Feb 06 10:42:16 108 PA - On Refugees and Murders

From Chronicles

Feb 06 10:42:16 108 PA.

TRADEWINDS COFFEE SHOP

Erica is sitting at a table with a pot of tea to one side. She has a mug of steaming hot tea along with a paperback. Leaning back in her chair she is near a window watching the rain fall on the outside world. Her paperback is open and she is reading it while taking the occasional sip of her tea.

Vixen's big truck rumbles its way to the coffee shop, turning into a space aggressively. And from inside comes Vixen. A light hood drawn up over her head, coat cinched tight as she shoves the truck's door closed and tromps in. A soft curse under her breath breathed as she shoves back the hood and shakes a bit of wet off her coat while she's loosening it up.

Erica looks up from her book as the door to the coffee shop opens blowing cool air into the store. Noticing Vixen she gives the other woman a quick nod of her head in greeting before she picks up her mug of hot tea and takes a sip from it. Her attention is drawn back to her book, and she continues to read through it.

Vixen glances towards Erica as she's taking the place in. A casual lack of familiarity with the place, by her expression. She nods back and moves over to the counter. "Strong and black," she tells the staffer there. Putting some credits down for it. And once she's got the cup, she turns and considers a few moments before she wanders over to where Erica has settled. "How's tricks?" A casual question as she nears.

Erica looks up as she notices Vixen coming over to her table. She quickly marks her place in her book and puts it over to the side. "Hey Vixen. Things are going pretty well. How about you? Whatcha been up to?" Moving her bot of tea over to the side to make more room, she gestures to one of the other seats at the table.

Vixen purses her lips at the question on what she's been up to, but seems to lean towards another topic first. "Actually, I should have tracked you down earlier. Hope you haven't been bouncing that thing you got around. The box. Leo finally figured out what it is. You should talk to him. Though it don't do much for deciding what to do with 'em or who brought 'em." She picks a seat and settles down, not bothering to shed her coat. "Best bet for now, lock it up tight."

The older man comes in from the snowy outdoors, taking his woolen cap off as the door closes behind him. Gabriel looks around with a smile, seemingly enjoying the sights, sounds, and definitely the scents inside Tradewinds. Two of his friends are noted - one his instructor - with a polite wave of his hand and a self-inviting, "I'll be over in a minute or two." He smiles, then approaches the counter and begins to place and order.

"Yep I still have my box." Erica says with a quick nod of her head as she cradles her hug of hot tea in her hands. "I haven't seen Leonard in some time. Can you tell me what it does?" She asks while looking up at Vixen. "It has been an interesting curiosity that is for sure. "Looking up at Gabriel's entrance she gives the man a smile and a nod of her head in greeting.

Vixen glances towards Gabriel as he comes in, her attention lingering a moment before she leans in to murmur lowly to Erica. "Not what it does, but what it is. Some kinda.. dark matter thing. Or something. Gets cold because it pulls in energy when you knock it about or some shit. Could end up blowing up in a big way if it gets too much. Supposedly real valuable, but dangerous. Better you ask Leo for details, it's stuff I don't really understand and he did the research on it. And when I say explode, he makes it sound like it could take out blocks.. or more. Why the hell someone would drop one on you and Leo and me I dunno. No real clues to go off for tracking 'em down." Her lips purse in mild frustration as she leans back and drinks from her cup lightly.

Up at the counter, there seems to be a polite disagreement between Gabriel and the teenager as to what exactly, "Coffee, please, no nothing in it," truly entails. It would appear that there are already three mugs placed before him. Finally, the young man nods, and by his visage, may actually seem to get it, and hurries over to one of the giant barrels of coffee. Meanwhile, another teenager, a green-skinned female D-Bee with random shocks of red hair puts an "on the house" something on his plate and begins to ring up his bill.

Erica tilts her head to listen to what Vixen has to say. "Hmmm interesting. Sounds like it could be very useful. That and valuable is always good too." She chuckles softly and shrugs her shoulders. "I'll have to see Leonard when I can to see what he has to say. Mine is pretty well locked up for now." Lifting up her cup of tea to takes a sip she watches Gabriel order his drink.

"Personally? I wouldn't sell that to just anyone," Vixen says. "Profit is well and good, but not if it might end up getting me killed. Better to keep them locked up for now. Got any ideas on how to find the ones that sent 'em, I'm all ears. Other than that? Just considering. Might have to blow something up, but with more conventional booms."

