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  1. Kyria grinned at seeing Karrie and reminded herself not to squeeze the woman so hard an eye popped out or something; she gave the dark-haired Lucia a friendly wave. "Hullo! This is Mask. Mask, Karrie and Lucia. Karrie was in Hereford with Steve and I. And yeah, we're dating. Not fiances or anything, we just live together and destroy furniture together." Her eyes wandered from the small group as she caught site of movement on the edge of the beach. "Hey, it looks like people are stripping! Wanna go join them?" She was clearly pointing to the group getting down to their bathing suits to go for a swim and was probably being tongue-in-cheek on purpose.
  2. Kyria smiled at 'Mask' and shook her hand, unabashedly studying her face. "Nice to meet you. Your costume is so awesome! And looks way cooler than mine. Pirates are hot, but they had to actually be hot. Long coats are not tropical-island friendly." She pulled off her long-coat and shook out the shirt underneath, folding it over an arm. "I seem to have been abandoned for the time being. Which is fair since I wandered off first," she said with a chuckle. "Wanna go grab a drink?" She motioned over to the buffet and bar tent. Renata looked down at her rather revealing costume, concealed mostly by the flowing black cloak. "Thanks," she remarked, grateful that her altered pigmentation concealed a pleased blush. She returned, "I like your outfit too though. Seriously it looks like you put a lot of effort into it." Then added, "Yeah, a drink sounds good." She moved up alongside Kyria and walked with her. "So what am I calling you?" "Oh!" Kyria flushed, "Sorry, I guess I'm used to people knowing who I am before I even know they exist. I'm Kyria. Uh, Stormborn. They told me I had to pick a surname for paperwork. So, Stormborn. Made the clerk twitch." She grinned, all red-head fox mischief. She grabbed a beer she vaguely recognized and scooped up a quick plate of finger-foods. "So, you're American, right? Like Karrie. I read they had you all cooped up like Steve and I, but let you out earlier. Thanks for paving the way. We'd've destroyed the whole row of houses on the base if they'd kept us cooped up for much longer." Renata took a beer for herself as well and popped the top, feeling a little conspicuous...but she wasn't in the US and no one knew who she was so...yep. She took a swallow and shook her head. "Yeah, we had a guy blow his top and beat up a mountain," she said. "I guess tensions run high or something." Ren eyed Kyria speculatively and waggled her beer can at her. "Stormborn. That's like that TV show right? The dragon thing everyone was talking about? Kyria shrugged her shoulders. "No clue. I get some cultural references, but anything from the past few years I've got nothing on. Everything else is kinda weirdly hit or miss. Guess it's whatever leftovers didn't get completely scrambled when my brain rewrote itself. But if there's a show out there about me, I'm gonna make Steve watch it with me." The last was said in obvious jest. "Steve...that's the guy you came in with right? Are you two together?" "Yeah, we came together. The whole pirate get-up was his idea. If this becomes a yearly thing, next time I'm going to make him dress up like a merman or something." There was that impish look again. Maybe the woman didn't know many other expressions. "Payback for boots and hot coats." Renata chuckled, even as a familiar sting of disappointment hit her. "Crazy, huh? There's hardly any Stormers anywhere in the world...I mean, like as a percentage of everyone...and you two found each other anyway." She shrugged and took a drink. "Congrats though. I definitely think next time you should be in charge of costumes." A little smile curved her lips then. "So, yeah...I haven't really been into Stormer stuff. I don't know your bio. So what're your powers, if you don't mind my asking?" "We didn't so much find each other as a giant ice monster started destroying things near us and then we got thrown together in a plastic bubble for weeks," Kyria said with more amusement than annoyance. She knew something was bothering Mask now, but hadn't the vaguest clue what. "And I don't really have a bio. Like literally. No one knows who I was before the Storm except Jane Doe coma patient, and I only know that because they told me after they managed to track down where I'd woken up." "As for what I can do...." She folded her legs up under her without sitting down, her body just suspending itself in midair; she grinned. "That's the most fun. I'm a bit smarter, stronger, more perceptive, that sort of thing. Like I just got boosted and tossed out a hospital's window. Well, I did jump." "Huh, that sounds pretty cool, I guess," Renata said, nodding. "So...that's why no one can figure out who you are? Like, if your whole body changed, your fingerprints and voice and everything changed too? As for me..." She let go of her beer can, now empty, and