Post by Carley on Sept 20, 2015 16:21:53 GMT -8
Characters: Hyacinth Griswold, Xavier Randall, Rebekah Oreshin
Date: September 19
Setting: The Clockwork Cat
Summary: When Cinthie came to London, she knew she was in for a blast from the past, but this wasn't what she had in mind.
Hyacinth Griswold: Pregnant woman in a bar? Alright. At least she wasn't drinking anything she shouldn't have. The leggy little brunette, not quite visibly pregnant but definitely a bit chunky about the middle, was hoisting a virgin margarita to her lips at a table by her lonesome. Scattered across the table were other things. Music sheets, tucked away in neat folders with varying students' names on them. Cooper, Jaycee. North, Tucker. Kearny, Alex. There was also a half-finished plate of those amazing potato wedges, smothered in bacon and cheese, and a few red pens that she'd scattered across the table to take notes. She had a home to go to, don't get her wrong, but sometimes a girl needed to clear out her brainpan by herself, without her babydaddy taunting her up close and personal with his ability to chug the Mexican beers they used to get tipsy on together. Before they made this thing she was incubating. But the music sheets and the folders were largely ignored in favor of her phone. She was slowly swiping her way down through an article, the corner of her mouth pursed into an expression that suggested a mixture of bewilderment and disbelief. She could roll with just about any descriptor of what she could do. Pyromancer. Fire mage. Scary flame lady. But witch was a new one.
Xavier Randall: :: Trying to adjust to a new time zone was a bitch. Xavier wasn't having a very easy time with it. He was awake when he would normally sleep, sleeping when he should be awake. Either way, he needed desperately to get out of the damn motel room. The poor guy was about to start having conversations with his roommates, a pair of cockroaches he named Lenny and Squiggy. At least, he hopes it was the same two. A slight shiver at the thought was given, walking down the streets toward the pub the manager had mentioned as a decent place to eat. He just had to keep reminding himself that he's been in worse places before. Nothing could be worse than having to sleep in a Los Angeles storm drain. Everything would be better once he was able to find some work. Any work. Reaching out, he jerks open the door, making his way inside with smooth, easy movements. He had his hair tied back, and decided to dress comfortably in a pair ragged jeans and a In This Moment t-shirt. The cowboy boots on his feet might as well had been a blinking, neon sign flashing "American". His blue eyes slowly scan around the interior, adjusting to the change of lighting. With a roll of his shoulders, he moves to find himself a table to occupy.::
Rebekah Oreshin: just what do you do when all is lost? when your world comes crashing down on you because the coal you had been harboring burst into flames and destroyed the things you hold dear? it was inevitable, of course. but it had been staved off for quite some time now. ten years? a lot can happen in ten years' time. she was older. wiser. and a lot more jaded. this was a brand new world, and she wasn't sure she knew how to fully navigate in it quite yet. she couldn't just resort to old measures; they'd likely get her killed. so for now? she walked. black hair was pulled back in a pony tail atop a posture that breathed more insecurity than it did confidence. siobhan -- or was it rebekah? -- was quite unsure of what to do with herself. the first place that showed signs of life was where she headed, and it happened to be this interesting pub. she slipped in behind the man, catching the door before it closed all the way, and quietly, she made her way towards a table by herself.
Hyacinth Griswold: "What the fuck is Mabon?" Cinthie murmured it between her teeth, lost somewhere behind the virgin margarita she clutched like an amulet to ward off Monday. "And do I look like some Harry Potter cast extra?" She did a lot of talking to herself when she was alone. Some things you just couldn't bounce off an eight year old and a three-legged dog. And Joshua, lord love him, would just stare at her and drawl something adorably snarky with that Texan twang and she'd roll her eyes so high she'd be able to see her own brain. There were a few other people coming in, and speaking of Texas, her eyes lowered to the dude with the cowboy boots. There was a little quirk of a grin. Yanks, gotta love 'em. "Nice." She tipped her glass his way. Cinthie was seated sideways in her booth. She was dressed for fall, in a light gray cable-knit sweater that came down just shy of her knees and hung loosely on her thin, athletic frame. Beneath were darker gray leggings, leading down to the faux motorcycle boots in black. Dark hair was up in a haphazard, half-assed bun, held in place with a red pen that seemed to have come from the same package as those on her table. "Haven't seen boots like that since I got here." She sounded like she was from here, though, all English charm with a hint of something in her accent that could only be described as 'vaguely piratical.' It was Talk Like A Pirate Day, right? No, she wasn't faking. When the second new arrival came in, she glanced dispassionately towards her, looked back at her phone--and then sat up ramrod-straight, her heart playing a violent tattoo in her throat.
