Alice looked all round the table, but there was nothing on it but tea.

[royalpassport]

Who: Jefferson, Cassian, Rhiannon, and anyone who feels like visiting the tea shop.
Where: Go Ask Alice
When: Any time in April, barring events.
What: An open catch-all log for goings on at the tea shop!
Warnings: N/A, just put them in your comment headers as needed.

[Open]

The town seems livelier these days, owing in part to everybody's recovery from the recent plague that went about. And a natural outcome of the warming weather and bustling activity is, of course, the tea room seeing more business-- which is something of a mixed bag to Jefferson, off-putting and antisocial as he can be at times.

Customers equal money: good!
Customers equal Jefferson having to deal with people and responsibilities more often: not so good.

But at least the shop's running smoothly-- or, at least, as smoothly as a place staffed by a rebel spy, a garbage eating bird, and the Mad Hatter can be. They've even started hosting occasional events, like open mic nights for poetry and creative writing and music. All in the name of cultivating the arts in Wayward Pines! Such as it is. (It's definitely not an excuse for Jefferson and Rhi to snicker behind the counters.)

So come on in and have a cup of tea. Or, well, anything else on the menu. And enjoy the music (and the staff selected music). And... the company of the (occasionally, to varying degrees) helpful staff.

Comments

Cassian Andor & YOU (all threads open to customers & coworkers)

[ouzel]

one: a mostly empty shop

When the shop is empty and Jefferson is not too grumbly about it, Cassian tends to change the music. It's all fun stuff, and pretty upbeat, it's just not...in English. For the most part.

But he knows all the words and his singing voice isn't that bad, actually, so. Win-win?

When he's not sighing at Rhiannon for literally eating out of the trash can, or gently trying to figure out if Jefferson needs food, caffeine, water, space, or just a quiet padded room where no one can bother him, he's usually trying to manage the inventory or actually baking in the back.

Somehow he always ends up with flour in his hair. It's rather frustrating; Kay would have something to say about how inefficient he is with this civilian life.

two: an event!

Cassian flat out refuses to participate in open mic night. Sure, he'll serve and bake and clean up after (though Rhiannon has first dibs on all foodstuffs) but standing up there? Reading poetry? That he's supposed to have written, or enjoys? No. More like hell no.

He does listen with rapt attention, though, occasionally shaking his head at Jefferson and Rhi and their snarky commentary. It's probably a good thing, to give people an outlet. He just wonders how long it'll be until every poem is an attack against the powers that be, or a reach for memories that aren't quite right (or that someone doesn't want to be right.)

three: a card of wild design

[ This is the choose your own adventure option! Since Cassian is more or less management, he's here...nearly every day. ]

Clary Fray - April 10th [-ish] OPEN

[babyhunter]

Clary stopped in just after school, hoping to see more of the small tea shop. She'd come here to meet Magnus and Alec a few days before but hadn't gotten a very good look at it then. She took a seat towards the front left of the cute shop and pulled her sketchbook onto her lap. After a quick glance over the menu she ordered a mixed berry tart, a small plate of mini sandwiches and an orange blossom tea. It was relaxing though the music didn't exactly fit the feel of the rest of the shop.

Once she'd gotten her food she opened her sketchbook, her bright green eyes flicking around the room at the other customers and those standing behind the counter.

It was an interesting place. If she were to draw the shop itself it would be in the middle of a dense forest with a very clear paved road to it, perhaps a yellow road or a bright orange one? Clary lost herself to her thoughts while her pencil scratched across the paper in front of her. Without thinking about it she drew a collection of small animals at the foot of the road.

When she was finished with that sketch she'd take a small sip of her tea, nibble a bit of her food and then turn the page. She tried to imagine those who worked in the shop, how they'd stand or what they would wear in her pictures.

Clary was completely engrossed in her task, occasionally nibbling at the food placed at her table but otherwise only vaguely aware of those around her.

ONE

[royalpassport]

It's a good thing Cassian makes sure to handle a lot of the nitty gritty involved in running a business, because if left to Jefferson, nothing would get done with any regularity. His skills, it seems, lie less i management and more in knowing way too much about tea (and tea parties), fussing around the front of the shop (making sure everything looks right), and in... looking like a dapper anachronism? Wait, does that make Jefferson the shop mascot?

It doesn't help that he has just enough of his memories back to be a pain in the ass, but not enough to direct his more irritating tendencies towards anything particularly productive. (On the plus side, he doesn't seem to care to hoard all profits for himself, so his staff are well compensated to deal with his moods and his 'approach' to management.)

