What's a Denny's?

[Riley Poole] Emily doesn't know what a Denny's is, and Riley just grins. "Well, it's kind of like IHOP, only it's more diner food like. You'll see."

She offers to take the three of them in her Honda, which has more than enough space to accomodate two passengers. The inside is relatively clean. Riley stays away from fast food places for the most part, preferring to brown bag her work days and eat at home with her dad. It keeps her healthy, keeps her from getting the traditional gamer/coder/hacker/geek gut. Instead she has a dancer's figure, all tall and willowy and slim. She moves with the grace one might expect from someone who learned how to dance years ago.

And yet, back at the Best Buy, she pulled off that outrageous little victory shuffle.

They get to the nearest Denny's however they will, and pile together into a booth. This time of day is reserved for the elderly, and for truckers, and for the working middle class. Which, to be honest, could be any time of the day, really. Their server gets to them fairly quickly, taking their orders for drinks and then zipping off again to give them time to mull over food. Riley orders coffee and a water.

"So, Emily," Riley says over the breakfast menu, "you said you're on campus. Are you a student?"

[Emily Littleton] So that's what a Denny's is. Sticky tables. Weak coffee. The pervasive scent of something burnt. And menu items like french fries with cheese that could also come with a side of ranch dressing. Emily wasn't quite sure what Americans saw in diner food, save for the rare hangover which needed to be nursed with greasy spoon foods. She rarely drank enough that greasy factored favorably into her culinary choices.

"May I have a lemonade," she asks of the waitress, adding out of habit: "Still, please." Which prompts an odd look, and Emily looks back at the menu, turns it over to the beverages side and frowns gently. "Ah, I mean, as opposed to Sprite or something." There's another little pause, and she ammends. "Nevermind. Just water, please."

The exchange brings a light pinkness to her cheeks, and Emily is looking down at the table still when Riley asks after her education. "Yes," she replies. "EE and CS at Northwestern." A smile. She expects to be in good company at this table.

[Charles Carmichael] Gaming had been fun. It'd been more challenging than he'd expected, challenging enough that he'd cheated and still not come out ahead, though at least he hadn't been as far behind as he might have. He's drained, a bit, but it's in a good way - it's rarely a bad thing to be a bit on the suggestible side when there are two pretty girls involved, he's come to decide. So it's to Denny's by whatever vehicular means necessary, and in to be seated - a comfy booth, not far from the door.

Where, of course, replays of various bits of the game are given in great detail, because - well, why not?

And then, talk turns more serious - or at least to a more 'getting to know you' front, and he lounges back, casual. It's nice to be where he is, just about now, and sure, there's a hint of geekboy awkward? But mostly, he's Chuck, and the same as both girls know him. A bit cocky, a lot goofy. The waitress comes and he orders Mountain Dew; when gas station is better than that served at a restaurant, there's a problem.

"She's working on some interesting stuff," he adds, that done. "And have you seen or heard about their labs? So. amazing."

[Melanie Fairchild] The opening of the door lets in a gust of cold air. It also lets in a tall, slender woman in her late twenties. Her long hair is up in a messy bun that almost but not entirely conceals how long it has been since she has washed it. She is wearing carpenter-style blue jeans with frayed hems that drag on the ground behind the heels of her sneakers. She is also wearing a fitted black thermal shirt and a heavy camel-colored wool coat. She carries an Army-style duffel bag over her shoulder.

The cold lingers when she walks inside of this Denny's. It clings to her like an aura. It reminds those inside of what a lakeside ice storm is like. She stops just inside the door, looks around, and then someone in an apron leads her to the booth beside Charles, Emily, and Riley. Her back is to Charles and Emily.

"Coffee, please," she says to the waitress who comes by.

[Emily Littleton] Emily looks up when the door swings open, and then away again when it swings shut to block out the cold. Save that the cold does not stay outside anymore when the door closes again, and she rubs idly at upper arms to warm them up against the pervasive chill that clings to the woman in the booth behind them. She hasn't pin-pointed the source, yet, or recognized that it is not necessarily a physical cold. Only that it teases the hairs on her arms to stand up... and it bothers her.

