Newton Does it suit you?

[Laura Johnson]

Whoever awarded the contract to the designer of Easthaven City Hall, an important building that, historically, could define a city and set the tone for the style of future construction, should be shot, and the architect might be next in line.

Or so Laura thought, metaphorically speaking, of course. She didn't condone murder.

Every time she encountered the structure, whether it was passing it on a bus or actually entering it for business purposes, as now, she wondered what the members of the selection committee were thinking when they chose this massive, blunt, boring, soulless design to represent the city. The unfortunate name of 'The Brick', doubtless provided by some wit at the newspaper when the building was completed, truly did sum it all up. The interior was just as stark as the exterior, though past administrations had tried to inject some life, colour, anything to the public spaces with varied success. Laura approved of the mural on one of the twenty-foot, concrete walls, depicting the history of the city using images from archival photographs to blend together the beginnings of Easthaven to sometime in the early two-thousands or so. Lots of colour and a lovely quality to the realism without being confined to it.

There were potentially comfortable sofas in a rich leather - or leather-like - material, arranged in three 'conversation zones' in the lobby. They were done in a deep rust colour, which was appealing, with glass coffee tables in the middle of each zone. Taller glass tables had been placed along the two side walls about every fifteen feet or so and upon them was a large arrangement of silk flowers in a tall, pillar vase. They looked real enough, without looking strange. It would cost a fortune to have real flowers installed every few days. It probably took forever and a day to dust the lot of them. If she had any criticism about the lobby, aside from her opinion that it needed something more to make it feel welcoming, it was the amount of glass in the furniture.

It was like a set from one of those Bruce Willis films, where people are held hostage in a building and a lot of scenery is destroyed by gunfire. A lot of broken glass for the extras to step on as they tried to flee.

There were two security guards, who sat at small desks just inside and on either side of a set of pillars about twenty-five feet or so from the main entrance. Two symbolic, heavy, red ropes, about ten feet long a piece, had been set up attached to metal stands at either end to narrow the space between those pillars and acted as a frame of sorts to direct traffic through the high-tech, security arch in the middle. Laura hadn't encountered anything like it outside an airport, but she supposed it never hurt to be careful, especially considering the level of violence in the world today. Not that she was aware of Easthaven being a target for anyone, as it was hardly the White House, but just the same, she was glad they had decent security in place.

“Good evening, Miss Johnson,” one of the guards said. She recalled his name was Scott and replied in kind. Laura gave her purse and black garment bag to him and walked through the arch. The other guard, whose name she didn't know, looked at something on a monitor and nodded.

“You're clear, Miss Johnson,” he said.

“Thank you.”

“Here you go, Miss Johnson,” Scott said with a smile, returning the bags to her.

“Thank you, Scott,” she replied with a smile, and with a nod to the other guard, Laura strode toward the elevator and pressed the button. The woman at the front desk looked over at her and Laura smiled back. The woman didn't smile, but returned to whatever she was doing. From the angle of her head and the movement of one hand, it looked like she was reading a magazine. The elevator dinged, she entered the car and pressed the button for the seventh floor. The ride was silent, but for the ever-present instrumental 'music' that droned quietly in the background. Tonight it was 'Candle in the Wind' and Laura doubted Sir Elton John would have appreciated the jazzy interpretation.

Dressed in a suit of pewter grey with a pencil skirt that dipped just below her knees, matching pumps and a rich, purple blouse, Laura felt tired, but looked the part of a personal assistant. The cuffs of her blouse were turned over the cuffs of her jacket, adding a bit more colour to her outfit. Her long, dark hair was up in a loose but neat bun, hair parted on the left with a side bang that flipped up a little. She presented a professional appearance without being unapproachable.

With another ding, she arrived at the Mayor's floor. Where the lobby had smelled vaguely of dust from the old heating system, some fumes from the traffic outside and fake lemons, this floor had hints of roses, lavender and rosemary. It was definitely a preferable combination. She smiled at the receptionist, who would probably be leaving for the day shortly, and knocked on the large, wooden door to the office proper.

[Gaius Merula]

Outfit

Predictably, Gaius did his best work in the evenings, even if he could suffer the sun with only the weakening effect. He was among a few of his ilk who could still walk under the sun and enjoy its warmth, but it still left him at a disadvantage. He did not relish days where he was forced to venture out, to feel the weakness suffuse his limbs. The Roman preferred to be at his peak, and only relished the sun when he knew he would be left to his peace.

Today was not one such day, but he'd spent the day cocooned in his office. There had been no meetings that required him to leave the building, so he had taken all his guests into his elegantly appointed mayoral office. A more relaxed atmosphere than the stiff and formal meeting room. Gaius preferred that when he wasn't trying to frighten someone with his wealth and power. Here, his wealth was still evident, but without the sharp claws of political ambition. He was alone now, his meetings over, his plans dealt with for the day. Tomorrow was handled, and he might venture out for some relaxing mischief later.

The knock had him look up from the budgeting plans for the summer festivals, large and small. He was in front of his desk, rather than behind it, leaning on the expensive wooden furniture as he held the papers and perused them. A last check before he left for the day. Laura was to come by, he knew, so the interruption was not a surprise. Even in the cavernous space, he could hear her heartbeat beyond the door, the hint of her usual perfume.

