THE SOUL REMAINS.

warm drink and snack much the same as he's always known, yet the uncertainty of this island remained at the back of oliver's mind. lingering and tainting the appeal such simple delicacies once offered. anxiety was doing him one favor, he supposed. saving his wallet.

"well, i suppose i would be in need of something to hold me over. i had not anticipated being... here... though." or being in need of a replacement for his previous work. anxious hesitation could not keep his savings safe forever, unfortunately. the yearning for a little treat, plus expenses for living, would catch up to him sooner or later.

"I did a little bit of everything, if I'm being honest. Orphanage management, anti-Aragami tech r&d, neuroscience studies, some engineering, and helping manage the Friar mobile base and BLOOD Unit..."

Her smile doesn't waver as she counts the items off on her hands: like a painted saint, unblinking (unnerving) gesturing with digits to the sky. But she almost prefers the cafe, if she's honest. Quieter, gentler, doesn't have the looming threat of someone not returning home...while she misses Julius and Leah quite dearly, she can handle this reprieve from her day-to-day if it meant she could be less pigeonholed into a position of importance 24/7.

This place doesn't have a devouring apocalypse, or the Red Rain, or sudden permanent illnesses. There's occasional oddities, but they're far less frightening than what she'd come to see as normal.

"I believe my time might have been considered a future by many who live here...the last time I checked the year, it was 2074. Not a particularly happy year for many, and certainly an environment which had people holding quite a lot of uncommon jobs just to get by."

There are no God Eaters here, just as there are no Aragami. There's no need for them; and as such, there's no need for her to do anything but just be, here.

Someone like Hyuna moved with a grace on most days that belied her missing leg — and even still, to Till, her surviving such an injury was something of a miracle all on its own.

Should he help? Is that demeaning? It’s not like there isn’t someone (a friend?) close by. Till stares at the ground, afraid to even look too much at her in case that’s some sort of offense as well.

"Oh, thank you. I don't need to catch any more scars to my face!"

He's nervous, in a way that reminds her of the children just seeing her other usual mode of mobility for the first time (but, he's too big to be pulled into a lap for reassurance that she's just fine). So, her method of disarming the situation is to make a jab at her own expense, a note to the marking from her unfortunate clattering down many more stairs than a small child at the time should've ever taken.

"Would you like to take a walk with us? Nazeneen knows the area here well, but I don't think we'd be unhappy for company."

Even if the expression on her face surrounded by blonde hair unnerved him a tad. Not her being blonde, but in combination with how she appeared to be viewing the world around her...

Well, he shouldn't make assumptions. Dan Heng has plenty of trouble emoting, so.

"It's a warm summer night, so I can't say it's too terrible to talk to a new neighbor."

"Thank you. It's custom made, and...somehow, was able to travel from home with me. I've come not to question it so much."

She'd have been completely lost without it, after all: the worn, green crushed velvet of the cushioning has its spots where it's faded down, flattened to the base texture from her usual position. The footrest bears marks from her shoes, hands having smoothed bits of the armrests and interfaces clean off. The chair knows her like she knows herself, intricately and intimately, close and careful and netted up together.

People-watching, especially in the district she'd been housed in, had become part of Rachel's nightly routine; usually the neighbors glossed over her, but she doesn't mind having someone speak to her instead. There's a bit of a drop-off just ahead of here, so people are viewed at a slope into the distance, something ever-pleasant to see.

It isn't often that Gregor finds the time to drop by the Coat Fantasy ward (or whatever it's name was, that he doesn't quite recall). The entire place just puts him a little too on edge. Everything is weirdly lush and richly verdant, densely populated by bizarre little pixie things and animals that are just a tad too close to stuff he associates with an active threat to his life for comfort. It doesn't help that people keep telling him that ambiguously pissing off the fairies or something is liable to get him into shit.

Still. He doesn't quite make an effort to avoid the region of the city entirely— he's found some useful things there from time to time, and it's quieter than almost anywhere else he's seen if he can find the right little nook to hide away in. And his frayed nerves need it these days. It feels like he's waking up every night dreaming of the Ungeziefer Kaiser, vermin swarming from every crack in the walls. Marching in looping, discordant lines down his neck and under his skin, carapace crackling and creaking with every breath. A living nest. The sickly, sappy scent of apples still stubbornly lingers in his nose and his thoughts for hours after he's given up sleeping, heavy and almost metallic beneath his tongue.

It's hard. He can't stop thinking about it. Can't seem to pump the breaks on worrying about Anya either, even when he's sure she's well-taken care of until he's home.

