(no subject)

[patterns_bloom]

Alana Bloom takes a long time to screw up her courage. She tells herself that she's only leaving a note--just an inquiry, really--and eventually gathers her wits and figures out what she wants to say.


To whom it may concern,

My name is Alana Bloom, and I have frequently suffered harassment at the hands of one Dr. Hannibal Lecter. He is from my world and often tortures me about events from there that occur in his timeline--specifically my future. Does this count as outside business?

I appreciate any advice you care to impart on this matter. Thank you for your kind attention and quick response.

Dr. Alana Bloom

After she drops the note off at the bar, Alana takes a seat there. Bar offers her a latte, and she sips at it gratefully while waiting for someone from Security to respond, her knee jiggling.

[OOC: Open to all, and open forever.]

Comments

[the_cupbearer]

"Don't you look like the picture of nervous calm," Ganymede murmurs, taking a seat near Alana, but not so close that it would turn uncomfortable if she chose not to talk. "Or maybe half-calm."

His long tunic-like sweatshirt covers him from the hips up, draping to his knees, with the cowled hood covering most of his neck. It does not, however, hide his small smile, and the mildly-swollen trio of fishbone cuts along his cheekbone. "Waiting for someone?"

[patterns_bloom]

Alana glances to Ben with a nervous smile, which fades as she does a double take. "What happened to you?" she says, her eyes wide. She relaxes a little, inclining her head. "I'm waiting for someone from Security. I've just dropped off a note inquiring as to whether Hannibal Lecter's... interactions with me can be considered outside business."

[the_cupbearer]

"Bad breakup," he says, shrugging--slowly, because while he is resilient, the shin-strike he caught from Chirrut the other day still hurts. It, however, had nothing to do with the strike to the face he caught. "Misplaced backhand," Ganymede explains, if that can be termed an explanation, as his face sobers.

"You want him celled for it?" he asks.

[patterns_bloom]

"Oh, I'm sorry," Alana says, furrowing her brow, clearly concerned. "Are you in a safe place? Will they attack you again?"

She lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "I don't know if I want him celled for it, but I certainly want him to stop bothering me. I'd like it if Security could warn him off without taking drastic measures, but I'm not sure anything will deter him."

[the_cupbearer]

"It...wasn't what I'd call an attack, but in any case I doubt they want to see me again to repeat it," he says. "He apologized for the cuts. He meant to backhand me, just forgot he was wearing a ring with a stone."

Ganymede shrugs. What can he do? As romantically active as he is, there are bound to be upset people on his hands sometime. "Have you asked him not to? I know it sounds asinine, but that is Hannibal for you."

[littlegreycells]

Poirot has parked at the bar for a bit of an aperitif before turning in, a book at hand. He nods quietly at the nervous-seeming woman.

[patterns_bloom]

Alana favors him with a small smile, tipping her head. "Good book?"

[littlegreycells]

"It is about police methods of the 1950s. A bit after my time, so the subject, it is interesting. But the writing, it is dull. But I stumbled over it in the library, and there are worse things to read." He closes the book, the place marked very neatly with a bookmark.

[patterns_bloom]

"Oh, I'm sorry the writing is poor," Alana says, shaking her head. "Are you part of a police force in your time? I'm Dr. Alana Bloom, by the way."

[littlegreycells]

"Hercule Poirot at your service, Doctor." He touches his forehead in the way he would tap the brim of his hat (which he is of course not wearing inside). "I was a private detective most successful. But long ago, before the Great War, I served with the police in Brussels."

[cute_bruiser]

Molly gets the note with her order of a disco-ball latte (all of the sugar and caffeine; a hundred times the glitter), and only the presence of the small girl in her arms keeps her from swearing out loud.

"I swear to Stan Lee, he's going through the wall," is all she does say out loud, and earns herself a sleepy little giggle from Kitt.

"Bar? Who do I need to talk to about this?"

It's a name she recognises, but she's pretty certain she's never met its owner.

[patterns_bloom]

Fortunately, Bar materializes a napkin for Alana with a description of Molly, so Dr. Bloom spots the woman and the little girl in short order.

"Hello," Alana says as she approaches. "I'm Dr. Alana Bloom. Are you Molly Hayes?"

[cute_bruiser]

"Guilty," she says, and offers the other woman a smile as she looks her over. "The adult one - it's usually better to specify if you're leaving a note with Bar."

Timelines: they're a state, honestly.

"And this is Kitten, who should be asleep by now."

And yet. And yet.

She nods to the sofa by the fire. "Mind if I put her down before we talk? I don't think it'll be suitable for public consumption."

[patterns_bloom]

Alana tries to match that smile, but ends up nodding instead. "Please. I wouldn't want to drag a child into this," she says, shaking her head. "I assume you read my note?"

[cute_bruiser]

"Oh, she's been dragged into plenty already." Molly's voice is deliberately light, not entirely for Alana's benefit. "But no, there's no reason to add to that - and anyway, my arm's going numb."

Turns out that you can't use super-strength all the time: who knew?

She picks up her coffee from the bar with her free hand, nodding for Alana to follow her over towards the fire, where she puts the little girl down in the corner of a sofa.

"I'll just be a couple tables over, okay?" she tells her, leaning over her to kiss her forehead. "If you need me to smash monsters, all you gotta do is wave."

Kitt nods drowsily, curling up with her cat plushie to watch the fish in the fireplace.

"Good girl."

Molly gives her a smile as she stands, gesturing Alana to a nearby table - one with a good view of the sofa and its small occupant.

[onceaviking]

A rumpled looking vampire in shorts and a t-shirt makes his way towards the Bar.

No swagger. No smirks.
No memeory.

[patterns_bloom]

Alana glances up at his approach, her fingers tight on her latte cup. "Hello, Eric. How are you?"

[onceaviking]

He shrugs and gives her a small, shy smile.

"I'm okay I guess."
And then, after a brief hesitation, "Is something wrong?"

[patterns_bloom]

Alana forces her shoulders to straighten. "No. I'm just waiting on a member of Security to answer an inquiry for me."

[onceaviking]

"Oh. Okay," he says, hovering (towering) next to her.

"Ehm - Do you want company?"

[cutting_edgex23]

Sometime after the note, and an exchange of several other notes with Molly, X slips into a seat next to Alana, head tilting as she studies the other woman.

"I talked to Molly."

Beat.

"You are okay?"

[patterns_bloom]

Alana eases into a smile when she sees who has approached her, setting her cooled latte aside. "Hello, X," Alana says, lacing her fingers together. "I'm all right now. Molly gave me a plan of action, which is what I needed to address the problem."

[cutting_edgex23]

"I will keep watch. Too."

A pause. X does not bite her lip, exactly, but it is close.

"If that is okay."

[patterns_bloom]

"Thank you," Alana says, her tone warm and earnest. "Knowing that the both of you have my back goes a long way towards putting my mind at ease. Do you really think celling him will work?"

[cutting_edgex23]

"I think," X says, after a long, contemplative silence, "that he will think is funny."

Unfortunately.

"I am not sure what he will think about shoveling shit."