And so, on one slow day, Jefferson's leaning against the counter, enjoying a cup of tea and tending to the occasional customer as Cassian handles the inventory. When the other man returns to the front of the shop-- possibly to inventory the teas on display behind the counter-- Jefferson speaks up in a thoughtful voice:

"I'm thinking about taking hot chocolate off the menu."

[ouzel]

[ Cassian tilts his head sharply in a way that Jefferson probably recognizes to mean I think that's foolish, not quite frowning but definitely not too thrilled. ]

No less than four people have asked about hot chocolate in the last two weeks. [ He starts counting the teas, marking ones on a list the need reordering. ] A better idea would be to make it available year round, and offer several varieties in winter instead.

What brought this idea on?

[royalpassport]

[ Jefferson shrugs a little, then gestures grandly to all the, well. Tea. ]

Because this is a tea house. Not a... coffee shop. If people want hot chocolate, they can go there.

[ He sounds a bit sulky as he explains his reasoning. It's almost like Jefferson's taking the demand for hot chocolate personally. ]

I should take coffee off the menu while I'm at it.

[ouzel]

[ Someone who didn't know Jefferson as well as Cassian did might have asked him if he was crazy, in that moment. Instead, Cassian's eyebrows looked like they were going to attempt parkour off his face, onto his hairline and into the air. ]

Problem with that.

[ Cassian starts ticking off his fingers, slowly. ]

One: Rhiannon would quit, probably stating that she worked in a hostile work environment.

Two: We have no fewer than seven regulars, including your landlord, who drink our coffee.

Three: Do you have any idea how many pots I make in a day? Especially a day when Rhi and I are both working.

You're not taking coffee off the menu. Not if you want to keep your employees.

Is this about Emma? [ Because she comes in, every day, and asks Cassian about hot chocolate. Every. Day. ]

i'm late, i'm late for a very important date

[comic_relief]

Perpetually on the search for familiar ground to rest his feet on, Jack sometimes drops in on Jefferson's establishment for two reasons: a place to sit and chill out reminds him a bit of Akademeia's hang out spots, and Jefferson had done a good job repairing Jack's battered cadet uniform the month prior. That alone makes him feel a bit indebted to the guy's tailoring skills. Might as well put more money into his shop, right? It's not like he's doing anything else with it (except feeding and watering a chocobo, Etro only knows why, the damn thing eats a lot and makes more noise than an air raid siren).

Once Jack's decided what he wants and paid up at the counter, he's just about to take his soda to a seat when he spies--

"Clary?"

The name is out of his mouth before he can stop it, and he freezes in place. For a disorienting second, the six foster sisters he'd grown up with compete for space in his mind with a different girl. Hair a lighter shade of red than Cater's, but just as full of spunky energy. Not close in the same way as one of Mother's children, but close in a different way.

Bemusement clouds his face, confused by his own reaction. Uh, where had that come from?

Hope this is good~

[babyhunter]

Clary looked up when she heard her name being called. At first the voice wasn't familiar but as her eyes landed on Jack clear and vivid memories rose to mine. Her best friend. They'd been friends all through grade school, spending late nights debating the stupidest things about cartoons and other topics that had no real world baring on life but had felt like life or death at the time. Having him near by felt as natural as breathing, like a piece of herself that she hadn't known had been missing.

Her lips tug into a smile. "Jack!" How could she forget him? They've been friends for as long as Clary can remember.

She waved him over, pushing her plate and cup aside so that there was room across from her. "Sit. What's up? I feel like it's been forever." Probably because she doesn't remember all that much but it's slowly coming back.

She places her sketchbook to the side, the imagine of the shop facing the ceiling as she turns her attention towards Jack.

[royalpassport]

[ What? Why is Cassian countering with reason and facts, laid out point by point? Jefferson glances down at Cassian's fingers as he ticks off his points, eyes narrowing as if they're offending him by... counting.

But Jefferson does want to keep his employees, as he's quite certain he couldn't run the place without them. Even if they are coffee-chugging traitors. So he frowns and shakes his head, as if clearing his mind of the silly notion of taking coffee off the menu. ]

Fine. The coffee can stay.

[ Jefferson pinches the bridge of his nose with a huff. ]

No. [ Pause. He drops his hand and looks at Cassian. ] Yes. Kind of. She's not the only one.

[ouzel]

[ Because this is what Cassian does, it's how he helps you organize your business, Jefferson, (and sometimes your life) into smaller, easier to tackle pieces.

It's why you hired him. Probably. ]

Thank you.

