[Keron Bradley] It’s almost closing time, but not quite. Keron’s breaking down the espresso machine, and the other remaining employee is doing something in the back room, leaving the place nearly devoid of life. A couple high schoolers in one corner, a bored housewife on her way home from the gym in another, but mostly?
Just Keron. And he hums along with the piped in Christmas music until a particular song takes his fancy, and he sings along more fully. Even quiet, low, his rich bass fills the place.
[Gina McClaren] *Its below freezing. Gina’s layered against the chill, tight knit sweater hugging an abundance of curves and pleasant softness. The olive mini-trench thrown over it is made for a more willowy figure, as such it doesn’t shut at the chest, and flares over ample hips. Even wrapped up, caramel cheeks have taken on a coral glow, and she’s lost feeling in her fingers. Such is the reason she bumps open the door to a cafe, sighing exquisitely and shutting her eyes as warm coffee scented air envelops her. The door tinkles announcing her presence, as do her bells and bangles, doing the same.*
[Keron Bradley] “Welcome to Cuppa,” he says, still nearly in time with ‘I’ll Be Home for Christmas’, and not yet looking up. “May I help you?”
A black baseball cap hides most of his brown curls, and he wears a black shirt with the name of the cafe across it in white with jeans that are a bit on the baggy side, but not ridiculously so. There’s also a black and white beaded necklace; he’s smiling as he moves over to the register, and that only widens when he sees who it is.
“Hey, Gina. How you doin’?”
[Gina McClaren] Och Keron darlin. Ah’m aulreacht.. Half froze, reckon…
*Kohl rimmed eyes open, casting towards Keron’s voice, a smile brightening exotic features as she confirms sound with a face. The chocolate man had a low tone and distinctive accent. Memorable. Just as the sheer warmth and pleasantness of Gina’s own heavily accented voice was hard to forget. The pikey glances around, taking stop of the company before moving to take a seat on a stool near the counter. An impressive bounce and jingle of charms, her booted feet dangling a few inches off the floor. Another soft sigh as she slips a hand across the counter towards the male kin. Friendly and intimate.*
How ye been Han’some?
[Keron Bradley] “Been alright,” he says, wiping his hands on the half apron that covers his thighs before taking hers in them; there’s warmth in that touch, and strength, and all the things that ought to be in the touch of another person that are so often missing. It’s a good touch, really – and when he feels how cold her fingers are, he gives them a bit of massage before letting them go.
“You want something to drink? Keep it low, and it’s on the house,” he says, quiet and mock sneaky.
[Gina McClaren] *Keron’s hands are large and comfortingly warm, and the noise that Gina gifts him with is pure relieved pleasure. Chill fingers benefiting from male circulation. He may not be a blast furnace of impossible metabolism and radiant heat, but he was still naturally warmer than the pretty Indian woman in front of him. She leans foward and whispers with a stealthy look about.*
Would a London Fog break the bank?
[Keron Bradley] “Not at all.” That’s with a grin, and he gets the milk set up steaming first, then does the rest – he moves naturally, easily, as if he’s worked in coffee shops a lot. Which he has, actually, though he doesn’t say – it’s a bit of trivia, something that doesn’t really matter.
“So what’re you doin’ out tonight? Finishin’ your Christmas shoppin’?”
[Gina McClaren] En a manner o speakin..
*Gina settles into her stool more fully, rolling her shoulders against a chill and loosening her coat. bangles clink and tinkle in the dull noise of the coffee shop. Keron moves with a grace and familiarity around the coffee shop, and Gina finds herself watching him. Wistful perhaps. His question nags in the back of her mind and her expression turns smug and entirely pleased as she taps the counter.*
Ah jes signed meself a year lease fer a home. Merry Christmas tae me.
[Keron Bradley] “Congratulations! That’s excellent,” he says with a grin, and, to celebrate, gets a cookie (oatmeal raisin) out of the case to go with her tea; it’s not much, but it’s something.
Keron is nineteen and has been bouncing around from this parish to that for as long as he can remember, as long as he’s been alive and then some. It’s hard to imagine something like owning a house.
“Let me know if you need anything, even if it’s just someone reachin’ the high things or movin’ heavy stuff.”
[Gina McClaren] Och, keep gi’en me sweets an’ makin offers like tha, an ah’m gintae move ye en.
