It's mid-morning, a drizzly dank day and cold to boot. Perfect weather to make excuses for staying indoors. Perhaps that's why the trader is in the diner instead of out tending to his business. A new face here in Haven, Martin sits at a table, his cloak hanging off the back of his chair, and he's got a mug of tea clasped in one hand, a small sheaf of papers in the other. An antique looking pair of reading glasses are perched on his nose, at odds visually with the image of a strapping lad of more muscles than brains. Between sips of tea, he peruses the papers with detached interest, seeming more involved with the business of staying warm than whatever it is he's reading.

The door opens, allowing Serendipity and his voice to enter the Diner. The former has what appears to be the severed leg of a deer over one shoulder, and the latter is raised cheerfully in song. ♫Kitt hath lost her key, but I have one will fit her lock if she will try, and does not me deny: I hope she hath more wit. My key is bright, not rusty, it is so oft applied--♫ He stops and breaks off a few steps in, studying the stranger at the table rather appreciatively. "...well, hiya, handsome. Either you're new in town or you're the best hide-'n'-seek player I ever met."

Martin glances up from his papers and tips down his reading glasses to regard Ren with mild, sedate curiosity. If the greeting or the song, or the deer leg for that matter, surprises the man, he shows little more than a quirk of one brow. "Good day," he says pleasantly. "Not so much with the hide and seek, but I've only just arrived in town."

"Figured that was more likely," Ren grants, giving the guy a bright grin, and disappearing into the kitchen, deer leg still in tow. "Welcome t' Haven," he calls out, as various slicy noises emanate from the other room. "The mountain collects beauties, seems like, so you're prolly in the right place."

Martin sits at a table, a sheaf of papers in one hand, a cup of tea in the other, and a pair of antique reading glasses perched on his nose. His cloak is draped over the back of his chair, and he looks like he's gotten himself fairly comfortable on this dismal grey morning. The papers are currently ignored in favor of Martin watching Ren over the top of his glasses as the fellow makes for the kitchen with a leg of Bambi over one shoulder. "Yes," he says politely. "Er, thank you. I hadn't noticed."

There seems to be a one-sided discussion taking place just outside the front door. "You can't fit in the door like that, and anyway Rowan would have kittens," Justin's voice says, without provocation.

A snort and an annoyed neigh answer Justin, and something dark and large paces partially into and out of the view offered by the window. It has a horse's rear legs and black tail, and a pair of strong arms covered in a winter coat of dark brown. The rest is difficult to make out as the creature is soon concealed by the Diner's door and wall.

"You should," Ren replies, amid strange thunks and the opening and closing of refrigerator doors, followed by his return, wiping his hands off on a rag. He stops in the doorway, leaning against the jamb, and studies Martin again. "It's onea the best features of the town."

Martin looks like he's dangerously close to smiling, but it's suppressed. He sets both tea and papers aside, slipping the reading glasses off and, as he tucks them away in a wooden case, which disappears into his coat pocket, he comments, "And here I was just about to say it's the charming company." His brow furrows as he glances toward the door, and the conversation of sorts taking place without. "Do you need any help out there?" he asks.

"No, we're fine...really..." Justin calls back, not sounding too certain of it himself. In a lower voice he urges, "Come on, shift down. If you can. Can you?"

There's another snort, and then the bulky dark form is gone, replaced by a much more reasonably sized (if oddly-assembled) half-horse half-man, who flails and grabs at the outside wall for support. "Guh. Yeah, see, no problem, no problem at all," Danny's voice says, sounding less certain than the words might suggest. "It's just, you know, the weight and size thing."

Serendipity =does= grin, and tosses the rag back into the kitchen, straightening up. "I grant that'd be another," he agrees easily, and wanders a bit closer to the table, glancing curiously toward the door; the conversation apparently makes some kind of sense to him, as he looks amused. He makes a flamboyant bow to Martin, then, and introduces himself. "Serendipity Jones, at your service. Friends mostly call me Ren. You can call me any time you're passin' through," he adds teasingly as he stands again.

Both brows lift this time as Martin looks Ren over, and though there's disbelief in his expression, as though he's quite sure he didn't hear that correctly, he doesn't look terribly offended. "Martin Brook," he says, favoring a nod in place of getting up to bow. Toward the door, he calls, "Is that you, Daniel? And Justin, I presume?"

"Yes indeed, good day gentle sirs," Justin says cheerily, now actually opening the door and coming in.

