Sibling

"'Tis all settled, I shall be glad ta' take ya' home now My Lady," Steve returned and bowed.

"Flyin' ya say?"

((Sorry so short, gotta get to work. LOOOOng post tomorrow for you Falcon.))

Narshawn sized up the other woman, considering why she would ask such a thing. Not everyone asked questions with good intention, but this woman seemed earnest enough, and perhaps somewhat unhappy.

"You ask me of my origin, and I can only tell you what my Mother has told me. You can see, I am not human, and have not been. I do not live among people, not until recently, I have lived with my Sisters, the Ladies. You have heard of the Ladies? Those who live on The Island in Talos?" She asked, not everyone had heard of them, and that suited their purposes at times.

"I am from a far away place. Some say other dimensions, or maybe another time, or maybe just far away. These are mysteries, but whatever you believe, I am not from this world. My Mother, Lady Gemini, raised me here, and taught me to be who I am. I never knew that world, the place of my birth.

"On that world, the Sisters say, there are two main races: Stone and Ice, and they are mortal enemies. They cannot live together, and war has beaten the world down. My father, he was of the Ice, my mother of the Stone. I only know that I was born into a village of Stone, and cast out. I would have died," she spoke clearly, without hesitation, without any trace of sorrow.

"The Lady, Morgaine, knew of this. She and other Ladies caused me to come here, nothing but a suckling child, unable even to crawl. They," now she sounded sad, or perhaps a great love filled her, causing her voice to soften, "took me as their own. Lady Gemini was my nurse, my Mother, all that I knew for many years."

She was filling Wendy's almost empty glass, paying no heed to the time. This was the first person to actually ask why an ice maiden would be in Paragon.

"I am only ten of this world's years, but my race ages faster than yours, and lives longer. Perhaps there is a reason I was brought here, or such was said to me. I know I would have been empty, or hollow, if I had not come."

She finished and held out one hand to the other woman, tiny and delicate, as though crystal carved by a master and covered in ice. A look of concentration came over her face, then she looked into the woman's own eyes.

"Take my hand, it shall not harm you now," the steam rising from it slowed appreciably. "I offer you this, and will call you friend. But, what is your story?"

((OOC: Narshawn is only ten, but it is amazing the knowledge that lives in books.))

Several loud clashes of pots and dinner cleaning echoed from the kitchens, giving Beth a chance to compose herself, before Gal walked out, bearing a tray laden with desserts and drinks. Beth was glad of the commotion, it brought Manion's eyes around, and she hoped he missed her staring into them.

*This kind of thing doesn't happen to me*, she thought. *He's like awesome cute...*

"Okay, I got two pieces of Mud Pie, a Pepsi and a pint. The kitchens are closed, but this was no trouble." Gal carried them over to a table very near the fireplace, and out of traffic for the clean up. She winked at Manion as she set the tray down.

Beth hid a small smile, and sat next to the smaller piece, pretending to be occupied until Gal walked off. "I would like you to walk me home." She wouldn't meet his eyes, afraid he would see more than she wanted in hers.

((OOC: Manion, I thought you were going to stay, but what is life without some misunderstandings? Very well played, there, I was trying to misunderstand you and have Beth work up a lather.
BTW: Mud Pie is a southern thing, made of chocolate, pudding, whipped cream and graham crackers, and is wicked good.))

((To Falcon))

Steve felt a little nervous. The dinner had been very pleasant, light conversation, wonderful food and a most pleasing view. It had been rare in the two weeks that he would have enjoyed the quiet hours of the day, so much to think on.

"Well, Miss Falcon," he said as he stood and removed a long leather billfold from his pants. "I b'lieve tha' kitchen is abou' spent." He was nervous about this after dinner part. Did men still walk women home, and she had mentioned something about flying, but he had work to do in the kitchen in a few hours.

He also realized he could not settle the bill with Falcon watching, as there was far not enough money to pay, and she was not easliy fooled. An idea occurred to him.

