"Anne Rice was a hack." Persephone couldn't help but laugh, delighted. She had tried reading some of the author's works and had found them not quite to her taste. But Bram Stoker wasn't right either. She frowned in thought for a moment, looking for something else, then she remembered, and her face cleared. "Oh, I prefer The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova. Have you read it? It's really good. Her debut novel too. That is something I would like for myself, if I were to write about vampires."
She grinned at being dubbed Hades's gal. "Viro, you have no idea." Eating the last of the sweets, licking her fingers and then taking a mouthful of the cider, she waved him off. "It's a long story, but let's say I know something about the depths of human psyche. Maybe I'll write it someday." She had started to like the redhead, and alcohol loosened her tongue a little more. "So you think I'm pretty, huh?" Her voice held a teasing tinge to it, and she batted her eyelashes dramatically before grinning again. She didn't take his flirting seriously, of course, but there was no harm in responding in kind, wasn't it?
Her feet played tap with the shoes on the edge of the counter for a brief moment, then impulsively she blurted. "Ghost stories. I write ghost stories." It wasn't quite that; she should write them. After all, she knew them by heart by now, and she had an inexhaustible source at the tip of her fingers. Provided they didn't drive her crazy first, of course.
She grinned at being dubbed Hades's gal. "Viro, you have no idea." Eating the last of the sweets, licking her fingers and then taking a mouthful of the cider, she waved him off. "It's a long story, but let's say I know something about the depths of human psyche. Maybe I'll write it someday." She had started to like the redhead, and alcohol loosened her tongue a little more. "So you think I'm pretty, huh?" Her voice held a teasing tinge to it, and she batted her eyelashes dramatically before grinning again. She didn't take his flirting seriously, of course, but there was no harm in responding in kind, wasn't it?
Her feet played tap with the shoes on the edge of the counter for a brief moment, then impulsively she blurted. "Ghost stories. I write ghost stories." It wasn't quite that; she should write them. After all, she knew them by heart by now, and she had an inexhaustible source at the tip of her fingers. Provided they didn't drive her crazy first, of course.
Viro considered the door over her head. After a moment, he passed around her to flip the sign to closed. "It's getting late," he offered by way of explanation. And it was. They had been talking longer than he had thought. This way they wouldn't be disturbed by any more of New York's more questionable wildlife while they finished their conversation. Halloween sure had a way of bringing in the worst the city had to offer.
He kept the door unlocked, however, just in case. It wouldn't do to have Anne decide to come back to Mooncat's after her party instead of back to the school only to find herself locked out, and he'd be here a while yet. He had interesting company to keep. Anyone else could knock.
"Not a bad read, but aside of the classics I steer clear of vampires." He shrugged as he sat back down. Too many personal reminders. "They just ain't my thing."
He laughed at her returned teasing. "I think a lot of girls are pretty," he shot back playfully. "But don't you let an old dog like me get you wrapped around his finger. You can do better."
Ghost stories, huh? She seemed a little reluctant about that. Maybe she was a shy writer. Well, there was one way to cure that shyness-- Confidence was a habit, not a born trait. No better time than the present to start practicing. "Oh yeah? What kind of ghost stories? I like me a good spook. Why don't you tell me one? Go on. If I like it, the meal's on me, and I'll send you off with a free pie to boot. Whaddya say? Not a better night for it."
He kept the door unlocked, however, just in case. It wouldn't do to have Anne decide to come back to Mooncat's after her party instead of back to the school only to find herself locked out, and he'd be here a while yet. He had interesting company to keep. Anyone else could knock.
"Not a bad read, but aside of the classics I steer clear of vampires." He shrugged as he sat back down. Too many personal reminders. "They just ain't my thing."
He laughed at her returned teasing. "I think a lot of girls are pretty," he shot back playfully. "But don't you let an old dog like me get you wrapped around his finger. You can do better."
Ghost stories, huh? She seemed a little reluctant about that. Maybe she was a shy writer. Well, there was one way to cure that shyness-- Confidence was a habit, not a born trait. No better time than the present to start practicing. "Oh yeah? What kind of ghost stories? I like me a good spook. Why don't you tell me one? Go on. If I like it, the meal's on me, and I'll send you off with a free pie to boot. Whaddya say? Not a better night for it."
“It's getting late”. Persephone nodded, although she was a little puzzled; she had heard there was supposed to be a party, later on. Maybe she should go, as well? The man, however, didn’t seem to be bothered by the fact that he had no customers an evening where the place should have been full; his offer for a free meal only reinforced the feeling that he wasn’t in for the money. If not the owner, then surely related to them. But the way he spoke gave the impression of someone much older. Maybe it was a figure of speech? These Americans were a little strange, sometimes, thought Persephone.
