Margot
When the pair had gone into the old second-run theater the weather had been nearly hot, with the sun shining bright and harsh. There were strong winds above and the clouds raced their way across the skies. Dark clouds had been building on the western horizon, and by the time whatever film they'd opted to see had finished they had brought their thunder and downpour overhead.
Margot had wrapped her sweater closed against the chill the sudden rain-and-hail had brought, and suggested they take shelter under the generous theater awning away from the doors. Found a spot off to the side with a large potted bush to block the backsplash of the gutters overflowing with the sudden onslaught.
"Nice, did you see that lightning?" She remarked, sounding moderately impressed. Her phone tugged from her pocket and she glanced down to check the time. Saw that she had a voicemail and her brow knitted together.
"Weird, that's Portland's area code. Hang on."
Margot then plugged up one ear with a knuckle and put her phone to the other ear so that she could hear the voicemail. Almost immediately the good mood from an easy evening drained from her face, and the color soon followed. Whatever she was hearing, it wasn't good.
Ned
The rainfall hadn't surprised him. They'd caught a glance at the edge of the clouds rolling in just before the movie had begun. That things were in full swing now, with hail and downpours was inevitable really. Half of his expectation could easily be blamed on his penchant for pessimism, mind you but getting proven right when anticipating the worst, was not as fun or comforting as it seemed.
Lightning flashes and their is a flicker of recognition from the young Orderly, who hasn't reached for his phone to take it off airplane mode, since the movie started. There's a little too much responsibility for coming in on 'surprise shifts' that can drain good (read: normal) times like these of their pleasantness.
Kind of like-
"Portland...."
Ned's own features had taken on a cast of confusion. Why was that familiar again??
Margot
[I should'a thrown these dice what was I thinking: willpower]
Dice: 5 d10 TN7 (1, 3, 4, 5, 6) ( botch x 1 )
Margot
The message went on for a good minute and a half, two minutes perhaps. Margot's face was hidden in part by the hood that she'd tugged up soon as they stepped outside and by the sheet of brown hair fallen out from under it as well, but what could be seen had clearly gone ashen. Her eyes had settled in the near distance and grown wide with terror, unfocused as something worse than just terror and memory alone (some traumatized disorderly combination of the two) rose like a tide and shook her sense of being rooted and safe and present.
Her hands shook, and the phone slipped from her grasp. Her shaking hands moved to cover her mouth tightly, to muffle the panicked in-out-in-out gasp for breath that had her nostrils flaring.
Ned would recognize this. Earlier this year he had to take a knife from her when it was happening. This time he wouldn't have to take a knife away from her, but at least then he didn't have to worry about the general public around them to make things worse.
Through a part in her fingers she gasped: "Fuck."
Ned
(Dex + Ath: Whoops?)
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (7, 8, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 5 )
Ned
The phone slips from Margot's grasp and Ned's reactions are on point. The orderly in him instantly activates the moment he recognizes the flush of panic and sudden disassembling of a psyche. His hand shoots out before the Phone has a chance to get further than past her wrists, snagged in his grip even as he steps in front of Margot to inspect her crumbling features.
A quick glance lashes out at the world, as if to stave off invasive presences that might be wondering if she's ok or are simply curious at watching the meltdown, but the rain has kept crowds to a minimum of Just them, outside this second-hand theatre so it's one less concern to worry over.
"Breathe. Concentrate on your breathing. Slow it down. Force it to conform to your thinking and your control, not the other way around. Breathe."
He'd gather her up in a firm wrap of arms, eyes continuing to scan for possible intrusion from others. He'd shake his head and mouth 'It'll be fine' at anyone that got close, and maintain that grip until she'd assembled a bit of herself. Or was at least capable of words.
(Charisma 2 + Expression 2)
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (6, 7, 9, 9) ( success x 4 )
Margot
Margot didn't fight away when Ned created shelter for her with his arms. Her head tucked into the space made and she labored to get her breath under control. It would slip and start gasping-panting again here and there but she'd swallow and suck in a deep breath and start over. It took a couple minutes of this for her to manage words again, and when she did she pleaded that they go.