“Enter,” he called, relaxed as he turned another page.

With the door at the far end, his visitor would have to cross the more comfortable seating area–a coffee table flanked by two couches, resting on a plush and expensive carpet–before getting to the desk. The 'office' part of the room was on a raised step from the seating area to separate the two spaces, surrounded by bookshelves and the window behind it. The window was covered, letting no light through.

[Laura Johnson]

She heard his invitation and opened the door, smiling across his personal office space to where the man himself was perched on his desk, papers in hand. He looked impeccable, as usual.

“Good evening,” Laura said, closing the door behind her and walking further into the space. She passed the seating area and stopped about three feet from Mayor Blackbird. Unaware of his unusual nature, she assumed he kept his blinds and curtains closed for privacy and to prevent the sun from disrupting the visibility of his laptop's screen. Glare was a thing. Though for that, he could always turn slightly or sit on one of the sofas. If she had known he could hear her heartbeat from across a room and through a door, her heart might be beating faster with a touch of nerves. Since she had no knowledge of this ability, her heartrate was normal and healthy.

Her usual perfume, a current favourite, was Tuscany Per Donna Eau de Parfum Spray by Estée Lauder. It claimed to be "as sensuous and luminous as the Italian countryside". The fragrances included various flowers and Mediterranean herbs, sandalwood and vanilla. She liked it and thought it worked well with her skin.

“Working into twilight time, I see,” she said with an acceptable element of affection, not adding 'as usual', because that was understood. Something she had gathered very quickly about her new employer: normal work hours were a suggestion, not a rule.

[Gaius Merula]

Turning another page, Gaius glanced up at his personal assistant. Still new, but no longer fresh, Johnson had kept to a standard Gaius appreciated. Her pewter skirt suit was well appointed, and she'd made efforts to not appear with a hair out of place. The Roman thought it spoke well of her, but he would not have begrudged her wearing something more relaxed at this time of evening.

As she approached, the scent of her perfume became stronger. Still pleasant, he thought, she'd had a light hand in her application. Blooming flowers with mediterranean herbs, he judged, a layer of sandalwood and vanilla ensuring it did not become too intense.

“Good evening, Laura,” Gaius offered in return, smiling slyly as she made a reference to his working hours. “One works when inspiration strikes, as they say. Do you have anything for me?” He closed the file he was holding, the gentle whuff of papers displacing air, before he placed it on his desk. He'd continue looking it over tomorrow.

[Laura Johnson]

Laura was still learning when it was acceptable to dress more casually. She wasn't stiff and unapproachable in her current attire, feeling comfortable in her skin and with her clothing. Confident enough to own it, as they said. For her perfume, she personally disliked it when people bathed in a fragrance, so she was always light with the application.

She smiled and said with a smile, “As a matter of fact, I do.” She placed the garment bag over the back of one of the chairs facing the desk. “Your tailor has finished your latest suit early. I caught a glimpse of it before it was packed and it looks great, as usual.” She pulled an letter-sized envelope from the side of her purse. “This could have waited, but I know you were interested in this project, and we finally have all three bids for the installation of solar panels at your estate.”

[Gaius Merula]

Noting the garment bag, Gaius pushed off from the desk he was reclining on and stepped forward to investigate the new tailored suit. He knew his tailor would have done an excellent job, but he was always curious to know what flourishes the tailors added when interpreting his specifications.

Laura continued on the subject of the solar panels he'd planned for his country home, as he unzipped the bag and opened it to catch a glimpse. He smoothed a hand over the deep green lapels made of a silky fabric and checked the embroidering on the dark bronze fabric of the jacket itself. Exquisite indeed. He zipped up the bag again, smoothing down the lines of the bag as he returned his attention to Laura, taking the offered envelope.

“Excellent,” he murmured, tapping the envelope against his hand as he looked at his assistant, evaluating. “Which of the companies has the best reputation, do you think?”

[Laura Johnson]

Perhaps he was asking her opinion because he was testing her ability to interact with him or seeing if she had bothered to read the quotes. Laura didn't feel like she was being tested, though. Comfortable enough in her own skin and with her intellect and instincts, which had proven themselves time and again, she decided her employer was either just curious or really wanted another opinion before he considered the options. It didn't really matter, when push came to shove.

“Boston Solar has an excellent reputation and extensive experience with commercial and residential projects,” she began. “They've partnered with the Boston Red Sox to develop Fenway Park into a shining example of what is possible for future developments.” She smiled, remembering how impressed she had been when conducting her research. “They've installed LED lighting and solar thermal panels throughout the stadium and improved their recycling and composting process. A huge custom solar panel project is in the works.”

Pausing to form her thoughts, she added, “Summit Energy also looks promising. Their reputation is on par with Boston Solar, with extensive residential experience. Both have guarantees and warrantees and emphasize all the state incentives, cash rebates, tax deductions and so on. Their pricing is similar.” She shook her head a little. “The third one has less experience and though well recommended, I would choose between the first two.”

[Gaius Merula]

As Laura recited the facts, Gaius nodded slowly as he listened. She'd done her research and since she did not bring up anything troublesome, he knew he could make a choice between the two without too much worry. Tomorrow, though, as Gaius thought, work hours were quite sacred and his, for once, were over.

