bold because she owns the place and because Ashley isn't as strict as some of the Awakened Hermetics she has known. She doesn't seem to enforce a strict separation between the two of them, though there's always a sort of subtle condescension there.

Today Ashley is writing, and has been set up in the booth for a while. When Thomas asked her to meet, she asked him to meet her here. Easiest for both of them, she figures.

She's still scratching away at the inside of the notebook when he arrives. Her work is always a mess of edits, scratches, insertions, rarely something that she puts together in one go. Arrows pointing and rearranging sections. Sometimes she'll cut out words or phrases and rearrange them so that she can look at their format on the page. She worries about things like this.

It's Tuesday night and the place isn't very crowded. A few people have filtered in for dinner: grad students, mostly. A woman with brown skin and curly dark hair is just getting up to leave the booth where he can find a Hermetic idly at work over a glass of beer.

[Thomas Taylor] He is only a little late from the time he said he would meet Ashley, it might look like awful weather outside but at this temperature the English man was boiling. He swaggers into the place looking a little touch worse for wear. A faded black eye giving off that slightly yellow parlour marked his right hand side, and a partially healed bust lip graced his bottom lip. Save for that he appeared to be in high spirits.

Very high spirits in fact, an hour or so ago his team drew a favourable result, the true sport Football. That already put Thomas a couple of sheets to the wind, not that he would say he was drunk, fresh perhaps but drunk no way. He looks around a tune on his lips, only at speaking volume nothing more. As he gets closer to Ashley she would hear him before seeing him, he is chanting ìAm Arsenal till I die, am Arsenal till I die, you know Iíam am sure Iíam Am Arsenal till I dieÖî He notes the woman leaving and nodes as both hands come to the table and knocking on it repeatedly ìAlrite Ash, ëows tricks! While am at the bar you need a top up pet?î

[Ashley McGowen] Ashley does hear Thomas before she sees him, but what she hears isn't a chant. It's a jumble of discordant sound, disparate noises that most could recognize at words but which are utterly unintelligible to Ashley herself. It's so distorted that she doesn't realize that Thomas is the person singing; she just looks up in irritation and rubs her good ear. This happens, though: music in public. People sing, they hum, they drum rhythms, there's noise pouring out of the speakers and from the TVs.

She can't escape it.

But after a moment, Thomas knocks on the table and she looks up. She too is a little tipsy; the Englishman is in good company. Dressed for the heat, wearing a pair of brown shorts and a light blue T-shirt (a teacup with a mustache on the front) and a pair of flipflops. The last few days of summer.

"Sure," she says, picking up her glass and draining what's left in it before extending it toward Thomas. "I'll get the next one. Oatmeal stout." She pauses, and her blue eyes fix on him briefly. "You're in a good mood."

[Thomas Taylor] He snorts, both hands put in ther air "Arsenal just trollied Totts four bloody one..." He slaps the table again "I kid you not, if I was hammer we'd be makin' it large pet...WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" He jumps up and spinds around the black vest he was wearing riding up past his waist showing scars and muscle, the grey jeans he had on (Either really faded black or bought that grey) rip at the knees a little more as when he stops spinning he starts jumping up and down bringing his knees to his chest. As fists slam on the tavble making it all shake as he grabs her glass.

"I kid you not Ash, by the end of this evenin' yer not gonna be able to see straight, we're doin' it big lemon!" He grins, smirks is about to walk off and stops some of that energy fading from him as he half turns "That didn't sound 'rite, I mean drinkin' yeah?" With out waiting "Custy I knew you'd get it." He winks and swaggers off to the bar. Did a piece of his converse just fall off as he did?

[Ashley McGowen] The theatrics and his enthusiasm bring a grin to her face that's a touch startled at first, but broadens into something amused and genuine as he spins around and begins jumping. "Congratulations on the...football, in that case?" she asks. Guesses, really. She doesn't know much about American football teams but knows slightly more about soccer.

When he half turns she just looks amused; there's no embarrassment evident. "I knew you meant drinking," she says. "Go get my beer." And with that, she waves him off, picking up her pen as he does.

Upon his return she says, "You're going to have to start holding those together with duct tape if you let them go much longer." It's a touch wry: Converses, after all, don't have a long shelf life. A graduate student can sympathize.

[K. R. J.] [?]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 3, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
to†K. R. J.

[K. R. J.] [Okay. This means nothing fatal. It's just for reference. DexDrive.]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 6 (Botch x 1 at target 8)
to†Thomas Taylor

[Thomas Taylor] He is not at the bar long and comes back with Ashleys stout, his larger and two shots of something bright red. He puts her stout down and one of the red drinks and pushes it her way as with a slump he falls into the booth. Thomas was pretty giddy, he looks over to Ashley and then his converse as he bends his knee and brings one up on the booth next to him ìDo you think that wud workÖ? In all fairness I was ëopiní me matter might be a touch more refined soon an Iíll be able toÖî He puts both hands flat on the table as he stares at Ashley. His left hand starts turning clockwise ìWax onÖî The other starts turning anti clockwise ìÖwax off pet, all pretty as you please save me berlins a fuckiní bundle!î

He offers her a charming grin as knee leaves the booth and he picks up the red drink ìSo Ash, ëows shit?î He then in one motion takes the red drink downs it as his face scrunches up, cringes even, his eyes look like they might actually popÖîSmmmooooottthhhî He manages.

[K. R. J.] [Wait! One more!]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 1 at target 9)
to†Thomas Taylor

[Ashley McGowen] When he sets the shots down she picks hers up and lifts it to smell it before downing it, trying to guess at whatever it might be. There's the dawning fear that it might be cinnamon liqueur or something similarly terrible. She looks over at him and smirks as he turns his hands. "Well, you can probably keep them from wearing down so fast, at least," she offers. Then, thoughtfully, "I bet the Ars Materiae would save you a lot. Food costs..." Another wave of her hand.

No matter what's in the shot, even if it is cinnamon flavored horror, she downs hers when he downs his and grimaces, setting the shotglass back on the table. There's a dry little cough before she says, "Shit's about what you could expect, I guess. I'm glad to see you and Molly lived. You didn't kill Molly, did you?"

[K. R. J.] The heavens today; they thunder, are thundrous, are thundering, boom, BOOM, BOOM. That last BOOM is accompanied by the door to the Hung Drawn and Quartered opening, opening with the sort've joy that these heavy, alcohol-sticky doors don't usually open with, unless they've got a strong wind, shoving against them, along with some human ingenuity (the latch, the doorknob) and focused strength (get inside, away from the wind). Then, well. Person + Windy, Windy City Winds = Door, slamming joyously open, just with the last BOOM of thunder. A helpful graduate student -- no; a helpful professor, scruffy, youngish, probably here to discuss philosophy and also get trashed -- helps her close the door against the wind. The wind is hot; might as well note that. Maybe not so much the heavens, thundering, as the other place, get it? Because it approaches hot outside, and windy, and it's thundering.

Kage isn't here becauses he knows it's a place owned by a Hermetic consor. Kage isn't here because she knows Thomas or Ashley (or Atlas) are here, meeting-arranged. Kage is here, at present, for reasons that are Mysterious, but may be explained by the course she sets for the bar, which is more or less straight. The cider [snake-bite] she orders.

[Awareness! 'cause. y'all are in a sekrit booth!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 3, 3, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Thomas Taylor] He coughs into his hand as well, snorting at the mention of Molly ìLess said ëbout it the better.î It puts a momentary shadow over his otherwise amazing mood. ìI see everyone else got out in one piece. You seem to be ëoldioní it together as well pet which is robin, oh left word for Dino girl so donír fret, sorted!î

He puts a pack of cigarette down with his zippo as he takes one putting it between his knuckles and moving it backwards and forwards over his knuckles like a magic trick.

ìSo then Ash might wanna put them pages away, itís ëbout to get messy. Tell me an be ëonest pet, you ever done a real gary am talkiní so bloody drunk you cannot remember the day before pet, you see pictures of yerself an yer left thinkiníÖfuckiní ëellÖyou me, this night, itís soddin on!î

The wind had been raging all afternoon, the door slamming open to it does not make him move or flinch, Kage remains unnoticed, he was of a certain mind to get one deacon utterly and royally fucked!

[Thomas Taylor] Tonight he is more consuming than wandering, more taking than giving. He is a black hole locked away in the corner of the booth with something elseÖthe hunger. Hunger and consumption play off each other, more people eating nuts, more ordering crisps because what comes before the consumption, the hunger for it. He very well could be a hollow plague, spreading infecting drawing into
to†K. R. J.

[Ashley McGowen] [Kaaaaaaage?]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 4, 5, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 7)

[Ashley McGowen] Over in a booth Kage will find a sense of consuming hunger, two drives playing off of and strengthening one another until it seems they could turn upon and devour the entire bar. Other things too: but mostly that Hunger, and the act of fulfilling it. He snorts when she mentions Molly, says to say no more and she does not, just smirks and picks up the glass of beer. Sips from it. "Thanks," she says. "I'm hoping I'll get in touch with her this week. But we should probably stop calling her Dino girl or I'm going to call her that when she and I are talking, and all semblance of professionalism will go out the window."

