Geoffrey Jacks's page

Geoffrey is much more disturbed about Harold's death than Jeremy's despite the latter being proven innocent.

"I suspected he was the one Tony sent to check us all out. He commented about being able to trust me, so I got ta thinkin' he must have been able to confirm I was wise through and through."

Turning to Kitty, he says, "Don't fret, Kitty. Sometimes a man's death is the only proof of his words. He was wounded already. Jeremy probably wouldn't have lived through the night as it is without a real doc. I admit I had hoped that Harold and Corbyn had some better knowledge than me since they were the first two to agree on somebody, and already 'specting Harold had peeked under Jeremy's skirts like he may have done to me...it was a better shot than just waiting ta die."

He clears the chamber of his Colt and makes sure it's ready for action if needed before pulling back the slide and thumbing back the hammer.

"But given Kitty's point, Corbyn, you're right: any one of us here could have made the same mistake. I certainly did, and I think I still am. I said in the beginning it was easy to pick on the outsiders, and now all but one of them is dead, so that's leaving me with only those I've been trusting all this time."

Geoffrey turns a very angry face on Marlene, Kitty, Jimmy, and Rick.

"Right now, even if Corbyn turns out to be a rat, that means at least one of you is his partner."

He lifts the Colt up next to his face barrel pointing towards the ceiling.

"I opened my mouth real loud in the first few moments of decision making. Harold took notice and cleared me which is why he immediately offered me his drink to get my attention. I wouldn't be surprised if the Dirty Sleuth targeted me as well which is why he and the Silencer haven't taken me out...because they needed to find Mike and Harold first! Who cares about some peon in the organization, right coppers? You probably imagined my own fellas would get nervous with me brandishing weapons and lynch me themselves, and you'd get a two-fer-one!"

He taps the gun to his forehead.

"Now the way I'm figgering, at this point, tieing the vote only helps them, so that would normally immediately make you," Geoffrey points his gun at Jimmy, "and you," the gun moves towards Rick, "the most suspicious now since that's been your move every time someone looked cross-eyed at each other."

Geoffrey returns the gun to his temple.

"But that would only matter if you didn't know who in the room was your undercover pal. Unless Tony the Tiger got it wrong (which I doubt), these pair of aces knows damn well who their friends are, so they would never stop a vote for someone whose death they knew would only further their goal. So Rick, Jimmy as of now you've earned my trust until I have reason to believe otherwise."

Geoffrey smiles lazily, a coldness in his eyes as they swivel back towards Kitty, Marlene, and Corbyn. It's a killer's mask, ready to go to work.

"Which means you three are now the most likely. Corbyn because you keep trying to force a death, Kitty because she jumped in after me to help ensure a majority, and Marlene because she's done nothing at all to stop or encourage which suggests it's because she knew her partner was never the one in jeopardy, so why draw attention?"

"Fine! If that's the way of it then I'll not sit on the sidelines."

Geoffrey picks up his Colt off the bar ready to perform if needed.

Geoffrey votes for Jeremy.

"Somebody say something!" Geoffrey says his knife unconsciously gripped in his hand. "I-I'm not used to picking my own targets!"

"Well, sh*t..." Geoffrey says over Mike's death. After seeing what he was carrying, Geoffrey looks at the others.

"So he was asking to buy time so he could investigate? Guess that's all a waste now. Nuthin' left but gut instinct now."

"What's your gut tellin' ya now?" the line cook asks the room.

A very pale Jimmy stares at Geoff. "I thought we were friends, Geoff. We've been cook and barman here for years now. It was strange enough when you pulled out that knife and gun, but trying to finger me? What were you thinking?"

"Eh, don't be sore," Geoffrey says. "If somebody gotta be a sneak, I figger on starting with those I trusted the most first to prove it. It's always easy to start with someone you don't know."

He points at Jeremy, Corbyn, and Harold. "They're the easy ones to target...but that may just be the kind of misdirection the lousy coppers are counting on."

Gesturing to Mike, Kitty, Marlene, Jimmy, and Rick. "There's more of you...of us than them. The odds are greater that somebody I like and trust has been foolin' me all this time. That's amite upsetting."

"Well, Harold" Geoffrey says picking up his Colt. "Jeremy is naming you as something we should fear, and ain't nobody pointing any other fingers."

He chambers a round and thumbs back the hammer slowly. His eyes dart around trying to watch everyone at once as well as for secret ninja cops in every shadow.

"You better speak up soon, or time will decide your fate. You a loyal Tiger wise guy or not?"

Geoffrey scowls as Mike makes him sound ignorant.

