Impromptu dinner guests

[Nathan Spriggs] As evening swept away and made way for night time, sun slowly dipping down behind the buildings in the horizon, the normally busy Lakeview streets seem to be thinning out slowly. The odd businessman getting home by foot, or maybe someone walking his dog, are the most common sight at the moment in this gap before the night life and pubcrawlers come out.

It's in between this that a blond man in a business suit, light gray pinstripe on black with a white shirt and dark purple tie, walks slowly through the sidewalk, blending naturally into the background of the high-class neighborhood. His eyes shifting from street to street as he makes each turn on a corner and reads the street signs. A look over to his wrist watch here and there every few minutes. It seemed he was either lost or waiting for something/someone.

[Emily Littleton] This corner of the city is where Emily lays her head at night, most nights at any rate. It's where another Singer lives, a tiny flat that Nathan has seen once (and once is probably more than enough for him). It's near the Church where the two members of Cabal 3 met, which is, itself, across the street from another Orphan's home. It is a busy place, Lake View, for the Awakened community. Busy with bright pin pricks of illumination; busy with trails that cross, interweave, and burn in anonymity.

Nathan is walking down the sidewalk on one side of a residential street. There are cars parked along both sides of it. The street signs are clearer here than in most of the city. Lake View makes the attempt to appear above reproach; Lake View appears to be a nice neighborhood.

Emily is walking the opposite way down the street on the other sidewalk. She is carrying a paper bag with some leafy greens just peeking out of the top margin. She reaches the street corner, looks both ways, and spies Nathan. The Singer-to-be pauses, considers her course carefully, and then shifts to head toward his side of the street.

"Nathan?" she asks, in the last few feet of her crossing. As if he could be anyone else. As if she's surprised, at least somewhat, to see him here. "What brings you to this part of town?"

There's a warmth to her smile, now. A friendliness. She's not as clipped with him as she's been in the past.

[Nathan Spriggs] On most nights, the former Cultist would be long aware of the person fast approaching, especially if that person was Awakened, if that person was known. But tonight is not most nights. A Chicago at peace wasn’t the city he was used to living in, strange as it was, so he’d gone exploring after work. See where it got him, even with the city map memorized by street names and what connected where.

It didn’t help. So now he’s semi-lost, and nightfall’s catching him, the Chicago nightfall. Never good to venture out in territories unknown these nights, not with killer garbage cans on the loose according to some.

He turns his head slightly to look over his shoulder at the girl, woman now, before turning around fully. “Decided to wander around. Got lost,” he responds without skipping a beat, amusement in his tone at his own plight. “You?”

[Emily Littleton] Emily is between titles, in so many ways. She's a girl, who is also a young woman. She is an Apprentice, on the cusp of Initiate-hood. She is an Orphan, who knows in her heart she ought to be Singing. This is a summer of waiting, of growing, and hopefully of milestones and recognition. Not so, just yet. Right now, on this street corner, she's still waiting for the cosmic sign that says you're arrived and it is taking its sweet time in coming.

Nathan says he's lost and Emily cants her head at him and looks keenly at the expression he wears. Then hers softens from scrutiny to recognition.

"Just headed back from the market." A beat, she thinks, considers something. "You need directions to anywhere in particular?" The girl hefts the groceries from one arm to the other, settles them against her hip, leverages what curves she has to help her keep control of the contents.

[Nathan Spriggs] Another shift of his head, just slightly, corner of his eye observing the street name. A shrug then, as he slowly turns his head back to the young Chorister-to-be. If he notices the keen look she gave him, he ignores it completely, no defensiveness here or attempts to make out hidden motives.

"Nah, got directions. I know this place by memory. Doesn't make it any harder to get lost though, take the wrong turn and bam. Things look so much different on the ground than they do in a map." He says, an odd detachment and the same amusement present, like he was enjoying it in a weird kind of way. Like he was just observing the show from a sideline. His hobbies were weird like this.

Left arm leveling towards her, he points a finger towards the groceries and says, "Need help carrying that? Seem a bit heavy."

[Emily Littleton] "It's not heavy; it's dinner," she says, in a sage tone. It's also light, somewhat wry and lilting. It sounds more like the Emily Nathan hadn't had a chance to know. Before the Chantry incident, before the Marauder, and the Demon, and the dead child. Before the suffering of the Awakened world had caught up with her, all at once.

