The name game

[Thomas Taylor] Some kind of den of inequity opens, the old metal rusted at the sides creaking as it folds outwards then two (Giant really) Asian men throw another out onto the street. From within the darken doorway. It was old, wise and slightly agitated. “What did I tell you Thomas-san.” The body on the ground rolls over revealing the cockney wanderer.

“Cum on Chang, we do this bloody roller coaster ever lemon, I didn’t bloody cheat, yer just crap...no offense!” Thomas stands nursing a side, the floor hurt. Dressed in grey jeans, black T-shirt and them grimy converse he was a sight. Fingers reach into his pocket and pull out a smoke as he lights it. There is silence then there’s the audible click of his fingers as the muscle slowly retreats back inside the den of iniquity leaving Thomas on the streets. No one pays it any heed really

“Every bloody lemon Chang...” He brushes some of the dirt off of himself everyone noticed him get thrown out but nearly everyone carries on either not wanting to interfere or forgetting what actually happened. Was someone thrown onto the street, it could not have been him right; he was smaller (Bigger) fatter (Thinner). Reality liked to cover up for Thomas; he had a way of being forgotten it’s how he managed to do what he did...

And a lot of what he did was not exactly legal.

[Jarod Nightingale] There were places in Chicago where a potentially unlikely combination of people could be seen mixing in each other's company. Chinatown was one of those places. By some accounts, it wasn't the sort of place that one expected to see a wealthy model-slash-businessman. But beyond the usual gift shops and take-out joints (Chinatown staples across the country), there was a real, thriving culture. Being half Chinese, and having lived in China for a few years during the formative time of his Awakening (and having since gone back to work and to visit many, many times), there was a certain nostalgic familiarity to these streets, and the people who lived here.

In particular, there was one little tea shop, tucked away between a couple of seedier establishments in the less-family-friendly part of the neighborhood, that carried a variety of yellow tea which wasn't normally purchasable anywhere outside of the rural Chinese township that made it. You would never know that she shop was there, if you just walked by on the street. The door was tucked out of the way, and completely nondescript. No signs marked it. The only people who came here were locals, and those who were very much in-the-know.

When he exited the shop, Jarod was holding a small paper bag. His BMW was nowhere to be seen (not on this street - that would have been asking for trouble), but it was likely parked somewhere not too far away. Under different circumstances, he might have simply left to go on about his day (perhaps to get something to eat - it was lunchtime after all.) But then... there was Thomas.

Thrown out of a gambling joint, and not particularly happy about it, from the looks of things. Jarod watched the brit for a moment (quietly amused), then uttered a brief laugh and walked over. He was dressed more casually today than he had been on their first encounter: jeans and a black buttoned shirt. Of course, the jeans were notably newer and more expensive-looking than Thomas' were, and the shirt had the tailored look of a designer piece, with subtle satin accents. (Casual was a relative term.)

"Bad day?"

[Jarod Nightingale] [would never know that *the* shop was there]

[Thomas Taylor] Smoke exits the mans nose like dragons fire, the cigarette between his lips seemed to be consumed at an alarming rate he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out some notes, perhaps still small change to the likes of Jarod but for the cockney it was another month’s rent and perhaps some new clothes.

[]Bad Day[/i]

He did not know Jarods voice, not above the average passerby, and this was Chinatown so what if it was light above there were dark alleys everywhere. Not far a 14 year old was chasing the dragon, even younger were being sold to overpaid fat business men to ‘love them long time’. It was a dark and seedy place. It was not unknown for people to be mugged on the streets in daylight, so without looking he states in a menacing voice “Touch me oxford an I’ll kick the seven fuckin’ shades of shit outta ya...” His face is tightly drawn, muscle tense in his arms and body showing clear definition of a readiness, the money is quickly put into his back pocket as his body turns slowly to look to his side and blinks when he see’s Jarod.

“Oh...” His face relaxes, for a moment Jarod saw a darkness, the hooligan but now there was just the cockney. The cigarette gets loosened between his lips and relaxes. “Catman, ‘ows tricks? Soz ‘bout that, can’t be too careful aye?”

[Jarod Nightingale] [Life scan - cause I'm nosy like that - diff 4 -1(going slow)]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 3, 4, 10 (Success x 3 at target 3)

[Emily Littleton] There's something comfortable about Chinatown, with its dens of iniquity and tea houses and signage in a language she neither reads nor speaks. The odd foods, the dim sum places that are open every day for lunch, noodle bars and street vendors and people selling cheap (illegal) knock-offs along side lucky bamboo and orchids that would never survive the native climate here. Emily finds comfort in the newspapers strewn about the sidewalk with their pictograms instead of letters, in the muddle of languages that fester and spill out into the street -- because Chinatown is a name, but it's as much an Asian cultural conglomerate as anything that nods truly toward Chinese culture.

