Magister About Town

[hazlogs]

Garcia's Pizza Parlor(#2882RJM$)
The first thing some people notice when they step into this room is the noise: 
  almost always there is some sort of noise, of music or conversation or the 
  employees in the back, cooking. Others see the lights, harsh yellow-white 
  over the counter and on into the kitchen in the back, a dimmer, indeed faint 
  glow above each of the tables scattered around. No matter which sense is 
  first engaged by the room, almost all soon are captured by the smell of 
  pizza; the smell pervades the place, an aroma of melted cheese, cooked 
  tomato sauces, various meats, vegetables, all subtle, yet all blended 
  together into the overwhelming smell. The smell tells the customer that, 
  despite the less-than-classy look of the restaurant, the product is, 
  undeniably, almost guaranteed to be good.
  In the corner near the door is a trio of video games and a soda machine. 
  Scattered around the room are several tables; lining the back, the counter 
  on which the pizzas are put before they are picked up.
Obvious exits:
STreet  

The door swings open and in strides Sally. The blonde heads straight for the 
  counter, smiling as she catches sight of the guy behind it. "Jay! Hey, you," 
  and she gets greeted by name in return. Bouncing on the balls of her feet, 
  she tries to decide what to order.
Magister has grabbed for himself a booth near the back, though not too close 
  to the video games. A half-eaten pile of breadsticks sits near him, along 
  with a small glass of soda. His attention, though, is on a darkly-covered 
  graphic novel.
"Beer! And a slice of, um..." She leans forward, checking out the pies under 
  the glass display. "That one!" she exclaims with all the excitement of 
  little girl choosing a puppy. The two chat (and flirt) some more as he 
  sticks the slice from the chosen pizza into the oven and then rings her 
  order up.
Magister's eyes flick up briefly toward the counter and then turn back to the 
  comic-book collection. A spiral-bound sketchbook sits open to a blank page 
  next to him.
Sally hands over her money and gets the change and plastic cup of beer in 
  return, then has to wait another moment or two for the slice. As it's placed 
  before her, she gives Jay a final smile, then turns back to the dining area 
  to find a seat. The dinner crowd has yet to totally ebb, but there are empty 
  tables around. Sally has spotted where she wants to sit, though. She heads 
  straight for the Lord cub's table.
Magister doesn't look up as the bubbly, college-aged blonde heads for his 
  table, and gives the impression of being very busy with that book he's 
  reading. As she nears, she can glimpse the panels, black and white and 
  jagged edges. Must be one of those "independent" comics.
"Hey," Sally's voice is warm and sunny, a perfect match to her smile. 
  Uninvited, she slides into the opposite side of the booth and takes a drink 
  even before setting down her veggie slice. "How's it going? How're they 
  hanging? What're you reading?" Her questions come rapid-fire and in the 
  exact same tone as seconds ago.
"Johnny the Homocidal Maniac," Magister deadpans, without looking up. 
  "Director's Cut."
Pushing her slice out of the way, she leans forward to look, trying to pull 
  down the top of it so that she can see. "Yeah?" Somehow Sally doesn't seem 
  impressed. "It's cool?"
Magister's glances darts up toward Sally's face, his own expression frozen and 
  unfriendly. He looks back down, flipping a few pages toward the front, 
  stopping on a page where, it seems, the disturbed-looking protagonist seems 
  to be talking to a jittery guy with a suit and clipboard. "'As for 
  protecting the people,'" Magister reads, "'well that's a bit of a paradox, 
  at least from what I know. I'm sure that if you searched into the lives of 
  some of these victims, you would find out that they, themselves, were the 
  cause of their very deaths.'"
Sally's smile is uneffected by his less than friendly look. Removing her 
  fingers before he begins flipping, she takes another drink of her beer as he 
  starts reading. Somewhere around three or four words into it, she gets that 
  glazed-eyed look of the totally disinterested. "/Not/ cool," she pronounces 
  it even before he's finished.
Magister and Sally are sitting at a table across from each other, near the 
  back though not too close to the video games. Sally has a beer and a slice 
  of veggie pizza, while Magister has some mostly-eaten breadsticks, a glass 
  of soda, a sketchbook open to a blank page, his backpack in the seat next to 
  him, and a black-and-white "indie comic" trade paperback open in front of 
  him. He regards Sally with flat eyes behind his glasses. "Go away."
Kimberly walks in the door from outside. Completely oblivious to the less than 
  stellar scene at the table, she gives Sally a casual wave before making her 
  way to the counter of the shop to get the attention of someone behind the 
  counter.

