Kip's already situated at a table, mug of coffee in front of him and a plate of pancakes and sausage links newly arrived. He's pouring the syrup on the pancakes, trying to do his best to not end up wearing it. Because this is Kip. He's prone to doing things like that. There's a book on the table in front of him, a bookmark sticking out of it. He does not dogear the pages. That is cruel and unusual punshiment for the books. How would you like it if someone came and bent your parts the wrong way? And so he sits there, fixing his food so he can go back to reading while he eats. Pour, syrup, pour. Aaaaall ovah the pancakes.
It's hard to bend your parts the wrong way when you're double jointed. Like Mina. Mina, who breezes in through the door in a lovely off-white dress and her hair slightly more wild than normal. Last night's eyeliner can become today's smokey eye if you believe in yourself, and that's what she's going for. Hungover? Maybe a little drunk still from god knows how much tequila? All of the above? At least she's not tottering on her wedge heels anymore, as she dances around Basil and into the cafe. "Pancakes," the succuflower muses to the gent accompanying her. "And sausage. Orange juice. Just...god. No more tequila."
Basil was fresh as a goddamned daisy. Always. Perpetually. It's just how the Fairest rolled. His kiths and seeming wouldn't allow so much as a braid being out of sorts and it just fucking happened. Even the parts and pieces of him knew where to be and how to fall to make the day work, because Time is Money and that's how it was. Even reigning in his mien there were motes of light that dazzled and danced in small ticking moments marking the passage of time throughout the cosmos, and Basil? He was keeping pace with Mina wearing a saffron suit, with striking black shirt and complimentary saffron plaid tie that went marvelously with his teak skin. It was a decidedly off-contenant accent that followed, "At least Vermont has decent coffee. That alone is a condolence. What's good here?"
Kip reaches for his coffee to take a drink and pauses, mug in front of his face, eyes on the door. More specifically, eyes on who walks into the door. Mina. And Basil. He looks Basil over intently for a moment and then his eyes go back to Mina. His coffee remains hovering in mid-air where he holds it, unmoving. Maybe if he doesn't move they won't notice him. Of course, the sparkle and zips of faint blue and green lightning around him, though it is dimmed considerably, are still present and zooming about him in an electric aura. His eyes are aglow, one green and one blue. He's not worth looking at. Nothing to see here.
"I've not had anything here that's disagreed with me," is Mina's shining recommendation. "But the pancakes. Seriously. With the maple syrup." She's just starting towards a booth, and it almost seems like Kip will be safe. Maybe Minas, like some dinosaurs, can only see their prey if they move. But then there's a zot of his lightning, and her blue eyes turn towards him. "Oh," is said softly. In that tone that Basil doesn't even have to guess at why it exists. The purse of her lips and sudden rigidity of posture says a novel.
Basil noticed. Did he notice? Was that noticing happening? Was he carefully and meticulously taking his time looking at the breakfast menu and not looking at Kip because he knew he was there? Or was he oblivious to there being anything to look at or a reason? The motivation was inscrutable. Maybe he just wanted breakfast. Day traders just eat pancakes don't they? I mean without some nefarious and carefully crafted plan? Do- do gods do that? But there he was like Anansi Himself amused idly squinting slightly, "Vermont loves its mainstay. Yesterday they put syrup in my coffee. I can't say while it disturbed me that it was unwarranted. Do they do that here?" Eyes, large, and dark, ringed in a faint circle of brass like a filigree clock face regarded just Mina for now.
Anansi Himself would have more legs. Right? And more eyes? Don't spiders have lots of eyes? Kip hasn't noticed. He never looked closely. But just in case Basil has extra eyes by proxy, or maybe just because of Mina's presence, he remains perfectly still for a moment longer. Until he can't any longer. He sloooowly tilts the mug toward his mouth and takes a sip, gulping it down loudly like he's pointedly trying to not make any noise so everything he does must in turn be twenty times louder than usual. He's torn. Does he wave? Does he not wave? Why does Mina have that look on her face? He should offer her coffee. In case she's got that face because she can't poop or something. But girls don't talk about that stuff so he can't ask if that's the problem. So a wave it is. Finger wiggle.
"I'm...not sure if they do. I've always just gotten sugar and cream in mine," Mina offers to Basil. Still looking at Kip. If looks could kill, he'd at least be gasping for air right about now. Something flickers in her eyes, briefly. Hurt? Maybe she stubbed her toe on the way in or something. There's a waggle of fingers towards her, but she doesn't return it. She does, however, aside towards Basil, "Maybe just coffee for me, after all."
Basil was not some tiny groveling bug. He was more, much much more, though he seemed to take this in stride considering the lovely woman across from him and nothing to the left or right of him before looking back to the menu as if it were the paper. In a general aside tone the collected Fairest said simply, "Than we shall see. You should have the pancakes. Or the french toast. Proteins are good right now." Carbs. Pristine. Excellent for hangover remedy. He flipped the page idly to be certain or perhaps to familiarize himself with the menu for later consumption. "Friend or admirer of yours, Mina? Does he know it is terribly rude to lurk?" Awwww shit he knew. The page flipped and there was a nod as if that was decided and the menu folded, and Kip was not the proud recipient of a thousand kelvin smile with all the patience of a planet. But his attention turned back to Mina for the answer.
