Breakfast At Spiffany's
The sun is not quite up outside and many people really should be asleep. Maggie is not, however. She is seated at a corner table off away from the door, back to the wall, chair placed strategically where she can see the room easily enough. This could be force of habit, perhaps, bleeding through the fog of memory. A pot of coffee has been placed in front of her and a mug steams away at her right hand. She is scanning a menu that has been set in front of her, but no wait staff hover. Yet. Early sunlight begins to filter beneath snow laden clouds, though does not do much to ease the gloom.
Well this is rather fancy. Through the lobby archway, Kerfuffle can be seen doing his level best to remain unfazed by the trappings of opulence which become more evident with each step deeper into the edifice. He at least has made further investment in respectable appearances, now in a soft fawn doublet over lighter-toned shirt and breeches. Still underdressed somehow, though that might be due to the lack of that signature red coat, which while it would likely have been an eyesore in the Golden Goose, had seemed to be an integral part of the man in those first few days of about town. Now it graces some other dummy, of the padded cloth type at any rate, in some tailor's shop. Locating the dining room, Kerf makes inquiries of the morning host and is politely directed towards Maggie's table, clearly.. for what other reason could he be here? He makes the familiar salute from the entrance to alert her to his approach, before walking over, looking not exactly chipper, but at least fully awake. "How are you this morning, Maggie? Thanks for agreeing to a breakfast with me."
Catching sight of the fellow in the dapper doublet, Maggie does not initially recognize Kerfuffle. The salute tips her off and she returns it, her smile warming. When you approach, she gestures to the table, "Of course, Kerf. Please have a seat?" She turns the gesture to indicate the coffee pot, "Would you like some? Or do you prefer tea?" The sparkle in her gaze is faintly muted, as though she is either not yet awake or has not yet slept. "I confess that I was a little surprised at the invitation, but am pleased to see you." She sets the menu down and scoots it over toward the chair, "I am considering the eggs benedict. I don't think I've ever tried it before. What's on your mind?"
"Coffee, nothing added." He pulls out his chair with a canny glance that notes the angle of Maggie's own seat, but accepts the wide blind spot of putting his back to a lot of the room so he can face her directly. "It's nothing so specific," he admits as he settles in, one hand hesitating on the menu. "All the times we've been together so far, it's been one social gathering or conflict I suppose, or another. There's a lot to attend to, don't you find, Maggie? And here we are both in somewhat the same situation, regarding," he gestures with a brush of fingers to his temple in place of words, although to be fair he had sported no such bandage as Maggie had. "Yet I haven't had the chance to inquire as to your recovery."
Maggie nods and reaches to claim the pot. A second cup is turned over onto a saucer and she fills it with rich, aromatic, dark liquid. She catches the look as to placement and a smile begins. Once she sets the pot down again, she leans back in her chair, gaze flickering out and around the room before her eyes settle on you once more. Lifting her mug, she cradles it in her hands before taking a sip before commenting, "There have been a lot of social gatherings. And conflicts of one sort or another." The coffee; which she also takes black, seems to help as she brightens a little, "That is kind of you. My recovery... Well, it has been in fits and starts, honestly. I know who my mother and father are now. It turns out that I have a big, if bizarre family." The faintly amuzed irony in her tone is almost biting, "Filled with good people, prats and the criminally insane. It will be an adventure figuring out who they all are. But, I do not remember anything about what my life was like growing up, nor where my ship is. Nor even what sort she is. What about you?"
Kerf opens the menu but keeps it lowered, attention trained on her as she speaks, and mostly directed at her face even. He's not a pure block of ice! Nodding over the update with a bit of knowing, perhaps having heard a bit of that already, and only requiring confirmation from the source. "That is a great stride forward, Maggie. How odd to have so many now who can tell you who you are." Or who they think she is. Or who they want her to be! "I cannot imagine what that must be like for you." It's not all congratulatory smiles in his voice, rather hints of neutrality or cynicism. Maybe it's envy. He takes a quick glance through the menu while adding for his own part, "I've discovered no leads or connections as significant as yours, sadly. Only... spots. Moments of recall without any helpful context." Something about the menu tugs up a smile. "Eggs Benedict it is."
