Gotta look out for each other

[Enid Geraint]

She'd been running again, and today she has two hot dogs with the works in hand when she heads towards the chess tables. She looks somewhat confused when she gets there and doesn't see who she's looking for, but shrugs and sits on a handy cement wall. She is, of course, dressed in running clothes.

[Wharil Choc]

"You looking for Pete?" Comes the voice quite suddenly. Had he really been there when she walked by a moment ago? He was a little hard to miss. Not the biggest of men, but the black wool coat that occasionally wafted in the breeze was almost a flag now that she looked at him, and bronzed skin like his so close to wintertime occasionally caught someone's eyes. What really draws attention, though, is his smile. Polite. Warm. Inviting. He's sitting at one of the chess tables with his arms folded over it. Noticeably alone, his leg sort of shakes under the table, as if his legs were cold and he was trying to keep the warmth in them. "He was sick. I think he's resting now."

[Enid Geraint]

The sudden voice startled her, especially when she saw who it was (and who was he, again? She'd met him, of that she's fairly certain, but . . .); he didn't seem the sort to remain unnoticed, really. And while he is wearing a coat and pants, Enid is wearing a long sleeved shirt (runner tech, the sort that wicks away sweat and all that stuff), shorts, knee socks pulled up to her knees, and running shoes. While he looks as if he's trying desperately to hold onto what body heat he has, she looks comfortable (despite the state of her hair which looks . . . well, quite frankly, like runner's hair). "I . . . uh, yeah. I see him here most days, is all," she says with a shrug. "Sometimes we have lunch. Or brunch. Whatever." There's a frown as she looks at him, and sometimes, it really must be amusing for the arcane to watch as other people scramble to remember; if Wharil's prone to such, now must be one of those times. "I don't remember if we've met, I'm sorry."

[Wharil Choc]

"Hmm?" He asks, back straightening and eyebrows reaching upward. "Uhmm...I uh...I dunno. Have we? I play chess here with Pete sometimes. Maybe that's where you know me from. And then, he spies the hot dog. "Were you saving one of those for him? Your uh...Brunch Ritual? If you're looking for a partner..." Wharil spread out his arms, but twitched his hands inward at the wrists, presenting himself. "I love Chicago style hot dogs."

[Enid Geraint]

"Sure. It would be pretty stupid to eat both before running home," she says with a smirk, and hands over the extra, "and throwing it away is pretty stupid too. And I suppose, since we're sharing a meal, I should tell you my name's Enid." No last name, of course - she's friendly and polite, but not stupid. Her first name paired with the information on a shirt is more than enough to get her a stalker, she figures, and she'd rather not have the lazy kind. Stalkers should have to work for it, she thinks. "You work around here?"

[Wharil Choc]

He accepts the hot dog, setting it down on the table on its napkin and smiling reverently at it, as if he had naughty, naughty plans for it. He looks up at her when she introduces herself and gives that warm smile again, this time with a proffered hand to shake. "Wharil." He says simply. Only its not so simple at all. His lips and tongue do a quick dance that make his speech sound like the tumbling of stones or water flowing in a brook. Whoo-ah-reel. And that's the name he gives this time. And those deep brown eyes dazzle with some kind of elation as he regards her for a brief but intense moment. [Perc+awareness to detect Resonance]

[Enid Geraint]

It's subtle, but there - the vague feel of entropy, and not the sort that brings (or takes away) luck. This is something that sucks into itself, a void of sorts. But it's small, yet, and Enid is unaware. Her name, of course, is pronounced Ee-nid, but the D is softer than most of the American sorts - almost a Dh, perhaps, but not quite so soft as to seem lispy and light. There's a weight to it, that name, a meaning . . . . . . but Wharil already knows that, as they've had the conversation before, or at least he's heard it. Still, etymology of nomenclature (and yes, Enid really does sometimes think that way) can be an interesting thing. "Nice to meet you." She did notice, of course, that he didn't answer her question - but she lets it go. She doesn't answer every question asked of her, either. And, interestingly? While she's not relaxed now, and her eyes do dart every now and then, checking the area, there's something more confident about her; a slow coming into her own, perhaps. It's progress, anyway.

[Wharil Choc]

"Huh." He says, sitting back slightly, though with these chess stools not having backs that's a dangerous position. He manages though. Somehow. It makes his smile seem a lot more impressed than pleased now, and under his breath he whispers an almost silent: 'There it is.' "Uhm. So. I hope you don't mind my asking but...shouldn't you be in school right now?" And he takes a casual, but large bite of his hot dog.

