Brave New World

[themascura]

"I'm sorry, did I startle you?" Lucien deftly side-stepped Steele's elbow, which was aimed with bruising force at his side. He pointed to the little alcove he had just emerged from, offering her another far-too-friendly smile. "The storage room." He explained. Steele shot him a look of intense displeasure and shook his head, taking a deep breath.

"Listen. We'll talk about your clothes later. Eat your stew. Rest. Ask any questions you have." He motioned to Connor and the proffered food. Connor's pretty face was a mask of concern. He gently placed the bowl on the bedside table and used the spoon to ladle some golden stew, complete with chunks of lamb and potato, slices of carrots and little green flecks of rosemary and sage. He sat on the edge of the bed and smiled at her, putting himself physically between the other two men and her.

"You've been through quite a shock, lady. Some stew will help put you to rights." He assured her, "I remember when I came through the nexus. I fell into a whirl of quicksand on the beach. Sank right down." He shuddered, closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again and offered her the spoon.

"T'was quite the shock when I woke up in the yard." He chuckled, then glanced at his strong callused hands.

"I hope you liked the medicine." Lucien piped up, moving around Steele to get a better look at their pretty draconic guest, "I heard you ask for it. Luckily for you and I, I've gone the other way through the nexus and back a few times, and learned a few things." He grinned. Steele scowled impressively and grabbed his blonde companion by the back of the collar and gave him a sudden pull. Lucien stumbled backward, taken by surprise, and glanced at the older-looking man.

"That's enough chatter Lucien. Get going. I'm sure someone needs you for something." Steele snarled, shoving the other man toward the door. Lucien's smile slid off of his face, dusting himself off and giving Steele a dark look promising some sort of retribution later for the shove. The tall man then finally headed for the door, hands stuffed in his pockets.

[Krepta]

Krepta relaxed a little. The fact that Connor was suddenly between her and the other two, but mostly Lucien, seemed to contribute greatly to that fact. However, the large man's words did remind her that in her sudden shock, she had let the bottle of precious pills tumble down onto the bed. Slowly, she retrieved them, free hand curling them into her side as she continued to stare for a few moments more. Connor reminded her of someone, though she didn't know who. She liked him, to a degree, as much as she liked any stranger, but she still wasn't about to trust him.

"Thank you," she called after Lucien, voice shaky, unsure. She wasn't unthankful for what he had done for her, but he scared her for some reason, deeply. She waited until he had left, eyes lingering on the place he had been before she slowly turned her gaze back to Conner, then to the bottle in her hands, unscrewing the top and pouring a couple of pills into her open palm.

"Um... yeah," she replied eventually, awkwardly. It wasn't clear as to what she was 'yeahing' to, Connor's story, or Steele's statement. With all that had gone on today, Lucien's sudden appearance had been the icing on the cake. She was in a state of mild shock, and the only thing on her mind at the moment was taking those pills and drinking that stew.

Eventually she reached a scarred hand out to take the offered spoon, bringing the rich broth to her lips and sipping. It was a little bland, but it warmed her all the way down, and despite herself, she found herself slowly relaxing, once again fighting off sleep as the pain pills did their work.

"Thanks," she repeated, this time to Connor. She sounded a little more sure of herself this time.

[themascura]

"Not a problem, Lady. The name is Connor by the way, if you need anything just ask for me." He smiled warmly, the edges of his crooked smile curling just a little, his green eyes dancing welcomingly. He gathered the ends of the down quilt and pulled them up to her chest, just under her arms, so she could continue to sip her soup and remain warm.

"When you're done with the stew, just put your bowl on the nightstand and I'll get it later. I'll leave the pot near the fire, so it'll stay warm." He leaned forward to pick the pot up, a small sweep of red-gold hair curtaining down over his shoulder as it slid like silk from his braid. The strands were a little wavy, and a little curly at the ends, like waves rising in the surf. He gathered the pot and rose, the bed creaking quietly as his weight left it.

