//.etro: It is 06:18 am, early morning, on Monday the 20. day of October, 2008.
The rich aroma from Starbucks draws you in.
Starbucks(#547RIJM)

Contents:
Mary
Jacob
Obvious exits:
Out

A small table by the window (#1) has 3 empty places.
A larger table by the front door (#2) has 2 empty places.
A quiet booth in the back (#3) has 6 empty places.
A table near the serving counter (#4) has 1 empty place.
Present: Mary - Jacob
A cozy table for two (#5) has 3 empty places.
A seat at the counter (#6) has 4 empty places.
A comfortable sofa (#7) has 3 empty places.
A table at the back (#8) has 3 empty places.
Jacob sits at a table talking with Mary.

Mary shakes her head a bit, at Jacob. "I know a lot of people use the line..and it probably seems like a cop out, or an exagerration, but in my case it really -is- complicated, and there isn't really anyone I can tell about it, without putting them in danger."

Jacob watches her for a moment longer then shrugs his shoulder, "I can't make you say anything, but the offer stands if you change your mind. The relief might be worth it to you."

Nobody should be here so early; not the barrista, the guy with the newspapers and least of all Penny. She ambles in, keeping her head down lest the mermaid on the wall start yelling at her; she walks in a way that paranoids consider normal, one eye over her shoulder.

Mary read your description.

Mary looks around for a moment, noting the entry of Penny. At this hour, the place isn't exactly bustling. She looks back towards Jacob, and summons up a wan smile for him. "This is corny, but the offer alone helps. Even if I can't accept it. Not right now, anyway. I think for now my only smart course of action is to keep things to msyself."

Mary Roberts is what could be termed 'a little slip of a thing'. She's
not absurdly short, but she's definately several inches below that of most
women her age, reaching only 5'3" in height. Her build is slender and reedy,
the sort that a mere breeze could well blow over, and though she doesn't seem
unhealthy, it does seem as if she could do with a little more food in her on a
regular basis. Her hair is long, reaching to about mid-back, its hue a rich
mahogany, likely her best feature, what with the highlights of red sparkling
in its tresses. Her eyes are cerulean blue, quite pretty save that there's
sometimes circles beneath them, as if she didn't get quite enough sleep.
Framed by sooty lashes, the eyes are set in a heart-shaped face, with slightly
too-pale skin.. along with lack of food and sleep, it seems perhaps she
doesn't get enough sun, though there's enough pink in her cheeks that she
doesn't look unhealthy.
Mary is dressed somewhat casually, though not to the point of
bluejeans and teeshirts. Her pants are black courderoy, comfortable looking,
though they don't seem terribly worn. They fit her well enough that it's not
out of the realm of possibility that they were tailor-made for her. She wears
a cashmere sweater in an off-white shade overtop it, the neckline slightly
scooped, though not enough to really reveal much of anything. A pair of
leather boots are worn on her feet and, when outside, a long black trenchcoat
is worn over the entire ensemble. All in all, the mode of dress is rather
conservative, with nothing revealing or suggestive about it.

Jacob nods his head a touch, "All right." moving on, "So what sort of book are the sketches for?" glancing over at the notepad in front of Mary. Mary's lips twitch again. "Horror," she says, then shakes her head. "I guess art does imitate life, doesn't it?

Mary tacks a " onto that.

Jacob quirks a bit of a smile, "So it seems. Though if it were talking rabbits and flying horses I would hate to find the parallels there."

Penny talks in whispers to the girl behind the counter. The girl, of course, can't hear or understand a word Penny says and repeats "What?" and "Huh?" and "Is that english? Parlez-vous francais?" No it isn't english, no, no and no. Penny finally grabs a 'venti' cup, points at it and mimes 'please to be filling it now.' And hardly traumatized, the half-sleeping server gets Penny her coffee.

Mary's lips twitc. "I don't think talking and rabbits and flying horses are really part of the horror genre. Unless it's a carniverous bunny, or a fanged flying horse, and even then. No... it's dark stuff. Kinda like my... uh. Like Toby Roberts' books, if you've read 'em." Which is kind of like saying the same thing about Stephen King. Only with darker themes. Jacob chuckles, "So horror is all you do then? No fields of daisies and butterfiles?" he glances over at the counter for a moment, looking at the cups that change hands before fishing in his pocket to pull out a bit of cash.

"Bunnicula," Penny butts in, adapting her tongue to english in slow syllables "bunnies with fangs." Horror, yes. Satisfied she got it right, Penny pulls her coffee off the serving counter looking for where they hid the stirry things and sugar. From that hidden area she adds "Loved your brother's work. He's no Clive Bark..er..was..um."

Silence.

Jacob glances between Penny and Mary, quirking an eyebrow as he pauses in pulling out a few dollars.

Mary looks up at Penny. "The celery stalks at midnight," she states. Then blinks at the woman, at what she adds, and forces a bit of a smile. "Still is.. if you count the post mortum publications." She then looks back at Jacob, shaking her head. "If you count what I do for myself, no. Though I'm not really the fields of daisies sort of girl."

Penny reappears from that region beyond the moon and stars, more importantly out of sight of the mermaid on the wall, brushing loose sugar-substitute from the front of her jacket. Noisey nylon swipe-swiping. "Hasat workout, post mortem" hovering over Mary's shoulder, unaware that intruding is socially unacceptable "you channel'im or somin?"

Jacob decides to aquire himself another drink, getting up from his seat and heading over to the counter for a moment, quietly asking for what he wants.

Mary goes tense just for the -briefest- of moments, though it's probably just due to the invasion of personal space. After a moment, though, she takes a breath, and forces herself to smile. "Of course not. He wrote a lot before he died.. it's pretty rough and unedited, but.. the editors want it. so I clean it up for them.. did it with a lot of his other books anyway... he hated editting."

//.etro: Penny rolls "4" privately to Mary at diff 7.
For a botch!
Mary pages: Doh? :)
Long distance to Mary: Penny hahs. Penny thinks you're lying when you say 'of course not' ...now a botch on that idea? I might be a little overbearing for a few minutes ;)

From afar, Mary grins. Go for it, it's all good. :)

Jacob pays for his coffee and collects it with a to-go lid. He moves back over towards Mary and offers a smile, "Its time for me to get on my way, it was a pleasure seeing you again. Take care."

"So what you're really sayin'is yeah, yeah?" She takes a seat at Mary's table, turns it around with her palm and straddles it, leans in "Does he have a lot to say? I heard when that John Edwards guy got fired from SciFi he started teaching classes on how to do it on account'a he couldn't pay his rent." She sips big from her cup, milky coffee mustache lingering "So didja like take one'a his classes after yer brother kicked it to the other side?" Starstruck, maybe. Penny rambles at an incredible speed.

Jacob stands and leaves a table near the serving counter.
Jacob has departed.
Jacob read your description.

Mary's looking rather uncomfortable, shooting Jacob an almost pleading look, though she doesn't ask him to stay aloud. "Uh... it was nice to talk to you," she manages. "And.. thanks. For the offer and all." She then turns back to eye Penny. "I'm not sure what you're talking about," she says, edgily. Clearly very much uncomfortable.

Jacob looks to Penny and frowns faintly, then moves to put his cup on the table between the two as he turns to Mary and says, "You've been here for some time, surely you're tired? I can walk you home on my way out if you'd like."

At your table Penny does pause. She looks out the window and then back to the tabletop "I do know," emphasis on the know part "Didn't mean to startle you or nothin' it's just it's my turn to be the mu-uh-manager of our kitchen this week." She knows what she's talking about - you might not, but she isn't overly concerned about making sense. Outwardly. "So."

Mary pauses a moment, looking at Penny searchingly, then up to Jacob. She looks a little uncertain, possibly even freaked, but she shakes her head anyway, smiling a little, even. Which is saying something, from Mary. "I'll be okay. But thanks."

Jacob pauses still, his hand resting on his cup as he offers once more, "Are you sure?" his tone implying she should be totaly before he will budge any.

At your table Mary seems to be opting not to comment on all that, at least until Jacob's left.

At your table It was a business-like "so" delivering a 'let's talk' look just
on it's heels. She looks past you for a moment at Jacob, an eyebrow arching.

Mary nods, sowly, reaching out to touch Jacob's arm, though she doesn't smile
this time. "I'm sure," she says. "Really, I am. I'll be fine.. and home, for
now, is just accross the street."

Penny looks past Mary to Jacob. It seems impossible that her eyebrow could
arch any further but it does. She smiles, too, miming Mary's gesture. Penny
even twiddles her fingers.

At your table Mary seems to have gotten that.. she's just waiting. All things
in their proper time, and all times in their proper things, or something like
that.

Jacob hmms and nods his head, moving to collect his cup and look to Penny,
commenting simply, "Play nice." before moving for the door.

Penny snorts into her coffee upon handling it again. Funny guy.

Jacob walks out into the busy world leaving the rich aroma of Starbucks behind.
Jacob has left.
You have just received a +recc from Jacob.

At your table Mary watches Jacob leave, shaking her head a little bit. "I wonder what he meant by that," she murmurs to herself, then turns her head slowly back, until she's peering somewhat steadily at Penny. Not to say that she isn't still unsure of all this, but at least she's able to make eye contact directly. "So," she repeats.

At your table Penny says "It's what little boys say to little girls when they've been kicked out of the club-house. Come on, Mary" Penny levels pretty quickly "A parrot you are not." She rests her chin on folded forearms across the back of the chair. Head tilted just-so.

At your table It should be pretty clear at this point that Penny's probably one of the good guys. She gives off that vibe. Or something.

At your table "Are you sure?" Mary murmurs, softly. "I could be, you know. A parrot in the shape of a girl. Stranger things have happened, you know." She's watching you closely, with the wariness of someone that's simply not used to talking about certain things to anyone. The look of someone that only has themselves to trust. Okay, so it sucks to have that luck, but hey, what can
you do? "What do you know?" she asks, suddenly. Bluntly.

John Smith comes in off the street following the rich aroma of coffee.
John Smith has arrived.
John Smith wanders in, rubbing his hands together to fight off the effects of the cold morning air.
John Smith makes his way to the front counter and looks up at the menu, then back to the cashier, "Uh.. nope.. still just the regular."

At your table Penny acquires that look. The lucid moment. Her eyes drift toward the mural on the wall "It's listening," gestures with her chin. She sips again and offers instead "We have a lot of mutual acquaintances, you and me, a lot of people that want some very exclusive" implying something more than singular "relationships to evolve." She tilts her coffee sideways "Some for better," tilts it the other way "some for worse." These things she says are said with such calmness at their center it's impossible for them to be taken as threatening.

John Smith searchs the room hopfully while he waits.
John Smith read your description.

At a table, Penny straddles a chair looking sideways every now and then. She's having some kind of very serious conversation with Mary. Some might argue that it's too early for serious conversations but there's a look on Penny's face, a posture that is impossible to mistake.

At your table Mary goes still for a moment, gaze rather intent upon Penny. -Very- intent, in point of fact. "maybe if you could give me a name, I might feel a little more... confident about furthering this. See, here's the thing. I'd really like to talk to you about this, but I don't really want to do it here. But there's some people after me, apparently. Someone willing to shell out a lot of money for folks to mess with me. So, y'know, I'm kinda wary.. can you give a name? So I know that you're on the up and up. I'm sorry if that's rude, but I'm a little freaked right now, over.... over a lot of things."

