You step onto a cracked but clean tile floor that was probably once red, but is now a faded salmon pink. A large, rectangular communal table seating about 10 takes up the middle of the floor, with mismatched smaller tables arranged near the large front windows. The long counter in front of the kitchen door sports plates of fragrant bread, cookies, and muffins and bowls of fresh wild fruits. A small, rattling fridge in the corner holds a selection of juices and cold spring water in reused bottles and jars. Atop the refrigerator is a can for cash donations; next to it is a box for barter payments. Scrawled on the box in black marker are the words "Pay what you can, when you can."
Did someone call for 'tall, dark, and handsome'? Well, dark's fairly well covered, at least. Jet-black hair's pulled into a long, loose tail at the nape of his neck, a few stray strands about the face occasionally drifting into his almost equally dark eyes, the irises of which are a brown deep enough that one needs to look closely to find the pupil. Nut-brown skin that sets off the white of his teeth and eyes -- it could just barely be mistaken for a very deep tan, if one really tried. Tall is a miss; he's still several inches off six feet, and he probably won't ever get there. Handsome... well, not a classic beauty, to be sure, but well-proportioned, with a stunning, frequent grin and deeply expressive features. Slim, but in perfectly good shape.
He's clad in... well, black leather pants. Somewhat faded, well broken in, but nicely cut and really =quite= nicely fitted. A simple cream shirt is tucked into them at the waist; the collar of it's left mostly unlaced, the ends of the cord hanging down. Over that, he wears a decidedly well-worn old black trenchcoat, almost too big for him -- the cuffs hang down half-over his hands, when he lets them, and the hem hangs perilously close to his heels. Scuffed black leather boots with worn soles adorn his feet; there's a seemingly random collection of bracelets, all on one wrist, and several piercings along the upper section of each ear -- little silver hoops.
Danny stands just under six feet tall and moves with an odd grace that's difficult to categorize. It's not quite the artful manner of a dancer nor the economic movements of a trained warrior, still there's certainly something different in how he carries himself. Fit musculature on a lean frame gives him the look of a runner, and his clean and smooth features suggest a northern European heritage. He has well-defined cheekbones that lend a youthful cast which may belie his true age, while a losing battle with a five-o'clock shadow makes his otherwise friendly smile a little disreputable. His eyes are expressive and match colors with his wavy, full, chin-length hair: a deep dark brown that's only just this side of black. His arms and face have been tanned by long days in the sun, but an exposed portion of his collar line indicates he'd be far more pale if he spent some time indoors.
His clothing is casual and work-oriented: the shirt is a long-sleeved, heavy flannel button-up in dark grey, and is accompanied by a loose pair of dark brown, suede leather pants that have been tucked into his boots. The boots look quite new, calf-high and made of black leather, with simple, elegant tooling along the sides. A stamped silver coin bearing the triune horse symbol of Epona hangs around his neck on a silver snake chain.
This is a man, human to the core. No strange blood runs in his veins, but there is an air of power about him nonetheless, arcane knowledge on a tight leash. Physically, he is a perfectly average height with a broad and stocky frame that is not fat but is made to carry a lot of it. He's probably from a variety of European stock; his face is open and gentle, his nose just large enough to be interesting. He wears a short, neat beard, trimmed close, and gold-wire-rimmed spectacles with expensively slim lenses. Behind the specs, his eyes are a light, tawny brown, almost golden. His hands are a scholar's: large and dexterous, inkstained, callused where his pen rests on his right ring finger. Callused in new places, lately, from rougher work than turning pages. His hair is dark, somewhere between auburn and brown, and almost excessively thick and shiny. It's very long, ending about waist-length, and usually worn in a glossy braid. The color is broken by a thick streak of startling, pure-white hair that starts above his left temple. So much white in his hair makes him look older than he might otherwise seem--mid thirties, as opposed to late twenties.