When the waitress comes by again, Emily asks for hot tea. She tries not to turn her nose up at the selection of tea bags (sacrilege!) or the offer of non-dairy creamers for her cup.

"You haven't even seen our lab," she says, incredulously to Chuck, and pushes him a little -- playfully. "It sounds much better in stories," she adds, looking back over to Riley with an earnest expression.

[Riley Poole] If she'd known Chuck was going to offer to pay, Riley would have picked someplace a little more upscale. Like TGI Friday's, or even one of those fancypants places on the Mile. As it is, post-pwnage the tall brunette usually has a hankering for some eggs and sausage. Sure, the eggs wll probably be a little dry, and the sausage a little overcooked, and the coffee will not be supercharged, but victory food is victory food, and this is what Riley was craving when she trounced Chuck.

She looks up when the newcomer enters, bringing with her the chill of the outdoors. Riley has lived in Illinois all of her life, however, has never strayed very far from the lake, so cold really has little effect on her. She doesn't notice anything out of the ordinary about the woman, anyway, and probably wouldn't understand it if she did notice something strange.

"Oh, yeah? I've heard about them, actually. Even did a little tour not all that long ago. What kind of stuff do you work on there?"

[Charles Carmichael] "I read the journals," he says - which may well take on a different meaning, knowing what Emily does. He doesn't have to read the journals to see the occasional picture of a computer lab, or the engineering lab, or . . . well, anything he wants, really. Emily shivers when the door opens, rubs her upper arms, and Chuck maneuvers his hoodie out from behind him to offer it her way. He hasn't noticed anything about this cold, though he does note that the tea bags are not ideal any more than the coffee is.

But, he's a bachelor who lives on coffee, beer and hot dogs. (Or sets kitchens on fire on occasion, if he tries for something more.)

"And it sounds . . . superlative in stories. I'd love to get in there, see what the rigs are running and where they need to be beefed up. I mean, I'm sure their security's alright, but . . ." A hand comes to make the seesawing, weighing motion between them. "I mean, even my school's systems needed some help. And in the departments I was in, that's just bad. You don't let a bunch of hacker geeks be in your tubez if they're not as protected as much as you can get them."

[Emily Littleton] She had a jacket, but that was a little too bulky for the booth, so Emily took Chuck's hoodie with a Cheers and slid her arms into it. She didn't pull it over her head, though, because wearing other people's clothes was... odd. And it probably smelled like him, which might get... distracting.

She explained their research in technical, but very abbreviated terms, and was carefully not to take any credit for it. They shared space with an automation group, and were also working on miniaturization (microdization, really) of common components and the strange physics that happened when tiny, tiny things moved very, very fast with critical data on the line.

"You should come by sometime, then," Emily said, when Chuck lusted after lab access. "I can't let you in the server farm or anything, but you can see the workspace. Play with an oscilliscope if you really miss them," she teased, lightly. "You too," she offered to Riley. "If you want to. And there's posters all over the hallway, if you're curious about other groups' work."

There's a little pause, and then she looks warning at Chuck. "You may not hack the network, however," she cautions, raising one finger warningly between them. It was not a challenge, but it was a very clear line-in-the-sand distinction. He did what he did, and she did what she did, and he really shouldn't push that boundary just yet.

[Melanie Fairchild] Nothing that the people at the other table are discussing is interesting to the woman beside them. Their conversation goes in one ear and out the other. Her waitress brings her coffee, which she drinks black. That is, until she realizes that it tastes horrible. Melanie chokes down the first swallow, then sets her cup down and twists in her seat.

"Excuse me," she says, to one of the three at the next booth.

[Emily Littleton] Emily turns a little in her seat, so that she can look over the booth divider to Melanie. The girl is in her early twenties with dark curls divided into two low pigtails, and deeply blue eyes. Her accent is from far flung places, riddled through with inconsistencies, but predominantly British under it all.

"Yes?" Emily asks, in reply. It's politely said, and there's a nice little smile along with it, but she seems just a little guarded.

