13784/Friday Evening at the Magic Box

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Friday Evening at the Magic Box
Date of Scene: 03 September 2021
Location: The Magic Box, Sunnydale
Synopsis: Another Friday night at the old Magic Box, complete with future dates and brownies.
Cast of Characters: Willow Rosenberg, Mercy Thompson, Sinister




Willow Rosenberg has posed:
Friday evening of the long weekend, and Willow drew the short straw so to speak. So far one customer looked in, just enough to have her parking roll around from daylight hours, to say 'I was there!' and leave her car the rest of the night.

She bought a single candle. A pink single candle.

By now, Willow was searching for how to focus her magic. Well, how to teach it. Kit asked her to help him. Actually she wavered back and forth between excited (he chose *me*), and petrified (he.. chose.. gulp.. me?).

The bell rang.

Without looking up, Willow said, "If there is anything you want, ask. Otherwise, enjoy!" And she continued on with her studies.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
There aren't a lot of things that Mercy tends to do on Friday evenings that's any different from any other evening. But for this particular evening, she happens to be the cause of the latest jingling of the bell at the front door. She steps into the Magic Box, mildly sprinkled with rain, her pigtails looking a bit frazzled from wear. She wears a green t-shirt and a pair of black jean shorts as well as a pair of tan steel-toed boots. The combination makes the tattoos on her forearms visible, roses and leaves and thorns.

She carries a couple of things with her, the first of which is a canvas bag that seems loaded with something that's relatively light. The second thing is a tupperware box with brownies in it. Because brownies are always a good choice. She steps a bit further her, her nose giving a slight wiggle as she considers the scents that tease her nose. Then her gaze lands on Willow, engrossed in her studies, and a smile quirks up the corners of her lips. "Hey, Willow," she says brightly, giving a small nod. She starts to approach, and there's a flicker of curiosity that reflects in her eyes. "What're you working on?" she asks, curiosity coming to her voice. The questions have begun.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
Mercy?!

Oh.. "Sorry Giles is out. He didn't say where. I.. well, I guess you're his girlfriend - I suppose you can go on up." Then, and only then, did Willow break out a smile. Unfortunately, it wasn't a very true smile.

In fact she would have given a stranger a truer smile.

Burying herself back into her research, Mercy asks her question, which makes her, once again, look up. "Uh, I was just researching some ideas on foci, and how to keep your focus when you cast."

What? This was Mercy. She already knew Willow was a witch.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
"Oh, that's okay. I suppose I probably should have called first, but I knew the shop would be open whether he was here or not," Mercy says, her brow wrinkling a bit. She steps over to where Willow is working, then places the canvas bag down first before setting the box down. "Umm... well... he and I haven't really had that conversation yet, but... I think so," she says, her cheeks turning a bit red.

"Would you like some brownies?" Mercy offers, tapping a fingertip against the box with them in it. "Oh, that's pretty neat. I don't really know much about it, but I seem to remember hearing something about different types of crystals being good for it," she says, a bit uncertainly. Her tongue flicks out, damping her lips, and she doesn't head towards the stairs even though she was given an invitation to do so. "I was actually kind of hoping to run into you," she admits, a bit of a smile tugging her lips.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
"You haven't.. but.." Willow has the grace to be embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I just assumed. Did you know, I guess, I managed to get one.. Are you sure he didn't mention it. Heck, why don't you ask him? It's the twentieth century!"

D'uh.

She cocks her head. "I don't think Kit uses crystals, but I will put them in my list." *tap tap tap* "Wait, you actually were looking for me?" Now she crinkles her brows. "What for?"

Mercy Thompson has posed:
There's a small shake of her head, and Mercy ducks her chin slightly. "We haven't specifically talked about that, but... well, we've kissed a few times, and we went to a fancy do at Lux together, and we've been spending a fair amount of time in each other's company," she says softly, rubbing the palm of one of her hands against her outer thigh. "It's okay, you don't have to apologize for it. There's no harm done by what you said," she comments, a smile tugging her lips. "Maybe I will ask him," she adds. She's quiet a moment, but her brown eyes show a bright spark in them when Willow mentions having a boyfriend. "I didn't know that you did, that's great! I'm happy for you," she says warmly, giving a small nod. "Who is he?" she asks, curious.

