Initial startlement forcefully contained, 'Jack' looks the strange Lost over, keeping his own silence for now.
She walks down the hall and picks up her jacket. She puts it on, and places her phone in one of the pockets. "Lets get going, Code Monkey..." Though she was joking with him, the joke fell flat, showing obvious signs of disappointment and possibly hurt feelings.
She turns the door knob, looking back at Parker, one tear glistening on her cheek. She hadn't even realized she was crying.
Jack couldn't help but smile at the request for information. He sat down with the pair, and said "I have something for you so off the wall that not even you guys will believe it. Survey says that something really big, and likely really bad is going to happen in about a week. There are only a few people that have been able to see it, but everyone in the Freehold seems to have a number. Most are at nine, but some are lower. Yesterday most people were at ten. And I suppose it's a sign of the times that there are enough things about to come to a boil that it's anyone's guess what happens when it hits zero."
Jack watched the pair, half expecting them to not believe him. It wasn't just some stroke of honesty that made him decide to share this information. If they were to broadcast this, it might help flush out anyone that might have any ideas. It might also cause widespread panic, since none of the likely occurrences were overly good, but that was the price to pay.
Morris stares at talon guy with dead fish eyes and swirls his drink around. "Mhm. Something's going down, ain't it. I guess I don't mind so much if sharks screw over other sharks. Even if I wanted to, there's not much I can do about that. It's in their nature after all. But I ain't no coward. Anyone saying I am is full of sh*t. You don't get to be a lord by being a coward, but you also gotta have working a frontal lobe. See that's the difference between us guys and you guys. No offense. That's just where you sharks placed your priorities. Now if your people want something with me, I'd suggest you say it now. I'm leaving soon and I think I may have something to look into regarding the former queen."
After stepping back into the closest thing to reality, the young changeling checks his hand and then quickly sends out a message to the group cloud network.
The goblins say its dangerous to work with us. That they're raising prices to protect, but they won't say what. It's a rule set down from someone higher up. Maybe Market Prince. Any leads?
@ Jusuf
Judging from the flak jacket he's wearing, and the sword belted at his waist, now dangling down loosely, you'd say that he's either well accustomed to violence, or a very good cosplayer. From the few scars, you're thinking the former. Across his chest, a sash with a cross on it, that looks like it was once part of a stained glass window.
His mantle reads faintly of spring, but you've seen it stronger on Leon this morning. He's with some sort of entitlement, but you're not sure you've heard of it.
Still no movements from him, no attempts to go for his sword. He's staring at the body, thinking.
@ Leon
You can get in touch with one easily enough. What sort of things are you asking about?
This is good. I'm rattled enough I don't even notice a corpse?!
Studiously not responding to the 500 pound gorilla in the room, (I.E. the armed & armored Lost sitting with his feet propped up), 'Jack' proceeds to examine the rest of the scene.
All right, let's go. I really appreciate the ride, by the way. Maybe we could meet up before the thing tomorrow? Give us a chance to compare notes if anything happens overnight. Plus," he gives a small smile, "it's been good working with you. Better than I'd expected, actually. It's always fun learning new things. Shall we be off? After you, milady." His tone is light as he gives a decent attempt at a courtly bow and indicates the door. maybe if i keep things light, she'll perk back up...actually kind of pleasant when she's not being so g~%~@+ depressing...
Leon smiles as a familiar face slides into the seat across from him. "Hey steve, how's the missus?" he asks the hulking fellow with an cocky grin. Despite Steve's size and rough appearance he wasn't in fact a bruiser, but a middle rung in the organization. That wasn't to say his fists didn't get bloody now and then though...
"I know it's not really your expertise, but I was wondering what you'd heard about these murders? I got a friend who's convinced they're coming after him next, so I said I'd look into it for him."
