(2018-12-22) Edibles, Wine and Gingerbread Men
Kate finds August in her home and they get along famously.

The fire's going, and was going when August wandered in from outside. She has removed a long hand-knit grey scarf, made of some kind of soft wool blend. An astute eye might recognize the warm grey color achieved with floral hibiscus dye and an iron after bath. That's folded very neatly on the nearby leather table, where she's also laid out a Korean-style coat with a cowl hood. She is perched in one of the little footstools near the fire, sitting with her legs crossed, hands resting on her knees, just close enough that the side of her body facing the hearth is lightly quite toasty.

August wears a slinky grey tank top and a pair of hip hugging jeans, low rise. Her shoes are grey stiletto heels frosted with some silver sparkles at the toe, thin shank heels easily five inches tall. Her tattoos are on full display, most of her chest, shoulders, arms, and hands inked in intricate black and grey. She's staring into the flames, pale grey eyes reflecting the firelight while she zones out.


The sound of someone coming down the stairs can be heard before Katherine is seen. She walks in from the entryway, surprised to see someone sitting in front of the fire. She's wearing a wine-hued loose knit sweater over a long boyfriend button-down shirt. Her legs are sheathed in jean leggings, but the best part of this outfit? The bunny rabbit slippers on her feet, complete with floppy ears. She tries not to make much noise as she drifts into the great room, not wanting to startle August. She clears her throat softly, wiggling her fingers toward the woman if she is noticed. "Good evening. Are you comfortable? If you want I can get you something to drink or nibble on." She murmurs, gesturing in the general direction of the kitchen.


It takes August perhaps a few more beats than it might otherwise to tune out of the fire and realize someone's in the room with her. The footsteps incoming are certainly a clue. She releases her laced fingers from her knee, and turns a little to look over at Katherine. "Oh, sorry. I'm sorry. I just was on my way, um," she swallows. "Through and I saw the sign, and then the fire, and it's really lovely here."

Eventually Aug's eyes skim down Kate's look to find her slippers. And that's when her sort of dazed expression shifts and she smiles. Her lipstick may be matte black, her body heavily tattooed, and her eyeliner heavy, but that smile is definitely friendly. And amused. "I love your slippers. And, thank you for asking." She seems a bit taken aback to be welcomed so after sort of dropping right into the middle of someone's house, even if it IS a B&B. "Oh, I… do you have any cookies?"


"You don't have to apologize, people drift in and out of here quite often." The smile that is aimed her way is returned brilliantly as Katherine moves closer to show off the slippers on her feet. "The ears flop when I walk, they're probably my most favorite things ever." She props her hands on her hips. "Thank you for the compliment, and yes, I actually do have cookies." She glances toward the kitchen as she considers. "We have… gingerbread men for the holidays, some of them are wearing chocolate chaps. I also have my stash of snickerdoodle edibles, and..some cherry cordial chocolate thumbprints." She tilts her head, adding. "Would you like milk, or..depending on the cookie, I suppose wine would work too."


"All right." August's words are soft, a little roughened on the edges by some hours of disuse. Her vowels are long, though the accent may be hard to place. Floridians have a range of accents, and hers is locked kind of in the middle, smattered with some other things from a whole heap of traveling. She glances down at the slippers again. "They're definitely the cutest pair I've seen."

Aug rises, reaching up to touch the mass of her hair that's been pulled up into a loose knot atop her head, likely a dozen or so pins keeping it in place. The ombre is dark grey to light, all mixed up with her curls atop her head like that. A pair of black-framed glasses are tucked in, like she put them there and forgot them atop her head. "I would love a gingerbread cookie. I bought some body lotion that smells of it, but I don't cook myself, and haven't had one in years." She rises to accompany Katherine into the kitchen, rubbing her arms as she leaves the circle of the circle of the fire's warmth. "Maybe a little red wine if you have it." Milk would be the more traditional choice, but…


"C'mon in to the kitchen. I have a 2015 Coppola Claret that is to die for." Katherine makes her way into the kitchen, her feet making shuffling sounds as she scoots ahead. "I cook all the time, in fact, there are leftovers from dinner out here too. I made fried chicken and mashed potatoes today." She glances back to make sure August is following, her eyes drifting down to the ink on her body. "Who did your work?" She asks, stepping behind the counter to open a big cookie jar. She reaches in and pulls out two gingerbread men. They've been stamped with a skeleton press after they were cut, and the bones are iced in white. They're wearing chaps and one has M&M eyes. "One of my boarders helped me make these, I'm surprised they're not covered in glitter, honestly." She pulls out plates and flutes, setting them down on the counter.

She pulls out a corkscrew, deftly twisting the cork from the wine with a pop. She pours half a glass in both flutes, pulling hers closer to her. "Oh..Jesus.. I'm so sorry." She holds out a hand toward August and grins. "I'm Kate Stone. I own and run this place."