It's not home, but it's one of the closest places to it for her in the city. This white-bred, British-accented, lanky collegiate girl had no apparent claim to Asian heritage (perhaps if you squint her eyes may be slightly almond shaped or her cheek bones a little higher -- but no), no overt reason to consider it home.

There is a bakery, around the way, that makes and sells dàntà. She has a fondness for the Asian version over the English custard tarts, and not just because they are served piping hot and without nutmeg. This is one of the things she finds when she's feeling a little blue, or homesick, or adrift (lonely).

She's carrying one gingerly, blowing across its surface until it's cool enough to eat, when she rounds the corner that will bring her past the gambling joint -- and while she's good enough at má jiàng to win a few hands, she knows better than to play against anyone more than a generation older than her. And never, ever for money.

Her footsteps slow a little when she spies Thomas and Jarod -- an unlikely pairing at best -- but then a vaguely impish smile graces her features and she wanders over to see what trouble the Cat and the Cockney could get into.

"Hey, Southie," she says, her voice just shy of good-natured derision. It's all for jest, though; see how her Manchester accent comes forward, see how she smiles wryly and bright-eyed.

"Hi, Jarod." Oh, there, something politer. Almost prim, yet warmer somehow.

[Jarod Nightingale] [Oh look, it's Emily...]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 5, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Jarod Nightingale] Having lived in Chicago (on and off) for a couple of years now, and having frequented this part of town on a number of occasions, Jarod likely saw a completely different side of the neighborhood than Thomas did. If asked, he wouldn't have described it as dark or seedy, on the whole. He probably would have lamented the need for chintzy tourist traps, and complained that, like so much of the rest of the city, the place could do with a bit of landscaping and beautification. He also would have remembered family businesses run by friendly grandmothers and children playing in the streets. Tiny tea shops, authentic restaurants, and a small movie theater that played Wong Kar-Wai films every Sunday.

(Perception, clearly, was also in the eye of the beholder.)

Thomas growled a threat at him, and for his part, Jarod took it in stride. He stood still (outside of the younger man's bubble of personal space) and lofted an eyebrow. A little surprised, perhaps, that he'd be viewed as a threat. Then again, someone like Thomas probably had every reason to be suspicious of every single person that he met. "You're welcome to try," he mused, but the tone wasn't challenging.

He accepted the apology just as easily, rolling his shoulders in a light shrug. As if the matter was neither here nor there. He gazed at Thomas measuringly for a moment, and there was a slight motion in his jaw as he rolled the edge of his tongue between canines and bit down, tasting blood.

And then, a few moments later, he said, "Tricks are fantastic, kid." And he grinned languidly.

And this may have been due to the approach of someone rather more familiar to him than Thomas was. A belated glance to Emily, who he'd felt coming a mile away, and that grin broadened before it fell slowly away. "I'm starting to think you're following me." (Obviously a jest, considering that he'd been the one to run into her the last time around.)

[Thomas Taylor] Another voice as with cigarette hanging from his lips he turns his head again, muscle go on the defensive again, tighten control showing a definition the young man tried to keep hidden (No one expects to get there arse handed to them by a man barely an adult even the generation older) Then it’s her and he grins “North, you still a germans full?” He winks to the woman then looks to Jarod when she speaks noting the tone.

An eyebrow rises at the calling him a kid. But he takes it and just consumes it, when you nickname everyone you have to be able to take it. He pats his back pocket sure the money is safe and turns to Emiliy can join the circle.

“Catman, you may be a touch older, an ‘ave all that grace mate, but yer pedigree, am a Tom cat, you get in a barney with me an you’ll know ‘bout it squire.” He winks and smirks, a mocking jest “An tricks sud be robin for ya...jesus man do you ‘ave any clothes that wudn’t pay me rent for a few months.” He eyes the mans figure, but not in the way most would, yes he was a handsome man, you would have to be the Seer not to notice but he had such nice clothes. Thomas wanted nice clothes.

