"I'm not a people person."
Jun. 27th, 2014 02:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
renferretGhost meets one Nick Dalton.
Harbor Park -- Fountain
Situated in the center of a large, open meadow is a clustering of six trees, a flower bed, a few steel-and-wood benches set firmly into concrete, and a flagstone courtyard that is dominated by a large fountain.
The fountain is a wide circular pool of water some fifty feet across and about five feet deep in most places. The sculpture in the center is a mix of old and new, traditional and modern: eight concrete-and-stainless-steel slabs about six feet high are set in a rough Stonehenge-like circle around the center of the fountain. Water flows from their tops, cascading in bright mesmerizing sheets to the pool below. Rising above the steel circle is a large marble statue of the Water Bearer, an androgynous figure draped in robes of flowing water. It bears a large jug carved with various Greek symbols, from which pours a seething torrent of water into the pool at its feet.
Cars on the nearby street have an excellent view of the park as do any residents of the tall buildings which line the waterfront.
The murky waters of the Columbia River flow swiftly along the east side of the park. Bracketing the park to the west is First Street and the city of St. Claire. Recent construction work is creating an earthen berm several feet high all along the borders of the park in all directions.
Obvious exits:
Harbor Park Meadow
Nicodemus has arrived.
If one were to ignore the demonstrations/riots taking place elsewhere in the city, this is an otherwise pleasant day to be outside and visiting a local urban park such as this one. The temperatures are pleasant, though a little on the windy side. Good for flying a kite: bad for having a fancy hairdo. The park is, unsurprisingly, a little deserted today because of the demonstrations/riots going on elsewhere. Most people seem to have taken shelter and holed up with loved ones. And then there's Nick, who's seated on the edge of the fountain in the park, letting the fingers of his left hand play with the surface of the water in the pool. His right hand occasionally taps at a Kindle Fire that's cradled in his lap--likely playing a game or navigating the internet.
So far, they're just demonstrations. Nervously peaceful demonstrations. Carefully peaceful demonstrations, perhaps. It doesn't change the thickness of expectation in the air, the tension and uncertainty in both demonstrators, police, and onlookers. But that's north and east, and the park, at least, being mostly free of people, is somewhat more free of that air of potential violence to come. The young woman who enters is certainly feeling it though. She's got a baseball cap shoved roughly onto her head that's so faded that the original logo is long, long gone, a pull-over, button up long sleeve shirt over a short sleeved, mostly white shirt (mostly white), and a jacket tied around her waist. She's also got a backpack slung over one shoulder that looks rather heavy and full, but it doesn't seem to be causing her any trouble. That's probably good, because she looks pretty troubled all on her own. There's a frown in the set of her expression as much as on her lips, a nervous tension in her curling fingers and hunched shoulders, a certain Look to her eyes and how she carefully scans the park even as she enters. This is someone on the lookout for danger.
Although perhaps not actively on the lookout for danger, Nick, over by the fountain, doesn't appear to be blissfully ignorant of his suroundings. When he detects motion in the park, perhaps out of the corner of an eye, he looks up from his digital activities to eyeball the latest arrival--who might notice his attention.
She does seem to, as she eyes him in return. There's reason for it; she's heading toward the fountain if not toward him, but it brings her close enough that Nick can easily see her tension starting to ratchet up from proximity even after she's looked away.
Nicodemus keeps the fingers of his left hand on the surface of the pool's waters, but otherwise looks away from the newcomer unless she gets much closer or joins him at the fountain. He looks back to his tablet device, as if that were his main focus at the moment. Not the approaching stranger.
As it happens, she does. In fact, the young woman also ends up sitting on the edge of the fountain, though she's obviously keeping a very generous amount of distance (at least as generous as the limited size of the fountain allows) from the Walker kin. She briefly trails the fingers of one hand through the water before flicking cold droplets onto the ground. Like the rest of her movements, this seems more nervous than idle. Her attention goes toward the north gate of the park and the traffic beyond.
"You feel it, too?" Nick asides towards the newcomer without looking up from what he's doing. He does, however, pivot so that he's at a 90 degree angle from her. It's a noncommital stance of disinterest, despite him speaking with her. "The city is restless today." As if a city could be a living, breathing thing.
"Yeah," the woman says quietly, as though his commentary weren't in the slightest bit unusual to her. She answers without quite looking at him, but it's clear she's nevertheless aware of his movements. "They're all trying to keep trouble from starting up there, but there's gonna be trouble."
"Insightful," Nick says by way of commenting on your remarks. "Does that worry you?" he inquires with a hint of curiosity.
Her jaw tightens briefly. "Yeah." She does actually look toward him now. "You?"
Nicodemus looks up as well, considering you more carefully. "Yes." He observes you for a few more seconds. Just as it begins to border on becoming awkward, he inquires, "I haven't seen you around here before. Are you new to the area? And this park? Or have our paths just never happened to cross?"
"Sort of," the woman replies, but she's already looking away as she says it. "I guess it's been nearly a month since I stepped off the bus. Been spending time at the park fairly often. It's uh, it's not a bad place. Sometimes the crazies blow through, but where don't they?"
"True. True. Each city tends to have its own set of crazies." Nick pulls his left hand out of the fountain and flicks water droplets onto the nearby cement, drying his fingertips. "I'm usually here on a more regular basis, but the last couple months or so.... Work has been a little crazy and I've not gotten out here as much as I'd liked to." He then asks, taking a wild stab in the dark, "Are you're in town visiting with relatives?"
The young woman makes a soft noise, a sort of 'heh'. "No. No relatives. No acquaintances either. I was looking into a job prospect, but it went south, so here I am."
Nicodemus gives you another once over look. He then hazards a guess. "Musician? Some kind of artist?"
Ghost shakes her head, but he actually manages to get the faintest shadow of a smile out of her. "I definitely wouldn't say that. I just take odd jobs where I can find them."
Nicodemus chuckles lightly. "How odd are the jobs?" He then sobers up. "No, seriously though. What do you do. I know a few people and might be able to help land you something." He seems, curiously enough, rather genuine about the offer of assistance.
"Sometimes really odd," the woman replies. She blinks a little at his offer, and her frown tugs downward just a little. Uncertain? Suspicious? "Ah...I'm good muscle? I know I don't look it, but sometimes that's a bonus. Basic physical labor. Delivery person. I don't have schooling that really matters in the job market, and my biggest problem is I'm uh...I need a flexible schedule sometimes, and most people..." She pauses. "I'm not a people person."
"Not a people person or just value your privacy? There's a difference. And let me know if I'm intruding on the privacy aspect," Nick asides, seeking a little clarification. "I certainly understand the need for a flexible schedule. Kid?" he hazards, though by his inflection, he doesn't seem to think that's the case. "And if you don't mind me asking, what sort of job was it that you had lined up here in town earlier but fell through?"