Gabriel walks over to the table where Erica and Vixen are sitting with a laughing smile on his face. "Kids." Using a foot, he drags a chair out and seats himself, simultaneously depositing a tray on the table's surface. "Hello Miss Erica, Ms. Vixen. I'm inviting myself over because this is a rare case of I'm feeling lonely, and you two are here, so you'll have to deal with it, I'm afraid." The drawled words are offered with a smile, and if any conversation about a box was heard, is goes politely past, no eavesdropping intended. However, he does lean forward and point to his tray, chuckling as he does. "Please, help yourselves. In the case of ordering a mug of coffee, black, I have -" he ticks fingers off "- black coffee with three espresso shots, black coffee with caramel and whipped cream, one mocha black coffee, and this black coffee, which indeed, is in fact, black coffee. That one's mine." He reaches for it with a wink then points a final time: "You can fight over the brownie. It was on the house."

"I don't have any plans to use it or sell it just yet. Just interesting stuff." Erica says while giving a quick shrug of her shoulders. "I have no more idea how to find who gave us them as you do though." She turns her attention to Gabriel as he comes over to the table. "Hi Gabriel. Yah have a seat." She says as nodding to the chair that Gabriel brought over. "The brownie looks good but Vixen can have it." Vixen glances towards Gabriel and he settles and speaks. She seems a bit indifferent to the offers and shrugs her shoulders in answer to the offers. "Not hungry," she says simply. She seems content with the prior topic as well, since she brings up another one. "So have either of you been paying much attention to the Refugees?" Casual and she lifts her cup to sip her coffee lightly after asking it.

Gabriel mutters what is probably not a very nice word under his breath, pulling the coffee mug away quickly enough that it's obviously far too hot to actually consume at the moment. Still, as people have a tendency to do, his eyes remain on it as he looks to set it down. "Actually, yes I have, Ms. Vixen. Got the name of the woman who's apparently in charge. Um.. Emily something. Don't worry, I have it written down. Met with this ugly beasty bitch of an D-Bee named Strala who claims to be some kind of second-in-command." He shrugs a little. "Maybe that's too harsh. But she is beast-like. I was out of it for a while, but it has something to do with the Junkyard. That seemed to mean something to Johnson and Isabeau. Doesn't to me." He looks between the two women. "How about you?"

"Yah I usually try to keep an ear out about what is happening with the refugees." Erica says as she pours herself more tea from her tea pot. She tilts her head slightly to the side as she listens. "The junkyard has been the source of more problems it seems." She muses softly to herself.

"There's shit going down there," Vixen agrees. "Seems like some sick fucks are doing some torture thing.. why? Who knows. Doesn't really matter, except that, obviously, letting them keep doing it ain't gunna fly. Doing some sniffing. Got a mind to wreak a little havoc once there's a decent target for it."

After clearing his throat, Gabriel just quickly asks, "Please, tell me more about the Junkyard. I barely know much about the 'Dregs, except that it sucks to live there. That the refugees are coming in from Tolkeen." After blowing across the surface of his coffee, creating little ripples, he offers in a drawl, "Oh, by the way. Strala and her folk? They're building what I can only describe as an armed fortress complex down there. Don't know what kind of light people are going to start looking at them in. But torture?" The look on his face is one of... well, it's usually just downright fucking scary when it comes to something like torture.

Erica's lips curl into a slight frown as she shakes her head. "Bastards shouldn't get away with that. If you all need help sorting it out I will be available. The junkyard is a good place to scavenge parts. A lot of refugees and gangs make money doing that. So that makes it a strategic point for a lot of people." She pauses for a moment before tapping a finger against her lips. "A fortress? That isn't good. I'm surprised others are letting her build it."

"The Junkyard is a place where you don't go past the outskirts unless you have a deathwish," Vixen states. "Gangers, critters and freaks are in that mess." She then notes, "Only reason the refugees are there is cause the city won't let them set up outside in some open land. And they're building a fortress because they're looking to protect their own. Given what's been going on, that should be pretty clear. Only reason they're not handling this themselves is because of deals for getting left alone by the big fish. Strala has the right idea. Only problem is if they run out of room."

He blows across the coffee continually. "I've no problem with a fortress if they want one. As long as it doesn't become a firebase on the city outskirts pointing howitzers this direction. No one needs that. Didn't know that about the Junkyard." Gabriel shakes his head in obvious confusion, obvious confusion that he's simply not understanding the phrasing. "Deals for getting left alone by the big fish?" "Sounds like it all cause problems. More warfare in the dregs." Erica says with a little shake of her head. "Chaotic as hell down there. I'm sure lots of deals are being cut. With the various gangs as well as with some of the other bigwigs in Kingsdale." She takes a little sip of her hot tea before shrugging her shoulders.

