Mexican Standoff 'You Take Care of Yourself'

Pan Echeverria
Even if he were still leading the congregation back in Denver Father Echeverría would not have been leading them in anything other than the usual ceremonies this time of year. Most of his parishioners only observe the holiday insofar as their children are home from school and the federal government shuts itself down for a day. Life goes on as usual for them.
He has been absent from the place the last few days and this is the first time Sid has seen the man since his powerful-bright resonance began to stain the place. Like so many of them he has lost weight and looks tired. This is not the same strain of exhaustion. His ordeal came of his own making. Pride is a sin. The fact that he didn't go home to his maker in August has less to do with faith and prayer than it has to do with the determination of people who love him despite his obstinance.
So: they both happen to be in the living room at the same time. The Orphan sees the Chorister. He sees her. For the first time since he met her many months ago the young woman does not drop her eyes and try to slink away into the background before he can look at her. And he does look at her.
She is the first to speak. He answers her. The question of whether Shoshannah knows he's back is met with a scant nod. As for Sera:
"I don't know." It's hard to tell what Sera does and does not know. She's a seer, after all. "She came to the Verbena's a couple of weeks ago, but I haven't seen her since I got back."

Sid
A couple of weeks ago would mean Sera has been out and about after their terrible illness.  That means all of them are at least getting outside.  Not bad, that, though Sid has seen with her own eyes that 'getting outside' isn't everything, but maybe it's a start.
She nods her head once, and then frowns.  "The Verbena?"

Pan Echeverri­a
He was on his way in from outside when their paths crossed. The day is warmer than it has been and he has the sleeves of his flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows. Though his work tends to have him stationary for long periods and he does not have a young man's energy he does not believe in idleness.
"Katiana," he says. "I'm afraid I don't know her last name."

Sid
When Pan first met Sid she did everything she could think of to escape notice.  Hunched posture, unkempt hair, oversized clothes, and radiating a desperate aura of don'tnoticeme.  Sometime between the last time he saw her and now she'd stopped caring about that.  What was the point?  People had noticed her and continuedt to notice her, might as well be comfortable.
And then she got sick.  And then she fought for her life with all of her might.  And then she stopped sleeping for a while.  The trials of the last month have left their mark on Sid Rhodes, and left her this quietly defiant creature who stands in the living room-turned-rec room of the Chantry.
That quiet defiance falters only a little when Pan mentions a name, and Sid's eyes drop a moment in thought.  The name is familiar, but where...ah.  Justin's friend.
"Mmh."  Those dark eyes travel over the padre and she tilts her head.  "How are you?  The last I heard you had to go to the hospital."

Pan Echeverri­a
Something about the question has a flicker of a smile threatening to come to his face. He knows he looks as if he's recovering from a karmic kick to the head. Months ago the man looked like a mountain. His build was muscular underneath the padding come from grandmothers and widows feeding him on the regular and he wore a spare tire around his waist. Kept his face shaved and his hair trimmed.
Living out in the woods for months at a time learning how to function as an independent entity again took the motivation out of him. His hair has gone shaggy and he could stand to shave his face more often than he does. He is at least fifty pounds lighter than he was this summer, maybe more. His weight loss is not as horrifying as is the women's but it still declares loud that he isn't in the greatest condition.
And yet he looks as if she caught him in the middle of something. The man can be a persuasive speaker and his presence is centripetal. But he doesn't aim to deceive those around him. It's hard to move a mountain. Sera managed to talk him out of confronting John Brogan not by using logic or reason but by bursting into tears and hitting him and calling him and Jim idiots. The enemy of the hour is a vengeful spirit named Thakinyan. Shoshannah was going to scry for this demon herself until a group of people talked her out of it.
Last Sid heard Pan had to go to the hospital.
"I did, in August, yeah. I'm alright now."

Sid
Sid doesn't know the padre well enough to advise him on how to fix up or do down his appearance.  She doesn't know much about him at all beyond what he does usually, and that two people she cares about care about him enough that his absence caused them to shut down a little.  And now here he is, and here is Sid, so perhaps it's time to break down whatever barriers are between them.
It starts with little flickers of almost-but-not-quite smiles.  With Pan it's for Sid's question.  With Sid, it's for his answer.  Obviously he is not alright now.  None of them are.
"I see," she says, her tone veering closer to sardonic, but she's not about to call bullshit to his face.  Not yet.
"Are you staying here now?"

Pan Echeverria
'Alright' is a relative term. So long as he has breath in his lungs he would declare himself to be alright. He has declared himself to be alright covered in his own blood having just been attacked by a Nephandus.
That Sid doesn't believe him would earn her points from her friends. Someone has to call bullshit even if it's only by refusing to indulge him.
"Until this business with Thakinyan is finished, yeah."

Sid
That Sid is relieved isn't as noticeable as it would be on Sera.  There was a time when that was different.  There was a time when the woman standing before him in clothes made a size too big and counting was more vibrant, more open.  There is only one person in this city who has seen that, and his memory of that time is hazy.
But she is relieved.  She's relieved for her friends' sake, because she saw how Pan's absence affected them.  She's relieved for Shoshannah's in particular.  Here is someone who the Dreamspeaker listens to at least some of the time, someone who is better equipped to protect her from the things that have already and are still trying to crawl inside her skin.
"So you know."  And he brow furrows a little.  "I don't suppose you know how to get it out of Shoshannah and the others, do you?"

Pan Echeverri­a
Though the priest is of an age and has been practicing his faith and his magick for longer than some of them have been able to speak he has not acquired a level of enlightenment that would make him laugh in the face of things like demon possession and portals opened up between worlds. He has only recently started down the path of understanding spirits and how they operate.
The good book has loads to say about demonic possession and the things that spirits do. The Book of Revelation has zombies and sea monsters rising up. Giant fiery pits swallowing the wicked. Shadowy horsemen riding around spreading devastation throughout the lands. All of that makes demon possession sound easy enough to manage.
It ain't.
"That's what I'm working on now. We're going to have to destroy it, but I don't got a clue where it is."
He doesn't say yet but Sid can hear it.

Sid
Sid can indeed hear that yet.  It's something he's working on, locating the umbrood that's been terrorizing them for the past few months.  She nods, hooking her thumbs into the belt loops of her jeans.
"There's a house in the mountains.  Shoshannah scried it at least twice, and Mara went up to it to do some on site investigation."
Pan has been Awake and been practicing magic for far longer than Sid.  For her it's only been a few years, and most of that she's been on the move, hiding, ducking, avoiding others like them.  She's refused to let people get close to her in any sense, or had.  Then she landed in Denver, which had been so delightfully quiet and void of other Awakened for months.  Now that she's planted herself in one place she's started to learn a few things, but even so, one of the greatest benefits of knowing Sid is the information she gathers and disseminates freely to those who need it.  For someone so averse to contact, she became strangely in-the-know, and she's stayed that way.
Her mouth firms into a line of vague concern.  Turning away from him, she gestures to one of the living room's many couches.  "Why don't you tell me what you know.  Maybe I can fill in any gaps."

Pan Echeverri­a
"The big gap right now is what's anchoring it here."
Shoshannah referred to tether points the afternoon he and Kalen and Grace ganged up on the Dreamspeaker to talk her out of exploring their locations herself. Kalen had explained that they are exploring a plan that would have them learning its hunting pattern and severing the Umbrood's tethers outside its protective circle.
Of course Kalen had also explained that searching them out from afar has proven a bit risky.
Pan lowers himself onto one of the couches slow as if rising again will be the tricky part.
"Shoshannah wanted to look for possible anchors herself, but that's not going to happen."

Sid
[percept+alert: what's up, Pan, are you just an old fart or is something wrong with your body?]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (4, 4, 6, 7, 9, 9, 10) ( success x 5 ) Re-rolls: 1

Sid
She watches him lower himself slowly onto the couch, dark eyes narrowing as she studies him, particularly his face.  Something isn't right, but she knows if she asks him the answer she gets is most likely going to be I'm alright.
"Good," she says, quiet yet firm.  Shoshannah's gotten herself into enough trouble going off and doing things alone.  They all have.  If she could, Sid would make it so she received an alert to her phone whenever one of her friends was about to go off and try to do something very dangerous all by themselves.  As it is, she wouldn't even know where to start with something like that.  All she can do is hope that they'll stop it, or that they'll at least send some word of what they're doing and where they're going.
She pats her hands over the pockets of her jeans, and she frowns.  "Hang on, I need a pen."  Pivoting on stockinged feet, Sid makes her way into the kitchen, and it's a moment or two before she goes back to the living room.  When she does, she settles down on the other end of the couch from him, her knees angled toward him, and her attention on the inside of her wrist, where she draws something.

[Life scan because I don't think you'll tell me things, coincidental and practiced]
Dice: 2 d10 TN3 (9, 10) ( success x 2 )

Pan Echeverri­a
[awareness?]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 2, 6, 6, 8, 9) ( success x 4 )

Kalen Holliday
[How are we sleeping?]
Dice: 5 d10 TN7 (3, 3, 4, 6, 10) ( success x 1 )

Kalen Holliday
There is always at least a few seconds between sensing Kalen and his appearance.  Sometimes a few moments.  The living room is close enough to where he can park that it isn't the same amount of time as it would take him to reach the library.  Or the second floor bedrooms.
Still, it is a moment before he steps into the living room.  He doesn't knock anymore, just opens the door as if he belongs there.  As if he's just coming home.
He raises a hand in what may be the least enthusiastic wave ever when he sees Sid and Pan, and heads in their direction.  A year ago, that entrance would have involved a lot more energy.  And probably ended with Kalen flinging himself onto the couch between the two of them and grinning.  Sid has gotten to see just bits of what Kalen used to be like.  She might be able to believe someone who told her that by now.
Kalen settles onto a nearby chair.  Carefully.  Stiffly.
"Hey," he says with a faint smile.  "How are you?"

