Dririmancy - Verna Follows the Rules

Verna Gardner

Verna takes the rest of the day off, once that horrible business at the coffee shop is over. Putting some distance and time between herself and that day helps calm the nerves a little. Memories get fuzzier, and she lets them because some things don't deserve to be remembered with clarity.

Others, though...

What she recalls quite clearly is how Jon Marc cornered her, threatened her, dropped the names of the missing doctors she worked with. And that last part has her more than concerned. If he had anything to do with their disappearance, she'd best let the police know. Their investigation, from all she's been able to piece together, has been going poorly.

So the next day, she calls the number. Not 911, because it's not an emergency. Just the number that Detective Fuller gave her in case anything else turned up related to the case.

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Verna reaches Detective Fuller's voice mail. The city's undergoing a crime wave. Mad bombers, gang violence on an upswing, perfectly respectable doctors taken from their places of work, white supremacists on the move -- it's a terrible world. No wonder so many people are choosing to opt out of it

Verna Gardner

Ugh, voice mail. It's not what she'd been hoping for, but she leaves her message anyway.

"Hello Detective Fuller? This is Verna Gardner. I had a rather strange thing happen recently that I wanted to discuss. It may be related to the disappearances of Doctor Jacobs and Doctor Andrassy. My number is 555-2367. Thank you."

Then, it's on to the normal number for the police. She'll just have to give them a report, and have them forward it on to him.

Verna Gardner

And the report she gives is a thorough one. If they'll let her go on about it over the phone, she'll let them know everything she knows.

Namely, that:

1. Only a few days before the attack on the laboratory, Verna met a friend of hers (Marie) at a bar who was trying to leave her abusive boyfriend, Jon Marc. She needed to have somewhere to keep her children while moving out, a thing to which Verna agreed.

2. Jon Marc is a former Marine, who may just have the skills necessary to break into a place with heavy equipment.

3. Jon Marc also has friends, who have been watching her apartment.

4. She would not have brought this matter to the police before, but recently Jon Marc found her in a coffee shop, cornered her, and threatened her life and the lives of everyone in the coffee shop. He wanted to know where Marie's son was. But going well beyond that, he also mentioned that Doctor Jacobs and Doctor Andrassy were dead, as if to frighten her into behaving. It wasn't an admission of guilt exactly, but the subtext was that he had done the deed and could easily kill her if he wanted to.

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The police don't seem very interested, whoever she manages to get on the phone, and for however long. They seem 'interested' by rote, trained to manufacture a veneer of empathy (a veneer is just a façade, just a pretend game), and they do not promise to let her know if anything turns up. She is not invited to call again if he keeps troubling her. Everything is according to the letter of the book, but the spirit of the law -- well that's one tawdry, invisible dame, huh?

Days go by. Nights, too. More days. More nights.

One night in particular. Verna is home. Maybe she's eating ramen, on the computer. Maybe she's reading, or making notes. Maybe she's watching television: is that what Verna does for fun, when her friends haven't dragged her out to complain? Perhaps she does elegant equations meant to prove some essential truth, reveal some trick about how the universe works -- perhaps she argues on forums.

One night Verna is home and there is a furtive knock on her door.

Verna Gardner

Verna is not in her pajamas at least. She has been out today, and that means she's respectably dressed for visitors -- a huge relief. Less respectable is what she's making for dinner -- off-brand macaroni and 'cheese'. It's cheap and filling, if not very nutritionally balanced.

But anyway, she abandons the boiling pasta to go answer the door, peering through the peephole first, just to see who it is.

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The person at the door isn't somebody Verna is familiar with. It's a woman with strawberry blonde hair and a friendly face, a face that is round and pale and unblemished, not lovely, just clean, good-natured, drawn in plain lines but her colouring is striking in that soft 1950s girl-next-door way, and maybe the woman is in her mid-thirties maybe less, it's difficult to tell. Her clothing is neat: a pair of slacks, a pink blouse with one seed-pearl button at the collar, a purse dangling from one shoulder, but no wary alertness in her stance, just that sense of waiting, of precipise, of poised between, that some people get when they're waiting for a door to be answered or a call to be picked up. None of that furtiveness which was in the knock. She raises her fist (small hands, very delicate and creased) to knock again, and as she does her eyes touch the peephole and it looks like she's looking at Verna without looking at her.