"Miss Falcon, will you excuse me, I will be ri' back. Miss Gal was ta' speak ta' me abou' Martin." He knew Gal had agreed on the payment, but he had to arrange for Falcon not to see. He turned, then turned again.

"I would be pleased ta' escort ya' to your home, if it's proper."

((OOC: b-ball means Basketball, one of those horrid sports Americans seem willing to indulge in. Give me soccer anyday, Bayern!))

((To Manion))

"I knew it," Beth said when she saw Manion getting up. She had stopped by the staff restroom in the back to clean up a little, and walked through the kitchen to see the young man moving away from his table. He headed to the bar.

*Gertrude,* she thought, pressing down the short jacket she had picked up from her locker. Not high fashion, she shopped several second-hand stores and picked what she could. This was a little older outfit, but clean and without any fraying, work clothes.

She stepped faster, trying to catch up to Manion, and saw Gal ducking into the kitchen. *He probably figured out that Gertrude was a better catch*, she thought through eyes a little wetter than necessary.

"Are you leaving?" the young voice quavered across the now mostly empty room. It was a little louder, a little more desperate than she wanted. Her dark leather purse clutched in one hand, she reached for his bare arm to catch his attention with the other.

"Oh, um, are you leaving?" She said more quietly, already resigned to walking home alone, again.

Somewhere in the kitchen, Gal sliced off a piece of her Mud Pie, and another, for two plates. Beth avoided liquor, but Pepsi was fine, she just needed to ask Gypsy what he had been drinking for the platter as she assembled the ad hoc romantic dessert. The big tanker smiled.

((OOC: And where are you going, hero? Sure, break a young girl's heart.))

((To Magnus))

"No, never. I do not have the ability to read minds, and would not violate others that way." She smiled, showing pointed teeth behind her semi-opaque lips.

"Gin and tonic, do you care for a name Gin? I shall use Beefeater if you have none other, and the soup and bread I will order when Gertrude comes."

A moment later she signaled the waitress, telling her to bring a Roetenbrot and Zwiebelsuppe, "Does this meet your needs, sir? The soup I can recommend, the bread is the thickest we have fresh." Gypsy would be pleased, both were her favorites, after the Goulasch, of course. Narshawn did not know bread, her metabolism unable to digest it.

Gertrude paused, waiting for his answer.

((OOC: Everyone has a first time, and it never gets easier ! And Narshawn will be a little formal, she heard your name, until she gets used to you.))

((TO Wendy))

"You do not need to fear, Miss," Narshawn had noticed the twice over, and would have been surprised not to get two looks. Even with all the heroes in the City, a being that was made of ice was not an everyday sight. "I am in control of my powers, but you would be wise to avoid touching me. Frostbite."

The tiny woman hovered off to assemble the liquors, and nodded to Gertrude. The waitress had done more than her share of the work, Nar intended to speak to Gal about it. She wouldn't say it to the woman, but the ice blaster was impressed.

"I was mistaken, I apologize," she said when she returned, a mist of cold following her. Looking over the cheat sheet behind the bar, it did not indicate if the SoCo should be chilled or with ice. Puzzled, she asked, "Should the beverage, the SoCo, have ice or be chilled in glass?"

In one hand, two ice cubes the shape of pyramids formed, but in the other the glass she held misted with cold. She shrugged, an innocent gesture indicating a question. Her smile was punctuated by fine, pointed teeth.

((OOC: Narshawn will take no offense at questions about her origins, and being an alien from another dimension...they might share a common bond.

Gal just caught the tail of Thang's comment

[ QUOTE ]
I'm down there as often as I can be." he says, offering his hand and the card to Miss Jones. "Thank you again! I hope to be hearin' from you soon."


[/ QUOTE ]

"Thang, you don't come down here soon with the Missus and I'm gonna think you got somethin' on the side." She winked to show it was a joke, no more devoted husband did she know, and it wasn't because he was unpopular with the ladies.

