Introductory Cocktail Party

Nicholas Hyde
A cardinal rule of introverts: They are frequently lost at parties.  Even work parties, which generally don't get too out of hand and remain confined to relatively safe topics.  There's the occasional "Donald Trump is going to make America great again" filtering through the conversation, but by the time it reaches an ear it's difficult to tell who said it.  It could be anyone.

Nick is not quite hanging out by the drink table - no.  Nick is a counselor, and it is therefore expected that he has more outgoing tendencies than, say, Dr. Antwan, the epidemiologist leaning into a corner by the snacks and playing a game on his phone.  The mental and behavioral health staff have congregated, split off into small groups, and he is mainly listening to others and asking questions.  "So after you graduated, you - " "Ah. And what about - " and the like.  Small talk.

Pen is not with him today.  One magus, here alone, is sometimes innocuous enough that it doesn't set everyone in the room on edge.  It would not be the same with two, and one of them a Hermetic.
He has a beer in hand (he is driving home, and nobody wants to be the sloppy drunk at a work party) and where he stands, the conversation is often just a little mellower.  "Real talk" comes out a little more often, in spite of his efforts to keep conversation light so he can extricate himself and go home before 8.  Nick has this effect sometimes, in spite of himself.

He looks at his watch infrequently enough that he's not rude.  Nick is more comfortable in this situation than many Awakened mages would be, and yet.

Andrés Sepúlveda
The one magus is unaccompanied but that does not mean he is truly alone.

Someone mentioned earlier offhand the way it seems folks mention impending events that are of little consequence or interest to anyone else that the forensic pathologist just texted back to say that yes he was going to show up. Sepúlveda or however you pronounce his last name.

And in time he does arrive not alone as Nick was alone but with a psychiatrist. They circulate throughout the room greeting the other medical staff and almost straightaway he looks across the room as if scenting blood on the wind. A sense of consecration niggling at him.

Even the Sleepers notice the Etherite's resonance. Like a chill up the spine. Someone walking over your grave.

He is a small man. Short and small of frame. He wears a well-fitted windowpane suit and a blue maroon and white checkered tie and tan brogue shoes. After eating a handful of pretzels and procuring a glass of punch he excuses himself from a conversation that was about to happen and begins to cut a path towards Nick.

The universe wants Nick to be less comfortable than he is right now it would seem.

Nicholas Hyde
Not truly alone - that, no.  And yet, Nick is unaccompanied in a new city.  He has been in Denver for a little less than a week, not long enough to have driven out to the chantry or have properly settled in with Pen once more after some separation.  Had he wanted a chance to prove himself to his new coworkers and supervisor, he would have gotten it this week: Nick's second day involved shadowing a coworker on another floor, accompanying the family of a suicide to the morgue while they identified the body.

This comes back to him in sharp relief, the sterile environment and the mother of the young man, who had covered her eyes and peeked out just long enough to glimpse her son's face before covering it again.  It takes him a moment to understand what triggered this memory, that feeling of standing beside the woman wondering whether to touch or not to touch, whether his coworker would frown on that because there are boundaries, a certain expected behavior: that chill up the spine, that's the reason.  He felt it there too, sensed something perhaps supernatural about it, but it was a morgue after all, and Nick was distracted.

Now, as he smiles and excuses himself from a group of his coworkers (ostensibly to go get another beer), he wishes he had paid more attention.  He turns around and there is Sepulveda, working his way through the crowd.  Nick, a man in his late twenties or early thirties with a head full of wild dark curls, has something a little wan and world-weary about him: he brings to mind empty churches, silent glades, places undeniably sacred and yet just a little unsettling at the same time.  More casually dressed in brown corduroys and a striped blue oxford, he is likely also easily identified among the "support staff," or else a young and somewhat casual doctor.

The last thing Nick wants to do is smile at this approaching stranger, and yet smile he does.  He continues to drift toward the drink table, though at this point, this is more pretense than anything else.

Andrés Sepúlveda
One man leaves the drink table and the other approaches it.

A moment of passing recognition perhaps. The forensic pathologist is also a medical examiner with Denver County. Just moved here from Miami a few weeks ago and has been learning his way around the Colorado penal code and the statutes put in place by the Denver Health Administration. On more than one occasion he has passed through the halls of Denver General to begin an inquisition before the body has left the hospital room.

Though he is small he has handsome features and a certainty woven into his spine. A sense of purpose in his walk. His black hair is flecked with salt-white and his five o'clock shadow is dusted with gray. Somewhere in his middling to late thirties and the jangling sense of attention-deficit energy is the fault of his personality rather than his resonance. Before he even opens his mouth Nick can peg him as hyperactive.

His voice carries with it a faint accent. Not an immigrant himself but the child of Mexican natives. If he speaks Spanish it is the conversational Spanish of one who never studied the language in a formal setting.

"Ah, don't look so happy," he says when their paths cross. Extends his right hand to shake. His drink has been in his left hand this whole time. This isn't his first introductory cocktail party. "Andrés Sepúlveda. You're a counselor, yeah?"

Nicholas Hyde
Another Corona having found its way into his hand, Nick turns to face the stranger.  He is edging the two of them back and away from the crowd of Sleepers, whether consciously or unconsciously.  Nick's resonance is not weak, but neither is it strong; it marks him among the initiated but not as one with extensive experience with the arcane.  Yet - he has been around long enough to know that strange magi he meets are not always his friends, particularly not in this, a medical setting.

None of that wariness has found its way to his eyes, which are tinged with a sort of impersonal warmth, crinkled at the corners.  They are the same light brown color as his skin, which manages to be rather striking in its way.  Nick shifts his beer to his left hand and, after a moment's pause to wipe the condensation on his fingertips off on a pocket, extends his hand to shake Sepulveda's.  "Yes, I am," he says.  "In hospice."

Closer to Nick, it becomes more evident that there's a small lump just beneath his collarbone, some sort of necklace.  "It's a pleasure to meet you officially, Dr. Sepulveda."  While his voice does not carry an accent, there's no hesitation in his words or inflection as he pronounces the doctor's name (correctly).  Then again, it isn't so unusual to run into Spanish speakers in Colorado, or ethnically ambiguous people like Nick.

He pauses, inclines his head, and adds, "Nick Hyde.  I think I may have come by the morgue where you work earlier this week."

Andrés Sepúlveda
"I feel you may have, yes."

Suicides don't take up much of his time. Not the straightforward ones anyway. The coroner is more than capable of handling those autopsies. Much of his time is taken up by the cases that require police investigations and he has grown accustomed to testifying in court. Wording his answers in an intentional way.

He had tucked his right hand into its pocket after shaking Nick's hand and now he's jingling something his fingers have found inside. Keys or coins or both. Sometimes it's better not to know what a Scientist carries in his pockets.

Drawing away from the group is a subconscious action for their kind. Their drifting occurs in tandem.
"You're with the Chorus, or the Chakravanti?"

Might as well cut right to the chase. No one is listening to them and if anyone is there's a rote for that.

Nicholas Hyde
There are certain magi who are so obvious a fit for their Traditions that others, particularly the more experienced, can identify them almost immediately.  Nick is one of those: the way in which his eyebrows lift, amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes a little further, says so.  "Chakravanti," he says.  There is a pause, space in which he allows Sepulveda to reply in kind.

His eyes flick, from time to time, toward Sepulveda's pocket and the delicate metallic clicking from within.  Nick has heard that the Technocracy these days is a gentler version than what was.  He and his cohort have realized themselves during a time in which older, more experienced magi are still used to operating as though their every move is being watched.  Nick heard stories in Connecticut of people who knew people who had virtually disappeared, a spy in the chantry in New York, an Adept in Boston who left wherever she was and is now permanently in hiding.  This is not the world Nick Awakened into. Still, the stories have been enough to make him cautious.

It wasn't that long ago.  Sepulveda: perhaps he remembers.  Perhaps he is just as wary as Nick of meeting a stranger in this place.

"To be honest, I haven't lived in Denver for very long.  I hadn't expected to run into anyone outside of the chantry.  Are you very familiar with the area?"

Andrés Sepúlveda
Sepúlveda does not offer up his own tradition so soon as Nick does his. Lets him explain that he is new-arrived to the city and ask a question of his own. Just before he answers he shifts his weight from one foot to the other and takes a swallow of whatever mystery beverage is in his cup.
Punch is always a risky proposition. The proportions don't follow a standard measure and the composition of the ingredients themselves are at the mercy of the one slapping the entire thing together. There's an analogy to be found in there somewhere.

"I was," Sepúlveda says to the matter of his familiarity with Denver. "Years ago, towards the end of the war. It's always been my understanding that this was a bit of a Verbena town, but I believe your people had a presence here, once, as well. I'm with the Society, myself."

Nicholas Hyde
At this point, Nick has been in a Sleeper career only a bit more briefly than he has been Awake.  His Awakening and his career are enmeshed in some ways, to the extent that should he ever have to do his Work apart from being a counselor, it's likely he'd be a little lost.  That means that he's been to a lot of work parties and events - enough to know that most of the time, some well-meaning person has cobbled together punch out of Sprite, three dollar liquor and whatever else they had in the fridge.

"I think that's supposed to be sangria," he offers, as Sepulveda sips from the dubious concoction.  Only a few sad pineapple chunks hint at that possibility.  Then, helpfully, "I stuck with the beer."

A former cabal mate, given to nicknames, had referred to Nick as Casper the Friendly Ghost.  It's apt enough.  There's a single slow nod of his head at the "once," which he processes in silence, and then again as Sepulveda offers his own Tradition. Nick asks, leaning against the wall and crossing one leg over the other at the ankle.  "So what brings you back?"

Andrés Sepúlveda
Nick stuck with the beer.

"What's life without a little risk, eh?"

As they continue their conversation the Etherite sets his Solo cup down on the table and comes to stand before the Euthanatos. Reaches into an inside pocket of his suit jacket and rifles around until he finds a small dropper bottle. Checks the clear glass and the clear liquid inside holds it up to the light as if he's checking a label. Then he doses his cup with whatever the hell is inside the vial.
The liquid morphs from a wan pink color to a darker winier red. The pineapple becomes pear.

As for what brings him back:

"My wife was Verbena. There's been talk of our friends in the Technocracy destroying a grove of theirs and plotting to start up the war again, or a war, or... whatever it is they'd care to call it." A swirl of the cup to ensure that the transmutation has taken and Sepúlveda returns the vial to his inner pocket. He lifts the cup in a silence cheers motion and takes a slug. That's more like sangria. A flick of his eyebrows and he adds, "This is where she would have wanted to be, times being what they are."

