2011-10-26 - Trouble At The Diner

The Silver Dollar Cafe is not the biggest (or cleanest) dine-out experience in the area, but it's got what Washington U students need: cheap food, the occasional live music, and twenty-four-hour-a-day operation. It's a dive, but it's a good dive, and usually sees a pretty good crowd. Tonight's something of an exception, however...most of the usual suspects have filtered off with the setting of the sun, and business is at a crawl. Avery and Sylvia make their way in looking somewhat tense, the former pausing to quickly mutter "Let me clear things up with my boss real quick," before disappearing into the back. It's not long before he's back out, behind the counter and in his stained white tee, and he motions her over to a rickety raised platform in the corner with a strained but genuine smile.

Sylvia looks around as she enters. Not many people around... so not much of an audience. Still, it's nice to have an audience that will actually sit and listen, she thinks. She makes her way to a stool in the center of the small stage, crossing her legs demurely before giving a bright smile to those in the area. "How's everyone doing tonight?" she asks. "My name's Sylvia."

Indi arrives with Bran a couple of minutes after Sylvia and Avery are settled. She'd been out shopping with her new friend, getting him a few essentials and showing him the town in general, when she'd suddenly paused, started mumbling a little randomly about coffee cups, then turned to Bran and announced that they were getting something to eat. She enters with a look that, while not as tense as the cook and his companion, is searching. After a short glance around the place, she finds a seat at the counter and gestures for Bran to take one next to her, "This is a good place. And its usually pretty quiet at night, which can be good for thinking." She tells her companion.

Bran doesn't ask questions when he's told it's time to eat. For one thing, he was a bit hungry anyway, and for another thing, he's getting good at not asking questions in general. He follows Indi into the diner and takes a seat beside her, glancing over at the dark-skinned woman on the stage who seems to be greeting the room as they come in. Responding to Indi, he glances around again and agrees, "It... looks nice?"

Sylvia starts playing her guitar while waiting for Avery to bring out the food he was making for both of them. As she plays she watches Bran and Indira, giving them a warm smile, before looking back toward Avery once more.

Meanwhile, the grill's starting to smoke and Avery is doing his thing with an assortment of ingredients, scooping them from one hot plate to the other with almost casual skill. His shoulders are visibly tense through the plain cotton of his shirt, however...and when he turns to face the new customers, he's already sweating. It may be a trick of the dim lighting-- most of it's focused on the raised platform, after all-- but for a second, Avery's eyes seem to gleam golden as they flicker over the pair. But no, another look and they'd be blue again. He approaches the counter with unaccustomed weariness, but again, his smile is genuine and only a tad still strained. "Welcome to the Silver Dollar. What're you feelin'?" The rest of the small crowd, meanwhile, is reacting to Sylvia with subdued-but-positive anticipation that turns to warmth as she begins to play.

Indi chuckles at Bran's comment, "It's OK, you don't have to pretend. Its not the prettiest of places." She smiles when she notices Sylvia, nodding in greeting. "Hmmmm. I'm feeling... soup. Whichever is best tonight. And a turkey sandwich. Also, coffee. Two cups." She looks to Bran then, giving him an inquiring look, "My friend might need a recommendation or two?"

Bran simplifies things by saying, "I'll just have what she's having. I like soup." Then he turns in his seat to watch Sylvia with great interest. He seems to enjoy the music, but at the same time he's probably looking at her somewhat more intently than just someone enjoying a song.

"Cheese and broccoli good for the soup?" He starts shuffling the sandwich together even as he's asking the question, pausing only to slide a scoop of coffee beans into the battered grinder behind him and flick it on. He's working pretty fast for such a small crowd, but it's almost as if he can't help it. He turns back to Bran and the ghost of a grin flickers across his lips. "Not gonna lie, we're not exactly French dining." He nods as Bran repeats her order, and gets to work on the second sandwich, spinning to ladle a steaming pile of hashbrowns off the grill and onto a plate, which he sets aside with a friendly nod for Sylvia. For a moment, he stalls while everything is still in the works, looking a little at a loss and wiping a hand across his forehead. "...Planning on anything big for Halloween?" He asks absently over his shoulder, apparently to both of them, as he swipes some lids off pots of soup and begins to stir.

