Cat's Cradle Complicated

This happens one night.

John St. Germain's phone vibrates or it rings or it bursts into some appropriate enough ringtone and the caller id says whatever the heck he has Lux's name as in his phone.

There is the static of the line coming alive on John's end, whatever it is she's entered into his phone as, and he answers a second or two after. "Doll, now's not the best time, but I can meet up in a couple hours. Anything time sensitive?" He sounds torn between two focuses of his attention, one of them now being his fellow blood-sucking friend on the other end of the conversation.

"Not terribly, but I miss your face." She sounds absolutely sincere. Then offhand: "Why don't you meet me at," some WoD-style all-night independent movie theatre which plays movies very few people go to see unless they need extra credit for a film class or they're really into foreign films,

"or better that dive bar around the corner."

Lux'll let John hang up first, then close her phone with a snap. As of teeth. Clack.

And there is John, a couple hours later and looking a bit tired in his eyes, though the rest of his body as fit - whole and hale - as the day he died. He's taking up a booth in the back of that bar, the type to know someone everywhere, but also the type to shoo off the kine the gather around him when he sees Lux walking through that door. Adjacent to the jukebox and speakers that radiate music out toward the front of the railroad long dive, it's as private a place as anywhere for them to talk.

Look, Lux. If beauty is a weapon, Lux is a killer who is her instrument of war. If beauty is an instrument, honey, she's the kind you'd play on if you were trying to redeem the Devil with music, the kind that'd make even a fool have a chance at that one perfect note, etcetera. She's dressed down insofar as 'down' means 'things that don't need to be drycleaned.' Drycleaning is a bitch when drycleaners close at five. Lady in creams and ivories, only pale antiqued colors. Modern button-down blouse, no sleeves, high collar, high waist, skirt with baroque flourishes over it, heels that are the brown of good teak, open-toe, criss-cross, tassel-laces, cute.

Lux heads over to John directly, not stopping to give so much as the ghost of a smile to anybody else; she's strictly stealth right now, is Lux, and if she's a comet, fuck the shrapnel meteors trying to drag her wake down. The Brujah gets a real smile though; something that touches her eyes, punctuated by the a what's up lift of her chin and then a cool kiss on the forehead, or the cheek, or the corner of the mouth, before she slouches/collapses into the booth herself.

"Everything okay, John? You look like the last mint in a men's room mint bowl, or maybe the third to last peanut in the peanut bowl, just a little around the eyes."

John St. Germain

The dive bar's patrons clear their little corner and the music leaves them to private conversation in the dim light of its noisy orifices.

The Brujah Anarch's garb is dripping hipster chic. A checkered button up and a canvas green army surplus jacket, note the hat, part-beret part-driving cap, pulled back foppishly on his head. Carpenter's pants and scarred and scuffed once-oxblood leather boots.

John seems please to take that kiss Lux offers right on the forehead, even leans into it, hands up to take her wrists with fingertips ever so lightly for just a moment. Strange how such strong hands can be delicate when handling something so exquisite. It steers her gingerly into the seat across from him. And he nods.

Yes, he's aware he looks...

"Worn the fuck out," that's his answer with a nod. "The Dungeons and Dragons crowd pushing me left and right and I don't know which way I'm going. They're locking down University like it's Settlers of Catan and they're the kids sitting at the nerdy table in the dining hall. Except with knives. Never seen warlocks so tough. Nothing roundabout about their methods," John begins, and he has a glass in his hand, starts swirling the liquid inside to dilute the ice-turning-water into that whiskey before he takes a gulp.

He'd always cultivated a wolf-in-sheep's-clothing demeanor amongst the kine, and still being able to enjoy their luxuries like a drink after a hard day - though he'd have to bite one to feel the effects of the alcohol - had always been one of the perks.

Not that getting the stuff out of his system later on would be fun.

Continuing on a moment later, "Stack Ezra's little pet project on top of that," said like he remembered clearly her reaction, are you serious? "Along with the Sabbat either trying to recruit or tear you to bits for not knowing the secret handshake, and I'm just trying to keep my head above water."

"But you," he moves on. "You look look like one of those fancy candies. How you keep the mouthbreathers from gobbling you right up when you go a-hunting, I'll never know." Oh, he knows. It was just a fun way of delivering his compliment to her ears.

