Chance Encounter

[nomorekaraoke]

Any given Sunday around this time of day (or night, as the case may be, sometimes) will find Lorne seeking the familiar comforts of his favourite tea house. Francis', named after its owner and proprietor, is a very hush hush place most readily accessible from smack dab in the middle of Manhattan's China Town. Or rather, the tea house itself can be accessed from China Town in various locations, should you know enough to gain entrance.

One needs only find the right door, knock on it twice, and speak the demonic pass word to be let in. Inside, the lone bouncer will gruffily jab a thumb at the wrought metal staircase winding its way down, down, down to the tea house proper. The moment one sets foot on the first step, the scents of freshly baked bread and sweet pastries will seize one's olfactory sense and urge one down the may twists of the staircase. There are three floors made available for guests and patrons alike, full of tables and plush armchairs and couches of varying shapes and sizes and color that blend into a warmth one seldom finds above ground. At the very bottom of the stairs is a polished wooden floor, coated with several layers of protective magic for those unfortunate demons to whom oak is toxic. To the side, a massive counter with all manner of treats available for inspection, all of which - rare though it may be for such establishments - are safe for human consumption.

Behind the counter stands Francis himself, rivalling the counter with his own gigantic, infectiously exuberant bulk, ever ready to take one's order.

In the far corner, blanketed by the warmth emanating from the nearby kitchens, sits Lorne enjoying his usual treat of very, very green tea and very, very scrumptious red bean pastries.

Comments

[nomorekaraoke]

"That's not the only best thing in town they do," Lorne murmurs, shooting Andrew a cheeky but not too meaningful wink.

"It's a good place for it. Comfiest seats in China Town, and the vibes are absolutely delightful."

[stilljustandrew]

"I know, right? Something about the atmosphere here. And it's totally natural, no mood-altering magics, I checked into it."

[nomorekaraoke]

"That's the best kind, isn't it." It's a detail Lorne didn't know for certain, but has suspected for quite some time. Magic has a rather twangy edge to it that the atmosphere here just doesn't.

"They don't call Francis a humanitarian for nothing."

[stilljustandrew]

"Demonitarian," he suggests, as though trying out the word.

[nomorekaraoke]

"Ooh, look at you, Mister Boldly making words up that no man has ever done before." He grins, glancing into his diminishing second cup of chai as he takes another sip.

"I like your style."

[stilljustandrew]

"It's a perfectly cromulent word," Andrew protests, deadpan.

[nomorekaraoke]

Ahh, The Simpsons references strike again. He looks up. "Now, let's not embiggen the importance of pop culture neologisms."

[stilljustandrew]

He cracks a grin. "Well played, sir."

[nomorekaraoke]

In so many words: gotcha!

He bows his head, drawing tiny circles with the very tips of his five fingers - not entirely unlike a circus starlet taking a bow. "Thank you, thank you, thank you very much."

[stilljustandrew]

And here's the part where he's run out of small talk, and opens up his bag to rummage for a pastry while he tries to think what to say next.

[nomorekaraoke]

Oh, no. There will be no amount of awkward silence in this here conversation - they've had enough of it in their brief but dynamic acquaintance.

"So...speaking of, did you ever go see The Simpsons?"

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew brightens, looking up. "Yeah. Only just barely, in the middle of a bunch of other stuff, but I caught a showing. You?"

[nomorekaraoke]

He shakes his head minutely, making a slightly discontented face. "Never got the chance." But, having his spirits similarly brightened, he's got to ask one very important question. "How was it?"

[stilljustandrew]

"You didn't see it?" Andrew's face falls. "Oh, you gotta."

[nomorekaraoke]

Somehow, through no clear forethought, Lorne's expression softens. Seems like, for some reason, Andrew cares. It's a novel thought. "You really think I should? Then I think I will."

[stilljustandrew]

"It's totally worth seeing. Even if only for the Spider-Pig sequence."

[nomorekaraoke]

"Personally, I think I need to find out what BadBoy BartyPants is doing streak-boarding through the streets!" He chuckles, still remembering that part of the trailer with a measure of fondness.

"Not to change topics like some boys change girlfriends - suddenly and without warning - but... Are you still tip-toeing with Varadeem in a very professional manner?"

[stilljustandrew]

His eyebrows go up at the choice of new topic.

"I ... don't know if I'm at liberty to say," he hedges. "Why?"

[nomorekaraoke]

With the flair that is Lorne's and Lorne's alone, he scoots closer, hooking a finger at Andrew in a come closer motion. "I hear tell there's a fight brewing in the big cat camp."

[stilljustandrew]

"Yeah?" Andrew leans in, half-consciously, at the intimation of confidentiality. "Anything to do with the assassination attempts last year?"

[nomorekaraoke]

"Hmm," the come here swiftly changes to the wagging hand of not quite sure. "No one seems to know why. But, I have on good authority he's crossed one of the senior members of his clan, and it's big."

[stilljustandrew]

"I thought he was the senior member of his clan," says Andrew doubtfully. "Unless we're talking about someone in his home dimension?"

[nomorekaraoke]

"Senior as in ancient, pop tart. Lord Vayan is the highest ranking member of his clan, but this other gent, well... I don't have a clear notion of what kind of relative he is, but that scarcely matters. He's Varadeem blood, and they say he's pretty ticked off about the young gun going trigger happy. Or so I surmise. However... I wouldn't call Vayan trigger happy."

[stilljustandrew]

"Yeah, that's not a phrase I'd have picked to describe him." He frowns in thought. "How big a group does Clan Varadeem have here? I don't remember seeing any elders in Vayan's entourage."

[nomorekaraoke]

"Ah," Lorne says, tapping the side of his nose. "You're talking about the posse. The entourage. The fighters. They were roughly two dozen last I heard, but who knows with all that cloak and stabby business last year. But the grey mass? Oooh, I can't say."