Don't get a latte...

[Marianna Engmani] The weather was, well, generally unpleasant, but by this point, Anna was getting grudgingly used to things being cold, wet and rainy, it was part of Chicago's 'charm'. Of course it didn't stop her from complaining under her breath as she peeked from storefront to storefront. She was trying to find some perfectly kitschy, horribly filthy little hole in the wall that would make her feel at home. Maybe it was a pawn shop, or a record store....or even a Goodwill, but as it was, she still hadn't found it.

The woman sighed, rolling her head about as she picked up a coffee, standing in the on and off wetness of the day, and generally looking rather indignant about the whole thing.

[Emily Littleton] It's a blustery Wednesday (Winds-day) and the rain falls at odd angles and intervals, making an umbrella a useless device at best. A fool's errand. Hopeless. Emily's hurrying along with her hands in her pockets and her head bent down so the rain won't get in her eyes. Her hair is plaited, and it lays down the back of her neck, shielding it from the icy needles of wintery raindrops. Sharp. Bitter.

Looking down, so, like so many other pedestrians, Emily doesn't see the larger man talking on his cellphone, waving his briefcase about for effect. Their paths cross, too closely. He clips her, knocks her a little off balance. She mumbles a Pardon and I'm so sorry, pulling her hands out just enough to gesture her apologies. He hurries onward.

It is a wet and miserable day.

It has startled her out of her single-mindedness, though, and she stands, now, not too far from Anna, with small rain-damp curls framing her face. Her hands find the strap of her messenger bag and she looks around, takes stock of where she is and where she had been headed: Coffee, yes. Her feet take her that way, now, past the other Awakened.

[Marianna Engmani] Anna put a hand out for a second before the woman passing by towards the coffee shop went in. "Don't get a latte, too much milk, not enough coffee." She warned slightly shaking her foam cup with a bit of an unimpressed look on her face. She had to say something, perhaps she wasn't spreading around a good vibe, but it was just too cruel to subject people to bad coffee. Life was just too short for shit coffee.

She flashed a quick smile at Emily and then shrugged, taking a sip and looking up a the sky, humming a little as she sort of swayed to her own little beat.

[Emily Littleton] "Cheers," the tall girl said, coming to a stop near Anna and inspecting the shaken and offending cup with careful scrutiny. It's clearer, now, the cant of her accent. British, mainly, but softened and shaped by other places as well. Emily stands five and three quarters feet tall, lithe and lean and long-limbed. The smile is returned, a warm and welcoming thing on this chilly Windy-City day.

"For warning me, do you want me to pick you up a couple shots to go with your abundance of milk?" Emily offers, extending this thought easily, freely. Life was too short for shit coffee, yes, but it was also too short to let a good turn go unrewarded.

[Marianna Engmani] "No need to trouble yourself, I'm almost done here." Anna looked down and peeked under the cap of her cup and then shrugged. But she seemed to be considering it. "Though, I think by this point a black coffee chaser would make things right in the world." Cheaper than a few shots of espresso by a long shot, "That is, if you're the insistent sort." She chuckled, pulling herself from the wall she was leaning up against.

[Riley Poole] Rainy weather does horrible, horrible things to wavy hair. It makes a few chunks of it curl and twist. It weighs some of it down. It creates frizz.

It is for all of these reasons that the tall woman in the yellow hoody has her hair firmly tie back from her face, bobby pins and small decorative clips valiantly trying to keep the curling tendrils from falling into her face. The hood is tugged low, her hands are in the pockets of her jeans, and her laptop bag bumps gently against a slim hip with every other step.

She's not completely oblivious to the goings on around her. In her peripheral she sees a tall figure knock into a taller figure with a brief case. At first this doesn't really grab her attention. Chicago is a busy city. People are knocking into each other all the time. Occasionally there are no hard feelings. Mostly there are curses and dirty looks. After so many years, even the most laid back have learned to ignore it.

What draws Riley to the other two women is not a sense of familiarity. It's not that she recognizes Emily immediately, or senses any kind of resonance from the two. What draws her in their direction is the fragrant aroma of cheap coffee, which, when one tends to sleep as seldom as Riley Poole, smells like the nectar of the gods.

As she gets closer, she overhears the conversation. That's when she recognizes the accent, and her attention is finally grabbed by the people near the door. Canting her head to the side, a smile slowly spreads across her face.

"Emily? Hey," she greets when she's certain she knows who at least one of the women is. The other she obviously doesn't recognize. Marianna receives a smile and a nod.

[Emily Littleton] Emily's smile quirked a little higher on one side than the other. She tipped her head in a quintessential Follow me gesture. "I have my insistent days," she admits.

She's getting ready to head inside, out of the wet and away from the cold, when Riley shows up. There's a broader smile, now, for the approaching Adept. "Hey, Riley," she gets a greeting that sounds more familiar, friendly, than most would get today. "We're about to grab a cup of coffee, do you want in?"

As if the Adpet would say no. As if anyone would turn down coffee on a cold, blustery day. As if Emily would spend another minute on the sidewalk, feeling her fingers go numb, if they were all agreed upon a course of action.

The door opens, Emily pulling it wide enough for them to slip through and gesturing (shall we?) to the others.

[Marianna Engmani] Well, this was strange, but then again, Anna welcomed the strange. Here she was, getting coffee with two women, complete strangers to her, but obviously friends. It quirky, that was for sure. But It seemed that one was a Riley, and the first one was Emily. "Anna." she pointed to herself, as it just seemed proper to give them similar name labels, so they could keep tabs, last thing she wanted to be known as was 'the chick with the bad Dr. Who scarf' or worse!

"I hope I'm not keeping you two or anything..."

[Emily Littleton] "Pleased to meet you, Anna," Emily replied, and though it was a quirky encounter it was also exactly what Emily needed right now. It was a change, a break, and it lifted her up (elevated [elated]). Things had been a little too serious over the past few days.

