The Drunk Poet visions in coffee grounds

Things had been pretty stable lately. There had been a steady stream of work, which meant he was able to keep his wandering mind busy and try to forget about the weird symptoms that had plagued him over the Christmas season. He hadn't quite been able to pinpoint exactly what he could call it. It wasn't exactly like derealisation. Or was it? Ideally a psychiatrist or therapist would be the best person to all, but it was happening less frequently now. Seemed a waste of their time to ask about something that shouldn't be much of a problem. So he just kept working, kept his head down, and occasionally treated himself to a quiet coffee at whichever shop happened to be closest after a long day's work.

Giving the barista a restrained smile and a gentle whisper of gratitude, he lifted his black coffee by the saucer and grabbed his chocolate muffin with the other hand. Maybe he ought to have opted for a tray, but the thought escaped his mind the moment he was just a few steps away from the counter, now focused on getting to a table. It wasn't especially busy, so Spencer essentially had his pick of some of the finest places to sit by himself staring sleepily into his coffee. In the end he chose a spot near a window where he could choose to people watch and settled down, yawning very unattractively. Good thing no one was watching him.

Rubbing his tired eyes with the back of his left hand, he reached out to pick up his cup with the right, and immediately it felt as though he'd plunged through a thick layer of ice into a frozen lake beyond, all of his senses numb and his body ripped away. It was as though someone had assaulted his brain with a clip that didn't belong to him and he was suddenly in the hands of a vaguely familiar looking person, held between gentle fingers like he was the size of a sparrow. And just as quickly as the clip had enveloped his mind, it dissolved.

And he leapt out of his chair with a loud yelp of pain, realising that he had dropped his scorching hot coffee into his lap.

Catriona loved curling up with a good book and a cup of tea, especially on her days off. Rather than do so at home like she normally did, the psychic decided to treat herself to a day out at the Drunk Poet. Not only would she be able to read something new (nevermind the overwhelming number of books on her shelves at home she hadn't read yet), but changing up her environment would hopefully inspire her. Stuck in her place of work, and lacking the motivation to leave, Cat really needed to feel inspired.

The redhead had already been there for an hour perusing the different books on selection before finally settling on one and taking a seat at a table downstairs to read with her cup of Earl Grey. Unfortunately, she couldn't remember the fun name the barista had told her when she'd asked for one.

Cat was in the midst of reading her new horror book by Grady Hendrix when she heard someone at the table near her yell out in pain. It only took her a few seconds to realize that he somehow spilled coffee on himself, and she grimaced in sympathy for the poor guy. Reaching for the napkins next to her tea, Cat calmly handed them over. It wasn't much, but it might help a bit. "Here." She leaned over with a friendly smile. "I can grab some more if you need."

"What?" His pained gaze fell upon the stranger, his eyebrows practically screwed together in quickly fading agony. The good thing about taking his coffee black with very little sugar was that it cooled quickly after dispersing and didn't stick to the skin, so after the initial burn he was really left with a lukewarm pool of liquid in his lap. No major harm done. But his mind was still elsewhere, feeling fragmented and dulled by the weird vision that had just consumed his existence for a few long seconds. The purple of his eyes slowly faded back to his natural deep brown. At least ten empty seconds had passed since he'd turned his fractured attention to the stranger. He realised he was staring and didn't know what expression his face was making, aside from pain and probable confusion. She was holding napkins out to him, now he was actually seeing her. Was there something wrong with his face?

No, idiot. Your spilled coffee. Your burned legs.

Reality began to trickle in, slowly, like some force that Spencer couldn't control was reconstructing the world around him piece by piece. Maybe it should have been comforting to know that he was coming back to the here and now. It wasn't.

"Oh. Yeah. Thank you; sorry... I'm so sorry..." Trembling, through pain-adrenaline or anxiety-adrenaline, he accepted the offered napkins and turned away slightly, patting himself down. Where was the cup? That seemed important. Was it broken? Where was the table in relation to his legs? Was it bright in here or was his mind focusing too hard on the overhead lights?

His eyes were purple.

His eyes were purple!!

Catriona's mouth fell open slightly as she watched in concerned fascination, her hand still outstretched as the man seemed to pull himself back together. She had been so wrapped up in what happened that it had taken her a moment to notice the change in eye colour. Was she in the presence of someone like her? It took him a little while to finally respond, and Cat waited patiently, thousands of questions already running through her mind. Had he just done something?