Steele observed Krepta closely, watching silently as she relaxed slowly after Lucien left. Something about the man had set her off... which was pretty much the opposite of how people normally reacted to the disgustingly charismatic man. Not that he found anything too appealing about the blonde man himself, but just about everyone else- outside of the boss- seemed to. What was it about him? Did she sense the other, darker side of his nature? He sighed through his nose and glanced out the window. It was getting late, and the girl needed some rest.

"Come on Connor, time to go." He beckoned the red-head to follow him. Connor glanced over his shoulder as he placed the pot on the hearth. The Irish-man nodded and started across the room, pausing and looking back at Krepta.

"You go first. I'll lock the door behind you and climb out the window." He offered. Steele gave him an incredulous look, not quite certain if he had heard him correctly.

"What...?" He questioned after a moment. Connor shrugged, looking back at Krepta again. Finally Steele caught on. He wanted Krepta to feel safe, but she was in no condition to lock the doors behind them herself, so Connor wanted to do it. Climb on the window and slide the window shut behind him was the likely plan. Once again, he was earning his Romeo nickname.

[Krepta]

"Uh, yeah, Connor," Krepta answered, still sounding a little shaken. "I'll be sure to... ask him if I... need anything." She watched Conner head for the window, and incredulous look on her face. Was he really? Yes, yes, he was. Well, she supposed it was at least a harmless weirdness he had to him. At least it wasn't the other fellow. Suddenly, locking her doors and windows while she slept looked all the more appealing.

"Connor," she said, just as he was bringing one leg up to swing out the window. "Ah, thanks. For the stew and stuff."

And saving my ass, she continued silently. If he hadn't put himself between her and the duo, there was no telling what kind of bloodshed there might have been. Krepta was a testy thing on a good day, in a panic, there could only be disaster.

"Goodnight, Connor," she said, just as a follow up. It wasn't an unfriendly tone, but it was certainly a firm one. She wanted him to know she was thankful, yes, but also for him to know that she had no intention of him hanging around for the night. She knew the type. Yeesh. Irishmen.

[cptdragon9]

It was a quiet afternoon in the woods, but that was quickly preempted by an unnatural event not common in this world. First the forest drew quiet. Birds stopped chirping, the smaller forest fauna froze. Even the leaves seemed to stop fluttering in the breeze. The a soft clap of thunder and a strobing white light flickered about two feet above the clearing in the wood before the very tapestry of reality ripped, spitting out the singular smoldering human form, dumping him in the litter before snapping shut and vanishing from sight.

The body laid inert for a few minutes but them began to groan and move. The small trail of smoke that wafted from the man’s coat finally subsided as he rolled over, only to squint at the bright sunlight sky.

Then he swore.

The language that he used to vent his ire was not human, nor was it any one language. Much of it was foreign, alien even; but there were phrases and fragments that were earthbound: Some German. Some Latin. A sprinkling of Sanskrit. In fact it seemed the young man’s language was a hodgepodge of other languages from several worlds.

After his vocal complain had been uttered in its entirety, he finally managed to roll himself to a sitting position. He rubbed at his aching muscles, the rifled his fingers through the thick dark locks. Glimmers of blonde strands peeked out from the base, giving him a punk-rock look; not that he needed much more encouragement in that direction. He then began to investigate his pockets, pausing when he located his method of transportation. Another round of enthusiastic cursing erupted as he pulled the remains of several small electronic cubes from the recesses of the pocket. Broken pieces of metal and plastic were still smoldering, but he continued to cushion the fragments in his hand, even as the heat burned into his hand.

He was gonna hafta have a word with the Tin Can about the manufacturer’s warranty.



He stood up stiffly, dusting the grey derby by brushing it on the black denim jeans, then spending more time brushing the pine needles from his knees and from the expensive powder blue silk dress shirt that currently adorned his slight frame and accented the dark blue hues of his eyes. At least the black leather duster remained litter-free, the foliage sliding off the slick covering as the manufacturer had intended. It might have been a little warm to wear such a garment, but Tim wasn’t about to shuck it. Last time landed him a bullet in the back, and that didn’t exactly tickle. One wouldn’t normally expect a stock broker to need body armor, but then most didn’t have the associates that Tim did.

It had been a dog eat skunk eat radioactive rat world that he’d escaped from.

