A favor

[Emily Littleton] Emily has not been to the Chantry since the large all-hands meeting a few weeks hence. She is trepidatious, as always, of the house, but that fear is receding fairly quickly in the wake of current events. She approaches the house in her usual attire -- jeans and a sweater, with the winter coat wrapped around her for more warmth. The fleeting flirtation with Spring and summery hemlines having passed now that Winter's Grasp is reaffirmed.

Her messenger bag comes with, of course, slung shoulder-to-hip and moving with her as if it were part of being. She is seldom without it, mid-term, so it's a thoughtless thing as she wraps her hands around the strap and walks up to the Chantry door.

A knock. A second. And then she waits.

[Wharil Choc] It'd been some time since Wharil's number flashed on Emily's phone. Understandably he'd been busy. Emily knew about the danger he'd been involved in at the beginning of the year, and it only made sense that cleaning up after something like that would take quite a bit of time. But now, here he was. Ring-a-ding-dinging on her phone.

"Emily, its Wharil." He'd say in a tired sounding voice. "I have a favor to ask you. Can we meet? Here at the...the house." Perhaps, by now, he simply assumed she'd klnow which house he was talking about.

The man who answers the door was Wharil, in face and body for sure. But had Emily ever seen him like this? In jeans and a t-shirt with the letters P-T-I in faded block letters? It was a little hard to think of him without the dark coat and white dress shirt. Fairly difficult to conceptualize Wharil Choc sitting on a couch watching television or reading all day.

"Hey, come on in. Um...we can meet in the living room."

The living room. It would be ironic. If he hadn't gotten rid of the evidence. And if it were slightly less horrifyig a thought.

[Emily Littleton] Wharil was an active presence in Emily's mind, insomuchas she could not imagine him being idly anything. Even waiting on something seemed to be an activity when she thought on Wharil. And when she thought on Wharil, Emily was fairly sheepishly reminded that their last tete-a-tete had ended in harsh words and her temper's flare.

When he rang, she answered the phone promptly. Emily either had no reason or insufficient Will to hide the weariness in her voice as they spoke. She was quietly worn, wearied, but unwilling to let it stop her from complying with his request. The Apprentice came when called; that much could be said for her.

"Hello, Wharil," she said, when he opened the door. Her smile was warmer, settled in some ways he might not remember. And yes, she seemed tired. Not overtly so, but it was hidden in the subtly carefulness about the way she moved and the expressions she wore.

Emily shrugged out of her coat as they moved into the living room, which was decorated in something less horrible than gore and bloodspatter (she hoped) and barely flinched at the memory. "I hope you are well," she added, as they found a place to sit and talk.

[Wharil Choc] "I've been trying to take it easy. Pulling back from all the excitement for a bit."

That might explain the relaxed clothes. Wharil accompanies her over to the couch and holds a hand out, indicating she should take a seat. As he does so, a flash of tape and gauze reveals itself on his shoulder, under the shirt sleeve.

"How about you? It feels like its been forever. Everything alright with you?"

[Emily Littleton] There's a subtle knitting to her brow, and a tightening of the lines around her mouth and eyes when she catches a glimpse of medical tape beneath his shirt. Emily's lips part a little, as if she is going to say or ask something, but then close as she thinks the better of it. The worry in her eyes is tabled, for now, kept close to breast (not close enough to fool Wharil [but close enough to fool most everyone else]).

"Now that's a question," she says lightly, twisting the words almost wryly as she takes her place. Folds her jacket over her lap. Sets the messenger bag down beside her feet. Emily's body language is open to him; she is more accessible than usual. More friendly. (Things have changed.)

"I'm well enough, for now. Is it fair to leave it at that until we've covered what you had in mind when you rang?" She's not quite sidestepping, as there's the offer to return to the tabled question later. But Emily implies there's enough in her own life to derail them, and perhaps Wharil has assumed as such. It's a bit overwhelming for all of them, the past few months.

[Wharil Choc] Ah, there it is. The classic Wharil Choc smile. You can almost feel the warmth radiating from it. The draft from the window behind her seems to cancel it out, sadly.

"Alright." he says, amused. "Alright, fair enough. I'll get to the point then. Do you remember that time I mentioned Henrietta Bean?"