August follows Calaveras' hostess with the mostess into the B&B kitchen, her fingertips slipping down into her back pockets. She leaves them there and takes a casual lean against one of the counters, weight resting on one hip. With those shoes on, she's about 6'4". Tall without them, a little ridiculously tall with them. "Now you're speaking my language." She smiles a bit wider at the mention of the Claret. Her shoes report sharply on any surface harder than a carpet. She's light on her feet though. Still, those bunny slippers garner some serious envy.

"Oh," she glances down at her left arm, and the sleeve running down it. "Friends all over the world, but some of this arm is mine." She waggles her little left wing a little. "I wouldn't recommend tattooin' yourself, though. It gets dicey in places." Aug's eyes follow Katherine's hand to the cookie jar. "Skeletal gingers. I love it." The laugh that follows is genuine and throaty, like maybe she didn't expect a little halloween-y touch this time of year. "Edible glitter is all the rage. They're dead cute." Ha ha, yes she did. Went right for that pun.

August's brows come up when Katherine apologizes, but then it's clear why. She shakes her head, as if to say no, no worries. "August Lexington. Most people call me Auggie." She takes Kate's hand in her own, grip warm, shake lingering just a little. "It's my genuine pleasure, Kate. Thank you for a little oasis tonight." The tips of her long, pointed nails touch the inside of the other woman's wrist only briefly. They're not sharp, though they do look it. Her nails are black, like her lips, though they're tipped in little diamonds in a snowflake pattern for Christmas.


"Ben was supposed to touch up the tattoo on my back, it needs a tiny bit more work, but he's been busy. I keep meaning to call, or stop down at the Tatter but.." Katherine trails off, shrugging before she giggles at the cookies. "I got this one year from a gift shop around here, and I use it every Christmas. I love the little bones." She relaxes as August introduces herself. "The pleasure is mine, August. I'll call you Auggie, that's an amazing nickname." She glances toward the great room, a thoughtful look on her face. "It's no problem, it's my oasis too. I sit in there and knit for hours at a time like a little old woman and it calms me down so much." She picks up the flute, and sips at her wine. "Your nails are lovely! Did you get those done in town? I feel like a schlub over here compared to you. I can't remember the last time I got a salon haircut or my nails done."


"Ben's always working, or, you know I'm not really sure, but he might be outta town until after the holidays." August thinks for a moment, then doesn't seem to come up with a solid answer. She lifts one shoulder in a little shrug. "If you wanna come in, I can do it. Least I can do. I don't think he'll mind." She pauses, then clarifies, "I work there. Contract's almost up for my guest spot, but I'm thinking I might ask for a re-up."

"You are most welcome to call me Auggie if you like. And can change your mind later if it suits. Thanks, oh, the nickname—drunk biker gave it to me when I was sixteen." She says that fondly, with a little smile on her lips. "You knit? I just started! I'm really not great at anything but scarves." She says that in a way that suggests many a skein of natural fibers have died horrible deaths at her hands. "I can't even do socks. I do hobo socks. Everybody's toe is sticking out the top. It's very sad." It really is.

Aug holds up her hand and shows off her nails. "These I had done before I came to town, but I maintain 'em myself if I can't find a salon. It's not to hard to do, just takes patience and some minor tools. You can buy 'em pre-shaped online and just use better glue. You want some, I could help you with that. I spent a really ridiculous amount of time getting ready in the morning and I am late to everything."


"Oh, you are an artist too?" Katherine perks up, turning around for a moment as if she can see her own back, which makes her laugh. Swear, she hasn't been in her snickerdoodles. "I will come in, I don't have a lot of time during the holiday, but it just needs some color. It's a flower done in water colors." She points at a basket sitting on one side of the arch leading into the great room. Rainbow skeins of yarn are piled in it. "I love knitting, it's so relaxing. I knit with my hands and with needles. The hand knitting is mostly for the larger yarns, I make big blankets that I put in the rooms I let out." She scoots herself onto a stool and crosses her legs. She leans in, gazing at the nails, reaching out to gently touch her hand so she can get a better look. "I don't know if it's a great idea, I batter my hands with all the cooking and cleaning that I need to do on a daily basis. These would look so nice for the morning show though." She wrinkles her nose, giggling softly. "Do you know, they spend almost a half hour every morning getting me ready for television. So much make up, so many curlers." She rolls her eyes, breaking off one of the legs of her cookie.


"Yes, I did a six-week guest spot in one of the chairs that they haven't filled up there." August leaves one hand up for Kate's perusal, though she resumes her lean. "You know, I think maybe I saw that one in Ben's portfolio. Is it on Insta?" She glances up for a moment, clearly paging through her visual memory. Could take a minute. There's a lot up there in her brain tonight. "Yeah, um… black line work and a watercolor splash behind, done down the spine yeah, about…" Aug holds up her hands, "This tall? That's a sexy piece."

