Logs:Waffles and the Dead

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Waffles and the Dead
Dramatis Personae

Damian, Ashe and Godric Ritter

20 July, 2016

Damian, Ashe, and Ritter talk about tastes and games.


Maddy's Waffle House

The sun's setting, with the humid summer air cooling down. Not too many people at the Waffle House today, just a few couples, and a family of five in one of the corners of the restaurant, with a couple waiters going to and fro, fulfilling orders, or just chatting amongst each other. Ashe is situated in one of the far corners, away from most of the people-the closet are a couple in their mid twenties, and the server that brings Ashe his food and drink, as he sits there, staring at it. He wears a dark, wide-brimmed blue hat, with a green-white corduroy shirt, brown cargo pants, and beaten up athletic shoes, with a light grey backpack to the left side of his chair.

Not a lot of suit wearing people probably visit Maddy's. It probably makes the man who enters next stick out. A laptop back strapped over his shoulder, his lips twist a little. Crowded places can sometimes be a problem. His eyes float around the place and he squeezes them shut a second as if trying to clear the streak from them after looking at the sun. A place to sit, that's all he needs and he takes a couple steps forward when he spies Ashe. Not again. To most people Ashe is just a person, but to Damian he is dead. A dead thing that is moving. Not the first he's encountered either. It pauses him in his tracks as he looks the man, the thing, up and down. It's an odd thing, standing in the middle of a restaurant staring that way as if mesmerized. Never mind that feeling he gets, that thing that makes his skin crawl, coming from Ashe.

The feeling could be coming from Ashe...or the feeling of the lingering humidity, or the feeling of having an almost-empty restaurant, which the encroaching evening. It's somewhat difficult to pin down exactly. But Ashe spots the man, coming to a dead stop, as he slowly, but surely, starts digging into his dish...which is an omelette, with a cup of orange juice to the side. And the tears start leaking-like when a faucet isn't fully turned off- from Ashe's face. It seems to bother him minimally though.

Tears? It's enough to shake Damian out of the reverie and compose himself. A shake of his head, a distant whisper no one but he hears. He needs to compose himself. He tightens the it around his neck a little, pretends to straighten it and moves for seat as close to Ashe as possible. Nothing to see here. Taking that seat, the man makes room for his laptop, pulls it out of the bag, hangs the bag over his chair and opens it up. Tap, tap tap. His fingers fly over his keyboard. A study of the other man as he does so. Tears? Dead things can cry? He's too new at this thing, but it's unsettling. He can't help it, like finding some fascinating new puzzle that simply needs solved, Damian's study of him continues.

Ashe's studying something as well-his food and drink, as he drinks his glass for a few moments, and looks bewildered, and then starts eating his meal again, then reaching into his pack for something-as it turns out, a magazine, something about home management, as he reads, and eats, tears still somewhat flowing, but Ashe makes sure they do not get onto the magazine. After a couple of minutes, he looks around, and notices Damian, right by him. He just stares for a couple of moments, then goes back to reading and eating.

Damian ducks his head to his computer a moment when Ashe looks up, best not to be completely obvious about his study. Though it's only briefly, lifting his head again in time to catch Ashe looking back, though in truth he knew he was. It might have been on purpose. He can't help himself, ever the curious sort. The man doesn't look sad or anything, so Damian takes another route. "Allergies. Damn summer, hey?" Of course, Damian might once have had those himself, not anymore, but it's a good a way as anything to explain the tears he figures. Especially when the man is basically ignoring them.

Ashe looks up again and shakes his head. "I don't get allergies. This is....spicy?", as he points to the omelette, his deep, heavy voice kinda weird coming out from his slender frame. "Never had spicy before. It's something. What exactly is it?" he asks.

Damian raises a brow slightly to the omelette. Spicy? "I see." Well, that makes more sense to him than allergies. A head tilt as he considers Ashe, this thing before him. His fingers keep moving over his keyboard. "Never had spicy before?" So many derogatory things could be said here, but Damian opts for something else, "That's odd." His lips thin as he considers the answer. "That's hard to explain. What is spicy? Or do you mean what is making the omelette spicy?"

"Is it? Do people have spicy stuff regularly?" Ashe asks. "And there's more that makes stuff spicy, besides sausage?", as he points to the omelette again. Out of the corner of his eyes, Damian notices the increased attention towards his and Ashe's selected spots-mainly, the couple closet to Damian and Ashe whispering loudly and frowning, and one of the waitresses not-so-subtly staring daggers into Ashe, though he doesn't see it yet.

