mistertwister | Come Sail Away IC Inbox

Apologies for the sudden text and also not having any contractions like a fucking GPS this speech to text can eat eighty percent of my ass. Helena informs me that you can sew cloth. I am in dire need of both emergency and general tailoring. Would like to discuss your services in that regard. Can meet wherever the reason will be obvious when I get there.

i can sew, yes. can discuss in the laundry in an hour. feel like its a given but if you need clothes fixed show up in your spares

There is no worry about that. I will be there.

And indeed Erin shows up, in her torn-up tank top with a pile of her more decent clothing to be altered, about thirty minutes early. She's in no rush; she brought a book.

Okie shows up ten minutes early, sees that Erin is already there, and tries not to actively flinch. Then he notices the wings and fails in his previous efforts

"Jesus. Howdy. I see what ya meant by obvious."

Edited 2023-01-26 05:25 (UTC)

Erin flexes her new wings, morosely, and puts a bookmark in her book before setting it on the washing machine that she's sitting on. "Yeah, I thought you might. Which is gonna mean measurements and time and a lot of bother on your part, so...figure this is a good time to talk payments. Friends don't let friends work for free and I know I'm askin' a lot here."

"Well, uh, I generally take payments in answers or favors, but I don't got questions and a favor seems like a steep ask for sewin' I can't promise won't be shit. My main concern here is that I ain't an expert in tailorin' and I definitely ain't an expert in wing friendly clothin'." He takes a deep breath in and buzzes his lips out. "I'll give 'er the ol' college try an' we can way payment on if the job's any good, how's that sound?"

"Works for me. Cards on the table, I've been making up dream vessels, so if you'd like some of those that's an easy enough trade. I can teach swordsmanship, unarmed combat, whittling, just to float some ideas as well."

Ah, finally. Familiar barter.

"Whittlin' I know, but if you've got a spare knife for it I might ask for that. Mainly all I wanna ask ya for right now is patience, 'cause this is probably gonna be a lotta cuttin' slits and addin' buttons. Pick a few o' these you feel less than attached to or bring me some stuff from Tom's place and I can try for some prototypes."

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."

Come Sail Away IC Inbox

Text, possibly into action, January 22nd

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