*Teases the caramel woman in a voice better suited to bedrooms and lazy sundays between the sheets. Gina levels a long lashed wink to the charming Barrista, cookie getting a nibble. Oatmeal raisin, her favorite. Keron was a psychic, she was sure. Her lips curl into a soft smile as she touches his hand with casual familiarity. *
Reckon ah’ve an angry lass upstairs ah can call on effen ah need any o tha, truth be tauld. Wha aboot ye? Ye done yer shoppin fer prezzies?
[Keron Bradley] “I’ve only really got Nana and Dad to shop for,” he says with a smirk; he’s not the one girl type, after all, at least not yet. “Other than the kids’ tree at the Mission. So yeah, I’m done.”
He has been for a while, in fact, but for random bits here and there; Keron’s a remarkably organized shopper. I’ve an angry lass upstairs, she says, and Keron nods his understanding. “I haven’t met that many of them yet, really. And none more than a couple times. But I spend most of my time workin’.”
[Gina McClaren] Well, tha’ll keep a felly busy. Ah cannae wait until et warms oop regular again. An ah can set me own damned hours.
*She sighs, shaking out her hair before dipping her cookie in her tea, savouring it with a blissed out expression before looking to Keron, dark eyes alight with curiosity. Charms tinkle against one another as she reaches forward and tugs gently at a curl.*
Why sae light?
[Keron Bradley] “Why not?”
He shrugs, finishes wiping down the counter and pulls out the bin full of espresso grounds; that gets emptied and his hands washed and dried before he reaches into his pocket to produce a wallet (with GIR on it, amusingly) and from there a picture.
“That’s my Mama,” he says, proud, and if Gina flips it over, the back says simply ‘Heartsong, 2008’. His hair, bleached as it is, is remarkably close to the color of hers.
[Gina McClaren] Hmm. Pretty lass.
*The picture is handled with care, caramel fingers barely touching the sides as she flips it over and reads the note there. 2008. The corner of her lips pull a moment. Recent. A soft sigh as the pikey offers Keron his photo back, and takes a sip of her London Fog.*
Reckon ah’d never ‘ave the guts tae try fer sooch a color on meself.
[Rory] Scrounging for change is good on Sundays, which means Rory might just have enough for something extra at a coffee shop. She has made the rounds, looking for those that are open, and mostly empty, and settled on this one. Fate, maybe. Maybe something completely different. Either way, the slender Fianna with blood-red curls barely contained by her knit cap, sneaks into the coffee shop with a tinkling of the bells above the door.
She’s dressed in everything she owns, with a battered back pack on her back, doing her best to keep out of the way, even as she checks for a line, and then moves to the counter. The press of her rage precedes her as she drops her change on the counter and begin the laborious chore of counting.
very. very. slowly.
[Keron Bradley] “My hair’s the same as any other brother,” he says, amused. “No real reason to keep it that way, really. Your hair’s somethin’ different, though.”
Then there’s the ring of the bell; it’s close to closing, and Keron’s obviously going through the tasks necessary to get that done, but he’s not likely to turn someone away just yet. The press of Rage, familiar but never comfortable, is felt before he moves to the counter and looks at Rory’s stack of change. The couple of high school kids and the soccer mom have already left, leaving Gina and Keron more or less alone with Rory, though there’s another employee around somewhere.
“What can I getcha,” he asks the newcomer with a smile. “And don’t worry about it – at this point, if I’ve got it, it’s gonna be dumped anyway.”
[Gina McClaren] Reckon ets jes long es aul. The better tae sway when ah shimmy…
*Gina looks up, and damned if she doesn’t see an Alleycat. Voice raising soft and welcoming.*
Rory darlin! ‘ave ye met Keron?
[Rory] She looks up shyly at Keron as he offers her whatever she likes, if he has it on hand, and color splashes across her cheeks as she ducks her head once more. It’s almost endearing – especially for someone carrying the heat of so much rage.
She doesn’t quite believe him, she expects he makes fun, as so many do. Her hands are covered in fingerless gloves, leaving her fingers free. She’s recently bathed, so she isn’t too grimy, and her fingers are pale, slender, almost fragile looking. Even her nails are translucent – almost as if they don’t really exist. Fingertips hover over her change, and then… then…
Gina speaks with a tinkle of her chimes and Rory snaps her head around to see her, her smile shy, and quickly hidden away with a duck of her head. “Hi.”
And then, she orders.. “Chot hocolate, please… an… a sandwich?” a beat. “or muffin?”
