Pedantry comes pre-equipped

[Basil Gillingson] Basil sat outside of a small Chinese diner. A cup of Darjeeling tea sat in front of him in a delicate porcelain cup. The restaurant itself was hardly opulent but Basil did not seem to mind. The food itself had been enjoyable, almost as good as his visit to Hong Kong before the Empire gave back the property to China. A small newspaper was folded in front of the man. A small medallion was hanging from his wrist, bearing a Solomic symbol inlaid into the metal. Most would see it as an accessory, few would know it was a protection barrier.

He reached to the cup once more, sipping it, watching the street for a moment before he returned to notation in a small pocket journal made from moleskin. The pen itself was the sort someone spent $40 on for reliability. Now and then he would take a small tube of white sand, setting it on the journal and pinching a little where too much ink had tried to bleed from the pen.

[Cassidy Widderhog Malone] *Cassidy has been exploring chinatown at her leisure all day. One of the benefits of being woefully unemployed, and without permanent residence, was that one had time to shop. Or would have time to shop. If one had any money with which to puchase goods, or any home in which to store them. Luckily, Chicago's littlest hermetic hobo had just enough change left for a cheap meal, and exactly the grumbling place to put it. A Heavy backpack weighing on narrow shoulders, the gentle featured redhead stops a few feet from Basil and counts out her money with brown eyed gaze narrowed in consternation. Food yes. Tea no. A woeful glance to Basil's teacup, - drat. It smelled positively divine. In her loose flannel shirt and faded jeans, Cassidy looks for all the world like another hapless college tourist basking in the neon glow of Chinatown. A hippie maybe, and an over friendly one if the widening of her eyes and abrupt approach was anything to go by.*

Oh! I, or rather, you! That is to say, uh.

*Well, that didn't go so well. A sheepish grin lights up soft features, setting freckles off in contrast to her skin. Crumpling her money in a fist, she starts again.*

Hi. Sorry to interrupt.

I'm Cassidy. And... I like your charm.

[Basil Gillingson] Basil paused at the voice before he continued to write for a moment. When the girl continues to blather, he realizes sadly that she is talking to him. He turned to stare at her, the dark eyes staring down his Romanesque nose as he eyed her. He hadn't even spoke and yet the vibe around him was disdain. Disdain was the polite word in truth. He stared before finally setting the pen down, fingers smoothing the page and then his forefinger tucking up to close the book gently before removing his hand from the journal as he gave his full attention now.

"Do you now? Sorry miss, its not fer sale."

The British brogue rolled off his tongue easily as the Hermetic glanced with the corner of his eye to the fistful of cash in hand and then back to her face.

[Cassidy Widderhog Malone] Oh? I.. uh.

No.

*Again. That didn't make much sense. But Cassidy was a charming little creature. An inheirant sweetness of countenance and innocent sort of honest earnestness winning her friends more often than not. Typically she recieved politeness, if not friendly banter from people she approached. Basil's instant dislike of her a jarring departure from the norm she was quite unprepared for. It takes a moment of standing open mouthed before she remembers herself and winces.*

I - sorry. No, I didn't want to buy it fella. er.. Sir.

*For this was a british gentleman that definitely was a Sir. *

I didn't mean to interrupt your reading, I just, I meant that I recognize the symbol. I suppose I'd thought to say hello. Like minds, and all that, I guess.

*She was making a mess of this. An adorable mess, but a mess regardless. Ginger lashes droop as she screws up her face and looks to her shoes a moment, money tucked limply back in her pocket, sweaty palms wiped on faded denim. Confusion dancing along her knitted brow as she ventures a glance back to Basil.*

Sorry. Sorta new.

[Basil Gillingson] "Sir is the proper address."

He seems to agree with her correcting herself before he continues.

"But I was writing, not reading. And you did mean to interrupt, young miss, because you were curious of this. So apologizing for interrupting when you intended to do so to speak is rather...redundant."