Xavier Randall: :: His table just so happen to be near the grumbling pregnant lady. A nod of his head was given to her with the smallest of smirks.:: Ma'am…:: There was no twang to his voice, just a simple southern charm to it. Asking a passing waitress/waiter for a beer and a menu, his eyes turned to his boots with a shrug.:: Well, you gave us The Beatles. Least I can do is bring you some redneck. :: His lips twisted into a slight smile, pausing for a moment before his focus returns to the pregnant woman.:: Mabon is a holiday to celebrate the Autumn Equinox. It's usually considered a pagan thing, but it's pretty well known. :: Sometimes his hearing got him into trouble. It was about then that his beer and the menu arrived. He was perfectly content to leave the conversation there when the woman's heart rate decided to perform its very own drum solo. His head jerked up from the menu with a sense of alarm, his eyes shooting toward the woman. Following her gaze, his eyes focus on the other female. Xavier was careful to keep a neutral expression on his face, though his natural curiosity had him wondering what the hell he just walked into. His feet shifted beneath them very subtly, moving his weight to the balls of his feet so he could spring from his chair if necessary. Something about a cat fight with a pregnant lady involved didn't sound nearly as sexy as he might find a couple of ladies throwing down.::
Rebekah Oreshin: there would be no catfight with the pregnant lady unless the pregnant lady started a catfight. strange thing, the memory. perhaps cinthie had a flash-bulb of her face, remembering its youth of ten years ago, but rebekah hadn't the faintest idea. let's not forget that she thought very little about the lives she'd affected anyway and likely hadn't thought about the other pyromancer much after she had done her damage all those years back. now, though, things were different. the biggest difference in her appearance, though, were her eyes. what were once almost a fiery sort of brown that might have been considered an orange-ish color, now they were so light that they were nearly devoid of color all together. just the fairest hint of blue made the pyromancer's irises icy blue. irony at its best, she supposed. paying no mind to the man with the pointy shoes and the lady with a small belly, rebekah looked up at the waitress who had come by to take her drink order. a simple
water was all.
Hyacinth Griswold: No, maybe...maybe her brain was playing tricks on her. Yeah, that was it. She hadn't held a job outside the home for years and years, and now she was teaching. Maybe it was the strain. Maybe it was the pregnancy. All that blood going to keep Baby Oopsie alive had to be rerouted from places like her brain. Some women started forgetting shit and going full-scale moron, maybe Cinthie started having flashbacks to trauma from a decade prior. They had both been much younger then. She was remembering the woman who did the damage above her right eye, who had necessitated the very pair of wire-rimmed reading glasses that perched on the bridge of her nose at the moment. She shook her head. Sorry, Xavier, you weren't getting a pregnant lady catfight, though if you wanted to see them go at each other, you could find yourself a time machine. Now what was she talking about with this guy? Oh, right. She smiled up at him, a little nervousness still in her gaze. "Well yeah, I know the definition. But it's not something I ever really considered before...oh, well, it's not all that important I guess." She grinned up at him. "So, American boy. What brings you out to London?" Don't think she's hitting on you. She isn't. But Cinthie always did like making friends with the weirdos. Just ask her bee eff eff Snowy Zane.
Xavier Randall: :: No fight? No problem. He went back to his lazy slouch in his chair, bringing the bottle of beer to his lips. It must just be one of those strange British things. For all he knew, pregnant British women might just be more prone to random jumps in heart rate. None of it was any of his business anyway. His old man had been the hero. Not him. That's why he was pretty sure the old man was dead. Heroes die. Cowards live forever. His eyes were scanning over the menu, waving down the waitress again to order himself some of those potato things. That seems safe enough. He wasn't quite sure what some of that other stuff was. The woman's unmistakable voice got his attention once again, his head turning toward her with another small smile.:: Never really been the religious type myself, so I know what you mean. :: He grins playfully, shrugging his shoulders.:: Would you believe that I'm on the run and running away to Mexico just seemed so overrated? :: Shifting his beer in his hands, he extends his right hand to her.:: Name's Xavier.
Rebekah Oreshin: cowards live forever. ... well, that was probably the truth, wasn't it? rebekah was alive. or so it seemed. she wasn't sure she felt quite so alive. she wasn't sure she knew quite how to feel anyway. she gave the waitress a small smile of gratitude when she brought her the water, and she looked up when she took a sip. that's when frosty hues landed on the pregnant woman, and there was an immediate flash of white-hot pain in her head. the glass of water was dropped in favor of her hands moving up to clutch her head, and a small squeak of surprised pain left her lips. the glass that had spilled on the table rolled off and onto the ground, shattering on impact. way to make a scene, rebekah.
Hyacinth Griswold: Cowards live forever and that was why...that was why...don't say that in front of her, because she'd have a lot to say about that. She'd courted death on a few occasions. So had the people she loved. The outstretched hand was taken and given a firm shake from a slightly too warm appendage. "Hyacinth. Cinthie, if you prefer. I prefer. And I don't know, arguably Mexico has better beer." Her hand slipped away now, to pat her stomach. "Not that it matters to me for the next year or so." No booze. No cigarettes. No sushi, no lunch meat, no hair dye, no steak cooked to a doneness less than crispy-charred. And of course all she wanted was a cigarette, tequila, and a rib-eye cooked just enough to kill the e-coli. Alas. The sound of a glass shattering brought her to her feet, and she rocked between old fears and new, vaguely motherly concern. In the end, the latter won out--stupid fucking hormones, putting her in stupid fucking situations. She approached the girl almost timidly. "Are you alright?" she asked. Maybe if she didn't quite look at her face she wouldn't feel so twitchy. She couldn't afford to burst into flames in the middle of the Clockwork Cat. That would probably be Slightly Frowned Upon.