Vixen eyes Gabriel. "Don't be stupid, man. They got enough trouble living, let alone do something against the city. Pure defense. Which is the way to go in the Dregs. Gangs do the same sort of thing, just not as organized as the Refugees. They all have their clubhouses." She shakes her head at Erica, before she speaks more generally. "The refugees have enough trouble dealing with feeding their own, given how many are coming here. They have a deal with The Family. One of the three big powers in the Dregs. The Refugees don't cause violence, they don't get messed with. Which means they can't handle the Junkyard thing themselves. Don't mean we can't, though. Once I get a sense for what's going on in there, I might be able to sniff out a target."

Gabriel halts his blowing and quirks his head to the side, raising an eyebrow at the same time. "The Family. Civilization was destroyed, but somehow the Italian Mafia survived? How the hell did that happen?"

Erica chuckles softly to herself at Gabriel's question. "Don't know about the Italian Mafia but crime often runs in families. As to what is happening in the junkyard. It would be better if it was taken care of sooner rather then later." She downs the rest of her mug of tea before standing up from the table. "I regret to say that I have an appointment, but if you need me you know how to get a hold of me." She says to both Gabriel and Vixen.

Vixen quirks a brow at Gabriel's words and shrugs her shoulders. "Dunno what you're on about. Just some stupid name, like the Vigilantes and Clash. The other two big powers. Everyone else is small to medium fish. Those three are big and not the sort you want to screw around with unless you got a damn good reason." She nods to Erica and says, "Information takes time. But I'll get it."

Gabriel stands politely as Erica rises to leave. "Have a good day, Miss Erica. Stay safe." He'll then sit, when she's departed. "This place has a militia. Lot tougher than Elliot Ness and the G-Men were." Gabriel carefully waves his mug around. Why doesn't the city just send it in and clear the place out? Is the militia so corrupt that it couldn't do that?"

Vixen gives Gabriel a dark look. "For one, fighting a war in the Dregs would end up with a lot of dead. The people that live there cause they got nowhere else to be and a lot of Kingsdale's forces. And it would weaken the city. And right now that's a bad idea. Not to mention it's a lot cheaper to ignore it. The authorities don't go in, none of what's in there comes out. Problem is, sometimes something happens in there that gets too much attention. When that happens, a Purge happens. Why bother putting men in there when you can just bomb the shit out of it?" She cants her head slightly. "For the government, those are the two options. Ignore it until it can't be, then bomb the shit out of it. Whoever gets caught in the middle.. too bad."

The older man doesn't seem to entirely agree. "There's usually a middle ground. Send in a team to abduct or assassinate the leaders, it falls apart with minimum collateral damage. Heads roll, people get thrown in jail. Works well." Gabriel maintains eye contact with Vixen, and speaks with an off-handed confidence that may imply that he's done that kind of work before.

Vixen smirks and shakes her head slightly. "Maybe wherever you came from. Or whenever. Whatever." She shrugs her shoulders. "This ain't your happy fun place, man. The authorities here do it one of two ways with the Dregs. They ignore it or they destroy it. Outside, sure.. do all that other stuff, but trust me. I lived there. I've heard the stories of the last Purge. And since then, The Man don't go in. One reason why you can do more there than you can outside. No law, except what you make through the barrel of your gun. Dangerous, but full of opportunity. If you have talent. If you don't.." She shrugs.

"So what's the excuse? This is supposed to be a beacon of civilization, isn't it?" Gabriel waves his mug around again. "How can the Council, or whatever they are, just sit with their thumbs up their collective asses while that kind of suffering's going on? I had someone explain to me that this post-Apocalyptic calendar started with the end of a second Dark Ages." The older man shakes his head. "This shit's still happening, then it's still the fucking Dark Ages, and people are fooling themselves to think otherwise. *Real* civilization doesn't let that kind of thing happen." But his eyes shoot to Vixen. "You grew up there, huh?"

"Born and raised," Vixen states simply. She then shrugs and says, "A lot of people say they're going to clean up the Dregs, man. How'd it get like that? How does anything get like that? Bit by bit until you look over one day and it's a cesspit. But by then, you going to toss your stack of creds into that moneypit?" She smirks. "You want to know why they do what they do, go ask 'em. But I can tell you one thing, you don't change the Dregs, they Dregs change you. Or they kill you if you're not strong or smart enough to come out with your head. You got the plan to fix it up? Cause if you do, you'll be the best man out there since you'd be the first."