She'd then step back from his arms and chest and scrub the tears from under her eyes with hands that were still shaking. "Around the building," she managed in a strained voice, and nodded to indicate the way. The forceful push of rain and hail had let up in that time, retreated to a steadier pattern of rain. Nothing that a hood couldn't withstand for several minutes before an umbrella or shelter would be wise.
Once far enough away from the awning and potential curious ears and eyes, she started searching for the phone that he caught. "Where's my phone... It's... It's fucking Luke, I didn't think they'd give him my number."
Ned
"....Fuck."
Ned repeats, though not as intensely as Margot had the first time. This was an acceptance of that pessimism that seemed to drive him in most circumstances. Ned's already handing her phone off to her when they round the corner, allowing her to turn and skip asking for it. He marches past her a bit, ducking under his own hood, a thick black one beneath a thicker coat (because Ned was the sort to plan for rainy days, even when the weather promised sun and heat...and he had a weather app).
"Alright. We need to get to someplace a little more secure than this. Being out in the open could prove problematic. Once that's done, we can sort out how to respond properly."
A frown.
"We'll head back to my place. He doesn't know me so it should be secure enough for the moment."
Margot
Margot was well aware of what weather would come, but still enjoyed to play spectater to the display of a good storm. She'd dressed in jeans and sneakers and brought this black hooded sweatshirt to go over her T-shirt for when the heat of the day broke for the rains. She walked with her shoulders up, tense and defensive. With her phone back in her hands she stared at the number for a few more moments, then tore her eyes away to look back up while they walked. Breathe in. Breathe out.
"Okay," she agreed to heading back to his apartment instead of her own. "You're right, okay."
She swallowed and dug around in her sweater pockets, found her keys and held them out to Ned with a look of mingled request and apology-- she always defaulted to being the driver, knowing his own aversion to the road given her (loose) understanding of the circumstances of his Awakening. With her heart trying to jackhammer out of her chest and throat and the bottom trying to drop from her stomach, though....
Along with the keys, she handed over her phone again, with the voicemail queued up for him to hear. Like his hearing would help ground her further, assure her that her panickiness wasn't blowing things out of the water. Reality could be tricky when it kept trying to tinge black and red at the edges.
Ned
Ned's own anxiety seemed to rear glance down at the keys. It was a moment, stark and clear. A sharp balking pause that had her continue forward a pace or two. He's staring at the keys with a heavy frown. Before she has a chance to reconsider or apologize or voice anything, however, he's taking them up and offering a quick nod, breathing as well.
He took the phone as well after a quick sidelong glance in her direction, slipping the keys into his other hand, even as they pushed toward the car waiting on the edge of a side street. They'd lucked out finding a Broken meter and he took a couple quick glances to the street in either direction before crossing toward Margot's little civic.
All the while he's listening to the message with something like concentration on his face. It might seem like he's lost for a second, but after the message is done, he's dropping the phone into his pocket and opening the door to the car, glancing across the roof at her with a nod of reassurance.
"Let's just get someplace safe for now."
The car door slips shut, he hands her back her phone. The keys go in and the engine kicks on.
Margot
It was a little bit of a walk to the broken meter they'd found and parked by-- outside the lot, against the curb. Margot'd pursed her lips when she saw Ned's hesitation but just as her fingers started to curl around the keys again he'd snatched them up out of her hand resolutely and they were on their way.
As they walked, Ned heard the following play from Margot's phone:
"Marge." A huff of breath, laughter breathed but not well-vocalized. "You run away, you change your number. I had to get it from the receptionist at Mom's facility. I'm hurt, you've got me thinking you don't want to talk to me anymore."
There was a cadence and confidence of charm to the words but the voice itself was rough and cracked. It was a man, probably around their age or somewhere in between. He coughed aside the receiver and continued on.
"Mom's doing well. She misses you. I mean, I think she misses you, but it's hard to tell. On account of, well, you know... But hey, that reminds me, I have a couple of questions for you. The details are a little blurry, but I'm pretty sure that at some point before you am-scrayed across the continent you blew off my fucking arm!" There's a slam and rattle in the background, glass upon wood, a bottle upon a table. Breathing, thin and ragged for a few seconds, then:
"Call me. You have to come home sometime, we both want to see you. And don't go changing your number again."