---
Dr. Sepúlveda @ 12:42PM
[matter 2: if you're gonna be sangria be sangria. dang.]
Roll: 3 d10 TN4 (1, 9, 10) ( success x 2 )

Nicholas Hyde
One reason to envy magi who work with Matter: it's likely that their food and drink is, with few exceptions, probably always better.  Nick knows better than to ask what it is - he's encountered enough technomagi to understand that it very likely would not make things any clearer.  "Some risks are always worthwhile," he says, the corners of his eyes again crinkling with good humor.

He tips the mouth of his bottle toward Sepulveda as the other man lifts his glass and takes a swig from the bottle.  His face is expressionless when Sepulveda tells him that the Technocracy has destroyed a Verbena grove; perhaps he has already heard.  "I'm sorry," he says, and his tone is sincere.  Then, "So it sounds as though you're here on her behalf, then."

Andrés Sepúlveda
"Eh, that's one way of putting it. In spirit I suppose she's here, but that's a Sphere I've never had much success with."

He does not seem like a man given over to grief. Time the healer has been kind to him or else madness has been. Few of his tradition have reputations for going about Work in the name of Science and maintaining their sanity. Some lingering darkness in the way he words his answer.

Nicholas Hyde
Were Nick in session, this is where his questions would tease and prod; he is a man who picks up easily on that lingering darkness, and who perhaps has enough insight to speculate with reasonable certainty as to its origin.  He has only just met this man, however, and there's a time and place for everything.  "It sounds as though you've tried," he says.

Magi are far less predictable than Sleepers.  This, too, he knows.

So he doesn't linger.  Then, "So what do you hope to do, if they've just attacked this grove?"

Andrés Sepúlveda
It sounds as though he's tried and it looks as though this isn't a topic he's itching to discuss.

Some folks cannot help but disclose the contents of their baggage the moment an opening presents itself in the conversation. So much of it so tightly packed in too small a container or else they are just wired that way. Awakened folk have more at stake than their own contentment than does the average Sleeper but some Awakened folk never attain either self-awareness or enlightenment.

This isn't a session. They're at a cocktail party and happened to find the only other Awakened person there. More is at stake than what the two have riding under their skin and the doctor does not look as if he is any more inclined to linger than does the counselor.

"I don't think it's a matter of 'just,' eh? Why 'just' attack a, ah, symbol of... well, they claim to want what is best for mankind." Rational discussion of the opposition's mentality calls for alcohol. The Society of Ether used to belong to the opposition. They were too wild for the Technocracy. So he drinks. "Renewal, growth, healing, these are the things the pagans want. Yes, okay, they praise Old Gods and their craft is dying, pero respect for the Earth and the natural order, these are not things that threaten humanity. Holistic views are just so much a part of the Consensus as modern medicine. So even if it is a matter of 'just,' I do not understand why this attack occurred, and I wish to. This is not something I can do from three thousand miles away."

Nicholas Hyde
Nick's eyebrows arch, ever so slightly.  Words can take on so many different meanings: the "just" he had used here had been meant as to say, recently.  And yet - merely, that's another meaning one could take from what he said.  Still, he listens, and does not rush in to explain his meaning.  Nick is a good listener, whatever else may be said of him.

He, too, drinks.

"That's fair," he says, considering Sepulveda's rationale for moving closer to the attacks.  Once it has been explained, there's even a touch of consternation in him, too.  Sepulveda is right: it doesn't make sense.  "Zealots, possibly?  I'm sure the Union is like any other large organization.  It must have its renegades and reactionaries.  That much authority tends to go to someone's head."

Nick is mulling out loud; the distance in his gaze, the way he seems to have detached a little from the conversation, implies that this may be unusual for him.  Sepulveda has caught him off guard.  Still, it doesn't last long; his eyes refocus on the other man and he says, "So what do you think happened?"

Andrés Sepúlveda
It would not surprise the medical examiner to learn that he had taken the counselor by surprise. No one expects anything of any interest to happy at a holiday party and yet the collective consciousness has itself prepared for the possibility of someone having too much to drink and making a spectacle of the entire affair.

This is different. They are talking of wars gone and wars impending and it's enough to make anyone drink harder but there is restraint in the way Sepúlveda swallows down his transmutated sangria.

"If I have to think," he says and it's less a matter of thinking itself presenting a difficulty and more thinking like a Technocrat, "I would posit they chose this target to try and kill off every reality deviant they could find. Not just the grove but the chantry in the city, I hear they destroyed. It's the why, yeah? Search-and-destroy has not been their M.O. since the war ended."

Nicholas Hyde
This is true, though for Nick, this is somewhat akin to hearing an old man tell war stories.  As far as he is concerned, the War happened before his rebirth, before his time.  He is young in Awakening, even though there are people his age (or not much older) who fought and died.  This aside: Chakravanti he may be, but Nick is not a soldier.  One has only to look at him to know that.

The party moves around them, unaware of the discussion passing between two otherwise unassuming men at the margins.

"I would think it would happen everywhere else, if that were the goal," Nick says, gently spinning the neck of his beer bottle between his fingertips.  He is thoughtful.  He is also a man who is uncomfortable with unanswered questions.  "Did anyone in the city survive those attacks when they happened?"

Andrés Sepúlveda
"That's what I'd like to find out."

As clear a purpose as he'd voiced already he has done little in the way of investigating what befell the prior Chantry. Moving across the country will do that to a person if that person is not skilled in Correspondence. Time would be a useful Sphere to enable a body to accomplish multiple tasks at once but still.

His green eyes flick away from the other man's face just once as if to gauge whether they are still beyond interest. A cluster of physicians several yards away has just burst into laughter at a story one of them is telling.

"I feel it may be helpful to, eh, meditate on this, yeah? Perhaps I can jog my own memories, see if I remember anything from when Eloise and I were here last. At least a name or two."

Nicholas Hyde
As Sepulveda's eyes wander, Nick is suddenly reminded to take a moment to look too.  He seeks out his coworkers, all of whom still seem gathered in a clump away from the doctors and nurses.  Not unexpected.  He does not seem to be overly missed, yet, though he suspects that at some point he will be labeled as avoidant or shy should he stay away for too much longer.  He is, after all, ostensibly here to bond with all of them and spend more time with the department.

"That would be helpful," he agrees.  "My wife hasn't been in town much longer than I have, but I can ask her and see whether she's found out more.  Or has heard anything since she got here."

Nick has straighened away from the wall, his hand wandering into his back pocket, emerging again with a black leather wallet.  He slides a business card (Nicholas Hyde, LPC) from it with his thumb, and extends it toward Sepulveda.  "In case you need to get in touch with me.  I've heard a lot of chantries don't keep contact information on hand."  The more cautious ones, the ones that remember a time when the Technocracy was more on its toes.

Andrés Sepúlveda
"Eh, they think they're being proactive."

The Etherite studies the card for a few seconds before removing his own wallet and tucking the card into it. If he has his own card he does not choose to share it with Nick. Instead he pockets his wallet and removes his cellphone from his suit jacket.

With his eyes on the screen he asks, "Your wife is Awakened, or an acolyte?"

Nicholas Hyde
Once the Etherite has removed his cell phone, Nick tucks his wallet into his back pocket once more.  If he is put off that the Etherite has chosen not to reciprocate, it doesn't show; the Awakened are strange creatures, after all, and often wary with good reason.  Business cards feel sensible enough to Nick - they're relatively innocuous.

"Awakened," he says.  "Order of Hermes.  Her name is Penelope, have you met her?"

Unlikely, perhaps; Nick feels that he would have remembered should Pen have told him about someone like Sepulveda.  Friendly though the conversation they've had may be, there's something unsettling about him all the same.

Andrés Sepúlveda
"No." He pockets his phone. "Not yet."

A moment later the counselor's phone heralds an incoming text message. Whether he checks it right now or after he's left the party already the text comes from the 305 area code and the message body says:

Yo.

And that's it.

"Maybe we should change that, yeah? Go to dinner sometime."

This is before he's met his students. He cannot threaten everyone with the good time of hauling two apprentices along to such a social situation.

Nicholas Hyde
Nick hears the chime of an incoming text, and like any child of the internet age, he obediently reaches down and into his pocket.  "Oh, thanks," he says, upon seeing the examiner's message.  He taps at the screen a few times, pecks with a finger to type out Sepulveda's name (at least, insofar as he heard it.)

"I'd like that," he says.  "I'm sure she would too."

He returns the phone to his pocket, shifting his leg to allow it to settle.  Nick's eyes meet Sepulveda's again, and there is again that thoughtful look - appraising, reflective.  "It's interesting to meet someone else who's kept a profession, besides," he says.  Though: perhaps Nick's perception of the rarity of this is somewhat skewed, given that he is married to a Hermetic.  They are notorious for pursuing Ascension at the exclusion of all else, if need be.

Andrés Sepúlveda
"Yeah, tell me about it. Eloise didn't have a career, either. She was a real hit at cocktail parties."
Now that that's over the medical examiner holds out his right hand in an offer to shake. Meets the other man's eyes as he does so and then cants his head back towards the party.

"I'd better go rescue Melina, eh? Give me a call sometime, we can compare notes. Tell you all about how the first level of the Mind Sphere is a blessing to a med student. Ciao, brother."

If Nick has any last-second parting thoughts he is not in so huge a rush as to leave without hearing them but this may be the last they speak tonight. The medical examiner returns to his friend the cardiologist and in a few minutes they leave together. Everyone knows why they're leaving together. No one questions a widow and a widow making time together. No one in the room has an abundance of it.

Andrés Sepúlveda
[YAY WRAP]

Nicholas Hyde
[BOOM]

Battle-bots

P. Mercury
Nicholas has not been in Denver for very long by this point. He might still be jet-lagged. Later for him than it is for Pen and maybe he tried to stay up. Maybe there is some kind of rote combining Time and Life to get the traveling Mage on the right page without grogginess. But he hasn't been in Denver for very long at this point and their apartment (duplex? [rented house?]) is either a mess of boxes or simply unresolved decisions: where is this going to go we need to get that etcetera. And Nicholas is asleep when Pen pounces on the bed. "Nicholas!"

