2022-05-15 - New Friends

(TXT to Charity) Una : Hey - Charity, right? I have your number in my phone correctly? I wanted to check in and see how you were settling (back) in. This is Una.

(TXT to ) Charity : Hey, Cookie Mistress. Okay, I suppose. What's new? Anymore info on that thing we talked about at the Pourhouse?

(TXT to Charity) Una : Nothing I've heard, but that doesn't mean there's not things going down. It's pretty much to be expected, around here.

(TXT to Charity) Una : I was going to say: I have coffee and cinnamon rolls, and an unseasonably perfect morning. If you're not doing anything, drop in for breakfast? Brunch. Whatever.

(TXT to ) Charity : If you're trying to seduce me with food, you are succeeding. See you soon!

(TXT to Charity) Una : 😆

As promised, Una can be found on the front porch of her house, with a tray of freshly-baked cinnamon buns, a pot of coffee, and the associated accoutrements. She's alone, thus far, the usual siren-song of her baking having not drawn in anyone else-- though perhaps there are housemates indoors who will eventually be drawn out to claim their share. The redhead has one foot curled beneath her butt, the other swinging loosely, shoeless, towards the ground beneath her chair; she's dressed in a light sundress perfectly suited to the unseasonably perfect weather so often (ie: always) seen at number five Oak.

Charity actually pulls her car, a gently used, pale-green, 1969 Chevrolet Corvair, to a stop in front of the Oak Street house. Either she was not nearby when having received the summoning from Una, or perhaps just not in the mood for walking. Regardless, she climbs out of the car, revealing an ensemble of a pair of dark blue leggings and an oversized gray shirt that hangs off one bare shoulder. Her jet black hair is piled on top of her head and held in place with a dayglo pink scunchie and purple/black Nikes adorn her feet.

Already grinning a wide, if slightly tired, smile at the redhead, she walks up to the porch, waving her fingers in greeting as she takes a seat opposite the other woman. Green eyes sparkle with curiosity as she looks around at the adjoining properties before looking back to Una. "I am curious. Does it stay this nice in the middle of summer? Like year-round spring?"

"Nice car," says Una, lifting her own hand in reply to Charity's, then shifting it immediately into an expansive gesture over the table and its contents: help yourself. Her grin's easy enough, though it grows just a little brighter and more amused at mention of the weather.

She's already poured herself coffee, not to mention picked a cinnamon roll off of the tray, even if it sits as yet untouched on her plate. "Five, three and one-- that is, my place, Ravn's place, and Ava's place-- we... well. Ava started it, growing the lawn. And there's a faerie circle next door, in Ravn's yard, and regular cookie delivery seems to have encouraged them into, well, this. It was March, I think, when that started, and ever since..."

Ever since: this. "I'm not complaining. If its ongoing maintenance just means cookies, I'm up for that."

Charity pours herself a cup of coffee, nearly to the brim of the mug. Then she proceeds to drink nearly a third of it before cradling the mug in her lap with one hand while she picks up a cinnamon roll from the tray with another. Taking a bite, she savors the delicious pastry and then smirks at the redhead. "If you bribed me with sweets, I'd do my best to make sure you were comfortable, too. Those fairies are apparently not dumb." She laughs and takes another swallow of coffee.

"So, was the circle there when Ravn moved in? Or did it show up after? Because things do like to live under and around houses."

Una casts Charity a glance that is ever so slightly impressed for the rapid fire coffee consumption, but doesn't comment. Instead, there's only a grin for that smirk and the comment that follows it, as she picks up her own cinnamon roll, turning it over between her fingers, sniffing it, and only then, finally, taking a thoughtful bite. Taste test in progress, clearly.

"To be fair," she says, "I've basically made it my mission to bribe everyone with sweets. If I feed people, they come back; it's basic logic." She's pretty airy in how she says that, but there's probably an element of truth to it anyway, that faint hint of low self-esteem that lingers about her, whatever she says and does to the contrary.

"I'm not actually sure. I've not actually seen any of the fae-- at least, only one, sort of, and that's kind of a whole other story. It may have been there for years, and maybe it just appeared out of nowhere one day. You've... seen things that live under and around, then?"

Charity glances over in the direction of the other property and then back. Her mouth twists into a smile and she takes another sip of coffee and another bite of pastry. "I think you feeding people is a perk. It's your personality that keeps people coming back. I mean, look at me. You spotted me walking down the street and offered to share coffee and cookies. But then you were friendly, asked inquiring questions without being pushy or nosy, and answered any questions I put back to you. Nice people draw people in. It's just a fact."

