chinatown. [various]

[K. R. Jakes] Here they are. There is food. The food smells delicious. The food smells like delicious wants to smell when it goes to sleep the night before a Very Big Day. There is good-fortune in the red-luck bridge. There is spring, thawing the edges of the streets. There is a windchill that, for the Windy City, isn't very cold at all. And there's food, because this is Chinatown, and when it isn't being a den of iniquity, it's being a den of deliciousness. [S. Ashton Winters] Marcelle had a babysitter tonight. She really didn't need to be out when Ashton had a hankering for Chinese food. She needed a day off, and in that day off, she wanted an hour and forty-five minutes off to get something to eat that wouldn't miraculously end up in her hair. Parenting is not glamorous, but it does creep into her everyday vocabulary. She's an ER doctor and Ashton's having to bite back telling her colleagues that she needs a potty break. She never used to use the word potty. Not even has a child. So, with that, she had made plans. She had made such plans. She had called Kage, she had made rrangements, she had worked it all out to the most minute detail. Eating out didn't used to be such a hastle, but soon enough, they were there. With food. Ashton even has eyeliner on. And a good enough concealer that she looks like she's had a halfway decent amount of sleep. Truly, Hell hath frozen over. [Riley Poole] Riley's around. It's a long time since she clocked out, since she and Chuck carpooled back to their building. She's changed out of her short-sleeved button down, her clip on tie, and that ridiculous skirt. A light jacket is thrown over the back of a chair, and she's leaned forward over the bowl of noodles she's eating from with a pair of cheap and disposable wooden chopsticks. Her wavy hair is held back from her food by means of a simple clip. Her clothing is simple, geeky, colorful. She doesn't know the women at the other table nearby. She just knows she wanted some damn fine Chinese cuisine, and this place was Good Enough. [K. R. Jakes] Kage will be late. There is a text to that effect. The text, as a matter of fact, is accompanied by a picture. The picture appears to be some sort've mishmosh hodgepodge crowd of bicyclists in Buddhist monk orange-robes -- until you look more closely, and see that, mixed in with the Buddhist monk orange-robes are people clearly cosplaying. The text: =( they're wearing my brakes down. [Ashley McGowen] Ashley is oblivious to the dens of iniquity that are within Chinatown. To her, this is a place where tourists go. It's also a place where graduate students go when they want a lot of food, cheaply, and Ashley is hungry, naturally. Or Ashley is Hunger, to be more precise. The little Hermetic is flipping through the collection of restaurants within a mile radius on her phone, glancing up occasionally to make sure she doesn't bump into anyone on the street. It's a danger, when she can't tell precisely how far away people are. She looks better than she has lately: her eyes are clearer, maybe. Livelier. Or she just doesn't look as tired as she has for the past few months. It's lucky she's feeling a bit better, since at that moment a blond college boy in an orange robe (not an actual monk, it will occur to her later) goes whizzing by on his bicycle. Ashley looks up at the last second when he yells, and rapidly darts aside. A "FUCK YOU!" follows the boy down the street as he continues on his way. Yes, she's feeling better. [S. Ashton Winters] Ashton was puzzled. She looked at the picture on her phone, head cocked to the side and eyes squinting. She wasn't sure what this was. She really wasn't. Ashton was thirty-something. She has come to the realization that there are facets of modern culture that she does not understand. She doesn't like the iPhone. The internet is full of memes that make her roll her eyes. Ashton Winters is not so much an old soul as an apathetic one; she hadn't cared about memes in college either. Then again, she did her undergrad at a time when- Nevermind when she did undergrad. "... what?" She actually said it outloud, then texted back WTF? [Riley Poole] Riley glances up and over when she hears the dark-haired woman at the other table speak aloud to no one. But she doesn't linger, doesn't stare or even so much as point and laugh. That would be rude. It's a quick thing, her head coming up from her bowl of noodles, a tilt of her head in the woman's direction, and then her attention is grabbed by her own phone. Whatever is on there makes her grin before she sets it back down on the table top beside her bowl. Never far from technology, is Riley Poole. [K. R. Jakes] The text: anime convention religious tolerance poetry month rally thing i think. my sisters into it. i see ashley. should i pick her up? she is yelling at someone. there's a cop. who isn't doing anything. honestly, the city is screwed. [S. Ashton Winters] the reply: because of a poetry rally religious tolerance anime convention? Tell Ashley there's free noodles if she comes She stands up