Penny goes "OH JESUS" fairly suddenly and really loud.

Mary's also looking serious, wariness and curiosity flaring through her expression as she talks to Penny, leaning forward a little, hands resting on an open sketchpad. The page has only a few lines drawn on it, nothing concrete, and the pencil has been dropped, to lay forgotten next to the pad.

John Smith starts slightly at the larger woman's exclaimation. He seems much more awake now.

John Smith glances over to see what the cause of the outburst is.

At your table "I'm such an asshole. It's this fucking dr.. " cutting herself off pretty quickly "drip. it's keeping me up nights and augh,. Shitshit. SHIT I'm so sorry." She puts her coffee down and gets up a little to turn the chair around and scoot in to the table. She grabs your hand, too. It's a shake "I'm Penny, PEN-ny. Oh I'm so sorry I thought I'd said."

Mary jumps, noticably, leaning back against her seat at the sudden exlamation from Penny, blinking at her companion, though she relaxes again as her hand is suddenly grabbed, and softer words exchanged

Penny turns her chair toward Mary, right hands clasped in some kind of handshake, speaking lower and more intently than before.

At your table "Um. I'm Mary.. I guess you already new that. Only, that's... not what I meant." She grins, and though it's brief, the expression brightens her face enough to prove that she's a little amused. "It's good to know your name, though, but what I was asking is about who the mutual uh.. acquaintances are. And you're not rude, really."

John Smith looks from one woman to the other for a moment before deciding that an intense conversation between two lesbians this early in the morning is entirely none of his business. He glances desperately at the cashier to see if his order is ready, which, in fact, it is. He pushes the change needed to pay for his coffee across the counter with his right hand while his left seeks out
a couple of napkins which he retrieves and uses to wrap around the very hot container of freshly brewed coffee.

John Smith mutters, "Not gonna do THAT twice..."

At your table Penny lets go of your hand and oh-oh-ohs, nodding "Mister B." Really that's all she'll say about that. Best to keep as much under-wraps as possible is basically always Penny's policy.

Mary would probably be absolutely mortified if she knew that such an assumption had been made about that, especially over a mere handshake and intense conversation. She's oblivious, though, and is thus saved a lot of blushing and suchwise embarrassment.

At your table Mary ohhhs, softly, and nods. "Him," she murmurs. "I'm not always sure I trust him.. but he's done an awful lot for me. Including paying the guys I just mentionned double what they'd been promised, if they'd leave me alone. So.. yeah. I guess he's a good guy. I'm just nervous of about everyone. Chalk it up to my recent career as a recluse. Um. Yeah, so I guess.. I duno. We should talk, but not here.. I don't know where, though."

John Smith plops himself down on one of the chairs near the window and opens peels open the lip of the container lid and takes a cautious sip of the steaming liquid within.

Totally understandable where J. Smith might come up with that idea. If this were San Fancisco that might be true. But it's Canada and there are stranger things here than shaved women. Penny continues to speak to Mary, mindful of her ears.

Satisfied the contents won't sear off his lips, John takes a bolder drink from the cup.

At your table Penny says "I've got a hotel room. It's pretty secure if a bit messy," she starts to get up "unless," nodding out the window "you don't think home is safe enough?" Gliding from one subject to the next without much hedging "Wouldn't trust him far as I could throw'im, good on you, 'cause it's not the people he's paying you've got to fear from."

John Smith stares out the window, watching people living out their lives, or at least struggling to get to work on time.

John Smith yawns, and stretches his arms out, revealing to no one in particular, "man... no more fuckin' nights out..."

At your table Mary's brow furrows a little bit, at that, and she starts to rise a moment later. "I've not been staying at home. I've been staying with friends, and.. well. They don't need to be dragged into this. It's bad enough I'm with them, but there was near mutiny when I threatened to leave. I have a home, but I've been away so long that I can't guarantee how safe it is, so.. let's stick with the hotel room. K?"

Mary starts to get up, about a moment after Penny does, apparently leaving with her. This surely can't be doing wonders for the false assumption about what's going on between them.

John Smith slumps forwards after his stretch, as though the act has drained him of all his energy He yawns again, trying to remove the sleep from his body with a quick shake of his head, "buhwuhuh..."

John Smith shivers to complete the action.

You stand and leave a table near the serving counter.

John Smith glances up... yep... just as he suspected.

Mary stands and leaves a table near the serving counter.

John Smith read your description.

"M'beat, let's just cab it over to my place okay?" World-weary and without any pre-empting, Penny gets the door out for Mary, leaving her cup behind for the staff to clean-up after. So efficient here, they even swipe down the mess of sugar and stirry things. Holding the door open with her booted foot, Penny zips up her jacket and amscrays. See, that's the nice thing about assumptions; generally they're never wrong.

John Smith gets that distant day-dreaming look in his eyes as he discretely (or so he thinks) watches the women leave... together.

Mary walks out of Starbucks followed by the rich aroma of fresh coffee.
Mary has arrived.

"Place is a dump," nodding up across the street towards the bar "they let in anybody." She steps out toward the street and looks for that elusive early-morning cab. Everyone else is taking the subway; she looks that way, too, dismissing it with "Eva has the map."

You have just received a +recc from John Smith.

Mary follows you out to the street, still oblivious to what's been assumed. Ah, well.. ignorance is bliss, sometimes. "A cab's fine," she murmurs. "I'm a little tried, too. Not been sleeping so well, and... well. Dumps happen. It's in the eye of the beholder. Who/s Eva?"

Penny explains in the cab-ride over "Oh she's usually tour-guide but she hasn't shown her face in a while. Least not since the move here."

Mary follows inside,looking rather blank, though she seems to have decided not to ask too much more. Not just yet. Not until the safety of a room has been reached, at any rate.

Penny picks up a few things from the lobby; namely food from the breakfast buffet, some local-color pamphlets and extra coffee-packet filter things for the cheap coffee-maker in the bathroom. She stops again in front of Room 174, knocking quietly as she unlocks the door "Be decent, ladies present.." though who she's talking to is a mystery. Could be no one.

Mary enters the apartment.

Mary looks a little uncertain as Penny calls out, brow furrowing a little as she follows the other woman into the apparently empty hotel room, which she scans quickly, as if checking for such a thing. She looks back to Penny, blinking. "Checking for Eva?" she asks.

Penny laughs under her breath, something like 'eva couldn't get in here if she tried'(suggesting Eva is uncomfortably large), kicking something in a box into the closet. Hard. There's a large burn-hole in the carpet between the beds and the detrius of months of living in one room; a pile of take-out boxes in the corner, three laptops set on the desk all rigged together and a robe in dry-cleaning plastic hanging over the bathroom door. Presumable Penny's.

"Don't mind the mess."

Mary gives the linked up computers a curious look, as she makes her way over to perch herself on the edge of one of the beds. "It's not that bad," she says, trying to be kind, perhaps. "I've seen worse, anyway." She sets her bag down - having stuffed her sketchbook back into it while exiting - and looks back to you. "So... can I start by asking what Mr. Browne told you, exactly?"

Penny unwinds herself from the satchel at her side, tossing it into the headboard. She kicks off her boots on the way into the bathroom. Half-closing the door behind her, the conversation carries on slightly echoed "Like you? I trust about only half'a what he says. What I /do/ think is true" implying this is what he said "is that you have some wealthy bad-asses after you." The sound of water running is low; the sink-tap running "And they have nothing better to do with their time and money than to make you uncomfortable and unhappy because they know where you are." She comes from the bathroom minus the jacket and two-of-the-three-shirts, toweling off her face. "So tell me about him." Singular.

Mary sighs, and flops back against the bed, legs dangling over the edge. "Specify. Which 'him'? If it's Mr. Browne, I can only tell you so much, because I don't know myself. If it's who's after me... my only assumption can be that it's the person I saw murder the man I love. With a chainsaw. Or someone close to him. If it's someone else, well. I don't know. Who're we talking about.. and what did Mr. Browne tell you that you don't believe?"

"That pee eye Gabe? was your boyfriend?" the towel hanging in her hand "dang girl. Well him, that's the one." She sits on the other bed with a sudden solemnity "Nice guy," opening up the floor.

Mary sighs, softly. "I don't think he was my boyfriend. I never told him I loved him... never had the chance, though. He told me, though. It was the last thing he said to me. he was a very good man." She's staring at the ceiling, still, and adds, more quietly, "In spite of what was done to him. But.. this would be easier if I knew what you already knew. There's... things. Things I'm not supposed to talk about, though I think people who know are exempt. Only I don't know how to tell who knows. Gabe was the one that made it all make sense."

"Aw hon, he messed you up, din'ee" dropping into a drawl that seems more natural for her, for the hour. "He trusted you with his secrets - of course he was your boyfriend." Sympathetic, she nods a little "It'll make sense without him, too. You want some coffee, hon?" She gets up, needs to do something with her hands. Poking around the coffee packets, the pastries "I know all about that guy with the" she mimes the way to hold a chainsaw with her fists. "It's kin'a intense, innit.."

Mary shakes her head. "That's the thing, Penny. He didn't mess me up.. not at all. It was him dying, and the way he died.. I can't even count the number of times he saved me. And there are.. things. Things he could have done to me. to ensure his own safety. Things he should've done, but he wouldn't. Because he didn't want to mess me up." She sits up again. "Coffee would be good," she adds.

Penny looks over her shoulder, something reproachful lingering, as she heads back to the bathroom. Kicking open the door, she reveals another kind of mess. Just past her on the floor is a plastic bag, lots of hair overflowing from it. "Any man that doesn't tell me where *I* stand until the minute he dies? is in the messed-up column'a my book" Going through the motions of rinse-fill-slide-presto, coffee Penny also adds "So had you met Earl before?"

Mary smiles a little bit, just for a moment. "He was getting there," she says. "It was building. He may not have known til then.. he did say it, though." But then, the question registers, and she flinches. "Yeah," she says. "Yeah, I... had. Which makes it a bit worse, when you get right down to it. I knew who he was, and vice versa. He knows where I live. Part of why I don't trust the safety of my house."

The pop and hiss of ready-made two-cup coffee sizzles out "Prolly more than that, hon" emerging from the bathroom with some Holiday Inn-stamped mugs "guy that can come and go out of thin-air has a lot more going for him than charisma and a little black book." She hands you a coffee and takes the edge of the bed again, folding up her left leg beneath her "No such thing as too paranoid."

Mary curls her fingers around the cup, holding it in her hands. "He can do more than that. I think he can mess with people's minds.. hell, I think he messed with mine. But I know what he is. Same thing Gabe was, only... Gabe fought it with everything he had. Earl, I think, reveled in it." She takes a sip, and relaxes a bit as blessed caffeine eases down her throat. She looks over at you, and considers you. "I'm guessing you know, too. I don't think Mr. Browne would've told you about what happened, if you didn't, but I'm wondering why he told you. Hell,I'm wondering why he's helping me. He doesn't seem like the altruistic sort."

snorts into her mug the same way she did back at Starbucks. "I haven't known him that long either and I can say with complete certainty he's got his own pimped-out, gangst'agenda." Sipping just a little "Listen, you don't wanna know a guy like that too long. Won't help your reputation or your career. Got any plans? Know what you'll do next?"