Danny follows Justin inside with careful steps and pauses to wipe off his hooves on the welcome mat, using the coatrack for support and muttering to himself, "Practice practice." He reaches up and pokes a set of chimes into spinning and clinking together while on his way to the counter, and after some consideration he opts to simply lean against it the rather than make an attempt at using a chair. "Danny works just as good," he tells Martin. "Except for Higami, he calls me Daniel-san." His expression darkens a little when he mentions the librarian, but he shrugs it off quickly.

Serendipity's grin is unmoved by the disbelief, except perhaps to seem even more amused. "Pleased t' meetcha, Martin," he replies, and half-perches on the edge of the table, feet still on the floor, to watch the others enter. "Mornin', guys. Looks like you're gettin' more of a handle on the new forms, Dannypie, Danorama, th' Daninator," he remarks cheerfully. Even for him. "Cleopatra, queen of Dan-iel..."

Martin regards Ren with a rather kind sort of concern reserved for madmen who are relatively harmless. His proximity doesn't seem to unnerve Martin, for whatever that might be worth. The fellow reaches for his teacup, and the observant might note it's black tea, not herbal and certainly not native to these parts. "Danny," he says solemnly. "I'll try to remember that. I, ah, assume you've met this gentleman?" He nods toward Ren, looking not entirely sure this is the case.

Justin smiles at Martin, and then at Ren as the other man gestures to him. "Of course. This gent is Serendipity Jones, our resident troublemaker." He heads towards the counter, and the food. "I hope you stayed reasonably dry last night, Martin."

Danny nods in agreement with Justin, and leans over to look at what offerings are on the counter. He snaps up an apple-oatmeal muffin and begins pulling it apart. "Didja find somewhere to stay yet?" he asks Martin.

Serendipity's brow furrows slightly. "I think that's the first time anyone's ever used that word 'bout me. Weird," he remarks, to Justin, and then to Martin, "You oughta try the farm. If the rooms're full, the loft in the barn's not bad either."

Martin ahs softly to Justin and offers Ren a warm smile, seeming much more comfortable with the moniker of troublemaker. "I managed to stay reasonably dry," he replies. "I hadn't given a thought to lodgings because I'm not sure how long I'll be staying." He sips at his tea, wetting his lips before he adds, "I was hoping to run into you actually to see what all you needed for when I return."

"What, gentleman?" Justin asks Ren with an unwontedly sly grin. "That /would/ be weird." He dips into a pocket and brings out something very tiny, yet bright and glittering, and sets it in the cash box. "Oh, yes! Actually I was working up a list and I can run home and get it for you," he tells Martin.

Horses don't pounce, but Danny looks at the moment like it's exactly what he wants to do to Martin. He settles for leaning forward and hastily wolfing down a piece of the muffin. "All *kinds* of things. Glazes, I really need glazes. And brushes, or hair to make some. Some parts to make a wheel, maybe from a bicycle--gears mostly, and a belt. Clay bodies too, unless Justin can make them..." He glances at his kumimate. "Can you?"

Serendipity laughs out loud at Justin's response. "Nah," he replies, "'Resident'. All sortsa new and unusual things lately." He listens to the lists, and looks back at Martin -- appraising again, but this time differently so. "Ah. Trader, huh? I might wanna chat with you later, you get a moment..."

Martin gestures vaguely with his teacup as he tells Justin, "No need to rush. I'll be here at least until tomorrow morning. If you like, though, I have no intention of moving from this spot until I absolutely have to, so if you go to get it, I'l be here when you return." Danny gets a sidelong glance, but then a quirk of a grin. "Write it down, and I'll see what I can do." Tea is sipped, and then Ren gets a nod. "Sure thing. I've got plenty of moments, as it happens."

Justin grins at Ren, then shakes his head at Danny. "No use doing it, I'd have to break rocks with the proper elements down, and it'd be too much time, effort, and material for what we'd get out of it. Much better to just get natural clay. Not as if it's a rare element, anyway."

"Write it down, write it down. Okay, I'll add it to Justin's. I don't expect you can find ermine hair, but marten or ferret works." Danny finishes off the first muffin and takes up another, this one a plain bran muffin.

Serendipity slides over into a chair, and rests an elbow on the table, chin in his palm. "Well, maybe later we c'n have a moment, then," he agrees innocently. "...how d'you travel?"

Martin glances toward Justin and Danny, replying mildly, "I can get clay, and possibly ermine, though it might take a little longer." Then to Ren, he says with the blitheness of one who quite possibly believes that innocence, "I boat up the river to Millinockett and cart in or carry the rest of the way."

"I'll get that list." Promises of Martin's presence aside, Justin apparently can't resist the siren lure of The List, and he heads out again into the drizzle.