She's unbothered when he takes out his cigarette. Leans a little farther back in the booth, glances down at the notebook which she still has lying open on the table. The pages are filled from edge to edge with cramped writing; it's hard to tell where the original lines are from her edits. But after a moment, she puts it away.

"I've never been so drunk I can't remember. I guess I'll take it as a challenge." Then again, she is a Mind mage.

Briefly, she looks up toward the bar, glances in the direction of one redheaded Orphan. Then she rips a piece of paper out of her notebook, scribbles something on the inside and begins folding it into a paper airplane. "Tommy. Do me a favor and hit her with this."

[Morgan Lake] [Getting it outta the way! Per + Aware]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Thomas Taylor] ìTonight then boss, we are gonna get shit faced!î He laughs, an energetic loud uncontrolled laugh as it slowly fades and he throws the cigarette in the air and catches it in his mouth before lighting it then looking to Ashley as she rips out a page and folds it up handing it too him.

He takes the plane and looks over to the target ìLewisÖî His voice almost child like as ge grins as he draws his hand back and lets looseÖ ((Dex and Ath for paper plane of doom, diff 7 because he has had a bit to drink))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 8 (Failure at target 7)

[Ashley McGowen] "How did you miss that? She's twenty feet away!"

[Thomas Taylor] He blinks "No offense pet, but yer wings were off....I think it's gonna hit that guy..."

[K. R. J.] [Uh, okay. Dex + Ath. For reasons wot will be revealed in post?]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 5, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[K. R. J.] Kage, elbows on the bar, tiptoes, waits for her drink. Wait, is the bar sticky? Before Kage can make a judgment, a tall, cool glass of condensed dusk is placed in front of her. Kage takes a card out of her wallet; offers it, two-fingered, and is on the precipice of ordering nachos, or onion rings, or potato skins (the potato skins, definitely; blue cheese? Really?), when it occurs to her that the nape of her neck is prickling, that her bones are singing, aching, and that two mages she knows are also in the Hung Drawn and Quartered. "All the gin joints," she says, with a sidelong glance; something pensive. And then, Kage turns from the bar, following, following,

and what she sees is Thomas, lobbing an airplane in her direction. An airplane which, alas, isn't quite up to snuff, which sort've dies a horrible death against something that isn't anywhere near the Orphan. Kage's mouth quirks, and, while the Hollow One and the Hermetic are arguing, she leans back across the bar. Asks for a piece of paper, a pen. Writes something on the paper, and then sends it sailing, gloriously true, across the pub, right to hunger/consumption's table.

... Where it lands, right in the middle of them.

[K. R. J.] Lo. Kage. Ardent. Burning, shining; a thing of brilliant, a kiss, a kissing thing, love, beloveding. Kage. Immanent, kindling from immanence. Kage. Draining, draining, leeching-away, withering, pouring out, the act of falling, emptying.
to†Morgan Lake

[Morgan Lake] There are paper airplanes (like shooting stars in the night sky . . .) and mages, look! And there's someone underaged heading into a pub, which one can hope serves sandwiches and root beer, or she'll be sent right back out again.

She really should get a fake (hah!) ID one of these days.

Regardless, there it is - a flash of rich red [so much red] hair and pale (but healthy) skin, a smile, and a girl being led in . . . and thanking the host, but veering away when she sees Thomas and and Ashley, and Kage there at the bar, but there's alcohol there and the Hermetic who looks her age is likely to be questioned for legal purposes. Conflict is important - it makes one grow - but law is as well, and Morgan prefers her conflict to be internal (competing against herself, always) rather than external. Kage's airplane intersects her path, and Morgan laughs - a sound heard too rarely, these days, but far more often since the joys of university were added to her already fairly full plate. It suit her, does the college life.

There's a gesture, easy, even as she hasn't been invited to join the table yet [Come on, bring your drink, we're all friends here!], and a tap on Thomas' shoulder, a smile for Ashley. "Hey." A simple greeting, that.

[Atlas Mason] Alcohol, Libations, booze, swill, motor oil, moonshine. The people and awakened of the city of Chicago all enjoyed the occasional drink to take the edge off, to lighten the mood. Some did it for fun, some to ease the pain, some in groups and others alone in some dreary corner where their misery was theirs and theirs alone to preside over.

Many of the mages of the city knew that others drank, or smoked, or any number of other things that helped settle ones spirits. Atlas was one of those rarities however, he was never seen drinking, ever so rarely seen smoking and it was a safe bet that most of the awakened who knew him had a hard time imagining the man doing anything but toiling in his laboratory or fishing from the side of the Lafette to take the edge off.

But all predisposition's and established camps of thought would be put to the torch this night, as the door swings open with a mild effort and Atlas, dressed in his riding gear, steps through and surveys the scene. The darkness and the dank, ohhh the dank, Atlas didn't get this kind of atmosphere outside of one of the Lafette's engine rooms otherwise and his eyes took in the visual and his lips responded in kind, rising into a smile as he himself headed for the bar, his riding boots clacking on the scummy tile.

But the dank and unusual color tones of the bar distracted the man, so much so that as he stepped up to the fine but gritty bar a flung projectile...a paper airplane, plants itself squarely on Atlas' forehead, causing the man to stutter and blinks as he looks down at the offending article, and leans over to acquire it.

"A planar writing or drawing or mathematical retainment pulp utilized as a bi-winged aeronautical transportation device??" He says with a surprise as he picks it up and opens it, before looking around in question. "Who has manufactured and requisitioned this pulp materiel for this particular purpose?"

[Ashley McGowen] There was a Virtual Adept Ashley met last night who wondered when he realized that Awakened mages have a tendency to converge in Chicago. It happens here, Ashley had assured him, said that Israel called them convergences: case in point. Here are Ashley and Thomas, and Hunger is trying to fill a hole unending tonight, trying to drown it away, and the Hollow Plague is all too happy to assist. Then there are three others they know, Morgan smiling and Atlas getting hit in the head.

Ashley blinks, once. And then just lets it wash over her, and scoots down to make room in the booth for the others. Her notebook she slides up against the wall where it will be safe from errant drops of alcohol.

There's a single glance, a little withering (hungry) toward Thomas. "I've made many a paper airplane in my life. There was nothing wrong with its wings," she says, pointing her pen at him and then taking another sip from her glass of beer.

"Hi, Morgan," she says, and then beckons Kage over. Atlas, she trusts, will soon be able to find where the airplane came from. She lifts her glass and looks at it ruefully. "We'd better do shots instead of glasses of beer or I'm never going to make it."

[Thomas Taylor] He turns away does Thomas when it look like it will hit someone, he does look quite relaxed and casual, the cigarette hanging from his lips like he had been smoking it the whole time and not throwing paper aeroplanes (Still he hides his guilt wellÖcould you really imagine Thomas being a trouble marker in school?). He looks over to Ashley eyes telling the whole story as he stares into hers Donít make eye contact with the man, look at me, LOOK AT ME!

He then does not jump but is taking a back by the return paper as he glances over to Kage then back to the note. He picks it up to read it as a wandering glance looks up to Ashley ìYeah pet, youíve made many second class plane thenÖî He feels a hand on him as he looks to his shoulder to see a pale female hand thereÖhe blinks noting Kage at the bar and looks upwards. Eyes widen, and a drunken grin comes over his face ìLe Fay!î Echoed in concert with Ashleys ëHi, Morganí

He moves over so there is more space and grins to Ashley ìShots, I like it, everyone yer ëbout to see yer boss drunk under the table, were talkiní big lemon ëere.î

[Atlas Mason] [Awareness, cause i should]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 4, 6, 6, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Atlas Mason] [It's Atlas alright, his essence luminous to behold, but at the same time disturbed, distorted, deranged deep within, nothing is active on his personage however, if the man has been doing magic, it was some time ago.]
to†K. R. J.

[Morgan Lake] This is Morgan, the one who sucked away her friends' very lives (so withering): she who finds truth is so very, very discerning that it nearly overwhelms the little hint of growth that is always with her but never quite of her, glowing of family long gone at the hollow of her throat, just there.
to†K. R. J.

[K. R. J.] All the gin joints, indeed. Because look, here is Atlas, and here is Morgan as well; Morgan, whose path is bisected by Kage's airplane, and Atlas, who is beaned in the head by Thomas's. Kage almost, almost smirks. Doesn't, really. That's not a smirk; that's just a shadow, the promise of a kiss, something for later, nothing smirk-like at all. And Morgan, she's sailing toward her mentor and Thomas, waving Kage over, and then so is Ashley, and Kage - well. Kage, courteous and not-smirking, says -

"Hello, Atlas. Did you come in your motorbike, with the sidecar?" Because Kage likes that motorbike, and the sidecar. And, well. Because it's thundering. What if the motorbike were to get hit by lightning? Would it grow wings, or something else Gentlemen Inventor-like? She has not yet had a sip of her snakebite, and is now debating whether or not she's going to finish more than half of it (melancholy [solemn]). There are now five mages in one place. It wasn't planned. Something bad is probably going to happen.

