blackFrom the cemetery, blessedly unscathed, Molly drove her car directly to the donut shop. She parked in a space that had become familiar for her to pull into, and on sneakers with dark dirt still caught in the creases from her prior adventure, she walked through the front door and into the establishment. Bright blue eyes hunted through the space, sweeping over the man and woman who sat together over coffee and pastries. She didn't find the man working the shop at first, until catching a glimpse of him through the view into the kitchen.
white
The drive over had given Molly plenty of time to think. The past few weeks overall had given her that time as well. She'd processed that her friendship with Jacky had been through a shroud of secrecy. He'd been a vampire all along, and in hindsight it was so obvious that she felt embarrassed and guilty for not figuring that out on her own earlier. She wrestled with determining whether his continued courtship had been for dark motivations or if he were some anomaly amid the undead, in that he had genuine humanity in his heart and best interests in store for her. Those were concerns that she had shelved, things that she would have to address when she'd found him again. She could speculate and draw conclusions all day long but she'd know nothing for sure until she heard from the horse's mouth itself. And even then, it could all just be a string of lies.
Lies like the coffee shop dates that she'd had here, time spent in one of those booths or tables with a cup of strangely delicious coffee and minutes stretched into hours of musing speculation and philosophy and debate, time spent over books pulled from forgotten dusty shelves of occult shops and bookstores both. To be sent here, to know now that the man behind the counter was in close cohorts with Jacky (what was the relationship here anyways?), close enough to deliver messages, shed some new light on why this place was so often suggested, why it became a regular meeting place for her strange friend.
Setting her jaw against the cramping of remembered betrayal and anger in her heart, Molly walked up to the counter and tapped the little service bell, or her fingernails on the countertop if there was none, and waited for the man at work to come to her service.
blackThe service bell has a shrill sound do it. The kind of thing one could ring repeatedly to unsettle someone whose perceptions and hearing are drenched in augury; the kind of thing one could use against someone with a migraine to terrible effect. But it's just a small thing, after all, and Jack's man looks up and over and sees Molly before he comes to the counter. She recognizes him by sight which means he recognizes her by sight, too. Does he have a perceptible reaction?
Whether or not he does, he comes slowly out of the kitchen to greet her, wiping flour or sugar from his hands with a dish rag he throws over his shoulder just after. "Miss Molly, isn't it."
[Manipulation + Subterfuge. What reaction?]
blackDice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 4, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )
white[Perception 3 + Subterfuge 3: Come off it, guy]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 4, 4, 9, 10) ( success x 2 )
whiteShe recognized this man by sight, having seen his face plenty of times before. When they met eyes there was recognition on both sides of the equation. However, when the man approached with the dish towel wiping his hand and then finding station over his shoulder, Molly was unable to make out whether he was surprised or bothered to see her at all.
Mostly she wanted to see if he looked worried or guilty. Those were always good signs when on a hunt for information. Those people wanted to hide something.
"It is," she said when greeted. He'd remember her being polite without necessarily going out of her way to be overly friendly or nice. Any tone of good manner or custom was gone from her voice tonight, though. She sounded flat and impatient.
"I don't suppose you've seen Jack around at all, have you?"
blackThe baker considers Molly for a moment too long to be normal consideration. He's considering her, not the question. Weighing her against some internal measurement, not his knowledge. He's older than he looks and he doesn't look like a spring chicken. There's weariness creased in the corners of his eyes and youthful vibrance in the wrinkles around his mouth. He looks like he should have been a thug or a science teacher, and there's something thugs and science teachers have in common. Go on, guess.
"Funny you should ask," he says. "Last time any reputable source saw Jacky around, he was with you."
whiteMolly's lips pressed thin. She glanced over to the man and woman sitting in the cafe, wrapped up in their own conversation. Regarded them for a moment before looking back to the man with a freshly resolved face. She wasn't going to give him much. Not yet, anyways.
"Yeah, well, that was a while ago and I haven't seen him since. He hasn't been answering his phone, and I need to talk to him. I was told to ask here, and you know?" Molly's palm pressed onto the counter and she leaned into it, stretching her torso forward so it hovered over the halfway point of the counter. It wasn't very threatening, Molly wasn't a particularly intimidationg person when it came down to it (to soft, to round, too quiet).
Brought in nearer, with her voice a little lower, she added:
"I've done some reflecting and have figured that there's reason or two he might have checked back in with you." Her eyebrows went up, and getting straight to the point she asked: "Do you have somewhere we can talk?"
blackThe street kids (riff raff) don't seem to be paying too much attention. But then, the street scum scurf of the streets the nothing the people fallen between the cracks worthless people failures they rarely seem to be paying too much attention. The kid whose leg keeps jerking up and down is peeling a piece of banana from the other piece, carefully picking up every crumb on the table.
Gregory the baker regards Molly steadily, eyebrows rising at once like well what've we got here a wise guy, and then he smiles with some apparent rue.