"It's not a problem, really," Catriona replied, trying to remain calm despite the nagging questions in her brain. He seemed to be struggling, and she felt compelled to help him. "I spill coffee on myself all the bloody time," She added with a nervous smile before she grabbed a few more napkins and stood up to assist the man. She saw the coffee cup, somehow still intact on the ground under his table, and reached down to pick it up before gently placing it down. Wanting to give him some privacy to clean himself up, Catriona focused on wiping some of the excess coffee off the surface of the table.

"Can I buy you another cup, mate?" Catriona finally offered with a warmer smile this time.

The colour lingered in his irises as he dabbed at the cooling coffee. It was something he couldn't see for himself, but it was accompanied by the weirdest feeling, a pinprick sensation in his fingertips that spread into his palms, not quite like pins and needles but every bit as uncomfortable. It faded as he made the futile attempt to dry his pants, and so he brushed it off easily as being incidental. Maybe when he stood up he'd clenched his fists in a weird way? Maybe it was a side effect from his medication? If it didn't happen again, he would just forget about it.

Much easier than he'd be able to forget about burning himself with a fresh cup of coffee, anyway. He hadn't ordered the coffee to wake himself up but if that had been the goal, he'd achieved it. After the initial confusion, he was beginning to notice everything sharply. The ambient noises in the café, the uncomfortable clammy feeling of spilled coffee on his thighs. He didn't immediately respond to the stranger's reassurance, but did smile crookedly, eyebrows arched in sheepish gratitude.

"I'll... maybe I'll buy another myself," he murmured, bunching up some of the wet fabric against a fresh napkin. "Thanks for your help... you really didn't have to..."

He seemed out of it. Cat supposed it was a possible side effect of his power or maybe it was just the shock of spilling coffee on oneself. She knew that powers came with side effects, hers included. She'd discovered that much from meeting other psychics over the last month. Cat placed the wet napkins on her table, figuring she could dispose of them later.

The man declined her offer of buying him another cup of coffee, and she didn't press the matter further. "It's really not an issue, mate. I'm happy to help." The Scot grinned then gestured to the empty chair across from him. "This might be a bit forward, but do you mind if I sit with you?" Catriona asked, eager to get to know this potential psychic some more. It wasn't every day that she met someone with purple eyes. Well, there was that one time. Purple was definitely a cooler colour than boring old silver.

"Oh, I'm Cat, by the way." She smiled enthusiastically and held out her hand in greeting.

It was kind of nice when people were like this lady. 'Happy to help', she'd said. In Spencer's experience, people weren't always especially kind. Sometimes it felt like they noticed his general awkwardness and difficulty reading social cues and took it to mean they could be as cruel as they wanted to him. He still couldn't really figure out why. What did they stand to gain from being rude to a stranger? Why go out of your way to be an ass? But this lady wasn't an ass, so he wasn't going to get himself stuck on that thought as he continued to pat himself dry on now-damp napkins. Maybe he should buy her a coffee, to thank her for being so kind. Most people would simply have looked away, noses scrunching further into their books.

Before he could say much about the situation or ask if she wanted a fresh whatever-she-was-drinking, she asked to sit with him, which sort of scrambled his thoughts for a moment. Was there any reason to not allow her to sit with him? Not one he could think of as a mop appeared out of nowhere and startled him into stepping back, wobbly. Then he offered the staff member attached to the mop an apologetic glance and began to find the situation... uncomfortable.

Coffee. He needed coffee.

"Uh, sure! If you want," he finally responded, digging around in his pocket for his wallet. "I'm just gonna go get another coffee; you want anything?" It wasn't weird to ask, right? He didn't think so. Why should it be?

Oh no. Cat had made things awkward by asking to sit with him. He obviously didn't want to be disturbed and there she was, disturbing him! Damnit, Cat! The man was clearly just trying to have a cup of coffee in peace and there she was imposing herself on him all because he was probably a psychic.