After that the phone went in Ned's pocket, and Margot didn't say a word of it. Just nodded along with him when he suggested they just go for now, talk it out when they're elsewhere. She fastened herself into the passenger seat and sat with her hands over her face, fingers threaded into her hair, breathing her way back to calm. It made for a quiet passenger in the drive, but that was probably okay by Ned, as it allowed him to focus on the road. Margot's car was reliable and easy enough to drive, at least.
Ned
The ride was slow. Easy on the both of them, really. The evening traffic was relatively light, especially in the rain, but the weather didn't make Ned's efforts any easier. He brakes at every stop sign. Stops at every yellow light and waits until the way is absolutely clear of pedestrians before he makes any turns, left or right.
It is a long and quiet ride back to his place, but eventually, with the rain finally petering off into small plops and drops, they make it back to his apartment building. He extracts the keys and hands them back to her rather quickly, almost as if they're hot to touch. He pushes the driver's side door open and locks the door before slipping it closed.
"Neighbourhood's not the greatest so take anything of value out, yeah?"
Before fishing around in his coat pocket for his own keys.
"You can stay here tonight. We'll get you sorted and I can go by yours to pick up some of your stuff. After that, maybe we can find someone with some Corr to put up some wards on your building..."
Keys go into the security door and he's pulling it open, holding it there to turn and look at her for the first time since they climbed into the car. The hallway ahead is brightly lit, the elevators (two of them) dingy looking, at least by the door's appearance.
Margot
A long, quiet, gentle ride was good for the both of them. One uneventful drive later and they were parked at Ned's apartment building in a questionably unsafe part of town, and by that point Margot's panic attack had subsided. She'd scrubbed away the marks left from tears through mascara and was breathing normally again. Her mouth was tightly closed, tense, and she still looked pale in the harsh light of the hallway into the building when Ned turned to survey her, but at least she had her shit together.
She was standing with her hood up and hands in her hoodie pockets, one pocket full of phone, the other holding her keys. The only thing of value she felt the need to bring in was the purse hanging from its strap off her shoulder. She was looking at the elevator doors without giving them much consideration, then shifted her gaze up to Ned's face. It was a moment where a weak smile of thanks would be appropriate, but she didn't bother to muster it. Still, it didn't take any of the genuine thanks away from her words.
"Thank you. I didn't consider... I thought he'd be in prison longer, I don't know why he's out so early." She wet her dry lips and raised a hand to scrub her face and sigh and step across the building's threshold into the hallway.
"....Didn't think he'd remember so much either."
Ned
"...We're going to plan this out, Margot."
Ned's reassurance is not the emotional kind. He is similar to the Doc in that manner at least. Margot steps through the door and into the hallway and Ned glances behind them toward the street and landscape beyond, to ensure no one's bothered to follow them in.
"Make sure you're as prepped as possible for dealing with this circumstance and that includes handling all the preventative stuff."
Elevator button presses. It fails to light up but Ned's confident of it's arrival if his posture is any indication.
"He's out. He's got your number. We know that much. Confrontation potential is high. The longer we wait for him, the worse off it gets. Judging by the phone call, he's still pretty emotional. Which is good. We can use that." Matter of fact. Eyes on the Elevator. Contingency placement.
"We shouldn't be waiting for him, either. To calm down, formulate a plan of his own and then possibly come find you. Won't do your nerves any good and it you can't just pick up from your apartment entirely. He got in contact, which means he's got a number available which means he can be contacted. We set this up on our terms, in our way. Know your enemy...means you rob of him of his best weapon..."
The elevator chimes open, a dusky brown interior that smells vaguely of new furniture. Ned steps in, turning with his hands in his pockets to stare up at the Floor numbers.
"...Fear."
Margot
Reassurance and calming a person down could be executed in several ways. Margot ran with a pair of Mages that didn't lean toward hugs and headpats and comfort. Both were too logical, the Doc too stiff and Ned simply too practical for such things. Making a plan and remembering how solid the ground they stood on was the approach he would take, and Margot quietly listened, nodding once or twice here or there.