Listening in turn, Maggie almost laughs, "Not who I am, really because while they are kin, they did not know me growing up. Even my dad only met me recently. So, I think it gives me context for who I might become in a way. And an anchor to the city that I may or may not use. But, none of this tells me anything real about the person I am or how I got here. Other than knowing who my mother is. She raised me. But she is in Minos and is unable to come here right now. Of course she wants me to come there right away. Parents." The smile fades a bit then and she reaches across the table to lightly touch your arm, if allowed, "It will come, Kerf. What do you remember? I doubt that I can help much, but sometimes talking about it sparks new memory." When you decide to join her in Eggs Benedict, she nods to a waitress who bustles over to take the orders.
Some concern grows and sharpens his focus, now only watching her eyes, as she speaks of her mother. The subject shifts before he can comment, and he willingly goes with it for the moment, shaking his head faintly to facilitate the mental switch. "Most recently, the snow ball battlegrounds at de Sorgo.. our little 'dramatic re-enactment', not that any real siege ever concluded quite that amiably. But after a short while, do you know, it ceased to feel like mere play-acting? For a moment or so." And then someone under his command had switched sides and put snow down the back of his pants. "There was another surreal moment at the market when I was looking up at a flying pennant, and the ground began to heave under me, or so it felt.. it was Raph who decided from then on that I favoured rum, wenches, and stormy weather.. look, can't you just tell your mother you misplaced your ship and can't visit until you find it?" he abruptly interrupts himself to say what he'd wanted to before.
Lifting her brows at the evident concern, Maggie's lips twitch slightly into the faintest ghost of a smile, though that fades when the snow seige is brought up. She shifts her focus for an instant, flickering her gaze out behind you to take in new patrons or anyone else who might be approaching from that angle. When her gaze returns it holds a similar sort of concern that you showed earlier, "I wondered. Your tactics changed somewhat and I got the impression that laying seige to a costal fortification is not new to you. The glare you gave the turncoat was interesting." More thoughtfully, then, she contemplates the other moment, speaking softly, "She might not be far off. Raphaela. Look. Someone here has offered to let me borrow time on his ship. To see if my memories of having one are actually true ones. Would you like to come?" she lifts the mug of coffee and laughs, "Oh, I probably could. Should. But, for some reason I am reluctant to admit to my mother that I lost her. The ship, I mean."
"Mmn. Likely it's considered bad form on Minos," he says with a passing smirk, covering the surprise of being offered a spot on the exploratory voyage. When the breakfast order comes, garnished with festive sprigs, swirls of yellow cream, sliced fruit, he settles back, the faint crease of sleeve where her hand had rested now smoothing out. "I would welcome the opportunity, Maggie," he says once the server has gone. "I'm grateful to you. Did you say this lost ship might be a trick of your imagination? How could that be possible to remember a ship that doesn't exist? Although yes, the one person you know who could confirm it's existence, you cannot ask." He nods, yes, that's a problem. "If you grew up in Minos, perhaps that is why..." he starts to venture, then stops. Mmm, weird fancy poached eggs named after a Prince of Amber. Time to try a bite.
Maggie says, "No doubt." She smiles a bit, then sobers as the order is settled in front of them. Looking down at the plate, she first takes in the entire arrangement with the garnishing, the cream, the eggs. Her gaze lifts then though she shrugs, "I think we are both sailors of one variety or another, Kerf. I think we should help each other. So far, I have been lucky in finding names or faces that act as memory joggers. You, not so much." Drawing in a breath that includes the scent of the eggs, she considers the quandry over a sip of coffee, "It is not that exactly. I do remember the ship. She was the Wave Dancer. What I do not recall is what happened to her or her exact configurations. Sometimes I think she is a double masted ship, others more of a... Well, that is part of the problem. I cannot get a mental fix on her. Then... was she lost? Meaning skuttled. Or lost as in stollen or... I have nothing." The iniiial venture is caught and she watches you a while in silence before offering, "As far as I know, I grew up in Minos. But, you started to say something? Perhaps that is why... What?" As she speaks, her voice softens, though does not get as soft as a whisper, "Ker?" But the bite is claimed and she looks down at her own plate long enough to organize a taste."