"And I bet Ashley requisitioned that pulp material. She really likes paper airplanes." With that, Kage glances toward the table, holds up a finger, I'll be right along, honest, and orders the damned potato skins, before wending her way that-a-ways. Possibly dragging Atlas, too.

[K. R. J.] The plane says - simply: Ha. Your best shot? =)
to†Thomas Taylor

[K. R. J.] Atlas is Aware right now. Very. Atlas is Aware of the Orphan Disciple. Aware that her resonance is Ardent, is a lacery of burning, shining, verbing of the word beloved; something passionate, intent, a kiss, caress. Aware that her resonance is Draining, withering; that it is the act of leeching, the sensation of emptying (never being emptied). Aware, too, of an immanence, kindling into something Else. Aware, because he can sense the old magicks, that recently she has used Correspondence a lot, that it clings to her, doors opening, both ways, that there are other fingerprints, signatures of old songs, sigils, a halo of recent-Workings, a prick-prickling behind his eyes.
to†Atlas Mason

[Morgan Lake] An eyebrow raises, and my, isn't Morgan prim when she isn't quite certain she approves? She knows how old Thomas is, after all, and knows that while laws are different in England, the Limey is no longer there. Regardless, she slides in next to him, easy as you please, and makes sure there's room for one more on her side should it be needed - there are five, and three will need to be on one side, should they all sit together.

"Dr. Mason!" There's genuine pleasure there, when she sees the Etherite (who is, perhaps, a bit young to be a possible father even if they did look anything alike, but she reacts to him much the same way Ashley's seen her react to hers despite the formal address) there, with Kage. Bad things may well happen, with so many of them together - they have a way of doing so. Maybe Morgan is a bit wary, but it does little to temper that joy. "I hope everyone's having a good evening. I'm starved. Next time you're ordering drinks, I need something to eat."

[Atlas Mason] His inquiry falls on deaf ears, or at the very least upon ears that are very capable of ignoring him and his rather peculiar speech patterns. It might almost be easier to look for those who don't look in the etherites direction with a mixture of confusion and unabashed curiosity, as much of the bar does now. He notes in particular that neither Thomas, nor Ashley are looking in his particular direction.

But his systematic elimination of aeronautical piratical culprits was put on hold, set aside as he recognizes the voice of his friend and accomplice, Kage. The man holds the plane in his hands as he turns towards the redheaded orphan [wanderer, individualist] and smiles the amiable smile that only gentlemen inventors manage before nodding to her.

"Kage! It is of concise and definitive positively aligned neuro-chemical responses that the drum tissues of my inner sensory accumulation sensors recognize your vocal oscillations." He steps closer and bows ever so slightly, and ever so quickly before continuing to speak. "Your hypothesis regarding my mechanized locomotive methodology is ratified and certified as law at this juncture. I have indeed arrived at this locality utilizing that secondary form of movation, penultimate to my own ambulatory armatures commonly referenced and identified as legs, or lower extremities."

He takes another look over at the congregation of awakened individuals and smiles as he goes to pluck a notebook from his coat, and begin fashioning it into his own variation of the bi plane, he works on the only clear spot of bar top that wasn't covered in who knows what.

It is a complex and multi layered device, one would wonder if it would fly...but then Atlas is standing as Morgan calls out to him. "Morgan, reciprocative verbal and societal acknowledgements, utilize your upper extremities both in conjunction to verily defend and deflect any sudden projectiles!"

At that, Atlas lets his disturbing contraption fly...sailing in the direction of Ashley and Thomas, before smiling once more at Kage, and moving with her towards the booth.

[Dex+Ath, let loose the paper planes of hilarity!]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Jarod Nightingale] [Per+Awareness]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 4, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[K. R. J.] [Int + Enigmas, what?]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Ashley McGowen] [Fuck you, Atlas, I'm dodging.]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 6, 8 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[Atlas Mason] [What Atlas says, What Atlas hears: Well damn Kage, its a fine pleasure to hear your voice again, its been quite a while you know. And youd be right! I came here on my motorcycle, it would be a bit of a walk to come here on my own two feet you know."]
to†K. R. J.

[Ashley McGowen] Atlas yells, and Ashley catches sight of the incoming paper missile before it can cruise into the side of her head. She ducks underneath it and its tip clatters against the wall, whereupon it flutters, a sad heap, onto the table.

Beer sloshes.

While random convergences of magi usually result in disaster, Ashley is too drunk to worry about it. Or maybe she's too reckless to worry about it: maybe she just doesn't care anymore. Either way, the Etherite is greeted with a hapless smile as she reaches for a few paper napkins with which to mop up the spilled stout.

"Tom decided tonight was a drinking night. After last week I'm not going to argue. So here we are."

Jarod: he notices that there's a cacophony of resonances toward the back, playing off of and competing with one another, an odd mix of sensation and drive. Two in particular are strengthening one another: consuming hunger, such that the people in the bar are eating and drinking a little faster, a little more, without being entirely aware of why.

[K. R. J.] Kage -- an ardent creature; burning, shining; the verbing of the word beloved; draining, leeching-away, emptying-but-never-empty; immanent, kindling. That's Kage. That's Kage's magickal signature, all near something luminous, but deranged (Atlas), something discerning, but withering (Morgan), something Hungry, hungry, (Ashley) consuming (Thomas). Plenty of things Awake here.
to†Jarod Nightingale

[Thomas Taylor] Thomas is indeed underage to be drinking in America, he was twenty though looked early twenties, a rough life does that. Still he had been drinking for at least 6 years, he had built up quite a tolerance for it. He smiles when Morgan slides in and looks over to Ashley. ìLook at this, the ëhole town must ëave ëeard of Arsenals win!î He grins looking back to Morgan ìMe pope side won, four one pet, robin result.î He takes the cigarette from his lips in his fore and middle finger and holds it in which ever hand is further away from Morgan. As he looks up about to speak to Ashley and she nearly disappears under the table.

He blinks ìIncominíÖî Said more as a reaction as he looks out of the booth towards the manÖ ìOh, itís the doc.î He picks up the plane that Atlas threw and squints at it and the strange design ìDoc is this a plane or a peacock ëcos peacocks cannot fly you know that riteÖLewisî He calls out as well ìPull up a pew and donít be brininí an murky water with yer ass pet!î He lifts up his lager ìCheers!î And takes a ery big gulp of it.

[Morgan Lake] [Aww, man, really? When did pubs turn into high school cafeterias? (Dex + Dodge)]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 2, 8 (Failure at target 6)

[Jarod Nightingale] There was a thunderstorm outside, which would have been less bothersome (he liked the rain, and he liked the smell of ozone that permeated the air when electric current danced in the clouds) if he wasn't wearing a nearly $2,000 Prada business suit. The fact that Jarod Nightingale found himself inside the Hung Drawn and Quartered was more due to cause and effect than it was to deliberate action, but since he'd decided to find shelter, it may as well be in a place where he could get a decent drink.

The door opened, and he backed in through the door, closing an expensive-looking black umbrella and shaking off some of the excess water before he officially made his way inside. He'd mostly managed to escape getting wet. A few droplets had beaded on the cuffs of his suit-jacket, and he wiped them away absently. The man did not immediately look in the direction of the booth, though the resonance there was relatively impossible not to notice. Instead there was a deliberate note to the way he walked toward the bar, leaned against it, signaled the bartender, ordered a scotch... and then turned around to contemplate his fellow Awakened beings. (All things in their proper order.) There'd been drinking, and a paper airplane of some kind.

He fixed the group with shaded, dark blue eyes, and smirked.

[K. R. J.] Kage listens (studious) to Atlas when he speaks. Because he speaks in code. Thomas, too. He also speaks in code, or at least, in a thick enough accent that Kage has asked him a time or two what a word meant (germans [lemon]). Kage does bring her cider over, and Kage also sits next to Ashley; nudges her over, over, over if it becomes necessary, perhaps a moment before it becomes necessary [sometimes she feels as if she has an invisible companion, who tries to take her seats]. "It has been a while," she tells Atlas, after he has launched his own paper airplane; something that's a little more Etherite than what she managed. And lo, there's that not quite a smirk again, quirking up into a smile, easy, ardency tucked away, cool.

And also, this: "Hey, Tom Cat. Morgan; you feel -- different. More noticing of things. More wheat from chaff. How are you? Drinking night, eh? What's the game?"

[Morgan Lake] It's lucky, really, that Atlas gave his warning - Morgan's attempt at dodging is a miserable failure, but instead of hitting her in the forehead, the projectile bounces harmlessly off her hands. Then Kage is talking to her, asking about a game, and she's picking up the plane to offer back to Atlas. She is, of course, the youngest here, though not by as much as she usually is.

"I'm not drinking - I just need dinner. I'm starving, and it's too late to cook anything I have the stuff for."

[Atlas Mason] "That my nominally associative homo sapien sapien is a relative, one to one thousandth reconstruction of the neo-byzantian aeronautical outer etheric construct of Count Tazla of the conglomerative factional alliance designated the Royal Ethernautical Society." Atlas says as he steps up to the bench and slips in beside Morgan, an eye over to Thomas before he nods to Morgan.

"My direct appreciative renumerations for the recollection and deposit of the construct into my personages primary manipulative extremity digit's Morgan, this particular representation is of relative quality, and precentages recommend preservation for this juncture."

