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For whatever reason, this coffee shop is very quiet tonight. It's quiet enough that the baristas mostly just hang out in the back, poking at their phones and only sticking their heads out long enough to make orders. Common Grounds, a locally-owned place, sits on the border of South Philly and Center City. It's far enough from the bustle of Broad Street to mostly get frequented by locals, but close enough to Center City that it isn't an onerous walk if someone's been in-town today.
Mei shoulders her way through the door and glances around like she's a little bit surprised that there's so few people in the coffee shop. It only takes her a moment to shrug it off and start a saunter toward the counter, where she's already smiling for whoever is on staff today.
A more cynical person could see it as 'scoping out the competition', but Jeremiah was one to do his part to support other local business owners no matter the field. The caually-dressed Mastigos had already claimed a table of his own when Mei arrived, a cup of tea sitting nearby as he scrolled through his phone.
It's not easy being green Wyrd.
It's work keeping one's light under a bushel, as it were, and being abundantly blessed with multiple candles, to extend the metaphor, she's tucked away in the corner where all she needs to do is keep herself from being horror-show, uncanny valley fluid and she can more or less pass. She's by herself with a particularly gorgeously bound old book propped up on a book stand, delicately turning the pages from time to time. A drink that definitely has someone else's name written on it is on the table before her, and occasionally is graced with a sipping. It's the book that holds her attention, by all appearances, though.
A travel mug sits on one of the tables; perhaps it's just that no one noticed it before now. As Mei approaches the counter, a 40-something Black man with a sleek-shaved head in a perfectly-tailored suit comes out from the hall which leads to the restrooms and, past that, to the back of the house. He just so happens to arrive (return? arrive?) at a perfect moment for Mei to pass him and see his face, just when Jeremiah glances up from his phone, exactly when Vorpal turns a page. He adjusts the jacket of his perfect suit, and his hand brushes along the line of his pocket. Two items drop into the pocket; one appears to be a nametag.
Vorpal has never seen this man before. Jeremiah and Mei? Maybe, maybe not, but there's a certain prickle of Awakened Magic that crawls up the back of their necks.(edited)
Jeremiah paused as he spotted the man over the top of his phone, an eyebrow arching a touch at seeing him outside of the consilium hall for a change and the zip of magic in the air around him. Catching the slip of the nametag into his pocket made that eyebrow go up even higher before he schooled his expression and lifted his tea cup in a small salute to the man. Can't hurt to be polite, after all.
Mei gives Jeremiah an upnod as she's headed to the counter to make an order, then she pauses at the sight of the man with a sense of magic around him. There are, of course, members of the Consilium she doesn't know. She spends most of her time with the Children of the Tree, so there are quite a few of them. After considering him for a moment she gives him an upnod too, then continues to the register to order, while watching him from the corner of her eye.
In her seat, Jackie's eyes flit up briefly and almost make it back down before they snap back onto the edge of the fellow's pocket. The nametag isn't of current interest- sure, she caught what looked like the first part of an impressive job title, but the other object?
That gets her attention instantly- not that the wall of her composure reveals such.
She calmly pulls her cell phone out and sends a text while her senses reach out and test the waters, so to speak.
Jackie's phone lights up repeatedly as a sudden quick shower of text messages respond to the ones she sends.
Walsingham -- since that is, in fact, who he is -- offers Mei a small, almost confidential smile, and speaks softly as he passes her. "If you're not meeting someone -- I would be impolite not to invite you to sit with me." It barely carries, but the shop is so quiet, it's hard not to hear at least part of it. His cadence is soft, purposeful. An old-fashioned Methodist minister's meter. He settles in his chair, offering his profile to Jackie, which is surely not at all intentional, and then raises his latte cup toward Jeremiah, as if repeating that same invitation.
For Jack- once he enters- that is a Pretty Book Jackie's reading. Bound in the Hedge version of willow bark, every page a different, gloriously Autumn leaf. Definitely Hedgespun.
It's a little bit of a hike from work, this coffeehouse, but god it is better than the constant barrage of national chain coffeeshops in Center City proper. And given that it's the end of Jack's workweek, what better way to celebrate with some delicious coffee, and some pastries to go, and so he strolls into the place, in his dress blacks, his hair a little ruffled from his fingers. His sleeves are rolled up, putting his tattoo on display, and he's got the first two buttons of his shirt undone. Hello, weekend.
