"Any luck making friends?"
Jan. 27th, 2015 04:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
renferretMeeting Alicia's daughter, and a very brief conversation with Collins.
Silver Avenue, West Side
From Thirteenth to Fifteenth along Silver Avenue's north edge, the St. Claire Sports Facility sprawls northwards. The southern side of the street is covered with small buildings, the fifteen-story Tribune building towering above them by more than ten stories, along where Fourteenth ends. Small restaurants are set into some of the buildings, catering to the businessmen and those who come to the sports facility. Souvenir shops litter Fifteenth Avenue along the side of the sports facility, up to Jellico Lane: caps, shirts, stuffed animals with team logos or colors, buttons and other sports-fan paraphernalia are sold all along here. At the intersection of Jellico and Fifteenth, at one of the major exits from the sports facility across the way, a larger restaurant has a souvenir shop to one side, mimicking a Hard Rock Cafe and even, apparently, reaching for the same atmosphere. Along Jellico Lane, the shops tend to cater more towards the sports enthusiast rather than the fan: fishing stops, equipment shops, sports clothing shops for the athlete. At the intersection of Thirteenth and Ellicott a tall hotel rises, providing a place for overnight visitors to stay.
Contents:
Alicia
Nicodemus
Obvious exits:
St. Claire Gun Club Channel 23 St. Claire Tribune Rat and Raven Pub Ramp to Interstate North East South
It is late in the afternoon and Andrea has missed her bus, on purpose, for the third time. Knowing that her mother is out of commission for the next couple of days, and with her father once again bailing on her, she has the apartment to herself. Sure, she could have called her Uncle Benedict, but she does not want to deal with a wailing baby all week either. The young fourteen year old is currently at the movie theater, playing a round of video games. House of the Dead, the version with the shot gun. There is a few guys standing around the girl dressed in a pair of low-cut jeans with tears along the snug fabric and a simple pink shirt with the words: Love Me scrawled across it in cursive. Her bright white hoodie is tossed on the ground. As she is bent over the machine, her finger rapidly hits the trigger, reloading and moving back swiftly. She has a look of intensity in her brown eyes and she barely misses a beat. One of the younger men, who looks to be in his 20's has done nothing but stare at her ass the entire time, making some crude comment or another to cause his buddies to laugh. Currently, she is ignoring it, but the grip on the plastic gun becomes a bit tighter.
Nicodemus enters through one of the many front doors and enters the lobby, where he stops, stands, and casts his gaze about looking for someone who looks like the image that was forwarded to his phone earlier by Alicia. First the seats, where someone might wait while playing on their cell phone. No dice. Then the concessions area. Nope. And... the old stand-up arcade games?" Unexpected. He moves in that direction and joins the others who are loitering nearby and watching (although not necessarily the gameplay). He doesn't fit in.
Speaking of people who don't fit in, neither does the person who enters a few minutes after Nick, long enough that it's unlikely she actually followed him in. Ghost slouches through the lobby with only a few glances at the concession stand, and a longer one for the movie listings and times. Notably, the security guard eyeballs her until she turns toward the arcade itself.
The game continues to rumble on until the end where her player finally bites the big one. Andrea lets out a loud snort, giving the machine a kick with her boot before shoving her hand into her snug pocket to fish out another pair of quarters. One of the young men makes another comment, something along the lines of 'I got a bigger gun you can play with, baby.' Casting her eyes over her shoulder towards them, she lets out a slight smirk. "Sorry, I'm not into squirt guns dude." Her voice rolls out sarcastically before she shoves the quarters back into the machine and hits the continue button. Lifting the shot gun up once more, she starts to fire away, that is until one of them reaches out to swat her on the backside. LIke mother like daughter, she drops the weapon, whirls around and slugs him square in the throat as he sputters out in a gag and falls to his ass.
Nicodemus watches the ass-kicking with only a mild up-tick of his eyebrows. "Alicia sent me to give you a lift back to her apartment," he interjects out of nowhere. "I see the apple did not fall remarkably far from the tree." He looks over his shoulder to ensure the security guard isn't inbound.
Ghost stops just inside the arcade proper, in time to see things get violent. She blinks twice, looking not unlike a surprised deer.
Looking as if she was about to finish the job, Andrea jerks her chin upwards to the sound of Nick's voice, then slowly withdraws her hand back from behind her to swing loosely at her side. "You must be Nick." She mutters as she picks up her plastic shot gun again and points it back at the screen. The young man scrambles back, calls her some sort of explicative and then heads off with his friends who are laughing at him. Jail bait just beat his ass. "I don't need a babysitter."
"Good, because I'm not a babysitter," Nick says, eyeballing the young men as they depart the vicinity. Ghost gets a brief nod before he moves to the teen's other side and drops a few quarters into the game, picking up as Player Two. "God, this thing is ancient," the Walker kin complains mildly as he pulls the second plastic shotgun out and prepares to join the game.
Ghost eyes the departing men a little longer than Nick does, before turning that scrutiny on Andrea. She moves in a little further now that the others are gone, but there's still a respectful amount of distance between her and the two players.
Yeah, but it's this or pinball." Andrea says as she continues to move quickly through the maps as she blasts the zombies and odd monsters away. "In San Fran, I played this all day after school at the mini-putt place a few blocks away. If they had DDR I would be using that instead." Her eyes narrow tightly as she reloads with a quick dart to the left, then back again. "Who is your friend eyeballing us at our six? That your fuzzy bodyguard?"
Nicodemus chuckles mildly at that last comment before joining in and shooting various unpleasant things on the screen. "Damn, I'm rusty," he mentions after he takes a hit. "Fuzzy, yes. Bodyguard, no." He fires off a rapid sequence of shots and then swiftly reloads. It seems to be coming back to him. "It'd be bad if the babysitter needed a babysitter. Who would babysit the babysitter's babbysitter, then?"