"All the time?" Damian can't help but continue to study the man in front of him. Every little tick of his face, his dress, everything. Fascinating. Like he was born yesterday. So strange. Nevermind the dead part. "And yeah, lots of things. Pepper..." Damian flicks his head towards the shakers on the man's table. "The black and white stuff." It's only then that it occurs to him that he's explaining things to, well a child. Or something else. His brow knits a little. What is going on here? A glance around the room catches the gazes of the couple and the waitress and his brow rises again. His fingers never stop typing, and he really never looks at them. He's a whiz at that, it seems.

"I don't know. Pepper doesn't seem spicy to me. I've had it before," as Ashe looks back at the couple, giving a glare of his own, as they seem to stop whispering and look towards their own business.

"It's not to most, but it's the start of spicy. It's why most people can put it on their food." Somewhere deep down Damian knows this conversation is absolutely ridiculous and part of that must show on his face, but not for long. Too many factors to consider nothing is normal about it, at all. "Sausage isn't usually that spicy either. Try a hot sauce if you want spicy." A glance at the people, another curious expression and then he looks back. "How is it you've never had much spicy before? Where you from?"

"Oh,okay. Nope, never had spicy before like that. I've had bitter and sour and hot-never spicy. Ummm....I'm from a forested area, that's for sure. But born? Not sure. We traveled around a lot, so never really had one point of mainstay.", says Ashe.

Damian glances around the tables until he spots what he's look for. Frank's Red hot. Any good restaurant carries some of that. He moves over to it, grabs it and places it in front of Ashe before taking back his seat. "Go slow." The man sits down, typing on his computer he had just locked again. "You don't know where you're from exactly? How, um, old are you, if you don't mind my asking?" Well, Damian might as well collect data since they're talking.

Why do you ask?" he says, staring dead at the man for answers to why he's asking where he's from and how old he is. A"And I can handle it!" he exclaims, taking off the cap and pouring some of it directly into his mouth, the tears already streaming again. He puts the cap back on, as he awaits Damian's answer.

"Just curious. Haven't met somebody that's never had spicy things up until...well, presumably your age." Damian shrugs a little, not seeming fazed by the question. He also doesn't try to stop the man from drinking hot sauce. It won't kill him, probably. A little shake of his head. "Not so bad. Tastes better on food though. I was going to suggest putting it on your food." A little wave of his hand. Too late for that.

"I haven't had a lot of foodstuffs...like on those boards that are on the highways and roads," as drinking hot sauce doesn't seem to be effecting his speech. "It tastes okay on its own...though it probably work pretty good on fish," says Ashe, then turning towards his remnants of his meal, and starting to finish it, along with his drink.

"You were sheltered then?" A brow raises slightly at that as Damian watches the man. A waitress comes by, probably the same one that was glaring at Ashe. Maybe fascinated by the fact that Damian is taking to him. A simple order of water and waffles and the woman walks of, giving Ashe another look. He turns back to Ashe, still watching him. "And billboards, I think you mean. What, uh? Do you normally eat then?"

"Sheltered? Nope! I roamed around, like most do," as Ashe glares back at the waitress. So, billboards...makes sense. I eat...food? Like, food you get from the store, or food that grows wild?" as Ashe looks at him curiously.

"So how have you never had spicy food? Your parents never put hot sauce on anything? Have Indian food?" Damian is simply asking probing questions, there's not even much curiosity on his face. Like this is a normal conversation to have with a twenty year oldish person. "Right, right, but...eventually you think you'd run into spicy, like you did today?" Lips thin a little, Damian types more on his computer. Like he's taking notes.

And there's that other puzzle. The one that doesn't age. Ritter's in dark green scrubs, as if he's been too tired or was too hungry to change before leaving work. The waitress behind the counter greets him with a cheerful, "Evening, Doc," to which he returns a faint, crooked smile, as he heads for his usual place at the corner of the counter.

> Ashe to Here <======================================================

   Rolled 0 Success 
   < 3 >

=================================================> Azoth [No Flags] <

"Nope. And it's parent-singular. And nope-she liked it plain and simple, I guess. And Indian food? Never had that. And I'm not sure I'll run into- I've had many tastes in my life.", says Ashe, glancing at Ritter, and nodding, recognizing the individual.