At least the bauble had done it’s job, teleporting his tight little tush out of the line of fire. What he hadn’t counted on was the sudden influx of energy from the oil drum that had exploded next to him when he activated the device. Any sane creature would not have fired a plasma rifle in such a confined place, much less one filled with explosive material; but then again said idiots were more interested in reclaiming their lost fortunes than their general safety. Tim could only hope that their demise had been slow and painful in the toxic filled inferno he’d left behind.

Of course the current question was where the hell was he? He looked upwards at the afternoon sun, his mind calculating lumens, size, and ascent in the sky; all the while running the image against the catalog in his mind. There was quite a bit to calculate; he’d been around the universe a few times; but he was pretty sure that he was back on Earth. Earth was a fun place to visit, provided the inhabitants didn’t figure out that you were a mutant alien. Then it was all whitewashed cells and lots of needles.

He Hated needles.

He took in the terrain, inhaling deeply, then coughing violently before patting down his jacket, looking for his smokes. The air was clean; too clean, at least in comparison for what he was used to. Definitely not in the heavy industrial/ commercialized stage of societal evolution. He was almost desperate to get one of his specially made cigarettes clenched in between his lips before lighting it was a general Bic™ lighter then deeply inhaling the toxic fumes, Only then did he relax, just a little, as he took in his surroundings. Pretty forest. Mountainous terrain. The bit of a nip in the air would put it towards spring or fall, provided this was Earth. So far all the info jived together, indicating that he was once again stranded on that little blue spit ward of a planet.

Oh joy.


He tried closing his eyes to concentrate, but there was no way he was going to be able to discern the bin location of this particular chunk of rock. His modus operandi was minds, brain power. Ethereal wells of temporal anti-matter were more the Deh Mahr’s speed.


Thank the Gods she wasn’t tagging along. She put one heck of a damper on this trip.


Instead he focused on finding the fauna. Birds. Squirrels. Deer. And then… ah there they were, People. Not that he considered them much further up the evolutionary pole than birds, squirrels, or deer; but he was willing to be that they would at least have someplace warm and a bit o’ food to eat. And information. Lots and lots of information. Once he gleaned that much from the local yokels, he’d figure out what his next step would be.


He gave a long exhaustive sigh before heading through the wood towards where he’d pinged the mental mumblings, hoping he’d find a warmth hearth to bunk down at before sunset. Not that he couldn’t handle himself against most critters. No it was that after this little jaunt, he was feeling a bit drained. The Tin Can’s little toys had a tendency to take a bit out of even the most resilient mutant, which he was; so he shrugged off the need to tap and trudged his way through the woods towards what passed for civilization in these parts.

[themascura]

"It's been quiet of late, hasn't it?" Connor turned his face into the warmth of the sun and smiled. It radiated through the window despite the cold outside, filtering past pine beams and pine floors and mingling with the scent of strawberries, maple syrup, and waffles. Steele gave the pretty Irish man a look that could curdle milk from a room away.

"Yeah, sure." He responded, curling a lip and shaking his head. There was a dragon sleeping in the barn just a few yards away! Granted, she was by far not the loudest/kill-you-now thing to ever pop through the portal, but she was still a first! Connor did have a point though. The nexus had been quiet of late. The dragon had been the only new-comer in months. Steele didn't like the sound of that. It brought to mind the eye of a hurricane, or the quiet before a storm.

Lucien, unlike the two men in the kitchen, had chosen to brave the crisp cold this morning and was out in the boss' garden slipping pieces of steak to the large wildcat therein.

"Does kitty like his treats? I know he prefers fingers, but Lucien doesn't have any right now." He cooed affectionately, tossing another hand-sized piece in the direction of the jaguar. A tingle in the air caught his attention suddenly. His head snapped up and to the size with unnatural speed and fell into an even more unnatural stillness. A slow, predatory smile wound its way across his face, exposing several teeth that were far too long and much too pointy. Someone had just passed through the nexus, and this one didn't feel entirely like an accident.

"Sounds like we have a new friend, Susa." He purred, picturing Steele and smiling even more deeply. Ah yes, retribution was at hand. He would teach Steele, once and for all, that it was never wise to lay hands on the Devil.

