(2019-02-26) Five in the Morning At Maude's
Early morning or late night depends which side of the day you're approaching from, but either way a diner works.

5AM Diners, traditionally dead to the world outside of drunks, truckers, and the occasional stripper from the club that closes late. This diner was no different - until the familiar jingle of the entryway tugged at the ears of the few customers still halfway functioning at this hour. A more attuned and familiar ear may have heard the hum of a trademark exhaust system pass by a few minutes earlier, for everyone else, it was probably the calf length pale grey woolen overcoat and the gentle click of Italian wingtips. That or the lazy half-squint the figure of Anthony Malone shot everything, the one people got when they haven't been awake until 5AM, but they woke up to intentionally be awake then.
"Coffee" the long 'o' sound of the thick New York accent made it abundantly clear, though the number of New Yorkers -was- growing. Olive-skinned hands dipped beneath the lip of large hip pockets and he rocked back on the heel of his shoes, glancing around the diner in a pattern of familiarity that was common enough that it took him a second glance to fully register that he actually recognized anyone. After the first pass, he canted his head and did a re-take, leering toward August in her 'post-work' beautiful disaster. Across from someone he'd only recently had the pleasure of knowing.
A hand shot up at the hip, withdrawing from the pocket to point the waitress toward the table in the wordly gesture of 'over there' and then he deposited it back into its comfortable pocket anew. A few steps down one direction of seating and he found himself standing aside the table sporting an empty plate of crumbs and the plethora of empty shake cups, "Jesus Christ, do you have a home? Or do you just live in Maude's?" he asked of Maxon and turned his head toward the other, "Augs, you seen my watch? The one wit' the blue face?" he withdrew his left and right hands, tapping the face of the one affixed to his left wrist, black of face and bezel, "I couldn't find it in my watch box t'is mornin' so I wore this one" his voice was gruff, clearly having not had his morning coffee yet, and it lacked the polish he normally worked with.

"Brooklyn ruined handcuffs for me forever." Max retorts, mouth full of toast as he precedes the words by shoving the remaining half of the slice away in one go. He's leaning back in the booth, and for a brief second his eyes flash up to the ceiling, as if he were checking out the heating vent. "And basements." A beat. "And warehouses." His lips purse, and before he's back looking across the table, his thumb idly rubs the bridge of his nose. "And weirdly, Gelato shops. Is that weird?" His eyes narrow. "It feels like that should be weird."
Anthony's arrival isn't so much an interruption, considering it's impossible to interrupt a man who can count on one had the times he's actually said something with any meaning this evening, so the shifting of his coat across the booth chair serves as an excellent bookend for his 'I am done talking' gesture. "Malone." He greets. "Maude's has a toaster that probably won't set fire to the place, unlike mine. Also less people knockin' on my door in the morning asking if I've seen Joshua."
A small beat as he chews the final piece of toast he managed to claim, focusing his gaze somewhere around the man's chin. "I don't even know who Joshua is."
August tucks the minty green straw into the corner of her mouth and sips her pink shake (strawberry!). She gestures lightly with the toast in her hand, then takes another bite, probably about to say something suggestive about cohabitating on a couch with someone when Anthony Malone rolls up to her booth. That she didn't notice him right away when he came in says something about the state of her awareness and general health at the moment. Her gaze flicks over, and she glances down Tony's body to take in the new suit, her toast in her mouth. Long lashes shadow her eyes for a moment. Give her time, ok. It's late (for her).

"Nothing could ever ruin handcuffs for me," comes August's distracted reply to Max's assertion about Brooklyn. She does smirk faintly as it filters through her brain what he probably means. A moment before she answers Tony, her gaze flicks briefly to Max at the mention of basements. Not. Going. To. Comment. "… Nope, not weird at all." Maybe a little weird, Max.
Auggie lets the toast dangle from her lips as she reaches over to pull up the drooping sleeve of her hoodie, the side that's off the shoulder, and drags it up and over what appears to be a man's watch on her wrist. Well, slid up her arm since it's a bit large for her: a white gold watch with a blue face and bezel, with a contrasting bright white crown. The links of the band bisect her heavily tattooed forearm, looking quite out of place with the rest of her ensemble. "Why are you awake right now?" To Tony. 5am.

