Feb 08 08:01:34 108 PA - A Small Gift
From Chronicles
Feb 08 08:01:34 108 PA.
TRADEWINDS COFFEE SHOP
A corner table of the room is where the small Inuit woman has settled herself. Sitting cross-legged on the chair, she appears to be quite comfortable. Her furry parka hangs on the back of the chair, and she has a cup of mocha held between her hands. Her dark-eyed gaze is turns towards the outdoors and the falling snow there, a hint of a smile touching at the corners of her lips. Tornaq, her ever-present companion, is sitting behind her chair. Softly, the great white bear lowers his nose, lightly touch Monique on the shoulder, a movement she responds to without looking to him, merely lifting a hand to rub his nose.
The snow may not be falling hard at the moment, but the barometer and the temperature sure are. It's going to be nasty outside fairly soon, which is probably why more and more people are rushing through the door at this morning hour. Or, it may just be that Tradewinds serves tasty pastries, and it's time for brunch. Whatever the reason, they are coming in, and the man named Daryus Grea is one of them. His striped gray overcoat is pulled tight around his body, and his normal pleased smile is gone, replaced by not-quite-yet-chattering teeth. Unlike most others, he remains without a hat. Fortunately for his hair, the wind is still low, and his locks are still in place. As he enters, he makes his way to the counter, unusually quiet.
As far as Monique is concerned, the weather can become as nasty as it likes. She's used to worse, in the way of winter. As it seems the crowds start to grow thicker, the small Inuit woman turns her attention away from the window and towards the people who come in. One of her eyebrows quirks upwards slightly at spotting Daryus in an unusually quiet humour, and Tornaq lightly nudges her shoulder, his nose wiggling a bit as he studies the variety of scents which fill the shop.
Despite the numbers, the incompetent teenagers behind the counter do manage to make the line move quickly. Most of the people don't get what they ordered, but most of the people don't discover that until they find somewhere to sit, and take their first sip. Daryus holds up the line slightly by ordering that concoction of his - and making sure that it's correct when he pays and walks away with it. Now he stands alone in an open area between mostly-occupied tables and chairs, his coat being opened slowly as the electrically-heated indoor air warms him, and everyone else, up. In fact, for a man who always seems so sure of himself, he looks lost. Well, hold on. No, no. People are warming up - to him. His personality coming out naturally. The sights of the shop are taken in, but he still has nowhere to sit without simply invading someone else's table.
Settled where she is, Monique watches. A thoughtful expression lays claim to her features, and she tilts her head a little to one side as the flow of people holds her attention. Yet it's not just the flow of people to gain her attention, but also the effect that Daryus seems to have on them. Tornaq rumbles softly, round ears swiveling, and he lowers his nose to touch her shoulder, whuffling a breath, and then the bear reaches out his nose to nudge the table, moving it slightly.
Eventually, Grea seems to have somehow said something polite to everyone in line, as if he were the attraction, not the coffee. But with an elegant extrication, he's off into a more concentrated area of tables and chairs. Despite his friendliness, despite the numerous calls and invitations coming from other places asking him to sit there, he declines with kind words and approaches the Inuit and her bear. He may have looked cold, but his voice is as warm as ever, and his face has warmed up - even color returned. "Hello, Monique, Tornaq. This must be your idea of a perfect summer?" With a grin, he is then more forward, gesturing with a free hand toward their table. "I'm glad to see you; hoping to run into you, in fact, as I have no idea where you live. May I sit with you for a few moments?" His free hand is diverted from gesturing at the table to extending it to Tornaq, an attempted shaking of hand and paw that he became familiar with the last time they spoke.
Monique tilts her head slightly to one side at the question asked first of her, and she chuckles softly. "Summer in North is little warmer. Winter is colder, so cold it make trees burst apart," she says softly, giving a small nod, her dark eyes showing a sparkle to them. She lifts a hand to gesture towards the seat across from her, giving a nod to it. "Please, can sit. We not bite. Though, am curious... why hope find me?" she asks softly, curiosity in her voice. Tornaq eyes Daryus, then shifts his weight slightly before lifting one of his front paws, complete with very long and sharp claws, and he spreads his paw pads apart before doing a bit of grooming on it.
