Conversation Station

PFSC - Cerebral Deli

A rather unique book shop, the Cerebral Deli prides itself on being able to feed both mind and body. Several deli-style tables have been set up near the entrance, the linoleum flooring shining beneath them. An old deli counter acts as the checkout, behind which is a large chalkboard sign denoting all the new and upcoming book releases, as well as pricing for coffee, tea, the odd sandwich and other small items.
Upon climbing three stairs, one enters a carpeted area filled with shelves and stacks of books. These books are fitting to every genre that one could possibly hope to find, including a smaller section for rare or now-out-of-print books. A couch and two chairs can be found at the back of the shop, near the window. A comfortable place to ensure the potential purchase is the right book, or catch up on a spot of homework.

At a quarter after six, Mischa strolls into the deli that he used to frequent a lot more…frequently. He reaches up to scratch at his head as he glances around the deli for someone. There are no shopping bags with him and he seems to be here for a specific purpose; either something to eat, someone to talk to, or a mixture of both. The librarian wanders up to the counter and stands there a bit awkwardly as he waits for the cashier/sandwich artist to grace his presence.

Cerebral Deli is empty.
No, really, it is.
Toby, the proprietor is nowhere to be seen, and but for a few customers there's no one at the counter. Until someone rushes in from the back room with a box full of rye bread. "It's in the back, he says. Sure it's in the back. That was pretty far back," Summer mutters, shaking her head. She's obviously not noticed Mischa entering, she's busy admonishing her missing father as she sets the bread out in the appropriate location behind the counter.

"Um…" Mischa starts out, very eloquently indeed. He clears his throat for a moment before weakly calling out: "Summer?" Mischa pauses briefly before he starts to talk once more, unsure if she's listening or not. "Err, I was hoping you'd got my message. I mean, I'm actually pretty hungry, but I'd also hoped the place wouldn't be that busy so that we could talk. I mean, I'd hoped you'd be here anyway… I kind of wanted to see your dad too. He's a good guy." Mischa reaches up to scratch at the back of his neck and rub it before he takes in a deep breath and looks hopefully to the back of the woman's head. Anyone home?

The bread freezes in her hand, not moving where it's supposed to. Summer's body tenses a little and she reaches for her cell phone. Which of course was switched to off, thanks to an afternoon surgery. Sliding it back on, she holds it to her ear and listens to the voice mail. When she gets to Mischa's she frowns a little, sighs, then hangs up.
"I did now. You want a sandwich?" Fighting with the bag of rye bread, she gives up stacking it properly and just plops it on the counter, opening the bag. "Toby's out with Brett," she says with a shrug. "That's what the note said anyhow."

Mischa quirks a brow as he watches Summer tense. He gives a slight shake of his head before chuckling to himself. "Yes, please. Turkey, cheddar cheese, lettuce, tomato, onions." He watches Summer for a long moment, though not in a terribly perverted or overly lecherous way. "You look good. It's been a while." To the comment about Toby being out with Brett, he says nothing except: "That's too bad. I'd hoped to catch your dad. Ah well, maybe on my lunch hour tomorrow or something."

"Rye okay?" Summer has really only found the rye bread. If he wants something else, he may be out of luck. Everything else is gathered while she waits for his response. "I've been running a bit more," she replies. A truth, not the whole truth, but a truth. Running more as a coyote than as a human. Playing more games out in the flatlands. "It's only been a few weeks. Since the night of the meeting." She's avoided pretty much everyone Pack since then, with the exception of Toby. "Were you looking for him for a reason? I can leave a message if you'd like."

"Sure." Mischa says, nodding his ascent. He reaches up to run his fingers through his hair in a typically nervous manner before glancing around the deli. "It seemed like longer. I guess maybe because I haven't really seen anyone but Doris lately." And the patrons of the library, but they don't really count much anymore. "No, I just wanted to talk to your dad, touch base with him. That kind of thing. Like I said, he's a good guy." Who is out with another good guy. Which is not him. Right then. Mischa clears his throat once more before trying to cover it up with a lame, "Frog in my throat. …Uh, figuratively. Definitely figuratively. Heh. Summer, if you're uncomfortable with this I can leave… I just…" He pauses, chewing on his lip as he mulls over the least creepy response. "I just don't want to be alone."