Catriona threw a smile at the staff member who appeared rather suddenly with a mop then glanced back at the man. The last thing he needed to do was buy her a cup of coffee. Maybe this had been a bad idea. Panic brain set in as her introduction possibly went unnoticed and she dropped her hand and shook her head. "You don't have to do that but I appreciate it," She answered as warmly as possible before her smile faltered. "Sorry, I didn't mean to impose on you. I just get a wee bit excited when I meet other..." She quietly trailed off for a moment, not wanting to out the man in the middle of the coffee shop in case anyone overhead them. Of course, Cat was getting more comfortable with people knowing about her but that didn't mean it was the same for everyone. Most people probably relied on secrecy to keep themselves safe.

Cat lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "...people." She decided on, idiotically. Tempted to facepalm, Cat forced herself to stand up taller as if her sentence made a lot of sense and wasn't a strange way to say a normal thing at all.

...huh?

Whatever the lady -- didn't she introduce herself? what did she say her name was? -- had said in that conspiratorial manner did not at all click in Spencer's mind. Other people? Was there something about him that she felt matched something about her? But they didn't even know each other... so how could that be possible? Really wanting to not fixate on that and find himself dipping into a paranoid spiral, though it worried him, he chose to give a tentative chuckle as if maybe it was a joke (?) he was too stupid to get and nodded, looking down at the floor just beyond her.

"Sure, um..." he offered lamely, placing his hands loosely at his hips for want of something better to do with them. "So I-I'll just... be right back, okay? I'll get you... something."

With an awkward, aborted half-wave, he fled to the relative safety and familiarity of the counter, where he apologised profusely for being such a klutz and ordered himself a fresh coffee and a packet of salted caramel shortbread for his companion. It wasn't much but it seemed the right thing to do somehow.

With new coffee and shortbread on a tray, he crept back towards the table as though something invisible might spring from nowhere to trip him up, then settled back into his seat and slid the packet of shortbread to... damnit, what did she say her name was?

"I know it's not much but it... it might go well with your tea?" he said as if it was an actual question and not a statement, as if he wasn't certain about his own opinions. "Um... I'm sorry; I think you told me your name but I didn't quite catch it." Smooth, Spencer.

Other people?! Oh, Cat. She smiled again and nodded, figuring she had probably weirded the guy out. Would have been better had she just said other psychics. Oh well. There was time to get into it more now that she had imposed herself at his table. She was about to insist he not get her anything as she grabbed her cup of tea and slid into the seat opposite his, but opted not to. Cat didn't want to make things even more uncomfortable.

"Thanks mate, that's much appreciated," Cat replied as he returned with something resembling shortbread. She accepted the packet and sat it in front of her, not quite ready to dig in yet. "That's all right. There was a lot goin' on." Cat smiled, her shoulders relaxing some as she settled in at her new table, hoping her own awkwardness would pass. "Name's Cat. I don't normally impose myself on others in this way," Cat began to explain, both hands cupped around her mug of tea. Her voice lowered again. "It's just when I saw your eyes, I knew I met someone else like me." She paused, then for clarity added, "You know, a psychic."

As soon as the shortbread left his possession, Spencer honestly forgot it really existed. It was hers now and if she wanted to take it home or give it away or eat it now, that was very much up to her. He smiled at her gratitude, and wanted to say much about how it really should be him thanking her because she'd gone out of her way to help him when she really didn't have to, but the words got jumbled up between brain and mouth, so he swallowed them and offered a lame 'sure' instead, gingerly grasping the handle of his cup as if it was going to bite him. What if the same thing happened again? What if coffee was the trigger? Could coffee be a trigger for stuff like this?

Pulling himself out of his thoughts for long enough to pay attention to the conversation and actually catch the woman's name, he directed his gaze towards her face and tried not to make it look like he was staring too hard. Cat. Easy name to remember! Cat. Like... like a cat. Pretty!

It sort of sounded like she was gearing up to apologise for asking to sit with him, which had been something that surprised him but didn't feel like something to apologise for necessarily?
So he opened his mouth to dismiss her worries when she spoke of his eyes and being a psychic, and then he was just staring her with his mouth open.

Psychic?

...what?

Uh. Maybe she was more like him than he'd realised.

"O-oh? What makes you.... say that?"

"Aye, well your eyes were purple a few minutes ago. After you spilled your coffee," She spoke a bit slowly, eyebrows knit together as she tried to fight her confusion. "Mine turn silver whenever I do something magical. Like this."

