[Sodium_noir] Hell is Other People

[Bill]

> Sinclair Party
> Sometime between 1am and 3am
> 
> Women's Restroom/Cloakroom - Sandra (Bastet),
> Christine (Inebriated Mage)
> Hallway Outside Women's Restroom - Jack (Smoking),
> John (Undying)

[John]
John chuckled.  "Sober.  Though perhaps I should look
to change all that.  Ever see something that you know
is wrong, but you can't find the words to explain it
to others?  Even if you could explain it, no one would
believe you."
 
He sighed, and the cigar tip burned bright as he took
in some of the flavorful Cuban smoke.  He needed a
drink to go with it.

[Sandra]
"Yes, I have," she replies in Egyptian even though she
knows perfectly well that the question was not
directed at her. 'One just happens to be in front of
me lighting up a cigar right now,' she thinks to
herself as she quirks an eyebrow and a smile. Who in
the world was this yummy enigmatic dish that strolled
on up, and where did he learn to speak Ancient
Egyptian?

[Jack]
Jack had been poised to answer, when Sandra starts
speaking in tongues.  He stares blankly at her and
closes his mouth again. 

[Christine]
Christine is staring round at the high society types,
a wild edge to her expression. She's looking for Mara
but the spangles and unfamiliarity of the throng are
making it hard to think. Her sifting isn't helped by
trembling vision and hard beating heart. Her night has
just been one long booze-soaked lurch into crisis.
Pretty special, Christine, she thinks savagely. 

She is dimly aware of Jack chatting to the handsome,
hard-faced stranger who stands over him and of  . . .
Sandra? Christine hopes she recalls her glamorous
rescuer's name correctly. On impulse she turns to her
beautiful Samaritan and says, 

"Listen, I'm looking for Mara Ravenclaw. Do you know
her? Long dark hair, black dress, diamonds?" Christine
realizes it's a long shot but right now she could use
all the help she can get. "I got to tell her
something. Important. Ask her . . . " Christine tails
off, rocked by a sudden flush of rage. Ask her what?
If Mara knew that Camille Carlton wasn't  . . . 
Christine remembers the woman's morgue-cold finger
against her lips.  But  of course, Camille *is* dead.
Dead like Mara. "There's something I need to know,"
Christine concludes, eyes hectic with sudden fire. 

[Sandra]
Sandra turns back to Christine and back to the moment.
Yummy enigmatic dishes had to wait for a few till she
knew that this woman was going to be okay. 

"Know her personally? No. However I did spot someone
who fit that description a little earlier. I think she
was speaking with Lady Sinclair and some other man in
the Main Room at the base of the Grand Stairs. I don't
know if they're still there, but we can go see."

Sandra offers a helping, steadying hand for Christine
if she needs it, but looks over her shoulder at the
stranger who had approached. Her curiosity was flaring
so much it almost made her teeth ache. She wanted to
speak to the man more, learn something about him, or
at least introduce herself. But at the moment, all she
could manage was... 

"If you will excuse us, it looks like we are on the
hunt for a Miss Mara Ravenclaw." However, she makes it
a point to look the stranger directly in the eye and
hold the contact for a moment, and nod in
acknowledgment. She hoped he got the message that she
would like to speak to him at some point.

[John]

"Not at all." he replies in Egyptian.  It's strangely
accented, different from the sound of his English. 
"I'll be around this evening, I'm sure.  Otherwise . .
." He pulls a business card out of his pocket and
hands it to Sandra as she goes off with Christine.  

"Come on, sweetie," she says to Christine.

[Jack]
Still sitting quietly amid alcoholic fumes and
strange, garbled languages, Jack watches the two women
retreat to another room, apparently in search of the
vampire who’d found him earlier that evening, outside
the Temple and moments from kicking the proverbial
bucket.  Christine’s mood disturbs him deeply, but he
also knows he’s of little use to her at present.  Not
only is he hopelessly unsteady on his feet, but, in
the midst of his inebriation, Jack’s dimly aware that
Christine’s ire may be directed at Mara, and he’s not
crazy enough to want to put himself in the middle of
that.

“Well...” Jack mumbles to no one in particular.  “Hope
everything’s okay...”

[John]

John chuckled as the two women went off.  He glanced at Jack for a moment.  "I need a drink.  Care to show me where you got yours?"

tags


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