Elijah
The building is old.
That's the first thing that one can say about the building. It was old. It was old and it came up while the city was growing. It was eaten when the city came up and urban sprawl decided to erect more impressive structures around it. The building had its own charm. brick, clear enough windows. Some interesting glass work, and no discernible modern conveniences. Elijah's apartment is situated above a florist's shop that had since seen better days. His landlord wasn't a particularly attentive sort, but he gave a discount so, for that, Elijah was grateful. These types of places only do business during two times of year- when people having weddings or having funerals. Denver hadn't seen nearly enough dead people to warrant a lot of foot traffic, but the shop was doing okay enough.The door that would have let someone come upstairs to the apartments above was solid and wooden. Painted blue, chipped and fading. Kicked at the bottom a few times, signs of attempts at break ins hinted at the door frame but the door was still there. Still solid.
Getting to the front door wasn't difficult, and the door had most assuredly seen better days, but in truth the buzzer system was often a hit-and-miss situation. Sometimes it worked, other times it didn't, and it largely hinged on whether or not the blue door leading up to the apartments was shut all the way upon entry. Unlike the doorway, the carpet in the hallway was actually new... ish. Something that was a reject from a hotel surplus sale, the carpet was some obnoxious red and green and blue and gold pattern. It did a good job of covering up the wood floor that was never going to be brought back into good repair (not without kicking all the tenants out of the building for a couple weeks, at least). Once upon a time, someone had loved this place. Whatever happened, someone fell out of love with Floral and Hardy real damned quick once somewhere newer came along.
The door to B52 was in a decidedly better shape than the other doors. Jenn had painted it, again, but this time it was a vibrant green that actually matched the terrible carpeting in the hallway. The number on the door was new and shiny gold- B52. The doorknob and lock were also in good repair, but not new. Shined up, yes, but nothing new. It's not like they could really replace the hardware without running into hot water with management.
Steel
[Awareness?]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 2, 3, 10) ( success x 1 )
Elijah
There is the most vague sense of something... odd in the building. Nothing that one can really put a finger on, just that magic has been done here. Not loud or overwhelming, just the barest feeling of unrest.
Steel
[Dex+Larceny - your locks have no power over me, -1 diff for Aptitude]
Dice: 8 d10 TN5 (1, 3, 3, 3, 6, 6, 8, 10) ( success x 4 )
Steel
Trust. There is a saying that it’s earned rather than given away. But when you’re a complete stranger in a new city, a reality deviant who certain organisations would like to see eradicated, it gets a little harder to know who could – or should – be considered for trust. Simply walking up to someone who feels like they see more of the world than your ordinary Sleeper is too risky. The fans of mirrorshades and black suits radiate their own resonance as much as the Disparates. Or the Traditions, for what they’re worth.
Not so long ago, Steel had found herself in possession of a certain Awakened’s wallet. Well, ok, she’d stolen it to get a better idea of who he might be and where he might be found. The usual cash and cards were accompanied by a driver’s licence, registered to a certain Elijah Poirot in an apartment somewhere about the florist, and a different ID for Jason Elijah Johnson. The second isn’t a bad fake, but it’s not quite right. Good enough, maybe, to slip into a club when there isn’t much light for the bouncers to spot to irregularities.
So she’d come to take a look around and, possibly, make contact with the guy. Proper contact this time, rather than the ‘accidental’ bump which had gotten her the wallet in the first place. She’d spent a little time outside, just watching to door. It was the middle of the day, so most people were likely to be out at work or running errands rather than being tucked away in front of the TV burning away brain cells. There was a vague sense of some Awakened work, but nothing specific. Nothing screaming out that there might be wards or alarms or other, more painful, effects hanging over the place.
