Some Progress With Giles

5/7/2006

06:50 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Currently the moon is in the waxing Gibbous Moon phase (66% full).
It is currently 18:39 Pacific Time on Sun May 7 2006.
Currently in Saint Claire, it is partly sunny. The temperature is 53 degrees Fahrenheit (11 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the west at 13 mph, with gusts up to 20 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.08 and rising, and the relative humidity is 61 percent. The dewpoint is 40 degrees Fahrenheit (4 degrees Celsius.)

Odeon - Lobby(#4049RJ)
The Odeon's lobby is testament to a faded and perverted glory. The deep crimson carpet is thick in places but in others stubbly as velveteen, and the rich pattern of tangling flowers is everywhere marred by dark stains. The walls are clothed in kingly purple tatters of wallpaper, and covered with faded posters featuring women and men in various states of undress, posing with various degrees of tastelessness, and screaming out titles like "Male Service", "Bang Bang: a Sexual Explosion", and "A Slip of Her Tongue" in garish lettering. There's no light in the room but what comes in from the street, and during the day the actresses look grey and ghoulish, and the bright reds and purples of the room faded and dusky; and at night, the place might as well be covered in thick black paint.
Immediately in front of the entrance is dull matte turnstyle which no longer turns, where once tickets were taken. To the right are a pair of doors which some joker has labelled "Pimps" and "Hos" with red spraypaint: these are the washrooms. To the left are a pair of doorways which lack actual doors, and opposite is a grand set of boarded doors which lead into the theatre proper.
Please check +view for further description.
Contents:
Masao
Giles
Obvious exits:
Upstairs  THeatre  Street  

Returning after another short outing, Yi has a couple of paper bags in hand. "Scruffy?" she queries inward and around the lobby. It's not said in a way meant to be insulting, however it does sound much like she's calling a child. Or a dog. Her head is poked around in the office doorway, looking in.

Giles paces restlessly, back and forth in a small area in a corner, keeping to a rough square four or five paces at a side. He mutters to himself, sometimes repeating words, at other times holding up one end of a conversation with no one at all. The wounds on his palms have healed into scabs which he's picked open several times in the past week. There have been times when the residents of the Odeon have even been surprised by the sound of a well-played bluesy harmonica -- but not now. Now, Giles paces, mutters, and shakes his head back and forth, hands hanging loose at his sides, shoulders hunched forward. Though he doesn't respond directly, his voice rises enough to make his mutter understandable. "...understand, you know, you know I don't... no... no, no, I don't *have* any more..."

It's a few moments after Yi's arrival before Masao squeaks through the slight opening she makes in the theatre doors. Blinking a little, she finishes her entrance and makes sure the doors are shut before turning around. Stopping with words practically on her lips, she gives Giles a sidelong look that is a mix of wary curiousity and a softer concern for the mutterings.

Yi sighs for a short moment with a mixture of relief and frustration, before setting the bags on the office desk. "Supper time," she says with a certain finality to it, kind of a take it or leave it. One of the see-through plastic boxes she lifts out holds a cheeseburger and fries, which she turns to take towards the theater. It's after she spots Masao that she waves at the ragabash and gives her a small, but warm smile. "Oh good, you are here. He hasn't been any trouble has he?"

"...don't *have*, I don't *have*," Giles mutters. Cocking his head, he looks toward the two Ragabash with a flat, sidelong look and then sidles over toward the food like... well, like the runt of the pack sidling toward the carcass to snatch a snap of flesh before the inevitable driving-away of larger, better beasts. At least he's stopped talking to himself.

Masao shakes her head slowly and smiles a little, herself. "No...been quiet outsida rumblin' here an' there. I don't get most of it, but...I think I'd kinda have to be in his head for that." Shrugging a little, she wrinkles her nose and looks vaguely towards the outer door. "All quiet on th' western front, I guess."

Nodding, Yi offers over the burger and fries. "For your hard work, Masao," the fostern replies, brooking no rejection of her offering. "Do you know what he keeps on talking about?" A glance goes back to the office doorway, both curious and concerned.