Verna Gardner

[Perception + Awareness!]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (5, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )

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Occasionally, Verna gets a feeling. It's that kind of feeling one gets when one is alone in a house, and suddenly the space seems full. Or maybe it's the kind of feeling one gets in certain places thought to be haunted. It isn't just creepy; it's a sense of Otherness, of something Else out there. It's a primal reaction; it means nothing. The last time she felt anything similar was before Jon Marc found her, when the air became so full. It isn't as strong as it was then; maybe it is because the hall looks strange through the peep hole, enough to give anybody shivers.

Verna Gardner

The lady at the door looks nice enough, doesn't she? She's not Jon Marc, even though that strange shiver comes over Verna again, to look at her. It is a meaningless emotion. There's no reason to fear this woman, surely.

She undoes the bolt and the chain and the lock on the door handle, and creaks her apartment door open.

"Hello?"

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[Mystery NPC!]

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

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The woman smiles. Her smile is an automatic thing, but also a creamy thing; it has texture, a hint of sweetness behind bland vanilla, a taste to accentuate other tastes, not to be one on its own; maybe a suggestion of richness.

"Hi. Are you Ms. Gardner?"

Verna Gardner

"Yes, I'm Verna Gardner. What can I do for you?" she asks, all cheerful.

Verna has on a frilly, button-up white shirt with navy pants with a little silver twist necklace. The ensemble screams respectable. She's not even outmatched by the neatness of the stranger in front of her. Maybe that has something to do with the cheer. They look like they shop at the same store.

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"I'm Maddy Mueller," the woman says. Her tone of voice isn't cheerful, but her smile returns for a bright moment, as if encouraged.

"I'm afraid this is really very irregular, but I have a sister in the building and she got some of your mail, and I..."

The mail in question is proferred to Verna. It's an envelope and a magazine. "Well I actually heard your name before from a mutual aquaintance and was wondering if we could talk."

She tries to impress a sense of how-serious-this-talk-might-be without causing alarms to go off.

[And the NPC rolls a Manipulation + Subterfuge.]

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

Verna Gardner

[Perception + Subterfuge = What?]

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

Verna Gardner

Verna takes the mail offered, and looks over the envelope carefully. The magazine is just a magazine, but ever since she missed her orientation packet for the Fall semester, Verna's been a bit particular about her mail.

"Mutual acquaintance?" she asks, looking up from the envelope. "I see... And who is this mutual acquaintance?"

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The envelope is one of those misleadingly personal-seeming mass-invitations that certain organizations and societies send out to prospective members and/or people who have been to their events before. This one is from the Denver Museum of Nature and Science. When and if Verna opens it, there will be a card on good paper, the kind that brushes almost roughly against the fingertips, and it will be an invitation to a special showing of an exhibit + mixer for young professionals.

The woman seems regretful. Her eyes grow big, lustrous, like she's holding in a wince, "I should say Marie, but actually our mutual aquaintance is Jon Marc?"

Ends on a rising note like question mark help?

Verna Gardner

At the name, Verna's eyes narrow. What on earth would this woman be doing with Jon Marc?

"Then you know an odious, violent, abusive man, I see," Verna says, and raises a brow. "The cute face of his is wasted by that personality."

She makes no pretense at liking the man. Jon Marc is a real piece of work. And whoever can't see that, well, she'll throw her door shut on the 'lady' if it comes to it.

"I abhor being acquainted to such a man. Is it the same with you?"

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"Yes."

Her eyes do not smoulder, they are not coals, they do not burn. There are no sparks and no flaming angels, no cherubim or thrones coming down from on high.

But there is a visceral reaction to what Verna is saying; an attachment that is not quite hatred. It is firm. It is a ruler slap against the back of a hand.

"It is exactly the same with me. He was responsible for," and she hesitates. "He was responsible for one of the worst days of my life."

Verna Gardner

"I believe it," Verna states, and opens the door a bit wider, steps to the side to let the woman in. "Do come in; make yourself comfortable," she says, and gestures to the living room furniture. "If you'll excuse me, I have to go and make sure my dinner doesn't boil over. I'll be right back," she says, and makes a quick turn to go check on the... the pasta. With cheese sauce that appears radioactive.

The woman will hear cooking noises from the kitchen, including hot water being dumped down the drain, and some mixing. It's obvious Verna either doesn't appreciate being timely, or she just does not want to waste her dinner. (it is the latter).