“Excellent,” he declared, clasping his hands together, the envelope crinkling. Then the Strix placed it on the table between the couches, firmly delegating the choice to tomorrow. “A good day's work, I'd say. Have you eaten?”

[Laura Johnson]

He seemed pleased, but not anxious to make a decision immediately. Considering it was almost 7:30 in the evening and twilight was settling in, Laura thought that was a good choice.

At his question about food, she replied honestly. “No, not yet. I wanted to catch you before you left the office, so...” Don't ramble. “No.”

That was uncomplicated. Go, me...

[Gaius Merula]

As Laura began speaking, Gaius angled his hand to read off the time on his wristwatch, although he slid his eyes towards her with an amused glance as she dived into an explanation rather than settling for a simple answer. She stopped herself, and Gaius allowed himself a smirk and a chuckle.

“How fortuitous,” he declared, stepping towards the doors as he gestured for Laura to follow him. “Lets see what we can find, shall we? Newton has quite the foodie culture, from what I hear. Have you indulged?”

Regardless of if she followed or not, Gaius advanced on the doors and pushed them open, stepping through them like he had a plan. In truth, he did not, but he wanted to go… boots to the ground, as they said. It was always good for his constituents to see him as a normal man. Rich beyond their reckoning, but personable.

[Laura Johnson]

He didn't ask her to drop his suit off at either of his residences, so she left it draped over the chair. The Mayor indicated she should follow him and she answered his questions as she did.

“It does and I have,” she replied with a smile. “I'm not a 'foodie', but I do enjoy good food.” The receptionist must have left just after she had arrived at the office as the space was empty. There probably weren't many people left in the whole building, beyond those with late meetings or people like Mr. Blackbird. And security, of course.

[Gaius Merula]

Gaius led them to a side elevator, one that would take them down to a different section of the ground floor. He very rarely went in through the front steps, obscuring his entry point from paparazzis and curious bystanders.

“Good food is the mark of a civilised society,” Gaius asserted, thinking of all the underlying trade routes and decisions that went into it. The elevator doors slid open on their approach, and Gaius entered and pressed the button for the ground floor, before turning to face Laura. “What would you recommend? I'm thinking... something out of the ordinary. Of the street food variety, not Michelin star nonsense.”

The vast reaches of gastronomie were fascinating, but there came a time where even Gaius would prefer a proper meal rather than a molecular showpiece.

[Laura Johnson]

It was Laura's turn to raise one eyebrow when he implied that they were currently living in a civilized society. Not that people were at each other's throats and lawlessness was not in full swing, but sometimes she wondered about the nature of humanity. Having explored the remains of many a civilization, how and what they ate, though very interesting, had never led to the downfall of empires.

Unless they were unfortunate enough to be consuming lead with their drinking water, but that was another story.

People needed to eat, though, regardless of whether they were at home, at work or on a war campaign far from everything they had ever known. The Mayor was right in that what food and how it was prepared could make the difference between meals consumed during desperate times and those consumed during times of prosperity.

Easthaven, and the United States, in general, was still experiencing prosperity on some level. She knew she painted with a broad brush when she thought that, as so many people still lived in poverty. All these thoughts passed through her head in a few blinks of an eye. She wasn't going to dwell on any of it now, though.

“There are some food trucks just around the corner from here and down a bit,” she said. “Not as many as they have during the lunch hour, but there should still be some variety available. They're very popular.”

[Gaius Merula]

Food trucks, or the basic concept of a street side vendor, felt like one of the world's constants. Food, again, a driving force of enterprise. Gaius recalled the thermopilum of his youth, the variety of hot and cold food to serve most tastes, whether one wanted something hot to-go or to prepare at home.

“Ah, the modern thermopolia. Plus ça change, is it not?” Delighted, in a way, to be treading old ground in a new frock, Gaius smiled to himself as the elevator silently descended. “We'll march and get our sustenance from the food trucks, then. I don't believe I've ever sampled them.”

Gaius' office did not loom so loftily over the streets to make the elevator ride too long, so it took them no time at all to reach the ground floor. As the doors slid aside in a smooth, silent triggering of mechanisms, Gaius stepped out and surveyed the space, but observed no one lurking by.

[Laura Johnson]

Laura noticed two things: Unlike some in his position, he seemed genuinely delighted at the prospect of dinner from a food truck and he used a Latin term for a comparable environment, the plural of thermopolium, which translated as 'a place where they sold hot food'. The latter stood out to her, for obvious reasons. Other than within the context of her studies, she rarely heard Latin used and Mr. Blackbird was using it correctly.

She recalled how he had also spoken Latin correctly at the museum, where they had first met.

Three things: She was hungrier than she thought and looked forward to this gastronomic adventure.

“I think you'll appreciate this, then,” she said with a smile.

Four things: He checked his corners, like they did on police procedurals. Laura found herself briefly doing the same.

[Gaius Merula]

Gaius let out a pleased hum as Laura spoke, crossing the floor towards the back door. The back entry was always locked, but had a keypad for entry and exit, which he made quick work of. With the door sliding open, he led the way outside, stepping out into the open streets beneath the infamous Brick. The weather was cool, the nighttime chill setting in as well.

