Coffee and a Chat (Robin)

[Emerson (DELETED 8699)]

The weather in Harper Rock was in its final transition from warm summer days to the chilly afternoons of the fall, and Emerson was loving it. Her skirts were now paired with long socks, and oversized sweaters replaced her crop tops. Even still, she opted for a comfy outfit to wear that day, and let her hair fall as it wished. She didn't feel as nervous about meeting with Robin as she had been with Madds. As stereotypical as it sounded, Robin was a guy. He also wasn't involved in fashion, which diminished some of the pressure to look well dressed on Emerson's end. And, this time, Emerson knew a bit about who she was meeting with. Despite it all, her meet with Maddison went rather well, and the girl didn't doubt that the two would become fast friends. And it only made sense for her to meet her friend's love interest - or sire, for better terms - right?

The two had agreed over email to meet at a cafe. Cafes had atmospheres Emerson felt at home with. There were never too many people, and it was quiet - but not exactly silent, either. She loved to stop by cafes after a long sleep, grab a hot drink, and curl up in one of the chairs to do whatever until the place was near closing time.

The Voodoo Cybercafe wasn't one she was all too familiar with, but it seemed moderately crowded whenever she happened to pass by the building. She took frequent walks around the city, and whenever she stumbled upon the said cafe, something always struck up in her stomach. She wasn't sure if the feeling was a good or a bad one, and since she was never one to step out of her comfort zone, Emerson didn't make an effort to step inside the building until now. If anything were to happen, at least she'd be with someone. And if Maddison trusted Robin, he must have been an alright enough of a guy.

Even if he killed someone.

Upon opening the door, the girl was met with a flash of a memory. Tabletop underneath her fingertips, orders being called out by someone far off, sweet tea burning her tongue. She must have been here before, but when, was the real question. Was it the night of her siring, or before that? A loud bell jingled as the door swung shut behind her, snapping Emerson out of her memory.

The brunette shook her head to clear her thoughts and stepped further inside.

Jade eyes glanced about the premise, but she caught no sight of anyone particularly Robin-looking. She must have gotten there before him. Emerson approached the counter and took a look over the menu. She wasn't all that hungry, and still had yet to test just how much she could stomach down at that point. It wouldn't make a good first impression if she were to throw up all over the place, so she less than confidently ordered herself a Pumpkin Spice latte with lots of whipped cream. The barista, who had no other customers, made the drink in no time. It was handed over in a cute brown cermanic mug. Small orange and yellow leaf-shaped sprinkles had been dusted over the tall dollop of whipped cream, and Emerson couldn't help a smile. It was very fall appropriate.

Emerson found a pair of comfy chairs and a small table at the far end of the cafe, away from the windows and the other cafe-goers so that she and Robin could privately hold a conversation if they so wished to. The girl plopped herself down in one of the chairs after carefully setting her latte to rest on the table. After fiddling around in her backpack some, she pulled out a nature-themed coloring book and her newest pack of colored pencils. Flipping to a new page, she started on a picture of some forest scenery, swiped some whipped cream off the top of her latte, and waited for Robin's arrival.

[Robin Little]

Robin knew nothing about Emerson except that she belonged to Prudence. ‘Belonged’, in the loosest sense of the word. People weren’t commodities to be owned, and nor would he ever really think that he ‘belonged’ to Lorelai. Not in the sense that she had any say about his actions or whereabouts. It was a connection, though – Lorelai ‘belonged’ to Prudence, and in that sense, he and Emerson were connected. They had a reason to meet, and why shouldn’t they? Robin could think of no reason not to, and the request hadn’t really surprised him. He was looking forward to meeting the girl for whom he’d been kicked out of the condo that one night.

The night was taken off work, and Robin dressed in more comfortable, casual clothes. The persona he adopted at the Necropolis was almost a lie; that man in his suits, looking suave like some kind of well-to-do millionaire. He’d even learned a few moves. It came part and parcel with his path. His words could turn into pure honey if he compelled them to. If he focused, he could persuade pieces of art out of his words.

Not so around Maddison, of course. She flustered him so, and he was always doing something to be shouted at for. Not that he minded. He wouldn’t feel like himself if he weren’t being shouted at for something.