Ghost's expression remains about the same as before. No chuckles from her. "Why the throat?" she finally asks.
"Probably mom's big black My Little Apocalypse Pony." Andrea answers Nick with a smirk as she taps a button to fire a grenade, then keeps on motoring through. "Huh? Why the throat?" She asks as her attention gets diverted and she takes a hit, sending out a curse. "What? With that guy?"
Nicodemus lifts his gun sideways to examine it. "Oh, right," he says while still shooting monsters. "They have grenades, too." He reloads and resumes shooting. "Met the thing once. Seemed friendly enough. Kind of neat-looking. Not every day you get to pet a unicorn that isn't plastic with a rainbow or heart or flowers stamped on its ass-cheek."
"Yeah." Ghost slides her hands into her jacket pockets as she stands up a little straighter. "Why hit the throat?"
"Because his balls would be too small to kick." Andrea answers back as she finally gets killed again by the mean nasty monsters. She give the machine another bump with her boot. "Mom never lets me in on that stuff. She doest't want me around it. If dad wasn't porking his nurse and forgetting that I am alive, she would just have me stay in Cali or something. So, I don't get to meet the pony of doom."
"I'd be more worried about your mom than a war pony with a horn stuck onto its head," Nick asides, putting the shotgun down and letting Player 2 die the quick and stupid death of the unattended. He motions for the door. "Shall we split? You need to pick up a pizza or something on the way? You need a lift somewhere, Ghost?"
Ghost's vague frown deepens noticeably. "That's not a good reason," she says after a moment. "He doesn't breath through his balls." At Nick's question, she shakes her head, though there's a certain amount of hesitation all the same. "Could I come anyway? I don't need to be anywhere."
Nicodemus shrugs to Ghost. "Up to her," he says, motioning towards Andrea.
"You gonna question the way I eat pizza if you do? Moon is also fat as a Kardashian's ass. I don't want to go splat in the car on the ride over if we disagree on toppings." Andrea says as she leans back against the game as she kicks one foot back to support her weight. Sliding her phone out of her back pocket, she takes a pic of the two of them, then sends it off as a text.
Nicodemus gives a ridiculous smile and two thumbs up just in time for the picture. It's going to look goofy, but he doesn't seem to be terribly concerned. He looks to Ghost, letting her answer that question instead. It seems as ig he might be about to say something to Andrea, likely about Ghost, but then he silences himself before a word is spoken--perhaps for the best.
Ghost's frown remains constant. "A punch to the throat is dangerous," she explains. Frown aside, her voice is calm enough. "Possibly fatal. It varies. Groin or instep is better if you have to. The throat is for life or death situations. Could swell up. Trachea collapse. Permanent damage or organ disruption if you hit the vargus nerve." She touches a spot on her neck. "Spinal injuries too, if it's hard enough." The cell phone is given a dubious look. "I won't frenzy."
Glancing down at her phone as it dings, Andrea shrugs her shoulders upwards. "Well, you two are who you say you are at least. Mom gave me a cockroach emoticon. Heh. Kinda cool how she pulled that off. Creative use of the number seven." She tilts her phone one way, then the other.
Nicodemus takes a few steps towards the exit. "Your mom just wanted me to pick you up and get you back to her apartment. The whole in-between thing was left wide open for interpretation. Maybe we can swing out to the woods nearby and Ghost can show off a trick or two for you that your mom doesn't normally let you see?" the kinsman says, volunteering Ghost as supernatural entertainment without her permission or consent. "So long as you keep it quiet. And Ghost agrees."
Ghost's right eye narrows a little, but that's before Nick's suggestion rather than after. "Maybe," she says, noncommital, as she turns to follow Nick. The security guard has moved from near the entrance to near the arcade, and he eyeballs Ghost again as she emerges.
"Eh. I kinda seen a bunch already. My boyfriend is a fuzzy also, one of mom's named Reed. It pisses her off to no end. If I want to see a trick I can always have him roll over and beg." Andrea says as she pushes off the machine and stuffs her phone into her back pockets again. "Alright, pizza then. Let's hit it."
Nicodemus pays the security guard no mind at all as he leads the way outside to where he's found a good spot for his mid-80s, lifted, clearly-been-offroad reecntly Suburban 4x4. He motions towards the car and announces "After you, ladies" shortly after using the key and unlocking the doors to the vehicle. It doesn't look like the kind of vehicle you'd expect someone dressed and speaking like Nick to possess, but there it is.
Ghost pays almost as little heed to the security guard as Nick does, though the very observant might notice she's at least keeping track of his position. She moves over to the back seat and slides in.
Looking hesitant when Ghost takes the back seat, Andrea shifts her jaw a bit and slowly climbs into the passenger seat. She wraps the seatbealt over her shoulder and locks it into place. "Nice rude, dude." She says with a coy grin over to Nick.
Nicodemus turns the large engine over and it grumbles to life. "I liked the Porsche Cayenne I had before this car better. Faster More nimble. More discrete. But this one is big enough I can camp out of the back if I need to. Or shuttle more people around if I had to." He puts the car into motion. "Of course, it leaves me wide open to every small-penis-compensation joke out there. So where do you go for pizza?"
Ghost settles in her seat. She buckles up as well, as funny as that might seem in context. As far as conversation goes, however, she's not immediately forthcoming. Instead, she turns her head and looks out the window as they pull away from the theater.
"Eh. Usually I just buy them frozen and make them myself in the oven at home. But, wherever you guys want to go. I ain't picky." Andrea says as she fiddles with her phone a bit, letting out a sigh as she runs a hand back through her hair, reading the texts that pop up on the screen.
Nicodemus makes an assumption without looking. "Reed?" He inquires, "Your mom okay with that? Him being a Get and an ahroun?" He navigates the car around a turn, as if he knows where he's going next.