[ Cassian gives Jefferson a little bit of a half-smile. ] If it makes you feel better, there will probably be a boost to profits, and ingredients aren't any harder to get year round. Plus she'll be paying you for it.

Also, pettiness after a certain age is just a signal of suffering.

[sirnyxalot]

[Shortly after Cassian's call Nyx is stepping into the store and coming to an immediate halt as the decor assaults his eyes.

This is certainly not a place he'd ever walk in willingly on any other circumstances. He's the type to hang out in dingy dive bars, not fancy tea shops, and his outfit certainly makes him look out of place. But he's doing a favor for a friend so he bites his lip and finally lets the door close behind him.]

I hope this drink is worth it.

it's perf! let's pretend i was also in the right tense, d'oh

[comic_relief]

The girl--no, her name was Clary, an abbreviation like his that made them nickname twins--

--no, no, no, that never happened, though, why does he keep remembering these things?--

A person's head wasn't built to handle this kind of internal warfare. Clary, as his mind insisted on supplying, smiled and Jack felt the keen urge to run away. He could wrap his fist around his emotions like a leash and control them, he could tackle situations that made grown men piss themselves, but how did you fight a feeling that was already inside you?

Stronger than his urge to run was his urge to smile back, relax around her, and fall into a routine that only existed inside his head. That scared Jack more than a firing composed of Militesi gunners.

"Um... hey." Smooth. His smile found footing on his face again, wobbly but still there. His approach was slow and tinged with wariness like a dog being lured into the backseat of the dog catcher's van with a bone, but even so, his reply had a casualness that spoke of many years catching Clary lost in her thoughts. "If I hadn't said something, you wouldn't even have noticed I was here, admit it."

But like knowing how Nyx took his coffee, Clary's myopic focus was something that... Jack shouldn't know. This goddamn town wasn't his home.

But still, he sat, obediently accepting her invitation.

<3 You're perfect love

[babyhunter]

His word echoed in her head though they were spoken by someone else and they sounded angry. She pushed the thought away and focused instead on Jack. She knew him, her memories wouldn't lie to her and as she reached back she'd always had a best friend. Jack was her best friend.

There was no reason to doubt it.

She flashed him a sheepish smile. "To my defense my memory has been a little wonky. Besides, I think I really captured the essence of the tea shop." She was playing if off lightly, holding her sketchbook so she can see the shop she'd drawn positioned comfortably between towering trees and a few oddly sized mushrooms. Clary knew that it bothered him but she's always been like that. She'd fall into her art and not eat if she didn't have someone reminding her.

"What do you think?" Jack was one of the few people who got to see all of her drawings. Some were like diary notes and she didn't trust everyone to look at them. Jack wasn't just anyone.

[comic_relief]

"Oh." There was a mixed bag of emotion in that 'oh', confusion, relief, understanding, disappointment.

Little more than a month ago, Jack was supposed to be dead after events in Pandemonium. Knowing the end was coming had been bearable because when he cried he wasn't the only one crying, and when he laughed he wasn't the only one laughing--he was with the other children, comrades-in-arms he'd done everything with since he was small.

And now here he was, inexplicably alive and well and remembering other people in his life--a life that had no room for other people outside Mother and his class of twelve.

That was what he knew. But logic had little bearing on what he felt, and looking at Clary he wanted to make her number thirteen, something that felt right in one world and wrong in the other; with one foot in either, it took Jack a moment to drag himself back from the tug of war happening inside him and focus on what she was holding up.

"You're really good," he observed as if for the first time, some impressed surprise leaking into his tone.

[babyhunter]

Clary watched him, her eyebrows knitting together as concern filled her features. He looked pensive or maybe his mind was somewhere else. Clary couldn't tell but a familiar sensation of uncertainty twisted in her stomach.

She forced the sensation away and looked down at her drawing.

The lines were strong, fading around the edges of the sketch. It looked like something out of Alice in Wonderland. It probably came to mind because of the name of the shop. Clary shook her head at Jack. "Not really good. It's missing something but I don't know what." She stared at the image thoughtfully before rolling her shoulders.

"What are you up to this afternoon? I feel like it's been ages since I've seen you. We should do something." Memories nagged at her thoughts, rising bits and pieces of the past to the forefront of her mind. She trusted Jack, had talked to him about everything. If anyone were to understand how uncertain she felt lately it'd be him.

"We can buy a lot of junk food and have a movie marathon at my house. No parents means no bed time." She laughed softly. It was one of the good things to come with her mother being away.

[ouzel]

It's worth it, don't worry.