"On second thought, maybe I will take one of those snickerdoodles too." Apparently it finally caught up to her what Kate said earlier. "It does take a little getting used to, having claws for nails." On her left hand is a tattoo os the lazy S shape of a thorny rose stem and foliage caging in a blackbird. She's tattooed to her knuckles. Her skin is flushed a little pink across the meat of her thumb and back of her hand, like she had a recent minor run in with some hot coffee or something spilled across it. "You would definitely end up spending a lot of time cleaning dough and things out from under your nails. It's a thing." She shakes her head. "I did a couple videos once for a Youtube channel. You wouldn't believe what they did to me after I came in like this all made up. How much powder can one face handle? Wait, okay. You do the morning show, don't you? I caught it once when my host turned on his tv on the way to his shower one morning. Did you know ACDC isn't an amazing way to wake up to when you went to bed at three. Just say no to well intentioned coworkers." She reaches for her glass of wine, picking it up by that delicate stem to sip that before she goes for her cookie. There's a long moment of savoring the taste, then, "Wow. Yum."


"Yeah, he made me pose for a picture, I wore this lace accented open back blouse." Katherine's cheeks get pink, getting to her feet to open a small floral cookie jar next to the coffee pot. She fishes out a snickerdoodle, holding it out for August. "I have an assistant named Charlotte, and since I started Wake Up, Calaveras she's really jumped in and does a lot of the more grody daily chores around here for me. If it wasn't for her, I would probably be a puddle at the end of any given day." She retakes her seat, picking up her wine to take another sip.

"Television always seemed like it would be so much fun, once you get into it you recognize it for the slog that anything else is. I'm lucky though, my boss and I went to school together so she takes good care of me." She props her elbow on the counter, nibbling on her gingerbread leg. "I'm apparently getting a new co-host next year. We'll see who she got." She perks up when August seems to like the wine. "A friend of mine turned me on to this claret, I usually drink whites. With as much italian food as I cook, you'd think I'd be more into the dark reds." She makes a noise, giggling before she takes another sip from her glass, setting it aside after. "I'm one of those women who doesn't use a lot of make up, so I feel like I look completely different from the show. It's actually a tiny bit embarrassing. I feel like a doll."


Aug reaches for her gingerbread skellie-cowboy and picks off an eye first. The candy is popped into her mouth before she goes ahead back with that clawed hand to rip his little head off. Poor ginger-skellie-cowboy. She bites into the cookie and waits until she's chewed and swallowed to render a verdict. "So good." Not saying that Auggie's nickname should be Cookie Monster, but maybe it could be. Her sweet tooth is on point. She finishes the ginger-cranium in a couple of bites.

She goes glance back at the basket of yarn again. Thoughtfully quiet for a moment. "You have a warm house, and that you do so many things by hand here is surprising and very sweet. I'm glad I met you, Kate." That may seem a tiny bit out of nowhere, but August is a southern girl, and sometimes these things happen. Her pale-grey eyes crinkle with that smile, and she takes another sip of wine.

Aug reaches over while she drinks to take the snickerdoodle. She raises it in a salute and tastes that. The yum is implied. She takes another bite almost immediately. "All this has to require some help. Glad you have it. I love to see small business thrive, especially in a community as small as this one seems to be." She's still fairly new here, so what she knows is purely from her own observation as an outside. "I just met a culinary student who assures me he can make a mean cannoli. If he ponies up, I'll bring some by one night. I love… well. Ok, food. All food. And I don't cook." Really does not cook. "I do admire it in others." Down goes the last bite of snickerdoodle. "You should see me without makeup. You wouldn't recognize me." If not for the ink, she means.


Katherine watches the poor skeleton in chaps get dismantled and eaten, tis the season, so he had it coming. "Well, we didn't have a lot of money growing up, not at first. My mom did a lot of knitting and taught us how to do it too. Socks, hats, scarves and sweaters kept us warm in the winter, which is pretty essential around here." Her eyes settle on the basket for a few moments before she turns to grin at August. "I was never really sure if this place would work, when I first started pulling things together I think that townsfolk sent people here because they knew my circumstances. Now people come, and come back, because they hear about me from people who have seen what I've done here. It's overwhelming sometimes, and I'm so lucky that people had my back after the accident."

"Come by anytime, honestly, I usually have a fire going and I cook three big meals a day. I love having company. I love feeding people." She gazes down at her hands, playing with her cookie more than eating it. "I can honestly say that I've met the best people just by accident, and then I invite them home. Can't do that in a big city, but it tends to work here."

She gives August a direct look, gazing at her face for a few minutes before she nods. "I envy you for that, the not recognizing thing? If I could do that with make up? It's almost like making myself disappear, and if I'm being honest, I'm kind of …awkward? Being someone else might be more fun sometimes."


