More Triumphant than Victories

[Thomas Taylor] For those that knew him Thomas had become a much more darker man recently, eyes hollow, black rings encircling each one a paleness to his skin that went a tad beyond that 'English Pale' he claimed.

He is seasonal, as he wanders he consumes and he consumes it now, the dark, the cold, the chill it gets taken into him but never fills just adds it's nature to his own and he takes on aspects of what he consumes. The Thomas you met now was different from the one you met in summer, bright, sunny cheery.

He also has issues, serious issues and no matter where he goes he cannot find the tissues. At least his eyes were opened and he knew he had a problem, some days were better than others. So he arrives outside Molly's, it had only been an idea floating in his head, but he was a wanderer and ideas have a habit of finding feet. He had cut ties with Molly right after she was rescued, a few words spoken to her to help her back into her home but that it, when out and about they had occasionally been left in the company of each other and then it fell apart fast.

But it would seem Molly was on the up and up, in the fast track for her Big Club Badge, to line up next to Ash and Seer. It's not that he wants anything from her, but with the threat looming over them, he has in his own way thrown his hat in with the Traditions...(There was a thin wired attached to the hat of course, a card that said 'A right to wander away') and his battle would not necessary be in public, or in view. His was asked to be a subtle hand, with one request he demanded...that has been agreed.

He pulls out a cigarette and lights it off the end of his last that dropped and landing in sludge and ice as the fresh one is placed in his lips. He is dressed in a long tan coat, under that one of his tracksuit tops, he has cargo pants on (Jean just got too wet and took forever to dry) and Doc Martin boots that actually look alright, in fact most of his clothes looks better than use, not any new just more sturdy, better.

With a snort, he straightens his black beanie (His head got cold, perhaps he should grow his hair for winter) and walks up to her door, snorting at the sign as he rings her door bell and waits.

[Molly Quincannon] There have been some additions to the decor of the outside of Fort Quincannon, mostly involving multi-coloured fairy lights in the windows, in honour of the season. There's also a second sign, smaller than the HIGH VOLTAGE one: "This property is under remote surveillance".

Inside is different again, as he finds when Molly opens the door. There are glimpses of colour everywhere on the walls and ceiling, and some of it reflects the light like silk while other bits seem more like plastic. Molly has on oil-stained coveralls. The bruises on her face aren't quite gone; just faded to that dismal brownish-yellow that old bruises have. She blinks at him a moment, head casting back (forward? This, you see, is why scrying the future sucks eggs; it plays merry hell with the grammar) to a memory that hasn't happened yet and may never do (No fuckin' Duracell's worth this!). Then she shakes whatever it is off and smiles - it's genuine enough, at least. "Hey, Thomas. C'mon in out of the cold and meet the gang."

Inside, there is more furniture. In fact, pretty Japanese silk screens block off a large patch of floor space that a sign decrees is "ELLIE'S NOOK". In the other corner stands a cage in which Molly's ferret plays. There's a tube maze set up on the walls and ceiling, which accounts for some of the colour, and there's another scrabbly ball of fur moving around up there at a fair old clip. "You've met Neal, I remember; Hardison is up in the Deep Roads, spazzing again. Take a seat. Want anything? There's beer and this pear cider stuff and stronger if you're more up for that. And to what do I owe the awesome that is a visit? Definitely not complaining; gives me a break from the TARDIS repairs, and it's been awhile. Anything new and interesting?"

[Thomas Taylor] ((Okay, lets see if today is a good day, Willpower))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 6, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Thomas Taylor] Molly answers and is very much Molly, he takes in the bruises, but who doesn't get them every now and again, his hands find his coat pocket as he nods and steps in when she invites him. Eyes half close as he looks around, the brightness and colour too much for his eye sight at the moment, he has no want or need to consume colour he lets his eyes wander past it, moving towards the various noises of Molly's pet padding around, perhaps a glimpse here and there as she introduces them

"Wat is it with the Roundtable an bloody pets." Zane, Ferrets, Natyana dog, Emily's cat that Molly gave her when they last saw each other...he just shakes his head his tone more neutral than humours or hurtful. Of course in the wandering he saw the sign his eyebrow raises but only for a second, Molly mentioned an apprentice last time...no he was fairly sure her name began with 'I'. No this was something new.

