RP log: meet Althea Beanhammer
Elise Bauckmann makes a new friend!
Elise was scowling as she walked down the sidewalk. “Take what I need, take what I need…” she pouted to herself in a soft voice. “Easy for her to say. How am I supposed to do that?” She passed the Rail station and continued on foot, occasionally muttering to herself, and she was still distracted by her thoughts when she reached her destination. She pushed the door to the Bean Sidhe open and walked in, barely paying any attention at all to where she was going.
Elise could see that the same staff was working as before-the disaffected elven barista and the human barista with the leaf tattoo on her cheek were minding the counter. The half-orc woman that Elise had encountered from before had already come in, and was sitting near the window and looking out of it.
As the door swung shut behind her, Elise paused, confusion registering on her face. It took her a few moments to place where she was. Why am I here? she asked herself. Oh, right. She looked around hopefully, but Saturday was nowhere to be seen. Her face fell.
The only person who immediately noticed Elise was the elven barista, who raised an eyebrow at her expectantly. It took her a moment to realize that the barista was waiting for her. When she did, she gave a start and hurried toward the counter. “I'm sorry!” she apologized. “I… I'd like the same thing I had yesterday? The chai tea and, um…” her brow furrowed in thought as she tried to remember.
“Panini,” the human barista said. “Pesto chicken.” She hadn't looked up from what she was doing, which seemed to be spooning a thick, creamy substance into the bottom of a plastic cup.
Elise's face lit up. “Thank you, Miss Tea!” she called. To the elf at the register, she asked, “Was it nine cred forty?” She started rummaging around in her purse.
The elven barista shrugged, then rang the purchase up on her workshell. “Nine cred forty three,” she corrected.
“Oh!” Elise stopped short of giving the barista the chits she'd counted out. She reached back into her purse and closed her eyes, feeling for the magical signatures of the credit chits. Her finger brushed one charged with three demi-cred precisely, and she smiled, pulled it out, and handed them over. “Here you go!” she said, smiling.
The barista didn't react much to Elise's reaction, but simply processed the order and went to start grilling the panini.
After a few moments, Tea said, “Chai!” and set the drink down on the counter a few paces to Elise's left.
Still smiling from the happy chance, she called, “Thank you!” again, took her chai, and went to lean against a railing, watching so she'd notice when her panini was ready.
“Sure,” Tea said.
As Elise waited for her panini, a male and female couple walked into the coffee shop and perused the menu, murmuring to each other as they decided what they wanted to get.
Elise tensed slightly when she saw them. It wasn't that she was afraid of the newcomers, exactly. But the two baristas and the half-orc were familiar. She kept sipping her chai and watching for her panini, but every once in a while she glanced nervously over at the couple out of the corner of her eye. As she became more aware of her surroundings, Elise realized that the coffeeshop was far more populated than it had been on the rainy night before; the nicer weather had brought more people into the store. There were quite a few people in other tables that she didn't recognize. The couple walked up to the counter to order just as Elise's panini was set out onto the counter.
“Panini,” the elven barista said.
Elise darted up to the counter and snatched the plate away, carrying it and the half-finished drink to an empty table. She sat on the bench and curled her legs under her, staring at her dinner self-consciously. The bubbling noise of the crowd surrounded Elise like moving water. No one was being particularly loud, but the noise was constant; most of the shop's customers were carrying on between themselves, and some spoke on their shells. The couple sat down one table away from Elise and talked quietly to each other, smiling.
It wasn't until then that Elise finally broke out of her reverie and realized that she was in the middle of a coffeeshop absolutely filled with people. As she looked from one side to the other, and even turned to glance behind her, all she saw was a mass of people, all of them strangers, all of them dangerous. She squeezed her eyes shut and willed her breathing to slow back down; then, forcing her limbs to be steady, she picked up her meal and walked past all the people to a table by the window. Addressing the table's occupant, she asked in a small voice, “Excuse me, Miss Beanhammer. May I please sit here?”
“Please,” the half-orc said, making a sweeping gesture over the seat next to her. “Help yourself, Miss…?”
“Bauckmann,” Elise replied, gratefully slipping into the chair and setting her food and drink down. “My name is Elise Bauckmann.”
“Beanhammer,” the half-orc replied, nodding politely. “Althea Beanhammer. I am pleased to make your acquaintance in earnest.”
Elise smiled weakly, still slightly shaky from her near-panic attack. “It's a pleasure to meet you too, Miss Beanhammer. I'm sorry I-” she began, then stopped herself. “Are you here often?”
“Yes,” Althea said. “I like to come here after work.”
“That's nice,” Elise replied. “Is it usually… like this?” She took a gulp of her chai, then continued, “…there are a lot of people here.”
“Sometimes,” Althea said. “This is a fairly popular coffeeshop. It's open all night, so coming late is a good way to enjoy it with a thinner crowd.”
Elise nodded. She picked up her panini and took a bite out of it, getting a surprised look on her face. She finished the bite and set the sandwich down, exclaiming with wonder, “This is really good!” She met Althea's eyes and blushed, taking another sip of her tea to cover her embarrassment. “So, um, what is it that you do for a living, Miss Beanhammer?” she asked her drink.