Danny bothers to swallow before assuring Martin, "No hurry on the hair. I can use my own coat and rabbit hair in the mean time. The clay and the gears for the wheel, that's the most important stuff. And the glazes, but that's just a lot of salts and minerals." He calls after Justin, "Bring a pencil and some more paper!"

Serendipity glances over his shoulder to Danny. "Would deer hair work, or's it too short t' be useful?" he asks, lowering his hand and stretching out his arms, far across the table. They don't =quite= touch Martin.

Martin doesn't draw away, nor look so much as perturbed. He merely sips at his tea, glancing between Danny and Ren attentively. "It will depend on what they have down in Millinockett," he says almost apologetically. "I don't make the northern runs so much, especially this time of year. I'll see what I can do."

Danny rubs his chin thoughtfully at Ren. "It's about the same as mine, maybe a little thicker, so it'll work for the short-bristle brushes. Mrs. Foerester can weave it too, to make rugs." He tells Martin, "I can help with moving things up from Millinockett, and we can see if Ruth can pitch in too. It's not too long a trip with the buckport."

"Well, there's a leg's worth in the kitchen," Ren replies, "...and the resta a deer's worth down by the lakeside. If y'hurry you can get mosta it before the others." He considers Martin again. "Been t' Millinockett. Watch out for ditzy-lookin' blonde chicks on your way there, though, that's my advice. Don't let 'em talk you inta escorting 'em," he adds dryly.

Martin inclines his head to Danny, the very spirit of gentility. "Thank you," he says with simple earnestness. "I do appreciate it." His attention drifts to Ren again, and he smiles, a crooked upturn of the corner of his mouth. "I doubt I would turn down the need for a man or woman in need of an escort, particularly in the less savory places."

"Well," Danny says, his own voice a touch wry, "Just be careful about following unicorns off into the Umbra, or if you do make sure to ask how long you're gonna be gone."

Serendipity arches a brow at Martin. "A'ight," he replies, "but don't say I didn't warn you if you end up naked 'n' collared in a cage, =alone=." He considers a second. "You're not kin, are you?"

Martin slowly looks between Danny and Ren. Methodically, he lifts his teacup to his lips for another drink, as though he were a man who will not be hurried. Or freaked out, no matter what the topic of conversation. "Well," he says politely as the teacup is lowered again to the table, "I can honestly say I've never had occasion to see a unicorn let alone follow one. And," this toward Red, with a wink, "That hasn't happened in a long time. And no, I'm not, ah, kin."

One of Danny's ears flicks, sending a bit of his hair into his face. He tucks the strand back and grins at Martin. "Don't worry, if you hold still long enough around here, you'll see a unicorn, and maybe even get to follow it."

Serendipity grins, and looks as if he's decided to approve of this one. "Well, maybe it'd go better for you, then. I'd still think twice 'bout it 'f I were you, though."

Martin smiles slightly, then lets the expression drop as it does little to conceal hints that he's only pretending this conversation is remotely normal. "I'm sure if it wanted followed, it would have a reason," he decides. "As for strange women and cages, well. There are worse things to fear."

Danny's grin broadens even more. "Yeah, strange women who put collars on you are some folks' cup of tea." His amusement lessens as he turns back to the subject of the unicorn. "It needed following, but I wasn't expecting everything that...happened. I still would have, even if I'd known, but I would've left a note for Justin and Bryce."

"I wouldn'ta minded so much if anya the fun parts'd gone along with it," Ren admits, slouching comfortably in his chair and crossing his ankles on the seat of another nearby. "But noooo...." He shakes his head sadly.

Martin reaches over and pats Ren on the arm with what seems like genuine sympathy. "There there," he says quietly. He then leans back and reclaims his tea, finishing off the last of it with a few gulps. The cup is set aside, and he slouches comfortably, making good on his offer to not leave the premises, at least while the weather outside is lousy. "The dubious grace of a traveler's life," he tells Danny wryly, "Is that there is no one to miss me when I'm gone."

"You're a trader, we'll *definitely* miss you, and be counting the days until you get back," Danny says brightly. He eases away from the counter and makes for the door. "I'm gonna go see about that list. We'll get it back t'ya in a bit, if you'll still be here."

"It's not so much people not missin' you when you're gone," Serendipity muses, "as not expectin' you back anytime soon when you leave. 'least, in my experience." He waves lazily to Danny.

Martin laughs quietly and raises a hand to Danny in an indolent version of a wave. "Fair enough. Then I shall have to leave notes before I follow any unicorns. I'll be here a time yet."