Lux

Lux doesn't seem surprised at the 'Dungeons and Dragons' crowd pushing John around, that is, after all, one of the reasons she wanted to talk to him, 'missed his face,' and she flows up outta that insouciant slouch to rest her elbows on the table instead, her pretty mouth pursed, and boy, her eyes could cut diamonds right now, that look they get because the rest of it surprises her, but hey at least John clearly isn't the diamonds they're interested in cutting. See, there's this latent energy that just coils through her like that, all ozone and burning and Lux doesn't need to breathe but she does anyway.

"I heard about Malcolm. I mean to try to break his heart for you," and she means it, see. Offhand: " - well, you know, one way or another. Fuck them claiming University and fuck them acting badass."

Then: "About Ezra's little project. You've really been... I mean, Edward? Did anything get decided after Ev and I left?" 

Lux

Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (5, 5, 9) ( success x 1 )

John St. Germain

John pauses. And the pause is deliberate. Like there's something he wants to say, but it needs some coaxing. Like...

Like he wants her to force it out of him. To wrap him around her little finger, like she does so well, and get him to sing like a bird. Share whatever it is that's suddenly weighing on him when she mentions Edward and - well, by extension, the other ghoul. Simon.

See him there, John St. Germain, even turning away from her like he's casting his focus elsewhere. Away and out into the dive bar. Like Lux could ever really lose his attention.

"It's complicated," he says in an detached way. But by the end, when the weight of what they're talking about - what she doesn't know they're really talking about - is settling in.

Kali

Kali does love her dive bars.  They make for wonderful little places just to sit back and people watch.  And if there's one thing Kali loves more than keeping her neck safe, it's people watching.  Of course, watching people requires that you NOT be the focus of attention, so she's not doing the sexed-up biker look when she slips inside...instead it's a more toned-down look of a black tank top, miniskirt and leather jacket, with mid-calf-length boots that have semi-spikey heels.

Hey, I said more toned-down.  Not completely toned-down.

She slips inside, giving a quick look around, and a little grin is on her face as she makes her way across from the door to the bar.  She takes note of a couple of her kind in the corner and she gives a wide grin.  She heats a cigarette to life and takes a lean against the bar, nodding in their direction in greeting to them both.  She knows each of them, albeit in different ways.

Amber

A woman walks into the dive bar.  She is tall, and she is wearing a short-sleeved green t-shirt with a sleeveless black hooded shirt over it, the hood pulled up over her head.  Her jeans are dark, with huge gaping holes at the knees and enough of a flare to cover her boots.  There's a messenger bag, as well, crossed over her toros, the pouch resting against her right hip.  The hair that spills out from under the hood is brown streaked with bright red.  The face?

The face is lovely, one supposes.  It's solid and grounded, earthy.  But that face is sort of scowling and there are bags under the murky green eyes and tight pull her lips.

Amber glances around in the wake of the the woman in the spikey heeled boots, taking in and dismissing everyone she sees before making her own way to the bar.  The seat she takes is one down from the other woman.

Slouching forward to rest her elbows on the bar, she waits for the bartender to notice her presence.  And hopes for a moment or two that no one else does.

Lux

Lux is as stressed as she has been (ever). There's something in her that's just looking for a fight: spoiling for it, you might say, the desire for a fight or a game or a contest is like foam being thrown up on the sea, and you know what you get when you add blood to foam, right? Venus, naturally: love is blood and salt, babies, don't you forget it. So John plays coy and Lux's lashes sink, hood her would-still-cut-diamonds eyes and casts 'em into shadow, and for a second she just wants to hit him. She assuages this desire by putting one foot up on the booth seat next to him, not coincidentally the better to lock him into place: keep your attention here, Johnny.

"And?"

"I like complicated, John, especially if it's cat's cradle complicated. I like you, don't I?"

About this time, a bright red-haired Kali gets her attention--snags it, you might say, when she nods, and Lux nods back, although she doesn't seem as warm and hi there kiss kiss as usual. Though hey: that girl at the bar is really pretty. Lux's gaze flicks from Kali and then over her and then back to John.