@ Jef, Amy and Terrence (and Leon to a lesser extent)
@ Morris
Claws man is a low down courtier. It's probably unkind to call him a 'nobody', but that's what he is. Like a worryingly large number of Summer's nobodies, he thinks that unrefined, undirected violence will get him noticed. It will, to be sure, but not for the right reasons. This guy will forever be a grunt. (streetwise). Unfortunately for him, he's in no position whatsoever to threaten you. Summer needs friends wherever possible, and while the lords and ladies of the Brim might not be inclined to take sides, those on the outside would not look highly upon Summer goons running amok on third parties. Especially those sworn from the court system entirely.
He looks you up and down, apparently coming to the conclusion he can't try and beat you without a good reason. "Current Queen, you prick. Just because the city doesn't recognize it doesn't mean she lacks power. Look, maybe you don't wanna take sides. Fine. Just stay out of the way when we work over those winter b&**!es there. You keep on your side of the fence. Just stay out of the way." he grunts, before heading back to his table.
@Jack
Frosty and Snowflakes share a look.
Frosty speaks. "A source for that sort of information would be nice, you know. I mean survey, really? Got a bunch of Likert scales telling us how doomed we are hidden somewhere?"
Snowflakes cuts in. "It's just coming in from left field, is all. There is a lot of terrible goings-on that are... going on, but it seems a little vague to put onto air. Lots of panic for little fact.
"But," Frosty glares at Snowflakes as he resumes, "We won't brush your words aside. We've learnt long ago not to dismiss nearly anything. No, ah, we may not broadcast it, but we'll make sure the right people know. "
"And if it does become a problem, or you find out something solid, then we'll broadcast something. Substance, is what we need.
Frosty glances at the Summer posse. "That, and a subtle exit. I don't fancy a tangle with those clowns today."
@ Leon
Jack lifts a finger for a drink and pulls a grim face.
"What can I tell you? We're all trying to work something out, I can tell you. People having their hearts cut out makes everybody a little nervous. A few things, I guess. It wasn't any professionals in town, and it doesn't seem to be any of those religious nutters who lurk anywhere. They all did a quick clean of shop to make sure it wasn't them, but doesn't seem to be.
He takes a sip, frowns, and takes a sip of yours in comparison. "Urgh. Anyway. They're all taking place north, right? None of them seem to be in well to do areas, and they're all pretty spread out. Best guess is some kind of cult collecting for god knows what dark purpose. Money says between 12 and 24 hours between they strike again. That's all I got for ya, kid.
@ Jusuf
Taking great pains to ignore the man who is equally ignoring you, you make a thorough search of the place. You suspect from the roll of police tape, the sheet covering the body, and the fact it was marked as a crime scene on the map, that this crime was called in by the police, and that before any thorough investigation could be made this Lost walked in and made it otherwise, though you aren't sure how.
The victim was not expecting guests, you deduce, from the single setting at the dinner table. With no clear sign of breaking or entering throughout the rest of the scene, the victim either left their door unlocked (unlikely) or invited their murderer in, through guile, charm or familiarity.
Whatever the murder weapon was, they took it with them when they left. Without investigating the body you couldn't guess at that either.
Inside one of the many drawers you find a small collection of knick-knacks and junk. What you notice here is a single iron horseshoe. You notice it because it's still slightly warm to touch, and because apparently it at once stage burnt it's imprint on the bottom of the drawer.
Your silent friend at last opens his mouth in a hiss. "I sssusspect it was Loyalisstss. he says quietly.
"If you don't like the beer you really should do something about it; you guys own the place after all." he teased his friend at his grimace. He settles back, taking a sip of the beer as he considers the information. Not much unfortunately... "There doesn't seem to be anything linking them at all?" he asks, on the off chance it jogged a memory. Victims of opportunity by the sounds of it. "Well thanks anyway Steve. Keep an ear out for me if you can, and send me a message if you hear anything. Got any work you need doing?" he offers, before leaving his half finished beer--he was already tipsy enough--and pushing to his feet.
He gives the waitress a wistful look on the way out, but it didn't pay to piss where you eat as the saying went, so he forgoes the indulgence, hopping in his car and just sitting for a few minutes. It occurs to him to check in with the status of the website or whatever it is Amy and the other guy had put together.