"Oh. I haven't met anyone named Kit yet. It might be something worth while to check out, depending on how his magic works, anyways. There are probably a bunch of other things that I don't know about, though, for foci," Mercy comments, giving a small nod. Then she raises an eyebrow slightly and tilts her head a bit to one side before she nods again. "Mmhmm, I was. I wanted to apologize," Mercy says softly, watching her. "I've been distracted by some things, and busier at the shop lately, and I haven't taken as much time as I've meant to for spending with you," she says, a bit sheepishly.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
"You're dating. You may not have said it, but you're dating." Willow may not know if *she* is dating, but she sure can tell when others are! "Well he *is* a he. But he didn't have to be. I also like girls."

Willow is fond of that fact.

"His name is Pietro Maximoff. He's quick." And she doesn't mean wits wise! "He thinks about other people before he thinks about himself. Except he pretends he doesn't. He's very protective of his sister. And he likes me just the way I am." That point seems to boggle her.

When Mercy offers her apologies, Willow blushes. "It's alright." She doesn't feel right about what she's been feeling. Especially when it's much more than Mercy. Mercy shouldn't have to bear the brunt of it.

Sinister has posed:
With dusk rolling in outside and the streetlights not yet on, the doorbell of the shop chimes. The figure that enters, well, Sinister doesn't attempt to hide who he is or what he looks like here, not any more. He is as he is, which may or may not be a good thing, but at least it's honest. A cursory scan as he closes the door behind him and he removes the panama hat he's wearing, tucking it under his arm, checks cuffs and buttons on his waistcoat, then offers an incline of his head toward the women.

"Miss Thompson, Miss Rosenberg," then a sigh "...I should have thought ahead here, I suppose. I hope the evening fares well." Pausing as if coming to a conclusion "...I do hope I'm not interrupting something."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
A bit of colour creeps to her cheeks at Willow's words. "I... we are, yeah," Mercy admits. It's possible that she hadn't entirely realized it herself until it was actually put into words just now. But it makes her think about it in that moment, and realize that it's true. Shifting a bit, she rests her forearms on the counter, leaning forward a bit as she listens. "Ah, sorry, I guess I kind of presumed there. There's nothing wrong with going either way," she says, giving a small nod. She doesn't sound as though she has any issue at all with that notion.

"That sounds like a Russian name. Is he cute?" she asks, a bit of a sparkle to her eyes. Mercy tilts her head a touch to one side as she listens to what Willow shares about her boyfriend. "It sounds like he's a good sort of fellow," she says, a smile easily coming to her features. She lifts her right hand, reaching out to try to poke Willow in the upper arm. "Hey, what's not to like about you? I like you just the way you are, too, y'know," she says with a grin.

Lifting a hand, she pushes one of her braids back. "We should get together, maybe have a girls' night or something, when we're not otherwise occupied," she offers, giving a small nod. Mercy's nose wiggles a little bit after the door opens and Sinister enters, and she turns her head to look in that direction. Then she tilts her head a bit to one side and one of her eyebrows quirking. "Good evening," she offers in greeting, with a smile. She gives a small shake of her head. "You're not interrupting anything, we're just talking. Catching up, it could be said. How're you doing?" she asks, curious.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
Is he cute?

To tell the truth she hadn't thought about that before now. "I guess he's cute?" Well, he was - not like it mattered to Willow. She kinda looked on the underside of people. Which may be how she ended up dating a werewolf, and worse, a demon.

Okay, the demon was a mistake. She realized it now.

But when Mercy went on about the 'girls night', Willow has to giggle. "I have no time to myself. I beg from Peter to pay Paul." Still, she yearned for a girls' night. "I'll figure something out."

And by that time Sinister was walking in. "We're still open for about.. I don't know.. an half an hour? But you're a friend, so that doesn't count. In fact.." She walks to the front of the store and officially locks the door, and turned the outside light off. "We really weren't busy enough to keep it open."

Sinister has posed:
Sinister watches WIllow shut off the outside lights, glancing toward the back entrance and giving a fond, but rather small smile, with a sigh that follows. He tilts his head a little bit, echoes of afterthoughts perhaps. "I've been better, but nothing that perserverance and patience won't take care of, along with the passage of time. That after all, heals all wounds, even if they leave scars." He chuckles faintly, glancing to Willow as he makes his way to gaze up the stairs at the books up above, gesturing with crooked finger at them, floating one or two free to drift down. "I'd finished my reading material, so came for something new..." that explanation given, he comments. "It sounds as if you could do with a spare you, miss Rosenberg, to double up the hourly efficiency rate. It always ends terribly though," deadpan.