Grea sits with a gracious smile and a nod of appreciation, setting the mug on the table's surface before his own seat touches the chair. "The water freezes, expands, and forces the bark apart, correct?" He taps his head with finger and a big smile. "Good education. I was very lucky. But as to you, Monique, I have a request - no, more of a strong suggestion - and a gift." Daryus then takes time to finally remove his coat completely, and drapes it over the back of his chair. His mug is lifted to his lips with both hands, and as he drinks, his eyes glitter with the amusement of knowledge withheld and pleasant emotional toying.
Monique nods in agreement to the explanation he offers about the trees. "Yes, like that," she says, a smile lighting her features. She lifts her mug, taking a sip of the mocha within it. "Life have way of teaching," she muses, tilting her head slightly to one side. Her expression turns a bit more serious then as he mentions having a strong suggestion and a gift, and one of her eyebrows quirks upwards. "I listen," she says softly, giving a small nod. She's curious, as it's not a lot of folks who approach her to offer such a combination of things.
Grea asks quickly, "Have you heard that they're having an 'auction' of sorts to make money for the refugees?" He face rapidly breaks into a smile and his eyes scrunch up slightly. "No, I imagine that you haven't, have you. Well, there's a woman, her name is Sage, and she's putting up an 'auction' which is where people bid money on something to buy it. People bid more and more money to see who wins the prize. Sometimes it's art or something that they can take home and keep forever. But this is a special auction. It's for *time* with *people.* People will bid to spend time with people who they find interesting, or attractive, whatever makes them do it. The money will go to help the refugees." He pulls his head back and takes in both Monique and Tornaq for a while. "You know that we were talking about getting you *living* around here, not just *existing* around here, right?"
The small Inuit woman tilts her head slightly to one side as she listens to what information he shares with her, and her brow furrows a little bit. "I not hear of this. I know auction, though. I buy time with someone before, make trade instead of money," she says, a smile touching her lips. She has an understanding as to how it works, at least, which is a good thing. "Yes, remember speak of that," she agrees, giving a nod. She studies him for a moment, then lifts her mug to take a sip.
"Good! I want - by which I mean, I would really like to see you do it, for your own happiness - you to go to the auction. Find someone who you think looks interesting, and bid to spend some time with him, or her. You'll get to know someone new, hear about different lives, different histories, different observations on what the city is like. Who knows, maybe even genuinely make a new friend." Grea seems quite sincere about all of this. "I imagine that being an Inuit in Kingsdale doesn't mean that you have much disposable income, though, so this is my gift to you." He removes from his pocket a cred stick and passes it across the table so that it rests before the tiny woman. "Two-thousand credits, all yours. Friend-to-friend, you never need to pay it back, and I insist that you *don't.* Just take it and expand your horizons." His face then quirks in question. "You may want to consider leaving Tornaq at home, though. He's a little off-putting to some people. You'll just be on a little platonic date, right? But go to the auction, have some fun." The cred stick remains on the table.
Monique raises an eyebrow slightly at his words, considering them, and she gives a small nod. "Is good idea, make new friend," she says softly, her tone holding a thoughtful cast to it. Her dark eyes widen at the credit stick placed before her, and she looks to it, then to Daryus, blinking a little. "You not want back? Just... give much money?" she asks. It's hard for her to believe, really, since it's not everyone who just hands her money and tells her to buy a life with it, only in a nice way. She softly shakes her head when Tornaq is mention. "Tornaq not go far from me. He not stay behind," she says softly, a smile touching her lips. It's just the way it works. Tornaq will stay outside if she goes into a building, but he won't stay far from her. "I go auction, see who catch attention," she says softly, a smile quirking her lips, and she gives a small nod. Accepting the suggestion, and the gift.
"If that's what you and Tornaq want, that's between you and Tornaq, and I'd not want to intrude," Grea says with a smile and nod. He then rises to his feet again. "I'm sorry that I have to be leaving so quickly and rudely, Monique, Tornaq. But I have business today. A caravan coming up from Pecos that I need to meet. This weather will make it more difficult." He shrugs his shoulders, and says, "Thank you for listening. I hope that you have a very good time, and no, I don't want it back. Go find a new friend, and remember - it's also doing good for the poor refugees from Tolkeen, so bid high. Take care, and enjoy your winter, you two. Oh, and you can have my drink if you want. Goodbye." With that, he very quickly pulls on his coat, bows slightly, and is out the door before anything much could be said in return.
