Dinner and Dancing (around the subject)

[Molly Quincannon] There's a theory that goes something to the order of pizza being the perfect food. It has all the food groups, is shareable and is pretty versatile, as it needn't have cheese or tomato sauce, despite all common sense. Unless someone has a particular problem with oregano, pizza is generally good. Also, most Italian places that specialise in pizza at least do some other kinds of food. Thus when Molly calls in her rain check with Nathan for dinner, she takes him to DaVinci's.

DaVinci's doesn't look like the stereotyped Italian restaurant. It looks, in fact, like Leonardo DaVinci's workshop with tables and a smell of nice Italian food. Models and sketches and blueprints of DaVinci's work hang on the walls and from the ceiling, and on the whole, it's an eclectic sort of place, perhaps built for the college crowd. It's ... probably a Molly sort of place.

Molly, it should be noted, is still in jeans. But they're nice jeans, and a good shirt, and a green velvet jacket under her coat, and ankle boots with low heels rather than four-inch platforms. It's not massively dressy, but it's miles and away better than the usual geek-T thing she normally goes for. Whether they arrive separately or together (though probably the former), she sort of gestures at the restaurant in general and asks, "This okay? They do really good pizza. If you can stand the ambience."

[Nathan Spriggs] Italian, bit of a misnomer given the sheer American origin behind most of all but Nathan isn't one to argue semantics on these things. Those are actually some of his first thoughts upon setting foot inside the... well, workshop/restaurant. It isn't that the ambient is unexpected, in all honesty, because it isn't, but it still takes a moment to recover his footing before throwing a glance around the inside and nodding to himself about one of those little passing thoughts he had.

At least he wasn't scoping out escape routes yet.

For today's dinner, he's wearing his usual type of meeting clothes... no, not the trench coat. The other usual, a neatly pressed suit, a light grey with a silk texture/glow to it and a rather dark purple shirt with black tie, not to mention the polished black leather shoes.

When Molly gestures, he responds with a shrug, "I'm not picky about either. So lead the wait, and feel free to order whatever you want." Maybe he wants to say he'd prefer a corner seat, or one close to the exit, or some other such (supposedly) paranoid petition, but Nathan bites down the urge beforehand.

[Molly Quincannon] There is, in fact, a corner table, from which one can see the entire room. It's got a clear line to the kitchen and thus an exit point, while not being close enough to an exit for any attack to be a matter of 'lean in the door and open fire'. Molly does actually pay attention to things, and recalls a couple of points where Nathan approved of tactical seating choices. She even lets Nathan sit with his back to the wall.

She smiles when he mentions the ordering thing. "Thank you. Though I'm generally not 'order the most expensive item on the menu' girl anyway. Hopefully you'll find something here that you'll ... y'know, enjoy rather than just 'not be picky' about, though." Then, after a quick glance at the menu, she looks up at Nathan and says, "I like the shirt."

[Nathan Spriggs] And seat with his back against the wall he does, though he foregoes the usual 'checking of the clientele' bit for the sake of etiquette. Instead, his attentions turn to the menu in front of him as he lifts it up just enough to open it up and decide on an order following Molly's hopes.

After a moment, he sets aside the menu at last, when he's decided what to order and waits for someone to come along. "Thanks, I like your jacket too." He responds, his lips curling into a smile as he adds, "So how'd the project go? Make anything explode in a mushroom cloud?"

[Molly Quincannon] When Nathan mentions the jacket, Molly shrugs, a bit bashful, but at least somewhat better than she'd been the other day. "Thanks. I like it. It's not for everyday wear, though. I'm ... hard on my clothes." Which of course Nathan knows from the evidence of his own eyes, albeit under some pretty extreme circumstances.

The bit about the project gets a fairly complicated look, though it's generally pride. "No mushroom clouds ... well, not literally, anyway. Metaphorically ... it's up in the air. But it went better than I could have hoped, even if the actual intel received was a little disturbing. But first..."

Rule one of this kind of conversation over dinner in a public place - order first. It generally gives you uninterrupted talk time before the food arrives, after all. So before she makes inroads into what-all her project entailed and what intel she got, she flags down a waitress, lets Nathan order first, and then orders a little pizza with pepperoni, mushrooms and red peppers. Then, when the waitress has brought drinks and wandered off, she said, "I looked into that asylum - as it's most likely to be a month from now. Dug for a few details on a worst-case, too."

[Nathan Spriggs] His own order, once the waitress comes over, consists of a calzone with mozzarella-filling and as much meat as they can fit in. It isn't until she's well on her way that Nathan nods at Molly's comment in acknowledgment and says, "Ah, the asylum. Yeah... Leaving situational biases aside, I'm of the mind that if we can't have it, we should burn the building down." A grin then, as he taps the surface of the table twice with his index finger.

"But we can talk shop after we've eaten. I just figured your project was less 'our' stuff and more... I dunno, work or something. What was it you did?" Nathan's scrummaging his pockets now for something, a deck of playing cards to be exact. Rugged and weather-worn as it seems, he swiftly draws them without even a glance and in the blink of an eye is splitting the deck, shuffling it and repeating, as though it was some sort of meditation for him. Meanwhile, his gaze never left Molly's as he waits for her answer.

[Molly Quincannon] "Yeah ... that's kind of the general view, but there's going to be a meeting," is Molly's response to that. "But anyway ... yeah, it'll keep for a bit. Probably not the best dinner conversation however you slice it." Then she thinks about that comment, closes her eyes and chuckles a little at herself. "No pun intended."

Then she flicks a glance at his cards, then back up to meet his eyes. "Anyway, I've got other projects on the go as well. Some touch on the esoteric, some don't, and others are just the stuff that pays the bills. Which, by the way, is work-from-home for a software company. They do email encryption stuff; the kind of stuff the average end user never sees. The problem," she adds with a sigh, "is that while most of my work is code-monkeying so I can work from home - which is useful, honestly, because it means that I can get away with not having my employers seeing me look fragged in times of crisis and still keep my job - some of it ... well, our hardware techs and server jockeys are gibbons. Every weekend, I have to stomp in there, verbally curb-stomp half of them and then spend three hours cleaning exploded burrito out of a server case or something."

