2012 02 03 A Little Honey Badger With Your Coffee

Log Title:
A Little Honey Badger With Your Coffee?

Characters:
Dane Whitman (Black Knight) and Dajan

IC Date:
02/03/2012

Location:
A Coffee Shop in Brooklyn

Brief log summary::
Dane and Dajan finally get that chance to hang out after two days of hero stuff.

Rating:
pg

There is no TS in this log::
Yes

Post your log::

His phone goes off, text message, and Dane whips it out quickly to see how it is. He doesn't get much in the way of texts, his social life isn't that great to begin with really. When he sees it from her, he doesn't respond right away. There is the whole strangeness of it all, bad luck one might call it. In fact, when he freed her from the ice, he didn't want them to feel uncomfortable and so excused himself with Avenger business. About 30 minutes later, he finally returns the text. 'No worres, duty calls right? Any beter time to call - would love to hear you … Dane' Misspelling and all, he is typing fast and not that good with his thumbs.
'Just my crazy luck is all. I get off work at 9 am if you want to grab a cup of coffee — somewhere else.' Dajan is apparently still close enough to her teen years that she can fire off a text rapidly, and with, startingly clear English. She doesn't default to text speak or abbreviations…which might account for the fact that it takes a minute or two before her reply reaches his phone.
Even though he is slow at texting, Dane has the phone out and at the ready, wondering if he was foolish for even waiting for a response. Just before he is ready to put the phone away, the message beeps at him. With a grin then, he responds, 'Coffe would be god, any place in mind or do we have all nght now to think of perfect spot. Cant wait to see you - Dane'
'I'm not picky. Pick your favorite spot, text me where it is. See you at nine. — Dajan.' Dajan sets an alarm on the phone to wake her up for an overnight shift, then curls up for a quick nap before it goes off.
The eleven or so hours prior to her getting off at 9 Am gives Dane time to google coffee in NYC. At about 8:30, he responds, 'Fort Defiance, in Brooklin, not far from Battry Tunnel … ? - Dane.' Yes, he continues to amend his name to the text.

Dajan's shift was uneventful, but her morning wrap up took the day to a decidedly negative shift when Phil pulled her aside on her way to the door and regretfully told her he had to fire her. Despite Dajan's protestations of being a good worker, and how everybody liked her gumbo recipe, Phil was firm on the point. She got into too much trouble, and he worried it would eventually follow her to his diner. "You gotta understand, kid," he tells her, "This Diner is all I got for 35 years. I can't lose it."