[Krepta]

Krepta woke to the cool crispness of a new morning. The buttery sunlight and singing birds just outside her window seemed obscene in the face of last night's events, but they were there all the same, and despite her reservations, she rose to greet them. The scarred shape-shifter groaned and stretched, stirring in her nest of blankets. Her's had been a solid, dreamless sleep that only sheer exhaustion could bring on, and she found herself reluctant to wake and leave her warm solitude.

She knew she would have to, though, eventually. Beyond the fact that she needed to eat, she had to get her bearings on the place. In another time, she might bother looking for a way back, but the place she had come from was certainly no home, and her true home, well, there was no going back here. The only option left to her was to return to the torments of the Tether, or to continue on here, in this Earth, wherever and whenever it was. In light of that, there really was only one option.

First things first was determining when she was. She wasn't so much concerned about where, as so far everyone spoke English, which is all she was concerned about. It didn't really leave many choices as to where she could be. When though was another story. The man from last night had tried to get her to change clothes, which suggested that her current outfit was not period friendly. Joy. What had he offered her? A suit or a dress. Right. If she had to choose, which she didn't plan on it, she would choose the suit. Krepta didn't wear dresses. Period. However, she was hoping she could find an alternative at the least. She wasn't exactly attached to her current outfit of course-- it was old fashioned, scratchy, and uncomfortable, not to mention ugly, but she had picked it out, and if she was going to wear something new, she would pick out that one too!

So suits and dresses. Well, if he was offering her a suit, then that meant that women probably had a little more respect than in other time periods. Suits were traditionally men's clothing, it was generally frowned upon in less progressive time for the 'weaker sex' to wear them. She had spotted a fedora on one of them last night, hadn't she? It brought to mind mobsters and old sepia films, bootlegging--- and suddenly she knew when she was.

Hoo-boy, the Roarin' twenties and the Dirty thirties. Fun. She wasn't sure how she felt about that. It wasn't entirely all bad, but it certainly wasn't good either. At least the hadn't tried to kill her upon arrival though. In fact, so far they had been pretty accommodating. If their sudden hospitality was because they wanted something from her, or they were simply friendly folk, she couldn't tell. No doubt she'd find out in time though. At least the Irish fellow seemed innocent enough.

And it beat cold cages and murderous sociopaths anyday.

So what next? Breakfast. Definitely breakfast. Her stomach grumbled it's agreement as she struck out across the lawn, only to pause when she realized she wasn't actually sure where she was going. She supposed she should ask someone, but who? So far, she hadn't seen a soul since last night, and the horses in the barn certainly weren't going to be giving up the location of the kitchen any time soon.

Of course, as Lucien made his own way across the wide expanse of property, Krepta didn't have to look far for answers. At the same time, she wasn't sure she wanted answers from that one. In the light of day, he wasn't as frightening, but Krepta hadn't forgotten what she had seen and felt last night, and in her experience, it was always best to er on the side of caution. She watched him head off in silence, then with a huffy sigh, decided to follow him at a distance to see where he was going. Maybe she'd learn a bit more about him in the process, and barring that, maybe he was heading to the kitchen himself? It was breakfast time after all...

[cptdragon9]

It took about an hour to narrow down the location. They had done a halfway decent bit to hide the place from prying eyes, but clearly they didn’t have anything in place to keep prying minds out.

Which meant that these folks didn’t know nuttin’ ‘bout no mind readers.

Tim couldn’t help but smile, seeing that Fortune was once again smiling on his weary hide. And indeed he was a bit weary. This little trek shouldn’t have taken it out of him; more than likely it was due to that teleportational jaunt than anything. He’d been pacing himself, just in case he did cross the track of some stray T-Rex or something like that, but all he’d picked up was the general background noise of the typical forest denizens, and these folks hiding up here behind the walls.

He found himself looking at what appeared to be a mausoleum cast in stone, fairly overgrown with vine and foliage. It might have stonewalled (literally) the normal rube, but Tim’s sharp eye could see scuffmarks in the dirt, distinct bootmarks that indicated foot travel. That and the smell. Not so much B.O as much as soaps and perfumes to cover such stench. Of course Tim’s own senses were genetically enhanced, part and parcel of being raised to be a hunter and a field grunt, so again he was pretty sure they weren’t ready for the likes of him. Still he remained cautious. They might not be like him, but they might be ancy enough having a stranger on their doorstep to shoot at him, and Tim wasn’t exactly bullet proof, or faster than one.