His Mantle preceeds him - the air suddenly smells that special kind of just-before-a-rainstorm fresh, which might not actually be too out of place, on this spring evening - and Jackie, at least, can see the casual way Jack's charcoal silhouette slides around as he moves. Jackie herself gets a double-take, and an upnod as a small smile lifts the corners of the other Changeling's lips.
Jackie surreptitiously mimes tapping the table just to her left without touching the tabletop during the moment she has Jack's attention, upnodding after, lending apparent importance to the prior gesture to be performed before even greeting him.
Mei nods when she's offered the invitation, then cracks a smile and tells the man, "I wasn't meeting anyone, and I'd be happy to accept." Her voice is soft, but not nearly so intentional. Just warm, friendly, and as always with her these days, a little bit mischievous. "Just let me put in this order, and I'll come join you." She does just that, ordering a mocha before proceeding to the man's table. On the way, she flashes Jack a smile and gives him a little wave. "Hey!" she says, definitely more energetically than her previous words. "Long time no see!"
Then she sits across from the man and extends a hand. "Mei," she offers. "Since I don't think we've ever been introduced."
At the tacit invitation Jeremiah moved to join the other two magi, giving both a polite smile as he claimed a seat at the table. "Good seeing you both. Having a good night, I hope?"
The barista takes Mei's order, glancing slightly aside at Walsingham as the transaction concludes, then waits at the counter for Jack, since there's another person here.
"Of course," he agrees with Mei, his tone ever gracious. Walsingham's fingers tap on the china of the latte cup he's holding between his long-fingered, somehow dancer-graceful hands. Those are the hands of an artist, perhaps. Well cared for, clean. When he adjusts his jacket upon sitting, the cufflinks at his wrists are perfect circles of smooth granite etched with the initials CB.
Jeremiah's question leads to a thoughtful tip of the Guardian's smooth-shorn head. "Hmm. You know, I've had better nights. Yourself?"
Jack's eyebrows twitch upward just slightly at Jackie's tapping, and he nods once, before gesturing with his head toward the counter. He'll order a drink, then join her.
Mei gets a warm smile from him, and an upnod, too. "Hey - been a while, yeah." He gives the other two men quick, polite once-overs, and they both get nods, but not much else as he turns to order. Salted caramel latte, iced, and a selection of pastries to go. And then back to Jackie's table, where he eases down into a seat - one that gives him a view of the place, as well as the door - with a quiet groan, his knees cracking quietly.
"'S a pretty book," he mutters with a smile, his voice for her ears only. "'Sup?"
That latte gets set down and the hand that rests in Mei's is warmed by the ceramic. "Clarence," he introduces, and the subtle undertone of his voice means 'at least, here.'
"Sorry to hear that." Jeremiah replied sincerely, giving the Guardian a brief once-over. "There anything you need a hand with?"
"Doing alright myself, all told. Have a few balls in the air but no complaints."
There's a studied glance at her phone before Jackie tucks it away and starts to rise, interrupting Jack as he starts to sit- and sparing his poor knees! "It's a very pretty book. Would you like to see it? I'm about to join a friend if you want to come along." It's an exercise in intentional mistakes to avoid looking like a Japanese horror film ghost when she slips to her feet- and Jack can tell she's dumbing down the motions, he's seen her move before.
A few measured, intentionally imperfect steps later, she's at the table with the three, turning her mask of a smile towards the table. "Good evening, Director Brown. I'm sorry to interrupt, but I've been meaning to make an introduction for myself and never quite got the chance." She smiles, too, at Jeremiah- a familiar face to the club-going business owner but not one that's made his acquaintance. Then she turns to Mei. "Miss Lee, my name is Jackie. Jackie Drexel, I'm a friend of Mx Fox, who of course has nothing but incandescently glowingly positive things to say about you. I'm quite a fan of your work with Rabbi Cohen." That's not dissembling, she's sincere. 1312. "Oh, and this-" She says, presuming Jack followed along. "-is my metamour, Jack. I trust the evening is- well. I'd ask if the evening was going well, but I overheard that it might not be so well as one could hope, which makes the question feel a bit insincere..."(edited)
"A pleasure to meet you, Clarence," Mei answers as she gives his hand an easy shake. "So, are we all here yet?" she asks, like they're all meeting here on purpose, and she's just not sure if there's someone else who was supposed to arrive, or if they might actually get to whatever brought them here. She's not fishing for a response, though; she's genuinely convinced this was all on purpose. A feeling that doesn't waver as she looks around at the others, including Jackie, who she gives a warm smile to. "I think Fox has mentioned you, yeah. And..." she looks at Jack. "Metamours, eh? I feel like half the city is connected via a chain of metamours, sometimes."
