Breakfast at Stephanie's


cat_icon.gif elisabeth_icon.gif kinson_icon.gif schuyler_icon.gif terry_icon.gif ygraine_icon.gif

Scene Title Breakfast at Stephanie's
Synopsis An eclectic group meet while seeking breakfast and caffeine
Date March 26 2009

The Nite Owl

The Nite Owl is a survivor from ages past - one of those ancient diners with huge plate glass windows, checkerboard linoleum floor, and a neon owl over the entrance that blinks at those entering. Inside, there's an L-shaped main counter, complete with vintage soda fountain and worn steel stools. All of the cooking is done on the ranges ranked against the rear wall. The outer wall is lined with booths upholstered in cracked scarlet vinyl, tables trimmed with polished chrome. Despite its age, it's been lovingly maintained. The air is redolent with the scent of fresh coffee, vanilla, and frying food.

How often is it that people come into diners for breakfast when it's actually Breakfast-time? General consensus is that breakfast-foods taste better when it's not actually morning, but that doesn't seem to stop those who have come into the diner looking for sustenance that will get them through to lunch. It's not terribly crowded as most of the work-bound have eaten and taken off for their offices, but a few are scattered about, sitting in booths and nursing omelettes, pancakes, and the like. A few even have newspapers before them for various reasons.

One such diner has his own booth, a half-eaten stack of strawberry-smothered pancakes, a cup of pale, milkified coffee, and the Want-Ads before him. A pen is out and tapping a soft staccato on the table as he reads down the columns, pausing every now and then for a bite of food or a sip of the coffee. He doesn't -look- like a bum in his jeans, t-shirt, and hoodie; and even if he is, he's a clean, sober bum with enough money to cover breakfast out. A couple ads are circled but there are more artistic doodles over the page than not.

Another booth is empty, but not for much longer. A brunette of five feet eight inches height, clad in jeans and a waist length pale red coat settles into it. She sets a backpack on the ground and a guitar case next to the table. There are menus, but Cat doesn't reach for it. A copy of the New York Times is set before her, which she begins to read at the front page, as a server approaches. "Coffee, two sugars, and milk," she requests. The server nods and moves away.

The Nite Owl gets a variety of business by virtue of their longevity and the fact that the owners actually make no bones about it — they cook good diner food. Great diner food, in fact. It also has the virtue of being one of the truly neutral places in town. They don't care if you're Evo or not, mutant or not, blue or purple or green… but if you're gonna fight, get it out of their diner. The blonde who comes in barely three minutes behind the brunette is wearing jeans, as well. Her hair's pulled up in a ponytail, and she's also wearing a black blazer over a cranberry T-shirt, and she's left a warmer coat off though she carries the heavy black jacket in her arm. She glances around and heads directly toward Cat's table, which is right next to Schuyler's, and offers him a quick smile as she drops into Cat's booth. The jacket has yellow lettering, "PD" showing. Maybe she's just smarter than to WEAR the thing out there this morning. "This city's on the fast luge to Hell," she comments as she drops into the seat.

Schuyler isn't blind or dead, so when two very attractive women step into the diner and move into his line of sight, he's definitely going to look up and watch every so briefly before forcing himself to look back at his paper. However, he is also not deaf and the comment about the 'luge' gets a smile out of him as well as the comment, "I thought that people generally went to Hell in handbaskets…or on roads paved with Good Intentions. I wonder if the Olympic Committee knows that luges are another way to get there?" Ah, yes. Witticisms in the morning. He's already had half a cup of coffee to get his brain in gear.

Though she's more often seen in Erica's or the Wench, the Nite Owl serves as an occasional stopping-off point for Ygraine during the course of her duties. Today, she's apparently both working in the area and in need of extra caffeine. Having paused outside to secure her bike, she now pushes through the door into the diner, one hand lifting to strip off her wrap-around shades and tuck them into a side-pocket of her backpack. Busy with that task, she's at least temporarily oblivious to the other occupants of the restaurant, cycling shoes squeaking slightly as she approaches the counter.

