|
Ah, Maddy's Diner. This is the social hub of Quinn's universe; his meticulous food budget allows him to eat at Maddy's as often as possible - at least once per day. He's there tonight, table loaded with a variety of things: a milkshake, half-full tin sweating on the veneer. A plate of cheese fries being steadily worked on, with a little cup of ranch dressing. Quinn appears to be absorbed in his work; engrossed, even. He's hunched over his large folio notebook, with a rule, compass, and a few different erasers littered on the table. He has huge noise-cancelling headphones on.
The door opens, and who should enter the diner but Dandelion herself, glancing around to see if there's anyone who she knows whose table she can share. When she sees Quinn, she gives an uncertain wave, seeing he's buried in work? Fun? Whatever.
Quinn bolts up once he notices Dandelion; he hurls his arm in the air to wave at her. "KLEIN! OVER HERE! IT'S QUINN!" He has not taken his headphones off.
She walks over, snagging a menu on the way. Doesn't bother to say anything, given those headphones, but slides into the booth across from him, looking upside down to see what he's working on.
He drops his headphones around his neck, the music exploding from the cans. It sounds like something angry and energetic, maybe some off-brand mimicry of good old death metal. "Hello again, Klein! How did you know I was here!?"
"I didn't know you were here. I was just craving chicken pot pie--have you had it here?"
She shows no aversion to the death metal, her head even bobbing a little to the drums as the song continues.
"Oh! Well yes, of course. I've had everything on the menu. I have the chicken pot pie for dinner on Tuesdays," he explains. "But you can eat it whatever day you like, of course." He scoots some of his stuff out of Dandy's space, resting his chin in both hands.
"You must be a very big fan of Maddy's cooking, to have it so often." She grins. "And now it means I will know where to find you, in the future."
"Oh yes, I like it very much. The servers are very nice and they know that I am polite and won't be a fussy customer. I can't cook very well and I just like it here better, my parents' house is very big, so it is very empty with just me. And the plants." He pauses, blinking owlishly behind his glasses. "I like houseplants. Philodendrons and Pothos, mostly. Do you like it here too? Maddy's the best. I haven't met her yet, but I'm at least...seventy-four percent certain I am her most ardent fan."
"I can't cook very well, either. And I'm not good with plants--back when my husband was around, he used to tend to the gardens. He'd get my daughter involved, that was their special time together." She shakes her head, as if trying to get some of those bittersweet memories out of her head.
"I like it here, though. I like that it's a place where I don't need to put on airs, but I don't need to hide what I am, either. It feels safe and comforting, like that. And the food is amazing."
"Where did he go?" Quinn's query is conversational, devoid of the hesitant empathy most might offer. He rests his gaze mostly on Dandelion's hands or left ear. "Oh, I never put on airs. I would be really bad at it and I don't like to show incompetence. It makes me nauseous. But yes! The food is amazing. Especially the waffles."
"He divorced me when our daughter was still young. He hated that I was keeping secrets from him--he's a Sleeper. I thought I could balance my love for him and my everything-else, but I guess I wasn't balancing it well enough for his taste. That was decades ago, now."
There's a lot you can tell from a person's hands, if you're looking at them. Arthritic, sword calluses on the palms, nails kept short and unmanicured. Working hands, like one might expect from an Arrow.
"Oh." That gives Quinn pause; his brow furrows in a puzzled expression. "Well. He sounds like a real prick," Quinn decides. "Everybody keeps secrets. He's probably really disappointed in life. Your daughter is decades old, then."
"I'm pretty sure she's older than you are, in fact." She nods. "Though I don't talk too much about her. Sympathetic ties, a matter of keeping her safe. When she was little, I always referred to her as 'Sprout' instead of her name, around Awakened society."
"Sprout," he repeats, a furtive smile on his face. "That's a good idea, you're a good mom. Parents should keep their kids safe. It's not a spoken rule, or a commandment or anything, but...I think it probably should be. Some people seem to need it written down. Maybe written on a brick."