As the elevator doors creaked their way open, though, Margot's brow knit together and she frowned ahead at first, then to Ned's shoulder when he stepped ahead and into the 1970's elevator that'd carry them to whatever floor he lived on. Frowning, she stepped in after him and turned to face the doors, her own hands in her pockets as well.
"Of course I know him. He's my brother." The last three words were as much a statement of how much she knew as they were a hollow plea. She didn't like the word 'enemy', it had dropped within her like a rock in an empty pail.
"....He's not going to do anything to Mom. That's the only reason I'd go back, for her. He won't hang around waiting to see if I call his bluff or not."
Ned
"...You need to be prepared for the eventuality that he isn't your Brother anymore. Past reflection, maybe-"
The doors chime open. Ned didn't live that far up, apparently. Stucco walls and cheap well stained carpeting lead the way down a series of close together doors. Bachelors didn't need a lot of room after-all. Ned's fumbling for his keys again, eyeballing the front door one.
"-but ultimately, he's got motives and he is going to try and use those memories between the two of you to push back back and put you on the defense. Just like mentioning your mother. Just like mentioning what he remembers-"
The door unlocks and Ned nudges it open, the chill of the rain sweeping out to slap at him. He'd left a window open again. God damn it.
"-If ever there was a time for you to go looking for a reason to talk to a War Goddess. Now's about right, really..."
He pushes in through the door, the narrow hallway leading into the main room, featured only a single simple narrow door which led into the bathroom, with it's stall shower, tiny counter and toilet all crammed into a four by three space. The main room was a kitchenette, with hot plate and mini-fridge, a coffee table, with a futon that obviously turned into a bed, clothes evvverrryyyyywhere (#orderlylife) and a corner dedicated exclusively to takeout boxes.
Ned begins kicking most of the clothes into corner, the laundry basket up against the wall already jammed with scrubs and various other articles of clothing.
"Don't worry about the clothes. Anything not in the bin, is clean." No closet space though and really, Ned didn't work a job that made this place anything more than somewhere to crash and isolate for a few hours between panic and paranoia attacks.
The Futon is surprisingly bare of clothing, the sheets on it fresh looking, the quilt draped over the back, comfortable and thick enough to stave off winter. Not cheap.
He shuffles his way toward the windows on the far fall, gaping open on both sides and snaps them shut with a pair of grunts, before turning with a puff of breath to eyeball her.
"You want some tea?"
Margot
Inside of Ned's cramped little apartment (okay, so hers did have a little bit more space in it after all, she'd scoffed with disbelief when he told her that once before) Margot shrugged out of her rain-sodden hoodie and stepped out of her wet shoes as well in a show of manners long since ingrained. Some out of the way place was found for both and she stood near the mouth of the brief hallway before the main room while Ned bustled about moving clothes out of the way. She watched him, frowning soft and perpetual with her fingers tapping together anxiously in front of the bright blazing yellow of her T-shirt (which declared the patriarchy to be bullshit in pretty cursive font).
Did she want tea? Margot blinked, then nodded. "Yeah, thanks." Then moved toward the futon but didn't quite sit yet. Hovered nearby it instead.
"Don't you have siblings?" She asked him this suddenly, looking across the small space between the futon's arm and the kitchenette he was doubtlessly getting water boiling in. "You'd know, then, if you did, that he's always gonna be my brother. He hasn't been a good one for a long damn time, but he's still..." A scowl, a wrinkle of her nose, and she jammed her hands in her pockets.
"...I dunno what he'll have in his head to try and do. I mean....," she cringed, already knowing how bad this was going to sound, but said it anyways, "it was just an arm?"
Ned
"Sister and an adopted Brother. Normal types. Both much younger. We don't talk anymore. Live with my Mother on the other side of the country."
Once again, matter-of-fact, delivered with the sort of dismissal Ned seemed practiced in. If it bothered him, Margot would probably see it on his face. Control of the practical, Ned has down. Control of his emotional state, not as much.
"All I know about siblings, is what I know about family. You choose who you call family. Everyone else is just a relative. Otherwise, that love they obligate you with, makes you a target and taking an arm is enough of a reason to Hate someone. Or love them, depending on how you look at it."