Thomas does take in a place fast! A man with a knack for wandering be it eye, legs, mouth, other parts...as his gaze fixes on Molly. There is a faint smile on thin lips, blue eyes that looks starved of light that are staring into her soul threatening to consume it. He sniffs the air as his gaze lessens and becomes almost normal.

No fear here...not yet

"Beer, don't fret if I don't liek it I'll change it , been meanin' to thank ya for that whiskey, you know hat in the day, forgot all 'bout it, now am gettin' fooked like a bloody king, calvin-est whiskey on every sip, in all the kingdom." He looks back to her and spreads his arms as if it were his kingdom then he pulls them back in.

He walks over to one of the chairs and falls into it, neck and back cracking as it does cigarette rolled into the corner of his mouth "It's been lemon Info, an with everythin' goin down, thought it be fair to get hat in touch, keep the dog open, besides you seem to be gettin' to be a big fish, perhaps I was pete?" A cheeky grin comes across his face and lips but it carries a shadow. It does not quite go as high on his cheeks, not as many teeth shown.

[Molly Quincannon] "Hey, Neal needed company," is Molly's response to that. "They drive Ellie a bit crazy, but she loves them really. You'll have to meet her sometime; I think you'd like her. She's out at the moment - community college." Molly's proud of this Ellie, and very fond of her, it's clear.

The stare gets a look back in kind; Molly's heard a little bit about Thomas' Halloween experience, and knows that not everyone has taken it overly well, so that look, and the fact that his smile is a ghost of its former self ... well. It gets notice, but the curiosity doesn't quite kick in yet. She's pretty sure she's got the answer as to why. The praise of the whiskey gets a smile even as Molly goes for a bottle of Pale Rider for Thomas and her own ubiquitous can of Mountain Dew. "Change it, huh? Picking up new tricks? Yeah, I know that one a couple of times over. But you're welcome, and you did thank me, as far as I was concerned. I'm just glad you're enjoying it." (And now she knows what to get him for Christmas.)

The bit about stuff going down gets a look - he's been more in the thick of it than she has, of course - and the bit about 'big fish' ... well, there's blushing and perplexity all at once. "I dunno about 'big fish', but I am what I am, and I do what I do, and I get tapped by the Rogue freakin' Council when potential shit hits proverbial fan, so ... y'know, maybe? But yeah, communication is good. Did anyone happen to mention that one of us is likely on a list of Technocracy recruitment targets? And no, not me. They still haven't even got a clue I exist yet."

Then she looks at him and, in an apparent non-sequitor, she asks, "At what point would you say that a node wasn't worth the death and destruction caused in trying to hold it?"

[Thomas Taylor] She bombards him with information, as her namesake, the first few meeting were bad as he struggled to consume or let it wander, that was more second nature now even with their lack of communication, some of her words wander past him like air others are consumed by him. He is silent until she returns with bottle of pale rider, while she is up and talking he also points to his cigarette suggesting she grab an ashtray unless she does not like her floor.

So he answers in the order he deems necessary. "Yeah, me bricks an mortar is solid, well I might 'ave been a touch charming with big fish so forget 'bout that wats a Rouge Council sounds like sumthing of one of them online games, who is on the list?"

He tilts his head smoke coming from his nose "That's an expansive question pet, 'ave already kinda let one go just because the location sucks." An eyebrow raises as that was a confusing question even for Molly

"A node shouln't be worth any death, its just a fookin' node, jesus 'ave they got you all node blind by givin' names an tellin' ya spooks are in 'im, bloody 'ell!" He refers to Catherine of course, and the way Israel tried to guilt him into caring about her, going on like she was the whole chantry, like she had a soul. "Yer talkin' 'bout the Aslyum..." He can be slow but he gets there "I got stake there so bad example." He leaves it at that, very curt very serious. "But suffice to say that duracell 'as already 'ad sum deaths, an I think were only at the tip, 'cudn't tell ya wen I'd call it quits, but if it's just me an bunch of randoms, if they wanna die for it they can stupid idiots! Look out for yerself, no other fooker will Info!"