Sylvia finishes her first short tune with a bit of a flourish. "Thank you," she says as a few patrons clap appreciatively. "If there's any requests out there, I'm sure I can give them a shot. I have a pretty big repertoire," she says with a grin. "Oh, but, got to eat first," she adds as Avery brings out the hash browns. She sets the guitar aside and heads for the counter to join the others, taking the plate of hashbrowns for herself and giving a smile to Bran and Indira again.

Indi grins at Avery, "Sounds perfect." She glances at Bran, smiling in something like relief as she notes him enjoying the music. "She's pretty good, yes? We have had her perform before at the studio, for open gallery nights." She looks up as Sylvia approaches, "Its... Sylvia, right?"

Sylvia's smile grows wider as Indira mentions the open gallery nights. "Oh, yes! Indira, how could I have forgotten? It's very good to see you again. And it's a pleasure to meet a friend of yours," she adds to Bran. "Like I said, I'm Sylvia. Sylvia Jefferson."

When Sylvia approaches, Bran seems to have an attack of shyness, and he looks away. "She does play very well," he agrees quietly, also murmuring a quiet "Thank you" to Avery. He seems uncertain if he should say much with Sylvia there. Or, perhaps he's just the quiet type.

The cook's work flow continues at a stuttering but competent pace as he spoons thick, heady-smelling soup into a couple of mismatched earthenware bowls and slides them across the counter to Bran and Indi, followed quickly by the sandwiches on similarly mismatched plates and four mugs of coffee, each branded with a cartoony silver coin. And then he's got a moment to rest, it looks like, as his only counter customers turn to each other for the moment and greet each other. His breathing slows, for the first time since he and Sylvia arrived, and he leans against the grill with a lop-sided smile. "Let me know if you guys need anything else. Just takin' a breather."

Indi nods to the cook, "Of course, thank you." After a nod of appreciation, she turns to Sylvia. "This is my friend's first time in a city so large. I've been showing him some of my favorite parts of the city." She turns to her bowl for a minute, taking an appreciative sniff of the contents before adding, "Are you friends with the cook?"

"Welcome, then," Sylvia says to Bran. "Well, we only just met," she clarifies. "But yes, I'll say we're friends. So where would you be from?" she asks, returning to Bran. "I always like hearing about other places, though I'll probably never leave this city myself."

"Um," Bran tries to explain, only briefly glancing up at Sylvia, "I'm from the country. I used to work for some, people there, in a big house. Then I moved to the city not very long ago because I saw a job on the, err, online. I didn't get the job, but I stayed here anyway."

Indi winces at the question, glancing to Bran and then pointedly looking at her soup while he answers. As the awkward but otherwise not horrible answer comes forth, she relaxes just slightly and picks up her spoon. And that's when she gets seriously still. Staring at the cups, bowls, and plates set before the three, she murmurs something almost inaudible about something coming. The, with a frown that is both worried and expectant, she looks to the door.

A squirrel enters the room as someone opens the door, hopping over to the counter in the way squirrels do. Sylvia glances down at it and frowns. "What now...?" she mutters, before taking a few hash browns and eating them. For someone living on the streets, she doesn't seem all that hungry...

The Silver Dollar's not destined for a slow night after all, it seems; a couple at one of the booths gets up to leave, waving to Avery and calling out friendly goodbyes, and makes their way out...but the door hasn't finished swinging shut on them when five rough-looking middle aged men push their way in, all of them swaggering like they own the place. Four of the men make their way to the corner booth the couple just vacated, laughing to each other raucously over some muttered joke, while the fifth makes his way to the counter at a leisurely pace. There's something off about his eyes, as they roll over the trio seated at the counter and then focus on the figure behind it. (He also takes a moment to eye the squirrel and deliberately lick his lips.) The minute the door opened again, Avery stood bolt upright, nostrils flaring. Now he is staring at the man approaching the counter like he's seen a ghost, glance bouncing off to the four in the corner and back again in obvious but tightly controlled shock. There's probably something a little off about his eyes, as well.

