sweethymns | OPEN RP POST QUATRE

[There's a "YIKES," that comes from one of the customers, some of them scooting their seats away when they see Vincent's weapons. Monts, on the other hand, hardly seems perturbed. She just gives him a look before bending down to take out a wooden crate from underneath the counter. She pats the box and gives Vincent a charming smile.]

Weapons in here, if you please. And yes, you're in a cafe. However, the owner wants any weaponry to be set aside if you're to partake in what we serve. Don't want to spook our already small pool of clientele after all.

[Her manner is polite, yet laced with a kind of teasing that's hard to put a finger on the first time anyone speaks to her. She pats the box again.]

Chop, chop. And then take a seat.

My weapons?

[He frowns at that request. That was like asking for him to remove his own limbs; how long had his gun been at his side, how long as he been able to depend on Simon's bowblade to get him out of trouble he used to find himself in?

There's a strange disconnect in his mind; one part of him tells him that he has no use for weapons, not anymore. The other part of him screams at him that yes, yes he does. This physical human form is so weak without reliance on tools, it didn't matter what sort of blood flowed through his veins.

The hesitation is clear on his face, but there's something oddly compelling about this place. Something... calm, strangely inviting. It lacked the tension of Yharnam, filled with creatures and people who wanted to destroy and manipulate him at every turn.

So he nods, stepping to the counter, eying the strangers who are eying him back. He removes his gun, then his bow, placing them in the box, looking at Monts. Doing as he's told (he's not sure what else to do), he scoots a seat out and... sits. He leans forward a little, and his hand spreads across the cool surface of the counter. It's surprising a feeling, to have hands again. And so, he can't help himself:]

Ha... [He looks at the counter in something reminiscent of surprise, probably seeming like a total weirdo.]

[Monts claps her hands together as if pleased.]

Good job! Thank you so much, we all certainly appreciate your cooperation.

[Great, now she just sounds like a teacher praising a kid for their compliance. She also doesn't seem to mind his dazed surprise. It's not unusual to Monts because knowing that this was a cafe that sat in an in between space that reached infinite spots of time and realities, it was just a given that most of their customer base that found the Grind are flabbergasted and confused. Iona and Oren had taught her early on is that hospitality and calm helped diffuse any potential dangerous situations.

So yeah, in this case, she probably did a good job getting the guns away, so pat on the back for herself, whoo.

Monts exits the counter with a notepad and pen.]

Anyways, let's get you started with something. Are you a tea or coffee type of man? Personally, I'd say both are wonderful here.

[It's jarring how she acts like this is all so normal though. That goes double for the other customers who just go back to their business, paying no mind to the British guy who came in with some guns.]

[Her tone doesn't bother him. It might be praise fit for a child, but Vincent is still trying to orient himself to this new situation. Being told that he's complying to make himself more welcome here isn't something he's going to complain about. And though he feels oddly naked without his weapons, some small part of him feels as if a burden has been lifted.

He's still not completely sure what's going on, though. He's still tempted to believe that this might be some odd dream-reality, or something.]

Tea? I haven't had tea in... [Years, he wants to say. Because it felt like a lifetime ago, a distant memory. But in reality, it was not years ago. Months, maybe. Far too long, whatever the real answer was.] Well. I've not had tea in a long while. I would not mind a cup.

[The hospitality of this place was certainly refreshing. This was definitely not Yharnam, wherever he's ended up. And so after his request for tea is spoken, he just has to ask.] Where is this place? And what are you? [What, not who. It's said so casually, as if Vincent can sense that there's something else to this girl, hidden beneath the courteous smiles. He can sense it so readily that he just assumes that she isn't making an attempt to hide it.]

...

[An uncomfortable silence follows. The customers can feel it, but they won't look up out of nervousness. Monts blinks down at Vincent and taps the pen against her cheek.

Interesting question. It's not asked of her often, but when it does get asked, it can be awkward to talk about. Any personal discomfort on her part is hidden with a smile and a shrug as she jots down, "Tea," in her notes. That should give Oren something to work with.]

First answer to the first question: It's everywhere, but nowhere at the same time.

[Well, that's.... A non-answer??]

Second answer... [Her smile falters into something more melancholic.]

I wouldn't know really. Don't trouble yourself over it.

[The silence that follows is palatable and for a moment Vincent wonders just what happened to cause the shift in the atmosphere.

And then common sense rushes back to him as he realizes that he had been too forthcoming with his questions. Propriety had been lagging in its return, apparently, but it comes back full force now, and he clears his throat. His mind strings words together in the form of an apology.]

Forgive me, I didn't mean to pry.

[He had sensed it like it was something normal, but he had to remind himself that "normal" for him was far from normal for others now. He felt caught between two worlds, and he has to make a conscious effort to settle back into the human side of things. He closes his eyes, focusing on the here and now. The shape his body, the layers of clothing gently rustling against his skin. The coolness of the counter at his fingertips.

Yes, of course. It had been rude of him to ask that; he remembers now that he should have known better.]

Er... [He looks at her again, deciding to focus on the other answer she gave him.] So this place... it hovers between realities, in a way? [He can understand it, in his own way. He had been stuck in a dream once, and it felt a bit like this.]

[She could have tried and insisted on her humanity, but Monts had given up a while ago. These days, she certainly felt more human than not. But the thing under her skin is a constant reminder of that uncertainty and it didn't feel correct to be called human anymore. It's why she tries not to take it personally when someone, like Vincent, happens to sense something off about her.

She smiles at him rather kindly to assure him that she wasn't offended.]