He then turns and smiles to the rest and seems somewhat anticipatory as he rubs his hands together having carefully set down the paper plane on a dry part of the table. "I have always preferred the dissection of individualized personality quandaries and internalized characteristics via generalized inquiry, or perhaps the utilization of metallic alloy monetary discs projected at various velocities in an attempt to deposit said alloy into the alcoholic liquid concoction of an opposing individual." He seems to suggest these ideas with vigor, excited as he calls for beer.

[Ashley McGowen] Ashley does scoot in to make room for Kage, and if the Orphan pushes her in a little ahead of when most people normally would, Ashley doesn't think much of it. She can't really tell how far away Kage is, after all, and she knows about the other woman's invisible friend. She's seen the invisible friend, starry-eyed, in the reflection of a truck's window.

"No game's been established yet. We were just talking, and then the rest of you showed up," Ashley offers.

A nudge of Will catches her attention then, and her eyes track up to Jarod, standing there with his glass of scotch. Ashley catches his eyes, but seems lost for a moment as to whether to invite him over: drinking games, after all, do not strike her as Jarod's particular cup of tea. Still, she likes the Verbena after a fashion, so he too is wordlessly beckoned over.

A glance toward Atlas once, and the Hermetic doesn't seem to have any difficulty parsing his speech. She's good with Words. "I don't like drinking games that involve individualized personality quandaries," she says. "Too public."

[Jarod Nightingale] [Int+Linguistics (dude, I'm actually making a linguistics roll, this never happens) - can I decipher Atlas-speak tonight?]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 5, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Jarod Nightingale] [What about Thomas-speak?]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 4, 6, 6, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Thomas Taylor] For those close to the cockney he bore some marks, the faded yellow of a black eye on his left hand side, the half healed wound of a bust lip gracing his kisser. Hardly the wars and hardly that fresh, well the bust lip might be. He does his best to blow the smoke upwards but as more people crowd around it became harder to get the smoke up, up and away. He takes a massive drag, just before he does in that split second he makes that decision the hunger spikes and then the cherry gets consumed at an alarming rate as with one massive puff he blows the smoke upwards and puts out the cigarette with a twist.

ìDrinkiní games, sweetÖî Of course Kage calls him Tom cat, he grins at the name absorbing it, consuming it. Kage: ìSo ëow you been Grimm, an not ëappy with Lewis, am thinkiní yer more Brother Grimm.î A cheeky wink to Kage there night of adventure still fresh in his mind as his eyes go over all gathered. All: ìMatch box game, flick it over yer shot, lands long side you pass a finger on, lands short side you pass three fingers on, lands flat you drink a fingerÖlands in yer drink or anyone elses down the bloody thiní an yer round.î He grins, eyes half close smirking almost he was having so much fun right now and it showed. ìWe will need more than shots for this pet, this gary needs bottles, we need sum robin sippiní whiskey an eínuff for fingers.î He glances to Atlas and listens to him, he picked up Morgan and digits. But he had no ideaÖhe glances around before directing. Atlas: ìSo yer up for gettingí wasted?î Thomas apparently had no prejudice for who got drunk with him. Then Ashley speaks and Thomas looks between Atlas and Ashley ìIs the doc suggestiní we do truth or dare?î

Thomas looks to Morgan, that fun still there but an attempt to contain it, to not seem as drunk as he was. Morgan ìLe Fay, cum on you can ëave a cheeky pint or two, yer gonna ëave to at yer swanky collegeÖis it pledges? I get confusedÖî He taps the table, Thomas too was a little drunk already (His football team won though, have you not heard?) ìBut am sure theyíll sneak in a drop or two, so my round petÖî He smiles to her, eyebrows raise almost beggingÖhe does look rather cute if not awfully rough around the edges.

[Atlas Mason] [What Atlas says, What Atlas hears.: "That my good man is a perfect representation of Ethernaut Count Tazla's flying ethership! Thank you very much Morgan for getting that for me, I really did put alot of work into that and wanted it back, its quite nice dont you think?

I always liked truth or dare you know, or at the very least we could play quarters, its quite the common game.]
to†K. R. J.

[Jarod Nightingale] Some of these faces were new (unknown.) One he had met only once, and briefly at that. One he hadn't seen in over six months. And the last one was Ashley. The Hermetic won something a little closer to a smile when Jarod's gaze settled on her. There was a gleam of perfect-white teeth, and that smile... it was something just a little predatory, but he couldn't entirely help that. (My, what big teeth you have.)

She'd signaled him over, and of course he took his sweet time in getting there, but eventually Jarod's figure did indeed approach the booth. He slid in gracefully next to Kage, took a drink, and set his glass on the table. The fire-haired orphan got a brief nod - something approaching friendly, though in a muted kind of way. The other red-head, of course... she got a lofted brow and a more knowing smirk. "Hey Enid." And there was an element of long-time-no-see to his tone, but it was more teasing than warm.

Then, to Ashley: "Are we getting up to no good, tonight?"

[K. R. J.] "Brothers Grimm, hm?" A beat. "I am renowned for my monastic lifestyle, far and wide," and it's somewhat bland, somewhat deadpan. Not quite, but almost. The lopsided almost smile is still in play; she sips her cider (demure, delicate), and adds, "I like their version of Little Red Riding Hood."

The Orphan raises both of her eyebrows at Atlas's suggestion, and her expression is musing; museful. "I believe the doctor did, indeed, suggest truth or dare; I haven't played that for quite a time." She sounds neutral about playing it now, if the truth were to be told, sans game.

Jarod takes a seat. And - Jarod. Kage has only physically met the man once. Kage has heard his voice twice. Kage has heard his name -- well; not all that often. But there was a time when Jarod was mentioned to her, fairly frequently; that time belongs to snows, and burning men, and a long time ago. Last year. Her gaze flicks over his shoulder, then upwards, and her smile hooks even more crooked, a briefly amused thing.

Jarod gets a courteous nod. And then a: "Nice to see you again, Jarod, and right. I forgot you knew Morgan; do you know everybody else here? Do we all know each other?" It doesn't really cover up the nameslip, but it does blithely pretend it never happened.
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 6, 7, 8, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Morgan Lake] "Hey, Jarod."

There's similar long-time-no-see (and none of the animosity one might expect, given her general attitude towards the Verbena in the past) in Morgan's voice when she surfaces from the call she took while people were drinking, during which she sounds almost like a normal college student - almost like the popular, pretty girl she once was, albeit rather better read than she was before. (Not, mind, that there was ever a time that Morgan - Enid - wasn't better read than most of her peers, election to various courts and student councils aside.) It takes a moment --

Enid.

-- for it to register, and when it does, she looks rather like she's been slapped. Her face goes momentarily red, and then rather white; under the table, with little thought, the hand that just put her phone back in her pocket goes to Thomas'. It's not a particularly romantic gesture that (so few of hers are, really), but a rather utilitarian and self-serving one, all told.

".....Morgan. Not. Um. Not Enid."

And isn't this familiar? The teenaged Hermetic, flustered before the supermodel. But for different reasons this time, and not antagonistic, so there's that.

[Atlas Mason] Atlas had just received his beer and was eyeing the concoction quite intently when the man who was known to some but obviously not all approached from the bar. He had even taken out a hand held laser, something obviously far more prodigious then his previous versions, this one was large scale, with a several centimeter lense which produced a brilliant white laser beam as he flicked it on and shown it into the liquid at varying locations.

"Hmmmm most perturbatory, this particular sample of alcoholic, barley based beverage contains an excess of particulate ranging in the five hundred parts per million. Possible materiel including dermal layerings, bodily excretions and....curious, mashed tomato spiced paste."

He then dips his finger into the liquid and samples it briefly before shrugging. "Quality is approximately nominal given external factors." He seems entirely in his own world before Jarod makes the scene with calling Morgan Enid rather her usual moniker and the man of science looks up at that predatory man and gives him an amiable smile.

"Ah societal renumerative and conciliatory reprimand's sir. My parentalogically assigned and hereditary identify is Atlas Mason." He says reaching out the shake the man's hand as he looks to Morgan.

"Is your personage nominal Morgan? Your facially aligned dermal layers have momentarily flushed with five ounces of additional red blood cells."

[K. R. J.] [Dex + Stealth: Kick Atlas under the table! +1 no brawl.]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 6, 8 (Failure at target 7)
to†Atlas Mason

[K. R. J.] [Too far...! Legs... not long enough!]
to†Atlas Mason

[K. R. J.] [Again! +1 more.]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 8)
to†Atlas Mason

[Ashley McGowen] "...He did suggest truth or dare. Which is fine, I guess," Ashley says after a moment. Kage seems neutral about the topic; Ashley refuses to shy away from anything Kage will do. Point of pride, see.

Jarod's smile gets one in return, bright and genuine, when he actually accepts the invitation (she'd assumed he wouldn't, would flick his proverbial tail and pad away. People do surprise you.)

