World of Darkness: Glimpses of Darkness - Chapter 3a: Further Research Needed...

[Kylie_OOC]

Ian had about blown a gasket when he'd driven the half-hour into town, only to be informed (in an apologetic manner) that the nearest public wireless access was forty minutes down the highway in "nearby" Thibodaux, Louisiana. The girl behind the counter remembered that there was an IHOP on one of the first exits approaching the small city via eastbound Highway 20.

She suggested the nearby public library, but after giving Ian a solid once-over, she smirked slightly and mentioned that those computers were fairly restricted. He was pretty sure her tone was suggesting that he seemed the "looking for porn" type (and since Krystal had chosen to wait in the car while he asked around, he lacked any deliciously fuckable evidence to suggest otherwise).

Ian also knew that many of the websites he frequented - including the one he currently wanted to access - was listed as a restricted site to most public computers. They catered to serious investigators and xenologists, not weekend hobbyists or curious, nerdy loners looking for their X-Files fix.

Ironically, the first thing he noticed upon walking in to the IHOP was a familiar face.. it would appear that the FBI snoop had gotten his info from the same gas station attendant as Ian had, and was currently sitting at a booth with a cup of coffee and a half-eaten sandwich, laptop open and plugged into an outlet on the side of the booth for power.

[Krystal]

Krystal was a little annoyed with the lack of wireless access in town - In Vegas, it was omnipresent, near enough. Driving for forty minutes to the nearest IHOP seemed excessive, and she was sure Ian was looking for rough spots on the highway in his frustration and to while away the time. Fawkes on the hand was having a blast, head stuck out the window, tongue flapping in the wind.

At the IHOP, Krystal tied-up Fawkes outside, ruffling his head and promising to buy him a sandwich, then gave Ian a grin as he held the door for her. Ian grinned back, stealing a glance down the front of her shirt, then her tight in her tight cut-offs as he followed her in.

After spotting the Feeb, Ian didn't have a chance to decide to escape his agentness before Krystal eyes widened in surprise and headed over to him. "Hello, Mr. Wells - surprised to see you still in town," Krystal said with a pleasantly curious smile for the clean-cut agent.

"Mind if we join you? This is the closest place we've found where Ian can check up on his sites. Looks like it's the same for you..." Krystal gave the impression of looking around without turning head - or even really moving her eyes - and added in a lower voice. "There was an...oddity over at the Robillard place."

[z-Ian]

Well, fuck, Ian sighed to himself. He’d hoped that the other guy had left for good. Clean-cut ‘professional’ guys like him tended to cut in on Ian’s ability to score with chicks. Even though he sensed he was further ahead with Krystal than the FBI douche, he also knew from experience that nothing got a woman’s panties wet faster than a mysterious job working for the government. Women always assumed that meant he was CIA or fuckin’ James Bond. Ian bet his cock was bigger than Well’s.

“Hey, G-man,” Ian said easily as he moved to follow Krystal. Before he could say more than that, Krystal was running on at the mouth about what they were looking into at Rollibard’s. Ian pinched his eyes shut and looked pained behind her back as she went on and on – and wanted to join him.

“Krystal, I’m not sure this is the place,” Ian said softly. “’sides, we’re not even sure what we saw. I’m here to look up some research stuff, so… we should get a table and get to it.”

Krystal tossed her brilliant hair over her shoulder and spun to face Ian. “That’s what you came to do, so get a table and start researching. I’m going to talk to Mr. Wells.”

Ian scowled and turned to find an empty booth. Damn bitch will go sniffing after any nicely-dressed guy! Score one more for Uncle Orson; this was exactly what he’d said would happen.

[Kyria]

'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."

[Krystal]

Krystal might have acted nonchalant, but as Ian began to turn away with his internal dialogue, he missed the slight slump in college-girl's shoulders, which she quickly hid as she turned back to Mr. Wells and scooted into the booth, leaving plenty of room for Ian, if he reconsidered. Krystal leaned forward, bracing her elbows on the table as she kept her tone low, but airy. Still, to Conner, he noticed a mild tenseness to her engaging manner.