"I do know where you're coming from, y'know," Gabriel says with probably more truth in his voice than man be expected. "We didn't necessarily have gun-battles and constant crime, but the Depression was horrible. Some weeks, we ate rats and sawdust mixed with flour, because that's all we could afford. No plumbing. No electricity, no heat unless you could find some firewood for a cast-iron stove. There were shanty-towns all over." He clears his throat, sips his coffee, and says, "But then, well, it's hard to explain, but we just decided that we were sick of it and we started to come out. People made jobs, people found jobs, people cleaned up their towns." He then bobs his head. "Admittedly, the war helped."

Vixen shrugs. "Never heard of it, not really worried about some other place and their stuff. Got enough of my own to worry about here. Point is, things don't work here how they worked where you're from. You can resist it if you want, but your best bet is to learn it. Whether you're going to go with the flow or rage against it. Your life, your choice, man. Me? I go with it because it's the rules of the game, so to speak. The Dregs are a balance. Right now, I have my eye on something that might one day get too much attention. And now you know what'd be coming if that day ever comes. And why I've a mind to stop the shit out of it now."

Gabriel drinks. "What, precisely, would that be? An army? Godzilla? A madman with a loose nuclear weapon and an itchy finger?"

"If you mean what'd be coming, a Purge. And a big pile of bodies," Vixen replies. "If you mean what needs stomping, these fucks that are messing with the Refugees. Sadistic fools like that might be some mages looking to do dark shit. May teach some of those freaks in there to keep it down. Probably not."

"Mmmm. Magic is something that I still have a difficult time understanding," Gabriel admits. "What do these guys want? What do you get out of torture, is it like an Aztec sacrifice or something? You know, pull out your enemy's heart and eat it to gain his strength?" As the words come out, they begin as a joke, but become more... what the fuck, maybe this is real? "Which one's going to happen first, the Purge, or stopping twisted fucks? Maybe if you think of it as stomping, with an 'm' it would feel better." Probably an attempt at humor in a dark conversation.

The door opens, the bell of it giving a dingle to announce the new arrival. The small Inuit woman steps lightly into the shop, pausing not far within to be able to take a look over those already inside. Behind her enters a great white bear who stands taller than the woman he follows. Lowering his head, he touches her shoulder with his nose, giving a quiet rumble of sound. Monique lifts a hand to lightly touch the bear's nose briefly, a smile touching her lips, and then she starts to head towards the counter. Yet she doesn't reach it, nor come close, for the bear lowers his nose and opens his mouth, lightly taking hold of her hood to stop her, then whuffs out a breath of air. He releases her, then looks towards the group who speaks of torture and sacrifice. A dark topic, and she frowns a little, lifting a hand to rub softly over the top of the bear's nose.

"You're assuming there is a point to it," Vixen replies. "From what Strala said the guy looked like, he wasn't all that sane looking. And what she saw shook her pretty damn hard." She grimaces. "She was reading some armor from one of the missing refugees. I tracked down some guys selling it. So they'll be a possible lead. We'll see. I've only started looking. Point of this is to make sure a Purge doesn't happen. I don't live in the Dregs no more, but I got enough interests in it to see that all that won't get wiped out." She glances towards the door, the presence of the bear there enough to get some attention. A faint purse of her lips before she looks back to Gabriel.

No one can miss a giant polar bear and a tiny Eskimo entering any establishment like two cousins going to Senior Prom together. As such, Monique and Tornaq are noted, but it would be silly to jump up and call out to them. Gabriel's gaze returns to Vixen. "It's been my experience -" he waves a hand "- yes, yes, I know, different world, just listen. It's been my experience that nobody does anything without purpose save for the truly crazy who quite simply don't even have control over their own minds. So this.. man? Woman? He or she must want something." He shrugs. "What could they get out of it?"

The giant polar bear lowers his nose and rumbles softly to his mistress, some meaning likely conveyed within. A final rub of his nose is given before Monique lowers her hand back to her side. She listens for only a moment more, and then she starts to head towards the counter once more. Tornaq looks to the duo for a longer moment before following after the small shaman to whom he is bound. She makes no effort to intrude to the conversation, and once to the counter, she patiently waits her turn to be able to order something for herself.