He wears jeans, a white shirt under a dark grey sweater, and leather lace-up boots of a rusty color. In the cold of the late year he often wears a heather-gray woolen cloak, as well. Always within reach, if not actually in hand, is a wooden staff as tall as he is.
He is a youth verging upon manhood and his lean frame is just filling out with muscle. A shining ebony mane trails in a loose ponytail down the smooth line of his spine and a lock of it drops into one dark eye. His skin is as flawless as the bronze it resembles and shows not the least inclination toward hirsuteness. Leather leggings provide the base for ancient armor plates to protect his lower body: black plastic thigh and shinguards, and a black plastic and metal codpiece. His upper body is clothed in a thick chamois shirt and an ancient, battered black leather jacket.
His prized possession, worn either across his back or at his right hip: a shining sword with golden hilt clad in a tooled leather scabbard.
A woman with light brown skin, curly rotini hair in shades of red and black, and broad, sturdy features. She has the long-limbed, lean look of someone who is often afoot and on the road. Her attire shows it as well-- thick-soled boots, dark hemp pants, a battered leather coat over a long-sleeved, tawny shirt that almost covers the scars that loop and twine about her wrists. Her pack is a jumble of buckles and straps, the pistol at her side a timeworn relic. There are crow's feet at the corners of her eyes, though she couldn't be more than twenty-some-odd years old.
The diner is not quite in what could be considered its usual state, just now. It's not that different, really, except for a few things... like the extra platesful of fresh cookies and jam tarts and other random baked goods littered around the place, the smell of roses coming from the stove, and the coyote kin at the table, studiously building a pyramid of little glasses full of amber liquid, and quietly singing to himself, "...one little, two little, three little shot glasses..." He can't have had =too= much of the contents yet -- he's still getting the pyramid nice and steady, and there's only a little wetness on the table itself. Plus, the bottle's still about half-full, though who can be positive it's the first?
The Diner door begins to open, but before the two figures standing outside can even be recognized the wind grabs at it, threatening to slam it open. The one holding the door grunts, colliding with the other in an attempt to avert disaster. Winter wind rushes briefly into the Diner, sending the suncatchers and chimes to swaying and the scents to floating about. There's a bit of jostling, then the door shuts firmly and the two figures are inside, dusting snow off themselves. Danny and Justin are unmistakable despite being bundled up against the cold.
"Oof!" Justin whuffs as Danny clips him with a shoulder. "Watch it, horse." He throws back his snowy hood, shaking his hair free, and wipes melting snow off his beard, and peers around. "Rowan's been busy..."
There is a shuffling from the kitchen, and other random noises, and then Rex emerges from the door, bare-chested, wearing a pair of sweatpants that have been mended in the knees, and toweling his ebony mane with an old, ratty blue towel. He stops in the doorway in mid-step, suddenly noticing the coyote-kin and the pair of Frat Boys. There is a long moment and then he cracks a sheepish grin. "Hey, all."
"Must've been," Ren agrees to Justin, without looking up, "Haven't seen him all night 'n' day." He goes back to his humming, then, but does look up at the unfamiliar voice, flashing a bright grin to Rex, "...h'lo, handsome. Nice t' see =you= again..."
Danny shakes out his cloak and scarf, hanging them up to dry. "Sorry," he says cheerfully. "Yaponcha's Kids can be such brats when it comes to doors." He grins a hello at Rex, casts Ren a neutral expression, and begins angling towards the donations box. He has his satchel with him, and the contents are rattling about as he moves.
Justin grunts, taking off his own cloak. "Oh, well. Hello, Ren." When Rex comes in, he blushes brightly. "And, Rex."
Rex finishes with the towel and hangs it around his neck. His hair is still shining with damp, but mostly on his left side. His grin loses most of its sheepishness at Ren's greeting and he obligingly seems not to notice Justin's blush. "Hi, hi, hi. Anyone want some tea 'r somethin'? I just put the kettle on. I, er, slipped on some ice an' fell in the ditch on the way back from the Farm." He shrugs as cheerfully as he can while imparting that information.