"Of course we're being careful," Krystal claimed with a self-deprecating grin. "I just had a little tumble through the pantry floor - I hadn't noticed this service-pulley-lift-thing. I can be such a klutz sometimes - I think it's a lingering effect from when I dyed my hair blonde."

Krystal chortled at herself, but fell silent as the waitress came by to take their order. Krystal ordered a french vanilla coffee and a grilled chicken salad, then watched the waitress walk away before continuing her explanation of what they'd found at the Robillard Plantation.

Krystal told Conner about the writing on the earthen wall of the cellar, the door locking behind her and Lily, about the incongruities in the video and audio Ian captured, and the lack of a reason how it happened. Krystal tried to laugh it off, conjecturing about electromagnets, but the fingers of the hand not holding her coffee beat a staccato rhythm on the table. As an afterthought, she showed him the sketch she had made of Charles Robillard's several-times-grandmother.

"Pretty weird, hmmm?" Krystal said after a mouthful of her salad. "I guess this is the sort of thing Mr. Robillard wanted us to look at. But I'm sure there is a perfectly logical explanation for it. I don't know how magician's do all their their illusion tricks, but it's not like it's real magic, right? This is the same thing."

[z-Ian]

Ian took a seat down the restaurant from the two getting cozy. He purposely sat with his back to the two of them, irritated at the handsome guy and irritated that Krystal sat down with him anyway. Sticking his feet on the seat opposite his bench, the young man started up the internet with a sulky frown.

His waitress came and took his order, mentally sighing when she saw his mood and knew his tip was likely to be nothing. Ian peered over his shoulder once, when the waitress covered the motion with her body. He saw the federal asshole and Krystal had their heads bent close and he turned back to his machine, more pissed than ever.

Finding the old site was easy; digging through the archives wasn't. They were poorly labeled and organized and the entire process wasn't helping Ian's mood at all. "Damnit," he growled as a headache started.

"You need a break." His waitress was back with his drink; Ian eyed it and swallowed nervously.

"What?" he asked, snapping it before he looked up and saw the unbuttoned blouse. His eyes settled on the generous of cleavage there before remembering that she wasn't there and looking higher. A cute girl with something darker than Caucasian in her past was smiling at him. The smile only deepened at his abashed look.

"You look like you need a break," she said, leaning a hip against the table. Ian's eyes dropped to the soft curve before popping up to her face again.

"Yeaaaah..." he sighed, licking his lips. His eyes found their way back to her cleavage before remembering that they shouldn't be there. Again, she didn't seem to be upset.

"Can I... get you something else?" Her grin was both unmistakable and unrepentant.

"On or off the menu?" he asked.

"Well... since I'm on the clock, all I can do is on the menu," she sighed ruefully. "That's not what I want, necessarily."

Score! Ian's issues with his computer and Krystal were forgotten. "Well, when do you get off?"

Her eyes flicked over him and she murmured, "Usually about thirty minutes after I clock out."

Now here's a woman who knows how to treat a guy. Fuck yeah! Ian grinned. "When is that?"

"Ten," she replied with a slow smile. "So what do you want to eat while you wait?"

"I'll take a burger and fries," Ian said, still smirking at her.

"Comin' up," she said, writing that down and walking away from him. He watched her hips sway away; then he turned to his keyboard and started his research.

Click to reveal..

Intelligence + Academics (1d10=10, 1d10=3, 1d10=4)

Popping tens (1d10=3)

[Kyria]

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."

[Krystal]

"Yehmm, Lily, Father East, and Bob are still poking around the plantation," Krystal murmured, straightening in her seat as she tried to surreptitiously glance over Conner's shoulder at where Ian was drooling over the waitress who was obviously using a push-up bra to enhance the goods. Not that she cared, of course. "We needed a break - and an internet connection - to regroup."