"Isn't Nimue a fae? Or is she something completely different? Or maybe I'm just too accepting of a blue baby due to my childhood." She shrugs one shoulder. "Yeah. There was something that lived ... lives .. under our old house. Went by a couple of days ago to look at the place and it was still there."

This assessment of her personality seems to please Una, whose cheeks have taken on that (so very common) hint of pink though at least her smile is undaunted. "Well," she says. "I do try. In a town full of people who are... better education, more powerful, and generally useful in ways I can't even fathom, I have to be able to offer something, and niceness, I think, is the easiest thing. Around here, we need to stick together."

She sets her cinnamon roll back down, reaching for her coffee with sticky fingers. "Nimue's-- I don't think any of us know what Nimue is. I mean, aside from a baby who is clearly alive and needs looking after and love. Something... bad?" Those big brown eyes focus more intently on Charity, now.

Charity laughs. It is an amused noise, but not one of malice. Just more entertained. "That's got to be the funniest thing I've heard in a while, hon. Being nice is never easy. It's so much easier to be an ass or mean or even indifferent. To be nice, especially to strangers, that's powerful. Sometimes a single nice word to someone having a horrible day can change the course of destiny." Then she laughs again, this one more self-effacing. "Of course, I read a lot of Zen stuff and more than my share of fortune cookies, so what do we know?"

The smile vanishes and her lips tighten a bit as she gives a single nod. "Yes. Something bad." She pauses, as if in thought, then looks back at Una. "Something hungry, I think. But I also think it's tied, maybe, to the property. So it can stay there and starve for all I care."

"Is it?" That doesn't seem to compute for Una, for whom being nice is a way of life, a core part of her being. "I don't... I mean, I do believe that the tiniest of actions can change things, absolutely. Good or bad, though. So your fortune cookies may have something going for them, absolutely. I just--" She shrugs, discomforted but only in the mildest of ways.

Her brows knit as Charity explains, her swallow thick and loud: clearly audible. It's a thought not best suited to the beautiful day, but not something to be shied away from either. "I wonder if that means something bad happened there, in the first place. Though-- yes, of course. Assuming there's no one else living there now for it to feed on, let it stay and starve."

Her mouth twists, slightly. See? Not always perfectly nice. Sort of.

"Considering it's still a pile of ash and ruin, I hope no one is desperate enough to want to stay there." Charity bites on her lower lip for a moment. "Something horrible happened there. But that was after we knew the thing was under the house. If some other incident drew it there, I never heard about it from my folks."

Then she smirks and drains the rest of the mug. "Una, being nice, especially the way you seem to be nice, is not a bad thing. It's really not. " She nods positively. "I think the people around you, your friends, don't stick around for the pastries, no matter how freaking good they are. They stick around because they are comfortable in your presence."

Charity sighs and takes another bite of the roll, swallowing before continuing. "I keep people at a distance. Sure, I'm friendly but I danced with the same people for years and I can assure you none of them have gotten so much as a 'hi' or a 'what's up' from me. I don't make friends, I make acquaintances. Then I come home and suddenly I'm being more open and trying to build bonds with people. With strangers. And that all started the day I sat on this very porch with you and Ava and Ravn."

Una's frown says a lot about how she feels about whatever awful thing happened in Charity's old house-- though very notably, she doesn't ask the question, even if the sorrowful, serious look in her eyes takes longer to fade. She nods, and then lets it go, at least for now.

"I think that's something about how this place works, though," she says, for the rest, after easing into more comfortable silence for a few moments. It's easy for her to dismiss her impact, and to focus on the bigger picture. "I think we all recognise, pretty early on, that we're going to need other people in order to make it work here. That going it alone leads to... bad places. I hope I do make an impact in letting people feel safe, but it's definitely not just down to me. Ravn did it for me, when I arrived. Ava-- well, she grew up here, but I hope we made her feel at home again, too."

She sips at her coffee, and exhales. "Bad things happen here. It's easier, when you know someone has your back. Has cookies, too, sometimes. I don't want to dismiss the impact of what I do-- but. Well." But she does.

