tampered | (no subject)

From her vantage point she'll be able to see the wall of photographs -- some old, some new -- and the stuffed platypus on the bookshelf, and the piles of sheet music and the sax on its stand in the corner. The jar of dog treats for canine visitors, the ashtray on the coffee table for those who smoke, the laptop computer Abby gave him.

"I learned to fend for myself on Callisto. There was this little grocery store around the corner from my house and the owner was a mostly Russian-speaking man who'd emigrated there from Venus years before. I guess on Venus he ran a street cart for a business and he was an amazing cook. He taught me most of what I know how to make, right there in the back of the shop."

That was sweet. The man -- his name was Vladmir -- was shot and killed in a hold-up on a trip to Ganymede and the grocery closed down like so many things in Blue Crow.

"So I hope you don't mind dumplings and fresh bread and salad, because that's what's on the menu."

There's a soft smile at the sight of the stuffed platypus, since she's got her own stuffed collection in her room. Granted, she's apt to sleep with them when things go South, but not many know that.

The pictures get a once over, a few catching her eye as she looks at them.

".. no. Not at all. It sounds great, actually. I didn't have breakfast this morning."

Staying up too late is a bad thing.

"Come on into the kitchen. I've just about got everything set out here." All he has to do now is get the coffee poured -- no wine -- and that's that.

The kitchen is small; there's barely enough room for the little table and chairs, but he's made it look nice. There are fresh flowers in a vase and food out in serving dishes. The bread's hot and crusty and he even remembered napkins and silverware.

"It's nice to be able to eat with someone who's actually alive, if you know what I mean." He isn't, but he eats out of habit as much as anything and Julia -- his most frequent guest -- is dead too. Faye has a healthy appetite but he hasn't seen her in a while and Lestat... well... he won't go there now. "You'll have to be brutally honest about my cooking. For years I only prepared food for one."

Because he's a gentleman, he pulls out a chair for her. He's a consummate host when he's on his own turf.

Tearing her attention away from the pictures, she moves into the kitchen, taking a deep breath. It might be small, but it's nice and well thought out and very welcome.

She takes the offered seat with a murmured 'thank you'.

"Oh, trust me, I won't be able to criticize much since my cooking would make a cat laugh."

"Now there's a visual I wasn't expecting." Laughing, he brings over the coffee pot and takes his own seat. "I'll tell you something: the house I grew up in? we always had people over at mealtimes. I spent my whole childhood -- and I was an only -- with guests at the table. So this is really nice, having someone over. I like the social aspect of it, and please help yourself. I'll never eat this much food by myself."

He does dip into the bread basket and take a piece, slathering it with butter. It's awfully weird having Anita here, given the circumstances of their existence here, but that's why he's talking so much. Then again, if it wasn't for Lestat he probably wouldn't even have met her... and he likes her.

He thinks.

The first thing she goes for is her precious black gold. After a quick drink of coffee she digs into the bread as well, and her eyes light up with just how good it is. One piece down, she takes another and butters it, then starts dishing out some dumplings for herself.

"We used to have a lot of company over when I was younger. After her remarried, Judith didn't want as much company unless it was from her friends and such, and they mostly went out for social time."

The dumplings are savory, filled with meat and spices and rice. They're kind of a fusion dish, he guesses: part Slavic and part Asian, but he likes them and it's the way Vladmir taught him to cook them. Passing the salad over to Anita, he takes a few dumplings and opts for a fork instead of chopsticks: it's six of one, half-dozen of the other as far as he's concerned.

It feels good to sit around the table; he pours out some dipping sauce -- a combination of soy sauce and garlic and vinegar and sugar and hot pepper flakes and sesame oil -- and slides that across the table to her. "If you need this hotter, I have chili paste too."

This is so normal. It's fun having her here. "So did I surprise you by inviting you over? Is this place what you expected, or did you have no expectations?" He's curious about the other people their mutual lover loves, so why shouldn't they be curious about him?

He still wants to meet Cloud.

She takes a generous portion of the salad and waves off the spicy offer, knowing she hasn't exactly been eating so healthy the last few days. "Flavor is better than heat and if it tastes as good as it smells, there won't be any problems."

