2019-12-20 - Open Mic Night at Espresso Yourself

August is no performer--karaoke night not-withstanding--he's just here to clap and cheer, drink tea, and eat pastry. And work on the final edits for his book, which he has to get back to the publisher before the first of the new year.

He's taken a seat off to one side, leaving the prime spots for customers. He's in a rust red, suede jacket, black button down shirt, denim jeans, and brown suede boots. A large mug of tea (chai) steams next to him, as well as a half-eaten cranberry orange muffin.

Hera enters in wearing the standard black dress she normally wears and high heels. A few smiles are given as she heads in and, for now, she doesn't think much about performing. However, she could at least look and listen unless the night took a unique turn. But, temporary specials. Licking her lips she thinks more about the delightful seasonal treats. When she does manage to get a hold of one of the staffers she says, "Peppermint Mochaccino and Oatbran muffin please." Yeah, gotta have the bran and all because it's healthy.

The dark-haired man at the register takes Hera's order, and the pair of college kids behind the counter put it together for her. The muffin is quickly delivered, and the specialty holiday drink a few moments later. A sign-up list for performers is at the counter as well.

Itzhak, of course, is going to perform. He's brought his mandolin and his violin, even though he can only play one at once. You know, just in case he can do two songs. Standing next to August's chair, he's chatting with him cheerfully, hands doing at least as much talking as his mouth. He's wearing an impossibly soft black merino sweater, tight black jeans, and black Converse with rainbow laces and soles.

Not much for keeping up on social affairs, Thew was just in for a nosh after a long day up at the cemetery. Head down, hands jammed into his pockets - some of the patrons at the windows look excited at the sight of his truck rolling up, murmuring and digging out notepads.
Crossing quickly to the counter, the caretaker mumbles, stutters and stumbles through a fairly simple order involving just coffee with sugar and bagels. Moving to wait for his order, head down again and trying to be small.

It's not the type of entertainment that Antonio's used to, but it'll still be fun. The businessman makes his way into the open mic night, clad in a dark navy suit accented by a bright pink necktie. Making his way over toward the barista counter, his eyes scan the menu for just a moment as he considers his order. "I'll take a large Americano, yeah? Nice crowd you got today."

True to their word, anyone signing up and performing gets a free large coffee. Matias, the evening manager, is at the register, and Laine and Kerry are making the drinks tonight. Thewlis' and Antonio's orders are filled with smiles all around, simple orders are a barista's favorite thing.

Eleanor is in a Christmas sweater, cream colored with maroon designs of poinsettias and reindeer (https://i.imgur.com/GTscX06.jpg) which falls to mid-thigh over black leggings and winter boots. Her hair has been left down and in its natural waves tonight.

Ellie steps up onto the stage and settles a hand on one of the microphones. "Welcome to our first Open Mic night at Espresso Yourself. Thank you all for coming out to entertain and be entertained! Please be sure to try some of the new holiday offerings, which are only here for a limited time and be kind to your baristas." She gestures over towards the trio behind the counter and starts a round of applause for them."

"First up tonight we have Itzhak Rosencrantz. Please give him a warm welcome!" She beckons them to the stage and moves off to stand by the counter and help as needed between announcing performers.

Alison strolls in through the door, a quiet song on her soft voice. "Go ask for Joy Division, and celebrate the irony, everything is going wrong, but we're so happy~" She trails off as she gets within earshots of others, making her way to the lineup behind Antonio. When it's her turn, she orders herself a mint hot chocolate. After receiving it, the redhead in a light winter coat over a dark t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers finds an unoccupied seat in view of the stage to stretch out in, tossing the coat somewhere convenient near by. She glances around the coffee shop, only eyeing a few barely recognizalbe faces in the crowd.

Hera politely thanks the college kids for putting the order together and she moves to a nearby chair to have a seat. Before taking a bite of her muffin, she looks around and lets her eyes fall on the musician. "Wow" she says as the mandolin interests her. She might not have seen that type of instrument before. When he is headed over to perform, she puts her hands together along with other patrons in the crowd. Pausing for a bit though, she looks about to see who else might be here and at least finding someone else familiar, she waves toward Thewlis before looking back on stage.

Joe actually wasn't here for open mic night specifically. More there to indulge a craving for something ridiculously sweet and not actually caffeinated. So there's a faintly owlish look on his face as he comes in, blinking behind the glasses. The sailor's clad in peacoat and jeans, watch cap already in hand. But he's observing with that open, cheerful curiosity as he insinuates himself into the line.

Beth comes in, black somber suit replaced with skinny jeans and a off-the-shoulder sweater in oatmeal. She gets in line for a drink behind Joseph. Her attention drifts towards the stage just as the event is introduced, and she watches from her place in line before turning her head to stare at the back of Joseph's head for a moment. She then says, softly so as not to disturb the performers, "Oh hey. You're that guy who was looking for a hotel last week, right?"

Manager Matias takes the orders with his usual efficiency at the counter, his bright smiles genuine. Many of the customers are regulars and get greeted by name. Barista Kerry looks perpetually put out, but she's young and harried and is worried about how she did on her finals. Barista Laine, also college aged, is perpetually chipper, much to Kerry's chagrin. They work well together though, and the order filling is efficient.

To be clear, Enzo shows up by himself and doesn't know a single person here (unless he does and in which case, whoops). But he really likes coffee and he occasionally likes to be around large groups of people so he wanders right on into this open mic thing. He heads to the counter and gets his order in, scoops it up and finds an open seat somewhere that he's close to people but not too close to anyone. He shrugs his jacket off carefully and lets it hang over the back of his chair, then leans back to start to drinking and listening.

August adds his applause to the rest that peppers the coffee shop, giving Itzhak a sly but reassuring, sidelong smile. "Kick ass, take names," he says, clapping him on the shoulder. Spying Beth and Joseph, he gives each of them an up-nod of greeting from his seat at a table off to the side. There's a tablet in front of him, though he's in the process of closing it up now that performances are underway.

The amplified voice makes Thewlis jump, nearly dropping his order and he scuttles across the room, head down, towards Hera. Familiar face. Protection. Standing with his brows knit. "Hera... I... Hello. Can... Hi... I... Uhm... Table. Can I?" Looking around the coffee shop as it is rapidly filling up, looking like a rabbit about to bolt, Thew manages eye contact with Hera for all of a second before his head is on a swivel, looking for attackers in the wings.