Kerfuffle swallows, looking appreciative of the breakfast, but not so far as wanting to run into the kitchen to shake the master chef's hand. It's eggs in sauce. Having nodded along with the wandering musings, he doesn't try to offer any suggestions - she has obviously pondered this to death and covered all the bases. But he's not in the clear, damn her way of circling around and tackling his sore spot. "I.. uh. I don't want to say," he says after a long moment, despite being prompted once more and plaintively too. "It's presumptuous and it puts you in a position you ought not be in, while vulnerable to suggestion," he warns, but he also relents: "From the moment I heard your voice, saw your face, your hair... I've felt strongly like I know you from somewhere, Maggie."
Maggie does tend to wander when musing. It is a bit distracting and a hair disorrienting. Maybe it is the way she thinks, or maybe it is because so much is confusing. Still, she gets there. Usually. Watching as you finally come to the objections, she nods, "Well. If you don't want to say, don't. Though now you have my curiosity roused. Again." The bite is claimed and she looks a bit startled at the flavor. Looking down, she purses her lips just a bit while chewing and swallowing. Another bite is arranged though she looks up at you when you finally relent. Slowly, she nods and the sparkle in her emerald eyes sharpens a little, "I... know what you mean." She does not take that bite yet, but ponders, eyes studying your face, "I am almost positive that I know you." Then after a moment, "It was strongest while you wore your red coat."
"That was a truly eye-catching shade of red," Kerf agrees absently, clearly uneasy about having come out and delivered such a horrid, stalkery, cliche', pick-uppy, horrid, LINE to a lady. A friend. "Wait.. you said..? You do?" He leans forward, wonder and relief creeping onto his features, hand abandoning the polished flatware to reach out involuntarily, though he ends up gripping the table's clothed edge. Once he's convinced himself that he didn't imagine it, he tilts his head. "But... it doesn't make any sense."
Maggie says, "It was truly an eye catching shade." She smiles a bit at the wonder and relief mirrored in your gaze and might blush if she thought of the line as a pick up attempt, but with the topic already firmly established to be memory, the line flowed naturally enough that the potential significance was lost. She nods, "I do. Yes. Almost positive. Seeing you gave me the first pangs of memory, but that one never quite materialized. Not sure why." When you reach forward, she does too, though in her gaze it is a gentle sort of gesture, intentional and does not land, quite. Breakfast is forgotten as she studies your eyes, your features, "Why not? Why doesn't it make sense? Perhaps we served on a ship together at one time. I do not think you were part of my crew... You seem too... Captain-y. But, before? Perhaps?"
Kerfuffle is trapped in fascination, holding onto the table with his hands and Maggie with his eyes, as though it all might just pitch and capsize under the waves again if he so much as twitches. He does have to chance a lick of his lips; his mouth's gone dry. "Why don't I remember that, then.. or anything, anything about you? How has /nothing/ come back to me, seeing you daily, with a sensation that strong? It's..." It's not FAIR. "...been maddening." Abruptly, he pulls back and growls, "Forgive me. I have no answers." Standing from the table, he catches his serviette before it falls from his lap and puts it over his unfinished plate.
Maggie's gaze remains fixed on yours, wonder and potential vying for dominance. She does not let that touch land as it might break the concentration and risk possible memory. Slowly she shakes her head, "I do not know. But, I should remember and not speculate. Speculation is a cheat in this case, I guess." She draws in a breath when you growl and rise. She stands more slowly, "There is nothing to forgive. It will come to one of us sooner or later, I am sure." She does not seek to stop you, but does offer, "I will let you know when the ship voyage is to be. Perhaps we will remember more then." She settles enough coin on the table to pay for both servings, "See you again. Sooner rather than later, I hope."