Mary shrugs her shoulders. "I'll keep going. Not much else I can do, really. When you don't know where to turn, moving ahead is generally the best course of action. Beats standing still or moving backwards. I've got the comission to work on. The novel I'm working on has been put on hold, so I've got a bit of a break. Other than that? No idea. Wish I had more of a long term goal, but I guess you have to work with what you have."

Penny's disappointed. Genuinely and truly. "You're not gonna fight back?" She leans forward, sets her mug on the edges of the burned carpet. "I don't understand..." For the first time all morning, Penny looks confused. There's something else she isn't saying, some criticism keeping her lips pursed as she looks at you.

"How can I?" Mary says. "What can I do against them, besides tell people that -might- be able to do what I can't? That's why I told Gideon Browne. I don't trust the man, but he seems to access to firepower that I don't. I told him everything I knew about them, more than I'd told anyone else. I told the cops the parts they'd believe." She looks over at you, and sighs. "If I were stronger.. if I had some advantage I thought would help me, I'd do something. But I don't. The only answer I can make to what's been done is to keep goin, to not let it kill me. What would you have me do? I may not be entirely ordinary, but I have nothing to use against them. Not yet."

Penny says "Gideon Browne's firepower" mulling that one over. "He thinks he's gunning down the invisible man" incredulous to the point of disbelief ".. and that's supposed to work how? And you think so, too? Where'd you meet this g.." rubbing her temples. Taking a breath, Penny starts over "He did forget to mention how you hooked up with him."

"Chance," she replies. "He overheard me say something about being an eye witness. Unfortunately, so did a reporter, who started harrassig me and.. well.. pretty much chasing me with a camera. He offered to get me out, and I accepted. We talked.. he freaked me out pretty badly, but.. I dunno. I don't trust him, but I think he's got resources. I /know/ he's got money, given what he paid whoever was after me to leave me alone. You don't shell out two grand on a stranger if you don't have an excess of cash. I dunno. My instincts tell me he might be able to pull it off, and if he can't... well. He got himself into it. I didn't want to tell him anything, at first, but he kept insisting, and he flat out told me he knew the killer was a vampire - how, I don't know - so.. I told him what I knew." She looks over, clutching at her cup. "If you've any better suggestions, feel free to offer them. I'm doing what I can, Penny, but it's -hard-. I don't know for sure who to trust, and I don't know for sure how can help. What you do, if you were me?"

"When you run a strip joint, two grand's a flash in the pan." Maybe Mary's a smidge too innocent for the likes of Penny. "If I were you? or if I were in your situation?" There is some vast difference between the two, the distinction coming clear "If I were you, I would've asked G for a contingency plan in case his ship doesn't come in." Whatever that means. "If I were you, I would start packing. I would go underground and tell my publisher to fuck off and go to Fiji if I were you. Vampires are *crazy*."

"But I'm not you. And while I'm not in the position to throw a little static in their direction, I wouldn't run. Me? I'd make life difficult for Earl. And bone-up on my Dracula." It's a kind of smirk, but it's as true a statement as anything she's said so far.

Mary shakes her head. "I won't run. I'm a little harder to find right now than usual, and I'm not doing butkiss for the publishers. I'm doing the comission work for Mr. Ivanov, but that's it... and I met him in the daytime. I don't think he's related." She closes her eyes for a moment, and then shakes her head. "No. I won't run. I'll just be careful, and keep following my instincts. As for Mr. Browne, he's offered me more direct protection, but I haven't taken it. Instinct again. I think there might be a hidden pricetag in it." She rubs
at the back of her neck, and gulps down her coffee. "I gotta go soon, but I have a question for you, and I've been pretty candid so I think it's a fair one. Why all this? Why're you asking me this stuff, and why'd you bring me here? Why the interest?" She pauses, then adds, "Okay, so it's more than one question, but it's all related."

"It's as safe as any place and I've got a vested interest," gesturing in a circle with her fingers at the space between the beds. "Don't like running blind, I had to ask." Interrupted by a sound coming from the closet, a thump-thump "Just the pipes. Hot water pipe's in the closet." She readjusts, both feet on the floor "Look it's just my nature - have to know the full score from the horse's mouth," a pause trying not to insult "so to speak."

Mary drifts to her feet, nodding a bit. "Well.. now you do. Now you know. Don't tell anyone you don't trust completely, okay? I'm not dumb enough to ask that you don't tell anyone at all." She sets the mug down, and turns, heading for the door. "Time for me to scurry back to my hidey hole now, I think, before they send out search party on bikes or something. I think they actually might." A wan smile is tossed over her shoulder. "Thanks for the coffee."
Then, she's gone.

Docks(#1156RJ)

The Docks are several long man made quays which protect the ships as they
rest in harbour. The size of these ships range from the smallest commercial
lake ships to the largest ocean going vessels that can make their way down the
St Lawrence Seaway. There are always ships from the USA and a couple from
other countries around the world to keep the docks busy. Like any commercial
docks this one is just as dirty and cluttered, but there isn't the overall
feeling of danger that some large dock areas exude. Toronto is spared the
problems of the docks simply because the docks are on a special made man
peninsula built to house the docks and keep it separate from the city proper.
All told this isn't a picturesque place to visit and there aren't many
legitimate reasons to be here at night. To the north and west is the heart of
the city.

Contents:
Obvious exits:
Off

Tom arrives from Parliment and Queens Quay.
Tom has arrived.

"There's only one instant, and it's right now. And it's eternity."
- Waking Life (2001)

What is the measure of a man? Well, if it happens to be this man, the
measure is just under two meters with a slight paunch to his stocky frame. He
is rather unspeakably average-looking - not dashing, not debonaire, not
handsome. A plain, forgettable face half-covered by a full beard kept in an
admirable state of trim. Decent cheekbones, straightand thin nose, reasonably
good teeth, skin evenly tanned by accidental but prolonged exposure to the sun
in some climate more suitable than this one. Not a bad haircut - but not
exactly glamourous, either; black hair close cropped to the skull, buzzed down
almost to the scalp. Serene hazel eyes gaze out from behind thin glasses,
somewhat discreet oval frames in a low-key matte black.
The clothing is simple, utilitarian. A well-fitted black polo-shirt
with three buttons at the throat. A pair of pressed khakis with a pleat down
the front of either leg, sinched at the waist with a brown leather belt. A
pair of brown leather docksiders. When outside, he wears a large black wool
coat with flat black buttons.

Not the average pedestrian - first impression:
Tall & strong, great teeth, killer body.
The refined sythesis of hard living and regular controlled substance
abuse is as much a draw as it is obvious. It's there in her eyes - give it a
name, call it calculating. With just one look it can be assumed she has
friends in low places.
How does one express truth and beauty simeltaneously? One shaves one's
head. The clean look of her pale scalp, compared to the tan ridges at her
forehead and neck, tells it was done only recently. Not even the fuzz at the
roots remains. It is a perfectly normal skull-shape and bears no mark; cut,
nick or otherwise. She has an incredibly pretty face. An eternity of cheek
bones. Sun poisoning there in tiny bright pink spots; a long neck and a
quantity of cheap-looking gold chains; lips dry and threaded with a
pomegranate stain; applied shadows of gold and brown around green eyes. A
natural angle-shaped eyebrows, sun-scorched blonde and obvious on the skin; a
tan suffered in the desert, a tan that is beginning to peel away. Dead white
slough. Her skin, taut and leathery, wants a pound of prevention, wants to
lose the deeply exposed color it holds. The backs of her hands are scabbed
over, red around the knuckles and nailbeds, yet her fingernails are manicured
..well painted at least, a titian-red.
She dresses in layers. Loose jeans, jack boots, a fitted t-shirt
(white) under a button-down (suede), under a denim jacket. It's this article
of clothing around which all others revolve. It's fitted, but big enough to
keep her assets in check. Not so much decorated as amplified with patches,
they keep the jacket in one piece, its original seams and thread long gone.
Between the blue-white-red bullseye patch and a black&white John Lennon
likeness is a flat-head thumbtack, white. Across the back panel a fabric
replica of an album cover is safety-pinned (Santana's ABRAXAS) a-typical of
jackets like this.

It's the evening, and a warm front is butting upwards, from the south. The heat slips and slides below the cold front, and a slow fog rolls in. The thrumming groan of fog horns ripples over the water, vibrating through the fog as though it were radio waves through the aetheric medium. Tom is slunk low into his wool coat, the collar turned up around his neck. The faint clip-clop of shoes, dampened by the moisture within the water logged boards on the dock itself. He whistles into the night, whistles as he walks, a neat little tune to take a late evening's walk by.

Noises on the dock, noises beyond traffic and bar trouble; seagulls sleeping and the lapping water beaneath heavy-booted footsteps. Mysterious noises of moored and anchored boats shuttling back and forth, the combined smells of salt and gasoline, the wind spooking the fish. And among these, Penny. Figure out there in the mist, her jean jacket no protection against the weather, a flask and an unlit cigarette her defense. A sailboat's rigging comes loose and knocks violently into a metal post. Bang bangbang, gunshots rippling, forever echoing out to sea.

"Hey, got a light?"

Lost in his own thoughts, in the general swirl of atmosphere, like the end of Casablanca if Raymond Chandler'd wrote it. Deals are done out in the shadows, an Iranian and an extraterrestrial grasping hands in an ancient Masonic greeting back behind some cargo containers. The wind whips up along an alleyway, giving his overcoat an appropriately dramatic flutter. At the stimuli, Tom's attention is called up and away. Eyes float lazily towards Penny... he palms a silver zippo - brings it up in his cupped palm, fingers open. "Yeah." Still a little absent, the words floating up out of him like
exhaust.

She leans in and cups cold hands over his, breathes out past your face and not down. The damp sag in the air makes ash of the end almost immediately. She drags hard again and leans back. "Thanks," cheap wine and stale cologne; things not her own wreathe and claim her posture, slack and sour. The distant remains of laughter makes its way quietly through the atmosphere from the west, a party at the yacht club. Music, too, on the wind in time. A bellow of song and a foghorn in alternate bursts. Penny seems not to notice, her focus somewhere between your burns and her own.

"Welcome, absolutely welcome," comes the distract answer, somewhat unfocused eyes wandering off towards the distant sounds of laughter. A squint through the fog, as though by looking hard enough he could see the source of it. A thoughtful nod as Tom retracts his warm hands - flipping the zippo closed, sliding it away into a pocket on the coat. "Nice night for a party." He withdraws slightly, to a distance permitting dignified conversation. Voice soft, low, "Is that what brings you on a wander out here?"

The fog rolls up and back, harbor lights twinkling in the wake. It must be strange business, whatever the reason, a girl alone on the docks. She nods by way of an answer at first, cigarette pressed to her lips, then offers "Stood up, blind date. Place was beat anyway." Sheltered somewhat from the brunt of the arctic winds, the whistling in the eaves is enough to distract conversation for minutes at a time "You?"