Which brings her to a question. "If I asked what you did, beyond Fiddlers, which ... I kind of guess wasn't your only source of income ... I'm guessing that the answer would be very vague. But consider the question asked anyway. Because I'm curious, though I think I could probably survive vague."

[Nathan Spriggs] Quietly, he shuffles the cards back and forth still, stopping a few times when she uses words like 'code-monkeying' and 'email encryption', just to do a quick sleight of hand trick and make a card seemingly disappear. After a moment, when she's done talking, there's a raise of an eyebrow and an amused smile. "I have to be honest, I understood the barebone meanings to all of that but that's it." With those words, he stops the shuffling and considers her own turn-about seriously, or seems to anyhow.

Takes a few seconds, but he finally responds. "I deal in stocks, independent stock broker. Amongst a myriad of other things, but that's the main. Part of my money comes from personally-owned shares, basically. Plus whatever I get from actual work, which is then invested anyway." Which translates to, 'well, I don't actually need to work' if one understood it properly. "So, uh, yeah, pretty much. It's pretty boring work. I guess you could say my real work is what we do, rather than that side. Kinda the opposite of most people's situations."

Nathan just wasn't someone attached to his mundane life. Well, too attached, he'd still miss it if it was lost.

[Molly Quincannon] Molly gives a roll of her eyes that is entirely teasing self-mockery when Nathan tells her that he only understood the bare bones of what she just said. Sometimes she does forget that not everyone knows the slang or ... well, more about computers than how to poke around the internet. But she waits until he's given his own response to her question, and chooses to address it first. "Cool. I always thought that stockbrokers were ... like, the oracles and soothsayers of our generation. As they go, so goes the nation ... or at least the money side. Though to be honest, all I know about it is what happens when a scandal hits a company and every stock broker in the free world starts selling before the stock value starts to tank, thus making it pretty much assured that the stock price - and the company - actually does." She maybe looks a little too innocent when she says that, but she has mentioned extracurriculars before. (Also, if Nathan went through every file on her thumb drive marked Chicago, he'd have seen proof positive that Molly outs the dirty doings of companies when she finds them. She'd know what happens next if she kept track at all.) "So as long as you aren't this era's Cassandra, I guess that's pretty awesome."

Then she goes back and explains what she does. "Okay. Email run by companies is encrypted to varying degrees, depending on the company, so that not just anyone who pokes into the code can read it. I write code that turns the email into code on one end, and from code back into email on the other. There's more to it, but that's really the basics. I'm a coder in all senses of the word - computer code and the more standard cryptography stuff. I also freelance, sometimes - usually around this time of year, actually, for extra cash for the holidays. I have a lot more people to shop for this year." This is apparently less a chore for her and more of a delight; she sounds so unaccountably delighted about the whole thing.

Then, her face lighting up, she asks, "So ... have you had the first snowball fight of the winter yet?"

[Nathan Spriggs] His smile shifts into a grin at her response to his question, becoming wider slowly as she explains and reaching the highest point when she asks about snowball fights. There's clearly something relating to that here. "That sounds like an interesting job, actually. I know fuck-all about computers, but I like codes and code-breaking enough."

Then a cough, the kind that's more joke than anything else. His expression shifts to a somber, serious tone that's completely overdramatized as he says, clearly just barely controlling himself from laughing at the memory, "Yeah, I did have the first fight already. Won it marvelously too," another cough, "even if some parties claim 'unfair' methods." Then a smile, innocent as can be. "How about you?"

[Molly Quincannon] "There is a two-storey snow fort attached to the House," Molly says with a truly delighted grin. "About ninety percent Atlas' doing and ten percent my help; I got there late and helped him finish up. At least until I dumped a handful of snow down the back of his neck. Then? Well, then it was officially on. No unfair methods, though," she adds, delighted smile sort of morphing into something with a bit of sheepish good humour there. "I had too much of the advantage there. I don't think we ever declared a winner, though I think he hit me more," she adds, thoughtful. "Just decided we'd had an awesome time and went in for a cup of coffee and then he helped with the holiday decorations."

After watching him for a moment, she goes on to say, "Two things. First of all, if you like codes and code-breaking, you should really let me teach you more about computers someday. That's what they're all about - code and, when you've learned enough about it, code-breaking. It gets recursive, then, when you're writing codes to break the code of programmes that are used to generate code and ... well. You get the idea. Second ... wish I'd been there to see that snowball fight. Anything that can get that kind of grin out of you is an awesome sort of thing to which I would have bought tickets to witness. Who was it with?"

[Nathan Spriggs] Nathan chuckles for a moment when Molly describes the events leading up to her snowball fight. "So basically, who needs snowmen when you can build snow castles like an architect?" The thought earns another grin from his side, before a look around for some sign of their waitress. "Yeah, it was against Israel. Basically, I dropped by to visit her about some stuff and she started attacking me with snowballs. So naturally, I played along... soon enough we found ourselves boosting ourselves magically and it kinda... well, grew out of proportions for a moment. I won, eventually."

Letting out a mirthful laugh at the memory, he clears his throat for a moment before nodding and adding, "Yeah, I think learning about computers would be interesting. I've never been the science-y type, I'll admit. But I like puzzles and mysteries. In fact, most of my academic knowledge, literature aside, is in law." There's a smile then, a tiny wry smile that indicates irony at the idea, probably from what they all got up to all the time. Right?

