kore_logs | If we catch a criminal

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If we catch a criminal

Who: Charlie, Meyer, and YOU
What: Meyer and Charlie are scouting out locations for their soon to begin poker game. They'll be nosing around all the public spaces in town so feel free to run into them.
When: Day 67
Where: Around town. The town hall, church, diner, etc.
Warnings: Gangster language

It hadn't taken long after arriving for the two of them to decide they needed to start some business here. Neither of them were particularly well suited to sitting around - Meyer too much of a workoholic, and Charlie bored too easily. It hadn't really taken any discussion to decided upon starting a card game here. After all, while there wasn't any money there's plenty of luxury goods people are itching for. Cigarettes being chiefly on their minds.

But if there's one thing Charlie and Meyer learned early on, it's a damn good idea not to do business where you live. And since there doesn't seem to be landlords here they figured they'd do the same thing as when they showed up here - loo for some empty space and staking a claim.

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Meyer wouldn't necessarily call himself a "workaholic," but he's well aware that other people -- including Charlie -- see him as the kind of person who can never spend too long in one place before figuring out just how it can be profitable to him. He thinks some of the people who're stuck here might be interested in a card game; the people he's talked to about what he did back home (in the vaguest terms, of course) might be the best people to advertise to first.

But before all of that, they need to find a place to conduct business in, and as they walk around, Meyer wishes like hell he had a cigarette, or something to occupy his hands. He does still have some cigarettes left over, but he's not going to smoke one unless it's an emergency -- and today, he's left them in his suit jacket to avoid temptation, and he's left the suit jacket at home. Which probably explains why he's wearing a pair of jeans, obviously too long, which he's rolled up at the bottom, and his regular shirt and vest with no tie. It's not exactly the most flattering of looks.

"What about the town hall? You think they use that for anything? Not like we've got a city council."

Charlie's had to give in and opt for a similar look, but pulls it off considerably better than Meyer does. He found jeans in his size as well, and threw on a strange unfitted jacket over the white short-sleeved shirt he usually reserves as an undershirt but seems to pass as outwear around here. It's weird, but it does the trick. And he'd rather not stick out so much, and around here their level of dress tends to get them noticed.

Either way though, it was pretty fucking hard not to laugh when Meyer walked out in his current get up.

The town hall building looks pretty deserted, but Charlie hops up on an empty crate to peer inside.

"Can't see a damn fucking thing in there. You look fucking ridiculous today, by the way."

"Is it the vest?" Maybe he shouldn't have worn the vest. People around here don't seem to dress at all formally, but as far as he's concerned, wearing a shirt without a vest or tie is way too close to wearing nothing at all for his liking. The pants are already bad enough -- they fit in the waist, but tripping over the bottom of them had been irritating until he'd decided to cuff them. At least he's left the hat at home.

"So if you can't see anything in there, it's probably abandoned. How big is it?"

"The vest ain't the worst of it. And by not a fucking thing I mean not a fucking thing, Meyer. It's pitch black, look."

He hops off the crate to let Meyer take a look. He's extra fidgety today. Maybe it's the nicotine withdrawl, maybe its the fact that they're so damn close to doing something again that he can barely take anything being in the way.

"Yeah? You got a better suggestion for what I should be wearing?"

He climbed up onto the crate, standing on tiptoe to look into the window. It's true -- it's almost impossible to see anything.

"So maybe we should go inside, take a look around. You got any matches on you?"

"I dunno. Find trousers that fit or something."

Matches he does have. They're a lot easier to find than cigarettes and there ain't much use for them alone. He tosses the pack to Meyer and then saunters over to the front, hands fidgeting at his sides.

"Yeah, next time I'll make sure to tell the personal tailor that lives in the closet that he'd better design me some pants that fit."

Matches aren't going to do much to illuminate this place, but it's better than walking around in the pitch dark. He tries the door, and is almost surprised to find it's unlocked. It gives him the creeps for a second, wondering what kind of bizarre things could be inside any one of these abandoned buildings, but he shakes it off, lights a match, and steps inside, waiting for Charlie to follow him.

"Still can't see much of anything."

Charlie sticks close behind, peering over Meyer's shoulder. "What the fuck do they have this place for, no one's gonna use it?"

"Maybe someone used to use it. Seems like this whole place used to be used for something, right?"

He coughs a little; it's dusty in here.