She tilts her head to one side slightly. "Did your parents keep you safe, when you were younger, Quinn?"
There's a slight undertone of 'do I need to find them and beat them up?'
Quinn shakes his head, expression devoid of much emotion. "No, they were terribly busy doing their work. They brought me along, but they didn't have time to raise me, really. The people they were studying did that for them, so I'm pretty lucky. They were much more loving and interesting than my parents anyway. I just think they probably shouldn't have had children." He takes a slurping sip of his milkshake. "Anyway, they're missing now. That's why I moved back to Philadelphia; to take care of the house and my plants. Oh, and find them, I guess."
"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that. If there's any way I can help out, with finding them, you'll let me know?"
"Oh, that would be wonderful! Yes, I feel obligated to find them, we had our moments where they did a very good job of at least passing as parents. I don't want them to be missing, anyway." He sets down his milkshake tin, a flicker of irritation crossing his features. He hesitates a moment, and then: "Honestly, it's not out of any affection. It's the fact that they disappeared without a trace and I have been unable to solve it. I don't....like...problems that I can't solve, and I don't come across them very often, so when I do? I have gastrointestinal distress. Also it angers me."
"I see. Hopefully it doesn't happen all too often, that you run across problems you can't solve, hm?" She's watching him more thoughtfully now.
"It never happens," he replies with utter certainty. "No. I shouldn't say 'never', that's misleading. My margin of error is very slim and I prefer to keep it that way." He fidgets but seems otherwise placid, facial features peaceful.
"I see. I remember having a large margin of error when I was your age, but that might have been a function of me being more reckless than you are. You seem to place high value on precision and being informed. Which is a quality of merit, provided it doesn't lead to too much hesitation when action is necessary." She catches a waitress to order her pot pie and a chocolate phosphate.
Quinn smooths both hands over his t-shirt in the same manner one might smooth a tie or three-piece suit. "Yes, that is correct," he replies, a note of admiration in his tone. "I pride myself in taking considerable care in my own cost-benefit analyses and engage in appropriate risk management. Some might say that I am too cautious, but I disagree. It is a mark of intelligence to consider every option and calculate the optimal outcome."
Mary is dressed in a sky blue dress when she enters, the Thyrsus slipping her shoes off as she enters and smiling when she sees Dandelion, heading her way over. "Good morning." She offers warmly to both, stopping by the counter to sort out her tea. "I hoped others would be about."
"Mary, good to see you. How have you been?" Dandelion's smile only grows as the Thyrsus enters. "Have you met Quinn?"
"Oh hi, hello, yes." He lifts a long-fingered hand in a greeting. "I mean no, I don't think so. I'm Quinn. You're Mary, from what I understand."
"I have now." She nods at Dandelion with a light grin, approaching them with tea in hand and offering her free hand to Quinn. "That'd be me, yes. Thyrsus, Arrow, member of the Soulwardens and lover of Maddy's tea. Nice to be meeting a new face." She looks to Dandelion. "Can I join you both?"
"I'm a guest at Quinn's table--it's up to him, I suppose." She gestures, deferring the question to him.
Quinn fidgets his hands, but nods to Mary. "Oh, um - yes, of course you can, I like meeting new people. But maybe you can sit on Dandelion's side. If that's okay. I just - I like space," he explains, gesturing around himself. His brow furrows in mild apprehension.
She nods contently, moving to do just that and offering Quinn a light smile. "Thank you." A careful sip of tea. "How have you both been?"
"Busy-busy-busy. But pleasantly so, dear. Lots of research, lots of paperwork, and trying to watch over a young psychic who hardly knows what they're getting into as well. But it's good, definitely good to have things to do." She lets out a warm laugh. "I'm always happiest when I'm active."
Mary gets a look of absolute relief - bordering on adoration. "Thank you, thank you Mary," he bobs his head. "It is so uncomfortable to ask but you made it very easy and bright and I like that about you very much, Mary. Oh, I am very good. It is Sunday, so it was waffles and cheese fries for dinner, one root beer milkshake. That's Sunday dinner." He fidgets a moment, and then seems to remember himself. "And how are you in turn, Mary?"