Ghost makes a tiny, tiny choking noise in the backseat at that. It might be a swallowed laugh, it's hard to tell.
Shrugging her shoulders, Andrea says, "I know she's not thrilled. We went at it a few times. Then she got my dad involved and he started in on me. I don't really care. At this point the last time we talked about it, she said don't get pregnant. But, no, these aren't from Reed." The young kin girl says. "There are these girls at school who has been ...just sending bitchy mean texts and snap chats about me. They pick on me."
Nicodemus grunts in response. "I'll tell you a secret about high school. None of it matters after you graduate. Everyone will go their own ways. Five years later, you won't give a damn about any of them--and they you. Unless you do the whole reunion thing and put yourself back into that mix. Get your education and move the hell on to college and bigger and better things."
Ghost lightly scratches her cheek for a moment. She's back to looking out the window.
"Yeah, I don't sweat them too much. They're the typical plastic dumb blondes who get their fake noses bent out of shape at anyone who does not conform to their dimwitted standards." Andrea says with a roll of her eyes. "So far all they do is photoshop stupid shit about me and send me texts. It's just annoying."
Nicodemus pulls up in front of a place that claims to do a Chicago deep dish pizza. It's probably not Chicago-grade, but it's probably not bad either. "Learn to live with annoyances and let them go. You'll be a happier person for it. Plus it makes it easier to put up with the garou sometimes, too. No offense, Ghost," he adds for the benefit of the ragabash.
"I have to put up with the Garou too," Ghost points out.
Unbuckling her belt, Andrea climbs out once they are parked and slips her phone into her back pocket. She takes a sniff of the air and gives a wide smile. "This place seems pretty legit."
Nicodemus looks at his own phone as it rings. "Hell. Work. I need to take this. Ghost? You got her back while I stay out here and yammer on about stocks? I'll be here when you get out to drive you home. Sorry." He then answers his phone and begins talking. Something about some drug company and FDA approval."
Ghost gets out more slowly. Nick gets a shrug to his question before she starts moving toward the pizza parlor's entrance, absolutely no real hurry in her step.
"Well, I figured he was paying. I don't have any cash on me." Andrea says as she steps into the busy sidewalk, bumping into a guy that walks by, muttering out an excuse me. She glances over her shoulder for a moment, then peeks into her hands at the wallet she snagged. "Well... at least now we got... twenty four dollars." Pitching the wallet into the garbage next to the building ,she shoves the bills into her pocket and heads into the parlor.
Ghost stops in her tracks at this, which has the result of her staring at Andrea's back for several long moments before she follows the other woman in. "What was that?" she asks in a low voice as she catches up.
"Are you going to ask me if I took a piss or a shit when I go to the bathroom later?" Andrea says with annoyance in her voice as she heads up to the counter to stare up at the menu. "Geez, this is why I don't have friends." She mutters under her breath before he comments to the cashier. "Just an order of garlic twists with some ranch and whatever she wants."
"Pretty sure it is, yeah," Ghost responds, clearly somewhat annoyed herself. "A slice of pepperoni," she says to the cashier.
Slapping a ten on the counter, Andrea pushes it across to the cashier and then takes the change, pocketing it after ordering a few slices for Nick as well, to be polite. Snagging up her twists, she stomps over to a booth near the window and flops down into it.
Ghost follows with her own slice and slides into the space across from Andrea. She takes a bite almost immediately.
Andrea plucks her phone out of her pocket and chews on her bottom lip as she reads it, then swipes her finger across to delete it. Settling back into the cushion of the chair, she pokes at a garlic twist in the ranch sauce before taking a small bite. Across the screen a picture flashes once more in a text. Looks like an image of her with the words: Slut Factory meme'd across it. She glances down and flips the phone over so that the screen is facing down.
"You can block the numbers," Ghost offers between bites. "Or change yours."
"They use apps to send the texts. Not even real phone numbers." Andrea says as she takes a bite of her garlic bread, trying to mask her emotions. "Whatever, it is what it is. I could change my number but it's on dad's plan."
Ghost's eyebrows lift. "So? Can't he have it changed? Most companies don't charge for that."
Alicia lets out a soft scoff under her breath. "I guess he could."
Alicia makes that Andrea.
Ghost takes another bite and slowly chews it. "...And?" she says, after she swallows.
"And he'd probably be too busy between being a doctor and his new floozy The less he has to deal with me the better for him." Andrea says as she rubs at her nose. "I don't wanna bug him anyways, then he'll get into it with mom again and she is always a hot mess after one of those calls."
"Your parents really suck," Ghost states matter-of-fact, just before taking another bite.
Frowning, Andrea gives a shake of her head. "Yeah? What about your parents? They getting mommy of the year any time soon?"
Ghost shrugs. "I don't know," she says between bites. "Depends on what you mean by parents, I guess."
"I love my parents, they just don't get along. It's not a big deal." Andrea says with a frown.
"Look," Ghost says, as she polishes off the pizza slice, "All I know is, my family kicked my ass for pulling the kind of stunts I've seen you do in the past hour. And you've been talking an awful lot about how bad your parents are. Why would your father yell at your mother for you wanting to change your phone number to avoid harassment? That's just being an asshole. And your mum giving up and telling you not to get pregnant from some Get of Fenris guy? I mean, I know you wouldn't like it, obviously, you're dating him, but she can't just make him stop?"
"I am not going to tell a complete stranger my entire life story." Andrea says with a snort as she rises up from the table and heads for the bathroom.
"What does that have to do with anything?" Ghost asks. She remains sitting. "I didn't ask for your life story. Anyway, you've been telling me plenty as it is."
The door to the bathroom swings shut behind the young kinfolk with a thud and a latch of the lock clicking into place.
