13447/Books, bonfires and babes. Well, hopefully not bonfires.

Books, bonfires and babes. Well, hopefully not bonfires.
Date of Scene:	26 November 2022
Location:	Basement Apartment (The Curio)
Synopsis:	No description
Cast of Characters:	Phoebe Beacon, Robbie Reyes

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Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    The room was hidden, accessable from a room called The Lending Library above in the Curio's living-building-area, and down a spiral staircase Phoebe leads Robbie. The room is cool, and dry, and smells of leather and vanilla, of pepper and roses.

    "Ah, don't mind the mess, I kinda don't take guests in this room. Like, ever." Phoebe explains as she plucks some laundry off a bookshelf where it was hanging off a rhinocerous coathook and pitches it to a well-disguised laundry hamper, looking embarrassedly at Robbie.

    "So, this is my study. It used to belong to the guy who started the Night Brigade, but I kinda took it over and made it the second safest place in Gotham City."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Robbie's not entirely sure whether this counts as a date; and even if it was, what the hell does that mean? So he's erring on the side of friends chilling out with books. That's safe enough.

"I don't. Mind, I mean," he informs her as he thumps down the steps close behind; hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket, head on a swivel as he takes everything in. The rhinocerous coathook's a nice touch. He cracks a brief grin before continuing on down.

"Yeah? You got it warded, I can feel it." He extracts a hand and runs his fingertips along one of the shelves he passes, stopping to nudge out a book by its spine for a quick peek. 'The tale of Sinuhe' is etched into an otherwise featureless leather cover.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Well, I mean, not even any of the Fam's been down here. You're... pretty much the first person I've brought." Phoebe smiles, and she rubs the back of her neck again, looking out over the room, crammed full of books and materials and that small bed in the corner with the plush pegasus.

    "They're actually not my work. It's the work of thep erson who taught me how to do them. I guess they'd probably feel like mine. I worked up some of the designs based on his work." she explains quietly, and she sits on the edge of the bed, looking around.

    "Careful. Some of these books come from my ancestors. I needed a safe place to put them."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
That gives him pause. Brows slightly furrowed, he pretends to be singularly interested for a few seconds in the volume of ancient Egyptian poetry whose context is probably completely lost on him.

It's nudged back into place finally, and he rubs at his nose with the backs of his knuckles, turning to face the girl. Considers some sort of smartass reply to that, then settles on, simply, "Really?"

It takes him a minute to mentally catch up to the rest of what she's said, since the bit about being the first person allowed down here.. visibly threw him for a loop. "Ain't sensitive enough to magic, I don't think, to know who created it. All I know is I felt a.. like a pull, I guess, when we came in. Like whatever they did, it wasn't sure I belonged here maybe." He's watching Phoebe now, at least, instead of awkwardly staring at the book.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Well. He was apparently a demon wearing the face of another sorcerer." Phoebe states quietly. "But for two months he was Dad," she rubs her face a moment, as if irritated at the memory. "And then he was gone. So this room's warding is all that's left of the work he put into protecting me. Everything else was undone as a precaution. So yeah, you may be feeling weird with the 'not sure if you're allowed to be here', or it's picking up on Eli and pitching a fit." she states, and she looks to some of the books around her. "So this is where all the stuff he gave me or worked with me on lives. Whatever's left, anyway. I burned a lot of it." she shrugs.

    "But yeah. The remains of the library my ancestors assembled, some of it's here. Some of it's stored elsewhere. A lot of what's here is either introductory or explaination texts ranging from 3000 BC to sometime in the late AD 300's. The papyri and scrolls were too delicate to really use, so I'm trying to find some way to restore them."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Robbie's gaze slides away again as she explains about the man she called father. For two months, anyway; her irritation's not lost on him. His jaw's a little tight, exaggerating his sharp bone structure.

"You miss him?" he ventures after a while, easing in closer, eyes on the glass bird perched on a nearby shelf. As for the books, "They warded too? Booby trapped?" He isn't joking, really. One never knows when it comes to ancient gods.

Then he sinks down beside her on the bed, a couple of feet away. Enough space between them, hopefully, for it to not be an intrusion.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Leave space for Jesus. Or Horus. Quetzalcoatl.

    "I do." she gives a slight smile, then draws her arms around herself. "But he wasn't real. So I'm missing the idea, rather than an actual person." she shakes her head, and then she looks out over the books.

    "Some of them are warded. You wouldn't be able to read them unless you know the particular dialect of Egyptian." she explains, "The library was one of the most secure places in the village."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Turning his head slightly, Robbie studies her profile while she speaks. And watches the way she pulls her arms around her body, like she's trying to protect herself. "Sounds like it was real to you," he posits quietly.