"Ok, I'll rephrase. He doesn't want it for anything worth worrying about, since it won't lead to a way to resolve this without killing the hell out of him. He. Scarred guy. Looks like he takes a blade to himself as much as other people. Which is part of why I'm not real worried about the why. Though finding out if there are more than just him is something I'm interested in." Vixen leans back slightly. "I might figure out the why while I'm looking for more practical things, but I'm not so worried about it. Let philosophers worry about why madmen do shit. All I care about is the best way to kill them without them killing me."

Gabriel answers the semi-question with an answer. "Up close and very quietly, or from a good distance, very accurately. Or a Claymore, but they don't really recognize friend or foe." He glances at Monique again, but as she is again busy, he remains fixed with Vixen. "So.. I know, you're going to tell me that you don't know, but I'll just toss this out - the Flagellants back during the Black Plague, they'd beat the shit out of themselves, hoping that God would for some strange reason decide that Man had suffered enough, and the disease would go away. Maybe a religious zealot?"

The small Inuit woman remains at the counter, choosing not to intrude still. The great white bear stands behind her, waiting patiently. Monique places her order, giving a smile and a nod when the man behind the counter speaks it back to confirm it with her. She waits then for it to be prepared, which doesn't take too long. She pays for her order, then gathers up the small plate with the danish and the mug of mocha, and with both held carefully, she starts to make her way towards an unoccupied table. Tornaq follows her, though one of his ears is turned towards Gabriel and his companion.

"Maybe, maybe not," Vixen replies with a shrug. "I'll keep the idea in mind." She lifts her cup and finishes it off. "Either way, I'm going to get going. You hear anything, you know where to find me. I'm thinking maybe it might be good to find someone that knows explosives. If we can blow whatever is going on up without a direct fight, that'd suit me fine. I hate standup fights." She stands then, casually nudging her chair in.

Gabriel laughs loudly, then raises his hand like a schoolchild. "Right here, ma'am. Give me an explosive, a detonator, and show me what you want destroyed, and I can do that for you. Not an issue. Part of what I'm trained to do. So... keep that in mind." He offers up a friendly wink. "Take care, Ms. Vixen. It's still cold out there." He then takes that moment to wave a hand widely toward Monique and Tonraq, silently gesturing them over.

With Monique's concentration held on her drink and the effort of not spilling any of it, it's Tornaq who notices the gesture of Gabriel. He lowers his nose to lightly touch her shoulder, giving a soft rumble in addition. She lifts her attention from the mug she holds, a smile touching at the corners of her lips. She looks past the bear, then, to Gabriel, and would wave if she had a free hand to do so with. Since she doesn't, she instead turns the path of her steps towards accepting his silent invitation.

"But have you fiddled with a fusion block before?" Vixen eyes Gabriel. "I suppose if not, you'll learn fast. Or be a smear. I'll let you know." She lifts a hand slightly and turns to start on her way out then, back into the poor weather.

The Kentuckian nods a, "Fair enough" to Vixen as she exits, and he turns his full attention to Monique and Tornaq. In fact, he addresses the bear first. "Tornaq, my giant bear friend, have you been keeping your Eskimo on a leash? Not letting her wander off and cause trouble in the Park or anything?" Those are always funny words to here, but they sound particularly amusing in Gabriel's thick drawl.

Monique glances towards Vixen as she leaves, but then her attention turns back to Gabriel. A smile touches her lips, and she sets the mug and plate both on the table. A giggle escapes at his comments, her dark eyes showing a sparkle to them. "He keep me on leash much as I keep him on leash," she comments, giving a small nod. "I not cause trouble. I just try stay out of it," Monique adds, quirking a smile. She draws out a chair, then settles into it, sitting cross-legged there. It's familiar to her, and she's comfortable that way.

Gabriel's table is actually quite full. Not of food and drink left from his two departed friends, but of, well, his own food and drink. Of course, he didn't ask for it, but that's a rather long story not worth going into. Instead, he points at three completely full mugs, three in addition to the one he's holding. "The counter was a little confused as to what exactly black coffee was so I have coffee with caramel and whipped cream, coffee with three espresso shots, coffee with mocha - I think you have that already - and this very delicious looking brownie that they gave me for my troubles. You're welcome to any and all." He looks at the bear with a raised eyebrow. "You too, if you can figure out how to drink without an opposable thumb."

Reaching out, she tears a little piece of the danish free of the rest, then nibbles it a little bit. One of her eyebrows quirks as she looks over the assortment of drinkables on the table, and she tilts her head to one side. "What black coffee?" she asks, curiosity to her voice. She gives a little nod, though, to his comment. "Yes, have mocha. Like chocolate, is good. Never have in North, have first time here, in Kingsdale," she says, a smile touching her lips. Tornaq lowers his nose a bit to sniff at the beverages, though he doesn't make motions to drink any, or try. "Tornaq not sure of coffee. He usually eat snow, or ice. Drink water, sometimes milk," she explains.

