"C'mon, 'Tine. Cheer up. It's not like you didn't have a nice good long shot at it."

Justine Miller stared into the bottom of her empty soda glass. She was drumming her heels against the legs of her chair and she knew it was childish, but frankly she didn't care. What she DID care about was the fact that the person who was trying to cheer her up kept punching her playfully in the shoulder. If it was supposed to be a friendly gesture, it wasn't working. "But the ending--"

"Eh, you survived. There's room for a sequel."

"No, there isn't." Justine glared over the remains of her meal. "I can accept that. It just...gets to me sometimes. It's not like I'm--" she lowered her voice as if pronouncing a four-letter word "--UnFinished or anything. I just think I could do a better job of it if I got a second chance. And stop calling me 'Tine. Don't you have somewhere else to be...?"

"Nope, my Writer's between chapters right now...and geez, don't get defensive. I was just trying to be friendly." Summer Ison toyed with her salad for a moment longer, idly froze a few leaves of lettuce into a leafy work of art, and then shoved the plate away. "Sure is GLOOMY in here tonight. Have you seen Silver anywhere?"

"Nope."

"Hmph. How about Jaclyn Cerra?"

"Not since last week. Sorry."

"Rats. She always livens up the place. Of course, it all rather depends on who she IS at the time..."

Justine elected to ignore Summer for the moment. Instead, she set her cheek on one fist and idly let her gaze wander around the cozy interior of the Subreality Café. Tonight wasn't a one-Writer "theme night," so the scattered crowd was a fairly even mixture of folks from all walks of fanfic. Shining was onstage, rocking the house down, with Tarantula Butter warming up offstage for the next set. Dawn and Ember were engaged in yet another spirited argument over by the fireplace, with a bored-looking Hotshot trapped in the middle and doing his best to ignore the entire ruckus. Over at the bar Christine and Mhairie were trading hush-hush tips...and it looked as though they'd brought along a sheaf of diagrams and photographs this time, too. In a comfy corner piled high with pillows and throw rugs, the Night Watch lot were trading "war stories" with Team Zeta -- as usual. And by the distant sounds of enthusiastic destruction way out in the parking lot, it was a safe bet that the Uncanny X-Girls were going to crash the party at any moment.

Oddly enough, the normally gregarious Reclamation Squad were nowhere in sight. Come to think of it, she hadn't seen them for weeks. Justine frowned. Had they been retired? It'd be a shame -- that Aqua guy was a sight for sore eyes...

Ah, well. People come and go. Just as long as that kender doesn't show up...or that creepy Bones guy...or Harmony. She shuddered at the thought. The last time SHE'D dropped by, it had taken tear gas and firehoses to break up the ensuing riot...

She was shaken from her reverie as someone bumped her elbow. Hard. She was about to whip around and complain -- loudly -- when she belatedly recognized the almost electric shiver which had run up her arm at the brief contact. Part of it was, of course, merely a mundane jolt of static electricity, as the intruder was covered with a down of soft fur. The rest of it, however, was the intuitive tingle of being in close proximity to someone created by the same Writer...

"Siku!" she cried in delight even as she turned. She was greeted by an enthusiastic hug, and she was happy to find that her pal was in her mid-teens this time around. The littler versions of Sikudhani McCoy which often showed up at the Café were cute as buttons but not much use in the way of conversation.

A glance back over her shoulder confirmed that Summer had already darted off across the room to greet a freshly-arrived Image, so Justine was free to turn her full attention upon the newcomer. "Where HAVE you been?"

Siku's eyes were a little too bright and her hug had been a shade too hard, and no wonder: in her blue-furred hand was a glass containing the frothy remnants of a chocolate shake. "Oh, I've been pretty busy -- writers running me ragged and all. I've even got a few alternates going now, can you imagine that?"

"Uh...no, I can't," Justine said flatly. Truth be told, she was a bit jealous of Siku's fantastic good luck. Then again, who wasn't? Still, it wasn't Siku's fault that she was a "prime" -- a character much favored by a Writer. For a brief shining moment back there, Justine herself had been a prime. Siku was just being Siku; not showing off, just cheerfully stating the facts. And thus Justine suddenly felt a little bad for her momentary lapse into envy. She opened her mouth to change the subject--

"Is this chair taken?"