Krystal settled back down on the vinyl booth, tucking some rich, auburn hair behind an ear and gave Conner a small smile. She seemed unaware of the subtle vibes of pique she was radiating. "That's a very reasonable proposal, Mr. Wells. I'll go invite him back after he's done eating - he might've stopped sulking by then." Krystal took a sip of her coffee, then quirked an inquiring brow at the government agent. "So, what made you stick around? Something stand out to you in this situation?"

[Kylie_OOC]

Quote:

Ian's Roll Results:
Intelligence + Academics (1d10=10, 1d10=3, 1d10=4)
Popping tens (1d10=3)

1 sux

Ian had enough time to start up the computer and get connected to the wi-fi. By the time he was connected to the site he was looking for, the waitress - whose name, according to the tag on her underwire-enhanced B-cup, was "Aleisha" - was back with his food. She seemed in no hurry to leave either, confident that she was more interesting than anything Ian might be reading on "that silly ol' computer", and spent plenty of time flirting with him between taking care of her other customers.

By the time he was finished with his sandwich, his research had turned up the original article, which gave him some more specific info about the case, including general location of the home they had been exploring (an unnamed suburb of Cincinnati), and a loose history of the home and it's prior owners (though no names or identity-revealing incidents were included). He was also able to find the referenced second article. It gave some general suggestions for dealing with an "electromagnetically sensitive" spirit... things like taking a hand-crank flashlight and a manual camera so that your batteries don't unexpectedly die, and organizing and allotting time for a long stake-out so that you can observe spiritual activities in person. It also suggested seeking out a trustworthy, reliable medium - the author was very adamant that there are a lot of charlatans in the field, and that word of mouth from fellow parapsychologists and ghost hunters is the best reference available.

*************

Quote:

Here's the roll, I've got Int 2, Academics 2, +1 for internet access, +3 for access to government databases (per the book, if you want different equipment bonuses, I'll reroll).

Roll(8d10)+0:
3,9,8,6,7,10,7,10,+0

Roll(2d10)+0:
2,1,+0

Nice....4 suxx.

On the other side of the restaurant, Conner listened to what Krystal had to say and jotted down notes, while at the same time mulling over what he'd discovered through his research. What he'd discovered so far is that Charles Robillard III is about as squeaky-clean as it gets, at least insofar as he'd been able to find. He graduated with honors as Valedictorian from Magnolia High in Vacherie, then moved on to Loyola University where he pursued a law degree with a double-minor in business and economics. He worked for several years at a small but influential firm (read: old lawyers from older families) practicing business law. He was quite successful, and invested his family's money wisely (something most young men weren't usually thinking twice about yet). He did a fairly good job rebuilding the family fortune as far as Conner could tell, which it seemed had dwindled dangerously low up till his father's death shortly after Charles' entry into college.

Charles Robillard Jr. was another matter entirely. The elder Robillard wasn't quite broke (in rich man's terms, anyway) upon his death, but that seemed to be due sheerly to the timing of said demise. His current employer's father had a mile-long history of financial ups and downs, punctuated by the occasional brush with the law regarding some of the more high-brown illegal activities of his time, usually around times of financial distress. Though he was never convicted of anything, he was listed as a person of interest in several investigations dealing with fraud and smuggling, and was even arrested once by the NOPD, though the police lacked enough evidence to have him convicted, and he was released.

Which just led Conner to wonder.. had the youngest Robillard set out to redeem his family's good name and reputation? Or was he just a better, more intelligent version of his swindler father?

[Kyria]

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?"

[z-Ian]

"A medium? You fuckin' kidding me?" Where the hell was he going to find a medium that wasn't a crystal-rubbing fruit job? "God damnit," he muttered angrily. He glanced over his shoulder, saw Conner and Krystal still talking. Scowling, he went back to his computer, looking for more information. After a moment's thought, he opened up a .txt file and started a list of things they'd need.