Cat stole a breath inward, spreading her palms out on the table as she focused on her own magic, trying to ignore the rest of the shop. Fortunately, no one was really looking their way anymore. Hazel eyes flashed silver and a cool chill travelled down her spine, causing her to shudder in response. Yup, he was definitely supernatural. After a moment, her eyes returned to their regular shade, and she smiled. "That's something psychics can do. Tune in to other supernaturals around them. I just got a chill down my spine, so that means someone in this room is something, and considering your eyes were purple a minute ago, my guess is it's you." She lifted her hands, and opened the packet containing the shortbread with a triumphant grin.

His what were what? No... no, his eyes were brown. Maybe they could be mistaken for purple? In certain lights? Or... or she really was some kind of delusional, which was going to be difficult to navigate. As he tried to figure out how he was going to deal with this kind of conversation, her eyes shone the silver colour she talked about and startled him, and that tingle in his fingertips flared up again.

Uh.

Were... were hallucinations things you could catch?

Was he just being... really suggestible right now?

Cat seemed... pleased with herself. Smug. The Cat who got the cream.

Spencer was on the very opposite end of the spectrum. Confused and now a little agitated. Not a good mood for him, difficult to deal with.

"... I'm sorry. What?"

The man's reaction confused her more. Had she imagined his eyes were purple? No... no, they had been. The colour had lingered long enough for her to take notice of it after he'd spilled his coffee.

Maybe...

Maybe he just didn't know?

Oh.

Cat's grin vanished as she looked at him, and she set down the packet, not really thinking she deserved a cookie anymore. "Sorry, I didn't mean to, um, weird you out..." She breathed softly, feeling a little bad. This wasn't going well. Not nearly as well as it had gone when Grace had sat down at her table at The Kiln. Then again, Cat had known she was a psychic. So someone suddenly joining her and talking about psychic things hadn't weirded her out. How did you tell someone they were a psychic without causing a panic?

"Well, um, do you know about psychics? People who can do things like, well, it's like magic, but I guess it's not really clear what it is that causes it..." She started to ramble, her nervousness returning. "Like I can move, um, plants and make 'em grow and stuff without, uh, without touching them." Cat studied his expression carefully, hoping she wasn't entirely fucking things up. Should have just asked for his name. Shit, she didn't even know his name!

The ship had sailed a long time ago on weirding him out, honestly, but he wasn't going to say that out loud no matter how rattled he was at that precise moment. He was a little too busy trying to ground himself in reality. A therapist had once told him to try to imagine roots growing into the ground and keeping him anchored, but the roots were growing longer than he was and this shock was wrenching them out of the ground faster than they could expand.

Sort of strange how the metaphor even played out in his mind; he could see the image clearly. Would be comical if he wasn't currently having a little bit of an identity crisis. Was it even that? It was so hard to put names to feelings!

Cat wasn't smiling any more, so she must have realised that she'd rather upset Spencer with that startling revelation that he was in fact a wizard.

And now he felt bad because she was upset.

Psychics. What did he know? Not much at all. Spencer had heard it said that people claiming to be psychics were either lying for attention or money, or they were very unwell. Recently he'd heard a little more about supernatural beings being actually real, which sort of made things complicated for people he knew, but he didn't know anyone inclined that way himself. Did he?

"I'm sorry," he repeated, processing everything so slowly all of a sudden. "I just... I don't think I understand, maybe? You can... grow... plants?" Couldn't most people?

Cat listened with a reassuring smile on her lips as the man apologized and claimed he didn't understand. Okay, so she hadn't scared him off — not totally. "No need to apologize. If anyone should be sorry it's me. Here I am jumping right into things when I don't even know your name..." Cat lingered for a moment, waiting to see if he might introduce himself.

"And yeah, I can. When I first found out, I was only seventeen and didn't really have anyone to talk to about it," She replied before glancing around them. There were some potted plants sitting in the window next to them. It wouldn't be difficult to reach out and grow a few leaves but Cat opted instead to go at the man's pace. Not her own. The nervous flutter she had felt previously was replaced with an overwhelming need to be calm and collected for both of them.

"I can show you if you like," Catriona added softly.

Hs brain was still processing every last bit of information slowly and carefully, as though he was afraid to miss something important in the spaces between the words, so when Cat started fishing for a name, it didn't come, and his gaze drifted off to the potted plants not too far away. There was nothing particularly interesting about them. They were just plants, basic things, easy to care for. A quick mist every day was probably all the maintenance they required.