The goblins say its dangerous to work with us. That they're raising prices to protect, but they won't say what. It's a rule set down from someone higher up. Maybe Market Prince. Any leads?
He spends a good fifteen minutes trying to figure it all out before locating the post from Jef and submitting a reply. Despite the abbreviations and shorthand of the message the other number folks should be able to decipher to general content.
Numbers can change. Rescued a hobo from an imminent beat-down, sent his number from a pulsating red 0 back to a 9. Contacts say murders happening in north, doesn't match to any professional contracts or 'the usual' nutjobs. Victims are in less well off neighborhoods. Suspect next victim in 12-24 hours.He stows his phone then, and heads in to put a few hours into work to keep his boss happy. Of course he liked his work too, especially when he was allowed a free hand; what came out then was some of his more bizarre work, but it was also some of his best stuff. He tended to kind of zone out and 'come to' a few hours later when the tatt was done with an odd feeling of longing; even he realized what that was for, but he didn't mind... he usually tried to find something to fulfill that longing soon after however.
Tonight it seems is no different; a burly Samoan wanders into the shop about a half hour after he arrives and offers up a broad brown upper arm, and Leon sets to work with his needle, chatting merrily with his canvas.
"I suspect I'm going to regret not donning gloves before this..." 'Jack' replies absently as his own gaze touches each spot he knows he touched a surface. "Little to do about it now, I suppose." he continues as he still proceeds to pull out a handkerchief & rub briskly at every surface he can reach. "What leads you to that conclusion?" 'Jack' asks as he finally turns to the sheet-covered corpse, flicking the sheet aside with the handkerchief.
Jack looked at the two, puzzled for a moment. "Huh? Survey? Oh, sorry, I didn't expect you to take that so seriously. Nobody I've talked to has any idea what the grand prize is, but the numbers count down every day, with a strong, and somewhat documented implication that something will happen to cause your death when your number reaches zero. There's a group involved in looking into this stuff, and I was hoping to ferret out whoever it was that put them up to it. As for a source, how about an odd sort that calls himself Lord Jeremiah? He brought me into all of this."
Jack cast a glance over his shoulder at the Summers. He shrugged when he looked back at his companions, "I'm not sure I can help you with the subtle exit, unless. Well, if you think you will be followed for some unseemly purpose, I suppose I could give you a hand with that."
@ Jusuf
The man beneath the sheets quickly provides an insight into the human body that is far beyond what most people would deem proper. The man is- was, rather, in his late thirties, with a mop of blonde hair. He was wearing a business shirt, but no suit to speak of, you think you saw it on the back of the dining room chair.
His chest is mostly hidden by the sheet still, but you can see the beginnings of a long vertical cut down his left side, and a noticeable depression where his heart would be. The cut looks very neat, nearly surgical, but a few bruises and a cut on the forehead suggest there was a struggle beforehand.
"The burnt horssesshoe seemsss to be a strong indicator of the Gentry and their minions. The collection of the heart is alsso highly ssuspiciouss. I can think of few legitimate reassons to collect such items."
He pulls back a strand of hair at a time, each lock dripping wet. "I would pray otherwise, though. It would be poor newss for the city were it true."
@Jack
"Lord Jeremiah, hmm. Yeah, alright. Means somebody important thinks it's trouble at least. You've got my interest down."
"Ourinterests, my boy. We'll keep ears on the ground and radio
if we get anything else. If we remember. We're not too bad. Now, why don't you get your friend there, he gestures to Morris discretely, "And we'll try and slip out of this place without having our faces turned inside out."
@Leon
The pain of the needle isn't overwhelming, but a low constant drilling, a steady rhythm of pulsing red. You murmur your polite responses, and default conversation answers (yeah, yeah, really, yeah), and you're so focused on harvesting the pain that it takes you a moment to realise that you've inked on nines. Nine after nine after nine in neat rows. Same as the number pulsing on his hand. You work it into the design quickly, disguising it well, but it leaves you a little shaken.