It doesn't take her long to come up with the answer, but it's given with a rather fatalistic tone. "Both. I mean, you know, I try sometimes, but people don't enjoy hanging around me as a general rule. It works for the privacy part though, at least when you don't have the nosiest person ever to walk into your life constantly turning up." She rolls her eyes at something, some remembered event. "No kids. I tend to get sick a lot. Allergies, poor constitution..." she shrugs. "And, ah, I was trying to track down some guy for someone else. Turned out it was something a lot deeper than I wanted to get involved with, and I think the first guy set me up for trouble."
Nicodemus seems to grow more and more interested, particularly as you discuss the prior job. "Tracking people down something you do regularly? I've got a private investigations firm. Depending on your prior experience and a background check, I might have some work I could subcontract out to you."
Another shrug. "Now and then, but nothing official. Private investigation would be a big step up for me. And...background checks. Yeah." She makes a face and looks away again. "Pretty sure you can find a much better, more reliable employee. The uh, the offer's appreciated though. Really."
Nicodemus reaches into a pocket and comes up with a business card for his PI firm. It lists his name--Nick Dalton--as PI and Owner. Along with contact information. "You get hard up, give me a call. Most of what we do is--unfortunately--spouses wanting us to spy on their spouse they suspect is cheating. It's a lot of sitting on your ass and waiting to get some pictures or a video. Pretty menial stuff that I don't like paying a regular employee to waste their time doing." He offers the card to you.
Ghost takes it carefully between two fingers. "Thanks," she says. That simple word sounds both grateful and a little befuddled from her, and it actually takes her a moment of scanning the card before she actually tucks it away. "Mr. Dalton, then?"
"Just Nick. Unless you end up an employee and we're on the job and in front of a client, in which case it's Mr. Dalton. For appeance's sake," he explains. "Otherwise it just makes me feel old, crusty, and arthritic. I didn't catch your name?"
She starts to say something, but she stops in the act of the first syllable, her tongue touching the back of her teeth. "...Ghost," she says, finally. "Works as well as anything else, anyway."
"Different," Nick comments casually. "Different, but nice." He leans a little towards you, lowering his voice as if conspirationally, and asks, "Is this part of the new goth scene? I've been out of that so long I have no clue what's going on these days."
That actually does get half a grin out of her, however brief. "Nah," she says. "I told you, I'm not a people person. I don't really manage to get into any scene. It's just a...a nickname. A stupid one, really, but it sounds all mysterious, ooo."
"Oh, good. I'm not /entirely/ out of touch then. Theoretically." Nick smirks a little. "And 'Ghost' /is/ a pretty cool name."
Ghost's half grin takes a few seconds longer to fade than might be expected. "So," she says, tone curious, and obviously changing the subject, "If you hang out here a lot, have you met Vee? Rainbow hair, teenage girl, skateboard, nosey as all hell, seems to have a million very highly varied friends?"
Nicodemus doesn't seem to make a connection with the name, but then the description is offered and recognition dawns. "Yeah, I know who you're talking about. She is incredibly nosey. And talkative. Very nosey. Very talkative."
"Yes," Ghost says, with quiet but definitive emphasis. "Man, I think she knows half the city. Which I guess means the other half of the city knows everything there is to know about the first half." There's a sharp shake of her head. "Don't mind me, she pissed me off yesterday. I was just curious."
Nicodemus laughs at the assessment. "She is one hell of a busybody for a kid her age, I'll give you that. She /usually/ means well, but dear God. Curiosity killed the cat and she might as well have whiskers, you know?" He shakes his head in amusement. "What'd she do to piss you off the other day, if I might ask?"
Ghost glances from Nick to the ground, and then back to Nick. "There's trouble coming, I said? Well, there's ah, there's a lot of trouble in this city already, especially for me, and from several directions. I told her something, something small? But something still important, and it bit me in the a--um, in the butt, because she went and decided to tell someone she knew I didn't want to know about it. It's complicated. Confronted her when I saw her last night, and all she did was make excuses and then do something else that violated my privacy. It could end in really bad ways for me, and she just...she doesn't understand that. She thinks she knows better."
"She's a precocious little shit for a, what, fourteen year old kid?" Nick shrugs at that. Thinking about what was said for a bit. Then he offers a faint smile. "And if it makes you feel better, she hasn't told me anything about it. So.... For whatever that's worth."
"That's a relief," Ghost says dryly. "But you don't quite seem the type who wants to kill someone, at least." She says that so casually. "I hope that doesn't dent the self image too badly."
"Not at all, actually. Although I'm sure there's a few people who'd love to get me alone in a dark alleyway." Nick explains, "In addition to the whole PI thing, which tends to leave a wake of pissed-off ex-spouses looking for someone to blame for their own actions, some of whom don't think very clearly about things; I used to work as a homicide detective. Though the handful of the people who're pissed off at me from that end are either doing life in prison without parole or on death row. So I get where you're coming from when you say that there are those out there who might want to do you harm."
"Huh," Ghost says. "Yeah, I guess you do." She brushes the tip of her nose with a knuckle, and then says, "A background check really isn't going to work for me, I can tell you right now. But if you do need something done that doesn't need a bunch of references or identifying paperwork, I work cheap, I'm not very picky, and I've got the time. Janitorial stuff or...filing? Or maybe if you just want someone to watch the office with all the unrest around." She pauses. "I'm not really selling myself very well, am I?"
Nicodemus chuckles openly. He then says, "No. You're not. Your sales pitch definitely needs a bit more focus and less 'don't try a background check'ness." He shrugs. "I couldn't let you in the office to do filing or janitorial stuff: confidential materials in there. Only thing I could use you for is stakeouts where all you're doing is waiting around for ages in the hope of getting an incriminating picture or video." He considers you for a moment. "I'm not a cop anymore, so I've no obligation to enforce any laws. Mind if I ask as to why I wouldn't want to do a background check or identity paperwork?"
Ghost studies Nick carefully, and she doesn't answer for a long, long few moments. When she does, she's clearly hesitant, "...Because you wouldn't find any." A beat. "My adoptive father brought me into the country without going through the proper channels. He got me out of a bad situation when he lived overseas, and when he came here he was in a bad spot himself and couldn't go through the regular immigration song and dance, even if it didn't usually take years to settle. But what it means is that I don't have any background to check." Another beat. "And if you go to Immigration, I'll do a magic trick for you and vanish before you can finish the phone call. So."
Nicodemus hmms after that information is revealed to him. "Well, you've nothing to worry about from me on that front. I'm not some right-wing lunatic who's going to topple over at the first whiff of someone being in the country illegally. Besides. You seem like you're trying to make things work. Speaking of," he says, perhaps changing the subject. "You said that the job that brought you here? The tracking job? That it went deeper than you were willing to go and that you might have been set up? You really think it was a setup? Or is there money in it if you had someone else working with you?"