Who's up voluntarily at 5am? Vyv, apparently, though he's not looking his absolute most voluntarily anything just at the moment. What he's mostly looking is annoyed, though that's not precisely something no one's seen before. He's dressed down, for him, and might actually qualify as not necessarily overdressed for the venue today. He'd still probably be edging toward it if Anthony weren't kindly anchoring that end a fair bit further out; it's the man's suit that distracts him from whatever he's thinking as he stalks in, and he focuses on it a moment before focusing on its occupant with a blink of recognition. And then the woman to whom he's speaking, and— someone he doesn't know. People he doesn't know is more what he was expecting to begin with.
He adjusts his trajectory to curve toward their table on his way to seek food, enough to give a "Good morning," without having to raise his voice. English accent, seems like. "For certain values of good. You're up early. Or late."

"The fuck is Josh…" Anthony squinted the lids tightly across his peridot eyes and gazed past both August and Max as if staring across a length of ten football fields. "Just punch'a guy ina' mout' an' tell him to stop askin' for fuckin' Joshua" he grumbled, shaking his head, "Stupid fucks" he muttered again in reference to people asking after Joshua as a whole and took a deep breath as if forcing himself to the realization he was interacting with people this morning, something that, despite his routine, he was not accustom to.
"Handcuffs?" he muttered and then glanced toward the blocky white-gold interlocking band that wrapped around August's wrist like a child wearing their mothers jewelry. He raised a hand, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I need my fuckin' co…" he was cut off by the presence of one Vyv who got an uncharacteristically cold cut of green eyes, as well as that of the waitress who was bringing a single cup of black coffee which seemed to immediately soften Tony's demeanor, "Leave the pot" he instructed, and before the waitress could protest, he shot her a glance as he shrugged out of his overcoat and folded it over the back of the booth seat, sliding his way in next to August.
"Mornin' Vyv" he offered, forcing a tight-lipped smile, as if to apologize for the cold glance a moment ago. He immediately raised the coffee before him, blowing a stream across the brim and the fluid within to cool it as fast as possible. He departed one finger and gestured from Vyv to Maxon, "Vyvyan, Max, Max, Vyv - Vyv's a local fancy french baker t'ing an' Max is in the middle of seekin' gainful employment" he commented and took a long drink from his black mass of coffee, no doubt probably burning his tongue by the soft sort of grunt he gave afterward, leaning toward August to whisper something for a moment.

Max… He doesn't really say much in reply. Be that to Anthony or August. A little weird for him, but eh, maybe he just talked himself to exhaustion in the preceding hours. Anthony's well-thought-out solution to his home residence issues is met with a mere shrug and the least decisive "Eh, maybe. It's no harm for now." Whether that means his morning wake-up calls or his life goals for the immediate future is up for debate, one that he refuses to take part in by way of slipping that pink straw into the corner of his mouth and draining the rest of his milkshake with a cast eye towards the chastened and retreating waitstaff, followed by it shifting towards Vyv. Then to Anthony. Then back to Vyv. Still no words as he slides his way up the booth to make some space, but there is absolutely an expression that lends credence to the notion of him being consumed by the thought of 'Jesus Christ, there's two of them.' "Pleasure, Vyv." It's a little muted through the straw.