and straightnes herself out. Ashton is a tall woman. She is a tall woman with her hair down... and she has quite long hair. She glances at Riley, slipping her cell phone into her back pocket. It rests with her wallet, and the woman heads over. She clears her throat. "Ma'am? Could I ask you a favor?" [Owen Page] There was a Buddhist Temple in Chinatown. As a matter of fact, there was more than one in Chicago, but the one that finds a young man inside it is buried between tea shops and bustling take away restaurants, filled to the brim with the hungry and the impoverished, the wealthy and the strained and all the various in-betweens that existed. It was far quieter here, there was barely anything to register as sound when one stood before the statue of Amida Buddha. It was as if the late evening visitors to the temple understood on some level the purpose of the place in which they stood; the reason for the walls, and the floors and the monks who moved throughout the space without a single spoken word between them. There had been a tourist couple that had quietly stepped up beside the solemn figure observing the statue and whispered about its size, and how it seemed obscene for the Monks to have such a large idol set in their courtyard. The Chorister's brow had contracted, but he had kept his peace. It was not the place to argue the semantics of faith, and to correct the notion that Amida meant anything beyond wisdom and compassion. In truth, Owen only came here to listen. Eventually he stepped away from the statue and into the temple proper, approached the niacin and bowed his head. The Initiate took a pinch of incense between his fingers; eyes black against the flickering candles, they reflected only themselves in his gaze as he set it within a burner and murmured beneath his breath the Nembutsu, the chant to transcend, to become one. "Namu Amida Butsu," he whispered, bowing his head and holding his hands before him, palms clasped together, the Ojuzu beads carefully drawn across them. He often lost track of time when he was within the Temple; once it had been an entire day. When he finally slips out tonight, it's only been an hour or two. The Chorister pulls the hood up on his jacket and hunkers down against the flowing crowd, stepping out into it. [Riley Poole] Riley is in the process of slurping noodles into her mouth when the dark-haired woman who talks to herself (or her cell phone, which wouldn't be too crazy), comes over to her table. For a moment, the brunette just looks up, chopsticks held close to her face, noodles going sluuuuurp! Some sauce splatters onto her face. At least it doesn't get onto her clothes. Quickly, she snatches up her napkin and dabs at her face. Chuckling, she says, "Sorry. What kind of favor?" [K. R. Jakes] There is a black as the devil's marrow -- black as the devil's violin! -- truck. And it's coming for Ashley's soul. At any rate, it's rolling to a halt nearish Ashley, and unfortunately, there's this truth: Kage's truck looks like somebody was climbing on the cab. There are shoe prints on the door. There's mud and induced-by-nature gunk clinging to its undersides. The truck's probably unhappy; it wants so to be a showroom truck, untouched by cares and worries. Anyway, the driver's side window is rolling down, and K. R. Jakes is poking her head out the window, voice pitched to carry, but not by no means a shout: "Hey, 'ley. You want a ride? Ashes says there are free noodles in it for you." [S. Ashton Winters] "Do you mind if I sit with you so I don't look like a complete nutcase talking to her phone? I'm waiting for a friend, and given that she's been held up by a... convention... parade... something in traffic, I'm not sure when she'll get here," she says. There's that conversational tone that ever so rarely surfaces. It used to come about much, much more frequently. "Also, I would like to know if you'd recommend whatever it is you're eating. It smells heavenly." [Ashley McGowen] Ashley was readjusting her messenger bag on her shoulder when she hears a voice - hey, 'ley - and even though voices are hard for her to recognize at times (differentiations in pitch), only one person calls her that. She looks over at Kage. Takes in the fact that she's stuck behind people in orange robes, occasionally cycling into the street. Takes in the footprints on the door. That somebody was climbing on the cab. The Hermetic's mouth quirks into a smirk, and after a long hesitation at the curb (to look both ways, several times - another eye or ear would be useful for such things), she makes her way over to the passenger side door, opens it, and uses the handle over the top of the door to haul herself in. "Ashton, you mean?" she asks, once she is inside. [Owen Page] [Hey look, noodles. I always know exactly where I am, I'm a Ninja. Streetwise + Wits for navigating.] [K. R. Jakes] to Owen Page [Streets: Counter!!!] [K. R. Jakes] to Owen Page [!] [Owen Page] [Doo de doo, is he going to do that thing he does where he just appears?] [Riley Poole] [I SEE YOU (maybe?): percept + alert] [K. R. Jakes] [Percept + Aware? on Ashley? You're different now, what?] [S. Ashton Winters] [I don't see crap!] [Riley Poole] Just to be sure, Riley swipes that napkin over her mouth again. She should really be more girly, maybe carry a hand mirror in her laptop bag. Maybe carry a bag instead of a laptop bag. Or a purse. Girls carry purses, right? "Oh riiiiight, there's a festival tonight. Someone somewhere gave me a flier or something, I think." Her forehead scrunches in thought, then smooths as she shakes her head. "I'm sorry, sure, you're more than welcome to join me. The more the merrier, right?" She indicates the table around her, a small affair meant to seat four people, maybe six tops. Maybe more if people really wanted to get comfy, like that table of college students or that other table with the large family reunion. "I'm Riley," she adds, offering her hand in greeting. If there is a certain Chorister in the crowd, one who is friends with her friend, Riley is perfectly oblivious to him. [Owen Page] He had a pretty good general sense of geographical placement, Owen Page. Chicago hadn't been his home for that long, but the young man had something of an uncanny knack for figuring out where he was in relation to landmarks. He knew the temple's placement in relation to several good noodle bars -- the one he winds up slipping into behind a wave of customers just so happens -- or happens, perhaps nothing is just so any longer or ever was -- to be the one that the Awakened of Chicago are converging upon. Owen is a black-clad figure that is simply present after a moment. One second there is a pair of chattering, bright-eyed girls at the counter and then abruptly, there is a young Chorister brushing down the hood of his zip-up, an old black leather jacket thrown atop it, his hands resting casually in the pockets as he makes a study of the menu. His back is toward Riley Poole and Ashton, if he saw them while entering, he has not made any attempt to capture their attention. But then, attention wasn't something Owen tended to enjoy. [S. Ashton Winters] It was forty-four degrees outside. Ashton put her phone on the table- something that was older and serviceable. She lets it rest where it is; it's taken a beating before. There's a chip in the upper right hand corner of the unfortunate flip phone. She takes Riley's hand; her own is freezing. Decidedly, definitely, unabashedly cold. She shakes her hand, once up, once down, then she sits down herself. "A friend sent me a picture of that and I was really confused. There were men in robes and bicycles and bad hair." A beat. "I'm Ashton, by the way." [K. R. Jakes] to Owen Page [Jess Perc+Emp!] [K. R. Jakes] "I do." That's what she says once Ashley has hauled herself up. Then she makes her engine sing a song of pedestrian brutality, and the truck pulls forward. Now, to find a parking spot. They're half-a-block away from the noodle shop Kage and Ashton agreed to meet at. As Ashley settled, Kage flicked a (studious [inscrutable]) glance at the Hermetic, looked at her for a moment, for two, and kept studying her, kept feeling her out, out've the corner of her eye. "You seem particularly determined today," it's a knack, choosing the right word for the right moment in time. "What wheel have you been putting your shoulder to?" And there's a parking spot, right there, right there, right now. The Orphan's shoulders rise and fall quickly, satisfaction, and she watches one of the bicyclists flick open his lighter, draw flame out've it just like a star, start waving it around. She watches as four others do the same thing, then five others, until there's a trail of them: bicyclists, one-handed, streaking by like they've got stars burning. [Riley Poole] Riley does her best not to wince when those icy cold fingers wrap around her hand. But she can't stop the thought Jesus, how is she alive? from crossing her mind, and once it crosses her mind it's pretty much out there for Ashton to see if she's looking. When her hand is released, it comes to rest on her thigh so that her own body heat will bring it back up to a normal temperature. "I think they're supposed to have fireworks later. It's just some kind of cultural festival...type....thing," she concludes with a laugh. "So sayeth the flier, right? I wonder if I still have that." It just takes a bend to the side, and Riley is lifting her laptop bag to her lap. She doesn't rummage for long. "They seem to be going all out for it, though. Nope, no I don't have that flier anymore." Her mouth quirks with disappointment. No doubt it had been tossed almost as soon as it came into her possession. [Owen Page] "It's not a cultural festival, actually." Says a voice that suddenly seems to have settled behind Riley and Ashton, when they turn, or twist or start, they see a dark-haired young man standing there with a box of noodles in one hand. There's a tiny hint of a smile for Riley, and a glance at Ashton; a spark of remembrance of a night not so long ago at the Chantry; of shot guns and two men and hitting one of them repeatedly until he fell