"Definitely a setup," Ghost replies. "The guy who gave it to me neglected to tell me a really important piece of information that there was no way he didn't know about. I mean, uh, there might still be a reward if I managed it, but given recent events," her expression sours. "Hell, I don't know if the asshole is even still alive. There's been a lot of upheaval in certain circles with these riots. And anyway, the job was dangerous to start."
"I have friends in certain circles who don't mind dangerous work," Nick says casually enough. "Why do you think the guy was trying to shaft you?"
"It's complicated," Ghost says again. "What it boils down to is that I'm not the sort of person his type looks on fondly, though they're pretty willing to give out dirty jobs when they have them. Screwing me over doesn't net him anything, it's just a petty act that won't hurt him either."
"Mystery /and/ intrigue. And a douchebag in the background to boot." Nick hmms, thinking a little. "Neither of these people had anything to actually do with the riots?"
Ghost shakes her head, then hesitates. "...Well, not the douchebag who sent me, I'm pretty sure. The one he sent me after? I have no idea. Maybe. Hell, it's as much a possibility as anything, but that's just me speculating wildly. The element the douchebag neglected to tell me though, I know those people aren't."
Nicodemus reaches a hand up to scratch at the side of his face, thoughtful, and clearly fishing for more information at this point. "I don't suppose this was a, uhm, family-related incident?"
Ghost glances a little more sharply toward him at that phrase, but quickly schools herself. "Mafia? No. Similar in a way. You run into the same kind of power games. Same underground dirty politics."
Nicodemus ahs. "Yakuza or Russians?" he inquires as an alternative to the Mafia. "Or something else entirely?"
Ghost shrugs. "Something else," she says. "I'm afraid I really can't be more specific. Not people you want to fuck with, in any case. This is their turf, I'm hands off. Vee told one of them I was around, so I've already got a visit. Not something I'm hoping to repeat."
"Unpleasant visit by an asshole?" Nick inquires as to the fallout of Vee's communication, again genuinely curious. "Or were they civil?"
Ghost hesitates. "Uh...civil, actually. At least outwardly. Those kind of visits are usually the scarier kind though. She made it really clear she expects me to meet with her at some point in the future, alone, and like hell I'm doing that."
"Well, hey. That sounds like it didn't go entirely, horribly wrong. Mind me asking what Vee's friend's name was?" Nick inquires as if he might happen to know a friend of a friend of Vee's.
Ghost seems very hesitant now, and one eye is a little narrower than the other. "She didn't...give me a name. Short woman, Native American, nicer, more expensive street clothes, heavy accent, barely spoke English. I don't know what language she did speak though, the accent wasn't familiar. Walked with a limp. Doesn't sound intimidating, does it? These people though, they're intimidating on principle."
Nicodemus hmms as you describe the woman and the intimidating people. He's silent a moment. Then he offers in a slightly quieter tone of voice, "I think I know precisely the kind of intimidating people you're refering to." A beat. "They can be real animals at times, can't they?"
Her reaction might not be what he was expecting. Ghost says, surprisingly quietly, "Oh, shit." And suddenly she's on her feet, hefting the backpack onto her shoulders with all haste. "/Shit/." Her voice still isn't really above the level of a murmur, but all that tension is back and more.
Nicodemus keeps his voice quiet and his tone measured. "I'm not one of them," he says, trying to maintain his calm and collected tone. "If that's what you're worried about."
Ghost turns back around, but she still seems poised for a quick backward withdrawal, perhaps even a full turn and sprint. Both hands lift, thumbs and index fingers not quite as curled inward as the rest. "...Okay. Okay then, if not, what are you? One of Vee's? Look, and it doesn't even matter because the best thing for both of us right now is for you to just pretend we never spoke. Okay?" She's suspicion mixed with nervousness, and her breathing's decided to be short and shallow all of a sudden. "The best thing."
"Are you kin to them? And just trying to keep some distance from.... what it is they do? Or something else entirely?" Nick asks quizzically, still remaining seated.
Ghost shakes her head at the question. "I'm not kin," she answers, rather specifically. "And I'm not.../shit/." One of those lifted hands rubs over her face, and she looks almost pained. "If you know Vee it's not like she's going to avoid telling you, is it? Goddamn, I am such a moron. That's what she did last night, you know. That violation of privacy? She straight up used something to tell what I was, and then said so."
Nicodemus shrugs mildly, still maintaining his calm and centered demeanor and still remaining seated and non-threatening. "Yeah," he says. "Vee will probably tell me eventually, at some point." He glances upwards momentarily, perhaps looking for a raven lurking overhead and eavesdropping. "Keeping secrets is definitely not one of her strong points."
Ghost's jaw works slowly. She swallows. "...I'm one of them," she admits. "But I'm not part of them. It's...a really dangerous place to be in, especially right now, and especially--" A beat. "Especially if you're me. So. Mr. Dalton. I'm...going to go. I swear I'm not here for the riot organizers, I just want to keep my neck. Okay?" Despite his calm, she seems to be trying to placate /him/. "And if there was anywhere else to go right now, I would absolutely go there."
"Ronin," Nick determines. "An Outcast. Or an Iconoclast," he elaborates. "There's a difference. Which are you? Oh, and I'm kin to the Walker family." He then offers, "Some advice? Stay out of the northeastern part of the city. That's going to get hit the worst. That and City Hall. You need some cash to tide you over temporarily?"
"Ahh..." Something in what he just said seems to have set her even more on edge; though thankfully, she does seem to be keeping it under control. No hints of fangs or fur here. "It's complicated," she says, for the third time tonight. "Before you start offering me things, I really...really don't think..." Ghost seems to be struggling for the right word. "I don't think your tribe would approve. No...I /know/ your tribe wouldn't approve. Really, really wouldn't approve."
"Normally, this is where I'd just ask why my family wouldn't approve and why it's complicated, but..." Nick purses his lips. "I have no idea what's going on, and if you don't feel comfortable sharing, I not going to ask--even though I'm curious."
Ghost lowers her hands a little more, and some of that tension seems to boil away. Some. "...They haven't really told you about Ronin, have they? I'm not--" She breathes. "--it's not that simple, but it boils down to the same thing. If I'm Ronin, you're not supposed to even be talking to me."
"Whatever," the kinsman says flippantly, as if he holds little regard for conventions. "What it boils down to is this: the shit is about to hit the fan. Unless you're one of them, you probably want to be on /this/ side of the fence. And if you want to be on this side of the fence, but... You know what? O color outside the lines. So long as you're not siding with Spirals, I don't care." He reaches in to his pocket, extracts a wallet, and starts counting out twenties onto the cement retaining wall for the fountain's pool. He stops at $160, then offers it to you. "Take it. Give me your number. If you feel obligated, you can pay me back later by doing some sit-and-wait work."
