Difference between revisions of "Log:Tiny Room Conspiracies"

23 April, 2018

Five people gather in a tiny backroom of Cat-22 to discuss what they've learned about Suzie Whyte's kidnapping, and to plan next steps.

Cat-22 Collective - Writer's Nook

=========-< << Cat-22 Collective - Writer's Nook >> >-==========

This cute little room -- not much bigger than a walk-in closet -- is notable for being completely lined with books. Specially built-in bookcases cover every inch of wallspace and range in subject matter, but 90 percent of them are literature. Everything from ancient classics to modern tomes are featured here.

Otherwise, the room includes the basics: a twin-sized sleigh bed bed with a green army blanket, a small chest of drawers and a bedside lamp, a window out of which to gaze upon the lovely beauty of the street, and an antique wooden desk featuring a desk lamp, several yellow legal pads, pens of all kinds, and a portable black Underwood typewriter. Down the hall is a bathroom for the exclusive use of the Nook's resident.

Jack did call ahead and said he'd wanted to meet up with Cerise if she was there, and whomever else available. Just to get some reports in - he IS a cop after all and likes to keep track of information, plus he wants to meet Cerise again. All in civilian clothes today, though that ranger car is not very inconspicious - he parked that down the street and walked here. Once inside, he's shuffled into the backroom, begging for some coffee from CB on the way - he looks a bit worn out, but then, it's been busy for him lately with the weather being as it is.

When Jack comes through the door, Cerise's been told by this point that the man wants to meet with her, and she ushers him towards the back. C.B., too, gets gently nudged in that direction rather than be left to sulk in a corner by himself. Luckily for everyone along with Cerise's own ceramic coffee mug, she grabs a whole fresh pot of coffee. When they pass the clean stack of diner mugs C.B. is given an elbow and she points at them, although whether the man deciphers what she's trying to communicate is questionable.

The entire time they make their way to the back, Cerise is chatting amiably. "So, C.B. says you want to meet, but not what about? I hope you don't feel bad that I didn't visit you in the hospital or anything. Things got kind of busy for me right after and recently they've been ... interesting. It's not typically like me to be so self-focused though. I'm really sorry."

C.B. still seems suspicious about all this, but he's providing the Writer's Nook for a meeting space, isn't he? And it's cozy in here, by the way -- like, this room is small. There is, at least, room for people to sit down on the twin bed or take the desk chair. C.B. does neither. He sips from his Cat-22 mug and stands against one of the bookshelves, brooding.

And yes, he did bring some of the clean mugs, which he placed down on the desk. But he hasn't helped himself to any coffee, because he's drinking...whatever it is that's in his own mug.

Oh look, it's Franklyn: pale, frail, wan and weary, dressed some flouncy peasants dress and fringed vest and enough boho jewellery that nearly every movement is accompanied by silvery tinkering sounds. Jingle, jangle. Was she hiding in the kitchen already, waiting for people to convene together? She's in the Writer's Nook now -- brushing past C.B., not moving to the bed, but instead going to kind of linger near the desk; butt perched on the edge, as if sitting in the chair would be too much of a commitment.

Did Frank get a mug? If she did, she's not sipping from it. She's gnawing on a chipped thumbnail instead, hair half covering her face, big green eyes bouncing back between Jack and Cerise as she remains ... uncharacteristically quiet.

Jack most certainly gets a mug, cradling it like it's a lifeline, slurping the brew. He waves a hand at Cerise. "I didn't come see you either. I'd just came back to town and ended up in the hospital - then family grabbed me and it was a bit crazy, yeah." He quirks lips into a mostly friendly smile and sits down on a bed, squinting at the other three. "Thanks for the coffee," he says, raising his mug at C.B, "and for letting us use your place." He slouches a bit where he sits, and skips the chit-chat, not much for that on any given day: "Cerise, you got any information for us? I've gotten into a dead end on my research. Can't find any signs that other psychics were taken in the area."

Just a few minutes late to the party, in comes Avalon. Her hair's in twin braids, and the black dress she wears has a touch of white to it, suggesting that she was baking at her own cafe, before wandering here. "Sorry," she muses as she moves to take a spot, closer to Jack than the rest. Familiarity, and all that. "Had to get things settled before I could escape. A quick flash of smile, though there's a thoughtful edge to it.

