Do you know what you're looking for?

John

He didn't belong in the library. It fit him like hand-me downs when you were a kid. He just sort of slunk in and hoped nobody would notice the baggy seams, holes and mismatched colors. His avatar was probably stewing, ready to slap him around the ears for being this retarded, but there he was. He asked the lady at the counter for sections on the 'paranormal' or 'occult' and she looked at him like he was missing a few screws. She pointed him to a computer and shuffled away to do whatever it is librarians do in this age of digitization.

So he searched the computer and it pointed him to a corner of an upper floor where some hipsters in black were eyeing books in groups of two or three, peering up suspiciously from their texts and thumbing their lenseless glasses back up the bridges of their noses. One of them would point out something and the others would gather around and make little 'hmmm' noises.

John perched among them like a dog on a water slide. Trying not to get his feet wet but at the same time trying to catch the duck at the pool end.

Táltos

[Percept+Awareness, to get this thang going?]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (3, 5, 6, 7, 8) ( success x 3 )

Táltos

Táltos, tall and gangling, all lank and spindle, shank and height, fits in a library as well as he fits anywhere; which is to say, he fits becaues he is present, not because he matches the décor. He is wearing the same summer-jacket that John saw him in the night previously, but his yellow teeshirt has been swapped out for, uh, well, for no teeshirt at all, just pale flesh and some hair, and ladies he does not have a six-pack, you cannot grate cheese on these abs, but the jacket's there for modesty and it's a hot day. There's a medallion around his neck, a couple of other necklaces (charms) on leather-string, and his pants are a dark maroon. He has a bandana tied around his head, keeps that mane of sun-kiss'd wild thorn-snarly brown outta his eyes, and he's got another another one tied around his left arm; the colors are folksy-orange, egg-shell blue. Instead of the sharp-toed boots of yesternight, he's got on sketchers, duct-taped together. And he towers, of course; he casts a long shadow, brings with him this vibrant sense of Beguilement (Devil-may-tempt), of Lust[for-life, it's Love], and he's reading a book in a corner when he becomes Aware of John's resonance again. The resonance is what has him hauling himself out of the chair, his patch in the sunlight, and dragging himself up the stairs, into the corner of the library peopled by goths and teenagers and those who smell of patchouli and incense, instead of the historical area he was frequenting before.

He's not quiet or sneaky. He walks over to John, and some of the bracelets on his wrist clink and sing, and -- well, John has time to react before there's an 'and.'

John

There was time to react, still, he could have reacted sooner. In front of him was a book about ghosts and possessions, neither of which was likely to help the would-be mage. Upon the approach of a real fringe-dweller, the goths and teenagers decided they wanted to take their little gathering elsewhere. The combination of how genuine Táltos' was, and how un-hip John was, made the area suddenly not so appealing. John looked up when they started to leave and that's when he saw the tall man. 

He immediately looked back at his book in the hopes the other man hadn't seen him. A moment later his chin raised again and this time he held the other's gaze. 

"You following me or something?" He asked. The feeling that had followed the tall man out of the noodle shop was coming back, that beguilement, lustiness. It all smacked of something weird. John closed the book and pushed it away from him as if he hadn't been reading it. 

Táltos

There was more, of course. The harrowing, as if bones and flesh might be flensed. But directed not outward, kindling specifically toward and upon the tall man. It's different from the way Táltos feels, different from the way Táltos's companion felt, and the other two Magi (John Doesn't Know What They Are) in the noodle shop. He hasn't felt anything like that before, and he hasn't felt anything like it since. Of course, give him time -- he'll rack up plenty of questionable experiences.

Táltos is giving John a curious, shrewd sort of once-over. "Nah, man," he says. "This meeting is chance, if you believe in that sort of thing." But the next thing Táltos says isn't calculated to reassure the other man: "But lemme ask you a question. Do you know what you're looking for?"

He doesn't sound sly, even if beguilement is part of his resonance, is an intrinsic facet of his personality and the way he works his Will upon the world. He sounds honestly curious, and perhaps, at last, a little measuring.