left it hovering in midair. With a gentle wave of her hand, she moved it this way and that...then crushed it by clenching a fist. The flattened remains flipped into a nearby trash can. "Ha! Neat!" Kyria looked delighted, but shook her head to answer Mask's question. "Nah, my fingerprints didn't change, at least from what they had on file. I just had pretty severe brain damage. They figure when the Storm came through and changed me, it just 'fixed' all the stuff that was broken - mangled brain and all. Doing so took out...uh, neural pathways, they said? So, no more memories from those areas of the brain. "So, Mask, everyone asks me this question, might as well give it a try from the other side," Kyria said with a cute scrunch of her nose. "Do you have any plans on what to do with your newfound powers of beer can crushing and tossing?" Renata grinned. "Cleaning up after sports events, probably." With a laugh and a shake of her head she said, "Actually, honestly, no fucking idea. Before all this I was in school, you know? I wanted to get into law enforcement, but I was a ways off from really doing it. I still want to do that, but...I have this feeling like having powers kind of messes it up." She shrugged. "Personally, I think it could make me really good at it...buuuut...legal issues, and public opinion issues. I dunno. RIght now I'm just going to focus on getting through school. God only knows what'll happen next, so planning seems kind of futile." "Always plan," Kyria said more levelly. "Be flexible and open, but still plan. You want to go into law enforcement. You're American, but if the American's won't let you do something you'd probably be amazing at because you'd be amazing at it, then come over to the UK. I don't think you'd have a problem with us." She spread her hands. "Kind of a tall ask, don't you think? Can't have your dream job, so bail on your country? I mean, what you would leave England to go do?" Kyria shrugged and answered truthfully, "Whatever I wanted to do that they said I couldn't?" Clearly national loyalty was also a lesson lost to the amnesiac Stormer. Renata nodded, feeling a stab of sympathy. This girl didn't have anything to leave behind. No connection. She'd lost all that. And that sucked. "I've got family...friends... I don't know. I'm the first to admit that the USA stinks for me sometimes...and for a lot of reasons...but that just makes me want to make it better, you know?" "What about you? You've got Steve...anyone else? New friends? Maybe people from your past who remember you, even if you can't remember them yet?" "Oh, I get mail all the time about a lost relative. Apparently I have dozens of concerned parents, cousins I 'spent my whole childhood' with, and siblings that have been searching just everywhere for me." She rolled her eyes, taking a bite of food from her plate. "No one real yet and people seem put off that I don't really care. I mean, I was in a hospital bed for three years. Even if there are people that know the old me out there, it was three years. They've moved on and I don't remember them. New friends...a few. Mostly Steve's friends, old mates of his." "Shit," Renata said, the enormity of the situation sinking in. "That's the worst. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm the first to say family can be a giant pain in the ass, but...that's rough. People suck sometimes, and you deserve better." She wagged a finger at Kyria. "Not to get up in your business, but if most of your friends are your boyfriend's friends, you need to get out on your own more." Kyria blinked, surprised at Mask's comment. "I, uh, don't really have anywhere to go. I haven't figured out a job yet and the few times Steve and I have been out in public for very long, things get....loud? I don't know that I could actually do most jobs I have any qualifications for. Which is to say jobs that don't need any qualifications. I'm smart, but I don't have any degrees or work history or anything. Maybe I could do construction? I basically function as a crane." She shrugged, "And I don't go to church or have old chums or anything." She motioned to the crowd, where she was one of the Pretty People, but not the Pretty Person, grinning. "This is the best time I've had with more people than just Steve since I woke up. I'm practically unremarkable here." That brought another laugh from Renata. "You're a long way from unremarkable, trust me. But I get you about being recognized. There's a reason I'm going by a stupid fake name and changing my face and...other stuff for this. I lucked out, and didn't get my real face attached to what everyone saw during the Storm." She considers Kyria for a moment. "We could probably get you some kind of disguise if you wanted. I mean, I can't help with the job or degree or anything, but if you just want to hang out with me sometime without drowning in paparazzi, I could help you out with that." That got a genuine, non-mischievous smile out of her. "That could be fun."