John St. Germain

His attention goes to Kali first, a Kindred he owes no small debt to, and he returns that smile with one of his own - far from begrudging, though a little off-put by her sudden appearance in the middle of a conversation with Lux. And of course, his attention can't help but get snagged on its trail-tugged back to the contents of the booth, namely Lux...

The Brujah had been delicate, yes, so delicate with her.

And yes, he is complicated. Because there is strength to that delicacy. He leans forward in the booth, once she's hooked his attention. Turned his head back with the point of a scythe, or the curve of her boot like a shepherd's staff. His face turns back, and the dark Middle Easter (maybe Persian, and a serving of French showing in the Hexagonal geometry lent to its structure) features of it grow even more shadowy as he puts for a single question in the form of a whisper between the two.

Its content lost in the din between the two Anarchs.

And then, like it would be rude to not regard and acknowledge Kali more fully, turns back. "My savior. Benevolent lord and master of my existence," waving this time, though still no shortage of tiredness set in around his eyes. The greeting loud and boisterous enough he may be trying to catch the entire bar's attention, including Amber.

John St. Germain

The whisper: "What do you think happened to Winthrop? Rasmussen certainly seems happy not to look into it."

Lux

[Man, I'm cool. Manip + Subt.]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (5, 7, 7, 9, 10) ( success x 4 )

Kali

[[Are you really cool?  REALLY?  Per+Sub]]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 4, 5, 8, 9, 9) ( success x 3 )

Amber

[I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S HAPPENING BUT I WANT TO ROLL TOO (even though it is impossible): percept+subt]

Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (5, 9, 9) ( success x 2 )

Kali

Make no mistake...Kali loves to snoop.  She joked once to a Nosferatu, years ago, that if she wasn't ridiculously vain she'd trade her clan for his in a heartbeat, but that isn't true...she loves bieng a Ravnos, even if she doesn't love all other Ravnos.  However, she does have a wide respect for the so-called "Sewer Rats" and she does share that penchant for eavesdropping that gets all the dark little tidbits that are worth knowing.

That being said, she's not snooping tonight.  For one, she's flush with success from her recent acquisition and she's not out for business, but to enjoy herself.  Second, she considers Lux and John allies, for even if they are of different sects their mindset is probably more similar to hers than that of her Ivory Tower sectmates.  And this is not to say she won't spy on allies, but she doesn't make a habit of it unless she has a more specific reason to.  It tends to cause hurt feelings, and hurt feelings is exactly how 90% of all blood feuds begin, usually culminating in the cost of someone's unlife.

That's right.  If you ask Kali, most centuries-long vampiric wars are started because of the pre-technology equivalent of "You unfriended me on Facebook?!?!?!?"  Thank the gods most Elders think computers are the devil.

She looks over her shoulder, following Lux's gaze to the woman who just came in.  Again, Kali's in a good mood, which means that she feels playful.  Kali isn't malicious to humans...there's someone elsewhere that certainly knows that.  But she doesn't have any qualms about the fact that she is not good for them; she hunts them for food and she peddles slow dependency and death in chemical form.  Which means that she can get a little capricious from time to time.  Which can be seen in the way she eyes the girl, sizing up a potential meal, before John bellows.

She looks over his way and grins.  Seems like it's okay to say hi, and she raises a hand to wave.  "I'm just the girl with the camera.  S'up, Home Depot?"

Amber

There are eyes on her.  There are always eyes on Amber.  She stands out, whether she likes it or not - which she doesn't.  It shows in the way her shoulders hunch a little more and something about that posture gets a little more surly.  A hand comes up, pinches the fabric of her hood and tugs it a little further down her face.  It doesn't matter, though.

What has been seen cannot be unseen.

Someone gets boisterous in a dive bar.  Oh be still her heart, what a unique and special snowflake you are.

She does not look over with the other woman.  The bartender arrives and she orders the cheapest beer on tap.  It'll be swill, she knows, but it'll do the trick.

Lux

John whispers; Lux looks at him, unblinking and intent - go ahead and call it ardent. Then: "You are a magnificent bastard," she says since he gets immediately boisterous, and it's precise as a stiletto through the ribs, you know how it is: slip of shadow over silk, admiring.