Pan Echeverri­a
Sid is suspicious. The priest moves like he's older than his mid-forties and she gets up to retrieve a pen. She does not retrieve paper. Anything she'd need to write down he has not said yet.
And then she starts to Work.
Though he does not look surprised Pan does wear an expression of beleaguered amusement. After all the invasive procedures he's endured between the hospital and the Verbena the last few months this is a mild sort of violation of what little privacy he can claim to have anymore. As she reads his pattern the priest draws a deep breath like a bear roused from its slumber and he sits up straighter. Knits his fingers together and leans forward so his forearms are on his thighs.
Considering the fact that he was torn open by dogs and suffered what the doctors called a subarachnoid hemorrhage the man is in decent shape. His vital signs are all normal but his metabolic function isn't great. Blame it on the stroke. His hypothalamus didn't appreciate the increased pressure it had to endure for a few hours this summer.
He's doing freakishly well for someone who had a stroke at the age of 45 though.
Pan clears his throat once he figures out what it is she's figuring out but he doesn't chastise her. Here comes Kalen. If Kalen gets the impression he's interrupting something no one would blame him.
"We were just discussing the possessions," he says, "and Miss Rhodes was checking my blood pressure."

Sid
It doesn't take her long to do what she does, a few strokes of that pen to center her focus and then she's reaching out in a way she's reached out a hundred times in the past month.  She's examined the make-up of blood cells and the workings of immune systems and now she's unapologetically looking at Pan in an intimate manner, examining him in a way that a Sleeper doctor could only hope to look.  He doesn't know precisely what she's doing, if she's looking at him or at the Workings set up around the house, but he can make a very good educated guess.
By the time he sits up, Sid is tucking that pen behind her right ear, pinning it beneath the stem of her glasses so that she doesn't end up fidgeting with it.  She doesn't broadcast her findings, of his blood pressure or his metabolic function or some other thing.
"Well, Father Alright, would you have told me what's wrong if I'd asked?" she asks, something in her demeanor shifting, lightening very slightly.  "In case no one else has said it to you yet, you should see your Verbena friend again.  Hi, Kalen."

Kalen Holliday
"I'm sure it's perfect," Kalen says.  Because everyone in this room is perfectly fine.  Never better, in fact. 
"I'm going to try to find Lucia Montanari's old cabal.  There is a chance they may want to save her.  Considering what we know of them, they may even manage it.  Or they might have to give her up for lost and kill her.  In either case, that would be one less thing we have to dedicate our attention to.
"Of course, it has been years.  They may no longer feel responsible for her."
Pan Echeverría
The priest maintains this pensive posture throughout Kalen's explanation of what it is he hopes to accomplish by seeking out the Montanari woman's old cabal. Though he all but ignores Sid's advice he gives a slow nod to the idea that tracking down the woman would help par down the number of tasks to which they have to attend.
"Or they may not be around anymore," he says. "Can't hurt, though. They don't need to feel responsible to want to help."

Grace
[Nightmares!]
Dice: 6 d10 TN7 (2, 3, 3, 6, 7, 10) ( success x 2 )

Grace
[Awarepathy!]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (3, 6, 8, 8, 9) ( success x 4 )

Sid
She's sat the priest down so that she could maybe fill him in on some gaps he may have in his information, but he ignores her in favor of the Hermetic.  She watches them talk for a bit, taking in the information but having nothing of value to contribute in return.
"Do you have a place to start?" she asks Kalen.

Grace
Grace has been sleeping at odd hours. It's not so rare for a college student, especially one on holiday. Not so rare either for her to want to catch up on sleep after so many nights interrupted by bad memories. When you have the spare hours, it would be criminal not to take advantage.
So, a drowsy Grace makes her way down the stairs, down the hall, to the living room where she can sense the telltale sign of Sid. Sid's here.
So are the others, but you know, she hasn't seen her friend since...

Kalen Holliday
"There is someone I can ask, though, she may not be willing to go any further into this than she already has.  I know we're talking about Dreamspeakers, Hollow Ones, and Euthanatos."  He sighs.
"I may be about out of options here, actually."  He sounds almost apologetic about that.
He waves to Grace, only barely more animated than his wave to Pan and Sid earlier.  "Hello, Kit."

Pan Echeverri­a
The priest had been in the middle of some task he'd assigned himself when his path converged with Sid's a few minutes ago. She had sat him down that she might fill in gaps in his understanding of the situation. Her scan of his pattern might have derailed them. Kalen and Grace served as a decent distraction.
And Grace finds Pan hard enough to be around when he hasn't been Working. She can practically hear his recent efforts though. The man's presence is nigh unto overpowering. He isn't blind or insensitive. He knows she isn't comfortable around him.
He rises easier from the couch than he did earlier this week when he first arrived back from the woods but he still rises slowly.
"Grace," he greets the apprentice as he gets to his feet. Then: "Sid, I wanna talk to you, in private, if you got a minute."

Sid
Sid had just come from upstairs when her path crossed Pan's.  From there she could have been on her way to anywhere, but was, in fact, outside.  Instead she stopped and seemed content to stay stopped, even with the interruptions and the derailing of her initial purpose.
They're talking about ways to forge ahead with the Thakinyan business when Pan leverages himself up off the couch.  Sid's gaze shifts immediately to him, watchful and wary and intense.  So intent is her watch that she at first misses when that shifting resonance that indicates Grace is here has moved and moved until it - or rather Grace - is there in the doorway.  Sid turns to look at her, and offers her a faint whisper of a smile.  The last time they saw each other - good and properly saw each other - was the night a lab of nightmares went up in flames.  Sid at least doesn't look much better than she did that night, though she's had a month to recover.  She's thinner, more shadowed.  But for Grace she can offer that faint smile.
But Pan would like to speak to her in private.  Sid looks up at him, the seconds ticking by until they number five before she moves.  "Sure."  Planting her hands to either side of her hips, she pushes herself up from the couch, and motions with a sweep of her hand for him to lead the way.

Grace
She gives a little smile to Kalen when he's in view, but it's nearly wiped away at the listlessness of the man. He looks tired. But she knows how that can be deceiving.
And then, Pan is about to take away her friend before they can even say their hellos. She looks back and forth between them, between the desperation and the spotlight. And it's true, Pan gives her the feeling that he's going to judge her, harshly, under a hot lamp, until she breaks. But this is more important than stupid impressions. This is Sid.
"Can it wait, Pan? I haven't seen Sid in so long. Just give her a break. And give me a couple minutes?"

Kalen Holliday
Kalen just watches them for the moment.  He has no reason to try to get Sid or Pan to stay, particularly if they'll only be gone for a short time.  He doesn't know what Pan wants with Sid, but if he's asking to speak with her in private, Kalen isn't going to do anything but assume there is something they need to talk about.  They'll stay or they'll go, but he'll wait to see before he says anything further.

Pan Echeverri­a
Though he'd requested her time and privacy at once Pan did not stand towering over everyone else while he waited for her to speak. In the five seconds that ticked by between the end of his question and the start of her response the Chorister had walked part of the way across the living room. His intended destination was the kitchen and Sid was willing to follow him.
At the threshold between the living and dining rooms, at Grace's question, Pan puts one hand on the doorframe and the other on his hip. He squints at her as if he cannot understand her urgency or the source of it.
It must cause some sort of forced recalibration of his perspective. The older man huffs out a humorless laugh and pushes himself off the doorframe. Pushes his hair back off his brow. When he speaks his admonition is a mild thing but he sounds tired. His palm pauses over his forehead as if it pains him. His hand does not stay there.
The lives they live, the life he's lived, hasn't left him assured of the fact that they have a couple minutes. Better to just have out in case something does happen that Sid won't go the rest of her life agonizing over whatever he wanted to talk to her about and never ended up saying. Call it absolution. Forgiveness. Whatever.
"I'm just gonna say this," he says. "Anything you wanna ask me, if you ask me straight, I'll answer it straight. I don't wanna catch nobody reading my pattern when they could just as soon ask me what they wanna know, huh? That's all.

Sid
The others are more wary of this request from the good father than is Sid.  There was a time when Sid would have worried right along with them.  Being called off to privacy with a man older, bigger, and stronger than she is?  She would not have agreed to it.  She would have curled in on herself and tried to make herself small, or she would have found the nearest exit and promptly left through it.  She would not have calmly agreed and then risen to follow after him.
She offers Grace a look that is more encouraging than she herself feels.  Sid has been through things lately, things that have changed her, made her stronger in ways that even she hasn't fully realized.  She is more patient in some areas and much, much less patient in others.  Pan does not seem like he's going to drag her by the hair into a small cramped room to make her relive the story of her Awakening, so she is inclined to be patient and see what he wants.
What he wants, it would appear, is for her to ask him straight instead of scanning his pattern without asking permission first.  Head canting slightly to the side, Sid says, "I did ask, and you didn't," she says quietly.  "You tried to pass it off like you haven't been recovering from an attack that left you in the hospital and who knows where else since you left.  If there wasn't anything going on, believe me, I would have left it at that, but there is something going on.  There's a virus out there that is very brutal and very deadly and was made to kill us.  There is some thing out there that makes us experience our worst fears so it can feed off it, and there's nothing any of us have been able do to stop it.
"You might be able to, though."  Inhaling deep, Sid lifts her chin.  "For that we need you at your best, so do us all a favor and get yourself checked out."