down because he leveled one at the icy pale blonde. Owen's attention returns to Riley, he quietly goes on: "The Monks and several gaming organizations are joining forces, riding to raise funds for a Garden of Tranquility for the Temple." A beat, people bustle past at tables near them, the Chorister seems content with the silence, then: "Also, hello." [Ashley McGowen] Ashley watches the bicyclists go by, gripping the bars of their cycles with one hand while they hold a lighter aloft in the other. Like some sort of vigil, or a horrible road accident just waiting to happen. She can't help but think of such things: she went over the handlebars of a bike, after all. "A lot of things," she tells Kage as they whip into the parking spot. "I went Seeking and busted my ass to save a girl my Avatar wanted dead, more or less." It's without reservation, almost open: unusual, but then again, they are better friends than they used to be. "I can give you the long version sometime if you want it." She reaches for the door's handle as Kage cuts the engine, casting another glance to the cyclists on the road, watching the flames fade down the street. [S. Ashton Winters] "We stand corrected," she says. She grins, and it's half playful. Her voice carries well, but it carries the weight of authority. Something she can not and does not attempt to shake out of her presence. She looks at Owen, and she remembers him. She's not bleeding or holding her intestines in today. "Hey, stranger," she says, "how are you doing?" [K. R. Jakes] The ourouborus -- the Midgard serpent: how could it want a girl dead? That seems so specific, and perhaps it's this -- this specificity -- which has Kage's response little more than quiet for a second. Perhaps it's because Ashley, of all people, is saying: my Avatar wanted me to let someone die; my Avatar wanted me to Not Help. "I want to hear the long version," she says, after that quiet moment. There's no music playing in the car; likely, she cut it just before she called Ashley over to her truck. "I'd like to know what you found. Why you came to that conclusion." Maybe Kage is just thinking about Him. She doesn't ask if Ashley's going to try again. Of course Ashley's going to try again. [Riley Poole] Riley has to turn and look up to find the owner of the informative voice. When she sees who it is, Owen's hint of a smile is met with something bright and just shy of dazzling. Riley isn't the prettiest woman to wander into the restaurant, but she makes up for it with that smile, with her friendliness that belies a sudden and sometimes fiery temper. "Oh, neat!" she says in a way that says she clearly means it. Things like fundraisers, like gaming companies teaming up with the local Buddhist temple so they can have a Garden of Tranquility is very neat to her. Her brows raise and she looks back at Ashton when the woman greets Owen, and she looks back to the tall dark-haired man. Despite his box of noodles, she asks, "Would you like to join us?" [Owen Page] Hey stranger, how are you doing? "Alright." Neither of the two women seated there know this twenty-three year old Initiate too well. But they will, or must, be beginning to see that Owen had a tendency toward responding, depending on the moment and the amount of individuals present in short, often one worded answers. There is nothing clipped about it; simply succinct. He doesn't speak overly much unless there's a real need for it; when he doesn't have to, he tended toward quiet observation, or skulking. Riley smiles brightly at him, and asks if he'll join them, Owen cuts a look toward the door, and the crowd, then at the empty chairs. "Sure," he agrees, and moves around to take up a chair across from both. He doesn't take any of his layers off, and his leather jacket rustles softly with his movements; gives off the faint hint of old leather, comfortable and worn in. There is also, beneath the scents of cooking in the air, a hint of something more intimately the Chorister's, his own scent, that of leather and aftershave. The hands that set his container of food down are worker's hands, there is no doubt. [Ashley McGowen] Ashley cracks the door open and is about to swing out of the car, and then Kage says that she wants to hear the long version. Of course she does. Kage can't not ask. So Ashley sinks back in the seat with a sigh, turning her head so she can see Kage while she talks. There's a pause, another moment of quiet, because while it is easier at the moment to be more open with people, to relax more during the course of conversation, it does not detract from the intensely personal nature of a Seeking. "I was walking in the middle of a frozen lake," she says, "and I started to notice people dead underneath the ice. I followed them to a burning tower, and she was the last person left alive. She asked me to help her, so I gave her the tools and she used them and saved her life. If she hadn't been -willing- to fight I wouldn't have..." Ashley is biting the inside of her cheek, turning her head back again, glancing to the side out the window. The