Ghost stares at the cash, as if she has no actual idea what it is. She remembers to close her mouth all the way after a moment, and she takes it as though it might somehow explode on her if she's not careful. "...I'm not siding with Spirals," she says eventually. "But I'm not sure any of them would believe me, if they even cared to hear about it." She takes a deep breath. "Since I'm already being the world's greatest mouthy idiot, I'm scared /shitless/ by what's about to happen. They're fucking everywhere. I've been trying to-- Vee told me the name of one of them, so I've been trying to be wherever he isn't. And he's all over the damn place, somewhere different every time I check. She said there were at least twenty-five of them, and if even one gets wind that I exist, it's game over. And I'm rambling. Jesus."
"It's not a good time to try standing in the middle of the road right now. Here or elsewhere judging by what's on the news these days." Nick suggests, carefully, "You might want to consider rejoining the fold. The sooner the better," he points out needlessly. "Of course, talking to me about it is pretty pointless as I've no power nor authority in that department. Vee can get you in touch with the right people."
Ghost blinks at Nick. "I...don't think you quite understand. That's not exactly an option for me. I've never--" There's a flicker of frustration that sparks and dies in her expression. "I can't trust Vee. I told her one personal thing and she ran off and told them about it. Every second since she's realized I'm not just some ordinary human she's been pestering me, spying on me, withholding basic information about the Riot organizers even being in town, and trying to manipulate me into giving her more information or putting myself in her hands out of desperation. At least you talk to me like a person. She talks to me like a potential asset or liability. Look, Mr. Dalton, frankly, your family would kill me."
"That's because you are a person until you demonstrate otherwise," Nick points out, as if that sort of thing were merely common sense. "Perhaps you could explain to me why my family would kill you? Because I completely do not understand the logic behind that. Particularly because they tend to be somewhat less than conservative in comparison to other families in the area."
Ghost glances over her shoulder and then also looks up, as if checking herself for eavesdroppers of the feathered and unfeathered sort. When she looks back down, she seems almost resigned. "Your family has political and theological arguments like any of the others. Sometimes it results in house-cleaning. On a broader level, even Glass Walkers aren't usually thrilled by basically-Ronin in their territory. /Bone Gnawers/ don't tend to enjoy Ronin being around."
"All the more reason for you to consider trying to join one of the tribes, unless you're dead-set against it. With the company we have in town--or coming to town very soon if they're not here already--it's really unsafe to willfully choose to be in your position. If you've chosen it, that is." Nick sizes you up visually. "Fury bloodlines?" he hazards.
Ghost shakes her head slowly, with a visible grimace. "Not that I know of." Her eyes flick to the nearest park exit and back. "Look. One, I can't. I really can't. Two, even if I could, what is there for me there? A short life of being treated like literal dog shit by every one of my new family members? It might be lonely and very dangerous, but at least on my own I define myself, I don't wake up every morning knowing the only reason I'm allowed to stay is to be cannon fodder and that everyone will be relieved when I'm gone."
Nicodemus nods slowly. "I can totally see it from that perspective, and I certainly understand your reservations, but--from the outside looking in--I think you might be making it out in your head to be worse than it actually is." He slowly stands, getting to his feet, as he tucks away the Kindle Fire into a coat pocket. "But I certainly understand the allure of total independence, too. There's definitely freedom, but it comes at the expense of security and safety. You'll be vulnerable to anything out there. And in your instance, you're probably facing a lifetime of not developing deep friendships. I know that little perk doesn't seem like much on the surface, but sometimes it's friends that make life worth living. Keep you going when you're ready to just give up." He shrugs, perhaps dismissing his own advice. "But I can most definitely understand the allure and desire to make your own way in life, too. I just hope you make it through this coming storm. You're not in a good position when one side considers you a potential threat and the other considers you a potential recruit and plaything."
Ghost looks to the side, especially when Nick starts talking about friendships. "It's a war," she says eventually. "My side's already lost. If--" She grunts and shakes her head again. "--If they're actually desperate enough to consider mercenaries, I've had extensive combat training. If your family actually has decent rifles around, I can shoot. I can scout. I've had experience fighting these guys. But I'd need some kind of assurance they weren't going to stab me in the back the instant I stopped being useful, and I don't think such a thing actually exists."
"I can't speak for them about their need for mercenaries--or their lack of need But it sounds like you recently tried mercenary work recently and got thrown into something way over your head. That line of work doesn't seem particularly conducive to longevity." Nick shrugs again, clearly guessing at things. "I would not be surprised if you were given the option of joining a tribe or leaving town. Particularly since one of the natives knows you're in the area now." He counters this with another tidbit of information. "The good news is that this sept is a very open one, with members of all tribes represented. It has a reputation of being tolerant and non-traditional, from what I understand."
Ghost rolls her shoulders back at the first bit, and again there's that sort of resigned weariness in her voice. "Mercenary work is about the only work there is, especially if you're trying to learn new things, or have any access to a place like this." She apparently means the park, but she doesn't really make any definitive gestures. "...Mr. Dalton, I told you, I can't join a tribe. I'm already /in/ a tribe."
Nicodemus nods at the mercenary parts, but then looks confused as you explain you're already in a tribe. "What tribe? Ronin? Did they come together and form their own tribe? I always though they were essentially all tribeless for one reason or another?"
Ghost bites her lower lip for a moment before she says, "Your tribe."
That prompts Nick to be silent for a few heartbeats. "One of the members of our tribe used to be Ronin. It's not implausable that they would not take you back in. Depending on why you left in the first place, that is."
"I didn't." Ghost hefts her backpack again. "Neither did the people who raised me. No one /left/." There's heat in her words, old resentment. "Look, neither of us should be caught hanging around here talking to each other. I'll give you my number, okay? As long as you promise not to give it to the birds. You need me for something, call it, and I'll repay your one-sixty."
Nicodemus raises a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. "Sounds reasonable. And you call me if you need a leg up or help keeping out of a visit to the other side of the fence, okay? Other than that?" He hesitates a moment. "Other than that, let's just pretend this meeting never happened and we don't know one another. Otherwise, I'm in the awkward position of not telling my family about you. Anyone asks, I don't know you and you don't know me. That work for you?"
Ghost digs a cell phone out of her pocket that's several years old at best, and clearly one that's on a prepaid plan. After a few button presses she holds the screen up so he can see her phone number. "It absolutely works for me," she replies. "That Dancer Vee told me the name of? Hungry Ghost. Because life is loving me at the moment, but at least he's male. Anyway, constantly on the move, I think. Scouting maybe. I don't see any other reason to be moving that much between the same areas."
Nicodemus examines the number for a moment, nods, and then inquires, "Can I get my business card back after you memorize the number?"
Ghost pulls out the card, glances at it, then hands it back. A moment later she tucks the phone away as well.
Nicodemus repockets the card. "Well, it was a pleasure not meeting you, Ghost. I hope things work out for you."
Ghost manages one last flicker of a smile for the night. "It was nice not having a conversation. Night, Mr. Dalton. I'll keep the phone charged." She hefts her backpack once more and starts a slow amble toward the park's exit.
