Memorial Day, Riley's flat

[Emily] It's a thundering Monday when Emily makes her way to Riley's to return the Adept's things. She tried the downstairs door, hoping to drag it all into the stairwell before calling Riley for help, but after pulling a cooler and an armload of stuff around to the side entry, she found it had finally been fixed.

Security: 1. Emily: 0.

She's standing there, then, in the scant shelter offered by a paltry overhand, juggling her phone to call up the other girl's apartment. It's likely she'll lose control of the American football, or be squarely in someone's way should they open that side entrance while she's on the phone.

[Riley] Most people would think today was an ugly day. Rain is pouring from the sky and thunder cracks loud enough to rattle windows. But, the lightning. The lightning makes interesting arcs across the clouds, or pillars of jagged light to the ground. To Riley Poole, today is not an ugly day.

It is, however, a day to stay inside. And that's where Riley is. Her condo is as colorful as ever, but the windows and the patio door are opened to the elements. What she can see of them, anyway. Her balcony overlooks a small courtyard, and looks directly at her coworker's place. It's not a very good view. The rain makes a faint shush sound, though, and she likes that. That and the smell of the rain on concrete and brick.

She's just sitting on her couch, Dr. O curled up near her hip, her laptop resting on her knees when suddenly the theme from Doctor Who blares into the living room.

"Hello, Emily," she greets cheerfully despite the dreary day.

[Emily] "Hi, Riley?" she says, as if there were any question of who might answer the other girl's phone. Or maybe she was just surprised (abashed) to be calling.

"Did you know the downstairs door got fixed?" Ah yes, leading question. Emily's hair is already going from damp to wet, soon to be sodden. Chicago took its rain seriously!

[Riley] "Girl," she says, drawling it out even as she sets her laptop on the coffee table and rises. "What the hell are you doing downstairs?"

She heads down to meet her at the formerly broken side entrance, dressed only in a black t-shirt (I Logged Out for THIS?) and a pair of black jersey shorts. Her hair is down today, falling in loose waves around her shoulders. The moisture in the air is trying to make it frizz, make it twist and curl, but she doesn't have any plans so she doesn't care.

Hell. People are lucky she's already showered this morning.

[Emily] "Bringing back your things," she says, and the clipped consonants of her accent might have made it sound a bit irritated or taken-aback. It was just that the rain was starting to drip down her back, under the hoodie sweater she'd thrown on to hold back the falling wet. Across the slightly sunburnt expanse of her shoulder blades or -- worse! -- between them.

"Could you let me in," she pleads. "I think I'm melting."

[Riley] "Aw," by now Riley is headed down the stairs. "You're not a witch. At least, last I checked you didn't have green skin. Although I guess I don't really know. Do you have a sister who was crushed by a house? Do you have a gaggle of flying monkeys to do your bidding? Do you secretly have a red shoe fetish?"

She makes it down to the first floor and heads for the side entrance.

[Atlas Mason] *The rumble is distant at first, one might almost think its the rumble of a distant storm, or more appropriately the storm that is just overhead ready to dump its cargo on the heads of all those out and about.

But as it gets closer, the rumble becomes a motorcycle a vintage WW2 allied motorcycle with a side car, who would be foolish enough to drive one of those with a storm overhead? Well...that would be Atlas. Driving as if to outrun the oncoming storm Atlas only barely catches sight of Emily standing there beneath the overhang, and he remembers he has something to deliver to her.

Tires squeal and the ancient machine rocks and shudders as it protests against this this woeful miss use of its form, physics demanding he not stop. But Atlas knows how to drive...and he brings it to a screeching, skidding halt not fifteen feet down the street, in a parking spot no less.

[Atlas Mason] [Rolling that...just incase. Dex+Drive WP]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 6, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6) [WP]

[Emily] Emily laughs a little, and answers the rapid fire questions in kind: Ahh, no. Maybe. And red shoes are amazing. Everyone should have at least one pair."

This, from the Orphan with a half empty closet and a penchant for shopping at second hand stores. Clearly the fashionista of the group. The answers are followed by a screeching, shuddering sound from the street beyond.

Emily mutters something to herself, that the phone undoubtedly catches. It's not in English, but it probably translates loosely to some faith-based epithet. If Riley chooses now to open the door, then Emily's staring at the vintage bike and its strangely familiar pilot: Atlas.

[Riley] Emily's answers make Riley laugh. "Okay, I'm at the door," she says before she ends the call. She hears the squealing before she opens it, and steps out barefoot into the cool afternoon with her Are you kidding me? face on.

