Taking tea

[Emily Littleton] There are days when the usual tea house in the usual part of town with the usual crowd simply will not do. When a smaller venue, more intimate, less cluttered, more refined and upscale sounds like a very good idea. Emily can't afford to come here often, and she rarely ask for company when she comes, but it sounded like the sort of place that Ashley might like and Ashley seems like the sort of person who might need a slightly better than usual tea house to add to her register of favorite places.

Emily calls her, invites her to come along, without any open agenda, and then heads off on foot. She has not gotten used to the American reliance on personal transport. It's comforting, to her, that many of the magi are public transport friendly -- due to either ideological or financial reasons.

This place is just a storefront with a modern banner and a neatly trimmed entrance. There's no kitsch and flamboyance, nothing to exclaim awesome dwells within. Once inside, though, the rich colors of the walls and the comfortable clusters of chairs and tables transform the Lake View space into something, dare we say, magical. There's a case near the entry with elaborate desserts, and a display with small glass cups full of loose leaf teas -- so one can make an educated selection on their beverage of choice. The air conditioning is strong enough to leave the space pleasantly cool, but not chill.

And it's quiet. Quiet enough to have private conversations in corners and know if they are being overheard. Quiet enough to actually hear the piped in music, and recognize it as decent selections by local jazz musicians.

Emily is there, with a small white teapot and cup already by her side. She's leaned back in one chair, with her feet propped up on the wicker seat of another, writing intently in a notebook. There's another cluster of people in the opposite corner, but otherwise it seems to be the lull between rushes. Mid-afternoon is an odd time for tea and sweets, unless you happen to be firmly European in your observances. Then it's the perfect time for tea, or coffee. (They have both, here.)

[Ashley McGowen] Ashley arrives on foot: she always does, though her reasons happen to be neither ideological or financial. It's impossible for her to drive. It always will be, unless she manages to heal her eye and ear somehow, unless she uses the Ars Vitae to mend the nerves that were shattered and shorn a few days before her Awakening.

She's very enthusiastic about the idea of a new tea house. She's also very enthusiastic about having friends who like good tea: several of the women of Chicago have been pleasant surprises in this regard. Ashley got to like loose leaf tea so much during her years in Europe, and up until quite recently, it just wasn't a thing Americans did. (Now it's getting trendy.)

It's quiet, and there are sweets in the case near the counter, and Ashley pauses and looks but doesn't end up getting anything except tea in the end. It's a nice place, but it is a little on the pricey side, and chances are it's going to be a long time before the Hermetic is back among the employed. (People have asked how she supports herself; Hermetics have had ways to do these things for quite some time now.)

Once she's ordered she heads over toward Emily, careful with the teapot and the cup both. She has to be: without depth perception, carrying fragile or hot things can be a little hazardous, from time to time. But she sets it down and seats herself safely, throwing a curious glance at the notebook but not scrutinizing its contents. "Hi, Em."

[Emily Littleton] "Hey, Ashley," Emily says, with a smile for the other woman. The Apprentice slips her pen into the spiral binding of her notebook, but doesn't fold that book closed. She just drops it into her lap, lets it rest there cradled and protected for now.

It's a blessing, too, for Emily to find friends who appreciate some of the little joys in life. Like loose leaf tea. Of the men, only Jarod had proved promising on that front and he was long gone now. (A thought that no longer darkens her expression.) Tea lovers tended to introduce other tea lovers to favorite, share and swap collections. It was a pleasant past time, a little bit of mundane ritual in their magic-steeped lives.

"What did you end up picking?" she asks, peering curiously at the pot. It passes for a how are you as well. "I chose the honeybush masala."

[Molly Quincannon] Molly needs to be out right now. Yes, she could order the sort of tea this new Thomas guy likes on the internet. That's not the point. She is healed and free to go out and about, and by Kibo's flabby arse, she's going to get out of the house and do something. So she's going to go out and find tea for the new guy. If she keeps stocking up the sorts of things that her fellows like so she'll have something to offer them when they come visiting her auto repair shop, she may actually have to break down and buy a full-sized fridge.