N. Hyde
Nick is indeed still jet-lagged.  Even were he not, moving is simply an exhausting process.  He has spent the weeks before this packing boxes, stacking them neatly in the main room of their old apartment in Connecticut, and leaving them and all their emotional weight behind for the movers.  He will be starting a new job soon in a brand new setting, and he still hasn't been in Denver for very long at all.  He is buried in blankets and face-planted so deeply into his pillows that not much of him is visible other than his hair.

Pen pounces on the bed.  There is a stirring: delayed, but there.  He's alive, folks.  One eyelid drags open.  "Mm?"

P. Mercury
"I have just recalled something I meant to tell you; are you awake? Don't you want to be awake with me, instead of asleep?"

Penelope has pounced; she is kneeling, primed to pounce again, her hands balancing on Nick's back or shoulders or well basically the vague mound that probably denotes something Nickish. She languishes so she is lying on her shoulder, head canted at an angle that exposes so much throat it has to be uncomfortable. And it is, but it is also gives her a head rush and is a good angle to peer at Nick-half-emerged-from-his-pillows.

N. Hyde
"Mmmn."  The noise sounds vaguely as though it might be in the affirmative.  It's hard to tell.  There is a long period of stillness; so long, in fact, that she might wonder if he has gone back to sleep.  Then he pushes himself up into a sitting position in one smooth heave, sits back against the headboard and shoves his hair back out of his face.  "Only for you."  The words are barely intelligible; his waking up is a gradual thing.

P. Mercury
He is still an awful long time. Pen exhales gustily, dropping onto her back. She is about to turn over and try again when he heaves himself up; she props herself up on her elbow, biting the inside of her lip against this spark of a half-smile - for a moment she is just overcome with affection, see: he is here not over there! But then she feels a pang; she probably could have waited until morning. Oh well! Forging again.

Pen watches Nicholas with a serious expression for a second or two. Then she says, "Are you awake now?"

N. Hyde
Pen props herself up on her elbow, and Nick eyes her for a moment, shifts as though he might stretch out next to her, and then he stops and thinks better of it.  Down that path lies ruin; he will be asleep again in seconds.  She asks if he's awake.  His eyes smile and the rest of him does not; his face isn't quite responding to his brain's commands yet.  "Getting there."  He catches a strand of her hair, running it through and around his fingers.  "You said you had something to tell me?"

P. Mercury
"Yes. As you know, I've only had a chance to exchange a couple of texts with Orrin, and I haven't really got out much - " Begs the question: what does Penelope do? Order business. "But I did mean this one woman; I wanted to tell you about her. She is up for a hypothetical future battle between homunculi and Gamera-bots." Expectant gleam in her eyes.

N. Hyde
Nick's eyes are curious when she mentions Orrin, back home; perhaps he's about to ask how the Hermetic is, how he's doing.  But by then Pen has moved on to - meet this one woman.  As Pen begins to tell him about her, the corners of his eyes crinkle with amusement.  "So we're battle planning now?"

P. Mercury
"We must always," Penelope says; spark of humor, but behind that: some forge swords are made from; she means it. She slips her hand up his midline, presses down on his collarbone. "But yes, she is willing to make a battle-ring for the battle-bot versus whatever more mythic thing I can bring. She says Entropy is a record of things as they change."

N. Hyde
If there is anything bemused in his expression, affection has softened it; all told, he is happy he is being woken up in the middle of the night to talk about battle-bots.  Nick allows himself to be pushed back and to recline again, and he folds an arm behind his head.  "So what mythic thing are you bringing?"  Pause.  "Some little sprite thing.  I'm sure even battle-bots are easy to short circuit."

P. Mercury
"I would think she is cleverer than that," Pen says, solemnly. "I think most of the mythic things I would make are all still out of my reach, alas. But perhaps I will be ready to Seek again in a year's time." A smile with a sound behind it; her gaze gone distant. Pen has not been a 'Disciple' (Adept: the Hermetic terms are truest) for very long; half a year, and she gone resplendent. This is ambitious, but then all Hermetics are. "I rather like the idea of a solimond, or a basilisk - it could stop the battle-bots with one look, then breathe fire and melt them down to scrap. Can you guess her Tradition? I will give you a hint if you cannot."

N. Hyde
Pen is ambitious: Adept Major within a year's time, she hopes.  Then again, there are magi who have done this, who have risen far and quickly.  (It comes with a price.  Perhaps neither of them fully understand that yet; perhaps one of those quick-rising magi could tell them so, and they still wouldn't understand.)  "I also like the idea of a basilisk," he says.  She suggests that he guess the woman's Tradition; given that there is talk of battle-bots, he says, "Etherite?"

P. Mercury
"No. Ask me for a certain kind of hint."

N. Hyde
"What's her name?  Is it significant?"

P. Mercury
"It is not; not her name. Her name should belong to another Tradition, but the name of her Tradition is: bravado, which she has, and resilience and cleverness, quick as feather-feet: so guess again."

N. Hyde
Nick processes all of these clues, which would be far easier to process during daylight hours, with a slightly furrowed brow.  Perhaps she can tell that he's running through all of the names: there are only Nine.  "Is she a...no.  Feather-feet threw me.  Mercurial Elite?"

P. Mercury
"Bingo." Pen presses the tip of his nose with her index finger.

N. Hyde
Nick smiles as she presses his nose; it is the smile of a person who has Accomplished Something.  A correct guess isn't too bad for the dark hours of the morning.  He has pulled the blankets back up around his chest; perhaps he is going to sneakily try to drift off again.  "Have you gotten to meet many people?  What's it like here?"

P. Mercury
Pen doesn't answer for a moment, eyelids gone low to make her gaze hooded; it is still a clear-eyed, lake-Enchantress gaze; it is only also intent. Weighing. Judicious. She puts her hand over Nick's eyes, and waits another beat.

"I have not. And I will tell you tomorrow, when you are really awake," Penelope says; she takes her hand away; watches him another moment, wide-eyed wakeful, sighing as quietly as it is possible for Penelope to sigh. Then she kisses his forehead, and gets up to go do the kind of things a wakeful Flambeau Hermetic will do in the wee wee hours of the night.

Things that the stars dictate, most likely; certain finicky rituals do not care about time, and the stars move for no man.

Birthday Surprise [Past]

morrigu
This March has come in like the proverbial lion and it looks like it's going to leave that way too.  It has been a particularly harsh winter, this one, and snow lingered on the ground long into the month; it's midmonth, just past the Ides, and so there could be another blizzard yet, knowing how fickle this time of year can be.  (It is a portent, perhaps, of their year to come: there will be no real spring, not this year.)

Pen is at home by herself when her phone rings.  Nick is still at work.  When she glances down at her phone's screen it shows her a name she has only rarely seen pop up there, and never just to chat.  Anna's voice is on the other end of the line should she choose to answer.  "Hi Pen!  This is Pen, right?"

mythology
Pen is at home by herself because she is waiting for a communication from Ari on whether or not she will be able to come by with Robin, who is imminent, and she is as she often is before going out, which is to say lounging in the middle of a mess of fabric and cloth, not yet having decided what exactly she is going to put on and it will all be covered by a coat anyway until the coat comes off, and cider, last autumn's cider, bright cider with its suggestion of gold and immortality and halls under the ground in another world, underworld, its suggestion of coming back 'round again, of sweetness in the bitterness, cider is steaming, and she was about to send a text when Anna's name pops up and vibrates purrs against her thumb and she answers almost before she thinks about it and then says, "Hallo, Anna. What a pleasure."

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"Are you home?  Are you busy?  I decided to come up a little early for our birthdays.  I have Viv with me," and Anna sounds so pleased with herself that perhaps Pen can gather that she meant this, both of these things, as a surprise.  "Oh no wait you missed our turn - "

She can hear Vivienne's voice, though she cannot quite make out the words.  It is sharp.

mythology
"Oh!" But Pen is quick, remember, one jump ahead, and so not easy to dismay, although she can feel an echo in her heart-chamber, some quick thing she does not decide to examine. "Where are you now; what street or highway? Yes, I'm home. Nicholas is not; do you wish me to keep you a secret 'til he sees you?"

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"Well, sorry!  You have the GPS, look at that," and Anna's voice is a little muffled as she turns her mouth away from her phone.  "We're on 95," she says, "but we missed the exit.  I guess we'll just circle back around - yes Viv it isn't a big deal just exit and get back on the highway, I do it all the time - and yes you can keep us a secret.  Viv hasn't visited up here before.  He'll be happy."

mythology
"If he's not, I'll take a drop of your blood; if he is, a hug," Pen says, as if she doesn't think he'll be unhappy, and then: "There's a gigantic mountain of snow blocking most of the cul de sac; it is where the children from the house with the onion tower lie in wait for cars, so be forewarned. They are quite vicious. I will see you soon! And you'll get to meet our friend Rob."

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"Damn," Anna says when Pen threatens bloodletting, and laughs.  It has the high crystal sound that Nick's sometimes carries when he is surprised.  A beat.  "Oh, Nicky's told us about Rob," and she sounds chipper.  "I'll have to protect him from all you Hermetics, I guess.  All right, Penny, I'll see you soon."

mythology
"We wouldn't survive such an alliance intact," Pen says, and her good humor is easy, and her voice is touched by wistfulness, and then their phone call is terminated, and she realizes that she is quite naked and the apartment is a mess, so she springs into action as only a Flambeau can: dashing, see, daring too, ambitious as well - first she flings a thing on and then she shoves things out of sight and out of mind.

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Dashing, dashing: that is the best term for what she'll have to do.  She has a half hour by her estimation, maybe 45 minutes, before Nick's siblings arrive; she has two hours before Nick himself arrives home.  Who knows how long she has until Rob is there.

It takes longer than her estimation for them to arrive.  If she had Time she would know this; as it is, she rushes and she shoves things away and she still finds herself with nearly an extra half an hour because Nick's sisters aren't hie-ing there straightaway.  Or perhaps they only became lost again since not everyone has her ability to know exactly where they're at.  (Vivienne does and so that is not an excuse.)

Regardless, later than she expects, Anna texts her to let her know that they have arrived.

mythology
There is a truism about guests especially unexpected guests and it is not the old chestnut about strangers and kindness and angels in disguise it is to deal with cleaning and things to be done and how when one has imminent guests there is always something, something one finds, for she has shoved and hidden and straightened and tidied, and she has let her cell phone lie fallow as she goes about doing first the surface-level easy things, then the deeper clean things, and then beyond that there is the matter of washing her own hands, and then this and that, and so when she has some lounge time and still no one she does not think about texting Nicholas or about texting Robin and when she does pick up her cell phone again it is to text Ari and they talk a little while and Ari shall not be coming with Robin and then Anna texts to let her know that they have arrived and Pen texts back: come on up! and Rob does not text that he is nearly there but he is nearly there. Rob is in fact texting Nicholas. He is texting him: What alcohol is the best by your measure sacrifice to a lightning shade? Think about it and let me know later.