The Voodoo Cybercafe was given as the place to meet; it wasn’t as if Robin could get lost. The cybercafé was right next to the Necropolis, and he almost felt like he could just slip into work. Oddly, once inside the café the constant thumping bass from the nightclub next door was gone. Someone had done hell of a job soundproofing the place.

Robin arrived just on time, though he did waste a few minutes wandering around before he realised he had not asked Emerson what she looked like; they had not specified any particular kind of clothing by which they could recognise each other. So Robin had to look a little strange as he wandered around, eying every single woman in the place, catching the eye of a few and hoping for… what? A vibe? Finally he stopped; there was a woman nestled in a booth reading a book – the one beside Emerson’s, coincidentally. Robin awkwardly cleared his throat.

”Excuse me… sorry. Are you Emerson?” he asked.

Unfortunately, the woman was wearing headphones and didn’t notice Robin until the question had already been asked. She had to remove said headphones, looking at Robin warily. Why had he picked this woman? She clearly wasn’t waiting for company. Robin just smiled and shook his head, stepping back.

”Never mind…” he said, pausing in the middle of the floor and humming under his breath.

[W E A R I N G]

[Emerson (DELETED 8699)]

Emerson had totally disregarded the fact of telling Robin what she looked or what she would be wearing that day or anything of any sort that could distinguish her from everyone else. It would have made sense for her to do so. It wasn't like she was the only one in the whole cafe or the only female in the whole entire world. But she hadn't thought that far ahead yet. She was more of a "take things one thing at a time" kind of girl. Nonetheless, she had just assumed he would find her. Somehow. Maybe Maddison would have told him about her. Or Prudence. But none of that mattered and it was too late to make any kind of effort, anyways. The bell to the door had jingled to life and someone was stepping inside. Emerson looked up momentarily from her "work" to see who it was.

A man had walked in. He was tall - a bit taller than Maddison and definitely taller than Emerson - and was dressed in a simple button-up and jeans. That made her feel better. Her outfit of a sweater and jeans meant that she wasn't over or underdressed for the occasion. The man was pale (but he was a vampire, after all), and she could see just how bright his eyes were even from where she sat. Blue. Maddison's favorite color. Was that coincidental, or part of the reason Maddison liked him? In the end, she decided he was good looking. Not her type, but on Maddison's behalf, she approved.

Wait... Was this guy even Robin, anyways? Emerson ducked her head back down quickly to avoid any awkward eye contact. Her hair fell like a dark curtain over her face and she focused in on coloring orange and yellow and brown and purple leaves.

Emerson could hear the man's footsteps getting louder as walked further into the building. Maybe it was Robin, after all. Or, maybe he had caught Emerson's staring and was going to confront her on it. She hoped and prayed it wouldn't be the latter of the two. The footsteps stopped only a table away and that's when she heard her name. She perked up slightly at the sound of it. Force of habit, or whatever. It didn't take long for the girl to realize that she wasn't being spoken to, but rather, the woman with a book in her hands. Did Emerson look like the kind of girl who would dive into... She squinted her eyes at the cover. Twilight. It had to have been a joke, right? She liked reading just as much as the next person, but teen romance stuff wasn't her go-to genre. History was pretty cool. Myths, too. And she was a total sucker for those books about animals with all the pictures.

And, c'mon. Twilight?

Putting down the colored pencil she had been holding, Emerson took a deep breath to both prepare herself to speak out in front of all people and to rid the laugh that was welling in her chest. Robin was awkward. He was so awkward. And she meant that out of the kindness of her heart, because Emerson was beyond awkward, too, and it just kind of all fit. She'd find the time to poke fun at him later.

"Robin?" She was quiet, but still hoped she was loud enough to get the man's attention. Could the ground not swallow her up whole? "M'Emerson. Pretty sure you're looking for me?"

[Robin Little]

It was remiss of Robin to pay no attention to the book – as an avid reader himself, and an aspiring author, it was often the first thing he paid attention to, if anyone was reading in public. He would never judge those particular people by their covers, but instead by the covers of the books they held in their hands. Even if this girl was reading Twilight who was he, really, to judge? University courses had the book on their syllabus. Not because they thought it was high literature but because they thought it ought to be compared to the classics, to the greats. This was what gothic literature had come to. These were the heights from which it had fallen.

