Plotting Murder

Verna Gardner
It's late when she calls. Verna's daytime hours aren't nearly enough to complete what she has to do. Even on the weekends, something always conspires to make sure she has but a few hours to eat and maybe to sleep in a given day. It's so much that she's almost forgotten about the dark stranger who gave her his number a week ago. Almost.

Saturdays are a day of rest, and this is why, at 8:00, she finally has nothing to do.

The rules say that the girl shouldn't call the guy first. But it's been a week, and besides, would she have time to talk if he called her later? And he gave her his number first. It's all so confusing, isn't it? So she opts for courage and calls him. If he does want to help with her little problem, he should know about that problem, yes? And if he no longer wants to help, then, it's best she know that too.

Somewhere else in Denver, Cipriano's phone rings. Upon picking it up, he'll hear Verna's voice -- quiet on the other end. "Hi. It's Verna. We met at 1Up?"

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
"Technically," Cipriano says, voice all rich gold velvet, "We met at the shooting range.  It does please me that you have yet to be devoured by your demons.  How does the evening find you?"  Verna might approve of that voice, which if one could bottle it might glow warm amber like the sunlight Cipriano hasn't seen for a century.  Such a thing would belong in a palace, and there have been occasions when Cipriano has been in a palace, dancing and laughing and feeding in the kind of luxurious surroundings that one would expect to find a Ventrue in.

Currently, he's on a rooftop, surveying the city.  He spent the night in a mechanical closet, with dust and the memory of mice.  Verna would be less impressed by this than by some of his previous residences, but Cipriano is unconcerned about the character of the place in which he sleeps so long as certain requirements concerning the sun are met.  This is still better than the month he spent living in sewers; he may have come to be at peace enough with the rats and the labyrinthine twists, but the world seemed to fall closer and closer in until he would suffocate without the open sky.  Nevermind that he no longer needed to breathe.  He could still feel it.

Verna Gardner
"You keep talking about my problem like I'm going to be eaten up at any moment," Verna says, slightly amused. But there is some truth to that, isn't there? It's enough to keep her from laughing, at least. "It's more likely he'll find out where I'm hiding and... Well, after what happened a couple of weeks ago, I'm not his favorite person."

She sighs, such a human thing to do -- an expression of not having the breath to express what needs to be.

"He's a bad man, Mister Santos-Augustine. I'd probably end up worse than dead, if that makes any sense."

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
Cipriano is perfectly silent while Verna speaks, but once she stops he laughs.  And, naturally, the first thing he says is, "Did you just call me Mister Santos-Augustine?  I do believe we can do away with such formalities."

He, too, makes a sound in his throat.  It is not about breath and what it costs to take or to hold steady.  Neither of those things are a part of who he is.  Sometimes, sometimes he remembers what it was like to breathe.  To struggle for breath, to master breath.  A hundred years since he has needed to he still breathes in before he fires.

It is not the memory of breath that binds him to Verna.  It is not the memory of a fast-beating heart.  It is the knowledge that they are, both of them, hunted.  For all of his easy laughter and playful demands and the ease with which he can be moved to teach a girl to shoot or try pinball for the first time, Cipriano knows how being hunted can be wearying.

There have been so many nights he wished for a safe place to rest.  The knowledge that he was, if only for the moment, safe.

In order to have that, he would need to spill his secrets.  Reveal truths and weaknesses that he would rather leave in shadow.  Verna though, granting that to Verna is, at least so far as he knows, so much less complicated.

"There are many worse fates than death," he says, and there is still some of that laughter threaded through his voice.  Delicate patterns of velvet on something smoother and silkier, intricate lush paisley swirls on something cool and billowing.  "For instance, I once attended a frat party.  It consisted primarily of intoxicated people falling haphazardly over furniture and into bed with one another, an outcome I hold some fondness for when it is not accompanied by the scent of awful beer.  This is a mistake I will not make again.

"We shall hope, for both our sakes, that your demons smell less appalling.  Have you called to tell me about them?"

Verna Gardner
The man with the velvet voice says that he holds some fondness for people falling into bed with one another, and Verna's mouth ticks up a smile. If she knew that he'd spent the day sleeping in a mechanical closet, she might not. But that's among the many, many things that remain a mystery about Mister Santos-Augustine. To her, he's a man who deserves a bit of such formality.

"Yes. I thought that if you were serious about wanting to help me, you should know the whole story," she says, and there's a bit of sadness in it. Maybe she thinks if he knows the whole story, he won't be so enthused.

"Thankfully, I don't think my demons have ever seen the inside of a college, so you won't find them at a frat party. I do recall the scent of particularly bad cologne though."

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
"Do they, as so many with inferior cologne, attempt to make up in quantity what is lacking in quality?"  Is that the most relevant thing, Cipriano?  Really?  You can hear the smile in voice, practically see it hovering in the air like a Cheshire cat grin.

"And the whole story would, of course, be welcome.  If I am to suffer through the scent of awful cologne, I would prefer to know why."  There is a slight pause.  "It does, after all, sound terribly dangerous.  They could spritz me with it.  Do you know what a trial it is to get scents out of leather? "

Verna Gardner
She laughs. They're talking about people out to make her life hell, but she laughs. He disarms any conversation with that lovely voice, like you could fall into it and just relax.

"Okay. So, I suppose I'll start with the beginning," she says, trying to shove a bit of seriousness into her tone. We're not going to talk about humorous things right?

"A friend of mine, Marie, wanted to go out, so I met her at a bar. Pretty normal, really, except that when I got there I could tell that she was just covered in bruises. She said she wanted to get away from her boyfriend, Jon Marc, and it wasn't hard to understand why. So I told her I would watch her children while she was moving out. She wouldn't have to worry about them, you know?

"Still, fairly normal. I just thought he was an abuser. She would leave and everything would be fine."

Everything did not end up fine, did it? No, things couldn't be that simple.

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
"Just," says Cipriano, and now there is an edge to that tone, sharp like the bite of frost, still mostly hidden under layers of gauzy silk.  "An abuser."

There is a pause then, before he asks, this time, a more relevant question.  "Where are Marie and her children now?"  A shorter pause.  "Or, perhaps, should you not wish to share that knowledge...are they safe?"

Verna Gardner
"I don't know," she says, and her voice cracks a bit. "He thinks I know, which means he doesn't know either. That's really the only silver lining to all this. It seems that at least her children got out."

Verna sighs again. She did not get out, not by any stretch of the imagination.

"The day she was going to drop off her kids, I found a man watching my apartment. He'd done something to the front door, made it so it wouldn't open. So I crawled out of a window to get away from him. I fell, and he picked up my phone and tried to play like he wasn't spying on me, but he saw my messages to Marie, and he wasn't a very good liar. I told her to stay away from me. I was being watched. So she did.

"And that's why I don't know where her children are, and why Jon Marc thinks that I do."

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
Here, he does take a breath at the swell of the memory of light streaming through stained glass.  Glinting off of gold and rubies.  Echoing across the vastness of a cathedral.  "Small miracles, no?"

There is another pause, and to see him, seeming to stay upright only by virtue of being half tangled in a ladder, one would think he was having an entirely different conversation.  That these slight pauses were not points of tactical decision.  "So.  Jon Marc?"

Verna Gardner
"Jon. Marc," she says, and for all that Cipriano has never heard her utter a curse, that man's name sounds like it. "And his grotesque accomplice. He has a friend. Probably a lot more than one."

Which, of course, is why she's been so wary, so watchful. It's why she's distrusted you every time, until won over by that silken tongue.

"It wasn't long after that that my workplace was broken into. They bashed down the door with heavy machinery and proceeded to destroy the laboratory. Everything was smashed to pieces, and..." she pauses, takes a breath. "There was blood. And my boss and his partner are still missing."

That's an old wound with her. She loved her boss more than she wanted to. He was kind and generous and so very brilliant. She doesn't know that the reason why it hurts so much was because he spiked her drinks with vitae. Cipriano will only note that her carefully collected, professional nature just breaks down at that point. She thinks that what happened to them might have had something to do with Jon Marc's terror campaign. And it's just too terrible to put into words. It might have been all her fault.

She takes some time to compose herself, and when she comes back, the only thing that spikes her words is anger.

"A few months later, Jon Marc cornered me in a coffee shop. He taunted me with what happened, and wanted to know where Marie's children were. I told him off. He got angry and left. Too public to do anything to me then."

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
Blood.  There it is, inevitable and shimmering.  Sometimes it seems the only real thing: the blood that he craves, the blood that granted him time and strength, the blood that men seem so willing to spill.  Rubies on gold.  Copper on concrete.

And Verna's anger, crimson spilling over marble.  Shadows falling over the sea.  That kind of truth he knows also.

"Are you sure that those two things are connected?  Was Marie connected to your work, perhaps?  Abuse and stalking rarely turn into heavy machinery and the abduction or death of people so tenuously related, in my experience.  Do you have, beyond the closeness of the two things as they occurred, some reason to suspect Jon Marc?

"It very well could be Jon Marc, but if it is, I suspect the situation may be a bit more complicated than an abusive relationship.  This kind of escalation is...unusual."  That first bite of anger has faded now, into something restless like the stirring of leaves that follows the first kiss of autumn frost.

Verna Gardner
"It is more complicated than that. I wouldn't have suspected him in that, except that he seemed to know what happened there. He was gleeful about it, like he wanted to impress on me that he did that once and he could do it again," she says, and the memory tastes like ashes, like something caustic.

"And, later on, another woman came and found me. She told me what he wanted the children for. He pits them against dogs in fights. People watch and bet on the outcome. I think he took someone close to her, maybe a child, I don't know. But a man like that, he doesn't care. Breaking into my workplace and killing people would probably count as a Tuesday to that man.

"It has become much more than than my helping my friend leave her abusive boyfriend, yes. The escalation is bizarre. But everything about Jon Marc is so utterly disgusting, I wouldn't put anything past him."

She takes another deep breath. Now that the truth is becoming clearer, perhaps Cipriano might want to back out. Still, there is something about being able to tell someone the story. It's a cleansing thing, letting the bile out.

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
Cipriano, even teaching Verna to shoot, has always been a creature of grace.  He is prone to languid pauses and rich laughter, and it was perhaps easy enough to let it slip from her mind the precision of his shots into his target.  To let go of the thoughts about what kind of things would drive someone to such a degree of skill.  To be so bold and so ready to offer his aid in a moment like this.

As one might forget, for just long enough, that an affectionate lion remains a lion.  That lions, even less than house cats and certainly less than dogs, are not creatures to whom the word tame can ever truly be applied.

Here through, sudden and sharp, is the sense of exposed teeth.  For the first time, more of a low growl than a purr.  "What?"  Apparently, sending children into dogfights will damage even Cipriano's calm.

Verna Gardner
"Yes. My demons, Mister.... Cipriano. They are demonic," Verna says. "When you saw me at the shooting range, it was because my apartment had been broken into. They broke every piece of glass I had. It was like it was back at the lab, only they didn't find anyone inside to kidnap or murder. I wanted to be able to do something to protect myself -- something. The police, though, they thought I did that. To my own apartment. That was their official response."