He was bouncing away from the discomfort and fixating on anything else. But he should be listening to the conversation. Engaging. Properly.

Or should he?

She offered to show him her power. He didn't think he wanted to see it right now. But then... maybe seeing it would prove that he wasn't getting sick again?

Or all it would prove was that she was psychic. Maybe.

It was hard to trust reality when your perception of it was already shaky.

"My name is Spencer," he finally muttered, rubbing his forehead. It felt like he'd caught up. "Sorry. I know you asked me before. I'm sorry. It's just... been a tough few months. Not that I wanna burden you with that or that I'm making excuses just..." He shrugged and placed his hands back on his cup. "Yeah." No weird hallucinations, no tingling fingers. Okay. So the coffee cup was maybe not the trigger?

Spencer. His name was Spencer. All right, Spencer, old chum. Cat smiled gently and shook her head at his apology. "It's nice to meet you, Spencer. Though, I'm sorry it's been a hard few months for you." She wondered if that meant he'd been a psychic for that long and hadn't known it. It was possible things were difficult for other reasons but she chose not to pry. If he wanted to talk about it, he could.

"I know that it's a difficult thing to believe exists — magic, or whatever you want to call it." It had taken Cat a while before she believed it herself. "And it may mean nothing coming from a total stranger, but it is real." So were vampires. So were shifters. All real. It was a wonder there were any human beings still around.

Catriona decided she would wait to give him a demonstration, feeling like it might be a little soon to try it again. Instead, she looked from the plants to the man and said, "Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

He accepted her sympathies with a gentle nod, looking down into his cup. Suddenly the act of taking a single sip of scalding coffee seemed like a dangerous task, almost impossible. What if the weird encapsulating visions happened again? He still had to find its source, the trigger, whatever it happened to be. Touching the cup this time didn't cause anything alarming to happen, but what if it did the next time he picked it up? Or worse still... what would happen if it turned out sitting down was the trigger? Or being sleepy? Or taking his medication at the wrong time of day?

There were so many variables in the situation. Would it be impossible to find the cause?

He took a careful sip as she spoke, then shakily, steadily, lowered the cup back into the saucer. Nothing happened.

She reassured him that magic was real, then asked if she could ask him something.

It was almost always a difficult question someone wanted to ask when they said that.

"Sure?" he responded, almost unsurely, looking up at her again.

Cat observed Spencer as he focused on his cup of coffee, eyes slightly narrowed in contemplation. When he looked back up at her, she smiled at his uncertain sounding 'sure', prompting her to continue.

"Did something, um, happen? You know earlier before you spilt your coffee or maybe after?" She inquired, voice calm and quiet. His eyes had been purple when she'd offered to help him after all, which only led to her to believe he had done something, likely by accident. "If it did, and you want to talk about it, I'm a good listener." One who was possibly overstepping some boundaries but she couldn't help herself. Cat felt compelled to help the man. No one had been around in her life when she first discovered what she could do. Catriona wished there had been someone to quell her fears at the time and help her understand her power. Maybe if there had been, she wouldn't have taken as long to sort things out.

Had something happened? Yes, something quite disturbing had happened. A weird vision, a long moment of derealisation-like paralysis. Was it fair to call it paralysis? But it had felt like he couldn't move. He couldn't really do much of anything but be held captive, terrified. Did she really want to hear about this? She didn't know him at all. He didn't know her. It wasn't fair to dump his psychiatric issues on a random stranger. Even if maybe she was pretty similar to him in ways he couldn't guess.

Slowly, after a long pause of consideration, he nodded. "I just... I just don't know if you want to hear about it. "

Spencer nodded and offered a few words of uncertainty regarding Cat's comfort level, and she smiled softly. It was kind of him to be considerate of her. In her mind, it was obvious she wanted to hear about it but she didn't want to scare off this new psychic. "I do if you are comfortable enough to share. If not, it's not a problem." It was a big ask of a stranger, Cat knew this, and yet she asked it anyway. She felt compelled to help him. Maybe she was putting too much pressure on herself in the process but that wasn't something the redhead was intent on thinking about at the present time. Catriona glanced down at her tea, to give Spencer some privacy to decide whether or not he wanted to share what happened with the coffee.