Elbows on the table, and now it's her determined little chin cupped in the palm of her hand, the other hand reaching for a napkin which she one-handedly unfolds.

John St. Germain

"Right place, right time, is it? So, does that mean I can tear up the IOU?" He holds it in his hand, an intangible piece of imaginary paper he mimes trying to, but can't quite seem to tear into bits or even half, and instead, holds it out, hand open and down to give her hand a how-you-doin' type slap if she offers her own.

"Don't know if you heard," the Brujah continues, letting that complinsult slide over him gleefully, gesturing toward Kali with his thumb. "She helped me out with a splinter. Got it in one of those hard to reach places," shaking with continued laughter, again swirling his drink and taking a sip of it.

Someone at their table and in a bar has to be drinking. And he seems to have the knack - the ability to - do so.

Kali

Before she makes her way over, she pauses and looks back at the bartender, sliding over a card to start a tab.  "Her drink is on me."  A dusky thumb, made warm and alive by an expenditure of vitae earlier, points itself at Amber and she smiles to the girl.  That's a future investment...it may not be cashed in tonight, but some time it will.

The Ravnos' grin ratchets up in reaction to John's hopeful joke that the IOU could be gone, and she makes her way over.  "See, that's what I love about you, man.  You're such a funny guy!  I always appreciate a good jokester."  She does meet his hand with hers briefly in a slap/grab sort of motion, a stance of camaraderie.  "Mind if I join you guys?  Not meaning to intrude at all, but here's two of my favorite social revolutionaries right here."

Lux

[Why not!]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (3, 4, 7, 8, 10) ( success x 3 )

John St. Germain

[ What it is? ]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (5, 7, 9, 9, 9) ( success x 4 )

Kali

[[Per+Sub!  I must know!]]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 6, 6, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 5 )

Amber

"I don't take charity," is the immediate response from the hooded female.  She angles her head and fixes Kali's smiling, pleasant face with a look that can only be described as brusque.  Her eyes, a muddy green in the low light, shift to fix on the bartender with a look that then says Don't.  You.  Even.

Lux

The napkin out on the table means that Lux, still one-handed, but she's deft enough, undoes the flap of her purse and gets out a charcoal pencil, starts writing or drawing or doing something that's probably far more artistic than a paper bar napkin that's already a little wet from condensation deserves, but that's kind of the point isn't it. Lux smiles at Kali, dredges it up and out, pressing her spine against the booth's seat and in a gesture of inclusion taking her foot off've the seat next to John's thigh. She even scoots over to make room for Kali of the Ravnos, and the compressed [kill the stars with a] smile ticks up lopsided.

"I don't mind at all. Wanna draw on me again?" Pause. "Actually, I do have a question for you. Do you know a girl called Bo who wants to be a dragon slayer?"

John St. Germain

[ What it is? ]

Lux

For John: Lux isn't in a particularly welcoming mood tonight, though she's pretending to be. There's something Kali reminded her off which she's not pleased about. He knows her well enough he can probably see it in the way she uses her eyelashes; the gleam in her eye; even the way she wields that nonchalant posture, just so.

Lux

For Kali: Lux isn't in a particularly welcoming mood tonight, though she's pretending to be as a matter of course and courtesy. It doesn't seem to be about Kali, although after a tick, Kali can probably see the moment that she reminds Lux about something that is kindling all sort of not great feelings. A recent sore spot; something angry. Again, not about Kali, but Kali's reminded her of it: it's like stirring your hand through seawater and the luminous algae starts to glow.

John St. Germain

Kali's offer gets snubbed by on of all the women who independent and she joins them. Asks for a seat with her favorite social dissidents and they are happy to oblige.

John had already seemed prepared to shift over and give the deceiver a bit of room in the booth. But maybe this is better, two women sitting across from him, and he can see both of their faces. Take them in from the other side of the banquet and gauge the interplay of emotions at work here.

But he doesn't do so quietly. Instead, he jumps in, "More Dungeons and Dragons nerds fucking up our nights?" In anticipation of Kali's answer to Lux's question.

Another glance over the bar's way at Amber, though. Because who could help it? Not John. Not even with two handsome she-predators sitting across from him.