[Molly Quincannon] Look for a waitress and they shall arrive, bearing food bits and drinks. Molly subsides and waits for the waitress to leave, expression a little less bright than it was a moment ago. While there's a Sleeper audience, she addresses the entirely mundane bits of the conversation. "I never really saw computers - or mathematics, for that matter - as a specific 'science'. Or maybe I just don't view science the same way as a lot of other people do. Once you start getting into quantum stuff and imaginary numbers and insane variables, it stops being eighth-grade algebra and starts being a cross between symphony, abstract art, decoding the Rosetta Stone and a Bavarian fire drill ... that still somehow produces something awesome."

When the waitress goes away, she addreses the 'enhanced' snowball fighting. "I've done that with laser tag," she tells him. "It can really help a team effort if you've got someone that way inclined, and of course there's the aim and targetting bonuses. Night vision doesn't hurt either, and neither does skewing an opponent's perception of your position. Laser tag is actually a really good tactical exercise, I think, as well as being a lot of fun. Still, there's something about snowball fights, isn't there? I came into them late. Never saw snow until about ten years ago."

[Nathan Spriggs] Following in Molly's lead, Nathan goes mostly quiet as the waitress approaches and starts propping plates on the table. Focusing on the cards again, he answers, "I guess, it's been an interesting experience. Learning about Matter and it's properties, that is." Okay, maybe not that safe, but it's said with just that passing-by tone and words that seem completely mundane to Sleepers who weren't in the Know.

When Molly mentions laser tag, though, Nathan's brow arches slightly in a curious expression. "They actually still play that? Man, I remember hearing about it when I was a kid. I figured it was gone the way of the dodo." When she mentions being new to snow, however, his smile dips down just that tiny bit, falters for a moment before arching back up like nothing. "I hate snow with a passion, for the most part. New York winters were a horrible, horrible thing," he answers in a strange mixture of nostalgic and 'just a passing fact', yet a sense of bitterness behind it.

[Molly Quincannon] "Hey, I liked New York winters!" Her tone carries a lot of teasing mock-defensiveness overlying a wellspring of renewed squeaking-glee. "When were you in En-Why-Cee? That's where I went to college, though I left pretty soon after I graduated. Still, four years of snowy winters and East Village coffee bars. And ... opening my eyes to the world, y'know?" By which she means many things, one of them, of course, being the Awakened thing.

Then she shakes her head. "There's a spot out on the highway that's kind of like a nostalgia strip mall. There's a video arcade where they have all the old classics - Pac Man, Street Fighter, Space Invaders, all that - for a nickel a play, and also Skee-Ball lanes and stuff. And then next to that there's a laser tag place. And a couple of fast food places and stuff. It's a good place to go to blow off steam, or get a bit of a head-cleary, y'know? There's something Zen about playing Centipede."

Then the Matter bit, and Molly's eyebrows lift; she is impressed, this is clear. "You're really going for the whole set, aren't you? That one's on my list, but there's so much else and it's hard to just pick one, y'know? I need more than one brain."

[Nathan Spriggs] Arching his head back, he gives her an amused smile as Molly descends into her gleeful trip down nostalgia lane. "My NY days were dark days, it was back more than twelve years ago, when the Dark Lord Volde--I mean, it was just a low point in my life. So most of my memories aren't rose-colored, unfortunately." The way he says it is calm, nonchalant even, a simple explanation, not meant to discourage her. Then, after a beat, Nathan adds, "Y'know, I don't think you've ever told me how your eyes got open to the world. I'm sure it's an amusing story to say the least."

Those words said, he grins and taps the table thrice before sipping his soda. "S'for choosing one, don't. Go for broke, take 'em all and let fate sort it out. What I'm doing. So far, only one I've not gotten the hang of is the 'discipline' of Forces. Hopefully, once my Avatar decides to stop being a douchebag I'll get around to it, for now though..."

[Molly Quincannon] Beyond an outright break into giggle-fits at the Dark Lord Voldemort thing, Molly listens with ... well, it's empathy there, at least in part. "I have places like that, where the memories aren't so rose-coloured," she tells him. "I mean, you heard about one crew. And I think I bitch about Des Moines more than is feasible. But New York was good for me. I think it's always good when, after spending nearly two decades with everyone telling you that you can't actually be smart or independent or good at anything because you're sporting two X chromosomes, someone turns around and sees all the potential in you, all at once." She prods at her pizza a little, going on with the explanation. "I was starting my second year of college. Doing my usual poke-around shtick. Some people - my first crew, though I didn't know it yet - were watching me. They sent me a few clandestine tests; gauntlets to run, codes to crack, with increasing levels of intensity, and one day - on my laptop, at a coffee bar, after waaaaaay too much espresso that I'm still not sure someone didn't dose ... that little over-my-shoulder voice spoke up and there it was. It was actually pretty easy on me, compared to some I've heard about." She tilts her head and asks, "What about you?"

She does add, after picking up a slice of her little pizza, "Also, I can help with the Forces thing, if you want. I'm sort of developing a new outlook on it, and Ellie keeps wanting to learn, and Isabel will one day, so I'm getting a lot of practice teaching to different viewpoints. Besides," she adds, with the wry grin, "I learned mine from a Hermetic. Okay, Skank Fetish the Hermetic, but ... still!"

[Nathan Spriggs] Hitting his left palm with his right hand which had formed a fist, Nathan makes a sort of 'aha!' expression as Molly finishes her story. "So that was it, yeah, I'd been wondering when you first told it. But since you didn't specifically mention your Awakening, well, y'know what they say about assumptions." With that, he goes quiet for a second or two as he considers Molly's offer.

"That sounds cool actually. I mean, who wouldn't want to learn the Skank Fetish method, just the name sounds like a blast," he says with a grin that implies that he is, in fact, not being sarcastic at all. "Who's Ellie though?"

Leaving the question in the air, however, Nathan's grin twists to form a wry smile as he pretends to look away into space, lost in thought. "My Awakening? Well, I woke up one day and things didn't feel right. I looked around and I realized they weren't. The. End. I'm not even joking here. It was goddamn exciting, the sheer mundaneness to my realization of a world of Magic."