Well this is rather fancy. Through the lobby archway, Kerfuffle can be seen doing his level best to remain unfazed by the trappings of opulence which become more evident with each step deeper into the edifice. He at least has made further investment in respectable appearances, now in a soft fawn doublet over lighter-toned shirt and breeches. Still underdressed somehow, though that might be due to the lack of that signature red coat, which while it would likely have been an eyesore in the Golden Goose, had seemed to be an integral part of the man in those first few days of about town. Now it graces some other dummy, of the padded cloth type at any rate, in some tailor's shop. Locating the dining room, Kerf makes inquiries of the morning host and is politely directed towards Maggie's table, clearly.. for what other reason could he be here? He makes the familiar salute from the entrance to alert her to his approach, before walking over, looking not exactly chipper, but at least fully awake. "How are you this morning, Maggie? Thanks for agreeing to a breakfast with me."
Catching sight of the fellow in the dapper doublet, Maggie does not initially recognize Kerfuffle. The salute tips her off and she returns it, her smile warming. When you approach, she gestures to the table, "Of course, Kerf. Please have a seat?" She turns the gesture to indicate the coffee pot, "Would you like some? Or do you prefer tea?" The sparkle in her gaze is faintly muted, as though she is either not yet awake or has not yet slept. "I confess that I was a little surprised at the invitation, but am pleased to see you." She sets the menu down and scoots it over toward the chair, "I am considering the eggs benedict. I don't think I've ever tried it before. What's on your mind?"
"Coffee, nothing added." He pulls out his chair with a canny glance that notes the angle of Maggie's own seat, but accepts the wide blind spot of putting his back to a lot of the room so he can face her directly. "It's nothing so specific," he admits as he settles in, one hand hesitating on the menu. "All the times we've been together so far, it's been one social gathering or conflict I suppose, or another. There's a lot to attend to, don't you find, Maggie? And here we are both in somewhat the same situation, regarding," he gestures with a brush of fingers to his temple in place of words, although to be fair he had sported no such bandage as Maggie had. "Yet I haven't had the chance to inquire as to your recovery."
Maggie nods and reaches to claim the pot. A second cup is turned over onto a saucer and she fills it with rich, aromatic, dark liquid. She catches the look as to placement and a smile begins. Once she sets the pot down again, she leans back in her chair, gaze flickering out and around the room before her eyes settle on you once more. Lifting her mug, she cradles it in her hands before taking a sip before commenting, "There have been a lot of social gatherings. And conflicts of one sort or another." The coffee; which she also takes black, seems to help as she brightens a little, "That is kind of you. My recovery... Well, it has been in fits and starts, honestly. I know who my mother and father are now. It turns out that I have a big, if bizarre family." The faintly amuzed irony in her tone is almost biting, "Filled with good people, prats and the criminally insane. It will be an adventure figuring out who they all are. But, I do not remember anything about what my life was like growing up, nor where my ship is. Nor even what sort she is. What about you?"
Kerf opens the menu but keeps it lowered, attention trained on her as she speaks, and mostly directed at her face even. He's not a pure block of ice! Nodding over the update with a bit of knowing, perhaps having heard a bit of that already, and only requiring confirmation from the source. "That is a great stride forward, Maggie. How odd to have so many now who can tell you who you are." Or who they think she is. Or who they want her to be! "I cannot imagine what that must be like for you." It's not all congratulatory smiles in his voice, rather hints of neutrality or cynicism. Maybe it's envy. He takes a quick glance through the menu while adding for his own part, "I've discovered no leads or connections as significant as yours, sadly. Only... spots. Moments of recall without any helpful context." Something about the menu tugs up a smile. "Eggs Benedict it is."
