Molly Toombs
From time to time a mix of seniority and
skill would lead Molly to a lucky break in the schedule-- a full
weekend off. Sure, that meant she had to work extended hours in the
week leading up, but Molly had some time to herself now.
Going out
last night had been good. The weather was pleasant, the kebab didn't
make her sick as food purchased from stands runs the chance of doing,
and she and Jacky had as good a night as they ever did-- it was a shame,
that terribly homely mug and fiercely platonic, oblivious nature. A
girl could be so lucky to have so nice a partner in their life.
All
the same, the evening had been good enough, so once the sun had started
to tip its way behind the mountains to the west, Molly went out.
Florence didn't come along this time, for Molly wanted to comfortably be
able to go in and out of stores. She'd driven, parked in a public lot,
and taken herself out to walk the arts district once more, this time
with her own thoughts and sense of freedom to carry her through.
Tonight
Molly wore a summer dress made of light fabric, for the day before had
been hot and the heat had still lingered around 8pm when she'd left the
house. The dress buttoned up the front with buttons a bright blue to
match and blend in to the fabric they were sewn into. White daisies
made the pattern on the dress, which cut just above the knee, and a thin
brown belt cinched it in the middle. She wore her brown sandals and
had a small brown purse with the strap going diagonal across her chest,
lengthened enough to let the bag tuck into her waist rather than jam
under her arm.
Red hair was bound up into a high ponytail, the
bangs cut equal length with her eyebrows. She sipped an iced tea from a
plastic cup and, at current, was paused before a gallery looking in
through the glass store front at what was on display.
Llor
Even
in the absence of art walks and outdoor festivals the boulevard still
teems with pedestrians. Tonight many of the galleries are closed except
for private openings or events but the coffeehouses won't lock their
doors until after midnight. Those who want to sit out in the open air
and smoke their cigarettes and enjoy their weekends with a beer or a mug
of coffee have all the space and time with which to do it.
The
windows on the boulevard manage to show what's inside and bounce back
what's outside courtesy of the loud lighting around them.
Compared
to yesterday the drone of conversation is easy to ignore. Most people
who are outside are seated on patios or hovered around doorways to share
lighters and bum smokes. A dance studio shares space on the block with
the gallery where Molly is gazing in through the window. Its door opens
and a half-dozen bodies step out into the air and they chatter and laugh
but pay no mind to their surroundings. Why would they pay mind to their
surroundings.
Last night she hadn't anticipated seeing a familiar face. No reason to think this night will be any different.
Molly Toombs
To
Molly's left a door swung open to make way for a small herd of people.
Their chatter and the sound of door hinges had disturbed her train of
thought (some wandering thing contemplating the likelihood of someone
who's never attempted any sort of magic, spiritual or not, being able to
project themselves into a world of reflections to seek a lost
half-soul), had her blinking to clear the glaze from her eyes.
She
looked over her shoulder to the people coming out the doorway, then
cast a casual glance up to whatever sign may exist over the doorway.
Some dance studio, that must have been an exercise group just finishing
their class.
No reason to see anything odd in that. Molly had
gone to consider the art inside the window again, shifted her weight as
though she may begin walking again, but paused once more on account of
her phone chiming to announce a text message.
So, she stood still near the window while people passed by and fished her phone from her purse.
Llor
As
the crowd begins to thin another pair of bodies step out of the studio
door. A carrot-haired woman of average height and a young man not much
taller than she. The woman is barefoot and holding onto the doorframe
and leaning out over the steps as the man descends them and comes to
stand on the sidewalk.
"You should teach a class!" she says.
"I'll
think about it!" he says. Both of them sound as if they're on the verge
of laughter. As if this isn't the first time they're having this
conversation.
"You said that last time!"
"You might not be able to afford me."
"Oh, whatever, Laz."
"See you next week."
"I'll be here."
With
that the young man turns on the sidewalk and starts off away from the
studio towards the gallery where Molly fishes for her phone. The woman
stands and watches for a moment before ducking back inside and closing
the door. She has to lock up.
Molly Toombs
The
conversation that had picked up drew Molly's attention back to the dance
studio, much as the original exodus from within had done. The text had
been a thought from a friend, a joke perhaps. She'd fired back a
response and turned to tuck the phone back into her purse again. As she
did this, she listened to the praise that some young man was getting
from his instructor, and her eyes hopped up to spy on the bit of human
(presumably) life that was taking place on the street. Sometimes it was
nice to just bear witness to normality, you know?
