On the corner of Main Street

[use_everything]

WHO: Aral, DC7, FMAs, RvBs, AND ANY
WHERE: DC7, Lucky Cat, etc
WHEN: All of May
WHAT: Catch all log!
WARNINGS: None! I will edit as needed!

OPEN and directed starters in the comments! Drop me a line if you want something specific!

Comments

Lucky Cat Cafe | OPEN

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[After some patience, a lot of practice and reading and watching a fair amount of instructions, if you should happen to order an expresso latte from the square jawed, stocky man behind the counter you may get a cute design of the resident cat, Mochi. The cup is laid down gently, but there's a certain steely air of dignity that comes with it.

Or perhaps you're one of the regulars in to bother him. There's a lull in the business at the moment, a number of cute pastries from Cass on display and time to kill.]

Your order. [It's said with a nod, businesslike.]

[resoundingpledge]

[ Nonah 5 was a lot of things, but 'a good place to do homework' wasn't exactly one of them. And with their house in Heropa so quiet . . . it's nicer, sometimes, to work around people instead. And Kaneda had talked about this café . . .

She looks up, startled, as the cup is set down. Not because she'd been engrossed in her work—that happened, that was normal, but this really wasn't the kind of work that she could get lost in. But because . . . she hadn't noticed him. She really hadn't noticed him, as if he'd been a ghost that just materialized by her table, and that was . . . weird, wasn't it?

Her brows furrow a bit, as she takes the order marker from the table and holds it out to him. That was really weird. ]

Mm! Thank you . . .

[use_everything]

[The older man delivering her order pauses a moment, just before taking the placard. The physics he recognized, they were elementary in preparatory school for a military career. A certain gateway to five space math... Which is why the marks on her homework causes that hesitation.]

Those are quite correct... but you're removing them?

[Or at least, the equations used were... It was hardly his business, but some things were absolutely curious.

When he does take the order marker, there's nothing from him. No sound moving through the conductive wire metal, for a moment, it's a terrible, encroaching silence.]

[resoundingpledge]

There's not supposed to be air resistance, or—. . .

[ Friction, she would have said, if not entirely and completely distracted with the total lack of anything beside her. More than just an absence, it's a void—the difference akin to the difference between a barren room and the silent nothing of outer space.

A sane, reasonable person would let go. Kururu is neither of these things, and despite having just offered it to him, her grip compulsively tightens around the sign's base. ]

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[Already in the motion of pulling back away, there's a significant tug on the marker. And then another, lighter, quizzical one.]

Madame?

A local hobby store | OPEN

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[There are stores like this in almost any town. The ones where the owner seems to pick up merchandise with 13 year old enthusiasm more than any business sense. Rows of sealed comic books sit proudly in the front of the store, leading a winding way back among board games, model airplanes, ship in a bottle kits and finally... figures, maps and acrylics.

Aral Vorkosigan hadn't really intended to buy anything today, merely get ideas for the next set of rules for the ever-expanding household board game. In fact, looking over the small plastic army figurines on the cheap, to the elaborate, cast pewter for WarMace game systems, he came across something he had never exactly expected...

Import action figures...

The one in his hands might have a particularly strong likeness to you...]

Ah. It... is an interesting trend. Perhaps disconcerting.

[dendarii]

[ Miles is here for ... much the same reasons, really. Browsing through the various (and brand new) board games, looking for ideas ... and lamenting the sorry state of his own stipend. That's what he gets for pulling Tex's bonuses straight out of his own money. If anything, Aral switching the accounts over will mean more board game supplies coming in on Miles' money ...

He was just flipping through a new Fantasy Flown catalogue when he spots the taller figure across the store. And then he sees what Aral's holding ... He tries (and fails) to stifle a laugh, the amusement palpable over the cracked opening in their link. ]

I can't tell if that one's me or Hermann.

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Apparently it also has [And with the deliberate enunciation of reading something ridiculous] "kung fu action." I believe that excludes both of you.

[A pause, considering, and then sets it back on the shelf.]

Unless our accountant has some particularly unique skills beyond the stock market, I'm baffled.

[dendarii]

[ Miles just grins at that. ]

He is a man of mystery. I can barely get a word out of him most conversations.

Cordelia | Closed

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[It had been something of a long afternoon, deciding what exactly to do with a situation involving a certain text earlier that day. He hadn't seen Tex and certainly hadn't gone out of his way to seek her out. Not until he'd gotten a good plan of action in place.

He'd worked it through one angle and down another. Studied the field and found himself severely underprepared. It was time to call in an expert consultant. Or at the very least, the closest they had.]

Dear Captain, I've a question. [There were several things that gave away the restless energy in the man. The subtle glances, checking the door, or even the drawn, electric air about him. Mostly though, it's the light tap of his foot, now and then. While retired for the evening, he hadn't come to bed yet, favoring the study chair and a book instead. It's set aside as he speaks.]

... Several, actually.

[keep_nothing]

[ She'd been wondering what Aral was so obviously antsy about since the afternoon, though she'd learn not to push him when he was so visibly agitated; she waited instead for him to say something first.

So she hadn't gone to bed yet either, merely picked her way through the study and cleared off a chair (she didn't particularly think of whose pieces or supply caches she'd just ruined by letting them slip to the floor, but based on Aral's small smirk at the gesture, she figured she owed Miles a nice lunch), and she sat with an e-reader of her own, flicking through some tech journal she subscribed to earlier that week.

She glances up from her sideways position, having opted to drape her legs over one of the armrests rather than sitting up normally. ]

Yes, love?

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[Even with that opening, it's a moment before he follows it, starting a bit awkwardly and hesitating as the idea of asking his wife this struck as all manner of foreign.

