Log:Watches

Watches
Participants Kat, Max, Tock	26 March, 2017 '
Location
Tock is sitting in a corner booth, eyes closed, an open book in his hands, his wire-rimmed spectacles almost falling off of his nose as his head nods -- he's clearly in danger of falling asleep at the table! After a long day of research, Max is in need of some relaxation and grub. Having taken care of the first part with a bit of smoking, she comes to the cafe to work on the second. Stepping inside, she takes a quick glance around to see who's currently there. Spotting a familiar face, she makes her way over toward the clockwork man. It's easy to notice that he's practically asleep. So, she simply joins him at the booth, moving with a natural quietness. Once she's sitting somewhat near him, she leans over to see what he's reading. Picking up a menu, she sits back and nudges him lightly with it. "You okay there?" she asks with a chuckle. Tock "zzzzzzzzz-snrkrkrkklle" 's lightly, almost to the point of snoring, and then, once he's tapped by the menu, suddenly his head snaps upright and his eyes zoom into focus as he fully regains his wakefulness . . . Why: Max! What a pleasant surprise, to be sure! I've still got your words in my head from before, It's quite good to see you, that much is quite plain, Please sit! And let's have a nice chat once again! Once she starts to hear him rhyming, Max can't help but smile warmly. Whether Tock puts effort into his speech or it comes naturally to him, it's apparent that she finds it amusing and endearing. She wiggles a bit in her seat beside him, keeping some space between them so neither accidentally brushes against the other. "I'm already seated, glad you don't mind the company. How have you been since I last saw you?" she wonders. Though she lets her gaze linger on him momentarily, she glances toward the menu. With her being so close, he can probably notice her eyes are a bit bloodshot and there's a distinct 'herbal' scent to her this particular evening. Tock shrugs a bit and nodnodnodnodnods while lifting his right hand, palm upward, indicating that he's been well, with no complaints, even if life as a semi-retired small-town librarian is not the most exciting or fascinating thing in the world. It's not a bad life, and he's fairly content with it . . . Without constant focus and nary a lull, The day's inane chatter proves toxic and dull! You *must* tell me how your own research is going . . . There's *so* much to learn in this world that bears knowing! It doesn't take Max long to pick out something from the menu. As a waitress passes by, the enchanted mortal gives a small wave to catch her attention. After ordering a burger and fries, she gives a curious glance to Tock. "Did you already eat?" she wonders. Before the waitress can head off, she remembers to order a milkshake too! Then she leans back in her seat, relaxing with a light smile on her lips. "Went to the library earlier, got a good chunk of research done. Usually I get someone to do that part of an investigation for me, but, what I'm looking into is a bit of a special case. Was helped out by a helpful guy, showed me where all the newspapers and whatnot were." Looking over to Tock, she watches him curiously. "You haven't been up to anything exciting yourself, huh? We should change that sometime!" Tock's eyebrows rocker back and forth in an oddly precise syncopated see-saw -like motion as he considers this. 'Hm,' he thinks, considering the idea of a joint research project quite fascinating indeed, it would seem. Belatedly processing the implications of Max's inadvertent perfume, he nods to himself and picks up the menu to peruse it, looking for something to order now that he's in the company of someone with "the munchies" who might well feel more comfortable and more fully at-ease eating her fill if everyone at the table has some food in front of themselves . . . . With all of that brainwork, remember to eat! Just keep up your strength and your search you'll complete . . . A tired and hungry mind often is fooled . . . The brain's a machine that runs best fully fueled! Max chuckles lightly as she listens to him. "Oh don't worry, I always make sure to eat enough to keep me going. The only reason I manage to not get fat is because I like running around every day," she explains, smiling over at him. "With my research, I haven't made too much headway, but, I'm sure that'll change soon enough. Just need to find that first clue to for the jumping off point, you know?" The smile fades just a little but doesn't disappear completely. She shakes her head lightly, taking a glance around. "You working on any particular projects yourself?" she asks as she looks back to him. Tock shrugs and sighs a bit, running down his list of none-too-exciting current work projects: A little of this and a little of that: Mechanical birds to amuse our friend Kat, A flying lawn-Mower for Antiquer's Green, Some bright neon lights for a washing-machine. . . "Mechanical birds?" Max can't help but lean forward in her seat. "Okay you've got to tell me all about this. Will they be able to fly like those little drone things? How long does it take you to make these sort of things?" Although she doesn't mind talking about herself, the mortal shifts the topic of conversation over to the clockwork man. It's apparent that she's fascinated about him. "How do you make a lawn-mower fly?" Tock flips open his fountain pen and sketches on the restaurant's paper placemat, showing Max how the hovercraft's fans can also quite easily double as lawnmower blades for cutting grass, . . . as long as the field is wide and open and flat, of course. He works energetically, quickly, and precisely, and the drawings take shape and add detail under the care of his aged and wizened hands . . . Max and Tock are sitting at a booth together with the former being a bit high at the moment. Pink eyes and a faint but distinctive 'herbal' scent to her this particular evening. Currently she's leaning over, curiously watching