"I enjoy just walking, sometimes. Getting lost is a good way to find yourself, or you way around. I spent most of May and June walking -- but don't tell my cabal that; they be irritated that I wander the city at night, like a fool." She says this, with the proper note of self-derision. But the brightness in her eyes yields no ground to the perception that she was wantonly and unnecessarily putting herself in danger.

[Nathan Spriggs] "You say this as though they're mutually exclusive," he retorts almost instantly, brows arched in joking curiosity as he does. A step back and closer to the nearby wall before he leans against it. Nevermind it served as a good vantage point tactically speaking, he too seemed different than usual. That bit more relaxed anyway, not jumping at the shadows. That came later, for now his apparently biggest worry was exploring the city.

"Wandering is, when you have the time. Y'know, the whole 'off the beaten path' schtick and all. Luckily, I seem to have a whole lot of time on my hands as of late. Which, while most of it is spent reading, I like to keep a level of human contact." A hand digging through his pockets as he speaks, taking out a pack of cigarettes. Drawing one and placing it between his lips, he says, "Mind if I smoke?"

[Israel Cohen] [[Aware+Per: Lesse what tonight is like]]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 6, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Israel Cohen] Wandering can be somewhat cathartic. Like somehow the act of aimless motion can get the gears going; to distract or to clarify or whatever the case may be.

She'd passed by a certain park. Lingered on its outskirts. A park only recently cordoned off by police, site of body dumps and the hope of a red-handed [gruesomely literally] kind of capture. Of course the civil authorities hadn't really known the half of it. They seldom do. All too often the ones with a gist of what really goes on this world are just as corrupt as the horrors they witness.

Too many questions still unanswered; too much the sensation of strings being pulled and dancing to a tune that drifts from an unknown source.
She wanders, like the other two; wanders in white capri pants and a white Asian style short-sleeved top with delicate, subtle hints of black embroidery; black knot work buttons and frog clasp at the imperial neck. Kitten heels, but heels nonetheless [with them she is just barely over five feet] and the white guide cane. Most people see it and move out of her way; some don't see it at all and brush or bump into her; she evades some, not all. Some eye the cane, eye the woman and wonder -- think better of it and move along.

Eventually she moves from the park and wanders again. Distracted - unusually open in the distraction; not pained or upset seeming just thoughtful.
There is a lot to mull over these days, you see.

A tingle; a spike of awareness then a soothing note of recognition - but she's not as sharp as is often the case, so it's very likely they see her coming their way before she takes notice of them until she is close.
"Emily.... Nathan... Hi." A an earnestly amiable smile for each, gentle [weak?] in its nature, though it takes a moment to draw her expression fully away from whatever thoughts had her so introverted; drifting; wandering; aimless.

[Emily Littleton] "I don't mind," she said, but she took a small step back. It wasn't rudeness, just that Emily did not partake in that particular habit, and didn't want to catch too much of the second-hand smoke. She also set the bag of groceries down, near her feet, rather than trying to cradle it against her body for an overlong time.

"It's nice to have a break," she says, alluding the previous months' tyranny at the hands of a disgruntled celestial servant. Emily runs her fingertips through her hair, while Nathan smokes. She lets the quiet moment build between them with nothing more than sharing space behind it. No enmity or hidden meanings. The heat of the day had begun to break, the breeze coming off the water front was cooler.

Israel joined them, and Emily looked her way, made sure the bag of groceries was not in the woman's path.

"Good evening, Israel." And then there is three of them on a random street corner in a neighborhood she is learning to call home. This is an odd place for a conversation. "I was about to ask lost-and-wandering Nathan here if he wanted to come over for dinner. Would you like to join us as well. I think I can stretch what I picked up at market for three."

[Nathan Spriggs] A slight nod to Emily when she backs away, it was why he'd at least given her the chance to voice an opinion. With silence falling over them, his eyes wander from place to place, from Emily to the groceries, from there to the passing cars to the people in the distance. Searching for everything and nothing in particular, just passing the time.

Then he hears the footsteps and familiar sound of a cane, which naturally catches his attention and makes his head turn, gaze shifting. The sight, however, was both expected and unexpected. Over time, he'd come to link the sounds to Israel, but he didn't really believe it just happened to be her tonight. Alas, it was.