[ The only one who's outfit doesn't look out of place is probably Jefferson; Cassian keeps to denim pants and button-up flannels, so it's definitely not him who matches the decor.

Either way, now that Nyx is here, Cassian can get on with making the drink (Jefferson doesn't make the drinks, unless they're tea and he's there, and he doesn't feel beleaguered by customers, which means Cassian makes the drinks, really. ]

[comic_relief]

He glanced between her and the art book. Ready to launch from his tongue was a sardonic suggestion that cliffs boxing them in all around and a forest patrolled by the police might add some verisimilitude, but he couldn't very well say that...

Well, he could, but this girl hadn't done anything to earn his ire, or the existential crisis waiting around the corner when her head was so obviously muddled. How the hell was he supposed to answer? Tell her she was wrong, that he wasn't a friend--and by the way, have fun alone in the dangerous town that's holding you captive for some unknown purpose? Brainwashing really should come with a manual explaining how to snap a person out of it without crushing their feelings.

Not knowing what else to do, Jack put on an easygoing smile for the sake of his nerves and not spooking her. "Um, a still life of a bowl of a bowl of fruit?" he joked in the vein of all people everywhere who know nothing about art.

Clary would remember a boy who was more honest with his face and his body, broadcasting if something was bothering him. Someone who'd grown up peaceful and happy and open. Not the case for the Jack in front of her--his real feelings were locked up tight, and his smile the steel box they were locked up behind. Pretense was his bread and butter and when panicked it was the only thing he could think of to fall back on.

"The perks of being an orphan," he agreed. Probably could've phrased that better. He rubbed his forehead. "I'm... ah, free? I guess? I'm not up to much right now, just hanging out." Ducking the police, looking for explanations on why he was brought to a strange new land without his siblings. You know, the usual. "But, er, h-how are you? How are you feeling, I mean? Were you in the hospital?"

[babyhunter]

Clary shot him a look that suggested that she wasn't entertained by his reply. "Really, fruit?" Again his comment changed her expression though it made it much sadder this time. Her mother was away but that didn't mean that she was alone. Jack was alone and it was something that weighed heavily on Clary.

"I'm fine." She waved off his concern with a practiced smile pulling into place. He could probably see through it, Clary had never been a good liar. "I'm just tired and waiting to remember all the details." Drawing helped, Clary always found it easier to understand something if she imagined how she might draw it. It's something she'd done her whole life, even her diary was just a collection of drawings.

"Come over. We'll have fun. It's better than being in my house alone anyway." She paused thoughtfully. "If not today then sometime this month." She wanted to remember but something seemed of with Jack and she didn't want to push him. As far as Clary was aware, this was normal: her life, this town, those she knew. She clung to that normalcy with more force than she meant to.

She was tired of having nightmares and remembering things that didn't make any sense. She just wanted to go to an art school, become an artist and maybe one day settle down.

[royalpassport]

[ It is definitely why Jefferson hired him. Look at your boss, Cassian: he's a hot mess on two legs. But... at least he's a well-dressed mess? ]

I don't care about profits. It's really more the principle of the matter, this being a tea shop and all. [ He does, however, like the idea of Emma paying him more after the grief she's given him! So, that brings a little smile to his face, even as he totally misses the point on that remark about pettiness. ]

You think she's suffering? [ After all, EMMA'S THE PETTY ONE HERE. Jefferson waves off that thought with a dismissive hand. ] What if I upcharged the cocoa? Made it more expensive than the tea?

[ Yeah, so much for not caring about profit. ]

Alec Lightwood & You

[angelic_archer]

Open Mic Night

It didn't seem like the kind of thing he would do. Some hint of the past told him that he preferred to hide from the spotlight with few people noticing him, but Wayward Pines was supposed to be his place to escape who he'd been and figure out who he could be without... Without something that he couldn't currently define but he knew it had been stifling and he'd hated who he'd been forced to pretend to be.

Somehow Alec had been talked into standing in front of everyone and reciting poetry. He wasn't even sure how he knew the verses but once he started, the words flowed easily. None of them were his own work. Some were well known and some might have even been in a foreign language depending on who was listening. Taking a deep breath, he looked around the room before asking, "Does anyone want a certain type of poem?" He wasn't sure what he would and wouldn't remember. It made the whole situation like a game or a training exercise. Would he remember something that would fit the request?

[ouzel]

[ A very well-dressed mess (but a mess, nonetheless). ]

I don't think anyone would stop considering this a 'tea shop', so I wouldn't worry too much about the principle.

