Log: Riddle Challenge - February 2, 2004

A Piecrust Promise -- Cafe

The tinkling sound of chimes sounds as each person enters the cafe, the motion of the door setting the windchimes hanging from it in motion. As the noise of the outside world fades with the shutting of the door, the scent of cinnamon and sugar mixes with the aroma of freshly-brewed coffee to make a heady perfume that leaves mouths watering. Tables sit here and there on the polished tile floor, students from the nearby college sitting and chatting in soft voices as they debate everything from politics to fashion over large cups of coffee.

As you enter, your attention might be taken by the large bar at the far end of the room. A massive oak affair, the bar is polished to a high gleam, as are the brass stools that sit in front of it. The wall behind it is taken up with a large, brightly gleaming cappucino machine and an equally polished coffee maker. A large chalkboard hangs from the wall, displaying some of the prices for the waters, sodas and coffees that are for sale.

Sitting cati-corner from the bar is a glass-fronted display counter, filled with all manner of pastries and cakes. Pies, creampuffs, danishes, cookies, muffins and more all line the brightly glittering glass shelves. A sign on top of the counter lists prices for each item, with a guarantee that whatever is bought will be as fresh as possible. A stack of plates sits on top of the counter, with a small, folded paper sign that says "For Customer Use", next to a woven basket of small peppermints.

All along the walls are pictures of different places and people, most noteably a young lady who seems to be in a lot of these pictures. Mementos line the wall as well, but these make the room feel cozy rather than cluttered. Upon closer inspection, one can see a strong resemblance between the young woman in the photographs and Alison, the girl who works here on behalf of the rarely-seen owner, Maggie. But those pictures are old black-and-whites that are turning yellow with age. That couldn't be her, could it?

Contents:
Billie
Thistle

Billie:

The wings will catch the eye before anything else is likely to get the chance -- banded gold and black like a kestrel's, spreading elegantly from her shoulders. Her features are distinctly Grecian, from the rich brown of her skin to the long sweep of her neck; her eyes are golden-brown with cat-slit pupils, outlined by darker lines of skin, like the pattern on a lion's face. Black-tipped lion's ears crown her head, surrounded by the blackness of her hair: she wears it long, loose and wavy down her back, tangling around those banded wings.

Her voile is tailored to accent the strangeness in her figure. She wears no shoes, but walks on digigrade lion's paws, while a slit in the back of her fitted khaki trousers allows her long lion's tail -- tufted at the end with feathers, not fur -- to swing free. A strap-backed golden tanktop leaves her shoulders and upper back exposed. A golden choker with a charm shaped like an olive branch circles her throat; a similar bracelet is on her right wrist. She smells of sandalwood and wax.

Billie is standing near the counter, tail lashing with visible annoyance, and glowering at the poor girl on duty as if she were somehow responsible for all the presumed woes of Billie's world.

Thistle ducks his head as he steps into the Piecrust, wearing the dazed and worn expression of a man who has just finished finals, but still has to face packing up his room for the end of the term. Ah, the joys of the Pyrrhic victory. Apparently, though, packing can wait, for there must be celebratory...well, whatever he's planning to order. To order, he heads for the counter. Which means he ends up standing behind Billie. Now -- as tired as he may be? That definitely catches his attention. He blinks, black eyes widening a little as he studies her from behind.

Erin has arrived.

Billie flicks one ear back as she hears movement behind her; then she turns, tail continuing to lash as she says, "You. Thornbush. Where can I find Cameron Fisher?"

Erin meanders in with thumb under knapsack strap, as usual, trailing a light path of trail dust behind her. A pair of flies buzz at her ears, flicked away with an impatient but fluid wave of her hand. Her steps lead her to the counter and she murmurs with the waitress for a short moment.

Thistle blinks for a long moment at that, then tilts his head before he murmurs, "Thistle. And he works as a manager here. Outside of here...it would depend on why you were looking for him before I offered up attempting to get hold of anyone who would know where he might be."

Billie flicks the other ear back, wings half-mantling behind her as she replies, "I'm doing a delivery. I have to find him. But thank you for that utter lack of an answer, Thornbush; it has been duly noted. As has your accompanying lack of question."

Cameron has arrived.

Penelope has arrived.