But also, given recent news, the poor girl was probably just trying to come up to speed with the creatures of the night, and Robin would prefer that she read Twilight over something like Dracula or Tom Holland. He’d prefer she read something sympathetic to vampires rather than something that painted them as monsters to be hunted and slaughtered. Someone really should do her a favour and slip her some Anne Rice.

It wasn’t long until he heard his name. He turned to see the girl in the next booth, introducing herself as the one he was looking for. Emerson. He laughed his relief and nodded, an easy smile gracing his lips.

”Oh, hi!” he said, turning and moving toward her and the booth like a large Labrador puppy who wasn’t completely in control of all its limbs yet. If there’d been anything in the vicinity to knock over he probably would have. Thankful for them, there wasn’t. He slipped into the booth that Emerson had claimed; he saw the drink that she had and glanced toward the counter, wondering if this was the kind of establishment that came to take orders, or whether he had to go to the counter to make one. He’d figure it out later.

”It’s good to meet you,” he said, turning his attention back to the table and the company at hand. When he smiled, his cheeks did this ‘rosy apple’ thing, flesh plumping around the cheekbones. It was ridiculous, and yet not something that Robin was entirely aware of. Despite the stubble along his jaw, that smile still lent to him the look of a boy.

”How are you?”

[Emerson (DELETED 8699)]

University. College. Emerson hadn't attended either, or any variation of the two. And that was probably a good thing if something like Twilight were to be on the syllabus. She hadn't read the book but had heard of it plenty, especially now, in a place like Harper Rock where actual vampires were a thing. It didn't seem like a good read, although she could relate to the fact that the main character (Emerson couldn't even care enough to catch their name) had fallen for some guy who was what? One hundred and eighteen? Relatable.

Emerson watched Robin, amusement flickering in the green of her eyes, as he clambered his way to sit. He didn't knock anything over, per say, but his movements had jostled around the table a bit, and some of the colored pencils the brunette hadn't properly tucked away rolled off the surface and clattered to the floor. She could barely manage a pout as she bent over to pick them up and put them back in their place, ordered by color. She decided Robin was kind of a goof and that it was a good thing. She also tried to wrap her head around the fact that he, despite being a goof, had gotten so jealous that he killed someone. Perhaps feelings - she didn't dare label it as love for the time being - could really make a person do some crazy things.

"S'Good to meet you too," she replied. She returned a smile, although in comparison to Robin's, one that was much smaller. Her hands subconsciously reached for her drink and she took a small sip, careful not to burn her tongue, which poked out between her lips to swipe at the whipped cream that caught to her upper lip.

The girl hummed over the question, picking a blue colored pencil to start out the sky on her paper. It'd be easier to talk if she was busy with something else. She could multitask easily, and avoid making an absolute embarrassment of herself in the process. It seemed like the way to go, even if it meant possibly coming off as rude. Eye contact was key, she knew, but she'd get there eventually. "I'm okay. Just... Y'know." She shrugged her shoulders, dismissing her answer. It wasn't that she was doing bad, but there wasn't really much going on in her life that made it particularly great. Every day was the same old routine, spiced up by a slight change in location, but at least today she was making an effort to meet someone and interact with someone other than an employee at some gimmick or another. "I'm around, and such. But how are you?" She'd rather the topic be on Robin. Some people loved to talk about themselves, and if Robin was one of those people, then Emerson would be perfectly fine with that and would listen her way through as she always did. At least it was something she enjoyed.

[Robin Little]

But how are you? The question was phrased in such a way, as if Emerson expected that Robin were recovering from some kind of trouble. In response to the question he grinned. It was not one that he would avoid, nor would he shrug it off like Emerson seemed to have done.

”I’m fantastic, thank you for asking,” he said. And it was no lie. He paused momentarily, wondering what Maddison might have shared with Emerson. How much did she know? And how good was the friendship between the girls? Was it good enough that Maddison might have filled Emerson in on the progress of things, or would Maddison have kept it close to her chest? Would Robin be judged harshly if he were to gush now like some teenage girl?