Molly doesn't look like the sort of person who would amble into an upmarket tea shop. She's still all black wife-beater and tattoos and badly-cut hair and geek-punk. But she's going in anyway because a) they seem to do bags of loose-leaf tea that might be the sort of thing the new guy would like, b) she doesn't really care what people think of her anyway, c) she could use a cup of coffee and theirs smells awesome...

And d), people she knows. Catching sight of Ashley and Emily from her spot by the front counter, she looks up, grins at them with no small amount of glee, and waves.

[Ashley McGowen] Ashley, for the record, doesn't look like the sort of person one would usually find at an upscale establishment either. She doesn't have Molly's piercings, but the Hermetic's short hair and Chuck Taylors and fitted T-shirts peg her as collegiate rather quickly. She unslings her messenger bag and drapes it over the back of her chair, dropping into the seat opposite Emily.

"Green, with apple," she says brightly. Apparently all it takes is a new discovery (any, really) to put her in a good mood. The fact that the week has been refreshingly free of disaster, nothing to spoil her run of good luck, helps too. Ashley's all too used to having a good thing happen only to have it ground into dust by Chicago's implacable march of troubles.

"What're you writing?" she asks, when motion in the corner of her good eye draws her attention to Molly. She lifts a hand and waves at the Cultist, and while her manner and expression aren't overly friendly, that and the eye contact are enough to acknowledge, to let Molly know that she's welcome to come over and join them.

[Emily Littleton] Emily doesn't look like she belongs in an upscale anything, perse, but of the three of them she stands out least. She's wearing jeans, but a more feminine blouse (light blue, cut prettily, still just cotton [we abhor the words dry clean only]). She's piled her curls at the back of her head and secured them with pins to keep them off the back of her neck. It's messy but somehow still organized, controlled. There's a glint of silver at her throat, where the chain from that locket sits against her skin. But it's not how she looks that makes it easy to slide into a place like this, even in flip-flops and promising to purchase nothing more than a pot of tea and endless hot water refills. Emily has a way of taking what she finds in people, echoing it back, and getting herself accepted for it.

Pleases and thank yous don't hurt either.

Neither does the warmth (hopefulness) that sits just beneath the surface of her smile. That thing she only just keeps back. It's there. They might see it. It may pass them by. She's not advertising it, but even Emily can't hide it utterly without effort.

"I'm working on something for Owen's birthday," she says, with a shrug. She glances down at the notepad and then back at Ashley. Emily follows Ashley's gaze to the entryway, to Molly. Her smile broadens and she, too, waves.

[Molly Quincannon] Molly smiles acceptance to the unspoken invitations and, as Emily speaks of Owen birthday things-of-mystery, Molly talks to the individual behind the counter and, a moment later, heads for the table at which Ashley and Emily sit holding a little pot of coffee, a cup and saucer, a little bowl of sugar and a bag of loose-leaf tea of some description - that last in her teeth, because at some point she ran out of hands. When she can actually speak - with coffee cup and coffee pot and everything set down, she smiles at the two and says, "Coincidence is awesome, I have decided. Hi, you two. This place is awesome! They have kopi luwak! And I'll be honest, I didn't think there were this many kinds of tea in the world, ever. Though," she adds, giving Emily an impish grin, "glad to see I was right when I thought you might be an afficionado." Then she blushes a little, clears her throat and asks, "So how's life with you two? Everybody looks cheerful today."

[Ashley McGowen] Ashley pours some of her tea into the cup, but doesn't sip from it yet. It's still quite hot, and Ashley happens to be a little bit sensitive when it comes to hot liquids. She holds it, though, wraps a hand around it and lets the heat seep into her palms.

"Owen's birthday?" she asks Emily, with the sort of idle curiosity that is as close to small talk as Ashley gets. Not driven, not hungry, just: oh, you're working on something that is obviously important to you, you are intent, I wonder what that is. It's not something she used to show at all, in fact, until the last couple of months. There was a not so distant time when Ashley found it difficult to meet with people for reasons outside of business.

When Molly sits, comments on coincidence, a corner of Ashley's mouth twitches. "Yeah, that happens a lot here. You get used to it," she says. "I'm doing well," she adds, and then there's a beat, because she hasn't made a big deal about becoming an Adept. The people who are close to her, so far, are the ones that know. She says, "I just asked an old acquaintance of mine if he'd mentor me as an Adept, for the Ars Mentis. He accepted, and he's kind of a big name, so I'm pretty happy about it."