Cerise blinks in surprise when she spots Franklyn there and stops stone dead in the middle of offering Jack a heat-up of his cup as several emotions flit across her features, first dread and then, surprisingly, relief. "Franklyn, oh good, I need to talk to you about something later, I need to make a decision, but want to make sure that you know first."

Her surprise at Jack's question almost equals her seeing Franklyn, but it's muted by a veil of confusion. Her head swivels to look at him as she finishes pouring the cup of coffee, her eyes seeming distant for just a moment. "Other psychics? I'm assuming you know about Suzie Whyte? Her connection to Gregory Whyte? What exactly are you researching? I could help more if I knew what you were looking for? Who are you working with?"

C.B.'s bloodshot blue eyes follow Franklyn as she come in, and then Avalon. He listens to Jack, frowning faintly, shrugging a little when he's thanked, but doesn't interrupt. But his brow furrows quite a bit when Cerise says she needs to make a decision and talk to Frank about something. Now he looks downright paranoid.

Franklyn's back-and-forth stops when Cerise addresses her -- but that guarded look remains, as she gnaws on her thumbnail and chips her manicure and just stares owlishly. It's only when Cerise explains vis-a-vis decision making process that Frank reacts -- laughing, short and not sweet. Her idea of a reply is to push herself up, lean across the desk, and open the window.

Mm, cool air from the industrial district pours in. At least there's a breeze now. This done, Franklyn turns and watches C.B. -- idly untangling a necklace or two, expression... difficult to read. Flat. That in itself is an expression, of course. Franklyn turns to Avalon next, hesitates, then smiles very faintly. "Any luck, finding the friend who can talk to ghosts?"

Avalon takes a moment to watch the interaction between Franklyn and Cerise, but the witch doesn't offer a single mutter on whatever that is between them - though there's a faint lift of brow at the laugh. She doesn't reach for a mug just yet, one hand busying itself with brushing some of the flour off of her dress. "Mm, I did, actually. Just this morning, in fact. We've not had a chance to go to the house just yet, but that is in the works."

Jack scoots over for Avalon and gives her a friendly nod as she enters. "Hi Avalon." He turns to Cerise and explains: "We know about Suzie whyte and Gregory Whyte. All of us, who're here right now," Jack says, scratching a stubbled chin - he needs a shave, badly. Least he showered before coming over. "We believe Suzie Whyte is being held and being experimented on for some reason - forced to try to speak with ghosts. I was looking for a link, see if this had happened to others, but can't find one. She might be the only target." He glances at Franklyn, thoughtful - perhaps wondering if she's a target still. Or was. The fresh air makes him inhale deeply and look less tired almost immediately - he looks outside at a bird that swoops by, like he'd like nothing more than to jump out and join it. There's a twitch beneath an eye - this room is crowded. And tiny.

Cerise eyes Jack for a good long while before glancing over her shoulder at Franklyn, as if trying to judge that woman's reaction to all this, "I can speak with ghosts, if you need someone." She lets her eyes drop down as she finishes filling the mugs and then retreats to set the half-filled pot down in some corner, near which she stays herself.

"But, um, by being experimented on, do you mean by the Feldman Institute? I'm assuming that Franklyn told you about them? That is why I wanted to speak with her, get her caught up on some things that I know, what I think we should do." For a brief moment, the woman seemed hesitent but the more that she speaks, the more surety oozes into Cerise's voice. Eventually her head lifts again, and she backs up her words with a confident smile and a firm bob of her head.

Franklyn looks relieved when Avalon speaks. For a moment, her whole face lights up: delight, excitement, hope -- whatever it may be, it does wonders for making Franky look less like she's recently dried off after crawling out of some lake of despair. It is, however, short lived -- the bright beam of a smile fades, and Franky goes back to gnawing on her thumb nail, hunched her she sits on the edge of the desk, breeze blowing her hair around her face as she nods.

Somber. "...Go at night. Park down the street, walk in through the... East side? Neighbours can't see the house - watch out for the automatic lights by the garage, and go around back to get up on the porch roof, then the other roof - you'll see a window, second in the middle I think; waterlogged, but left unlocked. Wear grey -- the whole house is white, if you wear darker colours you'll stick out like sore thumbs. Oh. Spider is full of basement--- basement is full of spiders, and there's secret compartments in Suzie's dresser and wardrobe. We didn't check the whole house -- but if the ghosts aren't there, her dead daddy might have a computer. I dunno. I got overwhelmed and had to..."