"Notes that don't let people worry," Danny advises. He waves to Ren and Martin and steps out the door, picking up his more familiar equus form as he goes. As soon as his hooves are on the road he leaps forward into a run, and while still in view of the Diner window, the air in front of him ripples faintly, and the dark Morgan vanishes from sight.

Serendipity blinks at that view out the window. =That's= new. "...wish I could do that," he remarks, "can't even think how much trouble it woulda saved me over the years."

Martin shakes his head in amazement. "I've never met anyone like him before," he confides quietly. "A nice man though, er, horse." He chews at his lower lip, giving Ren a somewhat uncertain look. "Manhorse. I'm sure I'll get used to this eventually."

"Perunka," Ren informs Martin, friendly-like. "...Don't ever jump at or on 'em when they don't expect it. Just sayin'. Anyway, they're just shifters like 'rou an' all, shouldn't be too hard to get used to, yeah?"

Martin drops his gaze to the table, and it wanders gradually to the stack of papers atop it. He reaches for them, busying his hands as he skims the pages and shuffles them into some semblance of order. "Daniel wouldn't be the first shape-changer I've ever met," he admits. "Even they need supplies run up and down the river." There's an unspoken 'but' in his tone, an implication that doing business with and actually getting to know someone are two different things.

"They're just like anyone else," Serendipity assures Martin, "...except, y'know, the tendency a few of 'em have t' turn into huge toothy clawed monsters when they get pissed off, but if they're that pissed you can outthink 'em pretty easy." No, really, that's reassuring, right? He eyes the blond, then ventures, "...don't s'pose anya the ones you've met were Nuwisha?"

Martin shakes his head slowly, half-smiling as he remarks, "I try not to test anyone's patience to that extent. I'm afraid I know very little about the Nuwisha, and when dealing with the changers, it's usually in their human form and I don't tend to pry."

Serendipity nods in understanding. "Figured I might's well ask. ...you ever traded with a caravan group calls itself the Children of Coyote? Mighta been anywhere, I dunno where you trade..." There's just a touch more hope in this one, possibly due to greater likelihood.

Martin's expression looks genuinely apologetic as he says, "I don't think I've run into the Children of Coyote. Maybe in passing. I travel as far south as the borders near the uninhabitable deserts, not too much further west than the Mississippi. I run into a lot of folks, not many for long enough to get a name."

Serendipity half-grins a touch wryly, "Got about ten, twelve caravans, look a lot like me? Oh well. Like I said, worth a shot. =So=, handsome. How come you're trekkin' these wild lands all on your lonesome, no partners or anythin'?"

Martin grins a bit at the 'handsome' label, his eyes alight with amusement. "Not many people will make the Haven run," he says. "They claim the mountain is cursed, and so they trade as far as Millinockett and leave it at that." With a shrug, he adds, "I'm not afraid of the mountain or any curses."

Serendipity considers this a moment, then replies cheerfully, "Doom." His arm ends up on the table again, chin on hand, eyes on Martin. "Got a reputation here, huh? Prolly 'causea the HIve they useta have here, I 'spect. Though there's stories 'bout things livin' under the mountain 'n' all, too. An' a darkin' asshole of a vampire in the lake, but that one's my fault. I prolly oughta do somethin' about that before the melt gets too far."

Martin's brows lift a touch, and there's laughter on his voice as he says, "A vampire in the lake as well? Goodness, it looks like I'll have my hands full." But since they're empty for the time being, he cradles his chin in them as he rests his elbows upon the table, regarding Ren in turn. "You have to understand that we mundane types don't see a lot of that kind of thing."

Serendipity hehs, grinning at the trader. "Hang out here a while, that'll change. You're welcome t' help me kill 'n' maybe interrogate the vampire, not in that order, 'f you want." The grin fades just slightly as he continues, "I kinda doubt Tristan's gonna come lend a hand, so more might be better."

Martin says amiably, "I have no idea who Tristan is and, as interesting an offer as that may seem, I'm afraid I wouldn't be terribly useful in the killing and possible torture of, well, anyone."

"Sure you would," Ren replies brightly, "You could hold the holy water! Tristan'd be in danger of getting toasted as well, so it's prolly just as well if he doesn't come. He's a leech too, just, y'know, a good one. Anyway. It'll be fun." He pauses. "...not that I usually kill 'n' torture things for fun. Just when they show up tryin' to kill me or my friends 'n' all," he assures.

Martin regards Ren with an absolute deadpan. He's quiet for a time, merely studying the fellow across the table, looking far too solemn for his young years. Eventually, he says, "I see." Just so, nothing more. He barely remembers to blink.

