No, everything is not fucking cool

Officer Brandt

It’s Sunday afternoon on a cold, but otherwise bright, day. There’s no fresh snowfall outside, but an occasional blast of wind stirs up loose flakes and sets them flying through the air and drifting into new piles. The roads are relatively clear and pavements – at least in the busy centre of the city – have been scraped and gritted and salted. It’s nothing that anyone who hasn’t just moved from a sunshine state would have any trouble dealing with.

Alexander isn’t outside just at the moment, though. He’s tied up somewhere in the back of the Downtown Denver PD station, working through yet another pile of the administrative hassle that comes with the job. Arresting the shoplifter was the easy part. Various windows sit open on his PC screen, waiting for his attention. Waiting for data, to be filed and stored and analysed and – most likely – forgotten about when it was decided that prosecuting the guy wasn’t worth the hassle. But that wasn’t his decision.

The PC is forgotten about as he sits back in his chair, turning to look out of the window, several desks’ distance away, and watch the clouds pass over. A mug of coffee cools slowly on the desk. A phone – the one kept for his ‘normal’ life – buzzes away in his pocket with another weather warning. It could be another windy night.

Grace

It's mid-day when Grace decides to stop by. She sent him a text, without much hope of it having gotten through. Didn't he say he'd destroyed his phone or something? So that's how she's standing at the front desk -- another strange woman asking for Officer Brandt. Saying they're friends. She needs to talk.

Which, yeah, maybe they aren't too inclined to fall for it this time. Grace isn't the most persuasive person in the world either. Nervous, in this place of The Law that she so loves to flout. A flash of red coat is all the color in her outfit, her hair wild with wind. No makeup. Doesn't look like the kind of person who would be Officer Brandt's friend.

And yet, she's adamant. "Please, just tell him Grace is here to see him? He'll know me. If he doesn't, you can kick me out."

Hell, they can kick her out just fine right now...

Officer Brandt

The text message was never received. The data would have made it as far as the carrier but no further. The SIM associated with the number was no longer connected to the network – to any network. No, it was in so many small pieces in landfill by now. The same with the phone that it had been plugged into. Before long it would be another piece of data lost into the ether, undeliverable and forgotten about.

He sits there for a few moments more, putting off the tedium for just a little longer, as he grabs his mug and cups it between his hands. He’s taking a sip when the desk phone rings. There’s another walk-in, asking for him by name. He’s a little more cautious this time, after his last ‘friend’ turned out to be nothing of the sort.

From Grace’s point of view, there was more of a conversation than might have been expected for simply passing a message on. It starts that way, the officer behind the desk – 5’8, blond hair pulled back into a tight bun, apparently no sense of humour – dialling a number and saying that there was a visitor for him. But she turns more attention on Grace as she’s asked more about the visitor, maybe starting to judge her as a threat. A brief description is given, just before Grace makes her appeal and offers her name. She says her name is Grace. The officer’s eyes narrow a little as there’s a brief pause on the phone. Then she hangs up.

“Grab a seat, he’ll be down shortly.”

The officer nods to a row of uncomfortable-looking wooden benches along one wall and returns to what she was doing before Grace arrived. Grace might notice the occasional glance from the officer while she waits.

Grace

Grace raises a brow at the officer at the desk, trying to decide whether grabbing a seat is the prelude before they barge down the hall and arrest her for being annoying in a police building. Hey, there is probably a rule for that somewhere.

She doesn't take a seat. Instead, she just nods and says thanks, then goes to lean against the wall, hands in her pockets, yeah. That's right. Not going to do what you tell me...

Officer Brandt

[Awareness? Throwing in a WP, because I'm going for an active feeling thingy before he makes an entrance as his last visitor wasn't such a great one.]

Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (5, 7, 10) ( success x 3 ) [WP]

Officer Brandt

The phone handset is set back into its cradle and Alex takes a breath before doing anything else. Things run through his mind, but the basic thought is the same: why is she here? It could be out of concern for what he’d told her in the park – that he thought he’d snagged the attention of a Union agent. Or it could be something else, given that he was staying scarce from the usual hangouts for the Awakened in the city. It’s not like he’s been passing through the Chantry for post-its warnings of doom and gloom. He wasn’t even that sure that Grace knew where he lived, although he didn’t have any doubt that she’d be able to find out without any great difficulty.