"Isis, them kids would be tickled to see the likes of you there," she helped Thang collect the stacks of memorabilia. "I'd bet he's done shown them most of your movies. Compared to that crap they show today..."

She made a very displeased face. Sex, violence and obvious advertisement was what today's movies had, and she preferred anything before the eighties. Isis may have worn small skirts and had a mouth, but she was true and decent in her movies.

"Thang, I got an idea," mind working like crazy, she knew that Ms. Thang's temper was not to trifled with, and Gal had stood toe-to-toe with Dr. Vahz and not batted an eye. "If Isis would care to...how about a charity event? Show the kids that heroes can be fun, too?"

((OOC: Anyone interested in a charity b-ball game or ? Sounds to me like a good way to build some team comraderie and get those youngsters interested.))

Actually Manion, I appreciate yours and Pickle's posts. I had written a whole flame post, because I have tried to nurture this thread, keeping only the story here, but it appears some cannot respect that. I deleted the flame, and am simply working on the next entry. I hope that others will respect my attempts at a story here, and keep it as a story, not what others do, or do not, get, copying the entire, very humbly appreciated, post from Cuppa.

That's my say, the board belongs to everyone, and they will do as they will. I just hope for courtesy. If you want to flame me, PM is the way to do it. If you want to say thank you, PM is the way to do it. Thank you.

"Weren't me," Gal said, eyeing the package, and contents, with suspicion. "I sure don't know what the card says, Sib would know maybe. They're better at languages than I am."

The stoves were off, and several of the kitchen help bustled around, cleaning.

"Get Nar, she studies language. I'd like not to have this around unless I have an idea if that says 'Be well' or 'Push up daisies'. Your call, Vegas."

((OOC: Very nice Thang. I could only respond: Molann an obair an fear. Sadly, Gal doesn't know the tongue, not everyone on the island learns it. ))

((For Alex))

"Sir," Martin was just turning from the door as Alex made his way out, "I hope that our service has not been the cause of your rush."

The Maitre 'd had a somewhat concerned frown. "You will pardon me for saying so, sir, but you appear to be a bit aggitated. I offer my apologies that Ladies could not serve you better, but you are always welcome, at Miss War's invitation." The still unwrinkled man gave a short sketch of a bow and turned the key, opening the door.

((OOC: Martin would attempt to find out what could cause a patron to be so discomfitted, but would not seek to irritate that patron further in person. He will let Alex out, and then investigate, unless Alex chooses to dress him down or talk. If the former, Martin would accept it as his duty, no retort, if the latter he would certainly step into the walk, also his duty to the restaurant. Why do your think good English Butlers are so respected?))

((To Wendy))

"Yes ma'am, that was last call...but," Narshawn saw Gertrude entering the kitchen, it wouldn't do to have her know Nar bent the rules, "you ordered before that. What may I get for you?"

Narshawn glanced around, fairly certain there had been a tall man with her eariler, Certain of it, with a mohawk.

"Will it be one or two glasses, you had the Cosmopolitans?" She was drawing another beer for Steve as she spoke, it seemed he was getting along well with the beautiful woman.

MaDeuce, AR/Dev Blaster, Rage Against the Machine "Pistol Grip Pump"

"Not problem for me," Gypsy said as she bustled by with several platters balanced on one arm. "Some here, might think blood a bad omen." She paused as Narshawn saw the new man at the bar and hovered close.

"Daughter, be wary of letting the food get cold." It was an admonishment, in kind terms, since Gypsy was rarely in the bar. It would require too much bowing, having a novice and her mentor in the room together, and Gal had asked that they work in separate parts of the building.