So it is with a heavy footstep Dajan leaves the diner, and when Dane texts again, she honestly considers rainchecking him. Finally, she texts back, 'Ok. I'm on my way. Shouldn't be too long if the trains aren't still disrupted from yesterday. — Dajan.' She doesn't think anything of Dane's name showing up in the text. Lots of people have sigs.
Dane is early to the cafe, a locallly owned barista that is a few blocks off the upper bay at a budlge of Brooklyn south of Manhattan. He is unsure beating even the response text, and then when he says it, he returns, 'If no trains come youre way, I can pick you up - Dane?" Then he sits silently in the small shop (http://www.immaculateinfatuation.com/2011/12/fort-defiance) near a window as he watches the street.
As it appears, the trains have recovered from the Groundhog Day attack, and without too much rerouting, are running more or less on time. Dajan's already had time to sulk and moan about her now-troublesome job situation, but also to remember Harley said she had a job for her at the library or the gym. Thus buoyed by texting her friend and asking if those slots were still open, she is back in cheerful spirits by the time she dashes breathlessly into the coffee shop, glancing around for Dane.
Wondering again if he should do something, Dane fidgets with a straw wrapper at the table he claimed earlier while waiting - beating the morning rush in on their way to work it would seem. At this time of morning, its locals who have off-hour jobs or days off most likely, a few suits. When the door announces your arrival, he is standing and waving, "The trains were running then," he grins sheepishly. As if uncertain how to meet a random cute girl you barely know, but then, you saved the world alongside just the same. Then he crosses, leaving personals on the table like a table marker saying it is claimed. Looking at the line and coffee menues, he throws in, "First round on me?"
"Sounds like a plan, Dane," Dajan says, stumbling briefly over the name. "Sorry. I've still not totally shaken my upbringin'. Maman would'a flipped at me callin' someone I barely know by his first name." She steps into line beside him and begins scanning the menu board. "Thanks for the invite. kinda nice to not have to go straight home, or to not be stumblin' into anythin' … um…" She glances around, and decides to finish the sentence with the word, "…unusual."
He's pretty sure it will involve ice and milk, latte most likely, and perhaps some flavor - maybe vanilla or hazel. Which is to say, he doesn't bother so much with the menu. Instead, he focuses on the lady. "If you called me by my proper name, it would just make me feel old. Only one Mr. Whitman I know, and I'm good keeping that name on my father." A chuckle, an attempt at humor. "Ya, good to see you, hopefully luck doesn't change and things stay normal. I'm still on communication," he says, tapping at a pocket, but leaving it at that. "About that, I have a question." He leave is there, seeing if she's up for it, almost like a game, but more uncertainty from him.
Dajan takes a deep breath. And then she orders a super grande double strength kenyan with two shots of espresso, extra foam, two shots of caramel, and a squirt of vanilla — and a croissant. This may just be a contributor to her perpetually high energy level.
"Okay, Dane it is," she promises as she steps aside to wait for her own breakfast. "And you know what? If anythin' unusual happens this time? I'm sittin' here, eatin' my croissant, an' waitin' for you to go tidy it up all on your own, man." After the freeze ray, she is in no hurry to go back out there. To say nothing of the fact that keeping her identity hidden is starting to prove problematic.
"A question?" Dajan repeats, looking up at Dane curiously. "Ok, shoot."
Dane follows up, ordering the iced latte with hazelnut, no extra shots or foam, just the 1/2 coffe 1/2 milk, iced drink. Though he throws in a danish that looks good, cherries and all. Those puppy dog eyes from the wedding show up at the just sitting around, indicating he has little choice but to go and tidy up, and would do so even if the call didn't come from Avenger's Mansion. As they drinks are made, he says more quietly, "The whole thing, Dane … the Black Knight …" His eyes look at hers for registration perhaps, or that he has her attention, "No one knows that," sure secret identity, its common, "I mean, few Avengers even really know, I'd like to keep that."