A smile spreads across his face as his left hand holds the cigarette away for a moment, the friendly sort. "Hey, good to see you." A beat, before he turns to Emily and says, "Unfortunately, I think it's time for me to get wandering again. I need to get home soon. Catch you around with luck."

Back to Israel now, though he's unsure how much Solomon's told her about their business with each other. "Sorry for the sudden retreat, but if you don't mind, could you tell Solomon to drop by in a few days? I should have what he asked for ready in about a week." Then he's pushing away from the wall and getting ready to head away slowly, time enough for them to respond.

[Israel Cohen] "Lost-and-wandering, hmmm?" The description of Nathan makes her lips tweak, humour touched, but in a kindly manner. "I don't know... sometimes lost-and-wandering means you've finally figured something out." Soft spoken, not precisely an inside commentary but it probably has some meaning for the shrewd man. Another flex of her lips, the revelation of a shallow dimple, not usually obvious...

...Emily mentions food and she brightens somewhat at the thought; at the invitation. "That would be lovely," she says. Like Ashley, Israel is a foodie. Where the two small women put it all is anyone's guess, but love it they do. Then a touch of polite concern, "You're sure it isn't a bother?"

Nathan is declining the offer and asking her to play messenger to Solomon - not that thew blind woman seems to mind in the slightest. There's a slightly arched brow [goodness, could it be that she's not actively aware of something the [ex-]Priest is up to? maybe.], but her response is easily spoken. "Sure, I'll let him know. Take care, Nathan." There's nothing mother-hennish in the statement, but the words are genuine.

[Emily Littleton] "Another time then, Nathan," Emily says, and whatever friction had been between them so many months ago has evaporated, for now. They exchange parting greetings, which are remarkably polite. And then Emily's attention is left for Israel. There's a smile underlying her words; it's audible among the mish-mash of accents.

"It's no bother at all. I enjoy cooking for others," she says, and it's very much true. She also owes Israel more than she can rightfully express. Emily picks up the bag, again, settles it against her hip. There's the crinkle of paper and the jostle of vegetables (as far as sounds go) and a whiff of fresh herbs (basil and thyme) and other aromatics.

"My flat's not far from here," she says. "Just a few blocks. It's rather empty... I hope you don't mind." She's not shy about this, or embarrassed. Emily is rather direct about the state of her apartment, and doesn't make the pretense of calling it Home.

[Israel Cohen] The scents in a city are a cacophony of olfactory sensations. In the height of summer its worse: Everything is that much more pronounced, that much more pungent. And Chicago, like every other city in this world, is ailing, is festering. Even the rich areas, the opulent and well-to-do areas cannot escape the signs of decay; cannot completely hide away the ugly things that lurk in shadows and gutters and alley ways. [but what's truly terrifying are the things and people and places that look so healthy, so right and hide with such success what festers horrible within.] Here at least there are some green smells. There's Nathan's cigarette smoke that lingers even as he walks away. There's a rustle and she sniffs delicate, picking out the herbs with focus. Such things make up the greater whole of her unique perceptions.

Emily assures her that it isn't a bother, but a joy and it sets Israel at ease. "Can I help you carry anything?" The offer must be made. To the warning of a rather empty apartment, the smaller [but older] woman chuckles, breathy as her speaking voice tends to be. "Oh, that's actually something of a help, really," she says, lifting the guide cane slightly, before she adjusts her grasp and moves to walk alongside the other woman. "I'm less nervous about whacking something and the like..." There's no complaint here or chagrin: She's accepted her disability; to the point where it isn't so much a disability any longer but simply... different. Very different, but still workable in most regards.

Then, as they begin to move [she stops at the curb, queries 'straight?', listens for any oncoming vehicles or cues from Emily - appreciated if not needed to the point where she is immobile - before carrying on], "How have you been, Emily? Well?" Such is her hope from the light inflection in her voice.

[Nathan Spriggs] A nod to Emily and a small wave, as well as a 'see ya' to Israel and he's off. Down the street, trying to figure out where he goes, recognizing landmarks and street names to know where else to head. But he doesn't get far, just half a street maybe. A pause there, he halts. Indecision was a bitch, he did have important business to attend to. But was it really that important?