[Emily Littleton] "Yes," Emily said, clearly and without hesitation, because the recognition came quickly. Bean was memorable. "I think I've met her once or twice, in passing. She..."

A pause, an almost twitchingly unamused flicker of expression crosses Emily's face.

"Wharil, I think she turned a doorlock into chocolate? Somehow."

[Wharil Choc] "Yeah." He says, matter-of-factly. "Yeah, that sounds about right. Well, she's in trouble."

He blinks at himself, as if surprised by his own words.

"No, that's...that's too alarmist. She's not in any direct danger...No, that's not exactly true either."

He sighs, touching a hand to his forehead as he thinks and begins again.

"Henri has this...thing on her person. Its some kind of living matter. Not living, actually. But self aware. And, in general Henri's a bit reckless. I'm worried something might happen to her. Either from the thing or...wherever it originated from.

"I mean, I have some idea of what she's thinking but. It really is fascinating when you think about it. But, I couldn't have it in the house. If it got loose...We tried to contain it, Ashley and I. Lets just say it wasn't worth the trouble. If it ever wants anything, I don't know of a way to stop it."

[Emily Littleton] She listens, intently. Hands folded in her lap, until he gets to the living matter part. Then she shifts, rests one elbow on the back of the couch, leans her head into her hand. Chews on the corner of her lip. Emily is thinking, deeply, about what Wharil has said.

"So, I'll admit I'm intrigued," is the first thing she says. And clearly, she has to be. Emily is an engineer, a maker of things at heart, and the implications are astounding (if also terrifying). Self-aware and arguably inanimate (in the strictest sense) was even more curious.

"But if you and Ashley couldn't constrain it, what might I do to help?"

[Wharil Choc] "I wanted to ask you to talk to Henri. I don't know how but she's got some kind of rapport with this thing. She's...I think she's been communicating with it. I'd like to ask it a few questions personally. Find out where it came from. What's its purpose. But Henri and i aren't exactly on speaking terms. You've got a background in the physical sciences. The two of you can relate. And...you can temper it all with a bit of philosophy."

He wasn't quite smiling anymore. His face was pleasant, but pleading. Plaintive, even.

"More than anything right now, I think Henri Bean needs a friend. And perhaps a voice of reason."

[Emily Littleton] She watched him, carefully, with those darkly blue (searching [soulful]) eyes and that keenly attentive expression. She studied him, perhaps not in a way that was entirely comfortable, but also not in a way that was entirely rude. And then Emily smiled, gently. Warmly.

"I'll try," she said. "I don't know how similar we two are, beyond academic pursuits, but I'll talk with her if I can. And I'll let you know what I find out about this substance." Emily doesn't extended sentience or self-direction to it, not just yet.

"Though I am far more likely to believe it is remotely directed than self-directed until proven otherwise." Ah, yes, the skeptic. That was, most likely, a good portion of why Emily had taken so long to Wake Up. "Is there a chance, with everything going on right now, that it's someone else's tool rather than a nascent moral quandry?"

[Wharil Choc] "Like I said, I know too little about it." He shifts slightly in his seat, looking over Emily's shoulder, to the window beyond.

"See that window? Something came through that window yesterday. It was in the shape of a bug, but it was made of the same substance. It ate through the glass and, unknown to us, the sample that Bean had was trying to make its way to it. The larger one absorbed the smaller, and after that it seemed...I don't know. More evolved? That's around the time it started communicating.

"Ashley tells me it has something to do with a toxic spill a few days ago. She mentioned something about a Chimera, but...I can't really make sense of it. If that is the case though, then I have to assume someone's going to be looking for it.

"Also, Emily. When you find Bean it might be better if you didn't tell her I was the one who sent you. Lets just keep that between us."

[Emily Littleton] Emily glanced over her shoulder, taking in the window and the newly bored hole in it. When she looked back to Wharil, her expression was less warm and friendly. It was pensive, thoughtful (displeased).

There was a lot to take in here, so she broke it down into smaller pieces.

"A Chimera is a blend of substances or species, retaining properties of the original entities. They're common in mythology -- like the Sphinx -- but the word has recently seen a resurgence and rebranding in the scientific community. It's particularly popular in biology at present..."