Awwww shit. He knew. Basil is given a long look and Kip gulps again. Of course he also slurps the coffee before he swallows it down loudly, just to add that extra little bit of volume that he's trying so hard to not have. "Hi Mina," he offers, his voice a papery thin whisper even when he speaks loudly. Like he's so used to speaking in hushed tones that it became his way of talking. He seems a bit in awe of all that is Basil, as one tends to be, and for a moment he almost forgets to stare at Mina. At least he is not asking her or anyone else about the state of their bowels, right?
"The French toast, then, I think," Mina agrees reluctantly. Basil did give such excellent advice, after all. And across from him, she provides Kip with a lovely profile to look at. Jut of chin, swell of chest. But with the other Fairest as her companion, one could almost forgive eyes for straying from her. "That," she supplies to the dashing companion, "Is Kip. I suspect that he's rather good at lurking." The 'unlike he is at other things' is all there in her tone. He gets a side-eye there, before she asks, "Have a good evening, Kip?" How do such sweetly toned words seem so sharp?
Time sat still. No really, for a moment Basil didn't move a muscle taking everything in in calculated fashion. You'd think he was hosting a large gala and was happy to do so by his warmth of tone. He was positively an elemental of hospitality, and his tone could not be more welcoming as he greeted, "Ah! So YOU are the man who has absolutely taken leave of sense, taste, and reason. Mina has told me much about you. Good morning. How is the coffee? Has it been sitting?" Because Kip having coffee would be the expert. It also is to note that some smiles show cheer and some merely show teeth and on the Chatelaine it was impossible to tell which might be which. Mirth was his mainstay and Kip had all his attention.
"I had ice cream," Kips says to Mina. It's not that his voice is chipper exactly, but in comparison to Mina's, it kind of is. Until Basil speaks, then Kip just sort of gawks at him, glancing back to Mina, then back to Basil. "I-- she didn't seem to like my music, but I didn't know she hated it," he mumbles before reaching down to pick the mug back up again as if to judge the contents. So what if his sleeve got dragged in the syrup atop his pancakes as he did it? "I.. it's fresh. I mean it was when-- when uh, she brought it."
When you've been dancing since you could walk, little movements become elegant things. Like the way that Mina lifts a hand to rub at her temple. "Music," she says, dumbfounded, towards Basil. "Does he really think you're talking about music?" Because Basil, he would know.
Basil turned with ever so much patience and eagerness to broker translation, "Mina, I think he does." The dapper man in yellow watched Kip curiously, and politely to see if there was more before noting to him and making a subtle gesture to hione of his own cuffs and winked at Kip as if conveying observation of him saturating his shirt in syrup. "No, no. I was referring to a total lack of etiquette and protocols as paying certain persons regard, shuffling off of hospitality, and taking said gifts forth to bestow them to another with no such clear regard for the feelings of the gift giver. Braaaazen my friend. 'Quite' brazen. Though I cannot critique you too harshly. My own brother is not one to call a woman the day after either. I should say though if you wish to pursue the life of that of a cad you really should let me take you shopping." Dark almond eyes blinked and he was EVER ever ever so helpful in offering truly from the manufactured kindness from the bottom of his heart that has an hourly rate to obtain, "You should let me take you shopping. Spurning such an elegant creature such as this you MUST dress the part or you do her entire narrative, and yours, an utter disservice. There is an art to the breaking of a heart you know." He nodded as if there was a manual and an SAT test for it. See? HELPFUL!
Kip glances down at Basil's motion, though it takes a moment for him to realize that oh hey! He's got syrup on himself. He sets his mug down and grabs for a napkin, but that just leaves white papery residue on the stick parts. Kip is about as smooth as a saw blade some days. "Uh, lack of-- what? Is... this because I let Max read my story first?" He is clearly confused, but he does understand one thing. Shopping. Even though the rest of it, the snaring an elegant creature, seems to go over his head. High over his head. Because he does the worst possible thing and mentions: "There's something wrong with the way I dress? Paige didn't tell me there is. Do I not look alright?"
There's just the faintest of blushes on Mina's pale cheeks as Basil sasskweens towards Kip. Darkening, a touch, at things like not being called the day after and favors bestowed to others come. And then, darker still, when Kip replies. And mentions Paige. But this time, it's not the blush of embarrassment. Not fully, at least. There's that hurt-anger combination that flashes in her eyes, as she looks up towards the clueless Kip once more. And it's sharp. "You are a ...spineless. Heartless. Utter. Bastard, Scott." Ooh. Using the paperwork name, even. And perhaps he's lucky that she hasn't gotten her coffee yet, because the cup that it should be in goes hurling towards his head in the same moment as she's rising to her feet, to storm out.