[Kimberly]
        An attractive woman just this side of twenty, she stands about 5'8" 
  and possesses the long-limbed, yet curvy build most women envy. Her features 
  are pleasing to the eye: high, well-defined cheekbones that carry a whisper 
  of pink, a strong yet feminine jawline and bow-shaped lips quirked in a 
  cryptic smile. All these are framed by inky black hair that has a bluish 
  sheen in the light. Although her appearance is not flawless, there is a 
  certain intangible 'something' that gives her a powerful, undeniable charm. 
  Perhaps it is the clarity of her soprano voice... or the stunning, 
  crystalline blue of her eyes.
        Anyone who has seem Kimberly before would be surprised... to say the 
  least. She is wearing a pair of form-fitting leggings made from deep red 
  velvet. These hug the contours of her hips and legs before disappear into 
  knee-high riding boots of polished black leather. A simple cincher of black 
  brocade lightly draws in her waist. Completing the outfit are a pure white 
  silk blouse with ruffles at the wrists and collar and a black velvet frock 
  coat that is carefully fitted all the way to her waist, then flaring out to 
  end at her knees. Her make-up is more daring, a careful application of kohl 
  to bring out her eyes and garnet-colored lipstick, but she still allows the 
  natural ivory tone of her skin to show through. Her waist-length hair is 
  pulled back into a ponytail which is adorned with a red velvet bow.
The blonde kimswoman aws at his response. "Go away?" She tisks and shakes her 
  head sadly, then takes another quick drink of beer. "And just when we were 
  starting to hit it off, too." Sally makes a show of sighing. With her full 
  attention on the skinny guy across from her, she misses Kim's wave. "Tell 
  you what," her smile now a grin, Sally leans forward once more. "Let's go 
  out. I'll let you make it up to me." A pause, then with a hint of last 
  night's sharp-edged humor in her voice, "...You do have a car, right?"
Magister's expression remains unfriendly, lips compressed, though if he's 
  angry, he's buried it well. "No."
Kimberly chuckles to herself as she hears Sally invite herself for a night on 
  the town. She shrugs off the ignored wave and leans up to the counter. 
  "Hello... You wouldn't happen to have any pesto pizza, would you?" After a 
  quick answer, she frowns slightly and adds, "How about pine nuts?" Her 
  expression is slightly hopeful until she gets another negative answer. 
  "Artichoke hearts?"
"No?" Sally repeats as if unsure of the meaning of the word. "Aw, c'mon..." 
  Under the table her foot gives his a playful little kick, then darts back to 
  her side. She watches his face for reaction, trying to get some kind of rise 
  out of him.
"No," Magister repeats, his voice steady. "I don't have a car, and I'm not 
  interested in making your boyfriend jealous." He closes the book and folds 
  his arms across his chest, regarding Sally with the grim expression of a 
  cornered badger.
Kimberly sighs and shakes her head, "No artichokes, either." She shrugs her 
  shoulders and looks at the slices which -are- available. "Oh, well... I 
  guess I'll take a plain slice and a diet Coke." As an afterthought, she 
  asks, "You wouldn't happen to have any salads, would you?"
Sally's smile becomes a pout, a true one this time. "He's gone. Away oh, eh," 
  she misses a beat, "business." Then she's smiling as she shrugs the loss 
  off. "No one to make jealous." Her blue eyes sparkle with amusement as she 
  takes in his pose over the rim of her glass as she drinks again.
Magister's tone turns positively acidic. "Well, I'm sure there are plenty of 
  frat guys you'd be happier with. Some of them even have BMWs! Imagine that!"
"But I don't want a guy with a BMW," Sally says in what might at first come 
  off as a serous tone... at least until she continues. "I want one who reads 
  comic books!"
Kimberly sighs as she gets yet another 'no' from the the guy behind the 
  counter. "Then just the soda and one plain slice for me, please." She waits 
  for a moment to get the total and then pulls out a single bill. Once she has 
  her change and her soda, she goes to a table to wait for her slice. She 
  ahems slightly and gives another wave to Sally.
Magister exhales his breath in an impatient sigh and stows the book into his 
  backpack. A hand reaches for his sketchbook.
"You're no fun," Sally informs the Garou with a wrinkling of her nose. Sitting 
  back in her seat, she drinks again. Her cooling slice remains off to one 
  side of the table, seemingly forgotten.
Magister flips the sketchbook closed and shoves it into his backpack. "And 
  you're a bitch who likes taking the piss out of people you think are 
  strange, just because you can. So go to hell and save us both a lot of 
  shit." The kid slings the backpack onto his right shoulder with a sharp 
  gesture that betrays his anger.
Kimberly lets out a low whistle and shakes her head. This situation at the 
  neighboring table is going south in a big way. she is all too happy to go up 
  to the counter and pick up her slice of pizza, lingering a bit before going 
  back to her drink and the table in the blast radius of any erupting tempers.
As before, his negative response seems only to fuel her amusement. Raising her 
  free hand, Sally kisses it softly, then blows it to the teen. "You're so 
  cute when you're mad," she tells him with a smirk. Once more, her attention 
  is too focused for her to notice Kim.
Kimberly breathes a sigh of relief as soon as she notices that she hasn't 
  grabbed sally's attention. She then starts to sip at her soda, too nervous 
  to pick at her pizza just now.
Magister leaves the pizza parlor without looking back.
You head past the trio of video games, through the door and onto the street. 
  The aroma of fresh pizza follows you out the door.
Regan Avenue East, Downtown
Red brick buildings rise, some of them crumbling from disrepair and disuse, 
  others patched together by repairs. Graffiti covers some of the walls near 
  street level, some rude, most crude, but the occasional drawing is meant for 
  a lighter-hearted reaction. The graffiti becomes a colorful, almost gaudy 
  mural at the western end of the district, an announcement of the Regan Hope 
  Project's presence. Trash litters the majority of the gutters, from Harbor 
  Park in the east across to just before the Regan Hope Project's domain, 
  where the trash is less prevalent and the buildings less run-down. Small 
  shops with apartments in the floors above them span a block here and corners 
  there: delis, second-hand clothes, textiles, small restaurants, a grocery 
  store. Sandwiched between the buildings are weed-choked empty lots.
Obvious exits:
Harbor Park  The Gunbarrel  Abandoned Lot  Empty Lot  Pizza Parlor  Regan Hope 
  Project  North  South  West  