Then a pivot, turning right back to the two just before they're setting off. That 'oops, nevermind' sort of look on his face as he starts to wander back, probably a few apologies and a comment about having changed his mind. That it wasn't that important. That he accepted the invitation on second thought, all that stuff. From there, if they haven't already made other plans using his absence, he'll follow them back in silence.

[Emily Littleton] "I'm quite alright, thank you thought. I'd planned to get these back on my own anyway." The reply is cheerful, and not dismissive. She'd not bought more than she could manage, so there was no need to share the burden.

Emily is thoughtful, and adjusts her stride to match Israel's natural walk. It helps her make directions like in about five paces, we'll turn to your right. She measures distances in whatever common kinesthetic means she can, arm lengths or paces, rather than metres or feet. She says on your right or toward me rather than north or south, east or west. She is a courteous girl, who is growing into a thoughtful young woman.

Nathan doubles back to join them, and Emily waves for him to follow along. "The more the merrier, right?" she says, seeing as he's forgone his Very Important Business (tm) in favor of dinner her tiny flat.

The walk to Emily's apartment is as promised, only a few blocks further. There is no scrape of key in lock at the front door of the building. Emily pushes it open and it yields without resistence. It keeps nothing out but the wind.

"The stairs are about 10 paces forward and to the left. The lift's broken, I apologize," she tells Israel, holding the door open for the other woman and the Cultist. "The stairwell turns to the left at the landing. I'm the top floor. 3B." Just keep going til you can't go no more!

When Emily opens the door for them and welcomes them inside, they'll realize she wasn't joking about the sparse decorations at her home. She toes her shoes off beside the door, warns Israel about them (not nice to trip ones dinner guests), and moves toward the kitchen. The living room space is a broad expanse of wood floor, punctuated only by Owen's rocker -- wooden, with a small pillow and a book in its seat -- and a pair of bookshelves that press up against the walls. Around the room, at roughly eye height to the inhabitant, is a steady string of picture frames with unrelated snap shots in them.

Further in, her dining space and kitchen appear more lived in and loved. There are sunflowers on the table, perched over a navy blue tablecloth. The IKEA chairs have cushions now, and are more inviting. The entire space is neat, tidy, picked up and tucked away. Nothing is out of place, beside that book in the rocking chair's seat. It hardly seems lived in.

"Please, make yourselves comfortable. Would you like something to drink? Tea? Coffee? I think I have lemonade, still of course."

[Israel Cohen] Nathan rejoins them and it's onward they go. She appreciates the directions, mindful of them, adjusting in small ways as they are given. It's certainly better than having your hand taken [which is distracting and more than a little condescending-feeling [even if that wasn't the intention] both] as she'd once explained to Nathan and he's, since, kept admirably in mind. [he's offered her his arm on more than one occasion. did you know Nathan Spriggs could act a right gentlemen? true story]

A simple oh, no worries in regards to the lift being broken and it's up the three flights of steps they go [after counting the steps of the first flight she barely needs the cane though its still lightly used to be safe] and into the small apartment with its sparse furnishings. She cannot see the hits of decor of course; but she has a sense of its openness; she can smell the sunflowers and the light touch of scents that she associates with cleanliness and order. Organized; uncluttered; pragmatic, with slight feminine accents: These are sensations that match her mental image [concepts] of Emily.

At the door she slips off her heels [deference] and pads along barefoot, guide cane tapping in a smaller, more controlled arch now that she is in smaller confines. At the mention of beverages, "Tea would be lovely -- or would you rather coffee, Nathan? No need to make you," to Emily's direction now, "Brew up anything separate."

She finds the chairs, notes their location, but doesn't take a seat yet, "Would you like any help with dinner? I'm no chef but I can handle myself."

[Nathan Spriggs] Carefully analyzing streets and paths still, the trip to Emily's apartment seems to go in the blink of an eye for him. Israel being assisted by her, he doesn't think it intelligent to pitch in and help with the directions. Once they're stepping inside, he looks back to the door, to the so easily opened gate with a half-way disapproving look before shrugging it off.