Grace
Sid explains herself, but that's really unimportant right now. So she had a looksee into Pan? Hell, probably should be doing that to anybody who walks into the Chantry right now, with how unsure they are that Hydra didn't leak out of that stupid lab right by the international airport. Grace will never get over how utterly insane they all were. Or maybe that was the plan all along, and killing the world was intentional. Whatever.
Sid looks... well, physically horrible. But she's strong, and making sense, and damn it is good to see her. Grace isn't the type to run up and hug, or she would be. But there is gratitude and warmth in the sad smile she gives to Sid. She walks over to a chair next to Kalen's and sits down, wrapping her legs up into it. She glances over to Kalen and gives him a smile too, a 'yes, I'm okay, and I see you over there'.
"We need you at your best too, Sid. You look horrible," she says, completely blunt. "You know you need to eat after an illness like that. Lots of red meat."
She looks a bit embarrassed after that, like she's sure that wasn't the best thing to say really. "Also, hi. I missed you. And also, thanks for saving my life. I haven't gotten the chance to properly thank you for that. We were all so... messed up."

Kalen Holliday
Kalen looks from Sid and makes a little huffing noise.  "I know it's my turn, but I'm not playing Mexican standoff 'you should take care of yourself' games today.  Perhaps some other time."  He does sound at least slightly amused.
Grace does get a return smile when she sits near him.  And then he mouths, 'But you should totally eat something' at her.  His smile flickers a bit wider and he winks.
Other than that though, he lets her talk to Sid.  Without any interruptions for plans or findings or anything like that.

Pan Echeverri­a
Though he does not speak again before he disappears across the threshold and pulls himself out of the conversation Pan does give Sid his full attention while she speaks.
If they were alone and discussing the issue rather than throwing their opinions out into the aether to see what sticks they might have reached some sort of verbal understanding about this. Instead it's left at the Chorister doesn't want anyone reading his pattern without permission and the Orphan would have left it at that if there weren't anything going on but there is so she didn't.
They're not in agreement but it isn't an argument either. Grace has already asked him to cut her a break. She does not distract Sid by throwing her arms around her but she does serve as a distraction all the same. As she begins to talk to the other woman about their recent ordeal Pan levels his gaze at Sid and decides to let it go for now.
There are worse shit lists to be on than that of a man who believes in turning the other cheek. Of course if one is terrified of him already his silence probably feels ominous.
It feels ominous and then it doesn't feel anything at all. He's stepped back into the dining room and in a few moments he'll be outside again. He has another bad decision to follow through on.

Sid
Grace interrupts and Sid angles her head slightly, just enough to show that she's listening, but not so far as to take her eyes off Pan.
His silence is not ominous to her.  She knows that he's older and stronger than she is, both physically and magically, but she's not afraid of him.  He makes her a little nervous, always has, but even that's abated.
He leaves, and he leaves that moment unresolved, ignoring Sid all over again.  This time her eyes narrow.  Looking back at Grace and Kalen, she gives them a distracted smile.  "You're welcome, Grace.  Excuse me."
And then she's off after the Chorister, disappearing out into the cool afternoon light in a t-shirt and jeans and socks.

Grace
Sid leaves, and takes her desperate happiness along, to chase after the glow that is Pan. Grace just kind of slumps in her chair, dejected.
"I swear, the universe is conspiring against me -- or maybe Pan is -- to keep Sid and I from having a real conversation," she sighs. "Or maybe Sid just really doesn't want to talk to me right now. I can get that."
She looks over to Kalen, like at least he's still here. "I should totally eat something, huh?"

Kalen Holliday
"Probably you should."  He shrugs, then shifts so that he can face her, resting his cheek against the back of the chair.  "I think they were...I don't even know.  I have no idea what to think of him.
"I'm sure you'll talk to Sid eventually.  Have you tried setting a date?  You could bribe her with coffee or scones or something?"

Grace
"Setting a date?" she blinks, like this is a new idea. "I never set a date. And I couldn't gush over her scientific skills at a coffee shop, she'd probably gut me. Talking about that kind of stuff in public isn't in our best interest."
Kalen probably means coffee and scones at the Chantry, or at her place, or somewhere more private. But Grace? A hostess? As far as rare things go, that's fairly up there. It would probably be a strange ordeal, punctuated by Grace's exclamations of 'Oh shit, napkins! I'll be right back!' and such.
"Oh, and while we're playing Mexican standoff 'take care of yourself', you should get more sleep. I'll leave you the upstairs sleeping couch. I just woke up."

Kalen Holliday
"I appreciate that, but I'll slink off to sleep somewhere else, probably.   It's a quality more than quantity thing, anyway.  I'm fine."
He smiles a little.  "You could have her over for pizza?  I don't know.  I learned to make coffee and then used that to cover for that face that it is like the only thing I make well."

Grace
"I get that," she says. They may not have the same nightmares, but quality sleep is hard to come by for the both of them.
"Pizza. Sure," she says, and starts digging into her laptop bag. She pulls out her phone and starts tapping away at it. After a bit, though, she sets it aside. "Done. Pizza it is."
Of course, Sid has yet to actually respond, but it's done as far as Grace is concerned. Done for now at least.
"So... any new news?"

Kalen Holliday
[Fade]

What's Normal?

Sid
The day before Thanksgiving means the roads are clear and the grocery stores are packed and some homes are filled the smells of baked and baking foods.  For Sid, this day means a break from classes and early release from work.  Even though she has much more to be grateful for this year than in the several prior, Sid has no plans for the holiday of gratitude and thankfulness.  Well, nothing beyond a little study followed by maybe watching a movie.  She has no shopping that she needs to take care of, so when her office in the campus library shut down for the afternoon, rather than climbing into her truck and making her way back home she broke out her skateboard to make her way downtown.
The city is not quiet today.  There are small pockets of tourists, family members from far off places in town to visit locals who wish to show them the sites and sights of Denver.  Sid navigates around them easily enough, hands in the pockets of her plain hoody, red hair trailing behind her like a sail.

[awareness]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 2, 5, 6, 7, 8) ( success x 3 )

Lena Reilly
Holiday times are basically here, and that means merriment and goodwill toward man and all that stuff.  To be honest, Lena isn't a fan of the last couple of months of the year even when she's at her best.  Normally it's all downhill after Halloween and considering how her Halloween went, one can hope that at least this year it'll be different.  Because it's difficult to understand how much worse it can get from Halloween and still be breathing.
But breathing she is.  It's been nearly a month since Hydra has been out of her system and she's fully recovered in a physical capacity.  There are deep scars of course, but none of them on her corporeal self; they're the invisible scars.  The kind that you don't see unless you look into someone's eyes.  They've all had different reactions to what happened to them.  Grace is afraid of just about everything now; Sera has shut down.  Sid has changed too, of course, in her own ways.  And Lena...
Well, Lena has moved on.  Or at least, she likes to think so.
It's not particularly cold today, but she's still dresing warmly because...well, it's not summer.  The DJ makes her way down the street in a turtleneck sweater and a pair of jeans (both newly-purchased since she moved out of her apartment, like most of her clothes).  A laptop case rests over one shoulder and a cigarette burns in her left hand.  She isn't skittish of the people on the street today, at least openly.  She moves to avoid contact of course, but she's not acting like an attack may come from any one of them at any moment.  She has many of the smaller signs that Kalen or Shoshannah or Connor may have seen a week ago: the hollows around her eyes that indicates she's getting very little sleep (even for her, who can susbsist on just a few hours a night), the lost weight.  The wired/tired combination she gives off.  The way she's not listening to music as she walks, the way she normally does.  And, of course, the way that the sixth sense most Awakened develop, once so strong, has been shut down.
And thus she turns a corner, completely oblivious to the fact that she's about to run into someone she hasn't seen since the night she was rescued from certain, horrifying death.

Sid
Sid has fared a little better than the others in this past month, which isn't to say she's fared well.  Her experience with the Hydra virus was different.  She sought help early, got herself protected, and then she focused on one task and one task alone for weeks until it was completed.  In that time, Grace stayed on her own with a young Euthanatos, and Lena and Sera...Sid hasn't talked to any of them about their experiences, but she knows that they were worst for the two Ecstatics.
Sid hasn't spoken to any of the other women who shared that horrible fate with her, in fact has gone out of her way to make sure they don't run into each other.  There have been no calls, no texts, no attempts at reaching out, at seeing how anyone is doing.  Sid has her own demons to deal with these days, demons which are tied to the events of that night when she and Grace found their lost friends.  She's dealing, not as well as she perhaps could be, but still.  She was doing better a week ago, had started getting rested, and Jim even managed to get her to eat more than a few bitefuls of food before she put her fork down.
Then the dream happened, and things got bad all over again.
The woman rolling along the sidewalk is stronger than she was when her belief that Denver was devoid of Awakened individuals was shattered, not that anyone could tell looking at her.  She's thinner, the roundness of her cheeks diminished, and clothes that were purchased to fit an athletic figure more comfortably have become loose, visible today only in the extra folds of her once-skinny jeans.  There are shadows beneath her eyes, but those eyes are bright, alert.  Her complexion is not quite so terrifyingly pale.  As much as she would prefer to go her whole life without a minute of sleep, until she has the knowledge the perform that sort of magic she's stuck with needing rest from time to time.
She senses something as she makes her quick progress down the street and so she slows, slows, comes to a stop and kicks her board up to catch the edge all in one motion.  Then she sees someone she hasn't seen for weeks and all sorts of conflicted emotions war inside of her.  For the first time in what feels like ages Sid has the sudden urge to do an about face and make her way quickly away.  She doesn't, though.
Instead she says, "Lena," and she looks at the woman, the one she once watched dance her way down the 16th Street Mall, with a tightened expression.