Only because
she'd taken notice the very night prior did the face stand out, but she
remembered the longer hair and fine side profile. Blinked in a bit of
surprise to have spied the man here once again, speak of coincidences.
Her
eyes hopped back to the woman as she closed the door, watched for a
moment, then found the man once more. In that moment, there came the
coincidental meeting of eyes-- hers upon Llor's. She raised her
eyebrows under their shelter of bangs, then smiled polite like you do
when greeting someone on the street that you think is attractive. It
was accompanied with a small bob of the head, one of passing greeting.
She frankly expected that he would just keep on his way, and that she'd be left to do the same. Saw no harm in a glance.
Llor
Making
eye contact with a complete stranger on a relatively empty sidewalk
after dark does not always end in harassment at best and kidnapping as
the scale worsens. Not all women know the possible beast lurking inside
of each stranger she passes and Molly knows there are worse things out
there than abductors and rapists.
Some of the monsters she's met
in the past year certainly qualify as both abductors and rapists. But
it's hard to tell from looking at a person if he is any of those things.
Harder to tell if a person isn't breathing or doesn't have a pulse.
As
he turns to walk away the young man she'd seen the night before puts
his hands into the pockets of his jeans. His style is punk only in the
sense that he is wearing sturdy militaristic clothing that may or may
not have come secondhand. The soles on his boots are thick and offer him
an extra couple inches of height and his jeans are black. He wears a
black Led Zeppelin t-shirt that he hasn't bothered tucking in.
Were not for the smile and the head-bob he might have kept right on walking. No harm in a glance. She should know better by now.
The
young man slows as if a thought has occurred to him and comes to stand
abreast of her on the sidewalk. Considers the gallery window quick
before looking back at her. A thoughtful frown.
"You're not following me, are you?" he asks. His accent is faint and difficult to place. Spanish maybe.
Molly Toombs
Surprise
painted Molly's face when she was accused of following the man-- it was
a bit put on, sure, but she was the sort to play along rather than
blush and duck her head when a look is opened up into an approach.
"Me?
Hardly. Though this is a funny coincidence, isn't it?" The hand that
wasn't holding the iced tea held the purse strap near her ribs.
Llor,
or 'Laz' as she'd heard the dance instructor call him, was a handsome
enough man, probably around her age if not a year or two younger. He
had the tiniest accent, Spanish or Italian, something like that.
Molly'd glanced at his shirt and pants and boots, but was quick to look
back to the face and eyes. She was old enough to know how to do this
dance properly.
After the brief pause, she added: "I'm a bit
surprised you'd remembered me-- we didn't talk or anything." But then,
he could very well say the same, couldn't he?
Llor
Must
be he's going to let slide that she somehow remembered him even though
they'd been across the street and the only reason he had been aware of
the redhead was because of the topic of conversation. Or perhaps her
friend's height helped serve as a beacon for his attention.
"True,"
he says and takes a step back not to return to his walk but to more
evenly center his feet, like he's got more energy than he knows what to
do with even after getting out of dance practice, "but then it's not
every day you overhear people talking about astral projection at an art
festival."
Molly Toombs
[Charisma 2 + Subterfuge 3: Oh that? That was nothing]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 6, 7, 9) ( success x 3 )
Llor
[perc + subterfuge: i call bullshit. -3 diff thank you auspex.]
Dice: 4 d10 TN3 (1, 5, 7, 10) ( success x 3 )
Molly Toombs
There
was a half a moment, maybe even a little less, where Molly was quiet.
It was the type of quiet that happened when you were caught on the
spot. Also a little like figuring your next move in a game of chess.
Molly was quick, though, level-headed and getting better at this. She's
been swimming through a world of deceit and manipulation for the last
year, and her head's remained above the surface because she's adapted to
that.
She's learned her lesson about showing too much of her
'hobby' to people. Perhaps she could have gotten a second or third date
out of that Dempsey man had it not been for the appearance of the
Hobgoblin-- more than that, if she hadn't made known her knowledge of
their existence and expertise in the subject matter. To acknowledge
that she believed astral projection to be an attainable thing (because
Harald had backed that idea up, because of her own research as well)
would do nothing more than pariah herself further.
So she chuckled
and played it off. "You overheard that? My friend and I were talking
about a book we're reading. It is a bit strange, but I figured no
stranger than the things I hear people saying about that Game of Thrones
series the world is watching."