So what the hell. It’s not the hardest place she’s busted into before. There are no cameras, no guards, no dogs, and no real security. This should be a piece of cake. Pushing away from the wall she had been leaning again, she moves to the main door to the apartments. Stepping close to the door to mask what, exactly, she was doing, she takes a look at the lock and pulls a couple of picks from a pocket. A few moments, looking to the world like someone struggling with a reluctant key, she jiggles the tumblers into submission. There’s a clunk as the lock gives and the door opens.
So far, so good. Now to find the apartment and work out if anyone is inside.
Elijah
[1d10- is someone home?]
Dice: 1 d10 TN2 (10) ( success x 1 )
Steel
[Per+Alertness, got an aptitude for this one too]
Dice: 5 d10 TN5 (3, 6, 7, 8, 8) ( success x 4 )
Steel
[Dex+Larceny again. -1 for aptitude, nimble dex spec which I completely forgot about.]
Dice: 8 d10 TN5 (1, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 9, 10) ( success x 6 ) [Doubling Tens]
Steel
She spends a little time walking slowly on the landing outside the apartment, just listening. There are sounds drifting in from outside: traffic, the occasional shout, a cry from a small child not getting their way in the world. There’s a creak from upstairs, someone moving around their apartment doing whatever it is that needs doing. She pauses where she stands, waiting to see if the door opens and someone approaches. No, but there is the sound of a vacuum cleaner firing up.
Great, make it easy for me.
It’s a little more obvious, but Steel leans against the door and rests her ear against the wood. She holds her breath and listens. And nod, happy that the place is empty. There’s little risk of people spotted here, so she’s less worried about trying to hide what she’s doing as she pulls out the picks again and works the lock. There’s a puzzled look for a moment before another tool is unearthed and used to pull out the tip of a broken paperclip wedged in the lock.
Amateurs.
The lock pops and another door opens.
Elijah
The lock pops easily enough, because she's a professional. Beyond that, it's really not a place built for security. Not really known for having security, either; Steel saw the front door to the place. It's been kicked in before, and no one really wants to bother getting it fixed. The apartment itself, however, is actually a decent looking place.
When she walks in, one could notice a few things about the area. There were high ceilings and the original wook floors. On one of the walls there's an abundance of paintings. Some large, some small. All colorful and bright and others still that seem... different. Like some otherworldly place that exists between what is real and what is True. The couch is a little beat up, but it's comfortable. The coffee table is an antique and actually looks like it could take a figurative (or literal) beating if it needed. To the right, there's a staircase, and higher up there is a loft area with a bed. (Solid metal, like branches reaching up and a light hung somewhere in there. Someone spent quite a bit of time making that. It probably cost about the same as a cheap car, or a couple months worth of rent on this place. Odd- not the best location but there's the occasional element of something rather nice.)
Before the stairs, there is a kitchenette area with a breakfast nook. The counter is tiled and the cabinets are a bright, gleaming white. The refrigerator is new and on the counter there's a houseplant and a betta fish. There's books on the table- standard text books, it looks like. The occasional notebook. There's a set of double doors that lead out to a nice little balcony with a rather splendid view of a wall.
When she walks in, she smells the scent of incense and sage burned not too long ago. The smell of plants and dirt and lavender from behind a closed door leading to what can presume is the only bedroom in the place. The door to the bathroom is partially open- blue and sand and brown colors. What draws the most attention, though, are the things that are cleaned up.
The apartment is clean. Very, very clean. Despite that, she can see things that only someone with an obsessive need for cleanliness would be able to pick out. There's chalk left in the exposed brick. There's words, symbols, things that defy human language and details scrawled and then near-expertly washed away. They aren't a mural, they're notes. The organization of things, though erratic and hard to follow, are very clearly some spider web train of thought, marked down to the floor and only the tiniest hints stuck between the floor boards indicate that those musings ran their way underneath a rug by the sofa/coffee table combination.
Steel
[Awareness again, consciously doing it this time.]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 4, 5, 9) ( success x 1 )
Elijah
Still, there's that feeling that something happened here. That something happens here, but it's pushing to be more. That reach, that drive, that feeling of needing to find the next best thing seems to stir just beneath the surface but there's not anything concrete to hold onto.