He is holding back, she can tell, what he doesn't say but it is obvious Thomas is full of either opinion or information regarding the Asylum, perhaps a bit of both.

[Molly Quincannon] Molly provides something that will approximate an ashtray (it's scrap metal, but at least it's the approximate shape) from her workshop and then addresses the question. "The Rogue Council? Stuff of rumours and legend, man. They mark their stuff with an image of the sphinx and have 'Let Enigma guide you to what Dogma will not' as their rallying cry. They link to a lot of tips and shit, mostly - with us, it's the Mirrorshade garbage, but the rumours have been thick and fast that they'll also point out Marauder and Nephandi problems - so where the hell were they this summer, I'd love to know - and bad shit within the Trads themselves. Nobody knows who they are; no one's been able to trace them, but I'm not giving up on it yet. At least I want to find those Ambassadors at some stage. They're the only visible face that bunch have got, and as far as I know, they're just acolytes to the big cheeses. Until I know who they are and what the fuck they're actually going for, I dunno whether to toss confetti at them or just tell them to go do something anatomically improbable with a cactus. Sideways."

The question about who's on the list gets a sigh. "That's trying to stay not-so-common knowledge, since no one wants a witch-hunt. I mean, they haven't tracked him down here yet or anything. But the guy was on radar for, like, fifteen years and he's not exactly hard to miss. So if they catch wind of him, either through surveillance or from someone else's head ... well, there may be some serious fucking problems. Just ... I don't really have to tell you this, but watch what you say to Chuck. They won't try to kill him; they'll try to recruit him. And they have a bead on his family, which is a metric fucktonne of leverage."

And then, the nub. "Well, from what I've heard, it's only this Catherine entity that kept the House node from turning into a freakin' Caul or something, so I don't know what to think about that. But I do know that the Asylum node has a spirit. And that the Technocracy wants it, and not just to use it up and leave it dead. They've got a view to projects there. Some really freaky shit. And if people just left it alone, it could be a thing of beauty, but nooooooo, no one's going to do that. There are ways it could be worse and ways it could be better, but if it comes to a fight..." She shrugs that away. Clearly, she also has information - of a sort. "The other thing ... well, that depends on who you consider to be 'randoms'. Ashley ... Israel ... I'd be there because like hell would I let them go into that shit alone..."
([i]I can still heal her; just give me a few more minutes. Please.)
She falters, there. Truths foreseen are not always Truths, and she doesn't know for sure who Israel was talking about. "There are randoms, sure, but there are also people you know. And we can't let them have it." She chuckles darkly, shrugs a bit. "Nathan wants to burn the whole place to the ground."

[Thomas Taylor] Another information overload, the Rogue Council just gets an eyebrow, as he takes what she said which in all honesty was not a lot for all her words about it. "So it cud be anyone, even a Smith, but am not 'ere to argue semantics, 'ope there info was robin." And as for the Rogue Council and Thomas interest in it, that was that.

He met Chuck briefly, and once right here he was Molly's Boyfriend. His cheeks hollow and his lips purse as he leans forward and puts out his cigarette twisting it as he stands "No offense Info, yer 'ardly subtle, but that fella was yer man, so either they know 'about you or they don't dependent on if they 'ave been watchin' 'im or not, which cud make this 'hole place under watch." And he walked in, great. He has a big gulp of the beer "I don't see Chuck, don't know the man, 'ave no intention of knowin' the man, think I'll be calvin but cheers." He holds the beer up then brings it to his lips for another swig. As for his family, the history there Thomas can only imagine he brought it on himself, they always do, the Smiths were like a big dog, don't throw shit at it and don't sneak in the yard and it won't come after you. He'll be sure to shed a tear...never. He starts to wander around, not being nosey just walking.

His eyes roll as Molly is well on the way to the Node Salvation Society. "If the Smiths want it, there gonna get it, more resources, the best yer gonna 'ope for is a small victory 'nuff lemon to perhaps close the node, or use the energy there to jump start a new one then do wat Trench said an burn the mother fucker down before they cum back with e'nuff firepower to send us all hat to the stone age." He grins, eyes half close, oh Henry would not like that one bit.

