[Cass Harlow]

It was mid-afternoon on a sunny day, and Cass had gotten a little lost on the way back to his van after a morning exploring the city and expanding his mental map. He was confused about which street he’d parked on, and he just hoped the van hadn’t been towed again. Without enough money to pay the towing and impound fee, that would really suck.

He took a turn on the next street, passing a restaurant, and his stomach growled painfully at the smell emanating from the building, reminding him that he hadn’t had a full meal in weeks. Maybe even months at this point, he wasn’t exactly keeping track. He’d been subsisting on whatever canned food he could cook up quickly on his hot plate whenever he could find a convenient outlet. Sometimes he just ate straight from the can.

The problem was, he was running dangerously low on food, and he wasn’t looking forward to the things he’d have to do to feed himself once his last few cans were gone. He’d done things in the past he wasn’t too proud of in the name of keeping himself alive, but he usually didn’t have to stoop so low. While it was true that he’d only been in town a couple of weeks, by now he’d normally have a variety of connections and prospects available to him if he needed a good meal or a shower to borrow; making friends and earning trust had never been difficult for him, after all.

Things just hadn’t been working out for him since coming to Los Eurosia, and he wondered, not for the first time, if there was a reason behind the run of bad luck he’d been having.

As he turned the next corner, he couldn’t help but notice the eye-catching woman in a fancy black outfit at the end of the street, juggling multiple bags of groceries. His instinct was to offer her help, but glancing down at his ratty appearance, and comparing it to her well-groomed and put-together look, he assumed he would probably just freak her out.

She was heading toward a building, and he trailed her idly, hoping that she might drop something and not notice.

He found himself following her into the building, not quite knowing what he was doing, but hunger driving him to do it, like a starved stray. As he entered the building, he saw the woman at the top of the stairs, disappearing down a small corridor. He hesitated, watching her and feeling uncomfortable with his own actions at the same time. What the hell did he expect to happen here, exactly? Did he really think she would drop her groceries and not notice? Or notice the creepy guy stalking her and offer him a hot meal? He was so stupid.

He was about to turn around and leave as she was letting herself into her apartment, but then he noticed that she had left the door open slightly. Before he really registered it, he was toeing off his boots and kicking them to the side before rushing up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Luckily, he’d been dressed to use his gift today, just in case he came across an opportunity. So he didn’t have anything extra on that he had to worry about not turning invisible when he did. Just the boots.

Halfway up the stairs, he activated his gift, going invisible and then giving himself a quick onceover to make sure everything had changed with him. All that was left was a tiny scrap of thread on the tip of his sock where he’d mended it, but it was so low to the floor it probably wouldn’t be noticed unless someone was looking really hard. Good enough.

When he made it to the open door he peeked inside briefly to make sure the coast was clear before nudging it open and slipping through, leaving it cracked behind him. He didn’t really have a plan, just figured he’d grab something small and then fuck off. Maybe just a loaf of bread, so he didn’t have to keep eating peanut butter straight from the jar. Or a piece of fruit or two, if she had any to spare.

He breathed in the scent of the apartment, trying to get a read on the environment. He smelled… books, candlewax, soil, and cat. Primarily. There were quite a few other, weaker smells, but he stopped concentrating on them before the sheer volume overwhelmed him.

As he tiptoed toward the sound of the woman putting away her groceries, movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. It was the aforementioned cat lurking in the hallway, and it was staring at his sock thread moving across the floor, tip of its tail twitching, and looking like it might pounce at any moment.

He cursed internally and hastened toward the kitchen, willing the cat to leave him alone.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TAG: Evening Cadieux
OOC: it got a little lengthy, but for the first post in a thread that’s normal isn’t it? Lol. Don’t feel like you have to match my wordcount if you’re not feeling it. It’s all good.

[Evening Cadieux]

Eve was normally more cautious – with how she spoke to people, with what she ingested… with everything, really. She was definitely cautious with her shopping trips, buying little yet often, visiting the store multiple times per week so she could avoid her current predicament: loaded with bags and struggling to keep hold of them all. It was an unwelcome reminder of the disadvantages of not having a car (and, to a lesser extent, of living alone), but she comforted herself that life wouldn’t necessarily be easier if she had one; she’d have to find somewhere to park, probably get stuck in busy Downtown traffic first, and she’d still have to juggle the bags up the stairs to her apartment. Besides, driving was scary. If given the choice, she would always choose enduring an uncomfortable ten-minute walk in favour of hyperventilating in a deadly metal box, at risk of being honked at or screamed down if she drove too slowly.

She heaved a sigh of relief as she reached the door of her apartment. Some deals she just couldn’t resist (vegetarian ‘meat’ could be very expensive!) and her bags were a heavy burden on her lanky arms. The handles dug into her skin, promised to leave indents long after she set them down.

Unlocking her home was no issue; she’d had the foresight to put her keys in her hand before exiting the store. She didn’t bother closing the door completely behind her as doing so would require some juggling, and despite Mr and Mrs Fletching’s open distaste of her she trusted her elderly neighbours weren’t lurking outside, lying in wait for an opportunity to do something untoward. The only other residents of the building were Daisy-Leigh and Michelle, friendly students who she trusted to look after her store and (when she was away) her cats. She would close the door securely when she’d finished putting her groceries away. In the meantime, she highly doubted a stranger would barge into her home.