Lena Reilly
Lena.  The sound of Sid's voice, resonating in Lena's ears, makes the woman's head snap upward.  When Lena and Sid first met, Lena was the first to make contact between them and Sid's response was a painfully shy, defensive wariness.  They've come full circle now, after a fashion.  Now it's Sid who says the first words and the expression that hits Lena's face is that of skittishness, almost like she might flee.
It's not exactly the same though, of course.  Lena in that first street corner encounter was open and friendly and Sid was shy.  In this new iteration, Sid is not open and friendly in that same way, because she's been through so much.  And Lena is less shy and wary than she is...afraid, perhaps?  Not of Sid necessarily, but there is a definite sense of fear and a little bit of something deeper, more pained and hollow.
Lena stops dead in her tracks on seeing Sid and for a moment, there's a look as if she might turn around and start walking in the opposite direction.  She doesn't though.  Instead, her lips press tightly together and she reaches up self-consciously to run a hand through her hair.  The cigarette in her other hand is starting to turn into one long trail of ash, and she nods a little to the other woman.  There's a flicker of her lips in what might be considered a miserably failed attempt to smile.
"Hey, Sid."  Her attention shifts left and right a moment, then back to her.  "You're ah...you're looking better."

Kalen Holliday
[Nightmares]
Dice: 5 d10 TN7 (2, 3, 3, 6, 9) ( success x 1 )

Kalen Holliday
Turning to flee would have sent Lena practically running into Kalen; though, short of using magic to stop her, there is precious little the hobbled Flambeau is going to manage in the way of stopping anyone.  Assuming he would even try.
He moves toward them, raising the hand free of his cane to wave once he gets closer.  It's a process, Kalen getting anywhere.  There is practically time to stop and get coffee and discuss getting out of his way before he really closes on speaking distance, particularly for anyone that senses his Resonance before they spot him.
They are not greeted until he is close enough not to have to raise his voice, but once he is they get a calm, "Hello."

Sid
The corners of Sid's mouth flicker and twitch, like maybe there's a smile there, but it's still far too far below the horizon to give off any light.
"You, too," she replies.  The last time Sid saw Lena she was sitting in a technically stolen car and wearing Sid's long since destroyed hoody.  Sid looks away again, but this time with a purpose.  There's a storm slowly rolling in, arriving in the form of a young Hermetic with a cane.  Sid leans a little to the side, looking past Lena to the figure making his slow way toward them.  "Kalen," she says, low and quiet so that only Lena can hear.  Because of all the people that Lena knows in this city and all the ones within that small circle who have in them a fear, Sid is the one who understands the most how Lena might feel about someone coming up behind her unexpectedly.
She returns that wave with an upward tip of her chin before returning her attention to her friend.  And she frowns.
"I'm sorry I haven't called, I..." she trails, because what can she say, really?  The truth?  Not hardly.

Lena Reilly
There's a moment, when Sid leans toward the side, where Lena is briefly confused.  That moment is brief and passes as soon as the Cultist realizes that she's looking at someone else, and then Sid says exactly who.  Lena snaps her head around to look at the approaching Flambeau, regarding him with a little bit of wariness.  Perhaps oddly, there isn't much more than she usually had.  Kalen, she never really let get all that close to her and there isn't much in the way of vulnerability she showed there.  And besides, they've had a moment since.  And while she took a chance there, she's gotten over that.  At least, in her conscious mind.
And so she nods a little to Kalen as she shifts her position, turning so that she's able to face the both of them (or perhaps more specifically, not give up her back).  The three of them--Orphan, Cultist and Hermetic--make a little triangle once Kalen comes up and completes it.  Even if Lena doesn't freak out at Kalen's approach Sid gets a little look that, while emotionally dead, has the semblence of gratitude.  It's something.
She shakes her head when Sid says I'm sorry, even before she gets to the why.  The reason for her apology just gives her the opportunity to vocalize a response.  "No, it's fine, I..."  She takes a drag off of her cigarette, a bit compulsively, and flicks the long trail of ash away.  "You're dealing.  I get it, believe me."  Her eyes don't quite hit Sid's face.  Kalen's either, really, though she is focused on the woman at the moment.  "It was rough for all of us.  How are..."
She pauses there, chews on her lip a little bit.  How are all the mages in the city?  How are you?  How are...what?  She lets it go there, and changes topic.
"I haven't been around either.  It isn't your fault."

Kalen Holliday
"I don't think it has been an easy few months for anyone," Kalen says quietly.  "I think it may be wise to simply accept that and move on from there without quite so many apologies.  People heal how they do, I don't think any of us are strangers to that fact.  It may be that we need to remember that more than we need to apologize.
"On a not entirely unrelated note, would the two of you prefer I leave you in peace?"

Lena Reilly
There's a part of Lena that instinctively wants to rear up at Kalen when he suggests that it hasn't been an easy few months for anyone.  It's the selfish part of her, that takes offense to the idea that living her absolute worst nightmare over the month of October (particularly that last week) could possibly be equated with what other mages might have undergone.  And there is that brief flash in her eyes, but it's gone quickly and even when it's there, it's dulled and blurry, like the corpse wrapped in plastic and thrown down a well looks when the first flashlight of a rescue searcher shines over it.
Because really, it is selfish, and if there's one thing that Lena has lost, it's pretenses about her own importance.  Another part of it is the fact that her emotionally shorted-out state takes so much to get any sort of reaction from her.  So she just looks at Kalen after that little flash of light fades, and shrugs lightly.
"You can stay," she says with a glance between the two.  "We should probably get out of the sidewalk though.  We're gonna start holding up traffic."
Not that she's making suggestions of where to go.  That would imply she has somewhere to go to at the moment.

Kalen Holliday
"I wasn't suggesting that we've all had the same experience.  I was suggesting that we know what it's like to go through Hell of one kind or another.  Not because it doesn't matter what just happened, but because I think you should understand how unnecessary it is to feel like you should owe anyone any apology or explanation for not being around."
He glances around.  "I don't know what's here.  There's an aquarium.  Places to get coffee.  Food.  Are you hungry?"

Lena Reilly
Kalen explains himself further and Lena is listening to the words, to be perfectly fair.  But there's something in her vaguely hollow expression which suggests that the words don't quite reach her, at least as much as Kalen might hope.
And so instead she adjusts the strap of her laptop case, looking around when Kalen does.  "I'm not hungry, no.  I could go for some coffee, though."  Yeah, there's the least surprising sentence of the month.  "Wherever you guys wanna go works for me, I guess."

Sid
"I didn't say it was," Sid says quietly to Lena, who says that something - Sid wouldn't know what - isn't her fault.  The words, her tone, they're gentle.  She tilts her head to look at Kalen, and for a moment Lena isn't the only one who wants to bristle up a bit at his words.  For Sid, though, the reasons are entirely different, and the urge falls away more naturally.  He even gets the barest whisper of a smile from the Orphan, a ghost of amusement that fades away before it's even fully there, much less noticeable.
"It was one apology, Kalen.  I'm not hungry, either," she says, with an understanding, sidelong appraisal of Lena.  Chances are neither of them are eating well these days.  She looks between the two of them.  "I'd prefer beer," she says quietly and succinctly.  "Or bourbon."  Never mind the hour.  Leaning to the side, Sid bends to pick up her skateboard and tuck it under her arm.  "But coffee's fine."

Kalen Holliday
"It isn't just that one.  There is a general trend of..." He frowns.  Because he's seen all of them.  And almost all of them have tried to apologize to someone about their responses.  And then, perhaps surprizing since he was actually being something like human, his guard snaps up.  And his face and his eyes, are just distant and empty.
"I have learned not to say no to whiskey.  Or coffee.  Whiskey combined with coffee...."  Kalen smiles faintly, but it isn't a real smile.  It might fool people who had never met him, never spent time with him, but Sid and Lena both know what his real expressions look like by now, and he isn't even really trying.

Sid
[percept+subt (hidden emotions)]
Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 6, 7, 8) ( success x 3 )

Lena Reilly
Lena lets the two debate over the prevalence of apologies among the Awakened, or at least among the Hydra survivors.  Her forehead creases as she furrows up her eyebrows, lets her attention drift to look up and down the street.  There's a bit of distance that she puts between herself and the topic because in truth, it isn't just her absence that was being apologized for.  In truth, even she doesn't know exactly the reason for her apology; she just knows that she felt like she needed to say it.
While the two hash it out a bit, she reaches absently up to curl a few locks of hair behind her ear.  Her shoulders hunch up a little bit and she looks back finally when they're back to talking about where to go and what to get.  "I'm good with finding a place for a drink," she says with a little shrug.  "Whatever works best, I suppose."  The truth is that she feels a bit exposed here in the open, among these two.  Getting somewhere with some privacy and anonimity would be good; the exact where is inconsequential, really.

Sid
Sid sees that guard go up for Kalen, and when she sees her brows clench toward each other above those warm dark eyes of hers.  For her, it has been only one apology, hers to Lena, at least when it comes to this, to being a friend to the ones she cares about and pretty much failing at it.  The only other apology she recalls making recently was to him when she botched her attempt at an effect and made a crowd of people usher them to a darkened hallway.  That had been in a dream, though, or a kind of dream, so Sid knows it was likely less a failure and a sign of her lack of skill and more what the person who forced that dream on them wanted to have happen.
But she is not Kalen, and Kalen is the one who says It isn't just that one...  So, Sid realizes, it's been one time for her, but who knows how many for him?  Lena turns away from them to look out over the sidewalk, leaving the quiet Orphan who has shied away from human contact for so long and the reserved Hermetic who just isn't very good at these things to try and hash things out.  On the surface it would appear that it goes just as well as one would expect given their history.
There's been that new event in the chain, though, and for Sid that changes things dramatically.  In her experience one doesn't go through a shared horror like the one she and Kalen faced together and not come out of it with a different attitude toward that unwitting partner.
This is not the place to openly talk to him about what's been going on with him, not with Lena so obviously struggling, but there is something that she can do.  Without a word, Sid shifts to stand beside Kalen, moving her board to hang beneath her other arm.  Then she takes her now empthy hand, and she slips it into Kalen's free hand.  Hers is warm, as though they've done nothing all day but soak up the sun's warmth, giving Sid something to pass on to others in moments just like this.  There is a look, silent and brief, of quiet empathy.  If he thinks she's going to let go of him then he is absolutely wrong.  Giving his hand a quick and gentle squeeze, Sid looks away from him and down the street.
"We can walk for a bit, see what we find.  There are a hundred bars downtown.  Or," and finally there is a flicker of a real smile, "we can stop at Starbucks and then hit up a liquor store and make our own coffee in the park."