"You're not keeping me from anything," the Orphan admits, digging her wallet out of her messenger bag now that they're inside. "I'm irritated with a friend, avoiding my boyfriend, and interested in good, nonjudgmental coffee conversation about anything else -- so if you're up to the task, coffee's on me."

There's an ease to the way she throws out these minor confessions. As if they hardly matter. As if one wasn't a deep hurt, still stinging.

[Riley Poole] "No no," Riley assures, still grinning. Emily leads the way inside, and Riley stands where she can keep the door open for Anna. "This is just a crazy random happenstance. It's nice to meet you, Anna."

When they've all gotten inside, Riley makes a beeline for the counter, hesitating only when she hears Emily's description of her day. A brow quirks, Tell me later?, but she continues on. Places an order for a plain black coffee. She'll fill it with cream and sugar, no doubt, but for now, she stands aside and waits for the others.

"We could talk about the weather. Now I'm of two minds. One is that rain is awesome. It smells nice and it makes things green. But it also sucks, because I can't stand black-outs."

[Marianna Engmani] "Nice yo meet both of you as well." Anna stepped into the shop and looked about, trying to look very nonchalant as the lights flickered for a moment when she did so. Fortunately though, it wasn't something most people would notice when the weather was bad enough. Just a faulty power grid or something, at least, that's what she told herself. She pulled her coat off and gave it a sound shake, getting the water off it before resting it on the back of the chair. "As for conversation, I'm more than up for it, though I'll admit...I'm a little bit boring."

And she was, when she had to keep quiet about the real nuances that made her days oh-so-interesting, since well, that sort of talk got your ass landed into the loony-bin. "Weather? I suppose we could talk about that. How can this city have so much wind...but never blow a damn storm cloud away? Its like its always overcast here..."

[Emily Littleton] That was three black coffees, then, two of which had room. Emily paid with small note, left a small tip, and said her pleases and thank yous like they had been brow-beaten into her and were just this side of permanent reflexives. She meant them, but they slid out as after-thoughts these days.

"It's one of the strangest places I've lived," Emily agrees, setting her coffee down on the table with a little rasp of paper on wood. She shrugged out of her jacket, treating one of her arms a little gingerly, and hung the damp coat on the back of her chair. "I keep hoping the weather will trend back toward spring; I've had more than enough of Winter. But at least the rain's not snow..."

She raised her cup in a little gesture (Cheers), a toast to the turning wheel. Someday they'd have summery days again, and the dark-haired girl would be happier again.

[Riley Poole] Riley pushes back the hood of her jacket and unzips it before sitting. Beneath, Anna and Emily can see the salmon polo she has on. She pulls her cup close, toasts with Emily, and pulls the little bin with sugars to her. Nothing but pure sugar for this one, and four packets of it.

"I think it's because of the lake. Maybe. I never really thought about it before. And this is pretty much what it's going to be like for the rest of the month, Em. Rain rain rain. And some more rain, just for variety," she adds with a grin, lifting her cup for a sip of the scalding hot liquid. "Oh, that's. Huh." She pulls a face and shakes her head.

[Marianna Engmani] Anna held her cup up to the two women. "l'chaim." she grins and then takes a sip of her coffee without a touch of sugar or cream, hell even the heat didn't seem to bother her much. "I would have just assumed that god had forsaken this place, and we're all suffering for it...but a lake...I suppose that's just as believable."

[Emily Littleton] Emily had intended to take her coffee black but after that first particularly pungent sip she followed after Riley's example, ammending it heavily. There is a faint wrinkle to her nose for the burnt aroma and a mostly concealed tick at the narrow and unrewarding palette.

But it still wasn't as bad as Denny's.

"Well, I suppose I don't really mind the rain that much..." Emily let the thought drag out a bit, glancing out the window to the storm-tortured sky and the drabness of a world shod through with shades of grey. She was trying to convince herself that she didn't mind it, much, but it wasn't rightly working.

"So what's brought you to Chicago, Anna?" Emily asks. It's simple small talk, and the Orphan toys with the rim of her coffee cup as she asks. It's easy, seeking without pushing just yet. "Riley's more or less a local," Emily glanced at the other girl for confirmation, "And I'm a transplant, here for University. But I'm always curious after what's brought people to this city."

[Riley Poole] "More or less," Riley agrees. "My dad and I moved here when I was a kid."

Emily is trying to convince herself that she doesn't mind the rain. Riley follows her gaze out the window, and it's not so hard to convince herself that she likes it. Then again, she's used to it, grew up with it. It's as familiar to her as the hot muggy summer or the bitter cold snowy winter. She'd be completely at a loss if she ever actually left Chicago.

"Most people are transplants. I don't know why no one likes staying where they start."

[Emily Littleton] There's a lull, a little quiet place in the conversation while they're all staring out the window, contemplating the rain. While Emily's trying to keep her opinions on the coffee's quality to herself, tamped down somewhere near the details of her recent friction with Owen.

There's a difference to the Orphan, almost palpable to the Awakened who had known her just a couple weeks before (or longer before that). Much like the glow Riley had come home from vacation with. It rode her skin in silent ways, touched the corner of her eyes and smile.

"And I don't know how people stay put," she said, echoing back to Riley, reflecting, after a long thought. "This is the longest I've lived in one place, for a great while. How do you not itch for a change of scenery?" It's a simple question, to avoid asking others. It comes along with a wry smile and a gently probing look.

[Riley Poole] "Depends on the scenery you want to change, I s'pose." Riley brings her attention back to her bad coffee. There's a tiny pitcher of creamer on the table, an attempt for the little hole-in-the-wall to seem quaint, or something. She picks this up and dumps a more than generous portion into her cup.

"For instance. Some people pick up and move a lot. Or redecorate their home. Or whatever. I," she brings her hand up to press her fingertips against her breastbone, "switch up classes every year. Like this year it's Relational Database Design and a photography class."