Giles comes within grabbing distance of the food on the desk and hesitates, glancing warily toward the doorway and then away, his expression haunted. One hand comes up and hovers around near his ear, fingers twitching, and he shakes his head back and forth.

Masao brightens a little at the food and looks over to the office as well. "It's kinda a one-sided conversation. Mostly been what you just heard for a little while." One hand delves into the box, retrieving a fry for nibbling. "He reminds me way too much of Crazy Joe...but I think he's got more of a clue than Joe."

Yi gives a thoughtful noise before beckoning Masao to come with. "Let's eat with him. Maybe that will help." The fostern makes her way back towards the office, catching sight of the man once more. "Hey. You want to eat? Eat. It is enough for everyone. Well, almost. Squeaks eats more than any of us I think." She smiles, though it's a tad forced, and moves back over to the desk to start lifting out wrapped up McDonald's burgers and fries. All off the dollar menu, for the most part.

"Us I think," Giles echoes, distractedly, like a man trying to hold a conversation with two people at once. He looks at the food, but doesn't reach out to take any just yet. "Need... need a bone, I mean a phone, call my tin."

Masao follows easily enough, offering as friendly a smile as she can summon to Giles. "Yeah, got all of us beat, Squeaks does." she adds before claiming a corner of the office for herself. The statement earns a raising of her eyebrows and a puzzled expression, "Tin? Um...um...don't think you'd call a tin, mebbe you mean kin?"

"Kin? Phone?" Yi glances back and forth between the two, and then affects a bit more of an understanding expression. "Phone is outside, but... we still do not know who you are. Until Olga says you can go out, I am afraid you are stuck with us here."

With the complaints of age the lobby door opens, loud as a horn, and Olga steps in to the dimming room. Her bag is dropped by the side, collapsed in a plastic heap, and she stretches and yawns with the exaggerated ease of an animal. Mid-yawn, her voice stretched and high, she calls out her "Hi everybody."

Giles mutters, "Kin," with a vague look in Masao's direction and then to Yi. He regards her with a flat, blank stare for two or three seconds and then ducks his head again, greasy hair hanging in his face as he shakes his head. "You, then, you... you-you-you-you, she'll make a twirl, it won't..." He trails off, fishing in the pockets of his filthy, tattered suit.

Masao has two or three fries in her mouth when Olga makes her entrance but tucks everything back into the box so she can get up and poke her head out of the office. "Hey, Olga." she calls back, a little muffled and messy around her mouthful.

Yi browlifts, with all the 'yous' being directed at her. "So..." Though she starts to reply, it gets swept off in the wake of Olga's entry. The fostern lifts a hand to wave. "We have McDonald's. Courtesy of your local 'Generous Gentleman'." The title is assumably... some hapless victim. "And a kin, maybe?" Back at Giles, her gaze goes. She observes his pocket rummaging with anticipation.

Olga moves to the office door, blocking it squarely, hanging monkey-like off its frame but not moving into the now cramped room. "We do, eh?" she answers Yi. "We should write him a thank-you." Her attention, though, is drawn primarily to the muttering man in the suit - she doesn't say a word, but the curiosity and intent in her eyes is obvious. She watches him with a mixture of concern and clinical, detached wonder.

Giles eventually comes up with a battered and stained leather wallet. It bulged once upon a time, and the stretchmarks can still be seen. Now, though, it seems fairly limp, empty but for the little photo-sleeves in the middle and a random assortment of small scraps of paper. His lips move as he searches, shoulders-hunched, through it. Eventually, he finds a *particular* scrap of paper and, still looking downwards at the wallet in his hand, holds it out toward Yi.

Masao retreats back to her corner with her meal, nibbling and watching in a relaxed fashion. She cranes her head slightly at the wallet's appearance but contents herself to observe.

Yi eyes the paper held out at her with a tilt of her head, and then plucks it neatly out of the man's hand. Her gaze roams over the slip and the contents upon it. "Hey, Olga. Why are we keeping him here?" she queries, looking over to the theurge. "He does not seem like a cub, anyway. And if this person is kin, would they not be worried about him?"

[Giles pages: The word 'Sheena' is written on it and a phone number. The handwriting is very open-loops and feminine.]