[Melanie Fairchild] Her eyes are ice blue, cold and clear. They fix on Emily's with more interest than fear or wariness. They are distant, though, always holding something back. "Diner gnomes have absconded with my sugar, the necessary ingredient to neutralize the poison that is this coffee. You could save my life. I haven't the impulse control to just not drink it."

[Emily Littleton] "We must do something about this then," Emily says, with a broadening smile. "Do you wish sugar, in its raw form, or processed and snowy white, or calorie-less and tasteless, or an assortment of all of the above?" she enquired, collecting an assortment of the colored packets -- which now came in brown, white, pink, blue and yellow -- and a couple non-dairy creamers just in case the sweetners wanted for company. These she held over the divide to the Other woman. "A care package, then. For you."

[Riley Poole] Riley watches the interplay between Chuck and Emily, nodding here and there but otherwise offering little comment. Emily brandishes a finger at Chuck, telling him in no uncertain terms that he's not allowed to hack into her system. An offer is made for Riley to enter the sanctuary of the comp sci room, minus the warning of hacking.

And here sits Riley, in a black button down service shirt with HACKER embroidered just above her left breast. She smiles warmly at Emily's offer. "Alright, sounds like a plan."

The woman in the booth behind them pleas for help. While Emily is distracted, Riley turns her attention to Chuck.

"So are you guys going out?"

[Melanie Fairchild] The other woman, still twisted around on the bench of her booth seat, puts her fingertips to her cheek. "Oh, my," she feigns, "the choices."

But then Emily hands her an assortment, which she takes in both hands cupped together. "Thank you, thank you, god bless you."

It is all wry. She turns back around and dumps everything Emily gave her on the tabletop, sorting them into tidy stacks. Then, she picks up the unbleached packets of raw sugar and begins ripping them open to pour them into her coffee. Her poison.

[Charles Carmichael] Are you going out? Oh, look, there's someone asking for sugar! Quick, Chuck!

"You know, if you take the sugar away from its home, it'll just get morose and maudlin. You may as well bring your coffee and join us so it can be happy in its home, don't you think? I'm Chuck," he says, all geekboy grin, and a narrowly dodged bullet. Maybe. It's given him a moment to think about his answer, anyway, which is probably a good thing - because goodness knows, things don't always go well when he blurts out the first thing that enters his head. They usually don't, in fact.

"We just met yesterday, and had a Chinese New Year's dinner and played some games. So we're just getting to know each other still," he says with a shrug. The only reason Emily and Chuck seem closer than Chuck and Riley are (or . . . do?) is because of the professionalism between the latter pair.

[Emily Littleton] Emily is distracted, or pretends to be, so she can avoid Riley's rather pointed question. Besides, it was directed at Chuck, who was more than capabale of fielding it (wasn't he?). So when she turns back around, there's a mild look of confusion -- because she's lost her place in the conversation -- and not anything more to her expression.

"So what is safe to eat here?" she asks them, as if she expected most of the menu to get up off her plate and wander away once delivered. Emily flipped through the menu again, looking at what passed for a salad here with some dismay.

Topic, avoided. New person, invited. Oh yes, they were moving right along quite nicely.

[Melanie Fairchild] The woman in the booth next to theirs glances over her shoulder at Chuck. He is inviting her to sit with them, so she looks over Emily and Riley, lifting an eyebrow.

[Emily Littleton] Emily's game for an addition, which she signals with a smile when Melanie makes eye contact.

[Riley Poole] Riley asks if Chuck and Emily are going out, and Chuck instead turns to help with the stranger in the other booth. Makes adorable quips and invites the stranger to sit with them. With Riley, in fact, as it's her side of the booth that has the most space currently.

It's all the answer she needs really, to come to her own conclusions. A slow smile spreads across her face. Either they're going out, or they will be going out, or they wan to be going out.

"Oh, really?" she asks, all sly cheeky grin and narrowed eyes. The woman at the other booth seems to be waiting for a unanimous vote before coming over. So far she's got two out of the three. Riley grins at her, and waves her over. "Riley," she says by way of introduction. "C'mon over, I don't bite."

