Marsh Grey (marshgrey) wrote in birthrightrpg, @ 2021-02-20 21:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | brianna winters, marsh grey |
Who: Brianna and Marsh
Where: Le Breeze, Henderson, NV
When: Shortly after hunters in Lucky’s
Rating: Mild
Marsh didn’t often go to Henderson but they had a Lowe’s and the faucet of the kitchen sink in his trailer badly needed repair. It took a good half an hour, forty minutes to get there but once he was there he found it a relatively quick errand. Forty minutes was a long way to drive and Marsh didn’t feel right just leaving without at least getting something to eat first.
He found Le Breeze first so he decided a sandwich would be good to tide him over until he got home. Making his way to the hostess counter at the entrance he looked behind her and pointed to the patio seating. It wasn’t too cold out today and it would be nice to enjoy the surprisingly warm weather. “One please.” He said with a polite smile. She led him to a table beneath the awning and set him down with a menu.
He surveyed the area, let his mind open to hear the thoughts of the nearby patrons and sipped on a water as he waited for the wait staff to attend to him.
One thing Brianna had learnt in her almost five years at Brasserie le Breeze was one did not spend a morning in the microbrewery with the head brewer wearing anything but dark colours. Spillage was something everyone worked hard to avoid, but when a new batch was being concocted, and a few others tasted, there was more often than not a risk of being splashed or leaning against something that would regretfully leave a stain in any lighter colours. And that morning had been no different, her discussions with the highly excited head brewer leading to her agreeing he could do a small experimental run with sake. In his excitement to show her the various sakes he had been working on at home she had in fact ended up with a sizeable splash of the rice wine running down her side, soaked up by apologetic hands and towel, She reassured him it was fine, and he proceeded onward in his quest to convince her.
To this end she was wearing a black cheongsam with embroidered red plum blossoms as she stood looking into the microbrewery through the plate glass windows at the end of the bar. The team were busy inside, cleaning down one of the vats which had just been bottled, preparing it for a new brew, while others were carefully checking and labeling the new release. The head brewer himself was overseeing the delivery of a new barrel, the one he was planning on using for his first experiment with the Japanese wine.
As she stood there she felt something nudge her, and looked around quickly, almost expecting to see a customer coming to observe the activities also, but there was no-one close by, just patrons seated, inside and out. The glass doors were open enough to accommodate half the exterior seating as the weather had proven suitable, and the gas heaters ensured patron comfort under the awning. Looking back in the microbrewery again she felt the nudge again, this time recognising the odd sensation as mental, and turned to look around the room again. Her shields were very strong since the latest round of training with the immortals, and she was feeling much more confident when it came to reading individuals, no longer having to just ‘peek’ quickly to make sure she wasn’t inundated with information. Even her ability through touch was getting better, her control more refined having practiced a few times with specific staff who had been there since she first arrived, and knew some of her background.
A small crease formed in her brow as she felt it again, as if someone was reaching out, and she looked around again, then slowly walked along the bar toward the entrance. Pausing there she looked into the restaurant, took a few steps that direction, stopped and turned back toward the cafe bar. Entering the bar again she scanned across the faces of the patrons, one who was just being approached by a waiter being the only one who wasn’t actually eating, reading, or conversing with someone else. As she slowly walked she lowered her shields and listened, watching. To her surprise as he spoke to the waiter the order came through loud and clear, as if she was standing in the waiter’s shoes, instead of next to the bar.
’Interesting,’ she thought to herself, keeping her eyes on the man as he placed his order.
The waiter took his order, he was kind enough but clearly something else was on mind. 'Haven’t seen him here before. Maybe I can get him to become a regular.' he heard him think and Marsh smiled return. “Thank you very much,” he said to the waiter as he left with his order written down. That was a first for him. Normally waiters were thinking about their bills or their families but it seemed like the ones here genuinely wanted to be there. Marsh sighed and peered around the cafe. Near the bar he saw a young woman wearing a black dress, eyeballing him for some reason.
What.. his thought was incomplete, something was different about her, something he hadn’t seen in anyone else before. It was like he felt her, an odd feeling to have over a complete stranger. 'Can you hear me?' he thought. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked away. Maybe this therapy was more than necessary right now because these thoughts were beginning to feel a little crazy. He didn’t suspect she might be like holding a mirror to himself.
He didn’t like peeking into people's heads, most of the time anyway but it had become like some sort of curious addiction for him. If he couldn’t read someone’s mind, he couldn’t know their intentions.
Brianna heard him, and maintained a calm smile as the young waiter made his way past her and behind the bar to enter the order into the system. She 'heard' his order and was about to cross to his table when a noise drew her attention to the entrance. A large group entering the foyer were particularly rowdy, a boss celebrating a successful annual report with his team, and her shields were back up. The work group had a booking, and were shown into the restaurant area. She subtly nodded her agreement to the maitre de as the older woman reached questioningly for the large doors to close behind the group, doing so once Brianna had silently signalled agreement.
