Roleplaying
2004 Archive
2005 Archive
Seminars
| When: | 12 January 2005 |
| Who: | Genevieve, Hadrian, Logan, Merle, Sapphira |
| What: | A unique group of people meet up at an Italian bistro, and people are introduced over dinners. How well-behaved they all interact is not guaranteed... |
Northwest - Austin
One look at the sprawling area of the Northwest side of Austin and you can see why this is the burgeoning area of the city. There are development sites all through the area where new condo complexes, expensive homes, and well to-do businesses are being built.
Highway 183 has become more of a main road now than the semi-backwater highway it once was. Along it's track are all sorts of restaurants and shops that the new inhabitants of the area frequent. From the look of the people coming and going from the places, it's easy to tell that this place is doing well for itself.
The winter evening is unsually warm, inviting people out to dally on the upscale, well-developed cafes that line the streets. At the moment, Genevieve herself is fidgeting in a wrought iron seat on the patio of an Italian themed bistro, actually outside in this fine night. A faint "Mmm, spring," purrs out from her, as she then fans the menu a few times, looking over the entrees. "Okay, I think I'll go with an appetizer platter. For starters!" She beams upwards at the vaguely Tuscan looking waiter.
Sitting but a table away from Genevieve is a man who is perhaps too easily recognizable for his own comfort in this city. Hadrian Sidhe, the deputy mayor for Austin, is currently slightly swaying a glass of wine that was freshly poured for him before he takes a sip. "Deliah, m'dear, next time a Merlot that isn't less than 30 years old. Really."
Genevieve squints one hazel eye completely shut as the dissatisfied voice rolls out. However, she quickly glances over her shoulder, setting a faintly bewildered gaze upon what appeared to her to be a businessman. She mumbles to herself, sotto voce, "Snooty!" However, her attention is drawn by the plate set before her. With a squeal of delight, she sets a mass of fried calamari before herself on her plate. However, she does appear to be marginally aware of her surroundings, and actually uses a fork to cut the appetizer into smaller, more managable sections that could be consumed while also keeping one's mouth completely shut. She rocks backwards slightly in her seat, before she lightly tugs at the waxed paper of the table she's at, twirling her wrist and producing a mechanical pencil in hand. She then sets about sketching a few guide lines on the rosette-shaped table, creating a few interlocking patterns.
Sapphira saunters down the sidewalks towards the myriad of restaurants lining the streets of this section of town. She doesn't appear to be in any sort of a hurry, nor does she seem particularly aware of some of the glances she's getting from some of the older generation of restaurant-goers.
Given the fact that Hadrian is right near Genevieve, he catches the mumbled remark and turns slightly in his chair to face her. "Now now, such remarks are not very warranted. Afterall, when someone asks for something originally and is handed something else, should they not expect reperations to be made to correct the mistake? It isn't as if the original request was that hard, Miss...?" His voice trails as he raises an eye brow questioningly, yet to notice Sapphira walking down the way in her unusual garb.
Genevieve puffs out cheeks slightly, squinting some more, before she says, "Well, what did you ask for, really? All you did was say... merlot. C'mon. You gotta give the year and the vitner, pssh, seriously." However, she immediately claps her mouth shut after the words tumble out. "Nevermind." She then ducks her head, perhaps mentally chastising herself for the comment. Nonetheless, she begins to solidify some of the arcs, actually lifting the napkin holder, her glass, and the plate of calamari with its neglected marinara sauce at times to bare the lining to her mechanical pencil wiles.
Sapphira spots a familiar face sitting at the Italian eatery's outside balcony. "Well, hello again," she greets the artistic young woman. "Did you decide to go for the boots or are you going to wait a few weeks before hiding the charge on your friend's card?"
In contrast to the easily recognizable face of the deputy mayor, one relatively brand new to Austin appears. Logan strides quickly toward the Italian bistro, dressed casually, but exquisitely, at least by the standards of today's youth. He wears a fashionable grey hoody branded with some designer label, which is partially obscured by a jean jacket over top, and jeans, also name brand, just a shade lighter than the jacket. Possibly a member of some boy band of the week, one expects the throng of adolescent girls to appear at any moment. Perhaps, that is why Logan is so obviously in a rush. After having to dodge some elderly patrons leaving the bistro, with noticeable annoyance, Logan is just steps behind Sapphira.
