Totally Needle

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Ochalla, Aug 8, 2013.

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    (See OOC)

    The problem with the Sleepy Selkie was concluded and Debbie was enjoying her break while still in Seattle. Eventually she'd be sent somewhere else to trouble shoot, but for the moment there wasn't a care in the world. That all changed when her pager went off. Going to the nearest pay phone she dialed the number on there. "Look to the East," the voice on the other end told her.

    Debbie did what she was told, but she wasn't sure what she was looking at, across the street were more shops, as she looked up she saw the typical Seattle skyline with its most prominent feature. "We have had some odd occurrences for the last two months. Today we got the confirmation, the tower wizard is dead."

    "Did he die this morning?" Debbie asked her attention now on the "tower" in question, Seattle's Space Needle.

    "Doubtfully. We are unsure when he died. In fact there are a lot of unknowns." Debbie frowned. This did not sound good in the least. "Go to Pike Place Market, and meet with Prospero Burdon. Inform him of the current status of the tower."

    "What is the current status of the tower?" Debbie asked as she looked up at the remarkable city icon.

    "Unknown. Considering the deliberate nature of our lack of knowledge though..."

    "Assume it's in hostile hands. Got it." Debbie had a sinking feeling about all of this.

    Debbie followed the instructions give to her, they were not very encouraging. Go to the Newsstand out front and the guy selling magazines should know where Burdon is. There was a degree of uncertainty, but it was unwise to use more direct, magical, ways of finding the man unfortunately. After all the very lack of information made it difficult to know if more forceful ways would be noticed.

    So Debbie got out of the cab and walked into the newsstand and grabbed a copy of Cosmo. When the merchant leaned over to ask her if that was her only purpose she asked him, "Can you tell me where to find Uncle Pleasant?"
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  2. "Juuuus another manic mondaaaay, wish it were sundaaaay...whoaaaooh... shoot!" Argh, bogus. The song she recorded off the radio ran out, which meant she totally miscounted how much time was on the tape. It was going to take her forever to catch Manic Monday on the radio again! Constance huffed as she flipped the tape around in her walkman. Having stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, forcing people to walk around her on the busy Seattle street. Once the smooth voice of her favorite local DJ came on introducing the next song, she resumed walking.

    Just a few paces aware were the steps to her very first downtown apartment. Constance grinned as a neighbor passed her on the way through the doors. Then it was a long trek up the inner steps. At this point her leggings were starting to sag on her hips, leaving her grabbing at the waistband to tug them back up before any other neighbors caught a glimpse of her panties. On the third floor, there was a jangle of her keys before she pushed in to the apartment.

    "Hey Uncle Pleasant! I'm ho-oooome! Are ya here? Of course not, you're probably out riding an elephant or saving China." She rolled her eyes, dumping a brown paper bag on the counter of a kitchenette. Uncle Pleasant wasn't living with her - at least - she didn't think he was. The very day she arrived in Seattle he managed to contact her and said he'd help her find a good place. And he sure didn't lie! The apartment was tubular, the price out of this world. Constance hadn't expected such good luck. She wasn't expecting her strange Uncle either. Whether he lived there, was visiting, or what, he was there often enough lately for it to be... weird! Especially considering she hadn't even seen this much of him her entire childhood.

    And he LOOKED the same too. Constance didn't even want to think about that right now. She put groceries away in the fridge.

    "Okaa-aaaay, well, I'm going to go back out and see if I can get some pictures of the sunset by the bay. You know, if you're listening somewhere..." He might be. Or she could be the lunatic talking to her empty apartment. That could work too.
  3. Cat was hunting for a meal. Well it was more like he was shopping for it. There was only so much rat he was willing to eat in a week and there were plenty of easier and better ways to get something far more . . . palatable. He'd chosen his location wisely, a residential street nearby a local supermarket, now he just had to find the right human to schmooze.

    Like that one!

    Not five feet away from him was a bodacious blonde in bright blue leggings and a too large pink shirt that had been altered (probably with the kitchen scissors) to have that wide, nearly off the shoulder, neckline the human females currently seemed so fond of. but what was important was not the clothing. What was important were the grocery bags slung over one arm and the presence of the shed fur all over the woman's ankles. It belonged to a brown tabby if he wasn't mistaken. A stuck up breed if he ever met one. The presence of that fur meant two things. One, the woman was a cat person, and Two, if her cat was half as prissy as brown tabbys were supposed to be she might appreciate the attentions of a more friendly feline.

    Cat picked his timing carefully. Waiting until she had stopped to take her turn waiting at one end of the nearby crosswalk, before arching his back and calling out to her. "Mrreaow?" he asked hopefully rubbing his side against her calf.

    "Oh hello?" the woman said in surprise as she leaned down to scratch his ears, "who are you?" Cat smiled inwardly and rewarded her kind gesture with a purr as she scratched. "Are you hungry?" she asked, and he only purred louder. "Well, you've got no collar, but your coat is nice and healthy looking," the woman observed out loud, "I suppose that means you've got some one to look after you." She shifted her grocery bags around on her arm and proceeded to pick Cat up by his midriff to settle him quite snugly against her shoulder. "You'll be coming home with me then."

    Score! Not only was he about to get a free meal, but it looked like he'd have a comfortable bed tonight as well.

    "And then I'll call the local vets and shelters to see if anyone's missing a cat," the woman was still talking, "with any luck I'll have you back to your owner by dinner tonight."

    Ah mouse guts!

  4. When Prospero Burdon was a young man, once upon a time, a rival had rather slyly referred to him as "Pleasant Burden" in an attempt to wound his pride.
    Prospero gave him a broad smile, thanked him for the flattering remark, and henceforth insisted that his acquaintances must always call him Pleasant.

