Coffee shops and tea. It was a perfectly appropriate conversation for two men to be having; particularly two men at a culinary competition. Men who knew their way around a recipe were sexy. This was a fact. Any genetically challenged individual who thought differently knew where he could relocate that horn to.

>> "I've always been more of a tea person myself. Though I do appreciate a good cup of French press coffee on occasion."

"I'm a 'coffee, black' person, myself." Rupert replied. For anyone that knew him, that could go two ways: a complete surprise, or complete sense. For the cop in him, it made sense. For the chef in him, who knew how to appreciate--in a manly manner, thank you--the finer points of flavor difference, it was odd that he hadn't branched out to new blends.

From a causal glance, Rupert saw that Luke was finishing up his crust dough. Back at his own station, he lowered the heat on the chocolate pudding and, after setting the white chocolate to melt in another small pot with a few other ingredients that would help it on its way to becoming the pie's second layer, he moved back to his Oreo crumbs. Time to actually get these into crust form.

>> "Do you get a decent amount of business at the shop or have things been pretty quiet for you?"

"Depends on the time of day," he answered, amiably. "The place is called Insomniacs Anonymous--we're open 24/7. During the day, it's usually pretty deserted, even during the usual rush times. Hit us up between midnight and six, though, and we do pretty steady business. We've got a dedicated customer base." He'd been one of those dedicated customers himself, until that summer. There was something about the off-hours shop that kept people coming back after they'd found it. When the streets were deserted, Insomniacs Anonymous had the feel of a tree house club, or a speakeasy--this was no Starbucks that everyone in New York had found. This was something that was still had a soul.

>> "This is taking so long. ...Ugh, I need a bath. ...I wonder if I can port to someone's bathroom?"

Speaking of secrets: it always amazed him, how little of a filter there was between a child's mouth and its brain. The girl with the rumbling stomach was back at this side of the tent. He missed the last thing she said, as he noticed something else: her genetically challenged stalker had followed. There was no mistaking it--the mutant was definitely watching the girl.

Rupert's crust was done. So was the chocolate pudding. With an almost warning air, he poured the boiling liquid into the crust, filling it about half way. He put it in the chiller to set, managing the task of never taking his gaze off the freak. He tried to fill the muddy hazel of his eyes with enough suspicion to deter even the boldest of pedophiles. A pedophile mutant with a horn on his head. That was just...

Words really did fail.

"So, your family's in the security business, are they? What company?" Rupert asked conversationally. "I was a beat cop for a few years before I made Detective--I may have heard of it." Suffice it to say that Rupert wasn't the kind of man to immediately notice connections. Like 'Luke Jacobs' and 'Jacobs and Jacobs'.

Insomniacs Anonymous? Luke was actually surprised that Rupert worked at a coffee shop that he knew about. Not that he had ever been inside to try out their product but the area where it was situated was part of his normal nightly patrols. He had overheard multiple people talking about how good their coffee was and he had promised himself that eventually he would stop by.

"I've heard of Insomniacs Anonymous before but I've never had the pleasure of stopping by." Luke replied as he finished spreading out the crust and then set the pie plate aside as he turned back to work on his other ingredients. The pumpkin would go into the first layer and so he quickly placed carefully measured portions of his pumpkin, evaporated milk, sugar, brown sugar, eggs, and vanilla into a bowl to begin to blend together.

"So, your family's in the security business, are they? What company? I was a beat cop for a few years before I made Detective--I may have heard of it."

Inwardly Luke was smiling as soon as Rupert spoke the question. Even though he had not gotten to know his father very well before he had died, Luke was proud of the way the family had built of the business and made it an established name in the city of New York. While by no means the largest security company, Jacobs & Jacobs had a sterling reputation that helped to bring in some of the best clientele.

"It's not a really big firm but you might have heard of it I suppose." Luke replied, his voice calm even though his lips were turning up at the corner ever so slightly, "'Jacobs & Jacobs Security'... it was started by my grandfather long before I was born. Did you ever have any dealings with the company?"

The background noise had been building and Luke was doing his best to ignore it. Without actually seeing where the noise was coming from it could become disorienting and becoming disoriented in the middle of such delicate work as pie baking was not a good decision. Not a good decision at all.

Coraline became aware of a pair of eyes watching her. She wasn't always good at knowing when people were paying her attention since she usually didn't care but perhaps the combined stares of Sebastian and Rupert alerted her to the fact that at least one person was watching her. By pure chance she turned in Sebastian's direction.

