am i making something worthwhile // general action

[adamantined]

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I drive a Rolls Royce cause it's good for my voice but you won't fool the children of the revolution

[treadingdawn]

Every late morning, at the hour nearest noon, Caspian X visits his favorite patisserie belonging to one Claire Bennet. After several weeks in this city, weeks of trying everything each bakery, sweet shop, and coffee place, has to offer he's concluded Claire's falls within the top tier. It isn't about how rich her ingredients are or how every recipe may or may not be a family-kept secret, nor is it about a feeling of elite exclusivity (because there is none), the success of her pastries stems from a clear dedication to her craft regardless of promotion or profit. Caspian admires that quality, it's just an excellent perk how everything she makes tastes exquisite too. On top of that, she's friendly, and it's her friendliness that brings him to the patisserie a little earlier than usual. Yes, cinnamon twists may be involved too but really, the Telmarine has something to say to her ever since he revealed it to another blond not long ago. Next to him, Claire is another person whom he feels he owes the truth. So when Caspian slips through

I drive a Rolls Royce cause it's good for my voice but you won't fool the children of the revolutio

[backbefore]

She always has a moment. Though Claire takes care to make what Caspian likes herself, it's her mother who runs most of the kitchen, Noah Bennet sitting back on his heels to take up the financial helm and whatever else it is that businessmen do. Claire pretends not to notice, keeps her head down, and makes cinnamon twists, resolutely not licking the excess off of her fingers each time she feels the temptation. It's become something of a custom, to come in just before noon, roll back her sleeves, tie back her hair, and get to work. Even if she doesn't stay for long after, relatively bored with the kind of inheritance that she's been expecting all her life, it's nice to at least sit down with Caspian and talk to him for a few minutes, proud that she's made something that tastes good, proud that she can put something to her name, even if it's actually her father's name in the long run

I drive a Rolls Royce cause it's good for my voice but you won't fool the children of the revolutio

[treadingdawn]

His posture tenses for the briefest second when he sees her coming his way but it's hardly over her mere presence. Rather, it's the smile she wears and how over the past month he's been lying to it. Technically the phrase ought to be withholding information but that doesn't make it anymore excusable. Caspian can't help laughing over her remark as he returns the hug. It's a friendly gesture, nothing to worry about, nothing to hide, even though she is an unmarried lady and he an unbetrothed gentleman.

"I think a search party would be the least of your problems," he says jokingly.

Try an entire military regiment. Little does Caspian know how much his indefinite disappearance would please his uncle. He takes a seat at the table after releasing Claire, giving a nod of thanks for the intuitive order of twists and coffee because they are beyond any need for daily vocal pleasantries. A fair morning to such an elegant lady. May I bother you for a plate of sweets and a cup of coffee? Oh sir, it would be my pleasure. Please take your seat

I drive a Rolls Royce cause it's good for my voice but you won't fool the children of the revolution

[backbefore]

The store is empty, so Claire doesn't pay as much attention to her posture as she normally might, letting her spine bend just a little bit, though she does keep her hands folded in her lap rather than spread out on the table. The smell of cinnamon is heavy, and it will only be a few more moments before she's reaching across the table to pull off a little corner of the twist she's made and stealing a quick sip of his coffee. It's true that some of the social stipulations in this place seem a little less intense than they might in places like Paris, but for the most part everyone keeps to his or her assigned role, and for the time being Claire keeps her hands to herself.

"I'm alright," she replies with a shrug, just at ease as he is. Too hot, she thinks. Obligated and bored, run close seconds. There are places that she would be more honest with him, but in such a small shop, it's difficult to be completely forthright without attracting some kind of interest in their conversation, so Claire keeps it simple. It's the truth, anyway. She's

we make a little history every time you come around

[firedgold]

[There's a fork in the stream of people filing out of the Opera House as the curtains fall inside, and at its heart is a fair head and a dark suit, a man pushing forward onto the balls of his feet in vain hope of seeing anything though the forest of hats.