Then she recognizes the driver of the antique vehicle, and she smiles broadly. To Emily she says, "Let me take some of that." The Orphan is relieved of a good number of containers and the football. The frisbee is slid over her arm up to her elbow.

[Atlas Mason] The rumbling engine dies as Atlas dismounts, stepping up and over the back railing of the side car so he didnt have to dismount into the street, the man is dressed in a pair of old leather riding boots, with his pants tucked safetly inside to avoid catching, his usual white collar button up shirt is hidden today, as he now wears a vintage barnstormer's jacket, almost as if he took it right off one of those yesteryear daredevil's himself.

He steps down onto the sidewalk and turns to the sidecar, his attention off the women briefly as they seemed to be watching him, and he pulls away a leather tarp that had been covering the interior of the sidecar and protecting it from rain. It was open only briefly, and when it was closed once more, in the man's hands was Emily's prized football. Tucked away safetly after last nights cookout disaster.

His machine secure, Atlas turns his attention back towards the two women who were staring at him. He looked around himself briefly, ensuring nothing was on fire or out of place, and then shrugged as he moved towards them, the ball under one arm as he raised the other in greeting. "Copious units of surprise and elation Riley and Emily, it is most fortuitous and seemingly scientifically implausible that we would meet at such a juncture. How are your actualized personality spheres?"

[Emily] "I thought you'd never ask." The wry little smirk turned quickly into a grin.

Gratefully offloading some of the things to Riley's arms, Emily was able to reposition the remaining burden in a less precarious arrangement. Most importantly, Riley had taken the American football, with its odd shape and habit of slipping out of the Orphan's arms at the slightest pressure.

There is confusion and curiosity in her expression as Atlas went digging around in the sidecar, but it clears to a small smile of epiphany when he finds her football -- which had not been among the assembled odds and ends when she gathered up the remnants of the holiday cookout to return them to Riley.

"You found it!" she said, gleefully and with marked appreciation. Surprise and elation -- just like he'd said. His mode of speech brought a pleased (if occasionally perplexed) smile to the younger woman's features. "It's good to see you, too. And I'm fine; a little rained upon, but I've otherwise no complaints. Yourself?"

[Riley] "Yeah, that's pretty crazy," says Riley, just a touch suspiciously. That he would show up outside the condominium she and at least two other mages live in. Strange coincidences indeed.

"I'm doing good," she adds, proper English grammar be damned. By now she's getting the hang of his speech pattern. At least, it doesn't take as much effort for her to translate what he says into something she understands. She's still standing in the doorway, one foot braced against the door to keep it open and keep them all from getting locked out of the building. Her dad isn't home, and she doesn't know if any of her friendly neighbors are around to let her back in again. And she certainly wouldn't want to wait out salvation in a nearby coffee in a t-shirt and shorts and nothing else.

"We should get all this upstairs. Atlas, do you want to come in?"

[Nico] Somehow, the temperature is only managing to drop as the afternoon crawls away from morning. There is no sign of sun, no hint of warmth, and anyone who steps outside today finds him- or herself being instantly soaked by a mist that seems almost pernicious.

It isn't a long walk from the building's parking lot to the side door, but when the weather has taken a turn for the worse, fifty feet seems more like five hundred. A green fifteen-year-old Audi pulls off the main drag to seek out its parking space within the lot, the wet brakes squealing miserably as they are called into action. The execution is nowhere near as fearless or as daring as that pulled off by the Etherite, but given the heaviness of the hangover riding on the shoulders of the driver, it's impressive enough in its own right.

When Riley's upstairs neighbor gets out of his car, he's wearing the same thing he'd had on last night, and it looks like it's the same thing he had on last night: he's wearing loafers, khakis and a light blue button-up shirt, untucked and the top two buttons free as the day they were born. The sleeves of his shirt are pushed up around his elbows, and not one but two paper club bracelets--one with yellow smiley faces and the other bright pink--are secured around his left wrist. His curly hair is a mess, he has a vicious five o'clock shadow growing on his face, and he's squinting in the wan light of the day as he gets out of the driver's side and slams the door shut behind him.

Keys remain looped around his finger as he moves as quickly as his hungover body can possibly manage. He's holding onto them like a weapon as he notes the strange man talking to Emily and Riley, the individual keys wedged between his knuckles in case he has to jam them into someone's eye socket. There is no attempt at stealth on his part, though; though he uses his free elbow to muffle it, the sound of his smoker's cough could be heard down the block.