“We must, of course, survey the selection and pick the best of the lot,” Gaius asserted, pondering which direction the food trucks might be in. Did they prefer parking lots or other venues? He wasn't certain. He turned to look at Laura, posing the question. “Where did you say they were?”

[Laura Johnson]

She followed, trying to keep pace rather than appear to be running after him, like a chick chasing after a hen. That would be unseemly. She smiled at the thought.

Sounds like something out of a Regency novel. Do not run, Marjorie. It would be very unseemly...

They emerged into the cool night air and Laura was glad her suit had a jacket. Whether that would be enough to keep her warm or not, time would tell.

“Of course,” she replied. “Some of them provide samples, if you ask nicely.”

At his request for a direction, she pointed right. “There's a short street just the other side of the parking lot, with a little park. That's where they set up.”

[Gaius Merula]

Gaius let out a little hum, amused at the idea of samples from a theopilum, as he turned in the direction she indicated. He adopted a quick pace, eating up the distance. He imagined hors d'oeuvres, dainty but ladened with flavours of what he'd heard some call ethnic food. To him flavour was king, as he simply didn't need to eat. If it didn't taste good it had no business on his plate.

Regardless, he pondered what might be on the menu, as he made conversation with the assistant trailing in his wake. “How is Easthaven so far, in your esteem?” He looked over his shoulder at her, tilting his torso to invite her catch up. “I recall you'd recently relocated when we first met.”

[Laura Johnson]

Laura did a little skip-jump, not unlike the move Dorothy and friends managed in the Wizard of Oz as they headed down the Yellow Brick Road, and caught up with Mayor Blackbird. She then resumed walking normally as if she hadn't just performed a little hop-scotch action, and nodded.

“Yes, I had, and I have to say that Easthaven has exceeded my expectations,” she replied with a smile. “I wanted a break, a change of scenery, and I love being by the water, so there were already points in its favour.” She didn't want to babble - she'd been working on restraining that impulse - so she simply added, “I found a nice apartment in a decent building and the city has everything I need and more.”

Except, perhaps, eligible bachelors, but that was a completely different topic - and inappropriate to discuss with her employer.

[Gaius Merula]

Gaius gave his assistant an indulgently amused look at her little hop and a skip, but he didn't comment on it. He let her focus on answering his question, which he found overall pleasing. Productivity and effectiveness hinged on someone enjoying where they were in life, but it also pleased him that his city was meeting the expectations and needs of those who moved into its old, winding streets.

“And your social life?” he queried, expression innocent as he pried. This, also, was based on his professional interest. An isolated and socially ailing assistant would not handle the pressures of a demanding job as well as those with a fuller life.

As they walked and talked, they were closing in on the parking lot where Laura had indicated the food trucks were. Already he could see the colourful advertisement emblazoned along their flanks, announcing who they were to everyone they passed.

[Laura Johnson]

The closer they came to the food trucks, the more wonderful the aromas became. Laura took a deep breath and sighed, letting her eyes be distracted by the signs. There were a few people there for a late supper, but it wasn't so busy that customers were lined up ten deep or more, the way it could be for lunch.

He asked about her social life and she gave herself a few beats to think of how to reply, ostensibly reading the options and trying to decide how to best spend her money. She was doing that, too, but his question had surprised her a little.

“Well, the people I've met in my building seem nice,” she said with a smile. “Though I haven't really socialized with them yet. I've met quite a few interesting people, a very eclectic group.” She thought of Max, Dalton, Chloé, Adam - and the ghosts, of course.

[Gaius Merula]

Turning into the parking lot, Gaius could see the full selection on offer in the dingy space. Greek gyros, Italian pastas, a whole variety of Asian cuisines from the breadth of its space. A few American classics, with sausages and hamburgers. The curious food trucks were the ones declaring themselves a fusion, and the Strix gave them a cautiously curious look as he scanned the trucks, even as he continued to speak to Laura.

“Eclectic, you say?” he asked, glancing her way. Her answer had been rather vague, and Gaius had no issue digging for more to sate his curiosity. “What makes them so?”

[Laura Johnson]

At his next question, Laura turned her head to look up at the Mayor as they continued to walk, only to find him looking back. He was a handsome man, Mr. Blackbird, with that look of a movie star from a by-gone era. Gary Cooper, Clark Gable, Cary Grant and their contemporaries. He even dressed like them, a classic gentleman who played his strengths with elegance and flair. He was also sharp as a tack, intellectually. Quite the potent combination.

“Yes, eclectic,” she confirmed with a bright smile. “Not only are they very different people, but they also have very different backgrounds. For example, one is a fireman from Boston, another teaches at Baxendale, and then there's one who works freelance for a very private employer.” That last one was the best way she could think of to describe Chloés 'work'. Even if it wasn't quite the truth, it fit well enough, and she didn't know the real story, anyway. The Mayor wouldn't know or care.

Laura could go on, but felt that was sufficient for now. She wasn't going to bore him with the museum crowd or her book club group.

[Gaius Merula]

Gaius let out an interested hum as she elaborated. Three very different walks of life, and he wondered how she'd met them all. They weren't likely to frequent the same places, were they? Unless she was dealing with a very cerebral fireman, perhaps.

“A blue collar worker, a resident of the vaunted Ivory Tower, and a self-made individual, how very interesting,” he mused, a fissure of curious amusement underlying his words. “Who was the professor? I might know them.”

