OPEN prompts- Take what you will tonight

[use_everything]

WHO: MANY, open and directed tags
WHERE: VARIOUS
WHEN: All of September
WHAT: Catch all
WARNINGS: Discussion of suicide, sexual assault, abuse, incest, a whole mess of crap in the Miles' thread. Read with care.

MULTIPLE PROMPTS OWED IN HERE, open Lucky Cat as well. If you want anything, even as vague AS HEY LETS PLAY, hit me on youroverlord on plurk and I will throw down something for you.

Comments

Open

[use_everything]

[Today has been busier than usual. Perhaps its the full moon out, perhaps it's been the tensions in the air in a quiet war time economy. Perhaps its just because it's Monday. It's a holiday. People have places to be, and the coffee should have been WAITING.

But today the line has been non stop, and the usually at least moderately distant clientèle are biting at every delay and small misstep.

For now, Aral merely stays somewhat stony as a customer throws a small tantrum about a shortage of almond milk on delaying their order. He doesn't answer any of the sharp, pointed questions, and the soft pink uniform shirt he's wearing doesn't really cut the glower he's returning the inquiries with. Just gives an incredibly bland, blanketed look, finishes the order and just before YOU would have FINALLY gotten yours, puts his towel down on the counter and goes to leave for his break.]

[resoundingpledge]

[ Caught between Almonds have milk? and That sounds like something Yayoi-san would like, it takes her a moment to realize that he has, in fact, completely vanished.

. . . eh?

He had been there. Hadn't he? It isn't easy to miss him by sight, he's a very sizable amount of non-existence. A tall and broad empty void. And he's pink today, and she only really orders her usual (dry vanilla cappuccino) when he's the one making it, if only because he takes 'extra sweet' really literally . . .

He's definitely not there, though. And not . . . anywhere, in this café full of people. Loud people, grumpy people, people who are really and truly here in all the ways he's not.

What now? She could ask, but it'd be embarrassing if he'd just been a figment of her imagination. And the rest of the staff looked harried enough . . . leaving the three carefully penned pages she'd brought in their care wouldn't be good today either.

In the end, she abandons her drink and takes one of the few open seats instead, opening her notebook and unfolding the set of finished problems. Idly, almost, she follows the path of the third through its five-dimensional flight path. That one had been an unevenly distributed mass (a ship with cargo, maybe?) but the thrust had been steady. What would happen if the propulsion was off? How did their engines work, anyway? Tailspins probably didn't exist in space, but if they did . . .

Jotting down a few more values, she picks up mid-equation, plotting a hurricane's twisting path through folds in the fabric of space. ]

[use_everything]

[It's not that Kururu Sumeragi had lost the time, but it's easy for it to pass when working through a difficult problem. Somewhere in there, the tide had come and go... and a simple cup was set in front of her. Vanilla, dry, distressingly sweet.

... This time, a goldfish with a long, flowing tail drifted on the surface of foam.]

That trip ends in disaster. [Is the first and only sound from him.]

[resoundingpledge]

[ Where the first and only sound from her at the sudden voice out of nowhere is a completely undignified, squawked: ]

gyaugh!!

[jacksonian]

[ This is a mission with sensitive timing. Deadly sensitive. Because secrecy is key - concealment - the ignorance of his opponent - and, indeed, his opponent is crafty, a renowned strategist...

So when there is an opening, he takes it. Mark holds his breath as he sees Lord Vorkosigan turn his back and start to walk away, and that's when he steps forward: he takes four twenty-dollar bills from his back pocket and stuffs them into the tip jar, and then turns and power-walks back to his seat, hoping he wasn't noticed. ]

[use_everything]

[The act goes unseen. An assassin's work slipped without notice and perhaps would have gone entirely without question had... the tip jar not been quite so half empty (another rarity for the cafe), or the bills not quite so large.

It does, at least, garner surprise and appreciation from the young workers present and a sharp increase in moral that was desperately needed...


It is, unsurprisingly, not long after that a plate with one of the strawberry scones and extra buttery croissants (both still warm from the oven), Aunt Cass' specialties settles in front of Mark. There really couldn't be another culprit.]

Mind if I take a break here?

[jacksonian]

[ Enough time has gone by that he's forgotten to be nervous that someone had caught him. That nervousness, the first few minutes after that reckless act, had kept him alert, wary; now, though, he's left that behind, and has gotten absorbed in his work, doing quick stock trades on his tablet.

