Pyotr accepted her outstretched hand and shook it. "Nice to meet you, Alex."
Pyotr heard a sound from the other end of the diner. A customer was yelling at his waitress, but the man's words were discernible. He was yelling too loudly for it, and Pyotr felt sympathy for the poor woman. His anger also flared at the man. In his experience, rude customers usually searched for reasons to get mad and threw a fit at the first person they could - which usually happened to be their server. Of course, Pyotr had also deserved to get yelled at sometimes - Yay spilled spaghetti man.
The customer quit yelling at the poor girl as the manager approached the table, and the girl moved to their table, and Pyotr felt an admiration for her. She was clearly upset and her eyes were a little red, but she sucked it up and moved on.
Pyotr had been on the receiving end of rude customers and always made a point to make sure he wasn't one of them. In this case, he turned up the charm by offering more encouraging smile and made sure to speak politely to her. He didn't forget a please or thank you as he ordered his grilled chicken breast, soup, and coffee.
The waitress's smile had returned as she finished taking their orders and went to report it to the kitchens. Pyotr turned towards his new friends and asked smiling, "So, what do you guys do for a living?"
The diner was noisy and full. There were signs of Christmas everywhere. There was a table of people with shopping bags stuffed under their legs, a pair of kids were huddled around a Wallet watching a holiday-themed show, and the conversations along the way were trimmed in excited chatter.
But that was all put aside when one angry customer took over their attentions. Jensen and Pyotr both turned to watch, but it was clear that the outburst was purely emotional and the situation was under control of management. Stress was high this time of year, tensions could snap and recoil at the slightest of offenses. Jensen hoped everyone involved would find peace.
They all exchanged names. Jensen with a warm, but hesitant smile. There would always remain that hypervigilent part of him that hoped he wasn't recognized. So far from Texas, he doubted it, but John and Connor had known him. Who knew how many more might? "Jensen, ma'am."
His coat went draped across the back of his chair and the button-up shirt beneath was glad for the air. The diner was stifling hot but the scents of a smoking grill and fresh pies weighed the atmosphere all the heavier. He ordered a cup of coffee, black, and extra strong and evident of its necessity, he yawned, an impolite gesture he quickly stifled behind his hands.
"Pleasure to meet you ma'am," he added then went on to explain that she was no more a third wheel than either of them. The two men were new acquaintances themselves. "Pyotr and I just met ourselves down the street at Mass. He helped me through the service. I'd never gone before."
It also gave him a way to avoid talking about employment. Or in his case, the lack of.
The niceties out of the way, the topic of careers came up. Alex really hated telling people what she did, they then began to think she was judgmental of their behaviors or asked for free help. And leading with the criminal aspect of it made people think she was typically insane because she got into the minds of some pretty messed up people.
But in reality Alex found normal people to be just as messed up as the criminals. At least their emotions weren't nearly so depressing.
Alex's wallet beeped at her, she held up a finger,
"I need to check this, it's work related."
Alex flipped through the screen to where a notice had been flagged. Another girl had been found for the serial killer who the media had named "The Butcher". That would make 10 girls to date and they still had no leads. It was Alex's first real case in Mexico. Dane Gregory in Moscow put the cabash on that particular case. So on to the next thing, or multiple things anyway.
Alex sighed. She'd have to read it later, her stomach growled. She was very hungry. The commotion from the other dinners registered on Alex, but she really didn't want to get involved or be bombarded with their feelings. She made sure that her shields were clamped at tight as they could be. Errant emotions from others was a sad side effect of what she could do. She wished it wasn't like that, but it was her gift.
"Sorry about that. To your question of what I do, I'm a psychologist with the CCPD. I profile cases and criminals as needed."
Alex probably would have needed help from him too. Alex had not been to any religious service ever, now that she thought about it. Her family wasn't religious, it just didn't fit in with what they did. But Alex feigned interest.
"Other than the season, what prompted you to go to Mass for the first time during the season everyone seems to go?"
Edited by
Alex, Aug 7 2014, 12:53 PM.
Pyotr nodded understandingly as Alex answered a message on her Wallet. She apologized for the interruption as she answered Pyotr's question.
"That sounds like an interesting career. I'm sure it doesn't get boring often anyways."
Pyotr had noticed that Jensen had neglected to answer his question, but wasn't bothered by it. If he didn't want to talk, Pyotr would push the issue.
Alex's net question was directed at Jensen, and Pyotr was interested as well. "Yes, I was curious about that as well and was going to ask before Alex intervened."
Pyotr chuckled.
Before Jensen could answer, the waitress returned bringing out coffee and tea. Pytor accepted his cup of coffee and as Jensen began to answer, his hand knocked his cup over, spilling it on the floor. Thankfully, not much of it had spilled in his lap, but being embarrassed, he felt his Luck returning to him. As the cup rolled off the table, Pyotr moved and caught it before hitting the ground.
Pyotr returned the cup to the table and started grabbing some napkins as the waitress came back to help clean up the mess. Pyotr sighed as the mess finished getting cleaned up. "Sorry about that. Please excuse me for a minute."
Excused from the table, Pytor headed to the bathroom to finish cleaning up. He prepared himself to feel sick later that night.
A psychologist? Jensen searched Alex's face as his own was washed in sympathy. A sea of faces suddenly came to the front of his mind; he knew what it was to counsel the hurting and lost. But she was a psychologist by profession, moreso, she worked with those of interest to CDPS. As Jensen understood it, the organization was like the FBI. Meaning she profiled criminals. The things she must have seen. The hurt she must have to witness. It was mind-blowing.