  3. October 16th, 2019 London, England A new broadcast plays, the banner indicating the broadcaster as the BBC. It shows Steve Nord looking both imposing and dashing in dress uniform, Kyria looking radiantly lovely in a formal gown, and Kerrie in an elegant but more business-like dress, all being introduced to the Queen, Princes William and Harry, and their wives. Words are being exchanged, hands shaken, and everyone is smiling as an anchor provides the voiceover: "Scenes from Buckingham Palace earlier today as Her Majesty the Queen received three supermen - or should that be superpersons - as her personal guests for a private investiture ceremony. Colour Sergeant Stephen Nord, of the Royal Marine Commandos and the mysterious beauty known as Kyria Stormborn, and the American Karen Sherman are the first of the 'Storm Enhanced' to receive official Royal attention for their part in defeating a literal giant threat to the town of Hereford and its surroundings." There is a cut to grainy shaky video footage of the ice monster being struck by lightning and attacked by two flying figures while the main camera shows them both kneeling to receive an ornate medal being draped around their necks by the Queen. "Today both Colour Sergeant Nord and Ms. Stormborn received the Victoria Cross, the highest award that can be given for valour by Her Majesty, and especially note-worthy as Ms. Stormborn is the first woman to ever receive it as well as the first civilian to receive one in over one hundred years. Ms. Sherman received the George’s Cross for her own part in the battle, as well. This sends a strong signal, according to experts, that the U.K. Government at all levels fully supports and endorses the presence of the Enhanced on British soil. And it is a popular position – most polls show overwhelming grass roots popularity for the two British Stormers, code-named ‘Einherjar’ and ‘Valkyrie’ according to leaked memos from Downing Street.” Further shot of the fight against the ice monster appears in the corner of the screen as the shot changes to a small podium outside the palace gates. “And now we go live to the gates of Buckingham Palace, where Einhjerar and Valkyrie are making ready to meet the press for the first time...” "Remember, don't be too stiff, don't be too formal." The press officer murmured, mostly to Steve as the Marine looked out over the crowd. Beside him, Kyria was bright-eyed and curious. "Public opinion in the UK is mostly with you two, but there are some foreign journos here and while they're not likely to start an incident, be ready for hardball." "Right." Steve nodded, rolling his shoulders in his dress blues and looking down at Kyria. "You ready for this?" Kyria gave the press officer a bright smile, the one Steve knew always meant trouble. "So....don't throw the annoying woman into the next building?" The man blinked and paled and Kyria gave a silvery laugh and took Steve's arm, all impish delight. "Now I'm ready." The first reporter went for it off the bat. "Desmond White, the Guardian. Color Sergeant Nord, Ms. Stormborn. What are your plans going forward?" "Professionally? I'm not sure." Steve replied with a glance at Kyria. "I mean: I'm still a soldier, I still serve the Crown and its interests. I haven't been magically promoted to Colonel overnight - thank God." That was good for a small chuckle from the crowd. "Personally? I'm still adjusting. It's hard to make plans when everything is still settling. Ask me again in six months, Mr White." He finished with a smile, glancing at Kyria questioningly. He saw a million minxy replies shining in her eyes and he could feel the press officer having a separate heart attack for each and every one of them. "I did try to promote him to Captain," Kyria told the gathered press with coquettish delight of sharing a secret. "Apparently the field promotion didn't stick." The gathered people chuckled, most of them clearly charmed by the stunning woman, and she neatly sidestepped actually answering the question. Hands went up again as the energy of the conversation moved on. "Cassandra Allen, for the Wall Street Journal." said the face belonging to the next hand, a well-presented blonde who managed to walk the line between pretty and professional in her attire. "Colour Sergeant - you said you 'serve the Crown and its interests'. Does that mean the British government has a policy regarding the use of superhumans in military actions?" Steve blinked, then leaned into the mic a little, his blue eyes glowing faintly. "Uh, not that I've been told, Ms. Allen. All I meant was that I was a soldier when I changed, and I'm still a soldier now. And like any soldier, my deployment