[Emily Littleton] "It's the accent," Emily says, with a resigned tone but a levity to her eyes. "Gives me away every time." The smile she wears is wryly canted for a moment. It's a natural thing for Emily, it comes easily to her without affectation.

Ashley's news overwrites her question, for a moment. Emily's smile switches back to something broad and unburdened by wry undertones or cagey kept-asides. "That's great news!" she says, with genuine warmth for the Adept and Acting Deacon. "Does that mean you'll be going to work with him soon?"

She'd mentioned going away when they were chatting in Emily's apartment. Sometime after we should bake you a cake and avoiding questions about Emily's weekend plans. Almost as an afterthought, the girl answers the question about Owen.

There's a little shrug, and a patient roll of her eyes. "He gave me all of a week lead time. So I'm scrambling. Some people won't even tell me what kind of cake they like." Wry again. Ashley had met Owen enough to know he was shy and somewhat on the taciturn side of uncommunicative.

[Molly Quincannon] Molly smiles a little at Emily. "Hey, it's no bad thing. Met a new fellow earlier in the week and he's from England." Ashley, of course, knows about this. "He's been having a hard time finding a decent cup of tea. So, since I'm mobile and pain-free again, I thought I'd get out and try to see where he could find some. Hence." She holds up the little bag and shakes it for emphasis. "Oh, I also need to know, if either of you do, what kinds of things Israel likes. I know she's doing academic studies of folklore and I think I could find her something really good on that front but dunno if she needs it. So, y'know, any nudges towards a thank-you present would be really appreciated."

Then there's talk of Ashley, and since Molly had never really known what Ashley's status was in terms of Adept or Disciple or otherwise, she just smiles and gives a generalised "Congrats! Sounds like a worthy goal to work towards, and probably a worthwhile person to learn it from, too. But sounds a bit foreign-exchangey, from what Emily said." It's not quite a question, but an invitation to elaborate. Curiosity and all.

Then, for Emily. "There's cake? And a week's lead time. Is there an occasion? Is it Soul Cake Tuesday and no one told me?"

[Ashley McGowen] Ashley looks sidelong at Molly when the Cultist brings up the new fellow from England, and she says, "He didn't strike me as the tea type. I showed him a few places to find beer, though." Stouts and looseleaf tea are a staple of Ashley's diet, much to the dismay of the people who have noticed how much of both she happens to drink.

She rotates her cup in her palm, runs her thumb absently along the rim when asked about Israel. "You know, I'm actually not too sure about her reading or academic tastes, strangely enough. I know more about Solomon's. She's very religious, though - a lot of her practices are based around the kabbalah and her family Craft." Given that one of the first things Ashley discusses with most people if she's trying to break the ice are literary tastes, it's a little strange to realize she knows nothing about Israel's.

The Hermetic makes herself a mental note. Smiles, briefly, at Molly when congratulated.

"And...yeah. I'm going back home to Boston next weekend. Not for too long, but enough to give Temple time to...well, I'm not actually sure what he's going to do. Both of my old cabal mates were mentored by him, but I tried to avoid sitting in on lessons."

[Emily Littleton] "More new people," Emily says, with a little surprise underlying that expression. It's not put off or put out, no, but the community seemed to be growing faster than she could keep up with. The Orphan (for now [Singer soon to be]) pours a cup of tea and tips some cream into it. She sips at it.

"Israel came over for dinner the other night. I think she really enjoys cooking, and good foods. You might be able to find her some interesting spices, or pass along a recipe for something unusual. There's always food at our meetings -- kosher, but also from nice delis and bakeries." There's a little pause here, while Emily tries to remember more. "She another one that enjoys teas. You may be able to find her something here -- maybe one of the whites? Most people don't keep anything that delicate on hand. They're a treat."

She sips at her tea again, then sets it aside. Emily slips that notebook into her messenger bag, now, and sits up like a reasonable person in her chair. Her manners have caught up with her, mostly.

On the aside about cake, she tells Molly: "A friend of mine has a birthday coming up, but he's quiet, and doesn't like groups, ergo doesn't want a party, and will not give me any hints as to what he might like. It feels a little like a test," she says, and her mouth curls again, fondly (and with faint frustration).