Kalen Holliday
Kalen does not fight against contact.  He seems surprised, but in no way displeased when Sid grabs his hand.  Openly talking to Kalen under any circumstances is a Thing, and Sid is correct that these aren't the conditions to try that under.  She gets only a very brief, but at least not empty, smile.
"We could do that."
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 9) ( success x 1 )

Lena Reilly
Lena isn't paying as much attention, but she does pick up that motion by Sid to stand next to Kalen, the taking of the Hermetic's hand.  Her gaze lingers there for a moment, and in that moment there is a look of two very different emotions.  There's envy there, for that level of contact.  But there is relief as well, that Sid chose to offer Kalen the support and not herself.  Those contradicting notions don't even make sense in her head, but like many of her Tradition Lena is a creature of her Passions.  And emotion doesn't need to make sense to be legitimate.
"Yeah, that works."  She flicks the cigarette away, crosses her arms as if warding off a chill.  She flickers an attempt at a smile and nods forward.  "Lead the way."

Sid
If both of Sid's hands were freed...well, they're not, so there's not much sense wandering down that road, but suffice to say things would be different.  It's Kalen that finds Sid's warm hand in his, and who thus receives what comfort she's able to offer these days.
If she picks up on Lena's internal conflict, however, Sid makes no sign of it.  Lena has always been distant, and she's dealing with the ordeals of the last few months in a way that makes sense for her.  Like with Kalen, Sid knows this is not the place to try and cross that boundary.
Neither younger Mage seems willing to make a definite decision on what to do with their day, so when it comes back around to Sid she tips her head in the direction of the nearest Starbucks.  They can start in that direction, anyway, and see if once they get there if they'd really like to find someplace else for a second stop.  The go at a pace that's comfortable for Kalen, with Sid keeping her long-legged gait easy and slow and her gaze on the buildings around them.
"Do either of you have plans for tomorrow?"

Kalen Holliday
There is a second where Kalen looks at Sid in confusion before he remembers.
Thanksgiving.  He can still, barely remember Thanksgiving when he still had something like a family, mostly the last one, when in some odd attempt at a family moment there had been a whole turkey.  He can remember eating takeout with Jack and Kharisma in a tiny apartment.  Formal dinner in a chantry that is nothing but ashes now.
"No.  Garrett will probably call me until I come over or something, like I should be somewhere."

Grace Evans
[Nightmares!]
Dice: 6 d10 TN7 (3, 3, 4, 8, 8, 9) ( success x 3 )

Grace Evans
[Perception + Awareness!]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 3, 8, 8) ( success x 2 )

Lena Reilly
Kalen takes a moment to remember, and he's not the only one.  Lena has barely been keeping track of what day of the week it is, much less what date is coming up.  She starts to walk with Sid, hands slipping into her pockets as they walk and her brows furrow in concentration.
And then she remembers, much like the Hermetic does.  She has her own Thanksgiving-related ashes, albeit of a more metaphorical sense.  The memories are more distant than her recent trauma but deeper-seeded and, in a very indirect way, related.  And so she shrugs.  "Take-out and some Netflix, probably."  She shrugs it off.  "It's not really one of my favorite holidays, I'm afraid."

Grace Evans
When the trio comes across her, Grace is standing on the sidewalk, quite still, looking up at the offending coffee shop's sign, with its annoying de-breasted mermaid in green. They had to make it family friendly after all. Stupid fucking place. The last time she was in one...
She turns around and starts walking the other way, purposefully going to avoid that God-awful memory, thank you very much.
It's almost a shock when she notices them all, not with her eyes, which are focused more at the ground than the people around her. But there's another memory wrapped around her now. One of laboratories and clinics.
Lena? Sid?

Sid
Lena isn't the only one who has an issue with the holidays, but that wouldn't be surprising.  They are solitary creatures, these Mages, and these family and friend togetherness holidays are bound to be a problem for at least half of them.
Sid looks over at Kalen, and then to Lena.  It's the Ecstatic's idea of a holiday tradition that resonates the most with her.  "That's my plan, too.  They just got Farscape, I was planning to marathon it.  If you want," and she looks now from Lena to Kalen, "if you need an excuse to be somewhere else, we can watch things at my place.  I have a big couch and my roommate went home."
Before either can answer her, however, Sid releases Kalen's hand to retrieve her phone.  She frowns at the screen a moment, then looks up.  "I have to pass on coffee," she says quietly, and though she doesn't say it aloud, they can hear apology in her tone.  "I'll call you later."  This is mostly for Lena, though if she's gotten Kalen's number by now it includes him as well.  They're still far enough away from the coffee place that Sid hasn't noticed Grace, and then she's turning off to go a different direction altogether.

[and that alas is it for me!  thank you for the scene!]

Kalen Holliday
Sid leaves, and Kalen glances around, then at Lena.  He was perfectly comfortable with Lena being present, but now that Sid isn't there to sort of tie them together he seems less sure about staying.
"Well.  Perhaps I'll see you tomorrow," he says to Lena, tone neutral, as he takes a step back like he's getting ready to leave.

Lena Reilly
They're heading toward Starbucks and while it was the place where her most recent ordeal, Lena isn't hesitant about going there.  Sure, she's not likely to ever stop in at the one where they first encountered Katie and were injected with the disease which ravaged her and her closest friends but Starbucks was an incidental victim in this case.
When Sid needs to head off, Lena purses her lips and gives a little nod.  It's not entirely committal to the offer, more an acknowledgement of it and of Sid's farewell.  And with Sid departing, Kalen looks like he wants to head off as well.  The look that the Hermetic draws is sharp, at least for half of an instant, before it dulls.  They've never been close, but it's still a bit of a rejection.  Even if she isn't quite comfortable about him (or more specifically, the Awakened) right now.
"Yeah, maybe..."  That word trails off as she catches sight of Grace.  Another one she hasn't seen since Luke's offices.  She stands there, looking at Grace, and doesn't really know what to say.  So she just nods at the woman and stands there somewhat awkwardly with an unsure expression.

Grace Evans
Grace looks up, and the faint echo of Sid and is fading away, lost in the crowd. Lena, though, stands on the sidewalk looking like she might (or might not) want to leave as well. It's hard to say. And there's Kalen, so that might be the reason? Or maybe it really is her. Maybe it's just everything.
So what happens when awkward meets awkward? Grace scratches the back of her head, stopping in her tracks too for a second. But that hesitation only lasts so long. She needs to know...
"Lena, hi," she says. It's as gentle as she can make her voice, but it still rings with sadness. She tries to smile, and it comes out wrong, but it is an attempt. "And Kalen, you too."

Kalen Holliday
"I'll just...let you two catch up.  Call if you need anything."  That offer might have also been extended to Lena.  As with most moments with Kalen, it's hard to tell.  "Good night."
And he starts off.

Lena Reilly
Kalen makes his exit then, leaving the two Hydra survivors behind.  Lena looks after him a moment, frowning.  It's hard to tell if that expression is one of actual disapproval or one of thoughtful consideration regarding his offer...if it had indeed been extended to her.  But it's no matter; he's gone and thus it's just the two of them so she turns back to Grace with a hand coming to rest on the elbow of her other arm.  The latop case slung over her shoulder is trapped underneat her arm as a result.
"You're looking better," she says after an uncomfortable moment.  Lena is looking better too, although if she looked the same as when they last saw each other it would be a dire situation.  In this case, "better" means that she isn't coughing up blood and curled up into a ball still half-expecting to die.  Lena doesn't look particularly great; she's lost weight, and the hollow look under her eyes says that even with her short sleep schedule that she requires she isn't getting enough of it.  She doesn't look directly at Grace's face either, eyes coming up just short.
"How are you doing, after...you know."

Grace Evans
Grace still has some of the after-effects of the virus, but of the four, she appears to be the most improved at first glance. She doesn't look as thin as Sid has gone, even after being cured, and she didn't have as many days of illness as Lena or Sera. She just looks a bit thinner, a bit more tired, a bit more pale.
"You're looking so much better too, I'm glad to see you," she says, and while there isn't a smile to accompany her words, they're sincere.
Lena asks how she's doing, and that is so complicated a question, and this street is so crowded a place. "I'm... better would be a lie. Kalen helps out a lot though, keeps bringing me food and getting me out and... it helps."
It occurs to her that Lena doesn't have a Dan, doesn't have a Kalen, or a roommate to make sure she's okay like the others do. So she looks away, out into the street, as if to watch for rogue cars.
"How are you?" she asks, which again, is the biggest, hardest to answer elephant in the room.