[Melanie Fairchild] The agreement of Riley and Emily seals the deal. She slides to the edge of her seat, leaving the stacks of sweeteners and creamers where they are. She picks up her coffee cup and walks around to the other table, setting it down again. She waits for Riley to scoot over, then sits beside her.

Her cold eyes wander from face to face. She nods once to Riley. "Mel."

[Emily Littleton] "Emily," she said, completing the names all around game. Emily wrapped her fingers around her tea mug and pulled it closer to her. The liquid inside was an unsatisfying shade of brown, despite her having used two tea bags, and it was unpalatably ... brisk. Lipton. But it was better than the coffee, by all accounts, so she kept her complaints to herself and sipped gingerly at the tepid substance.

Later, she would make proper tea at home or in the lab. And it would be good.


"Nice to meet you," she adds, setting her mug back down on the table with a little rasp. Emily avoids looking over at Riley, who is all sly-smug and cheeky. Mostly. And whe she does look over, her mouth sets wryly for a moment as well. But she doesn't answer the question, either, or look over at Chuck to see how many shades of crimson he might have turned.

[Charles Carmichael] Chuck's taking up more of his side of the booth than is strictly necessary - he could have scooted over, which means Emily could have scooted over, which means . . . that there would be three people on this side of the bench, to one on Riley's side. Chuck's friendly, wouldn't have minded, but it would have looked rather silly.

Regardless, Riley makes conclusions and Chuck carefully doesn't pay attention to what they are (or think about whether or not they might be correct); he may well be the oldest person at the table (if only by a little), but that doesn't mean he's the best at dealing with this sort of conversation. Hell if he knows what's going on, but he does know his track history. He's in no hurry about this sort of thing, and if it happens? That's fine. But it won't be because he was going out of his way looking for it to do so.

"Really," he says, all (truly) innocent - not in the pure, virginal way, but in the completely honest way. Chuck doesn't often lie. "What about you? Got a someone, somewhere, that I don't know about yet? And, nice to meet you, Mel. Don't mind the odd conversation - Riley and I work together. And we just got out of a TF2 tournament."

[Melanie Fairchild] "I haven't the faintest notion what you're talking about," Mel says, and waves her hand in the air.

She drinks her coffee, now loaded with sugar. She gives a nod to Emily as she introduces herself, then sets her mug down. "Now, say, I'm curious, too. Are you fucking her?" she asks, waving that same hand at Emily. "She's delicious."

[Emily Littleton] (( ..... Pardon? WP check ))
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 4, 4, 5, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Riley Poole] What about you?

Riley opens her mouth to answer that with whatever it is she has to offer the table, when their new friend whips out that comment about fucking, coupled with a comment on Emily's deliciousness.

The brunette at her side's brows rise, and she turns to look at the woman. "Hey, now, play nice or we'll form a comittee to exile you from the table," she says, grinning with an edge.

[Melanie Fairchild] Slowly, Mel turns her head to pin Riley with a stare. She raises one eyebrow. "I was not, actually, asking you. If anyone has leave to be offended, it's Emily." She says her name as though she has known her longer than she has. "So sheath your claws, kitty."

[Emily Littleton] Her cup was almost down on the table when Mel just out and asked it. She almost knocked over her tea in her surprise. Emily coughed a little, choking on the tea as it went down, and then brought her hand up to her chest. She pinked, somewhat, but didn't let it go further than that little show of embarassment.

Perhaps the accent hadn't given it away quite yet, but Emily was a little... less comfortable with the American sense of boundaries (or lack there of) in social situations.

"You apparently speak you mind, freely," she said, when she'd found her sense of humor again. And there was a lightness to her tone, if not her eyes. Emily tentatively brought her mug back toward her, let her fingers toy with the edge of it. "It's... refreshing." Again, subtly disapproving.

Then it becomes about Riley, and the amusement fades away a little. "Um... moving on then, yes? How long have you been in Chicago?" she asks Melanie, casting a little look (help) to Chuck. Perhaps he can geekboy savvy his way out of this one before anyone gets unnecessarily... what was the phrase? pwnd.

[Riley Poole] [WP]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 5, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Riley Poole] "No, not moving on," Riley says, her tone hard as she meets that stare. "Moving out. You can move along, miss." She lifts her hand in a shooing motion to the woman seated at her side.