Kali

"If you don't, I'm not buying your most expensive bottle of whatever the hell you have that's expensive!" she shouts over at the bartender when Amber says no.  It's said in a giddy, carefee manner, though it's clearly joking.  She gives a little shrug and smile to Amber as if to say 'Sorry,' and lets it go.  That's right...the drug lord is in a good mood tonight.  Gods help us all. 

But then, Lux speaks, and she looks to the woman.  "Aww, Light of my Dark Little World...you know I'll draw on you any time you want."  She grins, though the grin quirks a little bit as Lux asks about a dragon-slayer named Bo.  There's a slight narrowing of the eyes, but it's merely an instinct and she lets it go quickly.

"I actually would happen to know.  She's my new personal assistant.  Why do you ask?"  It's thoroughly friendly but clearly asked in a more...intent manner.  Protective instincts.

Amber

The bartender is put in the least tough spot one might imagine.  Either he sells a bottle of their most expensive liquor and he has some weird girl glaring daggers at him all night, or he misses a sale and the weird girl probably still glares daggers at him.  Yeah, he's not really that scared of the weird girl.

When he gives Amber this kind of a Well you heard the lady shrug just before he sets the drink down she grits her teeth.

"Tch.  Forget it."  She shoves off from her seat, the movement so forceful she almost knocks the chair over.  It wobbles and returns to its feet on its own, which is good.

Because the hooded woman is storming angrily for the door.

Lux

Lux laughs: quiet. "No, though I did actually ask her if she ever played. I haven't, have you? Is that what was happening when Kali stepped in by the by, John? They were kicking you out?"

Lux has been avoiding looking at Amber again: Amber, with her lovely, lovely face, a face she tries to hide with a hood but that never works, that just halos beauty in rags, look at Donkeyskin, she got found out in the end. She does look at her when she gets up so angry, angry, and storms toward the door.

Her voice isn't exactly carrying; she's not John. Her social graces are quietly intimate: at least right now. So when she says this, it's for Kali, and the Brujah across the table.

"Because she was telling some guy I know, a beautiful innocent, that vampires are real. Which, bless you True Blood and terrible fiction about gorgeous and damaged men falling for strong and damaged and also coincifuckingdently gorgeous women, sure. But you know how it is."

John St. Germain

"I don't get kicked out of anywhere," he says, feigning indignation. "We had a misunderstanding about where I wanted a piercing," though the weathered look is creeping back as he considers his loss of domain and business. "And Kali got a picture or two for my malpractice lawsuit," a nod.

This next part, well, John delivers it pretty loudly again. Audible over the din, and maybe to the ears of Amber's retreating form on her way out.

"Came to the bar and got a drink bought for her. Woe of woes. I'm sure that's never happened before," a deep laugh as he slaps the table, John actually gets up out of his seat to go and retrieve whatever two dollar pint of piss Kali's money had gotten the lady.

He turns back to return to the table, taking a gulp of it and turning up his lip. "Did you say vampires are real?" Another sip, glancing up to see if anything he'd said had halted Amber.

Amber

[did I hear something?: alert]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (6, 7, 10, 10) ( success x 4 )

Amber

[uh.  you gonna die tonight, Amber?: short fuse]

Dice: 2 d10 TN6 (7, 9) ( success x 2 )

Kali

The Ravnos listens as Lux explains that Bo let the beans slip.  Her eyes scrinch up, and she drops her head to the table with an audible 'thud.'  "You know," she says in a weary voice.  "You try to be a nice girl, and look what happens."

It's said in a good-natured but annoyed tone, and she looks up apologetically, settling her chin on her hand, elbow balanced on the table.  "Fuck me."  Her tone lowers so that it doesn't carry beyond the table for this one.  "I'll talk to her.  I had to bring her into things in a rather...unorthodox manner to keep her from getting the permanent roofie before I got my shot.  I impressed things more seriously on her later, but..."

She sighs.  "It was a slip.  We've all done it once, right?"  Her eyes follow John to Amber when he speaks up, curious to see how this is going to turn out.

Amber

She hears, of course she hears.  Sometimes when she's feeling particularly agitated her hearing gets a bit acute, particularly for insults.  It's like some part of her wants her blood to boil, to rage, to spill over so that she sees red.  Red in the air, red on her hands, red on herself.