August goes back to work on the gingerbread, interspersing with sips of red. Ginger-cookie-wine seems to be agreeing with her, because she relaxes into her stance, one hip canted out. "My mama taught me most of what I know about drawing." She smiles a bit, though it's a soft one. "I actually started knitting before I came here, because I figured if I'm gonna need some arm warmers, I better do them myself. Didn't go so well, but I'm still trying. Plus, it's excellent for manual dexterity, and I have to keep my fingers limber."

"I think it's safe to say your hospitality keeps them coming back, Kate. And as long as you run this place, you will have guests. It's so rare to come across somebody who can invite you in, offer you a bite, a drink, a friendly ear, and not want somethin' out of it, you know? Somebody just … warm." She glances away, blinking. "Shoot. I'm really sorry. Wine's going right to my head." She reaches up to dab under her lash line with the edge of her finger, then clears her throat. "Solstice energy, I guess. The nights are long here."

She clears her throat again. "Um. The makeup. You can. Just might take a wig. Your hair and eyes are pretty memorable. Contacts, good quality, long blonde wig, change your contours. If you really want to find out what you can look like times ten, bring home a drag queen. That's how I learned to do my eyebrows so sharp." She touches the counter between them. "You can be anything you want, you know. Expectations are things for other people."


"The more you do it, the better you get. I remember when I first started knitting, my youngest sister would get my scarves and she'd hide them at school or try to give them away." Katherine snorts a soft laugh at the memory, letting out a drawn out breath. "It took me about eight years to get to where I am now. I sell a lot of my blankets, throws and scarves. People like the 'quaint little things' they find here." She winks at August, uncrossing her long legs as she gets to her feet, moving toward the coffee pot. She starts a pot, getting the components together for the machine with quick efficiency.

Her cheeks get pink as August speaks now, aiming a smile toward her as she quietly replies. "I really do like the company. I don't really think about what I'm doing, I just gravitate toward people, and before I know it, I kind of drag them into my personal bubble. I honestly should be more careful about that, but I can't really help it." She pops a piece of gingerbread cookie into her mouth, looking thoughtful. "I got a date recently doing that."

"A wig?" She pulls a strand of dark hair away from her, curling it around her finger. "Maybe…one day soon you can show me some of this contouring business, help me figure out how to do a smoky eye." She looks abashed for a moment, grimacing. "I don't even know what I need all of this for, half the time when people see me, they come in here and I'm in sweats and a tank top trying to figure out what the hell I'm supposed to be doing at any particular time."


"I guess there's hope for me yet." August murmurs, her fingertips grazing over the counter. "I do get a bit better day by day. I'm keeping at it. Dropped stitches make me crazy. I think I need to try larger needles. Maybe wooden ones. I get even slightly distracted and the metal ones hit the floor before I realize I've dropped one. Which leads to a blue streak that is really unprofessional.

"You do? Do you think, well, I wanted to make a big blanket. If I bring you some handspun, you think maybe I could commission a blanket from you? If you have time after the holidays."

She laughs and picks up her wine glass. "I too have accidentally crossed the line a few times." She gestures with the glass. "And… not so accidentally more'n a few times." She can't help but press her lips together at that. Hm. "And in my job, you touch people, talk to people all day long. They confide, you listen. It's intimate. A lot of people aren't used to that, and maybe it hits 'em different. Or maybe it hits them just right. Dates are good. Dates keep the blood moving. Dates are… all the things right with possibility. I love dating."

"A wig, yeah, a good one. They're expensive, but when they're good, they look real, if you wear 'em right. I have a couple, but not here. Most of my stuff's in storage out of state. There's a great youtube channel for learning to wear them." There's a great youtube channel for just about everything. "Girl, smokey eye." August nods. "I got you. Those eyes of yours? A little liner, a little color, you will make that date of yours beg." She finishes her wine. "If that's what you're into."


"You should get some of the really big yarn, use your hands as needles." Katherine suggests, pulling a phone from her back pocket. She pulls up a picture and turns it around to show August. "Depending on how tight your weave is, you end up with something that can be comfy and heavy. I love those weighted blankets to sleep with, and these remind me of those." She nods, picking up her glass to drink from it. "I absolutely could make you a big blanket, it doesn't take me long anymore."

"I hate dating." She confides quietly, moving back around the counter to sit while the coffee brews. "I always say the wrong things, I either go too far or I'm too withdrawn. I have no idea how to relate to men most of the time." She looks thoughtful, gazing at her cookie before she takes a bite. "This last date was amazing though. Probably the best I've had." She gazes over at the other woman, laughing softly. "Your job sounds pretty amazing, you get to create art, and meet people. All of that color, all of those shapes. Honestly, just talking about it makes me want to get another tattoo. When I first showed up at the Tatter, Ben told me I wouldn't be able to stop at one. He was so right."

She stares at August as she tries to make sense of the talk of wigs, make up and boys. "Between you and I? I don't think I've ever made anyone beg for anything in my life. I'm all too willing to just give things to people. I do want to take someones breath away. I don't know why, either. I've never really been much about my appearance, but lately I want to …dazzle someone."