"Tom decided I'm drinking," Ashley says, with a gesture toward the Hollow One seated across from her at the table. "But so far he's done less getting me drinks and more telling people that he's going to get me drunk." It's said like a dare, in its way, with a smirk directed toward the young man. It falters a moment as Atlas begins to describe the particles he's found in his drink. "Atlas, don't mention the particulate content again." Though she's reluctant to touch her beer until Atlas' breakdown fades from memory, and just glances once toward Thomas. She hasn't forgotten, and she's perhaps waiting for him to initiate; getting smashed was his idea, after all.

A look about, at Kage's question. "I know everyone." Of course she does. She admits people to the House of Ill Portents. And should anyone look unfamiliar, she will take it upon herself to point at the others and offer names.

[Thomas Taylor] ((All will be explained, Cha & Perf))
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 6, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Thomas Taylor] Thomasí wandering eyes go over to Jarod, a small raise to his brow as he takes in the mans composer. Very handsome, clothes that could pay Thomas rent for 6 months, seething with grace and cat got milk smile. Then he speaks, something in there Thomas picked up on but did not say, did not even glance at it just remained focused. Thomas hated it, why the simple reason every man hates it. Someone better looking, richer and more graceful walks in and makes you take a look at yourself, that and he seemed to have more than a passing knowledge of people in the booth. He glances to Atlas to see if he was getting it too then practically rolls his eyes, why was he going to the Doctor for support. No doubt his ego does not elaborate upon a select venture that would result in his personage taking offence or shame and that by the factor of ten combined with the handsome manÖbollocks!. Then Morgans hand takes his under the table and he looks to the wood a moment. He knew why of course, it was the reason he did not glance.

Then the name is mentioned Jarod. He remembers the park, the conversation between Ashley and Morgan and relaxes somewhat that drunken paranoia fading ìOh the tree hugginí puff!î He calls out as if it just entered his brain and went straight to his mouth. Then he stops, takes a moment to repeat his words then looks to Jarod ìSorry model, I meant to say modelÖî He looks around everyone ìíonest.î Öhe chooses to add nothing to the Enid debate, keep it simple, keep it quiet. He does glance at Atlas though, a raised brow, trust the doc to point out a blush. He looks back to Jarod ìCall me Tom, or Tommy mate, howíd you do.î

Then his gaze goes to Ashley, she dares him his jaw tightens ìI cannot get out rite now pet, there three lilí ducks in a rowÖî He puts two fingers in his mouth and wolf whistles. The whistle is a thing of beauty, brought about by attracting your friends at a stadium full of people it is both loud, high and carries well. People at the bar look over, the bartender himself stops and thereís a moment silence as Thomas puts up his hand, voice louder to carry to the bar. ìSORRY PET, TIGHT SQUEEZE, STUCK IN THE CRACKS, TWO BOTTLES OF WHISKEY AN SIX SHOT GLASSES, IíLL DO YOU ROBIN ON THE TIP I SWEAR DOWN!î.î He gives her the thumbs up, people look around then carry on there way, some laughing, other shaking there head. Thomas looks back to Ashley ìHe who dares wins Ash!î

[Ashley McGowen] [WP to not cringe in horror. Owwwww.]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 5, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Jarod Nightingale] Kage might note these things about him - he had good posture without appearing rigid, and he smelled good. He smelled like jasmine and just a hint of something more earthy (sandalwood?).

"Partially," he responded to her question without acknowledging (yet) the apparent name-change of a certain young Hermetic. Looking across the table, he let his eyes settle on first Atlas and then Thomas before adding, "I'm unfamiliar with the male side of the equation." (And this might have been an ever-so-slight mimicry of Atlas' speech patterns, but if so, he didn't make it obvious.) Atlas introduced himself, and Jarod gave a polite nod and reached out to take the offered hand briefly. "Jarod Nightingale."

Thomas' remarks elicited a faint chuckle. "I see my reputation has preceded me." (And let's face it, he'd been called much worse.)

But then... Enid was flustered. Enid... was no longer Enid, but Morgan. To his credit, he did make due note of this, with a slightly curious cant of his head as he watched her. And he didn't make a snide comment or question her about the change. He just mulled it over, then shrugged lightly. As if this wasn't really here or there to him, in any case.

Back to the topics at hand.

"Truth or Dare? Are we regressing to to the age of fourteen, then?" His tone was dry, and a little sarcastic, but more amused than judgmental. "I think I might actually stick around and watch that."

Thomas wolf-whistled, and shouted across the bar. Jarod closed his eyes briefly (as if somehow that could block out the sound), and Kage might feel a slight tensing of muscles as he repressed a cringe. When his eyes opened again, he took a long drink of his scotch.

[Morgan Lake] "Still not drinking," she says with a smirk, after a squeeze of Thomas' hand in return; she doesn't cling, has been as independent as she can possibly manage . . . well, as long as anyone here's known her, anyway. Self-sufficiency is a thing, to her, as is that distance that she usually keeps (but not so much here, where she's sandwiched between a father figure and a friend, and not attempting to keep either at arm's length). "So am I exempt from these reindeer games? Also, if we're yelling across the pub, I don't think my voice will carry that far."

Here, there's a shrug, a bit wry (and no, it's not lost on her, how Jarod nearly winced at Thomas' yell) as she glances around at the assembled.

"Will someone order me a turkey club and some waffle fries? I'd appreciate it." Perhaps she's grown up a bit, this Morgan-not-Enid. Or perhaps Jarod isn't baiting her, however inadvertent such things may have been. She is, in this moment, remarkably even tempered - and polite. Almost pleasant, even.

[Atlas Mason] Atlas had gone to stand, shaking the man's hand before letting it go. He had intended to simply sit himself back down into his seat and be comfortable and enjoy his drink, but his attempt to do so is allayed by something rather unexpected. There is a dull thump, and Atlas' eyes widen in surprise as he goes down rather hard, grunting.

"What roguish activity is necessary to be acted upon during my decent to the planar arrestment locality of this materiel?" He asks about righting himself with a chuckle. "Rougish behaviour, roguish aeronautical pulp, roguish whistling, if we degenerate any further along this particular vein of activity. We may yet engage in a roguish transference of force assisted armature directive concussive strikes with the general populace of this structure."

[K. R. J.] [Uh. Don't look guilty/surprised that the dude actually crumpled. >.>]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 6, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[K. R. J.] [Manip + Subt, natch.]

[Ashley McGowen] The whistle is a thing of beauty, but not to the Hermetic's ears. It's all Ashley can do to keep herself from cringing. As it is, there's a slight widening of her eyes, a blue and white swell that passes just as quickly. When the bottles are set down on the table in front of them, she reaches over to open one of the bottle.

The elder Hermetic begins to fill each of the shotglasses, and even though her cheeks are a bit flushed, she manages to do it without spilling any of it. Done this before enough times, apparently. "I just came here to drink, so I don't really care what we do," she says. "Bar fights included. Wouldn't be the first time." Pointedly ignores the tension across the table, how Thomas bristles at Jarod, how Morgan blushes. Or maybe she just misses it entirely.

At which point she downs one of the shots and nudges the other toward Thomas. A glance toward Morgan, as though she's thinking about foisting one on her apprentice too, but she refrains. She judiciously leaves the other three to their own devices, as far as taking one goes.

There's a quick pause, a grimace as she raises her hand to her chest and rubs for a few seconds as the shot goes down. "Tom, I know we had things to talk about, but it's going to have to wait until later, I think."

[Ashley McGowen] The whistle is a thing of beauty, but not to the Hermetic's ears. It's all Ashley can do to keep herself from cringing. As it is, there's a slight widening of her eyes, a blue and white swell that passes just as quickly. When the bottles are set down on the table in front of them, she reaches over to open one of the bottle.

The elder Hermetic begins to fill each of the shotglasses, and even though her cheeks are a bit flushed, she manages to do it without spilling any of it. Done this before enough times, apparently. "I just came here to drink, so I don't really care what we do," she says. "Bar fights included. Wouldn't be the first time." Pointedly ignores the tension across the table, how Thomas bristles at Jarod, how Morgan blushes. Or maybe she just misses it entirely.

At which point she downs one of the shots and nudges the other toward Thomas. A glance toward Morgan, as though she's thinking about foisting one on her apprentice too, but she refrains. She judiciously leaves the other three to their own devices, as far as taking one goes.

There's a quick pause, a grimace as she raises her hand to her chest and rubs for a few seconds as the shot goes down. "Tom, I know we had things to talk about, but it's going to have to wait until later, I think."

[Thomas Taylor] He tilts his head to Morgan. Thereís a moment where you think he might take the higher ground with her, a small ray of light that might draw him into the none drinking side. It is quickly squashed, buried and given the fastest funeral any emotion baggage has been given ever. ìThanks pet yer adorable.î He winks to the barmaid and makes a clicking sound ìCan I also get a turkey club wat ever that is an sum wafflesÖno wait fires, no waffle firesÖî He nods a touch drunk, as the whiskey is left and he starts countingÖîOkay, I sud ëave this, I might need a loaner, an sumones round next I swear to god.î He leaves the notes on the table, perhaps $100 dollars if that. He grins to Atlas ìThat was all custy, but I ëeard you on that one doc, if they got an issue I got the soddiní tissue! we go any further down this degenerate weíll all be outside naked drinkiní sum weird punch.î He looks over to Ashley ìCud ëappen you know, ëave ëeard worse.î He looks to Jarod, he was not sure what to make of the man, being drunk did not help either.