lighters faded a while ago. "I wasn't any different when I woke up. It told me later - well, not told me, it doesn't talk - but it communicated that she was supposed to die. And that seemed wrong to me. I fought it, and she fought it, and it...shouldn't have happened." She can't keep bitterness out of her tone here; it's all too new, and she can't help but find irony in the fact that it came about because she ignored her natural inclinations. "So that's the long version. Israel figured Jhor is kind of warping it and that's the problem." [S. Ashton Winters] "I need to get out of my box more often," she says, "the world's changing. People are putting in tranquility gardens, and I'm here puzzling over text messages." Always, always professional, but always tinged with something else. Something comfortable when she needs to. It's an attempt, a definite attempt, when she tries to make it all make sense and come across comfortably and easily. This isn't business. This is pleasure. And pleasure's always more complicated. "So, Riley," she starts again, "are you from here or are you a Chicago transplant?" [K. R. Jakes] The color orange is a fortuitous one; there is a reason orange chicken is the most delicious of the chicken dishes. Even the word orange carries with it some carnelian opulance, some style. The orange-robed monks, cosplay monks and the colourful cosplayers are loud. They're not very tranquil at all. Kage's right hand stays on the steering wheel and she regards Ashley steadily as she tells her story, speaks of people dead beneath ice, a burning tower, things that have alchemical symbolism. Mentions Israel's name. And that's the problem, Ashley says, and Kage opens her own door, hops out. "Well," she says, "That seems like a good reason to be particularly determined. After you, 'ley." And, like that, Kage -- a wary glance around -- circles her truck, locking it with her car-key instead of a button [pressing buttons (save it: for releasing the sharks)]. "We're going to Chen's." A tilt of her head, just a few buildings down: they can see the awning. "What was Henri wearing last time you saw her?" [Riley Poole] There are two cell phones on the table, one beside Riley's plate and one beside Ashton's. It doesn't take more than a casual glance to see that Riley's is newer, fancier, contains more bells and whistles. At the moment, the bells and whistles are silent, or appear to be. The screen lights up occasionally and noiselessly, but since Ashton sat down, the device has been ignored. Whoever is trying to contact her is just going to have to deal with silence on this end for a while. Riley herself attempts another bite of her noodles, gets interrupted before the bite reaches her mouth by a question, and she sets everything down into the bowl again. "Transplant, actually, but I was moved early so my roots are deep. My dad and I moved here when I was seven. We actually live on the north side, but when you get a craving for Chinese food, there's really nowhere else to go but Chinatown, right?" She rests her forearms on the edge of the table, leaning forward slightly, and does her best to look at both Ashton and Owen, including both in the conversation. [Ashley McGowen] She doesn't get much of an answer. But she didn't really expect one: Kage reflects on these things, accepts them for what they are and stores them away. Unlike Ashley, who usually has an opinion to offer on...just about everything. Though, she suspects, if Kage disapproved she would have said something. The Orphan opens her door and slips out and Ashley does likewise, waiting for her to circle around the truck and tell her where they're going. Once said, she falls easily into step next to Kage, eyes drifting skyward the way searching eyes do when Kage asks her about Henri. "Christ, it was a month ago..." She bites at the inside of her cheek again for a moment, lightly. "Pajama pants and...I can't remember the shirt. She looked like she hadn't changed her clothes in a while." Ashley keeps Kage to her left, trusting her to decide when they should cross the street. Friends are beneficial for such things. [Owen Page] You could mistake his silence for rudeness. Certainly, after he seats himself its a while until he opens his mouth and even then it's only to put stir fried noodles into it with fingers quite dexterous with the chopsticks. Owen ate carefully, but with a certain amount of speed that suggested he wasn't sure if he would linger long. Clearly, at some point, he'd developed the knack for handling Asian cuisine. His midnight blue gaze follows the flow of the conversation; Ashton asks, and Riley replies, then cuts a look across at him in some attempt at friendliness. There's some brief consideration of the young Apprentice's earnest expression before he leans back, discreetly wiping off grease with a napkin. "That's pretty accurate, yeah." Ashton notes that she needs to get out of her box more often, and it draws the reluctant Singer into conversation enough that he asks her: "What do you do?" It could have been a nicer way of asking