"And now you three have done it for me." Charity smiles at Una, a warm grin that goes perfectly with unusual atmosphere of this section of the neighborhood. "I wish I'd known Ava. Before. Maybe I did. I just don't remember her." She rolls her green eyes back a bit, as if trying to cast her memory back through the corridors of time. Then she shakes her head, frowning. "Nope, no memory of her. Might be the town. Might be that we didn't make a lot of friends when I was a kid. Too weird, I think. Even for a place like this." She laughs and finishes off the roll.

"Speaking of having your back. I want to help ... however I can. There are bad things in Gray Harbor. And then there are worse things. Whatever the critter is that lives under my old house, it's bad. This person, this Outsider, who's trying to kill and kidnap? That's worse. So, sign me up. You guys find out a Big Bad is around, text me. Need someone to take a shift watching over someone or someplace? I'm there. As much as I thought, I hoped, I would never come back. I am. " She nods her head a single time. "If this is going to be my home again, I am going to defend it however I can."

"She's older than you are," points out Una, quietly. "I don't like to guess how old people are, but... I imagine you may not even have crossed paths at school or anything. It's not surprising. I imagine that happens a lot, even in a town like this one. But you're back, now, and--"

She pauses, then. It's not the first time she's heard that designation: 'we' and not 'I'. She's not a person who asks questions, but this one is clearly now beginning to linger.

"You're signed on," she promises. No hesitation, there. "I mean, as much as I'm involved in anything... we always need more people. We need to stand together, against everything, otherwise... even the most powerful people out there, and I know there are a lot of them, they can't do it alone. So: I promise. You came back, and that means this is your home, so of course you want to defend it. Equally... I'm not the most powerful person around, but I always have the back of my friends."

Nonetheless-- a pause. "You said we." It's not quite a question. But maybe it is one, anyway.

"Oh, I didn't know how old she is. But that makes sense, I guess. If she wasn't in the same grade, then her and I probably didn't even see each other." Charity refills her mug, once again to the brim. As she carefully sips, she nods in agreement with Una's assertation that they are more powerful as a group, rather than trying to tackle these things alone. She's seen firsthand what that can lead to, so she is more than happy to provide whatever assistance she can to her new friends. If they will accept her to have their backs, then come hell or high water or something worse from the Outside, she's going to have them.

Then, Una says what she says and Charity stiffens. It's only for about a heartbeat or two, but it's more than obvious her posture goes rigid in the seat before dropping back into what seems to be her default, relaxed state. A bit of color appears high on her cheeks and she takes another swallow of java before acknowledging the statement.

"I guess did, didn't I?" She laughs softly, though there isn't the usual humor in the sound. "Been a while since anyone mentioned it to me." Then she arches a brow, studying the other woman carefully. "That wasn't the first time I've done it either, was it?"

Under other circumstances, Una might confirm the age difference, or make further conversation on this topic. But she's said something that has discomforted her guest, and that-- Una seems distinctly uncomfortable by it, her expression as apologetic as she can make it, pink cheeked and pinched.

She hesitates. "No," she admits. "It's not. And-- it's none of my business, really. It could be you just-- well, it might just be the royal we, right? Who am I to judge people on their personal pretensions. So, truly, it's none of my business."

But.

Charity smiles and waves her hand dismissively. "It's okay. Really. I just didn't ... expect it to come back, really." She sighs and takes another sip of coffee. "I'm a twin. Was a twin. My brother, Carter was his name, we were very, extremely, close. But then he ... uh, died?" There is a definitive question mark at the end of the statement. "But he's also still around. Sorta. It's hard to explain without sounding really crazy. I mean, beyond Gray Harbor crazy." Another laugh, this one lighter, but still not a joyous.

"I don't usually talk about him with anyone. Too much to unpack, you know." Then she reaches out and places her hand on Una's arm, giving it a squeeze. "You haven't offended me. Or insulted me. Or even made me sad." She leans back in her seat. "I don't mind talking about some of it. Just some parts I don't think I'm ready to actually say aloud yet. If that makes sense."

Una hesitates, listening with what is clearly absolute intentness, her eyes a little wide as Charity explains. "Oh no," she murmurs, though she waits until Charity is actually done before responding fully. Her gaze drops towards her arm, and her own fingers reach down to squeeze back, just for a moment before returning to her mug.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I know you just said... but I'm still sorry. I'm glad he's still around for you, in whatever form that takes, because I can't imagine... I mean, I really can't. So as long as you're happy that he's still around, I'm happy for you. Beyond that... it's not my business, and you don't need to explain, or talk about it, or anything, unless you want to."