[Molly Quincannon] "He was," Molly says, in response to Skank Fetish. "Probably still is. He fought in the Wars; more lives than a cat and better survival instincts than a cockroach. And about half of my tats were his idea."

Then she explains Ellie. "My housemate. You remember that screened-off area at my place? That's sort of her bedroom. Orphan - literally and the other thing. Was in and out of the foster care system, was sleeping in libraries and living on the street. So after we got to know each other, I asked her to move in with me. Now she's going to community college and looking to sit the SATs, and sits in on the stuff I teach Isabel when she's not in class. So I'm not so much her mentor as her guardian, I guess."

The story of Nathan's Awakening gets a single bark of delighted laughter. "Seriously? Wow. Just ... there's something about the anticlimax of the climax that just ... the juxtaposition appeals to me on so many levels. So ... and tell me to shut up if you mind me asking, but ... how'd you end up with the Cult? I'm with them because they were the ones that set up my alarm clock, which they did because they thought I'd suit them, and vice versa. But if you just ... sort of sat up and yawned ... how?"

[Nathan Spriggs] With an understanding smile, deeper than just the acknowledgment of the facts at hand, Nathan nods when Molly finishes telling him of the Orphan. "No wonder you were all Mommy mode the other day. You've practically adopted your own kid!" As the chuckle subsides, Nathan arches a brow again as if to ask what's so funny about his situation before it slides into an amused smile. "Yeah, yeah..."

Then a beat, smile faltering again for a second or two before a sigh and he says, "Well, it's a long story. In shortest terms possible, the man who found me, my 'first mentor' technically, was a Chorister as I found out much later. He was a huge dick who's responsible for, well, plenty of the shit on my plate. But anyway, died, 'dox backlash. Nasty stuff. After that, I just... sort of wandered around, aimless and self-taught like an Orphan. At one point, I met a guy who knew a guy who was in the Cult, and it just slowly happened by natural progression. Y'know, the matching ideals crap I gave you a few months back."

[Molly Quincannon] The bit about Mommy Mode gets a laugh. "Oh, please. When it comes to eating habits and things, she nags me at least as much as I nag her. You know how I get when I'm studying something or building something; everything else goes away and suddenly it's four in the morning and I haven't eaten since breakfast. Ellie hates it when I do that. Actually, I think it's being in a crew with Atlas, who's as bad as I am for forgetting to eat. That and seeing more of Ashley. I got used to feeding people."

The mention of Nathan's troubled apprenticeship gets a frown that mingles sympathy and concern. "Ouch. Sometimes I'm glad I never really had just one mentor. I had four or five at a time, mostly; picked up tips and tricks from my crew rather than anything formal. But you seem to have come out of it okay. But yeah, you said about the matching ideals. Looks like you're finding the same thing with Israel and Sol. That's going okay?"

[Nathan Spriggs] Nathan whistles for a moment before saying, "I know how that goes, sort of. But yeah, most of my, uh, 'Paradigm' as some people would call it is pieced together by personal experience rather than a mentor's helping hand."

Her question, however, earns a small chuckle which is to hide embarrassment as much as it is because he recalled an amusing fact. Expression shifting to slightly somber, however, he adds, "It's... going well, I think. They're really good, well, friends," the word 'friends' seems to carry a heavier meaning than most people would, but that's just how it was with him. Just like they had to jump through hoops and (literal) burning buildings to earn even a speck of his trust, it was reciprocated by equal measure in his eyes. "Honestly, I'd probably have gone the way of Dylan Willis by now if it wasn't for their help," he finishes, with a sigh.

"How about you, still having friend troubles with your lot?"

[Molly Quincannon] For all she talks like a semi-automatic paintball gun, Molly listens really well. There's a sense, when he says that he would have gone the way of Dylan Willis if not for Sol and Israel, that she'd reach out and touch him were it not for the table between them, for the checked flail when she hugged him. But it's there in her expression, which she seldom troubles herself to school unless she has to; the eye-contact equivalent of covering his hand with her own for a moment. She nods and says, "I think I know what you mean. On a lot of levels. And they are - really good friends." They both give the word a slightly heavier meaning than most, if for different reasons. For Nathan, it's because trust comes so hard to him. For Molly, it's because she's a connoiseuse of such things - she gives her friendship wholeheartedly, perhaps too easily, and has been burned for it. So she knows what it means when a friendship turns out right; she's suffered a few going wrong. (Recently.)

The question about her own gets a sad smile, a sigh and a nod. "Atlas is upset because of how the politics are going. Henri's still throwing shit at me. Not literally, but I'm awaiting the day. And Nat ... Nat I get texts from but I haven't seen her in meatspace in weeks. If I was wired in the way of envy and covetousness, I'd envy the hell out of you, y'know." There's no rancour there; just a bit of rue. "I sometimes get the feeling that I'd fit in way better in your crew than I seem to in the own I tried to assemble. But it's not in me to give up, and it's not in me to be jealous. I'm just happy you found ... well, a home, maybe?" She's hesitant to use the word - she knows his trust issues, if not the full story behind them all, and surmises it's a word he might find scary - but it's the only one she knows for that kind of thing.

[Nathan Spriggs] Nathan himself never really reacts in the face of Molly's expression, it's just not something he feels a need to reply to. Not because it's not appreciated, maybe it is, but... well, he wasn't saying it for that, so it felt wrong to milk it for sympathy. In any case, with a shrug, he moves the conversation forward. "Yes, many people would envy me. Good lucks, vast riches and the mind of a genius, it's the trifecta." The words flow out with a straight face, though just barely and it's clear he's straining not to break out into a wide grin as he speaks.

"Seriously though, it'll work out or something. But yeah, I think I have, because y'know 'home is where the heart's at' and blah, blah, blah. Also, talking to Israel about buying a warehouse somewhere, so I might even have a new, literal, home again soon."

