Out at Night

Molly Toombs
There's no slap-slap of flip-flops to announce Molly's stride down the sidewalk that hugged the edge of Santa Fe-- she wore sandals, no doubt, but they strapped secure to her feet to prevent all that.  It was a Saturday night and this part of town was popular on the weekends, especially when the weather was agreeable as it was (the forecast mentioned there may be rain, but thus far it has just been pleasantly cool compared to the scorching heat earlier in the day).  The foot traffic on the sidewalks weren't thick, but the patios in front of restaurants and bars and coffee shops were dense with those who milled on dates and in groups alike.

Molly wasn't walking with anyone to suggest that she was one of the many young people of Denver out on a date tonight.  In fact, the way she glanced occasionally over her shoulder, and how her brows furrowed on her lightly freckled forehead, suggested she may even be trying to escape one.  She was acting anxious, quietly nervous, like she thought she was being followed.

It could be that she was crazy, there were plenty of those in the city proper.  But Molly was put together and groomed, that didn't typically go hand-in-hand with the types of crazies that flocked to the streets.  She was dressed in a cap-sleeved dress of bright blue fabric with a pattern of white daisies all overtop of it.  The dress hemmed at the knee and buttoned all the way up the front.  Her red hair was tied into a high ponytail, nice and neat, with the bangs trimmed even with her eyebrows on her forehead.  There was a purse at her side, and one hand kept it still there so it wouldn't swing and bounce as she hustled her way up the sidewalk.

Away from a dance studio and a gallery beside it.  Away from a man with no life in the hand that she shook, who may or may not have caught on to the fact that she knew what he was.

And, given how her luck went, right into the path of another.

Rafe Campion
For some of the citizens of Denver, the day was winding to a close. For others, it was only just beginning. (And not merely because the sun was anathema to their very existence. Plenty of ordinary mortals lived at night without such excuses.) Given that it was a Saturday, and this was Santa Fe, the streets and shops and galleries around them were not likely to wind down until many hours later, and Molly was far from the only person on the sidewalks. She was running from someone, but it would seem that tonight the fates had a bit of a sense of humor. No matter where she turned, death was there - waiting.

Rafe hadn't yet decided where he would end up that night. He was on the sidewalk too, gazing across the street with his hands tucked loosely into the pockets of his brown jeans. The warm summer wind breezed past and ruffled his hair as he glanced to the side and spotted Molly. There was a tilt of his head, an almost animal curiosity in the angle of his chin as he took in her quick step and anxious state. The way she kept glancing behind her as though she were being followed. His eyes tracked back from her in search of whatever it was she was running from, and when he didn't see anything he pulled his hands out of his pockets and took a few steps toward her. Not precisely in her path (she could go around if she chose) but close to it.

There were many ways that one could define Rafe's age. Physically he was about 30, but he looked a few years younger. He had a youthful face and lively amber-hued eyes. He hadn't actually been 30 for a long time, but it didn't show in his mannerisms. He had a threadbare white t-shirt on, and you could see the outlines of his chest through it.

"Running from a ghost?"

He smiled when he said it and lifted his eyebrows lightly.

Molly Toombs
Plenty of voices drifted from patio tables and passers-by on the sidewalk, but there was always a certain ring to a voice that was addressing you directly.  Molly may well have simply overlooked Rafe, left him as one more face among many that she's passed by tonight.  That would no longer happen, though, for he'd shifted his trajectory so he would be walking toward her rather than aimed to breeze right past.  When he'd spoken, asked if she was running from a ghost, ears picked up on the words because eyes had already plucked him from the crowd, had already found that he was looking at and approaching her.

Molly's painted-peachy lips pressed together before her teeth and she slowed her walk on brown sandaled feet, stopped beside the short iron-wrought fence that circled around a tea shop that was currently closed for renovations-- a single black store face along a mile of other lighted windows.  She wasn't out of breath, for she hadn't actually been running, but there was a somewhat distracted note to her tone, and her words and voice were both just a touch tight as well.

She'd spent energy and focus playing coy and ignorant for the person she was fleeing from, so perhaps that would contribute to why she wasn't doing the best job masking that low-throttled hum of anxiety that buzzed under skin.