Charity smiles at Una. "I am. Most of the time. Other times though ..." She shrugs and takes a sip of her coffee. "The doctors all thought I was insane. Even I thought I was insane." She gives the other woman a look that says she knows that it probably doesn't sound crazy to her. "Took me a long time to simply accept that he was gone and what I was seeing when he appeared were just trauma-induced hallucinations." She says this with a haughty, arrogant tone that is obviously mimicking one of those "professionals" that believe they know all about how the world works.

"Funny enough, none of the pills they prescribed made him go away completely. And they sure didn't do anything to prevent this." Charity sets her mug down on the table before holding up one hand, fingers splayed apart. Without any warning, small arcs of electricity begin to dance around between her fingers and thumbs, A few moments later, the smell of ozone wafts in the air around them. "So, yeah, I figured we weren't insane after all."

The line of Una's mouth turns to a frown-- and then a scowl. "They don't know anything," is her conclusion, made firmly, and with a moue that suggests she finds their lack of knowledge disturbing... or at least disappointing. Still; "I know they can't help not knowing, and not being able to know, what they can't know, but... that just sucks. You're no crazier than I am."

Maybe there's something in the twitch of her mouth, the face she makes, that suggests she doesn't see herself as entirely sane either-- but not in the way those doctors may have originally intended. Her slow nod acknowledges the electricity, and, a moment later, she showcases her own: flames, dancing in the palm of her hand, never burning, nor rising more than a few inches above her; never casting smoke, either. She closes her palm, and they fade away.

"Not insane," she agrees.

Charity's green eyes widen at the flames, then cut slightly to the side, as if looking at the space right next to her for a moment. When Una reiterates the fact that they're both intact, mentally, she picks the mug back up and takes a swallow before speaking. "Carter could do flames." A passing cloud of melancholy drifts over her face before it's gone again. "I never managed to do more than make things a little warm. Can you do telekinetic stuff as well?"

Then she looks at the house next door, chewing softly on the inside of her cheek. "Ravn and Ava? I guess they can do similar stuff?" She shakes her head as she turns back to Una. "We never knew. We always just thought it was the family oddness. My parents never said anything about others. Just that we needed to keep what we could do a secret."

Is that a tear? Rolling down her cheek. Charity reaches up and wipes it away. "I never knew there were others like us. Other Odd Ones. Not until we came back."

Oh. That's a tear. Una's expression turns properly aghast, that innate empathy rising to the surface and threatening to take over her every emotion. She takes a few deep breaths, then lets them go again, nodding by way of response.

"You're not alone," she promises. "Ava's the best healer I've ever known, and Ravn... he can open Doors to the Other Side. He can throw boulders around, too. I can do-- a little of a lot of things, but not so much the mental things. Ariadne-- did you meet her?-- she calls me a kitchen cleric, and it fits: the hedge witch, lots of small magics but nothing too dramatic."

Her smile is clearly intended to be encouraging. "I'm sorry about your brother. I can't imagine what that's like, and I don't imagine anything will ever make up for the fact that he's not with you in body, even if he is here in soul, in presence. But you're with friends here, okay? We've got your backs."

Charity smiles, doing her best to keep her emotions in check herself. “Never met anyone that could heal anyone before. One of our relatives, an uncle I think, could hurt people just by looking at them. At least, that’s how my mom always described it.” The comment about actually opening a doorway to the Outside results in a tiny shudder.

It’s bad enough when things from the Outside come to our world. Why on earth would you want to go to where they are?

“I can’t move boulders. But I can, with a little effort and a lot of nose bleeds, can lift something like a sack of flour.” Then she nods, smiling wide again. “Kitchen cleric. Yeah, I like that. Like a Kitchen witch. A Witchen.” Then she’s frowning just the tiniest bit again. Her eyes flick ever so slightly to the right for a moment and then move back to Una. “Thank you so much. And I want you guys to know that I’ve got your backs as well.”

'Witchen' makes Una grin, even if it's not destined to last: a portmanteau worth sharing amusement over. Her nod acknowledges what the other woman has to say, the corners of her mouth promising something that's not further expressed in her words. Except-- "We're glad to have you."

"So all of this, it runs in your family?" The follow-up question is light, but there's definite interest in the dark brown of her eyes, considering Charity so thoughtfully.