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Nick receives Robin's text.  Nick is working and so perhaps he does not read it until he is about to leave work; perhaps he is with a client or finishing documentation before he leaves for the day.  Maybe he does read it and he is thinking, now, about alcohol to sacrifice to a lightning shade.

Pen can hear two sets of footsteps ascending the stairs and up to their apartment.  The sisters don't have Nick's silent footfalls; Anna in fact sounds like she may have been temporarily transmogrified into a baby elephant.  Then there is a knock, three knocks, before someone (probably Anna) taps out "shave and a haircut."

mythology
There is a knock, three knocks, and then shave and a door opens hello. Pen is of course a picture of loveliness and the apartment she shares with Nicholas is a den of warmth compared to the frigid Hades-ruled world outside no katabasis to be had there only Orpheus mourning the wind kicking up ice-rimed frost on windows shivering the glass would crack for love of snow and Pen flashes a smile which does filter into her eyes embers drifting whirling up then settling an easy glow to the pale gray and, "Hello; please come in," and the door is opened. "What'll you drink with me?"

And we already know how the apartment looks, the vast open-plan sprawl of it, the two personalities braided together oh over a year now isn't it and they are settled an sifted and there's only that tower room off to the side and a widow's walk beyond and a great number of candles flickering against the blue of the windows stars 'capt and kept and a beeswax-y smell mingling with the cider smell and some trickle of water from a fountain somewhere.

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Anna lives in New York and so it is not so rare for her to visit; nevertheless Pen has not seen her for a few months.  She had invited them down to visit with her for New Year's, had offered to show them through New York during the holiday, and so perhaps that was the last time.  She is smiling when the door opens, and the ear flaps of the bright red hat she is wearing cannot contain her hair, which spirals out from beneath.  Vivienne, who has drawn strings tight around the hood of a parka and is peering through, looks decidedly more red-nosed and miserable.

"Hello!" Anna says, and then cranes her head through the door to look around.  Vivienne bumps into her as she is ascending the stairs, when Anna suddenly stops at the threshold.  "Wow, nice place.  Very old-world-charming," Anna says with a low whistle.  She doesn't move, at first.  "I have no idea how you guys don't murder each other though - "

"I'd love a warm drink," Vivienne offers from down below.

mythology
"Anna, in," Pen says, and she will pull Anna in by her own hand and squeeze Anna's had just so pressure which says pleased to see you and this way Vivienne can get into the warmth yes right and, "Thank you," she sounds pleased, "And I usually find it easy not to murder Nicholas, especially as we have finally come to an amicable arrangement about the dishes," Pen shuts the door behind them both and it is too warm for jackets and hats inside the apartment and there is almost certainly some sort of (ardent, daring) help being given to the old gas heating something Enochian-scribed somewhere but the place has a resonance unique to its occupants and, "Chocolate or cider or buttered rum? It's very good to see you both," and she offers Vivienne her hand as well and gives Vivienne's hand a squeeze to, see, a pleased crinkle at the corners of her eyes, and then she is backing away or whisking off to the kitchen area.

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Anna is more quick to discard her coat, a bit of sweeping fur-lined artistry, than Vivienne is hers.  Vivienne in fact seems reluctant to part with the parka, even once they are both inside the apartment.  "Chocolate sounds great," Anna says, and with great enthusiasm.

"What's buttered rum?" is the somewhat more cautious inquiry from the Quaesitor.  Vivienne at least has freed the hood and lowered it, and is glancing about the space: perhaps noting the way her brother has faded into the woodwork of this place, how she can't quite tell which items are his and his alone.  She takes Pen's hand when it's offered, and clasps it briefly.  One would have to look to see the corresponding crinkle at her eyes, but it's there.

Anna, meanwhile, is wandering over to the entrance of the tower.  "You guys are way more organized than I expected."

"Not everyone's house is a fire hazard, Anna," Vivienne says, and though there is a dry crackle to her voice there is no sharpness.  "Thanks for having us, Pen."

mythology
"Buttered rum is hot rum, spiced butter - I do it with brown sugar, six or so cloves, and then whipped cream. I think I've still got cream I made this morning," and as she says this, Pen, she is getting out the necessary pots to make these things: hot chocolate, maybe buttered rum, pulling from the refrigerator with efficiency. "You can have some cream on a spoon, if you like," and see, she did find a bowl of fresh-made whipped cream.

And see too - Pen with her sharp eyes, her clear eyes her lake-light contained, she is watching Anna tread close to the tower, and is debating telling the Disparate no don't go up there because after all that is where most of Pen's magickal books are and she is a Hermetic and has been taught to be private but she also does not strictly worry that Anna will take anything and she is Nick's sister and: well; there is watchfulness; that is all.

"You didn't expect us to be organized?" Pen sounds amused. "Didn't you guys bring bags; are you not spending the night?"

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"I would like," Vivienne says, and she is happy enough to take a spoonful of the offered cream.  "I'll have some of the rum, then."  She, too, is looking over toward Anna as Anna nears the tower; perhaps her gaze was carried by Pen's, mirrors her watchfulness in a way.  Maybe she has already noticed the lack of magickal books out here in the open, or maybe she just shares her brother's gift for understanding things in context.

"The bags are out in the car still," Anna says.  "Viv said we shouldn't crash here without asking."

"We can afford a hotel," Vivienne says, after swallowing a mouthful of cream.

"Anyway, no," Anna says.  "Nick's room was always a mess."  She is wandering away from the tower and over toward one of Pen's swords, which has caught her interest.  "When's your friend Rob getting here?  I don't think I've met Rob before."

mythology
"You can stay here," Pen says, hospitable, although she has not borrowed the futon from Thane yet, and there is only one bed and the couch. These are details which can be dealt with later, possibly by Nicholas.

Anna's question about Rob. "Oh, er, bring me my cell phone - it's on the trunk table, just there - and I'll let you know. He's one of the best people, Robin Anton; he is quite implacable, and stalwart, though very sharp; a rose of a man. Excellent taste in spirits and desserts."

morrigu
"Thanks," Anna says, when Pen offers the apartment to the two of them.  Vivienne, well, she glances sidelong and finishes off the remainder of cream on the spoon.

Anna retrieves Pen's phone and brings it over so that she can join the two of them there in the little kitchen area.  "Well, you make him sound very nice," she says.

"Is he the Tytalan, or the one from Bonisagus?" Vivienne asks, as she carefully sets the spoon down on the counter.

mythology
"He is," Pen says, ardent champion, and the chocolate is heating, so too the rum, and these scents mingle with the rest. Pen leans against the counter, easy languor in the line of her, rests one hand on the counter while she scrolls through her texts to find the conversation with Rob.

"And he belongs to House Tytalus," and if she doesn't quite expect the same reaction from Vivienne as a Gryffindor being told somebody is a Slytherin (ten points to Flambeau for the reference, badum pum), she is conscious of all the politics. She has no strong care for them, but she is a good student, even if she does not work the way her mentor does.

"So what do you guys want to do while you're here? And is there anything I can do to help make your birthday better?"

morrigu
To what Pen says, Vivienne only nods.  There isn't any hatred there, no visible distaste; still, perhaps Pen is wise to be aware of the politics.  Vivienne's few interactions with House Tytalus have mainly been oriented around tribunals.

"We were thinking some kind of adventure when we thought the weather would be better," Anna says.  "I thought it might be fun to do some kind of ritual, but - "

"It might be difficult for us all to Work together," Vivienne says, and there is a shrug here.  "But if you really want that, Anna, we can try.  Or we can still - "

"Well, no matter what we do, you should come with us, Penny," Anna says.  "I heard something about an art gallery up here geared toward people who are Awakened, is that true?  Somebody said you had to do some kind of magick in order to even get in."

mythology
"Poor weather is a staple of poetically epic adventures," Pen says. "What sort of ritual would you want to do? And that's a very kind invitation, I'm touched. There is an art gallery up here you have to do some kind of magick in order to get in - but the magick you do must be creative; it must be the art, right? For display - and it's judged pretty harshly. Unless you're thinking about the Seadrift gallery, where you just need to know the right set of magickal runes to get in - it's a password which requires certain skills to push."

And into this there's a knock knock on the door and as there's a knock knock the door is opened and here's a Robin Anton, looking very Robin Anton in his very warm and very well-cut wool jacket cold nipping at him giving him a French pallor brown eyes honey warm darkness and long lashes snow-flake frosted and a beanie out of which some of his wild dark hair is visible and gloves and the whole mess a bag with some Scotch because he settled on that when Nick didn't get back to him immediately and Robin Anton is Serene, see, all measured, occulted, and he is also quick to adapt, so when he sees two other people in the apartment neither of which are Nick or Ari he lofts his eyebrows and, closing the door behind him, says, "I did not know you were having company unknown to me, Penelope. Hello."

morrigu
"I'm not sure," Anna says, of rituals.  "Something to help us stay in touch better, maybe.  Something to help our guides speak to each other.  Birthdays are pretty ideal for stuff like that, and I've wanted - "

"It might be past our skill," Vivienne says, and her arms are folded; there is a note of caution here.  A note of skepticism.  Though they are both listening and intently now to Pen talk about art galleries, and there is interest here.  And then there is a knock.

Anna, whose exuberance does not appear to have been dampened by Vivienne's commentary, brightens when she sees Robin.  She is wandering over in his direction so that she can offer to take his coat from him, or the scotch, or: well, whatever.  It isn't her house but it doesn't take very long for her to begin to take over a space.  "Hello!  You look pretty much exactly as I imagined you," she says.

Vivienne, too, is watching him from across the room through a veil of lashes.  "Hi," she says.  "We're Nick's sisters.  I'm Vivienne, that's Anna."

mythology
"Ah. Well, I try not to disappoint," Rob says, a touch dryly, but with easy enough good humor. He does not cede his coat, nor the Scotch; he peels a glove off and shakes Anna's hand with a sort of easy confidence, innate, see, as if that were the only thing she could have been coming over to do. He is observant; how observant are you? Many Hermetics wear jewelry, including the men. Robin Anton is wearing three rings: a dark, over-sized stone on his middle-finger, black as a lightless pool, a thick band around his index finger, and a third set with a tinier dark stone on his other hand still hidden by the glove. All three are occult in significance, casually masculine in appearance; one was used to secrete poisons.

