Difference between revisions of "Log:Mo(u)rning Coffee"

27 December, 2017

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Cat-22 Collective

A more or less typical morning at CAT-22. Although outside, it's well below freezing, which seems to have driven more people into the cafe than usual. Folks are browsing the info stand, ordering coffee and pound cake, and looking over the twenty-two portraits of the founder's cat, Yossarian. Bob Dylan on the speakers. Seated at one of the tables with a pad of paper and a pencil is a tall, thin man with a wild sweep of dark hair. Dross seems to be drawing the people standing in line or wandering around the cafe. The red mug of coffee in front of him looks hardly touched.

The front door opens just enough so another new costumer comes inside. It's a cop. A very impressive one. It can be told by the way the girls, and probably one or two boys, look at him in awe. He's pretty and sunny and warmth like the first rays of the morning sun. He glances around ignoring those looking at him and heads to the line to order something to drink. While there, he takes some time to glance around until his gaze finds another of the Lost. To the man, the police officer offers a smile that, surprisinly, glints for a second.

Dross has been watching each person come in and step onto the boar bristle mat just inside the door. The little hubbub that surrounds the newcomer draws his attention to the man at the center of attention, then to the onlookers themselves... And then back to the police officer. A police officer's smile is, indeed, a rare sight in CAT-22. When the man smiles at him, one of Dross' thin eyebrows goes up just a little. He glances at the other chairs at his table-- All empty!-- and then back up to that morning-bright gaze.

Quickly the police officer gets his own drink, coffee with milk. More milk than coffee, actually, if one pays attention to such details. And no sugar. Once done and paid for, the coffee is taken and the man turns back to the other Lost and heads his way calmy."Can I join you, sir?" He asks after ignoring a pair of girls staring at him with no shame.

All the attention following the stranger around seems to amuse Dross. His eyes keep going to the girls looking at the police officer from all over the cafe. Eventually, when the man comes over and greets him, he brings his own pale gaze back to that of his interlocutor. "There's no queue for -that- seat," he says, in a quiet, clear voice. Is that supposed to be a joke? But then the Darkling nods toward the same vacant seat and looks up again at the polite, powerful-looking man. "Dross," he says, by way of introducing himself.

"Nice to meet you, mister Dross. I'm officer Garfield. At your service." He says as he offers a hand to a shake after taking a seat at the table and landing his paper cup of coffee on it."It's a very uncommon surname. Dross." He comments a second later.

Dross takes Garfield's hand, but just holds it for a moment or two, rather delicately, before letting go. Not quite a handshake, per se. Then he folds his hands around his own mug of coffee, which looks black and still nearly full. Faint wisps of steam rise from the surface. "It says what it means," he responds. "What does your name mean?"

The police officer's hand is soft to the touch and bears no marks of labor and when its released, it heads back to the paper cup."I don't know. It's just my mother's family name, I guess. All I know is that it has nothing to do with the that orange stripped lazy cat." He grins at that and takes the coffee closer to his face to blow it.

Orange cat? Flash of bemusement from Dross. Maybe he doesn't know about that. Watching the officer blow on his coffee, he keeps his hands just where they are, wrapped around that red ceramic mug with the print of a black cat on one side. "Where did you come from?" he asks. Eyes still on Officer Garfield's bright blue ones.

"I'm a local. Just not one of the fancy families. Born and raised in Tamarack Falls." Garfield says as he stares at his own coffee for a little while. Probably wondering if it's already good to drink. Or not. Then, he gives it a try. A very short sip."Hmm. This place's cafe is good." He murmurs before turning his attention back to the other Lost."What about you? Are you from here?"

"No," answers Dross. He seems to be watching the officer's gaze for that rare, very brief glint of light that has no source visible in the cafe. After seeing it once more, he finally looks away, toward the paintings of cats on the walls and the other patrons of the cafe-- Some of them still staring at the man sitting opposite him-- for a moment or two. Then, attention returning to his companion: "From Vienna." He studies Garfield a little longer, then asks, "You chose to return?"

The police officer nods to that answer."I have unfinished business here that requires me to stay. So I decided to stay instead of going away and finding myself a new life and stuff." He answers as he lands his paper coffee on the table while still looking at the other man."Vienna? It's from from here, hm? I wonder why you came to such an unknown place like this."

Dross keeps that sharp, thoughtful gaze on the officer sitting before him, drinking from that paper cup of steaming coffee. "Unfinished business?" he asks. One thin eyebrow goes up slightly at these words... But as for Garfield's question, he simply says, "An unknown place, where it's quiet and you can see the stars at night, was just what I wanted." For a moment, there's a warmer note than before in the Darkling's own blue eyes.

"A stargazer. Nice. I used to lay down on the lawn at night during summer to stare at the night looking for my mother. Someone told me people become stars when they die." He says and lets a smile to form on his lips. One full of found memories and innocence." Then, he retrieves his paper cup and sips from it again. This time, a second longer.

