...And blinking, step into the sun.

[knownallbyheart]

Hermione Granger is in a cafeteria within the Kashtta. She is surrounded by books, papers, and quills. Despite the fact that the sheer volume of books and paperwork combined more than outweighs/outsize her by three times, everything appears to be fairly organized. She is taking notes quickly and efficiently, and she's occasionally pushing her

Comments

[omnomnomface]

Here's the thing about Trin: she has no sense of subtlety. Or of decorum. So when she sees Rogue? Her first act of concern is to hurry over to her and throw up her hands.

"What happened?" she demands. "What did you do to that dress?"

Trin is a big appreciator of pretty things. To see them destroyed is, for her, very very sad.

Also, she has no tact. Whoops.

[touchme_n_die]

Rogue doesn't really do subtle, or at least not well. Subtle is for folks like her Mama. She appreciates straight-forward, although she's a bit caught off-guard.

She looks down at the dress and smooths her once-white gloves over the full skirt. It smears even more blackened goop over the fabric.

"I picked somethin' kinda big on up and it spilled on me," she says with a shrug. "I've gotten out of the habit of wearin' ..." She bats at the skirt again. "...this kinda thing."

[omnomnomface]

Oh, Trin does straight-forward. She doesn't really know how to do anything else. Literally.

She makes a big wincing face as Rogue smears more stuff over her dress.

"Oh man. What did you pick up? 'Cause... I mean. It kind of looks like you've got a lost cause there. I mean. We could TRY, but I have a feeling that anything strong enough to take the stains out will also, like. Dissolve that skirt."

Because yes, apparently today's mission is dedicated to helping Rogue save her skirt. That's just how Trin rolls.

[touchme_n_die]

Rogue notes that wincing face and stops the smearing process, altogether. For now. She'll probably start up again without realizing it.

'What did you pick up?'

"A cement mixer truck," she says with a smile. It's entirely true, but she's sure it'll be taken as a joke. That's just fine, too. She glances down at what, surely, is a lost cause. "It's engine grease mostly, and some tar."

She looks up at Trinity again and smiles. "I don't think there's anythin' that gets tar out. I'm Rogue, by the way."

[crashiscoming]

Scout is just wandering around outside the club, fighting off the urge to kill people. She's allowed to now--she's not living with the coldbloods any more--but she's already killed today and somewhere in the back of her little broken brain, there's a promise that she has been half-keeping for her whole stay here in Chicago. At the very least, she can't kill when the coldbloods are looking.

So here she is, standing outside the club, looking up at it with slightly out of focus eyes. She's breathing hard, audibly so, the whoosh of her own lungs filling her ears. "Gone," she says on the exhale. "Gone."

You may want to rid the premises of a crazy Rak, Nikolas. It's not really the best thing ever for business.

[swallowmyblood]

Nikolas watches Scout for a while actually, his face expressionless.

This...isn't how he planned to spend any part of his day, certainly.

Without moving any closer, really, he steps to the side and down, off of the curb. His eyes remain on Scout as he listens to her.

"Is there something you need?" He doesn't really expect a coherent answer, but he's going to give it a shot. ...Actually, if he receives a coherent answer, he'll probably go inside and get one of his random employees to deal with this. He's not a helpful sort.

[crashiscoming]

Scout jerks, looking at him like he's a speeding car and she has no idea how to get out of the way. Her hands involuntarily curl into fists, and she shakes where she stands, but doesn't move out of her place.

"Need?" she half-laughs. "Need, need, need lots but don't have, yeah? Yeah, don't have, can't help, failure failure Dr. McKay. Kid's a goner, give up and go home and sleep, yeah?" She nods violently, her face breaking into a huge grin. She holds back a choked sob, because nothing is making sense right now, and that includes her emotions.

"Need a thousand ships crash crash whooo sorry sorry sorry sir not sorry, yeah?" The emphasized word is vicious, and the teeth are bared now, not smiling. "Gone." Smile's back. "All gone."

[swallowmyblood]

Nikolas is...not pleased, now.

"Yeah," he says, and what it's in response to, there's not telling. He actually listens to her, there's simply no way for him to understand what the meaning is behind her words.

There's also a certain lack of caring that doesn't help the matter.

The shift of expressions, smiling and not, the emotions and laughs all serve to puzzle him in their lack of certainty. There's no control, and he likes a degree of control in all things. The lack of control reminds him entirely too much of someone else. "Where is your someplace else? You should be there."

[ginger_headgirl]

Lily just came down from her apartment and came down into the cafeteria to grab a bite. After finding an apple, she spots Hermione furiously writing notes and she heads for the girl.

She truly is grateful that Hermione helped her out when she first arrived in the Rift. If it weren't for her, Lily probably would have been wandering around the streets looking more lost than ever.

Lily smiles at Hermione once she reaches Hermione's table, "Hello."

Gesturing at the chair across from her, Lily asks, "Mind if I sit with you?"

[knownallbyheart]

When she hears the 'Hello', Hermione looks up and smiles. "Lily! Hello."

"Of course, please do." She smiles and marks the page in the book she was taking notes from with a ribbon, then pushes it a bit to the left.

It's still a bit baffling, really, to know that this is Harry's mother. She finds that she rather likes her, too, and her smile is absolutely genuine.

"How have you been? Settling in well, I hope?"

[ginger_headgirl]

Lily's smile widens as she sits down in the empty seat.

"Yeah, things have been going pretty smoothly." Well, other than the fact that she cried herself to sleep thinking about her loved ones. "The people here are very friendly."

