Log:Robot Aftermath, Liam and Porter

Guilt Complex 2013/08/04 	 Liam Porter 8

Champions Mush - Sunday, August 04, 2013, 12:49 PM

Past Time's Coffee Shop

''The smell of fresh coffee is the first thing that assails you. The next is the very old style. It seems the owner has gone for the Edwardian style from early last century. Lots of imitation wood panelling and prints of old English countryside. There are many partitions between the tables, affording some privacy and the sound seems hushed in the room, this has been achieved mainly through very good design, which muffles sounds. At the counter service is quite quick and cheery, conveying a welcoming and friendly attitude. The menu boasts the fact that for a little extra real coffee is served along with light hot and cold meals and snacks. All in all a pleasant place to pass a bit of time. ''

What would normally be the tail end of the lunch rush during the week is more of a morning mosey on a Sunday. For Porter, it's still morning in his mind, as his cup of hot caffeine and haven't-quite-had-enough-hot-caffeine-yet posture and expression imply. He sits at a table, alternating between sips from his cup and idly staring at the cup.

Liam enters, as pressed and well groomed as any other day, but with a faint look about the eyes and a faint lack of bounce to his step (visible only to those that know him) that hints that this may not be the best 'morning' for him either. Perhaps he has too much blood in his caffeine stream. He heads directly to the counter and orders a Turkish coffee, extra cinnamon; not looking around.

Porter gives only a passing glance up at the movement passing him by. The sight doesn't energize him enough to wave or call out a greeting or anything, but it does raise a small smirk. It's a small consolation that he's not the only one with before-caffeine mornings. Magic and money can't cure everything, it looks like.

Liam takes a slow sip of coffee, sighs, and then pays the faintly annoyed waiting barrista. Only after paying and a second slow sip does he look around the shop with a hint of his usual intelligence.

Porter had something more interesting than his cup to look at, and gestures with his cup when Liam looks around with more focused eyes. A minor salute of solidarity between those who often require stimulants to function, though the smirk is still there.

Liam takes the salute as an invitation and joins Porter. After another slow sip, he stares down at his cup and quietly confesses out of the blue, "Quite a few people almost died because of me yesterday."

What little the caffeine hadn't awakened, that comment seems to invigorate. Porter blinks twice and brows pop up. Several questions come to mind, but the first one to make it out of his mouth is the simplest, "What happened?"

Liam says, "When I cast.." he starts to explain, then pauses, clearly backing up. "First let me show you what I *can* do." He pulls an old-style ink pen out of his pocket and breaks it, spraying little bits of ink on the table (but thankfully not in Porter's direction). Then he lays down the bits of the pen on the puddle he's created and says, "Bear with me a bit...""

Liam concentrates and little ghostly images form around each piece of pen and all the little blobs of ink. The ghostly images reassemble themselves into a whole pen and, after the ghost has assembled itself, the real pieces snap together into place forming a whole pen. Every bit of ink is gone from the table.

Porter is thankful that the conversation didn't suddenly switch to full Magicese. It's still too early for that, and much more confusing than a suddenly snapped pen. Show and tell he can follow much easier. "Ok..." Porter nods and sips from his coffee as he watches the little holo pieces turn into a holo pen. Another blink when the real pieces follow suit. "Neat." For those times when someone with a sword proves that your pen isn't mightier.

Liam says, "Yesterday, a group of heroes fought a giant robot. I was not there for the battle, but arrived just as the defeated robot self-destructed on a train track as a freight train was approaching. Knowing what I can do to repair almost any object, not a significant problem, right?"

"Ouch," Porter gives a brief assessment of the image all that brings to mind, "Yeah, things always seem to blow up in the worst spots... so you figured you'd just fix the tracks?" He seems to follow that easy enough. It makes sense.

Liam says, "While I am more than certain that I could ... that I have more than enough power to have eventually fixed the tracks so that they showed no signs of the original damage except a lingering magical trace, my power was woefully insufficient for the matter at hand. Because of my lack, another super threw himself into the missing span in a vain attempt to fill the gap with his own body and the entire train, including several barrels of hazardous material, jumped track. At least one person died."

Porter's ouch seems prophetic, in hindsight, and now he cringes more sincerely. "Sorry? I mean, you can only do what you can do. I didn't want anything to explode at the hospital..." he shrugs, not quite casually, but not sheepishly either, "but we couldn't get to them all in time."

Liam smirks faintly at the attempt comfort, but doesn't seem interested in letting himself off the hook that easily. "No offense, but you are just one man. You have limitations. *I* am supposed to be more than that." He seems unaware in his self-flagellation that his statement may have had an insult built into it.

Porter is not so unaware, but also not really surprised. He looks to either side of Liam in a mock search. "Are there more of you around here somewhere? I thought you were just one guy, too. And everybody's got limits." His former smirk returns, and much larger than before. "Lemme guess... you're used to everything going your way all the time?"

Liam shakes his head. "Quite the opposite. I'm just used to, when things do not 'go my way', doing something about it." He holds up his hands for Porter to see. "When my hands were injured so that I could not practice neurosurgery, instead of accepting a teaching role, I spent *years* and every penny I had developing a cure. During that time, I accepted homelessness on several occasions rather than give up."

That was ... pretty much the opposite of what Porter expected. His expression shows his surprise very clearly. "Oh..." It then droops as he now feels very similar to a horse's butt, then recovers once more to ...sympathy? "Look. No matter how much you try, you can't always stop it or do something about it. Trust me. I've been trying to do alot of stuff for a long time. Got to where I was just happy for what did work out, and what went not as bad as it could've gone."

Liam rises, his mood brighter. "Thank you, Porter. Defending myself to you has shown me what I need to do. I will *not* wallow in self-pity over correctable limitations." Without another word, he heads for the door with the bounce back in his step and his coffee forgotten.