"I saw that, I think on Pinterest or something. The fat ones with roving, right?" August nods along, eyes brightening a bit as she checks out the phone. "Yeah, with the arms all in. I did see that." She nods, "Yes, exactly that. Well, not exactly. I prefer shades of grey. But that. Yes." Obviously she prefers greys. She's got a palette going and knows better than to mess with it. "Or a beautiful, snowy white."

"Kate." August leans in a bit. "Let me let you in on a little secret. Men love women. Women love women. You know, you're hot. Whatever." She lifts a hand, "You can say the shit you want to say, be awkward, and you'll still be hot. And sweet. And giving." August leans in to touch the other woman's arm. "Please. Do not ever let anyone make you feel weird about being weird. You're lovely." She slips back, hand returning to the counter. "Really. I know. Until you find that person who makes you feel that way, make out with the rest and enjoy dinner." She maybe miiiight be feeling the cookies. Well, the one cookie in particular. "Ben's right. It's a thing." It's a thing says the woman who looks like she's nearly completely covered, save most of her face. "Not all men beg with their mouths." August murmurs. "Oh, that wasn't meant to be dirty. I meant with their eyes." She grins.


"I can make you something like that, what about a nice ombre in shades of gray that fade into that snowy white?" Kate can almost picture the blanket and it's not even made yet. She pulls her notebook close to her, jotting down a few words in her shorthand, looking thoughtful before she writes down a few more things. She turns when August says her name, blinking a few times when she starts to speak. "Hot? No." She laughs for a moment, but the touch to her arm makes her sigh, and smile. "You're very sweet, Auggie. I'll try not to let people get to me, but I can't promise it, mostly because I'm far too sensitive for my own good." She slips to her feet, watching the other woman as she walks around the counter to grab the wine bottle. She pours more in both glasses, setting it down after. "Maybe the next one will be on my leg, or my side. I don't know. Somewhere I can hide it, because every time I tell Heather I got a tattoo, she has a mini panic attack while she tries to figure out how to hide it for television." Kate's eyes twinkle at that, sticking out her tongue for a brief moment.

"I think you meant it to be a little dirty, and dirty is okay." She laughs, pouring some coffee into a short mug. She sets it next to her wine and moves back around the counter to sit on the stool next to August. They're eating gingerbread cookies, drinking wine (and Kate is double fisting with coffee), while they talk quietly.


Aug leans against the counter in a pair of her usual ridiculous stilettos. She's talking to Katherine. Her coat and long scarf are out in the great room, folded over the leather table there, right by the fire. She's wearing a slinky tank top, low-rise jeans, basically her work uniform, only she's clearly not at work tonight. Her hair is pulled up, even the specs she wears when tattooing are in her hair. She's just finished a glass of red, and is working on the last chap-wearing leg of a gingerbread-skellie-cowboy cookie.

"That would be perfect. I'd love it." She's talking to Kate about crafty commissions, it seems. "Yes, hot. You know, I'll show you later." She shakes her head. She doesn't mean today. She means when the eyeliner comes out at some point.

She falls silent for a moment, then looks up when Kate says something about letting people get to her. The tattooer tips her head. "All you can do is try, you know? All you can do." There's a smile when her wine's topped up. "Thank you for the freshen." She lifts her glass. Sips. Then smirks a little bit at the Heather thing. Impish is her heart. "If Ben's not around, and you'd like to try a new artist, my portfolio's linked off the shop's. I do black and grey and color, both."

She laughs again, busted. "You're right. I did mean it to be a little bit dirty." She laughs again. "So busted."


There was a racket at the back door of the house. Not a lot, but just enough to announce that someone was there. A flash of grey. It was a bird… A plane…it was XAVIER

No, not it was not. Anthony Malone wrestled himself in through the house with a series of "Shaddup, go ta' sleep ya' lil' demon" and other choice verbiage to try and shut the goat up as it bleated at his very presence.

Stepping in through the door, he made his way down the hallway. He heard the clink of people in the Kitchen and he sighed, this wouldn't be awkard or anything, he just needed to get some coffee and get out. He rounded the corner and… stopped. Dead in his tracks. Pale green eyes darted from August, to Kate, back to August, and he slapped his stainless steel mug emblazoned with 'I.O.U' against his thigh silently for a moment.

"Well then…" he began, taking a few steps into the kitchen and navigating his way through the sea of proverbial land-minds by way of woman, "If it ain't the prettiest ladies in all of Calaveras" he hummed as he found his solace in the sweet, black gold that was coffee, pouring sum into his mug. He turned, took a few steps into the corner bend of the kitchen counter, raised his mug to his lips and breathed deep. Maybe they wouldn't talk to him.


