Harmonic Rhythm [Open]

[Basil Marwick]

It was a normal day at the Haunt. For a downtown venue it was fairly quiet, Baz owed that to how sharply he specialized. Either that or the fact that it was just about closing time and the last of the regulars were filtering out slowly. For the fifth time that day, he made sure the shelves were free of dust and aligned properly. He was a bit protective of those shelves, obviously. They weren't anything special in and of themselves, but what they held was far more important. It was no secret that he fought himself for a month at least on whether to continue with the business or squirrel all of those books away for his own use. In the end, the need to share his knowledge won out.

Alright that and the need to pay his bills. Once he'd finished with that task, he was buzzing around again, cleaning up after people as they slowly began to trickle out of the shop. He didn't exactly need to, since he wasn't the only one that worked there, but he just didn't seem to like it all that much when people left the books on the table when they left. Seriously, one of his easiest hot buttons to press was messing up his personal space too badly. Or knocking something over. He was working on not getting angry whenever that happened, because it did and it would, but it was difficult. Normally it just made him huff and frown, he'd been glad to get it down to just that instead of a full bout of temper.

Especially with the mess he made with his first shift. Dear God, he wasn't expecting to wind up as something as large as a horse. Certainly not at home by himself. It was a good thing he wasn't in bed at the time. Not like a horse in the den was any less awkward, though. Especially since he couldn't exactly operate a door. Nor fit through at the time. It took him a while to learn how to navigate without making a mess. Baz sighed and shook his head at the thought. He was also glad he was under control of his shifts, for the most part. A horse in the middle of the Haunt wouldn't exactly be the greatest thing either.

[Odile Advaire]

Fresh from practice, wearing her usual black leotard and pants with slightly incongrous knee high leather boots (anyone who offered the suggestion that black was impractical in Miami's heat got glared at.) Odile slipped into the Haunt.

She liked it here. Possibly because it's owner, Basil Marwick, was one of the few people she got along with. ...Few being about three.

Giving the remaining customers slightly dark looks (not nearly as dark as they could be. Basil had had a number of conversations with her about scaring off the people in the shop) she hunted down the man himself.

The other reason she liked it was because... well... Basil didn't mind if she slipped into what her sister called 'Norse mode'. But she was intense about everything, why shouldn't she be about her primary interest outside of ballet?

"Greetings friend. You have had a good day I trust? No visits from Loki's mischief?" Her voice is always... different around Basil, although not much different. Slightly softer perhaps, as close as she can get to affectionate.

Basil was her only really friend, the only person other then her roommate and her sister who could seem to willingly stand her company (well... Her sister was debatable, but she loved the not necessarily intelligent blond...). But then, she couldn't stand many people, now could she?

"I would dine with you, shield brother. Perhaps we might discuss our trails amongst the vexing masses?"

[Penelope Fitzcain]

Penny was unaware of what time it was, or that everyone else was leaving. She'd found a very fascinating and rather old (but only secondhand and out of print, as opposed to treasured and rare) book on musical theory, and tucked herself into a corner with it hours ago. Her mother had kept interrupting her by calling to ask where she was, so she'd turned her phone off and put her headphones on, effectively sealing herself off.

She whistled under her breath as she read. Well, it wasn't really whistling, technically, it was avian chirping. But if someone heard her, they'd likely assume she was whistling along to whatever she was listening to. That was half true, only she wasn't so much singing along as learning the sounds, so she could keep them in the back of her head and use them later, with ideas from the book to turn them into something different. It made her wish she'd brought her electric. Though perhaps not, because it tended to make people stare even if she hooked it up to her headphones so it didn't bother them, and then she'd have to explain, and that both required extended periods of conversation and wasting time that she could be spending on music.

She didn't notice the glare the small woman gave her, or that Basil was engaged in the conspicuous tidying that was generally understood as a hint as to what time it was, like the rustling of backpacks five minutes before class ended.

[Basil Marwick]

"No, mother hasn't trifled in my business today for a change."

Baz chuckled. He wasn't grey and he had four legs instead of eight, but referring to himself as Sleipnir was still a tiny bit of a joke on his behalf. How could he resist? He was a horse, after all. A horse of Nordic origin who had a very pronounced interest in the mythos of his people. Even as a human he had ancestors in that area. Besides, if Odile counted herself as Hel, he deserved a slightly fitting comparison among the legends too, didn't he?