[Melanie Fairchild] She is turning towards Emily now, far more of interest to her than the cute hacker she is sitting next to. Melanie leans on the table, picking up her mug to take a small sip. She sets it down again, catching Emily's disapproval. The corner of her pearly-pink lips curves up a bit. "That I do," she says, as far as speaking her mind freely goes.

"And I've been in Chicago something like half an hour. I'm not entirely sure when we passed the city limits." She glances over at Riley. Looks from her eyes to her shooing hands.

Laughs.

[Riley Poole] [WP, diff +1, (and oops, forgot she only has 5WP *L*]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 4, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 7)

[Riley Poole] The woman laughs, and Riley frowns. She's pushing buttons here.

"Maybe you didn't hear me, lady. I said get the fuck out of this booth."

[Charles Carmichael] ".........."

Why yes, that's a blush. It's not the first that either Riley or Emily has seen grace Chuck's features, but it's certainly the most impressive. He's chill, a laid back slacker, but there are limits; if it stops him from answering quickly (even if that answer isn't necessarily snappy or funny), Riley at least knows that it's surprised him, indeed. Chuck has an answer for everything, even if it's stammering geek-ese. He never just stares, wide-eyed, as if he's not sure what, exactly, just happened.

Emily is choking, briefly, on her tea and it's automatic, the patting [reassurance, comfort, help], and Chuck's wondering when he stepped out of his usual reality and into Zone 348x9, where strangers ask each other such questions.

"I'm . . . gonna pretend that didn't get asked, I think. If that's okay with everyone? But . . . I think you probably don't want to piss off Riley. Or Em, for that matter."

He should be firmer. Should take control. And if they were all ones and zeroes or lines of some other code on his screen, maybe he would. People . . . freak Chuck out sometimes.

[Melanie Fairchild] "Why?"

It is a simple question, consdering how intense Riley has gotten. Mel is amused by Emily's disapproval. She is amused by Chuck's blush. As for Riley, though, Mel seems more curious. She tips her head to the side, observing the other woman with heartless analysis, as though she does not see her as human right now.

"As I said, if anyone has any right to be offended, it's Emily. She and her friend, Chuck was it?" Mel turns to look at him, lifting her eyebrows with amusement again as he warns her against upsetting Riley, when it is far too late. She looks back at Riley. "Well, they seem content to just move on, question unanswered, compliment unacknowledged. You, though,"

she leans in, grinning, and taps Riley's lips with a fingertip.

"You want to get into it. Why is that? What button of yours am I pushing so hard? Over. And over. And over again? I could find a better one, I'll bet."

[Emily Littleton] The situation at the table was escalating, quickly. Emily's hand dipped below the plane of the table, came to rest on Chuck's thigh. It was a simply, nonverbal way to communicate the tension she was feeling. Because things in this city had an alarming propensity to go BOOM! at a moment's notice.

"Half an hour," Emily repeats, trying to keep her voice level and friendly. She's good at it, the grace under pressure thing, so long as it involves lying in one vein or another. "I'd offer you some advice, but you're not the taking type I see. But Riley's got a competitive streak you may not want to dance with? And she works with Chuck, so maybe she takes offense by transference..."

The transitive property of what's your problem. Yeah. That's what was at work here.

"Maybe we could all try being nice. That is, unless you want to end up wearing someone's beverage... because it could go there very, very quickly -- or so American after school specials have taught me -- and that is quite a nice coat."

[Jonathan Kincade] Jonathan had called Riley earlier in the day, seeing if his apprentice had work or other plans. Apparently he had wanted to try and introduce her to some other Magi in the city. But the offer was politely declined apparently she had just had a gaming session and was off to grab some food. An invitation for him to catch up with her there if he was interested.

So here was outside Denny's ... man he hadn't been into a place like this for so long. Pushing the doors open as he headed inside as he began surveying the crowd looking for Riley.

[Riley Poole] Riley just stares at her. Her glances flicks to Emily and Chuck for an instant, then back to the strange blonde woman sitting beside her.