"Something like that," she answered back.  One hand touched a pointed peak to the patio fence, and the other kept on her purse as though it were some kind of portable safe-base.  She stopped glancing through the bodies behind her to return focus to the face of the man who'd come to intercept and call her out.  He was tall, easy on the eye, but she wasn't spending time scoping out his chest and shoulders.  Instead Molly made and held eye contact, alert blue eyes trying to decipher intent in the amber ones before them.

"Why, are you offering to bust one if I answer yes?"

Rafe Campion
[Per+Empathy]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (4, 4, 6, 7, 9, 9, 10) ( success x 5 )

Rafe Campion
[Er, re-roll that 10]

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (8) ( success x 1 )

Molly Toombs
Something about seeing plenty of life pass before you must make you good at reading it, because Rafe was able to read Molly like a book.  As though her efforts to glean some intent from him did nothing but open herself up to be flipped through like a magazine at his leisure.

Molly was far more anxious than she was letting on physically.  She had been glancing back like she was being followed, but she didn't carry an expression of worry or fear or pursuit, and her body language wasn't victimized or defensive.  But he could see through that as though it were the cleanest, clearest glass.  She was fleeing from something that she apparently though speed couldn't help her escape from.  Not actively being chased after, but she was worried that she may be getting followed, and by something that she had a true, grim, teeth-clenching concern for about her own well being.

It wasn't the kind of tight-muscled nervousness that came from trying to get away from an attacker.  Molly didn't seem to be seeking any sort of asylum or authority figure to get help from.  Whatever it was, he could tell, she was fully intent on keeping that damn well to herself.

Why?  Well, he could see that too.  Because whatever it was that had her on the move, she couldn't tell people about it.  That information was protected, was secret.  Because it was something that she was in-the-know about, a level above others on.  She wasn't going to an authority figure because they couldn't and probably wouldn't know what was after her.  She was just trying to go away.

Molly Toombs
[And, in return:  Perception 3 + Empathy 2:  What do you want, pal?]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (4, 5, 6, 7, 7) ( success x 3 )

Rafe Campion
[Manip+Subterfuge - well, I certainly don't want food I mean people aren't food right? and I'm a nice fun guy who does not suck blood out of people's necks to survive]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 2, 4, 4, 9, 9) ( success x 2 )

Rafe Campion
Molly may have been joking, but Rafe seemed to take the question seriously. He tapped his mouth once lightly with an index finger and looked away as though trying to recall some distant memory.

"Can't say I've ever fought a ghost before. Might be fun."

He said it like he meant it. Like he genuinely found the notion intriguing. And from what Molly could read off of him, he did. Maybe Rafe actually believed in ghosts. Maybe he believed in a lot of things.

When he looked at her, he saw facets of her humanity that most people wouldn't catch upon first-meeting. All of these details drawn together to create a complete story. There were plenty of people around them - milling on the sidewalks; walking into and out of bars, restaurants and galleries; sitting inside the lit windows of coffee shops. And Rafe noticed those people, but for a few moments when he looked at Molly, she was the only person in the universe. A book - yes. But the kind of book you didn't want to put down. This is how he was with people. They were each such fascinating stories.

She'd get that from him too - his almost childlike fascination, the way his eyes danced across her face when he took in the play of subtle emotions there. He didn't seem dangerous - perhaps a bit prone to impulse. His cheeks had a flush of life to them tonight, his breathing steady and natural. If any of this was a performance, then he was a very good performer.

"You look like you have a story to tell. I love stories. Can I buy you a drink?"

Molly Toombs
Oh, Molly for certain believed in ghosts.  She ought to by now.  One of her best friends had been hearing them since childhood, and she's had more than one close encounter with them before.  One so uncomfortably, terribly close that she'd felt the cold of one's presence in her bones, then had her limbs move independent of her thoughts.  Full-blown possession.  She was absolutely a believer.

She didn't much care for how the man was looking at her.  He'd seemed intent, interested, curious.  Too focused in, and it made her uncomfortable.  A note untrusting.  This could probably be blamed on the mindset she was in walking away from a scenario where she was shaking an Undead man's hand, uncertain of whether he knew that she'd recognized him and worried that he was going to follow her home and remove her from the equation altogether.

