Squeak toys and shiny things

[Molly Quincannon] Molly looks a little bit stricken about the 'sinking the ship' bit (Is that my rep now? Rampant and unconsidered destructive explodo? Really?, but she manages to keep her reaction to a grumble of, "Great. So I'm ancient and destructive. Like the T-rex in Jurassic Park. Or maybe Vesuvius. Anyway, if you're going to splatter me, do it. I'll reprogramme Dilly to eat your underwear, see if I don't."

Then she chuckles. "Well, sounds like he's been out a lot this morning. He was laying carpet when I turned up. Which I think is actually pretty cool 'cos I'd hate to think I woke him up or anything. I do get that not everyone's a morning person."

She picks up a fork and prods at the breakfast then. "Thanks, though, for breakfast. Really. I did not come here looking to be fed. I just wanted to drop that stuff with Atlas and work on the wifi and comms."

[Natyana Wapanee] She tilts her head, scooping up her plate and moving over to the table to finally sit and start eating. "Hey, chill. I don't think he meant it like that. He was probably talking to combined efforts. Me and Boomer aren't exactly the garden of tranquility to live with. Inside an ancient ship is not the place to play fetch and wrestle. One of these days I'm gonna wake up and find myself superglued into a velcro suit and stuck to the ceiling"

"And really? I don't think he sleeps. I hear all kinds of alarms go off at weird hours. It's good to get him out of that lab once in awhile and interact with organic material. If I didn't go in there regularly to check on him and stuff food in his face I'd think the machines ate him or something. Henri's easy, I just check the funky smells once in awhile. Long as it smells like rotting food I know she's still in there." Laughs, shrugging a shoulder. "It's... weird though. Never thought I'd get used to living around so much technology."

"I know you didn't come here looking to be fed, but I had actually slept in today and hadn't even started anything yet. Besides, you'd be looking for my pod if I didn't shove food at you" Grins

[Molly Quincannon] Molly blinks again, then squints her eyes tight shut and shakes her head. "So very many mental images with which I did not need to start the day," she says, though she sounds at least a little bit amused, and reaches for a piece of bacon. She looks at it for a moment, and then says, "Atlas ... yeah, he's ... probably entitled to be a bit weird." She has no idea whether Atlas has told Nat about the reasons he might have to be weird, or whether it's something he'd prefer to broach himself, so she doesn't bring it up; she just says, "I guess he and Henri probably balance each other out, though. The stoic and the manic. Must be quite a trip, living here. And the tech? Hon, if you were really as n00blicious and Ludditely as all that, we'd ... well, I guess we still would have been friends but I'd have driven you batshit loco by now."

Finally, she takes a bite of the bacon strip. "And if I'd turned up and there'd been food out, there still would have been enough to shove at me, I know. That'll teach me to show up here during mealtimes. Not that you're not a great cook, but ... y'know ... with a couple of minor exceptions, mostly it's been ... a lot less food than this. Like, in the course of a day." She shrugs and finishes off the bacon strip. "Anyway, I notice you never answered my question about how you're doing," she goes on, never mind the fact that she's using this as a distraction from the subject of how she's doing. "I mean, I now know that you're not pod people, but seriously, how's you, how's Boomer, how's Warcrack?"

[Natyana Wapanee] "They're a trip when they're in the same room together." Carefully steering with the flow of conversation to skirt around as many triggers as she can. "The tech is nuts... but alot of it is actually really cool. I don't wanna get past just watching from a safe distance though" Laughs

And then a smirk, and a shrug. "I make sure I make enough anymore to leave leftovers in the fridge incase I don't make it home in time to get the next meal going. Been sort of turning into a habit, especially when I get random texts in the middle of the night calling for backup and winding up not coming home because someone or another got hurt and I shoulder up the babysitting duty because I worry too much."

She sips at the coffee, then smiles over at her. "We're doing ok. Just sort.. you know... going through the motions. Been worried about Lara, worried about you, shopping again..." The last bit muffled by another sip of the coffee cup. "What about you? Anymore reason for me to get up in arms and go rabid on anyone?"

[Molly Quincannon] "Not as yet, no," Molly says to that last, breaking off a bit of pancake with her fork. "I mean, it's been pretty quiet since the Chinatown thing. And ... yeah, I actually saw Lara. She's ... well, she's pissed off. Which I guess you knew. But it's mostly at James. Something about him being a player. I honestly don't know; maybe it's bullshit, maybe she just can't accept that he might settle down with you because it means you're not available to her anymore ... I dunno. But when she's running around saying that she's going to give James a good swift kick in the balls if she ever lays eyes on him again because she somehow knows he'll fuck you over?" She sighs. "For someone who wants the entire planet to give her a chance to redeem herself for things she's actually done, she's awfully judgemental about people who haven't done a damn thing but woo the woman she wanted."