"You must be the one who lives in New York." Then our good Robin takes the beanie off, running his fingers through his hair once, and - because he is at home here - goes to set the Scotch on the kitchen counter.

"And you must be the one I owe a longer introduction to," he says, to Vivienne, and then she gets it. Hermetics and their manners, yo. "I've heard a lot about you both, from Nick and Pen. Does Nick know you two are here?"

He glances toward Pen as he asks this, having come to roost beside her. Pen is still - a Classical witch, an Enchantress a la French Tradition - brooding somewhat over the three drinks going on the stove; it will be another five minutes for all, except and see Rob anticipates Pen asking him what he'll have by saying "Cider" and Pen anticipates Rob anticipating her because she is already reaching for a ladle and dipping it in and it all happens very fast and see Pen is still being thoughtful reflective over this idea of doing a ritual to allow one's avatar to speak to the avatar of someone else wondering whether she'd ever want that thinks she might if she'd been born a twin or a triplet shared a womb but she was not did not.

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Anna does not appear put off by Robin's extension of his hand; she seems a whirlwind, at times, and could change her mind partway through an action.  Maybe by the time she got to him all she was planning to do was shake his hand in return.  "I am the one who lives in New York," she says, and smiles.

She might even be a little pleased that she was not immediately pegged as the Disparate sister, or that Robin did not say such.  Sometimes it pays to have social graces.

Vivienne offers her own longer introduction in return.  "A pleasure," she says after.  "Nick doesn't know we're here yet.  Anna had it in her head to surprise him."  She leans against the kitchen counter nearby.

Anna is beginning to drift back in their direction, and she takes a chair which she pulls to face them a little; the observant would notice it still keeps her a bit apart from them, even if her smile is warm.  "Were either of your other cabalmates planning to show?"

mythology
Robin can be perfectly pleasant see how perfectly pleasant he can be unruffled an air of cool command of self-possession self-possession being a very Order of Hermes trait even Penelope is self-possessed albeit in a very different way than is Robin Anton and side by side the differences are interesting and anyway Rob he says, "What part of New York? Muralist, isn't it, and you teach others how to Work using their creative impulse?"

"Liz and Thane are at some seminar up in Maine, though they were going to come back to surprise Nick when we celebrate his birthday," Pen says, with the flash of a grin; she includes Anna and Vivienne, see, eyes meeting one's and then the other's, "We're plotting to give him an experience set of birthday gifts this year. A daisy-braid of experiences."

"I'm going to give him peace of mind," Robin says, serenely, and neither Anna nor Vivienne know Rob or Pen well enough to detect a Pen-Rob fight in its most nascent stage, but here it is.

morrigu
"Sometimes murals, yeah," Anna says, stretching her legs out in front of her.  One of her socks, thick knee socks with colorful stripes though well-worn, has a hole in the toe from which the top of her toe peeps out.  "I've done some tile work too though.  I've been sharing a condo in Williamsburg with a couple of other disparates."

Tight quarters, if one would have to guess how a few artists are trying to live: the Hydes do not come from money.  Anna smiles as Pen's eyes meet hers, when she tells of the presents the cabal is planning to give Nick this year.  "Nicky will like that, even if he doesn't know how to take it."

Peace of mind, says Rob, and Vivienne glances to him.  "Peace of mind in what way?"

mythology
Rob blows across the surface of his cider, blowing it cool. The Quaesitor has a question and of course he answers the Quaesitor's question he is good Robin Anton very good.

He says, "He won't need expect any trickery from me; I'm giving him a relaxing twenty minutes of no new experiences; he'll come, he'll stay, he'll see, we'll drink, and then - who has him after me, Pendulum?"

"Of course he won't expect any trickery from you, Songrobin; you are so very cunning, your pretend relaxing twenty minutes will be the best feint; we agreed; I will hold you to it."

"Hmm," says Robin. They are both in control of their tempers right now; they are not fighting; observe. "Maybe I'll create a trap for him to fall into," he says, generously. "And when he's in it, he'll feel nothing but bliss, and he'll - " Here; Robin is a dick. He grins. " - miss the next leg of his adventures." The grin is sublimated into courtesy: "But that kind of peace, Vivienne. Something expected."

And this is when look the hot chocolate is ready Pen brings that over in a gigantic cup for Anna see look Anna hot chocolate yay hot chocolate.

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"Making somebody miss their next few presents sounds like a mean thing to do to somebody on their birthday," Anna says, because whatever else she may be she is also sincere.  She doesn't know anything really about House Tytalus, about how its members work.

She accepts the hot chocolate from Pen with a smile and a thanks.

"Mmm," Vivienne says, with a furrow of her brow as she watches Robin.  "Nick probably could use some peace of mind more often.  Are you trying to distract him so that the others can surprise him?"

mythology
"Maybe he won't fall into my trap, and he'll have been given the satisfaction of foiling me," Robin says, and he's watching Pen as he says it.

"That's not satisfying enough for a birthday gift," Pen says, with a weary air of one who knows, because she suspects that weary air will annoy Robin; and it does. Pen has cycled back to the hot buttered rum and she is breathing deep of it and she is annoyed at Robin and it shows because Pen is clear as glass but she is not so annoyed as to interrupt him or interrupt herself and she brings the hot buttered rum in another very large mug this one taller rather than the wide saucer-cup thing that Anna is getting and she gives this over to Vivienne.

"And no, the idea is - this shan't happen on his proper birthday, because I knew Anna was coming, and I'm sure Nicholas yearns after you two," Pen says, lounging against the counter most loungily, and of course she is very sincere. "But the idea is Thane will kidnap him in the morning, then take him on an adventure, and then Liz will take him on an adventure, and then Robin, and then Ari, and eventually we'll all meet at Rob's for drinks."

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Vivienne does not know either Pen or Robin very well, but she can sense some of the trouble brewing, some of the annoyance that underlies their words.  She accepts the buttered rum gratefully; Pen can tell when she hands the mug over that Vivienne's fingertips are still very cold.  She is still wearing the parka, and once she has the mug in hand she reluctantly parts with it and leaves it hung over the back of a nearby chair.

"Well, that sounds nice, as long as Rob here doesn't make him sleep all the way through it," Anna says, with a careful sip from her mug.

"Have you two known each other for a very long time?" Vivienne asks, with a look between Penelope and Robin.  She is leaning a hip against the countertop, the mug still held between her hands and the liquid within untouched.

mythology
[Why-do-you-ask, squinty-perc-subt-roll-from-Rob]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7) ( success x 2 )

morrigu
[Psh.  Tytalans don't get to know.]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (5, 5, 6, 6, 8) ( success x 3 )

mythology
"He won't," Pen assures Anna, or threatens Rob; it is difficult to tell.

Robin regards Vivienne, see, blandly, and he says, "We've been in one cabal or another since Penelope joined the Order of Hermes."

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Maybe Anna is assured; maybe she is not.  The way in which she smiles back at Pen implies that she might be.  (Anna is skilled with hexes, these particularly: perhaps she plans to bestow a birthday gift of her own upon her brother.)

Meanwhile, they can hear gravel crunching as a car is pulling up outside.  It was dubbed Asshole's Car once upon a time, but he has finally gotten a new muffler (living here and having to face the neighbors in the stairway and downstairs has helped encourage him, see.)  They can hear the door shut; they cannot hear Nick making his way up the stairs.

"That is a while," Vivienne agrees.  She takes a sip of the buttered rum now and makes a small noise; it is surprised and it is pleased.  "Well, Robin, you're welcome along on whatever we do with Nick while we're here."  A beat.  "That must be him."

There is the rasp of Nick's key in the lock at first, though it stops short of turning; perhaps it has occurred to him that Pen will be home and so he simply tries the door.  Maybe he can smell the rum and cider and chocolate outside.  He steps into the door and halts there, snow perched in his curls and on the shoulders of his wool coat.  His face is wan, but surprised and with a warmth creeping into his eyes.  The corner of one eye is bruised and will blacken, soon enough.

mythology
"Call me Rob," Robin tells Vivienne, and then Nick is home.

Nick might expect Pen who he will marry next year though do they know it yet he might expect her to meet him at the door if she is home because she has done that before likes to take him up as soon as he steps over the threshold he might just as easily expect her to be languoring about and want him to come to her he might expect anything but what he gets is Pen restraining herself because Anna and Vivienne have come a long way to see Nicholas so they should get him first and look at the snow in his hair look at the snow on his shoulders look at how and her heart's an ache a pleasurable ache and his eye is about to blacken and she is conscious of just plotting his birthday gifts and thinks he might be able to tell it by looking so she, reserved, self-contained, all that jazz, looks away from the beauty of his hair at Vivienne and Anna instead, though not without a smile hello I want to eat you up

and Rob is not so nice. He says, "My phone didn't vibrate; I brought Scotch; I hope that'll do. We were just making nice. I didn't realize you and your sisters would look so alike."

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Nick does not know yet that he will marry Pen next year, but he is expecting (hoping) she might meet him at the door.  He is hoping it today; it has been a difficult day, she can see that in the slump of his shoulders if she looks, in the eye that is swollen and painful at the corner.  He does not look disappointed though.  He wanders in the door, swats it to send it swinging shut behind him.  It is smooth now and without the creak ever since Pen knocked it off its hinges last fall.

Anna set her cup down on the side table and now is almost skipping over toward her brother on her toes, her arms held wide, and she flings them around him as though she were the one who hadn't seen him in months and not Vivienne.  "Hello Nicky!  Surprise!"

Vivienne, more sedate, wanders in beside Anna so that she too can embrace her brother and kiss both of his cheeks.  "Hello, Rob," Nick says over Vivienne's shoulder.  There is a smile for Pen, there, too, effusive warmth.  He draws back with his hands on Vivienne's shoulders.  "I'm glad we finally got you up here.  Are you frozen?"

"Yes," Vivienne says, "and I almost pulled the directions to get here from Anna's head just so I could Stride here alone, but here I am."  Her smile is a crisp thing, dry.

"What happened to your eye?"  Anna, here, leaning in between the two of them and well without the notion of personal space.