[Nathan Spriggs] (Looks, not lucks* Super typo)

[Molly Quincannon] Maybe Nathan isn't saying it for that, but that hardly matters; Molly gives these things freely. (That may, in fact, be why Molly's still with the Cult of Ecstasy and Nathan isn't ... or maybe not.) So there's still the look of what can only really be described as support and ... maybe a bit of tenderness there. It doesn't go away when he gives his straight-faced trifecta comment, but it's overlaid by amusement and something that's something like pride in him. "Well, good to see that you own it with such modesty and grace. Not many people with the trifecta can manage it."

Then she wrinkles her nose. "Still not settled in a place, huh? And a warehouse? I lived in one of those once. And an old cannery. And now an auto body shop. So I can't really throw stones, even if my house is concrete rather than glass, but ... why a warehouse? Instead of ... y'know, a house?" It's not judgemental; it's really just curious. But then, that's to be expected.

[Nathan Spriggs] "Ah, but I'm special, obviously. Being so great can be such a curse some times..." Spoken in passing, Nathan implies diverting the conversation now. It'd take them too long to discuss all his amazing points (yeah right). To her curious question, his left hand's brought up to his chin and his fingers tap it once as though in thought. Might never have really considered the question.

"Well, I figure I can get a house in a place like, I dunno, Highland Park, but why would I? That's more space than I need, more attention than I need, and well, living in a big empty house is depressing as shit. So there's Bridgeport or Bronzeville again, but an apartment's just not big enough for my book stacks and I really don't feel like buying a building there... So hell, a warehouse seems like a nice medium, they've got some nice ones up by West Loop." Two more taps against the table then, and a slight crease of his forehead. "But not really, mostly it's just 'who expects someone to live in a warehouse'."

[Molly Quincannon] Some thought goes into Nathan's list of reasons why a warehouse, and Molly nods. "Well, if you've got that many books - how many books is 'that many books', anyway? I mean, most of my stuff is stored as data on way too many hard drives, which doesn't take up as much space, so hard copy loses me sometimes, storage-wise - I guess it makes sense. What about security, though? Speaking from personal experience, places you don't expect people to live are actually pretty prime targets for break-ins. Sure, there's no people with all their personal belongings and bits of jewellery or whatever, but a well-maintained-looking warehouse will get attention based on the possibility of a safe full of cash or hockable goods, and a derelict gets curious kids looking for a place to make out or shoot up or whatever. So basically what I'm saying is that if you want a discreet security system installed, I can at least give tips." She gives a sheepish grin and adds, "Promise I won't go overkill. Though, compared to Atlas' idea to have my place fill with toxic gas at the push of a button, most of my stuff is actually pretty low-key."

[Nathan Spriggs] When Atlas' idea comes up, Nathan snorts. "Seriously? Is that like a car that self-destructs when someone tries breaking in?" Leaving implications that for Molly to take as she pleases, after a beat, Nathan adds, "But nah, I think I'm mostly good on security stuff. I know the risks, and I wouldn't have lived in Bronzeville so long if I was afraid of break ins, believe me." Here stands a man who, as Molly probably already knows, actually owns more guns than 90% of the Chicago crowd put together.

"Of course, help's appreciated in any case. More measures, the better. Just, y'know, don't wanna accidentally fry myself with a laser if I forget to do the magical security-disable dance." He says with a joking grin, as it wasn't really a worry. "My books are many, let's leave it at that. Like, 'my entire basement and then some' many, most of which are original texts from back when there wasn't even the printing press."

A wave of his hand later, Nathan gives Molly an inquisitive look as he says, "How about you? What were the appeals of an auto garage?"

[Molly Quincannon] While Nathan snorts, Molly answers the question seriously enough. "Not exactly; his view on it was to dig a sub-basement with independent ventilation for somewhere to fall back to and then trigger the whole toxin thing. Y'know, in case someone affiliated with that whole mess in August decided to try to ... well, anything, really. I think," she adds, voice low and a little sombre, "that stuff like that is his way of showing he worries and cares, y'know? Him not being the huggingest man on this our wacky world."

As to 'measures' ... well, witness Molly as a project takes root. Her eyes light up and she looks ceilingward for a second, thoughtful. "Oh, no, I wouldn't do anything like that. Though for me, a DDR mat would be an interesting keypad; I could set it for that really tricky move on the Expert level on that one Akira Yamaoka track... Anyway, a security system ought to be tailored for the user, and electrified doors and laser grids aren't the kind of thing you need. You need a system that'll give you advance warning and then sit back, shut up and let you defend yourself. So I'm thinking camera network on the exterior, heat and motion sensors on the interior, and a panel that'll light up and make some noise at you - your choice of noise, of course - to let you know that you've got a perimeter breach. And probably identify where on the property the intruders actually are. Maybe a call button..." She's really just blue-skying now; this may take awhile. "...Y'know, for if it's not mundane burglars and you're outnumbered and backup would be useful and talking on the phone or similar would give away your position. That could be wired in to contact a list of numbers you give it and then you could send one SOS to many at the touch of a button! If you needed to."

After which she shakes her head and laughs at herself a little. "Or I could stop with the shop talk. Remind me why I don't do security systems for a living? But the book list sounds impressive. Sounds like your personal library beats out most of the libraries I grew up around. Are they about anything in particular? Esoteric studies, ancient mysteries ... medieval smut?" The last is a joke, obviously.

The question about the auto garage and why she chooses to live in one gets the same kind of thought that Nathan put into his answer to her similar question, and then she says, "Well ... after college, I never lived in ... anything that most people would consider a 'house'. Like I said, abandoned canning factory, warehouse, that sort of thing. Part of me views it as recycling; like, the building's probably never going to be used for its original purpose again and so having me live in it is better than having it torn down for yet another soulless condo complex or a mini-mall or whatever. But mostly it's that I kind of rebelled against the very idea of ... well, a 'house'. I had some issues as pertaining to anything that might put me even remotely on the same footing as a housewife. The cooking is sort of my first step to getting over it, but..." She shrugs, munches her pizza and finishes with, "Besides, an auto garage is probably the closest I've been to 'home' since I left the West Coast states. My dad runs a repair shop."