"You seem to think it's alright to walk up to perfect strangers and ask questions that are so not you're business, and then you act like it's your right. Like no one else has room to be offended by your tone. But alright. Chuck and Emily want to stick it out and find the soft candy-coated center beneath the bitchy exterior, that's cool. But, I don't have to stick around for it."

She's reaching for her jacket and the messenger bag tucked behind her legs. She's pinned in the booth by the stranger, but if the woman refuses to move to allowe her to exit, Riley has no problems whatsover with climbing over the back of the bench for freedom.

[Melanie Fairchild] "Did you know... that 'nice' used to mean 'precise', and had little if anything to do with kindness or politeness?" Melanie muses aloud, since she keeps hearing that word. She chuckles, and even that sounds cold. Riley goes off, and she laughs again. "Good lord, you know all about me, don't you?" She catches the girl's arm lightly. "You, sweetheart, are assigning to me characteristics and attitudes with only the sparest evidence, based entirely on your own view of reality. Bluntness is bitchiness. Sex is private. Being unswayed by the discomfort of perfect strangers, well, that's pride and arrogance, isn't it?"

Her grip releases, never all that tight. "If you ever do want to dance, lovey, I'm a trifle competitive, myself. I'll see you around." She does not get out of the booth to let Riley go, but she does lean back so that the other woman has more room to leave.

[Riley Poole] [giiiiiirl you don't get to touch me!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 5, 6, 7, 8 (Failure at target 8)

[Emily Littleton] ((WP check, again!))
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 5, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Charles Carmichael] [everyone else is doing it!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 7, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Riley Poole] The woman grabs her arm, and that's as far she gets. Riley all but hisses like a cat. Melanie doesn't get to the rest of her speech.

"Don't you touch me!"

It's a tight fit in the booth. That doesn't stop Riley from twisting around, and cocking her right arm in an attempt to punch the woman who has unwisely decided to put a hand on the already obviously pissed off woman.

[inits?]

[Charles Carmichael] [inits, cos Chuck's gonna risk 'dox twice in one day, go him! +6]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8

[Melanie Fairchild] ((initiative, +7))
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] ((init + 6))
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 7

[Riley Poole] [aight, let's do this! +7]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8

[Charles Carmichael] Riley: 15
Chuck/Mel: 14 (Mel higher base)
Em: 13

Declare in reverse!

(Yes.)

[Emily Littleton] (Declare: Stay out of the way!)

[Charles Carmichael] [Mind 2, calm the fuck DOWN]

[Melanie Fairchild] ((splitting actions to block, then grapple. she's going to try and grab riley's arm so she can't punch again.))

[Riley Poole] [Riley lifts her arm to strike, but at the last changes her mind. She hasn't completely lost her shit, but she is very, very close.
1a: Shove!]

[Melanie Fairchild] ((changing action to dodge, then. no split.))

[Jonathan Kincade] Jonathan continues to search the restaurant. His eyes are drawn over to one of the booths, where a loud disturbance is erupting. His eyes focus and he makes the face of Riley his apprentice, being pinned against the wall by an unknown blonde. Was that Emily on the other side of the table?

He frowns as he heads in their direction, wondering what the hell is going on and who this blonde woman is.

[Riley Poole] [shove! dex + brawl (ha ha where are my Werewolf pools?)]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Melanie Fairchild] ((dodge))
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 7, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[stain] [Melanie dodges the shove!]

[Charles Carmichael] [There's an app for that! Mind 2 rote, vulgar w/witness, -1 unique foci (blackberry), +1 fastcasting]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 3, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6) [WP]

[stain] [Paradox!] [B]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 4, 6, 7, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Charles Carmichael] (Soak)
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 8 (Failure at target 6)

[stain] [Chuck is Stunned and has picked up 3B but is now Paradox-free!]

[Riley Poole] Riley is angry. This woman who was invited to their table in good faith, who has repeatedly irked and poked and prodded at the woman's temper, has made the mistake of grabbing her arm. It sets Riley over the edge. She reaches up to punch, but changes her mind. She meant what she said. If Chuck and Emily want to stick around and play nice with someone Riley finds offensive, that's fine with her. Riley doesn't have to sit around for it, however.