That has Joe turning, looking over his shoulder, before he grins at Beth. In the same low tone, he says, "Yeah. Turns out I actually just gave the hell in and sublet an apartment over at Bayside. Not leavin' 'fore Spring. Beth, right?" A good memory for names, after fifteen years or so spent gladhanding politicians, among others.

Itzhak took a minute, dinking around with his mandolin and tuning it again at the last second (it's perfectly in tune but you wouldn't know it by the way he fusses with it). Then he bounds over to the stage, adjusting the microphone for his giraffeish height. He's a tall drink of water, this one, with curly black hair and an astoundingly big beaky nose.

"Hey, guys," he says into the mic, eyes down. He has a New York Yiddish accent that could strip paint. "Okay this is a song by the Pogues, written by Shane MacGowan. It's about the Irish coming to America, but really, could be just about any of us immigrants coming to America. I know I think about my grandparents when I sing it. It's called 'Thousands are Sailing.'"

He plucks the paired strings of the mandolin, eyes drifting closed. Long fingers work the neck of the instrument. Then he leans into the mic and sings, soft.

The island it is silent now
But the ghosts still haunt the waves
And the torch lights up a famished man
Whom fortune could not save

Did you work upon the railroad?
Did you rid the streets of crime?
Were your dollars from the White House
Were they from the five and dime?

Did the old songs taunt or cheer you
And did they still make you cry?
Did you count the months and years
Or did your teardrops quickly dry?

"Ah, no,' says he, "'twas not to be
On a coffin ship I came here
And I never even got so far
That they could change my name"

Itzhak swings into the chorus, right hand with its scars and tattoos flashing as he hits the mandolin strings hard. He raises his voice, shaping the words and infusing them with emotion.

Thousands are sailing, cross the western ocean
To a land of opportunity that some of them will never see
Fortune prevailing
Across the western ocean
Their bellies full, their spirits free
They'll break the chains of poverty
And they'll dance!

Eleanor moves to August's table and sits beside him once Itzhak gets under way. She presses a kiss to the man's bearded cheek and sips her own beverage, the hot apple cider on the holiday menu.

Lyric is in the coffee shop with a smoothie and her guitar as she waits. Absolutely, she loves music and she is more entertained by watching others than performing herself. Itzhak is one she recognizes and she smiles as he plays and sings. And boy could he sing!

Hera nods toward Thewlis and noting he may be a bit skittish, she offers him a smile. "Hi." she tries to tell him amid the other loud sounds starting in the coffee joint, "Please, come, have a seat if you wish." She pats an empty space next to her and asks, "Where's Jade? I wanted to talk to her soon about performing at my place. I'm really looking forward to it. I bet she's one heck of a musician." Then the music starts, and it's unusual music with a true meaning. She turns her attention to the singer and mutters, "Not wow, double well." At least partially transfixed, if not completely, she says, "A song with a true meaning, quite nice."

In prowls a guy who looks suspiciously like a cop, for someone who looks nothing like a cop. Vague aura of asshole, with a dash of frayed around the edges. He slows his roll as he notices who's going up on 'stage', and takes a lean against the wall to watch. A palm comes up in supplication and refusal, when he's asked if he wants some coffee.

Alison 's ear perks as she hears a vaguely remembered name - It-sock? And then, oh hey, that guy from the diner that one time with the nose! And he's got a.. well, she doesn't know what it is in particular. But it's got strings, and it doesn't look like a violin. A sip of her minty cocoa, and then a round of polite applause joining the others as the man begins, then shutting up to let Itzhak do his thing.

She doesn't know the song, but it's sweet enough. Rather endearing with that accent to boot. She sinks back in her seat a bit, enjoying the show, until the door opens and in walks Ruiz. And there goes her smile. And she's sinking waaaay into her seat, hiding her face behind her drink.

"Right." Beth says with a nod of her head when he remembers her name. "And you're Joe, right? Guess you decided not to take a gamble at one of Gray Harbor's fine lodging establishments?" Her lips quirk upwards briefly. She moves to the counter to place her drink order, a hot apple cider, and her attention drifts to the stage again as Itzhak takes it. She moves to the place where one waits for their drink and listens, and when he finishes she claps politely.

Taking a seat as allowed, Thewlis ducks his head. "Sh-sh-sh-shhhh-she... She might be. Come. By. She might... I don't know. But she might." swallowing hard and sipping at his coffee. "Think she" he pauses at the performance, watching and listening with a mournful expression, brow knit. He's silent during the performance, but any urge to applaud is choked down by his wish to not be noticed more than he has allowed.
"I think. She. Very good. She. I. She..." he closes his eyes, head sagging, face red.

The chorus is strong and bright. Itzhak backs it down again, goes back to singing soft, fingering the mandolin. His eyes are mostly closed, not distracting himself with knowing people are watching him. He's sunk into the music, into the words that throb from his long throat.

In Manhattan's desert twilight
In the death of afternoon
We stepped hand in hand on Broadway
Like the first man on the moon

And "The Blackbird" broke the silence
As you whistled it so sweet
And in Brendan Behan's footsteps
I danced up and down the street
Then we said goodnight to Broadway
Giving it our best regards
Tipped our hats to Mister Cohan
Dear old Times Square's favorite bard

Then we raised a glass to JFK
And a dozen more besides
When I got back to my empty room
I suppose I must have cried

Itzhak's voice thickens up a little, not that he is going to cry at this point, or ANYTHING. He hits the strings hard.

Thousands are sailing again across the ocean
Where the hand of opportunity
Draws tickets in a lottery
Postcards we're mailing
Of sky-blue skies and oceans
From rooms the daylight never sees
Where lights don't glow on Christmas trees
But we dance to the music
And we dance!
Thousands are sailing across the western ocean
Where the hand of opportunity
Draws tickets in a lottery
Where e'er we go, we celebrate
The land that makes us refugees
From fear of Priests with empty plates
From guilt and weeping effigies
And we dance!

He lets the last struck notes fade into the air, eyes still closed, biting his lip hard. After a moment he opens his eyes, drops a little bow with a flourish, and retreats offstage.

Lyric applauds and whistles when the song ends, cheering Itzhak on. He is good at what he does, she knows he is, and when he's coming away from where he had performed, she offers two thumbs up to him.

Joe.....Joe sure does. The moment he recognizes the opening bars, the blue eyes are alight, and there's a grin very different from the polite one he just offered Beth a moment ago. As if he'd rounded a corner in a strange city to find a friend standing there. It takes him a beat to turn back to Beth again, and that pleasure is still aglow in his face - nevermind that he's got what is clearly a healing split lip . "Nah," he says. "I was sleepin' aboard, still do some." His order's a hot chocolate Glasgow, and he steps away nearly in time with Beth, though his gaze keeps darting to Itzhak. Ruiz gets a glance....but this is too public a forum for him to be much worried about it.