He catches the shot and looks at Ashley as with a dare in his eye and a straight jaw he downs the whiskey a small grimace to it. ìWorks for me Ash, no one likes to talk shop wen drinkiní, never shit were you eatÖI sud ëave said never mix business with pleasure there, oh fuck ëow cares.î He picks up the bottle with a chuckle and pours himself and Ashley another one.

[Jarod Nightingale] Thomas didn't quite know what to make of Jarod. Men like him usually didn't, and Jarod himself seldom did much to smooth things along. It was possible that he liked keeping people slightly off-balance. Or maybe he just didn't much thought into it one way or another.

For his part, he seemed relaxed but aloof. He was always aloof. He was an observer, here. Like a man visiting a zoo. He watched the antics, and found some quiet amusement (loud noises aside.) Thomas dropped a hundred dollar bill on the table, and from what Jarod could tell from appearances (though these things were not always accurate, of course), that was probably a significant sum for the chav.

He finished off the last of his drink and extricated himself from the booth. After some consideration, he pulled out a bill and dropped it on the table (another hundred.) "Sorry I can't stay. Next round's on me, though." And with a charming, perfectly Cheshire-cat smile, he grabbed his umbrella and left to venture back out into the night.

[K. R. J.] They have drinks. And they also have this, now: There is a plate of potato skins -- swimming in grease; dripping cheese, pale and gold; sprinkled with bacon, thick, black, smokey; glint of green chives, the perfectly browned skin that's just crunchy enough to the bite to make a sound, the perfecetly browned skin that's just beginning to loosen from the potato itself, and a dollop of sour scream -- already on its way. Unhealthy, and pub food. That's all that matters: pub food. Both Ashley and Jarod cringe, when Thomas whistles, and Kage can feel them both contract beside her. Kage, for her part, squints a little at the loud Hollow One, but isn't bothered. No; Kage is composed, and a whistle doesn't so much as touch on her composure (poise [effortless]). Kage, see.

She looks curious about whatever business Thomas and Ashley had to discuss, and she gives Atlas a somewhat inscrutable look when he drops back into his seat. Says - " - careful, Atlas. Perhaps you shouldn't drink anymore." And, "So long, Jarod." A beat, and, "If you two were having a business meeting, I can wander away; I - oh." There is a shot in front of her. Kage isn't very good at shots. Kage looks at her snakebite (already, heady brew; see?), then at the shot, and considers. She is driving herself home, after all. And doom: it may still fall, fell, branch down, shadow-forking, any moment.

"And - Ah. I will happily engage in thumb-war shenanigans with anyone who feels the need to brawl, in defense of, etcetera, but I fear that is my limit."

[eileen] The nature of the floor here and the nature of the petite apprentice's shoes are such that her entrance makes an awfully tap-like racket. If she walked with heavier steps it would be comparable to the clopping of a horse, perhaps, but she all but dances her way in, toe-heel-toe-heel, tap-clop-tap-clop. The fact that it's softer than it could doesn't make it any less distracting than it is, but these are the sacrifices one makes for wearing Oxfords with this chunky little heel that is almost-but-not-quite adorable enough to make up for the fact that they're not a very good shoe for petite people.

Her socks are canary yellow and folded over once. Her skirt is a blue-white-charcoal plaid. Her shirt has a tidy collar and is the same color as her socks, but mostly covered by the dark blue cardigan she's wearing, the sleeve shoved up to her elbows. Her hair, which is long and a trifle unruly, has not been... ruly'd. It should be tied up and bound somehow but that would really just make it look even messier than it is, so why bother? She doesn't.

She walks in and she dance-taps (no, not tap-dances) her way over to the table where the others are as though she was invited, as though someone said hey-we're-all-going-out-you-should-come-by-we're-in-the-back. Eileen looks for a chair to sit on and, barring that, wiggles her way onto the edge of a bench beside someone else. Who she grins at.

"Hi!"

[Morgan Lake] Following not long after Kage's potato skins is a plate of gorgeously constructed turkey club (on wheat, please and thank you) and a side of waffle fries, but the Hermetic's phone is ringing again, and a petite little someone is arriving and Morgan is asking if she can't get a box, please, and offering Kage a waffle fry or three in exchange for a potato skin of awesome (because everything of Kage is so, you see - Morgan's subtle about her heroes unless asked directly, though, so shh!) as she waits to pack up half of that gorgeous club, the pickle, and the majority of the fries.

Of what she leaves, a quarter of her sandwich goes to Ashley, a quarter to Thomas, and the remaining fries go to Atlas. It's just another Morgan-feeding, and likely customary by now to those who know her.

"Hi," she says to the stranger, "I'm Morgan. I also need to get out because I don't think my partner on this project could be any more incompetent, and I refuse to get a bad grade in my first semester. Thomas, if you want, you can come over later. Ashley, I'll see you in the morning, Atlas, I'll see you . . . maybe tomorrow afternoon? Kage, we should have dinner."

She's very efficient, this girl, the youngest at the table. And apparently pretty organized, too. Thomas' hand gets one more squeeze, Atlas gets a quick and almost daughterly kiss on the cheek, and then she's squeezing out.

[Ashley McGowen] [100 pounds and haven't eaten much lately. How'm I doing with all the booze?]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 3, 4 (Failure at target 6)

[Atlas Mason] Atlas blinks a few times at the kiss, but nods to Morgan. "Next juncture mid time frame, I will await your convergence upon the Lafette Morgan." He says as he squeezes back and allows her to get out. By this time, Atlas' beer is all but gone, and the man does indeed reach for one of the bottles of whiskey, uncorking it and taking a few shots, licking his lips as he does so.

The new girl, eventually, register's in his vision and he looks over at her curiously. "Socially appropriate localized and tentative application of familiarity miss. I am Atlas...any chance we could get your name?" It's....very strange, but for a second there all those around Atlas hear the man speak, almost normally.

[Ashley McGowen] "No, the business meeting has been abandoned in favor of shots," Ashley tells Kage, and waves a hand back toward her to bid the Orphan continue to sit. At which point she takes another one and downs it. Apparently she intends to make good on the boasting to Thomas.

"Good night, Jarod," is the nod toward the Verbena before he makes his exit, and one toward Morgan before her apprentice leaves. A quick smile to both, which she's apparently not too drunk to manage. Not yet.

The most recent shot is starting to hit her by the time Eileen sits down on her side of the booth next to Kage, who is between them. She rests her head against the back of the booth then, as though her neck is suddenly too weak to hold it up. The Cultist gets a wave without eye contact, a holding up her hand and a brief waggling of fingers. "Hell, if we stay here long enough we're probably going to see everyone in the fucking city, huh," she says to Thomas.

There's a glance to the food, brief. She then dismisses it; it isn't likely to be doing her stomach any favors.

[Thomas Taylor] ((Thomas, Stam, in it to win it has been out quite a bit as his Fottball team won....))
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 5, 7 (Failure at target 6)

[Atlas Mason] [Atlas...stamina?]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 2, 2 (Failure at target 6)

[Thomas Taylor] He watches Jarod leave, offers a nod to the man as he looks back to his poured drink ìGrimm, donít fret, no one fret everyone stay we drink!î He picks up the other shot eyes on Ashley as with a cocky smirk he downs it slamming the shot back down.

ëHií He hears as he tilts his head to regard EileenÖhe blinks then looks around
Thomas had the fading of a black eye, just that nice shade of yellow and a busted lip that was half healed. Apart from that he looked well on his way to drunkville and invited some friends.

Then Morgan was leaving, the tilts his head to her Eileen forgotten, he blinks and nods. ìGo get ëim pet, if they fuck up yer shit donít forget the germans on the Bushel, give it a rite tight squeeze, will sort out there work ethic guaranteed.î He smiles at the squeeze and is silent at the come over later. He might not even remember she said that later, he might be in a puddle later. He does hope he remembers it, he mouths it too himself as if it would help. ìStay safe Le Fay, ëave a robin one!î

ìAsh, we keep gettingí disturbed, might ëave to call this a tester an then later you an me take it one of one, all back of the bus pretty as you please pet.î Did he just move. Yes Thomas appears to have a little sway going on. ìAsh, itís the Tommy effectÖwell actually itís the lets get twated nite, this is wat am on ëbout, random shit!î He puts his hands up knocking Atlas as he does and then notices the ëhií girl againÖHe blinks and with a drunken glance looks back to Eileen ìNo offense pet but ëho the bloody ëell are ya?î -Hiccup-

[eileen] To Morgan's hi-hello-I-must-be-going, Eileen just smiles, and her eyebrows go up. "Alrighty," she says, to talk of incompetent project partners.

But then Atlas speaks, and Eileen's head swivels around to look at him. Her eyes, a sort of hazy green-gray, widen slightly. "You're amazing," she says, without irony or sarcasm. He and Thomas are both wondering who the hell she is, with varying levels of sense-making in their asking of the question.