[Nathan Spriggs] All through Molly's planning, Nathan can do nothing else than... stare. Just plain 'holy fuck' stare. Until as she's winding down and laughing, saying she should stop, he blinks and breaks out of it. "No, no. That was... interesting. In fact, nothing I can say really tops that, so let's not even try."

With a laugh, he shakes his head his head before saying, "It took a while to obtain it all, and lots of money. But yeah, esoteric studies and ancient mysteries sounds about right. We don't call it 'smut' though, we call it 'medieval erotica', also known as 'interspecies erotica' at times. Man, those peasants sure loved them farm animals..." A grin then, before he raises his hands and bows in an apologetic sort of way. "Man, that came out worse than it sounded in my head. Sorry."

Raising his head, however, there's a curious expression on his face now, with a brow arched questioningly, "You still close with your family, even now?" A beat before he adds, "Sorry if it's too personal. You don't need to answer that."

[Molly Quincannon] The bit about 'medieval erotica' and all that follow it ... well, Molly is not the type who stifles laughter under normal circumstances, though it was rather unfortunate that Molly had a mouthful of pizza during the 'those peasants sure loved them farm animals' comment. So at first, instead of a laugh, there's a somewhat alarming gagging noise, followed by a napkin-bearing hand raised to her mouth before she manages to swallow the mouthful of pizza instead of choking on it. The laugh that ensues is a series of somewhat breathless giggles as a result. "Oh ... no ... that's okay," she says between gasps and laughs. "I wasn't ... using my full lung capacity ... anyway. And seeing a different side to your sense of humour is a real education. I'm all over curious about the 'ancient mysteries' bits, though. Less the 'interspecies erotica', which we in the biz call 'farmyard fap-fic'. But that's mainly because when you've done the amount of freelance tech support I have? There comes a point at which you realise that man-on-capybara is starting to seem vanilla. I'm not sure whether it's a bit of the soul or the brain that dies at that point, but something borks."

The bit about her family ... that gets a raised eyebrow and a wry little smile. "Wow. It's got to be the season. That's two people who've asked about my family in the space of two days. No, it's not too personal; there's just nothing to tell. Literally - I haven't spoken to my parents since I packed my shit into what is now the TARDISmobile but was then just the Beetle and drove east for college. Nothing too terrible; no real abuse or anything. Just they thought I was supposed to be stupid 'cos I'm a girl, and didn't know what to make of the fact that I actually have a functional brain. So I went to my full ride Columbia scholarship and didn't write them. They had an address but they didn't write me either. So I stopped sending them changes of address. Haven't spoken to them in over ten years now." She shrugs. "Rest of the family ... much the same deal. We weren't what you'd call 'close'."

After that, of course, the question comes in kind. "What about you and yours? Too personal, or do you talk to them at all?"

[Nathan Spriggs] [FOR PURE EFFECT! Manip + Expression]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 6, 7, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Nathan Spriggs] For a while, he watches the slow descent into what he's sure is gagging before he moves to react. By then, however, it seems she's over it and the commentary was... actually not taken as horribly offensive. 'Huh...' is as good as any description to the expression on his face when that occurs, swiftly shifting to an amused grin when Molly expands on the subject. "Nothing says 'dinner' like a good talk on the pros and cons of bestiality."

With the comment out of the way, his grin dies down into a cautious, landmine-territory sort of smile as Molly tells the story of her family. It's after a beat that he nods and says, "Ah, okay. Sorry about that, just y'know, you mentioned your dad in present tense... so I thought... Well, nevermind!"

To her question, he actually smiles widely, looking quite on top of himself and composed. Then, "Well, I talk to them every weekend actually. Considered going back home for Christmas."

Then a delay, a moment... two, three... and his smile's taking a twist into more of a bemused look. "And if you believe that one, I'll tell you another." A shrug then, as he looks at Molly seriously for a moment before saying, matter-of-factly, "Basically your story, different reasons but same actions and results. Well, without the attempts at actually keeping contact anyway." Nathan had thrown all that away a long time ago, because of no one's actions but his own.

[Molly Quincannon] "Cons," is Molly's immediate response. "Animals can't give informed consent. But you're right, it's not dinner conversation, is it? And yeah, I used the present tense for my father, because as far as I know, he's not dead. I could say that he 'ran' a repair shop, but assuming he's not dead of smush, he's not really pushing retirement age yet, so..." She shrugs; Molly-logic engaged. "...present tense."

During the pause-for-effect delay, Molly just looks at him. Eyebrow raised, eyes a little wide, waiting for ... for, well, the 'if you believe that one' moment. She snorts a little when he mentions the attempts to keep in contact. "My case was not an attempt to keep in contact. They had my address because I left the acceptance letter with my dorm assignment stuck on the fridge as a sort of an ironic nose-thumbing. Y'know, 'who's too dumb to worry her pretty little head with numbers now?' and like that. In your case ... not sure whether to say 'sorry to hear' in that commiserating tone or not, honestly. Dunno your reasons, so it could be a 'go, you!' and a wave of the pom-poms for all I know. But I guess having made your own home and family kind of helps there, maybe? It does me, insofar as I have this time around. Did with the others, too, for all they didn't always last."

[Nathan Spriggs] "I haven't given them a single spare thought since I walked away," is what he says between a shrug of indifference when she mentions not knowing what to say. "Also, because I really do like getting last word in on discussions... Pros, just need to keep 'em fed and they'll be happy."

Might be an attempt to derail the conversation from current headings, or might not be, but he gives her a wry smile and says, "So you graduated from college, huh? Which?"

[Molly Quincannon] For people with expressive faces, there's an expression that indicates very clearly that someone really wants to say something in response to a recent comment but isn't going to, and is more amused about this fact than truly aggravated. It's that expression that Molly wears for a moment before she says, "You can have the last word, but only because you're cute."