“Hey, baby,” Eve cooed. Cleo was hanging out in the middle of the hallway, looking rather loaf-like with her paws tucked under her body. Her green eyes blinked open and she got up to stretch, giving a little mrrr at the sight of her owner. Yet she didn't trot over to rub against her legs, instead choosing to sit down as if she understood that approaching while Eve was so encumbered would only get her stepped on. The corners of Eve's mouth quirked upwards fondly. “That can’t be the comfiest place to sleep, hm?” The rest of Eve’s cats had to be home, taking up the most coveted spaces; Birdie and Pop-Tart curled in the cat tower, Sooty with her near-permanent reign over Eve’s bed, and Mischief making any sofas and chairs impossible places to rest while he dashed around, using every plush surface as a springboard. Cleo was a fearless sort, but as the eldest even she seemed to recognize that driving off that menace would be an ultimately fruitless effort.

Eve swept into her kitchen, gently put the bags down at the far end of the room and got to work packing her purchases away – starting with the cold food. Halfway through, she noticed Cleo flopped in the doorway, rolling on her back to give the feline version of a friendly hello. “Yes I know, hello there,” Eve giggled, brow quirked to reflect her bemusement. Cleo usually didn’t pay her much attention, being far more interested in earning the affections of unfamiliar individuals. Maybe she’d finally decided Eve could be interesting too.

Cleo rolled onto her front. Patted at the floor. Batted at the air as if in pursuit of an invisible bird. Eve closed the fridge door and shook her head. Weirdo. “I’ll play with you in a minute, okay?”

A murmur.

Eve blinked rapidly, fingers frozen on a cupboard handle as her brows sloped together. She glanced around her, confirming what she already knew; no one was there. But for a moment she could have sworn there was a quiet voice in her head, unintelligible in that familiar way other people’s thoughts always were when she wasn’t close enough… She shrugged. Opened the cupboard to start putting baking supplies away. She must have imagined it; maybe a voice had carried from the street through her window.


Cass Harlow
OOC: Let me know if you need more to work with than this! I can add the flour part to this if need be x3

[Cass Harlow]

Cass didn’t anticipate the kitchen would be so small. He lingered in the doorway, unsure of himself for a moment as the woman talked to her cat and put away her groceries. The cat ended up following him in, anyway, and he just hoped it focused more on its owner, and didn’t do something to give him away somehow.

His eyes darted around the kitchen, noting a few different possible food items he could snag quickly, but he’d have to wait until he knew the woman’s back was turned. His muscles clenched and his heart raced, nervous to be trespassing and anxious not to go too far with this, frankly, ill-advised endeavor.

“Yes I know, hello there,” the woman said with a giggle, and Cass froze up for a moment before realizing she was talking to her cat. Of course she was. He let out a slow, quiet breath as he tried to calm his racing heart. He glanced down at the animal to see it rolling around in the doorway. Blocking his escape. And as he watched, it rolled over, gaze fixed on his stupid sock thread, and started batting at it.

He grimaced and eased slowly away from the playful creature, going to slow to try not to incite its prey drive too much.

“I’ll play with you in a minute, okay?” she said, but the cat didn’t seem to care, creeping toward Cass’ foot.

Stubborn bastard.

He needed to hurry up and get out of there before he was caught, or before he got trapped somehow. That was the worst. Once, he had been sneaking into a store, invisible of course to avoid the cameras, and the guy had closed up and locked him in before he knew what was happening. He’d had to stay there the entire night, invisible, until the guy had opened up the next morning. It was probably the most bored he’d ever been.

Hoping to avoid another experience like that again—even if his logical mind told him something like that wouldn’t happen, here—he inched a little further into the kitchen, now only a couple of feet behind the woman. As he swiftly snagged a piece of fruit from the counter, his stomach betrayed him by growling, loud and obnoxious in the mostly-quiet room.

His eyes went wide, and his hand clutched the now-invisible fruit a little too hard as he pressed both hands over his stomach, as if to stifle the sound. There was no way she hadn’t heard that, right?

Fuck, fuck, fuck, gotta get out of here.

He backed up quickly, barely remembering the cat behind him at the last moment before he tripped over it. With any luck, she would just think it was her cat that had made the noise. After all, most people wouldn’t assume there was an invisible person in their house just because they’d heard a strange noise. That would be crazy.

Human rationality had saved his ass many times in the past, and he hoped it would do its job here, too.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TAG: Evening Cadieux

OOC: It’s all good! I would have added more to my first post, but I think I misinterpreted our brief discussion about the thread and assumed Eve would hear Cass’ thoughts if he got close to her, that’s why I left it off where I did. Upon looking into her powers further I realized this wasn’t the case lol. My bad! Also, if you’d rather her discover him in a different way than throwing the flour, feel free, that was just my initial thought. Whatever feels most natural for the thread.

[Evening Cadieux]

Evening could have sworn she heard the hushed whispering of another mind again, waxing and waning like the moon. It was as if someone had walked past, or perhaps moved closer before making a hasty retreat – a familiar dance, due to all the times her sister didn’t want Eve hearing her thoughts yet needed to grab something nearby her.

Pausing her movements again, she listened for more murmurs with her head tilted, feeling much like a spaniel waiting for a command. Had her powers somehow strengthened? Evolved? Reached out through the walls to the apartments beside hers? Alas, the voice couldn’t be a neighbour; although the words were indiscernible there was a masculine quality to them that suited neither Mr. Fletching nor any of the female residents of her block. It wasn’t familiar, even in tone. Had her gift sunk through the floor to the store below?