"Ah -" Jack nearly spills his coffee at the sudden change in plans, and his eyebrows rise a little further as Jackie steps toward Mei's table - and greets everyone there like she knows them. It's pretty clear he's got next to no idea what's going on, if something is going on, but he nods as he's introduces, and shrugs at Mei.
"Yeah, it's...a Thing. You know."
When the two supposedly-unknown figures approach, the Guardian rises smoothly to his feet and offers his hand in greeting first to Jackie, and then to Jack. "Good evening, Miss Drexel. Mister Martingale." That probably shouldn't surprise Jack too much. He's been on TV, after all. "A pleasure to meet you both, of course. Mister Martingale is quite the Emissary of organized labor. Please, join us." Which leaves one empty seat at the table he chose.
"Perhaps," he answers Mei politely as the barista brings over the pending drinks and then disappears into the back after glancing sidelong at the Guardian again. A warm smile for the table. "Perhaps," he agrees with Jeremiah. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. Back to Mei he offers, "We may have one more, but then again, we may not. He tends to arrive at his own time, like a cat in cellulose triacetate."
"Balls in the air?" he asks of Jeremiah, as if this is all just a Very Normal Conversation.
The warm smile from Mei is appreciated, though a flicker of surprise- faint, but present- makes it past Jackie's wall of composure. "Have they now? It's always a pleasure to hear I've been making the rounds in someone else's social circles. Only the most salacious of tales, I hope?" She moves to sit and gestures for Jack to sit with, offering him the book for a glance if he likes. "It's quite A Thing, and a pleasant one to boot," she says soothingly as she settles down, hands below the table to smooth out her clothes. "Your courtesy is appreciated, Director. Thank you kindly." At Clarence's comment about one more, she inquires idly, "Would this one more be someone with whom most of us are already acquainted? A shot in the dark, I admit, but I highly doubt he'd mind being associated with what little you've said about owning his own arrivals."
"Handling business at the cafe, some work with local musicians, things like that." Jeremiah replied to Walsingham with a smile; the implication that their presence there wasn't a happy happenstance wasn't lost on the Mastigos but he was rolling with nontheless. He looked up to the approaching Lost, the mention of Jack's last name causing a brief pause before the lightbulb went off and that smile widened. "Good to meet you both."
Mei shrugs and says, "maybe salacious ones. Maybe only the most wholesome. It's truly a mystery," she tells Jackie. "And if you want some more evidence that everyone in this city is connected to other people by only a few degress, via dating?" She glances at Jack and grins, then back at Jackie. "Jack is your metamour, and I dated his sibling for a while."
She lets her attention return to Clarence. "Just let us know when it's time to stop waiting and start talking about whatever we're here to discuss. Or do whatever we're here to do," she says. Not impatiently, just... ready to move on. When the time is right.
Jack's Mien flickers briefly, the charcoal going all skittery, when Clarence chooses the word Emissary to describe him, but it's something only Jackie would notice as he inclines his head at the other man. "You know I'm still not used to my reputation preceding me..." He perches on the edge of the offered chair and takes a careful sip of his latte.
"Philly's a damn small world," he nods at Mei before turning his attention to Jeremiah. "Good to meet you too, ...?" He trails off, waiting for the other man to introduce himself.
And when prompted, as if slightly distracted, the man answers Jack, "Clarence Brown. Director at Beckett-Brown and Hodges." A small, private funeral home in a converted duplex out in Northwest. "I used to work at a larger institution, but ... I can do more good when I have the ability to focus on details." He takes his seat again once everyone else has, allowing the talk of metamours and the like to flow past him like water over a stone.