"To be 'onest though, I don't give a toss wat 'appens to the node, shit appens tis a sorry old world, I'd focus on makin' sure it don't become a beach noggin' for the Smiths, an that don't mean we sud 'old it either. Because we can't an won't, the Smiths are movin' in folks will die tryin' to 'old it, it will be sum fuckers Moby Dick will that duracell, unwillin' to let it go, or let it fall until they do an they will, gurellia tatics, I dare say take everythin' of value to 'im an they might move on, 'ide yer valuables under the uncle an 'ope the bogey man don't take it." He was all for the underdogs, but a few mages against a force that (apparently) won in the big magic war, the one for Ascension. Take the victories while you can and be happy with it.

" There are some defeats more triumphant than victories., Michel de Montaigne." Who knew he could quote, but he is a Hollow One.

[Molly Quincannon] Molly rolls her eyes. "Oh, I'll end up under surveillance one way or another. From the intel we've got, every spot that was was under any kind of ward at a particular point last week is going to be under surveillance soon if it isn't already." She names the date and time, then sighs. "It's not that they're not looking for me; they just don't know they're looking for me in specific. I went to scry out the potential bad at the Asylum, ferreted out some info, but I was under a heavy ward and my resonance was masked, courtesy Ashley. They knew someone was doing something, but they didn't know who was doing it or what 'it' actually was. Point is," she finishes, "that yeah, Chuck was my man. Which means I'm screwed if they find him, which from what little I can tell they haven't yet. But anyone could tell them what he could about me. I know most everybody, and they mostly know where I live 'cos of the Halloween party invites. I'm not going to fixate on it from a 'me' point of view."

The rest gets a bitter chuckle. "I don't think I want us to have the thing either, y'know. It's ... beautiful as it is. Or as it will be. I saw it as it would be untampered-with. It was ... literally fantastic. I wish there was a way to move it somewhere that no one could find it so that it could ... become what it's going to become. But no; there's going to be a meeting but the opinion I've heard on it beyond 'burn it to the ground' is 'drain it dry and kill it if we can't get it'. I've seen the results of that, too," she adds with a shudder. "That does not exactly make the world a better place, though I see the point. Though thinking about it, if we drain it so they can't do their fucking experiments, I guess they'll come after us with firepower anyway. Anyway, I guess that's what the meeting's going to be for. Well, that and surveillance issues." She's not too worried about Thomas - she knows how hard he is to spot - but she is a little. "You're going to be careful, right?"

[Thomas Taylor] He was told he was not paranoid enough by not putting up wards, he laughs and it is a dark chuckle that comes from his belly as he smirks...the jokes on them now, and it pleases him a dark way. He sighs having another sip of beer as he puts that down and pulls out another cigarette as he comes back to where he was and places it in his lips speaking around it.

"You've already been kidnapped once, let's not make it a hobby aye pet?" He pulls out his zippo and lights it, that could be considered some concern for her, as cold as it seemed as he takes that first big drag the smoke blown from his lungs.

"Am sure you guys will make the call at yer meetin' on wat yer doin', get yer ducks in a row an cum up with a plan." He stresses the you, it was not negative but more the divide between the Clubhouse and those that were not members. They were a war council now, but they could only command the soldiers in the Clubhouse, individual deals would have to be done with the freelancers like Thomas. He had already had his discussion, got his marching orders, put in for his slice of the pie. His war will be fought in a far darker place, where the shadows are darkest and there is no dawn.

To be honest he is rather looking forward to it, there shall be so much fear to consume, he will be sated for a while, for such a very small time. His eyes glaze over slightly and the thought does make his mouth dry as he absently sips the beer looking back to Molly.

"Am always careful." Fact. He tilts his head a hand comes from his pocket, they had been in there most of the time his body movements far more controlled than at any other point she has perhaps seen him as he puts a hand on her cheek then taps his fingers against it twice gently, his hands were cold.

"'member pet, take yer lemon, don't rush in."