Verna has such a love/hate relationship with the police lately. They are helpful and unhelpful in schizophrenic fashion. They're imbeciles who occasionally stumble upon the right thing to do.

"What really has me afraid is that I ran into him again recently. I think I made him very angry with me this time."

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
"The police act within certain limitations, even when they can be bothered to apply the fullest scope of their power to justice rather than extortion."

Verna cannot see one of his eyebrows arch upward, paired with a slight lifting of the corners of his mouth.  He thinks he might enjoy this part of the story.  "Oh?"

Verna Gardner
"I went to see Maddy, the woman who told me everything about Jon Marc? We went to a Mexican restaurant. It was a set up. She knew he was there, and wanted to catch him doing something horrible to me on video," Verna says, but the anger she might feel towards Maddy is tempered a bit. She recounts that whole thing like it were just a footnote in the grand scheme of things. Maddy's already paid her dues.

"Which, he did try to do something horrible. I yelled at him. I told him I didn't know where Marie's children were. And I told him I knew what he wanted to do with them. His little friend was there, trying to keep him from reacting, but he grabbed me. I told someone to call the police, and he said 'Silence!' like he was some kind of cliche villain, accused me of being insane, and started dragging me out into the alley behind the restaurant. Maddy followed and took video of the whole thing, of course.

"I don't know why... I think I was just shocked or scared. I did everything he said, except... I tried to Mace him. It didn't... I couldn't get it to work. So I just ran."

She couldn't get it to work because he told her to drop it. And just like that... everything left her hands. The why of that escapes her. It has her tumbling over words in a diatribe that has been mostly fluid up to that point. She just wants to tell someone, to get it out.

"When I got around to the front of the restaurant, the police were there. I told them what happened, and there were witnesses at the restaurant to insist that I wasn't lying. And Maddy was unconscious out in the alley."

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
As it turns out, he does not like this part of the story better.  Verna cannot explain to him clearly, cannot fully grasp what has happened to her.  He does not know that it id because she met something like him, but there are only a handful of things that provoke such a response.

For a moment, he is quiet.  He weighs what he has heard, the likelihood that if not vampires there may be some supernatural creature or force at work.  He replays the conversation in his mind, searching for clues she did not know she was giving to something he was not at the time alert for.

"I don't suppose you somehow ended up with a copy of that video?  You say his friend is grotesque.  How so?  Perhaps it will help us identify him."  Perhaps he is Nosferatu.  "What about patterns?  What times and places have you encountered them or have you known them to be?  Can you think of a pattern there that may help us search for them?  Are there any details that strike you as common between these events that seems significant?"

Verna Gardner
"Does this mean you still want to help me?" she asks, hopeful at last. "I thought perhaps if you knew what I was up against, you'd tell me to have good luck with that."

She laughs a little, a bit of dark humor. It would make sense. Nobody would just stick their neck out like this for some acquaintance. But Cipriano seems to be willing. What he wants in return could be... anything. But chances are it's better than what Jon Marc has planned.

"His friend looks like... like Mister Clean. A bald guy with white eyebrows. He's a little... grizzled, like he works dirty jobs, and -- hmm, I suppose he does. Jon Marc, on the other hand, he's superficially good looking. I mean, he's disgusting, but you wouldn't know it to look at him. Curly black hair, always looks like he just remembered he left the stove on. Prone to angry outbursts."

But then, aren't you rather prone to angry outbursts yourself, Verna? At least when he's involved...

"I haven't noticed a pattern in times, really. But places, yes. He finds me in public, at low-end restaurants and cafes. They find out where I live and where I work. But they've done all this in the mornings as well as in the middle of the night on New Year's. Usually, if I stick to places like libraries and art galleries, I feel pretty safe, because I am just that doubtful that his kind would step foot in them. They are both about as intelligent as bricks."

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
At that last, Cipriano laughs again, and there is nothing bitter in it.  This is a rich and ringing sound.  And he can, when he chooses, cloak his intentions and his thoughts, that is true.  But this joy is real and wild and clear, all rushing alpine streams and echoing church bells.  "Perhaps," he says, and there is something serious in that velvet voice with the last echoes of that laughter.  "But a plan like this, an enterprise like this, requires cunning.  If not theirs, than someone else.

"And whoever holds the puppets...it would be better we saw them than those who dance on their strings.  Still, we should be able to find our answers.  Even should Jon Marc prove difficult to track, there is a dog fighting ring.  Those are not so easily hidden from those that are looking.  If they are willing to abduct children, they are also likely willing to abduct dogs.  And then, of course," here that amber velvet darkens to something more like tarnished gold.  The last reddish rays of the sun as she claws at the horizon.  "There will be the bodies."

Verna Gardner
"I haven't sought out to find them. Not yet anyway. If I did, what would I do? Walk up to his hovel and have a nice chat over tea? I think not. It's just... the police are worthless, and as you said, this is an enterprise. So far, it has just been me running. I'm so tired of running."

And there is a worn-out character to her, Cipriano. She fights demons and goes to grad school and teaches. When her students come to her with their excuses about homework, she hasn't the will to care, because here she is being terrorized by violent thugs and still manages to get her homework done.

It leaves one with a bit of weariness and frays at the edges.

There's a long pause. Breathing on the other end, like she doesn't know what to say next, and then: "Thank you. Even for just listening. For not telling me that I'm crazy."

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
"Running...."  And here, for a second, he lets his voice fall into silk, no velvet and no colored light and no bells.  He does not betray his own weariness, would not dare such a thing even if she could know how it is he could know what it was like to run for decades.  He knows what understanding is worth though, and that is enough to drop much of the show.  "Does become exhausting.  You start, at a point to wonder if you have left behind so many parts of yourself you are still yourself.

"I do not think that is how this ends for you, though.  We will find them, and pick our ground, and then we will fight.  However that ends, you will not doubt who you are."

Verna Gardner
"I'm not much of a fighter. I couldn't even Mace the man. You saw me at the shooting range? It was the first time I've ever fired a gun. I've never needed to."

There's a tapping on the phone, fingernails, like she's trying to think.

"About the best I could do is if they were stupid enough to try to attack me in the lab at school, where I could lock them in a closet with argon for air," she says, laughs a little, because it is a bit humorous to speak of murdering people with some guy you've just met. That and the idea of locking Jon Marc in a closet with argon for air does sound so very nice, doesn't it?

"You sound like you know what I'm going through."

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
"Would you not have expected such a thing, after you saw me shoot?"  He asks her quietly.  "You perfect such skills, as a rule, either because you have need of them to defend yourself or because you have a love of violence.

"I may be no stranger to violence, but I bear it no love.  And I think you have suspected, if not known that, since we met.  And that, even if I might not come to be the friend in this that you would want, I might well come to be the ally that you would need."

Verna Gardner
He speaks of being allies. So did Maddy, and look how that turned out? She was used like meat in the center of a trap, to be beaten or killed for Maddy's vengeance. Alliances can be so fraught, can't they?

"Why? Why would you do this for me? For some girl you've barely met?"

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
And Verna may fare no better with Cipriano, that is true.  But Verna, for all she may not stay there long is no part of the world where he fears betrayal so keenly.  Where he must always be on his guard.  A world that drives him to a weariness to match hers, for all it is so much harder to read in him.

"It isn't for you.  It was, when all I thought I needed to do was punch someone in the face and tell him to fuck off.  But now it is something else.  I certainly desire no harm come to you, but with what we're talking about, I would be either a liar or a fool to promise that.  And you would be a fool to believe me.

"You could still run.  I would think no less of you.  But I don't think running is your desire.  I'm not the kind of person one calls if they aren't willing to face at least some dark corners of the world."  And, in all of that, there is no answer to her question.  Of course there isn't.  He gave her a truth, but not exactly the one she asked him for.

Verna Gardner
"I have important work to do, promises to keep. I don't want to run." Verna says, although his words ring true. She could just run. Abandon her dreams here, and seek somewhere else. The threads that kept her tied to such promises are frayed with the passage of time. She still wants to be loyal to her old boss, but yet...

Maybe she will look to transfer to another school after this semester is over, perhaps that would be the wise course of action. But something in her does want to see Jon Marc pay for all his numerous misdeeds. Part of her wants to see him afraid for a change. Part of her wants to watch him die.

Cipriano isn't wrong. She knows why she called him. Perhaps that is why he'll do it.

"But what do you want in return for all this? I mean, if not a friend..." then what am I to you? The way she says the word 'friend' suggests something more, like she can't imagine why a man would do such a thing if not for the one thing that all men have on their minds.

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
There is a long pause.  But he is in a new city, Verna.  Lonely.  Weary.

Eternity is a very long time.  Even the sliver of it he has lived is a very long time.

"Are you so sure you want to ask me for the truth?"  His voice is still silken.  His voice has always been that, after all.  Cipriano always commanded attention.  Was always graceful.  Blood gave him strength, blood made him more compelling, blood gave him power; it did not change his nature.  There are those who say that it does, that it must.  Look though, at humanity.  Greed.  Corruption.  Violence.  How many of the living hold fast against temptation?  The Embrace just gives some of them a greater span of time in which to fall to their own demons.  Common, perhaps, but not inevitable.

Verna Gardner
"Whatever it is, I'm almost certain it's better than being abducted and forced to fight dogs in a pit until I die. I have so many great and wonderful options," she says, huffs into the phone another dark laugh.

There's a sound on the other end, fabric sliding against fabric. She's moving, or reclining. Comforting herself in blankets perhaps.

"Maybe I don't want to know. Maybe I want to pretend? But I'm too smart for that."

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
There is a sound that catches low in his throat, without being able to see his face it is hard to place an emotion to it.  Judging by the somewhat lighter tone that follows, it was most likely a laugh.  "Indeed, brilliance can illuminate and brilliance can sear."

There follows a pause.  Had he still the reflex to breathe there would have been a sigh, but there is no breath to release with some of his tension.  And Cipriano, even about to give away this much of himself is far too self-possessed to give any other sign.  "I have seen enough of the world that sometimes it wears upon me.  I find that you are a fine diversion.  There have been worse beginnings to friendships than that."  There is weariness, a little, threaded like shadow through his tone.  But there is still something bright, not warm like the sunlight and amber of his laughter, perhaps; rather, cool and glimmering, like starlight on an oasis.  There is not nearly enough weariness in him to overcome that.

Verna Gardner
"A diversion from your own demons? I suppose I could live with that," Verna says. "As long as you help me forget about mine."

Or, you know, kill them. That too. There have been worse beginnings to friendships than murder plots. Not many, perhaps, but still. Some, surely.

"You can call me and talk about gravity or light or whatever you want any time if that's the kind of diversion you seek."

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
"The unknown fascinates me.  No matter how much I learn, it seems there is always more."  Back creeps the velvet and sunlight into his voice.  "When I was very young I used to go to the-"  Church.  "Library.  There was a-"  Monk.  "Man there who had been studying for a very, very long time.  He taught me about history and geography.  Ethics."  God.