Eleanor stands up, applauding for Itzhak as she heads back up to the stage to announce the next act. The redhead is all smiles, touching the man's arm as she passes. "That was beautiful, don't forget your free coffee." Then she gets back to the mic. "Thank you, Itzhak! Next up we have Ico Eszes! Come on up!" She applauds for the next performer as well, departing once he reaches the stage, to sit next to August again. "Good turnout tonight," she murmurs to him.

The slightly faraway look on Ruiz's face is interrupted by the sound of applause going up, as Itzhak's number finishes. He joins in after a moment, not shy about making some noise for the guy. And when the lanky bastard passes him by, he jostles him with his shoulder and mutters something low to him before letting him pass.

August leans into the kiss, rubs the small of Eleanor's back. He looks around at those assembled. "Good group," he says, nodding. And then Itzhak's getting underway, so he sits, listening, murmuring the words here and there. He's clapping with the rest when Itzhak finishes. An amused smile for Ruiz when he comes in to listen, and slight jerk of his head like 'come take a seat, don't just prop up a wall'.

Alison doesn't recognize the song, but it's an impressive enough of a performance alright. She sets her drink down and gives Ithzak a more hearty round of applause, giving a soft little whoop which might not exactly be appropriate for a coffee shop, but there it is.

Beth grabs her apple cider, smiles politely to Joseph and says, "Well, welcome to Gray Harbor. I hope you enjoy yourself however long you stay." She starts towards the seating to find an empty table, sees none, and instead posts up on the wall. She gives Enzo a look, like he is familiar in some way to her but she just can't quite place it, before looking back at the stage.

"Thank you," Joe says, right before he looks back to get his own drink. There's the barest touch of irony in that response....as if he is well aware that whatever he ends up doing in Gray Harbor, enjoyment won't be much of it. But he lifts the cup just given to him in salute. "Nice to see you again, Beth."

Ico is around somewhere waiting his turn. Looking around some as the singing goes on. Applauding Itzhak. He will move to go up then as his name is offered. "Hello. Hope you enjoy my rendition of this." A smile and nod to Lyric as well as she offered to help with guitar. Clearing his throat before starting.

I know you're clinging to the light of day
To tell you everything's a-okay
A medication don't do much
Yeah, it just numbs the brain
Guess you might say I'm a little intense
I'm on the bright side of being hell bent
So take it from me, you're not the only one
Who can't see straight (Can't see straight)
If you were ever in doubt
Don't sell yourself short, you might be bulletproof
Hard to move mountains when you're paralyzed
But you gotta try
And I'm calling out.

Then starting the chorus taking a brief look around before just focusing on the song, drumming a bit on his legs.

Itzhak blushes as people applaud him, and turns bright frikkin' when Ruiz jostles him and tells him something. He grins back at him with maybe his eyelashes a little wet, jostles him back. His mandolin is still slung around him, and his hands are trembling. As always, he's a little lost when he's fresh off a performance. What now? But hey, his bandmate is up, and he stays where he is, loitering next to Ruiz, so he can watch Ico.

Ignacio is propped in the doorframe watching for who knows how long. There's an applause and that uneven smile of pride watching his oldest pal tear up the coffee shop with that violin. He limps, a little more than average from heading out all day. "Ey, It-Z, hell of a thing, brother. Muy, muy beono." He scans looking for a seat but lingers back.

Lyric took a place nearby Ico and plays along with him, more looking down at the guitar as she plays, or closing her eyes now and then as she plays. This is his show, so she sort of fades herself into the background, just offering the music. A smile plays over her features though, because she's doing what she loves!

Ignacio's arrival gains a slow sweep of eyes from de la Vega, down and then up. And a taut smile at the last. "Hola," he greets, pleasantly enough. For him, anyway. "Come on," he tells the pair of them, with a hitch of his chin toward Roen's table. Then pushes off the wall and prowls thataway, gaze drawn to the stage as Ico and Lyric head up to begin their performance.

August leans back in his chair and tilts his head, listening to Ico and Lyric. He's not familiar with the song, but by his smile he clearly likes it and is making note. Open mic nights: great for e-commerce too. He shifts so there's plenty of room for others to join himself and Eleanor, sips from his tea.

Eleanor smiles warmly at the others joining their table as she listens to Ico's performance with a cheerful expression. She raises her glass of hot cider to them in a welcome toast.

Thewlis remains quiet again, munching one of his bagels while watching the performances. Double fisting the same bagel as he watches, as if taking cover behind it like a delicious, chewy, schmear covered... shield.

Beth claps when Ico finishes his song. Her phone buzzes in her pocket, and she lets out the softest of sighs before she begins edging towards the exit to take the call.

"'Ey, 'mano, thanks." Itzhak beams a wavery smile at Ignacio. That's all he says for the moment, though, slinking after Ruiz to rejoin August and Eleanor. This song Ico is singing, he doesn't know, but he plainly loves it. Watching Lyric's hands closely, he even plays along with the chords, very soft, and he whispers the chorus after the first round.

Ico does finish the song and will offer a hug to Lyric in thanks for helping out. Staying nearby if needed, but otherwise will move to cheer on the next.

Hera pays attention to the performance as it goes on. Now and then, she sips at her drink as she enjoys Ico's harmony. By now, there's plenty left to sip on as her focus continues to be the artists taking stage. When finished, she offers up her applause and waits for the next singer. Her cheers are likely drowned out by the others, but she, too, shows her gratitude.

Alison eyes Itzhak as he goes to stand beside Ruiz. Oooh. OH. Okay. Gears spin, locks tumble, etc. in her mind as she puts a few things over the past few weeks together. Well then! No matter to her, anyways. Siiiiip of that hot chocolate, and then a polite burst of applause from Alison as Ico takes the stage, and then another one as he finishes.

Eleanor gets up again when Ico is finished, and she heads back to the mic. "Thank you Ico, that was great! Let's give him a round of applause." She claps for the artist then takes the mic once more. "Next up we have Lyric Bates!" More applause as she heads back to her seat.

A loud Harley Davidson barks into the parking lot begrudgingly carrying a large tumor that stays put after lowering the kickstand and running sausage thick fingers through long black hair after the wind on the ride wrecked his freak flag. The moment of preening helping, Everett stands off the bike which gives its thanks by rising significantly. A look to make sure the coast is clear cast over his shoulder, before the brute heads into the store whose parking lot he's patronizing, ducking under the door jam as he passes through.