She thought he was psychic, that his eyes had changed colour when he dropped his coffee mug. He had been fairly sure that things had been stable and consistent in recent years, no major episodes of psychosis, but a nagging part of his mind infected his thoughts with the notion that everything he was currently experiencing could be a construction from a sick section of his brain. It was so hard to trust your reality when the impossible sometimes felt so tangible.

It wasn't fair to flood her with that information. But she seemed earnest and genuine in her gentle insistence on helping him out.

He didn't trust the situation. But maybe there was a reason they met.

He took a long sip of coffee from a trembling mug, then fixed his gaze on a tiny scratch on the table.

"A hallucination, I think," he murmured, expecting the conversation to become awkward and sour. "I saw someone of impossible size holding me, like I was a baby bird. I couldn't move. I could barely think. I didn't even notice I'd spilled my coffee until it was over." It sounded worse out loud. It sounded ridiculous, nonsense, crazy. His eyes sought out another thing to focus on past their table. "It's been happening... frequently. I spoke to my psychiatrist and got my medication increased but it just... makes me feel weird." He wondered if he ought to explain what kind of medication. Or would she make the connection on her own? Was it weird to just out yourself as schizophrenic to a near-stranger? Was it weirder than discussing visions of being the size of a baby bird? "I'm schizophrenic. So. Visions are kind of a problem." Maybe he should have kept his mouth shut. He felt his cheeks heat up and saw the slightest pink tinge in the bottom of his field of vision.

cw: mentions of mental illness

---

Cat listened as Spencer outlined his hallucination and nodded her head without judgement. It was quite the power, and she had to wonder what it meant. She hadn't yet heard of a psychic who experienced hallucinations, but that didn't mean they didn't exist. As the man continued to speak, however, Cat's expression softened empathetically. She had experienced bouts of depression and even some insomnia before but never schizophrenia. So while Catriona could empathize, she couldn't exactly say she knew what it was like to be a person with schizophrenia and a possible new psychic on top of it all. She didn't blame him for being skeptical, nor did she want to dismiss his experience with mental illness.

"I can only imagine how hard that must be," Cat replied. "I'm sorry if anything I've said has been confusing or upsetting." She didn't know of course, although that didn't excuse her rushing into things without thinking of how Spencer may have felt about it. Not to mention they were in a public space where discussing such things openly could be difficult, especially with a stranger.

Here came the sympathies, the soft murmurings, the metaphorical gloved handling from someone who wanted to be kind but who was poorly equipped for the specific situation. He didn't blame her for it. At least it wasn't uncomfortable rejection, the distancing behaviour of someone who would rather not deal with this at all, swiftly offered but hollow apologies and physical removal from his company.

Of course the whole conversation had been somewhat upsetting. But it wasn't her fault that it had been. It was no one's fault. It was just how things were, unfortunately. Pursing his lips a little, he shook his head, dismissing her concerns as gently as he could.

"I've lived with it for a long time," he said, attempting to shrug it off, to downplay things. "It's not really new, just... I dunno. I guess this kind of hallucination is new? And I don't know... what kind of power that would be." He should outright reject the idea of powers being a thing. His head still felt fluffy.

So the hallucinations like the one he described were new. But what did they mean? "I don't either," Cat replied honestly and simply, wishing she could be of more help. Maybe someone on the psychic forums would know what he was dealing with?

"There are some online forums for this sort of thing. I've yet to do a deep dive myself but I've heard that a lot of psychics connect this way. Maybe someone on there will know more about this sort of power?" Catriona paused, mulling it over some more before another question came to mind.

"Have you noticed any patterns with them?" She nursed her cup of tea and set it back down before finally taking a bite out of the shortbread.

He didn't really react when she admitted she didn't have any additional insight to what exactly these hallucinations were. He hadn't really expected her to know. It wasn't a failing on her part. She hadn't left yet. That was a positive thing. She really did seem genuine in her desire to help.

" I'm not really good at like... forums and stuff," he quietly admitted. Honestly, he wasn't exactly computer illiterate but he didn't really know what he should be looking for or how. But the subject changed to patterns, and Spencer let himself fall silent entirely, thinking hard about that question. There really seemed not be no rhyme or reason for the timing, other than stress. But then it would happen even when he wasn't stressed, and that would make him stressed. "I can't think of any. I've been keeping a journal but it... doesn't really tell me anything. ...sorry. "

"That's okay." Cat tried to reassure him. She finished nibbling on the shortbread, setting a piece of it down on a napkin to finish later. Took a sip of tea to wash it down.