[Emily Littleton] When Riley was done with the creamer, Emily poured some into her own cup and stirred it forlornly with a swizzle stick. God, how she hated some of the American customs the others took for granted. And how deeply she missed the ritual and delicacy of taking coffee in a European sense. She kept these thoughts to herself, but the bridge of her nose was scored with defiant wrinkles none the less.

At least the cream made pretty patterns. Oh... well, were it cream it would leave pretty patterns. This was thinner. Half-and-half. Yet another disappointment.

"I put up pictures," Emily said, when Riley mentions decorating. It's a nonsequitur for Anna, of course, who has grown a little quieter or possibly stepped away from the table to deal with a call, or visit the W.C. "You should come over and help me un-IKEA the place."

[Ashley McGowen] [Perception + Awareness]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 6, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] The Orphan (for now [Singer soon to be]) is altered, changed, elevated. It's easy for Ashley to notice; she'd seen the growth in Emily over time, incrementally edging toward a new plateau. Whether that took the form of a new Sphere knowledge, or finally settling into a Tradition to call her own -- something had changed. It had shifted the sense of Reverence, but had deepened that surety. Reinstated the quiet sense of Grace that threaded through her heartbeat and pushed onward, now, Unrelentingly. The drive was new, and subtly echoed the Hunger that surrounded Ashley. Renamed it, rephrased it, and reflected it.
to Ashley McGowen

[Riley Poole] Riley takes a sip of what is now coffee flavored milk. So much for the plain that she had in mind. She's feeling a little peckish, but after this one and only cup of coffee, she's not willing to brave the pastries this place serves. She's been spoiled by her time in Italy. They just know how to do things like coffee, pastries, pastas, everything.

"I'd love to!" she says, enthusiastic. And not just because the last time she was at Emily's the place had been practically barren. The tomboyish Virtual Adept loves decorating. She loves picking out colors and fabrics and furniture and finding things that match in interesting ways. And she loathes IKEA more than she loathes this coffee. "You know, you can actually dress that stuff up a bit, make it less, um," she twists her hand in the air, trying to find something delicate to say, "sterile."

[Ashley McGowen] Emily isn't the only one turning her nose up at the place's selection. Ashley walks through the door of the shop, resigned to drinking tea brewed from a -bag,- but these sorts of things are to be expected from Hermetics. And from pretentious graduate students, no less. She happens to be both, and it sometimes combines into levels of snobbery heretofore untold by man.

Ashley looks tired because she is. She's moving through the door and past their table with a black leather messenger bag slung over her shoulder, arguing with someone over the phone. Quietly, as her voice is high and clear and the type that carries, but her irritation is clear judging by the exaggerated motions she's making with the other hand. Judging by the flare in her blue eyes as she stops in front of the counter to order (not putting down the phone - Ashley is one of those people that regard those in the service industry as peons.)

But after she's hung up, collected the cup of tea that will be nowhere as good as what she would just get out of her apartment, she has more attention to devote to her surroundings. To the feel of other Wills around, something familiar, something reflected, yet different (warmer, without that sense of hungry ambition, closing jaws that she herself exudes.)

That's when she sees Emily. And Riley and Anna - people with whom she's only passingly acquainted. She's not (outwardly) intimidated, though. Ashley wanders over to the small group, cup in hand, black coat a bit soggy from walking around outside, but avoids cutting into the conversation just yet.

Subtlety is something she, on occasion, manages.

[Emily Littleton] Emily takes another sip of her abstract experiment in things-that-may-be-referred-to-as-coffee. It is not too sweet, too milky, still burnt and relatively paletteless. There was simply not saving it. Ashame, because she could use the caffeine right about now.

The Orphan set the mug down and regarded it skeptically.

Riley finds a nice word to sum up the whole of the modernist Swede aesthetic and Emily chuckles a little. "The bookcases are nice," she says, but that's over stretching and they both know it. "Well they're functional," she ammends. "But I think you'll the pictures..."

Which was, as of yet, the only saving grace her apartment. Emily's hand strays back toward the coffee cup, then changes course as if she's suddenly remembered what a bad idea that might be. Her fingertips tap on the table a little, and she's looking over Riley's shoulder (unfocused, thoughtful) at just the right time to see Ashley's approach.

There's a nod, and a widening smile offered to the Hermetic (who happens to share Emily's opinions on tea [though they have not rightly discussed or debated the topic]). "Evening, Ashley," she says, glancing back to Riley to see whether the Virtual Adept would consider another invitation an intrusion.

If Riley seems up for more company, then the offer is extended to join them. They are just enjoying (though that is a relative term) a cup of coffee and some easy banter, an excuse to get out of the rain.

[Emily Littleton] ((Edit: But I think you'll *like the pictures...))

[Riley Poole] If they're enjoying anything about this place in which they've taken shelter, it's the company. The beverages are extremely sub-par, though Riley valiantly tries to finish hers off. Maybe if she gulps it, like ripping off a band-aid. And yet, she can't even bring herself to do that. So she sips occasionally. And she tries not to wince.

Evening, Ashley.

Riley looks up to watch the approach of the Hermetic. To say they know each other would be stretching things terribly far. The only times Riley has been in the company of Ashley McGowen have been bad. There have been people gutted on the floor or cut open in the forest. There was the meeting of the mages at the Chantry, which wasn't as bad, really. All the same, the woman receives a cheerful smile and a nod of greeting. Of course she can join, the more the merrier.

"I can't wait to see it. If you're not doing anything later, maybe I can stop by and we can go to town on those IKEA boxes." She hasn't forgotten the off-hand comment to Anna, either.