Once the noise had been subdued she returned her attention to the Cafe patrons, in particular the man seated by himself. She could hear him, like any others in the Cafe bar she wished to hear, and it became clear to her that he was in fact hearing others around the cafe also.
She slowly made her way across to the table where he sat and stopped beside it. "Good afternoon, and welcome to Brasserie le Breeze," she said with a smile. "Is this your first time with us?" she asked pleasantly.
Lost in the thoughts of a couple seated across from him, he didn’t notice when the woman came up to him and found himself surprised. “Oh, yes, it is. Don’t make it out to Henderson often.” He wasn’t sure how he felt about this, being around someone like himself. It brought a bit of perspective to his condition when he’d gone around thinking no one could ever hear his thoughts. It was unnerving and Marsh instantly felt inferior.
“This your place?” It was the only thing that made sense to him since she was approaching him outside of the regular dining experience. He’d seen it a few times at some family owned places.
"Mine, as in do I own it?" Brianna replied, continuing on without pause. "It's not my name on the deed, but I am the manager." She stood on the opposite side of the table, her hand lightly resting on the back of the chair as she looked around briefly, a habit of checking that everything was in order and no patron was in need of attention. "I am fortunate to have a very good team which makes it a 'breeze'," she added with a slight humoured twitch of her mouth at the play on the name of the brasserie.
It was also true, and why she chose team members accordingly, appreciative of her mentor's guidance and belief that if you paid the right people well they would be the right people for the team.
"Are you a visitor to Vegas, or is it just Henderson that's only now caught your eye?"
Marsh offered a polite chuckle at her joke and shrugged off his worn brown leather jacket onto the chair behind him. “I live in Searchlight. We don’t got a lot of those big box retailers out there and I needed some specific parts to fix my sink.” It had been well past due and Marsh had grown tired of using his hose to clean his dishes.
“Nice place you’re managing.” It was a courtesy since he’d yet to taste what the food had to offer but at least the comment could be applied to the atmosphere.
And yet, he still felt small, insignificant which was a rare feeling for someone standing over six feet tall. Although now Marsh began to pay attention to her behavior, her mannerisms. They echoed a familiar memory of a patient he’d had at his practice.
“Ahh, Searchlight,” she nodded. “I have a few friends who live there,” she continued, knowing that in such a tiny place there was probably a chance he may know some. “I was at a ‘house-warming’ party there for a very good friend, Derek, just recently, and one of our good customers, Lucky’s, is managed by a friend, Brian?” she said, then added, “oh, and James owns the mechanic workshop?” She had heard from Gabe that James was now focusing his attentions on Curiosities but that he and Celeste were living there still, and James kept his hand in the mechanical business.
He nodded his head toward her. “I’m a bartender at Lucky’s. Brian’s a good friend of mine.” It was a small town so he pretty much knew everyone she mentioned. Something about her intimate knowledge of the town he lived in and the friends he had made him squirm uncomfortably in his chair. “And James works on my truck.” He thought his starter had gone out recently but thankfully it was merely a screw loose.
“I’m sorry, just ain’t met anyone like me before.” Cause that’s what she was right? That feeling was new to him but it was unmistakable.
“Like you?” she replied, a small crease forming in her brow as she angled her head, her blue eyes holding his questioningly. “What do you mean?” she asked.
Think you know what I mean. “Nothing, I must be mistaken.” And since that didn’t seem like enough of a distraction to himself, he asked her another question. “How is the Beef Bourguignon pie? Looks mighty tasty.” He’d already ordered it so he hoped it came recommended.
He ran his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit and took a sip of his water. The direct eye contact was intimate, more than he was comfortable with.
Her eyes told her some interesting messages from his body language, the microexpressions on his face, the nervous combing of his hair. This was what she used while she kept her shields up, and she wondered why he felt so nervous. “It is that, indeed,” she confirmed, smiling gently. “We have an amazing pastry chef and between her pastry and the fillings Chef creates, I’m sure you’ll be pleased. Yours should be along very soon,” she added, her hands cradled in front of her as was her habit. As she was speaking the waiter brought a fresh glass and carafe of water, placing it on the table before moving to respond to another guest.
She picked up the carafe and poured him some water, replacing the carafe as she spoke again. “When you say ‘anyone like you’ I’m guessing you don’t mean from Boston,” she offered lightly, her hands returning to where they had been.
He shook his head, returning his gaze to her. “No.” He replied, this time making a point to have eye contact with her. Maybe she didn’t know what was going on, maybe she herself didn’t know how truly the alike they were.