"I'll get started soon. I have the perfect yarn for the project." Kate looks amused at the promise to show her how to do make up, but she did ask for the help. She takes a drink from her glass, nodding at August. "You're welcome, it doesn't keep very well so we'll have to finish the bottle." She breaks off another piece of cookie. "I'd like that, really. Ben is okay, but if I get it on my thigh, I don't relish the thought of him looking up my skirt, literally or figuratively." She snickers and her first finger lifts from her wine glass to point at August. "I had a feeling you meant it to be dirty."

She turns her head when she hears Tony grumbling at the goat. She tries not to look amused at it, but she's fighting a losing battle, especially when the goat bleats out loud. She takes a deep breath, preparing herself for when he rounds the corner, waving limply in his direction when he goes to get coffee. "How are you, Tony?"


August glances up from her wine glass, which she's well on her way to drinking already, as Tony makes his usually chatty entrance into the B&B with nary a pause in his argument with… the goat? Is he berating the cute little goat in the back garden? There's a pause, her pale-grey eyes flick that way, and she regards Tony for a long moment. Her expression doesn't change, but she does say, "Really, Malone." That's a bit flat, like busted. "Picking on a sweet little beast."

So at some point August's been in the back talking to, possibly petting the little goat back there. You leave a woman unsupervised in your apartment one time and she ends up hanging out with your landlord, drinking wine, eating edibles, and generally being August.

Her gaze goes back to Katherine. "You don't have to ask me twice to help finish a bottle." That's the understatement of the year. "Ben spends all day looking up skirts. I swear that man is running his motor in the curtained booth more often than the lady behind glass at a peepshow." You're so welcome for that mental image. She smiles to Kate, then raises her glass, sipping again. Maybe more than a sip. She drains a little extra there.

Meanwhile, August's hand goes spelunking into the special jar for another cinnamon dusted cookie.


Mission failed, general. All targets have engaged, and the plan was sinking fast. Anthony obliged himself by taking a long sip of the still-too-hot coffee that he forced himself to just stomach through and lowered it with a bit of a wince, taking a deep breath. He looked toward Katherine, flashing her a tight upturn of his lips. "I'm good, Kate. How're things?" he asked lightly.

His attention withdrew toward August after being chided for arguing with a goat and he smirked, "I'll have you know, that Ms. Sparkle and I have a lovely working relationship. She bleats when I walk by, I tell her to be quiet and that people will tend to her. She once attempted to eat my cashmere overcoat. She's adorable." he commented and raised his mug to his lips, muttering something undescernable behind its mass and taking a gentle sip of his coffee.

"Wine and Snickerdoodles…" he let out a low stream of a whistle, shaking his head, "Fuck it." he stepped forward a few steps, the heel of his leather wingtips making a soft click and he snatched the snickerdoodle out of August's hand as she withdrew it from the jar, placing it between his own lips.


"They keep saying they want to turn her into curry." Kate says quietly to August, trying not to grin as she shakes her head, tsking softly. "Tony is the only one who talks to her though, I think she likes him for it." She takes a drink from her wine glass, swirling the dark red liquid around a few times before she takes another drink. "At least he's having fun, that's what is important right?" She raises a brow at August, turning to watch Anthony for a few moments. "Things are great Tony, I hope you're good too."

She gets to her feet to fetch a few squares of dark chocolate to drop into her coffee, stirring it idly. "Would you like a glass of wine?" She asks tony, moving to grab another wine glass from a cupboard. "There is just enough in here for one more glass.." She tilts the glass from side to side, setting it down until he responds.


Aug has a habit of getting busted with her hand in the cookie jar. She flicks those long lashes up, and gives Tony a little side-eye. She watches him for a moment, and then her inked hand snakes right back into the jar for another two. She lightly closes it, and brings a cookie to her lips. She glances down at the counter, then turns a look to Kate. About the curry thing. "What the fuck." That's said quietly, but she looks right at Tony. "Did you?" Why does she immediately think it was him? Hhmmmm. Stumper.

"Another cookie, Kate?" Aug waves one of the two snickerdoodles she pulled from the jar. If the other woman doesn't take the offered one, she'll probably be eating both of them. Which seems a good way to chase at least two glasses of wine and one other cookie. Aug watches those chocolate chunks go into the coffee, and she watches Kate stir. Mm. Chocolate.

August turns from the counter, her back now to it, right shoulder just brushing Anthony's arm as she does so. She says nothing to him about it. No pardon me, no sorry. "Ms. Sparkle." She bites into her cookie. Mmhm. "If you don't drink the glass, I will." It seems halfway between an offer and a threat, somehow.


"They're…interesting" Tony replied to Kate with a bit of a nodding bob to his head, sipping from the dark abyss that was his coffee cup. "Jesus Christ, no" he nearly laughed at Kate openly, "Far be it from me to ruin ya' girls night" he mused and withdrew a few steps back into the corner of the kitchen counter, the brush of August's shoulder against him doesn't so much as warrant a chide response, though he smirked silently, shaking his head.