"Soooo...
Any idea why the police simply up & left?" 'Jack' finally gives in to curiosity.
"I asked them to. They were courteouss enough to comply. I have ssome rank above them, you see."
No number on the corpse, but an seven on the stranger's hand. Two days less than everyone else.
"You diddled their heads, got it."
Morris sits around, contemplating going home or after the Knighthood. He briefly considers telling the poor dumb grunt just what he thought about their 'queen', but holds his mouth shut for now. As he waits for someone to do something really dumb, he tries to see if he can pick out any higher ranking Summers nearby. Not a grunt. Someone who might know something.
Jack nodded, offering a phone number not tied to his mortal identity where he could be reached. He then got up and approached Morris, saying "Hey, I'd prefer to get out of here without a fight, and those clowns in the corner don't seem inclined to allow that, so let's go now while we can."
Morris exhales a long line of dust out of his lungs as he thinks hard. "Alright, don't say s%$* and have them follow me. The don't say s@&~ thing goes doubly for them." He slips on his brass knuckles and gestures with his neck for the others to follow him. "I don't like doing this, but something about those guys pisses me off. You'd better have something good for me later though. He maneuvers through the crowd as best as he could and uses his knowledge of the city and of the being discrete in general to get them out as quickly and quietly as possible.
Leon manages to hide his disquiet well, though he does have to pause to absorb what he's seeing. Of course it would be on his mind but he'd hoped to get away from it by working; it was normally pretty effective at clearing his mind.
It takes him a while to adjust, but eventually he works the numbers into the design, ending up constructing the entire tattoo out of different sized numbers, which taken as a whole depict an epic struggle between a number of animals--at least one or two critters always made it into his work--and sleek robotic beings. It is only when one looks closely that they can see that it is not composed of textured shapes as it first appears, but repeated numbers. He's quite pleased, even if the shock of the 9s jarred him out of his trance for a while.
The client leaves somewhat confused at the odd choice of tattoo, but happy with the vibrancy and quality of the work, leaving Leon to slump back into his chair. He gets a few other jobs, but nothing as large as the samoan, and finally hangs up his needle. He heads upstairs to refresh and spruce himself up before heading out to find somewhere to relax and find some company for the night.
@ Jusuf
"I didn't usse any powers on them if that'sss what you're thinking. I asssssure you I persuaded them away through purely mortal means.
He holds up a badge labelled 'FBI special agent'. Thiss tendss to clear space when I need it.
@Morris, Jack
Grabbing the attention of the Summer courtiers, Morris tempts them to step outside and say that to his face, or something similar. It's not hard. Rather than fight where they drink they eagerly follow him out, leaving Jack to getaway with the terrible twins. By the simple expedient of jimmying open a window in the bathroom they get a quick getaway, and within a minute Jack finds himself in a large camper van, packed with radio equipment- well hidden by the twins.
Morris on the other hand tries to slip away into the darkness once he's outside.
"Where did that bastard go?" you hear, as they fan out in the world's drunkest search pattern. They don't find Morris, but their unusual patterns makes it more difficult to escape.
Choices, then. You can try to stealth past them, or ignore subtlety and sprint past them. Either way, your exceptional streetwise check will give you a noticeable advantage as you dart down the smaller alleyways few tread.
@ Leon
Ahem. <Scene censored>.
I'll leave this to your imagination. You'll wake up tomorrow morning next to your cute young thing, entirely satisfied. Take that as you will.
Morris uses the secluded area as an opportunity to invoke some of that old darkling mojo and make his escape.
Morris concealed himself in Darkness and crept to his destination, not even really breathing while he did so. Hopefully he'd be home free by the time the darkness dispersed. Morris didn't like hiding, but his potential clients wanted to jet without confrontation so he used whatever messed up 'gifts' they'd given him to oblige.
Don't say it.
Don't say it,
-!