He was noticable instantly as if the people around him were in a whirl and he was the only one staying still. She felt an odd sensation in her stomach and her body felt warm all over. He was familiar. But she didn't know why. It wasn't simply the usual type of familiar that Raina had been running into. This was something entierly different. Even sacred. Staring up at his face (which she thought was beautiful in the same way a child would pick a flower and study it's beauty for hours) she couldn't determine if he was young or old. There was what she was seeing in front of her, but then there was this ever lingering image in her mind that wafted in and out of the image she saw. Like a ripple. Or a dream. Maybe he was from a dream?

Coraline was locked on this as someone would remain facinated but witnessing some phenomena like an astral shower or something. She was curious, interested, in awe, and maybe even a little afraid. Presently her feet wouldn't move from their spot. She was just staring and wondering why she felt so good to see this person with the horn on their head.

Surely the curly haired competitor was a talented individual. Somehow he managed to finish his pie filling, continue his friendly conversation with the blind man next door, and glare at Sebastian with deep suspicion in his eyes. Maybe this man was the girl's father. That would explain the dirty looks and the girls' lack of other guardians. The man really needed to learn to keep a better eye on her if that was true. Someone easily could have absconded with her by now. If he really had been a cop, like he had claimed a moment ago, he should know what horrors were out there in the world waiting to take advantage of young children. It's not like child molesters were a new trend.

And black coffee? Really? Black coffee was so 1599.

Now the young child had noticed all the stares and glares on her account and turned to face Sebastian. The look in her eye was one of wonder and fascination, or so it seemed to him. It was a little strange, since that was not the type of look he was used to getting from strangers; Detective Black Coffee had the usual look about right.

And the girl was definitely familiar, which made her being the daughter of the glaring pie chef even more strange, because Sebastian had certainly never seen his handsome scowl before. Sebastian was unsure of exactly what he should do. Talking to the girl would be very awkward. Talking to the ex-cop turned apron boy would be awkward. Leaving seemed to be the best possibility. At least now the deadbeat father(?) would be paying attention now.

Sebastian turned and wandered toward someone else's, anyone else's, booth. He walked past the blind chef who had missed out on the whole triangle of awkward glances. Lucky him.

>> "It's not a really big firm but you might have heard of it I suppose. 'Jacobs & Jacobs Security'... it was started by my grandfather long before I was born. Did you ever have any dealings with the company?"

Rupert blinked a look over at the man. "You know," he answered, "I think I just might have. Though I can't say I've had too many dealings with them; mostly us cops deal with your competitors, if you know what I mean."

The horned man was moving on. Since the little girl looked like a deer caught in pretty headlights, it was just about damn time.

Rupert smiled over at Luke as he finished talking, and checked on his chocolate pudding. Just about ready.

You know what else was so 1599? Minding your own business, Hornicorn.

Competitors... the same competitors that Wraith got to deal with almost on a nightly basis. It was tempting to ask Rupert whether he had ever heard of a masked vigilante that was catching criminals but Luke restrained himself. He didn't want to throw out any information that might reveal that fact he was more than he seemed to be.

Finishing the pumpkin filling mixture, Luke poured it into his pie crust, filling it up half way. The top layer would become the chocolate pecan mixture which. Sniffing cautiously as he reached over to retrieve his pot of now melted chocolate, the blind man was grateful that he couldn't smell any scorching. Even the best cooks sometimes scorched their chocolate but a competition was not the place to do such a thing.

Suddenly the blind man paused... he had kept his sonar reigned in tightly so as not to bother any of his but with his concentration on the cooking he had allowed his sonar to filter out into the crowd. "Who's the guy with the horn?" Luke thought to himself as he saw Sebastian for the first time. It was quite obvious the man was a mutant and while Luke was curious, he also knew that he was on a competition.

"Another day." He thought as he brought his sonar back in so that it only covered his table. Beginning to mix the pecan, corn syrup, and a few other ingrediants in order to get what he wanted. A chocolate pecan/pumpkin pie was going to be perfect for this competition... just perfect!

"Can I assume that you normally work the late shift at your coffee shop since that's when things are busiest?"

Coraline felt transfixed until the horned man turned away. Finally it was as if she was released from a trance- albeit a comfortable one- and she took in a big breath of air. She rubbed her eyes a bit as the warm feeling went way. "That was... weird." she said to herself feeling a little scared. She wrapped her arms around herself and turned around to face the pie making men and see how much time had passed. "awww!" she yelled loudly. "They still aren't finished?" she whined in the way only a child could. That sent a ripple of laughter through the people around her, each thinking the adult standing next to her was likely her parent. None stopping to think that she might be alone.

She stared at the pie makers with wide eyes. She was really hungry. If they didn't hurry up she was going to bamf the second the pie's were ready and swipe them. It would be so worth it. Even if everyone int he park saw her and she couldn't come here anymore to spy.

