Coffee Clatch

Jamileh steps into the diner, the door closing behind her with a soft thump.

The BMW is parked outside, a lucky nearby parking space, before Jamileh arrives, doffing her sunglasses as she looks around for a familiar face. The familiar face, really.

Johny is sitting in the quiet corner. Vera has provided him a caraff of coffee, and he's sipping it from a cup. He nods to Jam, offering a tip of a hand to her, beckoning her over. Out front, its likely impossible to define what vehicle he drove; because it was stolen. Some Americar.

"Hi," says the olive-skinned woman as she slips into the other chair at the table. "Are we eating? I hope so."

Johny nods to the woman. "Vera'll be back in a few minutes." He says, setting the coffee down with a slight clink on the saucer. "So." He says then. "Whats on your mind?" He asks, his gaze boring in to the other woman like a drillbit. Over here, in the corner, Vera knows to leave Johny and his company alone in terms of other diners, and will give him some space.

She starts to approach to take an order.

"G'day," Jamileh greets Vera. "Ah…I'd like a stack of flappers, an order of rashers, two googs dry scrambled and orange juice, please."

The black woman stares at Jam for a long moment before Johny interjects…

"Pancakes, hash brouns, eggs scrambled till dry and orange juice."

She glances to Johny, then to Jam… then to Johny… then Jam…

"Well why didn't she says so, sugah?"

"She did. Just in Aussie."

Jamileh coughs. "And mystery ba…sausage. Please." She smiles wanly at Johny. "You people."

Johny simply quirks a brow. Vera, for her part, makes a note, then moves off.

"It's like I don't speak English," pouts the Australian woman. "I do."

"You speak Australian English. You should meet Lilith. She's cockney."

Jamileh rolls her eyes, laughing. "The founders of my homeland, that lot." Under the table? Her sandaled foot happens to, by accident honest, move against Johny's ankle.

Johny doesn't shy from the touch, as he picks up his coffee cup. "So then." He says, looking back to her. Light, reflecting off the windshield of a passing truck, rebounds off his features just as he gives a look to her; casting his lips in shadow and his eyes in light.

Quieting her voice, Jamileh remarks, "Those two sheilas are very protective of you. You have good friends there."

Johny nods slowly. "Loyalty earned, more than loyalty given, moves mountains." He says, settling back. "They approve, in principle, so far. That says a lot."

"And they're not suspicious, yeah. I even volunteered to let one, you know, rattle around in my head but they declined." Shrugging, Jamileh continues, "I'm going to be working more closely with them to learn the ropes faster."

Johny nods slowly. "I was very clear when I spoke to them that no uninvited probes were to be made." He shrugs then. "The sanctity of thought…" He smiles. "It's very important to me."

Jamileh's foot makes contact under the table again, gently. "I can just imagine. Well…they seemed to appreciate the offer alone. They're good people."

Johny nods, moving to fill a cup for the woman. "The best. Like daughters to me." He says, filling it now and sliding the cream and sugar her way. "So. 18 hours later. I'm interested in your thoughts."

Jamileh puts both milk and sugar in her coffee, not much of either really, and as she stirs the spoon rattles a bit more than it should. "I'm still scared…but I'm committed."


"Why…oh, why am I scared?"

Johny shakes his head, sipping the coffee.

Jamileh's head tilts, and she takes a gulp of coffee. Oh. "Why am I…committed?"

Johny nods. Sometimes, brevity is the soul of wit.

More coffee. Sip, sip, sip. Delay, delay, delay. "Because," she allows thinly once the pause becomes too pregnant, "turning tail and leaving is out of the question."

He delays himself, as Vera brings food, two plates as ordered by Jam, one for her, one for Johny. He takes the plate and picks up his fork, starting to tuck in. He looks at her after a long moment. "I don't like that. I don't like that you see it as some kind of -challenge- that you're a lesser person from walking away from. That, is a bad perspective on which to start an interpersonal relationship, Jamileh."

Jamileh has just doused her eggs with pepper when he speaks, and she stops blackening the poor food, putting down the shaker to murmur, "That's not at all what I meant, love. I meant … bugger. I meant I'd rather be with you than not."