A quick glance over a shoulder to where shadowy men in shadowy robes speak occulted words with their fellows, a storage facility housing much in the way of darkness and forgotten lores. Then, back off into the distance, where the music still wafts through the fog from. "I'm a bit late for it, I think. It'd be more trouble than it was worth to explain it - better, I guess, not even to show up." He drags his palm along the close-cropped hair, looks down at his shoes. "Better not to bother. I only just arrived - I'm allowed."

Men in the distance tend to stay that way; Penny isn't concerned. Theory and practice tell us they'll be disappearing into the ether as silently as they arrived. "You were supposed to be there, huh. Wouldn't worry - they're a little stuffy." She pulls a face, "Yacht clubs," wrinkles her nose at it "not
worth the effort. Tight-laced and buttoned up." Eleven o'clock bells toll from some far-off cathedral and reminded suddenly to some unwritten law, Penny offers quickly "D'you smoke?" fingering another cigarette out of her top-most pocket.

"Well, long story," Tom replies, reaching up to rub his forehead lightly with his fingertips. The eyes wander away from the girl, away from the gatherings, away from the yacht, out into the place where the ocean falls off of the world. Squints some, as though he could see out into that oblivion with only
the help of a bit more clarity. "I guess it's similar to my attitude towards yacht clubs. I go. But I try not to make a habit of it."

Well take it." she won't hear an excuse as a no, extending it toward you "Should smoke like you drink, always in good company," implying that yacht clubs aren't, that she is. The authority in her slightly drawled words is a fabrication, alcoholic in origin and deliverance. She slouches further out of the wind, making a buffer of her shoulder.

"I don't usually smoke cigarettes, but I'll make an exception for political gain." Tom grabs it with a smooth gesture of thumb and forefinger, flipping it and letting the butt rest between slightly parted lips. Palms the zippo, flips it open again. A quick gesture of his thumb across the flint-wheel. Flame
lurches up and kisses the tip of his cigarette, which ignites with a slow hiss of combustion. "The bird fights its way out of the egg," Tom quotes, as from memory, as a fundamentalist might quote scripture - distracted, meandering, "the egg is the world. Who would be born must destroy a world. The bird flies to God. That God is Abraxas." He's winding his way closer, once more, all comfortable, affable, sociable grin. "Then, here's to good company, Miss...?"

Words murmured as she shrugs her jacket closer together "the highest good and the worst evil" underscoring the quote she follows it to the conclusion, a natural progression in her own smoke and haze. Fancy that. She doesn't stare quite at you but there's a certain concentration lent to that look, a measuring - just how much weight should she give it. "Delightful, Penny" she smiles a little "all the guys call me that on account of I'm not bitter at all," Awl, twice. The tool that makes the tiny holes. "Mister.."

"Blaine. Thomas, or Tom, but rarely Tommy." Steady hands stroke back over the close-cropped hair. "Nice to meet you." The arm offered out, off to the side, in Penny's direction, his body on an axis along the diagonal. Better feng shui, they say. "They call me that because it's what my parents named me, I guess. But I chose Tom. Or it chose me." There's a strange sliding quality to him, perhaps indicative of some excesses taken with his body chemistry, some tinkering with this pill or that drink. The strange extroversion common to the twisted.

Penny can sense it almost immediately; it's the kind of thing that might put out a vibe to the right kind of people. Physical peculiarities that become familiar like the right note in a scale, the third strike, the exact moment when the feedback stops "Pleasure Tom, " and she continues to smoke with her other hand, proximity threatening to burn with her lazy swag.

With a grin, Tom risks it, all for the sake of social interaction. A good firm grip, a light squeeze. The tamest tremor in his hand, rippling up his forearm, an autonomous grip of muscle groups. "Pleasure, Ms. Dreadful." The knowing smile of the clever and the wicked splits his mouth. "I'm thinking we ought to get coffee or something similarly trite. I know a fellow who'll sell a filled thermos of coffee, mostly to the dockworkers, just a few hundred feet or so from here."

Nothing risked, nothing gained, eh? Brighter and more alert, breaking out of miasma. A good firm grip. The genuine article, her responding smile just as conspicuous and conspirtatorial. "Yes, coffee is the best cliche back home" because the accent wasn't enough, she'll walk on if you start on the right foot. "too strong, too hot and you always get what you pay for, yes. Coffee. The guys don't get it," insinuating they're lacking though really it's anyone's guess "never will. S'okay, they're good people."

Room

Obvious Exits: Out

Contents:
Penny
Compton
Keene

There is a knock on the door. Slight, low down and quiet. But rapid and repeating repeating. Like a tiny little Anne Frank motherfucker tapping to be let out of hiding.

"I'm not getting that," says Keene, working at the desk on his laptop on some seedy press release about the upcoming boy band concert.

Penny always forgets to call 'not it.' Penny gets up from her comfy place on the floor. Always when she's got a good ground & focus going on. "Coming," her voice gravel rolling under water. Not a big room but it takes her a few to get to the door. Long night, rough night. "'whoz'it?"

The knocking stops. There is a pause. Then a slight scratchy noise. Something slides under the door. Looks like the top of a cigarette packet. Yup. The lid of a box of Lucky Strikes, all written on. The tap tap tapping continues. Long short, short long long, short long short long. Morse code?

Penny kicks the lid back under the door "Knock it off, who is it?"

The knocking stops again, and there's another faint noise of motion. Then silence. Footsteps. Closer and closer. Then a real knock on the door. At man-knocking height.

"For fuck's sake," Keene says, pausing to save his work and close his laptop. He turns to look towards the door. "Just see who it is already. If it's a Paradox spirit, they don't like to be kept waiting anyway."

Penny half to the door, half to Keene "You expecting anyone?" waiting on Keene's response before she'll address the door again. "Fine..okay. But if it has a mouth, I'm slapping it."

Penny, of course, opens the door.

A man stands there, one of the hotel's security staff. Just to the side of him is a rather ubiquitous cardboard box. He gestures down at it with a flourishing motion of the hand. "Is this yours? We'd appreciate it if you diddn't leave your belongings out in the hallway for others to trip over them."

Keene puts his hand over his face, fingers splayed, meat of his palm resting on the tip of his nose. "Why, God, why," is his only comment before he brings his hand down, gets up, and walks out to look at the box. "Yeah, that's probably ours. We'll move it right away. Sorry to trouble you." He taps the side of the box with his foot to see if Pobble is still inside of it.

The box seems to be full of something. Not as heavy as a person however. Somewhere a quiet voice says, "About fucking time you wanker.".

The guard looks to the side, squinting back at the two of you. "Did you say something?"

"TV's on," comments Keene, without missing a beat. "You like Red Dwarf? It's one of those wonderfully charming British comedy series." He gives the guard one of those winning smiles that has a strange, reassuring quality. "We'll be sure to keep the noise down. Sorry again for the inconvenience." He begins edging the box towards the door with the side of his shoe, assuming Penny takes over the process of dragging the box in once it's fully in front of the door.

Offended and hungover, Penny gets a good glare on the guard "You g.." sputtering quietly as Keene steps in. It's his fault, really. He should've gotten the door. Penny stands aside, holding the door open "No, sir. Thanks for keepin'an eye out for us, hey?" Her hands twitching, she tucks something that might be money into his front-pocket.

Just out of hearing of the guard, the voice says, 'Fucking nark.' and coughs quietly then returns to silence. Then coughs again. Smoke splutters from the room-side hole in the box to accompany the bhroncial issues.

Keene gets the box in front of the door, then starts to push it into the hotel room with his heel -- keeping an eye on the guard the whole time. He is the last thing the guard will see, hopefully, before Keene closes the door behind him. "Penny," he says, still looking at the guard, "help with the box, won't you? Put it over behind the door there when I close it, that's good." And hopefully Keene gets the box inside the room and closes the door up behind him.

"Alright.." says the guard suspciously. He obviously doesn't get paid enough to give a shit about whatever seems to be going on here and turns and heads along on his rounds.

Penny has a kind of maniacal look to her, closing the door. Reminiscent of Anthony Hopkins in Psycho - moving with that careful, methodical ease of someone that knows just what she's going to do next. And then after that, too. She'll help. She kicks the box that way to the corner of the room. Something in her eyes begins to settle south in her clenched jaw. Hazard sign. Warning. Danger. A vein starts to pulse clearly from her left temple.

Keene closes the door, locks it up securely, then turns to watch the box fly across the room. He works a cigarette out of his breast pocket, puts it between his lips, and lights it with his Masonic Zippo as the carnage invariably begins. "See, that's the thing," he says. "I deal with enough *human* stupidity that protecting Familiars from the fallout of their actions just doesn't fit the bill. Excuse me."

At that, Keene walks into the bathroom, closes the door, and locks it for the duration.

"What the fuck.." comes the startled reply from the box, followed by "Ow, fucking ow." and "Argh, shit." and "You cunt." until the flap opens and a monkey clambers out, throwing a cigar before him and rolling about on the carpet trying to extinguish the arm of his rather shiny looking suit before the fur catches fire. The box seems untouched by the fire. The cigar smoulders on the Holiday Inn carpet, while the monkey rolls.. revealing that his back is marked with a peice of burnt and melted plastic and some kind of blue powder, which has melted onto the suit in places.

Counting down from ten, she paces toward the closet where they keep their things. He'll come out of the box sooner or later, Penny is sure. Penny can wait. Penny has been waiting for a long time.

Rummaging through Jesse's things, she turns on the scorched monkey and flips open, of all things, a switchblade. "Dave," she coos, like Hal "I'm going to skin you, Dave."

The *snikt* sound of the knife opening up may or may not be in Dave's audible range but she's confident he can feel her intent. "And then I'm going to give it to the sylph on the other side of the bathroom mirror. And she's going to possess you. We cut a deal, her'n me. She's going to be the air you breathe."

The monkey freezes. Those with good hearing or lip reading (Monkey Spec) could possibly garner the words 'Oh Shit' from the vulgar potty mouth creature. Staring at the girl, his eyes shift to the slightly overturned box and he darts sideways with The Agility of the Monkey. One hand snapping out a lighter, the other pulls the half open bag of bright blue powder from the box. Dave settles arm behind him, as if the powder bag were a sling, lighter held in the other hand.

The cigar still smoulders. Right on the Holiday Inn carpet.

"Flour mills are dangerous places.." says the cockney edgit.

Penny? is CRAZY. Bug.fuck. Lost it. Completely off her rocker. But she's so calm, a center, an eye around which things orbit. In her other hand is a pillowcase full of something "Do you *understand me*?" She pitches the fabric at Dave, interrupting the dusting and follows with a particularly clumsy thrust of the knife.

On the far bed, where Compton has pretty much claimed as his own, lie the man himself. fully dressed except for nekkid feet. His chast and gut rise and fall in steady rythm. A deep droning snore resonates from the man, as does a faint tinge of diesel fuel.

The monkey jumps forward under the flung pillow, and with a look of terrible sadness in its blue blue eyes it flings the big bag o blue barney powder at the woman. Meanwhile, the pillow lands on the smoking/nearly burning carpet/cigar combo, taking it out of sight. The already burnt open bag splits midair, showering the woman with blue cocaine and creating a veritable powder bomb. Almost on cue, the pillow bursts into flames. And the monkey goes diving for the bed.