He rubs at his face, and starts again.]

You were aware Tex was going to ask me .. that today?

[keep_nothing]

[ She's already turned her face to him, but now she sets her e-reader down against her thighs – a clear sing that she's paying total attention now. ]

Ask you what?

Tex | Closed

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[It was a bit like some odd parallel to all of the dates Cordelia has gone on with Tex, except this time, meeting her in the living room was with no intention of someone else coming in to sweep away the armswoman.

He'd decided against dress greens, while more comfortable, they certainly drew too much attention. He'd prefer a quieter evening than that. So fresh shaven, in pressed slacks and crisp button down shirt, he managed to give off the impression of being in uniform anyway.

The difference was in the address as he looks up, spotting her.]

Allison. [Formal, warm, and absolutely hiding his own nervousness.]

[failureisntachoice]

[ She's not entirely sure what she's doing. This isn't her first date here though her practical experience is far less than any vague memories she holds from her past life.

But Aral is a friendly face and he hadn't told her to expect anything other than to show up at the right time. A fact made easier by her moving into the same building. Her own attire is simple, a leather jacket over a nice blouse and jeans. It's not as if she needs to impress the man.

She comes down the stairs right on time, pausing only briefly when she notices his attire. Maybe she should have gone a step-up from jeans. ]

Aral. Are we going anywhere formal?

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[It was, in fact, the first time he'd heard his name from her since their initial, challenging conversation on names on their introduction. ... It was far more pleasant to hear, this time.

At the question, he glances over her, offer a small smile.]

Not overly. I believe you are quite fine as you are.

[failureisntachoice]

[ No missteps so far and she has to admit, she likes the look of that smile on him. It's not an expression she see's often on Aral's face.

She nods, quietly relieved that they aren't going anywhere fancy, though her eyes take in his striking appearance once more. ]

Do you have a ride arranged or should I drive us?

Roy and Cordelia

[use_everything]

[There are rarely opportunities like this particular evening. With most of both houses out, it's just the adults in DC7 today. There is a fair amount of particularly good Thai takeout, with at least one box of vegetarian fare for those a bit more queasy about non vat-grown protein. That and a good dry bottle of red, freshly opened sits on the coffee table in front of the couch to greet their guest of the evening.]

Good to have you, Colonel.

[burningbothends]

... Admiral. Captain—Cordelia, [He amends. Nervous habit, but Cordelia has implied a preference to being addressed by name.] Thank you for having me.

[It comes out a little bemused. Roy's half-tempted to wonder aloud at them being serious. After talking with Gregor he was a little at a loss as to what their intentions were, but he can smell the wine and the food—proper date fare. They certainly hadn't been kidding about that part.

He's grateful for the presence of wine, given what he promised to tell them. It wasn't precisely that he needed liquid courage; he had already resolved to tell them about Ishval days ago. It was only right, for them to have that part of his history if he was going to be working with them, especially since he'd extracted the information on Komarr from Captain Galeni. The problem was how... He'd tried mentally composing the story a thousand times, carefully changing the wording, picking a different starting point, pouring over the relevant details. Every attempt felt flat, died on his tongue when he sat alone in the privacy of his room. Fourteen years ago, my country entered a civil war... His own role in the war had been so well-known in Amestris, he'd never had to talk about Ishval. It was always there. Yet despite that, despite the clear beginning, middle, end, voicing the words, giving them the proper weight, felt impossible. He'd been quiet most of the day, anticipating this, but he wasn't much better off.

Gregor's mild reminder kept coming back to him. He could turn them down and they wouldn't hold it against him, hm... No, it was pleasant to think about, but he wouldn't go back on this resolve.]

[keep_nothing]

And thank you for accepting this after we basically kidnapped you for a few days.

[ She takes his arm once he's inside their door, to guide him into the living room as well as squeezing his arm lightly in a pseudo-hug, a friendly gesture of greeting. ]

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[The idea of this being a date was an odd one, but agreeing made Cordelia happy, and he certainly didn't mind the company of the man being led in. They'd had quite a few things slated to discuss, there was, perhaps, no harm in the surroundings being pleasant, at least.

He finds a seat at the end of the couch as Cordelia guides their guest in.]

I believe we have owed you conversation and drinks, as it were.

DC7 | Open

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[Should you be visiting DC7 this particular evening, most of the household is scattered into different rooms and different tasks. There's the faint sound of someone in the kitchen, a clatter and sizzle here and there, and the aroma of that maddening state between done and starting to smell really good.

Conversation is a murmur somewhere upstairs and another in the study...

Aral himself has taken to his sprawling manner of sitting on the couch, on the coffee table in front of him are forms, information packets and a half empty glass of red wine.

He looks up, a question in the raised brows at the visitor or household member's entrance.]

[idontwanttoknow]

[Ivan did threaten to visit Miles--well, Gregor, actually. He'd rather not admit he was visiting Miles, unless it's to nag him. Or drink his wine. Do they keep wine in this house? They must. Gregor has good taste.

He knocks once before barging in. What? They all know him by now.

He doesn't seem to remember the warning about Miles's parents being younger, and if he does, he must not think it will matter.]

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[Which probably makes the level, withering stare as something of a shock. The hand settling in conspicuously easy reach of the weapon on his hip even moreso.

The stranger was, admittedly, of striking good looks, but little else to give a clue as to why he was just waltzing into their home.

It's amazing, in it's own way, how without a lick of recognition. Without twenty years of history, Aral can still perfectly replicate that "Ivan-you-idiot, what did you do now?" look.]

Might I help you?

[idontwanttoknow]

[He almost doesn't recognize the man on the couch. But then there's that look, and Ivan realizes who he's looking at just as he asks,] Uncle Aral? Is that you?