Unlike all the other patrons of the Italian Bistro, Hadrian is someone not easily so shocked by the sight of Sapphira. In fact, for a moment he continues to address Genevieve. "True, my last comment was a bit vague, but before you sat down, I specifically asked for a Capcanes Merlot, aged from the year 1873... if you are familiar, the small Spanish village has some of the most exquisite wines in the world, though very hard to come by. In fact, I shall treat you to a glass of it when she brings it back." Then Hadrian looks up at Sapphira, "You seem familiar to me. Have we met somewhere?"
Genevieve arranges herself like a lazy feline on her seat, not a single thought given to appearance now. A faint pout crosses her face, and her voice is slightly petulant. "I didn't, no. Not like I have anyone to wear 'em for anyway. And he doesn't like me some days as it is. No need to push my luck, right?" She lapses into reticent silence as the be-hoodied man appears, satisfying herself with moving her arm around in the gentle curves of the rosette, now creating an interlacing, locking pattern of strips, the stylization altering between Moorish and Celtic.
"We have," Sapphira replies to Hadrian's comment with a polite smile. "The city council chambers if I recall correctly." With a small tsk of disappointment, she leans against the restaurant's railing and shakes her head at Genevieve. "A shame, then. It is ultimately his loss, whether he likes you or not. You're more than welcome to still visit the shop though. Sometimes just window shopping can appease the mercantile soul."
Noticing the approach of yet another patron to the mostly dead Bistro, the elderly group that left having ended their small party just moments ago, Hadrian gives the slightest of nods in greeting to both Sapphira's pointing out where they had met and to the person approaching. "There is a person foolish enough not to appreciate your mercurial humour and beauty? Perhaps he is not worthy then of your attention." Hadrian has basically turned his chair ninety degrees to face the two now, his right elbow still resting on the table as Deliah brings the bottle of wine. "Ah, excellent, thank you. Would you be so kind to pour a glass for these two intelligent ladies as well, Deliah?"
Reaching the door of the establishment, Logan swings it open impatiently, his dark brown eyes surveying those inside before he even enters. Just then, a voice comes from the patio, at a table beyond Genevieve and the deputy mayor, "Hey, Logan. Over here." The voice belongs to a man about Logan's age, dressed in a simple suit and tie, now sloppily arranged, perhaps due to a long day of work. Shooting the gaze in his friend's direction, Logan holds the door open a moment longer than he should, just to make a point of the nuisance. Perhaps they are old college buddies.
"Ain't a mercurian," Genevieve blurts out, pouting slightly. However, she widens her eyes, stuffing her mouth with a piece of the complimentary foccaccia bread before ducking her head down to begin strengthening the lines. She doesn't make any comment towards Hadrian about the wine, giving the proffered goblet a look as if it had just sprouted twenty boomslang heads. She squirms some in seat at the commentary about this mysterious 'he', her eyes perhaps glinting in some pathetic twinge of loyalty to the hypothetical potential boyfriend that wasn't. "That's just because I'm behaving myself," she ultimately replies, although she does pause for a moment to give a ragged glance towards the settling form of Logan. "I think I like torturing myself, coming to places like this," she admits.
Sapphira calculates the height of the courtesy fencing for a few seconds before resting a hand on it and neatly hopping over the barrier. "Why thank you," she murmurs as she takes a seat at Hadrian's table and offers the shocked waitress a sunny smile. "I'd love to have a glass of wine."
"If sitting at a place like this, and partaking of their delectable food and wine is your idle of torture, young lady," Hadrian says as he watches Sapphira jump over with a fair amount of alacrity, "Then I'd gladly stay in this type of torture all day. What do you do anyways, during the day when not at places such as this or dealing with the oafish bore of a person you were talking about earlier?"
From the entranceway, Logan seems to launch into motion, taking long yet surefooted strides and carelessly leaving the door to close shut behind him. He seems to take no notice of the others, his focus solely on his dinner meeting. That is until, passing through the tables and disrupting the conversation between the two tables, he affords each patio goer a quick yet attentive glance. Perhaps, it is Genvieve's imagination, but the man's gaze seems to linger a moment, meeting her eyes. Still, such suspicions of interest are easily dismissed as Logan's face is all business and completely unreadable. Reaching his "friends" table, Logan just sits, neither a handshake nor a hello passing between the two.
Genevieve gives a look of trepidation as the strumpet struts towards the well to do man. Genevieve makes a face as if she is on the verge of vomiting, before she sets the items on the table on the seat beside her. She then raises the tablecloth with a loud, crisp snap, hiding behind it as she erects it as a tent to avoid the scrutiny of those present. From behind the paper, she does at least respond, "I work enough in the mornings to pay for the bills, and then I do this --" One slender, pale hand emerges to emphatically point to the intricately woven knotwork drawn on the spillcatcher, "In chalk on the sidewalks." The paper tablecloth then exclaims indignantly, "Don't talk about him like that! Just because he doesn't want to do... stuff with me doesn't make him boring!" Her voice has risen to a falsetto at this point, and perhaps a brief flash of intractable eyes can be seen from the angle of Logan's table.