[Ashley McGowen] "Evening Emily, Riley," she says, and sets her cup of tea on the table near the two of them. As they talk Ashley reaches up and loosens the toggles on her coat, shrugging it down to her elbows and then the rest of the way off, draping it over the back of the chair she has claimed. The messenger bag is set down against the legs of the chair as she slides into it.

Riley doesn't get a smile in return once she's settled but she does get a nod. That isn't really so unusual: Ashley's face is round and delicate and has a tendency to make her look a bit younger than she is, much to her chagrin, but it isn't one that's given naturally to friendly expression.

"Did you get a new place, Emily?" she asks. It can be surprising, given her apparent lack of social skills at times, how quickly she can pick up a thread of conversation. Unnerving, maybe. "Because something's different."

[Marianna Engmani] It appeared that Anna had zoned out into her own little world, she did that sometimes, the people around her getting lost to the din of the things around her. It took awhile but eventually she came back into the fold, a familiar face having joined them, and a cold cup of black coffee, one she gave a nod to, the other well, she drank with a grimace.

"Sorry guys, miles away for a moment there...so, what now?"

[Emily Littleton] "Mmm," Emily nodded and made a small sound of agreement. "I got my own flat just before I went home for Easter." The word home was, as always, spoken with a slighlty misplaced resonance. As if it were rarely uttered, and held a very specific meaning for the girl. "Riley's offered to help me figure out what to do with all the empty space."

There's a small, self-deprecating chuckle and a lofting of eyebrows suggesting that it is quite the undertaking, even for the apprentices working in tandem.

"Maybe once we get it sorted, you can come by for tea or something?" It's an offer, but not a formalized invitations. Emily didn't want to back the Hermetic into a social corner. "I picked up a couple book you might like. Old ones..." A shrug.

"Welcome back, Anna," Emily said, when she returned to the fold. "We're on Hello, Ashley and interior decorating. You missed out on wanderlust vs sticking put." A brief, meant-to-be-comical synopsis is offered over, with a little tip of Em's coffee cup for flair. The pale liquid sloshed a little, but was not lifted to her lips again. Not knowingly or mindfully at least.

[Riley Poole] "But if you want to revisit any of the past topics, I'd be willing to do a little back-tracking." This said to Anna with a grin. She doesn't enthuse about Ashely joining Emily for tea once her apartment is sorted (how that simple word becomes so cute when spoken with that slight accent). It's not her place to offer up anything of the sort, and she doesn't know anyone but Emily well enough to ask them over to the condo she shares with her father.

But she's friendly, and she continues to try to force down her incredibly blond coffee, the need for the caffeine out-weighing the horrible taste.

[Ashley McGowen] "Hi, Anna," Ashley says, glancing up at the Dreamspeaker as she revisits the table, drifting out of whatever contemplative fog she'd been in. Dreamspeakers do that, they say, and Ashley's own cabal mate has a bit of a tendency to be less than fully grounded.

Emily asks her over for tea and she gets a quick look, and a beat passes before Ashley answers. Backing the Hermetic into a social corner is a legitimate worry, it seems; she rarely visits other people at their homes. "Yeah, sure," she says. "Just call me when you want me to drop by. I'm easily bribed with books and food."

At which point she takes a sip of her tea and grimaces a little before she sets the cup back down.

[Riley Poole] [*klaxons and alarms sound, alerting everyone to the nearness of a ninja mage*]

[cricket] [....*kung fus into hiding, jedi hand wave* this is not the ninja cricket you are searching for.]

[Marianna Engmani] "I for one collect tacky religious articles and shit I pull out of dumpsters, its pretty amazing, I found this awesome plaster Mary the other day, with this godawful glitter..." There was a certain giddiness to Anna as she talked about how terrible this thing was, almost like it was a fondness rather than the disgust most people would feel. "And the rest is just a work station, so its just a general mess. My roommate's side looks like I live with a 15 year old girl." She thought about all the band posters and crap and she just laughed. "I feel like Chris Hansen is gonna come over and tell me to take a seat..."

She finished up her own coffee and then shrugged, and then looked over at Ashley. "Hello Ashley. Good to see you again, you doing good?" She made small talk of course, since that was just the name of the game right about now.

[Emily Littleton] Who knew that interior decorating was such a hot topic among Awakened individuals? Or that it could evoke such interesting visuals? Certainly not Emily.

She takes a sip of the cooling coffee concoction, then grimaces. Chilling hasn't helped the vile brew. It is entirely unpalatable. Almost bad enough for her to offer it to one of the tablemates and proclaim: This is terrible, try it. Almost, but not quite. They'd all suffered accordingly. She sets the cup down again and folds her hands into her lap where they'd be less tempted to stray toward the caffeine-laced monstrosity.

"I don't miss my roommate at all," Emily confessed, perhaps a little more happily than was strictly called for. "She was alright before, all of this," Emily doesn't explain. Ashley and Riley would take her meaning, perhaps Anna, too, but she still skirts specifics around a new face. "But she was starting to feel more like a warden than a friend. Alone is nice, so far. And so much quieter."

[Riley Poole] [I like tempting fate: manip + subt]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 4, 5 (Failure at target 6)

[Riley Poole] "I can't even imagine."

Riley shakes her head. Her horrid brew is cooling, and it's now or never. Before she continues in the vein of roommates, she picks up her mug. Stares at it like she's staring down the bull and she's dressed all in red. Squeezing her eyes shut, she knocks the last of it back which, unfortunately, was at least half, if not more. She tries. So hard. To hide her grimace. But Riley Poole is not good at lying, never has been. April Fool's pranks can only be done via text or over the phone with this one.

There is absolutely no way she can hide the way her expression twists. There's no way she can cover the coughing almost-gag. Riley just downed horrible coffee, and everyone in the coffee shop knows it was torture.

"Glegh, oh, man. I am never coming here again," she says, and continues on as if the momentary interruption had never happened. And she says without any embarrassment or chagrin, "My roommate's my dad. He, uh, doesn't really know a lot of what's going on with me right now, but otherwise it's a pretty sweet deal. I can't even imagine living by myself."