Lena Reilly
How are you?  It's a reasonable question to ask, especially after Lena just asked Grace the same.  Nevertheless, it draws a tightness in her face, which is followed by a shrug.  Lena doesn't have anyone to look after her, and no one even knows she's moved out of her apartment (because honestly, only three people knew where she lived).  There's a little envy in the way they all do, but also a different expression.  It's not a sense of self-reliance so much as it is the idea that she doesn't really want anyone looking after her.  Sick people have people to look after them.
"I'm working a lot, mostly."  She reaches up absently to scratch the nail of her little finger over an eyebrow.  "I lost a lot of time with everything that went down and I had to do some work to make good on those no-shows.  It's kept me really busy, so..."
She shrugs and lets her hands fall to her side.  "I don't know.  I've just been trying to get things back to normal, I guess."  Which isn't quite true; 'normal' involved things like staying at the chantry, which she hasn't been back to since she first got sick, and actually keeping in contact with people.  But perhaps this is the new normal.
"Good for Kalen, though.  I'm...glad to hear he's helping."

Grace Evans
Grace nods, "I know about that, working a lot. I mean, I missed all my midterms and had three weeks of homework to make up. Not to mention, work." her eyes scan buildings, other people. She doesn't really meet Lena's eyes either. "But, you know, that's a little helpful to me, to have something else to focus on."
She smiles a bit of a sad smile when Lena says her bit about Kalen. "He's a bit... I don't know. Detached? At times. But there's reason for that. Anyway. I think he's become attached to me, so he doesn't always pretend he doesn't give three shits when I'm around."
"Normal... I don't know. What's normal?" she huffs. "Want to walk with me?" she asks, and gestures in the direction opposite the Starbucks.

Lena Reilly
"Normal is..."  She pauses there, and then shakes her head.  It's something she either can't properly explain, or isn't willing to.  That implies talking about things that she was hesitant to talk about before all of this.  Now that she's been forced to disclose one of her touchiest subjects, she's holding onto the rest for now.
Grace suggests going for a walk, and Lena gets it.  Grace didn't like Starbucks before all this, and this probably isn't helping.  So she just shrugs, nods and lights a cigarette as she moves to walk with the hacker.

Grace Evans
They must look a sight, these two, walking down the sidewalk, both deliberately not touching the other, but it's painfully obvious to any observer that they belong together. Lena looks worse, of course, but the hydra's tracks show on them both.
"Normal is a silly concept. We change, that's all there is to it. Feeling the way we do, I suppose that's normal for what we went through."

Lena Reilly
A sight would probably be an accurate way to describe these two traumatized women.  One of them may be thinner and more physically pronounced in her damage than the other, but they've both suffered.  And the physical signs aren't just Lena's weight or the way both of them are lacking in sleep; it is the skittish nature of them, and the way Lena's shoulders hunch a bit as she takes a drag off her cigarette.  The way they look around at the crowd because You Never Know.
Lena's eyes snap to Grace when she says that she supposes this is normal.  For a second there, she straightens as she suspects for a second that Grace meant that this is normal for Awakened.  But the words register in her brain and she doesn't back down from that feeling.  In this moment, the woman is actually more energized...more the Lena that Grace might remember.  Actually, more than the Lena Grace remembers.
"This will change, Grace.  You'll heal.  You'll get back to normal."  And in that moment, she reaches out and touches Grace's shoulder lightly.  It's slight, but it's there.  "My Tradition...we have a saying.  It's part of our Code.  Even trees rent by lightning may grow new fruit.  You'll get there...I promise."
And then she realizes she's making contact, and she pulls away abruptly like she had just noticed.  "I promise, you will.  What we are...it's not all just this."  Even as she says it in the midst of looking away, putting her walls up frantically quick.

Grace Evans
Grace's shoulders tighten a bit at the touch, but it's involuntary when she doesn't see it coming. As usual, she just takes it in stride without really acknowledging her reaction. "So, you mean, I'll go back to being completely unaware of the danger? Or, I'll just forget all this happened entirely?"
She looks up at the sky between buildings, which is not the best way to walk down the street, but whatever. She knows where she is, and it's just a glance. "I guess what I'm saying is that I'm not going to go back all the way. There'll be fruit all right, but it'll taste different, and that's okay. It's got to be okay. And if anybody says it's not okay," she says, making a fist-punching-hand gesture. "Well, I'll yell at them but good.
"You know, Kalen says the same thing. He says there is a balance between all the bullshit we go through, and the good bits. I just have had pretty horrible luck so far to see nothing but the bad."

Lena Reilly
She sighs a little bit, the Ecstatic.  And she puts on a small half-smile.  It's the closest thing to a smile that Grace has seen from Lena since this whole thing began, but it's also the farthest from a smile because the deep sadness in her eyes.
"You won't be unaware.  And yes, the fruit will be different, but that different won't just be okay.  It'll be better."  She shakes her head, looks down the street as they walk.  "Trust me on that."

A Priest, a Goth, and a Hacker Walk Into the Supermarket...

Grace Evans
[[[I'm just gonna say that the initial rolls carry over from The Chantry, which were:
Grace Evans
[lol. Also, Nightmares!]
Dice: 6 d10 TN7 (1, 1, 3, 4, 6, 8) ( success x 1 )
Grace Evans
[And Perceptness!]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 2, 3, 4) ( fail )]]]

Pan Echeverri­a
[i like rolling awareness]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 8, 9) ( success x 2 )

Alyssa Solomon
[[Awareness for me too!]]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 3, 8, 8) ( success x 2 )

Grace Evans
[I like the idea of Grace being weird when she senses a resonance all wrong XD]

Pan Echeverria
Earlier this evening the priest had been down in the library finishing up whatever it was he was studying. This business with the possessions sent him down there to expand his list of entities and occasions against which he could pray for the Lord's protection.
Demons are now on that list.
Shoshannah keeps the kitchen well stocked but he needed to go to the store for a specific type of salt that they didn't have at the house and as he was shuffling through the house he ran into Grace and asked her if she was doing anything. Since she wasn't she was charged with driving into town.
Consider it repayment for bashing him in the jaw with her phone last night.
---
Now it's now and the two of them look like they're on a day pass from the local drug rehab clinic.
Grace still carries the same under-eye bruises as the other women recovering from the Hydra virus and Pan walks as if walking is still a new and somewhat daunting task for him. They both are underweight and exhausted. Nobody wants anything to do with either of them. The fluorescent lights inside the store don't help.
They reach a certain part of a certain aisle and Pan's eyes narrow. He senses something winged and bloody. Doesn't smell sulphur but that doesn't set his mind at ease. He looks behind them. The weight loss has taken most of the fat from his body and it's especially noticeable in his face.
His green eyes don't blink as he looks for the source of that dark resonance and between that and the beard he wears he looks like a lunatic who hasn't started raving yet.

Alyssa Solomon
Fun fact, true believers: Alyssa may set people at unease, and she is well aware of that fact.  And while she doesn't particularly care, she also doesn't go out of her way to push it.  This is less about anyone else's unease than it is about the fact that she likes to not stick out in people's minds.  It's a whole "avoiding the Technocracy and witch hunters" thing.  You understand.
And so, folks, this is why she heads all the way out to Morrison to do her shopping.  It isn't that Morrison is used to people feeling weird or anything like that.  But for some reason or another, this is the grocery store that has the least amount of mirrored surfaces.  Less reflective glass means less chance that someone will notice that she doesn't leave a reflection in the mirror.  And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why she is making her way down an aisle with one of those little baskets.  That basket contains a twelve-pack of Corona, a carton of clove cigarettes and a few apparently random items: Band-Aids and gauze, rubbing alcohol, candles, bleach and a package of Red Vines.
And yes, Pan feels that Resonance creep out over him.  The tickling brush of feathered wings, sticky with fresh coppery blood.  Just like she senses Grace and Pan.  She recognizes Grace's shifting motions; Pan's blinding light she doesn't.  She squints a little behind a pair of Lennon shades and turns to start walking out of the frozen foods aisle to locate them.
They hear the three-inch heels of her shoes click against the tile first.  And then she comes into view, wearing a pair of black, close-fitting jeans and an old Sisters of Mercy shirt (from their last tour, and it is not a recreation thank you very much).  All of that is underneath a leather jacket, her dark hair falling straight down over it as she heads in the direction where she sees Grace.  Pan catches her attention and gets an appraising eye as she comes up.
"Well hey there, stranger," she says to Grace with a bit of a smirk.  "Funny running into you here."

Grace Evans
Going out in public to an unfamiliar place always has Grace a little jumpy anymore. She's got two things on her mind. One, that going out in public even with a 'friend' like Pan didn't help the last time. Two, it didn't help the time before that either. Bad shit still happens. As well as looking like she's on a day pass from rehab, she acts like it too, like she's on constant watch for an attacker.
But she owes Pan. And, you know, you can't live in an underground bunker. Well, you can, technically...
There's something about supermarkets that's more than a bit distasteful to Grace. The advertising, the subtle mind games, like putting the expensive items at eye-level for grown-ups, the sugary items at eye-level for kids, it all combines together to form some kind of marketing miasma. I mean, have you ever really looked at a supermarket before? There's no greater den of commercialism, with thousands of products specially designed, specially placed, and people specially herded into them and out of them for lazy commercial efficiency. If it feels like a trap, that's because it is.
They're walking down the aisle, and Pan goes into alert-mode. It's a fairly easy tell. Grace doesn't yet sense what it is that he might be reacting to, but she looks for it, whatever it might be. And that's when it hits her -- the overwhelming nausea, slick and black, and the last time she felt like this, she wasn't even fully Awake yet. Must be stronger, with her eyes so open now. She remembers the man, black suit, black sunglasses, that cliche of a person. One she's fairly certain has done something terrible to Gadfly.
She tugs on Pan's shirt a couple times, her eyes wide with fear, and she whispers, "We've got to get out of here. Now."
She starts walking toward the door in that nonchalant, 'I'm totally just a normal person' way. Until she hears the heels clicking. Mr. Goodson wouldn't be wearing fuck-me heels. And then, Alyssa's voice. Oh. Well, that makes sense now. Alyssa does make her want to vomit. It's totally not personal.
She turns around quickly, tries to smile at Alyssa, tries to smooth things over with Pan, too, because her warning must have made him think the wrong thing.
"Alyssa! Hi! You're not who I was just expecting, ha, ha... Alyssa, this is Pan, Pan, Alyssa. She's a friend. Really."