Xavier Randall: :: His own grip was just as firm, showing that just because a woman and she was pregnant, he wasn't going to treat her like some kind of fragile doll. She would also find that he had rough, calloused hands. A worker's hands.:: Cinthie it is. Nice to meet you. :: A chuckle escaped his lips, glancing down to her stomach with a nod of understanding.:: Longer if you decide to breast-feed. :: He wrinkles his nose with a visible grimace.:: Sorry. That so wasn't helpful. :: It was nice to have somebody to talk to again, even if it was just small talk. The past several months had left him with no contact outside of the occasional phone call from the funeral home or his father's lawyer. He was happy just knowing that he was still able to speak. The sound of the broken glass had him shooting to his feet with a speed that was almost beautiful. Every movement was controlled and graceful, wasting no energy getting to his feet. His eyes turn to lock onto the other woman, his nostrils flaring ever so subtly as he draws in the air around him. Sometimes it was nice having heightened senses. Noticing that Cinthie was already moving toward the woman, Xavier slowly eased back down into his chair. His food had arrived, so he kept himself busy munching on his potato wedges while keeping a casual eye on things. Something didn't feel quite right.::
Rebekah Oreshin: the closer the woman got, the more the pain in her head tore through her brain. it was like someone had set all the gyri alight with the fury of a thousand suns. when she spoke, her own heart had started pounding hard, but she didn't exactly know why. through a fog, she could feel the reason trying to get out, like it was locked behind a series of doors, but it just couldn't get past the first lock. "y-yeah..." she started, pulling air in through her gritted teeth. her voice was the same, though it held no more malice. at least... not at the moment. the cocky voice of her youth had literally imploded into a shaky sort of distant murmur. something was wrong. that lost chunk of time... she couldn't place it, but maybe, just maybe, this woman knew something she didn't. she cautiously opened one eye to peer at her, and it was but a millisecond that a face from the past flashed before her field of vision. 'i... no, i'm fine... really... just ... cluster headache..."
Hyacinth Griswold: "Oh, there's breast feeding in my future, probably," she laughed. "And screaming. And sleepless nights. I've already got one.
She's eight." Sofie, at home with her maybe kinda almost sorta stepdaddy thing, who apparently spent his free time teaching her questionable activities like hog-tying the dog. Whatever. Maybe someday she'd really need to know how to hog-tie a three-legged Jack Russell terrier that was easily lulled into complacency by offers of peanut butter and belly rubs. Maybe. Cinthie steeled herself and looked the girl over. Looked at her face, remembered how angry she had been then, remembered how her eyes were on fire. Pyromancer against pyromancer, nothing friendly about the fire between them. Siobhan, they called her. It was the first time Cinthie came close to death. Timidly, she reached out to touch her shoulder. "Maybe you ought to lie down," she said, her voice soft and soothing and somehow not at all shaky. "What's your name?" Please not Siobhan.
Xavier Randall: :: Fear had such an acrid quality to it. It was one of those scents a person never mistakes. But this was different. It smells like fear mixed with something else. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on. A small shake of his head was enough to remind him that it was still not any of his damn business. Whatever the hell was going on, it had nothing to do with him. His best option was to just stay put, stuff his face, maybe get a little buzz going. If he really wanted to be ambitious, maybe he would try to get laid. He had absolutely zero reason to get up from his chair. He didn't owe any of these people anything. He was just some chump from the States. Which is exactly why he quietly pushed to his feet to move over to the ladies. God damn it! He was supposed to have left the cowboy bullshit behind when he got on the plane to fly to the United fucking Kingdom of all places. While he was practically screaming at himself on the inside for his own stupidity, his voice was quiet and calm.:: Everything okay?
Rebekah Oreshin: 'what's your name?' it seemed like such an easy question, didn't it? she knew the old name, but it didn't sit right with her. not exactly. still, it was a bit of a reflex. "sh--..." no no, that wasn't it, dear. she corrected herself mid-word. "rebekah," she spat out, saving a little bit of face. "rebekah or-oreshin... i think." she thought. the last name didn't sound quite right, but she couldn't quite remember what it was. it was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't quite commit it to her working memory. she looked up at the man with the pointy shoes when she saw him approach. with a wince, she took her hands away from her head. by this time, the waitress had come with a broom and some rags to clean up the water and the glass. "i'm sorry," she said to the staff. "i don't know what quite came over me. ..i .. maybe this woman is right. maybe i should lay down... find a... a hotel or something." because let's be honest here; she had nowhere to go.
Hyacinth Griswold: Yeah. Cinthie was like that too. What she should have done was sit tight in her booth with her papers, have the waiter bring her another virgin margarita, bullshit with Xavier a while, then go home and take a shower and crash. But instead, here she was, busting out those mama bear instincts on a woman who she was pretty sure had put her in the emergency room once upon a time. Never let it be said that she wasn't at least marginally forgiving. Hazels peeped up over the rims of her reading glasses, and she found herself involuntarily sliding her tongue over the gap where her second molar on the left side should have been. "Rebekah." She repeated it, but not the last name, because it made her blanch. At least Xavier was here to take over, and she sat down hard on the nearest barstool. "Water please, quick." Because otherwise she was going to...what? Faint? Cry? Puke potato wedges all over the bar like Roxy did when she went outside and ate leaves?