”Maddison is great, too. We’re both great. Things are gr—“ he stopped, and cleared his throat. That’s too many greats at once. He had to shut up. He lifted his hand to wave down a passing waitress who’d just finished cleaning one of the tables. He still didn’t know whether this was the kind of place to take table orders, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.

”Can I possibly get a cappuccino?” he asked. The girl smiled and nodded before wandering off, and Robin was sated. He lifted his left buttcheek from his seat so that he could slide his wallet out from the back pocket, searching for a note to pay for the coffee once it arrived.

”You were ah… turned, not too long ago. How’s the adjustment?” he asked. He had not missed Emerson’s half-hearted response. Just…y’know was not an encouraging answer. And although he didn’t see their small bloodline as a family, per se, he figured it could not hurt to inquire more thoroughly after well-being. It would at least keep him from leaning across the table and telling Emerson everything. Absolutely everything. It was just the kind of thing that Robin would do.

[Emerson (DELETED 8699)]

The information Emerson had been given about Robin revolved around a complicated relationship between him and Maddison. Or, to be better put, a more than complicated relationship. Complicated was kissing and not knowing what the heck was going on. More than complicated was killing someone over jealousy. She wasn't going to stick her nose into anyone else's business, but she was curious as to how the whole sort had turned out. She had, after all, offered up some thrown together advice about communication, and in a way, that did mean that Robin was recovering from a kind of trouble. How much he would share, if anything at all, was up to him. She'd listen to it, nonetheless.

Fantastic. Great. She wasn't really surprised to hear it. She'd gathered that Robin had a job - he was a blood doll or something along the lines of it. It was probably a successful job. And how he spoke of Maddison, all happy-like and using the word 'we', implied that they could be associated with one another. Then again, that association could be a number of things. They were sire and childe. They were also living together. So using 'we' would, evidently, not necessarily apply to them being in a relationship. Emerson still had to ask, of course. "Welcome. M'glad to hear it. And so, Madds and you are like..?" She looked up from her half-finished page, leaving the question to trail off in the air. Robin could interpret and answer it as he saw fit. Anything that went unanswered could probably be by Maddison, so it didn't matter one way or the other.

And just as she had gotten the topic off of her, it was back on the brunette. She could work with it, though. She'd just imagine that she was talking to Maddison because that came easy after the sleepover the two had had. "S'alright. I mean, I don't remember a whole lot. Dunno exactly who's responsible for that but things happen, whatever." She rested her chin in her hands. "And I need to get a job because I don't really ever do much and I get bored easily. Not that I want a job, I just need something to occupy me. Or someone." She looked over at her own drink to see the whipped cream melting away and she let out a sigh. "Being a grown up sucks, Robin."

[Robin Little]

Emerson was content to colour while talking – it struck Robin as kind of odd, but people were wont to have their quirks. Who was he to judge or dismiss? It was curious, though, and in the moments between speech he wondered at what the reasons might be. Maybe she was some kind of autistic. Right? Wouldn’t that explain it? Though Robin was no expert on autism, and couldn’t really pick out the signs.

Robin nodded at the half questions posed – he could have completed it in so many different ways, but he didn’t say them out loud. He let the assumption hang in the air.

”We are. Just recently. I mean it took a while for us to get there…” he said. He could now laugh at some of the things they had done, the antics to flare jealousy, and the ways in which jealousy was doused. The smile faltered, then, that one memory always causing a rift in Robin’s cheery step. Killing someone wasn’t exactly something to laugh about, no matter how long ago it was. It was yet another image to add to the nightmares that startled him awake every night. He often wondered whether they’d ever go away. It seemed unlikely.

”You don’t remember?” he asked. Now that was curious. The change did affect everyone in different ways – maybe it was more violent for Emerson. Maybe it was something her mind was blocking from her, as a safety mechanism. Or maybe Robin was wrong – and all urges to further question the woman were pushed back and stamped on. It was only their first meeting. No need to get invasive.

