I. First Canto | Auditory

[eats_the_rude]

[A soft, dull whisper directed itself into the receiver with a metallic tinge, scratchy as though tired and overused.]

Mason, we do enjoy our little games, don't we? I must say this particular tactic of yours does not quite speak with the same chicanery as our usual correspondence. Your people have shown a surprising amount of courtesy, though why

Comments

[wasthenightmare]

That might be a little above our average paygrade. Unless you've got a "transdimensional" [God, you can practically hear the scare quotes] bank account. I'd hate for you to end up washing dishes. [His tone... Suggests he cares not either way, but that's Methos for you, casual to a fault.]

[eats_the_rude]

[How curious. He hadn't expected there to be...interception. Of course, let's pretend nothing's amiss. Wouldn't want to be conspicuous, would we?]

Pray, whatever do you mean?

I assure you, my good fellow, I've simply an interest in fine dining, though you'll pardon me, I'm sure, when I tell you I'm nothing but a simple tourist.

[wasthenightmare]

I mean that unless this "Mason" is involved with anything involved with the Core, you're not where you're supposed to be. So all preferences aside, it's not really a question of where as much as it is a question of... Do they accept the "I left my wallet in the other dimension" excuse?

[eats_the_rude]

[Pause. Let him mull that over. That's the sound of warm coppery brass turning in his head like the wheels of a well-oiled clock.]

..Core? Is this an organization selling immigration papers? If so, I'm not interested.

I'm afraid I have no idea what you're chit-chattering about. Wrong number.

[possiblycantdie]

[ She has no idea why she's replying, not really. Something's piqued her curiosity and not on the usual ways ]

What a... curious first request.

[ And either he's been silent in all the time she's been here or he is in fact that, and her memory is rather impeccable thank you ]

[eats_the_rude]

[...Clarice? No. Far too European an accent to be Clarice.]

Hello?

[Very observant, my dear lady.]

Who am I speaking to?

[possiblycantdie]

[ She prides herself on that, also ]

My name is Mina Harker.

[eats_the_rude]

[Have a small smile, even if you can't see it. 1990's cell phones are...A little limited in that respect, alas.]

Hm. Mrs.? Or Ms. Harker? Or do you even prefer a title? I myself do not.

[And before you ask...]

But to address your previous comment one might say I am a little 'peckish' after a long journey, madam.

[video]

[leading3men]

I think there's a seafood restaurant that opened not too long ago in the bay.

[Audio forever]

[eats_the_rude]

Thank you, my dear lady. You're an angel.

[Might as well make the most of his time here.]

Might you happen to know the name, if not the address?

[leading3men]

The Grey Line, I think? I don't know where it is exactly but if you arrived in the baseball diamond like everyone else, I don't think it's that far. Both the bay and the baseball field are in the same sector, I know that much.

[eats_the_rude]

The Gray Line?

[Makes a note of it. He'll be needing to get a phonebook, at any rate.]

Hmmm. Indeed? And what might your name be?

[tiny_schemer]

[There's something about the way the man speaks that seems familiar to Czeslaw, and that's why he listens at first. But it's not Fermet, even if that zen-like, creepy calm way of speaking reminds him.]

I've heard there's a new place right on the sea. Seems kinda expensive though, mister. Did you come with lots of money?

[eats_the_rude]

Yes, indeed. So I myself have just recently heard.

[He'll be finding a way around that. But he'd rather not disclose how.]

But I wouldn't worry about that, my dear boy. Money is no object to me.

[tiny_schemer]

How can it not be an object if you need it to buy oysters? Are you going to get them off the rocks yourself?

[eats_the_rude]

[A soft wheeze. Was he laughing? His lungs were still bruised from the tight strap that had been cinched over his chest, a mark left from the kidnapping.]

Dear boy, I am touched you might be so concerned over such a trivial matter. Though that would be a curious venture, and I should very much like to in the near future, I've not the proper utensils to do so.

[text]

[caveatwalls]

[It's always the strange entries that catch Sherlock's attention, and this is no exception. There is something decidedly off here, and he can feel it. Nevermind the encryption he can't quite manage to hack; it's something akin to instinct. But he'd hate to go on that alone.]

High class meals aren't simply stumbled across in the street around here.

((if there is infomodding here, let me know))

[Audio forever]

[eats_the_rude]

['Ping!' What is this...? A text? How curious. How impersonal.

What are they if not men of intuition, intellect, and reason? It was indeed strange, but perhaps no more so than others who'd come before him. Nevertheless, this does merit an almost playful tone from him. He is somewhat amused, perhaps because he is used to such speculation.

Yet, he too has instincts, and they're all singing to him that this was a ploy at entrapment.]

You are quite correct. I believe one commonly ventures to a restaurant or other such establishment in search of such a meal should that be desired.

[text forever]

[caveatwalls]

[Cute.]

And I guarantee you what you're looking for won't be found in one on a Newcomer's budget.

[eats_the_rude]

Newcomer...Is that the terminology they use here?

Unless all the oysters decisively climbed off the rocks I think it shouldn't be too difficult to find what I need here.

[It was unlikely he couldn't find at least some half-decent Rockefeller, or cook it himself, given parts of Canada were rather renowned for its seafood.

And as always never daunted, he would simply say this as a parting gift:]

Thank you for the tip.