Indi relaxes as the Squirrel enters. She's shaking her head as though amused at herself and returning once more to her soup, mostly ignoring the leaving customers, when the men enter. Frowning, she glances their way (her look is one of annoyance). Eyes narrowing as she takes in the postures and the way the man eyes the squirrel, she sets down her spoon in a deliberately slow motion. Her eyes remain completely on the men, only a flicker of a glance spared for Avery. Her posture is now very tense, her body poised to move at a moment's notice.

For whatever reason, the appearance of the squirrel makes Bran hop to his feet, pushing away from his seat and looking around wildly. When the men arrive, he backs away from them without going too far from Indi, and he seems conflicted about what to do next, his expression settling into a frown as he bites down on his lower lip in apparent frustration.

Sylvia also stands in response to the squirrel, watching the men carefully as they approach. The squirrel soon runs away, thankfully. She's not the one in charge here, so she leaves it to the others to decide how to react. Still, she scans the area, her eyes falling on any potted plants in the room.

The man approaching the counter seems to enjoy the sudden tension; he takes his sweet time, looking around the diner with eyes that seem to gather the light until they gleam a sickly, inhuman yellow, baring teeth that look a little too long in what only technically qualifies as a grin. Indira and Sylvia earn a long, leering look that provokes a few hoots from his companions in the corner, and Bran gets a dismissive smirk before his attention turns to the cook. He leans on the counter with a loud creak of leather, decked out in enough road-scarred layers that he looks like some sort of apocalyptic warrior from an eighties movie. He's not said anything yet, but that doesn't stop Avery from emitting a strangely deep growl, low in his throat. The cook's growl turns to a rough, urgent bark to his patrons; "Don't run. If you run, they'll chase you. It's their way." Kind of an odd thing to say, but then, things are getting decidedly odd-- Avery's eyes are starting to gleam a polished gold themselves. (Unfortunately for Sylvia, the diner has nothing in the way of potted plants. The air is too warm for them.)

Indi seems to be taking Avery very seriously, strange as his comment and the whole situation in general may be. Her only movement has been to narrow her eyes at the leader as his own eyes glow with that inhuman yellow, her look one of suspicious wariness. She does reply, her voice low and controlled, betraying not a hint of fear, "We're not going anywhere."

Bran comes up beside Indira, his expression hardening beyond the usually hesitant look he usually wears. He keeps his posture relaxed, but tension is evident in his frame, and he seems intimidated but determined not to back down, just as Indi said. He doesn't say anything, but he does keep a close eye on the newcomers.

"I don't want anyone here to be hurt," Sylvia says, looking between the newcomers and the others in the room. "What is it you want?" she asks the leering man at the counter. "I don't have much money to give, if that's what you're looking for," she notes.

The apparent leader of the rowdy group turns to stare hungrily at Indira as she responds, the grin on his face spreading...and spreading...and /spreading/ until it's literally ear to ear. No human face is capable of that, and the row of teeth he reveals are now definitely animal fangs. But it's just for a moment; his disturbingly elastic mouth relaxes to normal proportions, and he winks. "Glad to hear it, little miss. The boys and I were really hoping to...dine in." His voice is as rough as his exterior, with a faint but unmistakable Midwestern drawl, and the comment sends his buddies into another round of hooting, snarling laughter. His savage eyes shift to Bran as he steps up, cold and measuring for a moment, but then he winks again and waves a hand, like it's all just in good fun. "Simmer down, little man. You stink like a kettle of popcorn ready to blow, but we ain't here for sweets. And we don't want your street-money neither," He adds for Sylvia's benefit, nostrils twitching. Avery is literally shaking with barely-contained anger, his features distorted in a snarl that lifts his lips to reveal teeth that are, themselves, slowly gaining points. It seems to amuse the man at the counter to no end to see this; he throws the cook a wink too. "Think you could avoid shredding your friends here, pup? Not a lot of room in your little grease trap. I'm just here with a message."

Indira lifts her chin, eyes narrowing in an almost challenging expression. Her expression wavers a little at the face-splitting grin, but it does not falter. Swallowing, she speaks once more after he states his purpose. This time, her voice is almost entirely casual, as though she hasn't a care in the world(there's still that unease underneath it, but its hidden now to the casual ear). "Then deliver your message and leave, wolf. You're holding up the cook, and I'm still waiting on my dessert."