Her eyes flicked back toward the dance studio he'd come from; oh look, a shiny change of subject.
"I overheard your instructor-- what sort of dancing do you do?"
Molly Toombs
[Because Manipulation was probably more appropriate...]
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (6) ( success x 1 )
Llor
For
all she knows he is a closet geek who only mentioned the astral
projection as a matter of a common interest. Oh you're into weird shit
too well so am I. The better question wouldn't have been why she was
talking about a topic everyone in the world knows to be fiction but how
it was that he had managed to hear her from such a distance when they
hadn't been aware of each other in passing.
Baby steps.
It
isn't the explanation or the lack of one that catches his attention but
the fact that she doesn't brush him off or give off any body language
that would tell him the conversation was over could he please keep
walking and leave her the hell alone now. Her eyes flick and he wears a
bemused expression when she looks back to him.
"She's not my instructor," he says.
Bemused and yet she has his undivided attention.
Molly Toombs
"Oh?"
Molly
cast a smile. She didn't question that he'd caught the snippet of
conversation-- it didn't immediately occur to her. She tugged the purse
strap so it was more comfortable against her shoulder. She looked as
though she didn't entirely believe his statement, but could be convinced
with more of an explanation.
"So, you go to show off instead of learn, then?"
Llor
Unlike
Molly the young man doesn't pause when he has to consider what he's
going to say next. Maybe he just doesn't stop to think before he opens
his mouth. Could be one of those creatures who doesn't have the patience
for checkers let alone chess.
So he looks bemused and then she
asks another question and the bemusement dissipates. He laughs a
kindling-dry laugh and rakes his hand through his hair. Nothing about
him is classically handsome. Besides being short he has strong features
and unruly hair. She can see he has a snaggled tooth when he smiles.
"Nah,"
he says, "I wouldn't call it showing off. Even if you're really good at
something you have to practice every day or you get rusty, you know?"
Speaking of ooh-shiny conversation changers:
"Are you thinking of taking lessons, or are you just making conversation?"
Molly Toombs
"I'm
not too sure." Molly's habit for thinking about what she was going to
say before she spoke came and went. When she felt the need to mask or
redirect she would take more time and be more methodical with her word
choice. When he bounced the question back onto her, she was more
seamless in continuing the conversation. Her own sense of embarrassment
has receded into adulthood.
"The last time I went dancing was a
while back. I didn't trip over my own feet, so I suppose I'm doing
alright." She paused, thoughtful, then shrugged the shoulder that
wasn't responsible for the purse strap and added: "I may also just be
making conversation at this point."
Okay, it's about that time. She reached out with the hand not holding the iced tea and smiled again.
"I'm Molly."
Llor
The
nights up in the mountains are cooler than down in the valley and the
sun has been down for a couple of hours now. It's a cloudy night and the
weather reporters are calling for rain and what breeze there is serves
as a portent to strengthen the predictions.
When Molly offers her
hand the man takes it. His hand is dry and cool. He gives her hand a
perfunctory shake. Three pumps and then she has control of her hand
again. His grip is firm but not firm enough to suggest evil intent.
"Hi, Molly. Lázaro. Very nice to meet you."
Molly Toombs
[Perception
3 + Medicine 3: Maybe I'll notice that your hand is cold as death,
diff -1 as Molly's familiar with this shit by now]
Dice: 6 d10 TN5 (2, 3, 4, 4, 8, 10) ( success x 2 )
Molly Toombs
[Manipulation 3 + Subterfuge 3: Ho shit the Undead, better not let on that I know]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (4, 4, 5, 6, 8, 10) ( success x 3 )
Llor
[what are you, afraid?]
Dice: 4 d10 TN3 (2, 5, 5, 7) ( success x 3 )
Molly Toombs
The
palm that clasped to hers and fingers that wrapped about her hand were
cold as death, and Molly noticed this straight away. There was once a
day where she would dismiss it as poor circulation, but this was a warm
summer's night and the hand wasn't clammy but cold. Molly had
met too many people without pulses, shaken too many bloodless hands by
now. She knew within those three pumps of the arm that she was shaking
hands with a vampire.
There's a moment, a restricting of her
pupils and a mild widening of the eyes that betrayed realization. But
Molly was quick to cover it up, to wipe the look off her face and bring
the reaction reigned in and under control. She'd play it off as though
she noticed nothing.