True to her thoughts, it does taste as good as it smells and she's sure to let him know with a warm smile.

"You have no idea how much it surprised me. I didn't know what to think at first. I really tried to come over here without too many expectations, but some things didn't shock me too much. The music for one, and I thought the pictures suited you. The platypus was a twist, though."

The smile turns a little teasing and mischievous.

"The platypus was a gift. In a fit of alliterative madness, I named her Polly." He points his fork toward the living room. "My friend Abby gave her to me. You looked at the pictures on the living room wall, so you saw her there. With the dark hair in pony tails on the beach."

He only has pictures of a few of his friends, although he wouldn't mind getting a camera so he can get pictures of the rest of them. His wall is sadly lacking in Julia, in Faye, in Lestat.

Really, he'd even put pictures up there of Lin... and Anita. Right or wrong, he likes the people he likes.

The thought of a platypus named Polly sends a brings a laugh to her lips which she smothers with what's left of her coffee. "Yes, I've met Abby through the police force. She's something, alright. She has good taste in stuffed animals."

Still grinning behind her coffee mug, she leaves it at that, knowing the laugh he'd get from the thought of her with her own 'babies'.

The salad is rapidly disappearing, along with a good chunk of the dumplings she took.

"You'll have to come over next time. Meet all the kids and such. Meet Cloud, too, if he's home."

"I'd like that."

He's glad she's met Abby; it brings his world together in one more way and if he wanted, he could wrap that proverbial red thread his mother used to tell him about when he was a toddler around every person he knows here and join them together.

But that's not a story he shares with just anyone, and he certainly doesn't know Anita well enough to share it with her.

"You have kids too, huh? That computer out front? Abby gave it to me. It's loaded with music. She's a pretty wonderful person. Not just because she gave me a computer, but because she's, as you say, something, all right. For what it's worth, I gave her a stuffed pteranodon. She named her Terry."

"Well, our kids are the four legged kind. I'm sure you've met Lestat's bunch already. Cloud and I both have cats that have adopted us and I just got lucky enough to be able to add another one to the household. No idea who Watt'll bond to, but we'll see."

She silently agrees with him about Abby. There's just this personable spirit around her and the few times she's been around her, she's always left in a better mood. Some people just have a gift like that.

"It's a good name for one. I've got two penguins named Sigmund and Deuce. Throwbacks from back home, I guess."

Sigmund and Deuce: those are good names. "Polly's my one and only." Anita already knows he's a one-object-of-affection-at-a-time sort of person; he told her that the last time they had lunch. Automatically, he refreshes her coffee because why not.

"I've thought about getting a pet, but there's a part of me that says it's not fair. I'm gone four nights a week: who'd take care of a dog or cat for me? But I really do love them. I've been a pet owner most of my life. It's just the past three or four years I haven't had them. Circumstance, you know?"

In the cold of Callisto, both house pets and fresh produce were hard to come by. Because of that, he savors his salad, finishing all that's on his plate even though he really doesn't need the food.

The additional coffee is met with a smile. Awkward or not, he's a good host and Anita appreciates it, even though the knot of nerves in her belly has loosened quite a bit since she got there.

"We only had one dog at a time when I was growing up and after I hit thirteen, we didn't get another one."

It's mostly her father's failings, there. He didn't want another facet of Anita's unnatural power shoved back in his face like the time the newly passed away pooch decided to dig itself back up so it could go back home again.

"A cat should be able to take care of itself pretty well for a few nights a week, you know."

"I know. I think I brought home a cat a week when I was little. Some of them stayed and some didn't. It's more a question of..."

Well. He's hinted at it; he might as well step in it all the way. "I've noticed this City has an unfortunate tendency to make people disappear. I've only been here five months, and already four people from my world out there have just... gone." With a resigned shrug, he picks up his coffee cup, warms his hands on it. "When I was younger, I was a soldier. I was sent to this desolate desert planet -- Titan, one of Saturn's moons -- and fought there. It was a stupid war and I watched my comrades get picked off one at a time by the unseen. Snipers, land mines: you name it. Every time I find that someone I know here's just suddenly no longer here, it reminds me of Titan. Of never knowing who'll be here the next day. How fair would that be to a pet?"