would be a matter for the duly elected government of my country to decide." A stiff-necked young man in a suit lifted his right hand, pen still gripped in its fingers. He held a pad of paper, eschewing the phones and tablets that many other reporters used. "Tom Cottington, Anglican Communion News Service. Earlier you thanked God that you had not been promoted to Colonel." He smiled a thin-lipped smile. "An amusing jest, but it does bring to mind an important question. Are you a church-going man? What do you see as the larger, theological implications of your transformation?" Steve blinked, pondering for a moment as the press officer held his breath. To his credit, the soldier didn't say the first or second things that rolled through his mind - one comment being profane and the other flippant. The gathered journalists sensed his hesitation and waited with poised pens and microphones. "Not as much as my mum would like me to be, in answer to your first question," he admitted with a slight smile. "I'm baptized C of E, but the only services I regularly attend in a church are when I visit my family for Christmas and memorial services for the fallen. If I was being honest, I'd describe myself as agnostic. As to the second question..." He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Sir, I'd say the Storm, and the changes it brought for good and ill, are one of those 'pick your truth' situations. You can have absolute faith, which means you can believe God, or whoever you believe in, was responsible and the Storm was utter proof he exists - or you're an atheist who holds that it's all science, particles, radiation, and what-have-you. Or you can be somewhere in the middle, like most people I imagine. As for me - I don't know if God exists. Sometimes I hope he does - usually at 3 am when I'm standing watch at a FOB. These powers? I don't think they've changed that for me." A prim brunette woman in a sharp business suit with her cellphone clipped securely to her collar to pick up sound raised her hand. "Danika Carrols for The Intersect. My question is for Mz. Stormborn. I have sources that state that not only do you suffer from amnesia but that your brain has been fundamentally altered by the effects of the Storm. That you are essentially a new person." She paused for a moment and Kyria arched her brows. "So far you haven't asked a question." "Is that true, Mz. Stormborn? That your personality is functionally only a month or so old?" The Stormer tilted her head curiously at the woman, sensing that that wasn't the real question. "I have complete retrograde amnesia," she said, her normal carefree amusement at the world muted for a moment. "My doctors have said that in the normal course of recovery they would not expect me to regain my memories. They also admit that applying 'normal' to me is problematic at best." "So yes, functionally, your personality is a month old." Danika pressed, getting annoyed glares shot at her from others that wanted their chance. The woman turned her hawkish attention to Steve now, asking immediately, "Do you think your relationship with Mz. Stormborn is at all appropriate or healthy when she has no other life experience than being in alone in quarantine with you?" The press officer held his breath. Some of the older / more savvy reporters held their breath. Kyria held her breath - though in her case in was more of a shocked intake of breath shortly followed by the urge to see if Mizz Carrols would bounce if hurled hard enough against the nearest building. "Actually you're wrong, madam." Steve said mildly, his deep voice calm as he leaned forward and spoke into the mic before Kyria could. "Kyria did have life experience before quarantine with me: she fought a bloody great monster made of ice and saved hundreds, if not thousands of lives with me." He let that hang there for a moment, and there was a murmur of agreement in the crowd as Danika Carrols felt some smirks from other reporters. "Hardly the point." she almost snapped, only to be cut off. "Sorry, I wasn't finished." Steve's voice projected, no longer conversational or friendly. It wasn't the 'drill sergeant encouragement' voice, which could be loud, raucous and somewhat bawdy in language choices. This was the 'senior NCO disapproval' voice - the cold ominous tone that said that there would be no humorous vulgarity in this dressing-down and that, in fact, said NCO found nothing humorous about the current hapless object of their attentions. "You are asking the question from the perspective that I have been - and am - taking advantage of Kyria, due to her diminished capacity for judgment resulting from a lack of life experience. I have