"Will you also see Justine in Boston?" Emily asks. It is polite to ask after Ashley's friends, but there's not much more to it than that. "It was nice to meet her while she was in town."

[Molly Quincannon] "I know," is Molly's comment to Emily's mild surprise. "Two in the last week, at least. Thomas - who," she adds in Emily's direction, "did actually tell me that..." She can't do his vocal tone, but she's got Thomas' inflection down when she says, "'I prefer a brew, but needs must as the devil drives and all that', so while he likes a beer, he's also a tea man - and this guy James, who I met with Morgan. Seem a solid couple of guys, at least. Then there's Quentin, which is something else again. The community's jumping, from the sound. Chicago seems to be the place to be."

Then she laughs at the commentary about recipes. "I ... don't cook. Never have. But I suppose I could get together something ... ooh. Ooh, there's an idea. Emily, you're awesome; thank you!" Apparently, something bigger than a bag of white tea of some description is brewing. From someone who'll turn her Beetle into a TARDIS-thing, perhaps there should be fear. "Now I really want to help you with the quest to treat your friend's birthday as well as you want to. But since I don't know who, and might not even have met the guy, I am on to a loser there. Woe!"

Then there is mention of Boston. Molly waits for Ashley's answer to Emily's question with interest, though she doesn't know this Justine; the best way to find out is to listen, at least when she doesn't know what questions to ask.

[Emily Littleton] [Subterfuge: Oh, those new people. Yes. No, I do not grind my teeth at the mention of last night's drama.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 4, 5, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] James. And Quentin. Emily tips her cup and looks into it (scrying tea leaves perhaps?) then sips from it again. She's practiced at saying nothing when she's got nothing nice to say, so there's a little pause that's barely noticeable in the wake of Molly's rapid-fire enthusiasm.

"I need to speak with James, if you happen to run into him again," the Chorister-to-be says. It sounds like business, but she doesn't dwell on what that might be. "And I had quite the chat with Quentin last evening."

These are left, just lead-ins should either woman be curious enough (come now, Emily. Curious enough? You're taking tea with -Molly-!) to follow up on either. Her cup comes down to meet the saucer again, settles in with the handle at precisely the same angle it'd been when she picked it up. Emily is particular, these subtle mannerisms say. She is perfectionistic.

"Actually, there's something you could do to make this quiet, no party, no group, no helpful-hints birthday go over easier. Keep Riley and Chuck busy on Thursday? I'll make sure there's leftover cake or your own faery cakes in it for you." Ahh, bribery by baked goods. It's a tried-and-true method of friendship-building and bartering.

[Molly Quincannon] Emily has recognised a trait or two of Molly's. Molly has, with a particularly analytical mind, also noticed a trait of Emily's - that way she seems to have of compartmentalising everything that might possibly be on the 'this in some way kills my buzz' end of the event spectrum. It's not that she knows what's up; it's that there are little boxes in Emily marked "James" and "Quentin" and now Molly wants to open them and see what's inside. "Um ... I can try to pass a message along to James; I've got his email now and can text him if need be. Anything in particular I should tell him? Or anything in particular I should know about so that I can avoid telling him? And what is up with Quentin, anyway; I heard something about 'not-a-fellow-but? Oh, and I need to talk to him about the Thai dinner thing anyway, make sure he knows it's not a date-date because I think after Goonies, red Jell-O and hospital visits, I'm off the market. Anyway. No need to bribe me, though I admit that leftover cake is a motivator; I needed to grab Riley and Chuck for some extracurricular LAN party action for The Greater Good anyway, so now we've got date and time to get it done. So are you planning for candlelight, wine and roses, romance?" She's teasing, with the impish grin.

[Emily Littleton] [Subterfuge: Why no I am not blushing. Not blushing at all. Silly suggestion, that.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 6, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Molly Quincannon] [[Apparently, I am to roll Perc + Awareness-as-Empathy now...]]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 6, 6, 7, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] Molly asks for more details, which is not entirely unexpected. Emily throws a little look across the table to Ashley, and then replies tactfully.

"James put a pair of Apprentices in direct danger, something I've spent my apprenticeship hearing is exceptionally bad form from an Initiate." This was said as plainly as possible, but it gave Molly enough to go on. Emily was displeased with James and she might be the most mild-mannered of the town's Singers just now. "I want to express my disapproval of his methods."