The monosyllabic response made her sigh internally. If it hadn’t been for clearly ‘hearing’ him give his order from across the cafe, after the echoing of what could only have been other patrons’ thoughts, she might have passed on trying to learn more. Given how long she’d had it drummed into her by the immortals to be cautious, to be sure about someone before revealing anything, she wasn’t in the habit of just blurting out that she knew what someone had seen, or heard, or felt. Her employer had talked of others, a cadre of individuals whose goals were not in line with their values, or those of most civilised people. There was a real threat that they would want to find her to use her for their own purposes if they were to learn of her abilities. So she wasn’t about to allow herself to be ‘outed’, but nor was she going to ignore the opportunity to discover what someone else might be able to do.
“So it’s the, shall we say ability to ‘overhear’ what others are saying?” she suggested, her eyes still on him, her smile not wavering.
He nodded his head, eyeing the layout of the restaurant to make sure no one was listening. “Odd feeling. It’s like when you know you can overhear, you can feel when someone overhears you.” The drawl of his rural Colorado accent hadn’t gone away in the slightest in the short time he’d been there but it brought about images of cowboys and cigarettes whenever he spoke low. He supposed that it was mildly appropriate considering his history.
“Did you get that feeling?” He asked her, feeling himself gain a little more power in this situation. He didn’t mean to take advantage of it but it felt nice for it shift.
Brianna was not sure what the ‘feeling’ was he was experiencing, but she had had no experience of meeting anyone who had telepathic abilities before, that she knew of, and she couldn’t help but wonder exactly what the extent of his were.
“I noticed, or felt, like I was being nudged,” she offered. “I’m not in the habit of ‘overhearing’ on an ad hoc basis as it can become a little, shall we say, loud? In this type of environment?” Her head angled a little as she asked, “do you do that often? Doesn’t it get difficult if you’re working in a bar?” He shrugged his shoulders. “Sometimes but I was in therapy for years and I learned how to filter out the noise.” As a child he was often over stimulated and had a hard time expressing that until he was able to learn language a bit more. Then it became easy, to understand what people wanted, to avoid dangerous situations and people, to hide away from any sort of visceral intimacy.
“These days I try not to pry but it’s like a good cigarette, hard to stay away from too long.” He knew he should work harder, that maybe if he did that he’d be able to silence it forever but it was such a large part of his personality, he wasn’t sure who he’d become without. Wreckless was the most likely outcome.
She nodded, understanding that need to ‘filter’ more than anything else. “I grew up with a lot space,” she admitted, “we had tutors, at home, until my sister and I were allowed to attend high school. University was really the first time I started using it,” she admitted. “The old saying about eavesdroppers never hearing anything good about themselves?” She let out a small dry laugh. “That saying is so true.”
He couldn’t help but let out a sad chuckle to that. “Ain’t ever been words more true.” He agreed. The sheer number of intimate relationships he’d had prematurely end because of what he heard inside their head. “I’m almost 40 and longest I’ve been with anyone is a couple of weeks.” Things with Nobu were still fresh, there was still time for him to ruin it.
The conversation felt easy now, and it surprised him how much he was sharing out loud with another person. It was sort of freeing in a way. “Never used it once in school though I was tempted during some of my graduate courses. I had a class on ethics and it just didn’t seem right after that.”
That made her laugh, a sound that caused the staff to pause what they were doing and glance across. Their boss was usually so reserved and contained, hearing her laugh like that was something most hadn’t experienced.
“Ah yes, the ethics of it all,” she replied, still smiling widely. “My sister used to throw that one at me when I would catch her daydreaming instead of studying,” she admitted, “but always forgave me when I let her get the hard answers off my papers.” Juliet had always had the ability to read upside down, even from opposite at the desk they would use for their studies. “Though she did tell me it helped her figure out how to stop thinking too, how to let her mind go blank.” Juliet had been gone by the time the immortals had started Brianna’s training on how to build the shields she now used without much effort.
“Tell me, what is it you… receive?” she asked, never having had the chance to talk to another about this.
He had to think about this for a moment, recalling the many experiences he had peering into others minds. “It’s like constant narration. Everything from deep desires to the function of telling their own bodies to move in a certain way, to thinking the things they’re about to say. Words, mostly.” Though every once in a while he had a sort of empathy where he felt a person's extreme fear. It was a miracle that he hadn’t gone numb to that feeling.
“What about you?” Never before had Marsh felt so understood and part of him felt a bit lighter from it.
She was not sure she should reveal everything - the years with the immortals keeping her protected from anyone getting too close, or knowing anything specific about her abilities was so deeply ingrained now. “It depends, usually it’s just like you said, thoughts, and sometimes intentions. As in if they are lying, or hiding something.” She smiled as she glanced across at the staff behind the bar. “It comes in handy when managing a large team, you can weed out troublemakers before anything or anyone is damaged.”