"I became a soldier."  Just not in the war you'd think, Verna, for all that is true enough.  "And I've had relatively little time for such studies since."

Verna Gardner
"That's the beautiful thing about the universe. There's always something more to discover," Verna says, shifts again in her human need to keep moving. "We try, but never quite manage to pin down a theory of everything. It's always right around the corner, until we're delightfully surprised at how complicated things actually turn out to be.

"Do you regret becoming a soldier? Would you rather have spent your time studying, do you think?"

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
"I think a world in which there was nothing left to surprise us would be extremely boring," Cipriano says, all the light and velvet back in his voice.  She cannot see him now, lying back over the rooftop.  Will not know that this, for Cipriano, is resting.  Or as close as he gets.  Not tonight, anyway.

"I do not regret my choice to become a soldier any more than I regret my choice to stop being a soldier.  Both were the best decision I could make at the time.  I would not choose to be a soldier now, but that is a different matter entirely than regret."

Verna Gardner
"I regret my choice to stop being a scientist. I went back to it, obviously. I don't want to have to stop again," she says, and maybe Cipriano can guess from this why she has not yet run away.

"My old boss, he... He offered me a way back. I got a job in his lab, and then he paved the way for me to get into grad school. And now he's gone. I just can't find it in myself to throw away the last gift he gave me and run."

Especially since it could all very well have been her fault. If she just hadn't decided to help a friend with something seemingly simple. She's so sad, like this particular wound is taking a long time to heal. So much that she tries to ignore the danger to herself and keep going.

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
"The world is not gentle.  It will take the lives of those we love most.  If you cannot take comfort in his presence any longer, than take comfort in his legacy.  Rebuild the lab.  Continue your work.  Do not stop being a scientist.

"It is not the same as having the living with you.  But I have always found such things comforting.  It was always too much for me to think that people just stopped.  Seeing their legacies always made it seem like there was some meaning in the things that we do."

Verna Gardner
"Exactly. You understand. I'm continuing his research. It's not much, but it's the closest thing to a legacy I can give him. I need to."

She sighs in sadness. So many of those from her. Each one a feeling that can't be voiced.

"We were working on a nanoscale etching process for diamonds. I can write my name on a diamond's surface so small that you'd need an electron microscope to read it. I've come pretty far, in my quest to deliver a legacy."

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
"Forgive my complete lack of comprehension, but why is that important?  I understand that it must be.  I simply do not know why."

Verna Gardner
"Diamond has a very strong structure. Say you use our technique to knock out a single atom. You can then fill that hole with something else, and it becomes trapped in a very hard, rigid prison.

"Any time you would want to isolate something exceptionally small, you could do so with our technique. Encase it in diamond, and it won't feel the effects of the surrounding environment. The technique could very well be extremely important for other researchers in quantum computing, who need to isolate their entangled qbits."

Verna, he probably hasn't the slightest clue what you just said.

"Um... Explaining quantum computing and entangled qbits could take a while."

Racing the Light

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
[Oh, chat.  It's like you know how terrifying he is.

You want to start, or shall I?]

Verna Gardner
[You! You can start!]

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
Sometimes when you die, you remain unremarkably dead.  To Cipriano, such a thing is just boring.  And thus, unthinkable.

Sometimes when you die, you remain dead but are not buried.  In this, there is promise.  But as your body is fixed in time, so do many remain rigid and unmoved by the new wonders of the world.  To Cipriano, such a thing is also boring.  And thus, also unthinkable.

However, wonders are piling up at a rather astonishing rate and there are pressing matters that impose upon the time he has to experience them all.  And so, having encountered something new and fascinating and full of colored lights.  Colored lights and alcohol.  Colored lights and alcohol and a not insignificant number people who are at an age where they love to flirt with alcohol poisoning.  Any number of the Kindred would be tempted to start cracking skulls with airborne skeeballs, but Cipriano is mostly entertained by the spectacle.  He's not sure that he's seen something this garishly surreal since the time he attended ball of the macabre hosted by a Malkavian.  Less lights, more costumes.  Roughly equivalent in degree of fascination.

Particularly as concerns this game involving brightly colored landscapes and pipes and perpetually hungry plants.  What is going on?  Why don't they find out what castle the princess is really in before they attack?  What is with the bizarre turtles?  They were in that other game too.  Except they were heroes?  He thinks they were heroes.  Probably.

He lounges against the wall, watching as people play games.  He is quiet, and he knows how to stand out of the way.  The space is loud, all discordant symphony of chirps and beeps and gunshots and laughter, but it reminds him of a carnival.  And he loves carnivals.

Verna Gardner
Herd animals seek safety in numbers. Verna would be horrified to discover how a certain slice of the population sees her and her kind as kine, but some of the behaviors do fit, don't they?

After having been dragged out into an alley by a predator and making a fool out of him, well, it's time to be safe. So when she told her friends the horrible details of all she'd been through, they understood something without question -- Verna wouldn't be going out and getting her mind off of it all unless they employed group measures. The buddy system. Girls watching out for girls.

This time, at least, they let her pick the venue. They're not going to end up giggling and getting drunk at a strip club.

So, it's to the adults-only arcade they go. Verna's more interested than any of the rest at spending what money she has on the arcade games. Flor, Victoria, and Angela have been mostly getting smashed at the bar, and giving Verna their free tokens. It works out.

Verna's at the Dr. Who pinball machine. Every so often, it sings out the theme song to the show, and Verna hums along under her breath, completely unaware that she's doing it.

[And how are we doing at Pinball?! Dex+Alertness = Hand-eye coordination!]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (3, 3, 4, 6, 8) ( success x 2 )

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
Cipriano isn't expecting anyone he knows, but Verna eventually draws his attention.  Look at her, playing with one of those machines with the flippers and the lights and the sound.  He smiles a little, because as clearly as she was not at home with a gun in her hand, this is a place she has chosen because she wants to be here.  That, or she is really faking it for those girls who are going to be draped over the bar like wilted flowers soon.  They'd be easier prey than Verna, and likely one of them would consent to being split off the herd, but the utility of such a thing is outweighed tonight by curiosity.  They are food.  Vodka-spiked food, which is at least more interesting than plain food, but still just food.  Verna is interesting.

He stalks through the arcade, pausing once to marvel that he recognizes a symbol on one of the brightly colored shirts.  The symbols which endure are sometimes arbitrary.  He would not have guessed about the Playboy bunny.  He wonders how many of those pink triangular drinks he'd be consuming through the only girl in a shirt he understands.  Not enough, really.  Not with something he already knows is a good diversion.

Cipriano closes the last of the distance to Verna.  There is less space for lounging against things here, so he takes up leaning on the unoccupied Wizard of Oz pinball machine next to her.  [Something else he understands!]  There is no attempt to disrupt Verna's game, but the sudden appearance of some guy you met at a gun range through a crowd of people looking very sober and slightly puzzled at an arcade bar...may still qualify as distracting.

Verna Gardner
Verna is out for the evening, and that means the usual formality of her teacher uniform has been replaced by a minty-blue sweater with little chevron cutouts for decoration. It's belted and long, and underneath, she has on black leggings and a pop of red heels. They're not the astronomically tall kind, more sensible, like in a different outfit they might scream business. And, nothing seems to be even the slightest out of place with her. Hair, nails, makeup, it's all perfect, if a little subdued. She doesn't exactly do all of this to catch the eyes of everyone. More for herself, see?

She hasn't lost her ball yet, and her eyes track nothing but the machine in front of her for a while, until she becomes aware of the leaning man, and her heartbeat ratchets up a few notches. She risks a glance, wide-eyed, hoping it's not Jon Marc. It isn't.

"Oh. Oh, you scared me," she says, looks at him with a little cock of her head. "I know you. From the shooting range, right?"

She loses her ball. She doesn't much care. The machine makes its little sad 'you lost' noise and prompts her to shoot again.

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
"Either you are very easily spooked or someone is still out to get you.  That first one seems unlikely."  But he does not apologize.  Maybe if he'd crept up on her and nipped her.  But he was not menacing and he does not feel that walking up to Verna merits an apology.  Even just a social one.

"Know might be a strong word."  He smiles, all easy and relaxed.  Predators aren't afraid to show their teeth, are they?  Verna seeks herds for comfort and Cipriano shows off his teeth when he smiles.  The things they do without really even thinking.  Little tells built into nature.  "But yes, we met there.  I am pleased to see whatever demons you have haven't devoured you yet."

Verna Gardner
Okay, Verna. It might be a little weird that this guy has run into you on two separate occasions now, but that could just be coincidence. He's probably not stalking you on Jon Marc's behalf. Probably. She's wary, trying to tamp down her paranoia, and it shows.

"Well. I am not usually so easily spooked," she says, as if to answer his question. Yes, someone is out to get her. Is it you?

"But no. They have not devoured me yet."

The way she says that last bit? Defiant. Like she's not going to go into that devouring without a fight.

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
"If it's any consolation, if I was plotting anything more dangerous than mischief against you, I wouldn't be standing here."  Cipriano laughs.  "And I definitely wouldn't be teaching you to shoot me.  Which is probably the thing you have more cause to believe."  He doesn't seem particularly concerned about whether she believes him.  She is an interesting diversion, which is a number of rungs above snack in Cipriano's world, but there are a ridiculous number of people in the world.  He can find something else to do with his time if he must.

"And you are playing this flippy-paddle game instead of celebratory I-am-not-devoured drinks?"

Verna Gardner
She looks at him for a few seconds, then a brow raises. "Flippy-paddle game?"

There's that quirk of the head again. "You mean, pinball? Also, I will have you know that I had my celebratory I-am-not-devoured drinks. Now I am having my celebratory I-am-not-devoured retro gaming. Soon, I hear, there will be a celebratory I-am-not-devoured passing out. All said, quite celebratory, I assure you."

She glances over to her game, which is about to give up on the idea of there being a person there. She at least trusts him enough now to peel her eyes off of him. "Well. I suppose that is true. It wouldn't be in my enemy's best interests to teach me proper shooting stances, would it?"

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
[How terrible are you at trying pinball, buddy? Dex+Alertness/Sp: Precision]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 4, 4, 5, 8, 10) ( success x 2 )

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
"Well, just don't forget the celebratory compulsive door-lock checking and you should be fine."  There is a soft sound in his throat that doesn't quite make it to a laugh and another careless smile.  "And no, it really wouldn't."

He stops leaning on his pinball machine, drops a quarter into it, and starts tapping at the buttons.  It could be better, but it could definitely be worse.   It isn't that long before the machine makes a sad sound to tell him he loses, but most of that time he spends laughing.  Because pinball is ridiculous.  But awesome.  Definitely awesome.

Verna Gardner
[Pinball, Verna?]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 4, 6) ( success x 1 )

Verna Gardner
Her 'friend' goes to play his Wizard of Oz game, and Verna's chirps at her. Fire the danged ball okay? She does. She takes her time with the plunger, trying to aim for a certain spot that will get her the chance for a free ball event, but does not hit it. The bumpers rack up their points, and she barely manages to save everything when one of the bumpers shoots the ball straight for the paddles at lightning speed. But in the chaos so created, her victory doesn't last long. Soon, her last ball is lost for good. Some poor shlub is shoot by a Dalek, and the machine makes the iconic egg-beater-turned-death-ray noise. Ex-ter-min-ate!