the designs that the clockwork Lost is drawing out on a paper placemat. She's silent for a few moments, not wanting to disturb his creative process. However, she eventually speaks up again with that interested and curious voice of hers. "That looks really cool. Do you make these sort of things on commission? What's the coolest thing you've ever invented?" she wonders. Tock finishes up the sketch of the hovercraft lawn-mower with a silent burst of steady concentrated effort, and then looks up to see Kat entering Hazel's Restaurant / Cafe . . . upon which, Tock cheerily waves Kat over, flags down waitstaff so that Kat can get her milk fix, and also passes the completed design over to Max! Arriving on two legs, as is normal for customers of this particular establishment, Kat appears at first peering through the glass of the front door. Once she's sure the coast is clear of... well, whatever, the door is pushed open and the woman slips inside. She approaches the counter to make her order, but is intercepted before she gets quite that far. The woman's shoulders hunch briefly, yet she works up the courage to approach Tock's table when beckoned over, smiling in a nervous fashion as she arrives. "Hey there, whatcha working on?" she wonders by way of greeting, peering over at the sketch as it slides over the table. "Oh. You make watches right? Or fix them? Do you know anywhere I could get, um, a LOT of them? Cheap, hopefully?" Taking the offered paper, Max studies it over rather curiously. Her attention is distracted only momentarily to glance over at Kat. There's a hint of recognition in her bright blue eyes. Though of course she doesn't remember Kat as a pesky cat from the evening before but rather the shy customer who recommended a tuna sandwich to her once previously. A friendly enough smile is offered her way, giving a small nod as a way of greeting. "What do you need a lot of watches for?" she wonders, simply curious. Then she looks back down to the paper with a wide grin. "This is amazing. I wish I was half as clever as you are," she compliments Tock as she hands the paper back over to him. Tock accepts the drawing back from Max graciously, all the while "hmmmHMMMmmhmmmmHmmmmHmmm" 's quietly to himself as he rummages through the pockets of his grey tweed houndstooth jacket, his brown silk-lined waistcoat, his pants-pockets, the pockets of his duster-overcoat and the outer and inner pockets of the satchel he uses to carry his books around. All in all, his efforts turn up eight watches, two of which actually fully and completely work at the current moment. He sorts the watches and various ancillary watch-parts into "operable," "fixable," and "these ones work just fine already" piles for Kat's perusal, and starts working on the "fixable" ones, peering over and under the rims of his spectacles from time to time for better focus . . . Kat blinks once or twice as her odd request is questioned, looking as if she didn't realize she'd quite said it out loud and only now was catching on. "Um." She pauses a few beats, maybe trying to come up with some plausible explanation, before ultimately (and a little lamely) offering: "I just have a bad habit of breaking, or uh, losing them?" It's a strangely specific tendency. Tock's immediate attack on the problem and subsequent search seems to surprise her (which it really shouldn't), as perhaps does the bounty her turns up (which also shouldn't), and she holds up her hands mid way through the sorting. "You don't really need- I mean, don't you need them for anything? Or the parts?" Max eyes Kat curiously for a few moments before giving a small nod to her explanation. "Never look a gift horse in the mouth," she tells Kat when she starts to question Tock. Though, there's a playful smirk on her lips as Max knows she occasionally does such herself. Looking back over to Tock, she smiles curiously at the clockwork man. "How long have you been doing this kind of stuff?" she wonders. Tock grins widely, cheerily shakeshakeshakeshakeshaking his head precisely and emphatically in the negatory with regards to Kat's question of whether or not he needs all of these extra watches . . . and watch-pieces . . . There's -plenty- of watches where these eight were found, In -my- shop they practically litter the ground! You're welcome to those two, they work now just fine . . . Another will work soon, once these parts combine! For fifty-odd years, I have worked with fine clocks, mechanical doodads, and intricate locks. I must say it's been quite a hobby of mine . . . I've loved gadget-toys ever since I was nine! . . . Tock continues, in order to finish answering Max's questions as well, all the while his hands moving quickly, surely, and efficiently over and through the decreasing numbers of watch-parts . . . Between Max's suggestion and Tock's reassurance, Kat is convinced. "Well, if you're sure," she murmurs, tentative still in tone but not in deed, reaching out to claim the working pair and tucking them away in her bag. "I'll take- er, well, I'll put them to good use." She doesn't want to promise that they'll be well treated, because in all likelihood, they will not! But their sacrifices will not be in vain. "His workshop really is impressive," she'll go on to say, perhaps to shift the conversation back to a focus on his hobby rather than her own, strange, tangential clockwork purposes. "Fifty years?" It's apparent by the tone of her voice that Max is impressed. Her eyes are just a bit wide at the answer she's given. A moment later, she offers a warm smile toward the Wizened. "That's absolutely amazing. If I ever get to be as old as you are, I hope I'm as talented with... well, something too. Not everybody finds something like that that they're so talented with. I mean, not everyone is even talented. Most people you meet have skills. Like me! Got plenty of skills, no talent though," she replies with a light chuckle. Then she gives a glance toward Kat. "I've never been to his workshop. I'm sure it's awesome though."