[D5 LA] Tiff's Tiff and other Miscellany

[Tiffani]

Tiffani walked for a long time without saying anything, her hands jammed into the pockets of her jacket, her gaze cast downward as she watches the cracks in the sidewalk slide under her feet one after the other after the other.

It's not until they come upon a bench set back from the street and partially hidden by three large fir trees standing side by side when she stopped. It was a quaint little corner park - most likely a former vacant lot that was cleaned up and beautified - but it was the perfect place to be out of the way of the general public.

Tiffani gestures to the seat beside her - assuming Jack would like to sit - and she stretches, throwing her arms in the air as if she were praising a deity.

"Are you hungry, Jack? Thought about maybe getting a pizza or something."

[Jack Doyle]

"Pizza..." he considered it. "I'd like to try it."

[Tiffani]

"Try it? You mean you've never had it?" Tiffani seemed genuinely surprised at that. Surely everyone has had pizza. She waits for Jack's answer as she gets up from the bench. "We can talk inside, then. There's a place a few shops down."

And she begins heading in that direction - even though her pace is kind of sluggish as if she's struggling to move against the air itself.

[Jack Doyle]

"I don't think so." he shook his head. "I don't think it was as common before. And, it's not as easy to steal as other foods."

"I'm sorry that happened." he said as he walked with her.

[Tiffani]

Tiffani gave Jack a furtive glance out of the corner of her eye as he said those last few words. She almost tripped over her own feet. Then she ran a hand through her mass of curly hair. The wind was blowing it everywhere.

"Yeah ... me too," she said quietly. "I just ... I dunnae ..."

Her voice trailed off becoming lost amid the ambient noise.

"What do you think about it?"

[Jack Doyle]

""I can't say I remember much of my original one, but i think families fight." he answered. "It's hard, because none of us really know each other well. But, it felt right, comitting to one another. Forming the bond. Now, we just need to understand one another."

[Tiffani]

The two of them arrived at the little Italian pizzaria, the smell of the baking pies made Tiffani's stomach growl. For a moment, she became preoccupied with the thought of the melted cheese, the pepperoni, the thick cheese-filled crust with just a hint of residual flour left over. It occurred to her just then that she hasn't tasted pizza in ... over three decades.

Tiffani puts her hand on the old iron pull bar bolted to the door but doesn't yet open the door.

"Is it right, Jack?" she asked doubtfully. "Because right now I'm just not feeling the magic. For the last three days I feel like I've been climbing a mountain ... but more than just that. It's as if I'm climbing a mountain with Marcus and Chantelle at the peak rolling boulders down the slope - and if I complain, somehow the boulders are my fault."

She pulls open the door then, the hinges giving a squeak of protest as she did. A little tinkling bell above the door rings, announcing their entrance. A college-age kid, probably from Miskatonic, stands behind the register wiping his hands of flour as he waits.

"Like I said, I know I've made mistakes and I've owned up to them. Chantelle should do the same. That's the first thing that needs to be understood."

[Jack Doyle]

"I can't really say. I don't know what you sensed." he answered. "But, I know there was a lot of emotion back there. And, I know how quickly emotions can shift, how fleeting some feelings can be. Overall, what have you sensed from them?"

[Tiffani]

Tiffani walks up to the cash register and orders a large pepperoni pizza and a couple of sodas then leads Jack to a booth. She slides into one side, remaining quiet for a time, picking at some loose wood on the old wooden table where some couple carved their initials long ago.

"Mostly it was just this ... this suspicion mingled with mistrust and doubt," she finally answered in a soft, quiet voice. She kept her eyes focused on the table. "It was written all over Chantelle's face - I didn't even need to be an emapth to know what she was feeling. She even repeated my words - collectable item - in this tone that bespoke of sarcasm and disbelief as if I were using those words as a euphemism for something else. It goes without saying that Marcus was right behind Chantelle, backing her up, frowning at me and reeking of the same suspicion and mistrust."

She just shakes her head slowly, the motion by itself conveying a deep and penetrating sadness that has left her soul sick.

"It doesn't matter. It just doesn't, anymore. Nothing I say. Nothing i feel ... matters to them. Chantelle's response tells me that much."

[Jack Doyle]

"You felt nothing else from them?" he asked. "Anger? Disgust? Concern? Fear? I definitely sensed regret."