She seems about to answer the blonde who joined her when the man nearby speaks up. Cat's eyes travel across the food and paper before him, to rest on the man himself. An eyebrow lifts, and a thin smile forms. "One can never say you're short on wit, sir." But then she shifts focus to Elisabeth, deadpanning "I do prefer the fast one. So much better than the slow luge, gets the trip over with so much more swiftly and mercifully."

Elisabeth rolls her eyes at both of them and calls out to the waitress, "More coffee! Seriously, if I gotta deal with comedians this morning, it requires more coffee!" She looks between the two and smirks. "If they don't know that there's a faster way to get there, they're not watching the news lately, that's for damn sure."

Terry, looking like he's well showered, dressed, and still not quite awake, comes walking into the diner, apparently hunting for a cup of coffee. He takes a long look around the space, eyes drawn to the voice that calls out, and then to the empty table behind it. He begins heading over towards it, offering a friendly smile and wave to the waitress. "Hey, Steph," he says to her, voice still sounding as tired as he looks. "Mornin' Mr. Collins," she replies in a chipper, friendly voice. "You seatin' yourself?" she wonders, and he nods in reply.

As he walks past Cat, Elisabeth, and co. he gives a small nod to Elisabeth. "Morning Officer," he says to her. "Or is it detective by now?" he adds.

Schuyler lifts his fork in a salute to Cat, "Always happy to oblige." The cop's comment gets a smile, "Hey, at least you found it even slightly funny. I can't tell you how many mornings I get english muffins tossed at me for similar quips." Ok, so maybe not, but if he's on a roll, he's going to try and stay there, no pun intended. The woman with the squeaky shoes gets a brief glance before he tells his half-eaten pancakes, "Apparently today is a lucky day…" how often does he get such pleasant views in the morning in a diner? Quieting when the other speaks to the PD-woman, he glances back to his Want-Ads, Right. Don't get on a police-person's bad side.

It's not often that Ygraine receives neither stares nor comments upon walking into somewhere while clad in her lycra cycling gear. Refreshed by the change, she pauses at the counter to run her gaze over the unusually-polite clientele - and arches one brow in surprise as she recognises part of the group in conversation.

Her copy of the Times is still there, but eyes are no longer on it. Cat graces the officer with a chuckle at her complaint, and addresses the man again. "Are you new in the city, looking to make it as a standup act, man?" Coffee is with her moments later as the aforementioned Steph deposits it at the table. "Thanks," she offers. "No problem."

Steph follows with moving to set the pot near Elisabeth. "Here you go."

With a grateful look at Steph, Liz takes the pot and pours herself a cup. She snickers at Schuyler. "He might have a good chance at it." Terry's comment, though, brings her eyes back up from doctoring her coffee into sweet-and-light oblivion — why drink just caffeine when you can mainline caffeine and sugar too? "No… it's just officer." Detective 'by now'? She looks at him more closely, trying to place the face. Is she going to be embarrassed because she doesn't remember him right off? "I'm sorry…. your name's escaping me," she offers pleasantly.

Terry smirks a little, and then says "Terry Collins, Officer Collins, up until '06," he adds, and when in '06 should be obvious. He glances at the others gathered at the table, and offers a small nod in greeting to each. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt," he says to nobody and everybody, and then turns back to Liz. "I wouldn't remember you either, but you've been in the news here and there, and I'm pretty sure I saw you on TV the other day, standing on a car in the riot." He shrugs, and then says "figured I'd say 'hi.'" He continues on his way to the table behind Liz's, and nods to the waitress. "Coffee, two eggs, scrambled, and some toast please. Surprise me," he adds in response to the "what kind" question.

Ygraine swings her camel-back pack off her shoulders and around in front of her, propping it on one cocked knee as she carefully secures her shades. Tearing her gaze away from the half-familiar group, she tries to focus her attention upon the menu at the counter, biting her lower lip as she debates whether to get out of there as fast as possible, or to buy food and linger…

Schuyler grins back up and over at the other table when he's addressed, "Nope…lived here all my life. Well, Brooklyn, until about fourteen years ago. I'm flattered that you think I could do stand-up, but I'm happy just making clever quips that might brighten someone's otherwise dull day." Cat actually gets a wink there before he takes a bite of his pancakes. "Althuogh if it's bugging you, I'll stop. I wouldn't want your officer friend there to arrest me for public…uh…humor?" She also gets a smile before he offers, again to his pancakes, "Who knew there'd be a reunion in here today." And once that's said, he goes back trying not to listen in on other people's conversations…although that's proving to be rather difficult.