She hears the voice sailing easily over the din of the crowd and she pauses.  A few steps from the door she pauses.

Her upper body turns a little and she twists so that her feet point forward but she's looking over her shoulder back toward the man.  And if he looks at her, if the others look at her, they can see the way her muscles of her arms bunch and shift beneath her olive toned skin as her hands clench to fists.  They can almost see the way the muscle in her cheek works as her teeth grind and grind.

There is fury in her eyes.  Fury for John and for men like him, who think they're so fucking clever.  Fury for people like Kali, forcing their supposed goodwill on people when it's clearly not wanted.  Fury for Lux because, well, unfortunately she happens to be sitting with them.

Her head jerks away, and Amber continues to the door.  Her body slams into the crossbar with a whud! and she flings the door open.  And she hurls herself into the night.

Lux

[Aw, you mad, girl? I HAVE MORE EMPATHY NOW. Is it gonna work?

Look I just wanna roll the new dicepool.]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (6, 6, 7, 8) ( success x 4 )

Lux

Lux follows John's glance back over to Amber, and she does find him amusing: Woe of woes, I'm sure that's never happened before. But she listens to Kali as she answers, but watches the fury transfigure Amber. Amber, who was already transfiguring. Amber whose name is a thing that bugs and air bubbles get stuck in, preserved forever as if sunlight could be turned to stone, amber is electric, Amber. Lux watches her, oh indeed, eyebrows pricking up like there's a question she's already got the answer to but has to ask anyway, and Kali says it's a slip, we've all done it once, and Lux says, rather wryly, "I kind-of gathered she was going through some things and some shackle-loving snake-tongued fuckyou was putting on the moves. But this other guy, I'm invested in him not knowing anything about anything, you know? I want him to," and Lux shakes her head, looking away, it's quiet, it's all sublimation and withdrawal, self-containment.

Then: "Hey, the art critic the other day: was her name Mercy? Johnny, you want me to buy you a drink? I'll buy you anything if you describe it sweetly enough to me, wielding details with that surety I know you can be so damned good at."

John St. Germain

John is distracted for a moment by the woman he's looking after, barely putting much effort into what he says to answer Kali's question...

"I don't think either of us are going to tatt-"

Oh.

She heard.

Whud!

The look returned with a hardened one. Jaw set. Eye narrow. And the flinch of a sudden smile that breaks it open like a pinata at the fury aimed back.

"Tattle," finally looking back.

Like he knows what Lux is thinking: "A woman after my own heart. I remember having that kind of fire," and it's still there, the rage, channeled into the Anarch's words instead of fists. Because right now all is going right.

Right now the bonfire has a friendly gathering to cast its warmth on, and that's what it's doing. But there's always that undercurrent. Even now, when he's tired. That live wire that might brush against he wrong conductor and...

Well, maybe one night they'd find out.

But until then, he takes another sip of the drink and takes a seat.

"This one," holding out his drink in the light, for Lux to see the piss-not-amber tones of it. "This is not one you want me to describe so sweetly. Words like... Pop-plop-fizz, but not the Alka Seltzer, more the piss that comes after it. Stale as the ferment that goes into bread," another sip, like he's savoring the terribleness of it. "Kind of languors on the palette, like sweat after a hard day's work, in a carpenter's crack."

It's around this time that Lux's cell phone, a boon of an interruption if there ever was one, might chime, vibrate, maybe play a programmed tune to tell her she has a text message from a certain someone.

John St. Germain

A tattling text from that Guy Friday ghoul of Lux's. A problem at the warehouse. He's already on his way to check it out. Got a call from the police about a possible break in. But it's World of Darkness: Denver, and who knows if it's anything more than just a junky looking for something to sell for a fix.

Kali

She nods to Lux, her expression still vaguely contrite.  "I get it.  That was kinda how I was hoping to bring Bo in, but if wishes were horses...ah, fuck it, I got a Harley.  What the fuck do I need horses for?"

She takes a drag off of her cigarette and leans back in the bar, looking from Lux to John, then back.  "So it didn't do too much damage to your situation?  Anything I can do to help ease it for you, just lemme know, okay?"