But the description fit the name, and it’s enough to bring him downstairs. It takes a few moments to lock the PC screen and make sure that there’s nothing important left on show on the desk before he makes a move. He stops before pushing through the frosted swing doors behind the front desk, though. A few moments spent with his eyes closed, feeling for things that the Sleepers might be unconsciously aware of – even be guided by without any kind of realisation – to check that it was Grace outside; A few moments where he is more than passively feeling for what’s in the next room. Just like straining to hear something faint, or squinting to make out some fine details, all he concentrates on is that sixth sense that Resonance washes over.

Those moments taken, Alex doesn’t turn about and head back upstairs. He pushes through the doors, letting them swing and slow to a stop behind him, and walks past the desk to meet Grace. He flashes the officer on the desk a brief smile as he passes.

“Hi Grace. You’re maybe not the last person I’d expect to see here, but it’s still a surprise. What can I do for you?”

Grace

She leans back off the wall when he shows up, gives him a smile. "I wanted to talk. About that discussion we had a few nights ago."

Meaning, probably best not to do it here. But you know, maybe they can just continue using codewords.

"I know, police departments are so my usual haunt right? I came anyway, because this is important. You are important."

Officer Brandt

“Yeah, that. The thing I was trying to avoid dragging anyone else into.” Alex sighs, looking around the front office. The officer behind the desk looks away just before he catches her eye. His gaze lingers on the cameras around the room. When he’d been talking with Sasha on the range, it hadn’t been too hard to mask their conversation from the ever-watching eyes with walls and partitions.

His gaze passes over a couple of doors on a different wall to the benches, areas where things can be talked about more privately. Still monitored by CCTV, though. Not that it would (probably) be any great stretch for Grace to kill the camera, but would that leave clues for any Agents who happened to pass through to find.

He growls quietly, although mostly at his frustration about the situation he seems to have found himself in. If he was being watched, how close was the monitoring? He hadn’t noticed anything. And other than his previous visitor and Sasha, he hadn’t picked up on anyone else around the station that seemed to be even remotely Awake.

“We can talk in there.” Alex nods towards one of the doors, left ajar to show its availability before moving towards it. He slides in, holding the door open and letting Grace pass before pushing it closed behind them. “We’ve had a few problems with the camera in here; maintenance can’t seem to trace the problem. It just cuts out now and again.” His eyebrows raise a little, hoping the hint wasn’t too subtle.

There’s a metal table in the room with a couple of metal chairs, all fastened to the floor. The black dome of a CCTV camera lurks in one corner. The walls are a depressing, uniform institutional off-white but are otherwise unadorned. Frosted glass in the door lets a little light in from outside, but otherwise the room is lit by a faintly-buzzing fluorescent strip light secured in the ceiling behind wire netting.

Grace

Usually, when one hears of the cameras mysteriously going out in a police station, it's because the officers destroyed some evidence. A prisoner ended up dead, and they need to disguise the fact that they 'let off some steam' on the guy right before he died of totally natural causes. Grace frowns a bit, but doesn't eye the black dome.

"I'll go in later and make sure that camera looks like it malfunctioned," Grace says, low-voiced so as not to be picked up on microphones.

"Look. Alex. You don't take on something like this alone. And I'll tell you why. You'll lose. And that is more a threat to the rest of us than anything," she says, and pulls her phone out from her coat, making sure to point its screen away from the camera.

She's going to finish what she started -- looking into his every detail to see if they have already done something horrible -- messed with his mind or his body or whatever. Starting with the most vulnerable target...

"Why don't you tell me exactly what happened? What did this person look like?"

[Mind 1: You're still Alex, right? Nothing to see here?]

Dice: 3 d10 TN4 (3, 5, 7) ( success x 3 ) [WP]

Officer Brandt

[Still Aware? Ditching the Arcane penalty, given she's stood right in front of him and not trying to make herself scarce]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (3, 5, 5, 7, 8) ( success x 2 )

Officer Brandt

[Either nobody had been fiddling with Alex's mind, or they were more skilled or subtle about it than she's able to pick up.]