Her turn doesn't last as long as Cipriano's, which is amusing. "You're doing quite well for someone who didn't know what the game was called a few minutes ago."

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
"Eh," he says.  "Who likes labels?"  And then he grins, the grin that one gets after a few decades hanging out with Toreador and playfully mocking the few who will tolerate it (and those are the interesting ones).  "I think I should have an authentic relationship with everything.  Sentient or not.  Honestly is very important to me."  You can almost hear laughter in each of those terribly faux-earnest words, see it flickering in his eyes, but he does not actually laugh.  Barely.

Verna Gardner
"Well, it is honestly called a pinball machine. I like pinball. It's more... physical than most of these games. A nice combination of skill and randomness. You could play for hours or get very unlucky and only manage five minutes."

In his game, when he makes enough of a score to trigger the acquisition of ruby slippers, the wizard appears inside a crystal ball, complete with animated flames, while a jaunty rendition of 'The Wonderful Wizard of Oz' plays in the background. When he loses, a witch exclaims: "You don't have the power to control my ball!" It's a cacophony of lights and sounds.

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
[Are you going to let it win?]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 6, 6, 6, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 7 ) [Doubling Tens]

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
"Whether we label it or not, I'm not certain I can permit it taunt me in such a manner."  He drops another quarter into the game and tries again.  Perhaps he was kidding about not knowing what this game was.  Perhaps he is exceptionally lucky.  Or perhaps he learns very quickly.  This time he puts up a more proper fight against the witch.

Verna Gardner
"That is how it gets you to keep feeding it coins. It taunts you," Verna says. "These games are like that. Before you know it, you've lost all your lives and all your quarters."

Verna watches, astonished, as he makes the game deliver not one, but two multiballs, and rescues Dororthy. He ends up making the farmhouse fly away in a tornadic twist multiple times, and Verna gets the distinct impression that he was lying about not knowing what pinball was.

"Or... you know... you just keep playing perfectly, forever. Goodness, you've played this before, haven't you?"

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
"Maybe.  Maybe not."  Having soundly defeated the witch he lounges against the machine again.  "Which would you believe?"  There is, under his amusement some curiosity.

"What is your favorite game?"

Verna Gardner
"I believe that you are better at games than you let on," Verna says, smirks.

"My favorite? Here? Well, that would probably be Tetris. But someone else was playing it. It's pretty popular," Verna says, taking a final gawp at his high score. "Otherwise, the pinball machines are really nice. I'll have to try out this Wizard of Oz contraption. It's new. And interesting. Though, I don't know it at all."

She blushes a little at that 'new and interesting' bit. Maybe she's not talking about the game. Oh, Cipriano, are you getting flirted with in the most subtle of fashions? Has Verna had a couple of drinks tonight? Yes. Probably.

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
"I am gifted with many things," Cipriano says.  "Modesty not among them."

He slides a half-step to the side, so that he is leaning on the very corner of the pinball machine.  And then he gives Verna a look that is less flirtation and more dare to invade his space enough to play with him still standing there.  If a lion flirted with its prey, it might be like this.  And, whether or not it qualifies as flirtation, it certainly does not qualify as subtle.

Verna Gardner
Verna glances over to the bar to check on her friends, and sure enough, a couple of them were staring. She'll never hear the end of this one. Verna? Scoring the only cute guy at a place that offers old video games and vodka? They'll want to know just everything.

But still, it's nice to know that someone's looking out for her, right?

"Modesty is so overrated."

She grins at him, steps up to the machine, getting all close if not exactly comfortable, and feeds it quarters. The Wizard of Oz theme starts up again, and she shoots the ball, taking up her stance at the flipper switches.

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
Cipriano watches Verna play.  He does smirk a little, he can't fucking help it when he gets what he wants.  But his triumph in this is tempered with something a bit softer than his triumph over the witch.  "In that we are as one."  And yet, despite the dare to come into his space, despite his disdain for modesty, despite what Verna's flock of tipsy guards will suspect, Cipriano's eyes linger on Verna's hands.  On her eyes.  Track the movements of the ball.  Beyond the movement of his eyes, an occasional slight motion of his head, he is very, very still.

Verna Gardner
[Pinball? How goes it?]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 4, 6, 9) ( success x 2 )

Verna Gardner
[Verna's just not as good as Cipriano at pinballs.]

Verna Gardner
The game's lights and sounds are very much like a carnival. The thing has multiple levels, at least five flippers, video from the movie... Verna manages to trap two of her balls, and makes the house spin, before the witch cackles in glee at her defeat. No win for you, today, Verna.

Her eyes are on the ball, see? Watch how she calculates angles and momentum behind those sharp eyes. And not all of that is learned from playing -- part of it has been learned with pencil and paper and lots of actual calculations.

But the physics is just not with her tonight, is it?

"Aww. Not my night," she says, looks up at him a little sheepish. "I like it anyway though. These things always remind me of my first actual experiment in school, you know? We had a pinball and a setup to drop it in order to measure the local gravitational constant." A smirk. Someone else can also boast.

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
"Local.  Gravitational.  Constant."  He doesn't say it like mockery.  He says it as though he is tasting those words very carefully.  And he is not without any training in mathematics.  The way he learned to navigate the earth was mathematics.  He can work a fucking sextant.  That's probably more practical mathematics than most graduating high school students.  Not a candle to Verna, but then, in this that is most people in this bar, isn't it.

"How does a pinball tell you that?"  And he really must be curious.  Because there is no impish grin and words like, 'flippy-paddle game ball.'

Verna Gardner
She leans up against the game, which beckons with witchy taunts to get her to feed it more quarters. "Well, you have an apparatus that holds the ball in the air, and you have a pad at the bottom that reacts to pressure. So you measure the time of the the release of the ball, and the moment it hits the ground, and use that data along with the height of the drop to calculate how fast it accelerated."

It actually seems like he's interested, which is... more than most people. Men in particular tend to shy away once they find out for certain that they won't be able to beat her in this department. But he's at least honestly curious. So she keeps going.

"See, people think that gravity is the same everywhere. But it isn't. Gravity will be a bit less powerful at the top of Mount Everest, for example. You can measure that local fluctuation. Sometimes, those little changes can be important."

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
Cipriano follows some of that.  He understands pressure, the pressure to set off a mousetrap is different than the pressure to set off a bear trap. He knows what Mount Everest is.  But that gravity would be different on top of it?  He is amazed.

This is exactly why Verna got his attention.  The girl whose blood was heady with one-going-on-three too many cosmopolitans wouldn't have told him anything new about gravity.  The most they would have to do with gravity was forcing him to rescue them from it.  Rescues could be interesting, but rescuing drunks from gravity...?  Okay.  But only the once.

"Even if we could get high enough to escape gravity, we would still need wings to fly?  Or something by which to navigate?  Uncharted flight sounds as desirable as uncharted drift at sea."

Verna Gardner
"If you got high enough to escape gravity, wings would not function. They require air -- something to push against. It's why rockets don't have wings, and instead propel themselves by pushing against their own fuel," Verna says, with an air of rightness. She is right. She believes in this, like a devout priest might believe in God.

"But if you escaped gravity, you would still have the stars. They're even clearer without all the air in between you and them. That's why they put telescopes in space. You could still navigate by them."

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
Cipriano is still smiling.  He is less smug, perhaps, but there is nothing that suggests Verna's understanding of rockets drives him to feel anything but more curious.  Verna is hardly the first woman he's known who was smarter than he is.  He is many things, but neither modesty or brilliance is among them.

"And the stars would seem as landscapes, rather than fixed into orbit around us.  Constellations would dissolve as you moved past them."  And he sounds fascinated by the thought.  Apparently someone will be all about going into space.

Verna Gardner
"I don't know if it would be like that, unfortunately. Of all our thoughts on the subject, no physicist has ever been able to come up with a way that we might go faster than the speed of light. And some of the light from those stars takes millions of years to reach us. The constellations would change and shift, but slowly."

She grins and leans a little toward him, "But, you know, I have run faster than light. Once."

There's a little giggle there, a little secret. There's a trick to it, and don't you want to know, Cipriano?

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
Verna has run faster than light, she says.  Cipriano doubts that, but he smiles and matches her lean forward all the same.  Speaks quietly, this close to her.

"Tell me."

Verna Gardner
Verna's eyes just glitter. It's not hard, in this place, with all the blinking lights of various colors. But she loves talking about this kind of thing. It's her very passion. None of her friends are going to believe that she was talking to this guy about gravity and the speed of light. None of them.

"Well, it was an experiment again. You see, light travels through substances, yes? Like glass, it can pass right through. But it goes more slowly through some things than others. And if you cool down that substance -- that medium -- enough, it can slow the light passing through it a great deal. If you cool a substance to near absolute zero, where it is barely even moving at all, you can almost freeze light inside. So, we would have light races."

She smiles at him, like yes. I am that good. I beat light in a race. For real. Now who's immodest?

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
"You hobbled light and then raced it?"  Cipriano laughs.  "Not sporting, perhaps, but brilliant."  He straightens, then pulls a small notepad and pen from his pocket.  Writes something on it, tears free the page and offers it to Verna.  It is his name, written in the kind of perfect script that no one learns anymore, and his number.

"I cannot stay.  Do enjoy the rest of your celebration.  I do hope that your demons have withdrawn.  But if not, can call if you need me.  Or if you want to talk about gravity and stars."

Verna Gardner
Verna. Got. Digits. Oh, and a name. In beautiful, perfect script. "Cipriano?" she says, trying out his name, though her r's are rather insufficiently rolled. "I'm Verna. Here, I'll..." she digs around in her purse for a bit, returns with a napkin and a pen, to draw out her own name and number.

It's not as perfect as his, but perhaps that's only because of the lumpy napkin. Her handwriting, as opposed to most intellectual types, is crisp and clean -- and it seems that someone has practiced writing this signature a great deal.

She hands her own offering over, and she's blushing again. "I hope I never have the need to call you. I hope they catch that creep who's after me. But I'd like to call you. Thank you for the conversation, Cipriano."

Cipriano Santos-Augustine
"I rather hope you never need to call either."  It is quiet, and perhaps the most serious thing he has ever said to her.  And there is a hint of something dark in his eyes, because he certainly may not have told Verna everything, but considering the circumstances of their first meeting he's hardly pretended to be anything like an adorable kitten.  More like a mostly grown and very playful lion.  "Goodnight."

Run Verna Run

Maddy Mueller
Unfortunately, there has not been very much news on the catch Jon Marc redhanded front for the last few months, and although Maddy has kept in touch (an e-mail here, a phone call there), there hasn't been much to do except commisserate (compassion is a virtue in short supply).