Pan Echeverri­a
They didn't grab a cart or even a handbasket because they just needed to come in for one thing and this place is massive and over-lit and crowded so they were having a minor challenge even finding the aisle where the salt would be.
This is a computer genius and a man of the cloth. People who know their way through cyberspace and guiding the lost and the blind and the wretched towards salvation. They shouldn't have near as much trouble finding salt that hasn't been treated with iodine.
Normally Pan is dressed in all black because it conceals an array of stains and it's easier for him to get dressed before the sun is up if he doesn't have to worry about coordinating. Today he's wearing his loyal black cowboy boots but he's also got on a flannel shirt belted and tucked into a pair of stonewash jeans that he must have bought when Reagan was still president. Nothing fits him properly.
"Claro," he says, to the matter of needing to get out of there now. He doesn't argue. He just wraps his hand around her elbow to keep from losing her and starts walking with her towards the exit.
Which is when the heels start to click and a tall raven-haired woman comes into view. She doesn't look like an Nephanda but one can never tell. Grace seems to know her. The tall dark not-all-that-handsome stranger takes his hand off her elbow to step forward and properly introduce himself.
"A friend, huh? Francisco Echeverría. Hi."

Alyssa Solomon
Alyssa is used to people being a little bit wary of her; its a natural reaction to someone who gives off the feel that she does.  And that's nothing to say what happens when they meet up with her oh-so-sparkling personality.  Still, there's a little raise of the eyebrow when she notes that the two were turning to walk away.  Although Grace has explained to her that her Resonance clashes with her stomach, so that does make some sort of sense.  And her explanation that she wasn't who the Virtual Adept-to-be was expecting draws a little upturn in the Hollower's lips.
"Well, I was hoping for Neil Gaiman myself, but I guess you guys'll have to do."
She turns her attention to Pan when he steps forward to introduce himself.  He gets another once-over from the woman; less tactical this time, and more taking the whole blinding light that is the Chorister in.  She nods amicably enough and switches the basket from her right to left hand in order to extend the former.  "Alyssa Solomon.  Nice to meet you, I guess."
She gives a quick look around to see how much privacy they have, noting with some satisfaction that they don't have anyone in their immediate vicinity before looking to them both.  "So what brings you two out to this mecca of mass commercialism?"

Grace Evans
"Salt," says Grace, which doesn't explain much. "We need to find un-iodized salt. For cooking purposes."
As opposed to... whatever. Ritual purposes maybe? Grace doesn't know or understand the magics that might utilize such things, but she does try to keep an open mind. After all, Alyssa uses blood. Salt would be preferable.
"And, oh man, I love Neil Gaiman," she adds, turning to look around her as someone passes by the odd triad.

Pan Echeverri­a
It appears as though the priest is content to stand and listen to the two women talk but the wariness that had taken up residence in his eyes with the sensing of Alyssa's resonance doesn't completely dissipate as they stand here. Aside from the fact that his unrelenting and intense an outsider can glean little of his magick or his tradition from it.
Some days it feels like a road flare and other days it feels like a searchlight. For people like Grace it never feels comfortable. Nothing comfortable to be found in bright light. It doesn't have warmth in it like the sun would.
He has no idea who Neil Gaiman is and doesn't feel like explaining why they're out here for salt. The tall haggard-looking man puts his hands into the hip pockets of his jeans and commences to stand there like a scarecrow. At least he looks around occasionally to keep his eyes on their surroundings and doesn't just stare at Alyssa.

Alyssa Solomon
Fun fact the second, kids: Alyssa does use blood in her magick and in fact a lot of blood.  She uses it in all her magic.  But it isn't all that she uses, and salt does fall within her purview.  The only reason it isn't in there with the candles, gauze and Red Vines is that she has a ton of it at home, bought recently.  That being said, she did get it from here and so she nods a little bit when Grace says they need it for cooking, gesturing with her hand.
"It's this way.  Come on, I'm sure they've restocked since I've been through and cleaned them out."  She starts walking to lead the way.
Pan's intensity and quiet draws her attention, of course.  The woman is no stranger to quiet types among the Awakened community; some prefer to stay quiet and let others do all the talking, either because they don't want to unleash their secrets or they don't have much to say.  Alyssa is not the silent type, though she doesn't prattle either.  Her talk is often to lure people into conversation, or to get reaction.  It's always with a purpose, either way.
"And here I thought I was the only of our sort to frequent this particular place."  She looks over at them as she walks, hands coming to rest in the pockets of her jacket.  "Do you guys live close, or make an effort to come out here like I do?"

Grace Evans
Alyssa says 'our sort' like a goth, a nerd, and a priest have something obviously in common. They don't, apart from the pervasive strangeness that, to outsiders, must be a bit off-putting.
"Oh, the house is nearby, yes," she says, hopefully with just the right level of cryptic.
"Thanks for helping us find the salt. It's crazy, like this place is laid out to make you go down all the aisles first until you find what you need. I wouldn't put it past them."

Pan Echeverri­a
Either Pan doesn't particularly want to waste time talking about salt or the superfluousness of modern grocery stores or the fact that Alyssa and Grace already know each other but Alyssa hasn't been by the Chantry yet is niggling at him. The man can be persuasive when he wants to be but he isn't a liar.
Which is ironic if one wants to stop and think about it. A priest who doesn't know how to lie has to be either gullible or psychotic to believe in the things he preaches.
"Alyssa," he says. Now that it's more than just him and Grace they are beginning to draw even more attention to themselves. Alyssa and Grace could be classmates or relatives or just friends. What they're doing with a lanky middle-aged Hispanic guy raises more questions than it answers. "How do you know Grace?"

Alyssa Solomon
If Alyssa is worried about what people think she's doing in this odd little trio, she doesn't show it.  And that's because she isn't worried.  It's true that she's closer in age to Grace than to the Father, but she's got a good six years on the other woman herself.  And in truth, she's more likely to be found in the presence of a Catholic priest than a computer hacker on a regular basis, so she's equally comfortable with both of them in theory.  Grace gets the edge only out of familiarity.
"It's a consumer world, don't you know," she says to Grace with a little wink.  "Corporations like to hold onto their illusions that money makes the world go around."  Of course, they know the truth of what really keeps the world going--consensus.  But the illusion is important.
Pan then asks how Grace and she know each other, and the Hollower chuckles.  "Yeah, funny story that.  Grace and her friend Kalen stopped by after I caught a message from someone else asking for some information.  Once the guns were put away, we started talking and making along just like friends."  If friends made you queasy by virtue of their Resonance, anyway.
They come around one of the aisles where the spices and soups are lined up.  She holds her hands out to the section of items that Pan and Grace require.  "Ta da.  Uniodized salt, at your service."

Grace Evans
Between the crass temple to merchandise, and the lingering nausea that Alyssa brings with her, it's hard to tell which is worse. Grace tries to keep up with things, to behave with some semblance of normal, but it gets to her, you know? All those people in the crowded market, each one of them could be a threat. And Alyssa's presence already had her adrenaline running, so, it's back to looking up and down the aisles. For enemies. As if she even knows what one would look like.
"Kalen was a bit displeased about my stepping in front of the guns. But it worked," she says, which must sound just peachy to Pan. But seriously? It wasn't the scariest thing in her life. Not by far. "Oh, Alyssa, how is Connor? I saw him at a bookstore and I think I made him mad.
"And oh. Salt. Yes."

Pan Echeverri­a
The number of things Pan has stepped in front of in the interests of protecting people smaller than him probably spills over onto a second hand. Most recently he stepped in front of zombie dogs without blinking. One of the girls he'd tried to protect he'd only met once. She spent more time sitting in a hospital waiting room to serve as an intermediary between the nurses and the other Awakened than she had ever spent talking to him. All because he stepped in front of something dangerous.
Look where that got him.
He doesn't give her a warning look. Kalen like as not gave her a good lecturing after that. He watches the women for the duration of the explanation and then he looks away with Alyssa's flourish. Salt. Great.
There's somewhere in the neighborhood of a dozen different types of untreated salt. Pan plants his hands on his hips and lets out a deep beleaguered sigh as he stares at his options. They should have just gone to the gas station. The limited inventory would almost be worth the criminally high markup.

Alyssa Solomon
"Kalen seems to be displeased by a lot as a rule," she says with a little shrug.  "That's sort of the way his folks are, though."  By his folks she means Flambeau, though it may well just be interpreted as Hermetics.  She's not about to expound on her deep familiarity with the Order of Hermes in the middle of a supermarket.  "And he seems pretty solid overall.  Anyway, you're right; it worked out just fine."
She gets a rueful grin on her face when Grace mentions Connor.  Don't mistake it for any sort of attraction or romantic fondness, because that's not it at all.  It is fond, but more of the fondness of someone who is bemused that they've ended up with this little puppy that (against all likelihood) they've come to like.
"He's going okay.  You made him mad?  That's got to be an accomplishment."  Alyssa has seen multiple sides to the newly-Awakened Mage, but as she well knows, he's an irrepressable kind and it's difficult to really piss him off.  "What happened?"
She glances back at Pan when he looks over the different types of salt.  "Depending on what kind of cooking you're doing, I'd go with that stuff."  She points at a generic brand down the aisle a bit.  It doesn't stand out because of its bland packaging.  "It's not the fanciest wrapper, but it's the purest.  I've found it far more effective for my recipes."