It's Ghost's turn to snort this time, which she does, quietly. After a minute or so, she gets up from the booth, tosses her plate in the garbage bin, and heads for the exit in the same unhurried manner she entered.
----
Maxwell Tower: Lobby(#2471RAJL)
The ground floor of Maxwell Tower serves as a small shopping center of sorts, with a Starbucks set on one side of the main entrance doors and a Barnes and Noble on the other. At the opposite end of the lobby is a restaurant that specializes in sushi and various noodle dishes, and Claire's Old Fashioned Pizzaria, a local favorite. Also to be found are an Apple store, a used books store, and a small shipping center that works mostly with UPS and FedEx. Many of these businesses have exterior entrances, but security in the lobby itself is tight, keeping out the less savory neighborhood elements via cameras, alarm systems, and two armed, round the clock security personnel with Maxwell employee badges and their own desk near the center of the lobby itself. Wedged between the pizzaria and the sushi restaurant are stairs leading down to the building's underground parking garage, a heavy door marked stairwell access, and two elevators. A third elevator is situated near the used books store, but this one has a key card swiper and is clearly marked 'Private'.
Contents:
Collins
Obvious exits:
Outside Parking Garage Private Elevator
The man has an office. It's not even a bad office. And yet, he is nearly perpetually down here, on the floor, gladhanding tenants, meeting with staff, conversing with visitors; a very hands-on management style (that isn't always popular). He brings energy to it, though, and that counts for something, especially when talking to potential tenants as he is now. Collins is finishing a description of the security in the building - and is no doubt leaving all sorts of things off in the process. He gestures with grand sweeps of his hand, indicates the obvious CCTV cameras, the locks, the security desk. The three individual standing nearby - all in business casual - follow his gestues and nod politely, but they've no doubt seen what they came here to see. Fortunately, for everyone, his pitch seems to be wrapping up.
Ghost's previous entrances into the building were cautious, but today she actually peers in through the doors before stepping inside. Collins is noted rather quickly, as is his meeting, so instead she ambles toward the Apple store to window shop, as seems to be her default means of passing time or avoiding scrutiny when it comes to the lobby.
Hands are shaken, business cards are exchanged in a ritual of commercial congeaneality that Collins is so familiar with, he's able to seamlessly anticipate the right order of operations so that his right hand is empty when it needs to be, and handing out a card when it doesn't. Some small joke about the roads gets a small ripple of chuckles from his guests and then Collins and the trio part ways. Collins doesn't go far, he simply walks off far enough to make their walking off seem mutual before he stops and pulls out his Blackberry, dashing off what is probably notes and snapping photos of the business cards before repocketing his phone and disposing of all three.
Ghost doesn't appear to be looking toward the end of the meeting at all, but as soon as the trio are out the door she turns away from the shop window and heads toward the kinsman. "Uh, hey," she says, when she gets close enough. Different shirt today, but the pullover and the jacket are absolutely, eternally the same.
He didn't see her come in, but he spots her on the approach a lot quicker than many would: give him credit for his vigilance. He gives her a lift of his chin, in silent, friendly acknowledgement. When she speaks, he answers, "How you doing?" New Jersey to the core.
Ghost responds with an easy sort of shrug; given the moon, it's a lot more relaxed than it could be. "I'm okay. You?"
"Busy," Collins answers, casually. His tone makes clear that it's not a brush-off, just a factual report on his status. "Trying to fill a new office vacancy on short notice." Again, stated simply to be factual, he doesn't put the energy into it that suggests he's hoping she'd engage with his shop talk. "Any luck making friends?" He frowns the moment the words are out, shakes his head. "/That/ didn't come out right."
Ghost snorts softly. "But accurately. Uh, no, not really. Met someone; a teenager. I guess she's the daughter of someone in your larger group. I made her angry. And the uh, that new girl who was talking to you the other day. Met her too. I really pissed her off."
Collins makes a face, when Ghost attributes accuracy to his gaff, but doesn't argue the point further. "Briari?" He asks, focusin on the second account. "How'd you do that?" It's conversational, but there is some genuine fishing behind the question, despite his feigned disinterest.
Ghost nods. "Yeah, her. I, uh, I called her on something she was doing. She kept pumping herself up as being so great for doing it, and it was all she could talk about, you know? How it affected her, gave her meaning, blah blah. Except, supposedly, supposedly she was helping people by doing it, and /that's/ why it was supposed to be great. I told her a few things she could do to help more, and uh, and I pointed out that when you do things to help other people, you're not really doing it to help them if all you care about is what it does for you." She offers another shrug. "So I'm a pessimist trying to drag her down."
Collins nods, grimmacing. "Welcome to my job," he says ruefully. "I'm a lawyer. That means when I'm not disabusing people of their spectacularly overblown estimation of their chances in front of a jury, I'm advising them to take the least exciting paths available to them. And that's a good day." He sighs a bit. "You have my sympathy, for what it's worth. Bri's... rather..." He's clearly doing his best to be diplomatic here, but a good word isn't presenting itself until: "boisterous."
Ghost manages a shadow of a smile in response. "Yeah," she agrees, after a moment. "And rich. Did she tell you about how rich she is?" This is clearly meant as a rhetorical question, because she doesn't wait for an actual answer. "She wanted me to help her. Said if I did, I could ride in her Ferarri."
Give Collins credit where it's due: He doesn't facepalm... much. Just pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb and index finger. "Yeah. I know how rich she is. And who her Daddy is. He sent me an email, looking to get her networked. As if I'm the person she should be talking to, or introduced by." He shrugs, shakes his head. "I don't gossip," he says - too little, too late - "But if you're hoping that someone like that will ever understand why that might not endear her to you..." he shrugs again.