Lyric continues to play through his song until he finishes it and she stills her hands, placing one flat over the strings before lifting them and applauding Ico. She doesn't leave the area, just moves up to the microphone, but she waits until her name is called before she does anything. When it is, she smiles and she starts picking out a tune on her guitar, fingers moving over frets, strumming more with her fingers instead her pick. It's not a new song for her, "I am going to sing one by Stevie Ray Vaughn,".

"Hello there my old friend.
Not so long ago it was till the end.
We played outside in the pourin' rain
On our way up the road we started over again."

"You're livin' out dreams of you on top.
My mind is achin' oh lord it won't stop.
That's how it happened livin' life by the drop"

"Up and down that road in our worn out shoes
Talkin' 'bout good things and singin' the blues.
You went your way and I stayed behind.
We both knew it was just a matter or time."

https://youtu.be/H7ZPMScX9-k

August claps for Ico once he's done, pulls out his phone and makes a note. Spying Ignacio, he nods a greeting, then gestures at the stage and raises his eyebrows in a silent question: bring your instrument? He doesn't stay focused on Ignacio for long, though, because Lyric is playing a song by a favorite artist. He smiles appreciatively and leans back in his chair, drumming his fingers to the lyrics.

Ignacio arches an eyebrow and looks vaguely surprised, but doesn't glance around and shrugs his shoulder off the wall wading over when Ruiz gives him the ever so kindly move your ass hence. Hand goes to Itzhak's shoulder giving it a pat but staying quiet while Lyric and Ico do their thing. Hey, it's holidays. He gets into this shit. Squeezing his fingers into fists a couple times before unzipping his black, white, and maroon racing jacket. "Hey, jefe. Eleanor. Merry Christmas. Hell of a turnout." He drops into his seat and looks to Ruiz with a nod. "Gracias. Diga?" Because unlike the politeness of Mexican Spanish he digs right to the short form list of 'dish' or 'what's new, tell me'. "You heard Lyric play before? Lot of people think she's just a DJ, but turns out that ain't true."

"No me puedo quejar," Ruiz replies to Ignacio, over his shoulder, as he ambles for the booth. "Tengo algunas noticias, pero puede esperar." He flashes a quick grin Itzhak's way, then drops in beside August, and gives the brim of his ball cap a little adjustment as he settles. Alison is surely spotted over there giving him the stinkeye, but the bulk of his attention's split between his tablemates and the stage.

Joe's apparently got no ambitions to try and take a table for himself. Not while it's just him. So he's ambled over to prop himself against the wall, bracing his legs in an unthinking echo of parade rest. Still just watching the performers with that air of pleasure.

Hera softly taps her fingertips to the rhythm, enjoying it at the moment. The words seem to be enjoyable but, now and then, she allows herself the guilty pleasure to chomping on the muffin in front of her. Apparently the woman is just in the mode of observing the performances as they unfold, nothing too unusual here.

It's Bluesy so Lyric just plays through the chorus once without singing, just to hear the music to it, maybe humming a little, getting into the tune before she goes back to singing.

"You're livin' out dreams of you on top
My mind is achin' oh lord it won't stop
That's how it happened life by the drop"

"No waste of time we're allowed today
Churnin' up the past, there's no easier way
Times been between us, a means to an end
God its good to be here walkin' together my friend"

"Livin' our dreams
My mind stopped achin'
That's how it happened livin' life by the drop.
That's how it happened livin' life by the drop
That's how it's happened livin' life by the drop."

With the song ended, she plays out the rest before saying, "Thank you for listening!" With a grin, she steps away from the mic and meanders a little towards Itzhak to offer him and Iggy a fist bump. Ultimately, she'll go settle somewhere nearby Ico.

Itzhak whistles loud and sharp and totally inappropriate for a coffeeshop, for Lyric, and daps her enthusiastically. "Singin' the blues, HELL yeah girl!" He finally settles down enough to unsling his mandolin and latch it up in its case.

When Lyric finishes, Eleanor gets up, applauding as she goes. "Thank you, Lyric! Next up we have," she takes a moment to carefully work out the pronunciation in her head, "Siobhan Qwarnstrom. Welcome Siobhan!" She claps once more as she moves back to her seat, her cider almost empty now. "Thanks for coming out," she says quietly to Ignacio and Ruiz. "I wasn't expecting such a crowd, this is great!"

With a quick glance around, Everett brushes stray strands free from his countenance that the outside breeze kicked up and licked a bruise on his jaw. Heading to an empty table and pulls a chair out, pulls a multiply folded note paper and pen and has a seat. When assisted, his order is simple, then his gaze is turned to the stage with an quizzical look. After that he turns back to the piece of paper and starts making edits. Multiple, aggressive edits, only pausing to look up and watch Lyric singing, putting his pen down to applaude, before returning to his distraction.

Thewlis gives Lyric a little wave as she comes off stage, offering a ghost of a smile before he quickly looks down, brow knitting together. One bagel is down, one more to go. The urge to support a friend outweighed by his need to try and keep out of sight, so to speak.

Alison claps a whole bunch for Lyric as she finishes. Another sip from her drink, and it's finished too. The redhead (well, this one, anyways. Not Eleanor! This town's lousy with redheads, isn't it?) climbs out of her seat, making her way to the counter between the members of the crowd, ordering the cider next. There's a chill on the wind. Winter's coming. Need those special warming drinks that you can only get around the holidays. And maybe a muffin? She peers into the case at the muffin selection, spending perhaps a bit more time than is warranted for choosing a vessel for carbohydrates.

Ruiz taps the pack of cigarettes in his jacket pocket, but knows better than to light up in a public place. The itch remains, though. Instead, he angles back to his feet and wanders off to fetch himself a coffee, applauding enroute as Lyric finishes her number. Alison gets there about the same time as him, and he waves her forward with a twitch of his lips. Not quite a smile, but close.

Some incredibly healthy clapping for Lyric from August, but then, he's always happy to hear Blues at an open mic. He doesn't miss the stinkeye cast from Alison to Ruiz, and gives the later an amused look as he gets up to fetch coffee. It's more a 'pissed off a Grizzly Den waitress, did we? Good luck getting service ever again' look than anything else.