“So, from the intro am guessin’ you” He points at Jarod and then points at Emily “Know each other.” He takes a small step back as the socially aware do when you realise your fast becoming the third wheel. “Take it you were mates before Catman took a wander?” He looks between them

[Emily Littleton] "Oh, yes," she says to Jarod, when he accuses her of following him. "I have absolutely nothing better to do with my time than stalk you like a moon-struck teenager." Very serious, this. Deadpan, even. There's no hint that she's intimidated by him any longer; they've come a long way since that run-in at the Soup Kitchen. "I think, lovely, that you've me confused with Enid."

A little pause. Then the corner of her mouth twists, and Emily can't help but smirk a little. It's a playful thing between them. It reinforces Thomas's assumptions quite neatly.

He asks if she's still a Germans full and she grins, then shrugs a bit and casts an innocent look upward. (Who? Me? Never...)

"Are you two getting in a row?" she asks, looking between the two of them with mock suspicion just now, and the easily intimation that she might just move along were it so. Ease herself and the egg tart out of the potential fray (it's a precious commodity, see [no, I am not sharing]). "And Catman?"

Smirk.

"That has quite a ring to it." Emily runs her tongue over one of her eye teeth; it is not as sharp as Jarod's are, but it will serve for this particular bout of mischief.

[Jarod Nightingale] Thomas assumed that because he was rough-and-tumble and Jarod was... well... not, that a potential fight between them was fated to a certain outcome before it even began. And this assumption may have been accurate. Thomas almost certainly got into more fist-fights than Jarod did. He both looked and acted like he had a propensity to violence. The erstwhile Verbena just smiled again, somehow amused by the picture that Thomas painted. There was slight condescension in that, just as there had been in his nick-naming the Hollow One 'kid'. But then, Thomas had called him a treehugger on their last encounter, so perhaps they were even.

Emily, for her part, played along with him very well. It was an old dance, this, and a welcome one. Jarod couldn't help but laugh, and it was genuine laugh, this time - a beatific expression on him. It lit up his face with a vibrant glow. "If I remember correctly, Enid's response to me was hardly lovestruck. You, on the other hand... "

And here he leaned in and spoke quietly near the edge of Emily's ear. "...are welcome to follow me around, even if you do have better things to do."

It was a momentary interlude, before Jarod was once again contemplating the third party in their vicinity. And Thomas... was staring at him. Jarod didn't seem to mind the focus of the other man's eyes. One would imagine that he was used to that (that he was, in fact, designed for it - both by nature and by his own hand). He didn't interpret it as flirtatious (consider the source), but that didn't mean he couldn't respond that way.

"I'd offer to buy you some, but it would come with a price." A flash of Cheshire-cat smile, grinning and wry. (Secrets that one probably doesn't really want to learn.)

Back to Emily (who'd asked if they were getting into a row), "Well, not yet, anyway. Time will tell, of course."

[Jarod Nightingale] [Erstwhile? No, he's still a verbena. Unusual. Don't ask me how I just mixed those words up. It's clearly not my night.]

[Thomas Taylor] Enid.

He clicks his fingers sharply to get there attention, voice low “Guys, it’s Morgan now, not Enid, I’d ask you to ‘member it.” Said very seriously with very little humour. He was defensive over Le Fay with everything that had happened, they had become friends and Thomas could count his friends on one hand. “It makes ‘er upset, an if you keep it up you cud let it slip at the pete moment, an then you’ll ‘ave me on yer hat, so ‘member!” A moment where he locks eyes with each of them and you see a very wilful hollow one. Still it was news to him she stalked Jarod and yet again no surprise I mean he was very handsome.

A moments silence then another as his eyes close smoke blown from his nose and when they open again he and it has all changed, all smiles and cockney charm “Nah Catman just came over to me after I’ad a lil disagreement with me other players...” A cheeky grin offered to both.

“So take it you’ve stalked Catman as well, in fact bet he ‘as ‘ad ‘is way with more than a fair share of the awakened lasses eh Catman.” A wink to Jarod “You don’t ‘ave to tell names, but am thinkin’ few wud resist yer advances...an for the record mate I ain’t one of ‘im, so don’t get behind me for rent so I’ll do just clavin in me second german gear” He nods the cigarette taken from his lips as he drops it on the floor as he looks between them “So North, Cat take it you two ‘ave shagged?” He grins and clicks audibility at both of them.

[Emily Littleton] [ ... Do I mind my manners? ... Maybe?]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] [... And our favorite dice pool?]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 4, 6, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] See Jarod? He was about to get quite the reply, just then. All smart-ass and self-assured and not at all playing-with-fire, no, but instead there's a sharpness that flickers across her features when Thomas snaps at her.