She grins at John when he makes a critique of the drink she inadvertantly bought him.  "That's the most impressive way to say 'tastes like ass' I've ever heard, man.  You gotta goddam gift for words, y'know that?"

She looks over at Lux's phone, but no more than a momentary thing.  It's not like she doesn't get constantly texted and called herself.  Working women of the night--and not like that.  Get your minds out of the gutters.

Lux

[I am kind-of cool. Diff upped, because she's not trying that hard.]

Dice: 5 d10 TN9 (2, 6, 8, 9, 9) ( success x 2 )

Lux

[That was manip sub, obv.]

John St. Germain

[ John: Taking her temperature. ]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 7, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )

Kali

[[Per+Subt]]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 4, 5) ( fail ) [BOTCH]

Lux

Lux is one of those fables about ice pretending to be glass right now: something just came and punched her and now there're all sorts of cracks spiderwebbing out, all cut-cut, cut-cut. John knows her well -- huh? It's in the set of her shoulders, you know. And it's in her eyes, even if she's keeping her lashes low to try and hide it, in the way that she goes so taut: absolute and intense panic-hate-oh-FUCK-nonono, leashed of course, Lux is intractable, but still -- panic's up like a flag and the wind's blowing, or something.

Lux

Lux is apparently very, very, very moved by that text; her lashes are low, and there's this tension to her, like she's just gotten a love letter that strikes her, like she's in danger of being entranced, what a dreamy creature and look at the way she rounds her shoulders there, she is about to swoon.

John St. Germain

"We all need backup some time," like he's replying to Kali's offer of easing it for Lux, but, maybe he's more throwing it Lux's way, an offer of backup when he picks up on whatever she's got going on at the other end of that text message she glances at, playing a discordant symphony of heart strings.

Kali

Kali throws the Anarch a little cock of her head, and a quirked sort of grin.  She is tempted to give the other a hard time...but Kali is not one to do a lot of girl-talk.  So she just smiles a bit and looks to John, also missing that the "backup" line could be for the Toreador.

"No argument there.  No man's an island.  Though if they could be, I would totally be Iceland.  I want an ironic name like that."

Lux

Lux reads her text, and -- well. John and Kali are a pair of sharp-eyed creatures, aren't they? They're like harpies their own selves: They see Lux. People almost always see Lux, because Lux is a beautiful, ornamental thing. For whatever reason, she doesn't seem to be paying much mind to John and Kali, doesn't even get to give John her appreciation for that lovely and visceral description (she'd watched him intently, you know; the girl liked to hang around beat poets once-upon-a, after all), but now she is texting back. Text, text, text-text.

Then and only then: the precise lift of eyebrow, and, "My situation? Oh, with ... Well, we'll see. He's had a frustratingly difficult week, in terms of people playing by no rules at all except their own. Why can't everybody be game to play the game, eh? It's rather fun."

She is rambling, just a little: but she's Lux, so she does it with enough style that the stream of consciousness isn't too obvious.

"I need a ride somewhere. John, you up for it? And oh no, Kali. You would still be Kali. That's your name; make it into an island queendom - make them talk about it and remember 'Kali' as more than just a goddess. Be a revolution and an age to shape all ages after. Atlantis, maybe."

Lux! Stop rambling! 

Lux

Text, text: Shit! I'm coming by too.

John St. Germain

John nods. Sets about backing up. Backing up boiling down to chugging down the rest of that beer though not setting the glass down.

He nods to Lux, "You know it. Car's around the side," and then looks to Kali through the glass.

"I bet you're still way short of the minimum on a tab, but I'm sure you'll be able to find a little thing worth buying drinks for and walking home. Or wherever you go to do that thing you do," standing up, he slaps around for a pack of cigarettes and waits for Lux to join him upright to head out to that promised vehicle.

Kali

Something about what Lux says--that's your name--it, for whatever reason, strikes a chord in the Ravnos.  She smiles at the Toreador, in a more sincere way than her usual snark, and nods.

"Hey, you guys take care of yourselves, okay?  You're some of my favorite peeps in this here city.  Don't make me go on a mad avenging rampage like I'm the heroine of some 70s exploitation extravaganza."

She grins a bit to John after, the snark returning.  "Yeah, that's the plan.  Catch you two later."