[Ashley McGowen] Ashley isn't the sort of person that does smalltalk. Not really. Thus, she is a little lost for things to say during the present conversation; they are not talking about business or magic or literature or any of the things she is skilled at and knows a lot about. But there are still times when the Hermetic, introverted though she is, desires the company of others and simply isn't sure of how to ask for it. And she is watching. Listening.

The talk of glitter-Mary is getting Anna a sidelong look out of the corner of her eye; there's the disgust Anna was looking for. It's at least touched with wry amusement, though. "Do you collect them to burn them?"

Then there's a look over to Riley as she downs the coffee. Gags loud enough that everyone else in the place can hear. Many other people might look chagrined; Ashley grins. Because what she has just decided she's seen is someone around whom basic social niceties (annoyances) don't have to be observed.

"I don't have any roommates," she says. "I can't imagine -having- them. I lived with a boyfriend for a few years and having someone in my space all the time got to be a headache."

[Marianna Engmani] Anna blinks, not sure if she got the joke. Burn them? Why the hell would she burn them? To her they were beautiful in their strangeness. "Nope I let them litter my home, I mean...why pick one pantheon when all of them are too much fun?" What? Did the little Hermetic think she was some sort of anti-religious nutjob? Or even worse, some sort of religious fanatic? She made a face. "Oh I dunno, my roommate has been my friend for ages, we were in the same Chantry growing up..."

[Emily Littleton] "Wait..." It's just now registering for Emily, who was a little lost in her loathing for the coffee. "Did you say glittered Madonna plasters?"

Horror upon horrors. Her nostrils flared a little. While Emily often toed the live-and-let-live line on other people's religious observances, there was something dreadfully close to sacrilege in a bedazzled Mother of God. It was an amazing expression, amused and bemused and terrified all rolled up in a curled lip and a blank stare.

"Well," she said, regain her composure as quickly as possible. "To each their own, yeah?"

She tipped the cup again, looked into it, and remembered this time that the coffee was every bit as disgusting as the sound Riley made regarding it. "My thoughts precisely," she muttered to the Virtual Adept when Riley was done with her coffee-comments.

Chantry. Emily caught the word nestled among Anna's comments, glanced up at the other woman again, and seemed to have settled some debate within her. On the basis of vocabulary alone. Excellent metric.

"Pardon. I don't mean to pry, but you grew up in a Chantry? What was that like?" And Anna thought herself boring! On the contrary, this was a fascinating thought that Emily had not considered before. Growing up in this world, rather than wandering into it later on.

[Riley Poole] Emily isn't the only one who finds Anna intriguing. After all, she only Awakened a short time ago, barely knows what she's doing most of the time. She hasn't spoken to her mentor outside of class, a regular college course, in months. She doesn't even know what's up with the dagger tucked away inside her laptop bag.

And here is someone who grew up in a Chantry. A place Riley only found out about when she found out about the meeting being held at the one here in Chicago.

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with a little interesting decor. My dad has the craziest throw pillows you've ever seen, and they match nothing in his room."

[Ashley McGowen] "Burning them would be a public service, I think," Ashley says, apparently in perfect agreement with Emily on the aesthetic nature of such things. There doesn't seem to be any religious based scorn, at the very least.

Then Anna mentions growing up in a chantry, and this seems to interest Ashley as well. Unlike Emily and Riley, she's been Awakened for almost ten years - and she was almost nineteen then, well out of the "growing up" phase. Emily asks what it was like and the Hermetic quirks an eyebrow, raising her cup to her lips again and then seeming to think better of it.

[Marianna Engmani] "Well not my whole life...but I mean, I was raised around weird shit my whole life, my Grandma especially, she taught me all the old ways, and then one day...poof, it all made sense, and my mind broke open like a thousand bees ripping out...and well, eventually I ended up in Phillie...and I sort of just stayed there...until I didn't, then I was here." She almost said it with a scoff, obvious this place with its shitty coffeehouses didn't live up to her standards.

She tapped a finger on the table and then sighed. "Well, I guess the best way to explain it...is you just get jaded about fucked up shit...nothing seems weird anymore, but normal gets so boring you almost feel like going insane." she laughed. "So I did. I guess."

[Owen Page] [Dex + Stealth, I'm hiding tonight. I've been a bad, bad Choir Boy.]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 6, 6, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 5)

[Riley Poole] [maybe?]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 8, 8, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Ashley McGowen] [Haha no.]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 7, 10 (Failure at target 8)

[Emily Littleton] ((Really? This again? Owen, isn't it getting a little old...))
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] It wasn't that odd, what Anna was telling them. After all, Emily's own story might not have been so different. If she had stayed put in one place, like Riley had, and that place had been the Manchester House with its comings and goings of odd (but familiar) people. So there's less outright shock and more acceptance in the Orphan's expression. For now.

"Chicago's not so bad," Emily says to Anna, with an odd undertone and little lost love for her adoptive hometown. The Orphan is trying, very hard, to like the city. "I hear there are excellent hot dogs."

Which she could not stand, and Riley knew it. The other geek girl had been privy to at least one of the sad little American sausages comments at Chuck's place. So it was a wry smile, lifted eyebrow and sympathetic touch to her eyes that Emily offered Anna. Chicago wasn't living up to Emily's standards, either. Like the coffee. And the hot dogs. And a handful of other nameless things.

[Riley Poole] "I think you guys are just hanging out in the wrong places," says Riley, finally almost, almost sounding snobbish. If only her mug still had coffee in it, she could hold it up to her face and continue to affect the pretentious look. As it is, she has to make do with leaning slightly to the side, lifting up her chin, and looking at the others with raised brows and half-lidded eyes. It doesn't look very pretentious, given the source.