He Did have his limits.

Instead he casually looked over the stonework, seeing some of the scuffing where the mechanisms might be to hold the door in place. He tapped lightly on the frame, but decided to wait. Surely somebody was watching, and eventually they might come out to see who was hovering at the door. He kept his mind open. At least he would “hear” them coming and would have the proper response in place once he gauged their temperament. For now he fussed at his clothing, making himself somewhat presentable as he put on his cheerful/amiable/ non-threatening face and waited for an invitation.

[themascura]

Lucien followed the new presence from the end of the woods, across the clearing and right up to the front door. The wind tossed his blonde hair into curly disarray, defying his attempt to slick it down this morning. His eyes were alight with humor and mischief, his face sketched with welcome and warmth. This day he had donned his silver pinstripe suit, which gleamed like the metal itself. He had left his hat somewhere in his room, which was a shame, but in his opinion did not lessen the over-all effect.

"Salutations!" The massive man beamed at the new fellow. He was a little... rough... looking, but certainly not the worst he had ever seen. The man looked like he would clean up well, matter-of-fact. He had nice hair, hair Lucien was almost envious of, but a certain... devil-may-care air about him. Excellent, most excellent... because the devil DID care.

"I'm Lucien. I'll be your welcome party today!" He mimicked a woman's all too perky voice, like one would hear in a service announcement or on the other end of a phone when one's call 'can not be connected at this time'. He extended a large hand at the same time, setting his shoulders back and relaxing them in an affable, friendly way. The hair on the nape of his neck tingled and rose slowly. His eyes narrowed a tiny bit. The man in front of him had some sort of... power. Probably one of the physic powers. He cleared his mind of anything that would give away his true intent- to make Steele as uncomfortable and anxious as possible. In the back of his mind he sensed he was also being watched. An unholy glee rose in the pit of his chest.

So many things to do at once! So much fun to be had, if he played his cards right!

[cptdragon9]

The misplaced mutant found himself staring up at a rather buff-looking Norse-godish type. Granted Tim wasn’t very tall to begin with, but this fellow just made him look that much smaller and scrawny-er. Thankfully Tim didn’t have a Napoleon complex, but he might well have to develop one as Lucien had a very predatory sense about him. A lot of rolling tense muscles that didn’t need to roll or tense, sorta like a big cat. A real big cat. When Tim tried a cursory glance around the periphery of Lucien’s cranium, he felt the big guy set up the wall, making things hazily blank; which meant he was hiding quite a bit. It also meant that his happy host had been trained to counter critters like himself.

Dar n it, and he thought he was going to have it easy.

Yes he could have just plunged in and rotor-rooted out answers, but not only was that dangerous for both parties, it was also crass. Besides where would the fun be in that? He was always up for a little intrigue. Otherwise it would be painstakingly boring if he had the heads up on everything happening around him. So he merely smiled amicably back as he took the much larger hand in his and gave the symbolic perfunctory handshake as was expected by most civilized folk. Damn big hands, he noted. Strong too. He’d be tough to take out if it was necessary “Name’s Tim. Kinda got a little bit off the beaten path here.” He beamed up with a sheepishly false grin filled with white teeth and suspiciously bright blue eyes, giving off the overall impression of a misplaced used car salesman with a quota to meet. “If you’ve got a room that I can use for a day or two till I can get my bearings I’d sure appreciate it. I can pay, or help with the menial tasks; whichever you prefer.”

All the while he studied his host as he racked the fingers of his free hand through his unruly dyed locks. This Lucien guy was hard to pin down. Clearly untrusting, but then Tim wouldn’t quite buy his own pitch if he’d come knocking at the door. In all he had a sneaking suspicion that he was dealing with a kindred spirit, someone playing on a whole myriad of levels; and that just boosted the game up to another notch.

This just might well turn out to be a fun pit stop after all!