“This is my trick-or treat, then?” She grinned, although she was still fidgeting in her chair. She bought herself some time by taking another mouthful of the cider as she tried to order her ideas. “Imagine the scene.” She raised her hands as if to illustrate a picture. “A woman, during rush hour, hurrying off on the street. She hears a shout, and a small boy rushes past her on a bike, almost crashing into her, but not quite. He looks back, as if someone followed, fearful. Then, he crashes into a wall in the building in front. The woman runs to where he is lying, blood trickling from a head wound. As he starts to rise slowly, she talks to him, and tries to see if he is alright. Except …” Persephone paused and took another mouthful of cider, looking at her host meaningfully. “Except her hands pass right through him. He talks to her, yet she cannot touch him. Nobody else sees him or hears him. People around think the woman is mad, talking to herself.” She then stopped, looking hesitantly at the man. Should she continue? What would he think if he knew she was the woman in question, that the exact picture she painted had happened to her not two weeks prior.
“This is my trick-or treat, then?” She grinned, although she was still fidgeting in her chair. She bought herself some time by taking another mouthful of the cider as she tried to order her ideas. “Imagine the scene.” She raised her hands as if to illustrate a picture. “A woman, during rush hour, hurrying off on the street. She hears a shout, and a small boy rushes past her on a bike, almost crashing into her, but not quite. He looks back, as if someone followed, fearful. Then, he crashes into a wall in the building in front. The woman runs to where he is lying, blood trickling from a head wound. As he starts to rise slowly, she talks to him, and tries to see if he is alright. Except …” Persephone paused and took another mouthful of cider, looking at her host meaningfully. “Except her hands pass right through him. He talks to her, yet she cannot touch him. Nobody else sees him or hears him. People around think the woman is mad, talking to herself.” She then stopped, looking hesitantly at the man. Should she continue? What would he think if he knew she was the woman in question, that the exact picture she painted had happened to her not two weeks prior.
Viro leaned forward, listening thoughtfully. He didn't do much writing himself, not as a hobby, but he knew a good story when he heard one. This had the bones, but it needed meat for those bones. It needed a spirit to raise it's spooks. "I like the twist," he told her. "So you get your pie, Hades Gal. But you've gotta work on that delivery. You gotta make your audience feel it."
He noted the pause, and lingered on it. She had paused before too. Nerves? She hadn't seemed nervous until now, so nerves over what?
"Sounds like that boy's got a story to tell," he said. "So your gal, she's all loosin' it because she can see a ghost. She's talkin' to him, right? And maybe people think she's crazy. But where does the story take ya if she listens to him instead? I wanna know what the ghost boy's got to say."
He grinned at her. "Anyways, you've got the beginnings of a good story, but beginnings need middles, and eventually, ends." He leaned his hand on his chin, looking pensive. "And sometimes endings turn into other beginnings," he mused. "But anyway--" He pushed away from the counter to get a couple of boxes and bags for her load of food.
"Think about what I said, and if you ever decided to feed that story, you come on back. I'd love to hear more."
He glanced at the door again, and made an irritated sound in the back of his throat. It was raining cats and dogs, and what was more there was likely still trouble lurking somewhere out there. "When you're ready, you lemme know. I'm gunna call you a cab. That's on me too. An' don't argue. Think of it for my sakes, not yours."
(( Figured I'd start wrapping up as Halloween does.
Thanks so much for the RP! ))
He noted the pause, and lingered on it. She had paused before too. Nerves? She hadn't seemed nervous until now, so nerves over what?
"Sounds like that boy's got a story to tell," he said. "So your gal, she's all loosin' it because she can see a ghost. She's talkin' to him, right? And maybe people think she's crazy. But where does the story take ya if she listens to him instead? I wanna know what the ghost boy's got to say."
He grinned at her. "Anyways, you've got the beginnings of a good story, but beginnings need middles, and eventually, ends." He leaned his hand on his chin, looking pensive. "And sometimes endings turn into other beginnings," he mused. "But anyway--" He pushed away from the counter to get a couple of boxes and bags for her load of food.
"Think about what I said, and if you ever decided to feed that story, you come on back. I'd love to hear more."
He glanced at the door again, and made an irritated sound in the back of his throat. It was raining cats and dogs, and what was more there was likely still trouble lurking somewhere out there. "When you're ready, you lemme know. I'm gunna call you a cab. That's on me too. An' don't argue. Think of it for my sakes, not yours."
(( Figured I'd start wrapping up as Halloween does.
Thanks so much for the RP! ))
((Thank you for hosting this, I wasn’t able to reply one more time last evening, but it was a lot of fun. 
))
))
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