He brought his fingers, bridged together as he focused his eyes on her fully.

"Why do you recognize the symbol?"

Basil was not the sort to just like 'anyone', no matter how pretty or filled with bliss and jubilee they might be.

[Cassidy Widderhog Malone] *Lips are wet nervously. Cass suddenly feeling quite inadequate for a reason she can't directly place. Something to do with the Brit's judging scrutiny. She was being lectured, and its all she can do to glance around to see how many other people are witnessing this embarrassment. When it appears there are few that care to listen, she hestitates a moment, before committing to it and jerking out a chair so she might sit. Leaning closer, Cassidy speaks softly and intimately.*

I.. suppose its a rune for action. Energy, in a way. A force acting on another. I - uh- you know what? Hold on.

*Wincing once more, the redhead wrestles her backpack to the ground beside her, and digs around in it several long moments, all too happy to avert her eyes from Basil's. Homeopathic bottles clink, herbs smell pungent and fragrant, and a hefty mortar and pestal are set on the table only to disappear again into her sack. When she comes up, its with a rueful smile, and a small rose quartz dove in hand. Rune for "tranquility" artfully hidden over and over again in its feathers. Far more subtle than the symbol on his pendant. Dangling from a pendant, she offers it for basil's viewing pleasure.*

[Basil Gillingson] Basil continued to stare. His hand went to lift the cup of tea, rather then touching the pendant. He sipped it for a moment before continuing.

"You didn't ask ta sit down. But it is a rune of energy, yes."

He doesn't reach to touch it or take it. He just regards her with the flat stare.

"Who are you?"

[Cassidy Widderhog Malone] *Cassidy was making no friends here, as shocking as that may be. The sheepish redhead flushes guiltily, fingers rubbing along her quartz dove in a determined attempt to releive nervous energy. A deep inhalation of breath before she raises her face to Basil's and smiles sunshine. Seriously. Its like she just puked a unicorn, and god knows Cass would be the one to have the in with them. Brown eyes fairly dance with soft pleasure. Kill em with Kindness kid. *

I'm Cassidy Malone. Who might you be sir?

[Basil Gillingson] Basil directed the gaze at her. He had broken lesser people with such stares. It didn't help that standing next to him felt like being next to a lightning rod in a thunderstorm. He drummed his forefinger briefly across the moleskin journal, just staring at her fixedly for a moment before continuing.

"Basil Gillingson. But that does not explain to me -who you are-."

The Hermetic was dissatisfied with her introduction. He wanted answers and much of the time, when he asked for answers...he pulled them from the person being investigated. He did so as politely as the Quaesitor knew how. The lips seemed pulled into almost a permanent frown of disdain. Or maybe he just never smiled.

[Emily Littleton] It's one of those evenings. Cooler than most have been of late. It's down-right pleasant, and it's giving her hope for Fall. Emily's out and about in the oddest of places, a place that feels like home in its comfortably unfamiliar languages and signage. Being surrounded by unAwakaned Otherness was comfortable. It made her feel less alone.

None of them were ever alone in this city, though. She's rounding the corner toward the cafe where Basil is sitting and even before she runs up against the break in the sidewalk the demarcates the pation area, she can feel the Hermetic. There's a crackle of short-temper blended through an oft-maligned accent. It stills her steps, brings her up a little short.

The tall Orphan girl looks to the nameplate of the restaurant. Her gaze lingers long enough that it's likely she's reading it. (It's not likely; she's stalling). She hears Sort of new, and Basil telling a woman to call him Sir.

"Evening," she says, gently and as an aside to the Hermetic Initiate as she moves into the patio area and finds a member of the wait staff to bring her a menu and a glass of water. Emily does not call him Sir, or toe any lines of propriety beyond pleasantness and a polite smile.