He's futzing about with the Kettle on the hot plate. Manual style, none of that electric stuff (because Ned worked the sort of job that leaving an electric anything on would warrant coming back to a fire hazard). He plugged the hot plate in behind it's pedestal of a cupboard system and then pulled the cupboards open to reveal a dozen and a half types of tea, with all the necessary bits and pieces you could possibly pour into it from honey, to various sugar types, to several flaked and sprinkly things if you wanted to get fancy. Below those on the lowest shelf, was the coffee, also in a half dozen types from instant to the stuff barista's bragged about.
Caffeine was god to anyone in the medical profession.
"You plan on keeping him alive?" Blunt. Straight forward. He's plucked out three different types of tea and set them on the cupboard, pointing at them as if indicating she should choose. Meanwhile, still in his jacket, he moves around what few piles of clothes are left to the faucet and the tiny sink, just beside and above the fridge to fill the kettle.
Margot
Another evening, perhaps, and Margot may have pursued a track of questions about Ned's more mundane aspects of life, the things that she realized she didn't know-- like siblings, a great example. But tonight she was distracted, and Ned was matter-of-fact and didn't seem bothered to linger on the family he had on the other side of the country. He was pointing out the difference between family and relative, bustling about to get the necessary components to tea ready.
The question he'd presented had Margot fixing him with an expression of dull shock. "Jesus, Ned." That was all he got at first, the look and exclamation, then Margot drifted over to the counter to scope out the tea options. She leaned toward minty first, something marketed as calming if no mint presented itself. Eventually, though frowning and keeping her arms tucked over her chest to smother the flutter-ache-worry within it, she conceded an answer.
"I don't want to kill him, I've got enough of his blood on my hands already."
Ned
"....And vice versa."
He offers in response. The kettle continues to fill slowly. The faucet is crap, apparently.
Margot's options do present a Peppermint option, from a Herbal store no less if the lacking brand name is any indication.
"You hang onto your guilt too much, you know that? Might as well be Catholic...." The kettle's finally full and he turns off the faucet, moving around the clothes and pieces once more to set it on the hot plate and flick the dial to max to get things going. He plucks up the Peppermint box, seemingly agreeing with her 'calming' thoughts and pulls a pair of bags out. Then goes hunting across the room for the overhead cupboard above the sink and faucet. A dozen mugs, two plates, and a couple of bowls,a longside a plastic tray of utensils all mashed together, present themselves to the eye for the few seconds the cupboard is open. Ned plucks down a spoon and a pair of featureless mugs, one white, one purple, and returns to the hotplate, setting both atop the inactive element. The kettle's metal bottom begins to ting and pop as it heats up.
"Killing him has to be an option, Margot. If you can't turn him, shift his attention or get him to recognize he needs help."
A pause.
"Especially given how intensive life has gotten for you since then..."
Margot
Peppermint was agreeable for both of them, and for her part Margot tried to just stay out of the way. She knew that tiny kitchens weren't made for more than one person, and though she wanted to put her hands to work to help aleviate the restlessness and start helping put tea boxes away, or tidy up, or shift clothes piles, this wasn't her space. She settled for keeping her hands tucked between elbows and ribs and chewing her lip instead.
"Or Jewish," she added to his comment about Catholicism. Following that, or more to the point, following his insisting that killing has to stay on the table, quiet washed over the witch again. Her mouth pursed and she was shaking her head slowly, perhaps without even realizing it so small was the motion.
Eventually she looked back up to Ned, appearing like someone between a cliff's edge and a hard place would.
"If it comes down to his life or mine, obviously I'm going to end up doing what I have to. It happened already before. It's just.... that has to be, like, Plan C. Or D. Or F. Plan F for Fuck That."
Ned
"Listen..."
He breathes, because there wasn't anything left for either of them to do and Ned's been skirting the topic as best he can which...really isn't very good, but there comes a time to be direct which he obviously hasn't been so far. He pulls out the sweet bin, with it's various sweeteners and sets it next to the mugs.
"...If it comes down to it, you're going to do what you have to do but I will not let it come to something like that. No plans A through F, just plan A, with a B. You're plan A. You get whatever shot you want to take however you want to take it at this Brother of yours. You take aim, pull the trigger and it goes off however you mean it to. Fine."