Student Union: Around The Fountain
The front of the Student Union is faintly blackened marble, supported by 
  elegant pillars and sculpted with artful designs. Wide glass windows cover 
  most of the front to allow sunlight in and the students a view out. Three 
  broad, shallow stairs of dark grey granite lead up to the front entrance 
  double doors, beside which is an obviously broken emergency phone. Spreading 
  out from this is a small, stone-paved area which surrounds a symmetrical 
  cross-shaped fountain, the centerpiece of which is four statues of Native 
  American women representing the four seasons. The circumference of the paved 
  area is hedged with ornamental bushes, surrounded by a patch of a well cared 
  for lawn.
A concrete sidewalk leads down the hill, back to the main part of campus. A 
  small 'sign' teeters precariously to one side of the doorway.
Contents:
Collin
Sashi
Dana
Obvious exits:
Campus  

Sashi's mouth quirks faintly as she inobtrusively observes a safe distance 
  away from the fountain, perhaps not catching every word, but certainly able 
  to notice "The Mouth" seems a bit more tongue-tied than usual.
Dana flashes a look at Collin which is punctuated by a heartbeat-quick look of 
  annoyance quickly banished beneath an unreadable expression, accompanied by 
  a perfunctory and merely polite, "Hi," which doesn't invite further 
  discussion.
Magister trudges into view, a black backpack slung over his right shoulder, 
  his eyes on the ground in front of his feet as he walks.
Collin nods his head a few times. "You, uh, must be Dana, right?" he grins 
  weakly.

[Dana]
Mere words cannot properly describe this breathtakingly beautiful young woman. 
  Gold-blonde hair just brushes her shoulders, lightly hilited in platinum 
  from long exposure to the summer sun, and her eyes are the pure, vivid blue 
  of a spring sky. Barely noticable freckles are dusted over high, angular 
  cheekbones, almost camoflouged by well-tanned skin. The eye travels down the 
  slim column of her neck to her slender, feminine body which moves with the 
  graceful, compact energy of a highly trained ahtlete, well-muscled without 
  being muscular.
Faded blue jeans cut to mid-thigh show off the subtle interplay of movement 
  down to a pair of white socks and a pair of sturdy Nike running shoes. The 
  forest green t-shirt she wears looks like a generic Hanes men's t-shirt 
  home-dyed that color.
(+details)
Carrying:
Duffel bag

[Collin]
         It would just be necessary to watch him move to figure out his 
  approximate age; it's with the awkwards grace that often accompanies the 
  movements of someone who still has a little growing to do. Overall, he 
  appears to be at least fifteen, but it's more likely that he's a little 
  older than that. His tanned skin shows much time spent in the sun, and it 
  goes well with his closely cropped brown hair. His hazel eyes peer out at 
  the world from underneath his long bangs. While a little lanky for his five 
  foot, five inch height, he's not overly thin. 
         Presently, he's wearing a red t-shirt emblazoned with several images 
  of the 'Armitage III' anime on it's back, and just one on the front. His 
  black jeans are a little worn and faded, but whole, and his white sneakers 
  appear quite old and worn.