Nicodemus lingers by the fountain a few minutes longer, then he heads home for the night.
Harbor Park -- Fountain
Situated in the center of a large, open meadow is a clustering of six trees, a flower bed, a few steel-and-wood benches set firmly into concrete, and a flagstone courtyard that is dominated by a large fountain.
The fountain is a wide circular pool of water some fifty feet across and about five feet deep in most places. The sculpture in the center is a mix of old and new, traditional and modern: eight concrete-and-stainless-steel slabs about six feet high are set in a rough Stonehenge-like circle around the center of the fountain. Water flows from their tops, cascading in bright mesmerizing sheets to the pool below. Rising above the steel circle is a large marble statue of the Water Bearer, an androgynous figure draped in robes of flowing water. It bears a large jug carved with various Greek symbols, from which pours a seething torrent of water into the pool at its feet.
Cars on the nearby street have an excellent view of the park as do any residents of the tall buildings which line the waterfront.
The murky waters of the Columbia River flow swiftly along the east side of the park. Bracketing the park to the west is First Street and the city of St. Claire. Recent construction work is creating an earthen berm several feet high all along the borders of the park in all directions.
Obvious exits:
Harbor Park Meadow
Nicodemus has arrived.
If one were to ignore the demonstrations/riots taking place elsewhere in the city, this is an otherwise pleasant day to be outside and visiting a local urban park such as this one. The temperatures are pleasant, though a little on the windy side. Good for flying a kite: bad for having a fancy hairdo. The park is, unsurprisingly, a little deserted today because of the demonstrations/riots going on elsewhere. Most people seem to have taken shelter and holed up with loved ones. And then there's Nick, who's seated on the edge of the fountain in the park, letting the fingers of his left hand play with the surface of the water in the pool. His right hand occasionally taps at a Kindle Fire that's cradled in his lap--likely playing a game or navigating the internet.
So far, they're just demonstrations. Nervously peaceful demonstrations. Carefully peaceful demonstrations, perhaps. It doesn't change the thickness of expectation in the air, the tension and uncertainty in both demonstrators, police, and onlookers. But that's north and east, and the park, at least, being mostly free of people, is somewhat more free of that air of potential violence to come. The young woman who enters is certainly feeling it though. She's got a baseball cap shoved roughly onto her head that's so faded that the original logo is long, long gone, a pull-over, button up long sleeve shirt over a short sleeved, mostly white shirt (mostly white), and a jacket tied around her waist. She's also got a backpack slung over one shoulder that looks rather heavy and full, but it doesn't seem to be causing her any trouble. That's probably good, because she looks pretty troubled all on her own. There's a frown in the set of her expression as much as on her lips, a nervous tension in her curling fingers and hunched shoulders, a certain Look to her eyes and how she carefully scans the park even as she enters. This is someone on the lookout for danger.
Although perhaps not actively on the lookout for danger, Nick, over by the fountain, doesn't appear to be blissfully ignorant of his suroundings. When he detects motion in the park, perhaps out of the corner of an eye, he looks up from his digital activities to eyeball the latest arrival--who might notice his attention.
She does seem to, as she eyes him in return. There's reason for it; she's heading toward the fountain if not toward him, but it brings her close enough that Nick can easily see her tension starting to ratchet up from proximity even after she's looked away.
Nicodemus keeps the fingers of his left hand on the surface of the pool's waters, but otherwise looks away from the newcomer unless she gets much closer or joins him at the fountain. He looks back to his tablet device, as if that were his main focus at the moment. Not the approaching stranger.
As it happens, she does. In fact, the young woman also ends up sitting on the edge of the fountain, though she's obviously keeping a very generous amount of distance (at least as generous as the limited size of the fountain allows) from the Walker kin. She briefly trails the fingers of one hand through the water before flicking cold droplets onto the ground. Like the rest of her movements, this seems more nervous than idle. Her attention goes toward the north gate of the park and the traffic beyond.
"You feel it, too?" Nick asides towards the newcomer without looking up from what he's doing. He does, however, pivot so that he's at a 90 degree angle from her. It's a noncommital stance of disinterest, despite him speaking with her. "The city is restless today." As if a city could be a living, breathing thing.
"Yeah," the woman says quietly, as though his commentary weren't in the slightest bit unusual to her. She answers without quite looking at him, but it's clear she's nevertheless aware of his movements. "They're all trying to keep trouble from starting up there, but there's gonna be trouble."
"Insightful," Nick says by way of commenting on your remarks. "Does that worry you?" he inquires with a hint of curiosity.
Her jaw tightens briefly. "Yeah." She does actually look toward him now. "You?"
Nicodemus looks up as well, considering you more carefully. "Yes." He observes you for a few more seconds. Just as it begins to border on becoming awkward, he inquires, "I haven't seen you around here before. Are you new to the area? And this park? Or have our paths just never happened to cross?"
"Sort of," the woman replies, but she's already looking away as she says it. "I guess it's been nearly a month since I stepped off the bus. Been spending time at the park fairly often. It's uh, it's not a bad place. Sometimes the crazies blow through, but where don't they?"
"True. True. Each city tends to have its own set of crazies." Nick pulls his left hand out of the fountain and flicks water droplets onto the nearby cement, drying his fingertips. "I'm usually here on a more regular basis, but the last couple months or so.... Work has been a little crazy and I've not gotten out here as much as I'd liked to." He then asks, taking a wild stab in the dark, "Are you're in town visiting with relatives?"
The young woman makes a soft noise, a sort of 'heh'. "No. No relatives. No acquaintances either. I was looking into a job prospect, but it went south, so here I am."
Nicodemus gives you another once over look. He then hazards a guess. "Musician? Some kind of artist?"
Ghost shakes her head, but he actually manages to get the faintest shadow of a smile out of her. "I definitely wouldn't say that. I just take odd jobs where I can find them."
Nicodemus chuckles lightly. "How odd are the jobs?" He then sobers up. "No, seriously though. What do you do. I know a few people and might be able to help land you something." He seems, curiously enough, rather genuine about the offer of assistance.
"Sometimes really odd," the woman replies. She blinks a little at his offer, and her frown tugs downward just a little. Uncertain? Suspicious? "Ah...I'm good muscle? I know I don't look it, but sometimes that's a bonus. Basic physical labor. Delivery person. I don't have schooling that really matters in the job market, and my biggest problem is I'm uh...I need a flexible schedule sometimes, and most people..." She pauses. "I'm not a people person."
"Not a people person or just value your privacy? There's a difference. And let me know if I'm intruding on the privacy aspect," Nick asides, seeking a little clarification. "I certainly understand the need for a flexible schedule. Kid?" he hazards, though by his inflection, he doesn't seem to think that's the case. "And if you don't mind me asking, what sort of job was it that you had lined up here in town earlier but fell through?"