Thistle scowls at Billie for a moment, then says very slowly, "As I do not keep track of his hourly movements, nor do I have his phone number myself, I gave the best answer that I could. Are you this polite to everyone attempting to be helpful, and not wanting to send assassins in search of someone tentatively considered a friend?"

"It's an implied question, miss," Erin tells Billie as she ghosts towards the other two, plate of pie in one hand and fork in the other. She meticulously removes the pie crust and eats that, leaving the berry filling undisturbed. "And his name is Thistle Porpentine, which he told you -- I might suggest a modicum of respect if you expected any in return."

Cameron backs out of the Kitchen, using his posterior to open the door. In his hands is a tray of blueberry muffins that smell of Heaven itself. "Order up! M-m-m-muffins!"

Thistle pauses, then points over toward the man who just emerged from the kitchen. "And in fact -- the manager is in. Miss."

Penelope walks in the door, smelling a bit like sunblock, her hair as usual, damp from a recent foray amongst the waves. She heads for the counter and mmms thoughtfully at the muffins. Maybe she'll have something other then her usual today...

Billie is standing by the counter, tail lashing and wings half-mantled as she eyes Thistle. She looks vaguely peevish, that's for sure. "Thank you so kindly for your intervention," she asides to Erin, "and welcome to our conversation." Looking back to Thistle, she notes, "Answers, questions. I have trouble with 'implying'. Bad memories. I'm this 'polite' to almost everyone when I'm this tired and roaming a city I don't know...ah. Cameron Fisher." She turns to face the man who's just left the kitchen, informing him, "I've been looking for you."

Erin continues to dissect her pie. "She's a peach," she murmurs to Thistle.

Thistle closes his eyes, and just stands there looking vaguely tired, lips moving soundlessly.

Billie flattens the ear on the side which encompasses Erin, tail lashing all the harder.

Erin leans up against the counter, straightens up and gives Penelope a nod as she passes, and then relaxes back onto the glass to watch the fireworks.

Cameron is busy transporting muffins from the tray to the basket where they will hopefully attract customers. Right before Billie approaches he mutters to the muffins, apparently, "There. There, my children. Fear not. You will all find parents to love you very soon now." He glances up at Billie and nearly drops the tray, blinking. "Me?"

Thistle opens his eyes again, and looking a bit calmer. He offers Erin a faintly wry smile, then looks toward Cameron and murmurs, "It's okay, Cameron. I think."

Penelope moves up to the counter and suggests helpfully, "Don't drop your muffins, Cam." She gives him a smile, and turns her head to regard Billie. She offers the other woman a friendly nod, and likewise, "Hello Thistle, Erin."

Billie nods. "You. Hi." She reaches into a pocket and pulls out a chimerical scroll, offering it to him with a sunny smile that (unfortunately) exposes her leonine incisors. "My name is...well, for the moment, let's go with 'Billie'. I'm Billie, and I'm here to kill you. Consider this a challenge for your life. Also, I'd like a muffin."

"Welcome to the Life, Mister Fisher," Erin chuckles drily. "Are you an affiliated assassin, miss?" she asks Billie, "or just a... freelancer?"

Cameron's eyes shoot past Billie to catch sight of Thistle, Erin, and then of course Penelope. "Right. No dropping." He sets the tray aside, wipes his hands on a towel, then gives Billie his full attention. He scrunches his brows with clear confusion. What she said and what those words mean -can't- be the same thing. He half-heartedly grins. "You're hear to what me?"

Penelope is now regarding Billie with definite direct interest. She says nothing for the moment, leaning her forearm against the counter.

Thistle stops, and narrows his eyes at Billie before he flicks a glance up to Penelope and bows his head. "Pen." He slips over to stand at Cameron's side then, and says slowly, "Take the scroll and read it, Cameron. I imagine it will explain things." From position, it looks like he's planning to read it over the man's shoulder. Either he's playing lawyer, or bodyguard suddenly.

Billie smiles brilliantly back, still holding out the scroll. "Kill you. Dance a happy waltz in your blood as it pools across the floor. Use your skeleton for attractive jewelry for years to come. It's a pretty standard deal, really." She glances to Thistle, nodding approvingly as he moves, and fans her wings closed again, waiting.

Penelope remarks ever-so-casually, "May I see the paperwork when you and Thistle are finished, Cam?" She's still watching Billie with a mild expression.