Alex chooses to lean against a wall, back to the camera. This isn’t a formal thing; it’s just a personal friend of his stopping by to ask about something. So it shouldn’t look odd that they aren’t necessarily sat at the table, or that he hasn’t asked anybody else to step in. But, then, that’s what the cameras were there for: gradual cuts – efficiency savings - to departmental funding have eaten into sworn officers, replacing them with civilians and volunteers.

“Hell, I’m not trying to take anything on. Right now, I just want to lie low and disappear from anyone’s notice. I haven’t done anything particular exciting since I sent you guys that message, beyond come to work, go home, and some pretty ordinary leisure pursuits. And that’s why I’ve stayed damned clear of anyone and anywhere that might be of interest.”

There’s another sigh as Alex sinks a little on the wall, but he looks up at Grace as he feels... something. There’s the bending of reality, but not in a way that he recognises. It’s not hard to guess what Grace might be doing – either scanning the room for bugs, checking if they’re being observed by less orthodox means, or looking at him in ways that he can’t recognise. Hell, he’d probably be doing the same. Alex is less concerned about being heard than being observed by the camera, but his own voice drops and becomes quieter, and a whole lot more serious. “Do whatever you need to, but stay the fuck out of my mind.” He knows that he can’t stop her if she tried – hell, he probably wouldn’t ever realise if she was – but that’s one limit that he isn’t willing to knowingly let others pass. He’d told Sera to get out of his mind when she’d tried to show him her wonder. He makes the same request of Grace.

There’s a half-hearted shrug, whatever will happen will happen. He trusts her to respect his privacy – hadn’t she always been clear about that – but that still doesn’t stop him asking.

“The day after I sent the message, I had a phone call from a woman. She knew my name, she knew that I’m a cop, and she knew about the guy.” Kozlowski. The poor bastard who had been sliced open in his own home. “If that wasn’t as suspicious as hell, she showed up here after that and asked for me. She seemed to know an awful lot about me, given that I’d never so much as heard from her before. And hey, here she is, searching for me straight after I’d tripped over something strange.

“As for what she looked like... About 5’7, dark skin, dark hair and eyes. Well dressed, well made-up. Some kind of foreign accent, maybe Africa somewhere.”

There’s a pause. “She gave her name. I’d have tried to look her up if I wasn’t worried about tripping over some kind of monitoring or alarm. Ms Ghali.”

Grace

What Grace is doing isn't quite... getting inside his mind. It's more pointed than that. She's not digging into his natural mental state, just specifically looking to see if it's been altered. And it hasn't. "Well, you should be happy to know your mind has not been messed with," she says, still looking into her phone. "By anyone. And that's all that I was looking for."

Grace looks up from her phone at the description of who Alex is talking about. She shuts everything down and rubs her eyes. "I know who that is. She's one of us."

Jesus Fucking Christ. Ihsan?

"First, I want to apologize. I should have called you first or something. I was working with Mike and I told him about... everything. Ihsan is a student of his. Ihsan Ghali. So. Congratulations, everything's cool."

But the way she says that? Everything's cool? Everything's not cool. She is apologetic there, for just assuming things would be fine. But Ihsan too? She couldn't have explained herself at all to Alex?

Officer Brandt

I know who that is. She’s one of us.

“What?”

There are times when Alex’s resonance seems somehow... fitting. When he’s trying to push other people away because he doesn’t know how to deal with something. When he’s feeling, for want of a better word, righteous. And, now, when he’s pissed. That single word comes out cold, frigid.

Alexander is quiet as he listens to what there is of an explanation. And he stays quiet, watching Grace for a while after. It could be that he’d trying to choose what to say, or it could be that he’s mentally counting to some arbitrary number before he trusts himself to speak. Maybe it’s both.

When he does speak, he’s very quiet. Measured. Cold. “I’ve cut myself off from everything and everyone because nobody thought to tell me what was going on. I’ve spent nearly a month looking over my shoulder, not doing anything that might draw any more attention to myself than I already do. I’m warned about Union agents appearing in the department, and then I get a mystery, Awakened woman asking for me straight after a murder where the killed vanished into thin air. Nothing at all suspicious there that might attract unwanted attention.