Siobhan, one of the town's budding goth girls, comes up to the stage with a remote speaker for her smartphone. She's in a smart black-on-purple-on-black outfit of lace and satin and linen, her hair braided in a tight bun at the back of her head and her fingers adorned with rings. "Hi, I'm Siobhan Qwarnstrom." Her tone's awfully upbeat for her appearance. "I wanted to read one of my favorite poems. It's called 'This Metal Sky.'" She hooks up the smartphone to the speaker, swipes at it a bit, and an odd background, industrial and flickering, starts up. She stands at the mic, listening to it, and once the noises have permeated the room for a half a minute, begins:

You sit collapsed as an empty mind
last sparks dissolved until your last breath
and the droning sound of tallow
replaces pulse with ache...

There's no sign of Glimmer to her; she's a mundane young woman. Yet something in her words stirs the Glimmer of those who have it, draws their attention to her, makes the words of the spoken song ring in their ears.

Eleanor's eyes move to the girl on stage, her brows furrowing at that odd tickling in the back of her skull. She shifts in her seat, feeling off balance somehow. She looks to the people at her table to see if they feel it too.

When his attention is focuses, Thewlis's eyes widen and his found becomes etched across his features. The urge to run is strong, but he keeps himself still so as not to make a scene. The second bagel in his hand is gripped to the point that cream cheese is all over his fingers and it is falling back its plate.

Alison tries her best, her very best, really, to hide her embarassment as she ends up drawing close to Ruiz to get her fresh round of foodstuffs. She squeaks out a cordial "Thanks." before turning her attention to the counter, finally choosing a banana nut muffin. And then Siobhan starts her set, and her attention drifts from the transaction at hand, making her turn and face the stage once more, squinting at the woman. It might be for that surname, but also maybe because Alison suddenly feels very strange in that same sort of way that she does when futzing around in someone's head. The way she did just the other day, in fact. She kinda reaches behind her towards the tap terminal with her phone to pay for her order, not letting her focus change.

"Thanks Itzhak, man, you were amazing up there. We're gonna have a WinterFest after the new year soon, we'll be playing there, so we need to get some more practice in, I look forward to it!" Thewlis gets a wave, hopefully before he ducks his head. Lyric smiles at him too. Everett, Eleanor, Alison, August and everyone who applauded are acknowledged with a bright smile before she takes her seat to listen to Siobhan. Music was life and she wasn't going to miss anyone performing. Her guitar is placed aside, beside her, in a booth as she listens and watches, sipping her smoothie.

Hera claps a bit to show her appreciation for the continued performances. By now, there's nothing left to snack on so she has lost interest in that. Where she sits she may not notice a chill or anything odd, but Thewlis' reaction to something draws her attention away from the stage. "Are you ok?" she asks him, concern flashing in her eyes for her friend.

Thewlis isn't the only one with an urge to run. Joe's looked up sharply from his phone, and he's gazing at Siobhan with a furrowed brow. How's that working - someone who isn't a worker still tweaking his sense of Glimmer?

Siobhan continues, winding her way through the spoken song, to all senses--Glimmer and otherwise--entirely normal. But the words don't...seem normal.

It is lonely here
living in the hazy moment
between the alarm and the awakening
where the Dream precipitates
madness as its encore.

You are only half there
the other half erased
and brushed from the paper
by the same hand that
fingers your id like a fresh scab
until you bleed
a river of ridiculous...

I see now it's not division, but subtraction:
you peddle your pieces
to a man called compromise
for a place in the greater scheme
until the only thing left standing
is the place where you once stood.
You have just reduced yourself from static
to dead - air - tonight.

If she's aware the effect her words are having on anyone, it's not apparent. She's been writing random spoken word poetry for years, so it's not a surprise she'd pick one from the 90s (that boom decade of all things gothy and industrial).

Cole has taken up a place somewhere in the audience where he can watch the performances, applauding for those as they go up on stage. He throws a little wave in Lyric's direction if she happens to look his way, but otherwise seems content, for now, to just listen and observe comfortably, having obtained a cup of coffee to sip while he watches, his attention focusing on Siobhan as she recites her song.

Aggressive writing slows, tempers, then slows. Finally the hulking figure cants his head to look up at the stage, a gentle crease forming in the middle of his forehead down to the bridge of his nose. Once more the hoodlum brushes his hair back while he listens to the poem oration, forgetting to write, to edit while his large coffee is put down at his table.

Every hackle is standing on edge for Eleanor now, but she holds herself perfectly still, not wanting to cause a panic in the shop. This is wrong. Those words have a wrongness to them so deep, so visceral, she wants to run away. It sounds like it's about...Them. Captital-T Them.

Itzhak, one ankle propped on his opposite knee in the figure 4 position (flashing the rainbow sole of his Converse), frowns as Siobhan goes on. He glances at August and Ignacio, then across the room at Joseph, then anxiously looks at Ruiz like he really needs him to get back here ASAP. He turns his head to focus an ear on Siobhan, eyes going unfocused; he's listening to her now, intent, intense.

Hera's question makes Thewlis jump in his seat, turning to the redhead, then looking back to the stage. "Uhm... I. It. I. Uh I... It... I." poor boy is blue screening as his urge to run is being suppressed, somehow. His attention is glued, and he sits, lips in a fine line, eyes wide and shining now

Lyric listens to the spoken words and tilts her head. It was unusual maybe, but open mic night was open mic for anything. Though she does notice Thewlis and some of the others, she looks confused, but not alarmed.

Hera has ignored the singer now and she jumps up from where she sits to move closer to Thewlis. "Just....just breathe ok?" she doesn't quite know what is going on, but she figures that something isn't right. "Give me your cellphone I'll call Jade, just, take a deep breath." She watches him as if to make sure he's stable and mutters under her breath, <<Should have taken some of those medical classes in college.>>

Alison takes a big feral bite of her muffin, listening intently. Also a sip of her cider, wincing because it's hot, but her attention's surely focused on the woman's words.

Kass arrives at the coffee shop, wide-eyed at the number of people here. Someone didn't know. She glances here and there, nodding to a few folk, then hurrying around the room, scurrying along the edges until she arrives... near Joseph of all people. Leaning in and murmuring, "I, uhm... wasn't expecting a crowd. What is this?"

Ignacio sits back in his chair and shakes his head to Ruiz with an easy enough smile, "Escuché que tienes algunas noticias. No puedo esperar para escucharlo." He doesn't have a lot in his favor but it takes a lot to break his cool. The words seem in earnest. He looks back up to Itzhak, Roen and Eleanor pausing at her question. "Uhhhh I don't. I think everything's fine." There's a pause and he asks, "You need me to get you something or you jsut got a...something."