[ These are Cassian's eyebrows, doing that extremely expressive thing. Way to go Jeff, ya missed the point. ]

Probably. Everyone is suffering on some level. [ And a scoff. ] Get a variety in the winter, upcharge on that. Leave the basic cocoa as it is.

[appetitive]

When Alec had suggested visiting the tea house during open mic night, Magnus had been thrilled for a number of reasons. He enjoyed the atmosphere as well as the selection of teas the place carried, but more than that was his eagerness to support Alec. Poetry seemed to hold more than a little meaning for both of them if their wedding vows were anything to judge by, and Magnus had a love for words and their manipulation. Also, going out in the evenings to a quaint tea shop just struck him as something that a married couple might do.

So he encouraged Alec to at least attend, even if he didn't end up using the mic himself. But sitting at their table, looking up at him as he prepared a poem, Magnus couldn't have been prouder of his husband. He knew that it wasn't characteristic of him to call attention to himself, but Magnus hoped that having a friendly face in the audience helped. Eyes twinkling as he watched Alec, and not just because of the glitter lining his lashes, Magnus lifted a hand to shield his mouth and make it less obvious where his suggestion was coming from as he said, "Do you know anything in Latin?"

[angelic_archer]

There had been a hint of something in the back of his mind that made Alec think that open mic nights had been something that he'd regularly done with his siblings. They'd watched someone play, but the fragments hadn't included Magnus. The teasing pieces of their old life in New York were frustrating, making him miss his siblings fiercely but he refused to let that ruin something that had made him happy before.

It might not be the most exciting date night, but it had the potential to be romantic. They both loved the setting, enjoying tea and indulging Alec's sweet tooth while appreciating the play of words that their neighbors and friends shared with the other patrons.

Even if he didn't remember ever performing at those open mic nights, he didn't see any reason not to tonight when Magnus was in the audience. Maybe if his husband hadn't been there, he would have remained in his seat, watching others. Magnus always seemed to make Alec want to do things that made his feelings obvious to his husband. Like they both needed the reassurance after so many people telling them that their relationship wouldn't work.

Shaking his head at his husband's attempt at being subtle, Alec grabbed his other hand, running a finger over the ring that he'd given Magnus before giving him a wry smile. "I think I can think of some something you'll like."

Ignoring the nervous butterflies that swooped into existence as he stood in front of the crowd, his gaze settled onto Magnus for a moment before he closed his eyes. It took a moment to remember all the words, but once he did, they flowed easily.

sic erit; haeserunt tenues in corde sagittae,
et possessa ferus pectora versat Amor.
Cedimus, an subitum luctando accendimus ignem?
cedamus! leve fit, quod bene fertur, onus.*

It was strange that the poem was so easy for him to remember when the details of why they'd moved to town were still a blur.


(*Thus it will be; slender arrows are lodged in my heart, and Love vexes the chest that it has seized. Shall I surrender or stir up the sudden flame by fighting it? I will surrender - a burden becomes light when it is carried willingly.)

[comic_relief]

What's wrong with fruit? said his obliviously angelic expression, the same face he was giving this entire confusing situation. Hopefully the cameras weren't focused too closely on Clary--her stiff upper lip could use a bit more pep in it before it could pass as the real feeling.

But that was just it--Clary hadn't ever had to trick her heart to harden in order to survive, had she? Clary wasn't a cadet. Clary was a civilian. Clary waged war with brush strokes and paper, not weapons. She was... was...

Jack didn't answer for a second. Couldn't, as he was stuck with a foot in two diametrically opposed worlds. But he started to nod before he had his words in order--either way, it would be smart to play along and try to get more information about the hospital out of her, if there was any to be had. There had to be a reason he shared memories with strangers, right?

"Okay. Yeah. Let's... hang out. Catch up. Though..." And here he paused, though for a different reason. "I have a baby bird I have to check up on. Can I bring it over, too?"

[babyhunter]

Clary rolled her eyes but smiled. "Very cute." She replied to him, taking a bit of her sandwich so that she could quickly finish it. She had no interest in sticking at the tea shop and drawing now that she'd met up with Jack. As much as she enjoyed falling into her own thoughts, and as often as she did it, she had much rather hang out with him. There was something comfortable in the activity.

"Really? That sounded adorable." Her smile grew. "Oh, I decided to get a job at the shelter. So if you need help with a baby bird I bet I can help." At least if it ever got sick or anything.

She quickly finished her sandwich and then gulped down what was left of her tea. It was cold and she winched at the bitter taste that lingered on her tongue. It definately tasted better when it was hot. "Let's go." Clary pushed herself up and grabbed her sketchbook.

"Does your bird have a name or is it forever baby bird?"