> Ritter to Here <====================================================

   Rolled 3 Successes 
   < 1 1 3 3 4 6 7 7 7 9 9 10 >

=============================> Composure + Resolve + Chi [No Flags] <

Ah first the dead. The dead that makes no sense how they can exist. Now the one that isn't dying and makes about as much sense to Damian as the other. The man glances at the door as Ritter enters and he too recognizes the man, maybe even gives him a nod also, if he catches his eye. His gaze even lingers on the man. A dichotomy right here in front of him, but, at least, Ritter isn't as unsettling as Ashe for whatever reason Ashe is. Damian blinks a little, somewhat like he did when he entered the place, like a vision or a light just flashed in his eyes. He turns back to Ashe, hearing his voice. "Ah, right. Well I recommend Indian food, it's great. You should try it. Still, it's uh, weird." Damian might have wanted to say something else, but for whatever reason he changed it.

There's a pleasant nod from Ritter, a little smile. Apparently he remembers Damian, even if the name isn't leaping to his lips. Ashe, also, is a face he knows....and a ripple of unease he can't wholly explain, though surely he's run into the Promethean before. You live that long, you run into at least one of everything, right? He settles comfortably on what is surely his favorite stool, to have the waitress wonder, "The usual?" Ritter's expression is sheepish, as he nods.

"Okay. So, what food do you eat usually?" Ashe flips the question on Damian. He finishes his plate and drink. "How much food is there in the world?" he asks. Overhearing Ritter, he asks Damian, "What's "The usual? I didn't see that choice on the menu."

Assuming Ritter's close enough, Damian makes an offhand comment his way. "Still waiting on that game. Haven't seen you around much." Whether Ritter catches it, Damian turns back to Ashe again after a moment. Two things to divide his attention with. "I don't know if I have a usual. I guess whatever hits me at the moment, though I tend to try to stay healthy." Damian pats his stomach. "A desk job isn't easy on the physique." It might be a joke, not that Damian displays any such amusement. "How much food? I'm not sure I could quantify it for you. A lot. And then it matters if you simply mean basic food or dishes. In which case that expands." He might be confusing the poor guy, but he's engaged Damian in a question of mathematics by all accounts. Bad move. A glance goes back to Ritter, a shrug and it returns to Ashe. "I'm assuming she's asking him if he wants what he always orders. His usual order. It's not a thing." His brow knits a little again. See, that's weird too, but really? It's dead! How much weirder can it get?

"Ah, yes," says Ritter, turning to where Damian and Ashe sit. Apologetic, that smile. "Sorry. Work and life've been very busy indeed. I 'ope you're keeping well?"

"Yep! Staying healthy is important," Ashe says, only being half-sure of what he's talking about. And a desk job? What kind?" he asks Damian. "What kind of game do you owe him? Checkers?" he asks Ritter.

Damian might be forgettable to Ritter, or even most, there's nothing remarkable about him if you can't see his constant companion. He's a little nerdy, and always has a computer. Ritter on the other hand, is unforgettable to Damian. He waves a hand at the man. "Of course. You and me both." A nod then. "Well enough, I guess. You seem to be in good health, so I'm guessing the same?" There's a faint little half smile at that, but little more. A glance back at Ashe when he speaks again. He pats the laptop in front of him. "Computers." At that though, he fishes into the bag beside him and pulls out a card, pushing it towards the end of his table nearest Ashe. If the man wants it, he can grab it. "Cyber and physical security to be exact." He watches him, maybe to see how much of that Ashe gets. Ritter can answer the question about the game, or not, as is his will.

"More a war or strategy game," Ritter explains, in that lazy English drawl. "There's a cafe not far from here intended to accommodate those 'o like such things. I've not played anything like it in years, but it does look fun. We'll play, sometime, when we run into each other there." Whatever the 'usual' might be, it begins with decaf coffee, and plenty of it.

Ashe has never heard of the term cyber before, but he gets the gist of what Damian's saying-he's a computer guy, as Ashe nods his head. "Alright," he says, looking at the card. And games in a cafe...Ashe nods to that as well. He gives some money to the waitress, who wrinkles her nose, but takes the cash, as he says "I need to get going. Thanks for the info, err....dude," he says to Damian, picking up his backpack. "And see you around, Mister!" he says to Ritter, "Good luck with your game!", as he heads out the door.