Bran holds his ground, though he does appear to be trembling a bit from the presence of the feral-looking man. Bran is definitely not fearless, but he's also not backing down. He swallows hard, and he adds in a low voice, "You'd better do what the lady said to do, sir. It would be a mistake not to."

Sylvia nods in agreement. "Say what you will, then go," she says. "I have no quarrel with you. We're all living beings after all. As far as I can tell."

The rough man's eyes flash with delight at Indira's defiance, and his companions let loose with off-key caricatures of animal howls. "Oooh, I like you, little miss." As for Bran, the man actually barks out a laugh and leans in, his grin turning menacing. "Better wait for them to drop before you try a line like that again, little man." He grabs the front of his own pants and gives a demonstrative shake. Sylvia's comment earns an exaggerated, solemn nod. "Living beings, God's honest." He turns to the counter and raps a finger against it; the finger sprouted a claw while no one was looking, it seems, because the hard black nail easily peels up some wax. "Twofold message. First of all," And with this, he jerks his grin to Avery, "Papa wants you to know he's in town, and he expects a visit." Avery, for his part, seems to be focusing every cell in his body on not exploding; he meets this enigmatic statement with another strained, low growl. "Part two!" And with this, the man turns to Indira, Bran, Sylvia-- and the forgotten remaining scattered patrons of the diner, who have huddled down in their booths like petrified birds facing a starving cat. "Don't go into the woods at night. Or the streets. Or anywhere, really." He seems to reconsider, and adds, "Actually, please do. The boys and I just finished a long road trip and we've a hankering for fast food." More sniggers from the corner. This said, he leans on the counter and peers at the menu for a minute. "How's the soup?"

Indi actually rolls her eyes at the second part of the message. Yep, she really is a teenager. Though underneath the unease remains and even grows a little stronger as the man hints at staying for soup, outwardly she turns to her bowl and says with careful arrogance, "I doubt it's up to your standards. You don't get to bully it before you eat it."

Bran's hands curl slowly into fists, but he doesn't move from Indi's side. He murmurs quietly, "You're frightening... but that doesn't mean I'll let you hurt my friend." Intimidated though he might be, there's a hard edge to his voice that might not be expected from such an unassuming-looking youth.

Sylvia listens to the man's message, watching him with intense green eyes. "Which woods exactly?" she asks. "It's important. I'll respect your territory, but lines have to be drawn of course. The woods are supposed to be for everyone." She speaks quite authoritatively on this matter. "If you can be reasonable I may even help you find more appropriate food," she adds. "You do need to survive after all."

"Right you are, little miss. Our tastes are just a hitch more refined, ain't that so, boys?" The corner hooligans shout out various obscene suggestions as to what that might be, but the man starts waving them down as Bran speaks, head cocked. "Well, bless my soul! I think you just popped one out! Tell his brother to hurry up." More sniggers, but it's clear the man has no intention to stay; he's just being a dick. He appears to consider Sylvia's question for an extra minute or two, the silence underscored by Avery's stuttering growls. "Mmm...all the woods. All of 'em. Ain't nowhere safe anymore. This isn't the whole gang, see." He waves a dismissive hand at his buddies. "But look, if you're serious, come back out to that cute li'l park you, the pup, an' that other tasty little morsel were nosin' around tomorrow night and we'll--" "That's enough. Get the hell out." Avery seems to have mastered his fit of shivering rage, but his eyes are hard and inhuman, not too different from those of the man if truth be told. The leader throws up his hands, mock serious, and starts inching backwards; his crew get up to follow. "Yes sir! Just remember what I said about your pappy." With that, the gang departs. And for a few long, tense minutes, there's silence-- and then something CRASHES through one of the windows, and the other patrons scramble for the exit in a flurry of muffled screams. It was just a brick, but it did the trick. Avery's fist slams down on the counter hard enough to rattle Bran and Indira's bowls, and he's hunched forward, snarling, inches from losing control but fighting to keep it all down.