It's alright. You're not the first one to tell that I'm an odd duck. I'm impressed really.

[She gives him another thoughtful look before asking herself:]

Are you quite alright though? Most people tend to be confused when they come in here for the first time, but you seem a bit out of it.

[The fact that she doesn't seem terribly offended puts him at ease, as if dissipating the remaining awkwardness in the air. Even so, it doesn't dispel his curiosity about what he senses about her; he wants to know -- both his eldritch and Hunter self -- but he leashes his tongue for now. She's been polite to him, and it would be rude for him to not extend the same courtesy.

He's a little surprised at her question, not thinking he had been so obvious about his somewhat dazed state. Perhaps he shouldn't be surprised. He feels as if his mind and body is readjusting, and there's no way that someone observant wouldn't be able to pick up on that.

He straightens his collar, buying a few seconds' time as he wonders how to explain.]

The wrong sort of impression I'd wish to make, of that you can be certain. [He offers a smile, a strained sort.] I have been through a few... great changes, lately. The most recent was unexpected, and I feel as if I must readjust all over again. It is like waking up from a long slumber, and I'm still trying to rub the proverbial sleep from my eyes.

Thankfully, I'm not a dream, right?

[Monts!? She says it lightly and flirtatiously, but that's her usual manner, really.]

I'll set you up with some tea first. Maybe that will wake you up.

[He blinks up at her because -- wow, so forward? Ah, but she's joking, surely. Vincent isn't used to people acting in such a way towards him; well, if they did once upon a time, he doesn't remember. His time before Yharnam remains hazy, and his time in Yharnam was certainly not filled with any manner of flirtation.]

Ah... I suppose, thankfully not. [Thankfully not? is more of how it's enunciated, with that telltale question mark at the end. But you know, he's just going to leave it at that. He'll leave her to "set him up" with tea, and maybe he can find his focus more clearly by the time she returns.]

[She's incredibly forward or at least appears to be so. Monts disappears into the back to get an order of tea ready and in a few minutes, returns to Vincent, with a tray that includes not only a cup of tea, but with sugar and cream as well.]

Earl Grey. Cream and sugar is optional. Our tea and coffee master in the back suggests you take it straight first before making any additions.

[He almost looks amused at the idea, but eyes the tea gratefully as its brought to him.]

You've a coffee and tea master? I wish I could say I was so fortunate.

[He brings the cup to his lips, lightly tasting it. The Earl Gray is nothing short of perfect.]

...Ah. You're right. A master indeed. It hardly needs cream and sugar at all.

[Did he strike gold with this place? Maybe! Should he be more concerned about why he's suddenly human again? Probably that, too. But right now this is such a nice distraction; he's met with kind faces and hot tea, for goodness' sake.]

Where is everyone here from? I take it not from Yharnam. You don't have the look of it.

Gesundheit.

[What, that's the only thing she can think of when he mentions Yharnam. Like what kind of name even is that???]

I'm glad you like the tea. As for me and everyone else, we're from here and there, probably farther away from where you came from than you can imagine.

You're from Gesund...heit?

[the joke

Vincent's head]

Ah.

[Oh, dear, she's got a live one.]

Don't worry about it.

[Vincent remains both confused and genuinely curious.]

You say that, but I wish to know. This "cafe", as you call it, is unlike anything I've ever seen. The people here are dressed strangely, in fashions that are quite alien to me.

[Vincent looks like he came out of a gothic horror novel set in the Victorian era, after all.]

Is this what it is like where you're from?

[Monts is actually feeling bad for wanting to egg him on and continue teasing... Really, don't make it so easy for her??]

For the most part, yes. Most of the customers tend to be from my side of the woods, or something close to it. Other than that though, we get visitors like you, who have jumped plenty of hoops to be able to see the door.

[Vincent will probably always make it easy for her...]

"Jumped hoops" meaning that... ah, normal citizens cannot find this place?

Got it in one.

Oh, but I shouldn't bore you with more talk, not without dessert to go with your tea. How does pie sound?

[Monts might not be the most efficient worker at the Grind, but she sure is the most convincing when it comes to charming customers, especially getting them to try the food.]

[he wants to say that she isn't boring him, but the mention of pie has him curious -- how long since he's had anything sweet?]

I would not have anything to pay you with, Miss... [er.] Forgive me, I did not catch your name.

Monts. That's what everyone calls me.

[It's a strange name and it would be ill fitting with anyone else. But it suits her.]

And well... Let's see, what's the currency in your world?

Miss Monts. [He nods, committing it to memory. And in return:] My name is Vincent.

[As for her question, he hesitates. His situation wasn't exactly... normal where Yharnam is concerned.]

...well. Blood, actually.

... Huh. That's a first... Well, for me at least...

Let me check with the co-owner.

[WELL...]

[He feels quick to add an addendum.]

I should say that while that is a sort of currency in my world, that does not mean I expect you to accept it. My blood may not be something anyone would wish to... collect.

[That's a lie. Great One blood is a hot commodity these days; but it's also dangerous, leading to horrific transformations and madness. Before, he would not have cared. But his humanity now dictates that he not be so reckless.]

Something else perhaps? I have a few small but glittering coins I've picked up in my travels.

Oh, why didn't you say so? Coins work much better. We like collecting coins.

[Monts looks relieved anyways and whatever's part of her and under her skin, seems to flutter along with her. The mark's been ambivalent to Vincent, but still wary in a quiet way.]

Two of those. Because I'm going to get a slice for myself too.

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