Xavier Randall: :: His eyes moved between both of the females. One man standing between two women that he could only assume were in highly emotional states. EXACTLY what he was hoping for. He knew he should have gone to a strip club instead. This is karma. He just knew it. This was fate balancing the scales for all those years of being a selfish prick. He could almost feel his father laughing at him from wherever he was. When he saw Cinthie stepping back, he had a brief flicker of betrayal crossing over his face. She was going to leave him to deal with this? She might as well ask Dr Dre to perform her C-section. They both had about as much qualifications! Keeping his composure, he slides into the chair beside the woman calling herself Rebekah. His every movement was very slow and deliberate, like somebody trying not to spook a frightened animal. His hand came to rest on the woman's shoulder.:: Rebekah, right? I'm Xavier. Is there anybody we can call for you? Maybe somebody that could pick you up, give you a ride home?
Rebekah Oreshin: this... this was not going to happen. she was attracting too much attention, and she just wasn't having it. no, no. it was all too much. she shook her head, and moments after xavier introduced herself and cinthie blanched, rebekah was scooting out her chair and peeling herself slowly away from the man's hand. "i.. i can do it. i'll just... i'm gonna head out... nice to... meet you, i suppose. ... xavier... and you.. thank you.." since cinthie didn't give her her name. it was probably best that she didn't. she started to head towards the door, but something made her stop. something compelled her to turn around a few steps away from the pair and look down at xavier's boots then up at his face. "your shoes are pointy," she said. one last glance to cinthie along with another searing pain and a wince from the pyromancer, and she skittered out like the frightened animal xavier was trying not to spook.
Hyacinth Griswold: Hazels watched as Rebekah made a run for it, and she tried not to leap to any conclusions. The way she had nearly said another name. It made her tummy churn, and she had been over morning sickness for a few weeks now, so it had to be nerves and memories. "Take care of yourself," she said, almost distantly, as the waitress passed her a glass of water. She sipped it slowly, cupping her fingers around it. "I should...I should go too, actually. I'm sorry, Xavier. It's nothing against you. Or your pointy shoes." She drew herself up a little straighter, and a ghost of a smile flitted across her face. "I know her. I don't think she remembers. But I know her. We were involved in..." Careful, Cinthie, this ain't Shepherd. "An altercation. A while ago. Years and years. She nearly killed me." A firefight, that was what it had been, a literal firefight. "She wasn't so meek, though. And that wasn't her name. I don't...I don't know." She heaved a sigh and sipped her water. "Ugh. Got my stomach in knots, she does."
Xavier Randall: :: His head turns to follow the girl to the door before looking down at his shoes. There was genuine confusion on his face. What was wrong with his boots? His eyes were turning toward Cinthie for some support when he heard her talking. And now she was making fun of his boots too? His fashion confidence was really take a beating tonight. He always thought he was reasonably well dressed. Slacker chic. It was a thing! Still, he simply listened to the explanation with no judgment or assumption on his face.:: Just take care of yourself. I would hate for something bad to happen to the first person I've spoken to here. :: He shrugs his shoulders, though his voice sounded sincere. His eyes lift slightly to look into hers.:: You need me to walk you to your car or something? :: He wasn't hitting on her in any way. There might be certain situations where he's a little slow on the uptake, but even he could tell that the woman was firmly on the available list. The baby bump was his first clue.::
Hyacinth Griswold: "I'll be fine." Digits waved in a sort of half-assed don't-you-worry-bout-me gesture. "I'll just go home, take it easy tonight,
sort through these pieces for the students in the morning..." Kearny was hopeless at piano, so hopeless. At least Cooper and North had some legitimate chops. Kearny was a drummer of all things. Christ on a cracker. She slowly rose, offering him a small smile and giving her head a tiny shake. "No, no. I'm fine, I actually took a taxi." Cinthie did not drive. Lord no. "Thank you, though." She returned to her booth, gathered her papers, and clutched them to her chest. With her other hand, she offered up a lazy, playful salute. "Nice to meet you, Xavier. I'll see you around. Welcome to London, do try not to get your Yank all over it too much." A wink of a hazel, and she was gone, headed home. Of all the nights for Siobhan to turn up, why did it have to be a night when she couldn't drink?!
Xavier Randall: You have a good time. I'll do my best to keep my Yanking to a minimum. :: Maybe if they had more time to talk, he would have mentioned he could play piano and some guitar. He was more of a vocalist though. It was mostly a hobby these days. His dreams of drug fueled nights of groupies throwing panties at him ended around the same time he discovered that he could transform into a monstrous killing machine. He did keep the rock star hairstyle. There were just some dreams a man just couldn't let go of. Slouching back into his chair, he laughs softly to himself, mumbling to nobody in particular.:: You're on a roll tonight, Xav. Running off two women in less than 30 seconds. And one of them was already knocked up. Yep. We are smooth.