Baxendale was an honoured educational institution in the city, and Gaius was closely involved with the board of directors. He'd mingled with a few esteemed professors, although he did not know them all.

[Laura Johnson]

“Mmm,” she said to his observation. If she were to make a list of all the people she had met since arriving in Easthaven, their diversity might even be more interesting than she currently realized.

“His name is Dalton Cessair. He teaches pre-med, I think.” Laura smiled at the memory. “We met at the haunted farmhouse event during Halloween, which just adds a slightly bizarre component to things.”

I think a ghost counts as bizarre, too...

[Gaius Merula]

“Ah, the doctor Cessair,” Gaius said, enthused. A familiar name and face, although he did not know the man well. Only by reputation. Both his mundane and more magically inclined reputation. Fascinating that the man had run into his assistant. “The board of directors were besides themselves when he accepted their offer of a position. I would not have dreamt it possible to run into such an esteemed scholar at a haunted house, but we all have our vices.”

The Strix chuckled, smirking a little. He'd shown up himself, after all, pursuing the delightful frights of the mundanes and the odd joy they derived from being frightened. He leaned a little towards Laura, asking slyly, “An adrenaline laced meeting. Did he pull you away from an over-enthusiastic actor or were the roles reversed?”

[Laura Johnson]

Laura was a little surprised that the Mayor had heard of Dalton, though when she considered how he had his fingers in many pies, it was probably more 'of course' than 'really?'

“Oh, well, he told me his colleagues had dragged him to the event,” she said, not defending his choice to attend, but rather expanding upon his reason for being there. That he had felt comfortable enough to turn their solo ventures into a team of two had been appreciated. It was more fun when you were with someone else at things like haunted houses.

As for the second question -

“I think we managed to muddle through quite well.” Laura thought of their encounter with the ghost. Right off the bat, the evening had turned on its head and affected both of them. Terror made for a great eye-opener. She cleared her throat and added, with a smile, “We helped one another when it became too intense.”

[Gaius Merula]

Gaius let out a hummed sound of amusement, thinking of his own Halloween night. It had been an entertaining night until it hadn't, but wasn't that the way of things? “How quaint,” the mayor settled on, hardly able to reflect on his own evening at the haunted house. He turned to gesture to the food trucks around them. “So, the food trucks. Which cuisine appeals?”

[Laura Johnson]

Laura wasn't quite sure how to react to the phrase 'How quaint', but then she was used to hearing it when the person was being dismissive. Confused, but unwilling to let it bother her too much, she turned her attention to one food truck in particular. They had limited menus, due to having limited kitchens, but that didn't bother her.

“I like the look of the Mediterranean Mama,” she said, pausing in front of the vehicle that bore a banner with the name and a proud 'mama' drawn on it. “And their Meze Trio of tabbouleh, hummus, and baba ghanoush, served with pita crisps. Oh, and a peach juice.” She looked up at Mr. Blackbird. “Will you be eating from the same truck or one of the others?”

[Gaius Merula]

Gaius glanced at the food truck she'd indicated, inclining his head as she detailed which foods had caught her eye. Humming to himself, the Strix swept his eyes out to scan the others. What did a man who did not need to eat feel drawn to? Perhaps something sweet, rather than savoury. His eyes landed on the brightly painted Japanese food truck, announcing itself as a snack bar.

“I think I'll try a taiyaki,” he answered finally, studying the fillings on offer. Tucking a hand in his pocket, he pulled out one of his cards and offered it to Laura, a crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “For our business lunch.”

[Laura Johnson]

Laura was looking over at the food truck that had caught his attention when the card was offered. She had noticed he was doing something with his pocket and looked down as his hand offered her one of his business cards. She accepted it with a small smile. “Our business lunch,” she repeated, glancing at the night sky before meeting his eyes, her smile threatening to grow wider. “Of course, Mr. Blackbird.”

Scanning the benches and tables that were scattered around the area, the kind that were fixed to the ground with special anchors, she said, “We seem to be in luck. Whoever finishes first claims a table?”

[Gaius Merula]

Gaius cast a critical eye at the tables, a subtle downturn of his lips saying everything he refused to speak. His expression was otherwise neutral, stuck in the pleasantly charming expression he usually wore. He would refuse to sit on such meagre accommodations.

“No, we should continue walking,” he sniffed, gesturing back to the street they'd come from. “Such a fine evening shouldn't be spent in a parking lot. There's a beautiful park nearby, one that was in the green renewal project. We'll eat there.”

It was not a suggestion, but the words were framed politely enough that they could appear as such. Turning to Laura, he gave her a slight bow, before he turned and marched for the Taiyaki stand. It wasn't busy, so his fried morsel would be in his hands sooner rather than later.

[Laura Johnson]

She thought of her Meze Trio and how it would have the sauces set in a tray with lidded containers, pita crisps placed in the rest of the box and a slot for her juice cup. According to the photograph posted on the side of the truck, anyway. She could wander around with that, no problem. Did she notice his dislike of the seating option? Perhaps, but that was fine. They weren't designed for comfort, but for people not to linger and make room for more recent patrons.

“Of course,” she said and turned to place her order. There was someone ahead of her who couldn't decide what they wanted, but fortunately they didn't take too long.

