mistertwister | Come Sail Away IC Inbox

Come Sail Away IC Inbox

After a few knocks on his cabin door:

"Welcome to Patty's Ranch, yer premier provider of beef an' bovines. If it ain't Patty's cow, it ain't worth a cow patty." And then, more seriously, "State your name an' business."

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Tom's - Erin filters this through her Southern Translator (patent pending) and comes to a conclusion. "I'll drop some clothes from the store off at your cabin. As for the knife, I've always got a knife." One is simply Produced, a single-edged blade that's been well cared for, with a comfortable grip; Erin offers it hilt-first to Okie. "You sure that's adequate payment? I don't wanna stiff you."

Okie takes the knife and tips it and his head appreciatively before setting it down on an ironing board. He's got a minute before he has to figure out if there's a way to carry a sheathless, nonfolding knife through the halls without looking like he's out for violence. "You're payin' me in a knife, but also mainly in 'bout three days' worth of distraction. That's a good baseline payment for me 'round these parts, an' I don't wanna ask for more if I can't guarantee that any of this is gonna turn out good."

"I can handle functional." There's no mistaking the relief on Erin's face; she's felt more naked dressed down than she has being actually naked.

This also means she can catch up with Okie.

"How you holding up, youngblood? Heard tell you did a quilting class, sounds fun."

"I'm holdin'. The class was good. Think I might make that more regular a thing. Good excuse to talk to folks, an' not think 'bout the rest of the things I could be thinkin' 'bout. Made for good networkin'."

He chewed a thought for a second before speaking back up.

"Speakin' of, found out there's a non-zero amount of folks what ain't Lost that can see through the Mask. Don't know how new that info is to you or the others, but it feels important to say out loud."

"Usually it's drunks, madmen, or wizards, but I repeat myself - are you saying sober and sane people are seein' you for what you are? 'cause if that's goin' down, Ossie and Giles oughta know as soon as convenient."

Please say it's drunks and madmen.

Please.

"Someone of, uh, comparable supernatural origin. I kept vague in my explanation for why I look like this, didn't mention there bein' others, an' made it clear that it's not public knowledge. I know what is about 'em that let's 'em see us, but I'm not gonna hand 'em one o' my secrets an' spill their's. I'll keep an eye peeled for if they'll be a problem, an' yer first to know if I decide they are."

Erin shakes her head. "Ossie and Giles first. I ain't the one who'll get hurt, though I appreciate you thinking of me. Besides, you already deployed my first and best weapon from the sound of it - a nice civil conversation."

Okie nods, trying to be very cool about enjoying the praise.

"Roger that. Like I said, don't think it'll be a problem, but I thought you oughta know.

So, uh. Any idea why you got signed up for the frequent flyer club?"

Erin taps her chin. "A few. The best information we have, compiled previously by Skulduggery, suggests that the mail comes at random from the same force or entities that call us here, or substantially similar ones - follow up with him on that if you want to know more - and then Ms. Friday assigns them as gifts. Maybe someone had to get it and it was me. Maybe she saw how much I liked being a crow for awhile with Ylva and it was given to me thinking I'd like it." There's a nice thought. "Maybe the me back home turned into a Windwing too and I'm just now catching up, or, hell, maybe it's because a bunch of my friends and one of my girlfriends can fly and she didn't want me left out."

Okie blinked. "You got wings in the fuckin' mail? Did you have to, fuckin', surgery 'em on, or they just slot in like action figure parts what get sold separately?"

"They exploded out of my back in a shower of gore like the demon emerging from a Republican after you ask them to demonstrate basic compassion."

"Y'know, I think I should just stop bein' surprised 'bout the weird ass rules this boat follows. Why shouldn't growing wings be something you get in the mail? There's a lotta brainpower to be saved there."

She shouldn't. She really shouldn't.

She's gonna anyway.

"My pal Security, the cyborg with the drones? Got a digestive system in the mail. It eats food now."

"That's... good for it. It drink too? Might like Cheerwine."

Okie peeled himself off the wall and went to grab his new knife and the pile of Erin's clothes.

"If you'll excuse me, I got a lotta idea work to do an' I'd like to get started. I'll get you some prototypes once I get my hands on some jackets from Tom's I don't gotta feel bad about."

"Good luck, and thanks again Okie. You're a lifesaver."

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Come Sail Away IC Inbox

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