She jolted, surprised not by the return of the voice but by the low gurgling growl of a stomach. She glanced down at herself, already frowning because she knew it hadn’t come from her (hadn’t felt the corresponding sensation, hardly felt hungry at all) and allowed her gaze to drag over to Cleo. That was… a rather loud noise for such a little beast. Cleo was the picture of innocence, green eyes rounded, shoulders hunched, tail twitching and overall settled in a posture that reminded Eve of when she put koi pond games on her iPad and laid it on the floor for the cats to marvel at. Cleo didn’t look sick or anything. She was the eldest of Eve’s cats though; as healthy and spry as she seemed, could there be an issue that wasn’t immediately apparent? To Eve the grumble had sounded like a simple hungry growl, but she wasn’t a certified feline expert nor a veterinarian. Perhaps she ought to call someone.

Her lips parted to question her companion (not that she’d answer, but Eve had been talking to her animals for years and wasn’t about to stop now), yet a thump interrupted her. And then Cleo jumped.

For a whole, uninterrupted second, Cleo hovered in the air as if clinging to some invisible scratching post. She dropped to the floor again and Eve – who moved without thinking, without feeling in control of her body at all – numbly picked up a bag of flour, grabbed a handful of its contents, and threw it.

Some of the powder immediately turned into a cloud, too fine to be chucked precisely at a target. It twirled through the air, smoke-like, to settle on the floor and sprinkle on the front of her dress. It went unnoticed. Eve stood frozen, jaw dropped and eyes wide as she stared (half in disbelief of what she’d just done, half in fear of what her weird choice had uncovered) at the rest of the flour she’d thrown. It stayed airborne, clinging to a shape that looked like a shirt – a human torso.

The flour bag dropped to the floor, sending up a thicker cloud. The belated shriek that ripped from her throat was hurriedly smothered by her hands flying up to her mouth as she stumbled backwards. Water pooled in her eyes, rapidly spilling over and blurring her vision while choked, appalled sobs shook her frame. The ghost stood between her and the doorway, preventing an exit unless she wanted to climb out the kitchen window. She spun in place, frantically looking for another escape. “No, no, no, no, no, no –” Even the words tumbling from her lips did not feel like her own.

“Please tell me you’re not a ghost! Please say you’re a friendly spirit!” she cried, then burst into a fresh round of tears as she realised she’d just spoken to it. That was ghost-avoiding-101! Don’t invite them to conversation lest you want them to stay! But it was too late. She’d broken that ward and there was nothing to undo it. She forced herself to stop whirling about and wrung her hands, trying to calm herself even as the action reminded her of the flour upon them and set her heartbeat skyrocketing all over again. It occurred to her that the quickest way to get rid of ghosts (as much as she hated the idea of talking further) was to see what they wanted and try to encourage them to move on. Her frantic mind latched onto this solution, deciding there was no other way. She’d fulfil their request, she’d burn some sage, and hopefully that would be the end of that. “I can hear thoughts,” she confessed miserably, and winced. “Or maybe I’m a medium now? I – I think I could hear your thoughts like a living person’s. You might have – you might have to move closer for me to hear you clearly –” a whimper escaped her. In her haste to cut it off, she hiccupped instead. “You can tell me why you’re here – if you’re looking for something.”


Cass Harlow
OOC: No worries! I didn’t explain it properly. Sorry for making you wait so long for this, Eve is a butt to write x3

[Cass Harlow]

Cass had barely touched the cat as he backed away, towards the kitchen doorway, but the small touch was enough to startle the animal. It jumped into the air, clinging to his leg for a moment before dropping back to the floor. He clenched his teeth to hold back a yelp of pain as claws dug into his skin, but he was pretty sure a small whimper of pain managed to escape anyway.

Then the cat’s owner startled him by tossing a handful of something at him before he could move far enough away. Flour, maybe? The powder hit him, mostly, right in the face, and he sputtered and spit before it could be sucked into his lungs. It settled on him, disappearing as it touched his skin and hair, but showing up quite visibly on his shirt.

Shit!

Before he could say or do anything—not that he had any idea what that might be—the woman dropped the bag of flour in apparent shock at seeing what had been revealed. Another gust of flour billowed up, clinging to his pants and socks, and the cat fled the room in the ensuing chaos, its fur dusted with a layer of the fine white powder as well.

Then the woman shrieked, and with that Cass would had fled, except that she started crying, too, and babbling about ghosts, and he couldn’t just leave her like that. If he took off now she would think she was haunted or something, and she might never feel safe in her home again, and all because of him. Hell, she might feel like that, anyway, since he had basically broken into her home like a fucking asshole.

When she mentioned being able to read minds, he took a couple steps further into the room, curiosity overtaking him. Another person gifted with uncanny abilities was something to take notice of. That settled it, he wasn’t going anywhere just yet.

As ridiculous as he probably looked covered in flour, he concentrated for a split second and let himself become visible again, quickly brushing off his face afterward when he remembered just how much flour was probably on it. Then he fixed the woman with an expression filled with guilt and apology, hands held up in front of him, palms out, as he tried to look as harmless as possible.

“I’m not a ghost, see? I swear. I didn’t mean to scare you, or make you cry. I-I shouldn’t be in here, I know. I’m sorry. But I was really hungry and… I know that’s not an excuse, I had no right, I just thought. I was. I mean. Your door was open, and I hoped you wouldn’t miss this,” he brandished the piece of fruit still clutched in his hand, as if it would be a better explanation than his babbling, stammering apology. “I was about to leave when I tripped on your cat, I swear; no ulterior motives, just looking for food. Sorry.” He took a small step away from her and, almost as an afterthought, reached out and placed the fruit on the counter nearest to him before holding his hands out in front of him again.