Gloves are put on and the sandwich is put together. Bread. Cheese. Turkey. Lettuce. Tomato. Onions. And cut.
Setting the sandwich on a place with a pickle and a handful of deli chips, she hands it over the counter. Gloves are removed and tossed in a garbage bin, and she nods. "Doris, she's the mean one right? The older woman at the library?" Not the neighbor.
"I'll tell him you came by then." She looks down at the counter. "Yeah, well, you probably should have thought about that before." But that seems to be all she's going to say on it. Moving to the fridge, she pulls out a bottle of water, then settles back into the kitchen to make some tea. "The tea will be ready in a few minutes."

Summer's response to Mischa's admission makes him let out a sigh that sounds mildly like an 'ehhh'. He takes his plate over to a vacant table and starts to eat his sandwich without more than two words at this point. He figures that Summer has put on the tea and she'll have to bring it to him, so perhaps she will talk to him. Though at this point he's not even sure whether it's worth it or not. Instead of voicing his concern and being a man, he sulks over his sandwich. Which is actually pretty damned good.

Five minutes later, the tea is ready. She pours it from the pot into one of the tea cups and easily carries both it, and the water to the table. Summer doesn't take a seat, instead she cracks the bottle of water open and takes a sip from it. A few customers wander in, and she gives them a little nod of the head as she tidies up a table next to Mischa, just gathering the dishes onto a tray and setting the garbage onto another. "I'm not uncomfortable. I've not got a reason to be uncomfortable." After all, she's happy again and not dwelling on the past too much.

There's a brief nod of Mischa head as he takes a sip of his tea, reaching into his pocket for his wallet in order to count out the exact change for how much the meal will be. He's pretty much committed these small details to memory even if he can't for the life of him remember some major events. "Good. You tensed when you heard my voice. I can only hope that you're not going to take out a restraining order or something. At this point in my life…" Mischa just trails off there. No one wants to hear his crap, it occurs to him. Instead, he switches conversation stations. "Tell me what you've been doing with yourself. Besides the running. Same old, same old?"

"That's not who I am, and you know it." What Summer may do is return some jewelry, since she know that must have cost him a great deal. "Work here, at the clinic, making some new friends… avoiding that other group until things die down a little." As in: until the Pack has settled itself back down from the death of another werewolf, and from dealing with Donato's ruling on that man. "I've started seeing Brett socially." Still no move to take a seat, but at least she's talking.

At the mention of 'socially', Mischa lets out a quiet 'heh' before shrugging his shoulders. "Well, if he makes you happy, that's all that should matter. I'm happy for you." He pauses. "Really." And he sounds like he means it, too. About as much as he can. It's not the most enthusiastic of proclamations about happiness, but it's heartfelt sounding enough. "Yeah… I hear that. About the group, I mean. Seems like the meat really hit the fan." Mischa reaches up to scratch the back of his head before he takes a bite of his sandwich. After making the proper mastications, he turns to look at Summer. "Thank you, Summer."

Her gaze rolls toward the ceiling for a moment at the less than heartfelt proclamation. Summer never expected him to be happy about it, but he did push her toward Brett rather than fight for her, so it's his own fault. "I am happy." Though she's nice enough to not go into much elaboration on that point. Except to add, "He's a nice guy, Mischa, and once you're over whatever it is you're going through I'm sure the two of you could be friends." Acquaintances, more like but at least there's an attempt being made.
"It was rough. They're a rough bunch. I didn't know the challenger, but some people tried to stop him… I guess they just didn't get through to him."

"I'll admit that the man seems to have had a death wish, challenging Eli like that. But he was nice enough the few times I spoke with him. It's sad it had to end that way." Mischa shakes his head a few times before he finishes off his sandwich and pushes away the plate, taking up the tea instead to blow on it to cool it down. He glances over toward Summer once more, tilting his head. "I'd actually like to be friends with Brett. It would be nice to have a male perspective other than my father's in my life." He lets out a chuckle at that before he takes his pickle from his plate after all and bites a tip off with a loud crunch. "I hope I'm over this soon too. I'm making some good, positive steps forward though. Thinking about putting a down payment on a house."