"A heroin addict didn't like being told he had to stay because he threatened suicide this morning," Nick says, and there is some of the weariness again right there creeping back in, and he reaches up to unbutton his coat as he begins to wander Penward.  Both of his sisters accompany him.

mythology
[I'm so smooth.]

Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (5, 6, 10) ( success x 2 )

mythology
Pen measures Vivienne's profile the fall of her hair measures Anna's exuberance and glances at Rob too because she feels Rob looking at her and Rob is an inscrutable cat so Pen makes a face at him a very exaggerated face and he smirks would laugh except he is too serene for that and Pen's attention is drawn back as Nick explains his bruise away and he is coming toward her and she is not thinking about surprises for Nicholas at all nope she bites the inside of her lip and decides the best way to keep that so is to look Nick's within arm's reach now she slips her hand under his coat under his sweater under his layers until she finds his skin and tugs him close and says, "What're you drinking? Chocolate, cider, buttered rum, some other thing not already bubbling on our stove," and see, a dimple. Though she examines his eye now it's close, thoughtful, marking it out.

Rob is watchful; that's all. For now. Watchful and observant, he's taking note of Nick's sister's reactions and emotions and personalities, it's another hint suggestion gleaning reason Nick is who he is now. Rob sets his cider cup down, and look, he seems amused; aloofly amused, but still, amused; it's something about the way they move.

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Both sisters wander back with Nicholas to resume their spots, helped along by the drinks that they were provided.  "We're triplets," Vivienne says to Rob, who had earlier commented on their appearance.  "Everyone always says how much we look alike."

Though she, with her straightened hair and her tattoos and the glasses she wears, has gone a ways toward differentiating herself from both of her siblings.

Nick breathes out as Pen's hand finds his skin, as though it wasn't something he had realized he had wanted until just now, and allows himself to be drawn in.  She is biting her lip, which makes him wonder if perhaps he has - well, maybe they were all talking about him before he came in.  "Cider, please," he says.  "It's still really cold outside."

"We were all talking about birthday plans, Nick," Anna says.  "Viv and I thought we could go out and do something.  A ritual, maybe, or we can all just go get drinks together and we can show Viv around New England and maybe she'll want to move up here."

"Not to this frozen hellscape," Vivienne says, with a swallow of her rum.  There was a tightness that came into her eyes there: she could have fought; she didn't.  "It's been fun to meet Rob here, though, after hearing stories.  Maybe you could introduce me to your other friends.  It's interesting how mixed a cabal you all are."

mythology
"It seems a spiritual similarity rather than a physical one," Rob says, frowning, as if struck; but it is only mild, and he is only thoughtful, and still: watchful.

Oh, Nick likes that Pen has found his side and his back and it is, she thinks, a shame his sisters are there, and even Rob, because there are things she'd do were they not here; a hip bump is not one of those things; drawn in and then she bumps her hips against his and wraps her arms around him wholly a tight hug and a deep inhale and then she separates to pour him cider,

though she laughs in sympathy when Vivienne says not to this frozen hellscape, says, "This year is more visited by Jack Frost in a temper than most years, at least this near the coast. I would like seeing you more often," and because it is Pen, she means it without agenda.

"Who do you work with, when you work with others?" Rob asks. "Are you in a cabal of your own?" A pause, and, "Either of you," to include Anna in it.

morrigu
"Spiritual similarity, huh?" Anna asks, only the upper half of her face visible around the rim of her mug of hot chocolate.  It's a nice smell to be breathing in, just now.  "Most people tell us how different we all are.  Or they comment on how ornery Viv is."

Vivienne rolls her eyes and declines comment.  "Thank you, Pen, but I don't think Connecticut is for me.  Or for mom."

Nick had parted from Pen only reluctantly, and he still stands as near to her as he can without being in her way as she works at the stove.  "You'd get used to the cold," he says.

Vivienne makes a noncommittal noise, and then glances back at Rob.  She is swirling the rum in the mug she was given, to stir the butter and redistribute it through, to create foam.  "I'm in a cabal that's for work purposes, mainly," she says.  "Not friends the way you all seem to be."

"No cabal for me," Anna says.  "Or a huge cabal, I guess, depending on how you look at it.  I hang out with a lot of Disparates down in New York.  We have our own chantry."

mythology
"It's true that I don't regard membership in a chantry to equate with one big cabal," Rob says, glancing at Pen, and Pen, she glances at Rob, and they are both thinking of people they know at the local Hermetic chantry with whom they are currently at odds and jets versus sharks all that jazz, and Pen hands Nick a mug (his mug, see) of cider, and that is all for the cider, there is no more, and she also languishes against him again staying behind so she can rest her chin on his shoulder wrap her arms around his ribs.

"But it's not unknown," Pen tells Rob. "The Apartment is a chantry and a cabal."

"Also true," Rob says, and he smiles a charming smile at Anna, in case she needs to be charmed, look at how charming he can be with his fluffy hair and his eyes crinkling at the corners and his air of measured aloofness which he can't seem to quite shake but look he's totally warm at the same time. "I forget about them. Do you know Calliope, Anna? She goes pretty often to New York. Went to a really good school, belongs to the Hollow Ones, a spoken word artist."

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Nick, too, is perhaps thinking of people at the chantry that Miles runs, the ones that he would never cabal with.  The ones who would probably never cabal with him, even were he agreeable.  Pen is languishing against his back, and he leans back a little into her: sometimes this works, as far as the laws of physics are concerned, that two things can lean and still manage to stay upright, to support each other (though what do they care for those.)

"Oh, I know her," Anna says.  "We've met and been at the same events together a couple of times.  She's got a lot of talent.  I can't do spoken word like that, I always forget what I'm saying partway through and then just make shit up for the other half.  It's never as good.  How do you know her, Rob?"

Vivienne, too, has turned to watchfulness; hers is a different sort than Nick's, see, more detached and sharper somehow.  She looks to Nick and Pen, leaned there against one another, and sips at her buttered rum, and then she reaches over toward Nick and taps his arm.  "Here, I'll go hang up your coat," she says.  Penance, perhaps, for any sharpness the last time they spoke.

mythology
"We took the same pottery class," Rob deadpans. He could be serious; he might be serious. He is probably serious? "Vivienne, how long are you in town for?"

Pen's arms tighten around Nick's ribs, nooo, don't move to take off your coat noooo, but only for a second; then her arms loosen so Nick can get comfortable.

morrigu
"Oh, did you go to some kind of fancy art school, then?"  And here Anna grins as though she too didn't go to a fancy art school (it's not the same: Anna went on scholarship.)

"I haven't decided," Vivienne says.  "Probably for four or five days.  There's a tribunal I may be asked to sit on back in Phoenix, so it probably depends on how long I can manage to stay away."  She has her arms folded, now, her mug resting against one elbow.  She hasn't moved to take a seat yet; sometimes standing is welcome after so long in the car.

Once Nick's jacket frees, though, she takes it in hand and sets her mug down so that she can take it back toward the closet.  Nick settles back in against Pen once he has shed the coat and given it over, nestling his head back against her neck and shoulder.  "Are they staying with us?" he murmurs, and is already thinking about how this is going to work out given that they have one very large room in the apartment.

mythology
"You can just hang it on the coat rack," Pen tells Vivienne, and then, quietly and in Nick's ear, "Yes. We could... sleep in the library and give them the bed, or vice versa, or Rob would probably lend us an extra bed," whisper-whisper, plot-plot, "Are you happy?" And from the outside, this is all very adorable.

Rob is unfortunately used to it by now. He has his opinions. He's polite enough to keep them off his face, except when he's making a point. He isn't right now. When the whisper-whisper starts up, his ears sharpen, but he's being conversational darn it. He says, "Art school - me? No. I have just taken a lot of lessons."

"He knows how to fly a plane and he did pretty good with that fire baton."

"Luck and Forces," Rob says.

"Ha! J'accuse. I knew you'd cheated," Pen says, with a bright grin.

"You did, but you backed down," Robin says, and he tsks. Then, "Why might you be asked to sit?" There's emphasis on 'might.'

morrigu
Nick nods emphatically when Pen asks if he is happy, and there is a smile as he says, "Just surprised.  Let's...we can sleep in the library."  It's cold up in the library, with the door there out to the widow's walk, but they can just bring more blankets.

Vivienne does hang Nick's coat on the coat rack, and then begins the trek back to her buttered rum.  Her brother and his girlfriend are adorable, which is another word for sickening; Vivienne does not have Anna's tolerance nor appreciation for public displays of affection.  She and Rob would be of like minds, in all probability.

Once she reaches the counter she takes up her mug and then takes a seat, finally, opposite Anna and on the other side of Rob.  "Ah, a Renaissance man then," Anna says, with an appraising look over at Rob.

"My master may be otherwise occupied," Vivienne says, "and it's a high profile case.  She'd like someone to go in her stead and thinks I would be an appropriate stand-in."

mythology
Ah, a Renaissance man, and appraisal is met with: a mild nod, a faint lift of the eyebrows; slender are the balances in place.

"What case?" Rob asks Vivienne.

"If you'd like the apartment for a night, just you three together, I can stay at Rob's," Pen says, and her voice is still pitched low for intimacy; her words are still spoken into Nick's ear, the side of his neck; she is already thinking, see, of what ritual she may want to do before they retire, heat-proofing, sound-proofing, politick things.

Her eyes flick bright and with interest to Vivienne when she explains why she might be called away. "While you are here, is there anybody you'd like to meet or anywhere you'd like to go, on our end?" The our includes Rob and not Anna and Nicholas.

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"You know I can't share details," Vivienne says, with a small smile now at Rob.  "But it involves a crime done to another member of the Order.  Code breaches.  That kind of thing."

Anna, who is not and never will be especially interested in Order business, has turned her gaze back to her brother only to find him wholly absorbed in his conversation with Pen.  "I want to stay with you," he says, though it is after a pause.  It's probably rare that the three of them get time alone together as adults, and it was tempting enough.

He might have said more, but he is distracted by Anna, who has placed her chin on top of her hand and is very sloooowly fluttering her eyelashes at him.

"I suppose I'd like to see the area," Vivienne says, either ignoring or not noticing her other two siblings.  "The ocean, too.  I never have."

mythology
Small smile is met with a faint smile of his own; it is not goading, because it is too serene, and he is not goading; it is simply a touch knowing, and brash. People sometimes think Robin is up to things based on his allegiance, and his general shadowiness; they would not be incorrect.