Indi's only response to the hoots and hollers is to clench her jaw and try very hard to appear to be ignoring them all. She remains tense as the group leaves, so tense that the window-breakage and counter-slamming barely cause more than a tiny start. Slowly, she turns to regard Avery, and once she has taken in his expression /very/ slowly stands, gesturing for Bran to collect the brick. "What can we do to help you regain your calm?" She asks, her tone shifted now to a much calmer and softer feel, underscored now with distinct relief.

Bran slowly relaxes as the others leave, and he just about looks calm again when the brick smashes through the window, making him flinch away from it. He blinks a few times at Indi's gesture, then he goes and picks up the brick, bringing it back over to the counter. His eyes downcast and lips pressed firmly together, he says nothing more for the moment.

Sylvia crosses the room, carefully avoiding the shards of glass. She briefly peers out the non-broken window, and notes that her shopping cart hasn't been taken or anything. She then picks up her guitar and sits back on the stool. "Would one more tune help, perhaps?" she suggests with a kind smile.

The cook's not doing as well as one might hope. His face has...shifted, the bone structure becoming more angular and feral, and he's breathing hard through his flaring nostrils. Both hands are on the counter, arms tense with muscle and claw-tipped fingers carving shallow trenches through the wax. Despite all this, Sylvia and Indira apparently get through to him. His golden eyes flicker between them, and between breaths he snarls, "Tune...can't hurt. Lock...dead-bolts on door. Please." His eyes squeeze closed, and he exhales hard through pressed lips with more than a hint of growl. He seems...a little less hairy than he was a few minutes ago, at least. "Oh...turn off the 'Open' light, too. Please," He huffs.

"Right." Nodding, Indi turns to Bran, pointing to the switch on the wall controlling the 'Open' light, "Flip that switch, would you?" She starts for the door as she finishes her request, flipping the lock as soon as she gets close enough. Once done with that, she starts working on the blinds, which take her a few seconds to figure out before she can start lowering them.

Meanwhile, Sylvia begins to play a slow tune on her guitar, hoping that it might calm the beast within Avery.

Bran puts the brick on the counter, then he turns and walks swiftly over to the wall, where he flips the switch. He also goes to the door and makes sure it's securely locked. Then, he turns back to face the cook. For someone who seemed so unnerved by bullying a moment earlier, Bran doesn't seem very bothered by the struggle with changing forms. If anything, he looks very curious.

The harsh, growling breaths have slowed into something a little more Zen; slow, rhythmic, and deep. Avery stands up a little straighter, eyes still closed, and faintly nods along with Sylvia's chords. His facial structure returns to normal in a jerky series of muted, painful-sounding crunches, not unlike someone chewing on ice, and his claws retract as he folds his arms across his chest. "Thanks, guys," He murmurs, and lets out a husky sigh. He stands like that for another few minutes, eyes closed and rocking on his heels a little, and then sighs again, quieter this time, and disappears into the back room for a second. He returns with a broom and gets to work on the glass, sweeping it off the table under the broken window and painstakingly gathering the shards into a pile. If he's got an explanation for any of the things that just happened, he's not exactly up to sharing just yet. He lets the silence stretch on for another minute or two, and then glances at the three of them in turn, absently sweeping despite having caught most of the glass. "Food's on the house," He manages, finally, with a bitter twist of his mouth. His eyes are filled with gratitude-- but still a soft, inhuman gold.

"Thanks," Sylvia says, making her way back to the counter with her guitar and finishing the rest of her hash browns. "I was wondering when the next pack would move in... It's been a while since I've had to deal with that particular branch of the animal kingdom," she adds.

Indi finishes her work and joins Bran, looking relieved when she sees that both he and Avery are well. Its then that her attention shifts to Sylvia. She watches the other girl with a curious gaze. Though she seems to enjoy the music - she's swaying slightly to the melody - her focus seems to be more on the girl's face. "Happy to help." She replies to Avery, still watching the singer, "If you need any help with them, I'd be happy to do more. I know a few tricks for weres." Frowning, she adds, "Assuming that's what all that was. Truth be told, I've never actually seen them up close... "

Bran leans against the counter a bit, drawing slow, deep breaths as he watches Sylvia play. The music seems to be calming him as well, though now he's looking at her in that same odd way that he did when they first came in, as if something about her makes him curious. After a few moments, he looks over to Avery and asks quietly, "Are you all right?"