Steel
Steel nudges the door closed behind her as she enters and takes a slow walk around the apartment. It’s a nice place. Clean, decent stuff. But it feels like people actually live there. Some, especially the wealthy who spend a lot of time moving between their various expensive pads, don’t leave much of an imprint. The places look like showrooms for overpriced, uncomfortable furniture that values cost and look over practicality. They don’t look lived in, though.
She returns to the living room and pauses, closing her eyes and just feeling out for what was around her. Feeling with the extra sense that their kind develops through frequent contact with the abnormal. It’s something that the occasional Sleeper develops, getting a sixth sense for when something strange walks into the room, but it’s rarer.
The notebooks are picked up, idly flicked through to see if anything grabbed her attention. The first one she tries? She recognizes that it’s French, but it’s not something she understands. Several more random pages, also with French writing, leaves her to return that one to where she’d found it. The other one? That one she spends more time looking through. The drawings are good, lifelike – assuming that the subjects are, or were, alive. A picture of an astoundingly attractive person, until you looked at the eyes. Another, more ordinary face with the same eyes. And some…thing with too many arms and legs in strange places to have happened naturally. It almost looks like something from a horror film. Or something created by a disturbed mind.
The faint chalk marks on the wall get some attention. Given the way the rest of the apartment looks, it seems odd that someone would write on the walls like that. Perhaps it was a previous occupant? Or the guy she wanted to meet, maybe lost in the flow of some chain of thought. Genius or insanity? She’s a little curious, now, to know what was so important that it couldn’t be contained by pen and paper. She’d hoped to avoid doing any kind of Work that might get attention, but there are ways to make it all less obvious.
[Matter 1, scanning for the chalk in the walls. Coincidental. TN4, -1 for time. Going for a couple of successes for subtlety.]
Dice: 2 d10 TN3 (2, 10) ( success x 1 )
Steel
[Extending +1]
Dice: 2 d10 TN4 (9, 10) ( success x 2 )
Steel
[One last time]
Dice: 2 d10 TN4 (3, 8) ( success x 2 ) [WP]
Steel
[2 to the effect, reading what's on the walls. 3 to subtlety. I think?]
Elijah
One can make sense of things once they know what they're looking for, and at that moment the general feeling of what few bits of matter remained became bright and apparent to the woman looking at the walls. The first thing of note is the order in which things are written. It starts at eye level, one piece written clean and clear- veritas. Something scrawled in French below that, and then followed in English with Essentiae, nominative plural - essentia. Essentia - esse (to be) sum (I am). Essentiae (we are)
It goes further ( virium- v+s- force, power, strength, vigor.) And there are lines and circles and sigils that seem to have meaning but the context makes it difficult to follow, like a mathematical equation but it's damned clear that this escapade into linguistics has very little to do with linguistics. She can put it together with the bits of English here and there, the dalliances into Latin and the important passages always reinforced with English (like the author is trying to strengthen that particular skill, as if the author still had to translate a little from time to time).
The art of being, the art of force/power. Forces = self empowerment?
The rest goes on as diagrams and lines go, thoughts on the sphere of forces, thoughts about how it interconnects, particularly with prime (potentiae, from possum- I am able. Potentia- force, power, capacity. virium- v+s- force, power, strength, vigor. If potential =(ish) v+s, quintessence = all things = power, then are elements building blocks of all things? redefine and revisit later.) It's all a mess to read, yes, but the overaching message is clear- this person has been actively piecing through awakened magic and breaking it down into pieces. The author goes through, and the web seems to make more sense as the study goes on, where Forces touches other spheres, how it interacts, how it may theorhetically interact in the future if the same logic applies.