When she returns, Verna is steam-glowed, but dour of face. She takes a seat at a chair in the living room opposite whichever one the other woman has taken (assuming she does).

"Now, what can I do for you?"

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[Mystery NPC roll]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 3, 5, 8, 10) ( success x 2 )

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[And?]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (4, 5, 6, 10) ( success x 2 )

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[Nope]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 8, 10, 10) ( success x 3 )

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[And?]

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

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[FUCKING GOD]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 4, 6, 7, 10, 10) ( success x 4 )

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

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[Better.]

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The woman steps into the apartment and looks around with the polite interest of somebody who does not often go into stranger's houses, and finds it an interesting exercise in prefering her own. No; that's not quite right. The woman - Maddy is what she said her name was; Maddy Mueller. Maddy Mueller of the strawberry blonde hair, which is brushed so silky neat as to gleam like a ring, steps into Verna's apartment and says, "Oh, of course," before Verna disappears into the kitchen. "I didn't realize I'd interrupted your dinner." How would she?

Proper noises made, she stays in the living room or where ever it is Verna indicates she should go. She does sit down, but not before looking around at whatever knicknacks are on display, whatever books. There is an air of restrained -- not wonder, but -- there's an air of restraint. Emotion. Restrained emotion? Sure.

And for a moment, her eyes go blank as mirrors before someone or something stands before them.

Just for a moment.

The moment passes (uncanny, hum).

Now, what can I do for you? Verna says.

The woman seems to hesitate. Then she says, "Am I right in thinking that you want Jon Marc to leave you and your friend alone? That he has said terrible things to you? That you'd..." Trail-away, search for the right word. "... be willing to make his life less comfortable?"

Verna Gardner

Verna's apartment appears as though a team of maids comes through every day on a very precise schedule and gives the place a thorough inspection. There is no team though, just Verna.

She's the kind of person who will take her dishes to the sink and wash them immediately, right before she washes them again for good measure. And it shows, in the almost clinical look of her apartment. There are pictures on the wall that have accumulated no dust (and who, honestly, dusts picture frames on a regular basis? Verna.)

And those pictures are the kind of cheap prints of some famously expensive art that college students will sometimes find in the bookstore to hang on their walls. Gustav Klimpt here, Picasso there. They aren't real, but they are pretty. And since this is Verna's place, they are also color-coordinated by room. The living room is a roughly green-blue creation. Monet's waterlilies over the couch. A shelf of glass ornaments. There is no television. Verna's the type of person who boasts at the fact she has no television.

"Yes, you're right. Marie doesn't need him in her life, and I certainly don't enjoy the man. He threatened to kill me."

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"Did he really go that far?" The woman's eyes widen, although she doesn't sound exactly surprised. She rests her hands on her knees, primly, then looks at them as if she truly is surprised to find them there. The moment wavers for a moment; she blinks, then looks directly (frankly) back at Verna.

"He used to be so different." She doesn't sound regretful as Marie does when she says similar things. She sounds disgusted. "Do you know what he wants to do with that kid? Terrible. Do you know what his brother in law does? Even more terrible."

"But did he truly threaten you?" His m.o. seems to mostly run to timid women he's cast a spell over."

Verna Gardner

"Well, I'm not exactly timid. And he didn't exactly cow me. But he did say something about getting me somewhere all alone where nobody would hear me scream. And he threatened to shoot not just me, but everyone in the coffee shop. He's a real animal."

Verna sighs, gives Maddy a look that cracks the surface of her cool, collected self, showing for an instant the picture of a woman who hasn't had the best of luck lately.

"No, I don't know what he wants to do with Rocket, and I don't know what his brother in law does either. Marie never really spoke of him all that much."

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[Oh, do I have empathy?]

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

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"He wants to use him at a fight," Maddy says. "An illegal fight." Obviously, if a kid is involved. "He likes that sort of thing," and her nose twitches. Her cheeks have a heightened colour to them, a fever sunset colour, earthquake sunset colour, but those cracks in Verna's self-possessed not-exactly-timid self do get noticed.

Maddy moves as if to take Verna's hand, but does not. Maddy does not seem to be a touch-other-people sort of woman. She says, "My dear," because she is clearly the elder of the two, after all, "I'm sorry if you've had a rough time of it."

"Would you be willing to help me?" Her voice hardens; it is not imperceptible. It is diamond-sharp. "Help me get rid of him," a beat. "For everybody's sakes."