They've seen each other, twice perhaps. One of those nights ended with Sir Basil out cold and dumped in a Church to cool off. Isn't a shame that the other open table here is just next to his. Emily folded herself into a nearby chair, offered Cassidy a somewhat warmer smile, and made haste to peruse the menu she likely couldn't read with great attention.

[Cassidy Widderhog Malone] Nice to meet you Basil.

*Only it wasn't. It was altogether unpleasant and while the smile on Cass's face began to falter under the intensity of Basil's dislike, the young sorceress began wishing she'd simply ordered moo goo gai pan and continued about her evening, leaving the surly mystery man to his book.*

Er, Mr. Gillingson rather.

*Cass adds hastily, sweeping red hair behind an ear. She looks every inch the uncomfortable college student being dressed down by a dean. Glancing away under Basil's glare, she finds a friendly smile and returns it with one of her own, scared and silightly apologetic. Then she leans in to speak quietly, her own resonance perfectly matching the situation at hand. Struggling.*

Well, I suppose.. I'm loosely associated with the um, group that most commonly uses these sorts of marks. In fact, I use them in my work. So, I was just curious. Is all. If you'd like, as you said I'm interrupting.. I could go? I di- well ... I guess I did mean to interrupt, but I didn't mean to, you know. Make you all surly. So? Yeah.

*A beat, and the floundering redhead clears her throat and nods, standing up with a wince and a grimaced smile.*

Ok. Sorry. Goodnight?

[Basil Gillingson] Basil stared at her, before he lifted his hands to bridge together. He leaned his nose against the foundation of his fingers, staring as he listened to her mention of 'working' and 'loosely associated'. He listened and he remained quiet. The eyes flicked briefly to Emily, only raising a brow and slightly nodding his head to indicate that he recognized Emily's existence before focusing fully on Cassidy again.

"-Sit down-."

He doesn't yell, he doesn't even really raise his voice. But there was an edge in his tone that indicated he wasn't about to let her get up and go so immediately.

"Loosely associated? You will have ta be more clear on that term, Ms. Malone. Loosely associated is a rather broad introduction...it could mean that you know more then you should, that you work under someone I know, that you are a student or loved one, or...."

The eyes remain peering just above the level line of his bridged fingers, the voice having that edge once more...as if leaving right now would not save her or prevent him from going after her.

"...you're 'loosely associated' with rivals or enemies. In all of these cases we need to talk. In the last two cases...I am sure they will be highly enjoyable discussions."

[Emily Littleton] Emily glances up from her menu, from where one long and narrow finger marks the place she was reading, and looks from Cassidy to Basil and back again. The lighting here is good enough that her eyes are a deep shade of blue, not simply dark, and there's a flicker of something in them (amusement [compassion]) that might give the Initiate the barest of hints that she, the unaffiliated Apprentice, is about to be troublesome.

"You can join me, if you like. My eyes are usually bigger than my stomach, and I don't like to eat alone." The invitation is for Cassidy. It side-steps the rank and file of the Orderly table to her left. It obviates the command Basil gives the other girl.

Hers is a friendly invitation. She makes no demands. Her tone is easy, friendly even. There is a choice, now, to be made. But it is not Emily's just yet.

[Cassidy Widderhog Malone] *It takes exactly 3.5 seconds for all the color to drain from Cass's face. Basil's tone neither friendly nor conversational. The implications stacked behind it waiting to fall on her like a precariously balanced slab of granite. The sharp edges of a yet unfinished quartz dove poke into her palm as she clutches at the pendant, wishing to hell it were enchanted right about now. *

I.. I have family ties. I -

*Eyes the color of milk chocolate flick to Emily as she speaks, and Cass gravitates towards the woman's smile like a bee to honey, hesitantly taking a seat at her table, and half turning to face Basil, in all his bland ferocity. Unsure of Emily's connection in all this, and wary as she looks back and forth between them, a palm coming up in silent apology. What follows is not so silent.*

Listen. I'm not trying to upset you here. I really was just curious. I thought it'd be nice to know someone in the city. Really. I shouldn't have said anything.