He shovels a mouthful of eggs in to his face, chewing thoughtfully before setting his fork down to look at her. "You realize, I'm not -offering- you anything more than my friendship right now, while I am open to more as we progress. I am -not- looking to get married and have kids again. I'm not going to settle down, I'm not going to always be able to tell you what I'm doing, either for operational security, or because what I am doing would absolutely horrify you."

Silence meets that comment as Jamileh tucks into her own food, starting with the eggs, which are eaten in full before anything else is even touched. Then she begins to butter her pancakes, keeping her gaze distracted. But yes, she does nod once to what Johny said.

Johny now gets a bit of sausage, tearing it in half with the fork, then skewering one of the halves. "I don't keep normal hours. I've had my share of children. I've had my share of wives. Companionship, is a rare thing and I would not shirk from that. I want to be -utterly- clear withyou from the outset so that you don't hang on to me, hoping I'll turn in to Prince Charming and settle down in 5-10 years, with a big house in the hills and a corporate job."

Another nod, a liberal application of syrup on the pancakes, then those, along with some sausage, are introduced to her knife and fork. She seems to be letting him speak now.

Johny sips his coffee now, clearing the palette. "In your association with me, you are going to see, do and experience great things. Scary things, pleasant things, horrifying things and things that will shake your faith."

Jamileh's hazel eyes lift to fix their stare on Johny, but she keeps chewing. Here's another in her series of nods to indicate she is attentive.

Johny folds his hands together. "And now the hardest part. Above and beyond everything else I've told you, Jamileh."

The eating pauses, coffee enjoyed, gaze remaining on the man opposite.

"You're going to get old. Slow down. Die." A pause. "I won't."

Jamileh doesn't move, doesn't blink, doesn't react. Other than, yes, yet another nod. Then she looks away and fiddles with her napkin.

Johny is content to let her go at that. To sip his coffee and eat his meal. If she has questions, she's a big girl; he's not holding her metaphorical hand and how she responds is an important indicator.

Jamileh finishes more of her meal, polishes off the first cup of coffee, then clears her throat and begins to speak. "I got the idea that you're not going to age. I also get the idea you're not immortal, since you made that comment about a bus. Though I don't mind the idea. No one wants someone she cares about dying. Too many other things for me to consider. As for the rest…." She reaches for the coffee to refill her cup, letting that dangle a moment.

Johny moves immediately, pouring hot, fresh soycaff from the ewer.

"Thank you," she says quietly, fixing it as before, with a little milk and sugar. "I don't doubt that everything else you said is true, about what I'll see and all, but Johny….strewth…the rest of that…you don't bloody know me at all, do you?"

"How can I?" He asks, stating the obvious. "We've known each other 98 hours. Maybe a little more. We've kissed twice and I know the barest hints of your background because I have withheld myself from doing a full background investigation. I know you're 22, based on the data you've supplied, which conflicts with your stated age of 23. I know, other than that, precious little about you. I have had a very one sided discussion with you so far; I admit that, and for that, I am sorry. However, I felt, given the anger and betrayal you felt at Hugh for his actions… you deserved full disclosure."

Jamileh wipes her mouth, putting down her napkin and leaning forward to explain, "I was angry because he didn't tell me about all of that rot when he seduced me. I was angrier with myself. I still am. Johny…you don't have to prove to me you're not Hugh. I know that. But what you should know is that I'm not the marrying kind, I sure as bloody hell don't want any ankle biters, and I … all of this started because I wanted to sleep with you. I still do."

Johny nods slowly. "I am getting this out of the way first, so that if we do decide to have some fun? It's good fun with no one getting hurt."

"I won't fib. I'm smitten as hell with you, and I'm taking frequent cold showers," she says dryly, "but I have my pride, mate. I won't chase you all over. You're bloody fascinating, and yesterday told me why. In part. But there are a bloody lot of conditions you've set up, and me? I…just like kissing you."