"I said you could be looking to make it as a standup act, not that you'd actually succed," Cat answers with a laugh. "That you'd have to prove by actually doing it. But, to your credit, the audience hasn't run away screaming, yet. And you've not made them break down in tears. So you've got a leg up on at least some hopefuls, yes?" Her eyes flick across the one calling himself Collins briefly, then return to the blonde officer, glancing across a flash of lycra in the process across the diner. She doesn't react, not sure if the cyclist actually wants to be seen among them in public.

Elisabeth's expression takes on a bit of a grin. "Oh, yeah," she says easily. "I think we were supposed to be part of a group together in 06…. heard you went walkabout instead," she offers nicely. If anyone understands 'vanishing' after the Bomb, it'd be Liz. But she blushes at the fact that Terry saw her on the news. "Yeah… not one of my finer crowd control moments. Almost got my ass shot off," she comments ruefully. She glances up at the others as the diner fills, and her eyes fall on Ygraine, to whom she nods with a smile. And then she rolls her eyes at Schuyler. "The only way I'm arresting anyone this morning is if you suddenly stand up in the diner, shoot lightning out of your ass and it hurts someone. I will then be forced to shoot you where you stand, and I shall refuse to feel guilty about it. Other than that… I am off duty for another hour. I'm ignoring my phone…. well, not really, but I'll try hard… and having coffee.

It's become a diner-wide convo by now.

Somewhat relieved to get an acknowledgement, albeit from someone she's never physically met before, Ygraine responds to Elisabeth's smile with one of her own. Apparently sufficiently reassured to stop dithering, she delves into another pocket of her pack, to sort out money as she quietly places an order for a large coffee.

Terry simply nods in reply to Elisabeth, and then frowns. "Is that how they're dealing with, uh, that?" he wonders. He glances over at Schuyler, and then says "I'm glad that's not my responsibility. I've never shot anyone, and I'm sure I'd feel bad about it, whoever they were." He shrugs again, and then glances at Cat. He grins again, and then says "I've certainly called considerably /less/ funny people comedians in the past."

"If I could do that," Schuyler points out first to Elisabeth, "Then I certainly wouldn't be sitting in a diner combing through the Help Wanted section of the paper. I'd be powering up New Jersey or something. And probably eating beans to keep it going." He actually shudders at that particular thought before addressing Cat, "I do thank you for your vote of confidence. However, I'm pretty firmly in the grasp of another muse. Besides, it's more fun to just be witty and charming in random places, like a diner, than on stage somewhere." He glances back over at Ygraine before nodding to Terry, "Yeah, I've never been shot before and I'd sort of like to keep that trend going for…oh, the rest of my life. Seems like one of those things that's good to avoid." As for being funny, he shrugs, "Glad I could make a few people smile after all the mess. Least one can do, right?"

"What muse is that?" Cat inquires. She does notice the presence of Terry nearby, but seemingly not the topic he raised. She's either oblivious, or she's choosing to seem so in hope of sparing Elisabeth being reminded of such things while she's trying to relax and eat. Coffee is at hand; Cat lifts hers and blows across it gently to cool it some. She, one might guess, is the kind who likes her mouth unburnt.

Elisabeth sighs. She'd so hoped to totally avoid cop crap this morning. She takes a long swallow of her coffee, and since the topic has now drawn the attention of everyone in the diner, Elisabeth makes a point of saying this so that it can be heard. "I was KIDDING," she says to Terry. "For what it's worth to people — MOST cops do not run about shooting people. MOST of us will only discharge a weapon a couple of times in our whole careers. You all know what the streets are like right now, so please… don't believe everything you see in the news or the papers. There is no excuse for what happened during the food riot. There may be a reason that the other thing happened, IAB is all over both situations." She grimaces and looks up at Terry, mildly annoyed at his 'is that how they're dealing with that' question, though she'll allow that she might be taking it a bit personally at the moment. And then she changes the subject. "Steph… think you could ask the cook to toss me a club sandwich together to go?"