Charity kind of gives Una a half-shrug. "Seems like. We never saw anything really out of the ordinary until we were eight. However, after Carter accidentally set the couch on fire, our parents set us down and told us about the Oddness. They said that weird things happen in the Dixon family and we shouldn't be afraid of it. But we also shouldn't tell anyone."

She laughs humorlessly. "That's a hell of a big ask for a pair of eight year-olds, you know. When you'reat that age where you're going to schooland tryingto make friends. I think that's about the time when we became even more inseparable than normal. Keeping the family secret bonded us together just about as much as being able to connect with each other in our minds."

Charity looks back at Una. "Did weird things happen to you before you moved here? Any trace of supernatural instances in your bloodline?" She gestures at the world beyond the porch with her mug. "I guess I'm just curious as to what brought you here? Random chance? Or some unseen force? Our dad used to say that small towns like this have a mind of their own."

Then she blushes a bit and shakes her head. "I mean, if you want to share, that is. Guess I'm just sort of curious if this place is making normal people into something else, or drawing in certain people. Ones that already have a connection to the Outside."

"Ava's trying to research all of this," Una murmurs. "Whether it changes something in our DNA. Whether it is genetic. A mutation, or-- I don't know. I'm no scientist. I'd've struggled to keep that kind of secret when I was eight, that's for sure... and just imagine what it's like for kids whose families don't have a history of it, right? It would be awful."

She refills her coffee mug, though it's her cinnamon roll that she picks a piece off of next, inspecting the pastry before it gets popped into her mouth and chewed. "I don't mind answering questions. This house--" she gestures behind her. "It's where my mom grew up, though I had no idea of that until last year, when my grandmother died and left it to me. My mom's like us, but she won't-- maybe can't, I don't know-- talk about it. I was seventeen when I was first aware of it, and then it was just... a weird thing I could do. Nothing really, truly weird happened to me until I moved here, in December."

Charity's eyes widen as she lowers the mug away from her lips. "Wait, your family is from here? But you didn't grow up here? Your mom knew that there was something, and didn't tell you?" She shakes her head. "Then maybe it is genetic. At least on some level." Then she laughs. "Not bad for a single college credit in biology, huh? Even if I did get a D."

"What happened in December?" She leans forward just a bit, obviously enraptured by the situation. "The whole time skip thing was September, right? So that wasn't really weird to you?" Charity waves her hand. "Sorry, getting ahead of myself. Must be the caffeine." She gestures for the other woman to continue at her own pace.

A short little nod from Una confirms Charity's conclusions-- and the slight upturn of her mouth acknowledges some of the rest of it. She picks at her cinnamon roll again, considering it thoughtfully before she attempts to explain. "Mom grew up here, yeah. She left after high school graduation, and I was born four months later. I didn't even know this place existed into the letter came-- from my grandmother's lawyers. So I moved here. I had a dead-end job, and I knew there were things mom wasn't telling me, so."

This time, it's back to the coffee. "So I arrived after the time skip. I think my grandmother died during it. As far as I can tell, this house has been in my family since the '20s, and it's not the first place we had in town-- we've been here from the start. And my many-times great grandfather is a ghost in my library, so I assume it may be in my genes, somewhere."

Beat. "Hey, your single biology credit is better than my no credits in anything."

"That's probably a good thing. You missing the time skip. From what Ravn told me, some folks ended up in relationships they didn't have originally. And at least one found she was a bit pregnant." Charity visibly shudders, though it's from the thought of being with someone she wouldn't normally or having a child she didn't plan is not readily apparent. "So your family goes back over a hundred years. As far as I'm aware, mine goes back a ways, too.. Maybe not that far. I don't really know."

She arches a brow at Una. "A ghost? Can you talk to him? Does he, uh, talk to you? Like you specifically?" Reaching up, she rubs the back of her neck, stifling a yawn that tries to slip out. "Maybe I should go to the library. Or Town Hall. See just when the Dixons arrived in Gray Harbor."

"Well, it's not like I graduated or anything. Struggled through three semesters and dropped out to take a job teaching snooty little brats how to pirouette and plie. Which is why I'm probably going to end up serving cocktails in a dress that's too tight and too short. But hey, as long as the tips are sufficient."

"Yeah, I wasn't sorry to miss that. I... like feeling I have control over things, and that would definitely do the opposite." Una's got a shudder of her own, though a lighter one: this is not new information for her, after all. She's had a good five months to start working her way through how she feels about that.