When the Chav gets pissant and pushy with the Diplomat's daughter. Her lips purse, momentarily, and she doesn't back down from the fixated stare he offers her. No, you see, in the months since Catman has left Emily has become Unrelenting in her own way.

"Beg your pardon," she says, oh and it's all clipped consonants now. Very polite. Prim. Dangerously so. Emily points one finger at Thomas, lazily, thoughtfully; it's not a loaded gesture just yet. "I know full well that her name has changed, along with plenty about her personality -- but let's not get into that just now, yes?"

Deadly, that tone. So controlled. So lightly playful and yet not. Emily weilds it like a sharp-tipped knife. It plays into the little smirk she wears. It all seems so very innocuous, and it is.

"But seeing as I was referring to the person she was, before Jarod left, at a time when you were not here -- and not in her presence, when I am quite careful to use the proper name -- it seemed more fitting."

He blows smoke out of his nose; her eyes do not cut away. If there's a challenge to be met here, it's not from the unusual Verbena but from the Singer girl who has little patience for this nonsense.

"Though if you'd like to go back in time and be the one that picks her and Austin up from the airport, bruised bloodied and tight-lipped about the cause, be my guest."

It's a little like pulling rank, this. And it diverts them, neatly, from her past relationship with Jarod. That's not even on the table. Emily's not really interested in discussing it. There's a lightness to her tone that plays at taking the sting out of her words. And then there's indifference, again, as she decides it's time to nibble at her cooling snack and wait on a reply.

[Jarod Nightingale] Say this for the Hollow One - for all his faults, he seemed to take most things fairly well in stride. Plenty of men would have hauled back and clocked Jarod for making a sexual insinuation like that. Plenty of men had. (Or, well, they'd tried.) Enid, though (or rather, Morgan)... was evidently someone who Thomas felt protective of. And though Jarod had no idea why the teenage hermetic had changed her name, ultimately it didn't really matter. In this, he gave a surprising concession by offering a faint nod of his head and saying, "Sorry."

(And surprisingly, the heavens did not open up and rain down pigs with wings.)

That was all before Thomas launched into a slew of questions and innuendos that would have made most people turn beet-red in horror. Jarod, of course, did none of these things. He did, however, make a calm correction. "Had my way?" An arched eyebrow. "I'd like to think that the end result was mutually beneficial, and mutually desired, in all cases." And as for the rest, well... he did not confirm or deny. Emily was likely to have a bit more to say about it all than he did.

And oh, she did. But she pulled the conversation back in a direction that was decidedly less playful, for all her delicate tone. And Jarod glanced at her measuringly for a moment, but kept his thoughts to himself.

He was hardly the kind of person who was afraid of conflict. If anything, Jarod was usually the one pressing buttons in such a deliberate fashion. But there was more going on here than what was being said, and he didn't even need to look at Emily, or listen to the careful tone in her voice to know that. So he reached out and touched her arm gently. "I'm a bit hungry. Want to get lunch?"

The request wasn't meant to exclude Thomas so much as reprieve him.

[Thomas Taylor] If she wanted a verbal spar she came to the right Southie because Thomas’ lips curl at the corner. “A rose by any other name pet, yer still talkin’ ‘bout the same person, an consderin’ Catman already made that slip up.” He holds a hand to Jarod “An it ain’t yer fault squire, as she said you were ‘ere tis all you knew...no need to say sorry you weren’t in the loop” He looks back to Emiliy another cigarette placed in his lips as he pauses a moment to light it, taking a deep relaxing drag “Enid, Le Fay, Morgan yer referin’ to the same person, an Enid ‘as left the buildin’, gone vanished, if she didn’t want it to be that way I’d ‘ave laid off pretty as you please. Yer talkin’ ‘bout Le Fay in name, an the pete one at that” Another drag another blowing of smoke. Not a knife, Thomas expresses it like a club, blantant, powerful, so full of passion and will, a consuming force.

He just smirks shaking his head “North ain’t ‘avin’ a pissin’ contest with ya ‘bout this, robin for you for bein’ there an elpin’, am sure she appreciates it, am sure she owes ya for it, but we both know I cannot go back in lemon so why say it. You say it so you can get one up on me, be all high an soddin’ mighty. But slips ‘appen, I mentioned it cos wen Catman called ‘er it the other nite she kinda freak ‘bout it, you don’t like ‘ow I brought it up, you got the issue get a bloody tissue an cry me a river while yer at it”
She pulls rank and he shrugs a shoulder “You cannot go from bein’ all chamrin’ an tauntin’ to pullin’ this yankin’ chain North, don’t suit ya, an am not sure if all the rest of ‘em roll over an say sorry but not gonna ‘appen so take yer dummy an throw it the other way luv Tommy ain’t bitin’.” He takes the cigarette from his lips and looks between them and in almost the same breath “So I take that as a yes to you two’s shaggin’, you can tell you know, all pretty as you please back of the bus...”