It seemed, though that no matter how he deflected, the conversation returned to Jensen. Attending a church service at Christmas time was not uncommon for those who otherwise were not regular members. But he knew it was a strange admission, and he felt inclined to explain. If only out of politeness.
Their drinks were delivered, and Jensen shifted in his seat to answer. But the rattle of Pyotr's cup interrupted. Jensen felt his body freeze while his eyes witnessed the pending accident. While his mind calculated the spill, he was too slow to react. Pyotr's coffee pooled across the table and dribbled to the floor. Thankfully it seemed the man's lap was spared. The burns alone...
A dark cloud came over him, however. A dominance of presence that stretched like shade from distant clouds. Jensen paused and looked around, but nothing streamed the cords of Gift across the diner. Neither could he really pinpoint the exact direction of the Gifted, but he kept a wary eye as he reached for napkins.
"Let me help,"
he said and wiped down what edged its way toward his side. A waitress returned with a rag about the time Pyotr excused himself. The remainder of the mess was promptly wiped away, and Jensen and Alex were left alone. The dominance departed as well.
"Are you okay? Did any get on you?"
He asked of Alex, but Jensen was distracted. He glanced toward the restroom as though prepared for the presence to return.
There was an accident at the table. It was a near impossible catch, yet Pytor seemed to do it with ease. That made Alex wonder. Since her first day on this new job, she'd been given a different light about things. The world was a lot stranger than she knew.
Jensen helped clean up the mess and then made sure she was alright, thankfully her outfit hadn't been spilled on. Hot coffee didn't sound appealing on her skin no matter how cold she was.
She nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks."
It was a curiosity of why it had happened. "I wonder if he's always that clumsy yet so skilled at catching things."
Alex took a sip of her tea and a bit of her newly delivered salad. She was a lot hungrier than she had originally thought.
Pyotr stared at himself in the mirror as he felt the Luck inside of him. The problem was he didn't know what to do with it. He needed to do something to get rid of it, but had no idea how or what. If only Marcus had been around or able to help him learn more.
Pyotr washed his hands and left the bathroom, heading back to the table. Alex and Jensen were talking quietly and Pyotr seated himself apologizing for the intrusion.
The waitress had replaced his cup of coffee with a new one - that had unfortunately dropped in temperature to a luke-warm. Pyotr was going to call the waitress back, but he came up with an idea.
He wasn't very strong yet, so it shouldn't cause too much notice. He quickly summoned his luck and used it to warm his coffee back up to a more tolerable temperature. He didn't use his Luck for more than a couple milliseconds when he added cream and sugar and began to sip his coffee and eat his lunch.
Jensen smiled softly. "Maybe we'll find out."
He teased, of course, gentle as a lamb.
But the sensation of a deep menace returned. It stretched from beyond the horizon of the room, yet again Jensen could not discern directionality. He looked over his shoulder and realized Pyotr approached.
Was it him? Jensen could not tell simply by searching the man's features. He sat, no more worse for wear, and tended to his coffee. Jensen looked between the other two, and suppressed the shudder that threatened his calm. That presence was chilling.
Then it took form. Before his eyes, the Gift coalesced into being, and Jensen sensed its exact source. Pyotr.
Suddenly, it disappeared altogether. Jensen was left to gawk at the absence, though he did his best to school his features into calm reserve.
He'd been in the presence of another Gifted man before. Tony. But never had he experienced this phenomenon in such sequence before. Pyotr was one of the Gifted, and Jensen sat next to him all morning without knowing it. He'd worked the Gift and Jensen could not tell it was him. Not until the Gift formed action before his eyes did he know its source. Did Pyotr know who and what he was? Could he wash away hurt and suffering as Jensen could? So many questions, and so few answers to be found in the silence hovering over the table.
But with Alex there, he couldn't quite come out and talk about it?
Or could he? Should he keep something like this blessing a secret? Tony and Jon had both warned him. Even Mister White said he should keep a low profile. Jensen didn't fear for himself, of course, but perhaps he should try for subtly.
"I hope your coffee didn't get to cool."
The subtlety was lost on Pyotr. He wasn't one to pick up on subtle cues from others, so Pyotr was unaware that Jensen was trying to reach out to him.
"Ehhh, it's not too bad."
Pyotr said with a shrug.
The television in the corner of the restaurant caught his attention as the newscaster began speaking of recent events.
"Another woman was found raped and tortured to death by police. Police are linking this to a series of serial killings by a man known only as 'the Butcher'"
The news went on to a statement by some high ranking police official giving advice on how to stay safe and assurances that they would soon catch the criminal in question.
Pyotr frowned at the screen, "I hope they catch that sicko soon."
Pyotr's response didn't indicate anything of significance. So Jensen fell quiet again and reconsidered his options. Particularly while the other man was absorbed in listening to the breaking news update. Jensen knew very little about the criminal known as the Butcher. His nickname alone was enough to make him sick to his stomach, and as a result, when their plates of food were delivered, he pushed his potatoes around without more than a couple of nibbles.
He gestured at the news screen as the story concluded. "On one hand, I am always astounded that humans are capable of such horrible deeds. Yet at the same time, we are a race fallen from glory. I wonder about this man known as the Butcher, about his story. He was a child once, innocent presumably. What dark and monstrous things crossed his path to lead him into such acts of depravity...?"
The question was rhetorical only. Perhaps the man deserved to be called a sicko, but then again, didn't they all?
There was hope, however. It was a flickering candle in a sea of pitch black, but Jensen focused on that light until his soul blazed with it. The Gift raged through him like a storm, but outwardly, he reacted little but to breathe more deeply and school his features to soothed relief.
Would Pyotr notice the change in atmosphere? Could he attribute it to Jensen?