So she tries to shove the obstacle from the booth so she can leave. It makes perfect sense, really, in the way things make perfect sense when you're so angry you're barely able to think straight.

The woman dodges, and suddenly

Riley is calm. Her anger ebbs away like the tide, still there, still threatening to crash against the shore.

She regards the woman coolly. "Fine. If you're not going to let me out," she starts, and stops, finishing the sentence with actions. She climbs onto the bench and over the back of the booth. Whether the woman finally decides to let Riley out or not. When she's freed, Riley turns back, flipping errant waves of brown from her brow. "Chuck, I'll see you at work tomorrow."

[Charles Carmichael] Chuck . . . suddenly looks like something hit him. And it did, in a metaphysical sort of way - the proverbial rubber band snapped back. And this means ouchies for the Virtual Adept, who winces next to Emily. Who may well think it's because of the fingers digging into his thigh - but it's not. No, no.

"You're, uh . . . you're our ride. And," his breath isn't coming as easily as it should. "We should probably go, too. If you're alright with that, Em?"

His face is pale, tending towards gray, and when his hands appear above the table again, they're badly bruised - as if he'd been the one punching, and he'd hit something that didn't give. That hurt him quite possibly worse than he hurt it.

"I . . . have a headache. Should get home."

[Melanie Fairchild] When Mel grabbed Riley's arm, it was a light enough grasp that even a weaker woman would have had no trouble getting out. It was meant to delay her a moment, to say one last thing before letting her go, and Riley snapped.

Those hands that had shooed at her try to shove her out of the way, and Melanie rolls her eyes. She sighs with exasperation, and twists her body out of the way.

"I never tried to make you stay," she says, though she does not get up out of her seat. Riley leaves, and Mel turns to Chuck and Emily. She peers at Chuck, in particular, glancing at his hands.

((perception + awareness))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 4, 5, 10 (Failure at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] Emily blanched when the newcomer reached out and grabbed Riley, however lightly. The hand on Chuck's leg tightened noticeably and her body went taut. She said nothing, but her attention was glued to the interaction, and her expression was anything but pleasant.

Then Riley erupted and there was a flurry of action, followed by a preternatural calm. Emily was holding her breath, and her lungs screamed for her to breathe easily. Wide-eyed and flustered, Emily watched Riley climb over the booth. She nudged Chuck gently (I want out [now]), trying to get him to move out of the booth, out of her way.

But his voice is thin (pained), and his coloring pale and almost ashen. There is immediate concern (panic [worry]) in the young Orphan's features.

"Yeah," she says, quickly, then corrects it to: "Um, yes." A pause, her features pinch with worry. "Are you sure you're okay to...." She's trying to help, but she gasps a little when she sees his hands. "Oh..." She stopped herself from reaching out to touch. "I... you... you should see a doctor."

She was too new to really know what this meant, but Emily had her suspicions. And the bruising was deep enough, even she could tell that, to be worried.

For this moment, Mel was entirely ignored. Emily had more immediate concerns, and was not okay in her own right.

[Jonathan Kincade] Jon is approaching the table when his eyebrow raises and watches as Riley climbs out of the booth. Watching her with a concerned expression, as approaches "Hey Riley...." he whispers to her quietly, trying to get her attention without startling her.

"Everything okay? Seems like you want to get out of here?" he asks when he has her attention.

[Riley Poole] Riley stops when Chuck calls out to her, stops and turns back. Melanie is pointedly ignored. She doesn't know how it is that she's so calm so suddenly. Riley isn't so young that she's still trying to figure herself out, trying to see what it is that makes her tick. She knows she has a temper. It's why she's usually so happy go lucky, so carefree. She knows she should still be wanting to strangle Mel.

But she doesn't want to. She frowns at Chuck, moves back to the table to put her hand on his shoulder. She looks at Jon, startled, momentarily having forgotten the phone call on the way over to the Denny's.

"I do. We should get Chuck to a doctor. C'mon, Carmichael, how're we supposed to have a rematch with your hands like that?"