He hands Meyer his handkerchief wordlessly. Hey, chain smokers like them, what's a little dust?

Now that his eyes are adjusting, he can see what certainly looks like a town hall. A very disused one. A little open for what they're looking for, honestly.

"Maybe there's a back room."

He takes the handkerchief, wishing even more now that he had a cigarette, even if it didn't really help with the dust issue. He's not sure when this nicotine withdrawal thing is supposed to go away entirely -- maybe never, if he keeps allowing himself a cigarette every so often -- but he's been on edge and irritated for the better part of their time here. The only time he hadn't been craving a cigarette was when he was a vampire, and that craving was a hell of a lot worse.

"Yeah, maybe."

Squinting into the darkness a little, he moves in the direction of what he thinks might be the door to the back room.

Charlie is too antsy to wait for Meyer to catch up and strides ahead of him, checking a door behind the main plinth.

"Fucking locked, man. Think anyone'd notice we broke this shit down?"

"Not immediately, but if we started a game here, yeah, they'd probably notice the fact that the door was broken. And I don't necessarily see you wanting to fix it."

He looks around, shaking his head. "I think this place is too big, anyway. Even if we use the back room."

He's not comfortable in wide open spaces -- they seem far more dangerous than a space he can watch closely.

"Yeah. And it gives me the fucking creeps. Come on."

They both left their guns at home (like cigarettes, they have to ration the last of their bullets, too) and he feels weird and exposed and naked without it. Which is maybe why his hand slips behind Meyer's back without him noticing as they head back towards the door.

"If we're going to eliminate places because they give us the creeps, I kinda get the sense the whole town's gonna be off limits."

Still, Charlie's right; there is something about this place that's creepier than normal. Not having the comforting weight of his gun in his jacket -- not even wearing a jacket -- is hard to get used to.

It's a relief to open the door and step outside. They'll just have to find a different abandoned building. "Where to next?"

Charlie points to the half-wrecked remains of the diner. "You don't reckon there's somewhere half decent in theres? It's be the last place they think to look."

"Yeah, sure, we can take a look. It might need a little fixing up, though."

At least exploring it won't require wandering around in the dark. He keeps reaching for his cigarettes even though he knows he doesn't have them, the look of frustration obvious on his face.

Charlie catches it, and gives him a sympathetic look. "You what the fucl happened here?"

"No idea, but this place is a mess. You know how to fix stuff like this?"

As in, do you know how to turn a pile of rubble into an actual structure? Sure, part of the diner's still there, but a lot of it has been destroyed -- and he, too, wonders exactly what happened there. Maybe it's better to not know, after all the strange stuff that has happened around the town in the relatively short time they've been there.

"Like fuck I do. Lots like someone set off a fucking bomb." He steps over some of the rubble, carefully. He only has one pair of shoes, after all.

"You think the people here tried something?"

"Maybe, but it doesn't look like it did them any good."

Everyone's still stuck here, after all. Except for the people who had mysteriously disappeared. Meyer was still unclear on whether those people had died, been returned to their homes, or been taken somewhere even more sinister for the purpose of those "experiments."

He pokes around in the rubble a little more, then shakes his head. "I think this is gonna require more work than it's worth."

He cannot stand to stay in the house alone - it is too quiet and too repressive and reminds him of the home he had before his mother had died, before Raven and he had fled it. So he's out and about, sweater still too large for him but he wears it like a shield anyway.

That's how he runs in to Charlie and Meyer, drawn in by their New York accents and the echo of past amusements. They had been good to converse with and it makes sense to speak with them in person. Too much communication is spent on those ridiculous devices.

So he moves closer, calls out in an almost cheerful manner, "Hello!"

Meyer pauses mid-sentence, discussing something or other with Charlie -- details about the business plans, of course, because he can't stop his brain from going over and over every little detail until he's sure it's straight in his mind, even if they haven't even found a venue for their card game yet -- and turns to the sound of Charles' voice, smiling slightly.

"Good afternoon," he replies, voice friendly as always, expression of curiosity present in his eyes as always. He hasn't met Charles in person, but he recognizes him from the network, and had liked him thus far.

Charlie looks up, a little miffed from being interrupted mid being-annoyed-at-one-of-Meyer's-ideas.

"Hello to you, too. You that professor, ain't ya?"

"Yes," he takes a step forward, offers out his hand in greeting to them.

"Professor Xavier. But please, call me Charles. I don't exactly have a classroom here."

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