Steel
So she concentrates and focuses her will and she fights. Arms hanging loosely by her sides, her hands ball into fists as she works and she Works. To some, it may look like she’s doing this the hard way. Working without focus, a sheer act of will. But she is her focus. Or, rather, the marks on her skin. Some of the tattoos that cover her are more than simple artwork. They were put there by others of her calling, those with a gift for art and for Prime. The memory of the blend of pain and pleasure as the work as done, the marks left, skirt around her awareness. But it’s all a tool in her fight with the world to get what she damned well wants.
Her vision alters, deepens, as the tiny traces of chalk left in and on the wall start to appear and glow in her vision. It takes some time to puzzle it out, to work through the spider’s web of notes and lines and links that the author left as they worked through how their world was put together.
She doesn’t think that the author is of the Technocracy. From what she has picked up along the way, they really don’t seem like the kind for using magic words, or the kind of people who are into voyages of discovery into the inner workings of the world. She could be wrong, but it doesn’t feel as if this guy is likely to be an agent. What he is remains to be seen, but she’s perhaps seen enough to feel a little more comfortable in making contact.
If it comes down to it, she can always vanish again. It’s harder to do when the people looking for you are Awake but it’s still doable. But for the moment? She sits on the edge of the couch and waits, idly flicking through one of the books sat on the coffee table.
Elijah
It was up the steps with the little woman on the phone, taking one step at a time but bounding with an arm full of groceries. Her room mate(s) weren't meat eaters. Or, at least, one of them recently stopped eating meat. Elijah had tendency to stop eating meat whenever something catastrophic happened. They hadn't talked about it. She figured it had to do with his most recent request for artistic renderings.
There was a problem with Jenn, in that she was almost as curious as Elijah was, but not exactly magically adept. She's talking on the phone perching groceries on her hip and yammering, "Well, when are you coming home?... okay, I'm actually going to cook... chicken I don't think counts as meat... nope... It was on sale... look,. they were giving away chicken, will you at least please try it..."
She laughed and almost hit the top step, "well, we could smoke before chicken. It's not like it's illegal... you are too weird, okay, come home and I'll make you a salad... okay... okaybye."
She hands up in time to reach her front door, to fumble with her keys that gave the herald to her arrival. There was a quiet jungle, and then... no give on the lock. She turns the key and nothing happen. Jenn pushed the door open, and the firsst thing Steel notices is that she's short. Short and a fake blonde whose national origins are indeterminate. She's got a tattoo of irises on one of her thighs and some of the other work is either covered by her hair or by the hoodie she was wearing.
The next thing she learns is that Jenn squeeks at a pitch that makes dogs cringe.
"Ohmigodwhoareyouareyoufromthegallery?!"
Steel
There was warning that someone was coming. Jenn wasn’t exactly trying to be stealthy as she shoved the front door closed and made her way up the stairs, chattering away on the phone. There’s a moment where Steel hopes that the woman will pass the door and keep on walking, heading to one of the other apartments. The moment died when there’s the sound of a key in the lock. The book that she’s flicking through as simply something to pass the time, not something that she’d investing any great concentration or interest in, is set back on the table as Jenn pushes the door open and…
And finds a woman sat on their couch. A woman dressed in black, if somewhat worn in places. Black combats, hoodie (hood currently down) and, instead of the usual DM’s, a pair of battered, black trainers. All the better for keeping quiet than heavy, hard boots. Steel’s hair is also dyed, but black rather than blonde, and is hanging loose around her shoulders. Brown eyes watch, and wince, as Jenn squeaks. Perhaps the most memorable feature, inasmuch as Steel is memorable, is some scarring around the right side of her neck and jawline. Tattoos are also visible on the palms of her hands. Eyes.
The reaction to the unexpected – unwanted? – arrival is swift, though. “No, I’m not from any gallery. I’m looking for Elijah. Or maybe Jason. He dropped his wallet at the mall a couple of weeks ago.” She fishes it out of a pocket and tosses it on the table. I wanted to give it back to him.”