Emily would like to hit him, in the face. But she doesn't have the hand-to-hand training for that. And he's deaf, so reading him the riot act is not as cathartic as it might otherwise be. Bother.

"Quentin has a gift," Emily says, and again she doesn't not share everything she knows of the broad-shouldered man at first go. "It's not like ours. And I don't think he wants to join the club, per se, just yet. He has Ashley's number and mine. If he gets in trouble, he'll call, but I think he mostly wants to be left alone, magically speaking."

Molly teases her about Owen. Emily's attention flicks to the Cultist, her mouth twitches with amusement and then she looks away. "I don't think he's the wine and roses type," Emily says. "But we'll try birthday cake and basketball. That might be more his style."

[Ashley McGowen] [I will totally roll that even if I can't make it. +1, I'm special.]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 7, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 7)

[Emily Littleton] The girl is very, very good at keeping things hidden, but Molly is that much better at ferreting out the small cues. There's a softness to Emily's amusement, a shyness when she rebuffs the Cultist's intimations. This friend who does not like crowds is especially dear to Emily.

Someone has a crush, or a secret boyfriend, or a something that she's not sharing.
to Molly Quincannon

[Molly Quincannon] Molly's shoulders stiffen at the mention of this new guy putting apprentices in danger, but how far her temper goes will depend on the answer to one simple question: "...Which apprentices?" She's calm, when she asks this. Actually, no one has ever seen Molly this calm. Even when she was on heavy amounts of codeine. Evidently, this doesn't make her very happy either.

To the bit about birthday cake and basketball, Molly smiles. It's an understanding sort of smile - not for the specifics but for what underlies the specifics - she knows exactly how that feels, and she doesn't care who knows it. "Well, you know him better than I do. Good luck, have fun, all that."

But mostly, of course, she's waiting for the answer to that one. Calm. Question.

[Ashley McGowen] To Emily's question about Justine, Ashley replies with, "Yeah, I'll be seeing her and Bran both while I'm in Boston." Bran's a name Emily has only heard in passing: there's a reason for that. She hasn't stayed on good terms with him like she has with Justine. They couldn't quite manage the relationship that Emily and Chuck have with each other now.

Then she falls quiet in favor of listening to the banter between the two younger mages. She's capable of listening sometimes, Ashley, listening and taking in and digesting all the information that she doesn't have yet.

"What did James do?" she asks, with a sharp look toward Emily.

[Emily Littleton] "Riley and Ashton's apprentice, Alex."

That sort of serious calm brooks no argument. Emily answers it with candor, and no evasion. It's direct, to the point, and none-too-pleased. Her (righteous) frustration should make all the more sense once her cabal-mate's name leaves her lips.

"Alex told me about it yesterday. I'm still quite angry," she says, in a perfectly pleasant tone. Understatement of the week.

[Molly Quincannon] Molly goes very, very still. Usually, she's all frantic constant motion and now she's just. Not. Moving. Then she takes a breath. "Ooooooooooookaaaaaaaaaaaay..." The coffee goes down in one smooth gulp and she stands. "I ... think I am going to go and have a word or two with James. So to speak. I have a typing speed of ninety-eight words per minute, and I really appreciate it at moments like these. Being deaf is not going to spare him the verbal bitch-slap he has merited. And then," she says, bowing to Emily, "I will send whatever's left of him to you."

Then she says, "I should go anyway; if I'm going to set up for this LAN party on Thursday, I'd better start getting the connector cables I'm going to need. Sorry to cut this short, guys. Hope to catch you later. Call me if you need me, yeah?"

Her belongings gathered, she gives both women a smile, strained but meant. Then, out she stomps, evidently prepared to UNLEASH HELL!

...And buy esoteric connector cables.

[Ashley McGowen] Molly storms out, and Ashley spins her as-yet-still-untouched tea with her fingertips, considering the way the liquid swirls against the white before she finally lifts it to her lips. She doesn't react, at first.

Well, she does. Emily knows Ashley well at this point; she can see the Hermetic's jaw tighten, the way it sets like it does when someone tries to "coddle" her (or ask if she's all right, you know) and she can see the way her eyes spark like the blue core of a flame. "Riley told me they went after Nephandi," Ashley says, "but I didn't know they had an initiate with them."