[Atlas Mason] "My personage as well as my physical biological chemical structure is functioning within nominally anticipated parameters for this time frame, however." He pats his stomach. "I am currently being alerted to a nutrient deficiency within the upper gastric intestinal sack. However that is relatively inconsequential given the situation." He says with a smile as he offers Emily her football back, returning it to its rightful owner.

"I had secured it during the aggitated intersection of social convergences in the previous twenty four unit cycle."

Then Riley had offered the man to come up with them, he seemed to think about it for the moment, he had just planned on leaving the ball and going, but the offer seemed like a good idea given the weather.

"I accept your offer Riley, the structure of your domicle appears to be adequate shelter from the current atmospheric conditions."

[Emily] She accepts her football back, juggling it with the rest of the things in her arms. It's a happy reminder of the earlier half of the cookout the day before, and Emily is momentarily pleased that Riley got called away before the agitation began.

It takes her a moment, today, to translate between Atlas and English. It's not as easy as yesterday, for whatever reason. But she gathers he's hungry.

"I hear they took the leftovers to the Ch -- House," she says, stopping herself from using the newer vocabulary word as Lady Gaga himself approaches the gathering, looking a little worse for wear. Emily recognized him, rather quickly, as That Guy From The Club, and pinked slightly.

Thank goodness it was difficult to tell an embarrassed flush from the light sunburn she'd acquired. At least that's what she told herself, in the moment.

[Riley] [I haven't gotten to roll anything yet, this is unacceptable: Blush? What blush?]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 6, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Emily] ((Stop percepting me, yo. It's a holiday!))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 6, 6, 6, 7, 7 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Nico] [Awareness+Perception: I Wanna Roll Dice!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Riley] [me, too! one roll is not enough!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 6, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Emily] ((Seriously, now, all these intense stares are making me curious... Per + Aware))
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Nico] [Lady Gaga has been a magic-casting fool lately. As he draws closer, Emily can pick up not only his resonance, which manifests as something attention-grabbing, something flashy, but the fact that within the last several hours he has cast magic relating to place and mind.]
to Emily

[Riley] "Agitation?" she asks. Now that her arms are full of glass and tupperware containers, when Riley steps backward toward the building she has to use her hip to push the door the rest of the way. She looks from Atlas to Emily, eyes narrowed suspiciously. Granted, whatever happened only happened last night, but she can't help but feel she was left out of some important loop.

"What kind of agitation? Hey, Nico," she calls when she sees her neighbor looking very much like he's been to at least the fourth circle of hell and back. She catches where his gaze goes, to the stranger among them and Riley looks, too. Looks to see if there are any signs of interest, anything that would tell her if Atlas bats for Nico's team or hers and Emily's.

What she notices about Atlas doesn't surprise her. It just makes her smile in a way that's usually reserved for small baby animals.

"Well, it looks like there's still a pretty good feast left over from yesterday. You're more than welcome to help lighten the load. I think whatever's left after lunch I'm going to take over to a shelter around the corner. the corner. What a wonderful neighborhood these supposedly hip, cool twenty-something mages live in.

[Nico] As the returning weekend warrior approaches the door, he picks up on certain traces of drifting conversation that alerts him to the fact that the man talking to the two young women isn't trying to relieve them of their possessions or their decency--the fact that he knows Riley's name, for starters, or the fact that he talks like some indigenous life form on an episode of Star Trek.

Nico's grip on his keys relaxes as he steps up onto the sidewalk to join them, and his eyes, the sclerae vaguely red from too little sleep, make a none-too-subtle sweep up and down the other man's form. It could just be an assessment of danger, an attempt to determine whether or not he needs to be wary of the man's presence, but given the fact that Riley and Emily have taken to referring to the VA's upstairs neighbor as Lady Gaga, it's a safe bet that neither of them would accuse his partaking of the other man's form of being anything other than unsavory.

Hey, Nico.

"Rileyyy," he counters, pocketing his keys so as not to look like some sort of maniac walking around with metal claws attached to his hand. He reaches out to hold the door for the three of them, and after she's spoken about the fate of the leftover food, he says, "Sorry I couldn't make it yesterday, I had to cover for one of the weekend counselors."

That at least explains why he's wearing his work clothes when he looks as though he's just dragged himself out of the fourth level of Hell.

[Atlas Mason] Atlas hands over the football, but of course he offers to take some of the other stuff that Emily was juggling in her arms. He takes a fair share of it too, ensuring that both of them won't have to hard a time getting up and into the apartment.