He chuckled at their similarities. “I keep an eye out in the bar for anyone on the verge of causing trouble.” He hadn’t quite made it soon enough to really save the fight from breaking out but at least no one was killed. “Seems like there’s been an influx of that recently.” He said almost nonchalantly but low to keep him unheard.
“Thank you, for speaking to me. Can't say I’ve had a customer service experience quite this good before.” Or even a conversation with a good friend but he didn’t have high hopes for keeping many of those these days, aside from a choice few. He appreciated the genuine interaction though and hoped maybe he could have that again at this restaurant.
His comment about Lucky’s had her pause, a look of concern on her face. “I’m glad you’ve come in today, I haven’t had the chance to talk to another with similar ‘interests’ shall we say?” she replied with a smile. “But something you just said, about Lucky’s? As you probably know we supply some of the microbrewery beers they sell, and I’ve come to know Brian as more than just a client of le Breeze.” She paused for a brief moment before asking, “have things been happening there? I haven’t seen him since… a party, at a mutual friend’s home, and didn’t get a chance to talk with him then.”
He fixed her a look, one reminiscent of one he’d made whenever he had to tell his ma about why he kicked her boyfriend out of his house. “Real nasty, not sure I should be the one to tell you. Maybe you should ask Brian yourself.” She could just as easily see the whole ordeal immediately considering his brain was playing it on a loop.
Most of his memory went to that moment when he held that gun in his hands. It was by far the most frightened he’d been, though glimpses of the event were still making their way through. “Might be he has more information than I have.” After all, it seemed like these particular hunters were after Brian. He offered her a shrug, doing his best to play it off cooly.
She did take a ‘look’ and her shoulders stiffened as the scenes filled her mind, especially the shouts from Brian. “He’s been injured,” she said with a gasp, swallowing hard as the pain she’d felt when first meeting him rose up briefly again. She pushed it down, her eyes focusing on Marsh’s face as the image of the gun in his hands flashed past. The image was shaky, but there was something beyond the scenes he was showing her, something about the gun that had made him… hesitate?
“Are you alright?” she asked, the concern for him didn’t take any special ability to detect, it was clear in her voice and face.
“No.” Was his immediate answer because in this instance, she meant to hear the truth. “But I’m seeking help. Past trauma, don’t really like to get into it.” Even now he could feel the PTSD diagnosis his therapist was leaning toward, and he knew what kind of hell that could be.
“Like I said, you should speak with him. I can only do so much.” Which wasn’t really much at all. Marsh had been practically useless in that scenario until he foolishly shouted that he’d shoot them all if they didn’t leave. Looking back, he felt as if he should have done more and at the same time just let the situation go. He could be on their radar now and that wasn’t something he wanted.
“I will,” she assured him as she continued to ‘watch’. Her voice softened as she observed the microexpressions on his face, those that the wearer is often not familiar with. “Don’t be hard on yourself, situations happen and we might not make the best choice in that moment.” She paused before adding, with a hint of dryness, “20/20 hindsight’s a wonderful thing, except when it isn’t.”
He sighed and felt that unease again. This part of it made him feel violated. “The choices that we make in those situations still leave an imprint in most people, one that can’t ever leave.” And he didn’t want to lose that imprint of his choices because it was a part of who he was. He needed the bad as much as the good.
“And I’m alright with that.” He knew happiness wasn’t the goal in his situation, just an even keel. It was no different that having a chronic ailment, he’d never be the same man.
“Thank you for your concern, truly.” He swept his mind over other memories, trying his damndest to avoid his trauma. It was sweet justice for him to feel invaded.
The young manageress saw his discomfort and straightened her shoulders, raising her shields again as her hands returned to where they sat, gently clasped in front of her, leaving him to his privacy. In her peripheral vision she could see the waiter returning to the table, the plated meal positioned on his forearm as he carried the fresh bread roll basket and butter dish in his hands.
“You’re welcome,” she replied, the moment of him starting to feel comfortable seeming to have vapourised quickly. “I’ll leave you to enjoy your lunch. Please let us know if there’s anything else we can help with,” she continued as the waiter arrived and placed the meal and accompaniments down. “And don’t hesitate to call in again.”
“I won’t.” He offered with a smile. Sure, he had felt uncomfortable at times but it was the first time he’d ever felt like another person truly understood him and now that he’d had that feeling, he’d be hard pressed to let it go.
The food was very good and he left a generous tip for the waiter before making his way back to Searchlight to fix his sink. He gave Brianna a soft smile and a wave as he left, hopeful this wouldn’t be their last interaction.