"Good evening, sir, I am Narshawn and welcome to Ladies by the Lake. The bar is open for some time yet, but I would recommend getting any food orders in quickly. The menu is fully available, and there are some tables still unoccupied," the tiny woman pointed with one frosted arm, past Steve and Falcon. "Or, there are Darts and Pool, and the smoking section at the back. Be welcome, but mind the bar."

"May I start you with a beverage," she motioned with a sweeping arm to the wall of exotic, and more local, liquors behind her. She noticed that he looked slightly disheveled, "Perhaps something to calm your nerves?"

((OOC: Narshawn is no stranger to gashes and bruises, or for her, chips and cracks. We don't turn anyone away here, Magnus, and Gypsy did not mean to imply your less than perfect appearance was unwelcome. If Martin can accept a Mohawk and an imp, Narshawn can definitely accept a hero being worn from his day.))

Martin had returned from the bar, carrying the laquered box and bearing a most uncharacteristic expression. Gal managed to catch his attention, and saw him revert to his normal sour pucker before he stepped up.

"Martin, I'd like to get the place winding down for the night, feels like I've been up here for days. Don't you go rushing anybody out, just might lock the doors for me on your way." She caught sight of Gypsy waiting on a tiny creature with horns and cocked her eyebrow at the Maitre 'd.

"Miss War," he said, seeing where her eyes rested, "I was unaware that someone had let a demon in. Gypsy is perhaps misunderstanding our rule about trouble in the establishment. I will have it removed."

Gal placed one hand on the much shorter man's shoulder, forestalling his movement.

"Martin, for all you are a good man, all's welcome in my place. Ain't nobody sits in the back of the bus, drinks from a different spigot or has to hide their face. Not in my place. I know things was a sight different, some of your other jobs, and I don't have no problems with that." He turned to face her, and yes, taking orders from this woman, in this place, was much different than his previous employment.

"Now, I don't have no steam over you wantin' to do right by me, but we don' turn nobody away here. They don't get in the dining room without a jacket, you're right there, but look at him." She pointed to the little creature as it spoke a few words, unheard from here, to Gypsy and smiled. "All I know, he's just back from stoppin' Rikti or Earth. No, you leave him be, long as he don't cause no trouble. He's welcome.

"Now," she said, getting back to her original thought, "tell Beth that her shift is over for the night, after she makes sure that Manion is comfortable. Tell her I said to have a sit with him, if she likes." With that she returned to Thang and Isis, patting Vegas on the arm when she arrived at the pedestal.

"Oh, for the days of arranging a table for State Dinner," Martin said to himself, stepping up next to Beth and giving her Gal's instructions.

((OOC: Place has to close once in a while, otherwise, how would Gal ever get sleep? Nobody has to rush, Narshawn is giving last call in the Bar, but she can be plied with some conversation to stay open a while more. Hope Basilisk enjoyed his cigar, and doesn't feel ignored. On opening, I'll be bringing a few more NPC's from the Mission, the wait staff is getting sort of thin. Thank you all again, looking forward to many more interesting nights, and carry on!))

Now he looked aside, not having said what he intended. Hoping she would not take it as a rebuke, he tried again.

"I was na' clear Miss Falcon, my finery is..." now he had to think, quickly. Saying he had none, that would not do, she would think he was a man of poor taste or frivolous means. He knew that the Haberdasher closed long before now, and that Martin would be none too pleased if he walked into the restaurant like this.

"Miss Falcon, I was askin' for the pleasure of your company another evenin', ha' you the time and want. May be improper to ask, wha' with all only just meetin' ya' an' you likely havin' many a man waitin' for your time, but, would you do me tha' honor of havin' dinner wi' me? At your leave, 'o course." He had actually stood from the table and moved near her side, an earnest request.

"I've nah known a more pleasant way ta' spend mah time." There was a steady stream of heat radiating from his body, and he dared not come much closer. He could see there was something troubling her, in some of what she had said, but she seemed willing to talk, and that was another sound he had missed, another person's voice.