He wanted her to tell him the story of what she was running from, and offered to buy her a drink for it.  His cheeks were pink, lips and nostrils moved to facilitate steady and normal breaths.  He was the lesser of two evils, compared to what could still be behind her waiting for opportunity to rise, but she was still on edge.

Skittish, he knew better than she for how much he could see and read, was the better word to describe it.

"I don't know, perfect stranger.  I don't much want to be sharing my story."

Rafe Campion
She was skittish of him and wary of his offer. It would have been a prudent reaction even if Rafe had been as mortal as he pretended to be. And he didn't seem angered by it. Instead he took a step back and hooked his thumbs into his pockets again (as though to put away a weapon, though he had no real need of his hands if he wished to cause someone harm.) The wind blew a lock of hair over his eyes.

"As you wish, Buttercup."

His lips turned up into a light smile, natural and easy.

"I wish you luck in escaping your ghosts."

Molly Toombs
[Self-Control:  Cool your heels, Moll, you're acting like a paranoid and it's really obvious apparently.]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 3, 6) ( success x 1 )

Molly Toombs
Something about a person's stepping back when asked to do so could, from time to time, make you feel like a bit of a dick for asking them to do so in the first place.  Molly didn't physically do so, but in a sense she flinched apologetic (again behind the eyes, in subtle body language that he had cued in on from the get go).

Her brows knitted together a little beneath the neat cut of her bangs, and Molly mutually tucked her hands away into pockets that were hidden in the folds of the loose dress that she wore.

Poor Molly, it had to be embarrassing to be this readable.  If she knew, she may duck her head and take her quick leave for it.  But Rafe found some rejection there too.  He couldn't possibly know the details to this, but she had experienced a recent slew of bad dates.  The advice from up on high to just relax and mingle in with humanity while she still could (the words of wisdom have twisted ominous in Molly's mind over time) hummed in her ears.

"Well, I suppose," she started, and pushed her elbows out and shoulders up in a small and frank what do you do motion.  "There can't be much harm in a drink.  And there's only one way to remedy a person being a stranger."

Verna Gardner
Verna enters the scene by leaving one of the many shops lining the arts district, and if Molly is currently at an 8 in paranoia level, we'll put Verna at a 4. She's watchful and wary at least, but soldiers on through whatever has her on alert. Which, let's face it, a woman out at night has much to be wary of.

Last night was the Art Walk, and that meant that people were everywhere and so were police, so hopefully she could get out and enjoy herself without being harassed again. Tonight, the streets here have yet to be fully cleaned, and the mass of people from yesterday are only remembered by the trash they left behind.

She has on a long, cowl-necked top that would be described as sapphire colored in the catalog, with rolled sleeves that sport little buckles on the sides. This, with black leggings and ballet flats complete the ensemble. One might think that this is a woman who has it all together, by her outfit and demeanor. At least Verna would very much like to appear that way.

As she walks, she pays notice to the people around her in a furtive fashion, like she's looking for someone -- or more to the point, looking to avoid someone.

Rafe Campion
[Dex+Performance - how gracefully can Rafe bow?]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 4, 5, 5, 8, 10) ( success x 2 )

Rafe Campion
He'd honestly meant it when he'd wished her luck. The night was early, and there were many people to choose from if a story was what he was after (and if he was after more than that... likely a few wouldn't be inclined to turn him down for much of anything.) And maybe he really had been prepared to let her walk away, but his pleasure over her unexpected response was readily apparent. His smile broadened and his posture jumped back to alert as he brushed that section of hair away from his eyes.

"Indeed there is."

At this, he gestured to the bar across the street - a small, artsy establishment that kept paintings from local artists hung on the walls - and dipped down into a playful, courtly bow. "After you."

It seemed that everyone was looking to avoid someone tonight. When Rafe stood up from his bow, he glanced over at Verna and offered her a wink, subtle and knowing. As though to imply that he knew what she was thinking (or maybe to flirt in a laid-back sort of way.) But he already had one companion for the evening, so she would escape the direct path of his interest for the moment. As for Molly, Rafe let her lead them wherever she wished to go - whether that be into the bar he'd pointed toward or elsewhere.

