multiversallogs | We have this strange obsession / You have the means in your possession

Entry tags:

We have this strange obsession / You have the means in your possession

Who: Rachel Conway and THE ENTIRE CITY, I guess. If you want.
What: Hanging out at the tea house for tea, conversation, and CR.
Where: The Shrove's Wing.
When: Shundi, from midday until well into the evening.
Notes: Note the time of day if it makes a difference to your thread.
Warnings:

Potential for people Rachel knows to get mashed together like Barbies IT'S FUN SHE ENJOYS IT OKAY.

Working the middle shift is a mixed bag. On the one hand, Rachel's day is pretty much shot for anything else; not long enough before her shift for much in the way of adventures, and while her later evening is free it's not like she has a circle of friends or dates or anyone to go out on the town with after.

But the trade-off in being there for this shift is seeing the customer base turn over, from the people doing lunch to the leisurely afternoon lollygaggers, from those arriving for midafternoon tea to the evening dates. A wide range of people, alone or with company, comes and goes over the course of her shift, and she's happy to wait on or hang out with them all.

She can be found manning the tea bar, or sometimes carrying pots, cups, and food to and from tables. Sometimes she even gets to crash at a table or in a booth for a few, or she gets to go upstairs to wait on someone in one of the private rooms. It's a busy day and there are a lot of people to see.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Ain't perfect, but in-person's better, at least." He shakes his head. "You'd think one of those pamphlets would be a little specific about laws, if there are any as such. What happens if you break 'em, for one." Law enforcement was around, but he hadn't seen any prisons yet.

Rachel nods. "I hadn't thought of that. Somehow I bet ignorance of the law wouldn't be any excuse." This was worrying--if the militia seemed to have the power to do the things they were doing, and the sheriffs didn't seem to be coordinating with them, what happened to those who ran afoul of one or the other?

"Are there courts? I mean, who even determines what happens to somebody who does something the authorities decide is out of line?"

"I haven't heard, but it'd be worth knowing." Given how badly he wants to get home, it seems likely to Raylan that he'll be pushing the boundaries of the city's unspoken rules at some point.

Rachel nods. She thinks so too--she's under no illusions that continuing to ask questions and dig around for information is going to go unnoticed forever.

"I met a guy a the library--he works there and has access to a lot of information on the city. I could ask him if he knows where we find that."

"Not a bad place to start," he allows, after considering it a moment. "Might give us an idea, too, of what they want."

"Yeah." She's frowning again. "You know, now that you bring it up--I remember that first pamphlet, the one we got in the room, saying that we needed to mind the laws and be good citizens. It seems really unfair that they say that up front but they don't tell you what the laws are so you can make sure you do that. You don't think they're trying to set people up, do you?"

Raylan honestly considers. "Could be. Seems to me more like they're building in an excuse. They're not interested in entrapping people for its own sake, but it'd give 'em a great reason to haul me in if I talk back again, for example."

Rachel's gaze drifts, thoughtful. Then she nods, eyes focusing on Raylan's face again. "I think you're right. I mean, think about it--it gives them more power and gives us less of a leg to stand on, right? If they keep things vague, then they have more leeway for what they can call someone on. And we're less likely to protest or, like, try to fight anything if we're not sure what we can and can't get away with."

"Right. I mean." He smiles, wry. "Do you know any lawyers here? Locals?"

Her mouth curved, her smile mirroring his. "Not yet," she declared. "But I'll see about finding one. Might not be a bad idea to have a friendly one on our side if we're gonna keep poking at this place with sticks and being hassled by the militia."

"If they exist, they're good people to know," he agreed. He wasn't fond of lawyers on principle, but he was less fond of being thrown in jail.

"I'll make it a priority. Better to find one and get him on our side now, and never need him, than to try to scramble to find one if there's more trouble."

She'd just pray they never actually needed one.

"You want me to ask the guy about the laws? Do you want to ask? Or do we just want to get friendly with him?"

Raylan considers the question, rubbing his jaw. "...the latter, I think. For now. Frankly, I think if they wanted to pull us off the street, they'd just do it, and no sense rushing ourselves over that."

She nearly shudders at the unpleasantness of that thought--being hauled in off the street without even really knowing why. She's definitely going to put finding a friendly attorney high on her to-do list.

"You got it." She leans on the bar a bit, smiling a tiny, warm smile. "So what else can I do? Do you need anything?"

"You're just a helpful sort of person, aren't you?" he asks, amused despite himself.

"Me? I--"

Rachel shrugs, turning a little bit pink. Her gaze drops and she shakes her head a little. "I guess. It's just what I do." She looks back up and tucks her hair behind her ears. "Everybody's got something they're good at, right?"