[Krystal]

"I think Mr. Robillard is paying us a fair bundle if this is all just a hoax to drum up business," Krystal commented wryly under Connor's sharp regard. "But at least it'll cover my school expenses and then some. The plantation is certainly old, I'm sure it has a lot of history, but as for the 'haunting'..." Krystal trailed off, taking a bite of her salad, unaware of the slight shiver that ran up her spine and across her shoulders. "My mother believed in ghosts and psychics and crystals and all that stuff, but I never did."

She stabbed her salad with her fork in annoyance, but didn't take a bite. "Okay, I'll admit the writing on the wall in the cellar creeped me out and me drawing a picture of Robillard's great-whatever grand-mother before knowingly seeing a portrait of her was weird, but I'm sure there is a reasonable, non-ghost, explanation for all of this."

"Will you excuse me for a moment, Mr. Wells, I just want to check up on my dog." Her lips quirked. "Fawkes too. I'll be right back." Krystal gathered up the remaining chunks of chicken in a napkin for Fawkes then scooted out of the booth.

Heading for the front door, she passed a scowling Ian, and waited at his table until he looked up, then waited a moment more until he looked higher and met her eyes. Krystal tossed her head in a cascade of auburn tresses, nodding in the direction of the waitress who was totally just leading him on for a tip. "You can do better, Ian. I'm just gonna go check on Fawkes, but maybe you should join us at the grown-up table, hmm. No need to sulk by yourself."

Without waiting for his comment - because there was no guarantee his volume would restrict it to just them - Krystal continued outside the diner, making sure Fawkes was okay and not bothering anyone. She gave him a hard scratch on the chest then gave him the left-over chicken from her salad before heading back inside.

[z-Ian]

She'd been wise to take it outside. Ian met her at the door, caught her by the arm and pulled her back outside. "I can fuckin' do better? How about you? Suckin' up to that desk warmer goon? What the hell, Krystal?"

She'd never seen him react like this before. Ian was truly angry at her. She's just like all the other women, he heard his uncle say, as if the old man was standing there watching them. They'll smile and be sweet to you and then fuck you over the first chance they get.

"On second thought, don't worry about answering that," Ian said, stepping back and letting go of her arm. "You aren't my girl, this isn't my problem." Jesus, I need to fuck something. Too bad Jolene's miles away. "And it isn't your problem who I flirt with."

Turning, he started back inside.

[Krystal]

Ian felt a pair of small hands grab the loose folds of his coat and haul back to forestall him with a feminine grunt of effort. Krystal ran in front of him, blocking his way to the door. For a brief instant, he thought he saw something vulnerable in her eyes, but it was gone so quick under her own flaring anger, he wasn't sure.

"How. Dare. You!" Krystal hissed, glaring up at him and shaking a finger under his nose. "Don't walk away, I have something to say, too." Krystal folded her arms beneath her full breasts - and whether it was intentional or not - the sight was enough to stop Ian in his tracks.

"I was not 'sucking' up to Mr. Wells, I was explaining what happened and seeing if he had any insights. In know fuckall about this sort of stuff - whenever my mother droned on about it, I just tuned her out - so I was trying to get a view from someone does this for a living. Another one than yours so I have multiple sources to go on." The short woman shifted her weight to her other foot, placing a hand on her hip and poking him in the chest with a finger.

"I asked you to sit with us, I wanted you to, maybe you two could have have explained things better with trade - such as it is - lingo. Instead you took off in a snit and let the waitress con you out of a bigger tip with a bit of cleavage."

Instead of letting Krystal see him flinch under her tirade, he leaned down, giving her a taunting smirk. "She was gonna get a whole lot more than a big tip, she was gonna get my big-"

"Oh, please!" Krystal cut him off with a dismissive snort and a flip of her hand. "I'm a waitress too, you know, I know all the tricks to get a tip. And unlike her, I don't need an under-wire to make them effective, nor promise more than I'm willing to give."