[Sashi]
You see a thin-boned, 4'9 brownskinned waif who tends to creep into 
  out-of-the-way corners, making it her policy to stay ignored or unnoticed in 
  public places. Her nondescript clothes are well-suited to this, for in town 
  she huddles in an oversized jeans jacket with bulging pockets that hangs 
  down to mid-thigh, hiding most of her scars. Black leggings and a 
  soot-stained sleeveless cotton tunic complete her sparse wardrobe. She wears 
  no shoes.
        A mop of tangled kinky dark hair is mostly wrestled into tight 
  cornrows and one thick braid falling behind her left ear. Unremarkable 
  African features-- a broad nose, full lips, oval child's face now beginning 
  to fill out to that of a bony young woman--would be easy to pass over, were 
  it not for the odd way she tends to watch everyone and everything around her 
  with the same curious intensity.
         Her accent is a bit irregular; mostly she is softspoken, 
  preternaturally solemn, with a faint coarseness to her voice that's deep and 
  growly like a gruff five-year-old's. Every now and then she reverts, or 
  rather, remembers, the thick street accent and slang that was hers during 
  younger days.
        The most observant will note her odd habit of avoiding mirrors.
Carrying:
TarotDeck(#2414IJVe$)

Dana is settled on the far side of the fountain shrouded in shadows, Collin 
  standing not far from her, Sashi quite a bit of distance from her, on the 
  grass. With Collin's question, the blonde tilts her head a little more to 
  look at a spot in the vicinity of Collin's face, again not quite making eye 
  contact. There's a pause, then a wary question. "Collin?"
Collin uh huhs. He grins still, nodding, "That's me and all."
Magister glances up as the sound of muted voices reaches him, his attention 
  flickering toward the shadowed trio of figures by the fountain. He pauses 
  for a moment and then looks elsewhere, scanning the area.
Collin pages to the room: Sashi isn't right with me and Dana. :)
You paged the room with 'Make that 'pair' then, instead of 'trio'.'.
Dana stands slowly to offer her hand out, albeit with some reluctance. "Nice 
  to meet you, then" she says with a bare hint of a smile to soften the 
  seriousness of her expression. "Uhm, what's all this about?"
Collin reaches over to take that hand, grinning, "Appletree." He shakes it 
  slowly.
Sashi fidgets with something in one of her pockets, but otherwise waits 
  placidly for dominance and territory to be established, content to stand her 
  ground for now and wait. If Dana looks her way, the metis acknowledges her 
  with a subtle nod.
Once on her feet, Dana notices the other young man in the area with an uneasy 
  glance, but then looks to Collin and behind him Sashi. Perhaps 
  (un)surprisingly, the uneasiness doesn't wane much. "What about it?" Her 
  voice isn't loud enough to carry past the rush of falling water.
Magister shifts the backpack higher up onto his shoulder and begins walking 
  again, closing the distance between himself and the base of the (no, not 
  comfrtably) broad steps. He avoids looking again at the others, as though 
  erecting a mental wall between himself and them, and putting out intense 
  vibes that either translate to 'leave me alone' or 'pick on me', depending 
  on the observer's state of mind.
Collin leans forward a little to talk to Dana quietly. He glances around once 
  before he starts, though, more towards Sashi. "I talked with Andrea about it 
  and she told me you were staying there at the time, and asked me to come up 
  and, like...you know, tell you what *I* know about the whole thing."
Dana nods slowly once at Collin's commentary, uncertainty the predominant body 
  language coming off her while she follows Collin with metaphorical 
  foot-dragging. "Oh," she says, sounding mildly surprised and bewildered. 
  Magister gets another look reassuring herself he's not approaching, before 
  going on, a little flustered. "I hadn't expected that, but...okay."
Phil walks in from the direction of campus.
Phil has arrived.
Collin snorts, grinning, "I just won't ask what you expected. You got a better 
  place we can go talk? I've got someone with me and all too, you know." He 
  holds up his hands disarmingly.
Sashi looks over towards Magister and back to the pair as they come up to her. 
  "Hey," she says casually to Dana, holding up her hand in a sort of wave. 
  "We've met, Collin. Once, anyhow."
Phil trudges across the the campus from the Library, carrying a briefcase and 
  looking tired.
Magister plops himself down on the first step, unslinging his backpack as he 
  sits crosslegged on the cold concrete. The dark-clad teenager continues to 
  avoid looking at the others.
Collin oooohs. "Cool." he nods to Sashi.
Dana pulls up short of Sashi, not quite /in/ a group with she and Collin, 
  turning perplexed at the theurge's comment. "We have?" the mage asks, with 
  no recognition.
Sashi nods and shrugs. "While you were stayin' over at Andrea's place. A while 
  ago." She looks unruffled. "There were a lot of people at the party; you 
  probably didn't see me enough t'remember."
Magister pulls out a sketchbook, spiral-bound, black hardcover. He flips 
  through it rather quickly before reaching an empty page; it doesn't seem to 
  matter to him that the lighting is poor.
Dana is standing near Sashi and Collin on the grass lawn encircling the 
  fountain on the far side from the student union, a part not usually 
  trafficed by the student body of SCCU. She gets an enlightened look, and 
  tension eases a fraction. "I remember," she says, only just loud enough to 
  be heard as a sound around the sidewalk running in front of the Union. 
  Tension seems to ease a few notches. "I...that was a bad time for me, but I 
  think I remember you." She pauses a heartbeat, then says, "There are places 
  in the library where we could talk, and it won't be that crowded this early 
  in the semester."
Phil sits down on the steps on the union. Setting his briefcase down next to 
  his leg, he stretches, as if he had been hunched over a desk since early 
  morning.
Collin oooohs at Dana. "Yeah, sure. I think that'd work." He scratches his 
  head, glancing over at Sashi.
Sashi looks around for said building, murmuring in a low voice to Collin, 
  "Keep between me 'na glass, okay?" Then, louder, "Yeah, that should work."
Magister's head jerks up, eyes moving toward Phil as the other also takes a 
  seat on the steps. Sidelong, he studies Phil.