"Mm." Summer lowers her voice a little, "Sad, and unnecessary, but that's how they work, right?" Sometimes it's better to be an honorary member than to be an actual full blooded member of the Pack. It allowed her to miss out on the actual challenge. "Well, you'd have to honestly talk to Brett about that. I can't speak for him. I do know you probably didn't make a good first impression." What with the way he was acting and what was said. "He and his brother are good people though." Blinking, she recaps the bottle of water. "A house? Isn't that a big expense?"

Mischa nods in agreeance to Summer's first words before he finishes up his pickle and wipes his hand on a napkin. He dabs at his mouth before looking at Summer with the slightest of sheepish grins. "Yeah, I'm sure I haven't made a good impression on quite a few people lately. Everyone has bad days though." He's not about to apologize again. He'll apologize to Brett, probably, later. "And yeah… a house is a pretty big step. And I always thought that I'd have a family by now, maybe it wouldn't be so lonely — the idea of me moving into some big house all alone. But to be honest, the apartment just isn't cutting it anymore. Everything is so cramped. In a way I feel like I need my space. But I also feel like it's going to be really lonely in there."

"You've got the cooters," she points out, "and your library." Summer sets the bottle of water onto his table, then picks up the trash from the other and cleans it up. "Just don't get anything too large, and I'm sure you'll be fine." No point in buying a six bedroom home when you're just one person. Heck, the ranch is almost too big for her and Toby, but it was more for the property than the house. "You could always get a dog." Beat. "A cat."

"A cat I could live with. A dog? Hmm, he'd have to be a super friendly dog…" Mischa says with a quiet laugh before sipping at his tea. He leans back in his chair, looking fairly relaxed at this point in the conversation. Things have gone relatively smoothly. "Yeah, the turtles have gotten so big that they're taking up one whole corner of the living room. I need somewhere bigger for them. Maybe give them a guest bedroom or something. And the library? That's getting bigger too… I'll need a whole, well, library…" Mischa slides the money over to Summer as she walks past, hoping that she'll make her way to the register with it. Now that he's supped, he's feeling particularly lazy — just like a cat.

"So you'd want something dopey like a black lab. Maybe a collie? They're friendly and smart." Summer considers a few other dog options then shrugs her shoulders. "It's really all personality. You'd have to choose the pet that's right for you when you're looking for a companion pet." It can't be anyone else that chooses it. That much she's learned from her years working close with animals. "You need a bigger terrarium. You should check the pet store here at the mall. They can help you set one up, you just tell them the size you want and if they don't have it, they can get you in touch with someone who custom builds them, I'm sure." Grabbing the money, and his tray, she goes to ring in the order and clean everything up. When she returns it's with the teapot to refill his cup.

Mischa shakes his head a little bit. "I don't know if a dog is the best route for me… I don't think I'm… uh, attuned to them." He is definitely a prissy little kitty man when in his more felinian form. "I've just bought them a bigger terrarium. I think they should be okay for a while. In fact, I don't know if they make terrariums that damned big. Hopefully they don't get Gojira sized." Mischa is in fact just dorky enough to have said Godzilla in the Japanese way. He stands up to stretch his legs and arms before smiling at Summer. "But a custom built terrarium does sound nice. I'd like to get them more doohickeys and such. I'm not really sure if turtles can exercise like hamsters can or something, but…" Well, he can make the tank look pretty, can't he? He allows Summer to fill up his teacup.

After filling the teacup, Summer moves back to the kitchen. The pot is replaced, and she takes another order. This one is simple and is for a pre-made salad, so she just gets it and the dressing choice from the fridge before ringing up the order and returning to her conversation. "They should get to be about a foot each. Not too big. They won't do tricks. Honestly, if you're buying a house you might be better off building them a small fenced in pond in the backyard, and buying some water lilies for it." More of a natural habitat for the cooters anyhow.

Now there's an idea that Mischa hadn't considered before. "Hey, that actually gives me a great idea. Thanks, Summer!" He says. He keeps whatever the good idea was to himself before he leans over the counter a bit. "I'm going to go and take care of my laundry, do a few things around the apartment. It was really nice talking to you, Summer. And I mean that. Can we do this again soon?" He asks, tilting his head at the woman.

"Well, sure, I guess. You're welcome to come into the shop whenever." Which is always the rule. Even when she's angry at someone she'll never chase them out of Toby's shop, it's just not good for business. "Good luck with your errands, and the cooters." Summer has no idea what his great idea is, but if it makes him not sulk, then she's guessing it was a good one.

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