It doesn't take her long to come up with the answer, but it's given with a rather fatalistic tone. "Both. I mean, you know, I try sometimes, but people don't enjoy hanging around me as a general rule. It works for the privacy part though, at least when you don't have the nosiest person ever to walk into your life constantly turning up." She rolls her eyes at something, some remembered event. "No kids. I tend to get sick a lot. Allergies, poor constitution..." she shrugs. "And, ah, I was trying to track down some guy for someone else. Turned out it was something a lot deeper than I wanted to get involved with, and I think the first guy set me up for trouble."
Nicodemus seems to grow more and more interested, particularly as you discuss the prior job. "Tracking people down something you do regularly? I've got a private investigations firm. Depending on your prior experience and a background check, I might have some work I could subcontract out to you."
Another shrug. "Now and then, but nothing official. Private investigation would be a big step up for me. And...background checks. Yeah." She makes a face and looks away again. "Pretty sure you can find a much better, more reliable employee. The uh, the offer's appreciated though. Really."
Nicodemus reaches into a pocket and comes up with a business card for his PI firm. It lists his name--Nick Dalton--as PI and Owner. Along with contact information. "You get hard up, give me a call. Most of what we do is--unfortunately--spouses wanting us to spy on their spouse they suspect is cheating. It's a lot of sitting on your ass and waiting to get some pictures or a video. Pretty menial stuff that I don't like paying a regular employee to waste their time doing." He offers the card to you.
Ghost takes it carefully between two fingers. "Thanks," she says. That simple word sounds both grateful and a little befuddled from her, and it actually takes her a moment of scanning the card before she actually tucks it away. "Mr. Dalton, then?"
"Just Nick. Unless you end up an employee and we're on the job and in front of a client, in which case it's Mr. Dalton. For appeance's sake," he explains. "Otherwise it just makes me feel old, crusty, and arthritic. I didn't catch your name?"
She starts to say something, but she stops in the act of the first syllable, her tongue touching the back of her teeth. "...Ghost," she says, finally. "Works as well as anything else, anyway."
"Different," Nick comments casually. "Different, but nice." He leans a little towards you, lowering his voice as if conspirationally, and asks, "Is this part of the new goth scene? I've been out of that so long I have no clue what's going on these days."
That actually does get half a grin out of her, however brief. "Nah," she says. "I told you, I'm not a people person. I don't really manage to get into any scene. It's just a...a nickname. A stupid one, really, but it sounds all mysterious, ooo."
"Oh, good. I'm not /entirely/ out of touch then. Theoretically." Nick smirks a little. "And 'Ghost' /is/ a pretty cool name."
Ghost's half grin takes a few seconds longer to fade than might be expected. "So," she says, tone curious, and obviously changing the subject, "If you hang out here a lot, have you met Vee? Rainbow hair, teenage girl, skateboard, nosey as all hell, seems to have a million very highly varied friends?"
Nicodemus doesn't seem to make a connection with the name, but then the description is offered and recognition dawns. "Yeah, I know who you're talking about. She is incredibly nosey. And talkative. Very nosey. Very talkative."
"Yes," Ghost says, with quiet but definitive emphasis. "Man, I think she knows half the city. Which I guess means the other half of the city knows everything there is to know about the first half." There's a sharp shake of her head. "Don't mind me, she pissed me off yesterday. I was just curious."
Nicodemus laughs at the assessment. "She is one hell of a busybody for a kid her age, I'll give you that. She /usually/ means well, but dear God. Curiosity killed the cat and she might as well have whiskers, you know?" He shakes his head in amusement. "What'd she do to piss you off the other day, if I might ask?"
Ghost glances from Nick to the ground, and then back to Nick. "There's trouble coming, I said? Well, there's ah, there's a lot of trouble in this city already, especially for me, and from several directions. I told her something, something small? But something still important, and it bit me in the a--um, in the butt, because she went and decided to tell someone she knew I didn't want to know about it. It's complicated. Confronted her when I saw her last night, and all she did was make excuses and then do something else that violated my privacy. It could end in really bad ways for me, and she just...she doesn't understand that. She thinks she knows better."
"She's a precocious little shit for a, what, fourteen year old kid?" Nick shrugs at that. Thinking about what was said for a bit. Then he offers a faint smile. "And if it makes you feel better, she hasn't told me anything about it. So.... For whatever that's worth."
"That's a relief," Ghost says dryly. "But you don't quite seem the type who wants to kill someone, at least." She says that so casually. "I hope that doesn't dent the self image too badly."
"Not at all, actually. Although I'm sure there's a few people who'd love to get me alone in a dark alleyway." Nick explains, "In addition to the whole PI thing, which tends to leave a wake of pissed-off ex-spouses looking for someone to blame for their own actions, some of whom don't think very clearly about things; I used to work as a homicide detective. Though the handful of the people who're pissed off at me from that end are either doing life in prison without parole or on death row. So I get where you're coming from when you say that there are those out there who might want to do you harm."
"Huh," Ghost says. "Yeah, I guess you do." She brushes the tip of her nose with a knuckle, and then says, "A background check really isn't going to work for me, I can tell you right now. But if you do need something done that doesn't need a bunch of references or identifying paperwork, I work cheap, I'm not very picky, and I've got the time. Janitorial stuff or...filing? Or maybe if you just want someone to watch the office with all the unrest around." She pauses. "I'm not really selling myself very well, am I?"
Nicodemus chuckles openly. He then says, "No. You're not. Your sales pitch definitely needs a bit more focus and less 'don't try a background check'ness." He shrugs. "I couldn't let you in the office to do filing or janitorial stuff: confidential materials in there. Only thing I could use you for is stakeouts where all you're doing is waiting around for ages in the hope of getting an incriminating picture or video." He considers you for a moment. "I'm not a cop anymore, so I've no obligation to enforce any laws. Mind if I ask as to why I wouldn't want to do a background check or identity paperwork?"
Ghost studies Nick carefully, and she doesn't answer for a long, long few moments. When she does, she's clearly hesitant, "...Because you wouldn't find any." A beat. "My adoptive father brought me into the country without going through the proper channels. He got me out of a bad situation when he lived overseas, and when he came here he was in a bad spot himself and couldn't go through the regular immigration song and dance, even if it didn't usually take years to settle. But what it means is that I don't have any background to check." Another beat. "And if you go to Immigration, I'll do a magic trick for you and vanish before you can finish the phone call. So."
Nicodemus hmms after that information is revealed to him. "Well, you've nothing to worry about from me on that front. I'm not some right-wing lunatic who's going to topple over at the first whiff of someone being in the country illegally. Besides. You seem like you're trying to make things work. Speaking of," he says, perhaps changing the subject. "You said that the job that brought you here? The tracking job? That it went deeper than you were willing to go and that you might have been set up? You really think it was a setup? Or is there money in it if you had someone else working with you?"