Frank stops chattering, and just shrugs - looking down at her left palm, while going back to gnawing on the thumbnail of her right hand. A beat as she listens to Jack and Cerise -- no response re: ghost talking, or experimentation either odd -- then the sole of her clog is kicked out, like she's trying to connect with C.B. and nudge him gently. "Tell them. 'bout Feldmann. Suzie. Please."

C.B. seems to be brooding on /something/ -- he looked somewhere between annoyed, alarmed and perplexed when Cerise said that she had to talk to Frank -- and staring down into his cup like there's some answers there. But he looks up, slightly wide-eyed, when Frank nudges him. Was he even listening? "What? Oh. Yeah." Another shrug. "The Feldmann Institute is definitely involved in what is being done to Suzie. Whether they are directly perpetrating it, funding it or just overseeing it, I don't know, but the connection is certain." How does he know this? He does not elaborate.

"Fuckers. But where the hell is she being kept? Do we have to go to Florida?" Jack says, reaching over to fill up more coffee from that pot - he stands up and moves closer to the window, maneuvering around people's legs.

Settling down beside Jack, Avalon gives his leg a little patpat of support. The room is small, and there are a number of people crowded into it. But her own expression goes brighter, when Franklyn gives that look of relief. Brief, but better than she's seen her recently. "I'll make sure we do that," she says after taking the mental notes. "The person that I'm bringing is very good at not going noticed until he wants to. But I'm a lot less stealthy than he is. Much to his disappointment at least once." Laughing at herself, briefly, before she looks back up. Studying Cerise, before musing, "Let me see what my contact comes up with. If he doesn't get anything, we can probably call on you to give it a go." Mis-matched eyes flit to C.B. when he speaks, but his vague answer has her looking as if she might be hoping to hear more.

Is Franklyn still bothered by whatever thing had her laughing at Cerise? Like the breeze that rustles on through the window, the Garreau woman is cold and prone to unexpected changes - as C.B. speaks, she nods along, hand lowered away from her mouth. "I trust Ceeb's intuition on this fact, no doubt." Firm nod. It's probably the most confident she's seemed in a while - but like the brightness, it's short lived. Back to looking distracted and uncertain as she looks to Avalon -- nodding, but gnawing on her nail again. There's a brief, soft smile. "You can always just tell anyone who spots you, you're coming to pay respects. You're around Suzie's age - a friend, making sure her water pipes haven't burst and flooded the spider's quarters."

Huh. Semi-plausible cover option given, Franklyn quiets again, looking from C.B. to Jack, but setting back on the Ranger. "We haven't confirmed that's where she is... I read... Did I? The research I did -- the Feldmann's have more than one site -- I want to get, get a..." Now she starts looking at Avalon, hands weaving through the air as she speaks, "What do you call them... Like dowsing... Hung on a string -- we get a map, we get a map and say 'here or there', then we split it again an repeat 'here or there', then we split it /again/..."

Brute force divination for location identification. Why not?

For a brief moment, Cerise blinks at C.B., his response seeming to have garnered the woman's latest bout of surprise, but she continues on in a brisk, business-like manner, speaking first to Avalon. "Good. I'm glad you have someone. You just let me know if you need help." She shifts her posture so that she's leaning against one wall arms crossing over her chest. "Yes, well, I'm going to assume that Franklyn or C.B. filled the rest of you in on the Institute? If not, the short story is that they are a pharmaceutical research company currently researching on people with psychic abilities."

This is where she sucks in a breath before continuing. "I used to work in pharmaceuticals and so Franklyn approached me and asked me to help. Obviously, she's also been working with all of you, as well. What I was going to tell her today, is that I was able to find a friend of a friend of a friend who is currently employed at the Feldmann Institute. I don't think this person will speak openly, but I /do/ know someone who can steal the person's computer and arrange for it to be hacked. I think we should take this route."

She pauses again, straightening slightly as she pushes off the wall. She reaches for a scrap of paper and a pen, presumably sitting someplace around here, and begins to scribble on it, before holding the paper out to Franklyn. "If you all would rather I back off and let you handle it your own way, then I'll do that. I'll also gladly help anything you want help with. Either way, here's the name."

"I can try to find out where she is," C.B. says, looking at the ceiling instead of anyone in the room. He does not elaborate /how/ he will find this out -- only that he will. Then his eyes snap over to Cerise. "I'm still not in favor of this ridiculous computer hacking idea, but since when does anyone in this room listen to a thing I suggest?"