Then a sigh. "I'd tell you to stop worrying so much about me, but I guess I can see why you might. And no, you don't have to go rabid on anyone on my account. Haven't seen much of anyone bar you and Chuck the last couple of days, and he was the one who spared me nightmares for a night. And what," she asks, raising an eyebrow, "have you been shopping for, if I may ask? Inquiring minds want to know."

[Natyana Wapanee] She sighs, shaking her head. "He hasn't given me any reason to think he's just playing me, unlike some. Hell, Molly he even promised not to push things and try to sleep with me again. Anything that's happened between me and James is because I make the moves. So... yeah. She kicks him in the nuts for being straight with me and I'll just wind up being pissed. He hasn't done anything wrong. He even explained why I didn't hear from him, which well... It all turned out to make sense."

"Who would I be if I didn't worry about the people I love? You're my sister, Molly. Don't matter that you're some geeky white chic." Grins at her, flipping a bit of egg in her direction. "Not telling. You'll just have to wait for it to arrive to find out. Should be there in a few days."

[Molly Quincannon] "Oh, eff-eff-ess." She smiles a little, so she's obviously not really annoyed, but she does say, "You're going to have to stop buying me things, woman! Seriously, what is the occasion this time? Is there an occasion? Is there an occasion that I somehow missed? I mean, everything I've given you has had some selfish motivation in it somewhere. The laptop was so that we'd be able to keep in touch easier. The computer was so that you could come play Warcrack with me. So what on earth non-good-karma-building occasion is this for?"

Then she rolls her eyes and bops Nat lightly in the arm. "And I sisterly-love you too, you miniscule mass of manic maagnanimity; thou perennially protective power-popple. Even if you rip at my curiosity like a nasty weakness-exploiding freak."

[Natyana Wapanee] She snickers "Actually... no real motivation, other than I was having a really sentimental moment and soon as I saw it, it made me think of you. You, however, will either tackle me and squish me to death with hugs, or beat me to death with the box it comes in, pack me into it, and ship me off to some remote island somewhere that gets no wifi."

She puffs up, giggling. "I do not exploit your weaknesses! I shamelessly throw bait to distract you and keep you on your toes."

[Molly Quincannon] "Aaah, sentiment. A powerful weapon." Molly nods sagely and gulps coffee. Then she makes a face at Nat. "What, I can't do both? Y'know, tackle you and squish you to death with hugs and then stuff your corpse into the box it came in and ship it to Pango Pango? And you do so exploit my weaknesses! You know I'm curious by nature! Questions I can't answer frustrate me and I end up trying to find out by any means necessary..."

She trails off a little there - yeah, that's half the problem right now, really - and so she covers it by taking another bite of pancake. After swallowing it (buying herself some time) she adds, "I could just Time-scry the front door."

[Natyana Wapanee] She snickers, poking at Molly's leg with a foot. "Oh I'm sure you will. You are just gonna die, and this thing I found totally appeals to the curiosity, the problem solving, and the fun. Hope you like legos."

Distraction is good. Best not to let her fall into the triggers. Dangle the bait. Dangle the bait.

[Molly Quincannon] Distraction is good. Legos, however, are not distraction. Legos have their own associations, if at removes, and ... "Kage is into Legos," she says, a little distant. Then she shakes her head. "Oh, I don't think you ever met Kage. Not that I know about, anyway. Atlas and Henri know her, though. Local Orphan, has serious awesome. We ran into each other for coffee last week. It was good to see her," she adds, stirring her eggs around on the plate. "I mean, seriously heavy conversation, along with at least one really damn hard question, but she's an elusive bit of awesome so it's good to catch up with her when I can."

[Natyana Wapanee] "Haven't met her, no. I didn't take you much for the lego type, but this just totally screamed you. I had to do it. And if you want, I'll even help with..... uhh.... stuff. With it." She blinks, then grins. "SO this Kage lady the intellectual type? Wouldn't mind meeting her. If you say she's serious awesome then that tells me she's someone worth meeting."

Redirect! Redirect!

[Molly Quincannon] "Imagine the Cheshire Cat with sympathy," is Molly's quiet response. This, apparently, is not helping. "Or maybe more like the Caterpillar. She talks like she's been written by Lewis Carroll, however you slice it. But I guess there's intellectual in there somewhere, along with riddling shrift. But she brought me one of my mini-fridges - the one with all the Doctor Who magnets on it? She saw it at a yard sale and thought of me, after we'd only met the once." She shrugs. "Good listener. Y'know. The sort of person who I'd want as crew if she hadn't made it so clear that she doesn't want a crew. Insightful, y'know?"

No, this is not redirecting.

[Natyana Wapanee] "Well she sounds pretty awesome." She stands, picking up her now empty plate. Must've been hungry this morning. A sigh, the distractions thus far not overly working. New tactic.

