159/Asgardian Coffee Klatsch

Asgardian Coffee Klatsch
Date of Scene:	26 April 2017
Location:	East Side, New York City
Synopsis:	Summary needed.
Cast of Characters:	Loki, Sif

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Loki has posed:
With two walls of solid glass windows, Petite Shell is one of those East Side rarities. A coffeeshop someone can actually walk past and notice, rather than the nooks without so much as a sign to their name. It's that time, early enough not to have the hipsters slouching in after their jobs, and not so late for the breakfast and brunch rush to still be at the tables and booths. The place has a decidedly interesting Scandinavian minimalist aesthetic, using pale woods to great effect, but the real call to arms is the steampunk coffee. A wizened machine of brass and steel, dials and whistling organ tubes pumps out espresso and lattes, but mostly cappuccino to satisfy the masses.

Two of the honorable baristas stand behind the counter, and far from perplexed, they guide another in the mysteries of those kind of wheezy wonders. Buttons are pointed to, dials in thick glass consulted. He muses, arm parallel to his chest, fingers curled under his chin, their traveler in a voyage of coffee wonder.

"But suppose you blend the steamer and the bubbler. Wouldn't it work well with a heavier cream, give some kind of stirring effect like your fern?" The question is appropriate. There are six cups of foamy coffee sitting on the counter, products of art in practice. The two baristas hasten to determine the technical measures, while Loki Odinson eyes up the contraption almost as tall as he is.

Sif has posed:
Just recently, Aif had been cautioned against having too much coffee at once so she has decided to try only one new flavor a day and each time, it was a new coffee shop.

It was the over decor and feel of Petite Shell which drew her attentiin as she started past it. It was familiar to her and harkened back to earlier, simpler, less angry days of her youth.

Making her way in, the Goddess tends to draw attention. Where Thor tries to blend in, Sif feels no need to do so. She still wears her leathers and armor... Her sword and shield...

Her approach to the counter is somewhat quiet but she does clear her throat to make her presence known. Beyond that, however, she is quiet so the employees can finish their discussion. It may be important to the coffee making process after all!

Loki has posed:
New York gets all kinds, working clowns and celebrities and every sort of counterculture. A warrior woman is a new thing, and the swords probably look really enough to get an immediate, "Um, we don't allow weapons in here..." from another employee cleaning off tables.

No such concern appears on Loki's face, though he spends a second looking up at the glass doors and the newest guest of the charming place. Explanations to his question pull him right back, and his smiling expression doesn't dim a watt or shift to show much familiarity. He sweeps his hand back over his tousled dark hair, allowing it to fall back into place, brushing against his collar.

"Intriguing," he all but purrs at the two baristas. "However, I believe customers now require your attention..." A short step down the counter puts him back in front of a milky cup of coffee, where he proceeds to poke at the surface using a metal, blunt-tipped stylus of some kind to etch out artwork from the collapsing foam. Who knew he had an artistic streak? Aside from enemies...

"Welcome to Petite Shell, where we have great espresso and... Uh, knife free." Sort of! The barista tries to smile, she does. "Do you know what you'd like to order?"

Sif has posed:
"You're qelcome to try to remove it from my person, child," is Sif response to her sword not being allowed.

Her attention goes to the man working art on the coffee, a brow arching. It's fascinating and not something she haa seen done before.

"Hmm? Oh. Yes. I want a caramel-vanilla iced latte, half ice double caramel, double cream." Well... Never let it be said the Goddess doesn't know exactly what she wants...

And then she looks back at the man doing the art, brows knitting as she watches. He looks like.. but.. She sighs and looks away, a genuine saddness about her.

Loki has posed:
"B-b-but it's not allowed," replies the barista, spluttering out of surprise more than fear. Her brown eyes widen and then narrow as she tries to focus a little. "You have money, right? I mean, we get cosplayers, but we still need payment first." She doesn't blink at the order, calculating everything up and asking, "What size? Petite, medium, or tall?" Nothing too difficult about that, though her finger hovers over the glossy screen of the tablet.

In the back, the steampunk espresso machine whistles and sighs to a constant symphony. Pressure dances around. Dials spit out new readings, and the other staring barista hastily approaches to pour out a great blast of dragon's steam to a brass cup.

"Careful, that thing will purr, given any more encouragement." Loki's voice travels easily over the noise, buttery smooth to the ear. "You've an artist's hands, and I would hate to see them scalded." On that note, he lifts the drawing tool and peers down at the foam. It's not a leaf, so much as a tall tree, but the effect is still rather pretty. Setting his cup aside, he plucks a bill and drops it in the brass tip cup. Slinking off the stool, he stops to stretch, arms pressed back behind him. "Caramel madness. Delightful."

Sif has posed:
The Goddess says nothing to her weapons not being allowed. Instead, she focuses on the request for money. "Of course." Several coins of pure.gold are pulled from the pouch at her side and then out comes several hundres dollar bills. One of which is handed over to the barista amd then the rest of it amd the coins put back amd the pouch secured. "Tall."