[Molly Quincannon] The comment about not making being kidnapped a hobby gets a wry sort of smile. "You're not the first person to say that to me, and you probably won't be the last," she tells him, and then the smile dies, leaving hard resolve in its place. "It's not going to come to that. If it comes to a fight - I mean, total balls-out 'I can't win it' fight? I take down as many as I can before I go down ... and then I go down for good. They're not taking me alive."

The you/us divide gets a raised eyebrow. "Well, at least I can tell them at the meeting what your views are ... unless someone else already knows and can. And will." She sighs. "I mean, I'm going to piss off enough people at that thing. I dunno how those meetings go but I've already got someone else's bone to pick about the set-up. Though I can't see doing it now. I know politics is important, but there's a hell of a lot more going on. I guess I'll see what happens and what I can fit in where as and when, y'know?" She swigs her drink and then says, "Man. I never, ever thought I'd be in the political ring. If it wasn't for Ashley, I'd go in with a portable stereo blaring Voodoo Glow Skulls. 'We Represent', y'know?"

The tap of his cold fingers on her face gets an upward quirk of her lips and a look in her eyes that's a combination of touched and worried. "I'll do my best. I'm way better at 'look before I leap' than I used to be. You okay? You want me to turn the heating up?" She takes his hand for just a second - long enough to feel the cold of his skin against her own warm, calloused hand with the oil stains in the whorls of her knuckles and under her fingernails - and then lets go. She's concerned, no lie, but she doesn't know what to ask that'll let him tell her what's wrong, or even whether it's a good idea to do so.

[Thomas Taylor] He tilts his head back and just shakes his head "Nah, I didn't ask you to share me views pet, but it's true, if you think you guys act for the whole of Chicago yer all a lil' deluded." It was true, Thomas might have signed on but there were those that would not want to, and Thomas could have quite easily been one of them and so finds it his business to at least speak up about it.

He coughs "Here's a quote for ya! The Clubhouse don't speak for everyone, the firms perhaps but not everyone, you sud reach out to all the indies an ask them wat they wanna do before you bring down the wraith of the Smiths on every cunts noggin'. Tis the least you can do give them the option that if they don't like it they can fuck off outta town, if you don't...well yer just gonna find yerselves with perhaps less forces than you thought, this ain't the 20th century no cunts gets drafted any more, it's call choice....end quote." He wanted to make that a quote, and quite clearly as he believed molly had a tendency to exaggerate.

"For the record my hats in yer court." A very simple statement but it could mean many things.

He looks down to the hand as it gets dropped "Am toasty, tis robin' 'ere, don't fret I'am wat I consume." His pupils seem to dilate until they nearly consume the blue in his eyes, the hand goes back to his pocket "You got labour germans pet, always sign of an 'ard grafter." THe cigarette rolls around his mouth, the smoke escaping between breaths.

[Molly Quincannon] Molly's with Thomas up until the 'my hat's in your court' part, from the look of her. Until he says that, she nods, looking frustrated and determined in equal measure. "That's all I'm after at the end of the day; the whole point should be that everyone at least has a say, not just those who threw in with a cabal! I mean, representatives, sure, because otherwise it's everyone in a room shouting each other down, but not just 'only those who want to cleave to a certain set of ideals' and shit. But the first time I get to be at one of these meetings and it's a fucking war council and I can try to make time to point out that representative government isn't for shit if it's not representing everyone, I think, but I'm so getting shouted down in favour of potential acts of war. But ... how can your hat be in ... do you mean my court personally or ... I mean, I haven't got a court; I'm not going to be blindly following along with whatever everyone else says. I want to hear reasoning first, y'know? I know what I think should be done, it's not realistic, and I don't think it's what you're talking about."

The bit about Thomas being what he consumes gets Molly looking out the window at the cold outside world, and then she says, "Well, consume a hot meal once in awhile. Damn. I have been learning to cook and have a fridge full of easily-reheatable leftovers, so you know." She's being facetious, but she does exude a warmth that has nothing to do with the central heating; that's actually giving a shit. Then she looks at her hands and smiles a little. "I'll take that as a compliment, thanks. I've been working on the car. Hit some black ice the other day, ended up doing a header into someone's outdoor, decorated Christmas tree. The muffler's shot, and I had to bang a few dents out of it. The less said about the lights and tinsel I had to pull out of the front bumper, the better." Then, with a grin that covers an embarrassed blush, she finishes with, "There's actually pictures. Someone across the street had a camera and the whole thing ended up on Failblog."