"Yeah, I know," Ghost agrees. "But uh, maybe she won't think I'm her friend any more. She said she ran my face through a bunch of facial recognition databases the second time we ever saw each other."
Silver Avenue, West Side
From Thirteenth to Fifteenth along Silver Avenue's north edge, the St. Claire Sports Facility sprawls northwards. The southern side of the street is covered with small buildings, the fifteen-story Tribune building towering above them by more than ten stories, along where Fourteenth ends. Small restaurants are set into some of the buildings, catering to the businessmen and those who come to the sports facility. Souvenir shops litter Fifteenth Avenue along the side of the sports facility, up to Jellico Lane: caps, shirts, stuffed animals with team logos or colors, buttons and other sports-fan paraphernalia are sold all along here. At the intersection of Jellico and Fifteenth, at one of the major exits from the sports facility across the way, a larger restaurant has a souvenir shop to one side, mimicking a Hard Rock Cafe and even, apparently, reaching for the same atmosphere. Along Jellico Lane, the shops tend to cater more towards the sports enthusiast rather than the fan: fishing stops, equipment shops, sports clothing shops for the athlete. At the intersection of Thirteenth and Ellicott a tall hotel rises, providing a place for overnight visitors to stay.
Contents:
Alicia
Nicodemus
Obvious exits:
St. Claire Gun Club Channel 23 St. Claire Tribune Rat and Raven Pub Ramp to Interstate North East South
It is late in the afternoon and Andrea has missed her bus, on purpose, for the third time. Knowing that her mother is out of commission for the next couple of days, and with her father once again bailing on her, she has the apartment to herself. Sure, she could have called her Uncle Benedict, but she does not want to deal with a wailing baby all week either. The young fourteen year old is currently at the movie theater, playing a round of video games. House of the Dead, the version with the shot gun. There is a few guys standing around the girl dressed in a pair of low-cut jeans with tears along the snug fabric and a simple pink shirt with the words: Love Me scrawled across it in cursive. Her bright white hoodie is tossed on the ground. As she is bent over the machine, her finger rapidly hits the trigger, reloading and moving back swiftly. She has a look of intensity in her brown eyes and she barely misses a beat. One of the younger men, who looks to be in his 20's has done nothing but stare at her ass the entire time, making some crude comment or another to cause his buddies to laugh. Currently, she is ignoring it, but the grip on the plastic gun becomes a bit tighter.
Nicodemus enters through one of the many front doors and enters the lobby, where he stops, stands, and casts his gaze about looking for someone who looks like the image that was forwarded to his phone earlier by Alicia. First the seats, where someone might wait while playing on their cell phone. No dice. Then the concessions area. Nope. And... the old stand-up arcade games?" Unexpected. He moves in that direction and joins the others who are loitering nearby and watching (although not necessarily the gameplay). He doesn't fit in.
Speaking of people who don't fit in, neither does the person who enters a few minutes after Nick, long enough that it's unlikely she actually followed him in. Ghost slouches through the lobby with only a few glances at the concession stand, and a longer one for the movie listings and times. Notably, the security guard eyeballs her until she turns toward the arcade itself.
The game continues to rumble on until the end where her player finally bites the big one. Andrea lets out a loud snort, giving the machine a kick with her boot before shoving her hand into her snug pocket to fish out another pair of quarters. One of the young men makes another comment, something along the lines of 'I got a bigger gun you can play with, baby.' Casting her eyes over her shoulder towards them, she lets out a slight smirk. "Sorry, I'm not into squirt guns dude." Her voice rolls out sarcastically before she shoves the quarters back into the machine and hits the continue button. Lifting the shot gun up once more, she starts to fire away, that is until one of them reaches out to swat her on the backside. LIke mother like daughter, she drops the weapon, whirls around and slugs him square in the throat as he sputters out in a gag and falls to his ass.
Nicodemus watches the ass-kicking with only a mild up-tick of his eyebrows. "Alicia sent me to give you a lift back to her apartment," he interjects out of nowhere. "I see the apple did not fall remarkably far from the tree." He looks over his shoulder to ensure the security guard isn't inbound.
Ghost stops just inside the arcade proper, in time to see things get violent. She blinks twice, looking not unlike a surprised deer.
Looking as if she was about to finish the job, Andrea jerks her chin upwards to the sound of Nick's voice, then slowly withdraws her hand back from behind her to swing loosely at her side. "You must be Nick." She mutters as she picks up her plastic shot gun again and points it back at the screen. The young man scrambles back, calls her some sort of explicative and then heads off with his friends who are laughing at him. Jail bait just beat his ass. "I don't need a babysitter."
"Good, because I'm not a babysitter," Nick says, eyeballing the young men as they depart the vicinity. Ghost gets a brief nod before he moves to the teen's other side and drops a few quarters into the game, picking up as Player Two. "God, this thing is ancient," the Walker kin complains mildly as he pulls the second plastic shotgun out and prepares to join the game.
Ghost eyes the departing men a little longer than Nick does, before turning that scrutiny on Andrea. She moves in a little further now that the others are gone, but there's still a respectful amount of distance between her and the two players.
Yeah, but it's this or pinball." Andrea says as she continues to move quickly through the maps as she blasts the zombies and odd monsters away. "In San Fran, I played this all day after school at the mini-putt place a few blocks away. If they had DDR I would be using that instead." Her eyes narrow tightly as she reloads with a quick dart to the left, then back again. "Who is your friend eyeballing us at our six? That your fuzzy bodyguard?"
Nicodemus chuckles mildly at that last comment before joining in and shooting various unpleasant things on the screen. "Damn, I'm rusty," he mentions after he takes a hit. "Fuzzy, yes. Bodyguard, no." He fires off a rapid sequence of shots and then swiftly reloads. It seems to be coming back to him. "It'd be bad if the babysitter needed a babysitter. Who would babysit the babysitter's babbysitter, then?"