The snickerdoodle at his lips, was deposited firmly into his stomach with a series of three bites where he chewed and assisted in its processing with his coffee, "For the record, I did /not/ in any form, wish to harm the lovely goat" he remarked toward August, shaking his head.


"He hasn't expressed a desire to make curry out of the goat." Kate assures August, rolling her eyes as she takes a drink from her coffee cup. "You won't ruin girls night by having a glass of wine, and honestly this isn't a girl's night. I found her in the great room gazing at the fire, and asked her if she wanted some cookies and wine. That's how we ended up in the kitchen talking about ..a lot of things." She nudges the empty wine glass toward Tony. "Are you sure you can't be tempted? It's Claret, and it's really really good."

She watches him eat the edible as she reaches out to take one offered to her by August. "Sure, thank you." She bites into it, trying not to smile. August and Kate are sitting at the counter in the kitchen, eating cookies and drinking wine. Tony is leaned up against the corner of the counter, drinking coffee and looking like he might be about to retreat.


Footsteps in the hall. Someone who sounds lost; or at least, not familiar with the layout of the rooms here, and looking for something or someone. Eventually the crisp report of boot heels grows more distinct, and a well-dressed gentleman appears in the doorway with a flick of his gaze left and right. Well, gentleman might be a stretch; his wool coat and silver-grey vest and trousers may be bespoke, but his scruffy hair and beard suggest a different leaning. Katherine is spotted first, and then August and Tony a moment later - and he hesitates. Has he been spotted?


At Kate's confirmation that Tony wasn't the goat-curry relisher, Aug says simply, "Hm." Her murmur is followed by her finishing up the second of her glasses of wine. Kind of seems like maybe she's not telling the whole truth there. Her pale-grey eyes slip closed for a moment, and she brushes her knuckles under her eye, fingernail clicking against the earpiece of the glasses tucked into her hair as she finishes the move, checking that most of the strands are still in place, something she does every once in a while. She takes hold of the glasses, and slips them out of her hair, like she forgot she was wearing them.

"It is really good," Aug agrees, eyes on the bottle. There's a surety that if Anthony doesn't empty it into his glass, she's seconds from emptying the bottle into hers. She reaches up to resettle her glasses into her hair, and then drops her hand down, clawed nails trailing along the back of her neck lightly before she rubs her hand there, tipping her head back a little. Which is pretty much when Sevin walks into the room.

"I shouldn't be surprised—" August is saying, when she glances over to the sound of boots halting right there in the doorway. She flicks a glance over Sevin. And then she reaches for the bottle, and quietly pours it into her glass. Sorry, Tony. "But I am." She hesitates, then says, "Sorry, Kate, sometimes I order goat biryani, but I won't be able to do it again after looking your sweetie in the eye." All the while her glass is traveling to her lips.


"Not really big on curry, for one…" Anthony added in turn to the mention of him having not mentioned making it of Rainbow Sparkle before. He glanced at the pushed wine glass and smirked, opening his mouth to politely decline, though August had taken up ownership of the liquid therein before he could comment on the fact, to which he simply looked toward Kate, "I suppose I've been outbid" he laughed, near inaudibly beneath his breath and turned his attention to the thudding of footsteps, to which pale green eyes cast an appraising glance beneath a crisply peaked, coal-black eyebrow. "Friend of yours, Kate?" he asked, moments before lifting his left, coffee-mug wielding hand to his lips for a long sip. "I s'pose having a quiet night is never quite in your cards when in the Kitchen, is it?" he teased the houses owner.


"Goat is good, so is lamb. I'm sure Rainbow wouldn't begrudge anyone enjoying curry, biryani or anything else. Just as long as it didn't come from a goat wearing pyjamas." Kate says, setting down her wine glass as Sevin appears in her kitchen. "Yes, actually." She replies to the 'Friend of yours' comment, slipping off of her stool, as she gestures for the older man to come further into the kitchen. "It's cold outside, want a cup of coffee?" She offers, gesturing for the two men to sit, since they're the only ones still on their feet. "I've had plenty of quiet nights lately, Tony. I'm okay with quiet or busy, you know that."


Well, so much for slipping back out unnoticed. Sevin hesitates a moment, as if seriously considering mumbling something about having left a pot on the stove, then presses his lips together and strolls on in. "Ms. Stone," he greets Katherine politely, eyes skimming the tall, well-dressed man lurking off in the corner. Then skip over the fair, tattooed woman entirely before returning to the brunette beside her. "Good evening. Hope I'm not interrupting anything." A beat before her question catches up to him, and, "Sure." Not much of a talker, though he does ease into a seat nearby. Scent of clove smoke, clinging to his hair and clothes.