Ring, ring, goes Verna's number. Maybe Verna e-mailed Maddy about what she suspects Jon Marc and his buddies (because They must be all connected, musn't they? They ruined her boss and now They're trying to ruin her), maybe so far they've only had a moment to say hey we should meet.

Verna's landlord doesn't seem too interested in shelling out to pay for all of the glass windows, but seemed amenable to getting the fix done quickly if the insurance came through after the police did their look around. Verna called the police, of course, didn't she? Good girl that she is. And somebody needed to look around, make sure she didn't just spontaneously decide to break all of her own windows and vandalize her own apartment.

That is, of course, just what They decided, and her windows are not going to be replaced unless she pays for them. The landlord was willing to give her a discount; he'd only rob her half-blind.

Maybe she's staying at her parents house again.

This is the space Verna's in when she receives a call, ring, ring, from the last number (unlisted) Maddy contacted her from. Maybe Maddy's returning the call, or maybe she's about to be surprised by poor Verna's terrible plight.

Ring, ring. Or some tasteful musical chime.

Verna
Verna has returned to living with her parents. It's a defeat. She's lost that freedom, but gained a (perhaps misguided) sense of safety. There are other people in the house with her now. And besides, it's either that or continue to live in a place that's been targeted twice before, and has plastic for windows.

What's worse is that everyone seems to want to treat her like a miscreant -- some madwoman who decided to destroy her own things. Shock and anger rule her emotions as a general rule lately. Fear comes in third, rather struggling to keep up, when sheer rage at how she's been treated comes into play.

Her students have paid the price, as negative emotions trickle down, do they not? She's been zeroing late assignments, giving no mercy on tests, and no sob story could even compare to her own, so she does not want to hear it. It's just being tough but fair, right? And perhaps it feels a little good besides.

Luckily for her, she's too busy with the start of the semester to ruminate on it all too much. That is, until her phone rings. Maddy's number. She doesn't let it ring or go to voicemail.

"Hello? Maddy?" she says, sounding tired.

Maddy Mueller
"Hi, Verna! I'm so sorry I've been incommunicado," she says, and while she doesn't sound cheerful, there's a certain lustrous polish to so sorry which gives it a peal of sincerity. "How are you doing?"

Verna
Verna had let Maddy know the basics in an email. The apartment had been broken into, and the glass items shattered. She suspects Jon Marc is trying to terrorize her. She hasn't said what the police think, because it's just too embarrassing. And of course the note she sent was professional and free of overwrought emotion. But on the phone, one can tell. It's harder to mask.

"Terrible. It's not easy having to move right at the start of the semester like this. I'm sure you can understand," she says. "Has Jon Marc ever done anything like that before? Do you think it's him?"

Maddy Mueller
This soft-soft intake of breath, and then an exhale. "Would you like to come out?" Her sympathy is creamy, the smell of vanilla; not quite cloying, perhaps a touch plastic, but only because it is neat and precise and clean. "Jon Marc," how her voice hardens, perceptible but only just over the phone; "I think... it could be him. He's done- well. Would you like to come out? I know a good Mexican restaurant."

Verna
She looks around her room, at the 'just-finished-high-school' decorating scheme, and sighs. "I'd love to. Where is this Mexican place?"

Maddy Mueller
An address is given.

A scene change is enacted.

A hole-in-the-wall located on the outside of downtown's heart, a Mexican restaurant with a faded green plaster sombrero outside and the patio closed down because only madmen and madwomen would be outside eating in weather like this, but the windows opaque with that coka a cola colored glass containing a warm amber glow and the smell of frying onions and oil. Inside, the restaurant is vaguely Spanish with faded murals on the walls and some black wrought iron decorations, Hacienda-chic.

The strawberry blonde is waiting by the door when Verna arrives, her winter coat folded as neatly as one can fold a winter coat over her arm, her heels together primly. She is looking over a menu she obtained, and when the door opens and she turns and sees Verna, she brightens a touch.

"Hi there."

There are more how-are-yous and then are-you-readys and they can seat themselves. Maddy orders a shirley temple to drink and when they bring out a plate of tortillas the tortillas are steaming hot, and even in the warm restaurant the steam is visible curling upwards. Maddy waits for Verna to get settled.

Of course Maddy waits. Is waiting.

Spiders are good at waiting; see how delicate her fingers are as she takes one of the tortillas, rolls it?

Verna
[Perception+Awareness!]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (3, 7, 8, 9) ( success x 3 )

Maddy Mueller
The hairs on the nape of Verna's neck rise; the place, for all of its delicious smells, its ambiance, is somewhat haunted; not chilling, but disjointed. Unsettled, something in the air.

Verna
For today's outing, Verna dressed for warmth. Even for a native, sometimes the chill in the air just won't be ignored. She walks into the place wearing black slacks and a pink, polka-dotted blouse with ruffles along the collar. Her coat is a skirted, heavy wool thing that she can't wait to get herself out of once inside.

And inside? She smiles at Maddy for a moment, before looking around at the place with a touch of nervous unease. She just can't put her finger on why this place feels so... creepy. "Hello, it's so good to see you again," she says, apparently distracted by a sombrero hanging on the wall.

But Maddy just seems to put everything into perspective, doesn't she? They're as proper as can be. And vague feelings of creepiness have no room to stay in Verna's worldview.

She orders a water. Someone can't afford fancy expensive drinks right now. There's an apartment complex to pay back, after all.

After the pleasantries have been exchanged, she wants to get right to business. "Did you ask me here just to get me out of the house?"

Maddy Mueller
"I wouldn't say just," Maddy says, sobering. "But I'm just not comfortable discussing Jon Marc," ah, hatred, "over the phone, and you sounded as if you've been having a time."

"Do I think that Jon Marc is capable of orchestrating what happened to your apartment? I have no doubt at all that somehow he is responsible. Have you seen him recently?"

Verna
The way she says that last bit makes it sound like Jon Marc has grown devil's horns and a tail or something. Have you seen how awful he looks?

"No, I haven't. Things have been so quiet for so long, I rather thought I'd been forgotten. It seems not. I couldn't have such luck."

She takes one of the tortillas and pours honey down one side and rolls it up as she's talking. Something sweet to make the topic of conversation go down a bit easier?

Verna
[Perception/Alertness!]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 3, 3, 8, 9) ( success x 2 )

Maddy Mueller
Have you seen his horns?

They say that the devil exists. That the best trick he's ever pulled is to convince people he doesn't (people like Verna). But Verna, for a moment, must swear she sees - not Jon Marc - but his soulful eyed Mr. Clean-esque friend going into the kitchens. He didn't see her (if it WAS the same guy), but it's an eerie coincidence.

"I ... think," Maddy says, very slowly, "that I have an idea, a concrete idea, about what we might do to force the police to recognize that he IS a threat."

[NPC roll roll roll that magic conceal things dice-pool.]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 5, 6, 9, 10) ( success x 4 ) [WP]

Verna
[Perception/Empathy! WP Because!]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 5, 6, 7) ( success x 3 ) [WP]

Verna
Verna double-takes at the man working the kitchens -- isn't he? It's not for certain, exactly, but she puts down her tortilla. Maybe she can play it off as not being hungry?

She keeps an eye on the kitchen just in case. Maybe she can get a better look, see if that really is who she thinks he is? For now, she tries to pay attention to Maddy.

"Yes. The police have been... lacking. Sorely lacking. They seem to think that I had something to do with my own apartment's destruction. That it makes no sense does not seem to matter. They just don't want to do their jobs," she says, angrily. "What did you have in mind?"

cruor
Maddy tsks a tongue against her neat teeth the demure American's answer to disappointment at the idea conjured up of these bumbling policemen. Her eyebrows arc, quite superior, certainly superior to these messy no-nothings who'd probably see a skinned cat and say it skinned itself.

Solidarity, hm? Verna is distracted by something, and if Maddy notices - well! Maddy has her own agenda, her own focus of interest. Somebody by the door is not that focus. Her eyes stay on Verna.

"A public confrontation; recorded, of course," voice lifted, to override any potential protest, eyebrows arching further with knowing. "I know for a fact that for Jon Marc being recorded at all is anathema. I know for a fact that we'd be giving him enough rope to hang himself. Of course, this only works," here, her brow creases with concern, "if somebody sets him off."

Maddy bites the inside of her lip. "I have tried."

Verna Gardner
[Perception/Empathy = How you feeling, Maddy?]

Verna Gardner
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (5, 6, 6, 7, 9) ( success x 4 )

cruor
Of this much, Verna is certain - Maddy's rage and knowing both seem to come from a place of belief, the contempt and disgust and (fury/hatred) for Jon Marc is once again showing, though Maddy is doing a job at trying to conceal it. Still, it's like a slip just a touch too long for the skirt, bit of lace and froth that should be shortened... she cares so much about 'getting' Jon Marc that- well. She cares more about that than anything, probably. Certainly more about it than the tortillas!

Verna can certainly guess that Maddy isn't paying attention to the kitchens or anything else.

Verna Gardner
Verna picks at her tortilla with a fork, but she's not really looking at the food. She looks at Maddy like a kindred spirit. Give him enough rope to hang himself? Words to live by...

But then, her eyes flit back to the kitchen. Who was that?

"I may just have him on the brain right now," Verna says, spiking the 'him' with a touch of violence. "But I thought I saw the man who was watching my apartment just now. In the kitchen. That was the day I was supposed to help Marie? Maybe we should avoid specifics until I can be certain."

cruor
[Subterfuge]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 4, 4, 5, 8, 8) ( success x 2 )

Verna Gardner
[Perception/Subterfuge!]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 5, 7, 10, 10) ( success x 3 )

cruor
Maddy casts a glance over her shoulder, and what fish is she casting for? The big one: successfully feigned surprise. But she isn't surprised, not really, even if she's trying for politeness' sake to cover it up, and after that quick glance she offers a disingenuous, "Do you think so, really?"

"What did he look like?" That question seems genuine, so whatever it is that failed to surprise her about Verna's remark, she doesn't know the man. "Did you tell me? I'm afraid I don't remember. Perhaps I can nip around and give it a look."

The music changes - soulful guitar, Mariachi-style: La Malagueña. There is a couple, an old man and his daughter (but really: she's in college now, thick black glasses and an interest in women's studies; he used to be police) are conversing in a nearby booth, and as a waiter passes by the draft from the waiter's coat sends causes the old man to glance up, the daughter to dunk her straw in ice, light plays on it: a rill of some bright thing in the mostly-dark restaurant.

Verna Gardner
[Manipulation/Subterfuge = I so did not just notice you lying to me.]

"Bald, older... a bit like Mr. Clean?" Verna offers. She picks up on the deception, but tries to disguise that by talking about the man's features and trying to look for him.

Why is that not a surprise for Maddy? Is that creep following her too?

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 5, 8, 10) ( success x 2 )

cruor
"Mm. I'll be right back," Maddy says, standing. There's a warm, metaphorically speaking, touch of her fingertips to Verna's shoulder, and then the young woman is strolling -- there is no other word for it; if there were video clips, Wizarding-world style, in paper dictionaries, a picture of Maddy strolling along like the girl next door you always knew existed carefree and casual might well be there -- down the hall near the kitchens.