[Keron Bradley] He points at the case where there’s a lonely ham on rye and turkey on croissant, along with a couple miscellaneous cookies. “Whichever you like,” he says, and sets to making the cocoa first – if he noticed the word-fumble, he doesn’t say anything about it. It’s a hectic time of year, after all – likely, he comes across a lot of stumbles. And at least she’s polite.
“And hi. Like Gina said, I’m Keron.” Keron of the liquid bass voice and Alabama accent, of the friendly smile, of the dark eyes, soft lips, and hair that’s a clearly unnatural golden blond. “Nice to meet you, Miss Rory.”
The last comes as he hands her her drink, then moves to get whichever sandwich and/or cookie she’s decided on (though, given what he said and that she looks like she needs it, she may well be going home with the rest in a bag. The picture of his mom’s picked up and put away when that’s done, and he smiles.
“You can hang out in here to stay warm for a while, if you want.”
[Rory] She points to the sandwich, because it is indeed what she needs – she doesn’t eat very much, and is very thin under the bulk of her clothing. She’s not built to live on the streets, yet until a little while ago, that’s exactly what she’s done. Now they have a house, though there is not heat or water. It’d be no surprise to hear she is packed with Gnawers.
She smiles shyly at Gina as she gets a call and heads out, and then finally, when it seems certain he won’t take her money, scoops it up and tucks it away into her pockets, before wrapping both hands around the hot chocolate. “Thanks.”
Single words are easier. She moves to a seat, not too far away, and after a sip of her hot cocoa, digs into the sandwich like she hasn’t eaten in days.
He doesn’t say anything about the mixup – and truth be told, she doesn’t know there was anything to notice. She heard what she intended, rather than what she actually said. And the trend continues, at random. “gis is thood.”
[Keron Bradley] It’s the ham on rye he gives her, and the turkey croissant (along with the three cookies of varying types) are put into a paper bag, which gets set in front of her – even if she doesn’t eat them, he’s pretty certain she knows someone who will.
“Glad you’re enjoying it,” he answers once he’s parsed what she’s said – not just a random mix-up, then, though it’s nothing to dwell on. Instead, he goes around putting chairs up on tables, then gets a broom so he can sweep. “Just don’t rat me out. Manager tonight won’t care, but my boss would be pissed.” That’s with a charming grin, and his hat’s off now, revealing a head full of dark blond-light brown curls, at odds with his black mustache and goatee.
[Rory] He sets the bag down, and she blushes and ducks her head, shyly content as she picks her sandwich apart and eats in smaller bites now that it’s certain he won’t change his mind. She shakes her head, smiling…
“Won’t tell.” he starts to sweep up and she tucks her feet up on the edge of the stool, so she’s not in his way. “…heed nelp?” willing to pay her way, somehow.
[Keron Bradley] “Can help me take out the garbage when you’re done, if you want. It’s already by the back door, but the dumpster’s down the alley a bit.” And bags full of wet grounds and goodness knows what other coffee mess aren’t exactly light. Goodness knows, help would be appreciated. “You live close? I’ll walk you home after that, if you want.”
It’s comical, almost, the kin offering to walk home the Ahroun – but still, safety in numbers and all that. And it’s cute, in a gentlemanly sort of way. Keron was raised right, it would seem.
[Rory] “Ok.” she nods. She’ll help with the garbage, when she’s done, when he’s ready.
He asks where she lives if it’s close, and she lifts a finger to rub against the side of her nose, absently. “Bronzeville.” she hides a little grin under the slide of those curls as he offers to walk her home – it’s safe to assume he’s Kinfolk, the way Gina was talking to him. “I should halk you wome…”
[Keron Bradley] “Ah, I’m down in Cabrini,” he answers. “And I take the El. So we can go together for a while, anyway. And if you wanted to come out of your way, I wouldn’t complain.”
He looks at her for a minute, considering, then decides it’s not too big of a jump, or a risk. Big Rage or not, some things need to be said, sometimes. “And, since I’m guessing you and yours aren’t somewhere exactly . . . nice, I should probably tell you there’s beds and showers and stuff at the Mission. ‘s my dad’s parish.”
[Keron Bradley] (Half hour warning. =D It’s getting near two, my time!)
to Rory
[Rory] She tips her head slightly, listening to him as he talks, and then… curious. “Parish?” It’s as if she’s not quite sure what he means, the word is unfamiliar to her.