"It can be difficult to tell," he responds to Vorpal regarding the Cat Who Tracksuited By Himself. And then his gentle smile toward Mei, but answers Jeremiah first. "It's good to stay active. Connections are always important in business, so I commend you on your local networking." His right hand drops to his pocket, then, and he withdraws it, placing a silver coin slightly larger than a US silver dollar in front of Mei.
"Pleasure to make your acquaintance as well," Jackie returns to Jeremiah as he replies. "And I will be absolutely -devastated- if it turns out there's only been tell of my philanthropy going round. Barely half the story, that." Granted, she's internally defining philanthropy as community service- as in, servicing her community by taking out the metaphorical trash when necessary- but still. "DID you? You know, I almost did myself?"
The use of the term Emissary doesn't pass Jackie, and her smile grows a touch, starting to narrow, like a blunt edge stretched sharp. "Now, here's a fellow up to date on his community news."
The coin is familiar, and no surprise to Vorpal, who doesn't even favor it with a glance. She knows what she can know of it already. "It can be, yes. Though notably less so when he's taken to smoking those coffin nails. I'm not even sure that's an amusing euphemism, there may be actual coffin nails in those cigarette papers, if you go by the smell."
Mei's brows come up a little at the sight of the coin, no attempt being made to hide that she recognizes it. If she tried to pretend she didn't, she probably wouldn't be fooling anyone anyway. "Where did you come across that?" she asks.
Then she glances at Jackie and blinks a couple of times. "Did you? Huh! Small world for sure."
"I'd make a joke about my sibling being a player, but they're so very painfully not - I got all those genes," Jack huffs, and takes another sip of coffee.
The coin makes him raise his eyebrows again. "What do we all have to do with that, 's what I'm curious about..."
"Jeremiah, although most folks call me Jay." He offered a hand, first to Jack and then to Jackie. "I think you might know my girlfriend Polly? She's mentioned you a few times here and there."
Jeremiah eyed the coin when it was presented, an eyebrow arching as he recognized what it was. Mei seemed to know more of the significance behind it, however, looking to her briefly before going back to Walsingham.
"It is important to keep up on community news," agrees the man, his hand hovering slightly above the coin for a moment. "As I said, one can never place too much of a premium on networking." His gaze slips from the Spring Courtier to the Autumn, to the Child of the Tree, to the Pentacle Mage.
"I could not possibly say, Miss Lee," Walsingham answers her, gently nudging it toward the Obrimos. His gaze flicks to Jackie, for whatever reason, resting there for too long to be coincidental, and then to the coin on the table. He pulls his hand back. "But if you might return it to its proper place, I would be most appreciative."
"Once, there was a place and time where such coins as that were important. Currency spent for all manner of things- to protect lives, to correct wrongs, to build both communities and prisons." It's clever talk- it's not inaccurate to relate it all to the Soviet Union, which in as much no longer exists, but more directly to the coin's actual use and purpose. That specific coin's use and purpose. "But- such a time and place no longer exists, and that coin is of more interest as a collector's item than of any actual use." She stated it as fact, but held Walsingham's gaze, her question woven into the words. Was it just a coin now? Or is it still a prison?
Jack looks back and forth from Jackie to Clarence, clearly a bit lost, but knows better than to ask for clarification in so public a place.
Mei spends a moment looking at the coin, then shrugs and picks it up to tuck it into the inner pocket on her jacket. "I'm pretty sure I can return this for you, but that doesn't seem like something that needed all of this," she glances around at everyone else who is there.
Walsingham got a quiet look as the gears turned in Jeremiah's mind, glancing at those gathered before turning back to the Guardian across from them. "Networking is rather important. Is there something in particular one should be putting their efforts towards, though?"
"So yeah, why...are we here, if you just need Mei to put that back wherever it's supposed to be?" Jack sits back, his arms crossed now. "We all know well enough how our people like to work together, but 's hard to do that unless there's something to be working together on...?"
And now Walsingham's eyes fix Jackie with a warm but rather clear and concise sort of gaze, somehow both gentle and piercing. "A rather astute summary. A rather surprising collector's item -- I had not seen one since I was in such a time and place as it held purpose, and yet, here I have it, just a coin with the occasional curious fingerprint." His gaze slides to Jeremiah, next, and he smiles, as if Jeremiah had just made a great point during Bible study.