never observed Kyria to have a diminished capacity for anything - least of all courage and the ability to know her own mind." His eyes left Danika and swept the other reporters briefly as he straightened back up, his demeanor relaxing a little. "Besides, I suggested much the same thing to her before we became, ah, involved." he finished with a rueful smile, glancing at the redheaded beauty beside him. Kyria gave Steve a lascivious wink and leaned over to add into the mike, "Also, I jumped him." The ripple of laughter, mostly heartfelt, some uncomfortably polite spread through the press pack, underlaid with a tinge of relief. The press officer stepped up next, leaning in and stating that they had time for one or two more questions right now. "Hakim Nazari, Al Jazeera," said a smooth-voiced man, his accent flavoured with a British Education. "My question is for Colour Sergeant Nord. As you have said, you are still a soldier of the British Government. Given the... demonstration of your abilities, do you believe this may start a new arms race, with world governments and their militaries and other political entities all seeking to enlist as many empowered beings - Stormers as they have been informally called - as possible? And that this may lead to a new form of warfare, the collateral consequences of which cannot be known yet?" Steve threw a glance at the press officer, who nodded slowly - they had expected something like this. "It's definitely a concern," Steve said, nodding to Mr Nazari. "I was a soldier when the Storm changed me, had been for over a decade." The ribbons on his left breast became the focus of several cameras at that, as he continued speaking. "I do know, and can informally say, that the British government does not at this time have a policy for the recruitment of Stormers into its military. Speaking for myself..." He took a grip on the podium, his tone and expression serious. "Look, we all know that there are governments, and officials within governments, that see everyone as potential resources. To them, I'd issue a friendly caution - read a comic book." He smiled grimly as some reporters blinked. "Seriously. I grew up reading them. Most people did. Very few comic books that deal with the issue of governments exploiting super-powered people end well for the government. Don't press Stormers into service, don't weaponize us in some kind of reckless arms race. We are still human in many ways - the psychology of a Stormer is the psychology of any person you might meet on the street. Not every person can be a soldier - super powers don't change that." He paused for a moment, reading the crowd before continuing. "It's too much to hope that there won't be an arms race. Human nature is as it has been for centuries. Given the scope of my own abilities, I sincerely hope that the rational world leaders will think twice before actually starting wars with Stormers as troops. The potential collateral consequences are sobering, sure. But that's not just a factor of cities wiped out, as we saw during the Storm. It's also about what it will do to the super-powered people that get sent to war, and that is the real unintended consequence governments should be worried about." He fell silent, stepping back from the mic as he watched the crowd. "Janina Hunter, Vanity Fair." Now this was an unexpected person, her having very well manicured and groomed long blond hair, and striking green eyes. "Ms. Stormborn. Among the Enhanced we've been seeing those like yourself with - for lack of a better term, superhuman attractiveness. Do you think this might impact the public's perception of you?" "Well, I would assume so," Kyria said a half-shrug. "I mean, that's how movie stars and models even get their jobs, right? By being more attractive than the average person." "Are you going to become an actress or model?" Someone shouted from the back of the crowd; no one even looked back to see who it was. Kyria bit her lip cutely in thought and then laughed, "Nah, I don't think so. I don't like shoes enough to be a model and as Steve and Colonel Hatcher have pointed out multiple times now, I'm not all that good at taking orders." * * * * * The playback stopped as Karrie lowered the remote, her expression thoughtful. Harrison watched her in silence, occasionally checking her phone when it silently buzzed in her hand. She’d learned long ago to be patient and let Karrie think without interruption or prompting. “I find it interesting that they focused on their personal relationship more than the political ramifications,” Karrie said. “Notice that Kyria didn’t talk about her plans?” “Do you think the retrograde amnesia is accurate?” Harrison