[Basil Gillingson] Basil looked at Emily, the eyes now on her...then he looked back to Cassidy. He then turned to look directly at Cassidy and then he merely gave a smile. A polite smile. A smile someone gave that promised a talk or discussion or presents or not so nice things. It was like Santa Clause on Christmas but he had a bag full of nightmares.

"I'll entrust her to you...but she's not to be let in unless approved by the Deacon."

He speaks to Emily directly, not saying anything to Cassidy.

[Emily Littleton] Cassidy sits down and Emily passes the menu to her to look over. It's like a talisman. A polite thing to focus on that isn't Basil. This leaves Emily's hands and attention free to focus on him instead, and if he was expecting some sort of weak-willed mild-mannered apprentice?

Well, then.

One eyebrow goes up, and the cant of her mouth turns decidedly more wry.

"Mr. Gillingson," she says, and there is a little lilt to that Mister which implies it is required but has not been earned, this title of respect. "I am well aware of the house rules."

Her tone is level, patient, as if she is not bothered by the weight of his stare at all. She isn't. She stares back, clear and confident and unworried. She even smiles, and the damnable thing about that is that there's warmth there. Even for him.

"However it is impolite to speak about someone as if they are not present. And, as my dinner guest, no one here is being entrusted to anyone else. I hope to have a conversation, like friendly people do. I'd invite you, too..." Here she frowns slightly, and trails off.

"Do you even do small talk, in the Order?" A confused expression, as if it had just now occured to her that Hermetics might not do easy banter, at all, ever.

[Cassidy Widderhog Malone] *Trouble was brewing. As sure as the glow of Emily's smile. Sure as the lack of warmth in Basil's. What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object? Cassidy didn't know. But she was damn sure she didn't want to be sitting in a chair between them. Wide eyed and looking rather like a doe in headlights, Cassidy studies her menu.

Then there are the words she'd been waiting for. Deacon. Order. And Cassidy's blurting.*

Ashley said I was alright! I spoke to the - at the little white house! I just.. Its hard to find. The castle? I've been wandering around for days looking for it. Oh my goodness!

*Basil smiles like he's Santa with a sack full of horrors. Cassidy beams like she's woken up on christmas morning to a puppy. Hands clasped together in delight at some common ground, and a hopeful end to conflict.*

[Basil Gillingson] Check
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 7, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Basil Gillingson] Basil pursed his lips against his knuckle. The bridged fingers hid his teeth clenching and grinding against each other. They did not hide the finger tips digging into the back of his hands as he stared hard at Emily. Action movies would dictate this would be the point that six shooters would start firing or shit hitting the fan so to speak. The air felt a build up of static...small strands of hair along the back of Basil's hand starts to stand up just slightly.

The Hermetic for a moment feels the urge to assault the Orphan Apprentice. Then the moment passes. He speaks and speaks evenly.

"Yes, the Order does make small talk. But it only works with our equals, -apprentice-."

He rose, hand reaching down to pocket the journal and pen. His head doesn't snap or have a sudden reaction...instead he gives a look at Cassidy.

"Deacon McGowen. Not 'Ashley'. Learn proper protocols and titles, Ms. Malone. You will likely far outdo those you look to as peers if you can learn even that little bit of decor."

[Emily Littleton] "Actually," she says, raising a finger as if nonchalantly noting a point. "It's Dean McGowen. The Council voted rather clearly on that title, though I opposed."

This nit-picking is likely not helping her standing with Basil. Emily draws a deeper breath and exhales it carefully, in almost a purgative manner. As if she can dispell some of the ire and frustration here by simply breathing. The long fingers of one hand reach up to toy with the silver chain around her neck. They tease free a small silver bauble. Her fingers enfold in, and she raises this little talisman toward her mouth, that her lips might skim over the nail of her thumb or the knuckle there. It's an idle thing, save that it brings forth a resonance of calm and belonging. A little bit of Home.