“And you want to congratulate me? No, everything is not fucking cool.“

He pauses again, for a heartbeat and a breath. “She’s dealt with, right? The murderer? “

Grace

Time was, Grace would be terrified of an angry cop having taken her into a back room with a faulty camera and loosing some rage on her. That time has passed. She just lets him speak, and then, when he asks that question, she nods.

"Yes. I explained it all on Ginger, but I guess you'd broken your phone by then. I'm sorry. I didn't know you were so out of the loop. If I had, I would have been there."

This is why we tell people important pieces of information. This is why we don't isolate ourselves. Lessons for everyone, right?

Officer Brandt

Alexander is angry. Pissed, even. But Grace wasn’t in any real, physical danger from him. Hell, she was probably more capable of defending herself than he was. At least with her phone in reach.

Grace had said that he’s important, but really? How important must he feel right now, knowing that he’d been an oversight. Oh, all very important when people were asking for information. But then hardly important if it had been weeks since he’d dropped out of all communication and nobody had thought to check he was even still breathing. Oh, he’d been making himself scarce, but Grace had just shown how easy it was for anyone who knew much about him to find him.

Grace says the murders were dealt with. Alexander nods. “Good. Then you don’t need anything more from me. Goodbye, Grace.”

Alexander pushes off from the wall and starts for the door.

Grace

She nods back at him. "Okay. One more thing, before you go. The one who physically performed the murders was... not himself at the time. He was under the influence of a Nephandus. That Nephandus is dead. My number's 314-1957 if you want to know more. I figure you might have lost all your contacts. If you ever need me --"

The sentence goes unfinished. As steady as her voice is, it's obvious she's upset. Doesn't meet his eyes. Seems defeated, almost. She doesn't finish the sentence before she turns and walks out.

That Nephandus is dead. But not the murderer.

Well, now she knows that Alex would rather handle any and everything on his own. He won't think he needs her until it's too late. Too bad for him that Grace lets people make their own decisions up to the point where they become a threat.

All she offers are choices. Call or don't.

Officer Brandt

Alexander pauses, almost to the door – hand outstretched to grab the handle – when Grace throws the last pieces of information at him. Grace sees his head cock to the side as she says himself, maybe something doesn’t quite match up as he’d been calling the murderer she in their last couple of meetings. But in the end, Grace says it’s dealt with. The Nephandus was dead. It’s over.

“I know where to find you. Be seeing you.” He’s still facing the door, so she won’t see his face as he pushes her away. Doesn’t see that his eyes close and he sighs, although she’ll see the sagging of his shoulders as he exhales.

It had been mentioned at least once that he’s probably too new, too weak, too inexperienced – too unimportant – to be of any particular interest to anyone. Maybe he was better off without the community dragging him into the latest disaster.

Only time would tell.

He opens the door and leaves without another word, headed into the back offices of the station.

That's a loaded question, these days

Alex

It wasn’t a dark and stormy night, but it looked like it soon would be. It’s late afternoon and the light of day is already starting to wane, the clouds speeding overhead blocking much of the sunlight and making the day seem darker that it should be. To the west, the division between mountain and sky is blurring as snow falls thickly. The rain hasn’t yet arrived over Washington Park. People are already beginning to make their way home, to escape the oncoming blizzard before it hits. What few families and runners and other random people usually found in the city parks are starting to make their way home, or at least to somewhere warmer and more sheltered.

The park has been something of a magnet for the supernatural over the past year or so, but it hasn’t done too much to discourage many of those who are aware of such things from coming here. Perhaps because it’s just as much a magnet for more positive meetings amongst the Awakened. So it’s maybe not surprising to find Alexander here. He’s away from his usual hangout, though. Away from the lake where he’d met the Message twice. Away from the basketball courts. Away from the patch of trees where he’s played Hide and Seek not so long ago.