Ghost's expression remains about the same as before. No chuckles from her. "Why the throat?" she finally asks.
"Probably mom's big black My Little Apocalypse Pony." Andrea answers Nick with a smirk as she taps a button to fire a grenade, then keeps on motoring through. "Huh? Why the throat?" She asks as her attention gets diverted and she takes a hit, sending out a curse. "What? With that guy?"
Nicodemus lifts his gun sideways to examine it. "Oh, right," he says while still shooting monsters. "They have grenades, too." He reloads and resumes shooting. "Met the thing once. Seemed friendly enough. Kind of neat-looking. Not every day you get to pet a unicorn that isn't plastic with a rainbow or heart or flowers stamped on its ass-cheek."
"Yeah." Ghost slides her hands into her jacket pockets as she stands up a little straighter. "Why hit the throat?"
"Because his balls would be too small to kick." Andrea answers back as she finally gets killed again by the mean nasty monsters. She give the machine another bump with her boot. "Mom never lets me in on that stuff. She doest't want me around it. If dad wasn't porking his nurse and forgetting that I am alive, she would just have me stay in Cali or something. So, I don't get to meet the pony of doom."
"I'd be more worried about your mom than a war pony with a horn stuck onto its head," Nick asides, putting the shotgun down and letting Player 2 die the quick and stupid death of the unattended. He motions for the door. "Shall we split? You need to pick up a pizza or something on the way? You need a lift somewhere, Ghost?"
Ghost's vague frown deepens noticeably. "That's not a good reason," she says after a moment. "He doesn't breath through his balls." At Nick's question, she shakes her head, though there's a certain amount of hesitation all the same. "Could I come anyway? I don't need to be anywhere."
Nicodemus shrugs to Ghost. "Up to her," he says, motioning towards Andrea.
"You gonna question the way I eat pizza if you do? Moon is also fat as a Kardashian's ass. I don't want to go splat in the car on the ride over if we disagree on toppings." Andrea says as she leans back against the game as she kicks one foot back to support her weight. Sliding her phone out of her back pocket, she takes a pic of the two of them, then sends it off as a text.
Nicodemus gives a ridiculous smile and two thumbs up just in time for the picture. It's going to look goofy, but he doesn't seem to be terribly concerned. He looks to Ghost, letting her answer that question instead. It seems as ig he might be about to say something to Andrea, likely about Ghost, but then he silences himself before a word is spoken--perhaps for the best.
Ghost's frown remains constant. "A punch to the throat is dangerous," she explains. Frown aside, her voice is calm enough. "Possibly fatal. It varies. Groin or instep is better if you have to. The throat is for life or death situations. Could swell up. Trachea collapse. Permanent damage or organ disruption if you hit the vargus nerve." She touches a spot on her neck. "Spinal injuries too, if it's hard enough." The cell phone is given a dubious look. "I won't frenzy."
Glancing down at her phone as it dings, Andrea shrugs her shoulders upwards. "Well, you two are who you say you are at least. Mom gave me a cockroach emoticon. Heh. Kinda cool how she pulled that off. Creative use of the number seven." She tilts her phone one way, then the other.
Nicodemus takes a few steps towards the exit. "Your mom just wanted me to pick you up and get you back to her apartment. The whole in-between thing was left wide open for interpretation. Maybe we can swing out to the woods nearby and Ghost can show off a trick or two for you that your mom doesn't normally let you see?" the kinsman says, volunteering Ghost as supernatural entertainment without her permission or consent. "So long as you keep it quiet. And Ghost agrees."
Ghost's right eye narrows a little, but that's before Nick's suggestion rather than after. "Maybe," she says, noncommital, as she turns to follow Nick. The security guard has moved from near the entrance to near the arcade, and he eyeballs Ghost again as she emerges.
"Eh. I kinda seen a bunch already. My boyfriend is a fuzzy also, one of mom's named Reed. It pisses her off to no end. If I want to see a trick I can always have him roll over and beg." Andrea says as she pushes off the machine and stuffs her phone into her back pockets again. "Alright, pizza then. Let's hit it."
Nicodemus pays the security guard no mind at all as he leads the way outside to where he's found a good spot for his mid-80s, lifted, clearly-been-offroad reecntly Suburban 4x4. He motions towards the car and announces "After you, ladies" shortly after using the key and unlocking the doors to the vehicle. It doesn't look like the kind of vehicle you'd expect someone dressed and speaking like Nick to possess, but there it is.
Ghost pays almost as little heed to the security guard as Nick does, though the very observant might notice she's at least keeping track of his position. She moves over to the back seat and slides in.
Looking hesitant when Ghost takes the back seat, Andrea shifts her jaw a bit and slowly climbs into the passenger seat. She wraps the seatbealt over her shoulder and locks it into place. "Nice rude, dude." She says with a coy grin over to Nick.
Nicodemus turns the large engine over and it grumbles to life. "I liked the Porsche Cayenne I had before this car better. Faster More nimble. More discrete. But this one is big enough I can camp out of the back if I need to. Or shuttle more people around if I had to." He puts the car into motion. "Of course, it leaves me wide open to every small-penis-compensation joke out there. So where do you go for pizza?"
Ghost settles in her seat. She buckles up as well, as funny as that might seem in context. As far as conversation goes, however, she's not immediately forthcoming. Instead, she turns her head and looks out the window as they pull away from the theater.
"Eh. Usually I just buy them frozen and make them myself in the oven at home. But, wherever you guys want to go. I ain't picky." Andrea says as she fiddles with her phone a bit, letting out a sigh as she runs a hand back through her hair, reading the texts that pop up on the screen.
Nicodemus makes an assumption without looking. "Reed?" He inquires, "Your mom okay with that? Him being a Get and an ahroun?" He navigates the car around a turn, as if he knows where he's going next.