Elijah
"Uh... That's... fine-" she stopped, still standing close to the door and looking incredulously at the woman in black who happened to be standing in her apartment. Jenn held onto her groceries a little tighter, uncertain if she needed to really run away or if she should say something. Her eyes are also brown, dark and sparkling.
"Hey, um, how did you get in here?"
Eyes flick to the table, "I think Elijah will be pretty pleased that his wallet got found, though. He'd been looking for it."
Steel
“I didn’t want to leave it in the mailbox or outside. There are a lot of dishonest people around these days, you just know someone would have stolen it.” There’s a smile. Open, honest. (Really?) “Losing these things is a bloody nightmare, so I just wanted to make sure he got it back.”
“I tried the other buzzers until someone was nice enough to let me in, and your door was unlocked.” Well, technically unlocked. It’s not like it had been any kind of challenge. “I wanted to make sure nobody robbed the place while you were out.”
The accent? English, mostly, although distorted a little by time in the US.
Elijah
"Yeah, I guess Elijah or Aidan left it unlocked, I don't think Aidan has a key? But Elijah forgets these things sometimes," she is content to talk, heads off to her kitchen and have a conversation with the woman who was kind enough to actually make sure nobody stole their things.
"If you wanna talk to him, he should be home soon? Or, you know, you could stay for dinner, kind of as a thank you? I have no idea how long you've been waiting here so the least we could do is feed you," she said casually. Bright smile, southern accent, pleasant demeanor.
Steel
Another smile crosses Steel’s face as Jenn turns and heads out to the kitchen, apparently unconcerned about having a complete stranger sitting in her living room. Which could say something about how often it happens?
“Oh, that’s very kind but I don’t want to put you out and I’ve not been here long. But if you don’t mind me making the place look untidy, I would like to at least say hello.” She turns back to the wall, although paying more attention to the art than the workings this time.
“Who’s the artist?”
Elijah
[Per3+empathy2, do I buy all of this?]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 2, 8, 8) ( success x 2 )
Steel
[Man+Sub: hey, you can trust me! ]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 4, 4, 6, 8) ( success x 2 )
Elijah
[ROLL AGAIN!]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 4, 4, 6) ( success x 1 )
Steel
[Man+Sub no, really]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 1, 3, 5, 10) ( success x 1 )
Elijah
Seriously, dice?
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (3, 5, 5, 8, 9) ( success x 2 )
Steel
[Man+Sub, no, really]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (5, 6, 8, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 5 )
Elijah
"Me, mostly? Elijah helped me with some of them, he's very much... a.. muse kind of... figure..."
Jenn is a smart girl, really, and her sense of self-preservation seems to kick in and she looks at the woman in the living room. Waits... looks back at the groceries. Then, looks back at the woman in the living room.
There is this moment of horrible guilt that washes over Jenn when she realizes what she's done- she's profiling this nice young woman! So what if she's sitting in the living room dressed in mostly black? So what if things seem a little far-fetched, it hits her that her first instinct was the correct instinct and how dare she think that good, upstanding people not exist in this world? How dare she go against her better nature and doubt? As a fellow tattooed person, she understood what it was like for people to think the worst of her and yet here she was!
Shame on you, Jenna. Shame on you!
Jenn turns a shade of bright pink, clearing her throat.
"Sorry, it all just kind of hit me as weird, but you do seem really nice... I painted most of the things here? There's a couple little ones from a friend and-" she meanders into the living room, gestures to one of the ones that seems like the world is coming apart. Real, but not real. Familiar but entirely alien, "Elijah helped with this one. He rattled off a description and I thought I need to paint this so... here it is." It looks almost like how one would expect the near umbra to look, all things said and done.