"He doesn't... talk. He throws books around, sometimes. He did some bad shit... stole some native artefacts of some kind. We think he wants us to find them and give them back, but since he won't actually tell us anything..." Una waves her hand expansively, as if to say: how the hell are we supposed to manage that, then? "He's mostly just there. I try and avoid the room most of the time, which sucks, because a library? As a kid, I would have killed to have a room called a library. I didn't even have a bedroom of my own."

Her mouth twists. "I didn't go at all. I was supposed to, but... It didn't happen. I worked in a thrift shop, until I moved here, and now I do admin in Ava's clinic, but not because I'm qualified so much as I think she was willing to help out a friend."

"I think you're selling yourself short, Una." Charity smiles at the other woman. "I think you're likely qualified for what Ava needs out of an assistant. You're very calming. Which I'm sure it a big help to any medical emergencies or whatnot that take place around here." Then the smile becomes more of a smirk. "And you're rather good at getting people to relax around you. I never talk about my brother. But I just felt like you'd ... understand? Even if you've never been in the same situation."

"Still, if we can't talk to him, maybe I can at least find out about my family history. Perhaps there's some sort of similar connection. Like they arrived at the same time. We might find other families who might be likely to have Oddness in them."

Not for the first time, Una's cheeks turn faintly pink-- but she'll accept Charity's assessment with a little, twitching smile and a slow nod that at least seems to suggest she'll take the idea under advisement (maybe). "I try to understand," is quietly genuine. "And I'm not a gossip, so you don't need to worry that I'll start spreading it around or anything, I promise. Maybe in another lifetime I should have been a therapist."

She's definitely teasing, given the way she rolls her eyes.

"That's... a good point. Yes. I mean-- I know about the Addingtons," who basically run the town, "and the Baxters, of course. But the Irvings, and the Dixons, and... there are bound to be loads out there. That's one of the things Ava is trying to do: revive the historical society. There's probably loads we can find out about people, right? Put the pieces together."

"I'm not worried about you going around telling everyone that I talk to my dead twin brother, Una. If I didn't feel we could trust you, I wouldn't have said anything at all. Denied everything." She finishes the second cup and puts the mug down on the table and playfully shakes a finger at the other woman. "I think you would make an amazing therapist. Sometimes I can tell what people are feeling, if it's a really strong feeling like anger or terror. But get the feeling you're more sensitive than me. Plus, you're a great listener."

"The Addingtons." Charity says with a slightly amused tone. "That's a name I definitely remember my parents mentioning. And not in a super friendly way. Now I'm all curious to find out what that was all about." She grins in a conspiratory manner. "I see a trip to the records section of the library soon. If you want to come with, I'd welcome the company. If you'd rather not, on account of your great-great-grandfather, I completely understand."

"No, I'd take everything people say onto myself and drown in their emotions, most likely," says Una, with a laugh. "Not to mention I'm probably desperately in need of a therapist myself-- but who could I talk to? It'd need to be someone like us, else they'd actively decide I'm crazy, and anyone who is like us is... kind of too close, in this town. No. I think I'm better off not being a therapist."

She hesitates over commenting on the rest, and then laughs, wryly. "That's a complicated history for sure. The Addingtons and the Baxters-- I'm not going to pretend for a moment I'm not relieved not to be related to either of those families, so far as I know. I'd love to join you. Let's see what we can find out. I'm not... thrilled about my however-many-times grandfather. We call him 'Asshole Irving' for a reason, right? But. I'd feel better knowing more than I do. If mom won't talk, and no one else is left, it's going to have to come from me, right? We'll absolutely hit the library."

Charity frowns. "Yeah, let's not do that. I like having you around so let's not make you any crazier than we both already are." Then she winks with a grin at Una and shrugs. "I'd recommend mine in Memphis, but she'd just prescribe you drugs that you don't need and don't work. Though we could always share our troubles over a glass of wine or a bottle of bourbon. Sort of take turns telling each other whatever's bothering us." She sighs and shrugs again. "Sometimes ... I wonder if what I'm thinking is what I am thinking. Or not. Not gonna lie, it would be nice to have someone I could check in with when I'm not sure."

She pauses for a moment, considering Una's comment. Then nods as she starts to smile really wide. "Library adventure it is. Do we wanna rope in Ravn and Ava, or see what we can find out on our own?"