A thought suddenly occurred to Catriona. Just because Spencer wasn't really good with forums, didn't mean she couldn't search for answers on his behalf. So long as he was okay with it.

"If you like, I can do some research. Ask around and see what I find," Cat offered. She could even start with the people she knew and go from there.

She was being more patient than she needed to be. It made Spencer feel guilty just for sitting there with her, taking up her time. He should probably make some excuse to leave, though he'd barely touched his new coffee. Damp pants were a good enough reason to bail, though, right?

Managing a sip of his drink, he blinked, surprised that she would offer to look for answers on his behalf. Why he was surprised was unclear, really. It was consistent with her behaviour so far. Selfless, kind. He decided he liked her, though a part of his mind was adamant that people did not perform kindness like this for free.

He did his best to ignore that notion.

"You don't have to go to so much trouble, " he insisted, and he offered a gentle smile and hoped that he was, in actual fact, smiling gently and not grimacing. "I'm sure I'll figure things out. Like you did?" It was a question, since he didn't really know her story.

Cat wanted to tell Spencer it wasn't any trouble for her to research things on his behalf, in fact, she was sort of intrigued by this possible hallucinatory power. She opted to respect his boundaries, however. Besides, some people just liked to do things on their own. Cat could understand that even if going it alone was often a more difficult path.

"I'm sure you will," Catriona replied with an encouraging smile. "It took me a while to accept who I am but it's definitely been easier since I've met other people like me." Like us, she wanted to say but held back.

It was starting to get a little late, and Cat knew she'd have to return to Hawknell soon or risk riding her bike in the dark, which wasn't a pleasant experience. She reached into her bag, found a pen and quickly scribbled her digits across a clean napkin laying on the table. She slid it over to Spencer, hoping he would feel comfortable enough to reach out. "Here's my number. I shouldn't really take up any more of your time but I'd love to stay in touch if you're interested."

It didn't seem like she was dismissing his ability to fend for himself, which was also nice. He had expected this whole conversation to go very differently. Not that he really thought she would freak out or pose him any kind of danger, but he was slightly worried about things turning sour. Now that things had settled (for the moment), Spencer was feeling calmer, more in control. As if he'd forgotten the whole conversation about psychics and growing plants (with one's mind? maybe?) and mental illness. Maybe he was trying to, for now.

As she searched for pen and paper (or napkin), he sipped his coffee, slowly. Not so much savouring it. More being careful.

Immediately putting the napkin into a pocket that wasn't damp or ruined, he thanked her quietly. Maybe he would never call her at all, but it was kind of impolite to just... leave the napkin on the table.

"You gonna be okay? You live nearby?" Was it weird to offer help to someone who was offering you help?

Cat smiled as he pocketed the napkin, then started to gather her belongings. She glanced back up at the man as he asked her a couple of questions. "Oh, aye. I'll be okay." She'd ridden her bike farther than Cheyenne Point and back before. "I'm just over in Hawknell, so it's not too far of a bike ride." About an hour's ride, less if she felt like getting some real exercise in. Left out the part where she didn't like to ride long distances at night. Though if she left now she could avoid riding at night.

"It was really nice meeting you though, Spencer. Don't be afraid to reach out." Catriona stood up, offered a small wave and a parting smile. Then she turned and made her way out, sincerely hoping she'd just met a potential new friend. Cat supposed she'd just have to wait and see if he would take her up on her offer to stay in touch.

Maybe it was a little creepy for a random, shifty guy she'd just met to offer her a ride home. In his van. Good, that would sound fucking awful. So he didn't make the offer and sat with the guilt instead, nodding as she explained her biking expertise. She was a grown woman. She'd be okay.

With a kind farewell, and an insistence that he could indeed reach out to her if he needed to, she stood to leave, and he gave her another genuine smile. "I really appreciate it... take care of yourself."

And just as quickly as she'd bounced into his evening she was gone. Now alone and cold and damp, he figured he should finish his coffee and follow suit, and just hope that he didn't have another moment of derealisation on the drive home.