He’s there, though, near one of the stone circles that have been scattered around for people to light fires. There’s a small fire flickering away, flames buffeted by the slowly building wind. Alexander is dressed for the weather – heavy jacket, hiking trousers, walking boots. He’s sat on a folded-up blanket, protecting him from the wet and the cold of the ground, and there’s a rucksack sat on the ground close by. His attention is on the fire, arms outstretched as he absent-mindedly warms them near the flames.

Ian

Winter has arrived early this year. The wide open vistas of Washington Park lie still in the fading light, blanketed with layers of new-fallen snow. By the time Ian gets there it's cold enough to warrant proper winter attire. Cold enough, in fact, that most of the park's visitors have surrendered the fight to the elements and gone to warm up indoors. Its that relative emptiness that attracts Ian to the park tonight. When he arrives he leaves his car underneath the same streetlamp that he once damaged (on purpose, and for entirely selfish reasons.) That was nearly a year ago now, and the bulb has long-since been replaced.

He makes his way through the park along one of the winding paths, hands in the pocket of his coat as he watches the sky shift from blue to grey. Delicate flakes of snow descend around him in a lazy pattern, cast about by a drifting breeze. Elsewhere in the city, hoards of Black Friday shoppers are bustling their way through the city's packed malls and crowded parking lots, but here in the park those things seem a thousand miles away.

Eventually the orange glow of a small fire appears in his field of vision. Ian glances toward it and recognizes Alexander's shape in the snow. The other Orphan feels very much as though he belongs here - the crystalline, frozen quality of his resonance blends with the scent of ice in the air. Ian takes a moment to consider the picture from a distance before turning off the path.

He doesn't try to hide his steps today, so Alex will likely hear him approaching. His shoes crunch quietly in the snow as he approaches from the back. When he arrives, he comes to a stop beside the fire, glancing between it and Alexander. He's dressed in jeans, dark boots (heritage Redwings,) and a sheepskin-lined leather coat, with a pale grey cashmere slouch beanie hat. There are leather gloves on his hands too, but he pulls them off to crouch down and stretch his hands over the flames.

"All alone today?"

Grace

[Awareness!]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (4, 5, 8, 8, 10) ( success x 3 )

Grace

She doesn't really want to get out of the car.

Inside the car, it's warm and dry. There's no snow on the inside. Things are as they should be. Outside, well... It is Winter in Denver, and this does not bode well.

However, as she was driving along this afternoon, trying to pick up some things while the roads were still somewhat okay to drive on, she found some... interesting sensations in the direction of Washington Park. Normally, that would be a concern, except that she has a sense for who they might belong to.

Is it enough to brave the outside? Well, she hasn't seen Alex in forever...

Shortly after Ian arrives, so does Grace, with a scarf wrapped about her head, and her red coat all buttoned up, her hands shoved in there like she'd rather layer as much as possible.

"Mmm, it doesn't look like it from here? Hi Ian. Alex. 'Sup?"

Alex

Ever since that eventful day nearly two years ago now – no longer New Last Thursday – there had been something of an affinity between Alexander and the winter climate of the city. He had always been something of an outdoors person – much happier walking, running, hiking, climbing – than someone who vegetated in front of the TV. But since he’d opened his eyes to the true nature of the world, since his Awakening had marked him with his resonance, it just seemed like he fit better.

So here he perches, alone and seemingly unbothered by either the solitude or the climate. But, then, he was dressed for the weather and he’d cut off much of his link to the other Awakened in the city when he’d received an unexpected phone call. That had been reinforced when that woman had shown up at his place of work, unexpected and unannounced. And seemingly well informed about what he’d been looking into just a short time before. It had seemed safer to stay away from the Chantry, the Warehouse… To be as ordinary as he could.

Alexander looks up from the fire as he hears the sound of footsteps in the snow. His had started to fade, covered by the light snowfall that held the promise of what was to come over the next few hours. His attention shifts to Ian, weighing and judging his arrival in his mind, deciding whether to stay or go. For the moment, he stays. His reply catches on a breath, frozen on his tongue, as Grace arrives too. This probably wasn’t the greatest of places to be if he wanted to stay away from the others, but then it had been weeks since he’d even set eyes on another Awakened.