Verna Gardner
Verna, in her paranoid state, looks to the other people -- people without as complicated lives as hers. A man and and a daughter, out for dinner. Quaint, really. They couldn't be... dangerous.

Then, she peeks toward Maddy's direction. Would that man try to hurt her? She slides out of her chair, tries to be silent, mouselike as she makes her way in pursuit.

[Stealth/Wits!]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 9, 10, 10) ( success x 3 )

cruor
[Alert Maddy?]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (4, 4, 7, 10, 10) ( success x 3 )

cruor
[She is not alert. OR IS SHE? It will remain a mystery, but we shan't roll to break the tie this time. *grin*]

cruor
Verna is good at being nondescript, passing unnoticed, moving as if she's Nobody Special, Look Away, Nothing to See Here, even as she shadows her companion. Past a machine devoted to the making of those delicious tortillas, past some Mediterranean iron-railing, some heavy wooden candlesticks which look like they were taken from a ranch, and there is the window to the kitchens. Maddy peeks in, slowing; she even stops for a moment, and then she turns a corner. Verna, following, passes the kitchen now, just as the door opens and Mister Clean (a rose by any other name) comes out again -- he's holding a box and perhaps he hasn't seen her yet, but she does seem to be in his direct path.

Verna Gardner
Okay. Act natural. She takes a calming breath and turns away from Mr. Clean, making for the hallway where the restrooms are. Just got a little lost looking for them, that's all. Perfectly normal.

Still, she pays attention to the sounds around her, listens for footfalls, or a voice, or...

When she's out of the way, she'll turn and look again. It was definitely him -- Jon Marc's man. She's certain of it. But what is he doing here? How did he know?

Verna Gardner
[Perceptions + Alertness! Diff 7!]

Dice: 6 d10 TN7 (3, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9) ( success x 5 )

cruor
The hallway is empty, although the door to the men's room is ajar. The sounds of somebody washing their hands (thank god, huh?) comes from inside, and a low conversation, one-sided, one-voice, probably somebody on the phone. Verna is getting very good at paying attention to her surroundings: and why shouldn't she? If she lets her guard down, who knows what They might do.

There's an office or a store room or something at the end of the hall (down a couple stairs) with the restrooms, and Verna catches a glimpse of the man coming out of it's shadow and knows, knows, knows immediately, knows a second before he actually leaves the room that

hey, hey Jon Marc, how are you doing? He's looking relaxed is how he's doing; relaxed and handsome, as always, with that dark black hair and that certain air he's got, soulfulness, something to sucker women like Marie in.

Verna Gardner
Ohh, this was a trap. Perhaps this is what Maddy knew and didn't say? That he was here? That this was a place where one could find him and his cronies? She said she wanted to set him off, and get it on tape, didn't she?

Yes, because that sounds like a great plan. Set the man off and get beaten to death in a Mexican restaurant. How utterly ignoble. She turns around, heads back to her purse at the table, where she at least has a couple of defenses -- her cell phone and her mace.

Verna Gardner
[Init! +5]

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (7) ( success x 1 )

cruor
[JM. Init! +6]

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (1) ( botch x 1 )

cruor
Jon Marc sees Verna, of course.

More precisely, he sees her back, and she's already out of the hallway by the time what he sees catches up with his brain and then

and then Verna is already out of the hallway. If she looks toward the table she and Maddy abandoned, she'll see Maddy sitting, looking warily around, shoulders stiff and uncomfortable, while Mister Clean (box still in hand) talks to her. Mister Clean seems like he's going rather than coming, but c'est la vie. 

Verna Gardner
Verna strides up with quick steps, looking the very picture of a pissed-off, prim little mouse. Perhaps not very threatening, but still. She goes straight for her purse and slides it on her shoulder, looks to Maddy (and is she mad at the other woman or just mad in general?) and says: "Our favorite person ever is here."

Then, there's a glare to spare to that horrible little man with the box.

cruor
"Is he?"

Is Maddy's surprise genuine? She certainly doesn't seem to have a phone or camera ready. Does it matter? Her eyes dart back to the bald blue-eyed man's face and he gives Verna a quizzical look, as if - hasn't he? - and then he looks over Verna's shoulder, and

yes, there's Jon Marc, having caught up. "Not running away, are we, Verna? How's Marie doing?" He doesn't give Maddy so much as a glance. He doesn't give his friend a glance, either.

Verna Gardner
It matters. Verna fishes in her purse, trying to find her phone and turn the camera on. If anything, she can record audio while it's in there and maybe...

She turns to confront Jon Marc, face flushed. Yes, she saw you. Yes you are complete degenerate scum. No, she's not going to give you the pleasure of seeing her turn tail and flee.

"Oh, you talk about her as if you care," she says, spitting out the words. "I'm sure you do, in your own twisted way. Like someone might care for their rug or their television."

cruor
"I do care. I love Marie. I love the kids."

His eyes couldn't be more soulful if he were the Devil himself, collecting all these years. He reaches out to grab her arm, stop her from fishing around in that purse of hers.

[But we're going to go by the initial init for a while, and if Verna wants to avoid, just roll me Dex + Ath.]

Verna Gardner
[Dex 2 + Ath 1 = Verna is not a physically imposing creature...]

Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 9) ( success x 1 )

cruor
[Perhaps Jon Marc will botch, which would be hilarious. Dex + Brawl.]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 5, 9, 10, 10) ( success x 3 )

Verna Gardner
He says he loves the kids. She rolls her eyes at him -- what an act. What a despicable little... He grabs her arm. Well, not getting out of this one, are we?

"You love them? Is that why you want Rocky so bad? Love? Tell me, is that how they taught you to love little boys in the Marines? Do you love watching them get beaten and mauled? Is that it?"

He might have her by the arm, but she's defiant to the last is she not?

"Oh, yes. I know all about that."

cruor
[Short Fuse, Short Fuse...]

Dice: 2 d10 TN7 (3, 10) ( success x 1 )

cruor
His fingers tighten on her arm. He wants them to hurt her. Does he want them to hurt her? His eyes don't look mean but they do look blank. Unthinking: squeeze. Of course he fucking wants them to hurt her.

His jaw pops, crackles. He says, to Maddy, "You're gonna have to excuse your friend, lady," with a charming grin. Grimace. "But Verna and I are going to have a conversation outside."

"Er, Jon Marc..." This from the blue-eyed bald guy, who looks uneasy. His tone sounds placating, and he'd shot Verna such a look. Surprised, uncertain. Placing her now, and now - he's worried. He hefts the box; it rattles. "We've got other stuff to..."

But Jon Marc isn't listening. He pulls, not necessarily very hard, he doesn't want it to look like assault, on Verna's arm. Make her follow him: that's the idea.

Verna Gardner
[Strength + Ath = Struggle to get out of the grip!]

Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (3, 6, 7) ( success x 2 )

cruor
[Str + Brawl. Nuh uh, lady.]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7) ( success x 3 )

Verna Gardner
She makes a scene in her attempt to get away from him. He might not want to make it look like assault, but it is assault. And Verna's going to do everything she can to make sure everyone in sight knows it.

"Let go of me, you animal!"

She looks to the others in the restaurant with pleading eyes. Just a slight little mouse of a woman being dragged outside against her will, right? Won't you do something?

"You!" she looks at the father across the way with his daughter. "Call the police!"

Verna Gardner
[Charisma + Empathy! Specialty: Appealing]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (3, 4, 6, 7, 9, 9) ( success x 4 ) [Doubling Tens]

cruor
[Father, Conscience.]

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (10) ( success x 1 )

cruor
The old retired cop having dinner with his daughter gives the scene a slow look. He is reserved. There's dignity in staying the fuck out of it, and let's be honest: he doesn't usually care that much. This time, though, something about Verna's voice, the way it wavers, something about the way she appeals to him.

He reaches for his phone.

Jon Marc shakes Verna. He shakes her hard, of course, enough to rattle her teeth, make her lip, as if he doesn't know his own strength. Of course he knows his own strength. He catches her eye. That's what he wants to do; catch her eye. Drag her back into paying attention specifically to him so he can say:

"Silence yourself, Verna. Dear." Is he fooling the old man? Probably not. "We'll get you your medicine."

[Dominate 1. Command. Manip + Intimidation. Diff: Verna's current WP. 'Silence!' is the command, in true villain-style.]



Dice: 6 d10 TN4 (2, 3, 5, 5, 7, 7) ( success x 4 )

Verna Gardner
[Perception + Awareness!]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 5) ( botch x 1 )

Verna Gardner
She doesn't know why she goes dumb at that point. It doesn't make sense to, but yet -- when she opens her mouth, there's nothing to say. It's like in dreams when you get angry and try to rant so hard your mouth sews shut.

We'll get your medicine? Like she's crazy? Maybe that's what does it. The righteous indignation is just too much to be borne.

Still, she doesn't stop struggling. He didn't tell her to go limp.

Verna Gardner
[Str + Ath = lemme go!]

Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (3, 4, 8) ( success x 1 )

cruor
[I don't think so.]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 6) ( success x 1 )

cruor
Verna is so thoroughly silenced and oh perhaps it is a dream of course it's a dream a nightmare how mute she is; perhaps it's only her fury talking, as she tries to shake herself free, pull herself free, and may she never know just how close she comes: Jon Marc takes a deep, deep breath, and says to his friend, "She gets like this. Fits. I don't know what to do. She's Marie's responsibility, not mine..."

Doesn't he sound woeful? Doesn't he sound convincing? A convincing liar, that's what Jon Marc is trying to be. That's what he can be, sometimes.

Right now? We'll see.

But he hauls Verna away in spite of her struggles, and what of Maddy, Verna's friend? Is she recording this, at least? Maddy is standing, and as they get closer to the kitchens she calls, "Jon Marc, you know she's not Marie's responsibility. Leave her alone. The police will be here soon."

But Jon Marc acts like he can't even see Maddy, ignores her completely and utterly, says to Verna, low so no one else can hear - "You think you know something, huh? I can't wait until you tell me exactly what you think you know. You're such a stupid fuck. Do you know how fucked you are right now?"

There's the kitchen door. Through the kitchen and out back: that's Jon Marc's goal.

Verna Gardner
Verna stops trying to wrest her arm out of his grasp. After all, she's got another. She might have to twist it around to reach her purse, but that's where her can of Mace is. That's about the only thing that's going to keep her from getting dragged out into the alley at this point. Jon Marc is just too strong.

And she still can't voice her displeasure at this. In retaliation, she lets her lower half go limp. If he wants her to move, he's going to have to literally drag her.

cruor
Verna goes limp. He could make more of a scene: pick her up, haul her, drag her. He could do that: he's strong enough, isn't he?

But he doesn't. Verna makes herself limp and (there's a commotion at the table she left; does she look back to see what's happening? It sounds like an argument) he stops, looking down at her.

Fine. "I'm going to let you go," he says, pleasantly. "And you're going to behave." He gives her another attention-grabbing shake, and his eyes are blanker than Verna's ever seen them. "Follow me."