Powering up New Jersey earns Schuyler a quick glance from Ygraine, for whom the phrase sounds rather like a reference to recent events of her life. The conversation about shooting people isn't exactly reassuring, either, resulting in her gaze lingering upon the group - at least until she swaps money for coffee, nodding silent thanks.

Terry smiles, and holds up his hands, "Kay," he says quietly, and then picks up his coffee, pouring a creamer in it, and then eyeing the little box full of sugar packets. "My bad," he adds, and then picks up a couple sugar packets, tears them open and pours them into his coffee. He stirs the cup in silence, and looks like he's started thinking about something completely different. After a few seconds he starts sipping his coffee, and then idley looks towards the kitchen. It looks like Steph is putting that order in about now.

Schuyler actually seems surprised when he's asked about the muse, "Uh, I hope you don't mean the name? I mean, my Art History class was a while ago and while I appreciate it, I'm a little into later works." Blue eyes then land on Elisabeth as she says…a whole lot. "I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it…" even though he has absolutely no clue. "It's just one of those things that people talk about when there's a lull, right? Like…how do you think the Yankees will do this season?" But, back to Cat, he offers, "Whichever muse is the one for art…my parents are still bugging me to get a 'viable career'." The echoing of his comment from Ygraine causes him to look over at her and grin, "Well, if I could shoot lightning out of my ass, I'd certainly put it to good use."

There's not a word spoken now between brunette Cat and blonde officer, just a look which asks if she's okay and offers support against the intrusion of such topics as were addressed, then the shift provided by Schuyler is taken up. And run with. "I expect the Yankees to get it in gear, fix this problem of the Red Sox and Rays, or Girardi gets fired. But a lot depends on whether or not they wise up and cut Mussina loose." She glances over at the cyclist again, neither seeming offended by her presence nor encouraged by it, leaving the cyclist in charge of whether or not they're seen together in public without letting on anything at all.

Elisabeth is forced to laugh at Schuyler, which breaks up tension. Nicely enough, Liz murmurs, "Sorry… stress is high right now," to no one in particular. Considering the amount of pressure that the higher-ups are now putting on the cops, it shouldn't be a shock. "The Yankees'll pull it out eventually." Got to have faith in SOMETHING, right?

Ygraine gratefully accepts her coffee, cradling it in her hands as she takes a careful sip of the hot liquid. Perching on a stool at the counter, she seems content to remain silent for the time being, eavesdropping on the conversation nearby as she increases the purity of the caffeine flow in her veins.

"Yeah, once the Red Sox got them that first time, they just haven't been the same, have they?" Sure, talking of baseball is fine…it's safe and it's cordial. Schuyler works some more on his own breakfast between comments, "I actually usually root for the underdog, but lately, well, that's been the Yankees, hasn't it?"

"It goes back further than that," Cat states. "Up through '00, they were champions. Then they brought Mussina on board, and since then they fall apart in October. So the first thing to do is send him away." That's Cat's story, and she's sticking to it. "People in Baltimore are still laughing about it. Joke's on us."

Elisabeth looks up as Steph brings her the to-go container with the sandwich and fries in it. She grins and pays her, with a generous tip and a murmured "thank you." But she opens the box at the table — she just never knows when she's going to have to run out on her food… it's just easier to make it 'to go' lately.

With baseball very much beyond her ken, Ygraine realises quite how unsubtly she has been eavesdropping, and delves into her pack to haul out a fance cellphone, with which she begins fiddling between sips of her drink.

"Well, I guess we're getting our just desserts…karma's a bitch and all that?" Schuyler offers in regards to baseball. "I mean, how many years were we pointing and laughing at everyone else? Since Babe Ruth?" He grins at Cat, "You don't strike me as a die-hard baseball fan. I guess surprises are around every corner."

A grin of her own forms as the man speaks. Cat lifts the coffee and finally samples it, her eyes closing briefly, before she answers. "Maybe I am, maybe not. I could just be repeating what I've heard someone say every October since '01, after all."

Elisabeth laughs softly at the comments. "You don't have to be a baseball fanatic to know what's going on with the Yankees in this town." Most of the time, anyway.