John

A look of annoyance flushed over John's features. He had a short fuse lately that had a direct correlation with his slipping control of his life. Everything about the other man screamed 'strange' to John and it wasn't just the wacky clothes or the abundance of jewelry. He gave off a feeling that was so precise and unquestionable, that John wasn't sure what to make of it. He brushed a hand back through his hair and scratched at the newly growing stubble on his jaw. 

"What the fuck's that supposed to mean?" He replied, his voice tense, because the question sounded a lot more meaningful than the words let on. He remembered what Táltos had said before leaving the noodle house and the hairs on the back of his neck started to rise.

He looked away. He looked back. Away and back. 

"Man, this what you do for kicks? Go say cryptic shit to people you don't know?"

Táltos

Táltos snorts a laugh. His nose is a keepsake of his Slavic heritage, large with a crook but also rather narrow and aristocratically-shaped. His nostrils flare when he snort-laughs, two indents appearing above them. John will possibly get the impression that Táltos found what he said humorous, probably because he did. "Nah, man. But you're -- " and it's probably just another disconcerting thing in a long list of disconcerting things, the way Táltos is studying him, his owl-eyes and owl-eyebrows all a-squint (for the former, just the left though) and a cock (for the latter, just the right though). "How long have you been dealing, alone," and here, Táltos flicks a dismissive look and then waves a dismissive hand at the occult books John had planted himself in front of, "with strangeness? I take it not very long."

John

John sat back in his chair. He could do this when he really wanted. He could flick a switch and put on that 'like a give a fuck' demeanor that only young kids from the gutter had access to. Others could attempt it, imitate it, but you only got the real deal when you were sitting across from someone who really the gig. If they weren't indoors it looked like he might light up a cigarette, take a drag from it, glance at nothing, tap his foot, chuckle to himself. But he just sat there and smacked his lips once. 

"Why, you some sort of expert or something? Recruiting for your club? It's a recent interest. What can I say, this shits getting popular on CW." 

Táltos

He snorts another laugh, this one less well-contained than the other. He has been looming, it would seem, over poor John, and now he decides to put a stop to that. Táltos walks around John's chair and collapses into the one across from him. His long, long legs make his knees seem like they're jabbing up, because there's a low cubed table between John and Táltos now, and there's not a lot of legroom on the other side of that table.

"I do not recruit," there is emphasis on the 'I', which implies that while he may not do the recruiting, someone or something else does, and there is also actually a club. "But yeah." He cocks his head to the side, a furrow appearing between his eyebrows. "Compared somebody as new as maybe you are I could be - " he smiles, briefly, but it's a place-holder expression more than anything else " - the dictionary."

"So I will repeat my question. How long have you been dealing, alone, with strangeness? And add a second: Do you need help?" 

Táltos

ooc: Ugh. Add a 'to' between 'Compared' and 'somebody.'

John

He took his time to reply. He watched the man sit down. He watched him cock his head and felt his eyes narrow at how comfortable the other man seemed. John didn't feel comfortable at all. That sort of canyon of difference was never one you wanted to be on the other side of when in a situation like this. Slowly he leaned forward in his chair, placed both elbows on the low table which made his back arch and contort to accommodate the movement, but it gave a semblance of secrecy to his words. He glanced around them then back at Táltos.

"Look man, I don't know much about this. Like I said I'm new to this stuff but like.. none of these books have shit." He waved his hand in frustration. "Do I want help? Fuck no, help's never free and I'm broke. Do I need help?" He shrugged his shoulders, waited a moment to continue, debating his words. "You ever hear anything about like.. dreams.. like not dreams but I mean they are weird like dreams. But they feel real. Except you're in weird places.. or like.. sometimes.." 

He was tapping his foot erratically, chewing on his lips. Then he just said it. 

"Sometimes I can feel people. When I can't see them. Or time."

"When I got no watch."

"This is fucking crazy, forget it."

Táltos

[But first a roll. Char + Expression + 'Fascinating' Specialty.]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (2, 5, 5, 5, 7, 7, 9, 10, 10, 10) ( success x 6 ) Re-rolls: 3

Táltos

[OKAY. Now we can pause, John! Now you can flee!]

John

[*Flees!*]