The clink of the plate on the table startles him, and there's the accustomed rush of fear when he looks up and sees Lord Vorkosigan's face - but it's less, now, than it used to be. He scarcely even jumps. And there's only the slightest awkwardness in his voice when he says: ]

Please.

[ The baked goods, of course, help to quell any and all unpleasant feelings. He asks, just a little tentatively - ]

Did you get those for yourself, or, uh...?

[ Never mind that the plate has clearly been set in front of him; he doesn't want to accidentally eat Lord Vorkosigan's food. ]

Tex, Aral, Cordelia

[use_everything]

[One would think that three space age imPorts would have little trouble with air travel. But the primitive tech made every plating of the airplane seem woefully inadequate, the antique engines laughably unreliable and DEAR GOD WHERE ARE THE STABLIZERS ON THIS THIS IS NOT ATMOSPHERIC REINTRY???!!

It. Was rather nice to be on the ground again, surrounded by Texas tourist memorabilia and brightly colored t-shirts proclaiming "KEEP AUSTIN WEIRD." Even this far out, there were a few signs of imPort marketing in the airport, but nothing to the extent of Heropa.

There has, for little wonder, been something of a following of an imPort with a distinct name... as evidenced by the life sized cardboard cutout of a certain black power armor.]

Ah... It seems far less intimidating like that.

[failureisntachoice]

[ It's a damn good thing she's ridden in her fair share of pelicans (one of which experienced a crash landing very quickly due to an explosive going off). She'd be more annoyed at the flight over though she wonders why the hell they haven't made teleporter technology more widespread. It's the one major advantage they have and yet they can't even do that right.

The feeling of being home yet somewhere she's never been hits her slowly as they walk through the airport. They weren't even in the city proper yet. Her armor is thankfully left behind in De Chima leaving her harder to recognize. Not that she expected to find a damn cardboard cutout. She glares at the display and contemplates the merits of ripping it in half. ]

Think I can sue them for using my likeness for their bullcrap?

[use_everything]

Isn't there ah... royals, they're called, I believe?

[He has been trying to follow the .. notably near Jacksonian economy this dimension favored, as it seemed to drive the military conflict of the period. It still eluded him on many of the concepts.

He's not entirely sure what a local hero bring legal action would do...

But it would be entertaining to see play out.]

[failureisntachoice]

Royalties, [ she supplies easily. Terminology about money is something she has down. ]

If they're making any money out of this advertisement then you bet your ass I want in on it.

Gregor, Duv

[use_everything]

[There really wasn't an occasion. Most Vor at least took a little wine with supper and after... but after that first time, something of cordial distance had cracked. Having taken a glass to himself as company while Cordelia has a night shift, Aral was not particularly hesitant, this time, in making an inviting gesture towards one of the empty chairs at the table when Gregor trades a nod with him.]

[vorbarra]

[ Gregor is never really able to get inebriated in any real fashion at most of his social functions at home, so he really hasn't spent time with Aral like this, but it's true, after the first one it's like a barrier had been lowered.

Out here in the countryside of the jokingly named Residence, Gregor feels as comfortable as he ever does in accepting the invitation. There's no politics behind it and no requisite public appearances. He accepts his drink when proferred. ]

Thank you. Slightly surreal not to have those ghastly public appearances to put in, isn't it? [ he comments, his thoughts spurred in that direction. ] You had your share as regent, you know. Even as prime minister you don't escape.

[use_everything]

[Gregor is rewarded with a brief, sour expression at that. He chases it off with a sip of wine.] I wouldn't expect so. I think it's harder to hold the glass the whole time and not drink from it than any of the bloody politics are.

Tej

[use_everything]

[It is an end of a particularly long shift at the Lucky Cat cafe, leaving Tej and Aral to take care of closing. The last of the chairs up, machines cleaned and counters stocked and prepped for tomorrow, Aral Vorkosigan glanced at his coworker, hesitates a moment... It is hard to place what her standing is... and standing is every manner of address with Barrayarans.

He ends up giving her a simple nod.]

Shall I arrange our groundcar? [He hasn't quite adjusted to 'taxi.' It was a particularly Komarran concept that likely didn't help that particular resistance.]

[ghemnotgem]

( it had been a question tej had occupied herself with, ever since an ivan's disappearance. she knew her standing with him there -- his wife, in name if nothing else -- and the gregor had allowed for it. but with him gone she found her footing more-or-less in limbo. and feeling lonelier than before. It puts herself in mind of Rish once more, and it's only thanks to the gloves she's wearing that a table does not turn into lapis lazuli.

she doesn't expect viceroy vorkosigan to actually speak to her. the stony silence that he does most things has gone from unnerving to expected, and it's when he talks that she's actually taken aback. )

Viceroy Vorkosigan? ( oh, right. yes. ) I-- yes, I suppose. I've finished for the evening.