Watching Franklyn, once more. And once more, concerned. Avalon bobs her head in a quick nod. "It'd be reasonable for me to have known her, yes. I've lived here all of my life, so no one will really second guess that. My ...companion is surely just the one that's actually knowledgeable when it comes to the plumbing." It clearly sounds like a good idea for cover, and that fact makes the witch settle a bit more.

"Pendulum," the good witch offers as Franky searches for the word. "Could certainly be worth a go, since all we've been able to get is a look at the inside of things." Avalon's gaze shifts, over to Cerise this time, tugging her lower lip between her teeth as the woman speaks. "That's certainly an option," she murmurs, thoughtful and quiet. "Any bit of information could be helpful."

Jack leans up near the window, quietly listening while looking over the other four with intent scrutiny. "Dowsing? Huh." Maybe he didn't know that actually worked, so he looks at Avalon with a raised eyebrow, curious about her answer. And, though being a cop, he doesn't even bat an eye at the suggestion of stealing a computer, nodding at Cerise. "That's a good idea." The note is eyed but he doesn't move to look at it now, happy to let Franklyn handle that. "I wonder if this has got something to do with Feldman's mom. Think he's... trying to find a way of not losing her, once she dies? She is dying. He seems to be very fond of his mom."

He straightens up, looking at C.B. - he's very interested in /that/. "If I ask how, will you answer?" he says wryly. "Alexander, if you find out where she is - we'll go there and blow the place up and get her out." He might not mean that literally.

"Pendulum! /Of course/. Like in a clock." Franklyn's nearly smiling, but it's sheepish - then curious. "Your companion, are they apt at divination or is an affinity with plumbing not include advanced dowsing?..."

Franklyn stops her spit-ballin' of magical problem solving with Avalon, in favour of adjusting her seat on the edge of the desktop - worrying a nail in her mouth - watching and listening with big wide bottle green eyes, as Cerise explains what the business is. Huh. Eyebrows raise a little bit at friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend, then almost immediately squints.

Nothing is said. Not for a little while, at least -- but when C.B. speaks, Frank reaches out for her foot again; not kicking, but just touching his leg with the toe of her clog. Mumble, mutter, whisper, chatter, then louder; "We're listening -- but Ceebs, we need to look at all our options. All of them. It's okay." Then a look to Cerise.

Silence. Franky accepts the piece of paper, but she narrows her eyes at Cerise. Dubious. Untrusting. "...Don't think for a single second, this attempt of checking in to 'see how I feel' resolves anything. This whole situation is far bigger than any individual, myself included -- but I know you're going to do whatever you think is the right thing to do, regardless of what I say, so save us the oxygen and be /real/, alright? I---" Frank stops short, having caught the tail end re: something.

Is it the dying mother, the longivity, Jack calling C.B. 'Alexander', or the bit about a bomb? Franklyn pales, like she's seen a very unexpected ghost. Franklyn mutters "Hey ... be ... ... listen ... what you suggest and if you're ... ... listen ... other ... they'll be open to listen to /you/ too ... honest..." to CB.

"Dowsing... you can really do that?" Was Cerise all brusque before? Now she's peering curiously between Avalon and Franklyn, but mostly Avalon, edging closer to the woman, "Can I ... can I watch you do it?" Wasn't Cerise just saying a moment before she didn't care how involved she was? The chance to see someone perform magic seems to have changed her mind.

She's so distracted by the possibility, that her response to Jack and C.B. seems only a distant afterthought. "We're not blowing anything up."

It's Franklyn that brings the woman back to reality with a sigh, "No, I really want to run it by you Franklyn. C.B.'s not fond of the hacking idea, as he's said, but I'm not sure how else to get info out of the subject. I can't really read people's thoughts directly, really. I don't know anyone who can? How else do we go about it?"

C.B. takes a large swallow from his mug. "No," he tells Jack directly. As in no, he won't tell him how. But he does sigh, and shrug, and say, "Well, she's not in Florida. She's not in the Tam Valley. Nor is she in some...other places. So. Back to square..." He eyes up Frank as she gets all mouthy on Cerise, then mutters something to him. He squints, and scowls, but eventually just looks away -- then back to Cerise. "What's wrong with blowing things up? It's a viable solution."

"Yeah, nothing wrong with that," Jack says. Is he agreeing with C.B.? Yes, yes he is - he even nods at the other man, in total approval. "But we need more information. Hacker, go for it. And I could maybe... get inside the place. Unseen. Soon as we know where it is."