Up stairs they go, and this is where he has it hard. It takes the former Cultist a lot to stay in shape, too busy smoking like a chimney half the time to give his lungs some well deserved recovery time. So he's trained flexibility, reaction time instead of physical strength and endurance. So he's covering it up carefully when they're finally at the top and he's slightly sweaty (maybe even panting silently for breath!). The result of a whole lot of walking in a very short span of time.

Still recovering, he's late to notice Emily take off her shoes and Israel follow suit, too busy evaluation and considering the decor. Not that he minds it, sparse is best as far as he's concerned. Finally taking his own shoes off half-way inside, he slides down on to the floor carefully, semi-meditative position.

"I'll have tea, thank you." He responds to the gracious offers of hospitality, noting Israel's own interests in the tea and remembering (always) where Emily seems to hail from. Tea is best for now, even if he'd prefer coffee. Best not to make her brew separately indeed. "Do you need help with the cooking, though?" Why yes, he can cook, years of living alone.

[Emily Littleton] "Thank you for the offers," she says, and there's a polite decline in her tone. Nothing rude. She goes on to explain, "The kitchen's rather close quarters, though. Maybe Nathan can read through the tea selection in the cupboard, and you two can decide on something?"

She indicates an upper cupboard in the corner. If Nathan opens it, he'll find a collection of well sealed glass jars. Each having a label, each penned in Emily's careful script. There are selections to choose from ranging from the standard (but deeply aromatic) Jasmine green, through Honeybush Masala, some flavoured blacks, an Oolong marked with a collection of Chinese characters (these not in Emily's hand). There's even a white tea with orange blossoms, and a few fruit tisanes for the incredibly uncaffeinated sorts.

Emily plucks the kettle off her range in a practiced motion. This is rinsed, filled and returned with a fluidity that speaks to her years in this sort of space. For all the wandering she's done, Emily always managed to find a borrowed bit of home in someone's kitchen.

"Does anyone object to chicken?" she asks them, after the kettle is on and she's unpacking her market haul.

[Israel Cohen] She doesn't seem abashed when Emily declines the offer; though truth be told some part of her is slightly chagrined to be a guest in someones home with nary a gift to offer the hostess [old, old, deeply ingrained habits and life philosophies, this... it not merely because she loves food and feels they go a long way in making gatherings easier that she always seems to bring something to such affairs and other peoples homes]. As Nathan reads off the selection, "Goodness, they all sound fantastic. I'm fine with one of the blacks," this because she expects it will likely be the most palatable to a main like Nathan whom she pegs more as coffee drinker, indeed.

She stills stands for a long moment: The apartment has a few windows open, letting in some air, driving out any recycled A/C type feel to the place. Assimilating herself. Finally, though, she takes a seat at the table - which is hopefully not far from where Nathan settled - then, "Chicken is great -- will you be preparing it with any kind of dairy product?" She sounds a little hesitant to ask, not wanting to be demanding but by the same token... she takes the Kashrut dietary laws seriously. [because rituals are important, even the small ones that so often form the greater foundation of the meaning [paradigm]]

[Nathan Spriggs] Maybe if he'd known more about teas, he'd have understood why Israel asked for it. And if he had, maybe he'd have rejected the kindness. Ultimately it came down to what he knew and didn't know, and tea was of the latter variety. Agreeing with Israel's selection for a moment, he leaves it there and resigns himself to suffering the taste of tea. Taking one for the team. "Chicken is perfect." That's all he has to say on that matter before he heads back out of the kitchen.

Finally heading back to the table, he slides back a seat and sits, considering the pictures aligned on the walls and the variety between them. It was curious enough for him to actually voice it with a, "Interesting collection, some of them look too old arguably, but did you collect those pictures in your travels?"

[Emily Littleton] If Nathan knew nothing about teas, Emily's flat was a poor (or perfect) place to start his education. Soon, he too would be wrinkling his nose up at the dessicated, bagged offerings of Lipton and the like. Everything in Emily's cupboard is loose leaf. All of them are pungent, sharply aromatic with clear notes and well formed leaves. Tea drinkers know one another from the mannerisms they evidence. With any luck, Israel and Emily could fold the once-Cultist into the flock. And he'd never suffer a poorly brewed cup again.

Or such was the theory. Emily herself often suffered through over-steeped ancient Lipton's black at Owen's flat, because that's what he had to offer, and at least he had that to offer. And she didn't say a damn thing about it.

