tibetanmethod | (no subject)

(no subject)

Heidi is working the night shift tonight, as she has been for the last several weeks. Norma Jennings is in Brazil, and that means that Shelly -- Norma's second in command at the Double R Diner -- needs to be around during the day.

She looks up as the bell on the door jingles; Cooper is holding it open for Moiraine. He gestures to a booth on the lefthand side, and they take a seat.

When Heidi makes her way over, Cooper and Moiraine find out that today is a special on cherry pie, since cherries are in season. Also, there is peanut butter.

Cooper leans forward and says to Moiraine, very confidentially, "I recommend the cherry."

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Moiraine arches an eyebrow at Cooper, and glides after the Log Lady into the cabin.

"As it happens, I am pleased to see you again, Margaret."

"And when it's not happening?" The Log Lady sits, demurely, at the table, reaching for the teapot. "What about then?"

Cooper is in the process of pulling out a chair for Moiraine.

His head lifts, and his eyes go to the closed door leading to another room.

There are footsteps coming from that room.

"Then it might well depend upon the circumstances in place at the time, would you not agree?" she counters, with serene poise.

Moiraine seats herself gracefully in the chair that Cooper holds for her, but her dark-eyed gaze follows his to the door for a brief moment.

No glow appears around her, but she holds herself ready.

The Log Lady's eyes go to the door.

They narrow.

They narrow, and go to Cooper, and back to Moiraine. "I don't think it matters. How do you take your tea?"

"Plain, or with perhaps a small touch of honey if the blend is particularly strong," the Aes Sedai says, meeting her gaze easily.

The Log Lady pours, eyes on Cooper as he sits.

And as she puts down the teapot (apparently the blend isn't strong), Cooper says, quietly, "Margaret, where's your log?"

"Do you ever feel the need to rest, Agent Cooper?"

Says Cooper: "Often."

The Log Lady takes a very graceful sip of tea.

Moiraine curves her fingers around the china shell of her cup, and then says, tilting her head toward the door,

"Will you not ask your companion to join us? It would seem from the pacing that there might be some restlessness."

The Log Lady's eyes narrow.

"He doesn't like tea."

"Very well," she says, evidently untroubled by the sharpness of the other woman's gaze.

"I have known others who do not, in fact."

Dale Cooper is very serene.

Cooper gets a suspicious scowl.

Moiraine takes a sip of her tea, tranquilly observing them both.

When all else fails.

Cooper embarks on a crash course in Tibetan history during the period in which the Mongols invaded.

" -- the same one as Samuel Taylor Coleridge wrote about." Beat. "You know, he was supposed to have dreamed that poem."

"It is not impossible, I should think," she murmurs.

"Many things can be learned in dreams, after all." A beat. "Certain sorts of dreaming are closely connected to prophecy, in fact."

Now it's Cooper's turn to look (almost) sharply at Moiraine.

It's the Log Lady's turn to look serene.

She glances back at him, then takes another sip of tea before setting the cup on its saucer with a precise 'clink' and turning to Margaret.

"Or perhaps I should ask you of such matters, given your particular insights when last we met."

Another round of footsteps from the other room.

"Perhaps," the Log Lady says, blinking.

Not owlishly, though.

"Although you do not seem to have your log with you as confidant and informer," she murmurs. "One wonders if the change has affected your perceptions?"

"Drink your tea," she says, shortly. "It's going to get cold."