Very short pause wherein there is (perhaps hidden, perhaps not) the thought, I just said that, didn't I? I didn't really think that one through, did I? Oh well. It's true. Moving on.

And look! Shiny new conversational topic, ahead starboard! "Columbia," she tells him. "I got offers from CalTech and a couple of other places, but En-Why-Cee was as far away from home as I could get without leaving the country, so ... I went there. Glad I did, all things considered. Plus they've got a pretty awesome CompSci department. And winters with snow!" Yes, she likes winters with snow. She liked New York winters. Nathan did not, and so she teases a bit. And, of course, follows up with, "What about you? I probably shouldn't assume you went to college, but you've got that 'make-the-grabby-hands-at-knowledge' thing that I associate with a scholar, so ... I'll ask across the board; did you go to college, and if so, where?"

[Molly Quincannon] [[Manip + Subterfuge - I didn't just pause and realise what I just blurted and feel a little self-conscious. Noooo.]]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 4, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Nathan Spriggs] [I totally noticed, right?; Perc + Manip]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 5, 5, 9, 10 (Failure at target 6)

[Nathan Spriggs] So, sure, he's a bit caught off guard by Molly's comment. Might be inclined to wonder what direction it was coming from, but he fails to notice the embarrassment that'd make a telltale sign. Instead, all he sees is her regrouped and in control again, so naturally he assumes it was just what it sounded like... right? Just a joke, or something. Whatever.

Conversation moving forward, get to it. "Yeah, winters with snow are pretty horrible. D'you have any idea how many homeless people die a year in the blistering cold?" Nathan the empathic, clearly. If only she knew why. His sort-of-serious-sort-of-joking expression shifts right into the latter however when he gives her an amused smile at the question.

"I graduated from the College of Life, with a Master's in Self-Learning, a Bachelor's in Survivalism, and a short Associate's in Adaptation," is his response, with a proud sort of grin as he adds, "It's safe to say I graduated summa cum laude if that's your impression."

[Molly Quincannon] There's a thought, that occurs. There are patterns to people, and one doesn't need to be a Mind mage to see them. Nathan has a certain look of 'ha-ha, only serious' that's tricky to read, but it always means one thing: Subject I would rather not have discussed in-depth. For Molly, that kind of thing is catnip, but she does have certain rules: the more she likes you, the tighter she'll rein in her Need to Know in such a case.

So it doesn't even get a comment beyond, "Yeah, that'd be part of why Ellie's living with me now. I know she said she slept in libraries, but I wouldn't keep a dog I liked out in this weather. I guess the weather is a multi-layered problem, huh?"

The bit about the College of Life gets another laugh. "Ah, I see. Yeah, see, you're an enigma that way. You give off vibes of 'self-made man', or whatever they call it, but then there's the basement full of rare books that most people would need a master's degree in some speciality of literature to have even heard of. A riddle wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a conundrum."

He didn't really react to the 'cute' thing. Maybe he doesn't actually mind... Or he didn't recognise it as flirting but what are the odds of that?

It's musings like those that do what most people don't necessarily think is possible: they shut Molly up for longer than ten seconds. So there's a pause during which she sips her cola, laments somewhere in the back of her head that it is not Jolt and chases little thoughts like those around her own head.

[Nathan Spriggs] Sipping on his own soda, Nathan considers Molly's comment on his vibe, and on some level the silence that's crept up too. But that's for later as he adds, "Well, if it makes you feel better... I do know Latin and Hebrew which is part of why. Admittedly, not from any college courses either." Leaving her with that little tidbit, his glass is finally drained empty.

He's leaning back against the chair as a sigh escapes his lips though, deep in thoughts of his own. A state broken only by the... strangely extended silence from Molly's part. Which earns a wry grin from him as a thought pops up. "Am I going to be blasted with another Earth-shattering security masterplan, or some deep philosophical debate? ...'Cause you're being oddly quiet, I mean, that says a lot."

[Molly Quincannon] [[Odds I lie, evens I truth-tell]]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8
to Molly Quincannon

[Molly Quincannon] It's probably only the curiosity that drags Molly out of high-concentration internal dialogue mode, so the first thing she does, of course, is ask questions. "Where did you learn Latin and Hebrew? Or ... y'know, maybe 'why?' is better as a question. Personal interest, religious reason, the same reason people climb Everest...?" Not that she feels that learning anything is a waste of time; it's just curiosity as idle as hers ever gets. Which, given her general tendency to frenetic activity, speech and thought, isn't very idle at all, but there you have it.

His question about why she went quiet ... well, she debates it for a moment, but overconfidence does rear its head at moments like these: What could honesty hurt? "I was thinking back to the 'I will let you have the last word but only because you're cute' comment, and wondering whether it was that you didn't notice that it could very much be seen as flirting - which I can't really see, because you are Perceptive Man, for the most part - or whether it was that you didn't mind, or whether you just wanted to ignore it in the hopes that it would go away. Because for the record, it wasn't intentional flirting, but it's true anyway. The fact that I think you're cute, anyway. Well, maybe not 'cute', because that gets associated with teddy bears and other fluffy things, which ... no, but ... oh, you know what I mean. But this is a fact and not necessarily a flirtation, particularly if you mind flirtation."

After which she blinks and gives a grin of self-mockery. "I'm pretty sure people are always sorry when they ask what's going on in my head, y'know. Because they always get info-dumps of that intensity."

[Nathan Spriggs] Having a hard time with keeping a straight face, it takes him mere moments before he's double-over in laughter and pressing his head against the table while his hands support his stomach. It was just so out of the left field in his eyes, for some reason. Didn't even know why it was unexpected. After a moment, when the laughter's subsided and he's cleaning away a tear that's rolled down his cheek from it, Nathan sits back up straight and gives one of those little coughs meant to make it seem like you're getting 'serious' again.