Aug glances up briefly as Tony has himself a morning moment of pondering breaking someone's face. To be fair, it's five in the morning. Valid response to potential REM cycle interruption. She also makes note of the general cranky looks he's shooting around, and her gaze settles on his face for a while. When he slips in next to her, she scoots over just enough to make room, the distance remaining familiar. "Thank Christ you're not a morning person." This is said with some warmth, despite the chilly reception he's giving some folk pre-coffee.
"Max mentioned he was considering offers. And we bonded over dogs." August's attention slips from the men at her booth to the chef recently arrived. She follows him with those moon-colored eyes, because, let's be real, the tattooer will always and forevermore give a man the visual inspection he deserves. "Morning, Vyvyan." Her voice is soft, perhaps a bit sleepy. "Up late, definitely." August is never awake right now unless she hasn't been to bed. She tucks the straw of her shake into her mouth, and glances from Vyv across the table to Max. Her gaze slips back toward Tony when he leans in.
Whatever Anthony says while he's tucked close catches her in mid sip. She doesn't, however, choke. In fact, the strawberry shake halts before it hits the top of the straw, and her lips part and it drops back down into the glass. She nudges the straw out of her mouth with her tongue's tip, then drops both hands under the table for a moment. There's the click of a tiny hasp and a light rattle of metal-to-metal. She slips the watch off, and slips it across the table to Tony. There's a soft hiss of, "Twenty five fucking—." She puts her toast back into her mouth. TFW you've been walking around all day with a car around your wrist.

Vyv arches a brow at that cold glance, though the look that answers it goes only as far as cool. Arguably less uncharacteristic, if not generally in Anthony's direction so far. The coffee interaction seems to qualify as an explanation, however, and the forced smile as the apology it might have been; he finds a faint smile for the well-dressed man in return, and rather offhand, "Lovely suit today."
He's not in such a poor mood that being described as a 'fancy french baker thing' — by Anthony, anyway — isn't amusing enough to make one corner of his mouth quirk up a touch further before it returns to neutral. "How do you do," he replies to Maxon, with a slight inclination of his head. It isn't a question. "New in town, then, or did whatever was previous not work out?" He takes the space-making as an invitation, and slips into the new spot, eyeing the coffee somewhat covetously. August is /not/ eyed covetously, though he does take a moment to return the inspection, gaze pausing briefly on the legend on her shirt and again on the glasses atop her head… and the watch, when it becomes clearly visible. Ah. There's another tiny twitch of lips at her hiss.

"Christ is one to talk, he fuckin' slept for three days before he decided ta' show up and be all 'look at me, I'm the fuckin' son of God' " Anthony replied toward August's mention of 'thanking christ' that he wasn't a morning person. He did lean in to listen to the words of August, however. Two, or three, or five sips into his coffee and the suited Italian man seems to be doing better with his morning, relaxed posture, leaned back into the booth and after a few deep breaths and stern sets of his rugged jawline he nodded once at Vyv's commentary, "And a lovely sweater vest, Vyv." he responded, and glanced aside toward August as she unfastened the watch and slid it across the table top with a faint upturn at the edges of his lips.
"At least Max has offers, not havin' a dime ta' go on and not havin' any offers is the worst" he added and took another sip of his coffee, polishing off the annoyingly small reservoir of liquid and refilling it from the stainless coffee carafe that was a staple of all things diner. "Usually my mornin' coffee an' breakfast ain't this chatty. You'll have ta' excuse me" he muttered, in general, to the table at large and nobody in particular.
Eyes darted from Vyv to Max and back again before he raised a finger for a passing waitress, "Can I get the mornin' platter? T'ree egs, over medium, sourdough toast an' some hashbrowns?" he gave her a smile, and glanced over toward his companions, "You'se guys want more toast? Vyv? You want anything?"

Running the back of his free hand across his mouth, Max hides a soft little grin at the hissed expletives regarding a watch, as well as the hurried toast-packing that happens across the table. His other hand working around that straw, it's lifted up from the glass and jabbed down into the remaining cherry that sits atop a mushy and melted smattering of whipped cream, piercing the skin and lifting it out like he just went spear-fishing. It's popped into his mouth as Vyv asks the not-question, the hand and straw waving off Anthony's offer of carby refills. "Y'know, a little of both, really." His cheek bulges a little, that cherry being stored aside to speak as his eyebrows raise and let his hazel eyes catch the diner's lighting for a second. "See, my old boss liked to tie folks to a ventilation pipe in this little storage place on 65th and Dahill. Then beat 'em with a motorcycle helmet." There's a soft squishing noise as the cherry breaks between a couple of molars, and Max shines the best beatific smile he can muster. "The dental implants sucked enough the first time that I figured I better hand in my two weeks' before I had to fork out another two grand, y'know?"
There's a tiny, miniscule spreading of his arms, coupled by a shrug in shoulders that have been holding tension since long before the two men entered. "An' so here I am." And that, lady and gents, would be a Max Lentz on the social defensive. Things are so much harder when you can't throw yourself out of a window to avoid conversation.