"Oh, I also need to get more dragon's teeth for Lucifer. He's used the ones he bought."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
There's a smile that quirks Mercy's lips, and she gives a nod to Willow's answer. "That kinda sounds like it might be a yes," she comments in a mild tease. "So long as he treats you well, that's the important part of things," she adds, giving a small nod. "From what you've said, though, he sounds like a good sort."

One of her eyebrows quirks up, and she frowns a little bit when Willow mentions not having time, and she chews a little bit at the inside of her lower lip. Then she seems to brighten a bit before giving a nod. "Mmhmm, we'll figure something out. We can make brownies and order pizza and watch movies until the wee hours of the morning or something. My apartment isn't much, but it has air conditioning, at least," she says, quirking a smile.

She watches Willow head for the door to lock up the shop, and she can't help but to give a chuckle. "Might as well close up since there aren't any customers, right?" she suggests, idly tapping a booted toe against the floor. Her attention shifts to Sinister, and she tilts her head a bit to one side, her nose giving a touch of a wiggle. She shifts away from the counter a bit, studying Sinister for a lingering moment. "Is there anything that I can help with?" she offers, without even thinking about it. "I brought brownies. Where time might take a bit longer to help, sometimes chocolate serves as a bit of a balm, at least?" she offers, reaching out to tap the container on the counter. "I've seen a movie something along those lines, once. Or part of it, at least. This guy who cloned himself," she comments.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
Willow stands by the front door. "I'm sure Giles had said what books he is willing to part with for a short time." His personal collection weren't in the open store. She smiles at Sinister. "What are you reading, anyways?"

She shrugs as she returns. "Don't worry about my timing. Really." Meanwhile, she was worried. More things were piling up, and now she was counting on at least one of her obligations to drop every day, sometimes more than one. "Can't you imagine two of me?"

Think of all the extra things she could get done!

Sinister has posed:
"MOst of those films are either parodies, comedies or tragedies. Or so I'm told. I don't own a television, but I have been known to take in a picture every so often," Sinister murmurs, looking at the non-descript covers of the books he floated down. Without touching them, he opens the front cover, glancing at the first bit of material briefly and nods, looking up at Mercy. He gives a crooked smile, glances at the box of brownies. "Chocolate endorphine overload? Coupled with gooey centers, I'll take one. Thank you. Sometimes chocolate does have amazing powers..."

Pausing the glance at the page, he closes the book and sighs, stacking the two of them and leaving them floating. "At the moment, miss ROsenberg... mirror magics, combined with oh... sympathetic magics? Someone I have become acquainted with that seems to know Lucifer quite well, managed to explain certain principles to me in relation to science, which makes it considerably easier for me to wrap my head around, at least in theory. I have come to the conclusion though, that I might be saturated with mystical connections and in wyrdling company, but I may be relegated to being able to tell magic is occuring, but not how to actively -do- it, no matter how much effort I put in. At least not until I can understand the principles in a way that my well... honestly quite remarkable brain... can fathom. I am sometimes my own worst enemy."

And having said all of that, he sniffs, looks to the cash register and strides over that way, floating out the special order forms, so he can fill in the necessary bits and bobs. "Willow, I can quite easily imagine a multiplicity of you, but as noted, it rarely ends well."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
"Oh, I'm not worried about it," Mercy says, giving a small nod to Willow. "I know we'll figure something out. Toss me a text or something when you've got a free evening coming up that works for you and we'll see what can be arranged," she adds, a smile coming to her features. She quirks an eyebrow a touch at the suggestion of two Willows, and she considers it for a moment before nodding. "I can imagine it, but somehow it never quite seems to turn out how a person imagines it to be. I mean, there's no guarantee that cloning yourself would give the other Willow the same skills and abilities and smarts as what you have," she muses.

Her attention shifts to Sinister, and she gives a nod. "Mmhmm. Chocolatey goodness with chocolatey frosting on top and a gooey center inside, too," Mercy says, a smile tugging her lips. She reaches out to open the box before picking it up and she offering it towards him. "Take more than one, if you like. Chocolate's a pretty good cure for some things," she comments.