((OOC: Falcon, don't be too put out. In the story, he has nothing but the clothes on his back and what little his low level influence can buy. If you give him another day, and agree to dine with him again, he will make sure to have something more appropriate to someone so refined, and well described, as Falcon.
He needs to shop first though, and in fairness to the story, that would require a tomorrow. Besides, they say absence makes the heart grow fonder...
Really, Falcon is an amazing character, I hope she will agree.))

Now he'd done it, he said to himself. A lovely woman had wanted to spend some time having a bite to eat and in some gentle conversation, and he'd managed to make it morose. It had been a long time since he's had the company of someone other than a magician or in training.

"'Twould seem ta' me," he said, trying to lighten his voice, "tha' a man tha' always looks for trouble is bound ta' find it. If heroes canna' spend a moment in bein' people, lettin' their belt out, as t'were, why bother?" He pointed towards the rear of the bar, where a large, scaled man was speaking to Martin.

"There, ye' see tha' man wi' Martin? Him an' his kin there, they been playin' billiards for some time, an him enjoyin' a cigar. Or the lass what was wi' Miss Narshawn, just havin' a talk. If they are'n heroes, they got powers right enough, an' they can come 'ere an' spend a moment. Tha's wha' I mean."

He looked around the room, and was impressed by how many had come in. No heroes in his day, at least none that could fly and shatter mountains, in that some things had changed. What hadn't, from all he had seen in his two short weeks, was enough to make him feel some connection to this time.

There were still people that cared, earnestly cared for others. Some were willing to put themselves between harm and loved ones. Dedication and duty, which he had seen many times in even the frailest people. A man and a woman could pause and share a quiet evening, strangers before, but perhaps occassional acquaintances now. He would have blushed, but his skin was already as red as it could be.

"I'd say nay, Miss Falcon. A man tha' would pass an opportunity ta' sit wi' a fine lady and talk abou' things such as this, tha' would be a wasted moment. I'd na' turn it down, an' I know somethin' o' long loneliness," his voice seemed to come from somewhere else for a moment, "a hundred years o' loneliness."

When he looked up again, he smiled with his eyes and mouth. "I'd na' like ta' rush things, but if I don' ask, I'll be shamed on the 'morrow. Would ya' care ta' properly dine wi' me? I mean in tha' proper Restaurant, in proper clothes?" He made a motion to what he wore, the denim and boots. "Ye're all the nicest, but I would feel honored if ya' would thin' on it, when I can be properly dressed an' do ya' justice."

Steve was considering the idea of flight, but perhaps more than a single flight. He watched her face with just a little trepidation, still not believing she had no other rooms of men waiting for just a moment of her time.

"Ya flatter me ag'in, Miss Falcon. I was nothing but a trainmaster, a man who threw levers and wheels for a livin'. Nothin' a' all special abou' me.

"Fine lady like yourself," he held out one hand toward her, "pardon Miss Falcon, but a lady you are, could well do better than a coal breather. Ya' ha' been more than generous, but ya must know, I am so far apart from this time, 'tis a rough thing makin' cross the city. 'Twould be like keepin' a jewel in a pine box, you bein' seen wi' the likes o' me."

"Fly," he suddenly said, as though it just occurred. "I kinna' fly, but I fall right well." This seemed to raise his spirits, gallows humor. "Aye, I suppose when I ha' the chance, maybe I'll try tha'."

His eyes never left her face. *She could be a wild bird, fierce and beautiful, unfettered,* he thought.

((OOC: Pretend that he doesn't understand she is asking if he wants to fly, with her powers, but by a plane.))

Gal gave him a long look. She'd been on the wrong side of many things, and had plenty of people try to take advantage of her, but you grew up fast and tough in East St. Louis, or you didn't grow up.

"You wanna come to the Mission, that's your business. I'd be glad to have you, and it might make me trust you just a little, which would be a rare thing for a man. You got an eye for Beth, you have to take that up with her, but I could let her sit a spell with you. She's done far enough work tonight." She held out one enormous hand and picked up a crystal salt cellar from the table, solid crystal.