[Phil]
A handsome young man, in a sort of heroic Greek fashion, Phil seems to be 
  about 25 years old. His hair is cut short and his face is clean-shaven. He 
  wears a neat polo shirt and slacks. He also strongly resembles Agatha 
  Ioannides.

Phil seems unaware of the teenager's scrutiny as he relaxes into his usual 
  unselfconsciously perfect posture.
Dana slings her duffel bag over one shoulder, hands gripping the 
  orange-colored webbing unnaturally tightly. She gives a jerky nod of her 
  head in the direction Phil just came from. "It's this way," she says, then 
  sets off towards the rest of campus.
Collin nods. He lets Dana lead the way, taking a moment to scrutizine her from 
  behind. Go figure. He follows.
Magister looks away from Phil after a moment and fishes inside his backpack 
  for a black felt-tipped pen.
Dana leaves the Student Union to go on campus.
Dana has left.
Sashi smirks faintly at her companion's goggling and slouches after.
Sashi leaves the Student Union to go on campus.
Sashi has left.
Collin leaves the Student Union to go on campus.
Collin has left.
Phil sits, watching the fountain. Finally, one hand drifts down towards his 
  briefcase.
Magister seems to be absorbed in drawing despite the poor quality of the 
  light. The felt-tipped pen makes thick black strokes across the page, 
  forming a rough figure.
Phil pulls what must be first year essays out of his briefcase and aligns them 
  carefully. He then pulls a small booklight out and affixes it to the top of 
  the pile.
The figure begins to take form. It's cartoonish, jagged and sharp. Round head, 
  scruff of black hair, wild eyes. Thin, scarecrow-like, his body's pose so 
  extreme it's almost a contortion. To the observant, it resembles the figure 
  on the back of the kid's trenchcoat.
That is, same character, different pose.
Phil begins grading the papers in his pile, writing neat comments in the 
  margins with a red pen.
Magister finishes sketching "Nny"'s basic outline and pulls out another, 
  thinner pen. Intent, he hunches forward, face close to the page as he starts 
  working in detail, shading with obsessively thin lines, doodling little 
  side-figures.
Phil continues grading until he has worked his way about a third of the way 
  through his pile. Then he turns off the booklight, folds it up, and tucks it 
  and the papers into his briefcase. Picking up the briefcase, he stands.
Magister glances up again as the man rises, noting the movement with a 
  sidelong look.
Phil walks quietly down the steps and across the campus, heading towards the 
  parking lots, without so much as glancing at the teenager.