Pies were nearing the end of the assembly phase all around the tent. Some very quick people already had their pies in their little ovens, for the pies that needed baking, that was. They were busy doing whatever it is that pie competitors do while pies are baking. For some that meant whipping up toppings to be added after the pies were done, for others it meant nervously watching the progress of the crust browning.

Possibly the most exciting competitor just then was a woman who had started the competition with a perfectly orderly platinum blonde updo and a spotless red and white apron, like a paragon cross between Martha Stewart and Betty Crocker. She now had flower in her hair and something that looked alarmingly like the blood of a hundred blueberries smeared across her apron and pants. She was desperately mixing a second crust, as the first one had met its untimely demise on the ground along with most of its fillings.

Sebastian watched the proceedings with perhaps more attention than the woman would have liked. He was trying to ignore the curly haired deadbeat cop. For some reason, though, he still felt like someone's gaze was boring into him from behind, he shifted his weight a little more frequently than normal and started playing with his beard hair. Maybe he was being overly paranoid, but he wished he could be certain the weirdo wasn't still trying to bore holes through the back of his skull. He also wished he could be certain that the young girl would be safe, but that might have to wait until the competition was over and he could see with whom the girl would leave.

Rupert checked on his pie in the little fast-chill freezer; all seemed well. Very well. He took it out, and set it on the counter top. The chocolate pudding gave a small ripple from the gentle impact; nothing big, since it seemed to be set rather nicely. He checked on the girl next. She was hugging herself. The horned man was across the tent now, though; she'd be all right.

>> "awww! They still aren't finished?"

He shook his head a little, grinning at the outburst as he slowly poured the white chocolate layer on top of its milk chocolate brother. Yeah. Yeah, she'd be just fine.

>> "Can I assume that you normally work the late shift at your coffee shop since that's when things are busiest?"

"Yeah," Rupert answered, "that's kind of my time of night. They don't call it 'Insomniacs Anonymous' for nothing." The trick to being an insomniac: stop caring that you were an insomniac. Sleep was for the weak, any way.

"What about you, Luke? Are you a nine-to-five guy, or a night owl?" Rupert couldn't ever remember being a nine-to-five guy. Not even during high school; he'd worked morning stock at a hardware store.

He put the pie crust and its contents back in the freezer, and began working on his dark chocolate mousse in earnest.

The chocolate/pecan pie mixture was relatively thin but as he continued to whip it it began to thicken just a touch. Luke was confident that it would thicken to just the right consistency once it had baked in the oven for the appropriate amount of time.

"What about you, Luke? Are you a nine-to-five guy, or a night owl?" Rupert asked as their idle conversation continued.

"Well, I've been known to put in a regular nine-to-five day on occasion." Luke replied with a slight chuckle, "But really I'm more of a night owl. It's more peaceful at night but yet in a city like New York there's still plenty of activity."

Plus most of the criminals came out to perform their various activities after dark so that was when he had to work. Although, since he had begun dating Raina he had been doing more and more of the nine-to-five days. "I wonder if the gangs are beginning to think that Wraith is out of town... I'm gonna have to put in some heavy patrols soon to make sure that they don't get any ideas."

Finally the chocolate/pecan mixture was right where he wanted it to be and so, with the utmost care, he poured it from its bowl over the pumpkin mixture. After setting the warm bowl down on a pot holder, Luke picked up his pie plate and carried it over to the convection oven. Moments later it was inside and beginning to bake.

"Do you do any of the baking for the coffee shop or do you just focus on the coffee itself?" Luke asked as he walked back over to see just how much extra chocolate/pecan filling had been made. There was still a cup or two of filling and since he wasn't one to let anything go to waste he pulled out a couple of spoons and then extended his sonar to scan the crowd.

"Would any of the kids in the audience care to have a tasting of chocolate/pecan pie filling?" Luke called out loud enough to be heard across several booths, "Children only! There's not enough for all the adults!"

Coraline watched dreamily as everyone continued making their pies and wondered what had happened to the man with the horn. When one man said to the audience that he had pie filling for children she'd have poofed right to his station had she not already been in front of it. She looked wearily to her left and right wondering how many children she'd have to fight for this but there really weren't that many. She raised her hand as high as it would go "me! me! memememe! hey mister!" she leaned over the small makeshift retaining fence that kept the spectators at bay- on would probably thing it was needless until they saw this particular child's reaction.

"I'd lovvve some pecan pie filling!" she said enthusiastically.

Aside from Martha Crocker, who was still scrambling to fill her pie and had her over preheating to 425 degrees, it was all a waiting game now. Pies baked. Nervous chefs watched them bake. Spectators watched them watching them bake.