And really, Ashley is a little torn, the way she sometimes is when her prior ethics come into conflict with the new ones she has been shaping. Riley and Alex: if they'd died it would have been because they didn't fight hard enough. But there really aren't that many Awakened people in the world. "Do you know how bad the threat was? I won't jump to conclusions until I've spoken with James. An initiate should be able to gauge that kind of thing."

[Emily Littleton] Unleashing Molly on James was somehow almost as fulfilling as sending Owen after him. Having done both in a twenty-four hour period left Emily feeling that there may yet be some sort of percussive re-education delivered for his lapse of judgment.

"Bye, Molly. And cheers," she says as the Cultist takes her leave of the small tea-time group. She took genuine delight in the words verbal bitch-slap which spoke oh, so poorly for her general mood.

And now there were two. Emily turns back to the Adept, the Acting Deacon, her friend and answers. "From what Alex told me, and he was anything but forthcoming at first, a friend of James' was kidnapped. The assailant grabbed her and 'just disappeared.' James asked Alex for help, Riley became involved because of Alex."

"They tracked the Nephandus back to a location where it had hostages. Alex went in first, and James kept Riley from heading in after him -- I don't know what that was about. But I am very certain they're all alive more due to dumb luck than anything else."

It wasn't that she was selling the other Apprentices short on skills, here. It was that teleportation was an Israel-level skill, and the elder magi of Chicago had beaten into Emily's head that Nephandi were above her pay-grade and to phone for help immediately, do not pass GO, do not collect $200.

[Ashley McGowen] Ashley hasn't had occasion to meet James yet. There's been a stream of new people into the city lately: between Thomas and Alex Quentin and Molly herself, Ashley has been wrapped up in the business of trying to meet all of them, trying to get to know who they are before she allows them into the chantry. It's her house, you see: her territory, and so are the people who frequent it. She's protective of it.

There was a certain Verbena who made that observation about her once, and she'd scoffed at him, at the time. Regardless. Ashley is no more happy to hear about James' behavior than Molly was, but she also dislikes judging on hearsay unless she's formed an opinion about said subject on her own first. Truths can be twisted in the telling, and there are a lot of things a pair of apprentices don't know.

"It sounds like it's lucky they were all relatively unhurt," she says. Agrees with Emily, really. "If they were actual Nephandi, James made a mistake. They might have just had Qlippothic taint, though. Things with sustained contact with a Nephandus get it." There's a glance there, toward Emily, something quick. Ashley's learned from experience (not hers) that sometimes all it takes is for someone to dabble in the infernal.

"Then again, if it was pressing or he was worried for his friend, he might not have had time."

[Emily Littleton] Emily nods and looks down into her cup of tea. She shifts it off the saucer, so she can wrap her long fingers around it. The irritation she feels is being replaced, quickly, by contemplation and thoughtfulness. She didn't stay angry for very long, after all.

"I mostly want to talk to him. Find out what happened. Riley's my cabal-mate and that's supposed to mean something more than just hanging out from time to time." Emily feels protective over the older girl. After the year that Emily's had, she doesn't want to see Riley pulled into more of the same.

"I really hope there's more to it than what Alex said. I also don't want to think there are Nephandi here again, after the House." Her mouth purses a little, then Emily sips from her tea. "Don't get me wrong; I probably would have gone along to help, too, if I'd been there. But you'd have heard about it from me. An address, some names -- something. It doesn't sound like James has told anyone about it, unless he's gone to Solomon with it.

"Isn't that part of what the Chantry and Emissary council are for? Sharing information when things like this happen?"

[Ashley McGowen] "Yes," Ashley says. "I just want to be fair." And oh, if the story is still the same when she hears it from James, that suppressed ire will have its outlet. But she is trying. Fairness is important to Ashley, after all. It's one of the few things she'll attempt to curb her temper for.

Emily is contemplative; Ashley's hand is still a little tense against her cup, the almost delicate line of her jawbone set hard. Chances are that it won't relax for a while. She'd been upset when she first got the text; she's moreso now. She'll probably need to talk to the apprentices: but then again, she doesn't want to discourage them from challenging themselves, either.

It can be hard, knowing where to draw the line.