[Charles Carmichael] "Riley. You good?" Chuck's getting up, ginger about how much pressure he puts on his hands, and reaffixing his Blackberry to its holster on his belt; then he's putting down more than enough to cover their beverages and a tip, as they hadn't gotten to actually ordering food yet. Better to not have the Denny's denizens any more pissed than necessary. "We'll catch a cab, if you need to talk to this guy."

He'd be more conscientious, normally, but he's a bit distracted - perhaps understandably so.

But then she's over him, and he manages a smile, wry. "Might just have to get in a couple weeks of extra practice, Poole. You'll need it." And he's not turning down a ride - having to talk to a nosy cabbie is not high on his list of enjoyable activities at the moment.

[Melanie Fairchild] The only person in this Denny's who has not gotten upset or uncomfortable at some point seems to be the instigator of all the trouble. She sits on 'her' side of the booth as Riley climbs out, picking up her coffee. She sips, while the people who know one another better prepare to leave.

"Don't forget to pay your check," she says to Chuck and Emily as they start to head out, ignoring her or not. "I'd hate to get stuck with your tab."

[Melanie Fairchild] ((oops. she wouldn't say that if chuck was laying down money.))

[Emily Littleton] Emily slides out of the booth all but silently, to follow along with the V-depts as they make their way out of the Denny's, an establishment she likely will not frequent in the future. Chuck inadvertantly gives away of their three last names, and Emily... doesn't add hers in for the complete set.

"If Riley needs to stay, I'll go with you," she offered. Emily's voice is smaller, controlled, but stable. She is outwardly calm, if rigid. "I can cover cab fare, no worries."

She offers Jon a small smile. A nod of recognition. They always seemed to run into each other at awkward or distressing moments. Emily was better, now, then the time he'd seen her at the house. But that wasn't saying much.

[Emily Littleton] (edit: Gives away *two of their three last names)

[Jonathan Kincade] Jon just waits there patiently for this Carmichael guy and Riley to get themselves ready. Heading back out to the carwhen they leave. A small wave to Emily before they do so.

[Charles Carmichael] And so Chuck, Em, Riley, and Jon go. Chuck manages a smile, friendly and strained, for the other man. "Hey, I'm Chuck. Work with Riley. Sorry I'm not more social, my head's killing me."

And into Riley's car they all go - back to Best Buy and Chuck and Emily's cars, or to a doctor if Riley and Emily insist. Chuck's not arguing, right this moment.

[Riley Poole] Emily offers to take Chuck via cab, and Jon is right there, offering Riley a chance to go somewhere, anywhere, without being angry behind the wheel.

They all head out together, leaving the stranger alone. She has Riley's and Chuck's full names if she wants them, but not much else to go on if she wants to find them. Not that it likely matters to a mage. Riley shakes her head. "Don't worry about cabfare. Can you drive?" she asks of Emily. When given confirmation that she can, Riley pulls her keys from her jacket pocket and hands them over. "If you can, just leave it at the Best Buy. The guys inside'll hold my keys for me."

She's starting to feel the calm wearing off around the edges, so all she offers Chuck is a reassuring grin. "I'll be fine. I'll see you at work tomorrow. And you'd better show!" she calls over her shoulder as she heads over to Jon's car.

[Melanie Fairchild] The woman at the table goes on drinking her coffee, unaware of how Chuck's hands got so bruised. She has no idea what the lot of them are, and it does not seem like she cares one way or another if they leave or if they stick around. They leave, though, while she warms herself up. She still has her duffel bag at her feet, sugar in her poison.

When they get towards the door, though, she looks over at them, grinning to herself.

[Emily Littleton] "Yes, I can," she says, and takes the proferred keys. Chuck is, whether he likes it or not, going to get some medical attention. And Emily can, most likely, cover up whatever really happened with a pleasant lie and the obvious concern she has for him.

Of all of them, though, Emily pauses at the doorway and looks back toward the table. It's possible that Chuck or Riley notice the odd look she's giving Melanie -- thoughtful, curious, and perplexed. It lasts a minute, and then the actual cold overtakes the implied chill of the other mage's aura, and Emily is once again focused on the task at hand. Curious, still, but focused.