"I've had Vyv's baked goods in my mouth. Worth the wait." Aug says, finishing up the toast in hand. She licks a bit of butter off her fingertip, then dusts herself off. She smiles to the Englishman, but doesn't bombard him with her usual chatty self, given he's getting to know Max and it's 5am, and she's sliding down the slope into detox. Not even three strawberry shakes can prop her up forever.
To Anthony, she says, "Babe, that was super literal. But you know some of us taker longer than others to look this pretty. Drink more coffee." There's a pause when she touches his suit jacket, makes a quiet comment, then dusts a few more crumbs off her lap. "If you're like this every mornin', it's a good thing I don't get up till noon-thirty." She shakes her head in the negative when Tony asks after the table's want of food. A couple triangles of buttered toast and three strawberry milkshakes are her limit. The three shakes is a bit out of bounds for her usual ass-end-of-the-morning, but she's having a day. Aug reaches up to pick up and close her sketchbook, finally, tucking the mechanical pencil inside the spiral before she tucks it next to her against the wall.
There's a pause from the tattooer as Max discusses his old boss's methods of motivation. She sips her shake. "For a hot second I thought that sentence was going somewhere else." Of course she did. "… What a dick. Not the face, man. That's so fucking rude." Genuinely, August sounds irritated on Max's behalf. There's a pause, and then: "Is there a double-wide red enamel painted cabinet in that basement?" She pulls her straw out of her shake, licking the whipped cream off of it. She turns her moon-colored gaze to Anthony. "On second thought, Tony, an order of extra crispy fries would be perfect."

"So he wasn't a morning person either," Vyv remarks about Our Lord And Saviour Etc., and gives Anthony a quick little smile for the returned sartorial compliment. "Usually my morning breakfast and coffee are silent," he murmurs as he glances over the menu, "…yes, please, scrambled eggs, bacon, home fries, sourdough toast, and coffee, thank you." The last is actually to the waitress, because why play telephone?
August gets another of those little smiles for the remark on his baked goods; flattery is clearly an effective way to elicit those. The one her phrasing gets has a bit more of an amused edge to it than the last one did, though. The expression goes much more impassive in response to Max's bad boss story, a blink betraying the nonplussed moment he's otherwise doing quite decently at concealing. "…mn, and my employees complain about me," he says dryly after a breath of a pause, "I'm fairly sure I haven't sent any of them even to therapy as yet. Yes, he sounds like a dick. Probably didn't even provide decent dental insurance, did he." He gives the smile a glance, as if he were assessing whether Max got his money worth on the reconstruction. "Where did he feel you'd fallen down on the job? I'm assuming you weren't just caught up in his hobby."

Anthony barked a low "Hah" at whatever August mentioned to him in private, flashed a bright white smile framed in contrast by the darkness of his whiskers, and took another sip of his coffee, extending a thumb toward August as she mentioned the fries, paused while Vyv delivered his prompt description of his desired brekfast and closed with a simple "There ya go" he told the waitress and interlocked his fingers around the warmth of his second mug of morning brew, the idle posture of bouncing his right leg beneath the table as he listened to Maxon's recollection of former employment, Tony arched both of his coal-black brows, "All the more reason to make sure the employer has good health and insurance benefits" he mentioned like it was just another Tuesday in the realm of job related hazards.
"A motorcycle helmet…" Anthony shook his head, emitting a low puff of air that shown he clearly disapproved of the methodology. He sat more upright, tugging his right ankle across his left thigh in a cross-legged posture with a flash of a black and grey diamond patterned dress sock. "I'm pretty sure that's how this town treats its law enforcement, that's why none of them are ever around or actually do their job" he opined before taking another sip of coffee, "Calaveras embodies the definition of only being able to polish a piece of ssh…" he paused, glanced at the setting, and continued, "…garbage so much, it's still garbage. The only difference is, at least we're doing out part to shape it into something manageable"