Sapphira arches a thin eyebrow at the speaking tablecloth. "You have the most interesting of dinner companions, sir," the scantily clad -- and barely publically decent -- woman remarks to her new companion. She picks up the wine glass to sniff delicately at the wine before swirling it a number of times to do the same. "This should prove to be an interesting vintage."
Hadrian is actually quite entranced with the work done on the knotwork. "You know, we have need for an artist in the Mayor's office. We've been looking to do several designs and logos for events we're going to be holding and for the new Chamber of Commerce we're going to put together. Perhaps, if you are so inclined, you could come down and do some work for your city." He smiles thinly, but in that way that nailed him the position of Deputy Mayor, an endearing smile of trust, "You will of course be paid quite well for your services, since your skill is quite apparent." He takes the new glass of wine and spins the liquid within the glass delicately before sniffing the aroma and taking a sip, "Ah, utter excellence." He sets the wine down, "It occurs to me, I've not gotten the names of either of you..." He holds out the third glass, offering it to Genevieve.
It is now, after collapsing in his chair, that Logan begins to eye the patio goers more carefully, his gaze going from the deputy mayor, to the two women, and back again. Apparently, the young man finds something humorous in what he sees, as a thin smile takes shape on his lips. Is it the two eyes peeking out from behind Genevieve's cover? Or does Logan find the deputy mayor suspect? Whatever it is, it doesn't keep his interest for long, and he turns to scanning the streets and any passersby. As for his dinner guest, he is still on his feet, waving back to the waitress dismissively, indicating that they do not need a second menu and that they do not wish to order yet.
Strange any word between the two has yet to pass.
Genevieve considers the offer for a moment, or perhaps she just sits still behind the paper. It's debatable. After a moment, the sheet unfurls, and Genevieve resets her table, glass of water, the calamari and bread, and the settings, as she pulls out a black inkpen and begins to fill in some of the work. If she were to do the complete item, it would likely take her well past midnight. She bites her lower lip, finally looking back upwards towards Hadrian. "Urm... okay? I suppose I could. And the name is Genevieve." She wobbles in her seat, not a thought given to what she blurted out earlier about what she most definitely was not.
"Damaris Sence, proprietor of Fetish Footwear in north Austin," Sapphira answers and offers Hadrian her free hand. "Which is why you would have seen me at Chambers." Her gaze idly skims over the other restaurant goers within easy sight.
Hadrian didn't get to the position he's in now without noticing things out of the ordinary, and Logan is just one such sort. His gazes speak volumes about the person, but for now Hadrian ignores him. "Genevieve, an eloquent name for an eloquent lady. I'll make sure you're let through the security points tomorrow with ease and can get you setup in an office. You'll have almost complete control on design, unless there's specific themes we're looking for." Then at the mention of the other woman's name, a quirked brow raises even further, "Ah, Miss Sence, of course. Your outfit, while quite fetching, sets the mind off easy recognition. Your name is actually one nominated by your fellows to be the new Chamber of Commerce President. A pleasure to finally meet you in a less cursory way."
Now that the two are not going to be disturbed, the meeting can commence, and the suit and tie takes his seat across from Logan. "So, what do you have for me?" Logan asks the man plainly, a dryness in his voice indicating that he has been disappointed before. An unsealed envelope emerges from below the table and passes across to Logan. He sweeps it up immediately, looks in side, and transfers to his jean jacket swiftly. "That's all you need," the other man explains, "Proper paperwork and your press pass. Don't be late for work." This apparently, is a joke, as Logan allows a subtle grin and a sarcastic, "I won't."
"You are so full of it," comes from Genevieve, even if she looks quickly away at the flattery. A moment later, though, she says, "The offer itself is good, though. I should be able to do afternoons. And... thanks, I think?" She fidgets some, feeling terribly out of place. Once the waitress sweeps by again, she quickly mumbles, "I'll just have the flourless cake, I can't stay as long as I thought." Another curious glance is given towards Logan, but she doesn't make any peanut gallery comments about extortion. For once.
Sapphira smiles at the offhand comment like a cat that just had a bowl of fresh cream. "Did they now?" she murmurs in regards to the nomination. "And business cannot always mix with pleasure, unfortunately. But since I'm on my own free time, I can chose how to dress at will."