Justine and Siku both glanced over at the pale-haired, pale-eyed woman who was waiting politely for their response. It took Justine a few moments to place her -- she wasn't a regular at the Café, at least not in the evenings when the place belonged to the more boisterous younger crowd...

"Sure, Selana, go ahead," Siku chirped with a friendly smile. "Where's Logan?"

The woman settled gratefully into the vacant seat. "Oh, I don't know. He's probably over at that bar where the 'ficced-up X-Men hang out, commiserating over a beer with Ash and that Excaliber version of Longshot. As usual." She sighed.

Siku made a sympathetic noise in her throat. "It's tough being from two different worlds, isn't it? It's the same way with my dad and I. He doesn't really belong here and I get the oddest looks every time I try to drop in on him over there. Not that they're RUDE or anything," she hastened to add, as if rallying to the defense of her beloved aunts and uncles. "It's just...well...you know."

Selana finally returned the smile she'd been greeted with. "I know."

"Hey, it doesn't stop me from meeting Hank over there between chapters." Cassie Cantrell claimed the chair on the other side of the table, spinning it around to straddle it and fold her arms across the back. Justine blinked in amazement. Cassie was another one of those "oldtimers" -- well, "old" in the opinion of the mostly GenX crowd that took over the Café most evenings -- with enough of a fan following to make her practically glow in the dim ambiance of the little interdimensional watering hole.

Justine was getting a little starstruck now, but she held her metaphorical ground. As it turned out, she didn't have all that much to worry about; the instant Cassie was comfortable, she and Siku took off into their own private world on the wholely engrossing subject of Dr. Henry P. McCoy.

This left Justine "alone" with Selana. Practically a stranger. She smiled weakly over at the woman, desperately wondering what she should be saying. She just wasn't good at this. Maybe she should have stayed home that night. It was all the fault of that brat Ariel for dragging her here in the first place...

"If it makes you feel any better," Selana said with another tiny smile, "I have no idea what to say either. Should I go...?"

"No, no, that's all right. I--"

A puff of ice-cold air hit Justine's neck right below her ear just as someone tapped her lightly on the shoulder. Startled, she almost went through the roof. "SUMMER ISON," she snarled "for cryin' out loud, that trick isn't funny any-- oh!"

The woman -- girl? -- standing at her shoulder wasn't the playful Summer. She was pale as snow from her white pageboy cut to her delicate feet, a wintery spectre broken only by light freckles and the sunshine-yellow dress she was sporting. And the brilliant smile which was currently lighting up her face.

Justine hadn't seen her look that way very often. Something was definitely up.

"Um. Hello, Diedre, what can I do for--"

"Did you HEAR?"

"Hear what?"

Diedre's blue eyes sparkled with excitement; she was shifting slightly from foot to foot, and ethereal wisps of frosted air hovered about her hands. "I just heard through the grapevine: a new writer's going to pick you up! It's just a guest spot, and he's going to slap an outrageous Southern accent on you, but who knows? Hold on, back up: you mean you didn't know?!"

Justine wasn't sure what to think. Diedre was usually a quiet sort, a bit shy, but last Tuesday she'd heroically taken it upon herself to cheer Justine up during a similar funk. She'd been less irritating than Summer, true, but it made Justine verrrrry suspicious as to the veracity of this new story. "No. Me? Why? I'll believe it when I see i--"

And then she vanished into thin air with a slightly ludicrous "POP."

Nobody in the crowded bar batted so much as an eyelash as this unusual exit...because it wasn't really all that unusual for the Subreality Cafe. In fact, across the room Rebecca Lee disappeared in much the same manner, only with a yelp and a flare of startled Phoenix flames.

Completely unruffled, Selana glanced up at Diedre. "Good call. How long do you think this assignment will keep her busy?"

Diedre shrugged prettily. "Can't say. The story's a fast mover, from what I hear, so we may not see her around here for a few chapters at least." She raised a nearly invisible eyebrow at Selana. "Now that THAT'S out of the way, I'm heading for a back booth to lead a debate with Alexa, Celande, and Jessi on 'The Comparative Merits of the Males of the X-Species.' Sound interesting?"

Selana considered the offer for a long, solemn moment. "I must say that it sounds rude, crude, uncouth, sexist, and wholely demeaning..."

"Did I mention that there's no 'Gambit girls' allowed?"

The Guardian promptly stood up. "Count me in."

.-= FINIS =-.
(for now)