Cameron eyes play ping-pong between the offered scroll and Billie's disturbing countenance. He opens his mouth to form words but fails in the attempt. He glances at Thistle and simply nods, taking the scroll. He opens it up and examines the contents.

Billie replies, quite chirpily, "Sorry, my lady of Ithica, but no, you can't. He reads it, it goes. But it's nice to see that you care."

To (Cameron, Thistle), Billie pages: Let it be known this day that CAMERON FISHER of the lands and regency of SEA CROSS, in the Duchy of EILDON, Kingdom of PACIFICA, is challenged to a duel of words to be fought with Bellanca Arva , at the request of his own self, given with his own words, beneath a different star. This duel will begin a Bellanca's demand, and continue until it is done. His VICTORY will bring the return of that which is his; his FAILURE will bring his death.

Thistle blinks slowly as he reads over the parchment, then peers up at Billie before he rumbles, "Cameron? Do you remember asking for this at all, somewhere along the line?"

Erin continues to study the girl with frank interest, tilting her head to the side to get a better look at the undersides of her wings.

Cameron looks up and manages a "Huh!" He still looks a bit shell-shocked. He blinks rapidly and then responds to Billie, "Ma'am? Lady Sphinx...woman? There's obviously been a -huge,- -monstrous-, -gigantic- misunderstanding here today. -Elephantine- even. -Mammoth-. There's obviously some misprints on this parchment. Specifically: where it has my name printed. Because I don't...I don't know you, Miss..." He glnaces back down at the parchment quickly and looks back up, "...Arva. And since i don't know you. I have a very difficult time believing that I've pissed you off this badly." He shakes the scroll as a visual aid. He eyes Thistle. "Um, negative?"

Penelope's expression doesn't change, but she looks to Thistle and Cam. "What is it?" she asks quietly.

As soon as Cameron starts to shake the scroll, it dissolves. There is now dust scattered across the countertop. Billie smiles brilliantly at Cameron, saying, "I'm not pissed off. Well, not _pissed_ at _you_, at the very least. Flying to Santa Cruz and dealing with finding you sort of pissed me off, but that's a lot less directed than you seem to assume it was. You," she points at Cameron, "made a deal with _me_. I've been storing your stuff. You want it back. We thus need to duel. I win, you die. You win, you get your stuff. I'm really not pissed. I sorta like you, even."

At the mention of 'Sphinx', Erin's appraisal travels up to Billie's face and bust. "Does she claim to be a sphinx, Mister Fisher?" she asks quietly.

Thistle looks up at Penelope, and says simply, "A duel of words, that Cameron asked for." He peers over at Erin. "She didn't claim anything, Ms. Umbradine. However, do look at the visuals, and consider the matters of Questions and Answers." He looks up at Billie again, expression thoughtful. "May I ask just -when- he made this deal, miss?"

Cameron says "My stu- I have stuff? What stuff? (he glances at Penelope.) Well, what she said basically. (He eyes Erin) Just assuming...really...(And next to Thistle) Yes. That would be a grand question to answer. When did we make this pact? This deal. This...(He winces while looking at the speckles of dust left on his hand...)"

"I've met a bull pook who claimed to be the Minotaur, Mister Porpentine," Erin asides to Thistle with some amusement. "Of course, he got lost easily, so that kind out outted him."

Billie gives Erin a sidelong look, ears flattening and tail redoubling its lashing. "I do so adore being spoken of in the third person." Looking back to Thistle, she says, "Under the seventh star, when the waters rose and the white roses bloomed blue under the western wind. Not an exact date, but it's the best that I can do." Cameron gets a somewhat wry smile, and the reply, "Your stuff. That you gave to me."

"Well, I didn't want to butt into the conversation," Erin tells Billie with a wry smirk.

"You're a little early, Miss." says Penelope. "Is there a reason you chose now and not as such, a roughly a year and a day from now? Give or take a month or two."

Thistle blinks for a long moment, then murmurs silently to himself as if trying to commit something to memory. He inclines his head deeply to Billie, and murmurs, "Fair enough. Thank you." He peers over at Erin, then sighs gently before he turns to Cameron again. "Cameron? Just because you don't remember it doesn't mean you didn't ask her to. A different lifetime ago. It's the way these things kind of work, for us." He pauses, then blinks at Penelope. "Early?"