"Wanna come walk Boomer with me? He didn't get his walk this morning, I kinna slept in. James has my sleep schedule flat out fooked anymore." Chuckles, washing up dishes and cleaning up.

[Molly Quincannon] Molly ensures that her leftovers (most of it) are wrapped up and put away someplace where others can enjoy them, and nods as she does so. "Sure. So long as there is no leaping and licking and ... does he actually hunt, this one? I see him as scourge of city squirrels everywhere."

So it goes that Nat and Molly leash Nat's big Rottweiler and head out of the Lafette, walking up Mag Mile at whatever pace Boomer decides to set. As they go, Molly says, "Maybe we should stop by a pet store or something. I'm still thinking something small and containable. Rats. Ferrets. Chinchilla, maybe."

[Natyana Wapanee] Once cleanup is complete, they head out, Naty laughing on the way. "He... is actually. Oh my gawd you woulda pissed yourself laughing first time I tried to cut through the park coming back from cabrini on morning run. Fat ass spotted a chipmunk up in a tree. Took me all damn day to get the grass out of my crack. He drug me halfway across the park on my back."

They walk... and for the most part she manages to keep it at her walking Boomer, not the other way around. "Actually, the pet store around the corner is having a sale on Ferrets right now. 40% off when you get one of those big cages for them."

[Emily Littleton] The pet store is by the off-campus used book store. Where some of the graduate departments resell texts from previous terms, which is against campus policy (because campus policy is designed to take all your money, do not pass GO, do not collect your disbursement check on time). Emily's at the bookstore, not the pet store, trying to find a couple esoteric engineering texts. She is a college student, today, not out on the town in search of some Awakened mischief. It's a calmer pursuit, academia, than Enlightenment is.

So they're headed for the pet store when she's stepping out of the neighboring storefront, with an arm full of books on micro-processor design, some programming language, and the history of American Sign Language.

She glances down the sidewalk, sees a tiny woman walking an over-large dog, and Molly.

Emily smiles. It's warm enough. It's actually friendly.

[Molly Quincannon] This ... this is unexpected. It shouldn't be unexpected, because you can't throw a rock without hitting a mage in Chicago, it sometimes seems ... but it is. Or at least, the reaction Molly has to seeing Emily is. The smile is warm and friendly but there's a slew of commentary on 'personal responsibility' and a perceived displeasure that Molly had got the House of Leaves involved in this very bloody, very personally agonising mess, and...

No. No. No. Calm.

It's not quite working. She looks like hell. She knows she looks like hell - like she's had maybe two decent nights' sleep in as many weeks and there's a lot coming back that she doesn't really want to think about ... but she lifts a hand and waves to Emily, though she doesn't smile. And she shudders, just a bit. "Hey, Emily," she says, all quiet and subdued. "You've ... met Nat, right?" At that meeting, she means. The one she missed.

[Emily Littleton] [Awareness as Empathy -- Hey, Molly.]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 6, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Natyana Wapanee] She tilts her head and gives Emily a nod, but the recollection doesn't register. There was far too many people at the meeting for her comfort zone, and none of the faces she didn't know seems to have registered as even being there, despite the talking. She wasn't sticking around long enough to shake hands and bump elbows, either given the hell of that week with what Molly went through and what it did to her own stress levels. So the possibility that Emily might remember her mild rant that wasn't even meant to be a rant and her rushing out the door doesn't quite register.

She looks at Molly though, head tilting when names are tossed out. One eyebrow raises as she gives that look at the shift in her demeanor.

[Emily Littleton] "Hi, Molly."

Emily's accent is clear today, and perhaps the only thing that Nat might remember about the girl from that meeting. She looms over the smaller 'Speaker. Emily is five-foot-nine and thankfully wearing flats today. She is bean-pole thin, unimposing; there is a sense of calm to her now, a surety, despite what had been lost in the recent days.

She is a counterpoint to Molly.

"Pleasure to meet you, properly that is," she says to Nat, and extends her hand. Long fingers, firm but not too terribly strong grip. A touch that does not linger beyond politeness, does not turn cloying, sipid. "I'm Emily."

"We saw each other across the room, once," Emily tells Molly. "It was a crowded room, though, and neither of us stuck around too long after."

There's a pause here, a little hesitance, as if the Orphan didn't rightly want to breach heavier topics. But she forged forward (Unrelentingly), with caution and restraint this time. Molly was worn through; Emily was aware enough to tell.

"Have you been alright, these last few days?" she asks. Narrows the time frame down. Keeps her tone light and unfettered, but just tinged enough with concern to ring true.