The kettle's beginning to hiss.
"But if that doesn't work then I'm Plan B. I'm going to do my best to take my shot and make sure I'm keeping you, me and the Doc as safe as possible. That doesn't include taking your personal feelings into account, until after the fact. You're either going to hate me, resent me or cry on my shoulder or all three when it's done but I'm giving you fair warning right now. He doesn't get to hurt you anymore. That simple. So when it comes down to it, make sure you get your Plan A correct....cause I really don't want you hating me and you really need to sort out your problems."
The kettle begins to whistle and he snatches it off the hot plate before it wakes the neighbours. He drops his eyes to the mugs, filling both with their tea bags and then turns off the hot plate. He brings the kettle over to the sink and sets it down inside, before returning for his tea, hand already reaching for the honey.
Margot
Listen.
Margot straightened up and filled her lungs with a breath and steadied her gaze on Ned. It was time to lay it out straight, and she was willing to hear Ned out. She usually was, after all-- it was a seldom thing that she was cutting anyone off into silence, and it was difficult to picture her covering her ears and refusing to come out from under the shelter of denial. They were both Awakened and floundering with it for a time. If either were built for denial, they wouldn't have fought so hard to seek out understanding.
The explanation of their roles as Plans A and B was digested easily. It was Ned's explaining why he really didn't want to have to come down to Plan B that had the most effect. Edges of resolve softened with-- what was that? Gratitude? Sympathy? Affection? Some blend of the three no doubt.
"Ned." He was filling mugs with water and teabags and pulling out honey and sweeteners, so she spoke his name to still his attention first.
"That, ah... means a lot. So thank you." The tea bag would need time to steep and the mug was probably quite hot to the touch still, so she let it be. Gaze fell away from Ned and to the mug, watching the water stain with peppermint and other herbs. "Hopefully we won't have to find out if that'd be enough to hate you."
Ned
(Willpower)
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 4, 4, 4, 6) ( success x 1 )
Ned
"If it is, I'm gonna have the Doc mind wipe the both of us."
It's...really difficult to tell if Ned is actually joking when he says this. The sheer level of dead pan is epic in proportion. If only for a split second. Then he's grinning wildly and picking up his mug with a hiss of intolerance. The honey goes in, the spoon stirs and he is finally ready to doff his jacket and sling it into one of the many clothes cluttered corners.
"You're gonna sleep on the Futon-" waving at any objections "-because I've got a Shift coming up in a couple of hours so we can trade off. Computer's set to netflix at your leisure so waste some time until you feel tired or after you wake up. Cereal's in the cupboard next to the dishes and there's some fruit in the fridge for garnishing. Milk should be good for at least another few days. I'll pick up some more groceries after work's done."
He's blowing on his tea, frowning at the steam.
"Cool it, you."
Talking to the mug of liquid. He slumps down onto the couch, blowing continuously on the contents.
Margot
The pause in the air is nearly thick enough to cut and then spread on a bagel, after Ned said he'd have their memories wiped. Margot was struggling to determine if he was joking or not, and the wide wild grin that followed didn't entirely convince her otherwise. It was let to lie, though, as talk of arrangements was made. She offered no objection to the assignment of sleeping on the futon, for frankly she was having trouble seeing where else her head would be laying for the evening. The question of where he'd sleep was soon answered by an explanation that he simply wouldn't, not for a while at least (the unfortunate hours of hospital workers....).
Her own mug was taken up, flavored with a light amount of sugar, and she drifted to join him on the futon. She eased into a sit slowly and didn't slump, but leaned forward over her lap with her elbows on her knees. Blew the steam from the top of her tea absently.
"...I'll bet that Pen and Nick would be able to take Yorick. They've probably got the space for him." A pause, then she frowned and turned her head to look past her arm and shoulder back to where Ned lounged. "I don't really know how many details I want to give them. I don't really want... I know people worry and care and I just don't want them getting too involved in this, you know?"
Ned
"Especially given they're mages. Nick might sit you down on a therapy couch while Pen-"
Ned stares at the open air for a second, imagining the Flambeau's response.
"Well yeah. Crusades have been started over less, I think."
He sipped gingerly at his tea.