Cameron lets out another enlightened, "Huh. So. Why do I have to battle you for it? If it is indeed my -stuff-. Tell you what. I'll set you up with a free muffin and a latte. How's that?" He asks this with a weak smile.

Billie looks to Penelope. "The terms he set for me himself. I'm tired of playing errand-girl. I've done it for him long enough, and now it's time for him to pay the rent and let me go. He doesn't get to make me wait another year. Fledge or no. He set the challenge when he had the right to do so; as a consequence, the challenge still applies." She looks back to Cameron. "You have to battle me for it because that's the way this sort of thing works. Same reason you have to drink before you piss. I would, however, like that muffin."

Cameron nods at Thistle. "Weird." He then nods to Billie. "Yeah. Okay." He retrieves her a fresh, hot bluebery muffin, sets it on a plate and rings it up. "That'll be a dollar, twenty-five." He gives her an almost apologetic look. "Hey if you're still gonna fight me, I'm not giving it to you for -free.-"

Billie digs in her pocket, coming up with a handful of coins in assorted currencies. Euros, quarters, British pence and Canadian dollars. "What money do you take?"

Cameron says "American. What's the game? How do we do this?"

Cameron helpfully points at the quarters.

Billie starts digging through the coins, picking out her American money. "First, I leave. Then, you come to me. Bring anyone you like, I'm not picky. When you find me, I'll ask you questions. If you answer them correctly, you live and ask me questions. If I answer them correctly, I go again, and so, and so, until someone wins and someone loses."

Cameron perks a brow. "Riddles. You mean riddles?"

Billie nods. "I mean riddles. It is, after all," she gives Erin a sardonic look, "what my kind do best."

"If I may" Erin murmurs, taking a half-step 'into' the conversation, "Can the people he brings help him out, or is this not an audience-participation sort of deal? And, for that matter, does he have to -find- you, or will you be at a pre-arranged time and place?"

Billie smiles, sunnily. "You may not. But you've done it already, haven't you? The people he brings can help him find me in one piece, but they can't take his questions for him. You're welcome to challenge me yourself, if you feel...spunky. And he has to find me. That's step one."

Thistle frowns slowly at Erin, but stays quiet at this point, simply standing tall and spiky at Cameron's side.

"And where would he find you?" asks Penelope. "Since I suggest that it not be anyplace in my demesne."

Erin smiles thinly. "I felt spunky," she whispers, and shoots a look to Thistle. A twitch of her face suggests he relax.

Billie turns to face Penelope, smile fading away as she studies the sidhe woman. "And would you, Queen of Ithica? Would you banish me to sail the seas for ten years in a white-sailed boat that never bore me home? You presume too much, daughter of the Shining Host. Boldly, yes, and all proper for one of your own; you'll do great things if you live to see Troy fall. But you presume too much of me." Her tail lashes once more, then stills.

Cameron's lips give the hint of a grin. "I like riddles." He looks Billie up and down. "Miss...Arva is it? If I win, can you answer any other questions I might have? Perhaps about who I was when I first...met you?"

Thistle apparently isn't much up for taking suggestions today, since he stays prickly, as it were. He watches the conversation silently for a bit, then looks over at Penelope and murmurs, "What did you mean by early?"

Billie flicks one wing half-open, and replies, "Some things I can answer, some things I can't; some things are better left forgotten. Our deal is for a duel. I can make no more with you until your year and a day has passed, as the lovely Queen so kindly noted. If we meet again after that, you can duel with me again."

Cameron shrugs. "I don't wanna duel. I'd just like to sit down and have a chit chat. Ya know...hang." Wow.

Erin smiles softly. Cameron is so cute, in that gonna-get-him-killed-eventually sort of way.

"I only grant you the same courtesy you granted me." Penelope replies. "You are by no means foolish nor ignorant, you are well aware how delivering a challenge in this way presents itself." To Thistle she replies, "Cameron is a fledge. He has no rights, no priveledges under Kithain law. He cannot accept duels, save with the permission of his mentor even under the most extenuating circumstances, until he is Sained."

Erin smiles softly. Penelope is so cute, in that thinks-she's-actually-in-charge sort of way.

Billie shakes her head, very slightly. "You cite Kinain law as if, beginning your pardon, I should care. I don't. I will be where I will be; Cameron can come to find me, as we agreed, or he can refuse me, and then I'll come to him, and the duel will be fought with claws alone." Cameron is granted a short, sympathetic smile. "I recommend you come looking. Really. Bring people or not; tell your mentor, just for the sake of your own laws. But I will be where I will be."