Her eyes flit back to the machime amd then ovet to the black haired man amd then to the artwotk he's done. Her head tilts as she takes it in. "Lovely."        Ice-blue eyes lift to him and she chuckles. "It is one that was suggested to me. I jave not tried it yet."

Loki has posed:
The devil's in the details. Gold coins landing on the counter with a few big bills warrants a look between the two employees. She nods to the other one to get started on the drink, while she pulls out a highlighter and runs it down the bill to check that one of them is not fake. "It'll be six seventeen," she muses, pushing the coin back and ringing up the till. A message on her screen warrants a shrug and a few swipes to induce an override. Gotta love Stark tech.

The whiz bang of the machine is soon overridden by a very noisy blender as caramel, cream, and a dash of vanilla syrup are transformed into a high calorie beverage with at least sixteen teaspoons of sugar in it. But what does anyone have to worry about?

The dark-haired fellow shakes his head at the line of cups. "Practice. Sadly they go to waste once they're done." A skin is already formed under the bubbles on the deflated last cappuccino and the ones in the middle are on their way. "Says something about how ephemeral life and art are, I suppose. Who recommended that abominable combination?" He flashes an easy grin, smooth and truly amused. "Don't mistake me. Caramel is a wonder, but I would prefer something more bitter to cut the saccharine taste. Ah well, only one way to find out if you like it. I'll set you up with another recommendation as you like. An Earl Grey teabag -- two, preferably -- in a latte, and a single pump of lavender syrup. Absolutely remarkable invention, that."

Sif has posed:
While Sif waits for her drink to finish, her attention is dully on the coffee artist. The comment of life and art brings a sad smile and the Goddess nods. "A fleeting thing... precious and meant to be cherisjed..."

It's the suggestion that makes her smile more fully. "I'll certainly try it, thank you." Finally, she holds her hand out. "I am Lady Sif."

Loki has posed:
The drink takes a few more minutes to finish, and then ends up on the counter. No name calling here; it's not really their style. Come as you are, or wait for it. A straw concealed in a slip of paper stands out from the liquid copper mass floating with chipped blocks of ice.

He eases back to take the cup with the image of the tree and blows over the surface. Not likely to drink it, though, as disrupt the flow of the leaves. Then the white mug is set back down. "You might want to take these, ladies," he says to the baristas, who presumably go about dumping all six in the sink. Not so much a waste of time, hopefully.

The hand extended is met with his own, after a moment. "That's not a name heard every day here. Short and direct. A good sound on the ear, Sif." Elongating the sweep of sound follows with a neat end. "Liam. Pleasure." His grin returns. "Long around these parts, or just exploring New York?" In his own right, he sounds completely, utterly English.

Sif has posed:
Without wvwr looking away or turning, Sif's free hand sweeps out to pull the cup closer, remove the paper from the straw amd then lift the cup. All while she carries on a casual conversation.

"I am not from this Realm, no. I am of Asgard." She gives a smile amd a small bow of her head. "Well met, Liam." A moment and then her hand is withdrawn and she steps out of the way of the counter and towards a seat.

"Where did you learn to do that?" She motions towards the cups being talen away.

Loki has posed:
His expression turns mildly puzzled. It's hard to spot, there and gone like the changing headline on a screen in Times Square. Loki retracts his hand after the grip and then coughs into his sleeve. "I learned it from them. Saw they decorated everything and thought I would find out what all the fuss was about."

His explanation lights up his fiercely emerald eyes, the flash of them an enticement to form another of those smiles. "It wasn't meant to last the whole afternoon but rather worth it. A point of good conversation, wouldn't you say? And no one will ever suspect me to know how to draw a cat face in foam."

He puts his back to the counter, "At least I don't imagine so. Not many experts in foam art, right?"

Sif has posed:
Sif's head tilts at the puzzled look but the cough sidetracks her. "Are you feeling unwell?" There's a clear sense of concern there.

"Kind of them to teach you." There's a gentle laugh. "I doubt it. I did not even know such a thing was possible, to be honest."

Her mouth opens to say more when the cell phone she was given goes off, the sound of a thunder crack followed by the sound of pouring rain. "Excuse me. I need to take this."

Loki has posed:
She has a cellular phone but not a comprehension of gold coins being invalid currency. Loki gives the slight shake of his head. "No, quite well. Sometimes the air disagrees with me." And sometimes, well, it's a cough plain and simple. One hopes an Asgardian doesn't fall to the common cold.

"They are charming young ladies. Too hopeful of things that cannot be, perhaps, but very kind. I think well of their efforts. They'll draw a person, if you ask." He nods to the device and then pushes off. "I take my leave, then. May you find this city all you hope it to be. It's a great deal smaller than it looks."