"Like for instance, if you want good coffee. Not Starbucks good but good Italian coffee, you have to hit up Lavazza on La Salle. Seriously, the Mile has all the best shops and restaurants."

[Owen Page] The Coffee Shop that seems to be the gathering point for the magically aware tonight happens to find itself situated between a closed bike store, the glass doors shuttered and drawn with security fencing to protect the gleaming motorcycles within it and a bar. It's a strange juxtaposition -- but it works, somehow. You had your hot beverages, your afternoon meeting place with its muffins and cakes on display and then when it was time to shove on, you had the late night drinks with friends, the local brawl center for the inebriated helpfully located just next door.

It's from the bar that Owen emerges, dressed slightly more upmarket than normal in his dark leather jacket with a collared shirt beneath it, paired with jeans and shoes that had not spent the better part of the day trampling around in dirt and other debris. There's a flush to the Chorister's cheeks that may be the result of two things, the temperature within the bar or the activity he'd been partaking in whilst within it. He certainly doesn't stumble, or possess the glassy eyes of a drunk, but he does hesitate before he moves off from the front door.

A muscle ticks in the jaw as he pivots on a heel and stares back at the door; a couple brush past him, the male glancing at him in casual curiosity. "In or out, mate?" The stranger inquires, holding open the door, head cocked. There's the rush of beer, of laughter and billiard pools plinking as they connect within. The Initiate stares intently through the door, into that shadowy cavern of -- what was in there for him, again? -- shakes his head; negative.

"Suit yourself, man." The door clicks shut in the stranger's wake, leaving Owen Page alone, briefly, outside its door.

He lowers his face, licks his lips and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Stupid," he condemns to the pavement and takes a step away, to safety, next door into a realm of coffee and polite chit-chat, to students tapping away on laptops and a group of Magi sitting together at a table. He freezes, and steps back into a corner, letting the shadows conceal all but the side of his arm, his leg.

Funny, karma. Real funny.

[Ashley McGowen] Anna tells them where she's from, where she's been, and what she's grown up around. And after she's made her admission, Ashley eyes her for a moment. "I think most Dreamspeakers go a little crazy," she says, and apparently this is what passes for sympathetic understanding in Ashley's universe. "Dealing with spirits, you'd probably see a lot of strange shit. I mean, stranger than what the rest of us usually run into."

There's a moment of thought that follows. It has her considering her own upbringing, and it has her thinking about Boston a little too. Even most of her already faint accent has faded as she's acclimated to the Midwest, the soft New England touch to her Rs that most people found "adorable" when she first arrived in the city early last summer.

"My dad is Awakened," she says, "but he didn't teach me much about it until after I'd already woken up myself. He just did a lot of meditation and stuff and I always thought he was just into strange things growing up."

There's a look to Riley as she suggests Lavezza, and she raises an eyebrow. "I've heard that place is good but I haven't gone to visit. Not much of a coffee drinker."

[Marianna Engmani] "You make it sound like I said it was a bad thing."

Anna smirked, tapping a finger on her chin as she looked at all the pitying looks on everyone's faces, definitely not the reaction she wanted. But she accepted it, lumping it into the 'generalization' pile people put her in.

[Riley Poole] [oh hey, I was looking at the wrong sheet, let's try this again!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] There is another Awakened among them, but Emily hasn't noticed him. It would have changed things if she had, and she wouldn't be saying, carefully, as if it wasn't something she'd discussed before:

"I recently found out that my godfather was a Singer." Plainly. With a little shrug. Emily shifted in her chair and reached up to push a little curl back behind her ear. It's a small thing that could have been swept under the tide of conversation, if it were a faster paced chat they were all having.

"Sometimes I wonder if Fate has a good laugh at all of us, when She thinks we're not looking." Ah there, it's back, the wry twist to Emily's tone and the lightness underlying it.

[Riley Poole] Given her position and the tilt of her head, Riley catches sight of someone familiar making their way into the coffee shop. Which is also when Ashley gives her a look and says she hasn't tried Lavazza because she's not much of a coffee drinker. Riley leans forward, resting her elbows on the table and twining her fingers together before her mouth. Her dark eyes go to the ceiling, and she wears a thoughtful frown.

"They might have some tea. Most coffee shops these days at least have some kind of Earl Grey or something." She reaches up a hand to scratch at her temple, laying out a map of Chicago in her mind's eye. "Have you tried Argo Tea? It's over on Randolph."

[Owen Page] If Fate were present, perhaps she'd be clutching her sides and howling right about now, or merely glaring daggers at one or more of the Magi here. Certainly the one who'd suddenly gone so still where he was, already concealed by his choice of positioning would be getting the proverbial elbow to the ribcage. Emily is telling Ashley, Marianna and Riley about something quite important.

Something about her Godfather being a Singer.

The Chorister shuts his eyes, briefly, as if pained by a headache, and then moves out of his shadowy nook into plainer sight, moving along the counter until he's standing in a line, measuring the different kinds of coffee on offer. His back might be toward the gathered women, but the slope of his back, the broad shoulders, even the worn leather jacket are all familiar in their own ways.

[Ashley McGowen] [Do I see you now that you've moved to my other side?]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 6, 7, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[Ashley McGowen] Emily mentions her godfather was a Singer, and Ashley, too, shares in some wry amusement. Something that fades as Emily says that Fate has a good laugh at them, and Ashley just shakes her head and declines to comment upon that. There is nothing she would say, here.

Though, thankfully, Riley is speaking. The mention of Argo gets a nod from the Hermetic. "Yeah, I've been there. I've been to a lot of places up near the Mile, actually. I'm in grad school at Northwestern, so I live near the branch campus up that way."

Owen, as he moves into the shop, happens to be on Ashley's left side: the senseless void that she usually keeps positioned away from windows, but she's among friends (or at least allies), on the Mile, and it was the only free seat. As he moves over to the counter, though, into her line of vision, her head turns in his direction. "Owen's here, Emily," she says, with a nod toward the Chorister.