Thistle studies Penelope for a moment, then says quietly, "Such does not prevent him from making challenges, however. Even if not in this lifetime." He looks over toward Cameron, studying the man for a moment before he murmurs, "It's up to you. But if she's got things of yours...well. I'd put money on you for the riddle game, myself. And will have your back as much as I did with the sharks, if you want it."

Erin clucks her tongue, barely audible, and gives her attention back to her pie, flipping it over to get at the crust underneath. "Mister Fisher, I'd like to come," she notes, without looking up from her pie. "As a matter of... professional interest."

Cameron looks like a deer caught in the headlights. He mouths the word: claws? He glances at Thistle and gives the man a brave smile. "Thanks, Thistle. I 'preciate that. Yeah, I'd love to have your help." He looks at Billie. "As much as you can give." He sighs. "Ok. So after I go lay this bomb on poor Chuck, how do I find you? Any clues? Hints? A map would be nice."

Cameron looks over at Erin. "You betcha. If anybody can help me find her it's Indiana Umbradine." He gives her a genuine smile.

Billie shakes her head, flashing Cameron a smile. "No clues. No hints. You'll have to find the way on your own. But you knew me for what I was, so I'll give you this much: I'll be on the part of the map the cartographers don't know. The same label applies." She picks up her muffin, putting down the last of the owed quarters, and turns, tail twitching, to head towards the door. "Later, kids."

Erin's fork stills, pauses a beat, and the continues.

Penelope looks back to Thistle. She's prepared to argue the point, but now's not the time. Her mild expression slides away, replaced by something akin to stone. Instead she watches Billie's retreat, thoughtful.

Thistle inclines his head deeply to Billie, and murmurs, "Until then, miss."

Cameron winces. "What? Here there be Monsters? That part? Aw man." He sighs. "Yeah, here's hoping I find you and not the other way around."

Billie makes her exit, flicking her wings clear of the closing door.

Billie leaves the Piecrust for the street.

Billie has left.

"I should begin looking for her on a promontory near a path into town," Erin advises Cameron, glancing up from her pie. "Depending how close she sticks to Sophocles."

Cameron blinks. "You know what she's talking about, Erin?"

"If she's trying to be the sphinx, that's where she'll be," Erin says simply. "If she -is- a sphinx, and the article in use is significant, then she may or may not be found there. Of course, were she actually a sphinx, she'd come at you to strangle you, not with her claws."

Thistle murmurs, "We don't really have terribly many of those, of course." He sighs a little as soon as Billie's gone, and rubs the bridge of his nose as he whispers, "No one says the greeks had all the details correct. Or are you listening for the harmony of the spheres as well?" He looks up again, and gives Penelope an apologetic look. "I was not attempting to question, precisely, but...she didn't really look to be kithain to me. So arguing points of law on that basis seemed...not the best way to get a result? Forgive me, please."

Cameron says dryly, "That's a comfort, Erin. Thank you." He sighs and repeats what she said. "That part of the map cartographers don't know. The same label applies..."

Penelope holds up a hand. "I understand. It's not important anymore, anyway." She lapses quiet again, frowing and thoughtful.

"Here be monsters," Erin murmurs. "Either that or 'Printed in Springfield, Illinois.'"

Cameron stares down at the counter then looks back up suddenly. "So. Can I get anybody anything?"

Thistle murmurs, "Or terra incognito. It's a place to start." He pauses, then smiles faintly at Cameron. "Can I get a cup of coffee?"

"No thank you, Mister Fisher," Erin whispers, and sets her plate, on which is a gently-jiggling mass of berry jack, on the counter for the waitress to bus away. "Is the local Dream mapped at all? Persistent trods, that sort of thing?" she asks Penelope.

Cameron nods, looking very preoccupied. "Sure thing." He sets about fixing some coffee.

Thistle tilts his head as he watches Cameron, but stays quiet while the man works.

Cameron hands Thistle his coffee. "Buck thirty-five." He sighs. "Well, if life hands you lemons, make lemonade right?"

Thistle pays for the coffee with a small smile, and murmurs, "Something like that. Look...whatever goes down? Your back is covered. We'll go talk to Chuck, and then...see what we can do to track her down."