He grinned just slightly, sheepish and embarrassed. “Reading minds sounds like a really cool gift. I bet that comes in handy, huh?” he asked, trying to placate her with flattery and probably failing miserably.

The ball was entirely in her court. If she told him to get the fuck out, he’d leave, of course. If she called the cops, he’d definitely make sure he was gone before they arrived. He really wanted to know more about her gift, though. Of the other people with powers he’d met, few had been gifted with any kind of mental abilities, and none had ever been able to read minds.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TAG: Evening Cadieux

[Evening Cadieux]

Eve didn’t move, almost holding her breath as she waited for the flour-outlined form to edge closer. But it didn’t. It stayed as still as she was and, after a second, a man simply appeared. Popped into existence within the blink of an eye. Her pulse spiked. She yelped, her hands flying up to cover her mouth again, and she watched as the stranger – the ghost? – wiped at his face to rid it of flour.

He was taller than her (unsurprisingly; most men were), freckled and sunkissed with brown, wavy hair. No shoes. In tatty jeans and a t-shirt still dusted by the cloud of flour and – was that a tattoo on his arm? She stared wide-eyed at the gothic script, fear giving way to curiosity and bafflement. Antonio, it read. How odd. She’d never imagined a ghost would have a tattoo, let alone a tattoo of what she assumed to be a lover’s name. It created a disconnect in her head; the man before her was far too modern, the complete opposite of the dour and pallid Victorian spectres that sprung to mind whenever the undead were mentioned. Yet she could think of no other explanation for his invisibility trick and she reminded herself that of course there were modern ghosts; people died all the time. She shouldn’t make generalisations.

Stammering and shamefaced he insisted he wasn’t a ghost and apologised for intruding in her home, with the explanation that he’d been driven there by hunger. Eve gave the tiniest shake of her head, unconvinced and suddenly very sad. He didn’t realise he was dead. The alternative – that he could somehow turn invisible and back again on command – seemed far less plausible. He had to be in a state of denial. But then again, he seemed so sure… She needed to do something, find a way to test him.

She stepped closer. Even if he were dead, he didn't appear to be malicious. He even complimented her gift, prompting faint amusement to briefly quirk up a corner of her mouth. “It’s good for playing poker,” she murmured absently, reaching out. Her had hovered over his arm and, feeling no cold radiating from his skin, she risked tapping him. Solid and warm. A normal, human body. “So… you’re not a ghost?” she checked, searching his eyes. Though not entirely persuaded she chose to go along with it, unwilling to upset him by declaring he was. She wished she could circle him, look at him from all angles to check for… well, she wasn’t sure what she’d be looking for – mirrors? String? Something he could have created an illusion with? Perhaps a hidden camera, revealing the whole event as being part of some prank show. But her kitchen was too small for such things.

The only other explanation would be that he was a witch too, but she’d never known a witch to turn invisible. Such a thing simply wasn’t possible. They were all seers and psychics like her, or mediums, empaths, and clairvoyants.

She blinked, lips downturned into a contemplative frown. “And you’re hungry.” Human and hungry enough to break into a home if what he claimed was true. The concept made something within her drop, finding it more distressing than the idea of a ghost in denial. She knew she should scold him for trespassing and perhaps even chase him out if she could muster the courage, but then she would worry, imagine him desperately looking for food elsewhere until, unsuccessful, he passed out in the street.

Abruptly, she remembered her lashes were wet.

Her face heated. Eager to pretend she hadn’t been crying at all, she tore a paper kitchen towel from the roll on her counter and spun to use her reflection in the window to quickly wipe away the mascara smudged under her eyes. She would tidy herself up properly in a moment, but first she had to insist he stay for a full meal. She had the food to spare and she could pretend it was Sunny stood before her, having spent the entire day at the skatepark and now hinting at being fed. Additionally, it would serve as another test; a ghost wouldn’t be able to eat, would they?

A stir fry would be quick to whip up. Her chow mein usually got compliments and had a lot of carbs to keep him going, but he would probably benefit from something with lots of protein as well, and what if he didn’t like tofu but was too polite to say anything? “Would you like… eggs?” She turned back to him, doing her best to appear altogether unaffected by the ordeal as she dropped the paper towel in the bin. Eggs were usually a safe bet. Unless a person was vegan. Or allergic. Or intolerant. What were the odds that her visitor would be one such person? She picked up the bag of flour from the floor, setting it on the counter. “An omelette? Or we could make a full English breakfast? Although, the bacon and sausages are vegetarian. I know some people get really put off by that but, if you ask me, it tastes exactly the same.”

It occurred to her that he might refuse so she put her hands on her hips, gave him a look that suggested she wouldn’t be argued with, and tried to put on her best ‘mom-voice’. “You’re staying here and you’re having something to eat. If you don’t I’ll…” The mom-tone faltered as quickly as it had appeared, along with her stern expression as indecision crawled back into her chest. She realised she had no idea what she’d do if he refused. “Kick up a fuss and call the police?”


Cass Harlow

[Cass Harlow]

Cass wondered if she saw ghosts often, or had at least seen them before. She must have, right? It made sense, for her to have reacted the way she had. Then again, he’d met a girl in New Orleans once who had claimed to be able to see and communicate with ghosts, and she had been spacey and distracted almost constantly. Not at all like the woman in front of him. Though, that could have just been her, and too many drugs, and not a common trait of people that could interact with ghosts. He had no way of knowing at the moment.