[Rory] [ooc: ok!]
to Keron Bradley
[Keron Bradley] “Church.” He wonders, in passing, which breed this one is; he’s known them born all ways, though he’s most experience with homid for obvious reasons. But that’s something he certainly doesn’t ask. “Dad’s a preacher. Mission’s that, and halfway house, and shelter, and rec center, and day care.” And more, likely, given as it’s down in Cabrini – a neighborhood that sorely needs something of its kind.
[Rory] “Oooh.” She chews her lower lip, slightly, filing away this bit of information. Thats a lot of things for a place to be, and it means a lot of people too. But she nods, that she’ll remember this. After all, sometimes she doesn’t want to brave the Brotherhood.
Then her eyes light up, and she pulls her backpack around so she can get into it. It clanks and clatters and heaven knows what’s in there. Except what she pulls out…
It once was a little busted music box, and it could still use a coat of paint, but she opens the lid and it works perfectly, now. “Kids? Gittle Lirls? Maybe one might thike liss…”
She nudges it toward him, shyly, an offering. Payment for the meal in some way, with something she’s really good at. “I thix fings.”
[Keron Bradley] “I’m sure one would. Thanks.”
Sweeping’s done, so after he takes the music box and puts it carefully into his messenger bag, there’s cashing out the drawer and reports run; it’s taken to his coworker, in the back room. Murmuring can be heard for a moment, and when Keron comes back, it’s with keys that lock the front door after he flips the sign to closed.
“You fix big things, too? Or just little ones?”
[Rory] She shrugs a shoulder, slightly. “Sometimes? But mostly thittle lings. Machines. I tike to linker with mechanical stuff.”
She shoves the last bite of the sandwich in her mouth, and tucks the bag of extras into her pack, and points to the coffee machine. “If bat thrakes? I can fix it.” then gestures to the cars outside and shrugs. “Those? not mo such.”
[Keron Bradley] “Well, it’s not that big. One of the radiators at the Mission’s busted,” he says with that charming grin – and he only spot mops, since the floor’s not that bad despite all the slush and muck outside. Someone must have mopped earlier. “Repair guy’s giving us the run-around, is all. And my ‘fixing’ is pretty much limited to duct tape.”
And flashing that smile of his, and speaking in that voice – or singing, because given how well he speaks, he has to sing.
“You about ready? Carlos’ll be done, and then we can go.” And sure enough, there’s a shorter, South American looking guy coming out of the back room, talking into his cell phone. Garbage it is, then, and once Carlos is gone on his own way and Rory and Keron are alone, he says, “I’m kin to Unicorn’s bunch. My mama was Heartsong, Adren Galliard outta Dixie’s Heart.”
Way in the deep south, that, and in the backwoods, too.
[Rory] She grins, confident yet somehow still shy. “I can thix fat.”
He can’t possibly know just why she’s so good at tinkering, no one can. But it’s served her well since leaving Arizona. He gives her a quick full intro once their alone, as she reshoulders her pack, and finishes off her hot chocolate.
“Tongue Twister, Cliath Fianna Mull Foon.”
[Keron Bradley] “Pleased to meet you,” he says, and from there, it’s small talk until they part ways significantly south of where they met, and with her knowing two ways to find him if he’s wanted or needed – which, given how freely he gives, is never a bad thing.
[Keron Bradley] (Bed time! Thanks for playing. =D )
to Rory
[Rory] [ooc: thanks for playing! And she’d actually follow him all the way to the mission to fix the radiator. If you want I can roll it real fast…]
to Keron Bradley
[Keron Bradley] (If you want it so you can claim it for XP purposes or whatever, go ahead. I’m easy. =D )
to Rory
[Rory] [Fixing the radiator: dex+crafts+Mechanical aptitude for – 2 diff… call it a base diff.. 7? So diff five. Need several suxx, can be cumulative – how many you think she needs?]
[Keron Bradley] (Also, there are a lot of people, and the place has an excellent energy, to the point of pushing the zomgbad away from itself. Most people aren’t . . . comfortable? . . . with Ahroun Rage, but can handle it. And Keron’s dad and grandma are also kin.)
to Rory
[Keron Bradley] (Um . . . we’ll call it . . . five. =D )
[Rory] Five it is….
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 7, 7, 7, 7, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 5) Re-rolls: 2
[Rory] OOC: And she fixed the hell outa it. :) One sitting.
[Keron Bradley] (Woot!)
[Rory] [OOC: WhooO! Thanks for playing, and sleep well!]
[Keron Bradley] (Thanks!)