"I find this very intriguing," Erin tells Cameron with a smile. "I wonder what she does habitually -- she's masking her accent, and her handful of money suggests she travels."

Cameron glances at Penelope. "You wanna come to, Pen? You're certainly invited. Besides, I think I'll have a dying wish to ask of you." He grins. He quickly adds. "If I don't win I mean."

Cameron gives Thistle a weak smile. "Thanks, dude." He nods to Erin. "I dunno. I dunno a lot of stuff. As you can see."

Erin looks lightly at Thistle. "You don't intend to interfere with these events if you don't like the way they're going, do you, Mister Porpentine?"

Thistle peers down at Erin, expression going completely flat as he sips from his coffee. "And how would you presume, Ms. Umbradine, to have any idea just which way I would like events to be going?"

Monica has arrived.

Erin gives Thistle a dubious smile. "Do you generally go about telling people their back is covered when you don't presume to interfere?"

Thistle shrugs. "I don't know, Ms. Umbradine. Did they -utterly- fail to teach you any manners at all during your fosterage, for the grevious lack you continue to show in even remedial conversational skills?"

Cameron looks between the two sluaghs. "Hey, c'mon guys. Let's all just take a breather and kick back and figure out how we're gonna pull poor Cameron out of this mess. How's that sound?" He smiles weakly.

Monica steps into the Piecrust Promise, nose in a Better Mechanics magazine and a dreamy look on her face. Mmmm. Mechanics.

Erin blinks, and then smoothes her features into a very fake smile. "I see they spent a double portion of time on that subject in your fosterage, Mister Porpentine." The girl then looks to Cameron, fake smile still in place. "We're not, Mister Fisher. We simply can't. You're going to pull you out of this mess. That's how it works."

Penelope nods. "There are maps, certainly." Penelope replies, "Especially with Butterflies having its' birds' eye view. To Cameron, she looks back and says, "I'd love to come, if Chuck says it's alright, and I'm not demanded to handle Candlemarch matters." She seems apologetic about that. "But if I can, I'll come. Definitely."

Thistle takes a sip from his coffee calmly, then looks over at Cameron and murmurs, "Ms. Umbradine is only slightly correct. We can watch your back and help you find your meeting. We can make sure Ms. Billie doesn't cheat when the contest begins, though I have a feeling such is not her inclination in any case. But the core of the fight, as she says, is yours."

"So in short, we can help you get further into the mess," Erin summarizes for Thistle with her sacharine smile, "but not out."

Thistle rolls his shoulders. "Frankly, I think given that he's goign to be killed if he doesn't pay up his debt, remembered or otherwise, means that that way -lies- the way out. We -could- help you run, after all. That would be the deeper mess, I imagine."

Cameron holds up a hand listlessly to Monica. He seems a bit down in the dumps about something. "Hi, Mon." The voice gives the same impression. He nods and smiles at Penelope. "Thanks." He looks between Erin and Thistle. "Hey. Look. I appreciate all the help I can get." He thinks. "Butterflies. Monsters...Dragons? Here there be dragons?" He looks up inquisitively.

Cameron mutters, "That -is- a label...."

Thistle looks thoughtful for a moment, then whispers, "Perhaps what you need to begin with is a map of the duchy. And a guide. One of the eshu? Imagine the story, after all, of witnessing a modern-day duel with a sphinx."

Penelope looks over and greets Monica with a faint smile. Looking back, she notes, "The Barony doesn't stay in one place. It moves as the wind does."

Erin looks over at Thistle. "Brilliant, Porpentine. Maps. Thank you for catching up with the conversation."

Monica wanders closer with a wave, brow furrowing. "Who pissed in your cornflakes?" she inquires of Cameron.

Cameron sighs. "A sphinx."

Monica exclaims, "That's some big piss! ... or do they come in smaller sizes?"

Thistle looks down at Erin for a long moment, then looks up at Monica and offers a faint, calm smile. "Someone apparently that Cameron contracted with under different stars, to hold some of his things. They've come to collect payment, and either he gets his things back, or he dies. If we can find the dueling ground."

Cameron half-smiles. "Medium, really. Pretty cute actually, in that anime-ish cat girl sort of way. And as Thistle just said: the desire to end my existence is one of my turn-offs."

Thistle glances toward Cameron, and smiles a bit. "Now now. She didn't say she -wanted- to kill you. Just that she would. Rules are rules."