August twines a hand with one of Eleanor's frowning at Siobhan's lyrics. He bites his lip, shifts uncomfortably. The restlessness of the group is getting to him; to all of them, really. He gives Itzhak and Ignacio re-assuring looks none-the-less.

"Hey, Kass," Joe says, quietly, as she appears at his side. "'s open mic night, but...." he indicates Siobhan with a jerk of his chin. "Somethin' wrong here. Never had that happen - someone 'thout the power doin' somethin' with it anyhow."

Up on the stage, Siobhan gets into her performance as the spoken word song approaches its crescendo:

Or it could be the other way:
take the wire to the Other Side
of this metal sky
and you will see,
these stars are just projections.

This is not real
which means Their thunder is merely a threat.
Do you want to know the truth?
They need you.
They are mechanical, maniacal, derived
you couldn't drown in their gene pool if you tried
They're all made up in brilliant disguise
selling the very thing They most want
but cannot possess...you.

And magic is the key to Their success
as simple sleight-of-hand steals your autonomy
leaving you believing you are in control.
Tell me, do you trust your judgement?

She throws back her head and laughs, deep and throaty.

My friend, your id's been tricked.
Welcome, to Metropolis.

The sounds coming from the smartphone speaker fade out. Siobhan bobs a thank you to everyone, beaming, grabs her phone and speaker and steps off the stage.

Eleanor clutches August's hand for a long, drawn out moment after the last note of the poem fades out. She swallows hard, then lets go and gets up to check the sign in sheet, before heading to the stage, clapping in a subdued manner for Siobhan whom she hopes never comes back for another Open Mic. She taps the mic to make sure it's still working. "Ahem, uh, thank you, Siobhan." No, not really. "Next up we have Everett Woods, come on up Everett." She applauds some more before hustling this time back to her seat, huddling close to August, waiting for the wiggins to stop giving her goosebumps.

The waitress gives a soft, slightly ponderous applause. Well, okay then. That was a thing that just happened. Alison scoops up her muffin and drink and finds her seat once again, assuming that she's not otherwise waylaid en route. Itzhak's panicked exit from the venue earns him a glance, but nothing more. Once seated, she whips out her phone and tries searching for some of the words to the poem she just heard - the ones that she remembers, anyways. Is that from something?

Itzhak stands up so fast his chair falls over with a BANG. He rights it hastily, slamming it on its legs, then he's weaving through people and tables, out the door. Once out he lights up a cigarette, hands shaking.

Rhys is fashionably late. Probably not on purpose, though, since he blinks at the crowd and arrangement. And a girl on stage reciting. Huh! He scans the assemblage as he heads to the counter, grinning at a couple people if they happen to glance over, but it's hard not to notice some discomfort going around. Seemed like a decent recital to him... He claps for her, cut off by getting his chance to order... though that in turn's interrupted by the bang of Itzhak's chair and ensuing fast exit. He glances after the guy a moment before getting back to obtaining precious caffeine.

Thewlis stares at the woman on stage, looks to Hera, then back to the stage, then around the room. "I... It's. I." the bang makes Thewlis jump, cringe and try to make himself small, looking around at Hera. "No. I'll be. It's I. I'll." he's broken out in a flop sweat and his hair is already matted to his forehead. His expression blanks, for just a moment, and then he begins to speak rapidly, "The man who was the voice of the Crites in the film Critters combined French and Japanese to create an actual language for the aliens, because they are sentient and not just ravenous beasts..."

Siobhan is entirely oblivious to everyone's reactions--but then, she has no Glimmer, so her mind reads it as any other group's reaction to a poem which hits something fundamental in them and makes them reassess. This is entirely what she wants, so she's flattered when Itzhak literally has to get up and go outside to smoke. Through the words of Lisa Randall she touched him! She really did! Open Mic Night was going into her iCal.

August murmurs a reasurance to Eleanor, flinches when Itzhak flees from the coffee shop. He hesitates, waiting to see if Ignacio or Ruiz want to check on him; he'd really rather not leave Eleanor alone. Not after, uh, that.

Cole jumps when Itzhak chair bangs and he goes flying out the door. "That literally happens every single time I see that guy," he observes to no one in particular. Then he applauds for Siobhan, apparently not quite so deeply affected by her performance.

The scowl on Everett's mug deepen, then, slowly, he returns to scribbling his thoughts out on the paper in front of him. A pause given, here, there, to pick up his coffee and blow on the other mug before taking a silent sip without looking up again. A soft shake of his head, long locks waving as another line is crossed out aggressively and something is re-written.

And then it's took late for any more additions. Standing up swiftly, he knocks his chair back an inch, picks up his coffee and glances around the room again before the sudden distance from his chair and the stage grows prolonged. Who can miss that shock of red hair. On his way, Kass is given a nudge with his elbow and then sillently offered his coffee before the mile walk to the stage. He makes an adjustment to the microphone stand to bring it up to his mouth rather than plucking the microphone and opens his mouth.
"Uh. I call this Heartbreak," the tall man offers with his deep voice, then reads from his mad scribbles.

Heartbreak

I thought I knew what heartbreak felt like
Sounded like, looked like
I thought it felt like my bones aching
For her touch

Felt like absence of her arms
Wrapped around me like
My favorite shirt that I'd never dare take off
I thought it sounded like her voice

Echoing in the volt of my mind
Her laughter ringing through my ears
I thought it looked like my empty room
Painted with pictures of us

Memories splattered across my walls
I thought heartbreak a familiar friend
Until you showed me it was a stranger
When you left I realized heartbreak,

Hera is still concerned for her friend but, he hasn't passed out yet. She reaches for her cellphone and shoots off a text message. "Damn it Devlin, quit studying so much." But yeah, that's probably what he is doing. Either that or trying to save the world. "Just...breathe." she tells him and she ushers herself off to go get Thewlis some water. Yeah, might be best to avoid decaf for now.

Kass watches Siobhan finish her recital , blinking at the last half of the women's open mic. "...huh." She looks to Joseph and slides into the chair near him. "Think it was a message in a bottle?" Rhys arrives and she throws up a hand in a huge wave towards him before looking back to Joseph. "So. How are you settling in?"

Kass also takes the cup of coffee from Everett with a brief grin for the big man.

Ignacio watches Itzhak take off looking up with no surprise. He looks to the rest of them, "Uno momento." he dips a nod, "I'm on it." Quietly he sighs and pushes himself to a stand and walks, in lopsided gait, slow but determined to the door to trail after Itzhak. He brings something to the table, and soon? Soon it will be coffee and a violinist.