[Molly Quincannon] [[Manip + Subterfuge, -1 for wound penalties - "Who, me? Fine. Not flashbacking and constantly nearly getting myself killed. Why do you ask?"]]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 6, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Molly Quincannon] "Oh, yeah, fine," Molly says, and it's so damn convincing. No, she doesn't sound exactly like the perky thing she had before all this mess, but it would have been strange and suspect if she had, given that she can't exactly hide the marks that sleeplessness have left on her features. But there's sleeplessness and sleeplessness, and while she can't hide a little bit of trauma, she can hide the ever-present guilt and, worst of all, the wondering - the 'what-ifs'. She even manages not to sound like she's in pain, though the burn wound hidden behind bandage and jacket does make its presence felt. "I mean, obviously a little fragged and worried, but ... you know, as well as I can be, all things considered." Which is not only more or less true, but manages to hide just how bad the 'all things considered' might be.

Then: "How about you? And what's the shopping?" She peers at Emily's armload of books. "Ooh. I think I have that one. The microprocessor one. Shame I didn't know, I'd have let you borrow it?"

[Natyana Wapanee] She takes the offered hand, and gives it a shake, but the smile fades a little around the edges. More of an embarrassed look. The recognition not fully there, but it dances around the corners of her mind. "Oh.... ohhhhhhhhhh...... hell." She chuckles a little, not letting the shake linger more than needed. "Yeah... sorry about that. Was a pretty rough week, all around, and I really don't do well with alot of people at once like that. Toss it in with three days of no sleep, taking care of James, and stressing over Molly and it kind of had me a little on the bitchy side."

She keeps watch on Molly out of the corner of her eye, scowling at Molly's response. Her lips purse, but she doesn't say anything. Not yet, anyways.

[Emily Littleton] She watches the Cultist while she forms her reply. It's artful, really, the deception. It's seemingly perfect, without being seamless enough to draw attention. It's a good lie. It's good enough. The weight of the Singer-to-be's attention can feel heavy, intense, but today it's attentive, sharp and still accepting. Molly explains; Emily nods and shifts her books in her arms.

She smiles when Molly said she could have borrowed the text. It's a lopsided smile, slightly wry. It makes her seem a little more human, accessible, as if this is a small bit of Emily that actually escapes that collected exterior. Honest.

"Ah, well, I'll need it all year. I'm doing double-duty as a first year indentured servant," graduate student, "and fourth year plebe." Undergrad. The self-effacing smile is paired with a suffering eyeroll. It politely keeps them away from the topic Molly was lying to avoid.

Then that deeply blue gaze shifts over and down to Nat. It's just as weighty, just as appraising. Equally accepting. "James mentioned you've been a good friend to him," she says. There's a measure of approval and appreciation to her tone, underlaying the foreign cant to her words. It's an unspoken Thank you. The smile she offers Nat is a little warmer, a little more genuine.

"The meetings make everyone short-tempered. No one will hold it against you. And you obviously had important things on your mind." At important, Emily glances over to Molly. It's a gentle nod to that thing, the elephant, the not-in-play topic. Emily named that as important, for what it was worth.

[Molly Quincannon] "Oof. That's the kind of thing that makes me glad I never did the indentured servitude." Molly looks sympathetic. "I saw the grad students at Columbia. Not for me. But if you can do both - hey, more power to you, good luck, and remember to break every now and again and vent spleen with a good solid game of cee-oh-dee four, okay? But you still could have borrowed it all year if you wanted," she adds, looking wry. "I've read it. I could actually quote it to you verbatim."

Then she blinks. "I didn't know you knew James." Curious - of course she is; she's Molly. "I guess that explains the other book, then. I admire your dedication - I skipped the history of it and went straight on to the nitty-gritty. I ought to look that up sometime."

[Natyana Wapanee] She leaves the fibbing alone, knowing Molly and herself are like night and day when it comes to things on that level. Molly has her own reasons, and she knows Molly doesn't talk to everyone like she talks with just the two of them.

She returns the warm smile to Emily, hers softening the eyes into something fond and distracting. She reaches down to pet the big dog at her side, that she's managed to not let get close enough to slobber all over Emily. "Least I can do for everything he does for me."

[Emily Littleton] "Aha." There's a little laughter, there, just a short and truncated mirth. It's warm enough to touch her eyes when Molly says COD4. It softens her features. "No, no. Nothing more hardcore than Maple Story for me, for awhile, cheers."

It's unlikely that Emily plays the Korean MMORPG, but it sets a nice comparison up. It lets the other geek know that the Orphan is suffering, in her own way, without drawing overt attention to it. It is a good lie, like Molly's. Polite, it keeps the conversation moving forward.

When she mentions the book, Emily looks down at the stack she's carrying and then smiles. "I'll loan it to you once the term's over," she says. "Figured I should get some credits for it, if I'm studying." A little eyebrow waggle; gaming the system was fun for both of them, but in very different ways.

"And yeah, well, James is a Singer, you know? We were bound to run into each other sooner or later. It's such a small city."