"I do have a care for her though, and you mess with my Beth..." she squeezed the heavy ball of crystal, and her hand became rock. The tiara she wore, mostly hidden, lit up for a moment and there was a sharp sound, followed by shining dust falling from that hand.

"Now," she said, wiping her undamaged hand on a towel from her apron, "I'll go get Beth, she deserves a break about now."

Manion saw her white teeth in a smile as she left, heading for the grill.

"Sir," Martin actually looked put out, but only for a moment. "I am neither the station nor the leisure to accept your offer. I do, indeed, appreciate a fine cigar, but you are too kind."

Being invited to participate in such an indulgence was very unusual, and Martin chalked it up to these American ways. Asking your butler to smoke with you? Unheard of in the halls of Britain, and yet...

"I do not even know your name, sir." Martin took a few steps, the box held open in one hand while the other withdrew a long wooden match from an inside pocket. He was never without the proper item, for any occassion.

((No apologies, we all do it. ))

Gypsy could see something of satisfaction in the imp. She could only imagine his feelings, but she had been told they did have them. Being swept from your home, and planted somewhere else, this she could understand, and to her knowledge, no Imp existed on the mortal plane by choice.

"It pleases you, very well. I shall return." She saw the toothy smile, and it did not seem to have malice in it. She did not return it. To consort with Imps, or appear to think you their equal, that was fatal. She could respect this creature, as she would any, but was wary of being seen as too familiar.

The dishes were beginning to pile on the grill, and patrons awaited their meals. It looked as though the mohawked one and the woman desired her attention.

"Killin'," he saw her stare, maybe trying to gauge his reaction. She probably had heard what a rough place the railroad could be, maybe thinking he was that way.

"I never was much one for tha'. Seen my share o' the dead..." he shivered, despite the steam from his lips. Some things did not bear speaking of, and especially not in front of a lady. "Won't do to speak o' tha' here," he finished quietly, almost without thought.

"Birds with steel wings? Why? I ha' seen the tram, an' it's a sight faster than most trains o' my day, but e'en a roundhouse steamer can outrun a bird, wi' a full head o' steam. Seems like a bird would be less comfortable than a good Pullman car, wha' wi' a good dining and sleeper."

He was curious now, not having seen these flying things. The idea didn;t appeal, the thought of being so far above the ground...

"An if the engineers are like my day, well..." he trailed off, unable to meet her eyes. He was the most famous accident for engineers.

"Erm," he cleared his throat, hoping he hadn't walked into deep waters. Gertrude was quick with the drinks, and he made a show of paying attention to his.

Beth advised the bread pudding, with vanilla sauce, as one of Gal's home-town desserts.

Gal stopped by his table on her way back to the Grill, it looked like Thang and Isis were doing ok, but Vegas couldn't handle a grill long.

"You. You ain't gonna try ta' pay again? I sent Gypsy over with instructions, and you can trust me on it, she can knock you inta' next week." She smiled at the look on his young face, "was only kiddin'. How can I help?"

((OOC: Curse you and your begging! LOL. Seriously, you have all appealed to my more base emotions, pride and ego, which will motivate me every time. So, after posting my new Ladies Thread, getting Sibling within one bubble of 36 and NOT sleeping, thank you, here is my catch up.))

((To Falcon))

Steve was flattered, all the wonder of this new world and Miss Falcon wanted to hear about his home? He considered where to start...

"Miss Falcon, mah' life was none to interestin', until the end anyhow. My father, 'e was a gen'lman with land an' some wherewi'all in Irelan', wha' got a business proposal from a man in America. A' tha' time, was a wild an' new place, an' many o' my people were travelin' 'ere. There was work, an' things an Irishman could do.