He stood, still and cautious, as the woman gave him a onceover, looking doubtful about his ghostly status, and then began to approach. Now that she was facing him, looking at him, he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she was. Not that he hadn’t noticed it before, but it was a lot different seeing a beautiful person on the street, or going about their business, compared to a beautiful person focusing their entire attention on you.

As she stared, she mentioned using her gift to play poker, and he chuckled, grinning at that. “I’m sure,” he replied. “I wouldn’t bet against you. I bet you kick ass.”

She reached out, as if to touch him, and he stayed stock still and allowed her to do as she wished, examining her with interest as she examined him. Her hand poised over his arm for a moment, as if unsure, and then she touched him lightly, a small graze, before drawing back.

“I promise I’m not a ghost,” he repeated sincerely, meeting her gaze as she looked up at him. She still didn’t look convinced, somehow, which was amusing.

He was about to mention leaving again, when she frowned at him all of a sudden, and brought up his poor excuse for breaking into her home. He was always hungry, these days, but that didn’t mean what he’d done was okay, or that anyone else should have to deal with it because he couldn’t control himself. “That’s not your problem, I know. I’m sorry, again. Really.”

Before he could apologize any more, she suddenly flushed with apparent embarrassment and spun away from him. He watched, bemused, as she wiped at her face and worried over her appearance. You’re beautiful either way, he wanted to say, but didn’t want to come across as creepy. Then again—fuck—she could read minds and had probably heard it anyway!

Instead of kicking him out of her house, like she should probably do, she stunned him by asking him what he wanted to eat. He started to shake his head. He couldn’t accept that kind of generosity, not after what he’d done. He didn’t deserve her kindness. She continued to list off the food she could make, and his stomach growled loudly at the thought of it all. Still…

When she told him he’d be staying for food, his metaphorical hackles went up for a moment at being told what to do; he could be so stupid sometimes. She was offering him a meal and he was getting defensive over being told to eat it. But, as her hands fell off her hips, and her tone dissolved into indecisiveness with a weak and half-hearted threat, he laughed lightly.

“I guess I have no choice then, huh? You got me over a barrel. Fine! I’ll eat your delicious food, just please don’t call the cops,” he winked, still grinning. “Any of what you mentioned sounds good, by the way; I’m not picky, I’ll eat anything. Whatever is easiest for you to make is fine with me.”

He dusted some more flour off his clothes and face, and then looked around at the mess all over the floor still. “Do you have a broom? I can clean this up for you, since it’s my fault anyway. Sorry about your dress, by the way.” It was so fancy for her to have worn grocery shopping, but maybe she’d gone somewhere else before that. Either way, it suited her, though he tried not to look at her appreciatively too much; he didn’t want to freak her out or give her the wrong impression of his presence in her house.

"I could help you with the food, too, if you want, but I have to warn you, I'm not a very good cook when there's a real stove and actual ingredients involved," he added with a self-deprecating chuckle.

Then he pushed his flour-dusted hair out of his face and looked down at her with another grin. “By the way, name’s Cass.” In a situation like this, he’d normally use one of his aliases, but since she could read minds she might know he was lying anyway. It was probably a better idea to give his real name.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TAG: Evening Cadieux

[Evening Cadieux]

It was easier to hear his thoughts without her heartbeat thundering in her ears, and his mental compliment, followed by the panicked realisation that she’d probably heard it, brought a humoured upturn to her lips. She didn’t comment; when someone knew she tended not to acknowledge thoughts concerning her gift unless they were questions she could answer. She felt it was politer that way, hopefully allowing her companion to relax, perhaps even forget what she could do, or else allow them to pretend her gift wasn’t as intrusive as it was. Of course, she couldn’t help commenting on some musings. Things that stirred her curiosity far too much to go unaddressed, even if she waited for minutes or days or weeks before trying to subtly nudge their conversation towards the subject of her interest.

Upon her offer of food, the man in her kitchen had started to shake his head. But when her ‘threat’ fell flat he laughed and agreed to stay, throwing her a wink as he asked her not to call the cops. Hm. She really was naïve, wasn’t she? Yet she detected no ill intent from his thoughts and she smiled softly. “Okay,” was all she said, hoping he didn't notice the way her shoulders sagged in relief. If he’d left with nothing in his stomach and she never saw him again it would have scratched at her conscience for the rest of her life.

She waved off his apology. The flour on her dress wouldn't stain; in the meantime she could fancifully pretend the black fabric was dotted with distant swathes of stars, turning the dress into a night sky. “It’s only flour. I’m the one who started throwing it everywhere.” That... had been a little weird of her, hadn't it?

Grinning and pushing his hair from his face, the man introduced himself as Cass. She got the impression he was a rather cheerful and laidback guy, despite the apparent hard times he was going through. A fire sign? Air sign? “I’m Eve,” she returned, cocking her head as she heard he would usually use an alias. Why would he – oh. She bit her lip. “Is breaking into homes a habit of yours?” She found it troubling. Not because of the obvious criminality of the act, but because it implied he was often hungry enough to do such a thing. How was she supposed to send him into the world again once he'd finished the meal? Was he too old for her to sign adoption papers??

Evening might have refused his offer to clean, put her foot down and insisted that he was a guest who would not be made to do chores in her household under any circumstances, but she reasoned that if she were trying to feed him as soon as possible (and feed him good, non-burnt food at that), it would probably be wise not to split her attention between too many tasks at once. She whisked past him to retrieve the dustpan and broom from the hallway closet, her heels clicking against the kitchen tiles as she went. The shoes would usually come off after she’d packed away her shopping, but she figured it made more sense to keep them on until the flour was cleaned up. She returned swiftly, holding out the cleaning supplies to him with a smile and a “thank you.”