Following her gaze, he makes a little moue with his mouth. "Wonder if Eli'd be able to understand any of it. Not that he shares everything he knows with me. What about this, uh. This village? You think it's still around?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "It was." Phoebe whispers, and she draws her legs up. And she takes a deep breath and looks over to Robbie, and then rubs her palm against her eyes.

    "Robbie, you don't wanna get involved with all this. Everything in the last four years is just one gigantic sob story." she mumbles.

    "And I could write something down and have him read it if you want to try, but probably a bad idea to let him out at all in this room."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Robbie shakes his head quickly at the suggestion of letting Eli out. Not just a bad idea, but a supremely terrible one. No doubt Phoebe could contain him before the demon managed to wreak too much destruction. But it's hardly how he'd choose to spend his time with her.

"Figure I'm already involved, tangled up like I was with the JLD." His gaze ticks briefly down to watch her pull her legs in as well. Balling up like a little echidna. He starts to reach over and touch her-- then remembers that he shouldn't, and pulls his hand back again quickly.

"Anyway, don't need to talk about it if you don't want. I just thought.. well, sometimes we try to put shit behind us, but it don't stay there."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe has her doubts.

    "There's a difference. Being involved in the JLD was a professional engagement. People working together towards a common goal. Helping each other. What you want is... different. And requires me to be vulnerable." she replies. "... and I just keep getting up after every gutpunch Life throws at me and ask for another. There's no village. They're gone."

    She breathes out. And like a balled-up echidna, she has a little prickliness to her. But at least no venom spines.

    That would be awkward.

    "What about you? You've got past, history. Your brother who's in engineering school, right?"

Robbie Reyes has posed:
"What I want." Robbie repeats it slowly. Still watching the girl beside him, still very aware that she's closed off and put her armour on. He doesn't move an inch closer or away; there's a stillness to him that's unnatural. Inhuman, almost. He's a predator, after all; a hunter. Sin Eater, some have called him; and it's not inaccurate.

"You think I know what I want? That I got anything in mind past the fact I like bein' around you?" He chuckles, and leans forward with his elbows on his knees with a soft crunch of leather. "I broke up with the last girl I had feelings for. Told myself no more bein'.. entangled."

He's not too sure where he was going with that, so leaves off there and nods to her question. "Gabe? Yeah. Mechanical engineering. Been taking care of him since our parents died."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I... I just assumed you were... interested. You know, in--" Phoebe blinks, and then she tilts her head forward and just puts her head in her knees.

    "He sounds like a smart kid. What's he like? You work the mechanic shop job to support the both of you?" she asks quietly.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Right after the words are out of his mouth, Robbie realises what it sounds like he's saying. Which, by the stricken look on his face.. isn't quite what he'd intended. Turns out all that leather and ink -- his own version of armour -- doesn't help one whit once he starts blushing. Ridiculously, his freckles look even more pronounced on top of his impression of a ripe tomato.

"He's, uh. Yeah. Yeah, I do-- look." He slides off the edge of Phoebe's bed and drops into a crouch on the floor in front of her. No touching whatsoever, but this close she can't not feel the demonic heat washing off him. "I am. Interested. I just don't have a real good track record with girls, you know?"

He's quiet for a few moments, considering the top of her head, then the glass bird again. "Might help to know what you want."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe does not see the blushing. She's mostly hiding from her own embarrassment, and she draws her eyes up as Robbie slides off the bed, and for a moment she thinks he's going to exit.

    But he doesn't. She can feel Eli's presence banging off the wards she's set up and tied into.

    She can feel his gaze like a bad idea in the back of her mind, but she brings her own eyes up and looks at Robbie. Robbie who rescued her from a rainy night. Who was willing to accept that she couldn't be touched when she was panicky.

    ... but what did she want?

    "... I want to be able to be touched. To be able to feel vulnerable without feeling like I have to explain everything. I want..." she pauses, and then she blinks.

    "Ohmigod you're so freaking red right now."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Eli's like a tiger in a too-small enclosure composed of barbed, electrified fence. Here and there, a glimpse of the demon; the light in Robbie's too-bright eyes when Phoebe looks up at him, or the rasp of his breathing through flared nostrils.

Then it's gone again, and it's only the young man crouched in front of her with that almost owlish look on his red face. Which Phoebe goes and points out to him.

Which isn't helping the blushing.