What he tells her surprises her more than it should, really. "You were a soldier?"

She almost thinks he's too gentle to be able to claim what he just did, but then she has to pause and think of Cloud. He's so soft spoken and kind-hearted... and now that she thinks about it, she can remember the same steel in Gren's personality that she's seen in Cloud's. The comparison brings a smile to her face. Hell, just thinking about Cloud makes that smile wider as well as turns her cheeks a tiiiny bit pink. For all her bluster and ego, she's still so innocent deep down.

"That's what happened with Watt. His owner went home, so his friend helped him find a new one. You shouldn't deny yourself because of reasons like that. Besides, if anything happened, Lestat would take care of it. No doubts there."

Very pointedly, he hasn't been mentioning Lestat but Anita has. It doesn't seem like she's feeling him out on the subject so much as just alluding to him in casual conversation. And he's pretty sure his talk of being a soldier has nothing to do with the sudden flush on her cheeks... and they don't brighten any further when she mentions Lestat.

Okay.

"You think so?"

It's something to consider. Like people, he always thought cats went better in pairs: someone to stay with, to play with. Maybe that's why they come in litters to begin with.

"Maybe I'll do it." Without the threat of Vicious looming, his outlook's changed -- or changing -- on a number of things.

"I know so. Besides, pets are good for your health, or so I hear."

Not that she thinks Katan is good for anyone's health...or his own, if he keeps sneaking into her room.

"Next time I'm out and I come across one, I'll bring it to you first to see if you want it."

Her hands still on her coffee cup, the food long gone.

It's a sweet offer, but a pet is something he'd rather decide on by himself. It's a personal matter. Still, though...

"That's sweet of you. Especially let me know if it's an older cat. No one ever adopts those: they all want kittens."

He can always say no. Or yes if it's the right pet.

"Can I get you anything else?" He knows she's got to get back to work and that's fine: it's been a bit of a relief to have a conversation without anger and recrimination and accusation, not that he was expecting any of those things. He hasn't even been on best behavior, particularly.

But he's been pretty good. In word if not necessarily in thought.

Hearing him say the offer was sweet makes her face screw up in an almost comical scowl.

"Well crap, don't say that. I'm supposed to be all nasty, remember?"

Still, she breaks into in a wide smile in a flash, showing yet another change in this Anita.

"I'm good. I should be headed out in a few minutes. Back to the grind, I suppose."

"It'll be our secret."

He pushes back his chair subtly, just by way of saying that it's okay for her to do the same and leave any time she wants. There's still a lot of food left, but it'll get used eventually.

Now if he had a dog...

No, no. As much as he loves them, that's even less practical than a cat.

"I'm really glad you came by, and I mean that. You're welcome here any time." It's not an offer he makes idly: he knows exactly what the implications are.

The offer catches her attention, making her gaze search his out.

"You know, most people would think you're nuts for giving an open invitation to someone that threatened you."

There's no apology in his shrug. "I guess it's a good thing I don't really care what most people think." Leaning forward again, he studies her with as much attention as she gives him. "Unless I got it wrong, you also said afterward that you'd never harm me. So I'm going with the last thing you said, not the one born out of anger. If I'm wrong about it you can tell me now and I'll be glad to take back the offer."

But his eyes soften and he gives her a small smile. "I'm actually fairly good at taking care of myself. Except for the one time where I went and got myself killed, I have a pretty good track record for a jazz musician who's an ex-soldier."

She blinks at the intense gaze but keeps her own steady.

"No, I won't take it back. I keep my word when I give it."

Matching his smile with one of her own, she pushes her chair back and takes a last drink from her coffee before stepping away from he table.

"Thank you for lunch, Gren. It was... nice. I'd like to do it again sometimes."

Like he said...

"Any time. Thanks for coming by." He gives a little rueful glance to all the leftovers, but that's his problem and Anita's got to get to work. "I really enjoyed having you here."

Lestat, he thinks, might be surprised by that but he's not. At least he and Anita both have the most exquisite taste in lovers.

As she leaves, that subtle tick-tick-tick of the clock comes back. It will get to him eventually, and when it does he'll go out and be around other people for a while. But he knows eventually he'll be right back here reading: he's got stories and stories to get through.