When both Riley and Nico look Atlas over as if he were wearing some kind of sign the man seems completely oblivious to it, he actually is paying more attention to the sky overhead then anything else. He does however look over at Riley when she offers food, and he is quick to nods.

"Indeed, the allowance for commestibles to decay beyond the recommended safety levels for internal usage as a fuel source would be a copious misuse of resources, I will endevor to aid you in ensuring its utilization."

He says as he moves to hold the door in place of Riley, allowing her to continue up the stairs, she did have the keys afterall. "He nods to Nico with a amiable smile. "Social obligatory welcome to your personage sir. I would actuate my left cantilevering appendage in your direction for an appropriate social welcome, however both appendages are currently occupied with ten kilo's of mass per appendage."

[Emily] Wearing jeans and a hoodie sweater, Emily looks quite different than she had at that night in the club. Her ankle, which none of them can see just now, is still wrapped in a neoprene brace. Just for another day or so, until she's sure it's steady. Rolling it twice in one week lessened her faith in the appendage, and she's not looking for a three-peat performance.

"Hi, Nico," she says, spacing the words just enough to intimate that she remembers him. There's a pleasant warmth to her voice today, less cheeky and wry than before. As if that unrelenting not has taken a backseat for a moment; quelled, sated. "Rough night?" she asked, with a note of genuine concern.

Emily was, inwardly, trying to reconcile the flair of resonance and double banded wrist with the word counselor and casual dress. A few connections came to mind, ones that inwardly made her quail and start hunting for exist -- but that was irrational, and unfounded. It got stamped down, reined in tightly.

"And nothing much, Ri'," she says, belatedly addressing the other girl's query. "Nathan was having an off-day, that's all." Nathan's off days were infamous, and required very little elaboration to incite migraine-level headaches. "Ashley demanded a rematch on your behalf, at least twice more..."

Her voice echoes in the stairwell as they head up to Riley's apartment, and the damp soles of her shoes squeak on the hard floor.

[Riley] "That's cool, man. You just missed the world's most awesome game of soccer," she emphasizes the word again, with a grin to Emily and Atlas, who for some reason keep insisting on calling the game by its hoity toity Britsh name. "Maybe we can do it again next weekend, or something."

She grins at Atlas, but she's talking to Nico when she adds, "And you're more than welcome to hang out and have some reheated grillin's. There was a pretty good spread."

Then the tall brunette is leading the way up the stairs, easily hefting the load she took from Emily. The condo she shares with her dad is not the same as Chuck's, and it's not the same as Nico's. One is still freshly acquired, may even still have boxes packed away here and there that still need to be unloaded. The other is rented by a bachelor, and it looks like it's being rented by a bachelor.

When the small group reaches Riley's door, it opens into a room that is colorful and spacious. To the left is her bedroom, the door still opened to reveal its relatively small size, the fact that it's actually pretty neat and orderly. To the right is the bathroom, and then there's the living room, which is comfortable and cozy, colorful and feminine yet with masculine touches. A blending of both Riley's and her father's styles. A streak of grey and white bolts past them and into Riley's room, Dr. O making his escape. The balcony door is still open to let in a breeze and the cool outside air.

"Guys, take off your shoes, please," she says over her shoulder as she heads for the kitchen to begin reheating the food.

[Nico] Emily greets him, asks him if he had a rough night, and an almost sheepish grin splits his lips, showing teeth for a brief moment as they all start to file inside.

"Two-dollar drink night," is all he has to say about what happened last night.

When the thirty-something with the scientific lexicon addresses him, Nico turns toward him, eyebrows lifted either in interest or out of some hungover need to help the rest of him absorb what's being said. It takes a degree of focus he hadn't managed to devote to the morning after whatever debauchery he got into last night, and he looks as though he's gone lightheaded about halfway through the Etherite's explanation.

He does manage a friendly-enough smile, though, and a, "Don't worry about it, man. I understand."

He thinks.

Up two flights of stairs, and the lot of them filter into the condo Riley shares with her dad. For a moment it seems as though Nico is going to keep on trucking, as though he's going to haul his happy ass to the third floor and the promise of a shower and bed contained within, but he doesn't. He slips into 2R after Atlas and Emily, and steps out of his loafers.

"Riley," he says, "you're gonna have to help me decorate. Your place looks so much nicer than mine does."