Ghost makes a tiny, tiny choking noise in the backseat at that. It might be a swallowed laugh, it's hard to tell.
Shrugging her shoulders, Andrea says, "I know she's not thrilled. We went at it a few times. Then she got my dad involved and he started in on me. I don't really care. At this point the last time we talked about it, she said don't get pregnant. But, no, these aren't from Reed." The young kin girl says. "There are these girls at school who has been ...just sending bitchy mean texts and snap chats about me. They pick on me."
Nicodemus grunts in response. "I'll tell you a secret about high school. None of it matters after you graduate. Everyone will go their own ways. Five years later, you won't give a damn about any of them--and they you. Unless you do the whole reunion thing and put yourself back into that mix. Get your education and move the hell on to college and bigger and better things."
Ghost lightly scratches her cheek for a moment. She's back to looking out the window.
"Yeah, I don't sweat them too much. They're the typical plastic dumb blondes who get their fake noses bent out of shape at anyone who does not conform to their dimwitted standards." Andrea says with a roll of her eyes. "So far all they do is photoshop stupid shit about me and send me texts. It's just annoying."
Nicodemus pulls up in front of a place that claims to do a Chicago deep dish pizza. It's probably not Chicago-grade, but it's probably not bad either. "Learn to live with annoyances and let them go. You'll be a happier person for it. Plus it makes it easier to put up with the garou sometimes, too. No offense, Ghost," he adds for the benefit of the ragabash.
"I have to put up with the Garou too," Ghost points out.
Unbuckling her belt, Andrea climbs out once they are parked and slips her phone into her back pocket. She takes a sniff of the air and gives a wide smile. "This place seems pretty legit."
Nicodemus looks at his own phone as it rings. "Hell. Work. I need to take this. Ghost? You got her back while I stay out here and yammer on about stocks? I'll be here when you get out to drive you home. Sorry." He then answers his phone and begins talking. Something about some drug company and FDA approval."
Ghost gets out more slowly. Nick gets a shrug to his question before she starts moving toward the pizza parlor's entrance, absolutely no real hurry in her step.
"Well, I figured he was paying. I don't have any cash on me." Andrea says as she steps into the busy sidewalk, bumping into a guy that walks by, muttering out an excuse me. She glances over her shoulder for a moment, then peeks into her hands at the wallet she snagged. "Well... at least now we got... twenty four dollars." Pitching the wallet into the garbage next to the building ,she shoves the bills into her pocket and heads into the parlor.
Ghost stops in her tracks at this, which has the result of her staring at Andrea's back for several long moments before she follows the other woman in. "What was that?" she asks in a low voice as she catches up.
"Are you going to ask me if I took a piss or a shit when I go to the bathroom later?" Andrea says with annoyance in her voice as she heads up to the counter to stare up at the menu. "Geez, this is why I don't have friends." She mutters under her breath before he comments to the cashier. "Just an order of garlic twists with some ranch and whatever she wants."
"Pretty sure it is, yeah," Ghost responds, clearly somewhat annoyed herself. "A slice of pepperoni," she says to the cashier.
Slapping a ten on the counter, Andrea pushes it across to the cashier and then takes the change, pocketing it after ordering a few slices for Nick as well, to be polite. Snagging up her twists, she stomps over to a booth near the window and flops down into it.
Ghost follows with her own slice and slides into the space across from Andrea. She takes a bite almost immediately.
Andrea plucks her phone out of her pocket and chews on her bottom lip as she reads it, then swipes her finger across to delete it. Settling back into the cushion of the chair, she pokes at a garlic twist in the ranch sauce before taking a small bite. Across the screen a picture flashes once more in a text. Looks like an image of her with the words: Slut Factory meme'd across it. She glances down and flips the phone over so that the screen is facing down.
"You can block the numbers," Ghost offers between bites. "Or change yours."
"They use apps to send the texts. Not even real phone numbers." Andrea says as she takes a bite of her garlic bread, trying to mask her emotions. "Whatever, it is what it is. I could change my number but it's on dad's plan."
Ghost's eyebrows lift. "So? Can't he have it changed? Most companies don't charge for that."
Alicia lets out a soft scoff under her breath. "I guess he could."
Ghost takes another bite and slowly chews it. "...And?" she says, after she swallows.
"And he'd probably be too busy between being a doctor and his new floozy The less he has to deal with me the better for him." Andrea says as she rubs at her nose. "I don't wanna bug him anyways, then he'll get into it with mom again and she is always a hot mess after one of those calls."
"Your parents really suck," Ghost states matter-of-fact, just before taking another bite.
Frowning, Andrea gives a shake of her head. "Yeah? What about your parents? They getting mommy of the year any time soon?"
Ghost shrugs. "I don't know," she says between bites. "Depends on what you mean by parents, I guess."
"I love my parents, they just don't get along. It's not a big deal." Andrea says with a frown.
"Look," Ghost says, as she polishes off the pizza slice, "All I know is, my family kicked my ass for pulling the kind of stunts I've seen you do in the past hour. And you've been talking an awful lot about how bad your parents are. Why would your father yell at your mother for you wanting to change your phone number to avoid harassment? That's just being an asshole. And your mum giving up and telling you not to get pregnant from some Get of Fenris guy? I mean, I know you wouldn't like it, obviously, you're dating him, but she can't just make him stop?"
"I am not going to tell a complete stranger my entire life story." Andrea says with a snort as she rises up from the table and heads for the bathroom.
"What does that have to do with anything?" Ghost asks. She remains sitting. "I didn't ask for your life story. Anyway, you've been telling me plenty as it is."
The door to the bathroom swings shut behind the young kinfolk with a thud and a latch of the lock clicking into place.