Steel
[WP, because reasons]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 3, 4, 6, 10) ( success x 2 )
Steel
The paintings hadn’t really registered before. Not until Steel had really started looking at them as another way to kill time while she waited. The work really was impressive. A moment’s thought runs along the lines of how much the works could raise, but Steel doesn’t know enough about the artist, or the work, or whether there would actually be any demand for it.
“Oh, don’t worry. I’d be just as surprised if I found someone hanging around my place too. You’re got a tal…” The sentence is neatly derailed as Jenn brings attention to one particular painting. The subject seemed to be one that she was familiar with. If Elijah had seen it, then maybe that’s how he was able to describe it. Steel’s breathing changes to something short and panting as she backs away, knocking her leg against the coffee table and setting the notebooks that she’d been flicking through earlier falling to the floor. It was tempting to leave, now. To get away from that painting and what it represented. So very tempting. But the fear was controlled, this time.
Steel clears her throat and walks to look out of the window. She takes some seconds to slow her breathing, to calm her mind, and clears her throat again before talking. “Sorry.”
Elijah
Jenn is a sharp girl, at least when it came to people. She noticed the tension, the step, she sees it all and her stomach tenses, she reaches out for a second before pulling her hands close to her chest. There is a second where the artist doesn't seem to really know what to do.
Down in the city below, cars bustle about and people continue with their daily lives. It's a very mundane world down there, a very placid sense. Even if the streets were a little dirty the view wasn't terrible. It was pretty in its own way.
"It's okay," Jenn offers, "would you like a glass of water."
She is quick to change the subject, smiles something encouraging, "I think my tattooing works better anyway. Where did you get yours done, from what I can see they look fantastic."
Steel
The mundanity of the street helps. It’s grounding, an anchor to use to be sure that she is in the real world, stood in this room, hoping to make contact with another Awakened in the city. She sometimes looks down at the little people leading their little lives without any real awareness, but at the moment it’s reassuring.
Water? “No. Thank you.”
Jenn changes the subject to tattoos. Or, at least, tries to. Steel looks down at her palms and the eyes staring back up at her. In another life, she’d stay and talk and show off her other ink. But in this one?
“I should go. Would you…” Let Elijah know that the woman you’re not likely to remember much about was here? “Do you have a pen and a bit of paper? I’d like to leave Elijah a note.”
Elijah
"Oh! Sure," she looks around for a second, plucks a notebook off of the table and grabs a pen. Nothing interesting, just another pen from the university. Something from the art department, one of those little promotional items that students walk off with because college is the time when you never have to buy office supplies.
She walks forward, offers the notebook and the pen. This one has chemistry notes in it.
Steel
Steel turns from the window and, careful not to look at the painting of the Umbra again, takes the notebook and pen from Jenn. She scribbles a note:
I found your wallet. Would like to meet in person to discuss things.
There’s a location, some dive bar on Colfax, and a time. There’s more to the message she wants to leave, though. Tearing the page from the book and folding it in half, she closes her eyes and feels the anger rising as she fights the world again.
[Mind 2: Psychic impression on the paper. Shadowy. Think this is coincidental, so diff 5. Think I need 3 successes (effect, duration, target)]
Dice: 2 d10 TN5 (9, 10) ( success x 3 ) [WP]
Elijah
(and for giggles, can you make it up the stairs because you're reckless and taking two or three at a time?)
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (4, 5, 8, 9) ( success x 2 )
Elijah
There is a word, you see, because the man who lives in this apartment and pays the rent has a thing with Words.
The word is serendipity- the occurrence and development of events by chance in a beneficial way.
He's making his way up the stairs, takes two at a time because he's bored and wanted to get up the stairs quickly. he's a little disappointed there isn't a legitimate banister to slide down, notices that there's new carpet, which makes the initial bounding a little more difficult, but soon enough he's up the stairs and off to his apartment.