[Krepta]

Krepta had followed Lucien at a distance up until she spotted what the muscled mobster was so excited about. A newcomer, like her. At the same time, very much not like her. Like Lucien, the smaller man standing next to the stone monolith set the hairs of the back of her neck on end, though as usual, and frustratingly, she didn't know why. The human woman elected to remain where she was and scowl at the pair, hidden just slightly within the shadows of the trees at the edge of the property.

What was this place anyhow? Could the owners of the portal have drawn her here on purpose? No... judging from the look of surprise on the face of the man who had found her last night, that was unlikely. So what was going on? She doubted everyone who came here was a dimension hopper, accidental or not, so that meant the problem was on this end. So why? And how?

Well, she would just have to do a little snooping later, find that out, hm? Meanwhile, though, she was still faced with the problem of breakfast, and now that she was closer to the pair, the smells emanating out of the doorway behind them were making her mouth water. At least, she assumed that there was a doorway somewhere in that giant hunk of rock-- else she had just discovered the world's first waffle-scented statue! The problem was, one, how to get inside, and two, how to get past the pair before the doorway unseen?

She didn't know what the knew comer was about, and 'Dirty Deeds' hadn't tried anything untoward towards her yet, but for some reason she felt the urge to avoid them, and with a name like 'Dirty Deeds,' she knew her instincts were probably correct. That door looked heavy though, and there was no way she was sneaking by in her dragon form, so prospects seemed unlikely that they weren't going to see her if she was getting in.

The scarred shapeshifter heaved a sigh, and it turned cloudy in the crisp dawn air. It looked like she was just going to have to well, go over there, like it or not. So with an inward groan, she pulled up her shoulders and tried to look confident before striding forward from the cool shadows of the trees and into the warm morning light. It didn't take her long to reach the two, and though her stance was confident, bordering on aggressive even, the look in those mismatched eyes was one of caution and suspicion.

"Gentlemen," she said as calmly as she could, "Goodmorning. I'm assuming breakfast is through there, or am I to fetch my own?" She nodded to the thick stone lid that just barely hid a peak of the tunnel behind it.

'Fetch my own?' She thought, 'Goodness, I've been spending too much time out of cities and out of my own era! I'm starting to sound stuffy!'

[themascura]

"A room? For a day or two?" Lucien's grin only widened. He chuckled, his massive shoulders bobbing twice. Ah, yes, this WAS an amusing job. Maybe he should apply to be the Magician. Could he be the magician and the devil at once? Food for thought later.

"Not only do we have a room for you, my friend, you can stay for however long it takes you to get where you're going, or settle in. You see, this sort of thing is quite common around here. There's a portal, it kind of snatches people from other places, and times and drops them here." He waved a hand at their crispy little lawn.

"Sometimes it snatches travelers from other paths and yanks them here." He shrugged eloquently, only half turning when Krepta approached them, shoulder's rigid, deep lines between those pretty little green eyes and copper eyebrows. She queried about breakfast almost tersely. He couldn't help but picture her asking 'where the prisoners were' in the same tone. He giggled once.

"Breakfast, ladies and gentlemen, is this way." He bowed deeply at the waist and gestured over toward the woods, "Please, follow me." He purred, rising and striding toward the hidden side door.

"As I was saying, since the club is here, the boss seems to consider it his job- and thus his people's- to take in the poor, misplaced travelers and take care of them until they get home or choose to stay. Food, board, and protection are all free here! In exchange, we only ask for a minimum of help around the club. Simple stuff, nothing huge." He waved a flippant hand and reached for the camouflaged door.

[cptdragon9]

“Oh I’m quite sure I can pitch in somewhere. I’m Very helpful.” Tim sounded quite enthusiastic in his offer; however he wasn’t even looking a Lucien anymore. His eyes were glued on the girl.

He did hear how this place apparently had a temporal bubble, and idea did give him some food for thought, or would when he had time to dwell on it later. His own home world also had its share of wayward vagrants from other dimensions, and much like Bulk o’ Locks at the door here; the Rex’s people would take the lost under their wings, if just to keep them away from the Militants and their labs and examination tables. What would intrigue him later would be the idea that there was more than one bubble. Were the adjoining universes connected by a series of inter- dimensional hiccups? Or were all the worlds linked at the hip at one multi-facetted site as if glue together by used portal chewing gum?