Of course, Emily was part of the sciences department, she would be able to put that word in better context. Though saying that much at all made the Orphan's mouth purse. She sat up a bit straighter (alert [Aware]).

"Wharil..." very calmly. "Did this goop come from the spill site?" Emily knows something, and it's fueling the rather (in)tense concern in her eyes just now. Their two lines of inquiry were converging, disastrously.

[Wharil Choc] "That's what Ashley believes, yes. I'd have asked Henri, but she didn't stick around long enough to--What's the matter?"

His plaintive look has eroded into a cautious sort of curiosity.

"You know something about this, don't you?"

[Emily Littleton] "Yesss..." she said, cautiously, drawing that syllable out longer than necessary. They were both cautious. This was a good thing.

"I TA Intro to Physics," there, that was out of the way. Hopefully Wharil wouldn't give her the but you're a Junior look, too. "One of my students was injured in the spill. Her name's Kate."

Wharil, she trusts. Wharil gets the girl's first name, which is enough to find out more. Nathan? Not so much. Chuck? Not while Nathan's around.

"She's signed an NDA, so everything I know is strictly off the record, and honestly? Wharil, she could get in a lot of trouble, or very hurt for what she told me. Chuck is gathering up all the information we have; we talked with Nathan last night, too."

No pause, just concise reporting from here on out. Emily is surprisingly good at this, considering how freaked out and unintelligble she usually is about crises in his presence.

"The chemical company, Blue Horizon, is linked to a collective of other corporations through a parent firm, Barnes-Leibowicz United Engineering. Among these subsidiaries are Blue Sun, a medical research or biomedical group, and companies with foci in waste & water handling, militial applications, etc. Though the spill was reported as a hydrochloric acid spill, Kate's injuries are not consistent with that -- deep lacerations, broken bones -- and when I scanned her I found an inorganic substance helping to heal or reknit them, almost in symbiosis with her own pattern."

Here she takes a little breath. Then pauses for Wharil to comment.

[Wharil Choc] He lets her go on, not interrupting except for a look which grows more and more concerned by degrees.

"You think its the same substance? And the company knows about this? They made her sign to secrecy at least."

[Emily Littleton] Emily shrugs a little. "I don't know. And I don't have the magical skills to confirm it, even if it is," she seems a little disappointed in this, but what can you do. Emily has been honest with Wharil about her limitations (at least the mystical ones).

"I do think there's more going on here than an accident and a clean up. Nathan and Chuck got very conspiracy-theorist about it last night. I may be slower to panic than them," which is a thought, isn't it? "But even I'm a bit anxious."

A frown.

"Whatever Henri has could be extremely dangerous in and of itself, or it could be extremely valuable to someone dangerous. Either way and irregardless of its sentience or intent, I think we should all be very cautious. Would you mind talking to Chuck about this? I think you and Ashley should both be aware of whatever he's found out since we met with Nathan."

[Wharil Choc] "Of course. I'd be happy to. Its good to hear people have been working together on this. You all seem to be on the ball. And I guess you've figured its now even more important that you find Henri. Try not to alarm her, but do try explain the gravity of the situation. She left a note around here with her contact info. You should be able to reach her that way.

"In the meantime we can set up a meeting with your friend Chuck. And I suppose I can stop by Nathan's bar later on. I have the feeling I'm gonna need a drink before this is all over anyway."

[Emily Littleton] Emily nodded, and before she left she would copy down Henri's contact information so she could reach out to the Etherite under one guise or another. She let that sit, though, thoughtful for a moment and then said:

"You knew I was studying with Jarod, right?" A little pause, gravid, and whether he confirmed or denied it, Emily continued on. "He's left, last week or so, and I doubt he will be back." There's something in her eyes that she tries and can't quite keep back (hurt), but Emily doesn't dwell on it.

"I told Ashley, and now I'm telling you, because the meeting was all about communication and letting people know our collective strengths and weaknesses. I'm looking, again, for some place to call home." A pause, a warmer smile now. "I will let you know when I find one."

[Wharil Choc] "I heard." Is all he says about the situation on a whole. His face is passive, but his eyes avoid hers noticeably.