…He could go for some coffee. He's at least trying to make an effort towards not falling asleep on his feet, the world foggy and distant. There are a couple cafes dotted around the area he's been shambling through, and he blindly chooses one that looks like it has the least amount of customers ambling around to make noise and gawk.

A little bell jingles on the front door as he steps inside, scanning the interior with a quick glance. It's a bit hotter inside than he'd anticipated with the open windows, the wooden flooring clean beneath the warm click of his work shoes. The atmosphere is kind of quaint. And... almost completely empty, save for a lone soul or two.

…Well. He'd thought it was just a regular cafe, but there's a prominent counter right up front and a 'please wait to be seated' sign, so maybe not. He can currently see someone sitting behind the front desk, actually.

"Hey," Gregor mumbles around the unlit cigarette in his mouth, eyes dropping from the stranger's strange veil to the little knickknacks stacked up on the front counter.

It's quiet. Quieter in the cafe than she would expect, but perhaps she doesn't mind: she maintains vigil behind the counter, of course, but is more than willing to provide assistance or conversation where she sees fit. Managerial position means...she has a little bit of wiggle room, in that regard.

The jingle of the bell above the door means she has a chance to execute this bit of freedom, offering an approachable and beaming countenance as best she can. (And as best she can is quite good. It's a skill she's forced herself to staple on, like a painted doll's face, playing house with herself and the idea of normal life.)

"Ah -- would you prefer to be closer to or further from a window, sir?"

He's like a wet, soggy cat. She's seen those, now, so she can verify -- he's tired, and seems like s strong wind could blow him over, despite his build (he could probably hold out with some of the God Eaters she knows of; possibly of some military upbringing, or some such...the uniform he wears may be for something else). Yes, this is the right kind of place to seek solace in. Not so dissimilar to Friar's upper garden, airy and as spacious as can be offered.

Her eyes alight briefly on his hands. One is human, and the other is more insectile -- or like an Aragami's carapace (though, Dreadpikes are green -- this warm brown is the same reassuring shade as the man's eyes). Seating him somewhere that could cause injury to that appendage wouldn't be too kind of her; somewhere he can move both hands with ease would be ideal. (She can understand the struggle, to a degree. Carpets, often, are her enemy.)

❝ you're here rather late, ❞ malchior had requested a small bed to be placed in the break room of the library- to sleep in, of course. an advocate for knowledge and reading, he liked to keep the library open at all times. it meant he didn't sleep as much as he should've, but his work environment was mostly peaceful, so that made up for it-

rachel was one of the students who took advantage of the fact that malchior was always at the library. other students said he seemed to know anything that happened with any book in there, which perhaps also explained why he always knew when he had to help someone check books out. ❝ you should rest, though, ❞

"I would appreciate the guarding, if it isn't too much inconvenience for you."

The books in her lap are offered up, her smile gentle. Rachel does so enjoy the library (and Malchior in it), particularly later at night -- the daylight hours of many people and whatnot can wear her out quite easily. A mixture of study and recreation; guides for suture practice, a business financial balance tome, others...and then things for mending old dolls, and doll clothing for beginners. (He's seen stranger combinations, she's sure.)

She glances away at mention of the disappearances. Knows all too well of them, but has been...avoiding the topic, where she can. It's a privileged mindset to uphold, clinging to the idea that if she cannot be harmed then nothing bad will happen to her. The worst already has, to her, in her mind. Her lips twist a little, then staple back the look of tender warmth. (Unpleasant creature, she knows she can be, but she does what she likes.)

He is right that she should rest, though, since she has early calls to make...time differences and all.

NAME. Rachel Claudius  AGE. Around 25 PRIOR EXPERIENCE. None specificlly in food service, but managerial and financial experience due to operating the Magnolia Orphanage branches. Is talking to kids an applicable skill?  DAYS AVAILABLE TO WORK. Wed-Sat all day, Sunday evenings as-needed.  POSITION DESIRED. Part-Time Assistant Manager. WHY WOULD YOU BE A GOOD FIT? Due to overseeing Magnolia Orphanage and the BLOOD Unit, I’m comfortable with helping do managerial and organizational work! I also am quite adaptable to social situations, and enjoy speaking with others to sort problems.  EXTRA (anything you think would be good to add!) While we didn’t have many cafes like this back home due to the diminishing animal populations after the Devouring, I quite enjoy the concept.  ICON FOR JOB PAGE. 

 “ She may not say it but Mashu could use the help…..plus I think you would be a good fit.”