what are you, but Owen doesn't make that distinction. [S. Ashton Winters] "Only place to find good Chinese food," she confirms. Agreeing with Riley. They are both infinitely better at this than she is. She watches them both, eyes are dark, hair is dark... and she's actually starting to get a little bit of a tan. It looks right on her. Doesn't make her look exotic by any means, it just makes Ashton look less like death and more like death warmed over. Less cold, more human. Everything melts. She is terrified of it. What is she? "ER Doctor, mommy, target practice, fitness fanatic. I try to keep a healthy degree of sleep deprived so people I interact with on a regular basis don't realize I'm boring," says the disciple. "What about you? Tutor? Are you a silent film enthusiast?" [Owen Page] There's a moment when Ashton is asking what he is that something like a quirk twitches at one corner of the young man's mouth. Could be the beginnings of a smile, but it never really progresses that far. It simply stays a suggestion of something like humor, or amusement at what the newly-discovered Doctor says. "Nothing you said," he says practically, as if she'd listed groceries. "Sounds boring." So, what is he? At the age he appears, he might well have been a college student, but silence answers this as he looks not at either female, but studies his hands, folded against his stomach in his lap. "Laborer, " he admits in a quiet tone; that explained the definition of a lean musculature under his shirt, his jacket, explained his rough, calloused hands. "I work maintenance at St James Cathedral." He glances between them, there's no faint sheen of blood warming his cheeks, but there is a certain amount of uncertainty to the confession of his profession. It's humble, and he's aware of it. [K. R. Jakes] Traffic has stalled. There are headlights -- oh, far away; in another story. Down the street. There's no steam rising from the sewers. There are going to be fireworks soon (and they won't wake the dead). A month ago, Ashley says, and Kage flicks the collar of her coat up, sharp against her throat (cut [you]). The red-haired woman doesn't explain why she asked; she may've just asked because she wanted her pajama bottoms back (thanks, Gregor). Or she could've asked, and this is probably what Ashley will think, because she is concerned; because she doesn't want the fuzzy-haired Ether Queen running mad in the streets, wearing nothing but dirt and a few threads. "A month ago's a long time," she says. "Time enough to finish two more chapters of a thesis, say. How's yours going? How do you and Ashton know each other, anyway? Is it as recent as I think?" - and then she is opening the door for Ashley. The Hermetic may enter first. [Ashley McGowen] "The thesis and I are having a prolonged war of contrition, wherein I feel guilty for not working on it and then scrap entire pages at a time once I've written them," Ashley says dryly. "But thanks for asking. As for Ashton, I was just at her house a couple of weeks ago," Ashley says, "and we talked for a while. I tried to talk her into getting out a little more. I like kids and all, but I think I'd go out of my fucking gourd if the most stimulating conversation I had for weeks was a toddler. We met at the house, back when the hunters were there in January." Kage opens the door for her, and she gives the Orphan a polite nod and steps inside. She has a little trouble picking Ashton out in the dim light, but finally her eyes do settle on the woman, who is sitting with...Owen. And is that Riley? Ashley squints. "Looks like Ashton's picked up some company, actually." She lifts a hand to wave as Kage follows her inside. Hopefully it'll catch the attention of one of them. [K. R. Jakes] to Owen Page, Riley Poole, S. Ashton Winters [and now that there are more of you-who-so-what-if-she-recognizes-you-from-that-meeting! percept+awareness, IN GENERAL.] [S. Ashton Winters] "I've been to Saint James," she says, "it's a beautiful place. Solid walls, good foundation." She says these things like they matter. Like she is looking at the house of God for what it is. For its solid walls, for its good foundation. She's a strange creature. -a strange creature whose phone vibrates unexpectedly. Eyes widen and she reaches for the phone. "-excusemeamoment." And she gets up to take the call. "Kaycee?" Oh, that poor babysitter... [Riley Poole] For apparently being the one most open, most capable of carrying a conversation, Riley falls silent as Owen and Ashton tell each other what it is they do. She doesn't offer up her own profession to the group, seems content to simply watch and learn. For the time being. About the time Ashton's phone vibrates, Riley picks up her own. Her mouth quirks into a frown as she reads the screen. And she groans. "I'm sorry, I have to go. If I'm reading this right, my dad's trying to set fire to the kitchen." She throws an apologetic glance at Owen as she pushes her seat back. She picks up her bowl with its not-nearly-finished noodles. "It's good to see you again, Owen." [K. R. Jakes] Kage