There's a smile from the tattooist, though it's a little more abbreviated than her others at the mention of a goat in pajamas.
The cracks in August's control begin small. Lubricated by two glasses of wine, two special cookies, and a little something else on the side, the tall woman first reaches up to fidget-resettle her black-framed glasses again, varnished nails clacking against the eyepiece lightly, loses her tenuous hold on them, and drops them. The frames smack right into the floor. "Fuck."

"Oh, sorry." Language, August. She takes a breath through her nose, and brings the glass of wine to her lips. She tips it back and just lets that delightful liquid slide over her tongue. Come to mama, red.

August glances over at Kate, then Sevin. She gets up off of the stool, ostensibly to retrieve her glasses, her heel hooking in the footrest. She almost stumbles, then does, and grabs the counter and almost tips into Anthony. She just recovers. She doesn't say fuck again, but she definitely has it written in the clench of her jaw.

August holds very still, and slowly steps out of her stilettos, which brings her height back down to a much more reasonable 5'11". She nudges them under her stool, and then she looks at Anthony. She looks at him for a long moment before she says, "Kate, please excuse my rudeness." There's a little more of her accent in those words, syllables dragged out just a little longer than usual. She swallows, the muscles of her throat working under the lines of all that delicately inked flora, and fauna, and little jewels. "I seem to be a little bit drunk. And I don't wish to disturb the peace of your warm… home." She starts to lose her steel there at the end of the sentence, then goes back for her glasses and her shoes. "May I impose upon your hospitality?" This is to Tony, and she nods to the back door, actually going so far as to take a couple of steps. It's fine. Her voice is only shaking but a little. Someone who doesn't know her well might right it off entirely, even.


"Just the womanly sport of imbibing themselves on wine and weed cookies" Anthony commented toward Sevin who asked as to his intrusion with a smirk. Then the drunken hell which is August unleashed itself upon Tony's bubble of convenient seclusion. "Jesus Christ" he muttered as the hooked heel of August's ridiculous stiletto's caused her to stumble into the counter and nearly himself, to which he reached out to place a hand against her shoulder, "You fuckin' good, hon?" he asked with a knit to his brow, shifting one upward in curiosity.

It would seem however, that at her own announcement of being drunk, and then frankly asking for his hospitality, she was not, in fact 'good'. "Uhhh…" Tony remarked in a low, uncertain sort of a hum, glancing between Kate and Sevin with a bit of a sheepish, if not apologetic smile, "Sure." he added and pushed himself free from the counter with a bit of a nudge from an elbow.

"Kate, try not ta' talk about me too much when I'm not around…" he paused a few steps toward the hallway after August, pointing toward Sevin with a single finger, "Don't eat the snickerdoodles. They're poison." he stated with a wink of a single peridot green eye, "I'm sure we'll meet sometime, most friends of Kate's is friends of mine, too" he added and stepped off down after August.


Katherine moves over to the coffee pot when August gets to her feet, blinking as she starts to withdraw. She stops reaching for the coffee pot, her face a mask of polite confusion. "You're fine, let me know if you need anything, August. Tony knows how to reach me here." She flits a gaze back at Tony, before she turns to pick up the coffee pot and pour. She slides the pot back onto the warmer, setting the filled cup slowly on the counter.


There could be tension in his frame, winding him up as tight as a stradivarius, but none of it's blatantly obvious in Sevin's lazy sprawl. As if he owns that chair. His coat drapes across a bent knee, and he's already digging in the pocket for something when August's sobriety - or lack thereof - begins to take a downward turn. And he stills, watching her. Watching Tony. Pale green eyes meeting a very similar pair, housed in a markedly different countenance.

"Mm," is all he has to say on the topic of friends, and friends of friends. "Hope she's all right," is murmured a beat later, concern apparent but not dwelled on. His accent is strange; guttural and sharp, as if he's perpetually angry sounding. But it's as if he's put some work into attempting to smooth it over, through the years.

"Thanks," is murmured low as he pivots slightly and reaches for the cup of coffee that's set down in front of him. No sugar, no milk. Blow and sip, eyes a million miles away.


"I'm okay," August says softly to Tony as he inquires. She takes a few steps and repeats. "I'm okay." Thing is, the second time she says it, it sounds a little less true. Alcohol. Weed. A little something extra from her suitcase back at Casa d' ACDC. The long-legged tattooer lifts a hand to acknowledge Kate. She did just leave both coat and scarf behind in the other room, but nobody probably remembers but her. She puts her hand on the back doorknob and pulls it open, fully stepping out into a frigid night with bare feet and in a tank top. "Holy fuck," comes a mumble, sharp as ever, some of those wine-cobwebs smacked right out of her head by the chill blast of air she lets into the place.

Aug occasionally has a mouth like a trucker, like just now. Just not, for example. She walks out into the night anyway, without bothering to put her shoes on, fingernails snick-ing audibly off the doorknob. There's a 76 percent chance she'll make it to the garage without bitching about how cold it is outside. She may be drunk, but she can still motor.


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