A hand scooping up his jacket once the moment has passed and people are responding to mention of his past, Max gives a little raise of his brow to August, his teeth grinding for a moment as he thinks. He doesn't normally grind them, mind you, he's just hyper-aware of their existence right now. "…Nooo. No enamel cabinet. There was this shitty little folding pack unit of shelves, but those got broken one time." Vyv? Vyv gets a little shrug as the man slides out from his chair, albeit a little awkwardly as his right leg shows some signs of being a little on the numb side. Guy was sitting on his wallet for too long. "Couldn't tell you, man. Shit rolls downhill and all that. Eitherway, feel free to use me as an example of your exemplary management style."
As for Anthony, his insight gets a finger snap and a quick point after the jacket has been slipped on, the cuffs hanging a little low over his hands. "Health, dental, company car and a boss that doesn't need his head bouncin' off a marble counter-top are the hallmarks of good employment." His stance is a little awkward with the slow-regain of feeling in his leg, but Max does at least manage to take a few steps back to encompass the three of them in his vision. "S'been a pleasure, folks, but I desperately need some beauty sleep." And he doesn't at all feel out of place around two suits. Not at all. "An' I need a lot of fucking beauty sleep. I'm still thinking 'bout that position, Malone. I'll let you know."
And with zero other social mores, Max… fucking bails. At least he paid for his stuff this time.

August half-smiles right back to Vyvyan as he responds to her flattery, though it's all true, so really just facts. The tattooer's hands drop to her lap, where she briefly rubs them together, slips the shoulder of her hoodie back up for a proper fit, and glances down at that fancy watch still sitting on the tabletop, nails dragging lightly over the thigh of her jeans."Sounds about right. Only Detective I spent any time with looked like she needed a spa package and a month in Bali, and she was on leave." She reaches up to pick up the watch, disappearing it under the table again. There's the gentle rattle of the links touching until she slip her hand through it and fastens it, her nails tapping lightly against the band.
To Max she says, "The pipe sounded vaguely familiar," is all she says when he comes back with some info on the basement in question. Very vague rejoinder, that. "Stay warm, Max, and be sure you have some pleasant dreams." Does she check out his ass when he walks away? Sure. But she checked out the waitress' too, so, really, does anyone even notice at this point?

"Mn. And perhaps they'd appreciate my restraint with the cast iron," Vyv says to Max, shifting position to let him easily escape, and actually sounds fairly genuine in adding, "Pleasure meeting you. Sleep beautifully." All right, /that/ part's gone back toward arch. Good thing the patissier's only radiating the impression of being a suit-wearer, today. Imagine if he'd actually been in one of his three-pieces! He watches a moment as the man departs; hard to be sure whether he's joining August in the ass-checking club, or just considering the ensemble.
Looking back to the couple across the table, he settles in what seems a bit more comfortably. "I'd think if that's how the police are treated, they'd either quit or be remarkably diligent," he says idly to Anthony, before August gets a more critical look, as though something's caught his attention about her. "So, anything new and exciting? Well, anything else."