Everyone's getting drunk around her, even the Hermetic Adept who waved. She smiles, hands on her lap. "I'm Eileen," she says, simply enough. Brightly.

[Morgan Lake] ((G'night! Here's hoping the 'puter's better tomorrow. Thanks for the scene, as fragmented as my participation was!))

[Nathan Spriggs] (In keeping Jess happy)

For a moment, as someone passes by, in their drunken stupor or not, Kage and Co. might swear to see a familiar face with blond hair. Just an instant, and then the realization that it's actually some random stranger.

[eileen] [*sniffs pits*]

[K. R. J.] "Hi," Kage says, to Eileen, once Morgan has taken her leave -- and, as far as answers go, received a nod of acknowledgment for the invitation/suggestion; after Thomas hiccups, a clear sign of that his poison of choice (for tonight) is beginning to work its way through his system (or, that he is a dramatic Hollow Plague with a sense of the theatrical, in which case, good for him). "And in case you forgot, my name is still Kage. You have pretty hair tonight." This, with a brief, slanting smile. She almost finishes her cider, and then pushes the glass away, nudge, nudge.

[Atlas Mason] It's blatantly apparent that Atlas very, very rarely drinks. His vision is blurring and his speech...well his speech is starting to become a very strange thing. He eyes the shot glass carefully, turning it in his hands as he leans back into the cushion as he does so, trying to get the glass to hit the very, very dim light of the bar.

"I...hypothesis that this particular brand of alcoholically synthesized beverage is of a quantifiably more potent grade then the nominally serviced and distributed beverages within this locality." He looks at the bottle with equal meaning, as if trying to deduce more evidence theirof before turning his gaze back to Eileen.

"Your....ascertation is noted and positively received, however additional information upon which you base your primary theorum would be useful to indicate the fallicy or positive conclusion of this statement." He says with a lazy smile. "In addendum, its a fine..fine day to meet you."

[Ashley McGowen] While Ashley does drink often - probably more than she should - she's small, and things are taking their toll. She's undeterred, though, and manages to sit up to take another one of the shots. She intends to match Thomas, and unlike Kage, she doesn't have to drive herself home.

"Drinking a bottle of whiskey in the back of the bus? Classy," she says to Thomas. Then gestures, once, toward the Cultist that is sitting there with them. She doesn't seem surprised in the least to see Eileen here. "Eileen, Tom. Tom, Eileen. Tom's a Hollow One, Eileen's a..."

At which point she stops and looks over at the young woman, realizing that she doesn't know, even though they've had a few lengthy conversations. Rather involved and revelatory ones, at that. Blink. Then, "Well, we're all Awake."

[Thomas Taylor] He picks up the shot glass and downs yet another and with a very unsteady hand picks up the bottle and pours himself, Ashley and Atlas another roundÖand apparently the table between them gets a shot to from the pouring. ìThis is watÖam talkiní ëboutÖbeen tryiní to get a drinkiní crew together wince I got ëere just ëad no idea it wud be youÖî but the ëno ideaí it could be any of them he did not aim it a particular way.

ìEileenÖî He saysÖîI ëave no idea ëho you are pet, but ëave a shot, all robin!î He then glances over at Ashley ìThatís rude petÖ.giviní away a gents tell tales an all thatÖshame on you Ash, very peteÖî He hiccups as laughs ìího gives two shits an a fuck eh, lets get shit faced an whiz in a cup an all that!î He then points at Kage, his finger keeps moving though he cannot keep it straightìNo ëalf measure pet, we ëad this banter!î

[eileen] [ARRRGH. I refreshed like 10 times between my last post and now and this was the only time any of your posts showed up. WTF, JOVE.]

[eileen] The redhead she's sitting beside has only even seen Eileen once, and that was on a lawn coverd with bullet casings, bits of brain, and dead bodies. Eileen gets a compliment and tips her head as she considers it, then smiles. "It looks the way it always looks," she says, which is at least partly true. "So thank you! And yes, I forgot your name. If I ever got it. I got ludicrously high that day. But now I won't forget," she adds, like a promise.

Atlas gets her eyes swinging towards him again, a slow drag of that moor-morning gaze back in his direction. She stares without blinking as he speaks, processing, then: "It's not a theorem," she says after a moment. "There's no logical argument to prove it. It's an opinion, which can be formed after a single piece of input, or none at all. But! It is good to meet you, Atlas."

She beams. And Ashley's introducing her to Tom, Tom's a Hollow One, Eileen's a --

"Eileen's a mage," she says, helping out. "And an Assistant Coordinator for the Architecture and Design Society at the Art Institute. Eileen's also the only sister of two boys. Eileen's tickled pink to be here. Eileen's wanting a clean shot glass, thank you kindly."

She gets up and reaches for one, dragging it back towards the bottle so someone will pour for her. "Eileen is also a Seer, a Cultist, an Ecstatic, aaand an Apprentice."

[K. R. J.] [A'ight. Snakebite + Shot. Staminarrific?]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 3, 5, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[K. R. J.] Atlas said something that sounded normal; Kage takes the shot (at last), and closes her eyes, lashes tangling, nose wrinkling, brief moment (burning [like going home]). Thomas points at her, and looks as if he doesn't remember what a line is. Kage offers him the faintest of smirks; something with an edge, something that'd give someone a papercut, and then the smirk slants into another easy (crooked [morality, baby]) slanting smile. She holds up the empty shot glass; arches an eyebrow, eloquent, and then sets it down again. She feels fine. " - Tommy, even when measures are whole," Kage says, "I promise that there is never 'no' half. Always needs to be two, right?" Go on. Blame the drink. It's innocent, but hey.

[Atlas Mason] Atlas smiles to Eileen as he leans back into the comfort and stability of the booths couch. He breaths deeply, trying to clear his head as much as possible. But thats just not possible with all the alcohol in his system. He does pick up the offered shot and downs it before speaking again.

"Percentages and current statistical patterns indicate to the minimal likelihood that I will become a continual participant in any inebriation orientated unit Thomas, however, for this juncture such activity is acceptable, as it is now unfeasable to undo without the appropriate knowledge and capabilities of a bioform specialist."

He then looks over at Eileen and shrugs. "Such pattern of thought and synaptic firing is quite...illogical, but that is your prerogative and internalized methodology, at this juncture i am incapable of formulating an appropriate hypothesis to defeat your decided course of thought."

[eileen] "The glory of booze," Eileen says simply to Atlas in response to that, and taps her shot glass to his before downing whatever's in it. Granted, of course, someone's filled it. If not: she swallows air just as heartily.

[Ashley McGowen] Eileen is a lot of things. Too many for Ashley to follow at the moment, really. The multiple threads of conversation and Atlas' speech and Kage's cageyness are all rapidly becoming more and more difficult for her to follow. Her eyes flicker, as though they were things she could see, as though she's mapping them out. And after another few seconds, she picks up another of the glasses and drains it.

"I didn't know you were an Ecstatic, Eileen," she says, but she doesn't sound surprised. She would have made the logical leap before now, had she not been upstairs cuddling a dead body rather than seeing her roll a joint on the porch, had she been more observant or insightful to some of the girl's words and other behaviors. "I bet you could call Janine an' she'd give you a new shotglass, if you don't tell her you're Ecstatic. She's one of mine," Ashley adds, as though she were confiding something, as though this explained everything.

She nudges Kage, at that, there next to her on the bench. "There's this other Cultist? 'N her name's Sabra, and she owns a store you'd like. Near your apartment."

[Thomas Taylor] The English man seems very drunk as he listens to everyone. ìyer Od ainít ya petÖî directed to Eileen, he seems proud of that deduction, lets forget the fact she told him. He looks to the shot and wraps a finger around it. ìAsh, Grimm, DocÖ.new lassÖî He winks to Eileen as he stops picks up the whiskey in his other hand and pours her and the space around her glass a shot then does the same to Kages ìCheers.î He holds up his shot glass to the middle of the table, already his hand was unstable and some of it leaked out.

He does not care how many clink it he waits then downs it. ìNow if you donít mind, I think I got an inviteÖî He grins as he stands and practically falls over Atlas getting out, he stands when he lands and looks back to the group. ìAsh, were on for a real round wenever is clever, Grimm always a pleasure never a chore, Doc weíll be seeiní you on the Tuesday nite regular an EileenÖ.well robin to meet ya!î

[Ashley McGowen] Ashley lifts a hand to Thomas as he gets up to leave, as he says he has a call, and nods when he says they're on for a real round. "I have a drinking buddy," she says, happily, once the Hollow One is out of earshot.

[eileen] That day at the house, Emily had offered her tea. Eileen had promptly gone to the little stash kept in her camera case instead. Still green, technically, just smoked instead of brewed. Also, mind-altering. Not to say tea's incapable of altering one's mind, it's just that weed is more measurable about the whole thing.

"I know," Eileen says, smiling over at Ashley when she says she didn't know. "And yes," she adds, for Thomas, "and cheers."

He makes his way out to go after whatever invite he's talking about, Eileen missed it. She doesn't get a special nickname other than New Lass, which suits her fine. She gets another shot of whiskey, humming quietly to herself about doing so. "If I have to keep mum about my worldview and my dedication to my code in order to get a clean shotglass, Janine can shove said clean shotglass up her ass, and I'll drink from a dirty one."