And she listens at Sinister's explanation about what it is that he's been reading, and she blinks as she weighs that out a bit. "It probably doesn't apply to magic very well, but... I don't really do magic like spells and whatnot, so... what if you're thinking too much into it? Like what if it just needs to be simpler? 'Kiss' theory, maybe?" Mercy suggests in a gentle way, a thoughtful tone to her voice. He's older than her and has a lot more experience than she does in pretty much everything, but she offers the suggestion all the same.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
"Well.. sometimes Magic isn't how much your brain is capable of, but how deeply the magic clicks into your spirit. You can be a brain, but that generally doesn't equate with how much magic you learn. Sorta the research versus the applicable part in practically any kind of learning."

And with magic it was even more true.

Willow thinks upon cloning herself. Surely if you used a magic spell to direct each clone (yes, now she's using multiples)..

"What kinds of evil did you imagine anyways?" She is curious.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister's eyes half-lid and even though his entire eyeball is a vivid ruby shade, there's still the impression that he's side-eyeing Mercy. Nostrils flare just a little and he twitches his nose to the side in a motion that has his lips joining with a sniff... then after a long-ass moment, he clucks his tongue. "Point taken, I suppose. Although I did feel like I was on the edge of comprehending something." He takes a couple of brownies, sliding the special order book back where it was, to be processed next business day and takes a couple of rather genteel bites. "Actually, something orders of magnitude simpler than what was being displayed grandly. I will note though: Sometimes the very simplest of things, uncomplicated and fundamental, are the hardest things to replicate. Anyway..."

He turns eyes on Willow again, that ruby regard quite intense. "Were you asking me, or miss Mercy? Interestingly, Mercy is partially right, with the nature of cloning; when applied in the correct manner, symmetry and sympathy can be achieved quite easily, thanks to neuroplasticity. But no two clones are exactly alike, even from stem material. There are infinitessimally small differences, some that make no nevermind, others that can cause anomalous rogue behaviour. And then you'd have a random Willow that's almost exactly as clever and gifted as you might be, exploding city hall or turning people inside out. Or you know, running for president with /astounding/ success and jinxing you ever step of the way. It can be very, very frustrating."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
The woman-coyote listens as magic is discussed. She doesn't have magic that can be used in the form of spells. Her magic takes other forms, and she doesn't really mind that. Since she doesn't really know about spell magic, she keeps quiet, and she shifts her weight slightly to lean her back against the counter behind her.

Her attention shifts to Sinister, watching him, and she softly cears her throat as she ducks her chin a touch. "Well, you might still be on to something. I don't know or do spell magic, so it's entirely possible that you are on the tracks of something," Mercy says, a smile quirking at the corners of her lips. After he's taken the brownies, she sets the container back on the counter, next to the lid of it. "You're not wrong there -- sometimes simple things aren't," she agrees, giving a small nod.

She quirks a smile and chuckles as she lifts one of her shoulders in a bit of a shrug. "I just make guesses that sometimes sound good," she comments, a touch of amusement in her voice. "It just makes sense in my brain that since even identical twins aren't identical in all ways that clones wouldn't be either. That would be a pain in the behind sort of thing to have happen, but luck being how it is... well, sometimes it's not worth rolling the dice on it," she says. She shifts away from the counter and takes a moment to stretch briefly. "I should head back to the shop. I've got some cleanup work to do and an early morning appointment coming in tomorrow," she comments. A smile quirks her lips as she looks from one to the other of them. "Enjoy the rest of your evening, both of you, and take care," she adds, giving a small nod. Then she starts to head towards the back door in order to let herself out that way.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
"I guess?" Oh, but Willow really wonders.. isn't there some way to work around the most obvious problems?

As Mercy bid her adieu, Willow sighs. It was one thing to dream about clones, and another to put it into place. Until she figured it out, she would just have to do everything by herself. "And I've got a pile of dishes at home with my name on them. It was nice to see you Dr. Wexler."

Sinister has posed:
"Essex. It's doctor Essex," Sinister calmly corrects, but does so with a smile. And he can tell that thoughts are percolating -- such a devious little bastard he is sometimes, planting little seeds and watching them grow, sometimes for decades "I won't keep you, miss Rosenberg."

He finishes off his brownie and folds the second in a handkerchief, looking the way Mercy heads. "And you also, miss Thompson," placing his hat back on his head, he adjusts the brim with a careful 'ironing' of his fingers along the edge and shrugs his shoulders, unfurling the pair of flame-tinged black wings he ... acquired. There's a smile and a tip of that hat to all involved, gathers up the books under one arm and follows Mercy out; the beat of huge wings up into the sky, fades away into the now-night. Hey, they work well with telekinesis, you know.