He looks to Jarod “Nah mate am robin, but thanks for the offer, is it just me or is it the brass monkey’s out ‘ere suddenly...”

[Emily Littleton] "What she probably wants," Emily says, with not a little bit of insight into this, "Is for Enid and Morgan to be two separate people, so she can leave one of them in her past. The girl I met, who could still go home to Thanskgiving with her Papa after working at the Soup Kitchen, is not the same young woman who is now Ashley's apprentice."

There's a note of finality to that, and a firmity behind it that Thomas likely won't understand. That's fine by Emily; it isn't really for him. The apples of her cheeks are pinked now, frustated, and her eyes remain sharp.

There's more here, it's just on the tip of her tongue. It's almost as if Emily's been looking for someone to fight with for awhile and Thomas just happened to give her the opening. Or perhaps he'd pushed a particularly sore button, just now, with the way he spoke to them or the topic they're dancing around.

He asked again if they were involved and Emily gave him an incredulous look. Whether that was for the topic, or his manners, was Tom's to sort out. But there was Jarod's hand on her arm, and she looked down at the small touch and frowned slightly.

"Mm." A small sound, still agitated. "No. Thank you. I think I'll find my way back to campus." As they all part ways, she cuts a glance to Thomas, and there's still an edge of agitation in it, but not quite the push that was there before.

[Thomas Taylor] He moves into Emily’s space, he does not flinch under her unrelenting gaze, the wandering nature cannot be stopped “I tell you wat then pet, you keep usin’ the name the coats are lookin’ for, an –if- they catch you, we can say I told ya so, an wen the rescue committee turns up, I’ll quote a speech ya gave Info, ‘bout personally responsibility and all that crap. Am not defendin’ Info ,she was a tit an a fool, but yer just walkin’ in similar shoes you arrogant singer. If it was just yer neck I wud not give a flyin’ fuck, but’s its others. So ‘ow ‘bout usin’ yer loaf an not talkin’ ‘bout names that are being hunted” He then steps away and blows smoke out, he was anger there was a passionate rage, blue eyes darkned and a hollowness came to his cheeks that would look attractive if not marred by words.

“But since you obviously ain’t spoke to Le Fay ‘bout usin’ that name, ‘ow ‘bout we both say you talk to ‘er before sayin’ it ‘again...” He puts a hand between them and gestures with his finger “You need to get sumthin’ off yer chest pet, might as well be Tommy, I can consume anthin’ you got to give, I’ll take it all an grin pet.” Perhaps he picked up she had more on her mind. Could unrelenting be consumed, could consumption be stopped by unrelenting. No consumption was Unrelenting. Smoke wander away from both of them.

[Emily Littleton] [WP: ... Don't channel Owen.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 5, 5, 5, 6, 7, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] "Oh for fuck's sake," she exclaims when he gets into her space, which is not something Emily takes well at all. There's an edge to her, like she's considering slapping the Chav right here and right now in the middle of Chinatown. It's an anger that burns hotly, and is all too familiar. It's a thing she's tried, for quite some time to put down.

"Step off, you ignorant little shit. I used the name I did because I don't know if anyone's had a chance to tell Jarod that her name has changed and you of all people, Mr. Keep it on the Down Low and Mind the Hunted, are the only one that has drawn attention to it, quarreling on a street corner like school children. The whole fecking block knows they're one and the same now. I didn't want to have the conversation in plain daylight, thank you very much. Some of us, regardless of what you think, have an ear for discretion."

She exhales, heavily, but it doesn't carry the dramatics of smoke blown out through her nose.

"If we're through here," she says, lilting that upward even though it wasn't a question as much as it was a dismissal. "I'll kindly take my leave."

[Thomas Taylor] His lips purse as he gives her a kiss in the air, smirking, that rage fading. “Pet, you got issues, get the tissues an talk to Le Fay, say for that ‘ave a robin day an get sum fuckin’ Duracell an ‘ave a wank, your worn more tight than a nun knickers!”

He blows her a kiss and turns walking away raising a hand and offering her the single finger as he did.