“Panini is quite good,” Althea agreed. “I like its combination of textures, and it typically has a good strong flavor spectrum. And to answer your question, I am an artisan gunsmith.”
“Oh!” Elise said, making the connection. “I think my daddy has one of your guns. I thought I'd heard the name ‘Beanhammer’ before.” Elise smiled happily at Althea.
“Your father must have an unusual taste in weaponry,” Althea said, smiling. “Beanhammer guns bear a certain distance from the standard armament circles.”
“Really?” Elise asked, confused. “Why is that?”
“Because they are unusual,” Althea said. “They are very expensive, only we can service them and they don't fit into the standard … ‘arms culture’ language of the city.”
“Oh,” said Elise. “I don't think my daddy has ever really fit in here. He used to live in the New K,” she explained.
Althea leaned back in her chair. “Ah, wait,” she says. “Yes. A Mr… Leon, was it? Leon Bauckmann? Commissioned a pair of small thirty-eights, and 120 rounds of artisan ammunition in that caliber. My mother constructed the pistols for him.”
Elise's face lit up, and she exclaimed, “You know him? You know my…” she trailed off and a pained look flitted briefly across her face. She continued in a more sedate tone, “Well, of course you know him, I mean, he did have to go to your atelier for his guns. What's it like to actually make things, Miss Beanhammer? To finish a project and see something new in the world that you put there?”
Althea smiled. “Quite lovely,” she said. “A properly done work of art is a wonder for even its creator to look upon. Hm.” She lost herself in the thought for a moment, then turned to Elise. “You know, in New Washington the term ‘atelier’ is generally reserved for a magical workshop. Are you an artificer, Miss Elise?”
“Oh!” Elise clapped a hand to her mouth, her face turning scarlet. “I didn't mean… well, I, um, I'm not… not really. I mean, I'd like to be, but…” she sighed, cheeks still burning. “I don't really know very much about it. Not yet.”
Althea is still for a moment, and Elise can practically watch the half-orc searching her memory. Every movement coming from the gunsmith seems deliberate. “You're an apprentice,” she says. “For the Murphy Atelier.”
Elise's eyes widened, and she nodded. “Yes, but how did you…?”
“Yesterday,” Althea said. “Mr. Tepes called you ‘Elsa's pet’.”
“Oh.” Elise's blush crept to her ears. “That.” She nodded, then glanced up at the older woman. “Wait. Tepes? How many names does he have?”
“Tepes is his last name,” Althea says. “Saturday is his first name, I believe. It may be a nickname, I suppose.”
“Oh,” Elise said again, feeling somewhat silly. “I guess I should have thought of that. He doesn't… usually come here, does he?” she asked, remembering what he'd said the previous evening.
Althea smiled faintly. “He passes by here nearly every day, but doesn't come in,” she said. “He's handsome, so one day I waited outside and lured him in. Since then, he comes by every once in a while.”
Elise nodded, but didn't trust herself to say anything that wouldn't embarrass her further. Instead, she picked up her panini and ate some more, glancing out the window.
“Be careful,” Althea said after a pause. “I'm not sure what that boy is up to, but he has the stance of a fighter. And he carries a baseball bat under that coat.”
Elise looked back over at her, startled. “What… what does that mean, Miss Beanhammer?”
“I'm not entirely sure,” Althea replied. “He keeps it out of sight, which means that he isn't sending a message with it; Mr. Tepes seems content to ignore the New Washington Arms Culture symbols. As a weapon, a high-density plastic bat is blunt and very durable, which means that he'd be using it with his own strength. Last of all, he doesn't wear a bulletshield. Which means that he isn't worried about guns.”
Elise knit her brow, thinking about what Althea said. To herself, she murmured, “Then… that'd mean, he's…” she fell silent, trying to reconcile everything she'd learned about the mysterious elf.
“He probably has enhanced strength of some sort,” Althea said. “Possibly speed and durability as well. And there's a fair chance that he uses it.”
Elise's composure finally broke. “But… he's an artificer! He works in the bazaar! Why would he…” she sniffled softly. “Why would… I just don't understand,” she ended, sounding forlorn.
“I couldn't tell you,” Althea replied. “But I will tell you that being an artificer or working in the bazaar does not preclude a life with violence. I have seen my share of it.”
Elise looked down at her hands. “I know,” she said quietly. “I know that. I just… I don't really like to think about it.”
“Ah,” Althea said. “Everything in its time, then. But unless you wish to think about it, you may want to reconsider contact with Mr. Tepes.”
Elise took a deep breath. She looked up at Althea and asked, “Do I really have a choice? Miss Beanhammer, I live on my own. I work for Elsa Murphy. I go to the Bazaar wearing a Forcebolt, and I know what that says to you and anyone else who sees me. I think… I think I have to start thinking about things like that. Don't I?”
“Oh, yes,” Althea replied with a smile. “But far be it from me to demand that someone face the reality of this city's ways. That's up to you.”
Elise bit her lip, then nodded, deciding, “I do.” Then her look of determination faltered a bit. “Um… where do I start?”