“Given some of the crap that’s been going on recently, it seemed like a good idea. How’ve you guys been?”

Ian

[Awareness]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 3, 4, 6, 8) ( success x 2 )

Ian

[and alertness]

Dice: 6 d10 TN4 (2, 4, 6, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 5 )

Ian

It's been a while since Ian's seen most if the other Awakened himself. They do that sometimes: flow together, drift apart. Life is often like that. He doesn't feel Grace approaching the same way he felt Alex, but he picks up the sound of her steps in the snow and glances back over his shoulder to make note of her. The red of her jacket catches his focus for a moment before he turns back to the fire.

"Mm, you may not be wrong about that." He notes ambiguously to Alex. He tilts his head to regard Grace, a faint slip of a smile pulling at one side of his mouth. "That's a loaded question, these days." (Asking them how they've been.) "All things considered, they could be worse." He glances back at Alexander. "I've been trying to enjoy my last few days off before I go on tour for a month. You?"

There's a brief pause before he adds, "Mind if I commandeer some of your blanket?"

Grace

"Loadiest of questions," Grace says, sighs dramatically -- a bit too dramatic for her to really mean it. "Chasing after a Nephandus did wonderful things for my psyche, I'll have you know." But not so much that she seems especially bothered.

She gives a smile to Alex, a welcoming thing, even if she's not going to request to share his blanket. He really thinks being alone will save him from evil things? Is that it? My my...

"Everything's pretty calm now, though. Wonder how long that will last..."

Oh, enough time to have some good holidays, right? Right?

Alex

“Nothing loaded into the question, although I guess that doesn’t make it any simpler to answer sometimes. Hope you’re enjoying the free time.” Alex shifts unfolding the blanket some more. There’s less protection from the ground – the snow would melt through before too much longer, but then the blizzard would most likely have arrived by then – but it does give enough space for three to sit without getting cold, wet asses. “Where are you touring?”

Grace gives Alex a smile, but it’s barely returned. Maybe it’s just the talk of the Fallen. “Is she still out there? Or has that whole thing been taken care of now?”

Ian

This kind of news tends to make the rounds in Awakened circles. Ian hasn't spoken to Grace in weeks (months?) but he's more aware of everything that occurred than Grace may realize he is. When Alex asks her if everything's been taken care of, he gives Grace the space to answer for herself, his expression quietly cryptic and withdrawn. Alex unfolds a section of the blanket and Ian sits down on it, draping his arms loosely over his knees. The cold air bites at his unprotected hands, but the heat from the fire is enough to keep the worst of it at bay. Alex is a solid, grounded presence beside him. It isn't altogether unwelcome, though the two of them would probably not call each other friends - not yet, at least.

"Maybe we'll get lucky and have a calm winter," he offers to Grace, though he knows the chances of that are unlikely.

To Alex he says, "We're hitting a bunch of cities. Vegas to start, then LA. After that, you'll have to consult my calendar."

Grace

"I put a message up on Ginger. Yeah, the situation's... about as taken care of as it can be."

Mike told her about how just killing The Artist wouldn't be enough. They'd show up again, someday. Reincarnated. The whole thing makes about as much sense to Grace as being reborn does, which is to say -- not much. But whatever. That particular thing will be quiet. For now.

"No more chimeras. No more serial murder sprees." The latter performed by a man who swept her off her feet when she didn't even know sweeping was possible. But she's not telling them about that.

Alex

“If I had anything to drink, I’d toast to a calmer winter.” Alex snorts at the thought, though. As if the world gives a damn that they wanted a bit of time to rest before the next end of the world. “Sounds like whoever planned the tour doesn’t like being cold. Is Hawaii in the itinerary too?”

Ah, Ginger. The indispensable messaging service for the Awakened that, sadly, relies on them having some way of calling into it. “That’s good to know. I’ve not been on Ginger in a while. My phone met an untimely end.” Alex sighs, crossing his arms over his knees and resting his chin on them. “I think the fans of dark suits and mirrored sunglasses were getting a little too close, so I thought it best to destroy it. One of them came to talk to me, seemed to know a lot about my business.

“So, yeah. It seemed best to avoid dragging any attention closer to you guys than I had to. That’s why I haven’t been by the office in a while.”

