sweethymns | Pictures in the Dark

[Okay, that deserves an eye roll, and he obliges.]

Think you're too young for me anyway, kid. [Yes, he called her "kid" even though she's not really one. And even if he's only 31, he's still the oldest of his own personal group of five, and they're quick to point that out to him.

Not that he cares. He'll play up the older, more mature guy all day long.]

Can we go in now?

[She glances around to make sure no one's looking as she puts her hand on the doorknob... And slowly opens it. There's the sound of a door jingle and she takes a step inside.]

... C'mon in.

[And there's the cafe, somehow located in the back of a shopping center. But the space wouldn't make sense. It's filled with tables and chairs, a sofa, soft and warm lights, the smell of coffee and tea.

It's comforting in all the right ways.]

Welcome to the Midnight Grind.

[He follows, the jingle registering in his mind as he steps through the entrance, but he ignores it -- he's too busy looking around, as the door closes softly behind him. It's nice. There's no doubt about that. It reminds him of a few rooms in the mansion, a few reading lounges or smaller studies. The ones that he gravitated towards.

Jake could see himself spending time here, if the situation allowed it. But right now, he isn't sure that he should be entertaining such an idea at all. And so, he just says:]

Nice place. [He's looking around at the customers too, a bit warily, with unknown consideration. It's hard to tell what he's thinking.] Definitely a cafe; smells like coffee.

[captain obvious here.]

I'd be worried if there wasn't any coffee to smell.

[Monts says dryly as she moves to the counter. She calls over her shoulder to Jake.]

Just take a seat and I'll see if Iona's here. If not, you're talking to Oren.

[He follows her with his gaze but chooses not to respond, crossing over to the counter and taking a seat. And if anyone gives him a weird glance on the way, he just raises his brow in return, as if saying "what?"

He settles in and puts his elbows on the countertop, and waits.]

Edited 2016-05-24 19:37 (UTC)

[It doesn't seem like Iona's there. Instead it's Oren who walks out when Monts calls. He's tall, at leas 6 feet in height. And definitely not normal looking.

Monts, who's been at the Grind long enough is no longer swayed by Oren's looks (because let's be real, you're around him enough and it's not effective) and talks to him, gesturing at Jake. Oren glances at him with his eerie eyes (a knowing look) and then turns his attention to Monts. What are they talking about?

Well, about certain customers who they may have to look out for. Just in case.]

[Jake eyes the man as he steps out from the back -- tall, unnaturally pretty, not very expressive. Exactly as Morgan had described to him, and he was willing to bet that this was Oren.

He can't hear what they're talking about, but Jake is keen enough to tell from the glances in his direction that they're discussing him. He shifts in his seat, not out of discomfort, but a nagging impatience that he's trying to keep in check. He raps his fingers against the countertop, waiting. His eyes land on a salt shaker next to him that had fallen on its side. Without thinking, Jake fixes it, setting it upright, an idle action to help funnel his anxiousness through.

He does this, of course, by merely looking at it, then leans back and glances around the cafe like it was nothing; because here, truly, it was just that. Nothing. He can already tell from the customers here that he's just a drop in the odd, supernatural, or otherwise magical bucket. For some unknown reason, this just seems to disquiet him even more.]

[Monts waves to Jake as she goes to the back with that cheeky smile of hers; he's all Oren's now.

Speaking of Oren, he approaches Jake, all calm, all serene.]

Drink first?

[I'm not here for pleasure, is what Jake wants to say, but the smell of coffee is terribly tempting here. He pauses, feeling conflicted (over something so minuscule) before he just gives a nod at Oren.

Oren, who was quite hard to read. So Jake also makes kind of a frowny face without realizing it, trying to puzzle this guy out.]

...Some coffee, I guess.

[Coffee it is.

Since he didn't specify, Oren's taking out a cup, a special filter, and starts making Jake's coffee behind the counter where he can see him.

It'll take a few minutes for it to be completely done, so while it drips down into the cup, Oren turns to speak to him again.]