"I like milk," Gabriel admits. "When I was a little boy, we had a cow, and Mom would go out every morning and milk her. Her name was 'krowa.' That's 'cow' in Polish. They let me name her, but I guess I wasn't very creative when I was that small." He turns and gives Tornaq one of his strange gazes. "I'm sure that I could get your friend a bowl of milk, if he's interested. You interested?" He raises his voice as he speaks to the bear. Why? Because people understand foreign languages better when you talk louder.

It's mid-afternoon at Tradewinds, and the establishment is doing good business, possibly because people are both trying to get warm, and trying to simply avoid being outside in what continues to be a terrible Missouri winter. The two teenagers behind the counter are hard-pressed to keep up with the press of customers, and to be honest, are doing a good job of messing up most of them, sending people away with their correct orders and a number of wrong orders, "On the house." Gabriel is seated over at a bench-table near the western window - with his own four mugs of various caffeine drinks before him. Presumably three mistakes and one that was right. There's also a large brownie that is as yet untouched. At the moment, he's blowing across the top of his steaming beverage.

The door opens to let in a bout of cold air and a well dressed yet shady fellow. Walking up to the counter Xander easily slips into the busy atmosphere and collects exactly what he wants with another call of "On the house." Before he makes his way to a table. Not that a single cup of black coffee is any big deal. But you know, the best things in life are free.

It isn't until a little bit later that Sage makes her own arrival with the cold air seeming to usher her into the place. She takes a moment to glance around the place, and pauses when she notices the older man with the four mugs. A faint look of amusement comes before she begins to wander over to the table. "Had a rough morning?" She asks simply.

Gabriel's quiet, seemingly not paying attention, then suddenly, "Oh, what?" His eyes blink rapidly as he comes out of some kind of reverie. "Hello, Miss Sage. I'm sorry, I didn't see you come in. Please, sit," he waves a hand toward the opposite bench-seat. "Unless you're picky, I can offer you three different blends of coffee." The smile offered is an ironic one. As per the man who came in with the cold? Gabriel's a trained soldier. Special operations behind enemy lines. Espionage, assassination and subterfuge right in the face of your greatest enemy without even being recognized. Oh yes, he knows an asshole when he sees one, and hearing it, and watching it, just makes it more obvious. Of course, the word actually remains only in his head.

Such a reputation Xander has 'earned'. Whether he is aware of it is not shown at this time, taking a small sip of his coffee and opening a paper with idle interest. The front page clearly titles the recent murders plaguing the city. Xander reads with clear and deep interest.

Sage chuckles softly to the man's shaking off his reverie, "Yes, it seems I might be right about that rough morning." She comments, before she notices the headlines on a newspaper. Her amusement seems to fade into a mild frown. She turns her attention to the coffee. She takes a moment to sniff at the different coffees before signaling to the counter for her "Usual." She may notice Xander during this, but her expression is mainly neutral.

"Oh, not really a rough morning. Just, I don't know. Gazing, perhaps?" Gabriel smiles up as Sage walks away for a moment to get her own beverage, apparently not interested in any of his three free choices. Xander quietly turns a page before taking another sip of his coffee. Another moment of quiet reading and he finishes the article. Putting the paper down to look deep in thought for a moment. in his concentration his gaze wanders, taking in all the youthful life in the shop. Glancing back to the paper he sighs before his gaze finds Sage. "Wouldn’t take much to think I would do such a thing, would it?" He asks her quietly.

With her own steaming mug in hand, Sage moves back towards the table after settling the charge. She walks along before pausing when she hears the man's voice and glances over towards Xander. Her brow raised faintly, "Are you asking if I think you'd do such a thing or just generally?" She asks simply, deciding to skirt answering the question a moment.

The Kentuckian doesn't have electricity or television reception where he lives, and he's been quite busy, so he's yet to actually land his hands on a copy of the Kingsdale Times-Picayune. After blowing a final time across his coffee, he sips at it... and apparently approves, because he takes a longer pull. Then to his new table-mate, "What's happening?"

"Well I'm sure if you believed I was behind it you would bring me to justice without hesitation. So it's definitely more general. And I've certainly earned some levels of mistrust. I recently realized the corruption brooding inside me has had a bit too much free reign. Though it remains, I know no cure for its hunger, aside from sating it. The one that did this, he would be very sating." He explains passing the paper over to the other table before growing silent and sipping his coffee.