"Not with the chicken, no," Emily says, and the girl is quickly stringing together Israel's religious preferences with the query and realizing she knows not-enough about Kosher food preparation. It made her momentarily anxious, but instead of quailing she asks: "Though I was planning on making a caprese salad on the side. Is that alright? Or would you like me to make yours a green, without the mozzarella?"

She shapes the word like someone who had been influenced by a native speaker, but never mastered the accent.

To Nathan, she replies: "They're all places I've lived, or photos I've taken. The earliest, though, are places in China I barely remember. Or remember only because we've visited since." Among the earliest is a toddler, who clearly has Emily's eye color and hints of her features, staring directly into the camera and grinning broadly. She's holding fast to the pig-tail of a Chinese girl a few years older.

[Israel Cohen] "Oh it's fine on the side," spoken with an easy smile; words softly reassuring. "I mean to say, dairy in side items. I just can't have it actually touching or prepared together with the meat dish." Never mind that it all ends up in her mouth and in her stomach... that isn't really the point though goodness knows she wondered about it growing up, asking why gentiles got to eat their pizza with all sorts of meat toppings on it and they couldn't even have beef or chicken on theirs. Questioning was encouraged in her house, thankfully.

"A caprese salad sounds divine.. I'm exceedingly fond of mozzarella." She also forms the words with a subtle acknowledgment to how its meant to be pronounced, but this isn't so much from living all over... she just knows a god awful amount of Languages, enough where picking up on the details of the ones she doesn't speak fluently is still easy. Second nature.

Then Nathan asks about pictures she cannot see and her interest is piqued, enough to ask, "Where all have you lived?" The tone is just enough to denote she won't mind a politely evasive answer like 'oh, all over'....

[Nathan Spriggs] Never having been particularly picky with foods, Nathan watches the exchange curiously, understanding Israel's reasoning to a certain point as just like Emily he didn't quite know the Kosher guidelines properly either. It isn't long before the conversation turns to the pictures however, a small smile forming at the answer Emily gave him. Having been a traveler, though not frequently of foreign countries, he always liked to hear people's experiences with it himself.

"Ah, I see. So your family was frequently moving around, then? I'm sure that must've been an... interesting childhood," he says with very real curiosity, wanting to understand how that felt. Life for him had been... dull for the most part, growing up. Until he escaped anyway. Never looked back.

[Emily Littleton] Now that she has been made mindful of Israel's dietary preferences, they would forever be followed to a tee. If she ever came over for dinner again, the menu would happen to include properly segregated meat and dairy. Just like the menu was free of any alcohol when Owen visited. Just like she forewent capers when her godbrother's palette came into consideration. It's part of being a polite hostess, but moreover its part of respecting the differences (diversity) in the people around her.

And diversity was part of what made this world, and its people, so exceptional in her mind.

Israel and Nathan both share an interest in how Emily grew up, and the Orphan (who is usually so guarded and cagey) chuckles wryly. It is a warm sound, resonant and deeply amused.

"Oh... this won't be an comprehensive list, but... My first memories are from China. We lived there longer than anywhere else. You've both likely deduced that home for me is the Isles, England more correctly. From there it's been Tokyo, Berlin, München, Vienna, Kyiv, Salsburg, Seville, Catalonia, Wexford, Majorca, Roma, Oslo, Benelux, San Francisco, New York, Prague, Cairo -- I wasn't permitted to stay in Cairo with my parents, or anywhere in Africa of the Middle East, but I visited for a week while they were in India."

The names roll off her tongue as she's preparing the salad and setting it out on three small, brightly colored plates. The scent of basil and freshed cracked pepper sharpened the mild acid of the tomato and the soft creamy note of the cheese. All these place names and canted heavily toward he native pronunciation. It's all borrowed, but it begins to explain the muddled note to her accent. The wanderlust. The lac of investment in this space, in any sense of permanence.

"It was a strange childhood, but I didn't know any different then. I went to Embassy schools, had tutors, attended cultural outreach events -- I thought this is how everyone lived, when I was very small. Until I was ten or eleven, everything I owned fit into a small suitcase, except what I kept at my grandmother's house in Manchester. Until a few months ago, I didn't bother renting a flat. I sublet half a room with another girl from University. Awakening made that arrangement impossible, so here I am. It's much to big for just me, don't you think?"