Listening in turn, Maggie almost laughs, "Not who I am, really because while they are kin, they did not know me growing up. Even my dad only met me recently. So, I think it gives me context for who I might become in a way. And an anchor to the city that I may or may not use. But, none of this tells me anything real about the person I am or how I got here. Other than knowing who my mother is. She raised me. But she is in Minos and is unable to come here right now. Of course she wants me to come there right away. Parents." The smile fades a bit then and she reaches across the table to lightly touch your arm, if allowed, "It will come, Kerf. What do you remember? I doubt that I can help much, but sometimes talking about it sparks new memory." When you decide to join her in Eggs Benedict, she nods to a waitress who bustles over to take the orders.
Some concern grows and sharpens his focus, now only watching her eyes, as she speaks of her mother. The subject shifts before he can comment, and he willingly goes with it for the moment, shaking his head faintly to facilitate the mental switch. "Most recently, the snow ball battlegrounds at de Sorgo.. our little 'dramatic re-enactment', not that any real siege ever concluded quite that amiably. But after a short while, do you know, it ceased to feel like mere play-acting? For a moment or so." And then someone under his command had switched sides and put snow down the back of his pants. "There was another surreal moment at the market when I was looking up at a flying pennant, and the ground began to heave under me, or so it felt.. it was Raph who decided from then on that I favoured rum, wenches, and stormy weather.. look, can't you just tell your mother you misplaced your ship and can't visit until you find it?" he abruptly interrupts himself to say what he'd wanted to before.
Lifting her brows at the evident concern, Maggie's lips twitch slightly into the faintest ghost of a smile, though that fades when the snow seige is brought up. She shifts her focus for an instant, flickering her gaze out behind you to take in new patrons or anyone else who might be approaching from that angle. When her gaze returns it holds a similar sort of concern that you showed earlier, "I wondered. Your tactics changed somewhat and I got the impression that laying seige to a costal fortification is not new to you. The glare you gave the turncoat was interesting." More thoughtfully, then, she contemplates the other moment, speaking softly, "She might not be far off. Raphaela. Look. Someone here has offered to let me borrow time on his ship. To see if my memories of having one are actually true ones. Would you like to come?" she lifts the mug of coffee and laughs, "Oh, I probably could. Should. But, for some reason I am reluctant to admit to my mother that I lost her. The ship, I mean."
"Mmn. Likely it's considered bad form on Minos," he says with a passing smirk, covering the surprise of being offered a spot on the exploratory voyage. When the breakfast order comes, garnished with festive sprigs, swirls of yellow cream, sliced fruit, he settles back, the faint crease of sleeve where her hand had rested now smoothing out. "I would welcome the opportunity, Maggie," he says once the server has gone. "I'm grateful to you. Did you say this lost ship might be a trick of your imagination? How could that be possible to remember a ship that doesn't exist? Although yes, the one person you know who could confirm it's existence, you cannot ask." He nods, yes, that's a problem. "If you grew up in Minos, perhaps that is why..." he starts to venture, then stops. Mmm, weird fancy poached eggs named after a Prince of Amber. Time to try a bite.
Maggie says, "No doubt." She smiles a bit, then sobers as the order is settled in front of them. Looking down at the plate, she first takes in the entire arrangement with the garnishing, the cream, the eggs. Her gaze lifts then though she shrugs, "I think we are both sailors of one variety or another, Kerf. I think we should help each other. So far, I have been lucky in finding names or faces that act as memory joggers. You, not so much." Drawing in a breath that includes the scent of the eggs, she considers the quandry over a sip of coffee, "It is not that exactly. I do remember the ship. She was the Wave Dancer. What I do not recall is what happened to her or her exact configurations. Sometimes I think she is a double masted ship, others more of a... Well, that is part of the problem. I cannot get a mental fix on her. Then... was she lost? Meaning skuttled. Or lost as in stollen or... I have nothing." The iniiial venture is caught and she watches you a while in silence before offering, "As far as I know, I grew up in Minos. But, you started to say something? Perhaps that is why... What?" As she speaks, her voice softens, though does not get as soft as a whisper, "Ker?" But the bite is claimed and she looks down at her own plate long enough to organize a taste."