Which earns a smile from her. Her food seems to have been forgotten; she only has eyes for Johny. "You said I shouldn't worry that you'll think me a gold digger. Well…you shouldn't worry that I might be, either. Honest to heaven, Johny, I don't have any designs on you beyond getting busy with you under the sheets one day, and by the way, thanks much for that little exchange with Alandriel earlier. Put pictures in my head I didn't bloody need."

Johny smiles quietly. "I'm actually quite average in that regard, miss, nothing to be scared of."

"I'm not afraid, Johny," laughs Jamileh, her chuckling carrying on for a while. "I'm bloody -curious-."

Johny grins, leaning back in the booth with a smile that lights his face in a way most unlike the way the truck did. "Well. Good things come to those who wait. Ever made love to a man who's 60 years old?" He says with a sly grin. "40 years of learning what pleases a woman… and then shove that in to a body like mine. It's something I've been wanting to try out."

Color leaps into Jamileh's features, her mouth opens and then closes so fast that her teeth click together, and under the table? She gives him a good kick in the shin. "You bloody tease."

Johny quirks a brow, running a finger around the rim of his cup. "Oh come now. I'm many things, but a tease is not one of them. I always do what I promise." He flicks his eyes to the door as someone comes in, then back to Jamileh. "I just don't do it soon, or now. But like the Mail. I always deliver."

"Well, I should tell you, in the spirit of disclosure, Hugh's the only man I've been with." Leaning forward, she adds in a whisper, "He said I was a natural…and my body? Very, very bendy and supple."

Johny smirks quietly, simply bending his fingers back over his knuckles without a wince of pain or strain of tendons. "I know."

Johny nods. "On top of that?" He says with a grin…

Johny says in Latin, "I speak fluent latin.""

Jamileh says in Farsi, "* * * * * * * * * * * * * *"

Johny comments simply… "I do not speak persian."

"Most people not of Persian - Iranian - descent don't," she sighs, "and I don't speak whatever that was you spoke in. You know, at some point…this tension between us might get irritating."

Johny chuckles… "I spoke in Latin. I said; I speak fluent latin." He chuckles then. "I was in Tehran, well, its ruins, not long ago. Odd that."

Jamileh's smile fades to nothingness. "It was a beautiful city. My grandparents told stories about it. All that history…"

Johny nods slowly to that, raising his coffee cup. "To home cities destroyed by the coming of magic, and our woeful inability to master it. To preventing that, going forward."

She raises her cup as well, taking a deep drink before sitting back, her foot resting comfortably against his own. "You going to have more work for me sometime soon then?"

Johny settles in to place with her own. "Yes. How do you feel about dragons?" He asks curiously, an eyebrow lofting.

Jamileh blinks. "Uhm…I don't care to have one pissed at me?"

Johny nods quietly. "In the next few weeks, I'll be showing you what I really do for a living. We'll see if your up to it. It's a challenge on a whole other level, kiddo."

"Right then. Um…oh…d'you know a guy named Frost?"

Johny nods. "Met him once or twice. Never anything in detail." He says, sitting forward, letting one hand slide forward to touch her hand. In some was, he's very much a teenager; very touchy, but trying to play it 'cool'.

She notices, and it's amusing. To her credit, she doesn't do much more than smile with her eyes. Her foot does press a little more against his ankle. "I think he's going to ask me out for supper sometime. Mind if I go? Figured it might be beneficial."

Johny nods. "Go for it." He says with a slight smile, one thumb sliding across the webbing between her thumb and fore finger. "I like you, Jam. I don't own you… nor do I want to put a collar on you or write my name on your ass."

"I like you too, Johny," answers Jamileh faintly, "and you're too bloody right you don't own me. But remember what I said about burgers and filet. Girl doesn't want a tuber when her body's craving something meatier.

Johny squeezes her hand then. "You're cute." He says, reaching for his fork wiht the other hand. He displays, in that moments, the hallmarks of ambidexterity.

Jamileh, snorting, replies, "Cute. Which means I'm too skinny to be pretty," with a good twinkle to her eye. "Oi, speaking of…I dunno about going to this party without you. Me walking about in nothing but some bits of paint?"

Johny exhales, thinking that over, letting his eyes close… "I can go with you, if you really like… but it's not my scene. But, for you… I will."

- Scene truncated -

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