"Plus," Ren points out, after giving it a moment's thought, "technically he's already dead. But anyway." He shrugs, and runs his free hand through his hair, drawing the thong out to release the ponytail along the way. "What kinda stuff d'you gen'rally trade in?"

Martin smiles, just a little, and inclines his head as if to acknowledge the rather abrupt change in subject as merely the natural course of things. "Staples mostly," he replies. "Raw sugar, wheat and rice, salt, spices. Coffee and tea when I can get it, and textiles as they become available -- wool, mostly. It varies, depending on what is needed and what is available."

Serendipity nods, listening. "Where d'you tend t' pick it up? And d'you store it somewhere t' keep movin' it in Wint, or just take a break?" he inquires, curious. "And anyone ever tell you you've got beautiful eyes?"

Martin laughs, a quiet sound but no less amused for the generally subdued nature of it. "Maybe a few times," he admits, ducking his head. With a content sigh, he adds, "I've just set up shop in Millinockett, inasmuch as I have a shop to set up. "Boarding and storage are relatively cheap in the winter because most of the trade moves south when the snows come. I stick pretty close to home around then and trade off nonperishable stores. Come spring, I run manufactured goods from the north down south in exchange for raw materials to bring back up north. Keeps me busy."

Serendipity grins again. "Well, they weren't lyin'," he replies, and considers the route thoughtfully. "Sounds like good planning. Rae 'n' I were talkin' about maybe takin' up tradin' someday; maybe if we do we c'n work out some kinda cooperation," he muses, and glances as if reminded toward the window, checking the time of day.

Martin grins, shaking his head wryly. "Well thank you for confirming that," he says with feigned solemnity. Then he nods thoughtfully, musing, "Could do, could do. I know there'd be folks in Millinockett happy to rob you blind, being there isn't, well, anyone working out of Haven just now. I won't do that, and I'd be happy to work something out."

"Anytime," Ren replies with equal gravity. "Gorgeous hair, too, 'm 'fraid," he continues, sounding like a doctor giving an unfortunate diagnosis. "...met some people down in Millinockett with Rex, but so far I like you better'n them."

Martin laughs again, softly. "You're incorrigible," he accuses. "And thank you again. I hope I can live up to all this likeability." He leans back, taking up his papers to tuck away in his jacket pocket. "I think this is going to work out wonderfully," he decides. "From what I've seen of Haven so far, I'd say you poor folks are getting a bad rap."

Serendipity nods, eyes most earnest, the grin creeping around the corners of his mouth. "'s true," he admits. "Even when I was tiny my mom was always tellin' people not t' incorrige me..." He sits up a bit, mirroring Martin's movement unconsciously. "I think th' place musta. Been here all Wint, and apparently it's not time t' move on yet. Haven't ever stayed many places this long."

Martin says gravely, "Well, it's a good thing at that. What would this town do without its resident troublemaker?" A twinkle in his eyes betrays the humor he's trying not to convey, and then he just gives in and grins. "Well, as I was telling the others, if there's anything you need for when I make my next run, just bring me a list. I can't promise there'll be a lot available this early in the year, but I'll see what I can do."

"Celebrate?" Serendipity suggests dryly, but then grins again, a mirror of the trader's. "...y'got a nice grin, too. Oughta let it out more," he opines quietly, and stands, giving a good full-body stretch before re-corralling his hair into its ponytail. "Things t' ask for..." he says thoughtfully, and reaches into his coat, pulling out a notebook and pencil and scribbling a couple things down, pausing, adding another, pausing again, and adding several more lines before ripping the page out and handing it over, the notebook disappearing back into his coat. "It was nice meetin' you, foxy. I got some trouble I oughta get t' makin', but maybe I'll catcha 'round before y'go?"

Martin reaches for the paper, letting slip a tamer version of that allegedly nice grin as he drops his gaze to the list to look it over. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Serendipity. I should be here til the morning. In Haven, that is. If I'm not here at the diner, I should be down by the dock. I pitched camp there, and I trust at least most of my belongings will be there when I return. And if not..." He shrugs. "I'm sure I'll see you."

Serendipity lets his fingertips graze Martin's as the paper is passed. It =could= be accidental, but who's gonna believe that? "Sounds good. I live in the Treehouse by the lake, mostly, m'self. I'll find ya 'round." He smiles cheekily and heads for the door. The paper he's passed over reads:

shiny things
girly shit
shiny girly shit
alcohol (drinking not rubbing)
apricots if you find any
spices (the meat kind)
dinner sometime?