Kerfuffle swallows, looking appreciative of the breakfast, but not so far as wanting to run into the kitchen to shake the master chef's hand. It's eggs in sauce. Having nodded along with the wandering musings, he doesn't try to offer any suggestions - she has obviously pondered this to death and covered all the bases. But he's not in the clear, damn her way of circling around and tackling his sore spot. "I.. uh. I don't want to say," he says after a long moment, despite being prompted once more and plaintively too. "It's presumptuous and it puts you in a position you ought not be in, while vulnerable to suggestion," he warns, but he also relents: "From the moment I heard your voice, saw your face, your hair... I've felt strongly like I know you from somewhere, Maggie."
Maggie does tend to wander when musing. It is a bit distracting and a hair disorrienting. Maybe it is the way she thinks, or maybe it is because so much is confusing. Still, she gets there. Usually. Watching as you finally come to the objections, she nods, "Well. If you don't want to say, don't. Though now you have my curiosity roused. Again." The bite is claimed and she looks a bit startled at the flavor. Looking down, she purses her lips just a bit while chewing and swallowing. Another bite is arranged though she looks up at you when you finally relent. Slowly, she nods and the sparkle in her emerald eyes sharpens a little, "I... know what you mean." She does not take that bite yet, but ponders, eyes studying your face, "I am almost positive that I know you." Then after a moment, "It was strongest while you wore your red coat."
"That was a truly eye-catching shade of red," Kerf agrees absently, clearly uneasy about having come out and delivered such a horrid, stalkery, cliche', pick-uppy, horrid, LINE to a lady. A friend. "Wait.. you said..? You do?" He leans forward, wonder and relief creeping onto his features, hand abandoning the polished flatware to reach out involuntarily, though he ends up gripping the table's clothed edge. Once he's convinced himself that he didn't imagine it, he tilts his head. "But... it doesn't make any sense."
Maggie says, "It was truly an eye catching shade." She smiles a bit at the wonder and relief mirrored in your gaze and might blush if she thought of the line as a pick up attempt, but with the topic already firmly established to be memory, the line flowed naturally enough that the potential significance was lost. She nods, "I do. Yes. Almost positive. Seeing you gave me the first pangs of memory, but that one never quite materialized. Not sure why." When you reach forward, she does too, though in her gaze it is a gentle sort of gesture, intentional and does not land, quite. Breakfast is forgotten as she studies your eyes, your features, "Why not? Why doesn't it make sense? Perhaps we served on a ship together at one time. I do not think you were part of my crew... You seem too... Captain-y. But, before? Perhaps?"
Kerfuffle is trapped in fascination, holding onto the table with his hands and Maggie with his eyes, as though it all might just pitch and capsize under the waves again if he so much as twitches. He does have to chance a lick of his lips; his mouth's gone dry. "Why don't I remember that, then.. or anything, anything about you? How has /nothing/ come back to me, seeing you daily, with a sensation that strong? It's..." It's not FAIR. "...been maddening." Abruptly, he pulls back and growls, "Forgive me. I have no answers." Standing from the table, he catches his serviette before it falls from his lap and puts it over his unfinished plate.
Maggie's gaze remains fixed on yours, wonder and potential vying for dominance. She does not let that touch land as it might break the concentration and risk possible memory. Slowly she shakes her head, "I do not know. But, I should remember and not speculate. Speculation is a cheat in this case, I guess." She draws in a breath when you growl and rise. She stands more slowly, "There is nothing to forgive. It will come to one of us sooner or later, I am sure." She does not seek to stop you, but does offer, "I will let you know when the ship voyage is to be. Perhaps we will remember more then." She settles enough coin on the table to pay for both servings, "See you again. Sooner rather than later, I hope."