When Monique had excused herself to make use of the little girl's room, Tornaq had followed, to a point. To the doorway. And there he sat, waiting. And when she returned from within it, taking a moment to eye it over her shoulder, he got up to his feet to be able to follow her. She starts to cross back to the table where she had been, the great white bear following her. Once to the table, she takes a moment to look over the others who have come in, and then she shyly reclaims her seat, drawing her legs up to sit in cross-legged fashion. Reaching out, she claims her danish from the small plate, nibbling on it with a certain measure of pastry-induced contentedness.

Sage purses her lips before nodding faintly to the response she gets, "You do seem to have a dark streak about you." She comments, "I suppose you might draw some consideration... but, I'm not sure how serious such thoughts would become." She briefly considers the man before settling back at the table with Gabriel. She nods towards the paper, "Might as well read about it."

The older man watches the other conversation, then smiles as Sage sits. But Gabriel's face is serious when it comes to the article that he's instructed to read as if it's a briefing. Doesn't take the man long; he's quick, and received a good education, to boot. His face becomes serious, very, very serious. Beyond serious for what most people would probably even think reasonable for a stranger. Perhaps something in his past. Still, he takes the time to properly fold the paper over as if it were brand new. After a few more moments of silence, and a sip of coffee. "This is the second one in only a few weeks, isn't it?"

"That they've found." Xander replies, shaking his head slightly. "There could be more, this could have been going on for some time. Likely something happened a few weeks ago to start this. Either making the one start or making him, or her, sloppy. But it is out now, and will continue until put to rest. There's no cure for a hunger that drives a person to do that."

Taking a breath, Sage lets it out as she briefly considers her drink but decides to leave it be for the time being. Her gaze lifts to consider the other man's (Gabriel) reaction. "Not a pleasant thought that this could have been happening for some time." She comments, before looking over to Xander. "I don't suppose that means you're offering to help find this person?" She asks softly.

Listening a little bit as the conversation flows around her, the small Inuit woman is quiet. She has her danish, and so she continues to nibble on it, occasionally licking her fingers. She listens thoughtfully, as does the great white bear behind her, and her brow furrows a little bit. Trying to figure out what they're talking about, no doubt.

There's a sigh. "I think that, oh, a number of weeks back now, people were kind of whispering about murders increasing around the city. I don't know, probably not even related. Cities have murders all the time, right?" Gabriel's eyes brighten as he looks at the tiny Eskimo. "You look happy, Miss Monique. How'd you come to know.. what is that, mocha and a Danish? Didn't think you could hunt for those." Still, there's a sadness in his eyes as he continues to contemplate the reality of living in a city, and how cruel man - and D-Bee, and Alien - can be.

"I have every intention of finding this person, understanding this person, and helping this person to understand what he has done to others. Actually, it is probably me who could use your help Sage. As odd and unlikely as that is. The perpetrator seems to be targeting women. I am not a woman, a woman's insight would be invaluable. Being more than human your insight even more so. Not to mention that you can take care of yourself." Xander explains before being silent again to let that be considered. In that time he takes a moment to consider Monique, not having met her that he recalls.

"Cities are strange like that." Sage comments before wrinkling her nose faintly before glancing to Monique with a smile. "Of course, we hunt that... it just isn't very able to get away from us, hm?" She muses before she pauses to look over towards the other man. "Are you suggesting I act as bait?" She asks simply with only a faint frown.

Blinking a little bit, she lifts her dark-eyed gaze to Gabriel, her head tilting to one side. "Murders?" she asks, a flicker of something showing in her eyes. The Spirits of those murdered often rest uneasily, or so she's heard. Such things are very rare in the North, though. She finishes the last of the danish, licking her fingers. "Person name Daryus buy for me, earlier this week. He try explain danish but find better to do by buy for me, have me try. He do same with mocha," she says, giving a small nod. Her attention shifts to Xander, studying him for a lingering moment. The great white bear extends his nose towards him as well, gaining the scent. She giggles softly, then gives a nod to Sage. "Yes! Hunt like that, easy prey," she comments, her dark eyes showing a sparkle to them.

Gabriel smiles at the Eskimo girl. He picks up a plate before him and holds it out toward her. "They gave me a brownie up at the counter. I'm not really hungry right now. You want it?" He turns his head and wiggles his eyebrows just like he would to one of his own daughters with a famous parental, "It's chocolaaaaaateee..." Briefly to Sage, he says, "Something needs to be done about the murders. They're getting more and more violent."