Laura had her meal box in hand fairly quickly. Sipping on her straw - oh, the peach juice was so good - she turned around to locate Mr. Blackbird.

[Gaius Merula]

In the end, the Strix had gone with a chocolate filling rather than the traditional red bean paste. It didn't take him long to be handed the overlarge fish-shaped fried dough, wrapped in paper for easier eating. Quite the playful food, and a lucky fish to boot.

Thanks to the relative simplicity of his order, Gaius was done far quicker than Laura, placing himself by the 'Mediterranean Mama.' Far enough away he wasn't mistaken for someone in the queue, but close enough he wouldn't be hard to spot.

As she turned to look around, Gaius indicated the street and began walking, a slow pace to allow her to catch up. “Shall we?” he murmured with humour as she caught up, and he began the short trek to the park.

[Laura Johnson]

Finding her employer took no time at all, as he was waiting for her, holding a large pastry fish wrapped in paper in one hand. She caught up with him, matching his pace as they headed toward the park.

“Absolutely,” she replied. It wasn't really necessary, since it was obvious they were both in agreement about their destination, but Laura preferred not to leave a question hanging. Sometimes, it was fine to do so, of course. If Shakespeare could manage such things, so could she.

She dipped a pita crisp in the container of baba ghanoush and savoured the delicious flavours. She hummed appreciation and licked the tip of one of her fingers when some of the treat slid onto it.

“So,” she said, deciding their food was a fine topic, “What filling did you get for your fish?”

[Gaius Merula]

Gaius led the way, assured that Laura was keeping pace. The park wasn't far, a well-groomed green patch in Newton's jungle of smooth reflective panes and brutalist leanings. The green renovation project was something that came up every few years, for whatever reason. A new industrial project eating up more forest, a surge in interest in more green spaces, distracting from some scandal or another. It refreshed and rebuilt spots of the city, particularly Newton, to be greener and simply more beautiful.

To the major, it was very enjoyable when it came onto the agenda, despite whatever headache put it there. He was always eager to see what someone would do with a garden space. Would it be pure aesthetics? Did they subscribe to the idea of practical renewable spaces? This particular park he'd had a subtle hand in, whispering in the ears of the committee about Roman palatial gardens, the Greek and Persians influences, and don't we want to be metropolitan and grand? He'd been granted his wish. It was a shadow of Roman grandeur, but even the stylistic echoes brought satisfaction to an eternal citizen of the eternal city.

He'd been musing on the colonnade that dominated the park and framed the greenery as Laura spoke. Her reminder of his food had him looking down at his handful, letting out a pensive hum before he answered her.

“The mesoamerican classic,” Gaius answered, letting out an amused hum as he lifted the fish and titled it to show the brown edges where some of the chocolate had escaped as it fried. “Chocolate.”

Looming ahead, he could see the gates of the park, columns hinting to the theming of what lay within. It would be shut this late, he knew, maybe even chained and locked, but a simple lock was not a deterrent to a man who had the keys to the kingdom. If he wanted to eat amongst the colonnade and expertly tended garden plants, he would.

[Laura Johnson]

Ah, yes, Myans and Aztecs...

“Where would we be without chocolate?” she said with a grin, fond of the treat herself. “Sometimes I even have hot cocoa in the warm weather. Mmmm...” She took another pita crisp and scooped some hummus into her mouth, crunching happily. Delicious.

Laura was unfamiliar with the history of the park's creation. It hadn't even occurred to her that it might be closed for the evening. She swallowed her mouthful and took another sip of her juice. As they approached the gates, it became clear that it was, indeed, secure for the night.

“Well, unless you have the key... ?” She was joking. Why would Mr. Blackbird have a key to the gates of a random park, and if he did, why would they go in? It was probably illegal after sunset or something. She knew of other parks, without gates, that were 'open' until eleven at night, but after that, no walking your dog or sitting on a bench or you could be arrested, or so the signs would have you believe. Concerned about vagrancy, she supposed. Rules could be strange sometimes.

[Gaius Merula]

Cantrip (Aspect)

It was an unobtrusive lock and no barrier for someone like him, so Gaius crossed the remaining distance at a leisurely pace. “It's only to discourage any budding vandals,” Gaius remarked cavalierly, smirking a little over the origin of the word. “That's not us, of course.”

He reached out to the lock, tapping it with a finger as he pressed down the handle of the gate. Magic sparked, and with his preternatural hearing heard some delicate mechanics break. The handle pressed down and the gate swung open without a hitch. It didn't even creak. “Hm, well maintained.” He swung it up wider, stepping aside and sweeping a hand to invite Laura inside.

[Laura Johnson]

Laura was surprised the gate was unlocked, given the effort that had obviously been made to ensure that no one would be able to get in otherwise. She took a quick look for a sign, indicating hours of access, but saw nothing along those lines. She noted a warning about littering and the hefty fine. If trespassers were going to be threatened with prosecution, the sign must be posted in a different spot, though what would be a better spot than the main entrance?

She refocused on the Mayor. “Yes, very well maintained.” Another quick look revealed no apparent cameras. Maybe they were very well hidden. Laura decided if the gate was unlocked than surely this wasn't trespassing.