[Thomas Taylor] A hand comes out of his pocket and takes the cigarette tapping the ash on the scrap metal before returning to his mouth. She speaks of politics, representation and she can just tell by Thomas' face that this is the reason he is not in a Cabal, that this is the reason he is not part of the Clubhouse and this is also the reason he has never set foot inside the clubhouse and never will.

"I got my fill of Roundhouse politics hat pope with da potters. You wanted a quote you got one." A small raise of the brow and those thin lips do turn into a smirk as she does not understand his meaning. "Don't fret 'bout it pet, ain't nuthin' important." Well it was and it wasn't, either way that answer might just drive the want-to-know-it-all up the wall, Thomas was usually quite forthcoming with answers and information. He had suddenly frozen up. Perhaps he had become a man of mystery, perhaps he was afraid Molly might tell one to many, or perhaps it was something else.

Molly goes on about her crash, a small flash of concern crosses his feature but if she blinked then she missed it. "Shit 'appens, yer in one piece, anythin' you can walk away from."

He looks around with her mentioning the tree and tinsel and he cringes at some of the decorations around and the brightness, he will need shades should he come here again "Yeah, I don't do Christmas." A statement, and with it a growl of emotion, of regrets and anger.

He clicks his fingers, a run in with Morgan had reminded him that some people might not know and try and get him gifts "Don't get me owt, I ain't got folks shit, yer not gettin' a card, yer not gettin' a prezzie an I don't want 'owt either." All said as a matter of fact, coldly. Like he might actually get angry if a gift was to show up.

[Molly Quincannon] Too many questions and they all sort of bottleneck - the bits about the 'nothing important', the bit about no cards or gifts... Perhaps surprisingly, it's the bit about Christmas that she addresses, and not with the likely expected question of 'why not?' "I used to feel that way about Christmas," she says, a bit wry. "Probably for different reasons, but I wanted fuck all to do with it. No, I'm not trying to be all sanctimonious and 'I changed my viewpoint and so might you'; just saying that I survived without it for a long time so I'm not going to be all judgemental about your views. Though not being allowed to get you anything is going to drive me up a wall. It's the only time of year that I don't get funny looks for being overgenerous. But if that's what you want, I'll respect it. And don't worry; I don't go around expecting presents from people just because of a calendar date." It's teasing, and kind, and then ... well, technically speaking, she does get him something; it's just not something she can wrap. She gives him the gift of just dropping the whole thing.

Instead, she shrugs off the crash thing with, "Exactly. It was nothing but an irritation and I look on the bright side. I mean, this gives me an excuse to put a few mods into the car. I meant to soup up the engine some anyway. Plus I have to put the snow tyres on." Then she sighs and says, "I should probably get back to work, much as I'm enjoying the company. I've got a few hours to get some quality work done before I have to try to get the oil out from under my fingernails to make dinner. You can hang around if you want, but I don't know how entertaining you'd find talking to my feet while I linger under my TARDIS with a socket wrench and a lexicon of colourful profanity."

[Thomas Taylor] He listens to her speak, his reason were different from Molly's, and perhaps had certain things not happened but in his state of mind Christmas was full of cheer, joy and hope with it a distinct lack of fear, it was everywhere the normal dark streets actually had people on them, it left a bitter taste on his tongue, a sourness to his lips.

"Thanks for understanin', thanks for the beer, I best be off anyfrog, I can feel the heat an am so use to the cold." He pats Molly on the shoulder as he would do a mate or another bloke (In a way Molly was a Tom Boy so he humours it). There's the ghost of a grin about her car and how Molly saw the good in it, like a muscle memory trying to resurface but not quite managing it.

He turns without another word and heads to the door opening it up and enjoying the blissfully darkness and cold that seeps into his bones as his head half turns looking to Molly from the corner of his eye. "Enjoy next week wat ever you do, stay frosty pet, stay safe." He nods and leaves the door slamming shut behind him as he steps out into the cold and onto the streets.