That's probably true. It's a well established fact since he slept through that quake in 2006, Compton could sleep through anything. Even a fight.

Aggrivated and irritated, Penny goes low when the monkey goes high for the bed, the edge of her robe not singed, shaking off the coke. She yanks out a plastic bag and unloads what at first appears to be lengths of rope. The more she grabs, though, it becomes evident that it's hair. Dreads. A whole head full "I'm going to SUFFOCATE you, monkey!"

Mean but effective, she gets across what she means to do.

A blue haze fills the air, that bag was pretty fat. Probably the lifetime gross earnings of some little African chap. Floating down through the air. It fizzles and pops as it comes in contact with the burning pillow. The foam has a pungent odour to it and thick black smoke seeps out of it.. drifting up towards the smoke alarm. The monkey struggles amidst the hair, its little monkey nails scratching visciously at its opponent. The fizzling of cocaine and pillow fabric continues as the dust settles.. down, condensing as it moves towards the floor.

A brief second later, there is a big badaboom.

Penny keeps piling the hair at the monkey, choking him. Basically she's done with the dialogue part of the evening. Her reasons, many and varied as they may be, all boil down to the fetid stink of vengence.

The floor is on fire but Keene, we're sure, is very handy with the ice bucket and the making damp of things on fire. She gets one hand free and delivers a punch to his little monkey mouth. Nobody should treat monkeys like that; it's inhumane. Wait'll PETA hears about this one.

The floor burns with the fire of Penny's love for Dave. Sticky black muck is clumped about, in hair and on sleeping faces. One can only hope that the noise will draw Keene from his extended sitting, unless he's fallen down the hole..

The Monkey falls unconscious without a further sound limp suited arms and legs hanging feebly. The smell in here is somewhat attrocious, acrid smoke everywhere. Fortunately it appears that someone turned off the smoke alarm..

All that is left of the 032103 log is this:

Gideon pages: You and Jesse are gonna NOT hurt Mary, you are gonna check up on
a Kraut, and a guy named Earl, who killed a guy named Collidge.

How sad. That was a good night of rp. Fuck. Sigh.
Scene went something like:

Jesse's at Overdrive's Alley
Penny meets up with him.
They have a drink while Barnabas tries to convince Jesse he's gay.

Penny shows off shaved head, scares off the rest of the rp.

Gideon shows up. Jesse goes 'hey'. Penny goes 'uh, you're kidding right'.
They do a pimps up/hos down thing.

Twiddling around a table, they chatter about stuff; discuss money, background details, names and places. Penny & Jesse explain that they're professionals fronting for a sizable organization and go through bravado about it being boring to just collect information - they're big on "forgetting". Penny impresses Gideon with gun knowledge. Jesse impresses Gideon by being Jesse.

They part amicably and say something about two weeks, they'll be in touch.

***Okay. A scene with Penny, Tiziano and Compton. Just a improv home invasion dealie that turns in to a attempted double hommicide. Unfortunatly it broke down in to a 4 hour timestop due to some rather over-assumptive RP.I've left in the OOC banter although it breaks up the scene messily, I thnk it needs to be recorded what we went through and how simplistically Tiziano reasoned. We should steer clear of him in the future to avoid OOC messes like this. Oh, and lobbed bagels do not an enchantment make!***

A taxi pulls up and Compton gets out.

//.etro: It is 04:28 am, the dead of night, on Tuesday the 23. day of September, 2008.

Compton climbs out of his cab in front of the Holliady Inn. He looks like death warmed over, or that he slept in a dumpster for a few hours.
_________________________ //.etro: Toronto by Night _________________________
Name Sex Mode Idle Type Short Description
______________________________________________________________________________

Charice F IC 1m Pl -
Allen M IC 3m Pl -
POLICE LINE - Wn - - Obj -
Compton M IC 1s Pl Middle aged guy wearing a hawiian shirt.
______________________________________________________________________________


There is a police line around the Whiskey Saigon and a sign on the door that reads: "CLOSED UNTIL FURTHUR NOTICE".

Allen's hand falls back to his side as he gives Charice one more appraising look, lips still curled into an amused little grin. The two stand off down the sidewalk a bit from the Whiskey Saigon. "Could be fun to try, but I'll pass on payin'." he says, dark eyes glittering with amusement.

Charice reaches out to take Allen's left hand in her right one, cooing softly at him, "Awww sugar, aren't I worth a bit of money. If I don't bring some cash home my pimp womps on my ass. You don't want that...do ya?" smiling at the man and letting her duster fall to her elbows, showing much more then before.

As the cab pulls away, Compton staggers for a few feet towards the Hotel, before giving up and sitting on the curb, holding his head in his hands.

Allen chuckles softly, but doesn't resist his hand being taken. He lets that little ploy work, seemingly swayed a bit as he looks at the revealed skin. "I doubt I'm the only one you'd find tonight." he replies, grinning crookedly. "Depends on if you'd rather have fun, or make a buck."

Charice looks over her shoulder at Compton for a moment, as if debating something in her head. She looks back to Allen and rubs her finger over his hand gently, "You're the first John tonight and probably for the rest of the night sugar. So either you pay or I go across the street and flirt with him." motioning over at Compton.

Allen laughs at that, amused and following Charice's gaze towards Compton. "Him? I doubt he'd keep you amused for ten minutes.." he shakes his head almost sadly, "But if you want to waste yer time on the attempt.." he chuckles and flashes a toothy grin. "Or you can take a chance... never know."

Penny has arrived.

Allen is standing off to the side of the street maybe half a block from the Whiskey. Standing rather close to Charice and engaged in conversation with her it would seem, she holding one of his hands in hers.

Compton is sitting on the curb where the cab dropped him off out front of the Hotel. He's cradeling his head in his hands. Looking kind of rough, and from the smell, he's been sleeping in a dumpster.

Charice looks between Allen and Compton and says, "I don't know, he's looking more and more attractive right now. And chances only get this whore a black eye and out fifty bucks...so you either pay me for my time or I move my ass elsewhere, sugar."

Penny is walking because it's 5am and that's what she does. She walks and hums to herself and maybe there's a downbeat to her step. Could be she's plugged into something that makes her walk that way. Thump-chucka, thump thump-chucka. Penny's still bobbing her head when she steps on Compton's foot. Really it was an accident. "Old man," over-doing it on the volume it's a kind of greeting.

Allen laughs, "Allright, you've got a deal. Fifty, maybe a tip if you're a good girl." his lips quirked in an impish little grin as he stands there before the taller woman. At least with that footwear, she's got a good two inches or more on him, though he doensn't seem to be aware of that. Except maybe for the fact that certain things are closer to eye level.
Charice grins, "I assure you good is too weak of a word for what I am. Come on and let me show you heaven. You wanna ride on the back of my bike?" Tugging him along as she heads over to the Harley near Whiskey Saigon.

Compton flinches with the sudden outburst so close to his abused head. His mellon wobbles in its precarious pearch on his shoulders, and he looks up at the woman standing on his foot, "Fuck... Penny." he says after a second of recognition kicks in, "Shhhhhh." is all he can say in after thought.

Allen steps away from the wall, stepping up next to Charice. "You sure that thing'll last the trip?" he asks curiously, "Sounded kinda iffy on the way in."


Charice chuckles slightly, "The guy I had fixing my bike for blow jobs ran off on me...don't worry though, she's reliable. Get us back to my pad in no time, long as you don't mind riding on the back. No one drives my hog." Grabbing the helmet and offering it to him first. Slipping on her driving gloves and doing up hre duster.

Allen waves off the proffered helmet, not seeming to be overly concerned. "Must not have been very good blowjobs then." he says as he waits for her to mount the bike, then swings up on the back of the seat and drapes an arm around her waist.

"Y'r.." she starts but the old man says quiet so she's quiet. But not her headphones. They're still spouting a static thrum, a humming drum and she's smiling. Smiling so big and so wide, crouching down behind Compton, Penny makes a face. Quiet as a mouse.

Charice snorts at the man on the back of her bike, "Naw, the guy was too whimpy for me. Didn't like being tied up." Slipping her helmet on and reving up her bike before moving the kickstand, "Let's haul ass!"

Penny mutters to Compton, "Fucking... Did you see it?"
Penny mutters "Fucking strange. Did you see it?"

"Yeah, yeah of cource I saw it.... Saw what exactly." Compton asks from his stupor.

Charice walks east along King to University.
Charice has left.
Allen walks east along King to University.
Allen has left.

Penny says, "She had fucking HORNS man. HORNS. S'fucked up, man." Not that anything can really bother Penny. She rolls and it's all good "So's your stink. S'up with that? You gone dumpster diving again?"

"Right.... horns. yeah." Compton continues in a daze. "Dunno. Woke up in one. Was with Jes at the peelers... then..." his voice dies off as his forehead krinkels up on concentration, which visibly pains him.

The sound of bumper cars fill the air of Toronto's central bar area. Dim light-gray pattern webs sullenly sway from the barely perceived buildings. If you listen closely you may hear carousel music from the location of Whiskey Saigon. Chaotic sounds of pinball machines ping from Dirk Gently's. Clicking noises like those of a railroad track are heard from the Power Bar. The familiar web covered vehicles crawl by. A reddish stain, like some sluggish invading flood, creeps across the ground of the area covering everything in its way. The pattern spiders appear to be avoiding coming anywhere near the spreading stain.


Penny scoots over on the curb and plants her ass there. The cold doesn't seem to hinder her bounce; hasn't come down yet. "You didn't do that thing with him where you bet and he wins, did you.. y'know you shouldn't play with Jesse. He always wins." Little contemplative, she stucks on the wires of her headphones, winds her fingers up in them "Seriously. Never seen him miss a mark. So what happened?"

Compton grinds a hand in to one of his eyeballs. trying to abrasivly remote a bender cataract, "Beats me. Last thing I remeber is going in to a booth with this sweet sweet ripper. Jes was talking to another girl about the meaning of reality I think. Dumbass."

Compton plucks at his Don Ho classic and takes a wiff, instantly regretting it. "Holy shit." is all he can say.

Penny nngs and gets up a little off the curb, adjusts and resettles herself. You could say she's feeling sympathy. Or something. "Really. They have the raw sweet and the dirty sweet, too. Met a few tonight. Consider another setting. The alley isn't suitable anymore. This isn't San Francisco."

And then she adds "You didn't get ripped off, did you."

Compton's head is just bobbing in that non-comittal 'yeah I'm listening' kind of way. But the pained look on his face says he's trying hard to understand the words you are forcing in to his spongy brain. After a long second, his grey matter catches up to the back log, and he reacts to your question, reaching around to his ass and poking for his wallet. "Yeah. Still got my stuff." then pokes his left cheek a few times with his hand, "Don't think it was the girl. I think someone suckered me... Bouncer. Yeah. Was the fucking bouncer!" he says, his voice rising as the memorys get kicked out of the smoldering ash of his brain.
The fog's started to roll in. Weird weather they have here; and it's not a soup-to-nuts kind of fog, not that thick road-to-Berkeley fog either. It's a fog like hairspray that refuses to stay put. Penny reaches into the air and pulls at it a few times. "Isn't thick enough to write in," half smiling "I was gonna tell it to make you smell pretty."