"Vexing is relative. It's been a fair day so far."

So far. It wasn't easy to place where Penelope was exactly just by going on sound. He was familiar enough with the building to know how they bounced around, but not familiar enough with any noise other than human speech in the space. Double-edged sword, that. It took a moment to locate her among the shelves, but he did in fact find her. He hovered nearby (within twenty feet, yet outside an uncomfortably close distance like ten) instead of speaking, still tidying up a bit.

The fact was, Baz didn't like to interrupt. It was also a fact that while the registers may be shut down, the shop didn't officially close down until he left the building and locked up. Sometimes people needed to stay behind for some reason, to talk, or to finish a chapter. It wasn't a very good business model, but he'd gained and kept a few regulars that way, so he must have been doing something right. So he was just waiting. Keeping an eye so he'd know when he wasn't going to lock anyone in by heading home.

[Odile Advaire]

Odile smiled, a slight upturn of her lips that a number of the people that encountered her wouldn't believe she was capable of.

"Good. Mother's meddling might provide amusement, but not always worth the trouble that follows."

That was, perhaps, one of the reasons she was especially fond of Basil. His love of the mythos might not match her own, but it was close. And his sense of humor was... well, honestly amusing.

He made a good shield brother, a good Sleipnir to her Hel, and good company.

Even if he didn't like it when she scared away people or demanded people earn the right to keep his company.

"Ah, then you have been luckier then I. Too many fools and fearful thralls have crossed my path this day. Would that I might deal them the fate they deserve, but such is not a gift given to me this day."

She followed him as he moved, finding... Meh. Further vexation.

And while her friend might not interupt, she had no such qualms.

"You might not have noticed but the shop has closed. You are welcome to come back in the morrow, but I will not see my companion delayed from his meal any longer then he has already been."

Her tone had reverted to it's usual sharp chill, and her glare intensified to what had been occasionally described as 'An earnest attempt to set you on fire with her mind and likely close to succeeding'.

[Penelope Fitzcain]

Even with Odile right in front of her, it took Penny a few moments to register that she was being addressed. She tugged her headphones off with a distinctly displeased expression, disrupting her little bubble of music.

Even then, it's the voice she notices first. Low end of the female range, surprisingly so for her size. English, but the accent was faded. No vocal training, Penny thought, but a surprising lack of inflection -- most people added some without thinking, unless they'd been taught to control their pitch and tone. There was a neat cadence to her speech, something about how she drew out unstressed syllables and clipped stressed ones, so that each word had a bit of a point to it. It's only after that that Penny actually registers what she's saying.

She frowned a little deeper, and hunched her shoulders defensively as she stood, not so much because Odile was particularly threatening or cruel as because that was what she did when she talked to people. She also became aware that the man who ran the bookshop smelled like shagginess, and the little girl had the soft dry smell of feathers, but that wasn't nearly as interesting to her as most people seemed to think it should be.

"No one said." She unconsciously mimics Odile's tone and inflection, trying it on, only vaguely aware of the hostility in it. She picked up her violin case (it always came with her when she left the house, even if she didn't plan on playing) and her music player and her book, trilling softly like a wood thrush as she crossed the room to put the book back exactly where she found it.

[Basil Marwick]

"Well, we're not exactly closed. Not officially. That's when I leave, and I still have to look at this months' paperwork and send everyone their hours."

He only did that from his main computer at the Haunt. Basil wasn't one to take his work home with him at all, unless it was something like a book. Paperwork? Nah, leave that for business hours. Attending an auction or delivering a book to a sick regular? That was the type of work he enjoyed taking home. By now, he knew the phone numbers and residences of a few of the folks who usually dropped in. If he didn't see them for a little while and none of the others had, he usually called to make sure they were alright. Call it genuine concern, call it being over-protective, call it anything you'd like, but he still cared deeply about his not-quite-friends.

"Honestly I'd rather hire someone to do all my paperwork for me, but I'm not cruel enough to wish it on anyone."

A grin, a chuckle under his breath. As a rule, he was always quieter when inside the shop. It was a calm atmosphere. He'd worked to make sure that it was. He wasn't about to lose his temper here.