She blinks at the look of adoration, but rallies with another smile. "Busy, mm. Busy is you." A slightly teasing look to Dandelion. "I'm glad for their sake they've got you then. We all turned out alright. Mostly." Her smile to Quinn grows. "And that sounds really tasty, mm. You tempt me to try.." A hum in her throat. "As for me, I'm in good spirits. Met an old friend of someone close to me recently, and my babies are coming along pretty nicely."
As Dandelion's food arrives at the table, she pulls out a small box of pills and counts out a few different medicines, taking them with the first sip of her chocolate phosphate.
"Better than alright. You've all made me proud, dear."
"Do you have more than one baby?" Quinn uses his spoon to scoop up some milkshake. "Multiple births must be very taxing. Are your babies taxing still or does it get better?"
"Oh, sorry." She offers Quinn an apologetic smile. "My babies are what I nickname my plants. I love to garden and I've got a few doing quite well." She ducks her head at Dandelion's praise, pleased, but with a slight blush. "Thank you." She murmurs.
"From what I've heard, Quinn's also taking care of plants at home. Philodendrons and pothos, was it?" Clearly trying to pave the way for easier conversation, by bringing up a point of similarity.
"Ohh," Quinn brightens, shoving aside his milkshake. "I love plants," he enthuses, offering a warm, luminous smile; his gaze rests on the table, and he speaks with both hands waving with energetic rhythm. "I prefer pothos and philodendrons, but ferns are particularly breathtaking. They're millions upon millions of years old, so resilient. We could all learn to be more like ferns. What is your favorite plant, Mary? And why, if you please."
Her eyes widen with a pleased smile. Plant talk? Yes please. "Plants are wonderful." She agrees. "Everyone sees them every day and just walks past, almost no one realizes how important they are. They clean our air, trees move galleons of water every day and thousands in a season
As Dandelion knows, I love tea. I've got several Camellia Sinensis plants I'm experimenting with for different flavours. I also love mushrooms, they're tasty, healthy and do a very important job. At the moment, I've got Chanterelle in the basement."
"Meanwhile, I think we all know what plant I admire most--though the name meant something slightly different when I was 25, than now, when I'm old, grey and puffy." The self-mocking comes in a light tone, with an easy smile.
"You make tea!" Quinn perks up in his seat, laying his hands briefly against his chest. "Oh, that's marvelous that you make your own tea. And mushrooms - well, all fungus really - are such dynamic organisms. Resilient." He glances toward Dandelion with a shy, furtive smile. "It's the dandelion," he laughs.
She winks at Quinn, laughing cheerfully. "That'd be it, mm. And, I hadn't yet. I'm gonna to, ah." She waggles her fingers lightly. "A little bit of adjustment to different plants and we'll see where we end up. My cadre has been volunteered for testing." An evil grin. "Also, yes to fungus. They're vital to ecosystems, nature's recyclers."
"Well, your cadre is used to taste-testing, I dare say." Her grin is broad and proud, as she digs into her meal.
"Oh! I get the joke - you must know Heather. I work with Heather," he explains. "She is an excellent baker. That's what Kayla and Jer...Jeremiah say," he reports, cheeks turning just the lightest bit pink.
"Me and Hearth have seen to that." She grins back at Dandelion and then considers Quinn. "Then you've met all the rest. Me, Heather, Kay and Jay." A keen nod. Blushing, hm. Her lips form into a soft, speculative smile. "Do you like music Quinn?"
Dandelion finishes her meal quickly, glancing at the time on her phone. "I ought to get home, but it was good seeing both of you."
"He seems about to answer Mary, but nods to Dandelion. "I can walk you? I should be getting home too, but - Mary, I would like to meet you on another day? To make amends for leaving you without company. I will buy tea if you like?"
"I am always open to tea bribery." She laughs quietly. "Have a good night, both of you."
|