And that other noise, that's her feet. She hasn't really stopped moving, can't sit still. Can't help the tick. "She had horns. Pale sticky halo, too. Where'd'you think horns come from?" She asks this and when she asks she sounds like a child asking about babies.

"Maybe she can't sing?" Compton deadpans.

With a grunt, some squeaking at the knees and much effort, Compton hauls himself to his feet, swaying slightly,"I honeslty have no fucking idea what you're talking about toots." he says. "I need a shower." No shit sherlock, but admitting it is the first step.

Penny tilts her head to the side, ear bud slipping out emitting the noise of some remix. Hard beats. Thirty revolutions per minute. "Maybe she stepped on a crack." She reaches her hands up. Up. Up. Pull her up. "I saw her. When you told me to shush, I shushed and Looked."


"Technically it's not work. Not if I enjoy it. Right?"

Compton peers at you for a second, like you're out of your fucking mind, then with a sigh, bends over again, his joints protesting. Grabs a hold of your wrists and leans back, trying hard to stay upright.

You say, "You mean the whore?"

Her knees crack, too. Whatever she was doing tonight, it was hell on her joints. "Yes, her. She's gonna eat that boy I bet. I'da but that's not my job this week. M'not allowed," eye drooping down, twisting sideways. "This not working shit blows. Hotel?"

Compton simply nods and turns Holiday way, "So, ya'd eat 'em eh?" he says.

Walking is slow going. Walking pace is set by Penny because that is how it works this week. "Yes, I would. If I were a girl. Freya, though, she's a bitch and a half to handle. Makes me all," pulsing her hand open and closed, open, closed like people do with stressballs "hungry. Famished. Like I'm fasting from the ebb and flow. I donno."

"Ya can raid the continental breakfast bar on the way up." Compton offers, moving none too quickly himself, "This whole Days thing just fucks me up. Not good with roles... not good with responsibility. Someday one of you are going to give me the shit, and I'm gonna fuck it up, I tell ya."

Penny enters the Holiday Inn lobby area.
Penny has left.

Holiday Inn(#2848RnAJ)

This spacious lobby area has many comfortable seats and a fire place. It is very clean, except for the clutter of baggages placed on the floor by the people checking in or out. Loads of magazines are organized on a centrally located coffee table. The front desk has a couple of employees signing in guests. A gift shop entrance is located right next to the front desk area, displaying all sorts of Ontario and Canada goodies for the passing tourist to purchase. A large area opens up through a passage way on the far side of the lobby and the faint scent of chlorine drfits in from a heated pool out of sight.

Contents:
Penny
Room176(#4941ed)
Room174(#4497ed)
Room172(#4869ed)
Room170(#5048ed)
Room169(#5091ed)
Room167(#5822ed)
Room166(#5258ed)
Room165(#7658ed)
Room164(#6674ed)
Room159(#6092ed)
Room158(#7027ed)
Room157(#5983ed)
Room156(#7909ed)
Room154(#6976ed)
Room152(#5498ed)
Room150(#5751ed)
Room139(#2747ed)
Front Desk
Obvious exits:
Out

Compton detours over by the breakfast nook and grabs a handful of stale beagles and croissants, before falling in behind you on the way to your room.

"You couldn't fuck it up. There's no such thing," all matter-of-fact and absoposilutely, nodding along to a song she can only half hear. Guitars now. Wailing vocals. Johnny Cash. "Just as there is no such thing as coincidence. It's all connected. It's all good."

She knocks on the door to a room. It's not our room. She still knocks.
Penny knocks on the door marked #158.
Penny knocks on the door marked #156.

Tiziano leaves an apartment.
Tiziano has arrived.

Compton is standing outside Room 159 with Penny. At the room that isn't theirs where Penny is talking to the door, saying things like "He's probably passed out. He probably got one look at himself in that sailor moo.." when the door opens. No one there to greet her at eye-level, she looks down.

The door opens up and Tiziano pokes out his head looking about. He is dressed as if he has just gotten up and out of bed looking over towards the woman then man, "Hey I remember you.." he trails off, "What are you doing here?"

"Candygram." Compton deadpans.

Penny looks at Compton. He doesn't have candy. He has croissants and stale bagels in a basket with those little brown stirry things for coffee. And about fifty packets of sugar. totally unapologetic, and even a little 'up' for the hour, Penny goes on like this is totally normal. "I need coffee for that little coffeemate thing in the bathroom. You using yours?" A pause, looks at the old (very smelly) man "You know kids?"

Compton closes one eye and peers at the partched Tranny from the other, "Taint funny man." he says. The to Tiziano, "Well, do ya?"

Tiziano blinks a few times before rubbing his eyes, "Do I what?" he looks between both of you wrinkling his nose.. what is it that you want?"

Penny jerks her thumb that-a-way, indicating where most bathrooms are in the rooms here "The coffee, the *coffee* we want the little coffee packets for the little coffee pot in the little coffee kit in the little bathroom set little boy. We came for the coffee. Do you have the coffee? If you don't have the coffee we will seek the coffee elsewhere."
(**Note: 1 word, used 9 times in 1 pose**)

Compton says "Coffee." one more time for good measure.

Penny sighs to Compton and asides "This is beginning to feel like work. I'm coming down."

Tiziano frowns looking over towards Penny his hands being placed on his hips looking rather cross, "I am not a little boy." the high pitched voice states, "I'm 13.." he trails off, "Did you put the stuff in the punch there?"

"No." Compton says flatly, a little too quickly, "Want a bagle?"

Tiziano tilts his head a little, "Okay.." he trails off, "Antigone took my punch before I could finish it." he sighs looking over to Penny, "I'm not sure there is coffee I don't drink any."

Compton looks to Penny, "That sounded like a yes to me." he says handing the bagle over. Did we mention that Compton smells like a dumpster? Long story, but he does.

Penny looks down her nose at Tiziano, glasses slipping a little bit further while Compton tries to interject "Listen, you're getting a life-lesson little boy. Right fucking now," the build-up to this next bit bracketed by a pregnant pause and some half-hearted finger-pointing "Don't *ever* waste good drugs on the non-paying."

"What do you mean? There's always coffee. Why're you stalling? Comp - why's he stalling.."

Tiziano takes the baggle sniffing at it a few moments seeing if it smells as it should be tossed out, "Stalling?" he bites his lips, "I bet you have whatever it was that was in the punch.. umm what was the name again." he scratches his head.

"Just go *in* there and get it." Compton points past Tiziano, in to the room, "He said yes already." he reasons with Penny. Then to Tiziano, "That's good advice kid."

Tiziano quickly shakes his head, "You can't go inside my room.." he trals off, "My father would be really upset." he sighs taking a bite of the bagel talking with a full mouth, "You really shouldn't just knock on people's rooms you know."

A moment later, a light sparks deep behind Comptons eyes, "Hey kid, your parents use their mini-bar at all?"

"It's better than just walking in." Compton points out. "At least this gives you a chance to get your pants on."

Penny is leading. Compton is distracting with the bagel and Penny is walking past the kid into that room that is not theirs to hunt down the instant coffee. This only works because Compton can follow, follow-up and fix their own minibar woes as well. "C'mon, it'll just take a sec."

Tiziano turns a little red stepping behind the door, "I'm wearing shorts and I was asleep so there.. and well I I don't know.." he falls silent staring at you now the bagel forgotten.

Tiziano blinks, "Hey get out of there." he stomps his goot on the ground, "Your starting to really upset me." he grits his teeth, "Get out of my room!" he screams this last part.

Compton pushes in behind Penny, "Common kid. You said yourself you're not using it when she asked, that's the same as saying yes. You can't play with us like that... she really needs her coffee."

There's rummaging going on in the bathroom, the door half-open. These people, whoever they are, work FAST. Steamroller, baby. "Hey, you got a *showercap* Wooow. That's cool. Hey C - they got any gin left? We're gonna need it - and that shitty rum, too." She reappears, three coffee bags in her corner, when the tantrum starts "Comp - give the kid some money, hey? Bagels don't work like they used to."

Tiziano growls muttering something into Italian for a few moments looking more and more angered, "Vost grab my father's blade I'm tired of being nice." he turns towards Compton giving him a dark look, "You take one step toward me and you will die before the hour passess."

Compton puts his little 'tisket' basket down by the door and shoves a hand in to hispocket, comming out with a $5 bill. "Here kid. That's fair." He insists as he heads for the mini-fridge by the TV.

That stops Compton in his tracks. Damn. Somthing about someone half his size dropping a treat like that makes one take pause and consider it, and current circumstances a little more closely. "Hey. S'cool." the old hipster assures.

You say, "Just borrowin the freebies the hotel gives up, like you said we could."

Penny stops there, a few feet from Tiziano and kinda stares "Uu..uu.uhm. Kid listen, we're uh.. we're gonna GO. Now, okay?" Edges that way, to the far wall giving Compton a 'what the fuck' look.

Tiziano looks over towards the man, "I told you to depart.." his words drip of venom as he makes his way though the room over towards his bed he coups down as if picking something up, "No.. your going to stay.. I'm not a KID!" he screams, "I've tried being nice.. ooooh but you don't want that. You want the darkness well now your going to deal with it."

Compton gives the old eye-motion-to-the-door and a short nod, "Yeah, hey. No worries buddy. Thanks for helpin us out." and does the ole backwards march to the door, stooping to pick up the basket on his way by.

You say, "You really should use that peep hole." Compton adds in way of friendly advice still inching towards the door."

Tiziano takes a deep breath, "Oh.... now I think I am really mad." he grows silent for a moment looking towards the Bagel for a moment before tossing it towards Compton, "Catch."

That quick grab motion also pertains to Penny. Compton grabs her by the seat of her pants a little too hard. She drops the coffee packets and whines about it on the way out. "Hey, what's the big deal? It's just coffee..."

Penny stumbles backwards and catches the bagel in the eye "Ow, shit! Hey! Fuck, that fucking little ..what the fuck, Comp?"

Compton, not graced with youth, small nimble hands or any degree of dexterity, does his best with the lobbed bagel, and...

//.etro: Compton rolls "athletics+dexterity" at diff 6
For a botch!

...not only misses the bagel completely, drops his basket and himself in the door way.
<>

//.etro: Penny rolls "athletics+dexterity" at diff 6
For a total of 3 success(es) including 1 ten(s).

Nimble, young and a little rocked. That's what you have to be to get it done and get it done right. Penny is all that and a gymnast, too. She not only manages to get her balance back, but she tumbles backward and catches that fucking bagel on its way down. That was amazing.

It's not nice, but she pegs that hockey puck back into the room "Keep your fucking coffee."

Vost has arrived.
Tiziano drops Vost.

Vost(#6152VXpC)
See +flook

"Fucking hell." he comments to himself. Looking around behind himself for Penny.
(OOC> Tiziano says "You guys brought in to the whole happy friendly Changeling bs. Its not true. It's a very dark game depending on what Lecagy your char is on. Mine is on his dark one. You barged into his room, you didn't leave when he asked you to, and he had his servent draw a very dangerous weapon. He is POed. Right now he can't even be directly attacked by Fae. (not sure about non-enchanted.) That is why I offered the retcon. I don't have humanity my char isn't human."