"Yeah. Back this-a-way." He jerks his thumb toward the kitchen and gestures for her to come around the counter. If Molly makes a move to do so, he'll lead her through the kitchen and into an office.
whiteShe shouldn't worry about the kids. They were probably just stoned and avoiding talking about something they actually should be, not noticing much beyond their booth. But a healthy sense of paranoia couldn't hurt in a world like this.
All the same, when gestured to follow around the counter Molly did so, even with the smile that Gregory had given her. Through the kitchen, around and into the office.
If there was a door, she'd go ahead and close it after them (if he didn't do so himself). Rather than find a seat she hovered, upright-- it was easy to tell she was a woman on a mission, who had little patience for wasting any more time.
He would only have enough time to settle himself and look at her before she cut straight to the point.
"Do you have a way to contact him? I mean, besides the phone he isn't answering?" She was hardly being sly about the importance of finding him.
blackHe just hangs the shelf of his ass on the edge of his desk, folding his arms over his chest. He's got some brawn, the baker. Looks as though he could take care of himself okay, like he'd be dependable in any sort of situation. That teacher-thug dichotomy again, the warmth of the sugar on his godamned skin, the scent of bread in his hair and beard.
"I'm not sure I should trust you. I know Jack sure likes you, but he likes rats too. I told him he shouldn't bring rats around the shop but he'd do it anyway. You trying to fuck Jacky over?"
[Manipulation + Subterfuge: Hide, hide, undercurrents, lalala.]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (4, 5, 5, 7, 8, 8) ( success x 3 )
white[Perception 3 + Subterfuge 3: No hiding!]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (5, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9) ( success x 5 )
blackGregory knows something, but he doesn't know everything, and he thinks Molly knows more than he does. He's wary as fuck of Molly, wary of her motivations. But he'd sure like to trust her enough to unburden himself; he'd sure like to -
He's just not sure he should. Not sure what the smart money is on right now, and he's trying to calculate it out.
whiteGregory settled on the edge of the desk, and Molly settled against the doorframe beside the doorknob. Perhaps subconsciously, or maybe even intentionally, she'd placed herself where she'd be in control of the room's access point.
She heard out his answer with her arms crossed over her chest. Her eyebrows furrowed together when he finished.
"No!" She sounded genuine when she insisted this, but he lived among vampires. He knew better than to trust something as it seemed. But he wanted to. Molly picked up on that much at least, and felt a bit of an upper-hand at play. That, and a twinge of empathy. She felt a little bad for this fellow. He reminded her a bit of a doctor she'd worked with once.
"Look, I'm worried. Here's the truth-- some shit went down and he got pretty messed up. I didn't know what to do with him, so I hid him somewhere. Then he up and disappeared. I tried to just... move on, you know, but it just keeps coming back." Her expression was heavy, and she glanced at the toes of her shoes before continuing.
"We didn't really end on the best of terms. We need to talk."
[We can totally relate. Come on, man. Charisma 3 + Empathy 2]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 4, 9, 10) ( success x 3 ) [WP]
black"Yeah. It'll do that, 'til it doesn't. Are you a ghoul?" he asks, one ghoul to the other.
Molly's on a mission to determine her own fate, and how it's knotted blood-love knotted up, but of course Gregory doesn't know that. He's still judging, though he seems to be coming to a decision; there's some grim resolution at the corners of his mouth. "You're new if you are. Can't be worried about your next drink, or can you?"
white"I...," Molly started her answer, but stopped and frowned. Reached up to tuck hair back behind one ear, then dropped her arm over her chest again. Looked up at the man with that frown still on her face, looking uncertain at best.
"It's not exactly about that. I'm not worried about a... drink." The way she hesitated before the word said she was still pretty uncomfortable with the concept as a whole. He was right-- she definitely was new to that particular game.
"It's about him. I suppose I need...," -- she paused. She was going to say 'help', but Molly didn't want to give too much away up front. She wanted to like the fellow, but could really only go so far out on a limb of trust. She didn't want to give him the entire story, didn't want to explain what help she needed.
So, instead, she went another direction that had her scowling with a touch of introspection soon as it came out of her mouth.
"--closure."
blackHe frowns: it's a thunder cloud, come to rest on his face; in his eyes. Leashed. When thunder is leashed, it's a premonition of sound; all feeling, no release.
"Yeah, well. 'Closure.' Heh. I don't know what the fu - the Hell you mean by that, Miss Molly, but Jack needs some closure too from what I can tell. He's," a pause, and then: "Fuck. He's not doing great. There's some godamned arcane bullshit going on, so. Dunno. This thing in the mirror came by, think it was him but I'm not sure. That wasn't my area of expertise. Still isn't."
whiteMolly's eyes widened when Gregory cursed and tipped over the beans. Jack was about, and was being haunted and tormented by the reflection. As she recalled, it was the same reflection's fault that the bus had swerved and knocked into him in the first place. But why would it be out to get him?
Gregory could see that this reveal was significant, for she didn't answer immediately. He could see that she was thinking quickly, almost frantically. Her eyes fell somewhere near his chest and were focused on nothing outright.