"E' lef' mah mother ta' see after the home, an had many a good man wi' 'em when he came." Steve felt a sudden loss, realizing that he had not even a photo of his family, nothing from his time except what had been buried with his remains and restored by Azuria.

"Tha's how I know Martin. His father, many times over, was one o' my father's men, a true gen'lman's butler. I was but a pup when we came, stepped off a ship righ' in New York. Then, there were no tall buildings, ha'nt e'en put up the Great Lady in tha' harbor." He paused, unsure if that had endured.

"Do ye know of tha' Great Lady, Liberty? Does she still watch o'er tha' harbor?"

Steve motioned to their almost empty glasses, "Miss Falcon, can I do ya' the honor o' another drink?"

((To Manion))

Beth rode through the crowds on a little cloud of delight. Her smile was beaming, her step light for all the work she had already done. THAT was a man. How he could ignore Gertrude or Gypsy, she didn't know, but if he really was around to walk her home...

"So, Manion," she seemed awkward using his name, "was dinner ok? Gypsy is pretty proud of her recipe, even stood over Gal when she was making it."

((To Basilisk))

"Sir," Martin said, turning towards him. His hesitation was almost imperceptable, a man used to dealing with the impossible in a totally dismissive way. "I applaud your fine taste, and the purveyor of the cigars, one Tuck and Sole of Founder's Falls, sends their compliments as well."

He made a flourish of placing the box on a nearby table, and from somewhere about his person he draw a long, thin bladed knife. Carefully, skillfully slicing the tobacco stamp and seal, he lifted the lid of the expensive box to reveal long rows of neat cigars.

"Sir, I present to you, the one box of Partagas Number Four Specials, in Paragon City." The aroma of tea and chocolate, intemixed with leaf tobacco, emanated. Martin allowed his guest to choose from the box, not presuming to leave so important a decision to himself. He held a gold and silver cutter with his free hand.

((To Magnus))

Gypsy caught sight of the bloody hero before he entered the restaurant, her powers giving her a slight edge where blood was present. The small imp was waiting for food, but fresh blood was not welcome. Beth was occupied as well, she passed the front.

"Mister, your dress looks like fighting. Please to the toilet, to clean your face. I make a place for you at the bar, please." She showed him to the bathrooms, not at all put off by his appearance.

((For Satanz))

Gypsy brought a bowl of the ratatouille, and a large portion of thick bread, knowing that some of the older races could eat enough besides their diminutive size. She guessed that he might want some beverage, and brought both a pitcher of water and a large glass of Czech Beer.

Not knowing his precise race, she could only hope to accomodate the imp, trying not to offend.

"Little Master, will this suffice?"

((To Alex and crew))

"I beg your pardon, Sir, ma'am," Beth said, returning from another table, her face flushed and smiling. "Can I get you refills? And have you decided on dinner?"

((OOC: There ))

((OOC: Not giving in...must get Sibling to 36 today....no time to post...))

Her face went red, ears lighting up. She laughed softly.

"I would, but I don't think Martin would have me, and Gal would throw a fit. She's working harder than all of us. I really appreciate it," she said with earnest eyes, "but I can't sit down while everyone else works. At least not on my work nights..."

She paused, very surprised and excited that such a nice man would show any interest in her. Thin, always wishing that she had some of the endowments Gertrude or the other ladies had, and sure she was just the ugly step-sister.

"My shift ends about one, but that's pretty late," she hoped it wasn't asking too much, but screwed up her courage and figured it was worth the risk. "I live a ways from here, across town, but if you wanted to see where the Mission was, so you could get there easier, of course," she blushed again, "you could walk me home.

"I'll get that menu for you," Beth hurried away as the sinister eye of Martin scanned the room, watching for a particle of bread or uncentered tablecloth.

((OOC: Beth is just a simple girl with some rough spots in her past, and while not beautiful or ample and flirty like Gertrude, she is attractive and slim, not anemic. Gal likes to watch over her, watch over everyone she cares for.))