There is clear tension in Xander to Sage's question. Though Monique's enthusiasm eases it allowing him to briefly smile at her in thanks for her support. "You are a capable person Sage, already concluding that possibility and probably aware of its pros and cons. So I need not suggest it. If you feel it would be an appropriate tactic you can suggest it." He says calmly. "In the mean time there is still much to be learned, and your insight will still be valuable outside of that possible scenario. So, if you'd like to assist me please come to my apartment at Coventry Place. Bring whomever you'd like to assist or protect." Xander offers openly before taking a moment to finish his coffee. "In the mean time I think I will go see what further details I can get from the authorities." He states, making his way to the door.

Monique gives a little bounce, and then she reaches out to delicately snatch the brownie from the plate he offers. Her dark eyes show a sparkle to them, and she looks to him before giving a nod. "Thank you!" she says brightly. Yes. Just what she needs, is more chocolate and sugar. The crash from the sugar will be a learning experience all its own. She nibbles a corner of it, then looks to Sage, considering what she's hearing of murders. Her brow furrows a little bit as she tries to follow the conversation and enjoy the brownie at the same time.

Sage purses her lips before nodding faintly to Xander, and then to Gabriel. She smirks faintly before turning her attention to Monique. "Share?" She suggests.

Monique gives a little bounce, and then she reaches out to delicately snatch the brownie from the plate he offers. Her dark eyes show a sparkle to them, and she looks to him before giving a nod. "Thank you!" she says brightly. Yes. Just what she needs, is more chocolate and sugar. The crash from the sugar will be a learning experience all its own. She nibbles a corner of it, then looks to Sage, considering what information she's hearing of murders. At Sage's question, she gives a nod, then breaks the brownie in half, offering the not nibbled on half to Sage. "I share, share good," she says, giving a small nod.

The Kentuckian's left wrist begins to vibrate. Silently and imperceptibly to all but him. Gabriel glances at it and frowns. "I have to be going soon, ladies." Then he looks at Monique as if he wants to reach over and ruffle her hair. "You're just a little chocolate fiend, aren't you? Maybe it really was a good idea to come down from the Great White North after all." He is rather pleased with the departure of the man in the cloak. Xander, the asshole. He looks at Sage. "You're not really going to play bait, are you?"

Sage chuckles faintly when the man teases the the other woman before giving a grin as the woman agrees to share. She claims a piece for herself to savour some before she looks over towards Gabriel at the question. She draws a breath and lets it out, "I'm not sure, Gabriel, I'm sure... it could be incredibly stupid or one of the few ways this person can be caught. Not an easy decision to make."

Monique giggles softly at the accusation, and then she gives a small nod. "Very possible, yes," she agrees, her dark eyes showing a sparkle to them. Discovering chocolate and how readily accessible it is will hopefully not lead to gaining weight. Looking to Sage, she tilts her head a little to one side, then nibbles on the brownie a bit more. "Why bait?" she asks softly. "If have scent of this person, Tornaq maybe track, maybe find," she offers. The great white bear rumbles at that, perhaps to affirm the notion.

Gabriel shrugs slightly. "This last one, taking place out in a residential area? Sounds like the other poor bastard was in the wrong place at the wrong time, as they say. Sucks to be him, as I believe the new phrase goes." He gives little Monique another fatherly smile, and Tornaq a nod. Then, "Tornaq want something, Monique? I know, Tornaq eat fish, Tornaq eat deer. Tornaq like milk. Maybe Tornaq like chocolate?" Yet again, his eyes dim ever so slightly as he look at Sage once more. "Every wrong seems possible today, and is accepted. I don't accept it. The time is always right to do what is right. Still," Gabriel shrugs rather ironically, "When you choose the lesser of two evils, always remember that it is still an evil. But fighting for peace and harmony? There is no better reason to fight. I worry for you though, Miss Sage. I've only been in combat with you once, and you're a good shot. But a mass murderer?" He allows the statements and questions to drift off. Then, as his wrist shifts even more, he curses at it, politely excuses himself, and quickly exits the coffee shop.

"I have some tricks up my sleeve, but it would be dangerous no matter what. I'm not trying to fool myself." Sage offers before she glances over towards Monique with a curious look. "That might be a good idea." She comments, before glancing to Gabriel before lifting a hand to wave as he moves off.

Monique and Sage turn to more amusing topics, happier topics that take up the remainder of the day until they too eventually go their separate ways.