Dajan meets his expression, and it is the puppy dog eyes alone that prevent him from getting an annoyed, offended look in response. She folds her arms, and gets up on tiptoe because he is much taller than she is, and pokes him gently in the chest with her forefinger. "I may have just got off the bus a month ago, but I do have the common sense God gave a tooloulou. I am not gonna say anythin' to anybody." She drops back down onto her feet and adds, quietly, "Besides, that'd be like, y'know — /bad guy territory/ wunnit?"
Again, he grins sheepisly a moment at the poke, it was common sense and all is what his expression suggest. More like it took her to point it out to Dane. Despite his wealth of knowledge, this isn't a strongpoint for him, social interactions. He still makes his way throguh it, "No, you're right Dajan, you probably have more than do I. Just, this is new for me," he ponders, "I mean, someone else knowing who I really am, someone who I would only hope to interact with on a social level." Then he squirms his face, unsure if that sounds errogant or not, gives up on it as his drink is handed to him. "Ugh, what am I saying, too much time in the lab right?" A chuckle, as if everyone understands that.
"Don' worry about it," is Dajan's advice, punctuated by reaching up and patting him on the shoulder. Her coffee arrives, and she takes a sip. Her brows go up. "Ooh. Tres bien, I may have /finally/ found a place in New York that serves a /decent/ cuppa coffee!" But back to the matter at hand. "What, drinkin' coffee and havin' a conversation is new to you? An' I thought I didn't get out much." Her tone and expression are both light-hearted, obviously she's just funning him a bit.
Warmth crosses his featuers at the light pat and the kind words. Then a curious brow at the the reaction of the coffee, maybe he's yet to try real coffee - if its brown and caffeineted, its to his palette. Drink and pastries in hand, he responds on the walk back to the table. "Drinking coffee, conversation with a cute girl, nothing to do for now … that is new." Perhaps each new addition being one more 'new' to him than the previous in that string of thoughts. Glad she is being light-hearted because frankly, it is close to the mark. "Once upon a time I was in school, this might of been normal. It hasn't for years, but its endearing, I miss this, doing something with no care of what comes next. Its refreshing I guess." He takes a seat, but only after she takes one. He even goes so far as to hold her chair out with one hand if she so allows him.
Dajan has never in her life, other than her father and brothers, had a guy hold out a chair for her. She only thought that still happened in movies … or maybe to other people. So she gives him a wide-eyed look of surprise and murmurs, "Thank you," as he does so, and gets settled.
"Really? You spend all your time on " she pauses, searching for appropriate words that won't spill the beans. "Your other job? Man, do I know what that's like! It is kinda nice to just have some downtime." The 'cute girl' remark didn't go unnoticed. She's just new at this herself, and not sure how to react to it.
Settlined into his chair finally, he nods, "Downtime, that's what normal people call it." His grin suggests he is capable of joking, perhaps more of the man-play stuff, horsing around so that in the company of a women, he's still not sure of his level of humor and what is appropriate. Leaning on the table with forearms, he looks at her eyes. "Yes, other job, there is that, but then I still work in the lab, pushing myself, teaching myself all that I gave up when I left school, and more. Then there is my home, the lands there, all back in England. If I had someone to look after it, I might have more of this elusive downtime you speak of." He stops there, his eyes, still on hers, go distant a moment, as if a memory swims near the surface of his thoughts. He shakes it away with a quick move of his head, filling it with a smile and the image of the girl before him perhaps. "What about you? School or anything like that?"
"You've said 'lab' a couple times, now. You're a scientist when you're not workin' the other job or, havin' the rare five minutes of downtime?" She watches his expression, then shrugs. "Not so far, no. I suppose I might qualify for a scholarship if I gave some thought to it. But up until just this mornin', all I had was my job. An' now, time to find a new one." She shrugs and breaks off a bite of croissant, popping it into her mouth.
There is a nod of agreement when she asks if he's a scientist, half committal suggesting officially recognized perhaps - either research or clinical. Then he listens to what else she says, simply sucking the cold drink from his straw, his pastry untouched for the now. At first he says, "I'd see about offering you something, but that might cross some lines." He leaves it vague there for the moment, "That's the good thing about being here though, there are colleagues to bounce ideas around with, better scientists at the Avenger's Mansion for input. A few things on my own. Enhancements to the atomic steed, a few weapons designs - not quite Stark Enterprises. Then again, Tony's not running coming up with new genetic models either." Half a chuckle, he finally reaches for Danish, realizing he's talking too much about himself. "What sort of scholarship you after? School is important," perhaps a typical Avenger's throw out - stay in school.
Dajan shakes her head. "No, no, it's fine. I don't need any /handouts/." She lifts her chin, proud even in her potentially dire circumstances. "I'll be fine even if I have to get /three/ jobs."
"Wait, you built that thing," she gasps, amazed as he quietly describes to her some of the things he's working on. "Oh, I haven't decided what I feel like doin', just yet," she adds, as he turns the subject back to her. "That was part o' why I came to New York. To see if anythin' struck a nerve in a good way."