There's a slight sigh from Hadrian at Genevieve's comment of being full of it, "I see I shall have to strive to change your perception of me. Not all politicians are dirty. Usually the ones in the more famous roles are, but some of us who are deputies, are in it to help shape Austin for the better." Hadrian takes another drink of his wine as he waves Deliah over to take the order for the cake. "I have no qualms with the way anyone dresses. I know a certain Assistant D.A. who likes to dress just as you on her off time. So long as you do what you do best, to your fullest capabilities, that is all that is required."
Evidently, all orders of business have been met and the dinner meeting is over, as the man opposite Logan picks up a briefcase and departs, all to their waitress' dismay. She starts on to the patio, watching her sales drop. Logan smiles and raises a calming hand to her, "He just got called back to the office." Sliding the loan menu right side up, he looks it over for the first time, "A caesar to start and the chicken fettuccini, please." The waitress smiles falsely, picking up the menu, "And to drink?" Logan snaps off quickly, "Ice tea...and could you add shrimp to the pasta?" Having been so smooth, so keenly observant a moment ago, Logan plays the card of his generation, demanding instant service. He isn't rude...he just has that tone of a bad customer. Yet, with an acknowledging "Sure thing", the waitress happily departs.
Genevieve looks bewildered for a moment, and chirps out, "You're a politician?" More pragmatically, she scowls some. "You know, there's easier ways to get at the truth than just suggesting the most offensive, least likely possibility. "I was talking about the whole 'eloquent' thing. Give me a break. Do people really go for that kind of stuff? I'm serious..." She almost appears to be trying to pick a fight, before shaking her head, and then stuffing her mouth with half of the slice offered her -- which is likely the equivalent of the ingredients, sugar, dark chocolate, egg whites, and all, that go into half of a normal cake. She begins to rifle through a few bills to actually cover the tab.
"As if there was any other option," Sapphira replies back and helps herself to a slice of bread from the basket on the table.
Hadrian waves to Deliah as she approaches. "My dear, put both of their dinners and drinks on my card. Anything they want is on me." Pushing back his chair, Hadrian stands and gives a slight nod to each woman, "I shall have to take my leave of you both now, an early day tomorrow. G'night to you both."
Genevieve blurts out, "No! That's creepy and stalkerish! Don't! I've got it right here!" With that, she practically leaps from her seat, hand snatching out to clutch at the rest of the cake. She tosses what is easily twice what is owed at the waitress, and practically bolts for the door.
Waiting for his food, Logan eyes the other patrons, returning to whatever detail first caught his eye. For a moment, he entertains some wild thought, before quelling his amusement with another sweep of the sidewalk with his dark brown eyes. But it seems, Logan simple cannot resist his temptation and he pushes his chair back, with that thin, assuming smile making a reappearance. Albeit short, as it is with his face modified for a pleasant introduction that Logan starts toward the patio goers. "You're deputy mayor Sidhe, are you not?" Logan asks, even though Hadrian appears to be leaving. He may be new in town, but he's done his homework.
Just as Hadrian makes his way toward the gate to leave, logan walks up. "Yes, though I really must be going." It's not that he's being impatient, but the fact he's a man on a schedule tonight.
"See you at Chambers, then," Sapphira calls out to the departing deputy mayor. "And thank you for the meal!" Genevieve's reaction causes a grin to cross Sapphira's features as she observes the young lady's antics.
What could Logan possibly want with the deputy mayor? Good looking, trendy, he blends in with all the young people you work in the service industry by day, party by night, and don't give a damn about voting. Why, judging from appearances, Logan just got off from bartending and now he's probably going to meet some friends downtown for a drink. "Oh, I just wanted to introduce myself," Logan explains, "I'm a new reporter in town." Again, that knowing smile shines through, "Just thought I'd say, "Hello"."
"I'm sure we'll get to know each other well enough during press briefings," is all Hadrian says as he walks out to the street and catches a taxi.
Genevieve emerges at the exit of the Italian patio bistro, and rocks back and forth on her heels, gazing wistfully down the street for the thirty five foot, trundling white length of a late night bus. "They're cool, but they need to go faster," she says to herself as she stuffs hands in her pants pockets, perhaps completely forgetting about the oversized celtic knot she left on the tabletop's wax paper coating. From time to time, she shoots a glance over her shoulder as Hadrian oozes out of the same restaurant, looking somewhat relieved when a car carries him off.