Both Sylvia and Indira's comments pull a snort from the cook, and though he shakes his head he remains silent for another few minutes, eyes now on the floor and apparently on his work. Finally, he scoops the shards into a dustpan and dumps them, and then moves to the grill, turning off the various appliances and idly wiping the hotplates down with a threadbare rag. If he's surprised that this isn't apparently anyone's first encounter with the supernatural, he doesn't show it. Bran's question earns a very brief smile and a small shrug. "Dunno yet. Haven't come that close to losing it in almost a year." He pauses, and then looks at Sylvia and Indira again. "They're not normal shifters," He finally blurts, "not by a long shot. They're...something worse." He pauses, again, considering them all. "They've got no souls. Animal or human. Just rot and filth and brimstone." He looks like he's going to spit. "You'd be a lot better off just...staying out of this."

Indira's eyes widen a little at the information. Then she grins. "Staying out of things isn't usually an option for me." She says while finally returning to her seat. "Not that I'm planning to go get geared up for some epic battle right now or anything." She adds, careful to be clear. Then she follows Sylvia's example and starts eating again.

Bran hesitantly sits down, looking down into his bowl of soup for a long moment. When he looks up, it's to smile faintly at Avery. "Well, thanks for warning us. I thought you were very brave." Then, perhaps embarrassed over what he's said, he grabs his spoon and sets to eating his soup.

Sylvia shakes her head at this. "If creatures of that sort are coming here... Then this is definitely my business," she says. "Especially if they're claiming *all* the woods for themselves as they say. I live in that park for a reason, you know." She looks quite serious. "I can't let them just take it over like that."

That earns another chuckle. "Red was bluffing. If they've been in town for more than a few hours, they know there are other packs here. From what I understand, if they're stupid they'll try to muscle in somewhere and get their asses handed to them. If they're smart, they'll stay outside the city and wait for an opening." He refreshes Bran's and Indira's coffee, and offers Sylvia a mug. "Nearly got /my/ head torn off jus' trying to move into some apartments." His wry smile lingers for a few minutes, but slowly fades. "No epic battles, at least, not yet. This was personal, and he was just trying to scare you." He considers Bran for a moment and gives him a warmer smile this time. "Couldn't let you guys have all the fun."

"It was certainly unnerving." Indi concedes, "And I'm definitely glad its over. Assuming I don't get cornered somewhere for showing them backbone." She chuckles a little there.

"Seems like I just LEFT the woods," Bran murmurs, mostly to Indira. "Guess I shouldn't go back, huh?" He finishes his soup and then begins to consider his sandwich, looking much more thoughtful than hungry.

Indira's comment turns Avery's mood sour again, and he shakes his head. "He's going to be on the look-out for you. Stick around holy ground for the next few nights, if that's an option. He can't walk it." He sighs, and glances at Bran. "Probably not. I dunno what they'd do to any of you, but killing would come at the end of a very long, very unpleasant list." He shudders, and fingers the scar on his neck almost subconsciously. His gaze wanders to the window, and then to the clock, and he blanches. "My boss is going to be here to check on the place in a half-hour. You shouldn't be here for that. If he sees that I let customers stay after a vandalism, it'll be my job. If I haven't lost it already," He adds with a groan.

"Then, I guess this is goodbye for now," Sylvia says, heading for the door. "You know where to find me." She smiles and gives a little finger-wiggling wave before exiting.

Indi sighs, "Looks like I'm sleeping at work again. I guess this means I can get my water sculpture done." She stands resignedly at the request. A business card with the name of a glass-studio and shop, with the name "Indi Devoe" and a number handwritten on the back is produced and placed on the counter, "And this is where to find me. Also Bran, until he gets a... uh, local number." Chuckling, she makes to leave as well, but pauses to add a little awkwardly, "I hope we didn't get you into any real trouble. And I'm glad you're OK, too." Then she leaves, slipping out the door quietly.

Bran stands as Indi does, offering a sheepish smile and nod to Avery, and then he turns to follow Indira out of the restaurant, leaving the cook to deal with the aftermath of the encounter.