"Definitely a setup," Ghost replies. "The guy who gave it to me neglected to tell me a really important piece of information that there was no way he didn't know about. I mean, uh, there might still be a reward if I managed it, but given recent events," her expression sours. "Hell, I don't know if the asshole is even still alive. There's been a lot of upheaval in certain circles with these riots. And anyway, the job was dangerous to start."
"I have friends in certain circles who don't mind dangerous work," Nick says casually enough. "Why do you think the guy was trying to shaft you?"
"It's complicated," Ghost says again. "What it boils down to is that I'm not the sort of person his type looks on fondly, though they're pretty willing to give out dirty jobs when they have them. Screwing me over doesn't net him anything, it's just a petty act that won't hurt him either."
"Mystery /and/ intrigue. And a douchebag in the background to boot." Nick hmms, thinking a little. "Neither of these people had anything to actually do with the riots?"
Ghost shakes her head, then hesitates. "...Well, not the douchebag who sent me, I'm pretty sure. The one he sent me after? I have no idea. Maybe. Hell, it's as much a possibility as anything, but that's just me speculating wildly. The element the douchebag neglected to tell me though, I know those people aren't."
Nicodemus reaches a hand up to scratch at the side of his face, thoughtful, and clearly fishing for more information at this point. "I don't suppose this was a, uhm, family-related incident?"
Ghost glances a little more sharply toward him at that phrase, but quickly schools herself. "Mafia? No. Similar in a way. You run into the same kind of power games. Same underground dirty politics."
Nicodemus ahs. "Yakuza or Russians?" he inquires as an alternative to the Mafia. "Or something else entirely?"
Ghost shrugs. "Something else," she says. "I'm afraid I really can't be more specific. Not people you want to fuck with, in any case. This is their turf, I'm hands off. Vee told one of them I was around, so I've already got a visit. Not something I'm hoping to repeat."
"Unpleasant visit by an asshole?" Nick inquires as to the fallout of Vee's communication, again genuinely curious. "Or were they civil?"
Ghost hesitates. "Uh...civil, actually. At least outwardly. Those kind of visits are usually the scarier kind though. She made it really clear she expects me to meet with her at some point in the future, alone, and like hell I'm doing that."
"Well, hey. That sounds like it didn't go entirely, horribly wrong. Mind me asking what Vee's friend's name was?" Nick inquires as if he might happen to know a friend of a friend of Vee's.
Ghost seems very hesitant now, and one eye is a little narrower than the other. "She didn't...give me a name. Short woman, Native American, nicer, more expensive street clothes, heavy accent, barely spoke English. I don't know what language she did speak though, the accent wasn't familiar. Walked with a limp. Doesn't sound intimidating, does it? These people though, they're intimidating on principle."
Nicodemus hmms as you describe the woman and the intimidating people. He's silent a moment. Then he offers in a slightly quieter tone of voice, "I think I know precisely the kind of intimidating people you're refering to." A beat. "They can be real animals at times, can't they?"
Her reaction might not be what he was expecting. Ghost says, surprisingly quietly, "Oh, shit." And suddenly she's on her feet, hefting the backpack onto her shoulders with all haste. "/Shit/." Her voice still isn't really above the level of a murmur, but all that tension is back and more.
Nicodemus keeps his voice quiet and his tone measured. "I'm not one of them," he says, trying to maintain his calm and collected tone. "If that's what you're worried about."
Ghost turns back around, but she still seems poised for a quick backward withdrawal, perhaps even a full turn and sprint. Both hands lift, thumbs and index fingers not quite as curled inward as the rest. "...Okay. Okay then, if not, what are you? One of Vee's? Look, and it doesn't even matter because the best thing for both of us right now is for you to just pretend we never spoke. Okay?" She's suspicion mixed with nervousness, and her breathing's decided to be short and shallow all of a sudden. "The best thing."
"Are you kin to them? And just trying to keep some distance from.... what it is they do? Or something else entirely?" Nick asks quizzically, still remaining seated.
Ghost shakes her head at the question. "I'm not kin," she answers, rather specifically. "And I'm not.../shit/." One of those lifted hands rubs over her face, and she looks almost pained. "If you know Vee it's not like she's going to avoid telling you, is it? Goddamn, I am such a moron. That's what she did last night, you know. That violation of privacy? She straight up used something to tell what I was, and then said so."
Nicodemus shrugs mildly, still maintaining his calm and centered demeanor and still remaining seated and non-threatening. "Yeah," he says. "Vee will probably tell me eventually, at some point." He glances upwards momentarily, perhaps looking for a raven lurking overhead and eavesdropping. "Keeping secrets is definitely not one of her strong points."
Ghost's jaw works slowly. She swallows. "...I'm one of them," she admits. "But I'm not part of them. It's...a really dangerous place to be in, especially right now, and especially--" A beat. "Especially if you're me. So. Mr. Dalton. I'm...going to go. I swear I'm not here for the riot organizers, I just want to keep my neck. Okay?" Despite his calm, she seems to be trying to placate /him/. "And if there was anywhere else to go right now, I would absolutely go there."
"Ronin," Nick determines. "An Outcast. Or an Iconoclast," he elaborates. "There's a difference. Which are you? Oh, and I'm kin to the Walker family." He then offers, "Some advice? Stay out of the northeastern part of the city. That's going to get hit the worst. That and City Hall. You need some cash to tide you over temporarily?"
"Ahh..." Something in what he just said seems to have set her even more on edge; though thankfully, she does seem to be keeping it under control. No hints of fangs or fur here. "It's complicated," she says, for the third time tonight. "Before you start offering me things, I really...really don't think..." Ghost seems to be struggling for the right word. "I don't think your tribe would approve. No...I /know/ your tribe wouldn't approve. Really, really wouldn't approve."
"Normally, this is where I'd just ask why my family wouldn't approve and why it's complicated, but..." Nick purses his lips. "I have no idea what's going on, and if you don't feel comfortable sharing, I not going to ask--even though I'm curious."
Ghost lowers her hands a little more, and some of that tension seems to boil away. Some. "...They haven't really told you about Ronin, have they? I'm not--" She breathes. "--it's not that simple, but it boils down to the same thing. If I'm Ronin, you're not supposed to even be talking to me."
"Whatever," the kinsman says flippantly, as if he holds little regard for conventions. "What it boils down to is this: the shit is about to hit the fan. Unless you're one of them, you probably want to be on /this/ side of the fence. And if you want to be on this side of the fence, but... You know what? O color outside the lines. So long as you're not siding with Spirals, I don't care." He reaches in to his pocket, extracts a wallet, and starts counting out twenties onto the cement retaining wall for the fountain's pool. He stops at $160, then offers it to you. "Take it. Give me your number. If you feel obligated, you can pay me back later by doing some sit-and-wait work."