asked the most pressing question first, a little unsettled when Karrie turned her full attention to her. The woman had always had a thousand yard stare, but it had gotten worse since The Storm. Now Karrie’s steady gaze felt as if it penetrated and dissected. Harrison refused to show her unease, but it was difficult. “There’s no sign that she’ll remember her time as an agent,” Karrie replied. “I think that the change from the Storm plus the damage from before makes her remembering that unlikely in the extreme.” “Is it a possibility that we need to create a contingency for?” Harrison asked. Karrie’s expression shifted a touch and Harrison wondered what the Stormer had just learned from her. Karrie had been decent at that before but now she was uncanny. “Of course we should develop a contingency for it, but I doubt we’ll need it,” Karrie said, turning her gaze back to her fellow Stormers, frozen on the screen. “The Agency lucked out.” After a moment, Harrison asked, “You’ll be keeping an eye on her, and warning us if her memories return.” “Of course,” Karrie said, her expression thoughtful. “Our biggest problem won’t be her burning the Agency if she remembers. It’ll be what will happen if her former personality reasserts itself. Without a reliable way to control her anymore, we’ll have another power-mad Stormer with ties to another Stormer of immense power.” “Start working on plans to deal with that,” Harrison ordered. Karrie turned that calculating stare to her boss. “I’ll prepare it but I warn you: the cost of taking her out will be astronomical, both in resources expended and lives lost.” “Just do it.” With a nod, Karrie returned to her study of the British Stormers.
  4. Legal Name: Jane Doe Alias: Kyria Eruption: The Storm Allegiance/Affiliations: None so far. Appearance: A lithe and willowy woman standing just a bit under average height, Kyria is most well-known for her wavy red hair and blue-grey eyes. She usually dresses in bold, dark colors and warm, plush fabrics. Any jewelry she wears is simple and gold-toned and she has never been seen wearing make-up. She often tries, usually unsuccessfully, to blend into the environment around her so she can people-watch. Temperament: While not immune to bouts of melancholy, Kyria is usually an energetic and optimistic person. She smiles easily, laughs warmly, and put those around her at ease effortlessly. Known Powers: Flight and general more-than-human everything. History: Kyria was in a coma for three years in a hospital in Hereford, England. She was brought there by two people, a man and a woman, who disappeared as soon as Kyria was put on a gurney by ER staff. She was battered and badly broken enough that she wasn't expected to live through the night. Her surgeons still believe that it must have been sheer force of will that kept her alive through the night and the months of physical recovery afterward. Despite the best effort of the Hereford police and several philanthropic organizations, to friends or family were ever discovered to claim her. She has no memories of her life before the coma, and so her past remains a mysterious blank.
  5. Hey all, this is my account for Kyria. Character sheet bits are in the signature. Kyria's been in a coma in Hereford, England until the first thread. I'm open to character connections to be built once the game starts, so just ask here or in Discord!
  6. Bruce had made his own decision after Fawkes started barking and joined the three of them only a few moments later with a large Mag-lite flashlight and an oversized black umbrella. It wouldn't cover all three of them, but Krystal found herself out from under the ice-needle drops of rain while they made their way into the woods. He gave the three of them an easy smile, "Best to stick together, eh? At least, that's what all the horror movies teach me." His tone was teasing, almost jovial and made him seem younger than the suit and (supposed) badge did. He aimed the spotlight just in front of Fawkes' paws, to give the canine the benefit of the light without blinding any of them. "And whatever happens, do keep together. Even just kids playing a prank in the woods can end up with broken legs or broken necks from running in a panic."
  7. Connor tossed a bill with enough extra on top of his bill to make a nice tip, then packed up his gear into a canvas bag with an over-the-shoulder strap. "I think I'd like a look at the plantation. I'll probably spend the night there, myself. I'll make some calls on the way and see if I come up with any reputable help on the medium angle. Meet you there." He stepped out of the diner and managed to make it to his car just before the rain started.