"I've got plennya 'or something' if people want," Ren offers, leaning back in his chair and leaving the completed pyramid to stand unmolested for a few moments. "...and baked goods. And there's still chocolates around here somewhere, I think." He shrugs a little, and watches Rex.
"Tea sounds great, Rex," Danny says as he puts a handful of things into the box. Justin gets an odd look for his blushing, but otherwise the Perunka is more concerned with not dropping anything. Combs, hand-held mirrors, a few glass measuring cups, and some more glass trinkets join the box's assorted items. "At this rate, we may be even with Rowan in about five years," he asides to his kumimate.
The clouds gathered close in the sky have lighted as well on Ruth's brow. Her mouth's set in a wide line, her tread's even and solid, bells on the door jingle as she steps inside. The fellas get a glance, buckles clatter as she sets her satchel on a chair.
Justin rests his staff against the wall next to the coatrack. "Right," he says, possibly to Danny, or possibly to Rex, or, possibly he's just blathering. His blush is certainly still going strong. To give himself something to do he goes over to investigate the pastries and candies. "Where did you get all these?"
Ruth shakes snow from her coat, cants her head to brush melting flakes from her hair. Dark eyes set on the counter, a basket filled with small winter apples. And some are soon in her pockets.
Rex leans on the counter, studying, alternately, Ren and Justin. "Tea comin' up, then. I'll get it when it boils. Whatcha buildin' there, Ren?"
The muffled thump of the kitchen door sounds. A few moments after that-- time, perhaps, for someone to scape snow off boots and hang up a coat-- the kitchen door is pushed open and Miki looks into the room. He looks surprised to see all the people in the Diner, and stands in the doorway for a moment, whatever errand brought him here forgotten. "Hello," he murmurs, looking around the room, not really to anyone in particular. He glances towards the cot room, then away from it.
Danny shrugs his satchel off onto one of the side-tables and waves hello to Ruth and Miki. Although he is initially drawn to investigate the cookies, the winter apples apparently have much higher priority, and he diverts to join Ruth at the counter.
There are small winter apple turnovers on a plate beside that basket. Serendipity glances over to Justin with a shrug and a faint smile, "...I baked 'em. Mostly." He grins properly at Rex, tilting his head back to do so, and gestures vaguely at the glasses, "...a pyramid. Just a little one. If I had more glasses, I could fill 'em all from the top, but if I did it now... well, puddles. Which is a shame." He takes the top glass and downs it, greeting Miki with a wave of the empty.
Ruth crunches on an apple, her back against the counter, a thumb is hooked in one of her pant pockets. Dark eyes glance at Danny, she nods.
Justin appears mildly puzzled by this answer, as if baking is some kind of foreign ritual. "Okay," he says, and glances up to see, and grin at, Ruth and Miki. Particularly Miki.
Ruth glances up from her apple, her eyes settle on Justin. A corner of her mouth quirks up, but only just. Again, a simple nod. Her coat, long enough to reach past her hips, old and weatherworn, has a few suspicious gouges in it, here and there, scratches or who knows what.
From his shirt pocket Danny takes out a small cloth and unwraps it, revealing a few of the tiny apples from Kem's silver apple tree. He offers them to Ruth with a grin, in turn taking one of the winter apples from the basket and setting it on the counter.
Rex waves to Ruth and smiles sweetly over his shoulder at Miklos. "Hey, there," he says, and he straightens up from the counter to stretch... casually... yeah... casually. Nothing provocative about that stretch. Of course not. Especially not while his gaze travels from Miki to Justin to Ren. Especially as it flexes his really rather impressive pecs, shows off his shoulders, and emphasizes his washboard abs. Not provocative at all. Then, to Ren: "Wouldn't've taken you for a baker. You got any good recipes? I'm always lookin' for new things to try."
Miki smiles at Rex's performance, and... fades. Not literally, he doesn't vanish, he merely becomes much less noticeable, unless anyone has any particular reason to look at him. He and his actions, it seems, are unworthy of any particular attention. He pads quietly around the edges of the room and lifts the curtain to the Cot Room and peeks inside.