Smiling, she added, “No, I'd say we are the farthest thing from vandals.” He had the tendency to use vocabulary more associated with a by-gone era or two. She wondered, not for the first time, about his education. Entering the park at Mr. Blackbird's invitation, she gave him a slight bow of her head as she passed.

[Gaius Merula]

The little flavours of the past, be they inventions of renaissance writers demonising the destruction of what they saw as the glorious Rome of their distant past, were enjoyable to him. That it had survived into modern usage was just a testament to how powerfully Roman propaganda lingered, even for a word invented centuries after its fall.

“This park,” Gaius began, following her inside and closing the gate behind them, “is a recent project of the push for increasing the green area in the city. The committee wanted to bring the idea of... ancient gardens. From the Persians to the Romans.”

[Laura Johnson]

As the Mayor spoke, she took in the stone bench that was situated about six feet in, directly across from the entrance. It was flanked by deciduous trees starting to bud in the slightly warmer weather Easthaven was experiencing, during the day, anyway. It was a bit cooler now that the sun had set. There were stone or stone-like containers with carefully cultivated spring flowers and greenery, arranged like a bouquet.

Laura turned to look back at the gate and the tall hedges that travelled left and right further than she could see, and she could see. In ancient Rome, wealthy citizens used oil lamps, frequently ornate to reflect the position of the family, to light the front of their homes and their gardens. There were slaves assigned specifically for lighting, extinguishing and monitoring the lamps should any problems arise. Naturally, public events held in the evenings would have something similar. In the Twenty-first Century, vegetable oil was far from practical. A light bulb resembling a flame, probably one of those energy-saving LED ones, hung from simple, but elegant posts on short chains in a vessel similar to an oil lamp. It was high enough that people couldn't easily reach it but low enough to illuminate the pathways.

She smiled, turning in a circle to look again at the impressive entrance, the meal box in her right hand temporarily forgotten. “Beautiful...”

[Gaius Merula]

As Laura paused to take in the immediate entrance of the park, Gaius stepped past her, smiling beatifically to himself. It was not quite like he remembered them, but he could see the spirit of the public gardens of his living life. He'd quietly arranged for spots of worship to be placed within as well, subtle enough that mundanes would simply take them for pretty statuary, but believers could take use of them. He did, the rare time he stepped into the sunlight to offer them, the rest of the time was under the cover of night.

“The planner certainly outdid themselves,” Gaius offered to Laura as he stepped past her, lifting his tasty morsel to finally take a bite out it. The fried dough with that bittersweet chocolate filling was delicious, but simple. A light treat for one such as he, that thrived off flesh and blood more than anything. Ahead of them, a covered walkway surrounded one section of the garden, an imitation of a Roman villa garden. The colonnaded portico was a mere skeleton of what it would have been, but then this was meant for public living, not private.

Further in, between manicured hedges and elegant statuary that was anarchonistially marble white, there would be benches. It was a tricky prospect to sell painted statues to those who admired classical architecture, as the corrupted image of the past seemed quite literally whitewashed. Ignoring that little irritation, Gaius gestured down the pathway leading deeper inside the park, away from the portico and its mancured hedgerows and flowers. “Come, let us go deeper.”

[Laura Johnson]

“They certainly did,” she said, agreeing with the incredible amount of detail the designer of this garden had managed to incorporate without making it feel to anachronistic. That he or she had been able to pull out all the stops and actually have permission to spend what must have been an exorbitant amount of money to see the vision become real was equally astonishing.

When Mr. Blackbird suggested they go deeper into the park, Laura said a quiet, “Yes, absolutely,” while trying to see where the pathway led. Even with the lamp posts, the garden was not without large swatches of night between them. She nibbled some more of her Meze Trio as she started walking slowly along the designated area for pedestrians, hoping her pumps, less-than-ideal shoes for a lot of walking outside, would hold up to the excursion.

[Third on the Match]

A Knavish Sprite and An Angry Nymph

DC 3

Mischievous

Earth, Plants, Illusion, Sound/Song

Cinder 7d6

Strike 8d6

Luck 4

As the pair strolls through the garden, they catch the sound of voices. Two of them, one male and one female, obviously arguing. The curious thing is that they're speaking in a combination of Greek, Latin, and New England-accented English.

If Gaius and Laura chance a closer look, they'll find the owners of the two voices. One, a woman of nymph-like beauty, almost enhanced by her anger. She is comfortably naked from the waist up, clothed in flowing garments that cling to her hips. She has one hand on a young tree, and sharp eyes will pick out that her fingers are partially melded with the smooth bark. Her clothes too seem to blend with the foliage.

The other is a handsome young man, also naked from the waist up, save a sash over one shoulder. It's not immediately apparent, as there are bushes and other plants in the way, but his lower half is that of a faun.

The pair of them are arguing, loudly, about nothing more than their relationship. What was he doing with that naiad? she wants to know, though her language is far more colorful, blending curses from both ancient languages and a particular Bostonian flair. He proclaims that it wasn't what it looked like, they were just talking, and she viciously says that she should've known better than to get involved with a faun.

He angrily spits that that's a tale as old as time, but it's twenty-twenty-four, honey, stop lumping him in with his ancestors.

And it heats up from there.