"I'll... I just. It just... I'm." Thewlis takes a long breath, and then another. "The puppet for Torch in Puppet Master II had four models, for the various needs it had per scene, including a puppet that had a real flame thrower with a ten foot range." he's pale, but some color is coming back, eyes closed, spouting trivia.

"See what I mean?" Joe says, unashamedly tracking Itz's departure, for a moment. Then he looks back to her and asks, voice gone even lower, ".....from whom?" The idea clearly perturbs him. The change of gear has him shrugging, "A'right. Got a place at Bayside, now. Still mos'ly sleepin' aboard, though. I can't get used to sleepin' on a bed that's still."

August is, frankly, relieved by Everett's recitation. No mention of Them, nothing off-putting, no strange, coded messages given by a cheerful, twenty-something goth. It's a nice change of pace from whatever the hell that was. He relaxes as Ignacio goes to check on Itzhak, nods at him and runs a hand over Eleanor's arm. "Probably just a coincidence," he says. After all, none of them had felt Glimmer. Right?

Turning over the paper, Everett continues to recite the lines he wrote, edited not moments ago. Pushing his curled fist to his chest when he mentions that word, now adding little gestures with the verbal torture be performs.

Felt like the dagger of goodbye
Puncturing an unsuspecting chest
Tearing open my organs
Bleeding me out 'til I was dry

Heartbreak feels like the unforgettable cold
Of the winter that took my life
Ice ripping apart unwilling flesh
Until there is nothing left

Heartbreak sounds like the piercing scream
At an unforgiving sky, the feral cries made
When death would be preferable
To a life left this unfair

And heartbreak looks like razor blades
Dug into broken skin
It looks like desperation to absolve oneself
Of an immutable pain

The truth is, I didn't know what heartbreak was
Until you went away.

Looking up from the piece of paper, Everett pauses for the dramatic effect, then adds, "Thank you," and heads off the stage for the next person.

Hera comes back to where she was sitting and gives Thewlis a bottle of water. Hopefully she had an easy time getting the attention of one of the staff members, but, being such a busy night, who knows? She puts clear drink next to him and listens to the movie trivia. Ok, pale is better than blue, much better, but, no telling what all that was about. She checks her cellphone for a response and sighs. Well, as long as it settles a bit, maybe Thewlis is just having a reaction to crowds. "Too bad Jade isn't here." she mummurs.

Rhys obtains mocha! It's clearly 'to go', since it also comes with a muffin in a paper bag, but he wanders a little further in, a brow lifting as a familiar giant heads for the mic. He lifs his bag-hand to wave back to Kass, who gets a good-sized grin to go with it, and settles just behind the rows of seats, leaning up against the edge of one of the nearest tables, A sip of coffee as he watches Ignacio trail after Itzhak, and then his attention's on Everett and his poem. Which gets his brows up again. Somehow, not quite what he expected. It's difficult to clap with both hands full, but he at least makes the appropriate motions when the guy is done.

"Right, just coincidence. She didn't even write that herself so, that's all it could be," Eleanor murmurs to August but, no doubt, she'll be looking that piece up and doing some research on it later. When the giant finishes reading his poem she gets up and applauds on her way to the stage. "Thank you Everett. We've reached the end of our performer list tonight, but feel free to stick around and enjoy some more beverages. Those that signed up and performed get a free large coffee. Thank you everyone for coming out, we'll do another one of these soon." But not too soon. Hopefully Siobhan will forget the shop exists before next time.

Lyric just looks sad at Everett's poem, sliding down in her seat a little. She doesn't say anything, but she forgets to applaud. But why applaud that kind of sad? She does watch him though before speaking. "That was so sad, Everett. I'm sorry you're that sad."

Oh Eleanor. If only. Siobhan is already in a group DM about how well-received This Metal Sky was. Plans are being made.

Hera checks her cellphone again and just rolls her eyes a bit. Rarely does she look miffed but this time she does. Then, she hears the poem and it seems to take her attention away from the small device. "Wow" she remarks as she looks at Everette, "True passion, dang." She blinks a little, as if shaking herself away out of a partial trance. Obviously she thought that was a damn good poem.

Stopping on his wait to get back to the drink that his bleeding heart earned him, Everett stops at Lyric and gives his head a soft shake, "Don't be sorry," the giant offers. "Everybody's that sad. Some people just don't know it yet." He forces a smile on his lips, he stuffs his notepaper into his pocket before anyone else can see there's more, then double pats her shoulder, resuming his trek for that drink. Offering large hands to Kass, he looks expectantly to her.

"Fuck that guy," Kass mutters, following Joe's gaze towards where Itzhak flees the scene. The question is answered with a single word, "Them." She chuckles softly at mention of being unable to sleep in a bed and looks towards him with a lifted brow, "Have you thought about getting a hammock?"

Ruiz, coffee in hand, also prowls for the door some few minutes after Itzhak departed. Brief glance at the stage, and out he goes.

Cole gives Everett the same sort of polite applause that he's given the other performances. He takes another little sip from his cup of coffee, and glances around the room, people watching as much as he is watching the performers on stage. It doesn't seem that he's prepared anything to read or recite as he has nothing with him. He does, however, pull out his phone and tap out a quick message or two in between folks up at the mic.

"Listen, you wanna go talk somewhere else? All this is done, looks like," says Joe, nearly under his breath. His gaze darts after Itzhak. "I have, not the same, though. Yeah? Whatcha got against him?" His tone is curious.

Eleanor heads behind the counter to help with orders for the rush of people grabbing one to go on their way out, and the performers picking up their freebies.

August claps for Everett along with everyone else, settles in to work on his book a bit more while waiting for Eleanor to be ready to close up and go home. "That went great," he tells her. "I mean...you know, except for that one. But whatever." He flicks a glance as he hears Kass, frowns slightly, turns his attention back to his tablet when Eleanor goes to help out the staff.

No one is talking to him, attention is focused elsewhere. It's calm, but there are too many peope - so Thewlis is up, heading for the door, pack already out, dragging out a smoke as he weaves through. "Mark Wahlberg was going to be Hero in the movie Feast, then Josh Duhamel who was interested but had to duck out, so the roll went to Eric Dane." He forgets the door is a push on this side, several times, an in the start of panic throws his shoulder into it, half splaying himself out into the parking lot - keeping his footing by anime-ninja running with his arms out and back for a few steps and then engaging in the weirdest solo Limbo Calypso ever.