[Dominate 1. Command, again. Doo de doo.]

Dice: 6 d10 TN4 (2, 3, 3, 5, 8, 9) ( success x 3 )

Verna Gardner
[Perception/Awareness!]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (1, 6, 7, 9) ( success x 3 )

cruor
Perhaps later on in life, presuming there is a later on in life, Verna will look back at this moment, at the sensation of Something going on, some instinct that something is being changed or isn't quite right, and she'll recognize what it is she's feeling or sensing...

...but right now, it's just a Something, hairs on the back of her neck rising. Something being made to Happen.

Verna Gardner
When he told her to be silent, she lost her voice without thinking about it twice. It was easy to dismiss the effect as nothing but emotional overload. But now? Now she feels it -- a sense of Wrongness that overtakes her.

But it's not wrong to stand to her feet, to start walking again. Not wrong at all. It's the dignified thing to do, isn't it? Silent, no longer struggling or needing to be dragged, she digs deeper into her purse, pulling out the can of Mace without a word -- but with flashes of utter hatred in her eyes.

Verna Gardner
[Manip + Stealth = hide the fact that you're about to Mace somebody, Verna... Spending WP because!]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (4, 4, 4, 6) ( success x 2 ) [WP]

cruor
[But does Jon Marc notice?]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 4, 4, 8) ( success x 1 )

cruor
Out.

Out through the kitchens. There are people in the kitchens, but none of them seem to think there's anything odd about Jon Marc dragging and then releasing a reluctant furious Verna with hatred sparking in her eyes reaching for a bottle of mace.

Out into the alley, behind the Mexican restaurant. The kitchen is loud; if anybody is following them, trying to get this on film, Verna doesn't hear them.

Once they're out in the alley, Jon Marc turns to Verna in order to deliver a command a reprimand something.

Verna Gardner
[Init +5!]

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (1) ( botch x 1 )

cruor
[JM: +6]

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (5) ( fail )

cruor
[Mystery NPC +5]

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (7) ( success x 1 )

cruor
[M +5]

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (1) ( botch x 1 )

Verna Gardner
When Jon Marc turns, he comes face to face with a still-furious Verna holding a can of Mace in hand, ready to shoot into his eyes, if only. She wants to follow him, wants to stay quiet about it for some reason, and thus has not drawn his attention. Too bad for him.

Too bad for her that he's combat-trained, and she's a frail scientist.

She fumbles with the trigger, even, giving him an edge.

cruor
Maddy has, as it happens, followed; has followed through the kitchens, is standing by the open door, letting cool air into the inside. The sound of cooks talking to each other in Spanish wafts over the scene playing itself out in the alley, a bizarre counterpoint. Maddy is holding the recording device up, and she's not saying or doing anything else yet: gotta catch it on video, right?

"Drop it," Jon Marc says. Commands. He's faster. Commands don't always stick, but sometimes they do. He sounds furious. He always sounds furious after more than a minute in Verna's presence.

Dice: 6 d10 TN3 (4, 4, 6, 6, 9, 9) ( success x 6 )

Verna Gardner
[Awareness!]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (3, 4, 4, 6) ( success x 1 )

Verna Gardner
[Init + 5!]

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (5) ( fail )

cruor
[JM +6]

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (8) ( success x 1 )

cruor
[Mystery NPC +5]

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (6) ( success x 1 )

cruor
[M +5]

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (7) ( success x 1 )

Verna Gardner
Verna, struck by the sensation of creepy cold at the back of her neck again, drops the Mace. Her purse, too, goes tumbling to the ground to join it, in her frantic need to be rid of whatever's in her hands. She doesn't know why, and right now, doesn't much care to think on it.

Because, you see, she jumps at that sense of something being done to her, at his voice, and responds with her own surprised yelp. She can speak again.

"You.... You!" She says, half-terrified, half-murderous. And perhaps that's all she can get out. She's got nothing left except for that 'ally' behind her, recording the events -- Recording what's about to be done to her.

cruor
"Hey Jon Marc, Jonathan says hello," Maddy says, raising her voice, sing-song, sing-song, voice at its most malicious; is trembling, taut, highly excited, like a string about to break, snap. She's trying to scare Jon Marc, maybe. Trying to get to him. Maybe. An 'ally,' well - for a given value of.

"This is why stupid bitches shouldn't mouth off about what they don't know shit about," Jon Marc says, and when he talks like that his charm wears pretty thin. What charm? He's charmless. "Now tell me what the fuck you think you know about maulings and - and all that shit." Is that a tremor?

Of his temper, trying to control it.

He isn't reaching out to hit Verna. He doesn't need to, does he? Because he's got that air of command, says jump and you say how high; he must just be used to ordering people around: it must be what he does.

There's no reason for Verna to feel ashamed.

Yet, Something. There's Something, whenever she does something she didn't think to do or wouldn't do otherwise; she knows it's strange. The strangeness crawls up the insides of her wrists: a faint sense.

Verna Gardner
[Init + 5!]

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (6) ( success x 1 )

cruor
[+6 Jon Marc]

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (3) ( fail )

cruor
[+5 M]

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (2) ( fail )

cruor
[+5 Mystery NPC]

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (10) ( success x 1 )

cruor
[Next time: Verna Strikes Back!]

Verna Gardner
[lol -- Fists of Doom: Verna Style. *catfight-y gestures with eyes closed*]

cruor
[Hee. Knowing the dice, that just might work!]

cruor
This is Verna's Terrible No Good Very Bad Night.

The crawling niggling intuition that something uncanny is going on keeps sluicing down her spine; Jon Marc, with his soulful black eyes, his raven-dark locks, his foul mouth and his hate-flint eyes, keeps telling her to do things -- and she does them (like a good little scared mouse); Maddy isn't exactly a safe refuge, considering; and if the old man is calling the police or called the police from inside the restaurant, they haven't arrived yet. On top of everything, her purse is on the ground. Dirty.

There's a commotion, coming from the kitchens. Different kind of noise. Maddy's saying - "C'mon, c'mon, do something, do something" - and she sounds tense; anguished. Then she glances  glancing over her shoulder, as if she hears something which startles her. It means she's lowering the camera.

Jon Marc is cocking his head to the side, popping bone, and about to kick Verna's pepper spray out of range -- with violence; he means to menace, but he's not actively trying to be intimidating -- the arrogant bastard believes he's intimidating enough without expelling the effort. He's just listening, right now, because he really wants to know

just what Verna thinks she knows about 'maulings'

and all that shit.

He doesn't expect her to run. He doesn't expect her to attack him. She's a pathetic little science nerd; she's gotta know her place by now, right? So he's not preparing for anything except to kick the inanimate object.

They went out through the kitchens, so they're standing in an alley. The street isn't far away, but it's not close, either: there's a truck between the street and Verna.

Verna Gardner
Verna's out of options, at this point. A glance to Maddy's direction shows that, yes, she is plenty angry with the other woman too. It makes sense now. Verna's 'job' here is to make Jon Marc angry enough to commit a felony on videotape so that the police will pay attention. The only trouble with that is that it's Verna's skin on the line, and thank you so very much, Maddy, for putting it there.

'Allies' indeed.

As proven time and time again, though, Verna is not one to go gently into that good night. She aims to make it as hard as possible for either of them to get what they want. And so, makes a run for it. If she makes it to the truck, she'll try to find a way around, or over as the case may be.

Verna Gardner
[dex + ath!]

Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (7, 8, 10) ( success x 3 )

Verna Gardner
[Perc + Alert!]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 7, 7, 9, 9, 10) ( success x 5 )

cruor
The dark-haired ghoul (let's call a bird a bird, a flower a flower) doesn't expect Verna to run. He still kicks the fucking pepperspray away, leisurely, giving Maddy a long, slow look and a slower smile, like he's just figured something out --

And then, of course, he gives chase.

[This is basically a split action. Not gonna roll the kicking-pepperspray since she's not going for it, but will roll the chase. Go Verna go!

Dex + Ath -1 die for the split]

Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 6) ( success x 1 )

cruor
[That shoulda been diff 7: he fails at keeping up, uh, pretty completely.]

cruor
Mouse? Mice are fucking fast and Verna (maybe it's her heart racing, adrenaline, adrenaline, adrenaline) running makes it to the truck while Jon Marc is still thinking he's just going to lap her like maybe he's blind and doesn't realize how quickly she's moving: so she makes it to the truck and he's still smirking at Maddy; turning to look at her. Verna is moving fast, can take her pick of how to get around the truck: over, around, land hard on her heels or feel like her feet aren't even touching the ground -- this is grade school rules, outrunning a bully, moving so it almost feels like flying.

Anyway, Verna gets around the truck.

And Verna can hear the still-distant wail of police sirens, can hear somebody snickering in an alcove near the street exit, an alcove which leads into an antique record shop, can see this lean twist of a man there in the corner, man with an oldfashioned felt hat and an ugly face, snickering at whatever's happening behind her- or maybe at her, running; who knows? The point is she sees the man and she sees the alcove and the alcove's door as well as the street as well as hears those police sirens waiing

like maybe help is on its way

though, given how her previous dealings with the police go, she's gotta wonder:

help for who? Herself or Jon Marc?

cruor
[JM +6]

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (10) ( success x 1 )

Verna Gardner
[Init + 5!]

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (3) ( fail )

cruor
[Maddy +5]

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (4) ( fail )

cruor
[Alcove Man +5]

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (5) ( fail )

Verna Gardner
She's running at top speed when she catches the snickering of that man in the alcove, and determined eyes follow him as she passes. Yet another unhelpful person just doesn't quite top the list of things she's concerned about right now. The police are coming. Jon Marc is following her, surely. With intent to what?

She doesn't stop to wonder. She just keeps running.

cruor
Jon Marc can see what it is Maddy means to do. The strawberry blonde puts a hand to her head; presses her palm to her forehead; a strange expression crosses her face and then - there's a struggle there. Jon Marc isn't concerned by it, is he?

The unhelpful man snickering in the alcove kisses his teeth as Verna runs by, says, "Oooh, baby, don't you know you can't get away from them that likes the oracle juice?"

Jon Marc should be ashamed of himself. He is. She's so far ahead of him that he's startled to realize she might reach the street. It might be smarter to let her go, but Jon Marc acts without a lot of smarts sometimes, lowers his head like he's a bull and there's a china shop he just needs to get to, and its name is naturally Verna. Or 'Truck.' He's gotta get around the truck.

[Here's his Dex + Ath!]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 3, 9) ( success x 1 )

cruor
[He continues to be ashamed. "You jinxed me, old man!" Here's... Maddy's roll, for something.]

Dice: 5 d10 TN8 (5, 6, 6, 8, 10) ( success x 2 )

cruor
[Contest for that.]

Dice: 6 d10 TN8 (1, 1, 4, 5, 5, 10) ( success x 1 )

Verna Gardner
[Dex + Ath!]

Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 7) ( success x 1 )

Verna Gardner
[Awareness!]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 4, 4) ( botch x 1 )

cruor
JM: +6

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (8) ( success x 1 )

cruor
Maddy: +5

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (2) ( fail )

Verna Gardner
[Init + 5!]

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (7) ( success x 1 )

cruor
Alcove Man: +5

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (4) ( fail )

cruor
Maddy, back by the kitchen door, sits down; hard. Muffled body thump, the shiver-skitter of tech hitting the ground and a piece breaking off, batteries rolling. Verna's focused on the street. It's so close she can taste it.

The sound of sirens, nearer now. Nearer than ever. It's not just a tease, sirens coming closer then diminishing, they are coming at least directly toward the Mexican restaurant.

Alcove man fades back into the shadows, might as well never have been there. He stays so still, it's as if he isn't, wasn't, never was.

Verna feels a sense of ... what is it? It's a whole milk sort of feeling, warm cookies baking, love and rightitude, dejavu but only in that in this moment she's completely aware of herself and where she is and who she is and everything's fine and normal and everything WILL be fine and normal and --



Verna Gardner
Verna keeps going for the street. The man in the alcove, talking about 'oracle juice' can just go away. He slips past her notice -- just another lunatic squatting in an alleyway. See them all the time.

Maybe it's the fact that she seems to be getting away that fills her with that sense of rightness -- like everything's going to be all right. She's going to make it. Jon Marc hasn't grabbed her shoulders and shoved her into a wall yet, so it must be fine. And even if he did, the police would surely see him do it. She won't be getting beaten to death. That's all that matters.

cruor
He hasn't even rounded the truck yet. Verna's about to step onto a well-lit street and he hasn't even rounded the truck yet. Jon Marc puts some juice into it, so to speak. Not oracle juice, but ... some juice.

He will fucking catch up. He can't think of anything else except catching up. Verna can hear the heavy thud of his boots behind her.

[Or will he botch? Dex + Ath]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (4, 4, 5, 9) ( success x 1 )

Verna Gardner
[Dex + Ath! = Maybe Verna will. Hah.]

Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (8, 8, 10) ( success x 3 )

Verna Gardner
[Nope.]

cruor
[I think I'll give Miss Verna a WP back - she's escaping pretty perfectly *grin*]

Verna Gardner
[Yay!]

cruor
What Alcove Man? There is no Man in the Alcove. Just shadows.

Maddy? What Maddy? Where and who? The so-very-nice so-very-neat perfect-as-a-pearl (too-good-to-be-true) young woman is down for the count.

Verna reaches the street. It's not the busiest street, but it's not entirely empty, either. She might be able to dart across without getting hit; she might not. Chances. Luck. Fortune. Her car is where she parked it, but her purse and her things are back past Jon Marc.

Across the street there's a busy cafe, something with a lot of people sitting outside where heating lamps are burning away Denver's winter cold.

There's a couple just pulling into a metered parking spot which has freed up in front of the Mexican Restaurant and there's a weary-looking homeless woman, panhandling by the kerb. Another homeless man, very young, scruffy jaw, handsome eyes, and his pet dog, sitting in the door of another building. The dog is a mutt, alert and watchful, its ears pricked forward.

As for the police...

They sure still sound like they're closing in.

Verna Gardner
Verna is out of Jon Marc's grasp. Her things, though. She dropped them. Can't get back to her car without keys. The busy cafe beckons, but Verna's not about to risk getting hit by a car in her blind panicky run. She will cross the street at the nearest crosswalk that's got a walk sign going, and hope to keep outpacing her pursuer.

Besides, she ended up dragged out into the alleyway anyway. People being in the general area did not seem to be of help, except to call the police. Certainly nobody tried to stop Jon Marc.

And how did that happen? How did all of that... Dropping her purse was a terrible idea, now that it comes to it.

cruor
The nearest crosswalk is a red hand. Nope. Not here, Miss Gardner.

Jon Marc: slow, but steady. Verna is still far ahead of him. He reaches the alley's mouth when Verna is a building away and just as a white and black pulls around the corner of the I Don't Think So Red Hand.

The sirens are blaring and of course it doesn't slow down for a running young woman, but traffic eases to a halt people pull right and the police cruiser finally pulls with an extra squeal here piggy piggy into the parking lot of the Mexican restaurant.

Jon Marc? Jon Marc curses and retreats back into the alley.

The only thudding Verna hears now is the sound of her heart.

Verna Gardner
[Stamina!]

Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 10) ( success x 1 )

cruor
A stitch in her side, fatigue settling in but it hasn't got her yet: adrenaline, baby, how shiny it is. Maybe all the walking around university is getting her into better shape.

Verna Gardner
Verna slows down as she goes for the police car. Rushing at a cop is far from a good idea, even when being chased. But finally, someone has arrived.

Whether they'll be of help or not? Well, Verna's had a lot of trouble with the police lately. They don't believe her. But they might at least help her get her own purse back. Surely Jon Marc isn't going to claim it as his.

She holds her side, waits for an officer to step out, with heavy, worn-out breaths.

cruor
The officer who steps out has a perky blonde ponytail, but a stitch between her eyebrows and she looks a couple years older than she is. Late twenties, not quite fresh meat, but all professional. Verna panting doesn't seem to draw her attention immediately and inside the car Officer Blondie's partner is on the radio, looking bored. Her partner is a man in his late thirties, pug nose, broad shoulders, scar under his eye, the kind of wrinkles around his mouth like he smiles all the time. Anyway: Verna panting doesn't draw the officer's attention immediately, and the woman doesn't have a gun drawn and isn't reaching for a gun drawn either. Whatever call was made, she seems ready to deal with the problem in a brisk crisp fashion rather than prepared for real trouble.

So Verna doesn't draw her attention immediately, but there's a time frame after immediately (which comes a step or two from the cruiser to the front door), and Officer Blondie blinks at Verna.

"Ma'am," neutral. "Are you in need of aid?"

Verna Gardner
"Yes. I am," Verna says, catching her breath. "I was here eating dinner with a friend, and this odious man I know showed up. He started threatening me, and grabbed me by the arm. He dragged me out into the alleyway until he... told me... I thought he'd hurt me if I didn't follow him."

She swallows. Yes, that's right, isn't it? She was just afraid.

"But when I got out there," she says, shakes her head. Catches her breath again. "He was going to hurt me anyway. I ran. He was behind me, but now you're here."

Yes, officer. You're here. And you will help, won't you? She's so scared, so in need. A good little girl who's in over her head.

cruor
It isn't always that the police force is corrupt, or lazy, or incompetent. There are good officers, people who really want to make a difference and help out, maybe people who had a traumatic experience when they were young and thought justice and a shield and a badge and some form of authority would be a good thing to support, but then they found out how hard certain things are, how dark the world really is, and they're just tired all the time. It isn't that the blonde officer Verna is appealing to doesn't want to help her.

It's never that, for the woman. But she doesn't know if she'll be able to, or at least she's trying not to engage too closely with Verna's emotional state. What's the point? Still, she listens and nods her head and behind them the blonde officer's partner gives a racuous laugh and the passenger side door slams shut and he leans his forearms across the top of the car so he can listen better. The picture of unconcern, really, though listening too.

"I'm Officer Leslie," the woman says, and she sounds brisk and professional and just a touch cool. "That's Officer What. You stay with him, honey. That alley there?" A nod, as if to confirm, and then she goes to check it out.

"How do you know this man?" Officer What asks, while his partner is checking out the alley. The lights are still on: bathing the lot in red and blue and red and blue. "Can you tell me his name?"

His eyes are on the alleyway's entrance, but he's got a pad of paper to take notes on. "Has he beat you before?"

cruor
[Meanwhile, Jon Marc Area Knowledge to GTFA from this place? Wits + AK.]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 2, 7) ( success x 1 )

Verna Gardner
She nods to Officer Leslie, and tries not to react to the strange name of her partner. Officer What? Well, we can't choose our names, something Verna's very familiar with. "Officer Leslie? My friend followed us into the alley. I don't know what happened to her. Please, if you see her... She's wearing a pearl necklace? Her name's Maddy."

How do you know this man?

"He was my friend's boyfriend. I'm not acquainted with him in any other fashion but that. He beat her," she says, trying to express her ultimate distaste for all things Jon Marc.

Has he beat you before?

"No, he hasn't. But he did send his friend to spy on my apartment. Marie, my friend, she was leaving him and wanted me to help. He does not like that. He thinks I know where her children are."

Which, of course, gets to the other thing. Why is he so concerned with the children? Well, if they want to know...

Verna Gardner
[Oh yeah, name..]

"His name's Jon Marc," she says, and the way she says it, you might think she was uttering the worst curse known to man.

cruor
This is how the night ends for Verna:

a meal comped by the Mexican restaurant, once Officer Leslie has spoken to management;

more questions from Officer What, although mostly he seems neutral, like he's waiting for something really exciting to happen or he's thinking about how surprised his fiancee is going to be when they watch the next Game of Thrones episode (which he has seen but she hasn't, hoh boy). As if he's just trying to get enough to dot every i and cross every t on his report, though by the end he's managed to get a fairly comprehensive view of Verna's interactions with Jon Marc.

But some of that comes after.

After the commotion -- because once Officer Leslie checks out the alley: a woman down, call the paramedics, call the ambulance. Maddy Mueller doesn't answer any questions herself, although the old ex-cop who might've been the girl he was with's father has stuck around to answer them. Maddy Mueller is rushed to the nearest hospital, her skin waxen and slack, her eyes dark circles; she looks ghastly - as if her skin were trying to slough off her bones.

And of course there is the very unfortunate news that Jon Marc seems to have vanished from the scene, the very prince of cats. The officers ask Verna if she has a place to stay, ready to provide her with the names of some shelters for battered women (see, don't they go above and beyond?). What seems genuinely interested in helping her get situated; the most interest he's shown.

At least it appears that what Verna and Maddy had planned has happened:

Jon Marc, caught doing something bad in public. Something he'll have a hard time wriggling his way out of.

Won't he?

Verna Gardner
She can only hope that now, after everything else, that maybe, just maybe, they'll do something. Perhaps Jon Marc will slip through their fingers yet again, but she survived the night. At times, like when she dropped the Mace, surrounded by enemies (or at least, the exceedingly unhelpful) she was quite certain she wasn't going to make it out unscathed.

She makes sure to tell the officers to look for Maddy's cell phone. She was taking video, and even if it broke, there might be something saved on it. She doesn't know if she managed to turn her own phone's camera on until she gets her purse again, but alas, it is free of evidence.

The good news? Witnesses are there to speak on her behalf, and one is an ex-cop to boot. She thanks the older man profusely, wiping away tears in her eyes to make it even more of a heart-tug.

She describes it all, even her suspicions (though the things for which she has no hard evidence she makes sure to note are rumors. Cops don't appreciate the stretching of truth.) She heard that he was interested in the children for vile reasons. And she makes sure to mention his friend, Mr. Clean, the spy. He was around here somewhere too, wasn't he? Was he an employee of the restaurant?

In any case, she will accept the dinner, but eat very little. Somehow, the appetite is spoiled after a night like this.