You seem to have a curious visitation

This modern cafe provides people with coffee, fresh from Klatch, Quirm and Howondaland and, as well as normal coffees, they also sell specialities from around the Disc, allowing a truly cosmopolitan experience. Owned by Jack Bank, who can normally be found behind the counter serving the customers, this exclusive place is very popular and fashionable. Hanging on the back wall is a menu detailing the drinks that are sold.
There is one obvious exit: east.
Jack Bank is standing here.

Sir Andrew d’Ackerley wanders inside and, passing by the counter to place an order, secures himself a seat at an empty table at which to study his newspaper.

Delia has her arm looped through Zale’s as they enter the shop and takes a look at the menu.

Zale looks at the menu before continuing part of what he had clearly been talking about. “And I’m telling you that sirens are real.”

Delia digs in her pocketbook for some coins and counts carefully, then looks at the menu again. “One hot chocolate please! And I’m telling you that it’s most likely just nereids having some fun. They certainly don’t drown the poor sailors!”

Zale orders a hot chocolate of his own, handing change indiscriminately without looking at it, and getting some returned. “Well. Well, you’re wrong. My dad used to be a sailor and he heard the siren’s songs.”

Delia shakes her head at how carefree Zale is with money. She’s learned its importance over the past week…and how poor she is. Retorts with a grin, “If I ever meet your dad, I can’t wait to sing for him and see if he recognizes the song.” Upon being handed her hot chocolate, she looks around for a table.

A greedy banker and three troll bodyguards arrive from the east. Chef Turtlespawn arrives from the east and suddenly attacks the bodyguards.

Sir Andrew d’Ackerley glances at the troll’s head as it rolls past his feet and tsks mildly before turning a page.

Zale gets out of the way of the brawl and takes refuge in a corner with his own mug. “But. Oh alright.” He grins goodnaturedly as the warrior exits the cafe, and shakes his head. “I’ll never get used to that.” He nods to the gentleman in the corner, the only other occupant of the cafe, and puts his money away without looking at it.

Delia delicately checks her shoes for bloodstains and happy that they withstood that little episode, considers Zale’s folding on the argument as proof that she’s won again. “Where shall we sit? Before this gets cold!”

Zale drops into the table near where he’s standing. “Right here?”

Delia bounces over lightly to the table and sits in the chair next to zale. She holds her mug with both hands and inhales the rich aroma delightedly.

Sir Andrew d’Ackerley stirs his tea with just a single clink of teaspoon against porcelain.

Zale finds a stray thread of wool in his faded jumper and tugs at it, stretching his long legs out beside the table, posing an immediate threat to anybody who wants to walk past.

Having absorbed as much delight as she can from the chocolately perfume, Delia takes a large sip of the beverage and closes her eyes happily, rolling it around on her tongue to get every last taste out of the treat.

Zale gulps his own chocolate down without really bothering about it. Drink, hot, cold day, mouth, go. He manages a chocolate moustache that he doesn’t realise he has, and grins at yours.

Zale chortles in joy at Delia and says, “If only you could see yourself.”

Delia opens her eyes and then narrows them at Zale. Her attempt at ferocity fails immediately upon noticing his chocolate moustache and she starts giggling. “Trying to be a Genuan?” she teases.

Zale catches sight of himself in a convenient mirror and laughs, using the back of his sleeve to wipe his face. “Well you have one too!”

Delia giggles and wipes off the moustache. “But the difference is, I make *this* look good!” She gives a little shiver and while she would love to linger over this treat, knowing she won’t be able to afford them after this, she drinks a little faster in an attempt to warm up.

Zale finishes his own, and nods, agreeing. “You should go for the set, try a beard as well.”

Very Reverend Khepresh visits Delia unexpectedly! Very Reverend Khepresh gets a small leather shield from a pocket in a crude string bag. Very Reverend Khepresh puts the holy symbol and the large red bottle in a pocket in the crude string bag.

Very Reverend Khepresh says in Djelian: not bibh-nut-khin-lat-lip-yih khat-bhon-fit-khot lat phin-sap-bibh Dybbler’s prin-lat-khin bil-bit. not ghot-mit QUiyan there.

Zale carefully says: You seem to have a curious visitation.

Delia looks astonished at the unexpected visitor. “I’m sorry, sir…I’ve only just started learning Djelian. I’m afraid I don’t know what you said to me.”