As Max gathered himself from the table, standing upright in his half-numb too-long-sat posture, Tony caught the snap of his fingers with a gesture of flicking his own finger in a point back at Maxon, "I'll at it to your employment package" he replied simply and finished off the second cup of coffee with ease, setting it down atop the table with a soft clink of the cheap ceramic atop the equally cheap surface. "Guess he has a home besides the diner after all" he added to the table of persons to now list simply as August and Vyv, "Katherine is being strange, went on some sort of rendezvous with Sam, I'm banned from the B&B for being 'rude' and this coffee still tastes vaguely of pencil shavings" he delivered in a flat, drawn out voice of vaguely monotone propotions, flittering his green eyes toward Vyv with a shrug, "So about average, I'd say. August is still beautiful, you're still fabulous, and allegedly the sun will still rise, but I'll believe it when I see it today…"

"Some people pay extra for that kind of abuse." August's delivery is a bit dry, though something about the way she says it suggests there could be something there. Then again, she does have a leading way of saying things and she favors expensive, very high stiletto heels. "Restraint with cast iron." She can't help but twitch another of those little smiles at that. When Vyv asks his question she slides her glass of nearly melted shake, only about a quarter full yet, and takes one of the final sips left in it. Tony takes a moment to cover the salient points of recent events. Her gaze cuts to him, those pale eyes ringed in long lashes. She mms and nods. "You are such a gossip." This is to Tony. She sips again, then leaves some of her shake, because there are fries coming. She slides the glass exactly two inches to the right. She leans into Anthony's shoulder. Not counting her shoes and Tony's watch, she's probably wearing a maximum of two hundred dollars on her body, if her jeans were about half that cost. All the tattoos and comfy clothes do make quite a contrast to both men, really. "I had no idea you were this much of a grump in the morning." And then to Vyv, "Katie's struggling right now. If you have any extra chocolate in the kitchen, she'd probably appreciate it when she comes home. Not that I know when that will be." She raises her dark brows slightly, "And they could have been having room service and conversation," she murmurs. Probably re: Sam & Kate. "Vyvyan, are your kitchens open for business?"

The echo of his words, following August's prior remark, gets a subtle arch of one brow and faint smirk from the patissier in return, though it's brief; a couple heartbeats before his lips return to neutral and is gaze falls to the table top, distant a moment.
Anthony's answers draw him back quickly, and he gives August's accusation a soft tch. "Keeping me up to date on things doesn't count as gossip," he says, with conviction if not necessarily accuracy. "Last I talked to Katherine, she was leaving town immediately, for only vaguely specific reasons. What, did Sam go with her? Surprised his girlfriend wouldn't have something to say about that, really… but I can look about for any chocolate I might not be using, regardless. And, yes, we're essentially open now, it's just my flat that needs a bit more work." Oh, there's some of that annoyance he started out with back. Nowhere near what talk of the renovation's been drawing lately, though.
He tilts his head to Anthony, "What qualified as rude enough to merit banishment?" Touch dubious; given the things that he knows haven't gotten people bounced… well, it's hard to imagine what it'd be. Surely the man could be world-class rude if he were truly inclined, but being truly inclined regarding the B&B just seems… unlikely.

The faint presence of a curl at the edges of Tony's lips when both labeled a 'gossip' and then defended for 'filling in' Vyv on the latest comings and goings. He shook his head a bit, idly spinning his empty coffee mug in a slow swirl atop the table and arching a slight eyebrow at Vyv when he explained his most recent experience with Katherine to which he pursed his lips a bit and glanced toward August, then back toward Vyv.
The notion of what was 'rude' causes him to laugh a bit, forcibly keeping it low and constrained, "I confronted Sevin about what the hell is problem with me was and why he was always an asshole. Then told him to hide the bruises better, as he's known for leaving visible marks on his victims…" Anthony paused, forced himself to sigh and 'correct' his words, "I mean 'partners' " and then, as luck would have it, the food arrived in a point where it rescended the need for him to continue talking on the topic of socially inept Egyptians.

August watches Vyv as he speaks, of course, giving him the courtesy of her eyes. She arches her brows slightly at the mention of Sam's girlfriend. She says nothing on the subject, and shakes her head slightly at the question. "I don't know. Our texts were brief and a bit… it gets weird when your friend tells other guests to call the cops if your lover shows up on the property, but neglects to tell you."
Aug tugs the shoulder of her hoodie up again as it slips off. The drift of lazy snow flurry outside picks up only slightly as the sky begins to lighten with the pre-dawn. She reaches up to rub her hand over her sternum, pointy manicured nails brushing across the black and grey jewel tattooed on her chest. Ziiiiip. She tucks the edges of her hoodie together and actually zips it like it's winter in Colorado, but only to mid-chest. She tries, but can't quite control the press of her lips together when Tony says something about visible bruises on Sevin's victims. Subteeeext. "I've gotten some of my best bruises that way." Shit like that just pops right out of her mouth.