Basil extended a hand to Mina, offering one to her? No. It had a glass of water in it that the waitress ever so helpfully gives one in case of slights received before coffee. Super helpful. Basil's focus turned singularly on Kip and almost said something but blinked, and just turned to Mina and looked completely boggled, "I'm failing to see where your losses come from. I have nothing." He shook his head and sighed seeing if this was going to mean traveling breakfast or not. For ow this was theirs to sort out. The waitress was about to come over but wore a mild look of trepidation. Basil smiled to her, not unkind, and held a finger up to give them a moment, thank you.
Kip ducks his head. At least his reflexes are quicker than his brain is. "MINA!" He yelps out as he cringes into the ducking motion, his head turning to look at where the mug crashes. He doesn't apologize at first, because of the mug, even though he seems to apologize more than a sappy-drunk Canadian. "What are you talking about? Alright, alright, I'll go shopping!" He looks entirely utterly confused as to why she would be /this/ worked up over his clothing. Other than the fact that it has nothing to do with his clothing... "Whatever you want. If it makes you happy if I dress like him I'll-- I'll do it. Just stop yelling at me! I thought-- you were my friend. What happened?" He holds a hand out, forefinger and thumb out, sort of making a 'Do NOT take that water and throw it at me!' kind of pose. "I'll clean that up for you." The coffee mug shatter, he must mean.
One can almost see how deeply Mina is considering taking that glass of water and throwing it at Kip. Her fingers even twitch towards it, before she just spreads her hand and shakes her head to Basil's offer. "Indeed. It seems that I was very wrong, Basil," she says softly, a little sadly. Before the anger bubbles back up as Kip starts talking about shopping and has the gall to ask what happened. "What happened?," she repeats, all too calmly. Sweetly. But sweet turns to sour in heartbeats as she continues. "What happened. /WHAT HAPPENED/ is that you took me upstairs, let me punch your v-card. Made me think that maybe it meant something, along with the other things we shared. That you LET me do /that/ and then you took someone else on a date instead of calling me or acknowledging me at the shop and....augh!" Now. Now she's really storming out, going through the door.
Basil sipped his coffee calmly oblivious perhaps to the great cacophony of emotion around him, or just soaking every bit of it in. The desire of the waitress to not have a a scene. A desire not to have the dishes broken. The desire of the woman at the window with her son to not let him see emotion at its most raw. The desire of onlookers for this to escalate because in the part of their soul they don't talk about this may be the most exciting moment of their tired, sleepy little month. So...much... immediate want and Basil just drank it with his glass of water, patient and serene. He stood slowly pulling his wallet out and left the waitress a more than healthy tip, and in part to cover the minor damages and leave them in good standing. A fifty for two coffees and one mug was good. He did leave a twenty on Kip's table. The look was completely sympathetic and entirely sincere. "So you can buy a clue with that. Or cover your dry cleaning. Pleasure to meet you, Kip." Goddamn he was pretty when he talked, and so fucking considerate too. What a humanitarian.
"Do you have to tell /everyone/?" Kip yelps at Mina before almost shushing her. Almost. He doesn't get a chance to, however. He's just sort of gawking after her before looking at Basil, then at the door, then at the floor, then at-- oh god everyone is looking. He looks almost sick for a moment before he looks back at Basil. "I-- but-- I didn't ignore... she doesn't want a fuss over her. And she /left/. She... MINA! It was SUPPOSED to be bad! It was my first time!" Everyone already knows so it's not exactly news. His shoulders slump down and inward a little. He looks sad. He looks dorky. "I just wanted to eat pancakes and read a book."
Mina doesn't reply - she's already through the doors, anyways. Poor pretty dancer. Surely some of the other patrons have to be thinking that. Isn't that the ballerina that was in the papers, not all that long ago? From Boston? The one that tried to.... And now? Wait, is she the one that Enid's article spoke of? Poor dear. Whisperwhisper.
Basil paused in his footsteps and didn't move for a moment. He looked all the moment like a beautiful carved teak statue in a sculpted suit created to love that man more than sunlight itself. It was a very good suit, and it was one of the few things he did deign to love dearly. He buttoned the jacket again with care and pivoted on heel speaking softly as if confiding a secret. "Kip, life is supposed to be bad, and beauty in the salvaging of it. A picture found in a shattered glass frame reminding us of something once beautiful that with a frame not rent could be salvaged to bring memory and beauty to life." His eyes that held the far stars of a cosmos fixed on Kip ad for a moment all the mapped stars around Basil seemed to brighten in a moment of intensity, or perhaps it was Kip's heart-rate that was doing that. "Your social deficiencies do not determine the value of the gestures and gifts of another. Shame for presuming she is a woman of no substance just because she is cursed to be beautiful and carry the grace of poetry in her heart. How it is presumed that such a gift shared is yours to dismiss simply bewilders me... and I do taxes for people. I've seen some strange things and odd habits." Hot damn was he a Spring or a Sun? Whatever it was he wasn't wrong per se. The error in perception was made and somewhere in their union of two bodies communication had failed them. Unlike the Scotch. The Scotch seemed to come out of this winning. There was a warm smile taking none of this personally to himself, at least not enough to allow someone else to make him perceivable rude or ungracious, and he left Kip with a polite nod, "The day to you.' With that he turned and exited.
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