(no subject)

[half_french]

"Non, maman, je serai de retour..." Camille's quick steps take her into the bar and out of cell phone range, leaving her in the cold and listening to a 'no service' signal. "... later. Ugh." Still, this means she will get some lunch, which wasn't looking terribly likely before now.

Comments

[heatherandsteel]

Quentin is also having lunch and looks up when he hears French, its a reminder of home,

"The reception here is awful."

[half_french]

"That is an understatement." Camille notes with wry humor, settling at the Bar. "This place does seem to specialize in inconvenience."

[heatherandsteel]

"It does, its good at that," A pointed ear is poking out from his bronze hair as he eats fries and smiles.

[half_french]

Well, the boy seems to be in a less... obstructive mood, at least. Small mercies. Even better, it turns out this place can serve up a decent plate of fish fritters.

"You know, you never did tell me your name."

[heatherandsteel]

iHe is, he feels safer here and not as worried about being spotted as Fae, "I'm Quentin and you seem happier to be here."

[half_french]

"You seem less likely to yank my chain, but it is early days, mmm?" Camille notes, a faint warning in her tone.

[heatherandsteel]

"How are you feeling about magic and places that shouldn't exist?"

Their last meeting, he was a bit of a brat but also fairly honest, there was helpfulness in there somewhere.

[half_french]

"I am feeling you need to not start down that road again." The warning tone is stronger now - she is not a scientist, she doesn't know why this place appears or what (if anything) should be done about it, but she's pretty sure she still doesn't have to take any sort of silliness from teenaged boys.

[heatherandsteel]

He raises his hands in concession, he's not going to mess with that kind of look,

"I won't. Phones never get reception here, they don't stop working but its not possible to communicate outside of Milliways with them."

[half_french]

"I did notice." Camille agrees, tearing off a piece of the fritter and dunking it in the accompanying sauce.

[auxin]

There is a young lad at the bar, in armour, looking with interest at the cell phone.

"Is that one of those disorganiser things?"

[half_french]

"... No?" Camille replies, after trying to decide if she heard that correctly. "Whyever would anyone want a disorganizer?"

[auxin]

"I wondered that, but people pay ever so much for them." Auxin says. "Even though the imps are very prone to confusion."

[half_french]

"..." Well, if he doesn't know, that's just going to have to remain one of life's great mysteries. She doesn't even know what one might be.

Other than whatever rules Dwayne's life.

"I guess people will buy all sorts of ridiculous things."

[auxin]

"Yeah, more money than sense." Auxin smiles slightly.

"So what's that?"

[patterns_bloom]

"I didn't know the bar cut off cell phone service," Alana says from her seat at the bar, latte in hand. "It makes sense, though. It couldn't very well let you have conversations like a normal person."

[half_french]

"Heaven forbid." Camille snorts, tucking her phone into her pocket. "I haven't even begun to figure out how to explain this one to my boss. Or if I should."

[patterns_bloom]

"That conversation will be a doozy regardless of how you approach it, I'm sure," Alana says, nodding. "I don't know if you should tell your boss. They might think you're insane."

[half_french]

"I'm sure he already thinks I am... of course, I think the same of him too, so I suppose it is fair." Not that she's feeling particularly 'fair' towards one Richard Poole. The man's a self-absorbed lunatic.

And English.

So very English.

[patterns_bloom]

Alana chuckles, shaking her head. "That's an interesting employee relationship," she says, smiling. "I'm Alana Bloom, by the way. What may I call you?"

[half_french]

"He was assigned to my precinct, and he blew my cover very publicly, so now we're... stuck." Neither of them are best pleased by the situation, but it's... very difficult to gainsay the Commissioner.

Difficult, impossible, one of those.

"I'm Camille Bordey."

[patterns_bloom]

"Pleasure to meet you, Camille," Alana says, sipping her latte. "Are you an officer, then? Where are you stationed?"

[half_french]

"I am a detective in Saint Marie - we're a small island, near Guadeloupe." Camille explains, the Bar coming up with a plate of fish fritters for the detective's lunch. "It is, of course, much warmer than here."

Properly warm, not this creeping, insidious cold.

[patterns_bloom]

"Psuedo-Scotland must be freezing compared to Saint Marie," Alana says, sympathizing. She opens the top of her latte and stirs it with a Bar-provided coffee stick. "Have you been coming to the bar long and are used to its weirdness?"

[half_french]

"It is ridiculous - my boss would actually like that, I think. He's from London, and he will not shut up about the island is too hot. I'm not sure the man actually owns a piece of clothing meant for tropical weather." Camille snorts, tearing off a piece of fritter. "I've only just started finding this place. It is... very odd."

This coming from someone who grew up around the intersection between Catholicism and Voodoo.