randomplaces | Nexus. Blue's bar. Recipe sharing and pie.

"On the bar's fine, that way we can work on the download. Just a slice." His smile's a bit forced.

He hops up. "Now I know what the Hobbits feel like," he comments cheerfully, and fishes his laptop out of his bag.

When he boots it up, he gets a surprise. "'allo!"

"Holly! Wot're you doing in there?" He nearly drops the laptop, but recovers.

"Oh, it's just a remote link. I was just dropping by, thought I'd upload you my newest singing potatoes CD, seeing as Miriam said you were a bit down." The floating face looks the Bot up and down appreciatively.

"Well, thanks...can I get at my recipes?"

"No problem, dude."

Charis blinks in the act of turning toward the kitchen for the pie, then starts as a yell comes from one of the big tables near the back wall.

"Son of a #$@#$@!" says Mornbein gleefully from where she's been drawing on what can only be a Tyranid hive tyrant. "What the fraggin' #%$#@$!@ you doin' here?"

"Oi! Mornbein!" Daimon grins a bit weakly and waves. Then his jaw drops at the sight of what she's perched on. "Wot...wot sort of pet did you get now?"

"Hullo," says the face on the screen amiably enough.

"I um, well...I needed someplace outside the main Nexus, and I heard a bit about this place." I can't read 'bot minds, so I figured I could let these aching shields down a while without invading too many people's privacy or pissing anyone off...

"And, well, pie and recipe geeking!"

"Tyranid." The young half-breed grins toothily as the monster backs away from the table and heads over to the bar. "His name's Fred. Cute, huh?"

"Er...." Charis blinks at the image on the screen. "Hello. Excuse me."

"Man, you look like slag." Mornbein jumps off Fred as Charis heads into the kitchen. "Ain't that fraggin' Aoife looked ya up yet? I told the @#$@##$@ wench you were her kinda friend. I'ma slag her Fae $@#$#@$%."

~~And the mun stares at Mornbein and wonders what she's on.~~

"Hullo, Fred! He looks like a Volkswagen Warbeetle." Almost literally.

His smile wanes a bit. "Sorry, mate, I'm just dealing with a severe case of 'want to beat the crap out of several people I can't and snog several others I can't either.'" With Mornbein, it seems appropriate to be blunt.

He holds up both hands, eyes widening. "Oh, no, no, she showed up, it was cool, I just...I think I made a bad impression. If you see her, if anything, I should be giving you an apology gift to pass along."

A long tongue sticks out from between teeth like small swords as the twenty-some foot monster gives a happy chitter and folds its scythes close to its body.

Mornbein scowls at him. "She's hard ta faze, bein' a clone Trooper. Frag... if you'd played things right you might'a got some fraggin' snoggin' in. For sure you'd'a had a good yakk fest."

Then she perks slightly at the thought of a possible fight. "I'll go a few rounds with ya, even let ya win, if ya want."

"Not in here," says a blue femme firmly as she walks past with several cubes of energon in hand.

Edited 2008-12-19 05:15 (UTC)

"D'you mind if I borrow his likeness if Harvey and I ever get cornered? He's quite formidable-looking. What do you feed 'im? Besides opponents?"

He bites his full lower lip and shakes his head. "No, it was...I don't care that I missed out on snogging--well, I do, but that's trivia next to hurting a perfectly friendly young lady's feelings over a minor misunderstanding. I have to try and fix that."

He chuckles in response, doleful expression lightening. "You know, we're starting to pull together folks to take advantage of the anti-violence field Fight Club style someplace where nice 'bots are not trying to feed people. But no, this is specific someones, Mornbein, awesome as the idea of sparring you is. This is one of those Want To Kick Ass For Great Justice But It Would Just Screw Things Up Worse situations. You know those? I hate those."

He brings up his recipes to share with the restaurant. "By the way, I made you a Yule present."

"Go hard," says Mornbein, looking up at her pet again and grinning at him fondly. "'N so far 'is favorite's T Rex. Like I said, Aoife's hard ta faze, so don't beatcherself up."

Then she gives him a blank look. Kicking $#@$#@%$ FoR Great Justice screwing things up worse? Buh?

Fred yawns then. He has bad breath.

Charis fans it away and hides the slice of pie she's bringing out from it.

"T-Rex." Blink. "Om nom nom," he comments in a slightly cartoony voice, and then chuckles and shakes his head. "I couldn't even watch that, but it makes me want to come up with big dino-shaped FredSnax. Of course the bag would be the size of a sleep-sack."

He nods slowly about Aoife. "I shall have to send her an apology-feeshy, regardless."

Ah, apparently I should be more specific.

"OK. You ever run into someone who has done something horrible, and you just want to kick his butt up between his teeth, know everyone around him does too, and even suspect he might get a clue from it? But you can't, because he's got powerful friends or has power over your friends, or is part of the local nobility or something? It's like that."

Daimon chuckles. "Gah, dino-breath! Thanks, Miss. Um, the download's ready."

"Yup!" Mornbein snerks. "Though he'll eat anythin' organic that 'e kin fit down 'is pie hole. Wiped out some rainforest on Keshyyk the other day. 'N knowin' Aoife she'll figure out how ta keep it."

Then she arches one brow in a perfect Spock. "Uh. Nope. Never run inta that."