Another fact about Elijah Poirot- he is an obnoxious apartment tenant. He threw parties, had weird people coming to visit him, and was rumored to be legitimately off his rocker. (Shame on people for stigmatizing the mentally ill, he might say. There's an official diagnosis floating around out there that he can't necessarily confirm or deny. Wonders if he really has lost it and this is a delusion. Decides that he doesn't care if it is or not, because it's his life.)
Rounds the corner in time to see Jenn and... uh... Person?
"Oh, hey, should I bail?" is this a date? he says without saying.
Elijah
[per+aware- do I notice magic paper? Passive observation as specialty]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 2, 2, 8, 10, 10) ( success x 5 ) [Doubling Tens]
Steel
The note written, Steel crouches and picks up the notebooks that had been knocked off the table. She slips the folded note into the one with the drawings, rather than the one with whatever work had been written in French. Notebooks back on the table, she turns to the door and…
Oh, hey, should I bail?
He finally arrives, just as Steel was ready to leave. She glances back at Jenn, to see if there’s any reaction there, before offering, “Hi. And no. I was leaving.” She looks back at Jenn again, offering a small smile. “Nice meeting you.”
Elijah
[manip+sub: I totally don't notice magic]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 2, 4, 6, 10, 10) ( success x 3 )
Elijah
There's no reaction to the effect from the bottled blonde, so either she didn't notice or she's very good at lying (she's not- Jenn still can't pick out instances of reality subtly tearing). Elijah for his part, seems content to come into the house, ditch his backpack at the door and he meanders over to the couch that has been vacated not too long ago.
Idly, Elijah picked up a notebook- and oh serendipity he's opening up a sketch book, flipping idly through the pages before finding the piece of paper. Holds it for a moment while carefully holding it between his fingertips.
"It was nice to meet you, too," Jenn said with a pleasant enough smile. Gives a little wiggle of her fingers, "oh, Elijah, she brought your wallet back."
"Really?" brows shot up and he finally seemed to notice that his wallet was on the table, "hey, thanks! I was looking for this."
Steel
There’s a short silence as Steel watches Elijah pick up the note and runs it through his fingers. There may be a chance that he’s just not paying attention and hasn’t picked up on the effect, but given how he went straight for that particular book and pulled it out? Yeah, he knew.
“You’re welcome. You got lucky, there are a lot of dishonest people out there.” She glances at Jenn again before looking Elijah straight in the eye. “I should be going, though. Come find me, the address in the note.” There’s another glance at Jenn. “We should talk.”
The wallet, when Elijah checks it, will have been stripped of cash. Everything else is still there, though.
Elijah
"It's a date, then," he says, playful enough. Lips upturn and he seems gregarious enough. Though, admittedly, there was a caution to it. The way that his breath drew in a little more slowly. The way that he seemed to regard her though he had no clue that her visage would likely fade from view as soon as she left, just a vague memory of a woman who left him a note. "Jenn's got class until then so it should just be me on my lonesome."
Fingertips trace against the edges of the paper, lingering on the sensation. Something shadowy. Something sharp, like the feeling of a needle quick in your veins. It makes him pause.
"Welcome to the neighborhood," Elijah offers. When he makes eye contact he doesn't flinch, doesn't falter, doesn't shy away. He looks at her like he's looking for something, trying to piece something together. Truth be told, she's the one who has the information here, he has to take the leap. He hasn't been afraid to do it before, so why the hesitation now? "I think I've been there before," the address, that is.
Steel
Steel nods once, happy that they will meet again. Somewhere that they should be able to talk without too much worry about being overheard.
Welcome to the neighbourhood. This get a brief snort of amusement. Things hadn’t exactly gone smoothly so far, but maybe things are looking up. “Nice to finally meet one of the neighbours.” There’s a brief consideration of offering something that hasn’t been passed yet. It’s something new to her, something that came with the loss of the old life and the start of this new one. “The name’s Steel.” Not that anyone here is likely to have heard of her, especially by that name.
“Enjoy dinner,” she offers to Jenn before opening the apartment door.
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