Date: September 19
Setting: The Clockwork Cat
Summary: When Cinthie came to London, she knew she was in for a blast from the past, but this wasn't what she had in mind.
Hyacinth Griswold: Pregnant woman in a bar? Alright. At least she wasn't drinking anything she shouldn't have. The leggy little brunette, not quite visibly pregnant but definitely a bit chunky about the middle, was hoisting a virgin margarita to her lips at a table by her lonesome. Scattered across the table were other things. Music sheets, tucked away in neat folders with varying students' names on them. Cooper, Jaycee. North, Tucker. Kearny, Alex. There was also a half-finished plate of those amazing potato wedges, smothered in bacon and cheese, and a few red pens that she'd scattered across the table to take notes. She had a home to go to, don't get her wrong, but sometimes a girl needed to clear out her brainpan by herself, without her babydaddy taunting her up close and personal with his ability to chug the Mexican beers they used to get tipsy on together. Before they made this thing she was incubating. But the music sheets and the folders were largely ignored in favor of her phone. She was slowly swiping her way down through an article, the corner of her mouth pursed into an expression that suggested a mixture of bewilderment and disbelief. She could roll with just about any descriptor of what she could do. Pyromancer. Fire mage. Scary flame lady. But witch was a new one.
Xavier Randall: :: Trying to adjust to a new time zone was a bitch. Xavier wasn't having a very easy time with it. He was awake when he would normally sleep, sleeping when he should be awake. Either way, he needed desperately to get out of the damn motel room. The poor guy was about to start having conversations with his roommates, a pair of cockroaches he named Lenny and Squiggy. At least, he hopes it was the same two. A slight shiver at the thought was given, walking down the streets toward the pub the manager had mentioned as a decent place to eat. He just had to keep reminding himself that he's been in worse places before. Nothing could be worse than having to sleep in a Los Angeles storm drain. Everything would be better once he was able to find some work. Any work. Reaching out, he jerks open the door, making his way inside with smooth, easy movements. He had his hair tied back, and decided to dress comfortably in a pair ragged jeans and a In This Moment t-shirt. The cowboy boots on his feet might as well had been a blinking, neon sign flashing "American". His blue eyes slowly scan around the interior, adjusting to the change of lighting. With a roll of his shoulders, he moves to find himself a table to occupy.::
Rebekah Oreshin: just what do you do when all is lost? when your world comes crashing down on you because the coal you had been harboring burst into flames and destroyed the things you hold dear? it was inevitable, of course. but it had been staved off for quite some time now. ten years? a lot can happen in ten years' time. she was older. wiser. and a lot more jaded. this was a brand new world, and she wasn't sure she knew how to fully navigate in it quite yet. she couldn't just resort to old measures; they'd likely get her killed. so for now? she walked. black hair was pulled back in a pony tail atop a posture that breathed more insecurity than it did confidence. siobhan -- or was it rebekah? -- was quite unsure of what to do with herself. the first place that showed signs of life was where she headed, and it happened to be this interesting pub. she slipped in behind the man, catching the door before it closed all the way, and quietly, she made her way towards a table by herself.
Hyacinth Griswold: "What the fuck is Mabon?" Cinthie murmured it between her teeth, lost somewhere behind the virgin margarita she clutched like an amulet to ward off Monday. "And do I look like some Harry Potter cast extra?" She did a lot of talking to herself when she was alone. Some things you just couldn't bounce off an eight year old and a three-legged dog. And Joshua, lord love him, would just stare at her and drawl something adorably snarky with that Texan twang and she'd roll her eyes so high she'd be able to see her own brain. There were a few other people coming in, and speaking of Texas, her eyes lowered to the dude with the cowboy boots. There was a little quirk of a grin. Yanks, gotta love 'em. "Nice." She tipped her glass his way. Cinthie was seated sideways in her booth. She was dressed for fall, in a light gray cable-knit sweater that came down just shy of her knees and hung loosely on her thin, athletic frame. Beneath were darker gray leggings, leading down to the faux motorcycle boots in black. Dark hair was up in a haphazard, half-assed bun, held in place with a red pen that seemed to have come from the same package as those on her table. "Haven't seen boots like that since I got here." She sounded like she was from here, though, all English charm with a hint of something in her accent that could only be described as 'vaguely piratical.' It was Talk Like A Pirate Day, right? No, she wasn't faking. When the second new arrival came in, she glanced dispassionately towards her, looked back at her phone--and then sat up ramrod-straight, her heart playing a violent tattoo in her throat.