"I'm sorry, really. That wasn't meant as a mean or offensive laugh," he says without pause, with a bright smile on his face that's a tiny bit apologetic. "Taking it by order. No particular reason though knowing what my books actually said was a pretty big plus."

When those words have slipped out, he taps the table rhythmically again for a moment before tilting his head just a tiny bit to the right to watch Molly. Then: "Well, I wasn't sure how to take it honestly. Since you seemed to have brushed it along so quick as compared to, well, the other night. But nah, it's not the third, honest." Finally, a snap of his fingers as he adds, "I'm glad I asked though, that info-dump was well worth it. Amusement factor aside."

[Molly Quincannon] When a person has dumped out a load of information that, when sifted through properly, indicates a potential romantic interest in another, there are a few reactions that a person hopes never to get from that 'other'. Laughter is up there, somewhere between a blank stare and projectile vomiting. But a lot depends on perspective, and Molly is fairly used to people laughing at the things she says, regardless of subject matter, because of her delivery. She's actually fairly well convinced that she could tell people that a pack of deinonychus had escaped from some Jurassic-era part of the Umbra and were currently laying waste to Grant Park and people would laugh.

...Then again, that mental image is probably worth a few chuckles anyway.

In any case, all that to say that Molly doesn't look hurt when Nathan starts laughing. The fact that it goes on for awhile, and it actually doubles him over ... well, that gets raised eyebrows, but she waits, and does not look hurt. And when he's capable of speech again, and takes the bits in order, Molly sets aside language issues for the time being (she got her answer anyway; she's happy) to cut right to the meat of the matter, and goes from back to front. "Well, they do say it does you good to laugh," she says, more than a little wry. "As to the other night ... it came out of left field, y'know? Mostly because I was working up the nerve to ask you out to dinner, and you asking first, even if it wasn't meant that way, came entirely out of left field. Hell, you were lucky you got something other than 'squee-gibber-squeak-of-embarrassment-voom'. Seriously." Now she looks bashful. "You know I get worked up over stuff. I'd say it's the caffeine, but ... really, no."

Then she tilts her head, bites her lower lip ... and chuckles. "Well, I was hoping it wasn't the latter of the options. Though questions arise when you start laughing 'til you cry. But I guess the fact that you didn't just get up and bolt for the nearest exit when the hysterics subsided boded well."

[Nathan Spriggs] It takes plenty of self-control and a healthy dose of respect and etiquette to not give so much as a chuckle at the way Molly goes about describing things again. Instead, it's all funneled into the amused smile bordering on a grin that he gives her as it slowly comes to a close. "Ahh, I apologize then. Let's cancel this and we can redo the whole invite thing," he teases as he gets half-way to leaving his chair for pure effect before adding, "I really need to learn to read the cartoon cue cards." A gesture, like a picket sign and then, "Meep meep."

Those words said, he slides back into place swiftly before looking at his as-of-yet untouched food. "So what happens now? How might I give remunerations for ruining your chances of asking someone on a date?"

[Molly Quincannon] [[If he can roll for PURE EFFECT!, so can I! Manip + Expression!]]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 7, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Molly Quincannon] "..........You are kidding, right?" Molly manages those words after a fit of the giggles to rival Nathan's own laugh attack when she told him what was on her mind. "I mean, come on; that was the most awesome thing ever! Just because it reduced me to a pillar of pure, undiluted flusterment doesn't mean it requires remuneration or anything. But if you really want to play it that way..." Pause. She looks up at the ceiling. It's all coy, as if she's considering just what to request, and the directions in which her thoughts might be allowed to roam, and it's rather cute and mischievous and possibly a little scary in a 'top of the roller coaster and about to go into the drop' way...

"...You have to let me take you out to dinner and maybe a movie. And since I'm not a total ogre, I will even let you pick the venue. And I will pay. I think that'd be sufficient remuneration."

[Nathan Spriggs] [The Empire Strikes Back; Manip + Expression]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 2, 4, 5, 6, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Nathan Spriggs] Given the expression on Molly's face, he can only watch and wait with very sincere curiosity and, well, plenty of interest too. When she responds, his look's shifting to something like approval, and a fake sort of uppity-ness. "Are you sure about that? I'm a very picky eater, I like only the finest, gourmet restaurants and the finest wines!" Nathan say, with an overdramatized sort of flourish. "That, or y'know, good Burger King food. S'all the same to me."

Extending his arm over the table, he tries to incite a handshake. "Consider it a," here a grin forms, "date." Then whether or not she shakes it, he gestures to the food on the table before saying, "First though, let's finish this one." A piece of his calzone cut and, at long last, a bite taken.

"Any other awkward life periods we've accidentally overlooked in our conversation so far?"

[Molly Quincannon] "Well, you'll just have to decide how picky you're not when the time comes," says Molly as she shakes the offered hand. "You never know; if you pick that whole 'finest gourmet restaurants' line, you might actually become one of the few of our social set who have ever seen me in a dress. Isabel made me buy a dress." The emphasis on 'dress' seems to imply not just the unlikelihood of her owning one at all, but the fact that this is not just "a skirt with a top attached" sort of dress. But that can torment his curiosity, perhaps.

The handshake done, she nods agreeably when he suggests they finish their first (and it actually is one, wow!) date. But the question gets a laugh, and she says, "Well, probably a few, maybe more for you than for me, Mister Cagey, but if we get all the awkwardness out in one sitting, what will we talk about when I take you to fine-food-or-Burger-King-whatever?" Short pause, blink, and "...Oh yeah. Asulym doom. But not tonight. Instead, I will ask you about light and fluffy topics. Music. Movies. Books. The national debt problem. Y'know. Fun stuff!"

For all she's teasing about the national debt problem, from then on it's what she considers 'light and fluffy topics'. And probably stealing a bite of Nathan's calzone. ("I was curious! ...Want some of mine?")