Monica's lips pucker. "Oooh," she says. "Umn. Well. Not permanent-likes?"

Thistle murmurs to Monica, "Such was not specified. However, given the givens...I'm not sure this would be a slumber that he would return from."

Cameron shakes his head, the faintest hint of a grin on his lips. "Just when I thought I couldn't get any stupider...here I go making deals with a killer sphinx. I don't -remember- doing it, but it sure sounds like some brilliant notion I hatched." He eyes Monica. "I don't think she meant only -mostly dead- as Miracle Max would put it." He sighs. "Can I get you something, Mon?"

Monica blinks, then nods. "Have fun storming the castle! Ummmmn... can I have a couple of chocolate cupcakes and some milk, please? And, er, may I sit?"

Erin herself is simply leaning against the counter. "I wonder if that was during the Sundering," she murmurs, mostly to herself. "Although that would imply that you intended to return. Odd."

Penelope points out, "On the bright side, if you when, you get your stuff back. Whatever your stuff is."

Cameron grins at Monica, remembering his manners as they share a little bit of Princess Bride pop-culture. "No, you -must- sit." He gives her a genuine grin. "And Choco-cupcakes coming right up."

Monica plunks down into a seat by the others, placing her magazine down in front of her, closed.

Cameron points at Penelope as he retrieves Monica's order from the pastry bin. "Point. Advantage Penelope. Well at least there's a prize."

Erin smiles thinly and looks to Cameron. "And hopefully it will be things that you want -- and nothing that you'd rather were left hidden."

Thistle murmurs quietly, "Hey, she did say she liked you. You could always try asking her out on a date as well."

Monica nods. "Or see if she'll play Battleship instead."

Cameron grins Thistle's way. "I dunno. There's no telling what and how many contracts I would have bound myself to by the end of the evening." He chuckles. "You mean instead of the riddles?" He laughs. "I can just see my tombstone now: Cameron Fisher. R.I.P. She sunk his battleship."

Penelope sort of shakes her head. "My usual, Cam?" Which would be a slice of key lime pie.

Cameron says "Yes'm. Comin' right up. (He sets a plate down in front of Monica, upon which rests two chocholate cupcakes.)"

Monica smiles at Cameron and picks up a cupcake to munch on.

Cameron fixes Penelope right up as well. "I'm not really used to hogging all the attention. How's everybody else?"

Cameron mutters to whoever's listening. "Sorry to harp. But did she happen to mention how much time I have before we do the claw thing?"

"As well as can be expected," Erin murmurs, and pushes herself up off the countertop. "I think, however, I will be going. Cameron, Penelope, Monica." She gives Cameron a rich smile, Monica a thinner smile, Penelope a short nod, and then looks to Thistle without any trace of affection.

Cameron says "Bye Erin. Thanks for your help. Do you have a cell number I can reach you at?"

"G'day, Erin." replies Penelope, seeming to devote the majority of attention to her pie.

Monica murmurs, "See you later, then." She smiles back, glancing at Thistle for a second.

Erin puts her thumb underneath the strap of her knapsack and turns to face Cameron. "Backpacker's Rest, you can reach me there."

Thistle shakes his head at Cameron. "She did not." He offers Erin a small bow of his head, not acknowledging the lack of his name being mentioned at all. He smiles a little at Monica then, and asks, "You holding up?"

Cameron says "Aces. Thanks again, Erin. I'm sure I'll see you before I'm -off to meet my maker- (that last part is done to a half-hearted tune of Wizard of Oz."

Monica smiles at Thistle. "I'm holding up, no thanks to gravity, ha ha ha."

Erin chuckles, and heads for the door, shaking her head.

Erin leaves the Piecrust for the street.

Erin has left.

Penelope frowns into her pie for some inexplicable reason.

Cameron eyes Penelope. "Well. I -know- it can't be the pie. Que Pasa, Penelope?"

Penelope shakes her head. "You're whistling in the dark." she says. "And if you need to, I understand."

Thistle watches Erin until she's gone, then shakes his head and turns to offers Monica a small smile. "Better than it going missing, at least. We should hang soon. Doing anything later this week?"

Monica shakes her head. "Nothing that can't be put aside or anything." She grins. "How're you?"