You wanted something.

[Jake doesn't say anything in those moments, watching Oren's back, and letting the smell of coffee waft in his direction.

When the man turns around to speak again, he understands it as an implied question. Jake obliges. He'll be the last person to comment on the golem's concise sentences; getting straight to the point is something that he'll always prefer.]

I did. I wanted to speak to the owner; thought that was Iona. Or "Jackie".

[Not you is the implication, but it's not an accusation. The hidden question there is if Oren can relay a message in Iona's absence.]

Homework. Needs to finish. Not here.

[Aka, Iona's current status. That's why she isn't present at the moment.]

Will take message.

[His next sentence takes effort, but whatever Jake wants, Oren wants to make something clear first.]

We serve drinks and food; any other involvement is unnecessary.

[It doesn't stop Iona, but usually their policy is to, live and let go.]

[Homework? A college student? He files that information in the back of his mind, though it really doesn't matter either way.

"Involvement", says the man. For once, Jake's frown twists into a wry, ironic half-grin, and he lets out a laugh. It's a cynical-sounding thing, along with the thread of humor that underlines his next statement.]

Then you'll be glad to hear that involvement is the last thing that I need. Even when it comes to drink and food.

[His grin fades, though, just as soon as it had appeared.]

My brother visited here not that long ago. Morgan Kyle. [He wasn't sure if his brother gave his name or not, but it was best to cover all bases.] About my height. Dirty blonde hair, blue eyes.

[Cold and soulless.]

Ring a bell?

... Yes.

[Beyond that, Oren doesn't make a remark about Morgan. Oh, he had his opinion of course. Oren is extremely opinionated, but he's just good at keeping most of his thoughts to himself.]

[A good enough start for Jake.]

Did he say or do anything... odd?

[He's trying to gauge exactly what Morgan did while he was here. Hopefully it was nothing more than drink coffee and feign idle conversation.]

Talked. A lot.

A few questions.

[Oren checks the coffee and determines that there's enough. He takes off the filter and takes a thin spoon, to stir the contents.]

You're worried.

[For a second, Jake feels a sense of bewilderment. Was he really being that easy to read? He thinks, by nature, that he isn't. That he's unforthcoming, more detached than most, more direct and uncaring for others' opinions. Ironically, it is the opposite that is true -- he's the grounded one, the one that worries when things go awry, when they have the potential of going awry, like now. He's the sensitive one who just believes he has thick skin.

(He has to pretend he does, after everything.)

He shifts in his seat again, hesitant, but hiding it by running his hand through his hair.]

I'm concerned. [It's the same thing, Jake.] And so, I've got a request, if you'll entertain me.

[Oren's 500+ years old.

He's seen his fair share of things including different types of people.]

Same thing.

[And he'll point out the obvious too before pushing the coffee towards Jake.]

Drink.

[He's interrupted by the coffee being nudged in his direction, and though he feels a flash of irritation (because he's trying to tell him something important, damn it), he still picks up the cup and takes a sip.

It's... sweeter than he expected. He's not used to it; his coffee is usually plain and strong. But he likes it, partly because it's novel.]

Thanks. [It's almost muttered, an automatic nicety he doesn't think twice about.]

[Equal parts bitter and sweet; it's a popular coffee among their drinks.

Oren just stares at Jake as he takes a drink without blinking before he speaks up again.]

What did you want?

[He warps his fingers around the cup, taking in its warmth. He taps a fingernail against its surface, making a light clink clink clinking noise.

And then Jake gets straight to the point:]

My brother. Don't let him visit here any more.

[The silence is short, but palpable.]

Bans only when necessary.

[He leans forward, looking up at Oren with a tangible sense of exasperation and urgency.]

Believe me when I tell you that it is necessary. No matter what your first impressions of him were, you don't know him like I do.

No one liked him.

[Oh.]

[He scoffs, taking some sort of bitter amusement from those words.]

No kidding. Then trust your instincts on this matter, and make sure that damn magical door doesn't appear for him anymore, got it?

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