"Sometimes," he seems to answer Mei and Jeremiah and Jack at the same time, "people make decisions we don't agree with in response to unexpected and ...concerning... events. Can you imagine if someone decided to hide something which might pose a direct danger to others? And yet... " his voice trails off, there.(edited)
Jackie develops a similar "Hmm!" expression about the same time that Walsingham graces Jeremiah with that grin. "It's true. Especially when dealing with matters close to the heart, it can be rather difficult to see the Woods rather than the trees." An intentional warping of the phrase. Jack, at least, knows of the Woods who were recently spared from an ambush by intervention of multiple sides. Heck, he might know more than that. "And opinions on run rampant on how to deal with danger. Some would grin and bear it, draw out the danger, so it might be excised at its root- others might instead opt to treat the symptoms while still seeking the cure separately. My question would be that- since by your phrasing you find yourself on the former half of that statement, Director- how might those involved in such a situation help shine the light on these perilous matters of the heart? Communication is surely the least one could expect, and is a foregone conclusion- so I surmise that perhaps we find ourselves here to discuss particulars?"
Mei raises a brow at Walsingham, even if only slightly. "I tend to believe that people have good reason when they don't share that kind of information," she says with a faint shrug. "Sometimes things aren't clear cut, and when weighed it's decided that silence is the safer option on balance, even in light of the danger. But I feel like you were suggesting something specific, and I'm not sure what it is, so I'm speaking only in generalities."
Jack jerks his head up, something falling into place at Vorpal's mention of the Woods. "What's done is done, yeah? Unless there's...more to it than anyone's aware of? People'll go to pretty extreme lengths to protect the ones they care about, opinions be damned, but is there more mess to clean up? Or are we just gonna sit here exchanging cryptic sentences for the next however long?" Jack takes in a slow breath, lets it back out again. "Like Mei said, all we can do is speak generally unless we...know a little more about what you need from us. Or what you need us to do."
Jeremiah remained quiet as the others spoke, sneaking a sip of his tea as the conversation went on around him. Being the one the most out of the loop in terms of the situation being so obliquely discussed he only had a few puzzle pieces at hand rather than the whole picture, but he couldn't say he wasn't immensely curious about why the Guardian wanted them in particular to look into the matter.
"If a man," Walsingham seems to answer everyone this time, all at once, the way his gaze flicks from one person to another, patient and cryptic as ever, "takes a feral dog in hand, and then the dog slips the leash... and he and the others in his home choose to tell no one... " He stops, and turns his cup in his hands, then smiles at Jack. "Being free to speak is such a delight." He leaves off 'if only we were all so fortunate.'(edited)
Mei gives Walsingham a brief, narrow-eyed look. Like she's scrutinizing him in the mundane sense, rather than the magical one. "Are you sure that a man didn't let his dog off the leash on purpose?" she asks. "If there's one thing I've learned in my time in Philly, it's that people are really bad at following the leash laws here."
"...If a certain feral dog has slipped a certain leash, the people who had the dog should get that information out there as soon as possible." A beat. "While working to find said feral dog themselves. How long has this feral dog been out, hypothetically?" Jack runs a frustrated hand through his hair, ruffling it more.
Jackie goes still.
She wasn't overly animated before, but there is still, and there is a person with inhuman dexterity and composure completely failing to remember to move. It lasts for a very brief moment, and then she's delicately setting her book down and opening it to one of the very pretty illuminated pages within.
"On Things Which Prefer Not To Be Found" is written in calligraphy across the top of the page.
She reads down the page and stops, tapping one clause in particular- absent affectations while she wields the Book of Leaves like a sledgehammer to batter down the protections between her and the information she wants- and abruptly, she has An Expression. This is new. She'd made her face do things before. Smile. Frown delicately.
No, the prim quasiporcelain mask of her expression contorts as she clenches her jaw, teeth grinding audibly.
"I see."