Time to cook.

As much as she would have preferred to make him a casserole or a traditional roast dinner, those options would take far too long; she would make an English breakfast. The digital clock on the oven told her it wasn’t a time she’d usually eat, but she would eat with him anyway to avoid the awkward scenario of her sitting across from him with nothing to do while he ate. Maybe if he finished the meal and was still hungry, she’d casually scoop some food from her plate onto his. Then again, she’d heard that people couldn’t eat a lot after not eating for a long time. Was that true for everyone? Maybe she’d have to send him off with some sort of doggy bag.

A couple of pans were pulled from cabinets, followed by the ingredients she needed from the fridge. “There’s a bathroom across the hallway if you wanted to wash your face properly?” Cass had brushed off most of the flour and she didn’t mind if he stayed as he was, but she figured she should extend the offer to clean up further. Try to make him feel as comfortable and at-home as possible even while another part of her wondered if it was wise to give a stranger relatively free-reign of her apartment. “There’s fresh towels in the cupboard you can use.”

“But first, would you like your eggs fried or scrambled?” she asked, turning the stove on and greasing the pans with butter. “And would you like your bread fried or toasted?” She paused, looking over at him with an inquiring brow. “Or we could have pancakes instead–” Oh. She bit her lip again. Maybe giving him so many options would be overwhelming, but she was only trying to be hospitable!



Cass Harlow

[Cass Harlow]

“Is breaking into homes a habit of yours?” she asked, and Cass froze, eyes widening.

“No, no, not at all!” Then he realized she’d probably heard his thought about using an alias, and he relaxed slightly. “No, um, I just meant in this kind of situation. I would use an alias. Normally,” he flashed a nervous smile. “Not that I’m often in these kinds of situations!” Not specifically, anyway. This was a new one for him. “But, like. The kind of situation where someone could call the cops on me.” He was flustered again, and he couldn’t stop babbling. This was a highly uncomfortable and awkward situation, he was just glad Eve was taking it all in stride. He couldn’t stop internally beating himself up for doing this in the first place.

What had he been thinking?! Following a woman into her home like that. Well, obviously, he’d been thinking with his stomach, not his head, but that was no excuse. He could have snuck into the kitchens of a restaurant or something instead. He could have stolen some food from the store. He didn’t have to sneak into someone’s house.

He had the thought that maybe he should just leave, despite what he’d said, but Eve was so sweet and kind, and she was offering him a meal out of the kindness of her heart, and he really was very hungry. Besides, he couldn’t leave the mess all over her kitchen for her to deal with herself. Even if she had been the one that had done it, he had been the one to cause it. It was the least he could do to pay her back for her kindness.

He was glad when she seemed to agree with him, and he happily took the broom and dustpan from her hands and began to sweep up the mess, thankful to be focusing on a task. Unlike a lot of men he knew, he actually knew how to sweep, having worked as a custodian and janitor here and there over the years, among other things.

He made quick work of the scattered flour, moving smoothly around her as she pulled things out of the cabinets and fridge. He dumped the results of his cleaning into the garbage can nearby and leaned the broom and dustpan against the wall beside it, not comfortable with opening her hallway closet to replace them inside.

When he turned back to her, to see where else he could help, she was offering the opportunity to clean himself up in her bathroom. He hesitated, but before he could accept for decline, she was asking him about food again, and he smiled slightly.

“Like I said, whatever is easiest for you to make. I’m truly not picky, and I’m already imposing enough as it is.” Speaking of which, he didn’t want to make anymore of a mess in her home than he already had, so he’d better wash up after all. “I think I will clean myself off really quick, thanks.” He crossed the hall into the bathroom she’d indicated.

As he swiftly washed up—not wanting to take too long and make her suspicious—he pondered over her power, and the ease with which she had accepted him into her home.

Her power was fascinating, because he thought maybe it was a little like his, in a way. His invisibility made him confident even in the most harrowing of situations, because he knew he could always use it to escape danger if he needed to. The way she read people’s thoughts must provide a similar sense of security for her; if she could tell whether someone meant her harm, or what they intended to do next, or if they were a threat to her in any way, then it must put her more at ease then the average woman with a strange man in their house. Very interesting.

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to eat with you?” he asked when he came back from the bathroom, still holding the small towel he had used to dry off with, unsure where she wanted him to put it now that it was dirty. “I don’t want to cause any more trouble for you than I already have.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
TAG: Evening Cadieux
OOC: once again, no rush, feel free to take as long as you need to reply if you have a lot on your plate right now

[Evening Cadieux]

Asking (semi-seriously) if he broke into homes a lot had made Cass a little flustered, and Eve smiled slightly as he hurried to explain why he would use an alias. Perhaps he was telling the truth. Perhaps breaking and entering wasn’t something he tended to do. Yet his words confirmed it wasn’t inconceivable for the police to be called on him, and upon discovering this information she thought most law-abiding citizens would probably conclude he wasn’t someone they should trust.

But she figured it was a prejudice thing rather than a criminal thing that had him running from the law. He didn’t look mean or especially unkempt (ignoring the flour dusting his form), yet she could believe some people saw the tattoos and the beard and somewhat long hair and made assumptions. Saw the man ‘loitering’ and called the cops to get him away from their home or business.

