milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Alanna has been in and out of the bar more than usual the last few days, armed with books and better warding spells from her communications with Numair. The latest spell has her better pleased than its predecessors, and she's not scowling quite as much this time when she returns from checking on the crime scene. She looks around and takes a seat at Bar, who promptly offers up a steaming cup of coffee and several notes.

She finishes off the coffee as she reads, apparently unconcerned by its temperature. Immediately she asks for pen and paper in order to write the following quick replies:

Dr. Cullen:

Thank you for your offer. Your services would be greatly appreciated, as we need a doctor to examine the remains. Currently the body (what's left of it) and crime scene are protected by a number of spells, but I can lower them for you to have a look. I'm easy to spot -- short, violet eyes, red hair. I'll keep watch for you, but in the meantime, feel free to approach anyone with a security badge about this matter.

Regards,
Sir Alanna

Tom,

Thank you. Would you be able to check the area for signs of magic? I have my own tests for such things, but the Goddess only knows if I'd be able to detect all magic from all worlds. I would appreciate it more than I can say. We should meet, so I can lower the spells currently protecting the scene from outside influence, and so you can speak freely about the possible suspect.

Is Ingress away, I hope?

Sincerely,
Alanna

Mr. Smith,

Thank you for your note and offer of assistance. I -- and any member of security -- would be interested to speak with you about your 'unique gift' and any ideas you might have on how to proceed. This is obviously a case we would like to solve sooner rather than later. Security members have security badges displayed, and Bar would probably be willing to help identify us.

Regards,
Sir Alanna

That done, Alanna settles back with a second cup of coffee and a lot to think about. Most of it concerns West, but she's also starting to wonder where Raph and Abigail are; they were due at Pirate's Swoop well before now. Curious.

[OOC: ~~I have to run several errands, but I wanted to go ahead and get this up. I'll be back in 2-3 hours at the most. Feel free to tag, and I will reply ASAP. :)~~ Back!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Well, now. That all depends, doesn't it?"

He shifts in turn, leaning toward her. The thin coil of rope fastened at his belt -- a new look for Jack Sparrow -- makes a hissing noise against the wood of the booth as he does.

"Did you have anything in mind, luv?"

By now most of her weight is on her elbows as she leans down, eyes locked on his and smirking in a way that feels unfamiliar after the last few days. The hiss has her tilting her head slightly to the right, however, and her eyebrows raise as she catches sight of the rope.

A new look, indeed.

"I might." Beat. "How about a drink?"

Her eyes flick to the rum.

He catches her glance at the rope, and for some reason Jack Sparrow suddenly looks even more smug than usual.

"Me own sentiments exactly." He takes the bottle and sets it down in front of her with a solid 'thump.'

"Drink up, me hearty!"

Very interesting.

After another look at the rope, Alanna reaches for the bottle as she slides into the opposite seat. Drink up she does, tossing her head back when she's finished and sucking air through her teeth.

She clearly hasn't had rum in a while.

"Goddess, I think I needed that."

Undeniably more relaxed than she was when she entered the bar, she walks the bottle back across the table. "My thanks."

"More where that came from," Jack advises her. "No need to go lacking, savvy? Not good when the rum's gone."

He takes a swallow of his own as if to emphasize the point, then asks,

"Those three hellions of yours running you ragged yet?"

The thought of the triplets elicits a devilishly pleased smile from him.

"Good kids, those three. Clever little rascals."

"Not yet," she grins. "I've only been back in their company for two days. Adam, on the other hand..."

Her lips twitch.

"Yes, I've been meaning to ask you why Jamie smelled a bit like the inside of that bottle there after I left them with you."

As if she really needs to ask.

He holds up both hands as if to ward off a blow.

"You said no rum, luv!"

Beat.

"Gave them cider instead. 'S what they asked for, aye?"

Unfortunately, he hadn't exactly limited the options to non-alcoholic cider.

Alanna isn't mad. At all. She's actually quite amused, and at the time, she'd been thankful.

Most of which becomes clear after her stern expression cracks and she dissolves into laughter.

"I can only imagine. I probably should have mentioned that Jamie has taken quite an interest in his father's business." Beat. "Making cider."

Oh, look. The rum bottle seems to have made its way into her hand again.

"In all seriousness, I owe you for that."

Jack grins at her.

"Ah, but the question is, luv -- is he any good at it?"

He shrugs, leaning back.

"Don't owe me a thing."

"Better than he was when he started," she snorts. Then: "I'll agree to disagree about that, if it's all the same."

She watches him as she drinks.

"You look well."

Smug is a good look for him.

"Am well," he promptly responds. "So's only right I should look it."

"Good."

She's glad to see (and hear) it.

Another drink, another smile and her eyes are wide and curious when she asks: "Are you going to tell me about the rope, Jack?"

"Rope?"

Jack blinks.

"What rope?"

"The one coiled at your waist."

Setting the bottle aside, she leans forward again in a rapid movement and points down at the general area of his lap.

...this might look strange to the average passerby.

"There."

Jack looks down as well.

"Ah. That rope."

Beat.

"What about it?"

"It's new," she says, looking vaguely suspicious. "You don't usually carry one."

Some things she just remembers.

"And ropes don't usually make a hissing noise when they touch things."

The last is said quietly, after she takes a quick look around.

"Didn't need one before."

He shrugs.

"This one does. It's oiled, savvy?" He eyes the rope. "At least I think it's oiled."

A beat.

"Maybe he said boiled."

Alanna tries, and fails, to completely stifle a snort of laughter.

"Still wouldn't make it hiss," she points out.

Magic would.

"Why do you need one now?"

She pushes the bottle his way.

"'S not like it's a snake," he points out.

Stubbornly.

"Think I'd know."

Beat. Jack shrugs.

"Needed the rope to find the place what's the key to the door which isn't."

Alanna's forehead wrinkles as she tries to parse his reply.

"Okay."

Beat.

"That makes sense." And it does, in a way, if you know Jack. "What's beyond the door which isn't?" she asks eagerly.

He grins wickedly, gold glinting from a tooth as he does.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing at all. 'S the whole point."

"So why do you want to get there, Jack?"

Hadn't he had enough of nothingness?

Sometimes even Alanna finds Jack very confusing.

"Is the key the thing?"

Now Jack's the one who looks confused.

"Not at all, luv. The key's the point -- not a thing at all."

"The key is the point," she repeats, looking at him askance. "The point of your efforts? What you're after."

A hopeful look.

"I don't suppose I could convince you to start at the beginning."

"Exactly!"

He seems pleased at her perception -- and then frowns again, and waves one hand around at the bar.

"But this is the beginning. The start. The origin, all that sort of thing."