That brings a little more blue out in Dross' eyes. Very light before, almost gray, their color is quite distinct now. He studies his companion's face, still watching for that occasional glint of sunshine. "Would you like that?" he asks, quietly.

"I think so. It least I'd be sure that she's there watching over me still. An in a better place than I am." He says as his eyes goes drifting away while a mix of happyness and sorrow takes his eyes."Like a guiding star." He murmurs after a second of silence.

Taking in that subtle blend of emotions in the other man's eyes, Dross does not look away, although he does, at last, raise his own mug of coffee and take a sip. Not quite so much steam now as there was, but the puff of white fog does obscure his face for just a moment. Setting the mug back down, his hands linger around it, long and white against the red clay. "Why," he asks. "What sort of place are you in now?"

"It's not a place. It's more like a situation. I have no one. She's up there. With the other stars." The police officer says in a lost voice as if he was half there and half in a whole other place."I have no place to call home."

Like the mix of happiness and sorrow in the officer's eyes, the transformation in his voice-- split between this place, this moment, and somewhere else-- seems to capture Dross' attention. He watches the other man in silence for a moment or two, just absorbing what he's said. Then, softly: "For how long?"

When the officer looks back at the other Lost at the table, his eyes are wet."Since I was 4." It's the only thing he manages to say, apparently. Then, he takes a deep breath and takes his mug of coffe to sip from it. This time, it's a long sip even if there is still steam getting out of it indicating that it's too hot to be swallowed like that. A discreet and lonely tear drops from his left eye and runs free downwards through his cheek at that point.

Dross keeps that same pale, thoughtful, neutral-feeling gaze on his companion, in spite of the other man's wet eyes. The lamplight shines off of them, hot and blue, back into his regard. He seems at ease with the emotional turn that the conversation has taken. "Is that why you've come back?" he asks.

The cop lands his paper cup and dries his check with his free hand."Yes. Before he died, my stepfather told me he was my stepfather and that I should look for my real father. He was a terrible man and the idea of having the possibility to have a real, caring father makes me to stay here." He then cleans another loose tear before glancing around looking a bit ashamed for his emotional situation, probably.

The Darkling reaches across the table and places a hand lightly over Garfield's. He lets it rest there for a moment: a cool, dry touch, like the brush of a wing. Eyes on those of the Sun, even as the other man starts to look away. "Of course," he says, simply.

"Is it a bad thing? To go to sleep every single night wishing your father was not your father so you could have someone better? Someone that really care about you and love you and wants to be part of your life?" He asks as he stares at the horizon. The touch doesn't go unnoticed, his hand shivers for a second by the cold touch but doesn't move away. His skin is warm and soft just like the inner side of his hand.

"Is it a bad thing," repeats Dross. "To want love?" He raises his eyebrows a little. Listening to this speech, he hasn't moved at all. Though people continue to come in and out of the cafe, letting in a blast of cold air each time that the door moves, and to circulate to the accompaniment of the raspy music, stopping to order coffee or a pastry or to check out the books on the information stand. The Darkling watches the police officer's gaze a moment or two longer, then says, "Nothing is before love."

The handsome man takes a deep breath and turns his head to look back at Dross. This time, he offer the other man a smile. And there it is. That glinting again that lasts just a second. It's a real shinning smile."No. It's not a bad thing. Not at all." He then dries his face again with his free hand while the other one is still in contact with Dross'."I'm really sorry for breaking apart like this to a completely stranger. I wasn't planning this. It was just the path the conversation took." He tries to explains himself and he hides behind his paper cup again.

Yes-- that bright spot of reflected sunlight. It catches Dross' attention for a moment, and he says, still just as quietly, "No apology required." His gaze lingers on the officer's blue eyes, and that smile, in spite of the other man's efforts to conceal some of that unexpected emotion with a paper cup. He takes his hand back, then, and starts to put away his things, except for the red mug of coffee still standing on the table.

"By the way, my first name is Adalbert. My stepfather used to say it's an ugly name and used to call me just Bert, though." He murmurs as a quick glance is cast to that leaving hand from his own."And thanks for listening to me, anyways. If there is something I can do in return, just let me know."

"'Adalbert,'" repeats Dross. His accent becomes more pronounced when he says the name, as if testing it somehow; feeling out its origins. He stands and tugs together his coat, his scarf, evidently preparing to venture the cold, but doesn't look away from the police officer. "A fine name," he says, at last, simply and softly. "Until then, Adalbert."

Adalbert nods just once."I hope I didn't scare you away, Mr Dross." The man wonders as he watches Dross gathering his stuff to depart. When he notes it's a unstoppable thing, he too gathers his stuff and stands up recomposing himself."Have a good day, sir." He suddenly changes his voice and his body to get back into the police officer character.

"No," says Dross. "Your story did not frighten me." He puts a hand on Adalbert's shoulder for a moment and presses it lightly; to reassure him of this, perhaps? After that resumption of the police officer's normal stance and tone of voice, there's a brief flash of something like bemusement in the Darkling's eyes. But all he says, at least for now, is, "Good day to you, too." Then he turns and walks quickly away, vanishing through the door.