[Enid Geraint]

Not quite silent enough, and for a (theoretically) random teenager, Enid's fairly perceptive. "There what is? Found your sweet spot?" The smile is crooked, endearing in imperfection - she's had braces at some point, and likely gotten them off fairly recently. Then, there's that question and her face falls a bit; that's not nearly as subtle as some other expressions she's had. "Yeah, kind of. I'm . . . suspended, I guess," she says with a shrug, and it's as good a thing to call it as any.

[Wharil Choc]

Wharil Chews thoughtfully, nodding his head as he does. "Not too happy about that, huh? But is it the fact that you're out of school, or the fact that you were suspended from school? I mean..." He looked up around him, and despite the bit of chill and the heavy clouds in the sky, he seemed almost reverent about the world around him. "You know how many of your classmates would give anything to be out on a day like this?"

[Enid Geraint]

"More the latter, but a little of both. I'm graduating in December, or supposed to." Again, there's that shrug - she tries to convince herself she doesn't care, or at least doesn't mind, but it's crap. "And I'm sure most of them would. And it gives me more time for SAT prep, so it's not all bad." It's not like she's doing anything particularly fun with her time off of school, as evidenced by running clothes and hot dogs meant to be shared with sick old men at the chess tables. Again, she tries, wry. "And how many of your coworkers would be ecstatic to be out on a day like today? Or are you laid off, like lots of people?"

[Wharil Choc]

"I'm freelance actually. I think most my peers would be chasing ambulances or listening to police scanners right now, trying to get their next story. Only the stuff I've been working on lately...I can't really write about. Which means I don't get paid. But...I get by." Another bite of his hot dog. Just the most casual conversation in the world.

[Enid Geraint]

Reporter, then - there's a hint of tension, evidenced by a brief stretch of legs, a tightening of fingers that dents the remainder of her hot dog bun, but she doesn't spaz - not yet, anyway. "Why can't you write about it?" There are all kinds of issues - legal and other - with some stories, she knows; some of it'd been covered in her Law II class. And from that angle, it interests her.

[Wharil Choc]

"Couple of reasons really. But mostly its...its like uh...well, you don't tattle on your friends, y'know? Cuz your friends know all your secrets and all that?" He wipes a bit of mustard from the corner of his mouth, licking it off his fingertip quickly "Some mysteries have to stay mysteries. For instance, this guy I know. Well, sorta know. He's gone missing. Only I can't go to the police because if they find him first things could go very wrong. And then there's your case, which luckily has most people baffled. But given enough time someone's gonna come up with an answer, and that could be pretty dangerous too."

[Enid Geraint]

An eyebrow arches over one brown eye, and were her hair down, she'd likely allow it to fall around her face - it's not a blush, not quite, but of a sudden there's a clear desire to be less noticed. Idly, absently, the hand not holding her hot dog moves to fiddle with the one bit of jewelry she wears, something on a plain gold chain. "What do you know about my case?" Not 'what makes you think I have a case', because while she still doesn't remember him (or having been given another name), this is becoming - she thinks - not just your average coincidental coincidence. And what confidence she's gained in the time since they first met is slowly slipping away; center of attention, she can deal with. For this reason (or the reason she assumes he must be referencing), it's harder.

[Wharil Choc]

"Oh, Everything." he says in a way that truly meant 'everything.' "Everything except the most important part, that is." He looks up at her, chewing the last bite of his hotdog with a blissfully ignorant look on his face, though his eyes touch on her face, her eyes, and see the worry contained there. "Don't worry though. It's like i said, I can't write about it. Can't really tell anyone. But....I might be able to help. And that's sort of what I intend to do. I'm sorry for the deception, I just wanted to get to know you a little bit more."

[Enid Geraint]

"..........................." It is a truly eloquent bit of silence, that - the second eyebrow joins the first, if only momentarily, and she shrinks in on herself a little further. The hot dog, with about a third remaining, gets set aside, forgotten for the moment, and instead of looking at him, Enid finds herself looking at her feet, at the colors of her running shoes, at the shadows cast over pale legs and white knee socks by sunlight through leaves. "It'll go away," she says eventually, quietly. "They may think they have proof, but all the little bit of evidence they have says is that I was there. So were at least half of my graduating class, plus some younger kids and some older. I guess they could bust me on drinking if they wanted, but there were people who drove home, so it would make more sense to go after someone who was actually endangering people." It's remarkably calm, that, or at least her voice is; the way she shifts, moves, suddenly uncomfortable in her own skin makes that tone a lie. "But why would you want to help me?"

[Wharil Choc]

"Because we have to look out for each other. Us Awakened. That's the only way some of us even survive." Wharil wiped his hands in the napkin, and also wiped haphazardly at his mouth. The paper gets balled up in his hands and eventually pushed into a pocket of his coat. "And...yeah. The case'll go away. The suspicion...not so easy. But, like I said, we can take care of that. Protecting you means protecting me. Means protecting all of us."