Some fistful of seconds later she looked the Ghoul back in the face with her eyebrows up. She decided to let him in on what she was figuring, bring him along for the ride.
"Maybe I can help. I was working with him on that reflection situation before... everything happened. I've seen it recently. I can help him." The second time she said it she sounded way more confident. This may not be his area of expertise, but it certainly was hers.
black"How?"
The intensity in the word sounds like a low thrum, but it's not really a low thrum. Gregory's palms have found the edge of the desk, and he's holding the edge tightly. How? What do we need to do?
whiteThe excitement was contagious. Gregory, by his very nature now, was very invested in the subject of Jacky's well-being and in rolled Molly with what might just be the answers that he just wasn't equipped to tackle himself.
She was no longer leaning, but stood in front of the door now instead. Distractedly looking about at reflective surfaces as though they could reveal some way to help her draw up an answer.
"I don't know." She spoke quickly, excited and thoughtful, mind racing through databases of what she's read and learned. "But I need to do some more research. I need to talk to Jacky and get more information from him before I can solve the problem."
All at once she was looking Gregory in the face, the intensity he displayed clearly contagious. "Can you take me to him?"
blackThe intensity roils: it could boil over. Molly doesn't know this one's temper; everybody has a temper. Even guys who give donuts to street urchins and smell like sugar and fresh-baked bread and sweets. Gregory says, taut, mouth a trap down-turned, "What, you mean his body? Or his - the thing that's him, maybe, the thing that's got him fucked? You wanna talk to him? Me too. But he's under a," and boy, doesn't the ghoul sound reluctant, "a spell or somethink. It's not torpor. It's different. I know torpor."
whiteEven if the man may have a temperment, he didn't seem stupid. Molly wasn't worried about tempers boiling over in any way that would get her hurt or harm this cause. So maybe some furniture gets abused or he shouts at the walls, that wouldn't matter in the scheme of things. He wasn't going to go beating up the lead on getting Jacky back on track.
He revealed that he was under some kind of a spell and Molly looked surprised. Again with the rushed thinking and decision making, and soon she was tapping a finger in the palm of her opposite hand as she continued. She started working on a pace in whatever small space the office allowed.
"Okay... Okay, I think I know what to do next. We don't have much time." As though the quick talk, pacing, and overall sense of urgency didn't say so already. "I've got some reading to do first. I think that I could.... I have an idea."
The hand that was tapping turned to a fist and smacked into her palm with finality instead. She looked back to him again, appearing at least a little exhilerated at the thought of having possibly come to a solution.
"I'll need to go to his body, I'm pretty sure."
black"An idea? Okay. You do the reading, you tell me what the idea is, and maybe we do this thing," Gregory says, slowly at first but gaining speed as he goes on. There's force behind each syllable. He'd do a lot to help Jack. He'd do a lot to help himself. "When?"
white"Tomorrow," Molly said quick and hasty. Then, "Wait," when she realized she wasn't entirely sure what time it was. Hunted for a clock which probably put her somewhere just past midnight. She thought about it a little bit, then nodded. That would be okay.
"Tomorrow night, probably around the same time as now. I'll call the number for the shop if I need to update you on anything."
She'd stopped pacing and turned, and at first it looked like she was about to leave without speaking further on the subject. Then she realized she was getting ahead of herself. She still needed to know where Jack was, and be assured that Gregory would be available to assist as well (she had a feeling going into this that she was going to need some kind of a helper-- a lifeline, perhaps, or even just an extra set of hands). Stopping her reach for the knob, she explained.
"I think that there's two of these.. reflections. One that's Jacky and one that Used To Be Jacky but's been... warped. Turned against him somehow, I don't know. I think I should be able to put him back together, but I need to read up the details on that. Maybe I can't. Maybe I'll need help, I don't know yet."
She spoke with the manic energy of someone who had too strong of a lead to let go of-- a foxhound who saw a flash of red and white tail whisking away on the knoll. It was easy to believe that she may not get any sleep between now and when she was saying she'd see him next.
black[*squint* You bein' real, girl? Perc + Emp.]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 5, 8, 8, 9) ( success x 4 ) [WP]
whiteGregory was perceptive. Perhaps not always, perhaps not ordinarily, but here and now with Molly he certainly was. It could be because they were operating on such similar wavelengths, but the red-haired woman with the dirty sneakers was bare to the bone and clear and easy to read.
The sincerity was worn on her sleeve like a badge. She meant every single word of it.
blackHis are a pair of measuring eyes. They were measuring her when she came in. She saw how he continued to calculate the risks of revealing, of not revealing; she saw what he wanted. And now she sees the intensity, in the white knuckled restraint.
"Yeah, all right." He doesn't want to waste time, either. "You call and if someone else picks up say you wanna talk to Gregory about the flour. You're from Clover, got it?"
He won't draw the conversation on or attempt to stop her from leaving, though perhaps Molly will feel the weight of his eyes on her back, prickling between her shoulder blades. The bald shaved-head sick girl looks wanly over at Molly when she leaves, clearly wondering if that was an interview or something.
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