Molly Toombs
The animated, nigh-whimsical bow earned him a single raised eyebrow, and Molly had shifted weight back away from him some when the flourish was granted.  But a small, still-kind-of-nervous grin pulled at her mouth and she exhaled smooth, purposeful (calming).

"Well okay.  I'm Molly, by the way.  And you are....?"

She hadn't taken her hands from her pockets to offer one for a shake, for she was talking while walking both.  Molly had cast a glance up and down the street to make sure the traffic was clear (it was), and then started them across the way at a pace she knew would keep them safe from oncoming vehicles.

She didn't quite catch the wink, for she was looking ahead to where they were going.  She would, no doubt, notice if/when Verna slowed to look their way for having caught it.  Molly looked curious-- not suspicious, oddly, but witnessing coincidence for a second time tonight.  To see the same woman twice, after seeing the same man a second time as well, she felt a little caught on loop.

Ultimately, the bar across the street would be just fine.

Verna Gardner
Verna's reaction to being winked at by a stranger? Well, at least it's a lot better than some random moving boy shouting at her from the truck, saying 'Hey baby, you want to buy my furniture?'

People can be so very strange.

A wink isn't so threatening. A wink at her whilst he walks with another woman has her wondering though. Wondering and blushing quick and pink. That man seems the type to go after anyone, it seems, and probably has a lot of luck at it.

It's then that she pays a bit more attention to the woman he's with, and though she doesn't know Molly's name, she's seen her around, and has already decided that that one runs with an odd crowd. Best to be avoided.

Rafe Campion
"Molly..." Rafe turned the sound of her name over in his mouth as though it had a taste. "It suits you. I'm Rafe."

Of course he would have a name like that. Of course he would.

They moved across the street at a brisk pace, with Rafe's longer legs easily keeping time with Molly's steps. As they walked, he turned on his heel and moved backwards a few paces, then spun back around and jogged a few steps to the curb on the other side. Like he couldn't wait to get inside. Or maybe he just had a lot of energy bubbling over. He paused long enough to let Molly retake the lead, and when they reached the bar's front entrance he stepped aside to leave room for her to open the door.

There was already a fair-sized crowd inside the bar, many of whom were seated around tables and booths or otherwise moving about the cramped space. The bar itself was mostly occupied, with only a few empty seats to choose from. Rafe sidled up to a group of hipster college students and said something to one of them, his smile turning up in an easy, affable expression. A moment later the group shifted down a seat, leaving room for Rafe and Molly to grab two of the stools for themselves. Rafe nodded his thanks to them and sat down, gesturing toward the bartender. When the woman approached, he ordered a glass of pinot noir and leaned an elbow on the counter, his eyes shifting from the bartender's easy smile to Molly's somewhat more reserved features.

Once they were alone, he leaned in and said, "I love the smell here. Like wine and blood and aged wood."

Molly Toombs
Once inside, Molly took pause a few paces within the door and out of the way.  She wasn't so quick to locate a spot to sit, and Rafe had the opportunity to swoop in on a group of college-aged kids and talk them into shifting down to make room.

She sat at the bar on the side opposite the hipster kids, letting Rafe take space beside his new found chums in good manner.  The man had ordered a red wine, and Molly looked (was) a little surprised, but didn't say anything out loud.

With a beer in hand (she had to drink light enough to drive soon after), Molly turned the stool some to be faced more toward Rafe than straight ahead.  She looked somewhat perplexed and sniffed a little when he mentioned the smell in the air.

"I'm missing the copper notes, I suppose.  You... ah, come to this bar a lot for that reason?"

A sip of the beer punctuated the end of the question, and she glanced about briefly to scope out her surroundings.  A little less paranoid indoors.

Verna Gardner
[And, looks like Verna's out! *checks off another 'scenes Verna has been in where she never spoke more than three words' checkbox. The list is looong.* Will keep throwing her at the wall and seeing if she sticks next time!]