She notes the fondness in Nat's eyes, but doesn't linger overmuch on it. Emily does not try to pull it away from her, to borrow on it, to reflect it. She notes it, and politely shifts her attention away from it. It's a thing to remember; to respect.

"He's good people," she concurs.

[Molly Quincannon] "That he is," is Molly's comment on James. "Singer and good people. Good man to have at your back." There's a different kind of frown there; there are people who would say different, and it still makes her a bit angry, all things considered. But thoughts for another time. No need to get into unpleasantness now, is there?

The mention of MapleStory as opposed to COD4 gets a rueful sort of smile, and is passed over. Yes, the conversation keeps on moving forward, glossing over why one may or may not want to deal with shooting games (if she's not getting shot, she's watching other people get shot - no, we're not doing this now; no) and moves to, "Thanks. I've got the actual speaking part down, mostly, but it's good to have background. I'm sort of curious as to how it got started, speaking with the hands. Might help on other research, and I'm wondering how many references it makes to the hula. Apparently it's not all the hip-swaying, hula; it's supposed to be the hands telling the story."

[Natyana Wapanee] She nods to Emily, to both bits of her comments. "He Sings, and I Speak." Her smile brightens, going almost girlish. Definitely not one to be covert and mask things as the other two are. Even if it was her style, she'd likely suck at it. Very much so. "That he is. Even if he can be stubborn and pig headed, at least he does with the right intentions."

She tilts her head to Molly, and her nose wrinkles. No real idea what in earth they're talking about with the different games. She's still learning to comprehend WoW. So for that part of the conversation, she just blinks between the two of them, but still smiling. And nothing is hidden in the fact that it's just there to be polite, while having no clue what they're on about.

[Emily Littleton] Natyana holds little back, Molly is being unusually cagey, Emily is always just this side of politely restrained. It's a delicate dance, this, and one they likely can't keep up for too long. Not with the imbalances here; they're running out of polite topics. The Diplomat's daughter gives no hint of a growing discomfort. She shifts her books to the other arm, resettles the strap of her messenger bag with the freed hand. Emily looks between the two of them for a moment, notes the polite-but-not-inclusive look on Natyana's features.

"Should I let you two get back to your afternoon?" she asks, verbally sidestepping out of their path so that they could hurry on to wherever they'd been headed. It's polite, this, but not self-effacing. The late summer days were still warm, and standing on the sidewalk, by the asphalt, was only asking for flushed cheeks and overheating. And there were storms to contend with, whenever they rolled in. She didn't sound impatient, but Emily offered them a way to pass on now that the pleasantries were fading.

She offers this to Nat, though, before they answer: "I tend to find stubbornness a bit attractive. It's nice to know they have some resolve; better yet if they know when to give and when to stand their ground."

There's a softness to this, too; Emily is doubtless thinking of a different Singer. One whose absence is felt keenly, but not remarked upon.

[Molly Quincannon] Molly lets Nat field the comments on James (The standing his ground part is easy for him, as far as I can tell; it's the giving ground part he has a problem with, and damn don't I know what that's like...) but there's no shortage of 'polite' (read: non-triggery) topics, if you know where to look for them. "Only if you've got somewhere else to be," is her reply to Emily's polite offer of withdrawal. "I could probably use a second opinion, actually. I've been contemplating getting pets. Not a dog, because ... well, sweet as they can be, there's the problem of wanting to go walkies or play fetch while I'm trying to code something delicate. And not a cat, because any animal that sheds that much is not welcome around my computers; I have to take canned air to the cooling fans enough as it is. But I was thinking ferrets and a Habitrail, but despite the apparently serendipitous sale going on at the pet shop up that way, I still haven't decided. What do you think? Should I really own a pet of any kind?"

[Natyana Wapanee] She shrugs a shoulder, giving her that friendly smile. "If you two want to have your shop talk, I don't care. Doesn't bother me at all, specially not when my best friend has been slowly roping me into the nerd world." She laughs, nothing in her words said in an offensive tone. All light hearted and genuinely good natured. "I started playing one of those games last week."

And then the look shifts into another one of those fond grins, but there's a flicker of something else in her eyes as well. A bit of guilt maybe, and worry. "It's not the stubbornness in him that gets frustrating. It's the times when he chooses to be stubborn that drive me nuts. But I wouldn't change it for the world, even when it keeps me up camping sometimes."

She turns her eyes back to Molly and chuckles. "Second opinion is best, yeah. I'd take them all home if I could." She reaches out and ruffles a hand over the big dog's side.

[Emily Littleton] Emily is not really a pet person, but she's grown to appreciate Zane, Ashley's shepard. She thinks of Zane like a mini person, greets him (sometimes before his human, depending on her mood) and shares treats with him, wonders how he's doing. Molly would like a pet, but a tech friendly pet, a thing that could survive the Auto-shop-home and yet be geek chic.