Devlin quietly slides into the shop as he pauses realizing there is some thing going on. He moves along the side towards the counter. Looking over he notices Hera and nods to her. Clearly coffee first then other things are his current priorities.

Applauding Everett's poem, Kass flashes him a grin, then glances aside to Joseph with a nod. "Yeah.. I'm not really good with crowds so, if we can... somewhere else is better." Shifting up to her feet, she offers a faint smile, "Ready when you are."

Glancing down at Kass, then the guy she's talking to, Everett puts his hands down. He waits a little longer. So this is what it's like to be invisible. One last effort, a soft smirk on the right side of the thug's mouth. "AHEM," Everett's throat is cleared, nudely and violently. Bemusement, while he shifts army green eyes from Kass to Joseph. Hearing that she's going to go with him, Everett accepts the cup back from Kass's care, "Have fun, you kids."

Hera looks around again, what is left of her drink annoyed. But seeing Devlin comes in, she rushes over toward him. It may take her a bit to get toward the entrance where he comes in, but she manages. When she's close enough she tries to jump up and down or, if that doesn't work, she yanks him by the arm. Poor Devlin, hopefully he handles it well. She then tries to mutter to him, hopefully not making more of a scene than she needs to.

"A'right," With that, Joe's turning for the way out, only to come face to face with Everett. "Oh, God, sorry," he says, startled. "Kass, this a friend of yours?"

Blinking, Kass lets out a small shriek as Everett 'suddenly appears' next to her, "Don't SCARE me like that! I need to put a bell on you or something... how do you manage to be so quiet??" Letting out a small breath, she smiles up at him, "Hey Ev, that was really good. And thanks. I promised Joe some chat and coffee... I didn't know there was gonna be a.. poetry slam? going on." She smiles towards him, then glances to Joe with a nod and brief grin, "He is, yeah." Then she's tilting her head towards the door and looking a little antsy.

Devlin pauses as he is intercepted by Hera. He just nods and turns to move towards and follows Thewlis. His expression perhaps difficult to read for the moment. Drawing closer to the man, "Hello Thewlis."

Hearing himself being addressed at her friend gives a reason for Everett to pause and look expectantly at Kass. Oh no, his amusement hasn't ebbed at all. Not even when he tries to conceal his smile with the large cup of coffee from which he pretends the purpose was to take a drink. But he can't help himself. He is low-grade evil after all. Soft swallow, Everett murmurs, "Yeah, Kass, is this a friend of yours?" The gentle ribbing over he looks down to Kass, "You can put whatever you like on me. And I hover." With his empty hand, Everett extends a mitt over to Joseph, "Everett, friend of Kass."

Joseph takes the offered hand and shakes it firmly. Bony and callused, but he's not one of those inclined to make it a contest. "Pleased to meetcha. I'm Joe, I'm new to town. Friend so far." His gaze is guileless, level. As if there weren't anything weird at all about him sloping off in the company of a lady half his age.

Hera looks back over at the crowd, as if to maybe give it a final look of sorts. There's really no one else she really knows but looking relieved that Devlin is here, she turns back to watch him and Devlin, as if to get the final word to make sure all is well. Maybe she should switch to decaf herself? Who knows.

Things seem to have wound down, so Rhys straightens from his table to leave. The Everett/Kass/Joseph trio gets a quick smile as he turns to head out with his bounty, on toward whatever else he needed fortifying caffeine for today. Work, probably. Even later shifts can use a good preparatory dose.

Kass catches the expectant look from Everett and blinks at him. "What? I said you're a friend. And.. what? This is Joe. He's new in town. And he's... friend-ish. We're in talks. There might be a deal struck, I'm hoping for boat rides." She repeats most of what Joe just said, then adds in a little more with a flicked glance towards Joe, "C'mon.. there are other places. Not crowded places. Places with cheap coffee and stale donuts." She offers a smile and wave towards Rhys, apparently happy to see him for the brief moment, then she's looking back to Joe and Everett. "So. We're going. Call me later? We can talk all night, braid each others' hair." Hehe.

With things winding down, Cole slips out of his seat, once more giving a small wave to those he knows, and then begins to make his way out of the coffee shop, taking his carry-out cup with him.

The handshake was going so well, too. Then someone added 'so far'.
Squeeze. "Well, welcome to the city, Kass is a really good person to be friends with." Everett turns his gaze back down to Kass, and adds, "Friendssszzz," hissing the word before he gives the drink back down to her, after a second. "I know. You want to get out of here. I can't hold this on my bike. Do me a favor and finish it for me, CHUM?" Moving out of the couple's way, Everett nods, as a means to reply to her request to be phoned. "Nice meeting you," Everett offers to Joseph.

Thewlis clambors into his truck, turning over the engine and actually screams when the radio starts and it's playing Sleepwalk by Santo and Johnny. Slapping at the radio until it turns channels before he has the sense of mind to drop the beast in reverse and actually peels out in reverse, lining up for the road and then Thew Moore is tire smoke and exhaust roaring down the road.

Joseph looks rueful, as he feels his metacarpals grind. But he doesn't yank his hand back. "Pleasure," he says, a little drily. "And I'm sure she is." Nor does he shake it when Ev finally releases him. He's already got a split lip - apparently he's used to how people do greeting in this town.

Hera ohs as Devlin whispers something and she backs away a bit. "Sorry" she mutters to him, "Got overzealous." She then falls silent as if to just stay to the side. Maybe it was just something she misinterpreted but then she hears the 'peeling out' and tells her cousin, "Well, if you think I don't have a reason to be worried, I won't be."

With Thewlis moving quick, Devlin pauses and turns back around to head for the counter. "Hera.. I'd just leave it be for now." He then goes to the counter to order a black coffee with a plain bagel with cream cheese. He nods to Hera, "Doesn't mean you shouldn't be concerned though. It's all good." He finally takes his hat off to fold and shove in a pocket after ordering. "Oh.. you need anything Hera?"

Hera seems a bit more relieved with the reassurance Devlin gives her but she mutters, "Kinda wish Jade was here bummer. Yeah I'll take a bagel though. I still feel a bit hungry."

Everett gets a confused look for his behavior, blinking twice, Kass looks back to Joe. "So. Yeah. I'm weird. I have weird friends. Um. Ev's a good guy. Mostly." She glances around then goes ahead and grabs Joe by the hand, because they still aren't moving. "C'mon, lets jet." Then she's dragging Joe off to somewhere nebulous with cheap coffee and stale donuts. Cop shop? Who knows!

Devlin adds another bagel to his order and waits, "Looks like I missed the open mike stuff. But I had a shift to work."