Xavier Randall: :: His table just so happen to be near the grumbling pregnant lady. A nod of his head was given to her with the smallest of smirks.:: Ma'am…:: There was no twang to his voice, just a simple southern charm to it. Asking a passing waitress/waiter for a beer and a menu, his eyes turned to his boots with a shrug.:: Well, you gave us The Beatles. Least I can do is bring you some redneck. :: His lips twisted into a slight smile, pausing for a moment before his focus returns to the pregnant woman.:: Mabon is a holiday to celebrate the Autumn Equinox. It's usually considered a pagan thing, but it's pretty well known. :: Sometimes his hearing got him into trouble. It was about then that his beer and the menu arrived. He was perfectly content to leave the conversation there when the woman's heart rate decided to perform its very own drum solo. His head jerked up from the menu with a sense of alarm, his eyes shooting toward the woman. Following her gaze, his eyes focus on the other female. Xavier was careful to keep a neutral expression on his face, though his natural curiosity had him wondering what the hell he just walked into. His feet shifted beneath them very subtly, moving his weight to the balls of his feet so he could spring from his chair if necessary. Something about a cat fight with a pregnant lady involved didn't sound nearly as sexy as he might find a couple of ladies throwing down.::
Rebekah Oreshin: there would be no catfight with the pregnant lady unless the pregnant lady started a catfight. strange thing, the memory. perhaps cinthie had a flash-bulb of her face, remembering its youth of ten years ago, but rebekah hadn't the faintest idea. let's not forget that she thought very little about the lives she'd affected anyway and likely hadn't thought about the other pyromancer much after she had done her damage all those years back. now, though, things were different. the biggest difference in her appearance, though, were her eyes. what were once almost a fiery sort of brown that might have been considered an orange-ish color, now they were so light that they were nearly devoid of color all together. just the fairest hint of blue made the pyromancer's irises icy blue. irony at its best, she supposed. paying no mind to the man with the pointy shoes and the lady with a small belly, rebekah looked up at the waitress who had come by to take her drink order. a simple
water was all.
Hyacinth Griswold: No, maybe...maybe her brain was playing tricks on her. Yeah, that was it. She hadn't held a job outside the home for years and years, and now she was teaching. Maybe it was the strain. Maybe it was the pregnancy. All that blood going to keep Baby Oopsie alive had to be rerouted from places like her brain. Some women started forgetting shit and going full-scale moron, maybe Cinthie started having flashbacks to trauma from a decade prior. They had both been much younger then. She was remembering the woman who did the damage above her right eye, who had necessitated the very pair of wire-rimmed reading glasses that perched on the bridge of her nose at the moment. She shook her head. Sorry, Xavier, you weren't getting a pregnant lady catfight, though if you wanted to see them go at each other, you could find yourself a time machine. Now what was she talking about with this guy? Oh, right. She smiled up at him, a little nervousness still in her gaze. "Well yeah, I know the definition. But it's not something I ever really considered before...oh, well, it's not all that important I guess." She grinned up at him. "So, American boy. What brings you out to London?" Don't think she's hitting on you. She isn't. But Cinthie always did like making friends with the weirdos. Just ask her bee eff eff Snowy Zane.
Xavier Randall: :: No fight? No problem. He went back to his lazy slouch in his chair, bringing the bottle of beer to his lips. It must just be one of those strange British things. For all he knew, pregnant British women might just be more prone to random jumps in heart rate. None of it was any of his business anyway. His old man had been the hero. Not him. That's why he was pretty sure the old man was dead. Heroes die. Cowards live forever. His eyes were scanning over the menu, waving down the waitress again to order himself some of those potato things. That seems safe enough. He wasn't quite sure what some of that other stuff was. The woman's unmistakable voice got his attention once again, his head turning toward her with another small smile.:: Never really been the religious type myself, so I know what you mean. :: He grins playfully, shrugging his shoulders.:: Would you believe that I'm on the run and running away to Mexico just seemed so overrated? :: Shifting his beer in his hands, he extends his right hand to her.:: Name's Xavier.
Rebekah Oreshin: cowards live forever. ... well, that was probably the truth, wasn't it? rebekah was alive. or so it seemed. she wasn't sure she felt quite so alive. she wasn't sure she knew quite how to feel anyway. she gave the waitress a small smile of gratitude when she brought her the water, and she looked up when she took a sip. that's when frosty hues landed on the pregnant woman, and there was an immediate flash of white-hot pain in her head. the glass of water was dropped in favor of her hands moving up to clutch her head, and a small squeak of surprised pain left her lips. the glass that had spilled on the table rolled off and onto the ground, shattering on impact. way to make a scene, rebekah.
Hyacinth Griswold: Cowards live forever and that was why...that was why...don't say that in front of her, because she'd have a lot to say about that. She'd courted death on a few occasions. So had the people she loved. The outstretched hand was taken and given a firm shake from a slightly too warm appendage. "Hyacinth. Cinthie, if you prefer. I prefer. And I don't know, arguably Mexico has better beer." Her hand slipped away now, to pat her stomach. "Not that it matters to me for the next year or so." No booze. No cigarettes. No sushi, no lunch meat, no hair dye, no steak cooked to a doneness less than crispy-charred. And of course all she wanted was a cigarette, tequila, and a rib-eye cooked just enough to kill the e-coli. Alas. The sound of a glass shattering brought her to her feet, and she rocked between old fears and new, vaguely motherly concern. In the end, the latter won out--stupid fucking hormones, putting her in stupid fucking situations. She approached the girl almost timidly. "Are you alright?" she asked. Maybe if she didn't quite look at her face she wouldn't feel so twitchy. She couldn't afford to burst into flames in the middle of the Clockwork Cat. That would probably be Slightly Frowned Upon.