Ian

No more serial murder sprees. For the moment, anyway. Ian watches Grace while she speaks, his eyes tracking the details of her face - the subtle shifts in her expression. Almost, he starts to say something, but then Alex asks if he's heading to Hawaii and mentions, a little too casually, that he had a run-in with a (supposed?) Technocrat.

Ian turns his head a bit suddenly, regarding Alexander with an expression of muted alarm. "Wait, what? That's not... they don't just stop by for chats, Alex. They either watch you, abduct you or kill you."

See, he can't really connect the dots. What he knows about the Technocracy versus what Alexander just told him. But either way, the news is more than a little alarming.

"What happened? What did they want to talk to you about?"

Grace

"Holy shit, Alex, what?" is Grace's reaction in a nutshell. All the sudden, that quiet time she was looking for just flew out the window.

And, she goes silent as a hand comes out of her coat pocket with her phone in it, and she begins to Work. If there are Technocrats after Alex, she'll want to be sure he isn't being watched right now. Or set to explode. Or any number of things.

[Corr 1: Any tracking devices in the area eh? Actually no, I know there shouldn't be, but that's the first thing to check...]

Dice: 3 d10 TN4 (2, 6, 8) ( success x 2 )

Alex

“A mutual friend warned me of some unwelcome guests trying to get friendly with the admin staff.” He’s talking to the fire more than to the others. “Not long after I let you guys know about the case I’d walked in on, I got a phone call from someone I didn’t know. She knew my name and she knew the name of the guy involved in the case. That was about the time that my phone met the shredder.

“Then the day after that, this woman just appears and asks for me. Says she wants to help me, but wouldn't say how. She wanted to get me alone. I refused, she left, and I’ve not heard anything from her since. But that’s why I’ve been so keen to be alone for a while and trying to be a good little Sleeper.”

Alex looks to Ian, then to Grace. “I’m not even sure talking to you now is the greatest of ideas ever. I should probably go, but you said I should let you guys know if I thought one was getting close. I would have, if I’d had any way of contacting you that couldn’t be easily traced.”

Ian

Ian watches Grace pull out her phone. He has a rough inkling of what she might be doing, and it seems to relax him slightly. If there was anyone in Denver who could pick out some kind of high-tech spying device, it would be Grace. When she doesn't voice any immediate warnings, he turns his attention back to Alexander, listening while he explains the details of his encounter.

It isn't much to go on really. Ian's expression shifts into a pensive frown as he glances at the fire.

"Maybe she was trying to feel you out. See if you'd make a good recruit, or something." It isn't entirely out of the scope of possibility. Alex is, after all, unaffiliated. And new enough that he probably doesn't present much of a threat in their eyes. Still, the behavior feels odd. More like something a solo agent would do than someone working for a vast network.

He glances back at Alex, and there's a soft crease of tension between his eyebrows. "Or maybe she isn't what you think she is."

Grace

"Well, I don't think you're being tracked," Grace says, mumbles really, into her phone.

"You said she was asking about the Kozlowski case?" she asks, a little more loudly. But she's still messing with her phone.

Maybe it wasn't Alex they were looking for, but Mike. And... okay, yeah, that would look exceptionally bad wouldn't it? And Technocrats wouldn't be the ones to take 'It was one of my past lives' as an excuse.

"Also, do you mind if I scan your body for other nasty things?"

Alex

“I honestly don’t know what she is. She didn’t say, but then she wouldn’t would she. All I know is that she had my name, she had my number, she knows where I work, and she knows about a case I’d only just tripped over.”

Alexander’s attention shifts from the flames to Grace when she mentions the name. “Yeah. She knew the name, and that hadn’t been released to the press at the time. That’s just one of the things that have been worrying me.”

He takes a deep breath, blowing it out slowly through his mouth. “I should go.” The decision seems to have been made already, as he pushes up from the blanket and grabs his bag. “You probably don’t want to be around me for a while. Enjoy the fire. And enjoy Vegas.” This last one, to Ian, with a vague, brief smile.

[More because I really need to crash out than anything, so apologies for bailing.]