Krystal blew out a sigh, brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and composed herself, keeping her voice level and firm. "Look, just because I smile at a guy, maybe even flirt a bit - and I'm not saying that I was, here - doesn't mean I want to fuck'im. I'm not my bloody mother, who'll fuck a guy after knowing him for five minutes. Why do you think we've hung around for the last few weeks, even though you haven't payed me yet for the work I did on you site? I could have cut my losses a while back, you realize, or even take you to court, hassle that that would be. I don't want to fuck Mr. Wells, I want to fu-"

Krystal snapped her mouth closed in a tight grimace before she could say another word, composure cracking. Ian could hear her teeth grind audibly as she looked away, a faint blush rising and falling from her cheeks, hands fisted at her side. She took a deep breath, held it, then finally looked back at him, ignoring his smirking grin.

"Can we just go back inside and hash out this whole 'haunting' thing together, figure out what our next move will be?" His victorious smirk was getting on her nerves and she decided he needed to be thrown off balance abit - most because she had almost - okay, there was no almost about it - said too much. Yeah, that was the reason.

She arched her brows and gave him a sardonic smile. "Tell ya what, if you need an incentive, tonight, before we turn it. and because you were never going to see that waitress' tits - or more - I'll flash you my tits. Deal?"

[z-Ian]

"Deal." Ian's word came an instant after hers; he didn't seem to have even considered it before accepting it. Though it was a little flattering that he was taking her flash over some girl he thought was offering him sex. But Krystal wasn't given time to mull over that for long.

Ian stepped forward and caught her face in his hands, giving her a heated kiss that made her a little dizzy. "That wasn't part of the deal," she pointed out. She was proud that she'd managed to say that without even a hint of breathlessness.

"I thought we'd both enjoy that more than a handshake," Ian pointed out, giving her a crooked grin. "Ya know, to seal the deal." His grin became a smirk. "Got any other deals you want to make?"

"Nope," she said, somewhat sorry that she didn't.

"Bummer. C'mon then, we've got work to do," Ian said, opening the door. "I need the distraction. Otherwise, tonight will take forever to get here."

Shaking her head at him, Krystal walked back to the table. Ian followed, stopping only to scoop up his computer, drink and food before joining them. "I take it you have all the information you need, Conner? Or are we still in the debriefing section of our pow wow?"

It was a complete one-eighty from the sullen kid who'd taken his own table not that long ago.

[Kyria]

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?"

[z-Ian]

Ian grimaced. "Not so much," he muttered, looking annoyed. "I came here to do some research on what to do if digital methods of surveillance don't work." Realizing that more explanation was needed, Ian spun his battered laptop around and showed Conner the odd video and audio issues they'd been having. He then gave the rundown on what the article had said and finished by asking, "So, Conner... know any mediums around the area?" Ian's tone was sardonic and it was clear he wasn't expecting an answer.

[Kyria]

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.

[Krystal]

Krystal took a sip of her drink, rolling her eyes, nose scrunching up faintly in distaste. "If any of them are, no one's admitted to it," Krystal replied lightly, a hint of condescension and something else not quite identifiable in her tone. "That kind of thing isn't even real - it's just trickery, and maybe a really keen observational skill."

Her mother believed in all that junk, and more, and though they didn't speak about it all the time like her mother did, her mother's side of the family certainly took it for granted. Even some of her cousins and younger aunts and uncles gave her varying expressions from envy to sympathy when Grandma Irene started taking extra interest in her during her infrequent visits back East. It's all rubbish... Although the cellar, your sketch... No. No! It was just derived by unconscious cues!

The pretty co-ed's slight frown disappeared under a mildly forced smile, brows arched... archly as she glanced between the two men. "But then again, that's just what we could use, hmm? Someone who's used these tricks or has the Batman-like leaps of deductive logic to tell us what's going on."

[Kyria]

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?"

[z-Ian]

Ian sighed, looking annoyed. "Sorry if I'm skeptical, but I've never put much faith in mediums or anything like that. I don't even buy that supernatural crap, and most of it is crap. What isn't crap hasn't been shown to be anything yet. It's a lot of conjecture and opinions, and we all know what opinions are like."