Schuyler chuckles as well, "I guess not." But see how easily the mood is changed and lightened? Better than talking about politics or religion. Or Evolved. Or Riots. "But then again, wasn't that Boston's mantra too?" Maybe he's just trying to stir up some trouble now because, well, it's fun.

With a faint grin around French fries as she eats, Elisabeth asks Ygraine, "What about you? While they're getting into the basball stats, what do you do in your spare time in this town? You must know all the best restaurants."

Ygraine blinks in surprise as she's addressed, hastily swallowing her latest mouthful of coffee. "Me? Ahh. Not exactly", she says, her voice carrying the distinctive accents of an educated Briton. "Being able to speak in French can at least spare you from some of the foolishness of the more pretentious restaurants. But… of late, I've tended to hide indoors from the weather - and other things - and watch DVDs with the SO."

"Which movies?" Cat asks, her eyes drifting that way as the coffee is lifted again.

See? They're having a nice, stress-free conversation talking about movies now. He works some more on his breakfast before it gets too cold before rejoining the conversation, "DVDs. I need to replace those someday. Although by now I think I've forgotten which ones I had before."

Ygraine's lips twitch into a nervous little smile sa she suddenly finds herself the focus of attention. "Well, I finally got around to seeing the X-Files movie a couple of days ago", she confesses with a slight shrug of the shoulders. "Been trying to catch up on various things I've missed over the past few years."

Elisabeth grins. "That was a good movie. Been years since I saw it, but… enjoyed it. Maybe I'll rent it again soon. I heard there's a new one coming out sometime. I think that one will probably suck. But we'll see," she says even as her phone rings. She yanks it out and sighs. "And there we go. Off to the races." She slides out of her seat, grabs her jacket and the other half of sandwich that she hasn't eaten yet. "Nice to meet everyone. Collins…. you interested in getting back in uniform? Come see me down at HQ, we can talk more." And then she heads out, flipping the phone open as she juggles phone, sandwich, jacket, and the diner's front door. "Harrison!"

Terry looks up from his breakfast as Elisabeth calls his name, and smirks. "Got an interview at the station today. Guess they need to make sure I haven't gotten too fat or crazy in my time away." He glances at the phone, and then up at Elisabeth again, looking like he was thinking of saying or doing something else, and then lets it pass. "See ya 'round," he adds, and then gose back to focusing on his meal.

Schuyler shrugs, "Haven't seen it. I wasn't into the show…I'm not into all that conspiracy, alien, mumbo-jumbo." He lifts a hand to wave farewell to the officer, "See you…uhh…stay safe?" What does one say to a police-person? He glances back to Terry before turning to his Want-Ads with a heavy sigh.

"See you," Cat offers to Elisabeth's back as she makes her way out, breakfast interrupted and carried out in a box. Unfortunate, that. So much for being able to spend some relaxing pre-work time. Her eyes only momentarily settle on Terry before going back to Schuyler and the Briton.

Ygraine raises a hand in farewell to Elisabeth, looking faintly worried at the woman's abrupt departure. Then she looks back to the others, offering a slight shrug. "Many of the TV episodes were directly lifted from old 70s sci-fi, as I recall. I enjoyed it every now and then, but never really got into it too seriously. Otherwise…? A mix of old favourites, like Labyrinth, and trying to catch up on supposed modern classics - like Pan's Labyrinth and Sin City."

A seat at the counter is occupied by Ygraine. Schuyler is at a table with his food, and Terry is at another doing the same. Elisabeth is just stepping out of the diner, phone at her ear and box of food in hand, with coffee balanced atop that. And Cat? She's in a booth not so far from Schuyler with a copy of the New York Times, front page facing up, before her. The booth where Elisabeth used to be. "Sin City," she remarks. "Black and white, with color in spots for accents. Alexis Bledel's eyes really stood out in it."