It's Ghost's turn to snort this time, which she does, quietly. After a minute or so, she gets up from the booth, tosses her plate in the garbage bin, and heads for the exit in the same unhurried manner she entered.
----
Maxwell Tower: Lobby(#2471RAJL)
The ground floor of Maxwell Tower serves as a small shopping center of sorts, with a Starbucks set on one side of the main entrance doors and a Barnes and Noble on the other. At the opposite end of the lobby is a restaurant that specializes in sushi and various noodle dishes, and Claire's Old Fashioned Pizzaria, a local favorite. Also to be found are an Apple store, a used books store, and a small shipping center that works mostly with UPS and FedEx. Many of these businesses have exterior entrances, but security in the lobby itself is tight, keeping out the less savory neighborhood elements via cameras, alarm systems, and two armed, round the clock security personnel with Maxwell employee badges and their own desk near the center of the lobby itself. Wedged between the pizzaria and the sushi restaurant are stairs leading down to the building's underground parking garage, a heavy door marked stairwell access, and two elevators. A third elevator is situated near the used books store, but this one has a key card swiper and is clearly marked 'Private'.
Contents:
Collins
Obvious exits:
Outside Parking Garage Private Elevator
The man has an office. It's not even a bad office. And yet, he is nearly perpetually down here, on the floor, gladhanding tenants, meeting with staff, conversing with visitors; a very hands-on management style (that isn't always popular). He brings energy to it, though, and that counts for something, especially when talking to potential tenants as he is now. Collins is finishing a description of the security in the building - and is no doubt leaving all sorts of things off in the process. He gestures with grand sweeps of his hand, indicates the obvious CCTV cameras, the locks, the security desk. The three individual standing nearby - all in business casual - follow his gestues and nod politely, but they've no doubt seen what they came here to see. Fortunately, for everyone, his pitch seems to be wrapping up.
Ghost's previous entrances into the building were cautious, but today she actually peers in through the doors before stepping inside. Collins is noted rather quickly, as is his meeting, so instead she ambles toward the Apple store to window shop, as seems to be her default means of passing time or avoiding scrutiny when it comes to the lobby.
Hands are shaken, business cards are exchanged in a ritual of commercial congeaneality that Collins is so familiar with, he's able to seamlessly anticipate the right order of operations so that his right hand is empty when it needs to be, and handing out a card when it doesn't. Some small joke about the roads gets a small ripple of chuckles from his guests and then Collins and the trio part ways. Collins doesn't go far, he simply walks off far enough to make their walking off seem mutual before he stops and pulls out his Blackberry, dashing off what is probably notes and snapping photos of the business cards before repocketing his phone and disposing of all three.
Ghost doesn't appear to be looking toward the end of the meeting at all, but as soon as the trio are out the door she turns away from the shop window and heads toward the kinsman. "Uh, hey," she says, when she gets close enough. Different shirt today, but the pullover and the jacket are absolutely, eternally the same.
He didn't see her come in, but he spots her on the approach a lot quicker than many would: give him credit for his vigilance. He gives her a lift of his chin, in silent, friendly acknowledgement. When she speaks, he answers, "How you doing?" New Jersey to the core.
Ghost responds with an easy sort of shrug; given the moon, it's a lot more relaxed than it could be. "I'm okay. You?"
"Busy," Collins answers, casually. His tone makes clear that it's not a brush-off, just a factual report on his status. "Trying to fill a new office vacancy on short notice." Again, stated simply to be factual, he doesn't put the energy into it that suggests he's hoping she'd engage with his shop talk. "Any luck making friends?" He frowns the moment the words are out, shakes his head. "/That/ didn't come out right."
Ghost snorts softly. "But accurately. Uh, no, not really. Met someone; a teenager. I guess she's the daughter of someone in your larger group. I made her angry. And the uh, that new girl who was talking to you the other day. Met her too. I really pissed her off."
Collins makes a face, when Ghost attributes accuracy to his gaff, but doesn't argue the point further. "Briari?" He asks, focusin on the second account. "How'd you do that?" It's conversational, but there is some genuine fishing behind the question, despite his feigned disinterest.
Ghost nods. "Yeah, her. I, uh, I called her on something she was doing. She kept pumping herself up as being so great for doing it, and it was all she could talk about, you know? How it affected her, gave her meaning, blah blah. Except, supposedly, supposedly she was helping people by doing it, and /that's/ why it was supposed to be great. I told her a few things she could do to help more, and uh, and I pointed out that when you do things to help other people, you're not really doing it to help them if all you care about is what it does for you." She offers another shrug. "So I'm a pessimist trying to drag her down."
Collins nods, grimmacing. "Welcome to my job," he says ruefully. "I'm a lawyer. That means when I'm not disabusing people of their spectacularly overblown estimation of their chances in front of a jury, I'm advising them to take the least exciting paths available to them. And that's a good day." He sighs a bit. "You have my sympathy, for what it's worth. Bri's... rather..." He's clearly doing his best to be diplomatic here, but a good word isn't presenting itself until: "boisterous."
Ghost manages a shadow of a smile in response. "Yeah," she agrees, after a moment. "And rich. Did she tell you about how rich she is?" This is clearly meant as a rhetorical question, because she doesn't wait for an actual answer. "She wanted me to help her. Said if I did, I could ride in her Ferarri."
Give Collins credit where it's due: He doesn't facepalm... much. Just pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb and index finger. "Yeah. I know how rich she is. And who her Daddy is. He sent me an email, looking to get her networked. As if I'm the person she should be talking to, or introduced by." He shrugs, shakes his head. "I don't gossip," he says - too little, too late - "But if you're hoping that someone like that will ever understand why that might not endear her to you..." he shrugs again.
"Yeah, I know," Ghost agrees. "But uh, maybe she won't think I'm her friend any more. She said she ran my face through a bunch of facial recognition databases the second time we ever saw each other."