"Maybe they'll want you. It's all right; we can talk before you go to bed by mirror glass, or I guess phone," Pen says, because she is very sensitive to the wants and desires of family members, given how often she (knows she) disappoints her own; and see: here the solemn touch of her gaze is ardent, yes, ardently invested, an invoker's gaze, invocation and she finds Nick's wrist and slips her fingers between his sleeve and skin and then - the ocean.

"We know some very good, very warm, places which overlook the sea - good seafood, too; right, Robin?"

"Mm. Anna, so you're the one in New York, have you ever tried to get Nicky to move closer to you or are you content with having crash space up North?" Robin: watchful, and curious.

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Nicholas nods because he knows they will probably want him, and he wants to see them too; he nods because he too is sensitive to the wants and desires of family members.  The kiss he places on her cheekbone is impulsive, some emotion that seizes him all at once, once her fingers close around his wrist.

"That sounds nice," Vivienne says.  There is another small smile here, similar to the one she'd given Robin but for the fact that this one touches her eyes.  "Especially the very warm part."

Anna leaves off with fluttering her eyelashes and, chin still on her fist, looks over at Robin now.  "I love New York, but sometimes it's nice to have a reason to leave," she says.  She grins, then, sudden.  "Besides, Nicky's a counselor and I doubt he could afford the rent.  I wouldn't want to pull him away from Penny here, anyway."  Another exaggerated flutter of her eyelashes back at her brother, now.

"What about you, Rob?  Have you always lived around here?  You seem like you might be more of a city guy yourself."

mythology
"He's a Willworker; I'm sure he can figure out how to afford the rent," Rob says, very dryly. Then, with interest, "When you flutter your eyelashes, are you meant to be Nick or Pen?"

"Robin, shush," Pen says, digging her chin into Nick's shoulder, probably in a manner she'd like to dig it into Robin, before easing up, hiding her mouth against Nick's neck instead; it isn't quite a kiss; it's just the promise of one. Her eyebrows are slanted, good humor-wise, and there's a lake-light dredged-up glint of - "And it's probably an amalgam."

"What?" Robin says, serenely. "I'm the only one here without siblings, no? Observation is embellished by action. And I was born in the city," by which he means New York City, because he is a New Yorker. "I've always commuted between New York and Connecticut, excepting the military school years. Are you hungry, Vivienne? Nick, did you have time for dinner?"

morrigu
"I'm both of them at once," Anna says, with a deceptive sort of dignity.  "They're just so disgustingly cute over there, I can't help it."

She leaves off, though, turns her focus back to Robin and to what Robin is saying.  Nick, who earlier in his relationship with Pen might have grown more embarrassed (did, she'll recall, last year when Anna came to stay with them briefly for Christmas) reaches around to wrap an arm around her when she presses her lips to his neck.  He, too, glints with good humor.

"You went to military school?"  Here, a glance of interest from Vivienne, something that verges on amusement.  "What did you do to earn that?"  A beat.  "I could eat.  I haven't since the airport."

"I didn't really have time to eat tonight, no," Nick says, with a touch of rue.  Such nights sometimes pass, where he works.  "Where were you thinking, Rob?"

mythology
"The Meerkonig's good this time of year," Rob says,

"Oooh, yes!" Pen says, "And it has that circular room, with the round table,"

"It does have that, but it has potato pancakes more importantly,"

"And a view of the sea; very nice, Robin! Though was the door shut? Nicholas, do you remember?"

"The door was conditionally shut," Rob says, cautiously, giving Nick a flick of a glance, and see, these are references to an adventure they all had and a door to an otherwhere.

"You could invite Jackson, or some other of your Chakravanti friends," Rob suggests, dismissively. "I feel the odd man out."

morrigu
"I do remember," Nick says, and he is not looking at Vivienne who is looking between him and Pen and Rob with an air of curiosity.  She is sharp enough to catch the references even if she may not understand what it is they are referring to.

"Hardly," Vivienne says to Rob, and with easy courtesy even if it is brisk.  "We're glad to have you.  I wouldn't mind meeting some more of your friends, though, Nick."

"I guess I could invite Jackson," Nick says.  "He'd probably be glad to get out and around people a little bit," and Nick is too kind to say that it might do him good to stop moping.  "He and Ciara just broke up though, so she's out."

"Onward to potato pancakes, then?" Anna asks, and she finally drains whatever cocoa was left in her mug and sets it aside on the end table.

mythology
"I'm just going to change," Pen says, stretching first against Nick and then disengaging from him entirely in order to complete the stretch, up and up and up on her toes and arms akimbo and grace collapsing and then, "I wasn't planning on going out tonight - it'll just be one second," with a smile in her eyes, see, bright, and she pads over to a chest of drawers all the way on the other side of the vasty ballroom third floor and inside are colors and silks and fanciful things and she rummages for a moment before grabbing something appropriate and then she pads toward not the bathroom in case a guest wants it but the stairs to the book room.

"Called that one," Rob says, re: Ciara and Jackson. Heartless, maybe. Rob acknowledges Vivienne's brisk courtesy with a flicker of expression, a touch of amusement. He snaps his fingers, "What about that friend you like, Pentagram? Giles?"

morrigu
Nick smiles as Pen stretches out full against him like a cat, and straightens up and away so that she can go and get clothes and go change.  Rob says he called it and Nick: only shrugs, because he too had perhaps known even if he never would have said or suggested.  Instead he only smiles and says, "When you bet against everyone you're bound to win some of the time."  He turns his head toward the book room.

"If we asked for Miles, we'd also get Jonas.  Dinner might overwhelm him," and Nick is delicate here because he likes Jonas but cannot imagine him being entertained by their company.

"What about your friend Ari?"  Anna asks, and then adds with a sharp smile, "As much as this is beginning to feel like a Hermetic and Chakravanti party."

mythology
Pen is out of sight, out of mind.

Rob offers Nick a faint smirk; and he is a dick. He says, "Tsh. I have a perfect record - or almost. And that's too bad."

And he looks very mild at mention of Jonas, because as much as he enjoys fucking with Pen, that enjoyment does not extend to hanging out with that clearly dangerous tool. But he is polite, see.

"Ari was going to come tonight - we should still do the thing, if we can fit it in, Nick - but she got called away on some lineage business."

morrigu
"'Do the thing'?" Vivienne asks, and she has been sitting there with her mug waiting to finish whatever is in it, and comfortable enough to let her brother and his friend do the talking.  Because she's interested in what they have to say, see, and she is interested in seeing Nick in this context.

Nick glances sidelong at her, then back at Rob.  "I did see your text," he says.  "I think something clear and bright.  Cold vodka, maybe, or gin."

"Now I feel like the only non-secretive one here," Anna says with a wave of her hand. "Penny!  Come back and save me!"

mythology
"Come help me," Pen's voice, drifting down, re: Anna's summons.

"Damn. Maybe Pen can change the Scotch into one of those things," Rob says. "Or we can swing by home. There's a situation with a missing book," he tells Vivienne, though he keeps his eyes on Nicholas, raising an eyebrow in query. And then, "So you have a cabal for work, and you work within the Order more often than not, but have you found yourself involved in any matters of diplomacy, Vivienne?"

morrigu
Anna pushes herself up out of her chair and gathers her skirt in one hand as she ascends the stairs up to the library.  She tromps up the old wooden stairs at such volume that Pen can certainly hear her coming.  "What do you need help with?"

"She might be able to do that," Nick says.  "Or we could just buy some vodka.  It doesn't have to be a whole bottle or anything, usually just the symbolic gesture or a glass or bowl of it is enough, most of the time."

Vivienne, who certainly respects her brother's opinions on such things even though she is often confused by it, continues to be watchful.  To Robin, she nods as mentions the missing book.  "Dealing with the courts often is a sort of diplomacy, more often than not.  So not diplomacy expressly, but I've started to accompany my master when she goes to visit Hermetic strongholds in the area.  Why do you ask?"

mythology
Before the Hydes appeared, Pen was un-clad, in the middle of a great number of articles of clothing, and now here we are again, except it is less articles of clothing, and she has on a blouse with a number of buttons up the back, and when Anna enters the circular tower room, books and books and nooks and books and a comfortable low dusky couch and an arm chair and books books books and a gracious glass lamp and books, Pen casts a piteous glance over her shoulder at Anna, and gestures toward the buttons, which she can only do up so far. She could've chosen something else to wear, but she did not want to, so.

---

Rob watches Anna head to the tower room, then hmms at Nick and nods.

"My fault. I see I should have clarified. I meant, do you only work internally, or do you find yourself enjoying projects that involve our law and the laws of other Traditions as well?"

morrigu
Anna grew up with a sister, even if Vivienne is not the sort of sister who often asked for Anna's help with anything.  Nevertheless, she recognizes the sort of duties that are required of her, and steps over to help Pen with her buttons when she sees the other woman glance over her shoulder.  She gently sweeps some of Pen's hair over her shoulder to keep it from getting caught in the buttons or in her fingers.

"Do you think Nicky's happy we're here, Pen?  I can't ever totally tell, with him," Anna says.  Hardly a breath goes by before she adds, "You have such pretty hair."

---

"I'm interested in Order history, actually," Vivienne says, "though that's a little bit more of a pet project to be honest.  And sometimes in the intersection of Order history and the history of other Traditions."

She finishes this statement with a smile and glances from Nick to Rob before asking, "So what sort of work do you do, Rob?"

Nick, meanwhile, becomes very very interested in the dishes and the doing of them.

mythology
"Thank you," Pen says, pleased and touched and warm, and then, "I think he misses being with you two; I know he's happy to see you." Beat. "I was thinking I'd stay at Rob's tonight and give you guys a chance to catch up; would that be okay?"

--

There are an awful lot of dishes to be done, since every hot drink known to man was made. Nick might even find where Pen hid some things as she was cleaning - explicable that this should be in the cabinet, etc.

"You might call me a career academic," Rob says.

morrigu
"Well, we don't want to kick you out," Anna says, "but it's nice of you to give us all a chance to be together.  That never really happens anymore.  Wasn't this, like, your apartment before though?  Don't you feel weird about it?"

She finishes the last button and gives Pen's shoulder a gentle pat to let her know she's done.

---

Nick does indeed find where Pen hid things, and there is a trace of fondness in his smile as he soaps and rinses cup after cup and adds it to the drying rack.  He has half an ear turned toward his sister and his friend, but make no mistake: Nick is ready to high tail it out of here if it turns into a hissing match between Hermetics.