"Wow, you really can find those things in Crackerjack boxes!" Manages to slip out of 'Jack's' mouth before self-control cuts in.
Ducking his head & shifting his gaze from side to side in embarrassment, he continues. "So what brings a Fed to this neck of the woods? For that matter, how is it that somebody like you is a Fed?"
@ Leon
Ahem. <Scene censored>.
I'll leave this to your imagination. You'll wake up tomorrow morning next to your cute young thing, entirely satisfied. Take that as you will.
Amy drives in silence, though not because of conscious effort. "Calm down, stay upbeat, its okay....."
When she makes it to the bus stop he designated, she stops the car and looks at him. Her eyes seemed to have been leaking ink and it runs down her cheeks, chin, and neck. She has been quietly crying the entire trip.
"This the place?" She tries for a cheep smile, but fails.
When they were in the van, Jack turned to the others and said, "Do you think we could pick him up? He's unfriendly at the best of times, and I'm sure he could get away on his own, but he did do us the favor of leaving without violence."
@ Jusuf
Focusing on the mask costs a glamour point, and lasts for a minute. If you chose to do so...
In his 'human' form, the Changeling is a sleek, cleanly shaven gentleman, a mop. His hair is black, well combed and probably oiled. The flak jacket is now readable, and on the front of it is another printed FBI, along with a ID that reports his name as "Louis Cypher". Amusing, but not original at all for a changeling.
The changeling's tongue slithers out in what you can only hope to be amusement. "I would not have minded some of the popcorn to come with this badge, I will admit. I might suggest that to some of the highers up.
He stands slowly, tapping the hilt of his sword. "The business of the Feds overlaps with otherworldly realms far more than they'd like to admit. There are enough of us around to ensure the right people investigate the right crimes. Though in this case, my presence here as a fed merely coincided with my other duties."
Stretching his arms out with a horrifying creaking of bones, he sets out through the front door. "I shall be off now. Pray neither of my duties puts you in my path." With a moment's thought, he adds one last tip. "Ah, and I believe once I leave the police will return inside of ten minutes. Best not to tarry.
A moment later and the stranger with a week left is gone.
@Morris
Morris disappears into the night, leaving the Summer thugs no chance of catching him. They're far too drunk to coordinate a proper search, so by the time the darkness wears off you're far away from them, and able to breathe (wheeze?) a little easier. In fact your entire trip home you can be confident nobody saw you. Nobody knows darkness like a darkling.
@Terrence, Amy
@ Jack
Driving around for ten minutes, neither of the twins can actually find Morris. Cars were not meant to go where he went, and that goes double for this almighty van. Eventually they give up, and offer to drop you wherever you'd please. In case they can't persuade you to leave soon enough Frosty says he'll interview you for the amusement of the listeners. Probably not the best for any Changeling hoping to move up.
As they drop you off they promise to look into the matter you've put before them. As they smile and joke, you see before your eyes the numbers on their hands writhe and shift, reforming into an '8'. No, not midnight; your own number has not yet gone down. But because of your words, they now have one day less.
Nope, can't just...
"Hey!" 'Jack' blurts out before 'Luis' makes more than a half turn. "Don't know if you are aware of this already or not...
but you're marked."
"Not by me!" He quickly corrects at even a hint of antagonism on the part of 'Louis', or even simply as an instinctual precaution. "I'm here because I'm a...
Well, I'm an Oneiromancer, nobody big, but I had one of those dreams a night ago & now everyone I meet has a number, that seems to be counting down, that only I can see. You are the first person I've met who's number is lower than mine..."
"Well, except for the Vampire but I'm not certain he counts..."