Seen distantly, Robert Chase doesn't look out of place among his surroundings. His clothes are slightly more worn, cheaper versions of the common fashion, and he holds himself with a bearing that only comes through a type of childhood training particular to those with the money to afford it. His governess might not be disappointed in him, provided she never got close enough to notice that one missing button, the cufflinks of oxidised copper that have left faint green marks on the cuffs of his shirt. For the position he holds in society now, he scrubs up well. He has to, part of performing necessitating being looked at

we make a little history every time you come around

[backbefore]

[It's much easier to navigate through a thick throng of people than it is empty streets when Claire is wearing something that effectively blends her in with the rest of the crowd. Her bright hair is tucked under a dark hat, and the alternating gray and black fabrics of the dress she wears - still tailored expensively but not extravagant by any stretch of the word - do a good job of making sure that she doesn't stand out anymore than she should. Chase is slightly easier to find, would be even if the tide wasn't ebbing and flowing around him, and by the time Claire has excused herself around the last person she needs to, the Opera House is much quieter, though not silent.

She stops several paces away, hands at her sides, and offers a small smile.]

Hello.

we make a little history every time you come around

[firedgold]

[She's there as he turns around, and the smile he returns is bright with the pleasure and surprise inherent in having hoped but not expected. The last of the theatre's stragglers jostle past his shoulder and fan out around her as he stands his ground, caught.]

Hello.

[Chase could probably stand where he is and grin until they snuffed the streetlights, but then he might as well still be under her window and all of this effort and espionage - for him - would be in vain. He jerks his left shoulder first, then nods his head in the same direction.]

Around the side. We'll go in through the performer's entrance.

[Half a step into starting to lead the way he pauses and checks back, half to see she's still there and, also, to offer the crook of an arm.]

we make a little history every time you come around

[backbefore]

[Claire has caught up with him by the time he's offered his elbow, and she stretches out a gloved hand to accept it, doing her best not to curl her fingers around his sleeve - resting rather than gripping. She keeps her eyes open, head turning back over her shoulder every so often, but each time she's rewarded with no one calling after her and a gathering sense of calm the further around the side they move.]

Are there still any performers?

[Her smile is a little less automatic as she follows his lead, busy keeping her own watch for familiar faces and unfamiliar ones, but any time she looks his way it's ready and able. The door is in front of them in no time, anyway, and Claire reaches out to open it herself, stepping to the side to let him through first.]

oh, these days, after all the misery made

[fatespoken]

There are mind-controlling slugs, and there is mayhem in the graveyard, but none of those factors equates to an empty house tonight, rather there is an influx of additional patrons. Chaos opposes solace, and for some, peace is gold amber in that iced-down beer bottle or that warm spark of a whiskey shot. It is part of what keeps bars in business, isn't it

oh, these days, after all the misery made

[adamantined]

She hasn't been to work since a few days after Peter asked her to make sure that things were kept running smoothly while he was gone, too wrapped and busy to even call off properly. The nights that would normally be spent weaving in between constantly turning spines and impossibly active legs, wincing as the din rises and rises above the sound of live music, have been spent in the stillness of the surrounding underbrush, dirtying her palms and streaking her hair with branches and chunks of soil in all that blonde. Claire is tired, but it doesn't show, and after one more - but never the last - night of pointless searching for someone who has failed to put in an appearance and has only managed to inspire more disappointment in herself, she finds herself rounding the familiar path bringing her up to the Blue Light

oh, these days, after all the misery made

[fatespoken]

Those few harsh seconds following a rude wake-up is more than often succeeded by an irascible temper, Amory included, even if his dial is always set to irascible. He means to snarl at him, her, it, whoever the hell woke him up before the shrill scream of his cellphone's alarm. A curse shoots immediately from his mouth, a pleasant fuck you, that discovers an impediment at the tip of his tongue- a solid, metallic tang of a decently-sized coin. The addition of his quick movement following the snatched cigarette plus his sudden attempt to yell ejects that coin from his tongue, catching against the back of his throat where it sits on the precipice of being swallowed.

He nearly chokes. Coughing, clutching as his throat, the back of his tongue pushing against the coin.

Are you trying to kill him, Claire?

oh, these days, after all the misery made

[adamantined]

His reaction startles her into inaction, standing a few paces away from him for a moment until she's got her bearings together and is coming around to his side. Her hand slaps against his back, hard enough to create a hollow sound where the motion echoes inside of his rib cage. It's not the response that she was expecting. If anything, watching him crack an eye open to scowl at her while managing something insulting is what she was prepared for, not leaning down over him to make sure that he doesn't choke to death on something that she wasn't even aware he had in his mouth.