Olga's answer is uncertain curiosity: "I didn't know we were," she says softly, her eyebrows bunched, her lips twisted and pucked. "He ain't really ours to keep, eh?" She continues to watch Giles, continues to stare at him and soak in any little clues or peculiarities. "What'd he write?"

Giles is just full of those. Peculiarities. Once Yi's taken the paper, he stands there watching her, holding the battered wallet close to his chest. His weight shifts from one foot to the other. "Yours and hers and hers and hers," he says, not really to Yi specifically even though he's looking right at her. Then he frowns, gives his head a little shake, and starts humming under his breath.

Masao sucks on a french fry and frowns a little from the floor. "Curiouser and curiouser..." she says in a soft, sing-song tone and looks from Yi to Olga intently.

Yi offers the paper over for inspection, given the man's words. "A name, and a number. But, no secret agent, I think. We should call her." Sheena, it says, with nice loopy feminine writing. "Maybe he is no cub, but, I wonder who..." Well, her wondering fades away, replaced by a picking up of a cheeseburger.

Olga's atention only passes from Giles fleetingly, questioning eyes flitting to Yi when she answers, and then looking down at Masao before reaching a long arm in to grab a cool hash brown from the ancient desk. "What's your auspice and your rank?" she asks Giles, mid-chew. "What sept are you from?"

Giles's gaze shifts off to the side, to a point between Yi and Masao. His hands clutch at the wallet, fingertips pressing against the old brown leather. "I had... I had a bite, a rite..." He fidgets and continues to look distracted by something none of the rest of them can see. Or hear. "...a rite, you know, you..." He sucks in a sharp breath. "I'm a *Galliard* from *Portland* I'm *family*." Each emphasized word is spat out forcefully, his body jerking forward each time, and then once again, a hand snatching out toward a still-untouched and unwrapped hamburger.

"Okay...that's his moon outta the way. And where he's from." Masao says quietly, smoothing some of the inquisitiveness out of her expression.

"Portland," Yi says with a sort of off in the distance air. "Jeremy was from Portland too." The thought cancels out though, when her eyes dart towards the galliard's quick movement. She clears her throat, and continues eating. "Maybe they are from the same sept?" The fostern gazes up and down the newcomer, evaluating. "But, how do we know he is not just saying this? Maybe it is too questioning of me, but... we can never be too careful."

The emphasis and force of Giles' reply gives Olga pause, and when she speaks to him again her voice is smooth and slow-moving, like a mother soothing a small child: "Alright," she simply says, palm outstretched. "Alright. Don't strain yourself, hon." The last half of her hash brown is quickly being mashed between dirty tobacco-stained teeth. "Way I see it, who cares?" she answers Yi, flatly. "He's family alright - not hard to see that - and where he comes from isn't near as important as what he's doing here." Her eyes go back to Giles, close and attentive. "What _are_ you doing here, Giles? Just hanging out, or you got some purpose?"

Giles juggles the hamburger and the wallet, sticking the latter under his armpit and quickly unwrapping the former, giving little sideways jerks of his head as he skins off the printed paper. "Too close," he mutters at the burger, before shoving it into his mouth and biting off more than half. He turns away and starts sidling in a diagonal, vaguely toward the door. The rest of his answer is muffled behind chewed food.

Masao follows Giles for a moment with her eyes, then shrugs and leans back against the office wall. "He ain't done nothin' bad while he's been here. I hate bein' cooped as much as any, can understand if he wants out."

Yi looks towards Olga for a long time, before finally nodding and picking up a few packets of fries. "You are right," she murmurs with another look at Giles. "Family looks out for family. But, unless he is not able to, he should pull just as hard as we do. I will go call this kin, and see what she has to say." She pushes off the desk, with an additional hesitant pause before continuing on her way.

"Alright then," Olga answers easily enough, as if she's not paying full attention, her eyes following first Giles and then Yi as they pass by her through the office doorway. "Bye." It may be because whatever's left of the food is now undefended: she swoops in swiftly, dumping herself on the desk. "Thanks for the grub, Yi," she calls out loudly, almost spontaneously, when her face is invisible behind the tacky wallpaper.

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