Dark brows go up, Ruth glances at Danny. She shows the inklings of a smile, but only that. "Hey," she says, quiet, rusty. "You sure?"
"Inn I stayed at for a season or two a few years back figured it'd be a good way for me t' earn my keep," Ren explains absently to Rex's chest. His eyes drift up to find the other kin's, and he grins again, "...I'm just fulla surprises. And I'm sure I can come up with a few new treats for you to give a try if I think on it a little." He glances aside at Miki, just long enough to address him: "Hey. Apple turnovers. On the counter. Not from the sky yet, but I can throw 'em at you if it makes you happier."
Justin, who has every reason in the world to pay particular attention to Miki, frowns a little in concern as he watches Miki examine the cot room. He makes a quiet little 'hm' sound under his breath, and turns to sit down at a table. This brings Rex, and his extremely unprovocative stretch, into view. Justin swallows, and sits down so hastily he jars himself, and winces.
"Share and share alike," Danny replies, taking one for himself. He pops it in his mouth, and shortly compliments it with a bite from the winter apple. "I keep it happy and never take too much, and it grows them when it can. Hoarding them wouldn't be very fair since we don't have greenhouses." He watches the by-play between the other men in the room and looks askance at Ruth, an amused smile tugging at his mouth.
Rex nods. "Bakin' is good for that kinda thing. I did some on my walk here up the Trail. Pecan pie... hmmm. Maybe I need to ask around at the Farm for some pecans." He stretches the few things he hadn't stretched on his completely unprovocative stretch in a thorough sort of way -- yes, that thar cat blood sure does seem to come through -- and then rakes his fingers through his hair as a finish. At that moment, the tea kettle begins to whistle gently.
"Well, thanks," Ruth murmurs. Dark eyes set on Rex, the fellas, she looks back at Danny. There's something wry about her countenance, she shrugs. "Mm-hm." She gathers one of the tiny apples up, eats it, a quick crunch.
Miki drops the curtain to the cot room and assesses the crisscrossing lines of tension with a comprehensive glance. With a slight smile, he pads back towards the kitchen. "I will bring tea, Rex, do not bother." As he passes Ren, he adds, "I prefer pastry on the table, not thrown at me, thank you." Then he vanishes into the kitchen.
"...well, there you go then," Ren replies, switching the empty glass for one from the next row, and drinking it. There's something not quite characteristic in his manner, a little more of an edge that could turn out to be sharp. The usual underlying calm seems a thinner layer, somehow. He grins at Rex, suddenly -- rather wolfishly, as inappropriate as the word may be. "...by the way, I second the kettle."
Justin yawns, slouching back in his chair, tipping it off its front two legs. He blinks at Ren in the classic manner of someone who doesn't get it, then apparently gets it, and grins.
Danny tucks the rest of the tiny apples back into his pocket and continues munching on the winter apple. Once it's been eaten--it doesn't take him very long--he tells Ruth with a broad grin, "I've been shoed."
Rex half-collapses back onto the counter. "Thanks, Miki," he says over his shoulder. "And thanks to you, too," he says to Ren, waggling dark eyebrows at the coyote kin. He sighs heavily then, eyes slitted with pleasure. "It's nice t'be warm and dry. Sometimes, I take it for granted. Then I fall into a puddle."
Ruth tilts her head, gives Danny's feet a look. "Hey," she murmurs. "Lucas?" A faint smile, again.
Miki returns with mugs of tea, which he places on the table with a quiet deferentiality that lends him still more social invisibility. He glances at Rex with the faintest of sidelong smiles, and then slips back into the kitchen.
Serendipity winks at Rex, with a wriggle of his own eyebrows in return. "Any time, handsome," he returns casually, and stretches out a little himself. It can't compete with bare-chested cat kin, but it'll do. He glances once at Miki when the hedge mage emerges, and then pays Absolutely No Attention to him for the rest of the time the youth's in the room. "Warm 'n' dry's good. But I'm getting sick of bored."