There was no ill intent in his thoughts. That was the main thing. And it was hard to see him as someone who would wish her harm when he so eagerly took to the task of sweeping her kitchen floor. She had faith he wouldn’t steal anything from her home or try to deceive her now that his presence had been uncovered and her own gift had been divulged, and felt he truly only wanted some food to keep himself going.

With a nod to herself, she turned back to the stove to pour half a tin of baked beans into a saucepan over low heat. While she believed Cass would do his best and get the worst of it (and it did look like he was doing a very good job), she privately decided she would still go next door to borrow Daisy-Leigh and Michelle’s vacuum when he left (Mischief had chewed through the cable on her own vacuum a few months back, and she hadn’t gotten around to replacing it). With traces of flour lingering on their clothes, she imagined the two of them would shed a little more of it around the apartment before his visit was over.

Thinking about it, she supposed there was a fair chance she’d find powdery pawprints in her living room as well. Cleo had fled the scene during the commotion and hadn’t yowled or hissed in a way to indicate she’d been injured, but Evening ought to check on her if only to brush any remaining flour off her fur and to apologise for the scare she must have given her.

While Eve put the ‘meat’ of the meal into one of the frying pans, Cass finished his task and excused himself to get cleaned up. She glanced at the broom he’d left behind, leant against the wall. Interacting with solid objects provided more evidence that he wasn’t a ghost, she supposed, which was both comforting and intriguing. How on earth could he turn himself invisible? She knew of charms and spells that were supposed to make someone less noticeable, less attractive to dark energy, but to disappear completely? How was that possible?

Giving those questions too much attention was bound to distract her and make her burn something, so she forced them to the back of her mind and concentrated on chopping the mushrooms and tomatoes. Although he'd asked if he could help her cook, she didn't waste any time waiting for him for assistance. Getting the food ready for him to eat was more of a priority than getting him involved in the process.

He took less time in the bathroom than she expected though, and she was just putting the cut-up ingredients into a second, larger pan when he made a reappearance and asked if it was definitely okay to eat with her.

“Of course it is! I wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t,” she told him cheerfully. “It’s no trouble at all. What would be trouble is if you decided to walk out on me now; I don’t think I could eat all this by myself and I’d feel terrible if I had to throw any of it away.” She cracked three eggs into the pan alongside the mushrooms and tomatoes, having decided to serve them sunny-side-up.

She glanced across at him, her gaze quickly drawn down to the towel in his hands. “Oh – you can put that in the laundry hamper if you like. Did you see the other door in the bathroom? That leads into my closet. Just open that and it’ll be in the corner, you can’t miss it.”

She continued cooking. Stirring the pot of beans every so often and poking at/flipping the ingredients in the pans to ensure they were being fried evenly. Once he returned, she quirked an eyebrow at him with a grin.

“Say… are you staying somewhere nearby?” Her tone remained casual. She didn’t want to make any assumptions about his living situation, but if he had gotten hungry enough to follow her home… She at least wanted to make sure he had a roof over his head. “I’m kind of new to Los Eurosia myself, I’m not familiar with all the neighbourhoods yet.”



OOC: made a couple assumptions here, let me know if you’d like any changes c:

Cass Harlow

[Cass Harlow]

When Eve assured him that she was fine with him staying, she really seemed like she meant it, and a tiny bit of tension was released from Cass’ shoulders. He still felt a bit uncomfortable with the situation he’d put them both in, but probably not as uncomfortable as she was feeling, and she was still willing to share her time and space with him. What a fucking saint.

After he made a quick trip back to the bathroom to toss the towel into the hamper as Eve had directed, he rejoined her in the kitchen, leaning an elbow against the counter close by, but being mindful not to crowd her. He was unbothered by the possibility that she might read more of his thoughts. After all, it would be kind of hypocritical of him to try and limit or filter anyone else’s abilities, considering how he felt about his own being an integral part of who he was. And it wasn’t like he had anything to hide from her.

He watched curiously as she cooked, impressed by her skill, as he always was when anyone seemed to know their way around a kitchen. Not that it was very hard to impress him, considering how meager and paltry his own cooking skills were. She seemed like a five-star chef to him. The scent of the food was mouthwatering, literally, and his stomach rumbled again in anticipation of the meal.

He was about to ask her if there was anything he could do to help her prepare the meal—it was only fair that he help, even if his cooking ability was rather limited—but she spoke first, asking him about his living situation and mentioning that she was also new to town.

“Hey, I’m new to town, too,” he said with a grin. “And, ah, I’m parked just down the block, actually.” He was pretty sure it was just down the block, anyway. Somewhere close by, at least. He’d lost track a little when he’d been wandering, but he had an excellent sense of direction and was sure he’d be able to find his way back to the van with minimal effort. “So, yeah, I guess you could say I’m staying nearby,” he chuckled a little at his own joke. “For the moment, anyway.” He knew she had no idea what he was talking about, though, so he went on to explain. “I live out of my van; I travel around a lot. “Van life”, ya know?” he snickered.

Maybe she didn’t know, though. It was a trendy thing on social media, but he didn’t know how active Eve was on social media, or if she’d ever seen anything about his kind of lifestyle. He’d found out about the trend relatively recently, from a girl he’d he met at a music festival who’d seemed fascinated with his lifestyle. He’d let her show him a few things on her phone, curious in spite of himself, but had only laughed at most of what he’d seen; “van life” wasn’t at all like it was depicted on the instant grams, or whatever the website was called. It wasn’t trendy glamour and constant adventure like those people claimed. Not for him, anyway.