Schuyler lifts his shoulders and looks back up at Ygraine, briefly glancing at the others, "I prefer living it to watching it. I didn't even have cable before…I mean, even if you go see a movie you're shut up in a dark room, forced to look at what's on the screen. Or you could go take a walk around Central Park and look at the life there and let your thoughts go where they will. I mean, I'm not begrudging you your movies. I just don't have too much to add." He then pulls out an imitation of Austin Powers, "It's just not my bag, baby…"

Terry reaches into the pocket of his coat, pulling it to the side enough to reveal what looks like a suspender, but leather, and digs out an expensive looking cell phone. He stares at it for a moment, while using his other hand to bring his coffee mug up to his lips and take a sip, and then punches a few buttons on it. He places the mug back on the table, and then looks up at Schuyler. "Movies are a nicer world, lately. Even the ones like Sin City have good guys in it, and those're hard to find in Central Park."

Ygraine glances down at herself, then chuckles and nods agreement to Terry. "I spend forty-odd hours a week out and about in the city on a bike, quite apart from any trips I make purely for my own benefit or as training. Time spent somewhere quiet with the SO, with a chance to have my mind taken into another's imagination - for me, that's an escape from being surrounded by the city and its inhabitants."

Kinson isn't sure if anyone's coming or going, but Kinson's been on a bit of walkabout and taking in the day. He pulls open the door of the diner, a smile on his face. He loves places like this. Mom and Pop diners, seedy dives, places that aren't glitzy or franchised. Yes, this suits him right down to the ground. He enters, bright eyes glances around quietly. His eyes alight on Cat, and those eyes brighten more and a smile spreads across his face. He heads in her direction, but holds up a hand with that friendly smile for Ygraine as well. People he knows, found by random. That bodes well.

"So…isn't that incentive to try and make the world better…like in the movies? And some movie-worlds I'd rather not live in. I mean, I'd be dead if we were in 'Logan's Run'." Schuyler smirks some at his own little quip there before his eyes shift to the newcomer to the cafe. Maybe he's stumbled upon a local, 'Seinfeldian' diner? "I understand wanting quiet and alone time." The pen is lifted in his hand as he begins doodling on his Help Wanted section again.

His smile is met with one of her own as she spots him entering. The space across from her, occupied previously by Officer Harrison, is offered to him with a gesture. Her other hand adjusts the guitar case leaning against the table slightly, a backpack rests near her foot. And there is coffee too. "Hey," she greets the man, before focus shifts briefly to Schuyler. "You're over thirty, I gather."

His smile is met with one of her own as she spots him entering. The space across from her, occupied previously by Officer Harrison, is offered to him with a gesture. Cat's other hand adjusts the guitar case leaning against the table slightly, a backpack rests near her foot. And there is coffee too. "Hey," she greets the man, before focus shifts briefly to Schuyler. "You're over thirty, I gather."

Terry nods his head towards Schuyler, and then shrugs. "Only so much we can do, and uh, I'm headed to the station today, looking to do just that." He grins, and then looks up as the newcomer walks in. He gets an appraising look, and then Terry looks back over at Schuyler again, and adds "I mean, do what you like, I just like seeing someone fighting the good fight win, now and again." He shrugs again, and then goes back to his meal, eggs and toast, coffee, and water. A late breakfast, but it looks like early morning for Terry.

"The station? You're signing up?", Ygraine asks Terry, before shrugging to Schuyler. "And who said that we weren't trying to improve things? Do you think I'm over here and riding through the blast zone each day for the good of my health and the beautiful scenery?", she asks with a grin.
Kinson receives a mildly surprised look, and a nod of greeting from the Briton.

Schuyler shrugs, "Today I am. Tomorrow I might decide to be twenty-three." Cat gets a wink at that before he sets the pen down and finishes off his pancakes. His coffee gets refilled and he dumps a whole bunch of cream and sugar into it until it's nearly too pale to be considered coffee still. "Good luck with your appointment then," is offered to Terry. "Give me a shout if they need someone to redesign their website or design an ad campaign. Ugh, no one is hiring still." Ygraine's grin is returned in kind, "Actually, I have no clue what you do. I don't even know your name or anything about you except you ride a bicycle and like to watch movies."

Kinson responds quietly, but in kind, "Hey." he says. His voice is gentle, almost shy. He slides into seat across from Cat and settles in for the time being by resting his back against the wall and his legs stretched across the rest of the bench. If a waitress approaches, he orders black coffee. He nods back to Ygraine. "How goes it?" he asks both Cat and Ygraine seemingly.