Grace Evans
"I don't know what happened," she says, "Lately, I've just been... I don't know. Ticking people off for no apparent reason." There is, of course, a reason behind all of that anger she's been receiving. Part of it's blunder, part of it's the trauma of dying over and over again in her mind, making her retreat into protective self-centeredness.
"Pink Himalaya.." she mumbles, picking up a strangely shaped bottle of salt that caught her eye. Because it was pink. But a look at the price tag makes her put it back. "Shit, this costs twenty bucks. Who buys that?" she sighs. Shouldn't be this hard to find just salt.
But then, of course, Alyssa shows how she is the expert at all things sodium chloride. Grace begins to pick up on the idea that maybe Alyssa means something else by 'recipes'. She goes over and picks out the generic brand, doing a quick check to make sure that it does not have any additives. Shoshannah would probably send them out again to get better salt, and, well, Grace has nerves, you see?
But the price is a hell of a lot better than twenty bucks for a little unique packaging. "Looks good. Let's get out of here for real, Pan. Place gives me the creeps."

Pan Echeverri­a
At the word 'cooking' the priest pulls his eyes away from the relentless array of boxes and lets them land on the gothic witch stood a few feet away from him.
With his hands planted the way they are and his feet unmoving and his knees loose like he's used to standing in one place without moving for a long time and his posture sloping for his height and the history behind the height the women can read plenty about the man. Even without talking to him. He looks as if he has walked a long hard road and hasn't lost the will to keep going. He looks tired and used to being tired. Not entirely unlike a parent. He does not look depressed or hopeless or even resigned.
The man accepts a lot of what goes on around him without comment. Someone once likened him to an aging labrador with a bad hip. Still capable of friendly companionship and fierce protection of those he loves but slow to move any other time.
So: Alyssa points. Pan looks after her finger. Finds the unobtrusive box amidst all the rest of them. She finds it effective for her recipes. He finds the euphemism in it.
His eyes come back to her and he says, "Thanks," but Grace beats him to picking the box of kosher salt off the shelf. They're not going to be putting it in food anyway.
Then she suggests getting out of there and confesses that the place gives her the creeps and the priest nods. Puts a hand on her shoulder and squeezes like that's supposed to give her strength. Once his hand was callused from hard work and strong from it. It has lost its calluses and much of its meat but not its strength.
"You read my mind," he says.

Alyssa Solomon
Grace isn't sure what's going on, and there is a part of Alyssa which understands.  If you look very close, you can see some sympathy in her for Grace's position.  Being traumatized by virtue of being Awakened is new to the hacker, and Alyssa almost remembers what that's like.  That being said, the key word there is almost.  And while that sympathy is there, faintly, she reacts more in a way that is casually understanding more than it is empathizing.
"Well, don't stress it too much.  Usually when I almost die, I'm a lot more of a bitch than you've probably been lately."  It's said with a bit humor, but it's not a lie either.  You wouldn't want to be around Alyssa when she's just scratched and crawled her way back from the mouth of the Underworld, simply out of the sheer desire to deny that mouth a bite.
"Besides, Connor's quick to get over such things.  I doubt you did any permanent damage there."  A little smile when Grace looks at the little bottle.  "And that Pink Himalaya is a different type of salt altogether.  It has its uses, though luckily they don't come up for me often."
She looks over at Pan when Grace gets the box of salt, watching him for a long moment.  There's a curiosity there in the woman's eyes.  Clearly the priest is more of the unflappable type, and that just makes her all the more curious to see what makes him tick.  She doesn't poke at the moment though, doesn't prod.
The two make their move to go, and Alyssa grins a bit.  "Hey, you should have been here when the woman and her ten kids were running around.  It was ten times worse then."  She's done with all of her shopping too, so she starts to head for the registers with them.

Grace Evans
Pan thinks he's granting Grace strength, but instead what she gets is a weird cant to her body as that shoulder stiffens almost unconsciously at the unexpected hand on it. No, priest. Bad touch. Bad touch. "Um no, I can't... er..." He's joking about the mind reading, she realizes a little too late.
But soon, he removes his hand, and she... well relaxes isn't the right word. But she starts walking toward the register with her box of salt. From behind, she hears Alyssa giving her some comforting advice. Almost dying makes you a bitch. That's normal. And Connor will get over it. No permanent damage done. For all of the uneasiness that Alyssa brings, her words are never biting. "I hope not. I like him."

Pan Echeverri­a
Today Pan learned that Grace doesn't want or like people touching her. So it has been noted, so shall he not put a hand on her shoulder again.
He removes it as soon as he realizes she's trying to buck out from under him. It does not take as long for him to draw this conclusion as it does for Grace to realize he was trying to be funny when he said she read his mind. She stammers and tries to walk it off and he lets her.
Before they reach the land between the end of the aisle and the front of the store he gently takes the box of salt from her hand. This little jaunt was his idea and it's not like the salt is going to end up in the kitchen cabinet with everything else. He glances between the two women one last time and goes to stand in the 10 items or less line at the far far end of the platoon of registers.

Alyssa Solomon
Pan's taking his salt to "10 Items or Less" and Alyssa could do the same.  After all, it's not like the beers are counted separately.  But the problem with that is that you have to deal with people.  So instead she goes next to that aisle, to those automated self-checkout spots.  It's close enough that they can continue to talk if they want, at least.
Alyssa has also learned today that touches--or rather, ones she doesn't expect at least--are not welcome.  And that's fine because the Hollow One isn't a toucher either.  At least, not that way.  The slight tilt of the head, the stiffening of her body...these draw an intent look from Alyssa that passes between the two.
Yep, sounds like mage behavior to me.
"So you guys headed straight back, or is there more on your shopping agenda?"  More small talk (which is never small with Alyssa).

Grace Evans
"I think so. At least Pan didn't tell me about anything else he needs," Grace says, a little thankful that the priest's touchy, spotlighty self is gone off somewhere else for the time being.
"We're um... working on that project, back at the house," she says, again with the cryptic speech. "So, it could mean a trip to another store, I don't know."
Hardware? Maybe they need the purest hempen twine, or stones forged by volcano fire (sold in big bags as landscaping material). Whatever. It's for the cause. But she really hopes this is all they need.

Pan Echeverria
He doesn't know anyone who lives in the town of Morrison or the surrounding area. He has never been inside of this grocery store before. He doesn't know the middle-aged woman with the huge permed hair and sour attitude who's manning the register he goes through and she doesn't know him. The two young women can't exactly hear the conversation they have because the priest's speaking voice is low and somewhat gravelly and the cashier's is battered from years of smoking mentholated cigarettes and trying to have conversations with people in crowded bars.
Whatever. She thinks he's funny. Something he says as she's ringing him up makes the surly woman crack out a hoarse laugh and say, "Yeah, right!" before her voice drops down again to give him his total.
He doesn't need a bag but he takes the receipt because the machine prints one out whether he wants one or not. The bill he broke came out of his wallet but the change he folds up and stuffs his hip pocket.
While he waits for the two women to make their way through the self checkout he leans against the wall by the restrooms and crosses one ankle over the other. Folds the receipt into a smaller rectangle and ultimately stuffs it inside the folds of the cardboard box's top.

Alyssa Solomon
Beep.  Beep.  Beep.  The self-scan machine makes that electronic sound with each item swiped over it, the bill rung up.  Alyssa is paying less attention to it than she is Grace.  They're working on 'that project,' and the occultist knows of only one they could be working on.  It's the one that Kalen had asked Grace to his warehouse/home to discuss.  She nods a little bit to Grace, taking out a debit card and swiping it through the machine.  It's not in her name, though it's not identity theft.  All the money is legitimately earned.  It's the Hollower being careful, is all.
"Ahh, right," she says as she keys her PIN in and grabs the sack.  "Yeah, that kind of project can require all sorts of different ingredients.  I've had my share of urgent shopping runs...it's why I try to keep well-stocked."
She heads over with Grace to where Pan leans, nodding at him and speaking to Grace.  "Well, if you guys have anything you need from me, let me know.  I've been busy myself between Connor and work, but I'm happy to give a hand if it's needed."

Grace Evans
"Oh, I know. You've been a big help... to Kalen," Grace says. Really, she didn't get much out of that spirity conversation, and stayed mostly out of it, or lost, one of the two.
"There have been some further developments. But..." she looks around the place. "It's not a good time."
She turns to Pan after that, "Hey, we need to go anywhere else?"

Pan Echeverri­a
He puts both feet flat on the ground before he peels his back off of the wall and stands up straight. Though he flinches and retroactively braces his abdomen with his hand he's already looking more hale than he did when he came back to the Chantry yesterday.
Pan tucks the box of salt in against his side like it's a book and puts his other hand back into its pocket.
"Not unless you need something while we're out," he says. "Alyssa, thank you again for the navigation."
The man's sense of humor is dry as a desert.

Alyssa Solomon
"Well, as long as I'm helping someone," she says with a sideways grin.  There's no bite to the tease; she's known more than a few Virtual Adepts and most aren't too good with spirit matters.
She arches an eyebrow when Pan flinches, but she doesn't say anything.  That's not her concern and while she's not been overtly rude to any of the mages she's met in Denver (yet), that includes asking about things which aren't her business.  She has enough on her own plate.
"Glad to help.  And nice to meet you."  Again, the words are amicable enough.  Just wait until they see someone get on her bad side, though.
She looks over at Grace then.  "Well, this is my stop.  If you guys need anything, you got my number.  I'll catch you both later."
And with that, she's heading off her way.

Pan Echeverri­a
[WRAP.]