Not to say he hadn’t had plenty of fun and adventure in his life on the road, and met people and had experiences that never would have happened to him if he had lived in one place all his life. But it was also difficult, and inconvenient, and sometimes dangerous, and he was hungry and lonely more often than he cared to think about. That was the stuff they didn’t show on social media. That was the stuff that made him want to settle down somewhere, now that he was getting older. He wasn’t like his mother; a loner at heart. He wanted a family of his own, in whatever form that took, and he didn’t want to abandon them when he was struck with wanderlust, the way his mother had done to him whenever she’d decided that having a child wasn’t convenient.

Snapping out of his brief, contemplative silence he looked up at Eve quickly, unsure if he had missed something she’d said in the short time that his own thoughts had distracted him. She wasn’t giving him an expectant look, like she was waiting for him to reply, so he assumed he hadn’t missed anything and hoped he wasn’t wrong. He didn’t know if she’d caught any of his ruminations, but he hadn’t been trying to screen or block anything from her. If she had picked up on anything, he wasn’t worried about it. She’d probably heard a lot of stuff from people’s heads in her time and was used to the unguarded process of human thoughts. He was relatively confident that nothing he thought would be alarming to her in light of that. Also, it took a lot to embarrass him.

“How long have you been here?” he asked, trying to keep up the conversation and not let things get awkward if she did happen to pick up on any of the personal shit he’d been thinking. She seemed pretty settled in for what little he’d seen of her home, but maybe she had unpacked boxes lying around that he just hadn’t seen. Or maybe she was just quick to make a house into a home. He’d always admired that about a person.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TAG: Evening Cadieux

OOC: Sorry for the wait! Let me know if I need to tweak anything.

[Evening Cadieux]

Cass leant against the counter, watching her cook. His stomach rumbled yet she didn’t do anything to indicate she’d heard it except for sparing a glance at the digital clock on the oven, to check how long he’d have to wait until the meal was ready. As much as she wanted to feed him, she couldn’t risk giving him anything undercooked.

Cass didn't seem to mind waiting, at least. With a grin, he told Eve that he was new to Los Eurosia as well and claimed that he was parked close by. His thoughts were a little vague about that, though; he was only ‘pretty sure’ that his van was down the block. But he also believed he would find it if it wasn’t and she forced herself to believe it too. She couldn’t fret over every little thing that crossed his mind, tempting as that may be when she was already so concerned for his wellbeing.

“Van life,” she echoed, with a tentative smile in response to his snicker. “I’ve heard of it.” Sunny had been interested in it towards the end of high school. She’d been weighing up taking a gap year. Using it to travel. It didn’t seem very safe to Eve then and it didn’t seem very safe to her now. Though, as Cass was a man, the thought of him travelling alone didn’t make her skin crawl half as much as it did when she thought of Sunny doing it. But perhaps that was sexist of her. Sunny would certainly say it was.

Regardless, Cass’ thoughts seemed to align with what Eve had imagined; despite the adventures he’d had, using a vehicle as a home wasn’t as glamorous as social media made it out to be.

And he wanted a family, she found out. He wanted to stop moving and have a family and he didn’t want to abandon them like his mother had left him.

Evening’s expression did not change, her focus remaining on her cooking. When he came out of his brief reverie he wasn’t worried about her having heard it, and despite her somewhat wanting to ask what kind of place he imagined when he thought about settling down, she didn’t.

He was right; she was used to hearing things like that. Personal ruminations that people would perhaps not normally speak aloud. Sometimes if she was particularly curious she might try to steer the conversation towards it, but usually she resigned herself to the idea that they would tell her without prompting if they really wanted her to know.

He asked her how long she'd lived there.

“Oh, not long at all, really. It’s been a few months, maybe four or five. I moved earlier this year to be closer to my little sister.” Evening's smile pulled wide into a beam, the warmth in her tone almost tripling at the mention of Sunny. “She goes to the local university. She’s on a scholarship because she’s wonderful at lacrosse and she plays a tonne of other sports, too! I don’t know where she gets her athleticism from as clearly my parents and I don’t have any with these gangly limbs, but I’m so happy she has something she feels so passionately about.”

Evening could talk about Sunny all day, yet she supposed that wasn't what he'd asked about.

“I also wanted somewhere to open my store, Moondweller’s Cauldron, and generally thought it may be a good idea to move out from home – my parents’ place, that is. Don’t get me wrong, they were more than happy for me to stay and I love them dearly, but I thought, maybe –” She hesitated, unsure how to explain herself. In the years after graduating high school she’d spent almost all her time with her parents. Working in their store, living with them. “Maybe staying with them was… making my life more about theirs than my own?”

Eyes wide as they darted in his direction, her hand flew up to hover over her mouth. “Oh no.” Her fingers curled into her palm and she lowered the hand again, wincing slightly. “That sounds horrible. I didn’t mean it like that.”

She returned her gaze to the stove. “What I meant, I suppose… is that you get to a certain age and your friends begin to feel a little strange about visiting you while your mom and dad are in the room next door.” She chuckled, giving a small shake of her head. She knew for a fact that it had been uncomfortable for her ex-boyfriend, Damien, who hadn't at all liked to come over when they were home.

“I was a mature kid, a power like mine means I found out about a lot of things very quickly–” she rolled her eyes playfully to show that it wasn't bad, wasn't something to be concerned about – “and the age gap between me and my sister makes it feel like she’s my daughter sometimes. But I suppose there are still some ways I need to grow up a bit.”


Cass Harlow