"Oh?"  Vivienne traces her fingertips over the top of her mug, glancing up at Rob through her eyelashes.  "What does a career academic do?  Research, mainly?"

mythology
"Why would I feel weird about it? It's still our apartment," Pen says.

Thoughtful, then: "And I like coming home to Nicholas."

--

"You could say that," Rob agrees, equanimously. "But I've always been fond of House Bonisagus and their way of doing things. How did Shaea let you slip out of their fingers?"

morrigu
Anna laughs, at that.  "Well, to each her own then.  But yeah, it would be nice to just get some time with the two of them.  That's really nice of you, Penny."

---

"Pen asked me that too," Vivienne says.  "The mentor I chose early on was from House Quaesitor, and sometimes that outweighs any particular house.  Why not Bonisagus for you, then?"

mythology
"I've been meaning to raid Rob's liquor cabinet again, thoroughly, anyway. That's easiest to do while he's sleeping," Pen says, with a (rake's) grin.

Blouse on and buttoned, and now she shimmies into something else fashionable as fuck which will be hidden by wait for it a very warm modern-day perfect-ly cut cloak and hat. "I'll be down in a minute," she tells Anna, releasing her back to Nick and Viv and Rob.

--

"Too much focus on theory, not enough on practical application," Rob says. "I like to keep my head out of the clouds." He glances toward the door, as if expecting Ari to swan in at just that moment and make a smart ass remark. No Ari appears. Alas.

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"Well, now you're making me wish we were going to Rob's too," Anna says, her own grin sharp.  "All right.  Thanks again, Pen."  And Anna tromps her way back down the stairs and into the great common room, where she takes stock of the conversation.

The very, very boring conversation, with her brother god save him bored into doing the dishes.

"Mmm," Vivienne (who is not bored in the slightest, you see) says, and then, "I feel a little similarly about Shaea in some ways.  Theory and study for the sake of study is all very fine as a hobby, but that's not why I joined the Order of Hermes.  So what are your primary areas of study?"

Nick glances up at Anna from over the sink.  Anna meets his eyes and shakes her head, and then lets out a great sigh and flits over in his direction to lean over the sink while he works.

mythology
"Social dynamics," Robin says, and he smiles, and it is a reserved smile. "Though I'd like to get to a Horizon Realm one day, and understand what goes into maintaining one. I feel Nick would be on board for that trip. What about you, Anna; do you have any interest in exploring other worlds?"



morrigu
"Social dynamics," Vivienne echoes, with a sort of thoughtfulness, a deliberation in how she rolls each syllable off of her tongue.  "So, sociology?  Psychology?  Neither?"

"I would love to visit a Horizon Realm one day," Nick says, and Rob can tell by the way his eyes have flicked over, by the way he is suddenly present in the conversation, that he really would.  But Rob knew that, didn't he?  Nick adds, as the corner of his mouth snicks upward, "Better get to studying Spirit, Rob.  It'll take more than just me to get us to one."

Anna looks between both of her siblings, then to Rob, and shrugs, her shoulders sharp little knobs as they rise and fall.  It's an awkward movement, with her leaned against the counter as she is.  "It's hard to be interested in others when this one has a lot of unexplored possibilities.  But if the opportunity presented itself, I don't think I'd say no."  A smile from her too, here.  "Why, are you inviting me?"

mythology
"What would social dynamics be defined by if not sociology, psychology?" Rob asks, and he sounds curious. Not ardently curious, not passionately curious; no; he is mild, and mild-mannered, and sharp behind the mild manner, though he half-smiles at Nicholas' suggestion in a very guileless way. The half-smile becomes a full-flick of a smile, and he says, "Yes. I'll let you know when plans are solidifying." The smile fades away, and he says, "Nick, just visit or understand the construction of?"

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"I don't know, you tell me," Vivienne says, though without any sharpness; she too is mild today, or at least mild with Rob.  She leans a hip back into the counter, watching Rob while idly listening to the discussion of Horizon Realms.

Nick scrubs off a plate left over from this morning, working at a bit of dried-on sauce with the sponge.  "I'm not planning to build one anytime soon, so I'd rather just look.  There are so many.  You could spend your entire life exploring different realms and you wouldn't get to them all."

mythology
[Pen has an opportunity to sneak up on Nick! Yay, sneakery!]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 8, 9) ( success x 2 )

morrigu
[Sneakery?  No!]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 4, 7, 9) ( success x 2 )

mythology
[Yes!]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (5, 6, 6, 10) ( success x 3 )

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[Nooo!]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 6, 8, 9) ( success x 3 )

mythology
[-_-]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 8) ( success x 1 )

morrigu
[>.>]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 5, 6, 7) ( success x 2 )

mythology
I don't know, you tell me, earns a faint lift of Rob's shoulders, an echo of the sentiment. "You could spend your entire life exploring this one," Rob says, with a faint nod toward Anna, like she was the originator of that line of thought (isn't he polite), "and you wouldn't get to any. What's the point in looking?"

Speaking of looking, don't look here! Look away! Nothing to see! Pen sneaks down stairs, out of the tower of books, and since Nick is at work in the dishes and the sink, she sneaksneaksneaks up over by his side putting a finger to her lips when Rob meets her eyes (he casts his heavenward), ditto the sisters, and she is totally absolutely LOOK ANYWHERE BUT HERE going to just happen to be right where Nick will reach for the next dish and then she'll smile and kiss him and say 'boo' and maybe he'll splash water everywhere and it will be very worth it and that is her plan though of course anybody could ruin it (but why would they: Pen is a beguiler; you want to do it).

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"Realms crumble," Nick says, though the sidelong glance and the little smile seems to imply that he is saying this in part to be contrary, "so what's the point of building or in understanding one's construction?  We could play that game endlessly."

He rinses the dish away, though a creak of a board brings his head around, a (hopeful) glance toward the library see, where Pen is no longer.  She's managed to get behind him and he looks over toward that other side too but no no she's too quick, and then Anna, the betrayer, looks in her direction and it is all over.  Nick sees her too just before she can reach him at the dishes.

He smiles, though, and leans in to give her a kiss nonetheless.  He does not bring his hands with him; they're still wet.

At which point Vivienne says, "I'm getting kind of hungry.  What about you all?"

mythology
"When they're poorly built," Rob says, re: Realms crumble. He is serene.

Even when and as Pen's sneakery is revealed, and Nick leans in. Pen: her smile is intimate, and it rises like mist from a lake to touch her eyes; lend them an air of shared secrecy; and this is how she is when she kisses Nick, a Hello-You-Are-Here, I-Want-You, I-Will-Give-You-Up-(For-the-Night) kiss.

"Yes, let's go. The beer garden can fill up this time of evening," Rob says, and see, he bestirs himself collects his coat. "I'll be one of the drivers."

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Nick's retort, his next question, is swallowed by a kiss: one that out of politeness does not linger overlong though his eyes make up for that.  His eyes are hearthfires, are warm coals.  He looks away only when Rob gets up to take his coat; water and suds scatter like spring rain at the edges of the sink as Nick shakes his hand and reaches up to rinse his hands under the tap and shake them dry again.

"Nick, you're the other," Vivienne says.  "I've earned not driving any more today."

"I could drive," Anna says.

"Not while the car is insured under my name," Vivienne says, swooping her parka off the chair and sliding her arms into it as though it were a garment she wore more often than perhaps a week out of every year.

Anna rolls her eyes and wanders over to the coatrack to retrieve her coat and hat.  "I'll probably go pick up Jackson, anyway," Nick says.  "You two and Pen can go with Rob, if you want."

Assortment
Meanwhile,

Nick washes his hands, Pen wanders Rob-ward, and,

"Can I crash at your place tonight?"

"Sure, but Martin and Fausto might be coming over,"

"Together? I thought they weren't dealing any longer, on pain of owing a portion of their alchemy cabinet's,"

"Together, and they're each going to give up part of their cabinet - "

Pen laughs, and, "Well, I shan't bother them. I'll read."

"Oh? You're bringing your own books?"

"Damn it, Robin,"

"'Damn it, Penny,"

"You're such a dick. Fine, I guess I could bring my copy of Dame Victoria's Anathomical Philosophy of Asphodel and Mercury, but I rather think I - "

"You do not have that book."

"Hmm."

"Penelope."

"Hmm?"

At which point Penelope says, "I can pick up Jackson, Nicholas."

morrigu
Nick watches the exchange between Pen and Robin, and lingers a moment there by the sink before he goes to retrieve his coat.  He is not regretful; Pen offered and he knows he should spend time with his sisters who have driven all this way to see him.  Yet: she will be alone at Rob's, won't she, with Fausto and Martin arguing there and without Rob offering to loan her books to read.

He does not linger overlong, though, and by the time he has made his way over to the closet Anna has pulled his coat down off the coat rack and is holding it out to him.  Nick slides his arms into it.  "Oh," he says, and he is not surprised necessarily, but there is some lingering discomfort perhaps or embarrassment, some fear that he is inconveniencing Pen.  "If you're sure.  Rob, I guess the three of us can go with you, then."

Assortment
"Your enthusiasm, as always, bowls me over. Penelope, how can you stand it," Rob deadpans, without so much as a blink.

In deference to Nick's sisters, Pen does not say the first quippy response that comes to mind, but she gives Rob a Look and he gets the point, sort-of wincing in a way he has when avoiding rolling his eyes.

"Did you already ask Jackson if he wanted to come?" Pen says, and yes, a coat is thrown over the fashionable whatever she has decided to wear with the buttons up the back, and she grabs her keys and a little clutch purse both of which are found look at that behind a pillow on the couch what fortuitous coincidence she would look right there she didn't shove things there when cleaning nope it was a perfectly natural place to put everything.

morrigu
"I texted him earlier to ask if he wanted go out, and he just got back to me," Nick says, and if there is a lift of his chin while he takes the high road and ignores Robin, so much the better.  He is buttoning up his coat, a thick wool affair the color of a crescent moon night.

Anna and Vivienne, remember, are both watchful in their own ways and if Pen looks she will see that they have both noticed that she pulled the purse out, and both have drawn their own likely accurate conclusions, to judge by the smirk on Anna's face and the way Vivienne makes a polite glance to the side as though she hasn't noticed.  She can be courteous, the Quaesitor.

"This way doesn't leave me the lone non-Hermetic," Anna says, bright as a shimmer of starlight, and she pulls her cap down over her hair.  "Let's stop talking and go, I'm hungry."

And so they go.