Judging by the look that Avalon gives Jack, she seems to think that Franky's suggestion involving the pendulum is a completely legitimate one - and worth pursuing. "I'm not sure if he's got that trick up his impressively long sleeve," she admits. "I...am open to possibly letting you watch. If I can manage it. Things have been a little," she makes a gesture near her head. "Jumbled up lately. Not in a bad way. Just in a different sort of way." She looks to C.B. with interest, and another gnaw of her lip. Hrh.

Franklyn... Franklyn has not recovered from whatever Angry Ghost she's seen -- the girl is turned, staring around the room; the way the breeze has pushed some pencil shavings across the desk, a reflection in a splash of coffee, the book over there on the chest of drawers who's been left open, the pages starting to turn randomly in the wind. Outside there are city sounds; splash of car moving by, someone calling out a number, the caw of a bird as it passes by.

Inside, Franklyn isn't paying attention to anyone - she's just... Gone somewhere else?

Or is Franklyn so fucking aloof, she's giving Cerise and everyone the cold shoulder? Earth to Franky, come in...

"Yeah, I understand that. Stuff gets ... difficult. Anyway, sure, I'll contact Clarice and tell her to go ahead and try. Hopefully, we'll get at least some of the locations, if not testing files, and we can go from there ..." Cerise's response to Avalon is a distracted mumble under her breath, mostly because she's busy watching Franklyn, "Hey Franklyn?" Cerise asks, her voice taking on that soft, gentle tone that she uses when caring for someone, "Everything alright?"

"Dowsing, hacking, ghost-talking, Alexander does his thing. We'll find her." Jack's so /determined/ - and looks around at the other four like he's thinking this is faintly amazing. He doesn't often display emotions like that but he seem... like he's thinking they'll do it because they got such a good team. Franklyn spacing out has him frowning though, he lifts a hand to snap fingers in front of her face.

"It's good, to hit things up from as many angles as we can." Avalon sounds a little distracted as well, joining in with the watching of Franklyn as the woman spaces out. She doesn't do a snapping, or attention grabbing. Just a lot of watching, with that thoughtful press of her lips.

Franklyn is still... Staring. Has she checked out? Cerise's soft tones don't get her attention at first, beyond a vague movement of her lips -- when when Jack snaps his fingers in her face, the Garreau woman jerks and leans back on the table, putting her hands up defensively while moving to reach for something under her vest and--

--oh. She blinks, but Franklyn does not look any less Spooked. Girl takes in a weird breath, staring at those gathered. Pale and sweating. Not the best look. "What did he ask?" Huh? Frank's looking for a C.B. who's been dragged off by Mason to deal with some tedious collective issue. She swallows, like something's caught in her throat. "Those thirteen dead hikers, they're connected to the Feldmann Institute somehow -- do you /REMEMBER/ them? Longevity, a baby to and old lady, thirteen bodies -- I didn't--- I mean it doesn't make sense--- who tries to raise the dead? They're wearing like /military outfits/, damnit, with those stupid visors -- red, double green, blue - medical? What does it mean? Who -are- those people?"

When Franklyn spurts back something seemingly unrelated, it's the first time today that Cerise doesn't seem completely surprised. Her brows furrow, but this time it's more as if she's attempting to figure something out, "Which hikers, Franklyn?"

There's a slow blink from Avalon, and she looks to Franklyn. "Those thirteen hikers, I remember it. The police had reached out to ask me about it, but they never followed through. I never got to see the photographs like I was hoping to. And I remember the baby, down by the river. I had asked Vo if he...but he didn't see anything." She rubs at her temples, thoughtfully. "You think that they're all connected, Franklyn?"

Jack turns pale. He stares at Franklyn like he's the one seeing a ghost now. However, rather than focusing on the 13 dead - he hooks onto something else. "Raise the dead? Military outfits, visors. Frankie, focus." He moves closer, standing in front of her. "I donno if you just had some weird-ass vision or something, or if this is just you losing it - but if you saw something like that? Maybe /that is/ what they're trying. Raising the dead again. And they need Suzie." He talks fast, furiously. He begins to pace around, like a caged animal in the small room, two steps one way, turn, two steps the other. Not a lot of space to pace. "Maybe you all should rethink this blowing-things-up idea - it seem more and more viable."