Turning to Conner, he addressed his questions directly. "I haven't tried any of those, mostly because this is my gear and I operate on the Bank of Ian, which is to say, fucking broke. Same for 'shielded' - my pockets are shallow like the Rio Grande."

"We're getting paid generously by Mr. Robillard," Krystal pointed out.

"Yeeeeah, a chunk of that goes to you, for the work I owe ya for, and then the rest is getting squirreled away so that I don't have to worry about food and gas for a bit," Ian said. Though it hurt a little to admit he was broke to Krystal in front of the guy dressed like he wasn't, Ian also knew that she already knew he had zilch to his name. She'd gotten the idea when he couldn't pay her.

[Krystal]

Krystal's lips tightened into a thin line. She never mentioned Isaac's lack of funds - other then the occasional remark that she might have to start working at Hooters for the tips and all Ian picked up from that was that he'd get a chance to see her in a tight, white shirt and tiny orange shorts. Whenever Ian brought it up, he made her feel like a cold-hearted hag.

Taking the high road, she let it slide with a short sniff. "I don't believe in the supernatural anymore than you do Ian. What we need one of these guys for are for their skills, not the performance. If he's willing to..."

Krystal trailed off, tilting her head slightly as she caught a familiar sound. She twisted around, looking out the front windows as she heard Fawkes bark again. She hadn't realized how dark it had gotten.

"Excuse me, I'll be right back," Krystal said, jumping to her feet. "I have to go check on my dog."

Krystal went back outside, asking their waitress to bring the bills - separate - to their table. She found Fawkes tugging at his leash as he looked up at the sky, a whining growl rumbling from his chest. The sky wasn't just dark from the passing of the afternoon, thick, deep clouds were gathering overhead and a brisk wind smelling of rain began to blow.

"Okay boy, we'll be leaving soon," Krystal promised her pet and friend, giving him a kiss on the head and a stiff scratch behind the ears. She unhooked his leash and pointed. "Go to the car, Fawkes, we'll be right there."

Fawkes bounded off into the parking lot and Krystal went back inside, rejoining Ian and Connor at the table, but didn't sit down. "We should head out, guys," she suggested, slinging her purse over her shoulder and digging out her wallet to pay the bill. "It's pretty dark out there and it's going to start raining any second now."

Krystal set down exact change on top of her bill, along with a modest tip - the service had been adequate, but nothing special or amusing - then cocking a hip as she shifted her weight.

"So, do we continue our talk at the motel, or did you want to swing back to the Plantation for a look, Mr. Wells."

[Kyria]

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.

[z-Ian]

Grinning at the sign that the day was finally progressing, Ian pulled out just enough cash to cover his bill and dropped it on the table. He didn’t object to tip, and often did – when he had the money to do so. Right now, he was strapped. “Aight, Krystal and I will head back in my car; we’ll meet at the plantation. Though I’m not sure Rollibard wanted us to stay at the place.” He shrugged; it wasn’t his problem, either way. It was between G-man and their boss.

Krystal was waiting by the car with Fawkes, who was turning in circles and growling at the storm. “Hang on, hang on,” he called, but he was smiling at the dog. No matter how annoying Fawkes was, Ian never got cross with the dog. He paused to ruffle the husky’s ears before unlocking the door and holding it for woman and dog both. As Krystal got in, she smirked at him, amused by his courtesy. Ian smirked right back, a knowing smile that should have been reserved for someone who was sleeping with her. She’d gotten this smile just for promising to flash him; what would she get for sex itself?

Ian drove back to the plantation, filling most of the ride with a story about a friend of his who’d gotten stuck in a tire with a sick Doberman. They were driving into the storm and soon the small car was lashed with wind that smelled of rain. As he drove, the rising winds and threat of the storm seemed an omen to him – not a bad one. It just seemed that he raced into the arms of something exciting – perhaps a little dangerous – with a hot woman and big dog in his car. What more can someone like me ask for?

[Kylie_OOC]

(Continued in 3b: Dead Ends ...)