"I've nowhere in particular to be," she confesses. It is the Friday before a long weekend, late enough in the afternoon that she's probably done with coursework.

"Maybe a gerbil -- ah, hamster -- in one of those adventuring balls. It'd make an adorable Raiding sidekick." Which is WoW speak, on some level, and might be accessible to Natyana as well. "It'd be safe to roll around the shop floor too, bonus?"

She steps to the side of the walkway so she can fall in stride beside them. This pet store is one of the friendly types, where Natyana's companion can follow them right on in, so long as he/she/it remains on model citizen behavior.

"I'm glad you've found someone who makes you happy," Emily says, as an aside to Nat. It's genuine. Warm. Honest without being envious.

[Molly Quincannon] "I thought about the smaller rodents?" Molly looks around at the vaguely incomprehensible animal paraphernalia. "But ... I guess I'm looking for something a little bigger, easier to pet, and a little higher on the intellectual scale. I mean, rats and ferrets are one thing, but hamsters are Tribbles with pretensions and gerbils are cannibals. I ... don't think I could deal with cannibal rodents. It'd be like owning a furry zombie cage match. That squeaks."

There are ferrets, however, and as Nat said, the damnable things are forty percent off with purchase of the appropriate cage. And one of them, obviously spotting the sap in the room, lollops over and pokes its nose at Molly through the bars as Molly approaches the cage. She looks at it, then at Nat and Emily. "...It's being cute at me. If I pet it, I'm doomed to pet ownership, right?"

[Natyana Wapanee] She grins when she catches on at the wow speak. Likely alot of any gold she's earned or been given wasted on the little companion pets in her fast addiction to the silly game.

However, the comment about happiness, gets a chuckle. Easily mistaken as being talk about animals as they're discussing pets for Molly. "Oh he's just a big slobbery lug. Followed me home from the scrapyard one day. He makes a great body pillow though!" Despite the references being to the dog at her side, one could likely see and relate it to James if they've seen him after one of his toussles on the streets with Alex, or after one of his long nights that sees him crossing paths with the little woman on her morning walks.

[Emily Littleton] Emily has seen James after (fill in the blank when an appropriate when), and James has been there for her after-maths as well. It's a thing she keeps quiet, given the obvious connection between Natyana and the Singer, one that does not seem sullied by the constant press and ravaging of the Awakened world.

James had sat beside her on the Chantry stairs, shoulder-to-shoulder, wordless, in a place and time when his voice was raw and her body bent-toward-breaking.

Yes, Nat's comments could apply to the Singer, but Emily attributes them to the canine instead. Her nose wrinkles, too, at the mention of keeping a rat as a pest. No, no, Emily, she meant pet.

"I... don't think I could ever live with a rat. Can't we blame the bubonic plague on them? You know, most parts of the world regard them as pests, not pets." And in some places, cats are a substitute for chicken. There's no accounting for taste. Not here, no there, not anywhere.

"I don't think petting it infers any responsibility to take it home. It's not like you break it you bought it." Ah, yes, pragmatism. It's a good thing to fall back on.

[Molly Quincannon] "No, that's actually only here in the US." Molly, perhaps oddly and perhaps not, defends the humble rat. "The British have been breeding fancy rats for ladies since the 1800s. Hindu mythology talks about Ganesh's faithful companion and mount being a rat, and so they're revered and actually considered to be destined for reincarnation as holy men. They appear in the Chinese zodiac and they were considered to have brought the gift of rice to the people. They're considered lucky in Japan, too. And the plague was the fleas, not the rats." Someone with an eidetic memory, high curiosity and a low boredom threshold comes up with a lot of useless trivia to have at their fingertips. "They get a really bad press, rats. But really they're as clean as the average hamster, and a lot smarter."

Then she looks at the ferret, who's actually climbing the cage bars as if to say, Lookit me! Pet me! Love me! Take me home! "That's ... not the point," she explains. "If I pet it, I will feel that it is soft and fuzzy and it will make some adorable noise at me and weasel - no pun intended - its way into my heart and then it's either buy the little fuzzball or leave without it but with a bad case of the guilts. You're not letting me near the kittens, you understand?" She sighs and runs a finger down the little ferret's head. "I haven't decided yet, you squeaky little con artist."

[Natyana Wapanee] She grins, and looks towards the dog toys and treats aisle. Knowing she'll be utterly hopeless herself and knows the 'look but don't touch' reasoning very well. "I'm going to look into some toys for Boomer. Maybe then he'll stop licking my head when I'm trying to go to sleep."

She steps the short distance over to a nearby display, scritching at his head with a chuckle over at Molly and her declarations about being kept away from the kittens.