[Enid Geraint]

"People will forget. They do all the time. I'll just have to go to another school for a while before I get to where I was intending. Might have to do U of I for awhile or something." Clearly, this idea is less than pleasing, and it's only made more obvious when she says, "They'll let anyone in. Anyway, I appreciate the thought, if not so much the rest," she says wryly. "And we really have met before, then, haven't we?"

[Wharil Choc]

"W...uh...Maybe." He says with a smile. Its a little hard to imagine any mischief coming from someone with a smile like his. And yet, there it is. "Sorry. Yes. Yes we have. You just can't really remember because I...Well, lets just say its one of my my better magic tricks. You've thought this all through. That's good. Is that your way of coping with it or...or is it your way of telling me to back off?"

[Enid Geraint]

".....coping," she says, and it's very, very quiet. Then, as if it's the most important part, "I don't wanna go ti U of I!"

[Wharil Choc]

"And maybe you won't have to. Of course, you're life's not gonna be the same. You've got a responsibility now, to yourself and your new peers, to learn about this new world you've been awakened to." He shrugs then, and for once he isn't smiling. No, no chance of a grin risking the seriousness of the situation at hand. "Personally, I'd be honored to teach you."

[Ashley McGowen]

to Enid Geraint, Wharil Choc ((Hey guys. Is the scene open?))

[Enid Geraint]

to Ashley McGowen, Wharil Choc ((yeah! Was getting lunch, sorry.))

[Wharil Choc]

((And I was about to head OUT for lunch. But you can jump and and Wharil can tag out))

[Enid Geraint]

"Different perspectives are always good," is her response to the offer to teach - that makes three, and she doesn't seem the sort who's likely to turn down any of them without good reason. "I like looking at things from angles. You see more that way." She shrugs, and finally picks her hot dog back up, contemplating before taking a bite. ".....these are disgusting, cold. Anyway, I can't ask people to my house. And," furrowed brows, though, "I don't know that I'm really comfortable with going to a strange man's house alone. So . . . where? I mean, it seems like it should be somewhere less open than here, probably. Plus, it'll be cold soon."

[Ashley McGowen]

It doesn't end. Fridays are her short days. Fridays are the days when she finishes up her work at the firm early in order to attend a class. So now that class is over, she's ravenous (she's not the type to bother with breakfast.) Luckily, there are all sorts of restaurants surrounding Grant Park, and she's on her way from one end to the other. It was casual Friday, apparently; she's dressed in a pair of jeans and clad in a rather tongue-in-cheek white T-shirt that has a black tie printed on the front, her jacket draped over one arm and her bag over the other shoulder. She keeps her head up, facing forward, and nearly walks right by Enid and Wharil. Wharil's an easy man to overlook to begin with.

[Wharil Choc]

There's the faintest bit of a smile that grows by degrees as Enid speaks. "Ashley's already offered, huh?" And he's reaching into the inside pocket of his coat, bringing out a pocket sized notebook and a pen, and starts to write something down. "Lucky for you we have what's called...a Chantry. Its like our own little hangout for awakened. Its a guest house. One of those bed and breakfast deals. Its private without being too private. And they've got a library, which'll come in handy." He tears off a leaf out of the notebook and hands it to Enid. On one side is the address for th e Chantry house. On the other side, a cell number with no name. One would assume its his. "And its warm. Most of the time at least."

[Enid Geraint]

"Here," she says, pulling her phone out of the handy pocket some running shorts have for such things these days and dialing the number just to let it ring - it's a quick and easy way, in theory, of finding out to whom the number belongs. Or at least if the phone's on Wharil. Either way, she hangs up when it's rung twice. "There, now you have my number. Hi, Ashley." It's not an answer as to if she's offered, or who might have, but . . . well. As far as Wharil knows, there are only a couple likely guesses.

[Wharil Choc]

The phone rings in his pocket, and reflexively Wharil reaches for it, taking it out and looking at the screen. "I do have your number. And...I missed a text message. Hm..." He reads quietly, and in the next moment he's standing up. "I should go take care of this. Hi Ash. Bye Ash. It was good talking to you, Enid. Hope we get a chance to do it again soon."

[Ashley McGowen]

She hears their voices before she sees them, and turns to her left to catch sight of them on the path. "Oh, hello," she says, with a slight air of surprise. She'd just been talking to Wharil about Enid. But, as she told the girl, Fate seems to have a way of pushing their kind together. Enid is taking a card from Wharil, and Ashley watches the exchange, raising one eyebrow just a little. Then Wharil is peering at his phone. "I'll see you around, Wharil."