"I'm a man of action, Mike. That's why I'm here: To 'manage' the people that interfere with Tony's business. You're asking me to just, just—!" Geoffrey makes a funny noise. Once he composes himself, he continues.

"You want I should jes let these mooks take us out, one-by-one? I don't think I like this plan at all. Ain't nobody talking, so how are you smarties supposed to be letting any of us know who the damn coppers are?"

Geoffrey smacks the bar.

"How can a man pick anything with nothing to go on!"

Geoffrey doesn't sound happy to be so clueless in this game of cops and robbers, and he is clearly out of his element and frustrated.

"Mark my words, Mike, if we don't get started on taking these bastards down ourselves, ain't even one of us going to make it."

Geoffrey withdraws his vote for Jimmy.

Geoffrey finishes up the mopping and props up a small wooden floor stand that says Caution: Wet Floor near the area. He raises the drink Corbyn offers and takes a quick swallow. Then he goes back to check on whatever else he has cooking in the back. A moment later he returns with a couple brick-oven cooked pizzas which he places on a table and proceeds to slice them up expertly.

"Sit and wait? Nah, that's just stupid." Geoffrey shakes his head.

"Tony already told us to sort it out. So either we start fishing for badges down people's gullets or the damn sneaky bastards will just kill us off or take us in once the raid occurs. I've talked loudest, so I'll get this started."

Geoffrey looks around the room.

"Well, Jimmy, you know I've like you, but you have always been pretty slippery. You change faces for the customers like a damn chameleon. Seems like bartender would be a pretty damn fine job for some kind of sneaker. Whatcha ya gotta say?"

Geoffrey votes for Jimmy cuz why not? *shrug*

Geoffrey grunts when Willard's death is discovered.

"Gah, what yellow belly tactics. We ain't dealin' with honorable folks here, are we?"

He eyes Harold and his drink with a bit of suspicion, but Geoffrey picks it up and drains it with a shrug. The cheap liquor Jimmy used is completely unnoticed except for its burn.

"Thanks, kid. You talk funny, but you seem to have some sense."

Geoffrey watches as Jimmy and Mike start setting the freshly dead to one side.

"I guess that's my cue," he says with a sour twist to his mouth. He picks up his blade and tucks it back to wherever he keeps it but leaves the handgun on the bar. Then he disappears into the kitchen for a moment only to emerge with several kitchen rags, a mop, and a bucket of sudsy water. He moves around the bar to begin cleaning up the blood and other viscera Dominic left behind.

"So, are we all in agreement that we will wait and see what investigations turn up?"

Geoffrey looks around the room.

"It's hard to say if that's a good plan," he begins slowly. "I'm sure every minute we're wastin' here is another the fuzz gets their raid ready."

He tips his hat back a bit and scratches his head where the sweat-liner sits.

"But we can't just skidaddle until we've cleared out the coppers or else they'll be able to finger us. Plus the Tiger and this impending raid."

He shakes his head. "We're in a bad spot. In the end, it just may come down to us all killin' each other just to make sure the boss is safe."

Geoffrey reaches under his apron and draws a semi-automatic Colt 1922 slowly and points the barrel into the air with his trigger finger well outside the trigger guard. Regardless of how much alarm he causes to the others and their reactions, he simply lowers the weapon and places it on the bar next to him.

"Let me be very clear. Ain't anyone gettin' out of here alive as long as there's any chance you're the fuzz." Geoffrey's eyes take on a deadened look. Evidently this was his work face...when he does his other work.

"You'll have to step over my corpse before I let you hurt Tony. Whichever ones of you are the pair, you'd better kill me first. Cuz if I find you, it won't be a bullet."

With a spin and flourish, Geoffrey suddenly produces a wicked looking blade nearly a foot long and serrated on the back edge. He lays it on the other side of his plate opposite the handgun where its polished gleam catches the low light menacingly.

He begins to eat glancing once at the elaborate cuckoo clock behind the bar to check the time remaining in the night.

Geoffrey tosses back the drink with the practiced ease of a lush. Perhaps for his bravado, there was more to how the sometimes enforcer managed to cope with all the death he had seen.

Geoffrey shrugs.

"I git ya, Kitty," he says with a rueful shake of his head. "Sometimes I firget you're on the more del-i-cate side of the biz."

Without any hesitation, Geoffrey starts eating a slider while throwing some deviled eggs, stuffed mushrooms, and savory cheese balls onto a plate.

"Sad to say, not all of us here lose sleep or appetite when it comes to blood," he says between bites. He makes a casual gesture to the thief and P.I.

"Take Jeremy or Rick here. They know what I mean."