Perhaps peeking up some cajun spirit, or having watched the Frog Princess recently, Dane responds, "Well, there you go …" As if understanding she's searching for what she wants, giving it time to play ot in New York. With a shake, "Well, the atomic steed is from the Knights of Wundagore, it was aquired by the Avenger's, I found it in storage and began to make it more suitable to my needs, simply modified. If I had time for a real horse though, with wings," longingly, perhaps, or excited about that prospect, more like he's making due with the metal horse object. "I should get a few more horses," he says as an afterthought there. "There's some work there for you, science, biology, physics, mechanical engineering … but that's only my personal interests I suppose."
Dajan drops her chin into her hand, and watches Dane wax rhapsodic on his love for science. "What's a Knight of Wunda-thingie?" Since he seems to be coming out of his shell a little when he speaks of his interest, she doesn't mind indulging her curiosity. She pauses for another sip of the coffee, trying to finish it before it goes cold.
Leaning in more, as if he shouldn't talk too loud about it, Dane finishes a bit of danish and puts it back on his small plate. "The Knights of Wundagore are a group of genetically modified animals, given sentience and other abilities by the High Evolutionary. They were trained in Chivalry to deal with the coming of Chthon, an elder demon. To give them steeds they could readily control, who wouldn't be frightened by their animal heritage, he created mechanical steeds for them to ride into battle. A good steed yes, but alas, not a living breathing horse that is capable of thought on its own." As he finishes, he is enjoying himself to the point that he simple finishes off his cold coffee, rather quickly and certainly too early.
Dajan nods, clearly astonished and fascinated by this whole thing. "Wow. See, now, this? I could /never/ have had a conversation like this back in Thibodeaux, Louisiana." She sits back, pleased, and gives his earlier question some consideration. "I'm thinkin' maybe … psychology. I wanna do more to help people than draw honey badgers to try'n bite me, or slashin' the legs out from rude men pickin' on ol' ladies."
"Psychology would be fascinating," he says, as one not familiar with the field other than knowing what it is. "And that drawing honey badgers, slashing legs, that is above and beyond the call to help people. It defines our character, we make that choice becuase we feel the need to help. Moleman was defeated, but much thanks are in order. If not for the goo man that tackled him, I might not be standing here now." Or sitting as the case might be. Speaking of psychology, Dane might be an interesting case study for sure. "Besides, maybe honey badgers are just drawn to you regardless?"
"Well, I kinda grew up in a weird situation," Dajan begins, and then segues. "Had to raise my six brothers n' sisters. So I learned a lot about kids and takin' care of 'em. I mean, I could go into au pair, but havin' spent the first eighteen years of my life doin' that, I think I'd go crazy."
In response to Dane's remark about Cytoplasm, whose name she never go to know, "It is a shame about the jellyman," she agrees, momentarily going somber. And then, as he makes the crack about honey badgers drawn to her. "I sure hope not. That'd be a heck of a thing to have to deal with, particularly if I do ever wanna go to school!"
There is a little chuckle from Dane, and he points a finger in her direction (not at her) as she finishes. "There you go, cute cajun accent thing going on. I followed you all but not sure of au pair, something to do with kids I assume." He shakes the thoughts away, as if just wanting to point out his amusement in that moment. "No, I didn't mean drawn to attack you, just good with animals. That's me though, I love animals, particularly horses, just need time and space for that love is all."
"Au pair is just fancy rich people speak for 'nanny' basically," Dajan elaborates, blushing a little about the accent. "Glad you don' mind. I get really work up, people have a hard time makin' head or tail outa what I'm talkin' about." She looks mildly amused as he elaborates. "We had animals around the house all the time. My little brother was — good with animals." There's a certain emphasis in her voice that implies she's understating. She falls silent immediately after, eyes going back to her coffee cup as if considering another cup.
Whether or not he catches the underlying implications, Dane does pick up on the hint of silence. "If that isn't all," he grins curiously, "I have enough quiet time alone, but I'm not sure which is better on you now, smiling and the accent, or the blushing." Rising from the table, he points down at her empty cup, "The same, or something else venturous, I'll make sure it has double of all the good stuff." Perching a brow curiously over his warm smile. "Triple the caffeine, see if we can really bring that accent out?"
"Watch the slap," Dajan says, playing up the accent, but the smile indicates she knows he's only joshing her, and that she's playing along. "But weh, another would be great, yeah. Thank you." Whatever darkened her eyes for a moment has been chased away again by their silly banter.
He returns shortly with two drinks, both the same as he wasn't sure about picking something sporadically for her. Dane set's her before her before returning to his seat. Traffic picks up nearing lunch on the street, just past the window to their side, but he doesn't notice that or the slow increase of tables being taken up in the cafe. "New topic then, what's more fun to do now, movie and dinner … or, indor go karts, sandwiches and a few drinks?" Its implied that a third or forth option could be answered, he doesn't elaborate, just puts the question there to let her take it as she may.