  8. Conner nodded, "Exactly. As long as the information is good, it's a little less important exactly how the person said they got it." He sighed, "Well, let me see if I can locate someone reputable around here or more likely in New Orleans. It might take a few days, but I can probably get us someone out to see the property." He motioned to the video and audio snippets Ian had shown him. "Has anyone tried magnetic tape? Cassettes and the like? Is the equipment shielded in any way?"
  9. Conner leaned back, thinking about it seriously. "Not off the top of my head, but I can make some calls and see if I can find anyone." He frowned, "Finding someone reliable might take more time than we want to wait." "Hmn. Is anyone from the group psychic in any way?" He started typing on his computer as he waited for the answer.
  10. Connor's smile was already ghosting away by the time the two made it back to the table. I feel old...thinking how I never felt that young. He gave the young man a mildly surprised smile and a shoulder shrug. "Still debriefing the pow wow. There's not much on our erstwhile employer that I found; he seems to be just what he says. A Southern lawyer with a problematic property. His father, on the other hand, was a lawyer, in every bad joke of the word way. He was never legally caught, but he left a trail of white collar crimes every time his white collar tastes dwindled the family fortune too low." "That's what I've managed to dig up over coffee and a burger. I'd like to take a look at the property, spend the night there, that sort of thing, and then perhaps head back out here for breakfast and see what more I can dig up on Robillard Jr." He took a sip of said luke-warm coffee and motioned to Ian, "How about you? Find anything interesting?"
  11. Bruce inclined his head and gave a half-shrug. "Not so much so far, but I've always had an interest in the unusual. Mr. Robillard obviously spent a good deal of time and money tracking each one of us down; that at least it worth giving the situation a once-over." He followed the half-shrug with a half grin, his mind still processing through the screens he was reading, "Besides, the pay is good and I have quite a bit of vacation time saved up. Might as well do something interesting with it, no?" He finished off his shorthand notes, the strait and squiggly lines covering several of pages of his top-flip notepad. He gave her another assessing look; she had his undivided attention now. "What do you think? Of the property, the haunting...Mr. Robillard himself?"
  12. Conner shrugged. "It could be. I've certainly seen incredibly elaborate set-ups before to pull off illusions and to use group-think to allow targets to convince each other that supernatural activities were occurring." He sipped thoughtfully at the hot chocolate he'd ordered while he considered the sketch and what she'd repor- what she'd said. His eyes flicked up and over her again, a quick assessment of her to remind himself how young and untrained she was. He added to his short-hand notes with precise strokes of his pen while he considered his next move. "Well, why don't we wait for Ian to finish his research and then three off us can compare notes all around. Are the others still at the plantation? I'd like a chance to look around myself now, but sticking together or at least in small groups when actually on the property is probably a good idea."
  13. 'G-main' got half of a smirk out the suited man. "Ian," he called out, "You're certainly welcome to sit over here, but suit yourself." He smiled at Krystal, his gentleman's habits obviously long ingrained. A few keystrokes had his browser minimized and a word document pulled up. "Mind telling me what happened? I've been doing some research here, but a first-hand account is always best." He frowned slightly, "I do hope you all are being careful. Going into a suspicious situation unprepared is dangerous ground."
  14. Kylie - I think I'm gonna need some help with jumping back into the game. Either a post from you that brings Conner back in or some behind the scenes discussions with you and I. Let me know which one you're more up for when you get the chance. Thanks!
  15. Conner arched a brow at the tapping foot and the interplay between her and Ian. What is the word Father would use? Tempestuous. Or fiesty, if he was getting to sleep with her. Poor Ian, from the look of things, it's 'tempestuous' for him. He stepped up to the door and unlocked it without letting his thoughts show on his face. The door creaked open as if it had been made for a horror movie set; Connor steppedd in cautiously, long habit sending him to mentally mark and watch all the doorways leading off from the hall before motioning the others to follow him in. "Anyone happen to bring a camcorder with them?" he grinned as he asked. "Maybe we could get a spot on Ghost Hunters."
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