Morris creeps all the way back to the Detroit city limits. He could have almost laughed at how bewildered those Summers were. He tries to keep nice and warm while he arrives in his home turf and breathes a sight of relief, which resulted in just a little bit of coughing, but he was used to that. Morris trudged into his flat which was near the pawn shop, popped open a can of beer and watched his tv using unreliable electrical wiring and less than legit cable. He calls Jack, only saying,
"Made it back safe Scales. Later"
He doses off in his armchair. When he wakes up he goes to the main hedge gate used by the Margravate of the Brim. He needed glamour if things were about to get rough. He didn't like doing it, but he had a nice spot in the hedge where he could harvest the stuff by finding trinkets and fruits and stuff. He spends what feels damn over an hour using his machete to clear away obstacles just hoarding the stuff. He thought about fixing up a little base here, but he didn't want to until he believed it was absolutely necessary.
@ Jusuf
Louis tilts his head at you, his mask fading off (And oddly, his accent back on) as he considers your words. "I sshall take your words into account when I disscuss this matter with my companions, Dream Walker. It would be most dangerous to undertake further actions in the city without some invesstigation into this matter."
FBI special agent Lizard rubs his eyes. "But be careful consorting with other ssuperatural forces. Their interests are not necessarily our own... they often clash. Still..." His hands dips to his pockets and he pulls out a card, flipping it over. After a moment there is an almost imperceptible shake of his head. "No, not yet. If you need me, ask around. We will not be hard to find." The card disappears back into his pocket.
Muttering something about having a few more murders to investigate, he turns to leave again.
@ Morris
You can't quite fill out glamour with just an hour to go, but with another hour you can. As you work away you occasionally see a few other Margraves passing by, though none of them have anything to say that you don't already know. All of them have 9's on their hands.
After the second hour you make an interesting discovery; a plant the Goblins commonly call Coupnettle. Bitter and minty, it can restore a Changeling's mental fortitude, and also makes for a great tea. You just get a single plant for now, but you get the feeling this is a good area to get more later if you looked a bit harder.
After dropping off Parker, she drives to the nearest place she knows she can get Glamor. Once she gets close, she parks her car and walks into the bar. She finds one man sobbing at the bar, apparently kicked out of his home after his wife had an affair. "Poor brute... He'll do.." She sits down next to him. "Let me buy you another drink. You've seemed to have a hard day. Care to swap stories? If not, than I think we should go by the addage misery loves company." She beckons the bartender over and orders a whiskey sour for her and whatever the man wants.
After being dropped off, Terrence skulks around the local funeral home for a while, feeding off the mourners' sorrow.
He then goes home, checks his email one last time, and goes to sleep.
Also when I said shortly, I meant my internet would be down :/ Course it would be
Eight days left. The first sight for many of you today is your gently pulsing hand, giving you that friendly reminder that today is not a good day to sleep in. Not that all of you are in familiar beds to sleep in. (Leon...)
By your preferred news collection method you all soon find out there was another murder last night. Two, in fact. Still in the north of the city. Jusuf recognizes one of the suburbs named as only a few blocks from one he went into last night, but the other is much further away. A police chief is on the radio talking about how concerned citizens should stay home and lock their doors at night. A caller asks how that will help when all the victims found have been murdered in their own homes. The chief doesn't have a good answer for that.
Radio Free Fae is trying to advocate for calm, in between also openly attempting to buy the names of several summer thugs the duo ran into last night for 'reasons best left unspecified'. They also take care to remind all fellow Winters of the meeting tonight.
Speaking of Winters, our sorrowful courtiers are challenged bright and early today. Amy receives a PM over the Winter forums, whilst Jack gets a knock on the door from another winter courtier he hadn't met yet. Both of these messages boil down this "Some of us feel that the Winter Court should be in a better place. Come meet us in the tomb of Richard Franklin. 10am. Bring a friend if you want."
(They couldn't find Terrence's house, thieves not well known for giving out home addresses. . Terrence could probably get in if Amy tells him about it, or he can meet up with REDKING if he prefers)
Leon has a very nice breakfast with his newfound ladyfriend, who seems eager to have him over again someday soon; maybe for coffee or something? There's a wicked glint in her eyes as she mentions the last part, but any further thoughts are cut short by your phone buzzing gently.