Xavier Randall: :: His own grip was just as firm, showing that just because a woman and she was pregnant, he wasn't going to treat her like some kind of fragile doll. She would also find that he had rough, calloused hands. A worker's hands.:: Cinthie it is. Nice to meet you. :: A chuckle escaped his lips, glancing down to her stomach with a nod of understanding.:: Longer if you decide to breast-feed. :: He wrinkles his nose with a visible grimace.:: Sorry. That so wasn't helpful. :: It was nice to have somebody to talk to again, even if it was just small talk. The past several months had left him with no contact outside of the occasional phone call from the funeral home or his father's lawyer. He was happy just knowing that he was still able to speak. The sound of the broken glass had him shooting to his feet with a speed that was almost beautiful. Every movement was controlled and graceful, wasting no energy getting to his feet. His eyes turn to lock onto the other woman, his nostrils flaring ever so subtly as he draws in the air around him. Sometimes it was nice having heightened senses. Noticing that Cinthie was already moving toward the woman, Xavier slowly eased back down into his chair. His food had arrived, so he kept himself busy munching on his potato wedges while keeping a casual eye on things. Something didn't feel quite right.::
Rebekah Oreshin: the closer the woman got, the more the pain in her head tore through her brain. it was like someone had set all the gyri alight with the fury of a thousand suns. when she spoke, her own heart had started pounding hard, but she didn't exactly know why. through a fog, she could feel the reason trying to get out, like it was locked behind a series of doors, but it just couldn't get past the first lock. "y-yeah..." she started, pulling air in through her gritted teeth. her voice was the same, though it held no more malice. at least... not at the moment. the cocky voice of her youth had literally imploded into a shaky sort of distant murmur. something was wrong. that lost chunk of time... she couldn't place it, but maybe, just maybe, this woman knew something she didn't. she cautiously opened one eye to peer at her, and it was but a millisecond that a face from the past flashed before her field of vision. 'i... no, i'm fine... really... just ... cluster headache..."
Hyacinth Griswold: "Oh, there's breast feeding in my future, probably," she laughed. "And screaming. And sleepless nights. I've already got one.
She's eight." Sofie, at home with her maybe kinda almost sorta stepdaddy thing, who apparently spent his free time teaching her questionable activities like hog-tying the dog. Whatever. Maybe someday she'd really need to know how to hog-tie a three-legged Jack Russell terrier that was easily lulled into complacency by offers of peanut butter and belly rubs. Maybe. Cinthie steeled herself and looked the girl over. Looked at her face, remembered how angry she had been then, remembered how her eyes were on fire. Pyromancer against pyromancer, nothing friendly about the fire between them. Siobhan, they called her. It was the first time Cinthie came close to death. Timidly, she reached out to touch her shoulder. "Maybe you ought to lie down," she said, her voice soft and soothing and somehow not at all shaky. "What's your name?" Please not Siobhan.
Xavier Randall: :: Fear had such an acrid quality to it. It was one of those scents a person never mistakes. But this was different. It smells like fear mixed with something else. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on. A small shake of his head was enough to remind him that it was still not any of his damn business. Whatever the hell was going on, it had nothing to do with him. His best option was to just stay put, stuff his face, maybe get a little buzz going. If he really wanted to be ambitious, maybe he would try to get laid. He had absolutely zero reason to get up from his chair. He didn't owe any of these people anything. He was just some chump from the States. Which is exactly why he quietly pushed to his feet to move over to the ladies. God damn it! He was supposed to have left the cowboy bullshit behind when he got on the plane to fly to the United fucking Kingdom of all places. While he was practically screaming at himself on the inside for his own stupidity, his voice was quiet and calm.:: Everything okay?
Rebekah Oreshin: 'what's your name?' it seemed like such an easy question, didn't it? she knew the old name, but it didn't sit right with her. not exactly. still, it was a bit of a reflex. "sh--..." no no, that wasn't it, dear. she corrected herself mid-word. "rebekah," she spat out, saving a little bit of face. "rebekah or-oreshin... i think." she thought. the last name didn't sound quite right, but she couldn't quite remember what it was. it was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't quite commit it to her working memory. she looked up at the man with the pointy shoes when she saw him approach. with a wince, she took her hands away from her head. by this time, the waitress had come with a broom and some rags to clean up the water and the glass. "i'm sorry," she said to the staff. "i don't know what quite came over me. ..i .. maybe this woman is right. maybe i should lay down... find a... a hotel or something." because let's be honest here; she had nowhere to go.
Hyacinth Griswold: Yeah. Cinthie was like that too. What she should have done was sit tight in her booth with her papers, have the waiter bring her another virgin margarita, bullshit with Xavier a while, then go home and take a shower and crash. But instead, here she was, busting out those mama bear instincts on a woman who she was pretty sure had put her in the emergency room once upon a time. Never let it be said that she wasn't at least marginally forgiving. Hazels peeped up over the rims of her reading glasses, and she found herself involuntarily sliding her tongue over the gap where her second molar on the left side should have been. "Rebekah." She repeated it, but not the last name, because it made her blanch. At least Xavier was here to take over, and she sat down hard on the nearest barstool. "Water please, quick." Because otherwise she was going to...what? Faint? Cry? Puke potato wedges all over the bar like Roxy did when she went outside and ate leaves?