Cameron leans his elbows onto the counter and sighs. He lowers his voice, "You know me, Pen. Every therapist I've ever seen's told me the same thing: I use humor as a defensive mechanism. And they're right." He shrugs and smiles just a little. "It's usually because I don't know what else to do."

Thistle chuckles. "Very glad finals are over, and dreading the mad rush to pack the room up, honestly. In need of proper contact with people I care about, rather than, you know, my roommates." He looks over at Cameron thoughtfully, then murmurs, "I know you probably want to tell Chuck yourself. Do you mind if I catch Jan and Ole up on things when I see them? Given she's back, we need to touch base on some things anyway sooner tahn later."

Cameron glances Thistle's way, "No problem. Tell away. The more people I've got on this, the better chance I won't be late for the ball."

Monica smiles at Thistle, nodding. She then announces, "Yayyyy, Jan's back!"

Thistle grins a little at Monica. "Which means, I think, pool party soon. Which should be interesting."

Thistle then nods at Cameron, offering a small smile. "Just wanted to check. I'll go see if I can find her after I finish my coffee here, then."

Penelope says quietly, "I should have been able to do more for you. Reguardless of her being Kithain or not, she's choosing to interact in Kithain society. And all I could do was sit there like a lump." Her grip tightens around her fork.

Monica nods. "No zombies."

Thistle blinks over at Penelope, and starts to say something, but apparently thinks better of it. He simply sighs in the end, and nods to Monica. "No zombies. Hopefully Pikachu won't jump in and electrocute us all, as well." He looks back toward Pen worriedly, taking another sip from his cup.

Penelope looks over at Thistle. "What?" she asks. "You may as well."

Cameron furrows his brows and nearly whispers, "Hey now. Don't do that. This isn't your fault. You heard the lady: this is apparently between her and me. I made my own bed at some point and now I have to lie in it. I'm still rather unclear on the fairness issue of all this, but worrying about all that nonsense won't get me out of this trouble I'm in. You help me just by being here." He smiles his goofy smile. "And caring. Which you do...I think. You -seem- to. That means a lot. Gets me right here." He taps his chest and grins genuinely.

Thistle pauses as Cameron speaks,then points over toward him. "Mostly, what he said. No kicking yourself. You weren't a lump. If you'll forgive me for butting in."

Monica shrugs a little. "I wasn't here, but, um... nobody's perfect."

Cameron gestures to Monica. "-Always- good advice. No matter the situation." He nods to Monica.

Penelope waggles her fork. "Alright, alright. Not my fault if my sense of responsibility is over-inflated, yeah?" She grins at everyone and chuckles wryly at Monica's declaration. The wry seems to be self-directed.

Thistle nods slowly, and grins a bit. "Just as long as we're clear, there."

Cameron smiles and stands up, snapping his fingers. "Here and I was hoping it was just you being worried about my general welfare and continued corporeal existence." He winks and gets back to work. He sighs again and mutters, "I'll think it over and bounce around my noggin after my shift's over." Practical. But does he have his priorities in order?

Cameron is behind the counter as the rest are seated at the counter.

Penelope mock-stabs her fork in Cam's direction. "I am. Well, in as much as I can be. It's kind of hard for me to get all white as a sheet and trembly in that it doesn't so much tend to happen, you know? But suffice to say, I'm concerned."

Thistle nods slowly to Cameron, and reaches over to squeeze his shoulder. "You'll manage. You know where to find me, when you want, right?" He sets his cup down, and steps back a bit from the counter. "And Monica...toss me a mail when you're free later this week?"

Cameron grins and chuckles at Penelope. "Very analytical of you. But also very much appreciated." He nods to Thistle. "Thanks, dude. I'll be in touch. Trust me. Sooner'n you think."

Monica munches on her cupcake, looking rather at ease.

Thistle taps the side of his nose. "I'll be waiting." He smiles then at Penelope, and murmurs, "We survived pirates, Pen. We'll get him through this. See you all later." He gives one last wave, and heads for the door.

Cameron fires in Thistle's direction. "Sharks! Never forget the sharks, Thistle!" He waves.

Monica waves to Thistle. "See you later!"

Penelope bah's playfully. "Pirates ain't no big thing." she says teasingly, and gives Thistle a wave. "Regards to Ole and Jan if you see them before I do."

Thistle nods quickly at Penelope. "Will do." He smiles, and slips out.