chuckles (low [husk]). Amused. "Toddlers aren't so bad. I've seen toddlers more monstrous than Marcelle; talked to grown men and women who provide less stimulating conversation, too." And the Orphan pauses at the threshold of Chen's Noodle Shop because there is: someone who is both intense and corrosive; someone who is electric (pulse [faint]); someone who is frozen, wintry: more familiar. They're all at the same table, although Riley is getting up. "I'm going to order," she says, after a second. "Tell me what you want. I'll put it in for you. Why don't you go sit?" - and Ashton's standing, on her cellphone; and Kage, if she catches the deathmage's eye, raises an eyebrow, is that work, that sort've raise of an eyebrow. It's not coincidence that this separates Kage from the proceedings, isolates her [never us, always you and me]. She is pretty hungry. [Ashley McGowen] "So have I," she says, also amused, "but that still doesn't exactly make for a compelling case." Kage says that she is going to put in the order so that Ashley can go sit. The Hermetic looks sidelong at her, frowns a moment, and pauses on her way over to the tables. It's not so much empathy in her case as putting facts together, as connecting dots. Then she reaches over and grabs hold of Kage's elbow. "No," she says. And then, with a brightness that is more than a little facetious, "If I have to deal with this many people, so do you." [Owen Page] Both ladies get up, one for a phone call, the other because her parental figure is attempting to set fire to something integral to the continued structural integrity of their home. Owen doesn't do more than nod, and get up -- "Likewise," -- because that is apparently the polite thing to do. Then -- there's another two Mages entering and Owen nods at them, now, one assumes, on his own, or about to be. Perhaps that makes it a little better for Ashley, and for Kage. [S. Ashton Winters] "Well, it will come out.... I know it's ketchup... yes, it does... look, just don't worry about it. I'll clean it up when I get home, just make sure she doesn't play in it... okay... okay... well, or let her play in it. It makes her happy... I'll give her a bath... no, no she likes the water... Just put her in the si-no, nevermind. Just, I'll bathe her, it's fine.... okay... Kaycee? Kaycee... thank you... thank you? ... thank you bye." She hangs up by the time she's coming back. She sits herself back down. "... sorry." [K. R. Jakes] Ashton's things are at the table Owen's now alone at: dark-haired boy in a pool of solitude, skulking; the Euthanatos is speaking off in a corner, and Kage considers the likelihood of her leaving. Raincheck: it happens. (i>...sorry, Ashton says, sitting herself back down.) Then: Ashley reaches out and grabs hold of her elbow. The red-haired woman raises one eyebrow juuuust the infinitessimal fraction of an inch. Her opaque glance becomes less opaque. There's the logic I expect from a Hermetic. Discarded. Instead, Kage's mouth quirks: "The noodles aren't going to come to us unless they're told we want them. If you need to look at the menu," there, a life-line. And Kage'll cant her head order-windowways, the look shading to something (wry) questioning. [Riley Poole] Riley shrugs into her jacket, a simple black athletic number with a high collar to protect her throat. From the wind on a jog, maybe. Or bugs. She smiles again at Owen, friendly as always. When Ashton returns, Riley says, "I'm sorry, I have to go, but it was really nice meeting you, Ashton." The tall brunette moves away from the table once all goodbyes are finally out of the way and heads for the counter. She needs a box for her leftovers, and to order a whole new set to take home with her. When that is purchased and everything thrown into a plastic bag, the Virtual Adept weaves through the crowd and disappears into the night. [Riley Poole] [and Riley's out! thanks for the play, everyone!] [Ashley McGowen] Her had drops once it's been ascertained that Kage is not trying to make a stealthy exit (I'll tell them what you want, and an hour later you'll wonder where I am). There's a smirk, and a cursory glance at the menu, but she has been to this place several times and already has some idea of what she'd like. She points to one of the entrees. "That one." Riley and Owen are making an exit anyway. Both get a wave from Ashley on their way out, though she makes no effort to stop them, as she goes and slides into a chair across from Ashton. Her messenger bag is propped up alongside the legs of her chair. "Hi, Ashton. Sorry to keep you waiting." [Owen Page] But Owen doesn't sit himself back down, rather, he shuttles a glance at the pair of women apparently deciding whether or not they intend to linger and then indicates that he's on his way out by means of looking toward the exit where Riley is just-vanishing and murmuring a farewell to Ashton. It's polite, but as brief as ever. The Chorister returns Ashley's wave with a little hand raise; then the hood is drawn up, and in the seconds it takes someone to move past, he's vanished.