After the Tiger's announcement, Geoffrey turns back to the kitchen and disappears for several minutes. When he returns, he has more food which he promptly starts placing anywhere he can on the bar top and the serving station.

"Well, seeing as is this is somebody's last meal, you should all start eating. I got more cooking in the back."

His lips are pressed thin as he looks at each of the others.

"I know I ain't high on the food chain here, but I want it to be clear. The Tiger has been nuffin' but good to me. I'm his man through and through. No matter what gets decided or if the coppers get the best of us, you'll all see I'm not in bed with no fuzz."

He shakes his head. "This business is just..."

Geoffrey smirks and pushes the plate towards the young lady without preamble.

"Makin' more will gimme sumtin' ta do, so dun't hold back any more than that lovely figger requires," the sometimes linecook says with a wink.

Geoffrey was bored. He just has finished constructing the last appetizer plate requested. Nobody was ordering more food, and oddly the boss didn't have anywhere he needed Geoffrey to go. He throws a towel over his shoulder while making sure his customary hat is low over his eyes and face.

He pushes open the swinging door leading to the bar and puts the order in the serving window. He rings the bell, but doesn't retreat back into the kitchen. Instead he leans on the bar side of the wait station and casts a lazy eye around the room, a disinterested expression on his face.

pinvendor here...

The soft spoken Geoffrey returns!

Geoffrey merely looks on with sadness at the new round of deaths. Even worse then seeing acquaintances slain was the knowledge that the people he thought he knew were the ones responsible. The longer this went on, the more his heart was destined to break as he learned the truth behind this. But to save as many as possible...

Geoffrey wonders how to figure out a way to determine the killers. Emptied pockets had not been the answer, as the writer had produced his own murder weapon by doing so. He moves to a place along the wall and draws his derringer. He doesn't point the small gun at anyone, but has it ready should anyone make a move against him. He wouldn't go down without a fight.

"So...who's been fishy now, detec-tive?" Geoffrey asks Hamish.

Geoffrey closes his eyes and tries to calm his roiling stomach. This whole situation is unreal. Even considering that Warren may have already been assassinated by the mafia even as they argued over which of them to kill was enough to make his stomach turn.

Hearing Clara's announcement, Geoffrey sighs again and his hat bobs as he nods.

"So that's it...we shed be in con-cord if we ken..."

Geoffrey Jacks votes for Warren Enzroth.

Geoffrey blushes even though the rebuke is meant for Getika.

"Miss Littlemoon...she jes needs it to feel better about thes sichiayshun, Mis-ter McFadden...don' be an-gry..."

Geoffrey sighs. "Cast yer vote than Miss Clara. I trust yer wits more than sum."

"A vote's ben cast...shall Mister Lumpshire be sent to death on Mister McFadden's vote alone? Good citizens need to vote, too...we shed let the guilt of er d'cision hang on the heads of all...not jes one. 'Unamus' should our naybors die iffin they must die at all."

Geoffrey briefly looks up from under the brim of his low pulled hat at the room's occupants.

"Does any-body hava reasun for any-body other than Mister Lumpshire to be done in as a mafiaman?"

Eyes downcast, Geoffrey also retrieves his belongings. Inwardly, he finds the whole situation terrifying and agrees with Clara regarding the food. He doubts he should even dare to think about eating as his stomach clenches and roils. The two corpses still cooling in the corner, both men worthy of a decent and honorable burial, were still very much on Geoffrey's mind. He knew that in order to survive this night he needed to trust and help the judgement of others. But being a part of a mob was almost as frightening as the thought of being the one facing them, and he had a hard time not putting himself in the shoes of someone being accused. It seemed it would be all too easy to find oneself there.

Geoffrey stands from where he has remained slumped and without a word goes over to the "confession" table and removes the following items from about his person:

• One grocer's apron
• A whittling knife
• Several small stubs of cut wood
• A few small branches
• Some loose coins
• An apple
• A pad of receipt paper and a pencil
• A note with a woman's handwriting saying, "I think only of you, my love."
• A woman's perfumed handkerchief

After a moment's hesitation, Geoffrey also produces a small two-barreled gun from his boot.

• Derringer - both barrels loaded

Geoffrey looks at Hamish. Then he looks at Clarence.

"Seems you two er the ones with suspicions...who is the next to die and why?"

"Pore Gustav. He coulda spoke up fer hisself, or his friend coulda. Cain't figger why they stayed mum."

Geoffrey's head jerks up at this. Then he looks away from her. He stands and goes over to Gustav's body. He places a small figurine crudely whittled to look like Gustav on top of the man's jacket. He whispers something to the corpse then returns to his seat head bowed and does nothing.