(This message goes to Jusuf too, but he presumably has less women to be distracted by)
To: 'Jack', Leon
u guys got a few come in to work plz pple 2 c u.
Greg's shorthand is painful, but he's the best texting ogre you know.
And for the gratification of all of you, 5 xp for yesterday's activities
Have a nice day!
Amy hears her computer go off in the other room and groans. "Ugg. Who wants to remind me of my miserable existance." She sits up in her bed and rubs her eyes, being reminded once again that her days are numbered. She sighs and looks at the clock; 8:45AM. "Seriously?! 8:30 in the MORNING!?" She pushes herself out of her bed, stretching and going over to her computer to see what disturbed her slumber. "Hmm.. Interesting..." She goes into her kitchen where she sees the dishes from yesterday. "Oh.. Maybe I should text Parker. He is a winter as well." She starts the coffee maker and goes to get dressed in something other than a tank top and underwear. After she is finished, she sends Parker a text.
Parker,
There is some suspicious meeting I've been invited to. Its for winters, so I thought Id inform you. 9:30am meet me at the bus stop I dropped you off at last night.
She desides to do a bit more research on the forum member that set up this meeting.
* Last Night *
"Yeah, I think I'm done here as well." 'Jack' Replies as he makes ready to follow 'Louis' out the door.
Once on the street he heads for the nearest bus-stop & heads home. Or rather, heads for the overgrown, failed neighborhood garden near his apartment where a reasonably safe Hedgegate can be found & he keeps a thermal sleeping bag concealed for just such occasions as this.
You know, a Hollow to tuck into & a Motleymate to watch my back in the meantime would come in handy at times like this...
Settling in, 'Jack' allows himself to drift into slumber, suppressing for a time his natural inclination for hypersensitivity & alertness to potential danger so that he can once more drift into somnolence in preparation for twinning his dreams with another's...
With time, as he enters the deeper slumber necessary for true dream travel, 'Jack' begins his journey, sifting through the many strands & motes of the countless dreams which flow about him, seeking out the one who offered herself unwittingly the day before...
There..
'Amy.'
'Not going to do anything to you.' He rather hurriedly adds, holding his hands up placatingly. 'I'm just...
more comfortable with passing sensitive information this way.' As you stare at him levelly, his expression shifts slightly with embarrassment. 'Ok, I'll admit. I wanted to point out how potentially dangerous it could be to just give somebody like ,' indicating you & he with gestures of his hands, 'permission, tacit or otherwise, to do something like...
well, .'
'Also, I managed to check out of the murders. There was some kind of...
kind of involvement. At the first I found a 'previously undocumented' Hedgegate & at the second...
Well, the second victim one of us. There was also an out-of-town Lost there, a Fed answering to the name of 'Louis Cypher',' He follows with a description of what sounds like a Skitterskin Beast of snakelike derivation. 'His number was two lower then either of ours. You might want to check him out. You might also want to let other Winters know.'
* This Morning *
'Jack' wakes with a bolt, much as he always does when he sleeps in the Hedge.
Well, nothing ate me. That's always a good sign...
Scrubbing the sleep from his face he quickly rolls up the sleeping bag before equally quickly making his way back to the 'Real World' side of the gate, only to be immediately accosted by Greg's text message.
Never rains but it pours. At least I can shower & shave there.
Once more concealing the sleeping bag within one of the abandoned toolboxes in the equally abandoned garden, he quickly makes his way to work, diverting only long enough to grab a fresh set of clothes to change into after making use of the facility locker-room.
Once he is properly groomed, 'Jack' makes his way to the bosses office. "You wanted to see me, boss?"
Amy just tilts her head in feigned curiosity at his ability to travel into her deams. "Ill take that into consideration next time I try to be friendly. It always ends badly for me anyway." She subtly rolls her eyes at his 'I told you so' attitude, quickly dismissing it. "He in not as nice as I thought; mearly a wolf in sheeps clothing. At least he is trying to help, and his intentions are somewhat pure, save the condescending nature of this dream visit. At least I'm fully dressed, so he isnt a perv. That would be scary... A perv that would be interested in a person like me?" She scoffs at the notion.