Zale finds the sight of the dancing Hattian a little too much and chortles. He grins lazily at Delia. “Djelian’s easy. I can talk it just fine.”

Delia rolls her eyes at Zale, “Great, then you should work on your Morporkian!”

Zale wrinkles his nose at you. “What’s wrong with my Morporkian?” He sits up, which in his instance is just a slight movement which does almost nothing to change his general stance, and drones in an impressive imitation of what he thinks is perfect Djelian. “Jhip-sip-mip-tip-clip.”

Delia pokes Zale in the ribs. “Even *I* know that wasn’t Djelian. As for your Morporkian, you might want to work on ‘speak’ing it, not ‘talk’ing it” she teases.

Zale gets poked in the ribs. “Ow, your fingers are pokey.” He grins. “Fine, fine, so it’s not real Djelian but that’s what it sounds like. Gib-sib-mib-tib-lib. Anyway, how hard can it be?”

Delia pokes Zale in the rib one more time to show how pokey her fingers can be! “Well, I just started taking lessons. It’s not hard but it’s not the easiest thing. But if there’s anywhere that needs to learn of the glory of Fish, it’s in the desert!”

Sir Andrew d’Ackerley looks up briefly at that comment and chuckles very quietly to himself.

Zale gets out of the way of your fingers. “Ow, you poke me far too much.”

Delia can’t resist that opening, “You don’t poke me enough!”

Very Reverend Khepresh steps forward and seems to vanish, leaving behind a lingering sound of champagne corks popping.

Delia mutters “Thank Fish!” under her breath at the Hattian’s departure.

Zale blinks, tousles his hair so it’s even more dishevelled, and then blushes a deep red before doing his best to straighten his posture. “Well, I – uh.” He takes advantage of Khepresh leaving to change the subject. “So what prayers have you learned?”

Delia smirks at Zale’s discomfort. “Oh! I learned to consecrate today!” she says excitedly.

Zale lazily asks: What’s it like?

Delia can’t help but bust out laughing loudly. “It’s uh..uh…” and collapses into a fit of giggles as she tries to imagine Zale doing his first consecrate.

Zale has probably not been going to the temple as much as he ought. Ankh-Morpork has been far too interesting; there’s been far too much to see, do, and explore. He glares at Delia. “What?”

Delia tries to reign in her giggles. The sugar from that hot chocolate must be taking ahold. “How do I explain consecrate…oh you’ll just have to experience it yourself. It’s very…um…intense.” She winks knowingly at Zale.

Delia goes to take another drink from her mug and discovers it empty. She sadly pushes it to the side of the table. Delia looks around, “Do you know where the bathroom is?”

Zale is a bit amazed at your reaction and scratches the end of his nose, misinterpreting your reaction for teasing that he can’t do the ritual. “Well, I will, so there.” He looks around. “No. Ask Jack.”

Zale points to the owner, standing behind the counter, wearing a name tag that says ‘Jack’.

Delia turns to ask Jack just as he slips into the back room. “Catfish!” she swears loudly.

Delia she turns to the only other person in the shop, “Excuse me, sir, do you know where the bathroom is?”

Sir Andrew d’Ackerley politely says with a Morporkian accent: Door at the end of the room, turn right, if memory serves me, miss.

Delia breathes a sigh of relief and hops out of her chair. “Thank you!” she calls over her shoulder to the fancy gentleman and bounces in the direction he indicated.

Zale manages to lounge on the straight-backed chair, and looks out of the window at the autumn scene outside. God’s Collar can be quite pretty, with the fallen leaves and so on, and is one of the better parts of the city. He watches you leave as his long fingers unknowingly draw on the table in front of him.

Delia comes bouncing back to the table and sits down again. She looks longingly at her empty cup and then turns to Zale. “I sure haven’t been seeing you at the Temple much,” she chastises him gently. “What have you been doing?”

Zale absent-mindedly says: Wandering.

Very Reverend Khepresh visits Sir Andre d’Ackerly unexpectedly! Sir Andrew d’Ackerley stands up at a table. Sir Andrew d’Ackerley manages to get around Very Reverend Khepresh’s defences and launches a vicious attack. Very Reverend Khepresh looks quite confused. Very Reverend Khepresh steps forward and seems to vanish, leaving behind a lingering sound of champagne corks popping.  Sir Andrew d’Ackerley sits down at a table.

Delia exclaims to Sir Andrew d’Ackerley in Djelian: Normally I wouldn’t condone such actions but catfish whiskers he’s getting on my nerves!