"Lázaro, likewise." She brought her hand
back to her purse strap, and took another drink of her iced tea. She
was watching Llor like she wasn't quite sure what to do from here-- if
at this point in a conversation with a stranger she was supposed to walk
away, or if she should keep up the casual chatter to continue to uphold
the illusion of ignorance.
She settled on smiling somewhat
bashfully and clearing her throat after finishing her drink, and half of
what had remained of her beverage.
"Sorry, I don't usually stop strangers on the street. You probably have places to be."
Llor
Molly
was quick to cover it up but the creature whose hand she just shook
doesn't have any interest in concealing his own reaction. Or perhaps he
doesn't have much of a reaction at all. The expression on his face is
cautious as if he is the one who ought to be wary of strangers
approaching him on the sidewalk and isn't that how the conversation
started anyway? She looked at him and smiled and he cracked a joke.
This
is the first time she's speaking to him. For all she knows he is as
warm-hearted and generous as a person can be without the benefit of a
beating heart and exposure to sunlight. But even those creatures she
trusts are monsters underneath it all.
She just shook hands with a
monster. Their hands part ways and he puts his back into his pockets
and of a sudden she doesn't know what to do. Reverts to bashfulness
where before she had wanted to know of his dancing and his relationship
to the woman at the studio.
The lights are off now. Somewhere in
the distance a car door slams. Molly is not alone but no one is paying
any attention to them. He looks charmed by her or if not charmed then
amused. Some strange light in his eyes that isn't the fault of their
surroundings.
"Mm... no," he says and he walks a few paces but
only so he's standing on the other side of her with his back to the cafe
down the street. Like he's pacing. Restless energy surged up again.
"No, not really. Do you?"
Molly Toombs
"Well,
yes," Molly confessed. She continued to play ignorant-- the Undead man
seemed amused by her, charmed. She couldn't quite put a thumb on why
and could only hope that he wasn't seeing through her veil of fake
ignorance. The iced tea swirled with mostly melted ice cubes in the cup
with a couple twists of Molly's idle wrist. One shoulder crunched up
then dropped back down.
"I hadn't planned to be out much longer. My roommate's waiting up for me at home."
She
smiled again, and this time the look was apologetic. She was trying to
easily extract herself from the situation without setting out warning
bells.
"But maybe I can look into some lessons? Would you recommend that studio to me?"
Llor
"To you?"
A
lift of his eyebrows like he hadn't expected someone whose skill level
was no more advanced than that of one who was happy not to trip over her
own feet.
It's possible he noticed her reaction. How would she
know. Most people would not have made anything of it. Lots of people
have cold hands for reasons beyond metabolic disorders. Some folks just
have poor circulation. He could be one of those people. He has a thin
build and seems wired. Like if he were alive he would subsist mostly off
of junk food when he did remember to eat.
Molly has touched
plenty of dead people in her life though. She knows the difference
between flesh that is perfused and flesh that isn't.
"I might, if I knew who you were." Before she can protest: "Besides your name."
Oh shit. He caught her.
Molly Toombs
"How, do you mean like a profession?"
She
tipped her head to the side, and those bold red bangs shifted along
with the motion. She was carrying that torch, keeping up the game. For
now, at least, while there were still people passing by on the sidewalk
here and there, while she still had the opportunity to hold out on the
belief/hope that Llor didn't know that she recognized him for what he
was. She'd been warned plenty before about what vampires may do if they
came to realize that she knew as much as she did. Those that knew now
let it slide because they weren't a part of that society's governing
body, because they promoted chaos and wanted to see what would happen if
they let her continue as she did. Maybe because they cared, too? She
wasn't sure about that one quite so much, though-- she'd yet to land on a
decision about how much a vampire actually could care about something
besides themselves and their property.
So, without knowing the origins of this vampire, she was keeping up the effort of subtly extracting herself.
Smiling
and laughing like they were the strings and porcelain that created this
mask of Just Another Regular Woman, she followed up with: "I'm a
nurse."
Llor
If she wants to play that game he can play that game.
Now
that he knows she wants out of the conversation he seems to have lost
interest in keeping it up. Before they shook hands she was smiling and
asking questions and after they shook hands she decided she had to get
home to her roommate and maybe he buys that she has to get home for
reasons other than her own discomfort.
The conversation appears to
be over if it wasn't already. The man who introduced himself as Lázaro
takes a few steps backwards down the sidewalk hands still in his pockets
not looking where he's going but not needing to anyway for the time of
night and emptiness of the sidewalk.
"Can't hurt to look into it," he says.
He turns around and walks away after that.
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