It's literally the most intense thing any of them have heard her say. She's not, by nature, the defensive type. "Cheers, again," she adds, and downs the second shot of whiskey.

Gasps. Laughs. "Who's Sabra?" she asks, emphasis on the first word.

[Atlas Mason] He waves to Thomas as he goes, but he says nothing, nothing to say that hadn't already been said by him raising his hand and waving to the man.

Atlas laughs a little and shakes his head. "It would indeed seem to be an appropriate identifier for the existent relationship between your two individualized personages. On an additional note worthy comment. I believe the next time any excessive volume of alcohol is to be drank...I should really do it on my ship."

[K. R. J.] Kage is courteous, see? Thomas gets a courteous nod, when he stands and excuses himself. If he hadn't poured, she would've; she may well pour again for Atlas, or Eileen, or whoever wants that isn't Ashley, now that Thomas is gone. Her hand is still steady; so is her gaze, dark and inquisitive, expressive, soft, just now. Before Thomas had left, shotglass: clinked; whiskey, sloshed, down over her thumb, her wrist. Kage licks her wrist; the edge of her thumb. Ashley nudges her, before she has the second shot; Eileen is intense. Truth is, Kage hasn't spoken to Eileen very much at all; one can't count that day in the yard with the brain pieces or in the kitchen afterward with the you don't have to stay.

"That was well said," Kage says, with a sidelong glance for Ashley. Who has started a trend, with the nudging, although she knows it not: the Orphan sways into the hipster-chick, then back. Bump. Then Kage rests her elbow on the table, cups her chin in the palm of her hand. Atlas is now sitting across from three ladies, all lined up in a row. She doesn't seem inclined to move. "I, uh. Didn't know this was a Hermes-sponsored establishment." Beat. And, "Whaaaaat store, 'ley?"

To Atlas, this remark: "It's not very fun to drink alone."

[Ashley McGowen] If Ashley is offended by what Eileen says about Janine and her shotglasses, it doesn't show. There's a bit of vehemence, a bit of intensity in regard to keeping to her code, and the Hermetic just grins. Reaches across Kage and pats Eileen on the shoulder once. There's no explanation. Maybe she just likes to see Willful people.

She seems to have taken a pause as far as shots go, though she's eying the one Kage is raising, and she's eying the ones that are left. Thomas had promised that she'd be too drunk to remember the evening, and she is thinking very hard about making good on that promise whether he's here or not. "You shouldn't drink alone," she tells Atlas, echoing Kage. "'S something that...that alcoholics do, right?"

A look toward Kage, who now has Ashley's arm draped across her shoulders for the time being, where it dropped after she patted Eileen. Until it slides off, that is, which it will. "'S called The World Tree. That's why I went in," she says. "An'...oh, shit," and her gaze brightens as she looks around at Eileen again. "She was that...that woman. Who gave you the fuckin' umbrella. Remember? If that shit didn't happen here all the time I would think it was the weirdest thing."

[eileen] "Ehh," Eileen says. She keeps getting jostled. Bumped here, patted there. She wiggles like a child escaping parental grabbings, then ducks under the table and goes over to sit beside Atlas. Her hair is ruffled. It makes no difference in how it looks. She grins at Ashley and Kage. "You two are drunkfaced," she says thoughtfully, and licks her lips.

"I still have that umbrella," she adds, considering. "It definitely stands out amidst my decor. And no surprise she turned out to be Ecstatic, then. Those things happen all the time because those things are meant to happen all the time if you're Awake. It's part of why you're Awake. When things like that happen to Sleepers they remember it forever, because it's so odd, it's so unusual, it's so much like the world is tugging on them and trying to tell them there's more. I mean, for some people, being given an umbrella by a strange woman just before it rains could change the entire course of their life. It could by the catalyst for their own Awakening."

[eileen] [Just a heads up, I gotta head out in about 30! Next post will probably be my last!]

[Atlas Mason] Atlas watches as the woman pops up beside him and he chuckles. "You speak of Chaos Theory....an apt situational descriptive." Atlas just doesn't seem able to follow the situation however, and he seems to know it as he moves to stand up, and nods to the women gathered there.

"At this juncture, my capablities as a functional social individual are reduced to to five point two percent...I will effect my extraction and re locality to another geographical position within the urban center." He says with a nod of his head.

"Good evening ladies." At that...he turns to head out, stagging as he does so.

[K. R. J.] "Were there snakes?" Kage asks, of The World Tree, and then - well. Kage appears to be musing, reverieing, over Eileen's contribution: meant to happen; tugging, and more; catalysts. She says, "Have you ever seen somebody else's Awakening?" The you -- it could be Eileen; it could also be Ashley. Both.

"So long, Atlas," Kage says, and regards the Son of Ether narrowly for a moment, her lashes blurring her vision, as she tries to gauge his sobriety. He drove in on that little motorbike of his; it may be raining; he can't handle his whiskey for crap, apparently. He staggers out, and Kage, chin still cupped in the palm of her hand, drums her fingers on the table.

" - shit. Think he'll be able to drive that motorbike of his? It has a sidecar," she adds, probably for Eileen's benefit, but possibly for Ashley's, or just because she really likes the sidecar. Which she does.

[Ashley McGowen] Ashley gives some thought to what Eileen says, or appears to. Her head bows and her face takes on a musing sort of expression, thoughtful, as she tries to think about it and retain it. "There weren't any snakes," she tells Kage. "I don' know if it was, like, my sort of world tree. I didn't ask her."

The Orphan's question sets her thinking, makes her shake her head. "No," she says. "I always...like, you hear about people waking because someone gave them an umbrella before it rains and stuff, but it never seems like it actually happens that way. 'S always...something horrible. But I guess that kind of makes sense," she adds, quietly. Perhaps touched by a morose thought or two.

"Good night, Atlas," she says to the departing Etherite. She lifts a hand to wave at him before letting it fall flat on the table again. "I bet he's fine," Ashley says.

[eileen] Snakes and world trees. Eileen hears it, but either doesn't process it or just isn't paying attention. She waves to Atlas as he leaves, smiling at him. He's amazing, after all. She has no opinion that bears voicing on whether or not he'll be alright, whether or not he should be getting home on that motorbike of his which has a sidecar. The large group she came over to has dwindled down to the Apprentice, Disciple, and Adept, though other than the first label Eileen hasn't really the faintest notion of Kage or Ashley's knowledge. More than mine, is enough for her, and she's content with it.

"Probably," she says, in answer to Kage's question about whether or not she's ever seen someone Awakening. She gives the answer with a little shrug, as if it weren't vague enough.

Her eyes go to Ashley as the Hermetic waxes pessimistic, eyebrows lifting a bit. She glances at Kage, then at Ashley, and her voice lowers a bit. "Um... this is going to sound a bit grr, so I'll preface it with saying that I had a pretty frustrating day, so don't take it too personally. I like you, and I think you're very special, but ...I don't know. After what you just said and after the day I had, I don't really want to be around you right now. Please don't think it means I don't like you. It's just a sign to me that this isn't where I'm supposed to be tonight. Okay?"

She gets up, hands planted on the table, and gives Ashley a tiny peck on the forehead. She promised not to touch her unless Ashley showed her she wanted it. Perhaps, somehow, Ashley managed to do that without intending to. Or Eileen forgot her promise. Or Ashley patted her shoulder and all bets were off after that.

Eileen smiles at Kage. "I have a bicycle. And it has a basket. It was good meeting you again," like you can meet someone multiple times. Which you can. Clearly.

She scoots out of the booth, and nobody mentions her chipping in for the whiskey, and she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a fiver anyway, which she happened to get today through a series of fortunate events that she could probably use to try and change Ashley's mind, but

Eileen either doesn't think of telling her, or doesn't think Ashley's mind is hers to change. She lays the bill down and dance-taps her way out of the pub again, perhaps to go see if she can catch a sight of Atlas on his motorbike-with-sidecar before he pulls away forever.

[K. R. J.] "It's not always because of something horrible," Kage tells Ashley. That's all. Easy authority; belief. Not something she is taking on faith; just something she knows, like: fire is hot; the sky today was blue or thundrous black. Then Eileen is leaning in, lowering her voice; Kage listens, and an eyebrow pricks upward. That's all. Neutral, Kage. "Be well," she tells the Cultist before Eileen bops away. She even lifts her chin from the palm of her hand to wave, once.

[Ashley McGowen] Eileen tells her that she can't be around her right now, thinks that she's very special and she likes her but she just can't, and the Hermetic's expression is registering utter confusion even before the Cultist leans over to peck her on the forehead. There's a sidelong look to Kage as though the Orphan could be of help, or could fill her in on whatever she just missed. "...What did I say?" she asks, bewildered.

And promptly shakes it off. "Good night, Eileen," she says. Glances toward the shots as though contemplating another. Reaches up and presses fingertips to her forehead, still with her eyebrows furrowed.

Then, to Kage, "I know it's not always. 'Cause Justine's wasn't bad. And Emily's wasn't bad. And...and Daiyu's wasn't bad. You just hear more bad ones."