At the information she nods, suddenly getting serious, the glazed sorrow in her eyes melting away and being replaced by purpose. "I can do what I can to get info on this guy. But remember, Im just a computer slash book nerd. Im no people person, as Im sure you can tell. As for letting the Winters know, I know a forum I can poke around in, get the info out anonymously... The ones I know Ill contact, and Ill put all you told me on the cloud asap."
She yawns sleepily. "So, dream weaver, can we go to a beach somewhere to continue this conversation?" She smiles at you, a sarcastic look in her eyes.
With what news Jack had gleaned overnight, he had two ideas over who to take with him. His first was Eliza, since it was appearing that she was slated to be killed in her home, like all the others, and he needed to find a better place for her. He could do that afterward, however, and she didn't have much to gain from Winter court politics.
He called Morris instead, saying "I know you aren't much for politics, but how would you like to see a schism develop?" He also mentioned the time and place, saying that Morris could be his guest if he chose.
Parker wakes up to the sound of his phone buzzing. 9:15? Who would call at this ungodly hour? Figures...it's Amy...a meeting...meet her when?...s$&#!
I'll get there as quick as I can. Might be a few minutes late.
He throws on some clothes, hops on his motorcycle, and rushes to meet Amy. Arriving around 9:35-9:40, he parks his cycle and asks, "I hope I am not too late - and yet the gentleman."
Morris took the leaves of the Coupenettle back to his flat and made himself some tea out of it. He poured it into a thermos just like his pa used to. He figured it might be useful. He stood outside his shop, watching the cars go by before he got the call from Jack.
"What? A meeting? With those guys. Daaamn, you know, I normally wouldn't touch this garbage with a 40 ft pole, but you make it sound like a gas. I'll show up. For about, 20 minutes I guess. Bound to be alright for business."
That guy was a serious guy after all. And if he came knocking, it must have been some serious stuff. He repeated his mantra in his head. Don't get too involved; it's just business.
Naturally, he comes packing. Trust was in short supply. He put his machete in a compartment in the same small bag he was using for the tea thermos.
She looks at him sideways. "And yet the gentleman better get in the car before I leave him." She reaches over and opens the passenger door, motioning him to stash his bike and get in. "Because of your tardiness we are going to be cutting it close..." She messes with her hair nervously, her Mien making it seem like ink was spilling from it.
"Apologies, milady, I'm not usually awake this early," Parker said as he enters the car. "Shall we be off?"
Leon takes another bite of toast as he slips his phone out of his pocket, bringing up the message. People to see him and Jusuf? Well, he'd better find out what that was about... Maybe Greg had some information about what was going on; he'd been meaning to bring him up to speed anyway, and even if he didn't he might be able to point him to someone in Spring who did.
"Afraid I'll have to skip the shower Kristy. Thanks for breakfast, and especially last night, but I gotta go." he says, getting up and bidding her a fond farewell, before grabbing his few possessions and heading out to hop into his beat-up truck.
He frowns as he switches on the radio to the story of two more deaths overnight, and pauses before pulling out to check the group's boards and send Morris a text.
Everything go okay last night? Sounds like the summers gave Snowflakes and Frosty a hard time. Did you guys find anything else out after I left? I put some feelers out but no bites yet. Just heading to meet Greg now.
He shows up at the clinic somewhat more disheveled and tardy than Jusuf, but Greg would be used to that by now. He lets himself in and crashes onto the sturdy sofa in Greg's office, giving Jusuf a smile at his polite inquiry.
Amy nods and drives to the graveyard mentioned. "They want us to meet in this tomb of Richard Franklin." She gets out and when Parker follows she locks the door with the clicker. "Should be over here just a bit. Something about this is suspicious to me, but curiosity overtook me. Figured I'd drag you into it too, you're the closest thing I've got to a friend in a long time..." She looks down the rest of the way.