Vyv's turn with the eyebrow arching again! More accurately, both lift at August's remark on the texts, and manage to go a bit further at Anthony's explanation. Apparently he's still not that far off August's wavelength, since his first question after, "Known for?" is, "Did they want bruises?" Though a flicker of a glance toward the woman suggests he may suspect that 'call the cops' part implies a no. "Mn. I don't know that I'd classify a conversation like that as rude, per se." He goes quiet as the food's set there, but for a quiet thanks to the waitress, and has a good sip of his newly arrived coffee. Perhaps not the first of the day, but still appreciated. "…yes, I can see how that would be odd, it not being mentioned," he says after she's left, thoughtfully. "I've clearly been missing everything interesting, lately. Who did get warned to call the cops? I wasn't on that list either." He is still one of the other guests, after all.

Anthony began an immediate engagement with his food upon its arrival, slicing the white parts of the over-medium eggs safely away from the yolks, depositing each yolk atop a piece of sourdough bread and slicing the hashbrowns into squares appropriately sized for taking bites of. At Vyv's mention of 'who' he glanced toward August with a shrug, choosing not to venture down the path of intentional or unintentionally bruising and rather indulge himself in the newfound food before him instead. "We're adults. Nobody gives a fuck if you like bruises or what you do in the bedroom. Personally I think she was just lookin' for a reason. She's been awkward around me ever since Xavier went poof" he mentioned, stacking the slices of egg whites and placing them into his mouth cleanly, one hand poised off the side of the table in his lap as is appropriate for someone with manners and wearing clothes they don't want ruined.

August takes the last few tablespoons of melty ice cream in her tall glass and drizzles them over the plate of crisp potatoes. She reaches for a packet of silverware and unrolls it, using a fork to spear a hot, salty fry lightly drizzled in strawberry shake leftovers. It goes into her mouth as Vyv asks after the wanting. She chews her food, mouth closed. And she watches Anthony go after his plate of food. Her gaze flicks up to his face as he addresses the Englishman's questions. "So here it is." Oh, lawd. August straightens a bit, shoulder jostling Tony's. "The tension between gentlemen is sometimes too much for Katie to handle, and rather than let them handle it themselves, she put herself in the middle and booted this one." She thumbs to Anthony. "The bruises thing is ancient history. I like dark-haired men with green eyes." She smiles slightly. "And blue eyes, frankly. But from afar, Vyvyan. My heart is spoken for."

"That was rather the point of the question," Vyv says, cutting himself some of the scrambled eggs, "Unwanted ones are rather more fuck-givable-about than wanted, so it helps to know whether or not I ought to care." The tone doesn't sound like he's got huge amounts of care just waiting to be applied to things at present, or possibly ever. Maybe he's rationing it. A bite of eggs, which have apparently reached at least tolerable levels of cooking, as there's no complaint. "Well. That's a shame, really. Though I suppose once I'm in my own place I wouldn't be running into you there much in any case."
A glance to August implies his vote would have been for the handling-it-themselves version, particularly with the small nod. There's the first hint of a smile in a bit at her last addition, more in the eyes than the mouth, the rest of the expression matching a solemn tone, "Life can be quite cruel. I suppose we were simply never meant to be, darling."
Silent for another bite, before he sets his fork down and almost absently pulls his phone from a pocket. He flips open the cover to take a glance, giving it a rather blank look before he closes it, puts it back, and takes the fork back up. There wasn't any sign of it having rung or even vibrated, though perhaps it was just very subtle? He's busy with some of the potato, quiet again to chew. See, manners.