Who smokes and chews on something at the same time?

That thought catches her, and she slaps his back again, whether he needs it or not. "Spit it out!"

'cause i fear i might break, and i fear i can't take it

[aregulargirl]

It's probably not a good idea for Max to be working after everything her body's been put through this weekend, especially after Peter did whatever he'd done to fight her off, but she's there anyway. She's moving a bit slower and stiffer than usual, but aside from that and the grim expression that shows when she lets the mask of customer service cheerfulness slip, there's not much of a hint that anything's wrong with her. Even her hands are nearly healed, the only evidence that they were ever damaged being the fact that they're clipped a bit shorter than usual and a couple of bandages covering her knuckles.

She brings an empty tray back to the kitchen and leans slightly against a wall as she waits for the order for her next table to be ready, closing her eyes. She's tired, her body still aches, but even though her memories of the past week and a half are still fuzzy, none of them feature her attending her shifts at work, and while she could easily steal whatever she needs, she doesn't really want to lose her job

'cause i fear i might break, and i fear i can't take it

[adamantined]

After leaving Amory to his break, his cigarette, and his coin, Claire shows herself inside, striding across familiar floorboards and cutting across a well-traveled and familiar distance. There are a few regulars' faces that she recognizes, people that she serves occasionally but not often enough to stop and talk to now. Getting in and out is her main objective, too worried about the amount of time being wasted doing something less than productive in terms of what is going on outside in the City proper. Blue isn't even in the office at the moment, but her paycheck is, and Claire swipes it out of her cubbyhole and heads back down the hall, toward the bar, barely paying attention to where she is going as she slices the mouth of the envelope unevenly open with a rough tug

'cause i fear i might break, and i fear i can't take it

[aregulargirl]

Max straightens as Claire nearly crashes into her and whirls around to see who it is, relaxing when she sees that it's her. As well as Claire hides it, Max doesn't miss that there's something a tiny bit off about her smile, but she doesn't press it, though her shoulders do tense a bit as she subtly looks her over for any weapons she may be carrying (like a sedative pen).

Not immediately finding anything, her shoulders lower a tiny bit and she nods to Claire in greeting. Her concern is valid, given the state of some (most) of the others who were previously infected, but she doesn't want to rest any more than she already has. "I'm fine," she replies, shrugging. "Nothing I can't work through."

'cause i fear i might break, and i fear i can't take it

[adamantined]

It's an encouragement to see someone up and about and trying to get back to a certain degree of normalcy, and Claire supposes that Blue is probably thankful for the help, though she can understand other people's positions in not wanting to come in or leave their apartments until the entire debacle is completely resolved, but it still strikes her as odd if only because everyone else she's seen coming off the tail end of this has needed time. In a way, it affords her certain clues about Max she only had hunches about before, after their brief conversation on the Network the other day

you don't have to go home but you can't stay here

[orangetoughguy]

[A man of his word, our Freddy. He shows up a few hours after six but certainly not near closing time. He knows what Claire looks like, having ghosted around The Blue Light before. The question is will she recognize him?]

you don't have to go home but you can't stay here

[adamantined]

[Fortunately the bar isn't busy, stuck in that haze between earlier customers and the later patrons. Claire pulls out a pad of paper and a pen from her apron as she moseys over to Freddy's table to list their specials and what they have on draft.]

So what can I get for you?

[Finally looking at him directly, Claire squints at him. She can't exactly ask if he is who he is without a name. Maybe he'll provide.]

you don't have to go home but you can't stay here

[orangetoughguy]

I'll take Corona and a little bit of your time.

[He's chewing on gum instead of smoking because intuition tells him that's more favorable in this place.]

you don't have to go home but you can't stay here

[adamantined]

[Her intuition, at least, hasn't failed her, and though she manages to keep squinting, it's mostly ruined when she fails to stop herself from smiling. Or smirking. It's a toss up between which one wins out.]

I'll be right back with that.

[Claire leaves her pad and pen on the table, rings in a Corona at one of the terminals, and returns not long after with one golden beer plus one green lime in hand, napkin for the sweat in the other. She serves both and then pulls the chair across from him out to sit in. Her hands fold out in front of her, on the table.]

One Corona and a little bit of my time.