All of this was being shelved for future rumination as his dancing blue eyes smiled at the girl as she slipped by them. He was hit by a combination of sensations as she passed. Her scent was all female; a rather light aroma that seemed to jar the mutant to his spine, and causing other parts of his body to stir. Not that it took much to stir them, but she was quite a fetching filly… no… wait. He inhaled softly, and then his smile broadened. Oh she might be able to physically hide it, but between what he could catch with his other senses, plus what was buzzing around the periphery of her brain; he was quite sure she was more scale than skin.

Oh this was proving to be quite an interesting side jaunt.

He did keep himself in check, giving the little lady a respectful nod as he stepped back to allow her to pass, and giving him a moment to appreciate her walking away. He did glance back to their over-dramatic host, seeing if he was likewise watching the view from behind (and ascertaining if he was going to be a rival in the hen’s affections) before stepping through the offered walkway. He was a bit puckish after all. Perhaps, after a hearty breakfast, he might be able to weasel a name out of the woman.

[Krepta]

Luckily for Krepta, and perhaps moreso for Tim, the brunette was so focused on the prospect of breakfast that the lewd glanced cast her way by the telepath went completely unnoticed. Of course, Krepta had always been rather oblivious when it came to such matters, so that was hardly surprising. Food though, food she understood, and with a quick sniff, she determined that she was about to understand herself some waffles. Strawberry waffles with hot butter and maple syrup. And maybe a tall, cold glass of fresh orange juice. Oh yeah, she was gunna understand those waffles real good.

Trying to keep herself from salivating, Krepta pushed past both men and descended into the cool gloom of the hidden entryway. This particular door led to a kitchen, she found, and judging by the bottles of alcohol stashed here and there, it was the Speakeasy's kitchen. She had suspected, when she had arrived, that there was likely such a thing nearby, how near, though, she would have never guessed. She doubted this was the only entrance in either. There were probably several, stashed all over the property, and beyond that, dozens of escape tunnels as well, at least, that was what her history books had told her.

"Who's cooking, anyway?" Someone she hadn't met yet? The Irishman had cooked last night for her, so maybe it was him. Part of her blanched at the idea of an Irishman cooking her breakfast-- after all, they didn't have the best culinary reputation, but... his stew last night had been pretty good, despite her initial reluctance, and the waffles didn't smell half bad either. "Smells good," she finished, and those bright green eyes were already eagerly searching for the source of the heady scent.

[themascura]

The sausage hit the pan with a satisfying sizzle. The door opened, releasing a burst of crisp air and Krepta. She was a vision, the image of the crowning sun in glowing glory given human form. He smiled brilliantly, pleased despite himself as he heard her mutter that the waffles smelled 'good'. Steele's eyes rose from his paper and settled on the woman, then on Lucien, and finally on the man behind Lucien.

"We have a newcommer I see." He commented blandly, folding his paper in half and placing it back on the table. Connor flipped the sausage and slid a few onto a large serving platter and a few onto a slightly smaller breakfast plate. The irishman carefully spooned a large helping of eggs and dropped at least five waffles onto the same plate. He moved it toward Krepta with another small smile.

"Here. Thare's orange juice, or milk if ye care for it." He pointed toward the large fridge in the back. It must have appeared to be a relic to Krepta, but it was fairly modern for a man like Steele or Connor. He glanced at the new man after, offering a slightly less enthusiastic, but still warm smile, and a slightly less laden plate.

"It'sa pleasure ta make yer acquaintance. M'name's Connor." He introduced himself. Lucien loomed, large behind Rex, a deep and mischievous smile on his face. Steele rose from the table, face lined with serious thought. He wasn't sure he liked the look on Lucien's face, or the rangy look of this new man. Still, there were uses for a man with a... less than stellar moral compass.

"The name's Steele. I'm in charge here." He added his own introduction on top of Connor's. Lucien dropped a friendly hand toward Rex's shoulder, intending to let it rest there.

"Everyone, this is Rex. He's very helpful." He beamed.