[Atlas Mason] Atlas steps into the apartment behind Emily and Riley and after he sets his share of the load down he takes a moment to look around the apartment. His eyes widen slightly as he takes in all of the colors, all of the open air and the light that filled the apartment even during a dark and miserable day such as this.

"My hypothesis..." He says in a moment of wonder, pulling himself from the riding boots and stepping into the apartment to look around more. "The light wave fold factors within this structural locality are uniquely convergent, their wave forms multiplied by the micro applications of hue tinted polymers to the structural planes."

He says gesturing to the walls as he stepped into the living room. He pulls out a small prism, and puts it between his fingers before spinning it with his other hand, as if to catch more light. He takes a few more seconds of acting strangely before turning to Riley and nods.

"Your domicile displays unique characteristics uncommon in such structures or this time frame and composite materials, utilize its particulars of wave form distribution effectively." He says quite specifically, almost like she might be wasting a valuable resource.

[Emily] Two-dollar drink night, well, then, that's different. Emily's smile mirrors Nico's own and the concern flees her features. Hungover and a long night of partying can explain almost everything she's picked up from Riley's neighbor, and she doesn't need to pry about the rest.

She waits for the others to take off their shoes first, since she'll have to set down everything she's carrying and actually untie her shoes this time. Usually Emily just toes them off easily -- and she can for her left foot, but her right requires more attention, and she eases the shoe off a bit more carefully than usual. Now it's easier to see the difference in shape of her two feet, and the slight stiffness in her gait. It hadn't been severe enough to keep her from playing football the day before.

No one will notice, though, because Atlas is wandering around acting oddly in Riley's flat. He's taking out a whirlygig and talking about spectra. Emily pushes herself back up to standing and gathers up the remaining food containers to bring to Riley's kitchen, casting Nico and Riley sidelong glances as she goes.

It's the first time, really, that Atlas has done or said something that truly makes the geek girl think: WTF. "I think he likes you place," she says, softly, to Riley in a confused and vaguely amused tone.

[Riley] [wits + enigmas: okay, that was more confusing than normal]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 6, 6, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Riley] "I'd be happy to, Nico, but just so you know, my services don't come cheap. But I can work on a barter system."

Riley's things are set in the kitchen, including the sports equipment. She'll put them in a hall closet soon enough. For now, she sets the oven to preheat and starts setting out the platters of meats and fruits and salads. Burger patties and brats and fish steaks are arranged in metal baking dishes. Then it's time to wait.

Riley and Emily can look out into the living room from the kitchen, over the counter and beneath the cabinets. Riley leans down, resting her elbows on the Formica, and smiles when Atlas pulls out a prism and looks around. He acts very strangely, indeed. For the first time today she has to concentrate on what he's saying to work out the meaning. When she's got it, her smile broadens and to something decidedly girlish.

"Thanks, guys. I think that's actually one of the reasons my dad got this place. It really lets in a lot of light, despite the fact it faces more building. It used to look more like Chuck's," she says, looking at Emily of course, who she knows is familiar with the other VA's place. "All dark and dungeony, with orange shag carpet."

[Nico] If Nico has never encountered someone like Atlas before, if he has never before in his life stumbled across a member of the Tradition known for their strange devices and near-crazed devotion to inspiration, he's doing a damned good job of not staring at the Son of Ether as though he has just stepped out of a flying saucer. He's looking at him, sure, but the man has enough social grace and self-awareness left in his exhausted body to not outright stare, even if it's questionable whether he understands half of what comes out of the other man's mouth.

Riley busies herself in the kitchen, and Nico plunks himself down on the couch, reaching up to scrub at his face with his ringless left hand.

"Uch," is his appraisal of the state of this Chuck fellow's living arrangement.

[Atlas Mason] [Am i perceptive?]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 5, 5, 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Atlas Mason] "The hue and tonal derivative nominally referred to as 'orange' by the laymen offers many unique qualities for spectral compositions, but if the structure itself does not propegate appropriate wave lengths than it can be detrimental."

Atlas says with a nod of agreement as he tosses the prism in the air and catches it, before tucking it into his pocket. He looks about at the others, from Nico on the couch, to Riley and then at last to Emily and his eyes catch on her, a slight down turn of his lips almost slipping into a frown when he does so.

"Emily, the natural structure of the Osseus Talus and its accompanying cartilage, dozen musculature connectivity lines and supporting epidermical tissue should not be positioned or exaggerated so far beyond the nominal range. Have you ascertained the professional obligative discretion of a bio-medical expert?"

[Emily] (( Avoiding that question with a Pause! ))