[Emily Littleton] ((Oh really? That's nice... [Manip + Subt]))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Riley Poole] [Can I counter that?: percept + subt (hahahaa, seriously, hahahaha)]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 5, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] Owen's here.

Emily followed Ashley's gaze over to the line at the counter. That was, indeed, Owen's broad shoulders and familiar jacket. If the Orphan's glance lingered there a moment overlong, it could be forgiven, forgotten. She nodded, and looked back to the Hermetic with a smile.

"Thanks."

But the girl made no outward move to motion him over, drag another chair up alongside their table, fit him into the growing social circle. That was a little odd, just a little out of character.

[Riley Poole] "Oh, nice," she says of Ashley living near the campus. "That must be really convenient."

Owen's here, she says, and Riley looks up again, recognizing the figure she saw wander in and then try to conceal himself to the shadows. Her brows hop up, and she looks first to Emily.

Who isn't calling out to the man or inviting him to join them. Or even trying to alert him to her presence in any way. This brings forth a frown. But, even so, no one. No one. Should be subjected to what passes for coffee in this place.

"I'm gonna go say hi," she says, pushing out her chair and rising. She's tall, and not in the way of some with height. It's not all in her legs or all in her torso. Riley's just tall all over, long and lanky. She crosses the distance to the line quickly, reaching up to attempt to push back a curled tendril of brown hair. It immediately springs back to lay against her cheek.

"Owen, hey," she greets with a warm welcoming smile, all charm and good nature. "Youuuuu don't want to order from here. If you really need a caffeine fix, there's a Starbucks around the corner? I could show you."

[Owen Page] He turns when he hears his name, not quite at the counter to order yet from a flustered girl in a cap, pressing buttons on the cash register and attempting to ignore what she just heard some girl say about ordering her coffees. His face warms into a smile of recognition at sight of the curly haired Apprentice. Truth be told, Owen Page was a good looking guy, he kept himself fit with a very physical life and were it not for the tendencies toward insular periods and an astonishing capacity for brooding silences he might just have been popular, too.

As it is, the smile is welcoming in its small tenure across his lips, and it fades only when he catches sight of Emily, still seated at the table. His dark eyes don't linger overlong on her, in fact they drop away quicker than normal. One might have sworn there was some degree of abashment in it. There's a Starbucks around the corner, Riley could show him? "Sure," he acquiesces without skipping a beat.

"That would be great."

[Riley Poole] The corners of her dark eyes crinkle when Riley smiles. If she were shorter, or even if her chin a bit more pointed, it might appear impish. It's certainly infectious, at least to people who aren't almost painfully shy and deeply reserved. Still, Owen smiles and agrees to be escorted to a better, if commercial, coffee shop. Riley shoots a glance to the girl behind the counter, a look and a shrug that says, What can you do? It's Starbucks.

"Great, hang on a sec. I need to grab my bag." She heads back over to the table, pausing to rest her hand on Emily's shoulder, ostensibly for balance as she leans over to lift her laptop bag from the floor. "Hey, I'll call you later, okay?" There's a squeeze that could mean a hundred things, but at this moment only really means comfort and promise.

The laptop bag is hoisted up, the strap lifted over her head so that it falls in a diagonal across her torso. "Anna, it was truly great meeting you. Keep rockin' the sparkle-Madonnas. Ashley, it was good seeing you again." And coming from her, she means it. She means the charming and friendly smile that she leaves everyone with as she zips up her yellow hoody and tugs the hood up over her medium-brown hair.

It's hard to believe the woman has a terrible temper sometimes.

She heads back toward the front door, and when she's either caught up with or is sure Owen is tow, Riley Poole exits the shittiest coffee shop in Chicago and heads out into the rain.

[Emily Littleton] Awakened or not, they were all still so very human. Riley excused herself to run interference, to offer up a smile and a change of venue to the Chorister. Emily looked after her for a moment, then pulled her gaze away. When Owen looked her way, she had both hands wrapped around that mug again, her thumbs toying with the lip. She was not drinking it, no, but it was a good enough thing to focus on in the moment.

After a moment, she leaned back into her seat more. Reached up to toy with the thin silver chain around her neck. Stopped just short of teasing the locket free from under her sweater.

Emily looked out the window at the weather, frowning gently. She did not look back to Owen and Riley until the latter wandered over. Riley gets a broad and unfeigned grin. It's warm (and grateful).

"Sounds good." A pause. "I hope you guys find some better coffee," a comiserating grimace. She looks past Riley, now, to Owen. He's offered his own smile, which is different than Riley's, and a little nod. No helloes. No goodbyes. (No Words.)

A little while after the other apprentice exits, Emily begins making her pleasant excuses toward Good Evenings. Many of them center around the El's schedule, and having to get back to her flat.

[Ashley McGowen] She mentions Owen and what she gets in response is a polite smile and thank you, and the girl doesn't go to get the man Chuck had said would likely mentor her. Now, Ashley knows Emily well enough to know that in spite of the warmth of her resonance, -friendly- is not precisely a word that would be used to describe her. But she is still not the type to ignore a friend.

So as Riley gets up to go and warn Owen about the horrors of the place's coffee, Ashley looks over at Emily. "Is everything okay?" she asks. And the question is a little awkward: she's not used to doing this, to trying to check up on interpersonal relationships and...well, anyone's state of mental health and happiness, really.

Riley, as she comes over to retrieve her bag, gets a nod. "Nice seeing you." Riley's brilliant, friendly smile goes unreturned. Well, no. Not exactly. After a second or two she makes the effort, but it's little more than a quirk of one side of her mouth. She and the Chorister get a wave, and then she is looking back at Emily again.

Somewhat expectant.

[Riley Poole] [thanks for the scene, guys! it was fun!]