Her apartment is all of maybe 650 sq ft. Far from luxuriously large.

[Israel Cohen] "Quite a list," she answers, eyebrows arched slightly with open interest. She's an active listener -- many simply bide their time, barely paying attention, just waiting for their own turn to start talking again, without appreciation for information, for nuances of tone, of the beats and spaces between the words as much as the words themselves. This attentiveness is part of her nature, made all the sharper after losing her sight where latching onto the details she could suss because crucial to make up for the ones glaringly missing. [though much of the time now she barely think of their lack anymore. all praise the adaptability of human kind when pressed to it] "What a wonderful opportunity... though... difficult, too, I should think." Not argumentative; insightful. Intuitive.

Then, "Are you content to be in one place for a while now? Or has the travel itch started up again at all?" A curious question and, again, with the note that she won't be offended at an dismissive answer.

As for the notation that the apartment is too large for one person, Israel chuckles. "Oh, by most standards I think its just about right." But, then, the woman Israel [better called by a different name] prior to Awakening always knew a huge, old, rambling house filled up with her family. The woman Israel [so predominantly called, now], Awakened Disciple, spent many years in the company of Solomon and others who were very used to slap-dash travel and making do with bare minimums. She understands both. She sees the merits in both.

[Nathan Spriggs] Nathan is impressed by the list, and he's not easily impressed, not by mundane matters anyhow. It is because of this that he remains quiet, pensive and observant to the conversation as Israel responds. Continues as such for a moment longer, a beat before he adds, "I think it's a fine size. Probably seems big now, but once you start to get stuff, you'll realize it's much smaller than you thought at first." That's all he has to say, really. Experience at work here, both a frequent traveler who kept things minimal and someone who stockpiled books and other such bulky things.

[Emily Littleton] "Content might be too strong a word," Emily says, motioning with one hand for Nathan to come over and take the salad plates to the table. While he does this, she rinses her prep tools, and spoons some loose tea into a teapot (with a built in strainer). The kettle is about to scream, and Emily pulls it off the heat before then. Israel likely hears its pitch climb, but Nathan might not notice yet.

"I am resigned to be here through school, which would have been another year and is now three or four more." This implies that she is taking on additional studies at the University, not that she has errored greivously and has to repeat. "I still travel, as much as I am able. This year I've been to Taipei, home to Manchester, and visiting friends in San Francisco. But it's been three months since I left the city, and it's itching at me."

Yes, Israel's word is correct. It's a restlessness she cannot fight, something that will not be regulated to the sidelines. It's in her blood, for better or worse.

"I think I should like to go somewhere this summer, but I haven't picked where yet. Greece sounded nice until Riley mentioned the riots." The nation's irreparably broken budget might put a damper on tourism.

"You're right, Nathan. I'm sure it will seem a bit more reasonable once I get, say, a sofa." Emily chuckles again, and it's a bit more self-conscious than before. This isn't entirely easy for her, talking about her past experiences. It's not impossible either.

"The strangest thing to me about staying one place, though, is the people. I'm not used to knowing people for six, seven, eight months straight. Or to thinking about them being around at the holidays, or this time next year. It's a lot to get used to. It makes things complicated."

[Israel Cohen] "Complicated, yes... but worth it, I think." Is Israel's commentary; understanding [she's lost many she was closest to -- to keep accepting new connections has its risks and takes its tole... but still worth it? yes, she believes so. completely.] and meant to quietly bolster - encourage - as well. "But new... yes, I think I can see how its all very new. You've handled yourself so well though, Emily, from what I've witnessed." Kind [soft]-hearted as Israel is, many would expect her compliments to be, perhaps, easily or frivolously given. That isn't the case... she has a knack for seeing what is of merit in people [and sometimes that knack is dangerous; it makes some closest to her worry] but what she finds and mentions she means, without guile or a ring of falsehood.

And so, for Israel's part, the rest of the evening goes... she savours the food with graciousness and gratitude and enjoys what is - for once - light conversation. And, for a spell at least, the other concerns and planning and wondering and worries drift away...

[Emily Littleton] [... Fade! ...]