"Ain't nothing to explain that you don't want to." His voice is low, soft, and he watches her eyes steadily. "Also not in a rush. I figure you'll let me touch you when you're ready."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "One great thing about my skintone? You can't tell when I'm blushing. Not really. My ears get darker. Sometimes my cheeks. But like, my freckles you don't see unless I'm in bright sunlight. THey're ninja freckles. Hiding in the Dark." she jokes about her darker skin, and then looks up to Robbie again.

    "When I'm ready." she agrees, "if I'm ready." she adds quietly, and then closes her eyes.

    "My history of dating is pretty disasterous. I almost set a guy on fire once because he was getting handsy on an investigation."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Rather than get back up, Robbie decides instead to get comfortable on the carpet. He lowers himself the rest of the way down, watching the younger woman steadily throughout. Knees bent and feet to either side of Phoebe's, he folds his arms and rests his chin atop them.

"If you're ready," he corrects himself, chancing a slight smile when she points it out. "Another great thing is it's gorgeous." Her skin colour, he means. The compliment's made brazenly; no blushing this time. And, "Yeah? Well maybe he deserved it."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I warned him twice." Phoebe gives a small smile, and she takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

    And then the complement hit her. She blinks a moment, and then gives a squeak.

    "Look. Don't make it weird now. It's just skin." she mumbles, and she gives a giggle, putting her head back down to her lap.

    "What if I'm never ready?" she questions, her eyebrows drawing up. "I mean, that's not a non-possibility, but it's notlikely."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
"Make it weird? I ain't makin' it weird," Robbie protests, suddenly glancing away and raking inked fingers through curls in dire need of trimming. Is he making it weird? "Just think you're pretty, is all."

The question makes him shrug. "Then.. I don't touch you. Period." He looks confused, as if this should be obvious. "And if you want other people to touch you, but not me-- I mean, it's your fuckin' body. Not mine. I appreciate it the same either way."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I made it weird. That was directed at me. 'Cause I was raised by a couple who were white. So... there were always looks, you know? And Caroline didn't like the whole poofy hair thing. Not like your hair. You've got good hair." she pauses a moment, and she draws her head up a little.

    "... ok yeah this is gonna be weird. Can I touch your hair?"

Robbie Reyes has posed:
She was-- oh. Not talking to him. Well, now the blush is back with a vengeance that's nothing to do with Eli. "Oh yeah? Fuckin' gringos, man." His expression is a mixture of sympathy and irritation on her behalf. "Neighbourhood I grew up in, I guess white people were kind of a minority. A lot of girls had hair like yours."

Robbie opens his mouth to argue about his being 'good', but then shuts his mouth again. He knows what she means, and he knows it's a word like an open wound, and not really his place to argue.

He pauses at the question, watching her. Then, "Yeah."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe had unmanageable C4 hair. In its natural state it was wooly and tightly kinked. Chemical relaxers were a fact of life in her younger years.

    But she pauses a moment, she gives a nod, and she brings her right hand up, and slowly reaches out.

    And her fingertips -- just her fingertips -- run so lightly through Robbie's curls. Like a breeze. Not touching his scalp, as if she's afraid she'd hurt him. Or contaminate him.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Vulnerability's not easy for him, either. He lowers his head a little so she can touch his hair, but it's like a large and predatory animal warily approaching someone they're not wholly certain of yet. Dark, almost black -- save for a faint coppery sheen in the sunlight -- his hair is somewhere between 2C and 3A. Depending, maybe, on the day.

He holds still while her fingertips explore, while that unnatural heat siphons off of him and neither of them speak a word. Like a spell he doesn't want to break.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    In truth, for all the book learning she has and her crash courses, Phoebe doesn't know if she can touch Robbie without hurting him.

    She breathes out, and then draws back her hand, just a little bit.

    And then she folds it back over her knees.

    "It's so weird to feel two beings there."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
As if he's read her mind, he proffers after a few seconds more of that silence, voice warm and low, "I don't break easy, you know. You can relax."

Once she's withdrawn her hand, his head comes back up slowly. The corners of his eyes crease a little with amusement. "Yeah, took a lot of getting used to. Now, I--" He doesn't finish that thought. Instead, a shake of his head as if to banish it.

"You want to grab a bite to eat? Or show me any books ain't warded against demons, or?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I dunno. The only ones that aren't warded are like, ancestry recordings. My ancestors kept pedigrees so that we didn't ended up with Pharoah disease -- y'know, inbreeding, Tut only had one set of great grandparents -- and ah..."

    She then just gets a weird face.

    "We're gonna have to talk about iAru-Wheyt some other time, 'cause it's a lot to take in."

    She pauses, and then looks to her wrist. There is not a watch there.

    "Wanna grab a pizza, sit on top of a roof and tell jokes to the pidgens?"