”I know a guy. Lincoln King – he’s a businessman. I can ask him if he’s got any jobs going? What kind of job would you want? What do you think you’d be good at?” he asked. Lincoln seemed to have a lot of good staff under his belt already, judging by how smoothly the Bitr event was pulled off. But it could never hurt to ask.

[Emerson (DELETED 8699)]

Emerson wasn't autistic. At least she didn't think she was. She wouldn't have remembered one way or another, so it didn't matter much. In the reality of it, she just liked to color. It was soothing, and it made her feel artistic, even if she wasn't. She had tried painting and drawing before, but it just didn't click. No one could really be bad at coloring, so it was good for her. Boosted her self-confidence, and all.

Emerson couldn't help how her lips curled up at the edges. She always got kind of giddy about relationships, even if she wasn't involved with them. Robin's clarification did, however, mean that the brunette would most definitely be third-wheeling if Robin did happen to get dragged along to go trick-or-treating with her and Maddison. She tried to not let the thought bother her. "Hm, cute," she hummed. "I ship it."

'Don't remember," she confirmed with a nod of her head. "Like anything from before being... y'know." She gestured to herself. Robin would understand, but if anyone at surrounding tables were to listen in, they wouldn't. Emerson knew a bunch of vampires had been 'coming out', but she didn't particularly want to - or need to. She wouldn't be revealing herself to total strangers, and since she barely knew anyone on a personal enough level, no one else would need to know. "I mean, I figured out my name and my age and my birthday pretty quickly." She ticked the three off on her fingers as she spoke. Emerson Mae (no last name had been determined yet), eighteen, December first. "Sometimes I remember other little things, like when I was six I got a pink bike and m'allergic to cats - I dreamt about that stuff. But aside from that, I'm just starting over, I guess. It's not the worse thing." Maddison had made it sound like a bad thing when it was brought up and the fact that Robin was questioning it made Emerson think that he thought it was a bad thing. But was it really? "I mean, I could have had an acceptance letter to a good college and lots of friends and a loving family and a rich old guy wrapped around my finger but I don't know." She cracked a small smile at the last example. If only, right? "Oh well. Clean slate, and all that." She waved it off with her hand. "I don't really want to talk about it."

"Lincoln King, What a name," she giggled. "Businessman, though. Nice. How old is he?" The brunette held her mug in her hands, tapping her nails against the ceramic. The sparkly nail polish from her sleepover was chipping away. "I like places that are quiet and not with a lot of people. I don't think m'really good at anything - just average." She shrugged her shoulders and picked one of the sprinkles out of her drink. "You don't have to worry about it, though. Don't go through all the trouble, okay?"

[Robin Little]

Ship it? Robin had no idea what that meant, but he didn’t stop to ask. Sometimes it was just better to pretend to know some things. Poor Emerson, it seemed, would have to pretend to know some things, too – unless she wanted to tell this story to everyone she met. It was a curious kind of thing, that she could remember her name and her age, even her birthday. A birthday was an odd thing to remember when the rest of it was gone. Robin was curious about how Emerson had been sired, whether it had been a traumatic event – something her brain had purposefully blocked. Or maybe it was something that had happened pre-siring…

Regardless, it didn’t need thinking about.

There were other questions that Robin could have asked – other ways the discussion could have wended. He could have asked whether Emerson was worried that her past would catch up with her. She couldn’t remember it, but what if there was something massive there, waiting in the wings? Something to steamroll her when she wasn’t paying any attention.

But she didn’t want to talk about it, and Robin could guess why. Probably not smart to give her more to worry about. If she was content the way she was, then so be it. Clean slate. New friends. He could slip into that role.

”Lincoln, yeah. He’s ah… yeah. He’s Lincoln,” Robin said, laughing, reminiscing. Lincoln was a character, but not a bad one. Confident and suave, Robin thought he was a good guy to have around. He hoped that some of Lincoln might rub off on him. Maybe some of it already had.

”About the same age as me, I suppose. I think. Twenty six? It’s not really any trouble. It’s just a question that’ll get an answer. I can let him know what your preferences are. It doesn’t hurt to ask,” he said. ”There might be some administration role you can slip into. Or something creative,” he said with a shrug. They could figure out what she was efficient at, and where her strengths lay. It might help to jog her memory some.