"Because she can speak with the dead, that they're trying to raise." Cerise's response is a soft whisper, she takes a few steps away and she finally lowers herself into a seat, frowning into the distance.

Franklyn is looking confused -- where's Ceebs go? The author missing, and the window open... It's not long until a pack of Lucky's is taken from her big black bag, and Franklyn is lighting up. Oh fine; she sprawls back across the desk, so she can exhale out the window and kind of lessen the smoke-in-room thing. It's moderately successful.

Chipped fingernail points Cerise in the direction of Avalon, like directing her attention to her. Mouth too busy smoking to talk, but she nods and nods. Then she just looks /confused/. So confused -- quickly followed by pale and scared, at the mention of bombs.

For some reason, that triggers Franklyn to glare at Cerise, before looking back to Jack and just... "Everything's too big to see. It's like watching the future; too much, man. We have no context, we have no /motives/, it's just -things-, disjointed connections, yeses and noes without, without -everything- that makes a story a /story/, do you understand? Nothing is as simple as we want it to be. There -is- no absolute morality - there /is/ no clear good or bad - all there is, is indifference and chaos."

Ooph, it's not even poetry night.

"It's like I said a few days back," Avalon murmurs. "They're watching her constantly. They're putting before her different degrees of dead things - from completely decomposed to fresh. They want to see what she can do. What, exactly, she's capable of. Granted, I've never heard -confirmed- stories of anyone actually being able to raise the dead..." She trails off. "Jack, can you get us pictures of the scene from the hikers? Info about the two bodies found down by the river? We don't have motives or context, but maybe if we start gathering more pieces of the puzzle, we can start getting a narrower view of the pieces."

Jack's face turns blank, staring at Franklyn again, pausing with his pacing. "I have a headache now." He rubs a temple. "I guess I'll take a look at those files, of the thirteen dead. And a baby. And an old woman," ge nods at Avalon. That's tangible, real things. "And if Alexander finds where she is, I got a way for us to least get inside to take a look, depending on the layout. Well, I got a way for someone to get inside and have a look - but I need help." He squints at Cerise. "Your friend of a friend of a friend, that works there - where is that place? Which one of the Feldman holdings?"

"Quebec, I think? He works with Marguerite." Cerise taps on her lip, her head dropping down and seeming oddly more quiet than normal, "She helps police with murders, right? Do you think that she can ... see ghosts and stuff?"

"Does it seem like the Feldmann Institute wou-would have a military--- not that I'm saying it's millitary -- but Avalon, did you see the pips on the, the, the-- the war-- guar--" Franklyn takes a drag of her cigarette. Doesn't stage school teach people not to stutter? She continues; "The lines on their gear -- red lines, green, green and blue, right? It was like a sci-fi show, like ranking systems... Is that right, you think? Who..."

More smoking. At least she can talk, even if Franky isn't offering up much obviously helpful things. Pale, pale and sweaty. Bad look, complete with trembling hands. "Feldmann Institute definitely tes-tests people against their will -- but what do those words even mean? When I was looking at those cards, was it technically against my will -- what if they aren't bad people; like, like, like everyone says Fetches are bad," Oh jesus, somebody shut her up. Franklyn ashses out the window and continues. "And that -they- are good but /They/ are bad, but how can we really know? -Essentially-? They killed people like us up in Maine, you know - like chattle, we're just moved from here to there..."

Frank gulps, like her throat was getting dry from talking so much or something. Smoke smoke, smoke. At least it busies her mouth.

Jack sits back down next to Avalon, rubbing his cheek. "If this is all correct, this is much bigger than we thought it was. Or at least than /I/ thought it was." He has no great insights or ideas, he's mulling it over with calm cold rage seen in those eyes, wearing that emotion openly at least. Some of the things she says, it makes him scrutinise her and put away some of it in the back of his head, for future questioning perhaps. "They're bad, Frankie. That's all there is to it. This problem needs to go away." The way he says it suggests he means permantently, violently and never to be heard of again.

"On the bright side, if it is all connected, at least all that weird is in one basket. It's...almost comforting. The thought of those people having been killed by just one group rather than having more than one serial killer wandering around...right?" Avalon's doing more of that chewing on her lower lip, getting her own distant and thoughtful look in her eyes.

Cerise nods her head, leaning back uncertainly, "Right, but we need to be careful, I just thought these guys might be picking up psychics they happen by at random, but it seems more ... I don't know. They seem more malevalent now. Like they're actively hunting for us. I mean, I'm assuming everyone in this room can do /soemthing/, it's why we all care, right?"