Danny nods proudly to Ruth, holding one boot up for closer inspection. "Lucas did the shoes, and there's a guy out on one of the farmsteads who does leather work, he made the new boots. Took a bit of a barter ring, but voila! Shoes. I haven't had new boots in *years*."
Justin grins at Danny, now, enjoying his kumimate's pleasure in his new shoes. He gets up to fetch some tea for himself, then leans against the counter, sipping. "Now we just need to build a workshop and a kiln so you can uphold your end of the barter."
"It's good work," Ruth says. "You won't throw them, ever." She tilts a boot, there's a spark of silver at toe and heel. Then she glances over at Justin, whickers quiet and warm. "Hey."
Rex picks up a mug of tea and takes a sip, smiling at Ren and watching Justin. Then he looks annoyed. "Damn," he mutters. "I promised the Old Man I'd help him bring some stuff down out of the attic today, and he wanted me there early." He takes a swig of tea, winces, pants drippily, swallows, winces again, exclaims, "Hot!" then grins sheepishly once more. "Gotta run. Ren, whyn't you come by my place later? I can... show you some recipes, maybe?"
Serendipity grins wider at Rex -- both the tea-attack and the invitation -- and nods, arching a brow slightly. "You live over there, yeah?" he confirms, gesturing vaguely in the correct direction. "Sounds good. I'll drop by and see what kinda things we can cook up, then."
"Never throw them, and I can walk quietly with them too!" Danny moves over to the tea and takes up a mug for himself, watching Rex's difficulties with wary eyes. He opts to let his tea cool for the moment, and nods firmly at Justin. "*Exactly*. We should do the foundation soon. Then we might be done by Bud, if the weather's not too bad."
Ruth wraps the last of the small apples up, tucks them away in a pocket, then steps away from the counter. She looks back at Justin and Danny. "Hey, yesterday I saw more of the-- centipedes." She furrows her brow, snorts. "Whatever they are, there's two more. I knocked the legs off one, the others got into a thicket. Not far from here, I could find it again." She catches her satchel up, slings it over a shoulder.
Justin smiles at Ruth when she greets him, but it's quickly replaced by a thunderous frown. "We should take some people up there, then, and clear them out, make sure they're not breeding."
"Right," Ruth murmurs. "I'm going back before the sun's down." Dark eyes glance at a window. "See if I can catch more of them." And with that she steps towards the door.
Danny frowns too, and sniffs at his tea. Finding it slightly less nuclear than before, he risks a sip. "Definitely. Maybe you two and Bryce and me?" He raises his eyebrows at Ruth, to see if the idea's agreeable, and waves a farewell.
Rex nods at Ren. "The shed behind the little cottage over there." He winks. "I'm sure we can plan out a whole feast." He leans across the counter right behind where Justin is propped and purrs, almost in the mage's ear, "See ya later." Then, straightening up, "See y'all later." He disappears into the kitchen with a little bounce in his step.
Ruth shoulders her satchel, rubs the bridge of her broad nose. She nods. "Should be enough to surround the thicket. If there's a nest, they'll try to leave. Snow's deep around there, they'll tunnel when they can." She glances at Rex and Justin, quirks a corner of her mouth up, then shakes her head and steps outside.
Serendipity watches, still grinning, and begins to disassemble the pyramid of glasses into a line across the tabletop.
"Bye Rex!" Danny calls over his shoulder, giving Justin a sly grin that promises considerable torment later on. He settles against the counter and muses quietly, "Hm, black centipedes. I wonder if they're just wandering in, or if this is Argent's way of reminding us he's still out there."
Justin jumps, startled by the low rumble of Rex's bedroom voice, and instantly flushing scarlet. "Er! Uhm, bye, Rex," he manages, shoving his glasses up his nose. Fortunately he's set his tea down by that point so no scalding of the alchemist occurs.