She seems very intense about this. Perhaps she's an ex-girlfriend.

Or maybe she just met Jon Marc.

Verna Gardner

"That's disgusting!" Verna says, trying to grasp the idea that Jon Marc wants to use Rocket as a pit fighter. Against who? Another child? It seems unlikely.

"What would I have to do?" she says, and while she sounds a bit hesitant, she doesn't seem unwilling either. Getting rid of Jon Marc in whatever way that 'getting rid' of him entails? Well, it's likely just fine with the good, upstanding Verna Gardner. He could probably 'trip' into a vat of acid, and Verna wouldn't mourn him too much.

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The strawberry-blonde doesn't offer any more information on how exactly Jon Marc wants to use Rocket, or what exactly he plans to pit the child against. But there are white lines around her mouth, so pinched tight is it, so pursed; she looks suddenly older, aged, a photograph fading, and that suggestion of coal-smoke anger has returned. The woman before Verna, for all her neat, neat, neat appearance, for all her gentle rosiness, seems like she has a lot of anger stoppered up (distilled [aging into something fine?]).

"Help me expose him. He's never been confronted by more than one woman, by more than one person, certainly not on ground he regards as safe. I'm not suggesting we do anything dangerous, but I know, I've heard, that he's already riled up by you, he thinks you're keeping Marie from him and that you're a lying - " a (graciously timed) pause. "You can imagine what he says."

"I don't have more specifics." Pause. "Yet. But if you are willing to at least consider it, I will consider how best to handle him and be in touch."

Another pause. "People usually do not believe me about him. But you seem so respectable," a faint smile. "And ... well, you certainly look good. Like someone who will be listened to."

Verna Gardner

"I have tried to get in touch with the police about him, but I'm not sure how seriously they're taking it. I swear it's as if one has to light a fire under people in order to get them to do their jobs."

Verna pauses to consider the woman. She looks so respectable. And good. Like someone who would be listened to.

"What makes you think that I can do much better than yourself?" she says, the very picture of sad acceptance of their horrible situation. "But of course I will consider exposing him. Getting him off of my case would definitely be in my best interests. Not to mention that poor little boy's."

Verna Gardner

[Perception/Awareness!]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (4, 5, 6, 7) ( success x 2 )

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"It wouldn't be the first time," Maddy says, significantly, but the significance is smooth, cool as cream, low-key, uncolored. "As for what makes me think," a pause; Maddy looks at Verna. Verna, she can sense that faint sense of something uncanny, something eerie -- though that's not quite right. Just: something Other, something deeper, something that wants to burrow into her gut, something that says perhaps the air is thickening, perhaps the shadows hide eyes, perhaps, perhaps, perhaps -- Verna, she can still feel it. Maddy looks at her for a moment, and then shrugs.

"I don't think you can. I think we can. It's important to have allies. I think, if nothing else, the way Jon Marc operates should tell us that. He isolates his victims, and then..."

She must mean people like Marie.

Marie, who Jon Marc didn't want talking to Verna any more. Or anyone else.

Verna Gardner

Verna is trying very hard to ignore the strangeness emanating off of the other woman. She tries very hard every time. Maddy can probably tell in the way she looks around herself as if trying to find some invisible thing, and then pinches the bridge of her nose. Stop that, Verna. There is nothing there. There are no eyes in the shadows, nothing but this charming, perfectly normal woman.

"And then throws their children into a pit fight, yes," Verna says and shakes her head. "Well, you can count me as an ally, then."

She gives Maddy a warm smile. "I'm sorry. It's good to have allies, I just wish that I didn't need one quite so much, if you get my meaning."

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"I do." A pause.

Maddy stands. It isn't meant to be abrupt; rather, it's meant to be neat -- like sewing a stitch closed, but instead of a stitch, it's a social engagement. There is a certain awkwardness behind the motion, but it's almost hidden.

She offers her hand. Her nails are painted a neat (pale) pink.

"I don't have a way of contacting you. Can I have your e-mail?"

Verna Gardner

"Certainly. And my phone number, and whatever else you need," Verna says, and shakes Maddy's hand.

True to her word, she provides Maddy with whatever contact information she wants. Apparently she trusts this newcomer into her life.

It must be the bearing, the neatness, the same lightly veiled anger in Maddy that makes Verna feel such an instant kinship. They are on the same page here.