(OOC> Penny is just asking - we left when you threatened us and you're still attacking.
(OOC> Compton never assumed nothing about Changeling. Please don't assume on my assumptions. It never crossed my path before. I'm just trying to learn how this is happening, that that it can happen.
(OOC> Tiziano says "Well actully I was just attacking you at first. Compton kept calling me a kid so I tossed him in just before you left. Vost was about to smack you with his sword and inact is enchantment rede so you could see him. Quite frankly he could have walked behind you for 10 yards then smacked and killed you when you went to sleep."
//.etro: Mercutio will be joining your location.
Mercutio has arrived.
(OOC> Mercutio says "Okay. What's up? :-)"
(OOC> Tiziano says "Vost is about to attack Penny who is in the Hall."
(OOC> Compton says "Oh, you know. Petty home invasion. A little enchanting with a bagel of doom and an invisible killer thingy going after the would-be invaders."
(OOC> Mercutio says "Ah. I can't run this. :-("
(OOC> Tiziano ohs. :(
(OOC> Compton says "Do we have a sub, or do we find an alternative?"
(OOC> Mercutio says "Sorry. Hope you find someone soon."
Mercutio goes home.
Mercutio has left.
(OOC> Compton finds the odds of that unlikely.
(OOC> Compton twiddles.
//.etro: Mercutio will be joining your location.
Mercutio has arrived.
(OOC> Tiziano waves.
(OOC> Compton awakes.
(OOC> Mercutio says "Okay, I need someone to +mail me a recap."
(OOC> Penny okays.
(OOC> Mercutio waits for it before he does anything else.
(OOC> Tiziano says "There you go."
(OOC> Mercutio says "Cool. Got it from two angles."
(OOC> Mercutio says "Penny.. I was actually looking for a cut & paste of the poses, but okay."
(OOC> Penny says "Oh. I can do that, too :)"
(OOC> Tiziano has the log he can mail now.
(OOC> Mercutio says "Yeah, please do."
(OOC> Tiziano says "Give me your e-mail addy."
(OOC> Mercutio says "If you need to, email it. mercutio-metro@sbcglobal.net"
(OOC> Mercutio isn't gonna wait much longer, guys.
(OOC> Compton hangs in.
(OOC> Tiziano says "Do you want the ooc stuff ater the scene?"
(OOC> Mercutio says "I want everything. I want un-edited logs."
(OOC> Mercutio says "Well, you can edit out personal, unrelated pages, of course."
(OOC> Tiziano says "That's gone. Now there is just personal talk and OOC talk till you came."
(OOC> Tiziano says "I.E them asking me what I had done."
(OOC> Penny sends it.
(OOC> Mercutio doesn't have the logs yet.
(OOC> Tiziano says "Okay I have everything up to where you showed up 1st time want things after that?"
(OOC> Mercutio says "Yeah."
(OOC> Tiziano says "Stop after you came back 2nd time?"
(OOC> Mercutio says "Yeah."
Mercutio slips into his Robes of Office and into Judge Mode!
(OOC> Tiziano says "Okay you have my copy as well now. 7 pages."
(OOC> Tiziano says "11 pages rather."
(OOC> Tiziano says "Well it has been sent."
(OOC> Mercutio just blinks.
(OOC> Tiziano shocked Merc wth all his typos and bad spelling.
(OOC> Penny doesn't think Merc scares so easy.
(OOC> Tiziano has made a lot of typos in his ooc coments, "No spell check for OOC."
(OOC> Mercutio says "Okay, by the logs I see that Penny was never actually Enchanted."
(OOC> Mercutio says "So, I reset appropriate Glamour and removed the enchantment notes from Penny."
(OOC> Mercutio says "Compton and Penny have already made it out into the hallway."
(OOC> Mercutio says "Tiziano are still in the room."
(OOC> Mercutio says "Is. Tiziano is. Sheesh."
(OOC> Tiziano says "Okay Vost is using Fate's End spending 4 points of Glamour."
(OOC> Mercutio says "Wait a moment."
(OOC> Mercutio says "I'm not done looking over the logs."
(OOC> Tiziano says "Also I would like to know how you ruled Penny was not properly enchanted."
(OOC> Mercutio says "Uh, she didn't accept the bagel. You threw it at her."
(OOC> Mercutio says "And then she promptly tosses it back at you."
(OOC> Tiziano says "No I tossed it to Compton. She caught it beacuse she wanted to."
(OOC> Penny says "It hit me in the eye."
(OOC> Tiziano says "She took the Bagel of her own will it was not tossed at her."
(OOC> Mercutio says "You tossed it. It hit her on the way. She caught it by reflex. Then threw it
(OOC> Compton tired to catch it. Honestly botched.
(OOC> Mercutio says "Catching it by free-will and accepting it are two different things."
(OOC> Tiziano says "Catching it by free will is accepting it."
(OOC> Mercutio says "Someone throws a baseball at me when I'm unprepared, I'm likely to catch it so that it doesn't hurt me. Free will. However, it doesn't mean I accepted it. It just means I didn't want to get hurt when it hit me."
(OOC> Mercutio says "Plus, she has to EAT it or keep it on her person anyway. She tossed it back right away."
(OOC> Mercutio says "Therefore, she is not enchanted."
(OOC> Tiziano says "The moment she caught it she was enchanted. Either way Vost is taking that course of action then."
(OOC> Mercutio says "No. Incorrect."
(OOC> Mercutio says "She held it for a fraction of a second."
(OOC> Tiziano says "So Vost will enchant her himself."
(OOC> Mercutio says "Not long enough for Vost to react. And besides, she /was not enchanted./"
OOC> Tiziano says "Vost doesn't need her to be enchanted to enchant her."
OOC> Mercutio says "Right. Anyway, they're out in the hallway, you and Vost are in the room."
OOC> Tiziano says "Vost can enchant her all on her on. He can use the encantment rede or he can hit her with the sword."
OOC> Tiziano says "Yep and Vost is blowing 4 glamour to activate the power of Fate's end."
OOC> Mercutio says "Which power?"
OOC> Tiziano says "The rage like affect which allows him one action for each point he has in dexterity. That's 4 actions."
OOC> Mercutio says "Ah. Okay. Well, everyone needs to roll +init."
//.etro: Penny rolls for Initiative: wits + dex + 1d10 -> 13
//.etro: Tiziano rolls for Initiative: wits + dex + 1d10 -> 15
OOC> Tiziano says "What do I need to type for Vosts?"
//.etro: Compton rolls for Initiative: wits + dex + 1d10 -> 13
OOC> Mercutio says "I will roll for him."
//.etro: Mercutio rolls "1" at diff 1
For a total of 1 success(es).
OOC> Mercutio says "Okay, the order is Tiziano, Vost, Penny & Compton (at the same time)."
OOC> Tiziano says "Okay I am going to use Soverin 2 Dictum to order Gidon to attack Penny."
OOC> Mercutio says "To order who?"
OOC> Tiziano says "Compton rather."
OOC> Mercutio says "Anyway, we're declaring backward. Mundane items in OOC, powers can be declared in pages, if you wish."
OOC> Mercutio says "Penny and Compton first."
Penny pages Mercutio and Compton: I'll be picking Compton up off his ass and using Mind to scan the boy, anticipate more flying things come at us. At least I'll try to.
Mercutio pages Penny and Compton: How well do you know this boy, Compton?
Penny pages: You know what you know from me-he isn't okay. He's severely fucked up.
Mercutio pages: Have you had any decent talks with him? Do you know his name? Does he know yours?
You paged (blind) Mercutio and Penny with 'Had a long conversation in Allan Gardens once. I know his name, he knows my name as Comp.'.
Mercutio pages: Okay.
Penny pages Mercutio and Compton: He doesn't know my name. I don't know his. I read his aura though and basically have him figured out.
OOC> Mercutio says "Okay, Vost?"
OOC> Mercutio says "Vost's turn is out of the way. Tiz? Your turn."
***Timestop dissolves***
Vost has left.
Tiziano takes Vost.
OOC> Mercutio says "Penny, Compton, beat it."
OOC> Mercutio says "He let's you go."
OOC> Mercutio says "If you want to pose that, Tiz, do so."
OOC> Tiziano waves.
OOC> Compton says "Alright."
Penny has left.
Penny enters an apartment.
OOC> Compton hangs for any poses.
OOC> Mercutio says "Err.. waitwait.."
Penny leaves an apartment.
Penny has arrived.
OOC> Penny says "er.. did you mean literally or what.."
OOC> Penny grins.
OOC> Mercutio says "Let him pose, if he wants. Then you can leave, IC."

Tiziano is on the verge of ordering the strike. He seems to think better of it falling into a deep depression instead. The anger fades away from his eyes falling on the offering basket Compton dropped on his way out. The offering seems to apease the boy.

Penny makes with the oofs and the groaning alongside the most creative use of expletices in the latin language anyone's ever heard of. If they speak the language, that is. Not as heavy on her feet, Penny moves around Compton, glaring "Aren't you supposed to be taking care of me? Hellooo.. mcfly.." she actually makes another huffing noise getting Compton to his feet.
expletives, too.

Compton scambles up to his feet, using Penny as leverage, "Geezus girl. Make tracks" he orders, at the time the best he can do towards fulfilling his role as Sunday.

Penny knocks on the door marked #174.
Penny shouts, "Bitches, let us the fuck in, we lost our keys."
Penny bangs on the door really loudly. Like end-of-the-world loud. It's the only way to wake up the occupants.

Mercutio goes now.
Mercutio goes home.
Mercutio has left.

Tiziano does make his way over towards the Hotel phone. Someone does have to pay for the minibar drinks and it isn't comming out of his butt.

Penny has left.
Penny enters an apartment.

Compton hauls his mass up the hall catching up with Penny, turning to look back at the room they came from. He says in huffed breaths "What. Thefuck. Was. That?"

Jesse leaves an apartment.
Jesse has arrived.

Penny leaves an apartment.
Penny has arrived.

Tiziano is actully in room159 though the door is wide open.
//.etro: Mercutio will be joining your location.
Mercutio has arrived.
Guard wanders down the hallway.

Tiziano is really in his room sitting on his bed on the hotel phone.

Compton looks at Jesse, his face flushed, and he well, stinks. Like a dumpster. Long story.

Jesse emerges headfirst from the room, responding to the apocalyptic knocks with insctinct-borne alacrity. Topless, his gaunt form is a writhing mess of tattoos. Sleep is rapidly being blinked from his eyes and, even barefoot and beltless, he has his satchel clutched in one hand.

Guard continues meandering on down the hallway. He notices the people collected outside of one of the rooms.

Penny looks over her shoulder, squinting down the hallway. Not for long, though. "Not that kind of emergency," dismissing Jesse's bag "No keys, man. It's cool, baby, it's cool. I need some sleep."

Compton clutched Jesse by the shoulder and turns his dazed form back towards the room. "Go t'bed man." he offers.

Jesse has his baseball cap on. Strange but true. No shirt, no shoes, just jeans and a baseball cap. A satchel and lots of tattoos. He slumps in the doorframe, sighing, then kicks the door open with the heel of his foot and motions 'after you'. "Crazy new invention I'll have to show you one of these days. Called a fucking telephone. Lets you wake me up without banging like it's the end of the world. What will they think of next?"