( tej was just planning on walking back to the porter, but one does not refuse a request made by viceroy vorkosigan anymore than one attempts to out-deal the gregor. )

[use_everything]

[That strange expression crosses his face at the title, but there's no comment this time. Just a nod and a phone call later has a service on its way.]

Have you been walking back? Usually, that is. [The distance to the porter wasn't bad, but the one from the porter to the residence is outright terrible.]

Simon

[use_everything]

[There is, without any doubt, a certain cognitive dissonance for a Barrayaran visiting a coffee shop staffed by the Emperor of Barrayar (who is still on his prole vacation and enjoying it, thank you very much). But it could be that Aral Vorkosigan's discomfort in this specific job at all of its deep classist roots just evaporates watching a particular SHADE of disbelief or discomfort on a subordinate officer.

It didn't show on his face. That remained schooled far better than Simon Illyan had seen under the most dire of pressure and delicate of operations.

No. It showed in the fluffy Mochi drawn on the surface of the cappuccino Aral slid over to Simon.]

[unclassifiable]

[The first, the only indication that Simon might be phased is the fact that he stares. Due to the nature of his memory implant, Simon does not really need to stare at anything, since anything that crosses the path of his eyes for so much as a nanosecond be summoned up and examined at leisure. He typically does not stare, since it is conspicuous and also it stole his precious attention away form his surroundings, away from potential dangers..

But this coffee, this fluffy Mochi resting against the hot liquid, he stares at.]

A remarkable likeness.

[In perfect deadpan.]

[use_everything]

[The reply is just as simple, missing inflection in that very peculiar way Barrayarans can.]

I've had some accolades on the matter.

[He nods to one of his fellow baristas, a subtle signal for a break and sets his Lucky Cat apron aside.]

It does remind me, I've looked over your reports. Have a moment?

Cass

[use_everything]

[Aral had a tendency to get in well before opening. Though utterly useless in ... anything to do with the baking that got the day started, today's project was disassembling one of the machines to find out what was making that awful noise if the pour was held too long.

It HAD been going fairly well. It had religious cleanings during the shift, so it could have gone much, much worse. He'd seen what happened to the dispensers on ships. Several service men used to claim that three-hundredth brew coffee added a certain military taste to the coffee.

At least, tech really HADN'T changed that much in what was honestly centuries...


Including the goddamn awful design decisions, like having anything that would need to be services behind corners and unmovable obstructions.]

Ms Cass. [He calls, certainly reluctant to interrupt... and almost hesitant to step into anything even closely related to a kitchen.] What do you have for tools?

I'M HERE...

[lasthugs]

[Fortunately for Aral, Cass is just coming out of the kitchen. She's carrying a tray of donuts ready to be placed on shelves as she does, but she's paying enough attention that she doesn't bump into him. No accidents this early in the morning.

Her smile is as bright as the sunlight outside the store as she tilts her head curiously.]

Tools? I think we have a pretty good toolbox in the cabinet where I keep spare uniforms. The standard handheld tools... and some powertools, I think? I have some of Hiro and Tadashi's old tools in the back, too.

BOARD GAMES

[dendarii]

[ A month of planning, upturned in an instant. And Miles had been doing so well ... In retrospect, the fact that he'd been allowed to get that far should have indicated a trap. He'll certainly keep that in mind next time.

For now he considers the board as it lies, tapping at the side of one cheek as he considers. He's a pleasant jumbled knot over the link, teasing at the various strands and trying to pull at the right one to unwind it. If he moves here ... no, he'll be pinned in the next move ...

He's still mulling whenever Aral catches sight of him, curled up in a chair with his feet dangling. ]

[use_everything]

[There is a certain satisfaction to it. They've traded off quandaries and difficult positions enough that this interplay was almost a tradition at this point. He is proud of this particular lead. He'd almost bet Miles didn't know it was coming before it closed down. He'd thought it over for almost a week, carefully pushing or pulling back just enough.

He settles on the other side of this particular slat of the board, and gamely offers,]

If you'd like to resign the game...

[dendarii]

[ Miles jolts at that, startled and prideful both. ]

Like hell. There's a way out of this, I'm sure of it.