Dajan blinks. She can be slow on the uptake sometimes, but that was pretty clear. From coffee to something that sounds like a date. "Uh —" she stalls for a second, thinking it over, then shrugs, after her shoulder consultants remind her the whole /point/ of coming to New York was to experience things she couldn't back home. "We never did get a proper look at Central Park, right? An' I hear they have a skatin' rink. Can you skate?" Maybe it's tempting fate to go back to the park, but that's not the logic line her mind is following at the moment.
Dane's eyes delight a moment once the play is picked up and the idea is thrown out there. "You're onto something," he says, "I haven't skated in years." Then feigned suspicion, "Wait, they have ice rinks in Louisiana? I grew up here in New England, its almost expected … not quite Minnesota or Canada expected, but we presume we all can skate …" He takes a drink so he can finish off his danish, seeing how she might defend Louisiana and their infamous skating rinks.
"It's not like the ponds freeze over or anythin'," Dajan assures Dane. "But yeah, there're rinks. We used to get to go on birthdays or whatever. Special occasions, like." She affects a mock-indignant tone. "So yes, Mr. Whitman, I can skate. It's not like I'm Kristy Yamaguchi or somebody, but I'm not gonna turn the rink into a sitcom the second I step foot on the ice."
Faking a sigh of his own, Dane returns, "Fine, I'll pretend to be the clumsy one then so you put your arms around me," exagerrating her arms around him, as if she took that approach, it be his arms around her. But not to make it too awkward perhaps, he grins a little and goes on, "Birthday ice skating - I guess its like here. But we have indoor swamps, where we wrestle alligators on our birthday. Oh, I'm sure its nothing like you have, the alligators are all small, but its as close as we get." Maybe its the coffee bringing it out of him, getting him to warm up more.
"You have listened to too many rumors, you have," is Dajan's laughing response to his wildly exaggerated suppositions about Alligators. "My brother was the only one in the family who would do somethin' like that, and —" and she cuts herself off again, smile fixed in place only by an act of will. "My birthday's not 'til May, an' by then, it'll be too hot to skate, won't it? Or does New York winter last until July, bein' so close to New England an' all?"
Pushing the plate and a paper napkin aside, Dane only has his second iced drink now in hand. "No, I wasn't thinking of waiting for a birthday. I'd like to go out with you again, ice skating sounds fun." Then more quietly, "I mean, I'd like to take you out, just, I don't know, is that outdated to ask someone out? Maybe its my upbringing too. I'd like to take you ice skating I mean." Confuddling himself a moment, he leaves it there before he really trips himself up.
Dajan blinks. "Outdated?" she repeats. "Far as I know, people still go on, y'know, dates." She's slightly boggled herself, at the idea that this guy — with the puppy dog eyes — who happens also to be an Avenger and a scientist of the non-mad variety — finds her interesting enough to date. "Okay, sure. This weekend, then. We can catch a bite to eat after. I guarantee you're gonna be hungry after an afternoon skatin' in the fresh air."
Grinning a little, he shakes his head, "I meant, really calling it a date, asking each other out." Maybe he sounds more like a fool now. Then a nod, "This weekend would be perfect. I'll be sure to get time off," suggesting that he won't be on call for Avengers related things. "I don't think I'm used to this, taking a moment just to feel happy. Your smile, now this. Right place right time, badger or not." A chuckle even from Dane.
Dajan doesn't think he sounds like a fool. It's kind of charming, really; and exactly the sort of thing her father told her she should expect from a gentleman. "Awww, quit it, you're gonna make me blush," she says softly, though clearly she's pleased at the kind of chivalrous vibe he throws off. She'll believe the 'off duty' when she sees it, but why spoil the moment by saying it out loud?
"That's only encouraging," smiles Dane, "I sort of like the blushing. Its one of those things, a real moment from another person, the sort of thing that an honest person just can't hide." Implying her to be honest in his mind. "Just you know, when we go skating, if you're hiding the fact that you were trained as a skater and almost went to the olympics or something, don't embarass me too much." Grinning, "Since your on the hunt for a job … if you let me know what you might be looking for, I can look around as well, lots of jobs open in the area, another set of eyes to work for you even."
Dajan tilts her head at Dane's latest gentle jibe. "Only Olympic event I'd have a shot at is the 100 meter dash, chasin' my kid brothers an' sisters around." The smile is a faint bit strained. As it has been every time her family has come up. "I promise, I ain't gonna show you up none on the ice."
"Wow, really? That is /super/ sweet, Dane!" she exlaims, surprise genuine. "Um, well, my last job was just waitressin'. And I don't have a whole big resume worked up, though I could prolly run up to FedEx and make one right quick."
His eyes look between hers when she strains at her family yet again, it might be presumed he tries to not prod at that topic each time it happens so as not to bring up painful memories. In fact, Dane might have been trying to change topic just a little as if to keep mind off such topics, ignoring ghost so his own past too and wanting the joy of smiling again maybe. "No, don't worry about the resume. Waitressing is one thing, anything else you want me to look at, just name it. I'd trust whatever you tell me," to further support no need for a resume. "I can even text you openings I find out about," proud of himself for texting regularly, even if of one day.