"Hey!" ejactulates the fat, old guard. "You guys need to be quieter, eh? What's all this ruckus aboot?"

Penny waves to the fat guy "Lost my keys," she say, separating her words with uncalled for annunciation and ducks into their room "sorry for the noise, sir. G'night." Nevermind that it's morning.
pose.

Compton tunrs and looks at the old guard, lets go of Jesse's arm and raises his in a classic, 'huh?' pose.

Penny has left.
Penny enters an apartment.

"Sorry, sir, sorry." Brim pulled low over his face, the barechested wastrel waves to the guard. "Won't happen again." He ducks into the apartment.

Guard says, "Uh, hey, excuse me, eh? I'm not done talking with you folks."

Compton just stands there looking blank and airy, "Huh?" he asks this time. If it wasn't mentioned before, he stinks. Dumpster like.

Guard points over to another room, one with the door still open. "You break into that there room and steal something from it, eh?"

Jesse shakes his head no, grabs Compton, and pulls him roomward. "In the shower. What did you, find some stink you liked and roll in it?" Jesse looks down the hallway at the open door and shrugs. "I was sleeping. But why, there something missing?"

"Sorry sir, I don't know what you're talking about. I was just dropping off the lady." Compton says pointing to room 172 as if to illustrate.

Guard nods, putting one hand on his belt and the other over his collapsible baton. "Why, someone in that there room claims you pushed past him and stole stuff from the mini-bar."

Compton stares blankly at the guard again. Scared? Clueless? It's hard to tell. He opens his mouth once, but closes it again... a little goldfish like.

"Uh. I didn't do anything but wake up and let my friend back in her room." Jesse bares a wide yawn, utterly unflapped. Nothing to worry about, this misunderstanding could not be more trivial. "You sure it's them as did it?" He turns to Compton. "Did you barge in somewhere? Steal something?"

Guard just nods. "Kid described them. Said one of 'em smelled like trash, eh. This guy here, he smells aboot like trash."

Compton blinks! looking dumbfoundedly at Jesse, "Wha?" then back at the guard, "L-like I said, I was just leavin eh? Just got here too, now I'm just leaving. Shower time. At home. Far from here." Okay, he's kind of stammering.

Compton mutters to Jesse, "... the... stop... I'm... here."
You whisper "Go the fuck back inside and stop talking to me. I'm SOnny, and I'm outta here." to Jesse.

"Kid?" Jesse laughs, shaking his head. "Oh, I get it. Kid hears all this, hears us being loud, figures it's a good time to raid the minibar." He waves to the Guard, extricating himself from the doorframe. "Check under the mattress. Kids always think you'll never look there."

Jesse has left.
Jesse enters an apartment.

Guard frowns. "If I go into the other room and find it trashed, then don't find anything, you will allow me to search you and your room, eh?"

Compton stops and thinks about this for a second, his brow krikling up, "I,um... I mean, like, its no my room eh?" he says in his defense.

"Right." The Guard leans in close... but not too close - god that smell is bad. He gets a narrow-eyed, evil-as-he-can-try-to-be look in his eyes, "I better not hear anything else from you, ya hear?"

Tiziano is on th phone asking questions such as will is dad be have to be told of this disturbence and can everything be done quietly. More then liky he is told his father shall be told. To which he will ask why.

"Sir, yes sir. sir" The old hipster agrees, too readily realizing he's off the hook. "Good day to ya to eh?"

"Oh, and I don't normally smell like this... Long story." Compton adds, trying to salvage his dignity a little.

Guard says, "Right. Anyway, go get clean. You smell terrible."
Guard wanders off.

Compton looks like he's going to explain, but decides to just get lost.

You push through the glass doors and leave the Holiday Inn.
Downtown - Spadina and King W(#257RJ)

This is the central bar area of Toronto. There is a bar on every corner, and from Thursday to Saturday it is next to impossible to find parking. The line-ups get huge and the hot dog venders get wealthy. On the northwest corner stands the neon monument called Whiskey Saigon, and near by are other bars such as Dirk Gently's and Power Bar. The Coloured Stone is located kitty-corner to Whiskey, a trendy bar and pool hall. Restaurants are also common in this area, everything from a bar and grill, to the finer dining experiences. Things are relatively more quiet other nights, but there is always traffic. The sidewalks are a clean white colour and the streets have been repaved, to the delight of motorists driving through the city. Even the planters with the flowers and the trees make this section a brighter place.

You enter the lobby area of the Holiday Inn.
Holiday Inn(#2848RnAJ)

This spacious lobby area has many comfortable seats and a fire place. It is very clean, except for the clutter of baggages placed on the floor by the people checking in or out. Loads of magazines are organized on a centrally located coffee table. The front desk has a couple of employees signing in guests. A gift shop entrance is located right next to the front desk area, displaying all sorts of Ontario and Canada goodies for the passing tourist to purchase. A large area opens up through a passage way on the far side of the lobby and the faint scent of chlorine drfits in from a heated pool out of sight.

Contents:
Room176(#4941ed)
Room174(#4497ed)
Room172(#4869ed)
Room170(#5048ed)
Room169(#5091ed)
Room167(#5822ed)
Room166(#5258ed)
Room165(#7658ed)
Room164(#6674ed)
Room159(#6092ed)
Room158(#7027ed)
Room157(#5983ed)
Room156(#7909ed)
Room154(#6976ed)
Room152(#5498ed)
Room150(#5751ed)
Room139(#2747ed)
Front Desk
Obvious exits:
Out
room174
You enter the apartment.
Room174(#4497ed)

To the right of the entrance is a modest bathroom that is sparkling clean. This room has two queen-sized beds separated by a few feet, with plenty of blankets and large fluffy pillows. Inside the second drawer of the nightstand that sits between the beds is a copy of Gideon's Bible. Across from the nightstand on the far wall is a TV that offers hours of cable entertainment. A note near the TV remote reminds you that pay-per-view adult movies will be added to your bill.
There is a window that overlooks the parking lot on the far side, next to a table with two chairs. Behind the table is the room environmental unit built into the wall, giving you control of the heat and air conditioning.



Obvious Exits: Out

Contents:
Jesse
Penny

Compton slips back in, all quiet and rather un-Compton like.

Jesse is lying on a sleeping bag on the floor, one hand tucked behind his head, the other dealing with a lit cigarette. "Oi. Rock. The fuck happened? Penn just wigged and I scripted a xanax and a vicodin. You freaked too?"

Penny says, "Nn.. " she wants, sensing Compton's arrival "..water."

"Anyway I don't think it's just you. Eva's awol. I think she and I had about the same level of reservations about coming here only she stuck to hers. And what happened to the comsys? I thought that was functioning back when we were living on Fresno-time. Gah.. I keep getting this feeling like we've been deserted, yeah? Like the sane, the rational have parted company."

Without saying anything, he goes to the bathroom, pulls the garbach bag from the can before taking his stinking shirt off and bagging it. The pants are soon to follow. So now we have a big almost naked guy who's still wiffy standing there, looking at Jesse, "Beats me... go in to your satchel and get me those mini-bottles I stashed there. I need a fucking drink." before turning back to the bathroom. Shortly the sound of a running shower can be heard.

Jesse laughs, and leaves the cigarette in his mouth long enough to snag the strap of his satchel and sling it skidding across the carpet to gently thud against the bathroom door. "Who was the kid?"

From beyond the bathroom door, a Comptons voice calls through, "Some kid that bugged me when I was golfing at the gardens. Said his name was Fagiano, or DizzyCamo or somthing like that... Wop name. Ms. Congeneality out there wanted some coffee."

"Do we need to give him a free spin?" Jesse has the oddest euphemisms for killing people. Honestly, now. He yawns widely. "Did you get the coffee at least?"

"Fucked if I know." comes from the bathroom.

From the bed, Penny makes drifting noises "He needs to pass go a few more times. /Whiney/ little fuck. I looked," she means she Looked "at him and if there ever was a kid that needed to be on lithium.. shit that kid's it. And parental supervision. Who leaves their kid alone in a place like this? God. Television is the replacement parenting unit."

"Fuck off, Penny." Jesse calls from the floor, without malice. "Some of us wish we'd been raised by televisions."


"No," totally buzzkilled "we didn't get the fucking coffee."

"Yeah. I know. And I'm saying it was a shitty fucking childhood, okay? I can't love a tv, Jes. And the tv doesn't love me. It's an empty vessel."

Compton exits the bathroom, wrapped in Pennys kimono, and a towel wrapped around his head. "MInd telling me now, what the fuck that whole surreal deal was about?" he asks. His voice is tired. Dry. He was fighting off a stupor before whatever happened, happened. Now he's lost that struggle and has gone in to wrecked buick stage. He sits on the end of his bed, and cranks the seal in a mini-bottle of Smirnoff.

"Television's better'n some alternatives, is all I'm saying." Jesse grunts his agreement when Compton re-emerges. "Yeah. The fuck did happen?"

Compton drains the tiny bottle, and tosses it at the can, missing by about two feet. Next a bottle of Southern Comfort is offered up.

Penny can't get out of this moment. Re-telling is like re-living and the more she says it, the real-er it becomes. Groudhog's Day. "Kid said he knew Compton. So they're talking, right?" New drugs making her slow, cohesive and solid "and I get the filter packs from the bathroom while they're talkin'lsd and some shit and when I come back? something's totally wrong." She yawns and sits up "Give it here," hand extended to palm the SoCo, takes a little and stretches. "He's saying we're making him angry. I'swe-ah - angry. Like the fucking Hulk would say it, y'know? That was some David Banner shit. So I read the kid and it's like he's.." trails off, pondering "..more. More than a kid."

Compton takes back the remainder of the bottlette, and drains it. He listens, about intently as Jesse, for although he was ther, he saw all the actors, he still has no idea what the plot was. Next bottle: Beefeaters. Mmmm, piney goodness.

Penny sheds the jacket, the glasses, her socks. That belt. The earring. All these accoutrement. Unecessary in the crunch or crux of conversation "He's just a kid, right?" questioning Compton "He's just a kid but there was something else. It was like looking at tree and when the lights snapped on, the whole root-structure shows up in x-ray. The whole answer. The big picture. The entire theme to this kid's life was right there and he wasn't a kid!"

Compton finished the last of the gin, and sighs, looking at the empty, tosses it at the can, and misses, but puts it right next to the empty vodka on the floor. "Bed time" he states simply, and stands, walking over to the window side of the far bed. Then he drops Pennys poor kimono, and for a moment you're all exposed to the full horror that is the 'Full Compy' before he climbs under the covers, "Or it's the drugs, Penny." he says with dying interest, "Or he's a fucking demon.
Either way I'm fine, you're fine. Next time we just leave kids alone. Right?"

She whimpers; out of fear or concedeing the point - isn't clear. "I'm sorry man, it was the drugs. I really thought I needed that coffee. But I know what I saw."

"Bitch, put some pants on."


That comment or any other, no matter how sound or based in self-preservation is lost on the old guy, as a soft drone of snoring comes from the far side of the room. Well, at least he don't stink no more.

***And so the longest, most pointless scene finally ends at 5am EST. Kudos the Merc forbeing apillar of reason and calmness.