"Yorick can come here and puddle about for as long as you need. I'll be in and out with work this week, so we may not catch each other too much. In the meantime, you can sort out what you want to do about this circumstance." Another pause to sip. "Your place. Is it lodged under the student housing? School attached? Cause that will be easy for a relative to find through the school."
Margot
The thought of Nick's therapy couch didn't worry her that much. She's already talked over her post-traumatic stress disorder with him once before and survived. She wasn't too eager to go through it a second time, though. She had the feeling that he would coach conflict resolution and just wasn't sure how far that would get her, honestly. Pen's enthusiastic response to a threat upon these bright-eyed Apprentices was well summed up by the mention of Crusades as well.
The offer to access here was met with a smile of thanks and a nod of acknowledgement, then Margot turned her head to face forward once more. Finally took a scalding sip of her tea and hummed thoughtfully at the question he'd presented.
"It is.... the scholarship helps fund the rent, so it's all in the papers somewhere no doubt." Her back curved forward more after a small sigh as she started plotting through this aloud. "It took me three days to get out here myself. I'm guessing he's still in Maine, I don't think he would have waited until he was halfway here or here already to have left a message quite like that. Could be here this week, could wait... I don't know. If I could just track him this would be easier, but I'm not there yet."
Another sip from her mug, and she added: "Maybe Andraste wants me to face this first. Closing this chapter might be a test before she'll let me Seek."
Ned
"Nevermind what the Doc would do to him..."
Ned murmurs, thoughts of disassembling and anatomical re-arrangement already drifting through and beyond his current thoughts.
"Blood's part of your toolset and you've got Corr though...no time" Frowning now over his tea. "Can't do much more beyond anticipating him in the now. Suppose we could maybe put out some feelers to see if some other Mage might want to track him for us. Can make up some excuse or-...nah, that's not gonna work. Too many questions and threats."
He pauses, tapping his chin.
"Unless we do it digitally. He's gotta be spending something. Could maybe tap one of the VAs in town...see if they can trace a credit card or bank card of his. That'll at least put him in the city at some point or another and it's innocent enough not to warrant too much in the way of suspicion."
On the subject of War Gods, Ned is unsurprisingly succinct.
"I think dealing with your Brother, counts as bonus points in Andraste's 'get on with it' column..."
Margot
The thought of what their Mad Scientist mentor might do if he was feeling protective and got a hold of Luke sent a small shudder down Margot's spine. The brief image of a flayed body on a cold steel table hung around just long enough to be recognized before it was promptly chased away.
"Grace might be willing to help with that. She's the perfect level of acquaintence for it too-- nice enough to help, probably, but not close enough to really start prying into my personal reasons or hang ups for things." There, a next step, a plan. At least in part. She was willing to bet Grace would be able to set it up that alerts on Luke's spending could come right to her phone, without having to keep the Virtual Adept in the loop as a middle man for this information. Ned tapped his chin thoughtfully and Margot tapped the side of her mug just the same way.
They agreed on the subject of Andraste, and finally Margot relaxed enough to lean back onto the couch instead of hovering forward at its edge any longer. Took another, deeper sip of the tea now that it had cooled just a little more.
"Suppose it was gonna come to this eventually, either with me going East or him coming West. I thought going back would be best but... I suppose my definition of 'home court advantage' has changed since then."
Ned
Ned sets his tea on the small coffee table, the laptop at the far corner pulled close and flicked open. There was no password on it, simply a quick touch pad click that opened up a sparse desktop. The netflix logo was the most obvious hallmark.
"Good. Grace is the only body I know that could possibly pull that off. We'll set up a meeting at some point in the next couple of days to go over the details. After that, we can better plan for where and when to deal with this. That also gives you time to work on your Plan A."
He pulls himself to his feet with a grunt, moving around the room to dig through piles of clothes or otherwise. Eventually he comes up with a pair of scrubs (which he sniffs, considers and shrugs) before heading toward the bathroom.
"Our shit comes back to haunt us all eventually. Figure that's what a Seeking's all about anyway. Might as well head off anything Andraste can show you during that clusterfuck by dealing with it now." The bathroom door closes most of the way as Ned gets changed, already prepping for the work shift to come.
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