"Oh, gee, wow, I hadn't really given it any thought," Dajan admits. "I could do administrative assistant. I'm real good with the typin' filin' answerin' the phone kinda thing." She beams. "Well look at you, gettin' more comfortable with the modern techno-thingies." At least, that's what she takes from hi offer to text and his big smile about the same subject. "You're not like — " Her voice lowers. "Really like, from King Arthur time, are you?" He keeps double-checking and second-guessing whether his mannerisms are anachronistic — she had to catch on sooner or later.
Any research Dane does out of curiosity when back at the Mansion will reveal Dajan's entire family believed killed in a tragic gas main explosion. Which would explain why she has a touch of difficulty when the subject comes up. But she was close to them and it can't help happening.
Making note of those ideas, Dane files it under looking for jobs for Dajan. Then he raises a curious brow at the King Arthur time question. "There is an interesting question. I was born in Massachuessetts 81 - a child of MTV I guess," he jokes, "The Black Knight mantle sarted from an ancestor of mine who did serve King Arhtur as a Round Table Knight. Not to make this too weird, but I have lived in that time, occupying his body. Of late, I have spent a few years of my life living in the 12th Century. I guess, in some ways, I'm out of time because the family mantle has fallen on me." He hopes that doesn't make him sound strange now, his smile fading slightly as he looks again back and forth between her eyes, searching for her reaction to what he says.
Dajan is already starting to get used to the weird. It's either get used to it, or let it freak her out so badly she goes running back to her small town outside of New Orleans, and she refuses to do that.
What does give her pause, though, is the math, which puts him a good bit older than she expected. But hey, if it doesn't bother him, she's not letting it bother her either. "Don' worry about it," Dajan tells him once again, darting out a hand to briefly pat his. "Hones'ly, if you gonna worry about every lil t'ing, we not gonna have /any/ fun a'tall, are we?"
Dane grinds his teeth in a frustratingly fun gesture, "Ugh," he amends to the idea. "See, I'm too much out of place from all this, normal things are something I need more of … coffee, ice skating, a smile from a cute girl. Just to relax." He pretends to wipe sweat from his brow, relaxing even more, if that was possible. If the hand continues to be patted, he'll turn his hand palm up. "You're right, don't worry. Honestly, I'm proud of my past, the life I lead. I think I'm worried about how said cute girl will take it. But so long as she's smiling from time to time, what more could I want though."
Dajan shrugs. "I think I'd be legally obligated to at least give you a fair shake," she points out, "Seein' as how you kinda got me out of a spot the other day, don'cha think?" She's teasing gently, in return, now, a sure sign she's getting more comfortable around him. "So even if you are outta step a little, we'll call it a charmin' quirk an' not stress it. 'Kay?"
"Charming," ponders Dane, picking up on that reference, "I think that's all I needed to hear. Everything else, in one ear out the other," he chuckles, finishing his drink again and swishing the ice around in the plastic cup. "No obligations at all," as if he would really feel bad if someone did this because of obligation for dethawing, though he's sure that was a joke, "But Charming I'll definitely buy. Besides, I would of tried to get you out of the ice, even without a sword. Making the world a better place and that," he grins, suggesting the world couldn't go without another day of Dajan.
"There, that's better," Dajan says, seeing him a little more at ease. "And you're right. I'd'a given you a fair shake anyhow. You were brave enough to call out to a stranger in New York city." Though now she sees why. If Dajan had turned out to be some manner of psycho, the lightsaber would've taken care of that handily. "I should get movin', though," she adds, almost reluctantly. "Got a couple things to put in place, an' a couple friends I gotta get in touch with about the job thing." She wouldn't want her new friend thinking he had to do all the heavy lifting. She rises and gives Dane's hand a quick squeeze. "Call me or text me, an' we'll pin down a time, a'ight?"
Squeezing back, from Dane it might almost seem like he would kiss the palm, he uplifts the offered hand and leaves it at that, but there was that moment of pause from him. "Oh, brave, and I was counting on the charming handsome bit," feigned hurt, "I'll suffer the bravery dear lady." A smile and a nod, "My thumbs don't work right just yet, either way though, we'll pin it down." He remains seated for a moment, to bath in the afterglow of socializing, but offers, up, "Good day and good luck, I'll let you know what I find as well."
Dajan winks at Dane, smile brighter than it started out before their conversation. She leans down and whispers. "Can't give you too many kind words," she warns in a whisper as he holds her hand. "Your head wouldn't fit in your helmet."
She stands up straighter. "You'll get the hang of it, promise." She pushes her chair in. "Thanks for the coffees an' the danish." When she gets to know him a little better, he'll get cooked for, but at the moment it's a bit early. "You have a good day too. Don't forget to breathe." And with that, she's sweeping her hood back on and quickening her step for the door, soon to be swallowed up by the lunchtime crowds on the sidewalk.

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