"If what Alex said is accurate, he should have contacted someone. But I'll figure out what happened and chew people out accordingly," she assures Emily. Something wry touches her tone, her gaze, there as she looks back at the younger woman.

[Emily Littleton] "Thanks," Emily says, but the expression she wears fills in the gaps of what isn't said. Ashley promising to chew the appropriate people out is comforting to the Singer-to-be. It's the sort of assurance that has teeth, that will be followed up on, that might provoke change (or enough strife to get people moving toward change). It's weighty, and not only because of the titles that Ashley keeps.

"You know," Emily starts, and her tone is easier here. Lighter. "I didn't ask you out for tea so I could dump a bunch of Deaconly things in your lap. One of these days we're going to just have a nice afternoon, no magical drama or hissy-fits. I still hold out hope," she says, as if the notion is pure folly at this point, but Emily remains foolishly hopeful.

[Ashley McGowen] That Emily is comforted by this: Ashley doesn't miss that. She appreciates it, when she can reassure someone without having to resort to sympathy, without having to resort to soft words and reassurances, neither of which she is very good at most of the time. When she can offer it her way, well, that's always a little refreshing.

She sips from the cup of tea, giving Emily a wry grin when she mentions Deaconly things. "I've kind of given up hope of that," she says. "Something goes wrong here every week. By now I just kind of deal." One gets used to constant conflict after a while. It hardens a person: it's a good thing.

"So what're you planning to do for Owen's birthday? I mean, I can see why the guy wouldn't appreciate a party, but I would think you'd at least want Chuck and Riley around. He's part of the cabal with the three of you, isn't he?"

[Emily Littleton] Ashley says that constant conflict hardens a person. Emily mentally softens that word to tempers. They don't have to talk about it, the side-long ways their world views come together, but they compliment one another in some ways.

Emily just shakes her head when Ashley mentions Owen, Chuck and Riley, and then shrugs. "I know, right? But when I asked him about the two of them he made this grumbly sound and said I'm not good with crowds." Emily can approximate her mentor-and-friend's mannerisms now, but she can't lower her voice to the appropriate octave.

"I get the feeling he hasn't celebrated in a few years, and I can understand that," she tells Ashley. Emily can understand, because Emily doesn't make her birthday known or celebrate it in any overt way. "So, maybe, this year a cake, and next year a proper party with more than two attendees?"

[Ashley McGowen] Emily imitates Owen's voice and manner, and Ashley smirks at her across the table. Ashley doesn't see Owen very often, doesn't know him very well, but she knows enough to have seen the Chorister's intensity and to know his dislike of large groups of people. They share it, as a matter of fact, commented upon it when she came to visit him at the church.

It's a large part of the reason she doesn't see Owen very often. She can certainly sympathize.

She shrugs a shoulder, says, "Well, it's his birthday. No need to force celebration on the man if he doesn't want it."

[Emily Littleton] Ashley doesn't comment on it, so Emily doesn't notice what she's said until a moment or more has gone by. And next year... It rolled off her tongue like nothing at all, without obstruction or any friction. This settling in, settling down, putting down roots thing was catching up with her. She'd noticed, more than once, the way her language was canted toward thinking of Chicago as a sort of second Home.

It still made her pensive, for a brief moment, but it was becoming less strange.

Still she returned the smirk, knowingly, and added, "God forbid we force anyone to make merry." There's a brightness to her eyes, though, that speaks to mischief -- or perhaps hints at the fondness she has for the shy and oft-unseen Singer.

"I spoke to Quentin last night," she says, shifting the conversation somewhat squarely. "He works with local law enforcement, and does not yet want much to do with us. I'll let you know if that changes."

This was as much a report as anything. They didn't have to linger on it.

"He said something curious though. That he's content with what he has and what he is. I haven't felt that way since Waking Up. I don't think I'll be content and comfortable to rest that, ever again. Is that normal, for us?" she asks Ashley, and it's not an Apprentice asking the Deacon. It's one Awakened person to another. Emily is driven; Ashley is driven. She wants to know if that's just the way things are for people like them.