[Emily Littleton] "I still can't stand the way their tails feel," Emily says, the delicate wrinkle to the bridge of her nose firmly entrenched. She watches as Molly pets the little rodent on the head, which is undoubtedly soft and fuzzy. She calls it a con artist; Emily does not quite think she gives it too much credit.

"I suppose you'd best pick out a cage, you know, before you decide. Cages are less cuddly, less likely to bat eyelashes at you and want to follow you home."

Oh, fun with homophones. Emily's mind wanders to the rowan-haired Other, who she has not seen since the incident at the house (nonspecific [most recent] ah, that's better). She wonders, while she looks at the stack of 40% off offerings, what the other Orphan might be up to.

"They've ones with all these tubes. Very ISS. You could make an installment on the wall, like modern art." Natyana wanders off to the dog toys, and Emily looks after her for a moment, then back to the pet things. This is a strange place, one that makes her nose itch a little.

[Molly Quincannon] Molly makes a rueful face at Emily. "Yeah. It's a dual-pronged attack, Emily, perpetrated by the pet stores of the world to keep me coming in for ferret nibbles and cedar shavings. Because if the cute and fuzzy con artist--" who is currently nuzzling at Molly's fingers "--doesn't get me, of course I can resist the technical and architectural challenge of building the state's most awesome Habitrail set-up. Not." She gives a wry sort of chuckle, steps towards 'the ones with all these tubes' (Habitrail!)...

...And the ferret starts squeaking in apparent dismay. She turns and looks at it for a moment. "You," she says to the ferret, returning to the cage and opening the door, setting the ferret on her shoulder, "are Sophie or Neal, depending on gender. Little. Furry. Con artist. Can we look at Habitrails now?"
*chitter*
"I blame you for this, Wapanee!" This projected across the door to the dog toys. Then she turns to Emily. "So ... yeah. D'you think yellow and red, or the blue and purple ... or maybe a mix?"

[Natyana Wapanee] She blinks and looks back over to the two ladies, holding up a big yellow rubber duckie and squeezing it in Molly's direction with a huge, impish grin. It squeaks it's protest at her, and Boomer perks. Eyes locking on the duck. Naty blinks and shoves it at him quickly, before he goes for the pounce he looks like he's about to make.

[Emily Littleton] "Mmm," Emily rolls the thoughtful sound across her vocal chords as she tries to remember Molly's decorating aesthetic. She settles, of course, on a geek reference instead.

"I'd say mix them. That way you can color-code your sectors, as any self-respecting space station designer must." A little nod, then. She shifts the books from one arm to another. The damnable things were heavy; she wasn't that strong.

Nat squeaks the toy and Emily looks over (Pavlovian? No....) and grins broadly.

"Do ferrets like squeak toys?" she asks, oh so very helpfully. She could get Molly's new pest (pet, Emily) a noisemaker toy. It only sounded obnoxious, until one realized that noisemakers are actually pest (pet) location devices in disguise. Like tiny bells on cat collars.

[Molly Quincannon] The ferret in question is currently chewing on the arm of Molly's glasses. "I think it's shiny things. Rolly, jingly, shiny things. And apparently anything they can gnaw. That's my last pair, grifter," she grumbles, though it's fond, the reproach ... as much so as the face she makes at Nat. Clearly, those two are close; they fight like sisters. "But I'm going to have to do some serious Googling when I get home for preferred toys. Right now ... yeah, I suppose I could get the mixed colours and have one set leading into a cage area in the workshop for the sleeping and a sort of open run in the living room to allow for a bit of freedom and running around untubed and have a sort of a food area in the kitchen so I don't have to track across the place to feed the little beast... Probably attach them to the ceiling and walls so I don't end up tripping over them and if I pattern them right..."

Then she smacks her forehead with the heel of her hand. "Damnit. I'm a pet owner. A very geeky pet owner. Who's going to have a very noisy living room and probably more squeaky, jingly, rolly toys than is seemly. You ever chew my power cables and I turn you into furry slippers."
*chitter*
Then she looks at Emily suspiciously. "You're not going to get the con artist anything that squeaks or jingles, are you?" The ferret peers around Molly's head at Emily, nose twitching and beady black eyes almost pleading.

[Natyana Wapanee] Naty... just grins. That impish, mischievous grin that tattles on her before she ever even manages to sneak off to purchase little surprises. She reaches up and grabs hold of Boomer's head as he chews on the duck, lending plenty of squeaking to the conversation, and scratches at the backs of both his ears. He grumbles, pawing at Naty's leg.

"Looks like a match made in heaven to me." Her tone teasing, eyeing the critter on Molly's shoulder.

[Emily Littleton] "Methinks the lady protesth too much," Emily says, arching an eyebrow and the mock-complaining Molly was up to. Her smile was cajoling, gently teasing, pleased.