Una's smile is crooked, but still warm, and she leans back in her chair, now, nursing her coffee in an idle kind of way. "Bourbon and wine, and a listening ear works for me. My door's always open, okay? So if you have one of those moments, hit me up, and we'll work through it. I'm absolutely the worst at asking anyone for help, but I'll try and do the same."

She's clearly pleased by the enthusiastic acceptance of the rest. "If you want to rope 'em in, let's do so. Or we can start by ourselves; either's fine. Library research... feels like a save endeavour, you know? Real world. Nothing dangerous."

Charity smiles warmly and nods. "I will keep that in mind. As long as you agree that if you need an ear yourself, you will at least think of calling me. Like I said, I don't have many friends, but I'm starting to enjoy the idea of having a few. So if I can give them a hand, I'm going to do it."

"Yes, asking for help is hard. Especially if you've avoided doing it for a long time. But I'm here for you if you need me."

"We can try digging around ourselves, then if we find anything that might seem useful. Or required some expertise we don't have, we'll pull them in. I figure with Nimue and patching people up, Ava's probably a busy beaver. And Ravn, though I'm still getting to know him, strikes me as the kind of guy with five or six irons in the fire at any one time. No need to coerce him into joining our scavenger hunt if it's not going to bear fruit."

Then she laughs and holds up her hand. "Are you suggesting that paper cuts and breathing in hundred-year-old dust isn't dangerous? Not to mention the chance we might stir up a ghost. Or pull a muscle lifting a really large book." She winks playfully at the redhead. "All sorts of danger awaits us in the library."

"Thank you," says Una, quietly, though her smile reaches her eyes. "I promise to try-- I've said I'm going to be better about it, and I'm going to do my best. I got... injured, in a Dream, a while back. And I couldn't bring myself to ask anyone to help Heal me. I'm not sure why not. It just feel like such a big ask, even though it isn't, you know? So I'm trying to be better."

For a moment, it looks as though there is something on the tip of Una's tongue, perhaps about Ravn or Ava, but she shakes it off. "Okay," she agrees. "We'll do it ourselves, and if we need more input... yes, I am absolutely telling you that nothing bad could ever possibly happen in the library, um, except that's also a lie. I saw a toddler bring a dinosaur to life from a book in there once, so."

"Yeah," Charity says with a nod. "I do know. You feel like you should be strong enough to handle it on your own. That if you just bear down and dig a little deeper, it will be okay without imposing on anyone else. I know exactly what you mean, Una. However, the fact that you acknowledge that going that route isn't the best idea means that you might be less hesitant to ask next time. Though, let's hope there isn't a next time."

Charity's eyes widen a bit and a nervous laugh follows. "Okay, so we need to make sure we don't take a wrong turn into Jurassic Park.It didn't eat anyone, did it? Because the only dinosaurs I'm sure all kids know are the T-Rex and the Velociraptor. And like we told this total hottie the other day at the docks, I only run when chased by something bigger and meaner than me."

Her pocket buzzes and she reaches into it to pull out her phone. She looks at the screen for a moment, then smiles at Una. "So, guess who's got long legs, a short dress, and an interview at the Grand Olympic?" Sliding to her feet, she steps around the table and hugs the redhead as tightly as if they'd been friends for years. When she steps back, there is a dampness in those green eyes. But a smile on her face. "Thanks for inviting me over, Una. This has been ... well, one of the best mornings I've had in a really long time."

Exactly says Una, without actually saying it outright: it's there in her expression, and the sharp way in which she nods.

There's probably more to the dinosaur story, but-- Charity's phone buzzes, and her reaction is delightful, enough that Una grins even before she's got an explanation. "Oh, that's amazing news," she enthuses. She even leans in to the hug-- and that's something Charity will learn she doesn't always do.

"You're always welcome here," she promises. "I'm glad you could come. Kick ass at the interview, yeah? And don't be a stranger."

"Thanks!" Charity is crossing the porch and bouncing down the steps toward the Corvair. "I mean, how hard can it be to score a job where you bring gamblers drinks in a short dress and pretend to flirt? I can do that."

She stops about halfway to the vehicle and turns around to look at Una. "I know you're just gonna wave this off, because you're a really modest person, but I really, really appreciate you inviting me over this morning to talk. It's nice to have a friend. I see why other people do it."

Charity waves and climbs into her car and pulls away from the curb to go and get ready to gain new employment at the Olympic.