She watches Basil for a long moment, parts her lips as if to say something and then hesitates. Instead she closes her mouth and shakes her head, somewhat sadly.

"I apologize, Ms. Malone. We're not always this cantankerous." There's a pause here, wherein the levity creeps back into her tone. "I think pedantry comes pre-equipped with the accent." The levity reaches her eyes, sets them laughingly lightly. It's a quip as much at herself as Basil (toward whom she's not looking just now) as they share the broader shapes and placement of their speech patterns.

Hers is mostly British, if a little muddled.

[Cassidy Widderhog Malone] Oh, I - uh. Ok.

*There were times when a girl just needed to shut up and look pretty. So she did. A gentle quirk of lips in apology to Basil and Emily both. She couldn't help but feel somewhat responsible for the current tenseness between the wizards. Her dove finally tucked into a pocket, Cass rounds her shoulders in a sheepish shrug, before speaking quietly to Basil.*

It was nice to meet you anyway sir. I'll try and remember. Thank you.

*With the mention of familiar phrases, and the realization that Basil was indeed a Hermetic, hope had flared that she might finally find out where the chapterhouse was. Now however, a pleasant goodbye without bloodshed seemed to be the most realistic goal to strive for. A shy smile is offered up to Emily at the joke, Cass's eyes falling to the menu with pointed interest. Dear god let no one fight.*

I .. um.. do you think they have fortune cookies?

[Basil Gillingson] "Ah. Thank you for the information. Good evening to both of you then."

He said nonchalantly before he began to leave, having had his fill of 'small talk' and 'socializing' for the evening. If nothing else, he could report to Adept McGowen that he had made attempts to be 'around' for others to speak to.

[Emily Littleton] "I'm rather certain they do," Emily answered, about the fortune cookies. This was an aside as Basil made his preparations to go. The immanent leaving, then, seemed to slake a little of the unmentioned tension between the Apprentice's shoulderblades. Going toe-to-toe with Basil in a verbal sparring match was not her idea of how to wind down in the evening, but it lent a certain 'spark' to an otherwise immemorable late afternoon.

"Good evening, then," she says, glancing up at him as he leaves. There's a smile, still, but a little thinned now that pretenses are not quite as necessary. Once he sidles away, there is no one left to protect.

It is about this time that the server brings out a teapot and two small, stemless cups. Emily takes Jasmine Green with her Chinese food, or Chrysanthemum on the odd nostalgic evening. Tonight it's the former, soothing and slightly sweet.

When the threat of bloodshed has passed, she glances across the table and says, simply: "I'm Emily. It's nice to meet you."

[Cassidy Widderhog Malone] Cassidy.

*The abashed young woman looks up through a messy loop of bangs, features cast soft in the light of a guileless smile. Nervous, but relaxing in degrees, her posture slowly opening up as Basil gets further away. A cup gratefully taken and sipped as she reflects on simple plans gone awry.*

Sorry about all that. I'm not really good at all this cloak and dagger.. sort of stuff.

[Emily Littleton] "I find it rather a bother," Emily confides with a light chuckle. They'll order something the next time the server comes around, and Emily will pronounce her request in passing Chinese, supplemented with pointing and head nods. And smiles. Smiling was very important to cross the language gap.

"You happened upon the least friendly of the lot in Basil, too," she tells Cassidy. It's meant to be reassuring. (It gets better from here.) "Don't worry about it, yeah? He'll find someone new to be mad at in a few days."

Or ... minutes.

[Cassidy Widderhog Malone] Well, I hope he's not too angry.

*She would hate to have some barman get punched on account of interrupting a surly hermetic's meditative scribbling, or what have you. Cass orders a small dish of food, thanking Emily for the tea as she makes the most of her daily meal, eating slowly and conversing with shy, winning charm as the dinner progesses. *