    "I'm here, my dear." A man in a long black leather duster stepped out from Constance's guest bedroom, looking more like the extra from a music video than any everyday person reasonably should. His long brown hair and trim goatee were almost but not quite what was "in" right now, but that had been how he'd kept his hair for as far back as Constance could remember. His clothes were apparently the only thing that changed with the times.

    "Sorry for not hearing you, love, but I'm afraid that I was lost in my book. Did you put the groceries away already? So you did. Well then..." He swept past her into the kitchen, fussing about with the copper-bottom kettle on the stove and unloading a dented tea service from one of the cardboard boxes that were still stacked up in the corner by the cabinets (and decorated with a scrawl of black Sharpie that read "DISHES"). "Going straight out again? You'll stay for a cup of tea with your old uncle, won't you? Ah, alas, I forget. Is it two sugars and cream or extra cream and one sugar?"

    It was abundantly clear that he expected her to stay. It was also evident that he was more familiar with the layout of her new kitchen than she was.

    Did Constance even own a tea service?
  5. Huh, when did she even get a tea set? Constance didn't remember owning one, let alone packing one. The woman slid in to one of the wicker high chairs at the counter, looking a little less than pleased about realizing she had been talking to herself in the apartment a good fifteen minutes or so before he had noticed she was back. Not that she was surprised. He pretty much came in and out like a ghost. If he weren't as solid as could be, that would definitely be Constance's number one theory about Uncle Pleasant.

    "Extra cream and one sugar. But yeah! Errands are done and I really want to capture the sunlight. If I want to start a studio here in Seattle, I need to have some great local shots of the city." Photography was her passion and this move was her first big start up to her career. No more department-store family photos. She was going to sell pieces that appeared in the homes of famous people and magazines.

    Constance rest her chin in her hand as she watched him bustling around in the kitchen. "What are you going to be up to today? For someone who was just 'reading a book' you look like you were up to things, or about to be..."

  6. "I was thinking of visiting an old friend of mine," he confessed with an amiable grin over his shoulder as he set about filling the sugar bowl and creamer. He didn't ask where to find the sugar and cream, either; he just fetched them straight from the fridge and cabinet. "He's a bit difficult to get a hold of, sadly, so I thought I might drop in on him."

    Truth be told, the visit he was planning was not entirely for the sake of pleasure; the letter he'd sent one month ago had not been answered. Herbert Wong was certainly the sort of man to keep to himself, but he was not the sort to ignore a message from Prospero, of all people. The silence was... disconcerting.


    As the teakettle began to have a fit, shrieking and shaking and puffing little clouds of steam, Uncle Pleasant snatched it away from the burner and carefully poured the piping hot water into the teapot to steep. He carried the entire service over to the kitchen island and pulled up a chair next to his niece, sitting cross-legged as he set about fixing up two cups. To one, he added a single cube of sugar; to the other he added no less than three. After a brief pause and a stroke of his goatee, he added a fourth.

    "Tell me about your photography," he urged Constance mildly. "You said you were going to take pictures of the sunset, didn't you? Is that the sort of thing you like to photograph?"

    The tea was poured. A healthy dose of cream was added to the first cup, and just a splash to the second. He stared down into the depths of his cup for a moment, and then shook his head, looking up at her with a small frown.

    "Earl grey is lovely, you know, but we must get you some variety in your life, Constance."
  7. "There's variety and then there's knowing what you like." Leave it to her Uncle to make something as simple as teabags sound like a gateway to adventure. Constance grinned in to her cup as she sipped, vaguely wondering if the man put that much sugar in to everything he ate. Wearing that hardcore leather jacket of his and having such wild hair, Constance really didn't think he looked like the sort of man who loaded his drinks with sweets. Of course, then he'd speak and it all just made sense.

    "Aaaaanywaaaaay, yeah! I like sunsets! I like people, I like things, the lighting, the atmosphere, unique shots... I guess it's the unique shots that are the best. Like, you've seen a million photographs of sunsets, but I want to capture that one super special one... And you know, if I sit here blabbering about it, I am totally gonna miss it!" It was getting late. If she hung around much longer, she wasn't going to catch the light. Night shots would be great, but Constance had her heart set on the sun today.

    Chugging down her tea in two seconds flat, Constance slid out of her seat. "I hate to chat and run. But I'll be back later and maybe we can order something in for dinner! YOU can pick since variety is the spice of life and all? I'll be back aroun-- WHOOP!"

    Constance had opened the front door after grabbed her bag and her coat, then nearly walked right in to a woman whose hand was poised to knock on the door. Standing there confused only for a moment, Constance stepped back and offered Debbie an apologetic grin. "Sorry about that! I was just stepping out. Can I help you?"
  8. Debbie was given an address in the downtown area, not too far from the Market. It was somewhat surprising to Debbie as the cab drove her into the neighborhood. She half expected that the help she was going to recieve would be living in one of those penthouse apartments or maybe some scuzzy back alley where things were not as they appeared. Instead she got normal. Not that Debbie was complaining.

    As she walked up the steps she noticed there was a supermarket near by. She somewhat hoped there was a restraunt too. She realized it would not have killer her to pick up a quick bite to eat at Pike Place before hailing the cab. Oh well.

    Debbie found the appartment number she was looking for and was all ready to knock, her bangle braclets slidding down her forearm, when a young woman opened the door unexpectantly. Psychic perhaps? Maybe not by the surprised look on her face. "Yes, I was hoping to find Uncle Pleasant here. Is he in?"
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