"When you say that though, do you mean a place to put your head down or is it something more than that?"

[Emily Littleton] "It's more than that," she says. Then pauses, and waits. Considers. "Possibly both."

Emily returns her hands to her lap, looks down at them thoughtfully. Pensive. If Wharil looks over, the Orphan is unguarded and easy to read. Easier than most of the times he's met with her. (Softening [unfurling] trusting).

"I have a place to sleep, but it's not a home. It's empty that way," she says, quiet and contemplative. "I have a family out there, somewhere, but they aren't home either." And for a moment, the line between the magical and mundane term Orphan is blurred. But that's not what she means, she means that they are not here. Possibly even that were they were, they would not be home. "There is a house, in England, and a man in that house, and that's all I have of home. That's all I had, before Awakening, and now there are people, friends, who care about my well being. There are responsibilities to shoulder."

A soft, wistful smile.

"I would like to find someplace or some people to call home. To be part of that, without worrying about when I'll leave next or how temporary all of this is. So it's literal -- I want a place to hold onto -- and figurative -- I want a reason to hold on -- and it's more than that, because I haven't (needed) wanted it before."

[Wharil Choc] He doesn't interrupt. She was opening up, sharing herself with him with little to no prompting. The Cultists had a word for it. Wharil didn't know that word but he recognized that this was important. So, to that end, Emily goes on without any interruption, and even after, he gives a few moments to let the silence fill in before speaking.

"Emily, I think I've heard you mention this before, but i have to ask. Why do you move around? What makes you think you're going to have to leave?"

[Emily Littleton] There's a pause, longer now, in which she withdraws a little. Not quickly, and not sharply, just cautiously. It would be unsurprising, with what she said next.

"My father's in the foreign service," she said, plainly. As if it was a normal thing for fathers to do. "I'm not sure what his specialty is, but we never had posts longer than six or eight months. Growing up, it was fairly normal for me to live in three or four cities, or countries, in a year. we were usually there just long enough to get comfortable hearing the language, and make a few friends."

She shrugged a bit. "It's not usually that way. Most posts are two to four years, so I don't know why we moved so often. I went with them, when I could, but there were a few postings I couldn't go to. Cairo, for example, was too dangerous for spouses and families."

[Wharil Choc] "Hmm." Is all he says for a while. Its fairly quiet but as they sit Wharil's leg begins to shake, and the heel of his sneakers make a quick tap-tap-tap-tap-tap sound on the wooden floor. Where there was carpet before.

"Well, as far as places to lay your head...We've got rooms here. And like minds that are bound to be around. That might not be entirely comforting but...well..."

And here he just shrugs, his leg tap-tap-tapping still.

"That's something all of us struggle with, to tell you the truth. But I'm sure you'll find somewhere to belong. Somewhere you'll actually want to belong."

[Emily Littleton] The tap-tap-tapping draws her attention away, pulls her a bit further out of this place that fosters self disclosure. Emily glances down at his foot, then back up at Wharil and smiles.

"I thought the rooms were off limits until we found a cabal," she said, her tone less soft and open, a little lighter. Faintly teasing. (See, I listen!) "Actually, though, I thought I might do something radical... like sign a six-month lease rather than sublet. I have more than subtle clues lately that it's time for me to settle in somewhere, as more than a passing shadow. Maybe I should act on them."

Which would, in time, include finding her way into a Tradition.

[Wharil Choc] "Oh right." He says with a bit of a frown. "Forgot about that. Well, it sounds like we both have work to do."

[Emily Littleton] "And that sounds like I should let you go," Emily said, with a smile as she started to get her things together. "I'll look for Henri and let you know what I find out."

"Take care of yourself, Wharil," Emily adds, with a note of concern. But she doesn't comment on his arm beyond that.

[Wharil Choc] "You too, Emily." He says, flashing his own smile back as he walks her out. "We'll keep in touch, right?"

[Emily Littleton] Ah, Wharil was clever and had slyly re-inserted himself in Emily's phone tree. No matter. She also trusted him, more or less, and had no reason to argue.

"Certainly," she answered. Then it was back out into the Chicago afternoon and back to praying for Spring to warm the world back up again. Oh, and chasing down evil corporate entities. (All in a day's work.)