Lily takes a bite out of her apple and swallows it before speaking, "I met your friend Harry." She shakes her head and chuckles lightly. "I can't believe that he's James Potter's son. James was the last person I saw before I came here."

"Oh." Lily gestures to her cheek, "You have some ink there."

[knownallbyheart]

"They are rather nice, aren't they?" Hermione is so pleased to hear that people have been nice, and while she's sure there's a bit of a cheerful front in place, Lily seems to be all right...as well as one could expect, certainly.

At the mention of Harry, Hermione warms further. "He's rather remarkable," she says softly. "He's been my best friend since first year. There's no one more loyal." It tugs at her heart, knowing that James was the last person Lily saw. She imagines he must be worried.

She's smiling still as she scrunches her nose and wipes at her face. "That's fairly typical of me," she admits a bit sheepishly. "There were some who wondered at me going to Gryffindor rather than Ravenclaw. I'm almost always reading a book or covered in ink." There's no displeasure at the mention of either house, only fondness.

[wearsnomask]

Rachel would recognize those freshly-made scones of Alfred's anywhere. They're all but a staple from her childhood, and that didn't change as she grew older.

She stops in her tracks, poking her head into the kitchen.

Sure enough, there he is, Alfred Pennyworth. And not just with scones. It seems he is settling into the Kashtta well enough.

Or at least, the Kashtta's kitchen.

A slow, fond smile pulls across her face. "Hi, Alfred."

[apennyworth]

He is settling in well, indeed. This is hardly his first visit to the Kashtta's kitchen, but it is his most indulgent one.

There's been a need to do something productive, of late, and it won't keep in the kitchen, of course, but it's a pleasant enough start.

Alfred's mood is already a pleasant one. Upon seeing Rachel, it improves even further. "Hello, Rachel." His tone is light and filled with amusement. "You smelled the scones?" He asks, and he already knows.

"Do you have a few moments to spare?" There's a bit of mischief in his smile, Rachel. He is not above bribery. The teapot he holds up is proof of that.

[wearsnomask]

Her smile brightens at his greeting. "Was there ever any doubt I would if I was in the premises?" she asks, almost as if insulted.

That is not the case, of course.

She steps further into the kitchen, which isn't at all like the Wayne Manor but there's Alfred, and there's his cooking, and it's enough.

It's enough.

"For you? Always." Alfred wouldn't even need bribery. Rachel sits on the stool across from him, propping her chin on one hand and smiling at him warmly. "How've you been?"

[apennyworth]

Alfred chuckles and shakes his head knowingly. "No doubt at all."

As he answers her question, Alfred moves to pour them both a cup of tea, the sets down the teapot before moving her cup and saucer to the proper spot before her. "I've been remarkably well," he says thoughtfully. "I've settled in nicely, and now I'm searching for something productive to do with my time."

He smiles as he offers her a small plate for her scones. "What about you? Is there anything new to report?" Alfred would imagine things have been rather hectic, with all of the activity of late.

She seems rather happy, and he can only hope that there are good things happening with her.

[nowinprint]

Just what the Doctor ordered: one slightly hyperloquatious pseudo-Angel of Knowledge who's just been alerted that something interesting might be happening on the other side of town, and is therefore careening out of the Kashtta with a messenger bag and a headset. Lucky for him, there happens to be a pigeon on the sidewalk right where she's planning to step - one which does not have any interest in flying or waddling away as a sensible pigeon would do - so she checks her momentum, skids, catches his arm to steady herself, and shoots off a "Duibuqi-dekuju, my good znakom--"

Aaand trails off, just there.

This guy's got a kinda familiar face. Not to mention the dress sense.

Cue forty-five seconds of surprised wordblurt about nothing in particular, implicating two constellations, an esoteric discipline of cryptography, and three species of fig by the time she resolves it into "--and when did you decide to exist again? Couldn't send a girl a note!"

Meet Dmitri Lang, Doctor.

[thefarenough]

The Doctor lifts his brows as he looks at the girl on his arm.

Then, he lifts his other arm to scratch at his ear as she speaks. "When? That's a remarkable question, and I'm not all that fond of notes, really. I'm sure I would have sent one, had I known where to send it. The who...yes, the who would have helped, as well."

A pause. Then, "I wouldn't have sent a note."

He narrows his eyes, though not in an unfriendly manner. It's curiosity that's moving him now. "Fresh introduction are in order, I think," he admits, looking away only once to stare in confusion at a woman carrying a bag of groceries. "I've only just arrived here. Chicago, of course, not existence."

[nowinprint]

Well, that explains a lot.

Dmitri stares at him when he speaks - even his patterns of speech are different, the banter just slightly foreign to what she's learned, a different beat requiring a slightly different balance on her end. Granted, from the receiving end, most of her banter seems very much the same in terms of rhythm and flow, but rest assured that there are many subtle variations in intensity, vocabulary, and theme

[thefarenough]

He's familiar with stares, or perhaps he thinks there's more staring than there generally is, but it's not uncomfortable. There's a bit of staring back.

The shake is received and returned. The grin is, as well.

"Dmitri Lang," he repeats, "it's a pleasure." She already knows who he is, obviously, so he simply listens to her.

'Better luck this time, eh? Welcome to Chicago.'

He takes a lot more from those last two sentences than he does from the rest. "Thank you," he says, and he's strangely quiet for a moment. He's thinking of Martha, now, and her reactions to him. He's thinking of how she walked away from his room, and he's wondering at the whys. Better luck this time.

"Derby Blue?"