Charis is wincing in response to the smell, but she smiles at Daimon and offers him the plate, which holds a very sizable slice of a sizable deep dish apple pie. "I forgot to ask if you wanted some kind of cream on it."

"Wait wait." Mornbein blinks. "You said somethin' 'bout a present."

"I wonder if I could conjure pet snacks in that size." Possibly with mint and parsley.

He blinks. "Keep one of my random tigerfeeshy messengers? Geeze, I wonder if it would last like Harvey. But yeah, I'll put one together before I leave."

The reply and the eyebrow get her a grim smile. "I'm glad you never 'ad to deal with that then. It's not helping my holiday mood any."

He shrugs at the Bot, smiling. "'s all right, it smells lovely." He takes up his fork gamely enough. "Probably should head straight back to the gym after this, but it's worth it."

He nods. "Yup. New trick I learned. I made you a Bling."

"I"ll go frag 'em for ya!" :D :D :D "Uh... a whutnow?"

"That's all natural." The blue femme walks by again on her way to the taps. "Hey, do you want beer?"

Charis just smiles at Daimon shyly and then reaches for her wrist as she looks at the computer. "Will you show me where the recipes are?"

He laughs a bit more genuinely, her enthusiasm as infectious as ever. "Thanks--you know I'll have you on speed-dial if any of the bastards try and come here. Though...honestly if they do that, I have given serious thought to LOL-based warfare."

He nods cheerily, and pulls out a little black velvet jewelry box with a psychotic smiley-face on the lid. "Here you are. Remember that conversation we had about your problems with getting conventional tattoos, and the issues about jewelry and the like getting destroyed?"

He shakes his head at the offer of foamy golden goodness. "Maybe another time. Thanks."

"'old on, a moment, Holly. Um, everything in the three folders on the desktop is yours for loking through. It has a wireless modem."

"I could track 'em," she says with absent hopefulness, her eyes glued to the box. "Yeah. Oh yeah, here's Herbie."

She flips her shirt up to show him a hideous nine-headed hydra on her pale belly. The tattoo moves, blinking at the sudden light. And then it hisses soundlessly and scoots around to her back.

Mornbein cusses at it amiably, then drops the shirt and takes the box.

"How about notbeer?" asks the blue femme on the way past again.

"Ah...." Charis blinks uncertainly. "I... don't think I do."

"If it comes down to it, you know I'd ask you." He slides the box over to her. It winks.

"Oh, heya Herbie. He really is rather shy." Blinkblink. "You know, I'm rapidly becoming a bit of an animist, living here.

"A Bling is, basically, a little fragment of illusion that reacts to intent. You can make it turn into a slap-on tattoo, or a bit of jewelry, or even a quickie disguise. Think of it as illusory silly-putty, but cooler."

"Um, big glass of milk?" He asks hopefully.

Daimon hms. "Um, well, my connectors are USB, but I might be able to adapt something."

"I can do USB," says Charis, pulling a wire from the port on her wrist as Mornbein sniggers and flips the bird at the face on the box.

"So somethin' like a Guardian Fae twinkle, only different." Mornbein pops open the box to examine the contents, then curses amiably at Fred for breathing on her as he tries to see what she's interested in. "I want notbeer. 'N why ya say that, buddy?"

There is no reply from Herbie, but one head peeks around the collar of Mornbein's oversize black T-shirt.

The blue femme nods to Daimon. "We've got chocolate soy, goat, and blue."

"That works then." Daimon flips the laptop around to help make the connection. "They're sorted by type of recipe. Most are vegetarian."

He shrugs a shoulder. "Um, I can count the Fae I have met on the fingers of one hand; never seen a Twinkle." But indeed, it's a little sparkly thing, like someone plucked the fire out of a diamond.

"Oh, blue, please. Always wanted to try it. It almost sounds like laasi."

"Thank you." Charis gives him a shy smile that holds a certain youthful uncertainty, then plugs into a port and takes a moment to download the recipes.

"They look somethin' like this," says Mornbein absently, engrossed in the shiny. "Only different colours. How's it work?"

"Alright." The blue one smiles heads for the back, giving Charis a comforting, motherly touch on the shoulder as she goes.

"What's laasi?" asks the black and pink femme curiously.

"No problem at all. Enjoy." The corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles at her.

"Um, well, basically, it responds to intention, so you should be able to sort of think it into shape. I admit, I'm in the habit of tugging it into the general shape like taffy and going from there. It's kind of fun."

He looks up. "It's milk lightly cultured with yogurt, usually with something like mango or honey blended in. Lovely stuff. I usually have some with my breakfast. There are a few recipes in the Drinks section."

"Heh. Fun." Mornbein grins and starts playing with it, but then looks up. "Frag. I gotta go."

Daimon gets a quick squish hug, and then she and her horrid pet are gone.

The blue femme watches her go, then sets the notbeer back on her tray and gives Daimon the milk. "This is just the way it comes. Some animal from the Jedi realities."

"B-huh--" he blinks after her. "Uh...yay hugs, bye?"

Daimon shrugs, and then turns to the Bot with a cheerful shrug. "Yeah, I heard that--always wanted to try it, really. Thanks."

He tucks into the pie, lost in thought as he tries to compose his little swimming telegram.

Blue grins at him, and then answers another hail for energon.

((should we wrap it here?))

((sure, I will PM you with the letter contents when I get a min. :)))

((or hit me in the OOC :D))

Nexus. Blue's bar. Recipe sharing and pie.

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