Ghost stares at the cash, as if she has no actual idea what it is. She remembers to close her mouth all the way after a moment, and she takes it as though it might somehow explode on her if she's not careful. "...I'm not siding with Spirals," she says eventually. "But I'm not sure any of them would believe me, if they even cared to hear about it." She takes a deep breath. "Since I'm already being the world's greatest mouthy idiot, I'm scared /shitless/ by what's about to happen. They're fucking everywhere. I've been trying to-- Vee told me the name of one of them, so I've been trying to be wherever he isn't. And he's all over the damn place, somewhere different every time I check. She said there were at least twenty-five of them, and if even one gets wind that I exist, it's game over. And I'm rambling. Jesus."
"It's not a good time to try standing in the middle of the road right now. Here or elsewhere judging by what's on the news these days." Nick suggests, carefully, "You might want to consider rejoining the fold. The sooner the better," he points out needlessly. "Of course, talking to me about it is pretty pointless as I've no power nor authority in that department. Vee can get you in touch with the right people."
Ghost blinks at Nick. "I...don't think you quite understand. That's not exactly an option for me. I've never--" There's a flicker of frustration that sparks and dies in her expression. "I can't trust Vee. I told her one personal thing and she ran off and told them about it. Every second since she's realized I'm not just some ordinary human she's been pestering me, spying on me, withholding basic information about the Riot organizers even being in town, and trying to manipulate me into giving her more information or putting myself in her hands out of desperation. At least you talk to me like a person. She talks to me like a potential asset or liability. Look, Mr. Dalton, frankly, your family would kill me."
"That's because you are a person until you demonstrate otherwise," Nick points out, as if that sort of thing were merely common sense. "Perhaps you could explain to me why my family would kill you? Because I completely do not understand the logic behind that. Particularly because they tend to be somewhat less than conservative in comparison to other families in the area."
Ghost glances over her shoulder and then also looks up, as if checking herself for eavesdroppers of the feathered and unfeathered sort. When she looks back down, she seems almost resigned. "Your family has political and theological arguments like any of the others. Sometimes it results in house-cleaning. On a broader level, even Glass Walkers aren't usually thrilled by basically-Ronin in their territory. /Bone Gnawers/ don't tend to enjoy Ronin being around."
"All the more reason for you to consider trying to join one of the tribes, unless you're dead-set against it. With the company we have in town--or coming to town very soon if they're not here already--it's really unsafe to willfully choose to be in your position. If you've chosen it, that is." Nick sizes you up visually. "Fury bloodlines?" he hazards.
Ghost shakes her head slowly, with a visible grimace. "Not that I know of." Her eyes flick to the nearest park exit and back. "Look. One, I can't. I really can't. Two, even if I could, what is there for me there? A short life of being treated like literal dog shit by every one of my new family members? It might be lonely and very dangerous, but at least on my own I define myself, I don't wake up every morning knowing the only reason I'm allowed to stay is to be cannon fodder and that everyone will be relieved when I'm gone."
Nicodemus nods slowly. "I can totally see it from that perspective, and I certainly understand your reservations, but--from the outside looking in--I think you might be making it out in your head to be worse than it actually is." He slowly stands, getting to his feet, as he tucks away the Kindle Fire into a coat pocket. "But I certainly understand the allure of total independence, too. There's definitely freedom, but it comes at the expense of security and safety. You'll be vulnerable to anything out there. And in your instance, you're probably facing a lifetime of not developing deep friendships. I know that little perk doesn't seem like much on the surface, but sometimes it's friends that make life worth living. Keep you going when you're ready to just give up." He shrugs, perhaps dismissing his own advice. "But I can most definitely understand the allure and desire to make your own way in life, too. I just hope you make it through this coming storm. You're not in a good position when one side considers you a potential threat and the other considers you a potential recruit and plaything."
Ghost looks to the side, especially when Nick starts talking about friendships. "It's a war," she says eventually. "My side's already lost. If--" She grunts and shakes her head again. "--If they're actually desperate enough to consider mercenaries, I've had extensive combat training. If your family actually has decent rifles around, I can shoot. I can scout. I've had experience fighting these guys. But I'd need some kind of assurance they weren't going to stab me in the back the instant I stopped being useful, and I don't think such a thing actually exists."
"I can't speak for them about their need for mercenaries--or their lack of need But it sounds like you recently tried mercenary work recently and got thrown into something way over your head. That line of work doesn't seem particularly conducive to longevity." Nick shrugs again, clearly guessing at things. "I would not be surprised if you were given the option of joining a tribe or leaving town. Particularly since one of the natives knows you're in the area now." He counters this with another tidbit of information. "The good news is that this sept is a very open one, with members of all tribes represented. It has a reputation of being tolerant and non-traditional, from what I understand."
Ghost rolls her shoulders back at the first bit, and again there's that sort of resigned weariness in her voice. "Mercenary work is about the only work there is, especially if you're trying to learn new things, or have any access to a place like this." She apparently means the park, but she doesn't really make any definitive gestures. "...Mr. Dalton, I told you, I can't join a tribe. I'm already /in/ a tribe."
Nicodemus nods at the mercenary parts, but then looks confused as you explain you're already in a tribe. "What tribe? Ronin? Did they come together and form their own tribe? I always though they were essentially all tribeless for one reason or another?"
Ghost bites her lower lip for a moment before she says, "Your tribe."
That prompts Nick to be silent for a few heartbeats. "One of the members of our tribe used to be Ronin. It's not implausable that they would not take you back in. Depending on why you left in the first place, that is."
"I didn't." Ghost hefts her backpack again. "Neither did the people who raised me. No one /left/." There's heat in her words, old resentment. "Look, neither of us should be caught hanging around here talking to each other. I'll give you my number, okay? As long as you promise not to give it to the birds. You need me for something, call it, and I'll repay your one-sixty."
Nicodemus raises a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. "Sounds reasonable. And you call me if you need a leg up or help keeping out of a visit to the other side of the fence, okay? Other than that?" He hesitates a moment. "Other than that, let's just pretend this meeting never happened and we don't know one another. Otherwise, I'm in the awkward position of not telling my family about you. Anyone asks, I don't know you and you don't know me. That work for you?"
Ghost digs a cell phone out of her pocket that's several years old at best, and clearly one that's on a prepaid plan. After a few button presses she holds the screen up so he can see her phone number. "It absolutely works for me," she replies. "That Dancer Vee told me the name of? Hungry Ghost. Because life is loving me at the moment, but at least he's male. Anyway, constantly on the move, I think. Scouting maybe. I don't see any other reason to be moving that much between the same areas."
Nicodemus examines the number for a moment, nods, and then inquires, "Can I get my business card back after you memorize the number?"
Ghost pulls out the card, glances at it, then hands it back. A moment later she tucks the phone away as well.
Nicodemus repockets the card. "Well, it was a pleasure not meeting you, Ghost. I hope things work out for you."
Ghost manages one last flicker of a smile for the night. "It was nice not having a conversation. Night, Mr. Dalton. I'll keep the phone charged." She hefts her backpack once more and starts a slow amble toward the park's exit.
Nicodemus lingers by the fountain a few minutes longer, then he heads home for the night.