[Ashley McGowen] Quentin's name comes up and there's a little huff of air, something vaguely frustrated and annoyed that rustles the hair about her eyes and left side of her face. Ashley hasn't told Emily that she went to try to talk to Quentin, to convince him that he should spend time among people who know what he is (that he should spend time helping them, hedge mage that he is.) But she suspects the girl knows already, if she's continued to talk to him.

"Well, he's still a Sleeper. If he doesn't want it, he'd be useful, but I wouldn't spend a lot of effort trying to get him to change his mind," she tells Emily. She doesn't have any personal attachment to Quentin, no particular reason to pursue bringing him over and changing his mind.

When Emily mentions that he said something curious, Ashley raises her eyebrows and lifts the cup to her mouth again, letting it rest thoughtfully against her lower lip. When Emily has finished her question, she takes a sip and then answers. "I'm not sure I'd say -normal,-" Ashley says, "since there are definitely Awakened people who get complacent with where they are. But it's a good trait, wanting to push yourself and wanting to better yourself."

A beat, and she looks up at the girl again, meets Emily's eyes. "Sleepers -are- content and comfortable. It's why they Sleep. If they wanted more, they'd reach for it. Most of the time it's why people have to be shocked into Awakening, or why they have painful Awakenings. When things are just okay, most people don't want to rock the boat."

[Emily Littleton] "I'd rather planned to let the subject drop, unless he brought it up." Emily shrugs slightly. She wasn't particularly attached to Quentin either, but there had been overtures made, by both magi present, and it seemed fitting to debrief on the situation. Quentin: Not interested. Ashley: So over it. Emily: Mostly indifferent.

Moving on.

Ashley meets her eyes, and Emily doesn't shirk from that. "I can understand that," she says, though Emily's own Awakening had been painless. Every-fucking-thing that came afterward had tested her instead. "Sometimes I think if I'd know then... But then I stop myself. I can't imagine choosing out of this, even after this year."

She couldn't go back to Sleep if she tried, but she could understand why someone might not want to wake up.

"I run into him around town, but I don't seek him out. If he wants in that's one thing, but even I have too much to do to convince him if he's ambivalent." And Emily doesn't want the responsibility of having forced that choice on anyone.

Emily finishes her tea. She's winding down, getting ready to head out. The afternoon lull is about to turn into the trendy Sunday Evening sweethearts spot. Too many Sleepers, too many adorable nicknames. Neither mage was likely to stick around for much of that.

[Ashley McGowen] Ashley had been rather happy, as a Sleeper. Not all the time, of course: she'd been a teenager, hadn't had that warm a relationship with either parent, had the ensuing and necessary angst. But, no. She supposes that it had been more than "just okay," and if there hadn't been that loss, that threat of losing all of who she was, she never would have tried it.

She lost something else instead, as though in trade. Life works out that way sometimes.

"I don't think most of us would go back to Sleep," she says. "It's one of those things that you really can't step back from." Ashley isn't troubled by this. She's reflected on it, how she was made for this, how this is the life she was supposed to live. It doesn't make the sacrifice of music worth it. But it makes her happier with how things are.

Ashley, too, finishes what tea she has. "I think that's a good approach," she says, of Quentin. "Let him seek us out. Let it be on him." And if it isn't, well, he must not want it badly enough. "Thanks for showing me where this place is, Emily."

[Emily Littleton] Quentin wasn't an apprentice. There was no immediate need to draw him in, under someone's wing before he did something abysmally stupid. There hadn't even been that much of a press when Emily was a bright-eyed newly Awakened, though several Disciples had a hand in shaping where she ultimately landed. No one had forced her hand, or pushed her overmuch in any one direction.

Maybe Ashley was a bit insistent that she check out the Singers. Seeing where that had led her, Emily could hardly complain.

"You're welcome. I like it here. Someday we should try splitting one of the desserts. They're positively sinful and big enough for two." Emily delights in fine or fun foods, the sort of thing she would never have the patience (or skill) to make in her flat's small kitchen. Carrot cake, she could handle. Multi-layered tortes with various cremes and fruit fillings? That's a bit over her head.

"I've got to head out," she tells the Hermetic. Their conversation was headed that way anyway. "I'll catch you at the meeting?" she asks, alluding to the Chantry hub-bub that was on both of their calendars. When Ashley affirms, they can make their goodbyes and wander out of the shop. Emily heads home, by way of the market, and back to her schoolwork.