"It wasn't a criticism, ma'am. It's just... surprising." He's not used to people being helpful for no reason - polite, yes, but helpful was different.

"You had any luck getting other people to talk to you yet?"

"No-- no, of course it wasn't. I'm sorry." Meet what's very likely the most awkward person in the city when it comes to praise. "And I love your good manners, I do, but I'm gonna, like, declare us past 'Mr.' and 'ma'am' and all that. You can call me Rachel."

She nods at his question. "A few, yeah. The guy at the library--Martel--he's been the most helpful. We looked over old records. I found out that the cohorts, over the years, seem to come in waves. Like, one each generation. And they've been getting smaller with each generation." She spreads her hands; she has no idea what significance that has.

"There are some other people who want to help gather information, too. There's a guy named Sam Winchester--he was a pre-law student in California before he landed here. And then there's--there's the guy running the forge, Seoraj. There's a doctor named Mike Anders who was going to try to get himself set up somewhere and then get back in touch with me about what kind of help and information he gets from the city."

She closes her eyes a moment, taking a mental inventory of the names and faces she's learned. "Sebastian LeMat who seems to know a bit about the temples. Allen Walker wanted to learn more about the other cohorts. Lex Luthor is a businessman." She shrugs. "And then there are a few newer arrivals or people I've just met that I'm trying to get a feel for, figure out how we can help each other."

He mentally catalogs all the names. "Alright, Rachel." He smiles a bit, thought it's a mask over thought, reflexive. "So beyond finding a lawyer, next thing is probably finding if there's any record of anyone ever getting out."

"Hmm." She thinks about that a moment. "Martel didn't say anything about that--but I don't know if he was specifically hunting down those kinds of reports or rumors. Or if that's even stuff the library would have in its records. Doesn't hurt anything to ask him. Maybe I could get Sam to go over there and give him a hand if he needs it, to look for that."

"Sneaky," he says with a smile. "And worth a look. Though we may have to rely on word of mouth for that one - I can't imagine the city wants us to know there's a way out, or we would know it by now." He's looked.

"Sneaky? What's sneaky?" she asks, with mock protest. "It's a good use of resources. The kid said he was good at research. But... The more I think on it the more I think you're right--if someone managed it, and if there was like, some official report, they sure as shit wouldn't put it where we could get it. They don't want others doing the same, that much is clear. The damn brochure tells you straight away, 'don't bother'."

She drums her fingertips on the counter top. There's got to be another way. "...But the library might still be useful. What if instead of looking for reports, we look for, like, legends and tales and things? A lot of those that get handed down have their start in some true event way back when."

Her literature studies in college are finally paying off. Who knew?

"Or even, like, look into some of the urban legends in the city. This place is named after a legend. There's got to be other stories out there and one of them might give us a clue."

"That's a good idea - people been here long enough, they might pass stuff on without knowing whether it's true or not, but it'd be a place to start." He smiles, almost sheepishly. "Just us few stubborn ones figuring if there's a way in, there's a way out, right?"

"Exactly." She smiled up at him, nodding. "Pieces of stories, they get passed down, changed in the retelling. There might be something out there that tells us how someone got out--or tried to get out. Even if they tried and failed, at least we know that's one option off the list, right?"

Rachel's gaze drops a moment; when she looks up again her smile is softer. The tone of her voice is gentler, too, in that way people have of not coming out and saying so maybe this is none of my business but I mean well before launching into some unsolicited explanation.

"I like the idea of staying here permanently about as much as I like the idea of gargling out of one of the toilets down in the basement," she says. "I intend to keep working on finding a way out, and getting some damn answers about everything that's happened to us. But I don't think settling in is the same as giving up, either. Like... the two ideas aren't mutually exclusive? I might as well have a decent roof over my head, and be able to support myself, and start being a part of this place so I get a better idea of how things work. And I feel like it's a little less power they have over me, if I'm doing things for myself and not living in their inn and relying on their charity. Just--"

She spreads her hands. It's none of her damn business at all and she knows it, and isn't going to tell anyone what to do. But it's something to think about.

"You don't have to apologize," he says, almost gentle. "Hell, I've been thinking of getting out of the inn myself, I just... I need to get back."

That need went a bit deeper than just disliking captivity, or stubbornness. Raylan was a man with a reason - or, at least, he hoped he was.

"I had a friend, showed up a bit after me, and now he's disappeared. I'd like to think he made it out." But he was enough of a cynic that he wasn't willing to just accept that Tim went back where he should be. That's not the reason he needs to leave, but it is a reason, and it's true.

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