Franklyn looks to Jack, but on seeing that look in his eye... Well, she's back to glancing around and staring at her hand and smoking out the window again. Uncomfortable. Twitching a bit. Bowing her head when Jack says they're bad and clarifies what needs to happen to bad things. The colour hasn't returned to her cheeks, and she just looks... away again. Shoulders hunched.

"Almost." She murmurs in Avalon's direction, then reaches to grab another Lucky from her bag. She hasn't even finished her first! Preparing for chain-smoking, Franklyn looks over to the door to the writer's nook - like she was searching for someone else to come back, fidgeting where she sits.

Instead, Cerise caches her attention. Eventually. "No." Franklyn insists, like it's her favourite word; trembling getting stronger as she speaks, smokes; "People aren't defined by what they /do/, not alone. I don't care because of that, and when I started looking into this, I knew less than nothing. I care because it's /wrong/, it's =wrong= to test on people, it's wrong to abduct them -- it doesn't matter if it's for abilities, or medicine, or to save an entire species, it's /wrong/ to use people, to violate their consent and autonomy, to erase them, see them as replaceable resources to be exploited. It's /wrong/."

The question Cerise puts out there has Jack pausing, eyes narrowing. He's thoughtful for a few, then stands up, determination never wavering. "Avalon's got a point - least now we know we're looking for one menace, not three. Frankie's right, this is wrong. This isn't..." He hesitates, rubbing at his chest for some reason, like he's remembering something. "We might all be targets. I'd keep being able to talk to ghosts to myself, if I were you." He nods to Cerise, moving for the door. "Afraid I have to go, Goblin's in the car and is probably chewing up the upholstery by now. Everyone got shit to do, getting this further along. Meet up again end of week? Earlier? Contact me whenever, I'll come as soon as I can."

Avalon blinks once, twice. There's a shake of her head, as if she's trying to clear it. "It's a lot to work through," she says softly, as she rises up to her feet. "I should go, too. I'll reach out to Jack, if I find out anything new tonight. Otherwise - yes. We'll all get back together soon."

Cerise catches Frankyn's eye for a moment before bobbing her head. "You're right. It's absolutely wrong and I wasn't trying to say that it wasn't. I was just pointing out that we need to be careful. You included, Franklyn." Then Jack is speaking and Cerise rises up to her feet again, to allow the man to depart. "I'll let you know, I'll let everyone know, as soon as I hear back on the hacking. Don't be a stranger 'round here. Okay?"

"...Did the upholstery hold something against you?" Franklyn quips in Jack's direction -- that might be a joke, but if it is one, Frank's flash of a smile is quick and almost immediately replaced with a start, as she looks over her shoulder at the street outside. Some crow's call has worried her. She smokes. Like that'll calm her nerves... So much for a goodbye to the Ranger - Avalon at least gets a head nod, as Frank talks through smoke; "Good luck with your companion. Really -check- for hidden areas of the house, for any computers or dairies from either Greg or Suzie - they... Had a bug out bag under the floorboards. They /knew/ something was up, maybe they talked about it in detail - maybe Hannah will know..."

Then... Frosty. Franklyn turns and looks at Cerise, but she hides behind her cigarette. Squinting. "So you're going ahead with the theft?" The note from earlier is picked up, and Franky reads it again. "...You said their name was Clarice?" Curiously neutral expression, as Franky turns and looks out the window again. "And don't talk down to me. I know I need to be careful." <Watch> Bronwyn has connected.

Cerise gives Avalon a wave as well, and then she's alone in a room with Franklyn, C.B. nowhere to be seen. "Yes. Her name is Clarice. And no, it's not ideal, but I don't know what else to do? I'll take any suggestion you have." Cerise is at least trying to be earnest as she looks on at Franklyn again.

Jack snorts amusedly, perking up a bit. Like he does enjoy some banter from Franklyn. That's /his/ farewell. "Want a lift?" he asks of Avalon, as the two are leaving anyway. "I've been more social the last week than I've been in the last year. I guess I can't call myself a stranger any longer," he says, shooting Cerise a grin. All in all, he seem invigorated by this meeting - maybe he just likes to have a plan, to move forward. He looks between Frank and Cerise, decides wisely to stay out of it, and heads on out. Long distance to Avalon: Jack would give her a lift if she wants one.