The young girl was having a treat, from the blind guy; she got to try some of the pie filling. Sebastian could tell, not because he sneaked a peak, but because her voice was loud enough to be heard all the way across the tent. Hopefully she would be fine. It was all a waiting game now. He'd wait for the contest to end, or for her to leave, and he could make sure she had somewhere safe to go. If Mr. Deadbeat was her father, then it would become obvious when they left together and he could stop worrying.

>> "Well, I've been known to put in a regular nine-to-five day on occasion. But really I'm more of a night owl. It's more peaceful at night but yet in a city like New York there's still plenty of activity."

"You've got that right," Rupert replied with a half-smile and a nod. The mousse was done; he took the pie from the fridge, and spooned it on top of the chilled white chocolate layer, moving the spoon in decorative swirls.

>> "Do you do any of the baking for the coffee shop or do you just focus on the coffee itself?"

"I do a bit of baking, and other cooking--most people don't come for the food, but they stay for it. We've got one guy who swears there's nothing like a Rueben at 1:35 in the morning." He chuckled. "So help me if I serve it to him a minute late. Odd guy, but a good conversationalist. Can quote you any stock price, too." The regulars were an idiosyncratic crew, to be sure. Rupert wouldn't have it any other way. It helped distract his mind from other things. In the dead of the night, with the bustling crowds long since asleep and the streetlights coming in uninterrupted through the front windows, there was nothing quite like holding a conversation about stock prices and the news from the Middle East with a man who'd been evicted from the Sanctuary when it had switched to its mutant only policy.

On top of the dark chocolate mousse swirls, he took the near-empty bag of Oreos from the crust, and shook out a thin dusting of Oreo crumbs as he idly stuck the spoon from the chocolate mousse in his mouth.

>> "Would any of the kids in the audience care to have a tasting of chocolate/pecan pie filling? Children only! There's not enough for all the adults!"

Guiltily, Rupert took the spoon out of his mouth as the wide-eyed children of the crowd, stomachs grumbling, budged their way forward to Luke's table. None were quicker--or louder--than the girl the horned man had his eyes on earlier before he tastefully moved to the other side of the tent like a mutie who knew what was good for him.

>> "Me! me! memememe! hey mister! I'd lovvve some pecan pie filling!"

He looked down at his own extra ingredients... or the bowls they'd formerly been in. There were several cleaned spoons sticking in them now. Had he really been polishing things off as he went along? Yeah. Yeah, he had been. It was a bad habit. What could he say, though? It wasn't a crime for a man to taste his own ingredients.

Especially not when a man had just made Guygasm pie. Oreo crust, milk chocolate pudding, a layer of creamy Godiva white chocolate, and a Godiva dark chocolate mouse with Oreo crumbs on top. At the first bite, words failed for men.

Women seemed to rather like it, too.

Rupert slipped the pie back into the fridge for the finishing chill.

((ooc: Permission to advance to the actual judging is given, Luke. )

After handing out samples of his filling, with an extra large sample to the young girl that had seemed so excited about it, Luke returned to the business of washing up the last of his dishes. There was no reason to just leave dirty clutter around and it looked so much better to have everything neat and clean when you were presenting your dish.

***

At the sound of the buzzer every contestant pulled their pies out of the oven or blast chiller if they hadn't already done so and placed it on the table where the judges could see it when they came by. The moments dragged onward as the announcer introduce the two professional pastry chefs that had donated their time to judge this competition.

"But we have a special treat for all of you!" The announcer continued, "In honor of the cultural, racial, genetic, and of course culinary diversity that we have here in this great city, the judges will be picking out one volunteer to be our Guest Judge! This person will give their own, layman's view of the pies allowing us to have a diversity of opinions to consider as we search for our winner!"

For a moment there was silence, followed by a smattering of applause as the crowld of competitors and spectators tried to digest this new information.

"And... SIR!" The female shouted, her finger pointing towards the crowd of people that stood near Rupert and Luke's tables. "You sir... in the long gray coat!"

Several different individuals pointed at themselves, asking if she was referring to them but she just kept shaking her head,

"No... you sir... with the horn!"

(OOC: Seb, feel free to jump ahead to judging at Luke or Rupert's table, or take your time and taste test others giving us a chance to post our thoughts about the new judge. It's all up to you! )

Coraline eagerly took the spoon from the man with the biggest grin. Ever. She looked about 5 years younger plopping it into her mouth. It tasted spectatuclar... but only fuled her desire to eat the pie even more. The temptation to just bamf over there and take it was so overwhelming she could practically feel the energy radiating from her skin.

Her thoughts were cut short when the judge was identified and she turned to folllow the crowds gaze to.... oh no... the guy with the horn. Apon looking at him again she felt a little weak in the knees and that strange feeling in her stomach. She frowned with the spoon still in her mouth. Who was he?