Sir Andrew d’Ackerley arches his eyebrow over the monocle, clearly not understanding the lady’s words.

Zale listens admiringly to Delia’s Djelian. “Sure is a great language to be angry in.”

Delia takes her empty mug up to the counter as Jack has completely failed to clear it away and the lingering scent of the mug is too much a tease.

Zale tugs on another stray woollen thread in his jumper and looks thoughtful as you come back to the table. “But yeah, I should probably go to the temple tomorrow.”

Delia replies with a slight frown, “Yes, you really should.”

Zale grins at Delia and says to her: Swot.

Delia pokes her tongue out at Zale.

Zale sticks his tongue out too. Nyah nyah.

Delia eyes Zale’s tongue from the corner of her eye and sighs inwardly.

Zale looks utterly oblivious to any sighing, external or internal, and slouches on his chair.

Delia looks at Zale’s jumper. “You know, you keep pulling on those threads and soon you won’t have any jumper left.”

Zale looks at his own jumper and grins. “I probably need another jumper or something anyway. This one’s about four years old I think.”

Sir Andrew d’Ackerley stands and, with a polite nod to Jack and other customers, exits the cafe.

Delia exclaims to Zale: Well, I’m sure it would last longer if you didn’t keep tugging on it!

Zale notices your own clothes for the first time. “You look very swish.”

Delia is ridiculously pleased Zale noticed but tries to hide it. “Oh? Thank you! I was feeling a little low and thought dressing up might help.”

Zale looks a bit concerned. “Why? Are you missing home?” He himself feels no homesickness; he loves his parents, but it’s been great to get away and start life on his own terms. But he understands the pull of home, that long slow tug in the direction of hearth and family.

Delia looks a little wistful, “Not home so much as the ocean. The sound of the gulls crying in the wind. The pound of the surf on the sand.” Her eyes turn a soft blue as she thinks of it.

Delia no longer quite seems to be present there at the cafe.

Zale scratches the tip of his nose again and nods sadly. “Well, that’s kinda like home to you, I guess. Pity the river’s so awful, I guess. I’d have loved to go swimming in it.”

At the mention of the Ankh, Delia is pulled back a bit rudely from her reverie. She makes a little moue of disgust. “I don’t know how they can even call that a river!”

Zale shrugs. He himself grew up in a place with pristine lakes and rivers, so he doesn’t get it either. “Yeah, I don’t get it either.”

Delia turns her gaze to meet Zale’s, her eyes a lovely shade of blue. “Please tell me in all your wandering (ahem, when you should have been at the temple, ahem) that you’ve found somewhere lovely to go swimming? I need to feel water on my skin soon. Bath water doesn’t count.”

Zale bumps his long legs awkwardly against the underneath of the table and winces for a second. “Actually, I did but it might be too cold for us now. It’s getting on to winter.”

Zale says with a Lancrastian accent: It’s a place called Hyde Park, up in Ankh, and it’s got a really great lake and a playground.

Zale doesn’t mention the half an hour he spent swiming there, his own eyes a deep blue in the cafe’s dim light. “Anyway, it’s nice.”

Delia replies: Oh! I’m sure it won’t be so bad if I wear a swimsuit. It’s not like the ocean is all that warm. Of course, that would mean I’d probably need a swimsuit.

Zale’s mouth is a perfect o. “What? Er. Don’t you always?”

Zale hurriedly says with a Lancrastian accent: Never mind.

Delia innocently says: Oh no. I never bother with one.

Zale’s face goes a deep red. “Oh.”

Delia continues absent-mindedly, “I like to feel all of the water and besides, who wants tan lines?”

Zale grins as he gets to his feet. “Well, we’ll go there one day.” Then, in a renewal of what he said earlier, he adds, semi-seriously, “But I will go to temple tomorrow.”

Zale asks: Coming?

Delia giggles, “Good. Otherwise, you’ll be so far behind you won’t even see my wake!” She stands up and grabs Zale’s arm affectionately. “Yeah, I have a few more hours until my Djelian lesson.” She snuggles in to his side in preparation for braving the chill outside the door.

About Delia

Hailing from a small fishing village just on the edge of Genua, Delia is following the Leclair family tradition of going to Ankh-Morpork for study at the Temple of Fish. Like most nineteen year olds, she is an amusing mix of worldliness and naïveté.
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