Xavier Randall: :: His eyes moved between both of the females. One man standing between two women that he could only assume were in highly emotional states. EXACTLY what he was hoping for. He knew he should have gone to a strip club instead. This is karma. He just knew it. This was fate balancing the scales for all those years of being a selfish prick. He could almost feel his father laughing at him from wherever he was. When he saw Cinthie stepping back, he had a brief flicker of betrayal crossing over his face. She was going to leave him to deal with this? She might as well ask Dr Dre to perform her C-section. They both had about as much qualifications! Keeping his composure, he slides into the chair beside the woman calling herself Rebekah. His every movement was very slow and deliberate, like somebody trying not to spook a frightened animal. His hand came to rest on the woman's shoulder.:: Rebekah, right? I'm Xavier. Is there anybody we can call for you? Maybe somebody that could pick you up, give you a ride home?
Rebekah Oreshin: this... this was not going to happen. she was attracting too much attention, and she just wasn't having it. no, no. it was all too much. she shook her head, and moments after xavier introduced herself and cinthie blanched, rebekah was scooting out her chair and peeling herself slowly away from the man's hand. "i.. i can do it. i'll just... i'm gonna head out... nice to... meet you, i suppose. ... xavier... and you.. thank you.." since cinthie didn't give her her name. it was probably best that she didn't. she started to head towards the door, but something made her stop. something compelled her to turn around a few steps away from the pair and look down at xavier's boots then up at his face. "your shoes are pointy," she said. one last glance to cinthie along with another searing pain and a wince from the pyromancer, and she skittered out like the frightened animal xavier was trying not to spook.
Hyacinth Griswold: Hazels watched as Rebekah made a run for it, and she tried not to leap to any conclusions. The way she had nearly said another name. It made her tummy churn, and she had been over morning sickness for a few weeks now, so it had to be nerves and memories. "Take care of yourself," she said, almost distantly, as the waitress passed her a glass of water. She sipped it slowly, cupping her fingers around it. "I should...I should go too, actually. I'm sorry, Xavier. It's nothing against you. Or your pointy shoes." She drew herself up a little straighter, and a ghost of a smile flitted across her face. "I know her. I don't think she remembers. But I know her. We were involved in..." Careful, Cinthie, this ain't Shepherd. "An altercation. A while ago. Years and years. She nearly killed me." A firefight, that was what it had been, a literal firefight. "She wasn't so meek, though. And that wasn't her name. I don't...I don't know." She heaved a sigh and sipped her water. "Ugh. Got my stomach in knots, she does."
Xavier Randall: :: His head turns to follow the girl to the door before looking down at his shoes. There was genuine confusion on his face. What was wrong with his boots? His eyes were turning toward Cinthie for some support when he heard her talking. And now she was making fun of his boots too? His fashion confidence was really take a beating tonight. He always thought he was reasonably well dressed. Slacker chic. It was a thing! Still, he simply listened to the explanation with no judgment or assumption on his face.:: Just take care of yourself. I would hate for something bad to happen to the first person I've spoken to here. :: He shrugs his shoulders, though his voice sounded sincere. His eyes lift slightly to look into hers.:: You need me to walk you to your car or something? :: He wasn't hitting on her in any way. There might be certain situations where he's a little slow on the uptake, but even he could tell that the woman was firmly on the available list. The baby bump was his first clue.::
Hyacinth Griswold: "I'll be fine." Digits waved in a sort of half-assed don't-you-worry-bout-me gesture. "I'll just go home, take it easy tonight,
sort through these pieces for the students in the morning..." Kearny was hopeless at piano, so hopeless. At least Cooper and North had some legitimate chops. Kearny was a drummer of all things. Christ on a cracker. She slowly rose, offering him a small smile and giving her head a tiny shake. "No, no. I'm fine, I actually took a taxi." Cinthie did not drive. Lord no. "Thank you, though." She returned to her booth, gathered her papers, and clutched them to her chest. With her other hand, she offered up a lazy, playful salute. "Nice to meet you, Xavier. I'll see you around. Welcome to London, do try not to get your Yank all over it too much." A wink of a hazel, and she was gone, headed home. Of all the nights for Siobhan to turn up, why did it have to be a night when she couldn't drink?!
Xavier Randall: You have a good time. I'll do my best to keep my Yanking to a minimum. :: Maybe if they had more time to talk, he would have mentioned he could play piano and some guitar. He was more of a vocalist though. It was mostly a hobby these days. His dreams of drug fueled nights of groupies throwing panties at him ended around the same time he discovered that he could transform into a monstrous killing machine. He did keep the rock star hairstyle. There were just some dreams a man just couldn't let go of. Slouching back into his chair, he laughs softly to himself, mumbling to nobody in particular.:: You're on a roll tonight, Xav. Running off two women in less than 30 seconds. And one of them was already knocked up. Yep. We are smooth.