"I think you and Sophie-Neal will be quite happy togehter. I now pronounce you geek and ferret." All very officious-like, yes, but lightly. There's a lightness to this than Emily does not often get to partake of any longer. "You may now... ah... squeak gleefully."

Because the Singer-to-be would not consider kissing the pet to be an appropriate deal sealer.

"I promise not get anything squeaky or jingly without your permission," she vows.

[Molly Quincannon] Molly's expression takes a brief turn for the pained - she hasn't done the gleeful-squeak thing for awhile, and isn't sure she could fake it that well... And then Sophie-Neal clambers down the back of her shirt. The half-indignant, tickly-giggly shriek is close enough for government work. "Agh! Agh! Tickly tickly agh!"

Once she's awkwardly wrangled the animal out of her shirt (via the sleeve, with much comic wriggling and the near-hysterical giggles of the 'so-being-tickled-now', she gives Emily a smile. "Thank you. For the pronouncement and the promise. That'd better go for the midget with the mutt too!" No, she's not troubling herself to lower her voice. Then she shakes her head. "Dude, I hope Chuck's not allergic..."

[Natyana Wapanee] She cracks up laughing at Emily's proclamations to Molly and the critter, then just lets her already crouched legs sink sidewards to sit on the floor, rolling out with great big belly laughing when Molly starts having a battle of the tickle monster.

Boomer takes this as invite, and drops the duck to start licking Naty's head. She reaches up and bats harmlessly at his nose, and he simmers down to just snuffling through her hair.

[Emily Littleton] There's a mention of Chuck and that, well, it brings a different sort of fondness forward in the Apprentice's features. Look carefully enough and it might just speak to regret, but that would not make much sense, given her friendship with the Geek Squadder, and their cabal's closeness. This gentleness might be regret, no, but closer. It's such a subtle note, hardly worth mentioning, save that it had not been there before.

Of the three, Emily is the only one without pets (or pets to be); without an affable body pillow to curl with at night (are we still talking about pets?). It passes, but there's a momentary clouding to her blue-grey eyes. A tarnish. Fading. Glimmer. Gone.

"Any time," she tells Molly. Offers Nat and her wrestling partner a bit of grin.

"I should step out, here, soon, though. My nose is starting to tickle, and I've more homework -- both mundane and Enlightened -- than is fair for start of term."

Rue. Emily does not seem to know or notice that the word she just let slip was not a Traditional one. One might wonder where she learned it, or if it was an natural extrapolation by a well-meaning Apprentice of the usual borrowed-and-repurposed language they used to describe their common condition: Awake, Sleeper, Tradition, why not Enlightened as well?

[Molly Quincannon] See, Molly doesn't really know about Chuck-and-Emily. Thus Molly has no real idea that this could potentially be a sensitive topic. And she's too busy trying to keep Sopheal (Nophie?) in check and out of her sleeves. "Understood, though I think I'm going to be here awhile. But ... it was really good to see you again. We should make more of a habit of it, maybe." She's genuine, that much is clear. They enjoyed each other's company at one point, and rebuilding bridges might be a good thing.

As to the terminology Emily's used? Well, James keeps talking about texting an apprentice; a 'she'. Emily expresses fondness for and familiarity with James. 'Singers' is a Chorister term for themselves, more ofteh than not. It really, really does not take a genius. But she doesn't comment. Not her business.

"Just don't forget to take breaks, hmm? Whatever you decide to play or do. You know what they say about All Work and No Play."

[Natyana Wapanee] She gives Emily a big smile. Whether or not she's put two and two together is anyone's guess on the association with James. James is one of those people that most everyone seems to know, and most of them like him, and she does know he has an apprentice. He had mentioned possibly calling her when she made him promise to get better healing than she could give him one way or another before she'd leave that morning. But no name was given in connection. Not that it takes a rocket scientist, but she's not going to make assumptions, and she's not going to ask out in the open either. Something to ask when not in such a busy place.

She attempts to tilt her head away from Boomer enough to look up at the Chorister in training in the hopes of giving the woman at least a friendly farewell. "Don't study too hard. Burnout sucks, no matter what you're burning out from. Was really nice to meet you." And she does indeed mean that.

[Emily Littleton] Emily might be James' apprentice, though if either asked her she'd likely respond with a mildly confuse, oh-so-pleasant, ah is that the rumor that's going around now? Brow all arched and eyes a-twinkle. It would not be the first time that word got out about who was Mentoring a one Ms. Littleton. It might actually be the last, though, with the way her early apple days were shaping up.

"I'll keep it in mind," she tells them. Smiles. Waggles the fingers of her free hand in a bit of a goodbye. "Have a good evening, you two. And happy Labor Day."

And then the Singer-to-be, the Orphan-who-wasn't made her departure. Sans pet. She was not, after all, liable to stick around long enough at one go to be responsible for another life form (successfully).