A Guardian's gonna Guardian, of course. Jeremiah smirked a touch at the clear frustration on Jack's face, about to say something when Jackie's reaction to whatever she found in that tome of hers cut it off short He eyed her briefly before looking back to Walsingham, a more serious tone creeping in alongside his usual jovial nature. "And who do you think is the man who hypothetically let them off the leash in the first place?"
As the penny -- as the ruble -- drops for the majority of the table, Walsingham sits up a little straighter, turning the delicate ceramic of the latte mug in his hands. "In some situations and for some people, Time is irrelevant," Walsingham answers; the corners of his eyes get a little tense, as if he's starting to get a headache. The look that he gives to Mei when she asks her question is another one of those gently piercing looks. "I really could not say."
He rises to his feet when Jackie goes still, taking a neatly-folded bill and placing it in the middle of the table, along with a business card. "I am unfortunately unable to linger," he says politely, as if Jackie just didn't have Actual Facial Expressions. "And apologize for any distress necessary obliqueness has caused." His gaze slides from one to the next. "Please give my best to your families and -- co-workers. I take comfort in knowing the great faith of the priests carries us forward." Whatever the fuck that means.
And then he isn't there anymore.
"Oh Jesus fucking Christ," Jack growls once the man is gone. "Fuck. Fuck."
"Not at all. The gift of your insight is appreciated." Jackie states simply.
And then he's gone and Jackie speaks. "Jack, would you mind terribly standing? I have some calls to make and, as good ol' Will Hunting would say, I need to see about a girl."
Mei nods and stands when the man does, and she offers a slight bow at the waist. "Take care," she tells him, with all the sincerity that she can muster, because she really does mean it.
And then he vanishes and she sits down. After a moment she turns her attention toward Jeremiah and says, "he meant your boss, with that last part. Do you think you could arrange a meeting with him? I would be happy to come along, and explain what I know about what's going on. I have some people to reach out to among my crew, too."
Jeremiah let out a slow breath as Walsingham vanished from their view, a hand reaching up to massage the bridge of his nose. "I can, yes. Let me know when you're good for it."
"I have to go find Ari," Jack mutters, standing with a little more violence than he maybe means to, enough that his chair tips backwards and clatters to the floor. "Ah - shit - Jackie, who else needs to know about this -" he looks up at her as he picks the chair up, and grimaces at the other two. "You know, there's not a lot of worse situations I can think of meeting the two of you at - Mei we should catch up, sometime. When shit's...less on fire."
"I very much suspect you'll be reaching out to a significant portion of those I intend to contact, Miss Lee, and you, Jack, most if not all of the rest. We may double up but rather news twice than not at all. I have preparations to make." Jackie catches Jack's chair as it tries to topple, and slips out beside her. "I think Ari and the involved couple-" The Woods. "- will do for a start. They'll have the names of anyone else that needs told." Thunderclouds roil behind Jackie's eyes, her brow and eyes darkened by shadow.
Probably just a trick of the light.
"We should," Mei agrees with Jack, with a crooked smile. "I look forward to it, and I like having things to look forward to. Things not... like this." She takes her phone out of the pocket of her leather jacket and checks it, then tucks it away. "I can make time whenever you need me to," she tells Jeremiah. "Be careful," she tells Jackie. "Maybe at least tell someone where you're going when you go looking for her? I'm sure there are people who will worry about you."
That rainstormy smell around Jack has started to take on a metallic tang - like the scent of blood, almost, as he pulls out his phone to send off a text. "Do my best. Jeremiah, Mei. Here's hoping next time we meet 's not 'cause shit's more on fire. See you 'round." And he's gone, staring at his phone as he strides out of the cafe, leaving little charcoal smudges in his wake that almost look like flowers.
Jeremiah nodded, taking a moment to pull a slim card case from his pocket and offering Jack one of the cards for the cafe from within before he got too far. Jackie got one as well, for good measure, if she so wished. "Number on the back's my cell, easiest way to get a hold of me."
He let out a slow breath as he settled back into his chair, putting the case away and taking out his own phone. "I need to let the girls know what's up. I'll let you know when I hear back from the boss."(edited)
Jackie took the card politely and tucked it away. "Thanks. Get your word out. I'll get mine." And she sweeps out, a thick flurry of unseasonal Autumn leaves sweeping back as she leaves. They're gone moments later.
Someone musta swept them up.
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