Welcome to Gaia! ::

Stroud had gotten over the frenetic, anticipatory fever that preceded live concerts for most young fans that showed up to live events - the jockeying for seats, the inability to leave them for a single moment while staring at the band as they set up and checked equipment, the inability to enjoy a single sip of anything for fear of blinking or missing a note.

Instead, she was quite relaxed and already long since had scoped and claimed a spot and had promptly gone outside to enjoy the ritual of filling, tamping, topping off, lighting and puffing on her peterson. The well-loved leather pouch and tobacco she'd brought was superbly aromatic - a traditional Cavendish, Virginia grown and matured with almond and amaretto notes. Sweet, hot and sticky burning. She loved sweet and spiced blends in the fall and winter. The door opened and closed, and a girl was there with unlabeled papers and lighting up. Cigarettes.

Stroud moved her pipe to the corner of her mouth, "I'm not familiar with the blend. Do you mix your own tobacco, or import?"

She plainly rolled her own. Cigarettes over the counter were usually too full of crap that it ruined the flavour. Ruined the art. "Sometimes I'll pick up some Dunhills. But usually I just roll cigarettes with Pipe tobacco. Ever try it?"

"A hybrid Virginia leaf, yes, Cavendish. You've a good nose, testament to swearing off the tar and cyanide counter fags." Stroud smiled and held out her hand to shake, "Marinus. "

"Are you a regular? Or here for the band? Or both? "

The cigarette girl was handsome- solid features and clean complexion. Trendy sense of style, so to speak. "Here with friends?"
It didn't seem likely, since if one person in a group smoked, usually someone would either come out to chat during a smoke or social-lightup with them. And together they were the only two braving the wintery evening for some mixed fresh and flavoured air.

"Regular enough that I know some of the barristas, but not on a scheduled, time-slot basis. " Taking her hand back she cupped her pipe to remove it and blow a smoke ring, "I'm all over the city's venues when it comes to music and gallery openings or performance events. So if a band plays one spot a lot, I tend to only catch a performance every other month. "

"I'm what industry calls an 'angel investor'. " She chortled, " ' Patron' is a lot more elegant."

"The coffee's pretty decent here. The morning crew gets a little rushed and burns the espresso from time to time, so I'd stick to the evening runs. "

"As far as friends, I believe I am now, " She said with a confident grin.

"Can't say I brew my own. I should, but I've never found a samovar or press that I liked well enough to buy and use. It's a nice excuse, anyway, to get out of the studio and go buy a cup every couple of hours as a break. If you never take a breather and step back from work, then you get wall-eyed and stop seeing mistakes."

"Why don't you introduce me to your band friend then, and we share an 'Irish' on me? " Stroud opened her coat lapel, revealing a few 50mL bottles of whiskey - she meant the cocktail consisting of hot coffee, Irish whiskey, and sugar topped with cream. "Easy enough to order espresso with cream on top and finish it out ourselves. Its a good chaser to the cold and a smoke. "

She grabbed the door and held it open for Abbott, exaggerating a friendly bow while knocking her pipe out of ash.

Marinus left her jacket open - the affirmative was all the extra motivation she needed to put the plan into action. Niles had gained chill points in being up for the drinks, combined with smoking and mixed in with some coffee had her ranking at excellent on Stroud's rating scale. This one might be a keeper.

She lifted her hand as they went in, signalling with three fingers up, and circled them, to the barrista to indicate she wanted three of her standing order brought. After that, she shook Michael's hand, "And your friend Abbott has superb taste. "

"There's a round coming on me, as well as a flavour shot we can pour in ourselves. I'll make you both a wager. If your band can get Abbott here to forget to drink her drink until its cold during your performance, You've got yourselves a two hundred dollar tip. If she doesn't, just one." She liked donating to bands, and if this one had a friend who seemed mature and interested in the finer things, they deserved some money win or lose.

"Wagers are fun when everyone is winning. And nothing motivates like fine lips on a good drink, " Stroud, clinked her mug against Abbott's in a friendly toast. "Music we can move to, I hope."

It seemed a likely prediction- when the band started the beats were good and the bridges were skilled. Coffee shops weren't exactly places where you could stand up, stretch out and boogie down, but the antiquarian had no qualms about 'chair dancing' and bumping occasional shoulders with Abbott playful. Or making entertaining, exaggerated faces at her over their drinks to try to get her to blush or laugh.

"Interesting enough for museums, too troublesome to be kept in them, " she winked.

Marinus didn't actually talk much during the music, despite her antics. They were there to listen and enjoy as much as to bask in social energy. As the performance was coming to a close, Stroud stretched out her long limbs and then set her own mug down with the authority of a gavel. She belied the intensity of it by leaning over Abbott's arm and checking Abbott's drink, "What's the verdict?"