Geoffrey looks down his mouth in a troubled line. He takes out a stub of wood and begins to whittle something vaguely man-shaped. He mumbles under his breath.

"S-sorry, Mr. McFadden...hopin' ya's not lynched and...don't wanna see Gustav get the rope neider...he's nice to me..."

Geoffrey raise his head so one eye can look questioningly at Dan. "Ne'er said we should...Mr. Hamish first talked about how to go about it...then the General named a body...Gustav...I jus' doin' my duty now..."

EDIT: Ninja'd ya, Dan. =P

Geoffrey looks embarrassed at Clarence's question, and he ducks his head to hide his face under the brim of his hat.

He mumbles very quietly, "Don't really 'spect you...not really...but I gotta be a good citizen...a good citizen votes...my pa always say so...gotta vote fer somebody...ev'ry-time. Guess I can change my vote...who should it be?"

Geoffrey sits in the corner as the talk turns to killing and the General is the first to suggest someone for death. He feels very, very alone upon hearing these words and he sighs to himself.

"...I vote for Mr. McFadden..." the quiet boy says.

Geoffrey jacks votes for Clarence McFadden.

Geoffrey completely freezes when Clara picks up his carvings. He leans his head back far enough so one eye peers up at her from under the brim of his hat. When she compliments him, a slight blush colors his complexion and he smiles ever so slightly, just the upturning of his closed lips.

He looks away from her, but when she responds to Cora, Geoffrey peeks up at her when her attention is diverted. He had always liked Clara. She spoke her mind the way he wished he could. Such a strong woman. Just like her horses, he mused.

When Dan agrees with Hamish's plan, Geoffrey sighs and says in a muted tone, "I was...out fishin' when the good man was mur-der-ed." Geoffrey's speech pattern emphasizes the final word. A defeated shrug follows.

"Don't 'spect a body can vouch fer me...swhy I go. Not a body fer miles where I fish...s'mtimes, not e'en fish." Geoffrey's voice becomes somewhat wistful as he imagines the sun on his face and the air blowing off the creek while he whittles away, his fishing pole lodged in the rocks and a toe dabbling the water.

Geoffrey shakes his head possibly unseen at Hamish's words. He had been out fishing...alone. Already he knew if Hamish's plan was put into place, he would have no corroboration of his location.

Oh bother, he thought. Why can't everyone just stop trying to be sneaky and do the things that make them happy?

Geoffrey sets down his latest small carving which is of a cricket with a badge on its chest next to the helmeted kitty carving. The way he set them down seems to have them staring at each other suspiciously.

As people keep talking to him, Geoffrey seems to shrink more and more. He leans over his latest whittling project and says nothing to the admonitions he receives for his muttered answer to Hamish Cunningham's question regarding the "best way to go about it".

He seems to watch everyone's feet as they shuffle around the room, if the slight movements of his head when someone's stride enters his line of sight are any indication. Geoffrey definitely seems to be very melancholy. But then ever since his father had been a innocent casualty of a mafia gun fight with the police, Geoffrey had been even more reclusive than ever.

Geoffrey shudders at Thadius' call for the conviction of the Lord on the evil men and women's hearts. It reminded him of Pastor Ingstrom's sermons on sin and guilt. Geoffrey had always felt that God was trying to reaffirm all the talks of good citizenry his papa had laid on him with the strap.

The quiet boy sets the helmeted cat figurine on the floor beside him and begins working on another small piece of wood he pulls out of his apron's pocket.

Geoffrey starts at Clara's comment to "kill 'em all and let God sort 'em out". The fact that it's a paraphrase of his own words doesn't seem to register in his alarm. He eyes Clara from under his hat and hunches his shoulders.

"Didn't think anyone heard me..." the introverted young man mumbles.

Geoffrey Jacks sits in the corner and pulls his hat down. He whittles out a figurine that resembles a cat wearing some kind of...helmet? Maybe something like what the Jerries wore in the Great War...

"Easiest way...kill everybody..." he mumbles barely audible. "Good citizens...gotta make sacrifi..." He trails off unintelligibly.

"Um...yeah," Geoffrey takes off his hat and scratches his head with an uncomfortable expression before replacing the accessory and pulling the brim low enough to leave only his lips visible.

"So...I don't think, uh you should be drinking...you know...we should all be good citizens and respect...um...the Congress and all."

And here is my character!

I don't know....no PMs might be the reason the games lost their flavor. It really hinders your ability to play psych out games with your opponents.

EDIT: Removed previous post until we know what era we are playing in.