"M'hm" Anthony half-hummed in acknowledgement of the conversational veer to whatever direction this shit was. His eyes shifted toward August for a beat and be blinked a long, slow, bored sort of blink and sighed into what was at that point in time, a rising slice of bread topped with an egg yolk which he inserted into his mouth. It could have been at August, though it also could have been about the finality of getting his fucking breakfast. Only August likely knew. Or God.
At the mention of not seeing terribly much of him from Vyv, Anthony paused his eating after finishing the bite he'd taken and he cleared his throat, "You're always welcome at the hotel, Vyv. I'll make sure they have a membership card for you at the reception counter to get you into the private lounge." he smiled a bit, "And I live about a mile down the road from Katherine in a house much too large for just the two of us, so feel free to drop by unannounced" he smirked, glancing between AUgust and Vyv at the mention of life being cruel, he added, "A shame. Such beautiful children" he chimed and placed another bite of toast between his lips.

August puts a hand over her heart when Vyv agrees that their love may never be. She spears another fry, pale eyes amused. Her matte-black lips curve briefly, but she goes back to eating shortly. She notes the move with the phone, then her gaze flicks back up to Vyv's face. Her lips part and she almost says something, but then doesn't. Yet.
The tattooer looks up at Tony, closing her mouth when she meets a bored expression. Her eyes narrow slightly. Aug turns to put her fork down, finished with the fries after two. She pulls the zipper of her hoodie up all the way, then reaches up to pull the hood up too as she shivers, and presses closer to the man in the suit and farther from the window. "Careful."

Yes, the beautiful children thing is clearly part of the joke. Vyv can't quite avoid looking fleetingly horrified by the thought anyway; there's a tiny twitch to go with it, as well, before he recovers enough to agree, "They would have been," and shoves that thought out of his head. Food, instead, and invitations. "…thank you. You'll have to send me the actual address, of course, if I start dropping by every large house about a mile from the B&B unannounced— well, it would probably be interesting, actually, but I do have other things I need to do, after all."

"115 Old Oak…" Anthony squinted his eyes and galnced upward in thought, "Lane? Drive? Place? I'm not certain, honestly. It's off of Old Oak…" he mentioned and pursed his lips in contemplation, finishing the last piece of toast, he lifted his free hand from beneath the table and wrapped it around August's hoodie-clad shoulders with a bit of a rub to her far-side shoulder, glancing aside toward her a bit, "You look like you're fadin' fast, kiddo" he mentioned with a big of a nudge to one side, lifting his napkin to wipe his mouth free of any potential egg or debris, he leaned in and kissed August on the forehead, turning toward Vyv, "Well, guess we should get this mornin' started, huh?" he smirked, "I think I'm gonna' run the party animal home so she can sleep, but it was nice catchin' up with you, Vyv. We always seem to miss one another"

When the children thing is reiterated, however briefly, August lightly pushes her plate away and reaches for her sketchbook which is tipped on the booth seat at the wall's edge. She seems to be grappling with her three shakes and sundry. "Street." She takes a breath and glances up as Tony's hand slides across her shoulder. "Yeah, sorry, I'm feeling it." Could be the fact that she hasn't been to bed yet, or the sugar crash, or something else. "Vyvyan, you're welcome anytime. It's a good place to think. We'll have a dinner at some point."
"You boys should have some drinks, dinner, and smoke some overpriced cigars soon." August rubs her hands up and down her arms, sitting up again as catches another chill, likely courtesy of the window.

"Yes, we do. Terribly," Vyv agrees to that last remark, the corner of his lips quirking up again. "Good to see you again. You can check your address and text it to me when you get there — you do have my number, yes? — then memorize it in case you get lost some day and need the help of a nice policeman."
He studies August for a moment or two, those reactions, and there's a tiny hint of something like a nod, a proper one following the mention of A Dinner, and the proper street designation. "I'll come bother you at some point," he assures, "…feel better, mm?" A half-smile, and he inclines his head to the pair of them, a quiet sort of farewell. He's still got a good portion of breakfast to eat, really, and apparently is inclined to do so.

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