If Gaius and Laura are noticed, they may either be dragged into the argument, rashly asked to solve the young lovers' spat--the truth is that the faun was planning a romantic evening for himself and the nymph, but she doesn't believe him.

If they try to sneak past, the pair will stop their argument, and try to scare them off with mischief and magic.

[Gaius Merula]

Gaius had not left much room for her to turn him down, but he was happy to have her agreement regardless. He led them along the path, nibbling his taiyaki as they wandered. The Roman admired the guarded around him, observing the clever lighting the planners had use to highlight certain features. In the daylight it would be even more magnificent.

He was finishing up his taiyaki when he heard the voices, his enhanced hearing picking the conversation up before Laura's human ears could. The Strix kept quiet, listening in on the brewing argument as each step they took brought them closer. Practiced at knowing when humans might begin to hear something, Gaius waited until they were close enough that the voices would sensibly be picked up by human hearing.

“It seems we are not the only late night travellers,” Gaius murmured, quietly amused at the bickering back and forth.

[Laura Johnson]

Mr. Blackbird quietly mentioned that they were not alone in the garden. Laura's first thought involved to gate and how anyone would be able to enter the park without a key, but perhaps there were other ways in and out. For safety purposes, there would have to be at least one more than one exit, right? Where there was a door, there would always be someone wanting to get to the other side.

She stood still, head tilted slightly to the left and closed her eyes. Whether this position actually resulted in a better chance at hearing faint voices or not was unknown, but it was something people did under such circumstances and she was no exception.

She frowned slightly, a little puzzled and surprised, and opened her eyes. Stepping closer to her employer, she whispered, “They're speaking English, but also... Latin? And something else...” She shook her head. “Difficult to make it out, but they sure sound angry.”

[Gaius Merula]

Strike (Pass unnoticed) 3 passes vs. DC3/Complete success

Gaius spotted how the human tilted her head as she strained to listen in to the conversation. The Strix heard them clearly, but their volume in the argument was loud enough that he didn't think human ears would have issues this close. Laura stepped closer–worried, perhaps? The couple certainly sounded angry enough to warrant some caution, lest they catch some stray fire if the pair took their presence negatively.

“A lover's spat, I believe,” Gaius murmured, understanding the Latin perfectly, and recognising some of the other languages the pair cycled through. He didn't understand them all, but he could catch the context even knowing a few of the languages they used. “It appears this would-be Romeo has upset his Juliet. It may be better to pass them by quietly.” He said it with humour, finding avoiding quarreling lovers sounded like something out of a Shakespearean comedy, but only if they were dragged into the argument in the end.

He leaned towards Laura and gestured to a pathway that was a little more sheltered by hanging plants and statuary, a silent suggestion for a better path to take to bypass the lovers. He moved once he had her attention, stepping down the alternate path, but knowing they might spot them anyway, he wouldn't stoop to sneaking past, after all.

[Laura Johnson]

Strike - Pass Unnoticed - 1 Pass vs. DC3 - Complete & Utter Failure

Laura was all about leaving people to their own business and would only ever make her presence known if it seemed someone was in danger. That or she would get close enough to confirm the situation required an intervention, of sorts, and then dial 9-1-1. She looked in the direction Mr. Blackbird suggested and nodded that she understood. He took the lead and she followed.

Glancing briefly in the direction of the quarrelling couple, she hoped the resolution would be a peaceful one and not end the way of the Shakespearean couple mentioned by the Mayor. She still thought it was odd that they should be speaking any Latin, since outside of scholarly research and the like, it was as dead as Julius Caesar at the foot of Pompey's statue.

Unfortunately, whether it was the darkness or her distraction with the couple, Laura was destined not to pass quietly through the park. Her pumps, which she had earlier thought might be problematic for a walk, proved her correct. The heel of her right shoe caught on something in the path. She lost her balance and no amount of impromptu dance moves or wind-milling of arms was going to prevent her from falling.

With a small 'Ooooofff', she tipped sideways and landed awkwardly in a pristine line of low hedges, her tray of food and her drink plopping somewhere on the ground. The noise was inescapable. Hoping the couple would think it was a racoon or some other nightly visitor and blushing with embarrassment, she hesitated, trying to figure out how she could right herself. Her bottom almost reached the roots of the hedge as her head, arms and legs stuck upward like a stylized 'V' designed by some inebriated monk.

[Gaius Merula]

Encounter Strike (Notice) Exceptional success
Cinder (Social) Partial failure

They were not sneaking, but the noise from Laura tripping into the bush eliminated any hope of passing by sight unseen. Gaius was fast enough to have caught her, but he was still pretending to be entirely mundane, so he didn't even try. He let out a low, “Oh my,” as she toppled. The sound of snapping branches and the violent shaking of leaves was loud in the quiet gardens, and Gaius glanced out towards the bickering lovebirds even as he stepped closer to Laura and her predicament with the hedge.

Enhanced ears picked up a low gasp from one of them, the female Gaius guessed, and he saw them turning towards the intrepid pair. He held up one hand–not a wave, but a flat hand with the palm faced towards them–as he offered a clear, “Salvete,” in greeting, even as he reached into the bush with his other hand to catch one of Laura's hands to pull her out. “We did not mean to interrupt, we thought only to leave you in peace,” he offered, but the pinched look on the nymph's face told him she wasn't best pleased by their appearance.