[Emily Littleton] Well then. Emily can't quite leave without answering Ashley's question. She owes the Hermetic at least that. There's a thin-lipped expression, followed by a little shrug and an even smaller sigh.

She sets the coffee cup down. Decisively.

"Everything's okay," Emily says, in a frank and somewhat wearied tone of voice. "Or it will be soon enough." (Don't worry [about me]). She keeps herself from glancing out the window in the direction that Riley and Owen might be traveling. "We had a... disagreement."

That word could mean so many things, especially when put as politically as Emily wielded it now. There was a small gesture, hands spread a bit, as if to say what can you do?. The carefulness covered the hurt, and whatever else their disagreement had stirred up well enough, but also imperfectly.

[Ashley McGowen] They had a disagreement, and for a moment, Emily's thin-lipped expression is mirrored as Ashley looks over her shoulder toward the V-Dept and Chorister as they make their way off down the street. She looks just in time to see Riley jump in a puddle and soak the side of Owen's pants, and it draws forth some veiled amusement for a few seconds.

Then she looks back at Emily, and she shifts a bit in her chair. From side to side, as though she's settling herself again. Ashley reaches up and rubs at the back of her neck, just long enough that Emily can probably think about leaving, can probably begin to formulate excuses for the El's schedule.

"Can I help?" Robbed of the confidence she usually has when arguing or confronting or giving orders, the question comes out awkward, absent of eye contact.

[Emily Littleton] "Honestly?" Emily asked, a little surprised at the offer. The emotion was clear enough on her face. (She'd had a harder time hiding things since her Seeking.)

"I don't even know if there's anything to do but give it time." A rueful expression. The Orphan looked out the window now, but the pair were already gone. She expected to have a similar conversation with Riley, not too long from now, on this topic.

"I had an episode," Emily admits, lacking the proper context and vocabulary for yet another magely event. "With my Avatar?" This gets a glance back to Ashley, a raised eyebrow (I hope you understand what I mean, because I barely do...). "Like a vision, or a quest of some sort....

"I sound insane." Now it was her turn to be a little self-deprecating, a little self-conscious. "I went to Owen's afterwards, and I said some things I shouldn't have." Which wasn't quite true, but it wasn't quite a lie. "Maybe we both did. I'm sure we'll work it out. I'm just not ready yet."

If honesty was the best policy, then Emily's explanation was about 80% best practices. It would have to do, for now.

[Ashley McGowen] Emily says she had an episode with her Avatar, and Ashley's eyebrows both raise as it all clicks into place. She'd sensed something different about Emily, something that often comes after a successful Seeking, an increase in understanding, but she hadn't been sure. "Congratulations, Emily," is what she says first. "It's called a Seeking."

She says she sounds insane and Ashley frowns, lifting her cup mostly out of habit. It pauses and rests against her lower lip but she never actually drinks; she's just in the habit of doing things with her hands while she's thinking. Things that don't irritate other people quite so much as tapping them - particularly since she can't really hear rhythm, anymore.

"...Yeah. I mean, I'd say give it time," she says, and even though her words merely echo Emily's, it's clear that she's making the effort. "Owen should understand what Seekings are like, though. He's had to have had a few. And they -would- sound crazy to some people, but most magi should understand them."

[Emily Littleton] A Seeking. An apt phrase. So many of the magical words were repurposed from regular English, capitalized and slanted in a vaguely mystical way. Having spent most of her educational years under the careful guidance of Embassy tutors or in extremely small class sizes, Emily had a formiddable vocabulary to begin with. Most of these words were relearned, and it was a little more like remembering that acquiring entirely new definitions for them.

"A Seeking," she repeats, turning the word carefully on her tongue. "Thanks." A brighter smile now. As if Naming the thing had made it a bit easier to understand, that much more resonant.

Ashley is making the effort, so Emily helps to bridge the gap. There's a warmer smile now, less tense, less self-protective. "And thank you for asking after this. I'm sure it'll be fine, but I appreciate the concern. It was nice of you."

And now it really is approaching time for talk of the El timetables. It is that segue where they could part amiably, or move into another topic, away from this one (Owen) and the things peripherally tied to it.

[Ashley McGowen] Emily thanks her, smiles, and then there is a quiet that passes between them. Ashley can tell that it's time for a change of topic, that Emily doesn't want to discuss Owen anymore or go into detail about what happened between them. What Ashley doesn't know how to do is find a different topic, make smalltalk, chat about things that aren't work or her studies, and if Emily doesn't want to discuss Owen then chances are she doesn't want to discuss her mentorship with him, either.

This is well past the time when Ashley would usually walk away, because she is uncomfortable in these situations and it is much, much easier to be aloof than to admit it. As that pause grows longer, though, her discomfort grows and she looks toward the still mostly-full cup of tea.

"I, uh. I'm sure you have a train to catch, and I should probably get back to my thesis," she tells Emily, reaching out to take the cup in hand. Reaching over her shoulder to hook a finger through the collar of her coat and draw it up, preparing to pull it up with her when she does rise to leave.

[Emily Littleton] Ashley is gathering her coat, and Emily is doing the same. It seems to be that time of night; even the baristas are cleaning up the shop for the evening.

"It's getting late," Emily agreed, slipping one arm into her jacket more gingerly than the other. It's a slight difference, easily missed. The messenger bag's strap gets looped over her head, slung shoulder to hip, and she leaves the horrid coffee cup on the table as a warning to those who came after.

"Good luck on your paper," she says, and it's with genuine warmth. She likes Ashley well enough, but Emily is a little off just now. "And I'll ring you once I get my flat put together. I have real tea." There's a smirk now, as if she whole-heartedly approves of Ashley's snobbishness on the topic. Mirrors it, even.

She waits until the Hermetic has gathered her things, so they can make their way out the door together. And then it's time for Good Evening and Stay warm, and parting ways.