Terry nods his head to Ygraine, and then says "signing /back/ up, more like. I've been on something of an extended vacation, and Liz there's got me thinking it's time to end it." He shrugs, and then makes a gesture towards Schuyler, and the Want Ads. "Plus," he adds, "it's better than looking for jobs in the paper." He grins at Schuyler then, and chuckles. "Sure. I doubt they care about that stuff much, but I imagine someone breaking into the NYPD's systems would be pretty bad, so, maybe."

The server, called Steph, brings Kinson what he asked for and goes on her way as Cat answers his question. "I'm all good. You?" Cup is lifted, coffee is imbibed, then set down again. "Just enjoying a relaxing morning. Elisabeth had to bail, you probably saw her as you were coming in."

Schuyler shakes his head, "Oh…no…no no…I just make them look pretty. I don't do the actual technical stuff. I mean, I can't even keep viruses off of my own computer." Although there aren't many jobs for his skillset in the paper, either. "Maybe I should try and go be a cop."

"Good luck with that", Ygraine says to Terry. She hesitates a moment, then looks to Kinson. "Surviving. Glad the temperature's above freezing, at last." To Schuyler, she offers a shrug and a wry smile. "I'm a courier - who else rides for 40 hours a week in a city? And I'm a foreigner. Most people tend to notice that, at least, as soon as I say a few words. If you're after work and think you can cope with the physical burden of it, I can get you a place with the company I work for. Web-work… the authorities tend to want to vett people carefully. If you could get it, it should be a good thing to have in your work history, however."

Kinson thanks Steph when she brings the coffee, friendly smile on his face. He sips his coffee, sets down the cup. "I'm pretty good. Felt like a little walk this morning, and found this place by accident. My kinda place." he glances towards the door, "Elisabeth? Ahh, didn't realize." he says looking back towards Cat. Ygraine speaks, and Kinson looks over hearing. He nods, "Isn't that the truth? Sick of seeing my breath." he says, softly.

She lifts the coffee again, taking in more of it, and places her attention on the Times resting there. Cat seems content to read now as conversation goes on around her.

"It's just design. I mean, I prefer to do print stuff…for magazine ads and the like, but I -can- do web design if pressed," Schuyler explains, "So it might not really fit. But…I mean, sure. I'm happy to even apply to any place that might need something that I can do. Riding bikes, though…not really my forte." He grins at Ygaine, "I sort of figured out that you weren't from New York when you spoke." And everyone seems to know each other here now, so he just quiets and works on finishing his coffee.

Ygraine chuckles and shrugs once more. "Though I might as well offer. Alley Cat are always looking for more people crazy enough to ride through the blast zone - or just to ride through New York traffic. Wintry weather and cold just make it all the more enjoyable, of course."

Her eyes lift from the page a few minutes after she began to read and travel to a clock somewhere on the wall, then swing back to Kinson. "I've got places to be soon," he's told. The paper is folded up, her guitar case and backpack slung over shoulders, then she moves from the table. "How's that thing you were working on going?" she asks non-specifically, perhaps expecting or inviting the man to come with her.

Just before Cat reaches the door she calls out to Schuyler. "Good luck with the standup routine."

Kinson does move likewise, "It's coming along nicely." he leaves some bills on the table for coffee and tip, he shoulders his backpack and walks with the woman. "How's yours?" he waves to Ygraine as he goes.

Ygraine raises a hand in farewell to Kinson, though her gaze lingers on Cat as the pair depart. Polishing off her coffee, she slips off her stool. "Good luck with your job-hunts", she says to the two remaining men, moving to the door to return to work.

Schuyler looks up and over at the offers of good luck, "Thanks. You be careful on your bike. I've seen how some of the cab drivers drive. I think they try racking up points by hitting the couriers. Stay warm!" He then turns back to his paper with a sign and turns the page. At least there's more drawing surface now.

Terry raises his coffee towards Ygraine, and then nods his head. "Thanks," he says, as well. At Schuyler's comment on cab drivers, he grins, and then glances over towards the other man. He looks thoughtful for a few minutes, and leans back in his chair. Finally, he says, "were you serious about looking at a job as a cop? I'm pretty sure NYPD is always hiring."

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