Generally, the press know not to ambush public figures, but this fledgling reporter evidently has no regard for proper decorum. Judging by the man's age, it could be inexperience, though his smile may imply that its ambition driving him. Other then that, Logan reveals nothing, waving his hand encouragingly at the deputy mayor, "You go, though. I'm sure we will."
Sapphira plucks a menu from a passing waitress and peruses the entries. "I think I'll try this tonight," she tells her server once she flags them down. "Along with the chocolate torte for dessert. Both sound quite decadent, and in the best possible way."
Genevieve finally tumbles onto a bus, and with a bounce, hops up on the raised seats over the rear axle. "To home at last. Going out alone sucks," she announces to herself.
Hoping that he made an impression on the deputy mayor, Logan watches the older man as he hails a cab. Idly, without so much as a glance, he directs his words to Sapphira, "I'm sorry, I seem to have chased him away." With that hollow apology, Logan's dark brown eyes turn on to the remaining young woman. "What'd he do to scare away your little friend?" he asks, perhaps a hint of amusement behind his words.
Sapphira shrugs her shoulders smoothly. "As a busy man, I was lucky to have encountered him outside of his office," she replies as she gives her wine another swirl. "As for the young lady, it's simply a vague business acquaintence and nothing more."
With the talk of Genevieve, the young reporter drops his gaze to the girl's former table. He tilts his head curiously, noting the abandoned knot. "Well, she's left something behind," Logan comments, swiping up the piece and holding it up into the air as if to transfer to Sapphira for safekeeping. But something occurs to Logan and he slips it into his jacket, "You know, there is something I want to ask her...do you know how I'd track her down?"
Mm. Italian... And unpretentious! That's good, considering that Merle is huffing and puffing with a large box strapped to her back, and is decidedly non-formal. She seems to be in a good mood despite her load, as she steps into the 'bistro' she takes a look around. She doesn't say 'Mama Mia!'. She does, however, say 'It'sa me...', as if quoting something she heard once. She spots the open table and heads straight for it. Ahahaha! What luck!
Sapphira shakes her head and modifies her order to be taken instead of eaten at the table. "No, I don't. If she owned a business you could find her through the city's public records but I can identify most of the business owners, and she isn't one of them. You do know how many people live in this city, right?"
"I do," Logan states coolly, "You said you did business with her...obviously, not the memorable kind." Still, he brightens, his voice returning to the modified warmth with which he first approached the mayor. "Do you know who she works for?" Logan asks, trying to get Sapphira to trigger something in her memory. After this exchange, the reporter becomes aware of a new guest on the patio. This causes him to look to his own, abandoned table...his food has not yet arrived. "You have to be some where?" Logan asks, far more casually this time, as he is quite obviously not digging for information. He motions with his head toward his table, "If you want, you can join me." It isn't the most flattering offer, but it is pulled off with a casual calm.
Merle looks at the menu. ladadee, ladadoo. She takes off her box and sets it on the table, nearly one handedly. She tosses the menu to the side and calls a waiter over, who takes her order (Spaghetti!) and then yawns a little tiredly, glancing over to Logan's and Sapphira's tables, eyes settling on the two for a few moments.
"I've done business with her insofar as she visited my shop as a potential customer. Nothing more, nothing less," Sapphira answers as she gets to her feet. "I have some work to do before I retire for the evening, if you must know. I'll have to decline your offer as I've already spent enough time out from my studio."
"Semantics," Logan answers, forcing a sigh so that the effort is clear. Still, the young reporter seems to be able to let the topic of Genevieve go. "I apologize," he says, a genuine charm and warmth entering into his voice, "I just misunderstood earlier when you spoke of her." Then, when Sapphira rises to her feet and shoots down his proposal of dinner, Logan seems unfazed by the refusal and handles it with an accepting nod. "Not a problem," he replies, offering his hand, "My name is Logan, by the way." He certainly seems to be recovering from that icy remark he made earlier.
Merle, who probably has no business asking, asks, "What shop is that?", cheerfully. No business indeed, "Do you sell books?", she braces her arms around her box and glances around a bit before returning her gaze to the woman she brought the question to.
"Damaris Sence," Sapphira answers before looking slightly over her shoulder at the question from another table. "Fetish Footwear is my shop up in north Austin. Come by for a visit some time." Whether the offer was made to Logan or Merle is unclear. Meanwhile the dark-haired woman saunters out of the restaurant through the door this time, behaving herself, instead of causing a potential cardiac arrest with one of the older clientele.
Logan gives a nod after the departing women, before starting into the bistro to have his own meal packaged to go.
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