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The deli is not full, as most of the people eating lunch there have already been and gone. Only the
terminally busy or the terminally idle munch at the formica-topped tables and nurse their thin
coffees or thick cokes.
Eduardo is clearly one of the terminally busy, for he is reading over a notebook, a frown on his
face and a coffee cup in his free hand.
His coffee begins to steam, a thin thread of vapour at first, then a rising cloud as the liquid starts
to bubble.
<
Eduardo squints slightly, setting down the notebook and watching the coffee cup more intely. He
does, however, also set that down on the tabletop as well.
There is the sound of plastic charring as the steam coalesces into a single cord of flame, which
expands to be a woman who is seated opposite him. The woman has short-cropped black hair and
dark distracted eyes. She is in a sheepskin jacket and faded jeans, a white scarf twisted at her
throat. Her skin is pale, and scars can be seen lacing under the scarf.
Eduardo relaxes at that, eyes lighting up; smile burning from his face with all the intensity of a
magnesium flare. "Bright lady."
Other people don't look across, clearly considering the entire thing impossible.
Gabriel smiles, but her eyes are still vague.
Gabriel says, "Still at work, my Virtue? Ah, how you burn."
Eduardo squints just a little as he nods. "I try. We all do."
Gabriel says, "I know, I know."
Gabriel says, "What are you doing?"
Eduardo says "There is a criminal. A murderer."
Eduardo says "His victims die slowly. He is *mine*."
Eduardo says "And I have a debt to pay off, to one Cecilia."
Gabriel says, "Tell me of it." She idly traces a fingernail across the formica surface, leaving a
groove in it.
Eduardo's eyes remain as intent, as bright. He looks down at the scratch and then up. "She has
honour," he says. "And I let her live for it." He sounds almost ashamed.
Gabriel says, "There are always choices, my proud one. We make our choices and we abide by
them." Something crackles around her, an unseen presence of fire. "What will you do now?"
Eduardo says "I told her there would be a reckoning. Later."
Gabriel laughs, the sound unsettlingly sweet. "Perhaps I should give you my own trumpet, Virtue,
that you may call down a judgement on her."
Eduardo says "I will find her," and his bright smile curves - no less intense but without the love
that burned witin it before. "And ..."
Eduardo stops.
Gabriel says, very softly, "And there will be fire, if she is cruel."
Eduardo nods, smiles back. "And if not, she woud make an ally like few others."
Gabriel says, "You must see." Her voice is distracted again. "You must see."
Eduardo waits, watching; one hand offered across the table as if as an anchor to the real world
for his Lady, his love, his light.
Gabriel reaches across in return, and takes his hand between hers. She begins to trace a pattern
on the palm of his hand, and even though he cannot be harmed by the heat, he can feel this flame,
through the flesh and to the bone.
As Gabriel follows whatever pattern it is upon his hand, her voice is soft. "There is a stone that
will be broken. You must prevent this. There is a reflection that is false. You must break this."
Eduardo doesn't twitch, nor even curl his hand; his body language projecting a trust that shines
also from his eyes as he watches.
Gabriel says, eyes flickering with a light that is far from the tacky neon overhead, "There is a
cruelty that is sought in folly and waits to be released. You will prevent this."
Gabriel says, "There is a fire that will burn tonight, and you will know it."
Gabriel says, "They strip the skin away, but I have seen what lies beyond."
Gabriel raises his hand to her lips, and for a moment Eduardo can feel her breath - and then she
is gone, like a vanished flame.
Eduardo says, "I will," though his voice carries just a hint of his hatred of these sort of riddles.
<
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None of the other diners look across.
Eduardo relaxes again, then glances at his coffee cup and -- abruptly -- grins to himself (an
expression that would cause no fewer than 3 of his superiors to keel over over on the spot with
heart failure, and make Michael the winner of the long standing 'when will Edie get a sense of
humour' pool in the office. "Thanks."
The coffee is not cruel. It is merely coffee. It is still steaming, however. As he speaks, a little extra
bit of bubbling seethes through it.
Eduardo's grin fades and he sips, gently.
The coffee even tastes stronger, now. Pure Java.
>From outside, a ray of sunlight falls through the dirty window to lie across Eduardo's notes and
files, a small reminder of light.
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The car has not been stolen, and is where Eduardo left it.
Eduardo slides in, fights with the cellphone for a bit (he's only had one for 5 years. Not used to
it yet). And then calls Pat.
Pat, driving the JudgmentMobile to check out apartments that aren't across from demon motels,
answers. "Murphy."
Eduardo says, into the phone. "This is Edward. I had a visitor." Who it is is clear in his tone, to
anyone who knows him even a little; the economy of the words a counter to the intensity of the
tone.
Pat looks mildly pained. "I assume she had something to say, then."
Eduardo says "She did."
Sarah listens from the back seat, at least to Pat's side.
Eduardo says "It was not clear, but do you know anything about a fire, a stone or a
reflection?"
Pat says "Solely without context?"
Eduardo's phone chooses that moment to disconnect itself.
Pat blinks at the phone. "Lovely."
Sarah asks, "What's happened?"
Pat says "We were disconnected."
Sephar peers quietly.
Pat calls Eduardo back after the disconnection.
Eduardo answers the phone. "Detective Chavez."
Pat says "That was unexpected. Now, was there any context to these statements?"
Eduardo says "The stone is to be broken. I will stop it. The reflection must be broken. And there
is a fire I will know about."
Eduardo says "I'd like to make sure of this."
Pat says "David?"
Eduardo says "And Janus??"
Eduardo sounds disgusted. "I have to protect an Angel of David?"
Pat says "Quite possibly."
Eduardo sighs. You get the impression he really, really wants to swear.
Eduardo rubs at his forehead, angrily. "Do you know of any."
Pat says "David has already lost one in the last weeks, Edward. It is possible that more are in
danger."
Eduardo says "But we don't know who."
Pat says "Do you know the Octagon House?"
Eduardo pauses again. It's just as pregnant as the last. Still, he doesn't swear.
Eduardo nods. He doesn't say anything, however.
Pat sighs. "Edward. Are you nodding into the telephone?"
Eduardo realises, after a moment, that phones don't work that way. Only then, after an overlong
pause, does he say, "I know it."
Eduardo says, unashamedly. "I was. Technology."
Pat says "Alright. Go there, and ask for Anna Serrar. Use my name if you must. She is Sariel, one
of David's. Deliver the prophecy to her, and she may have insight."
Eduardo frowns into the phone, but catches himself. "I will."
Pat says "There is the stone. Now, you must break a reflection?"
Eduardo says "Aye."
Pat says "More difficult, to be certain. What was the exact phrasing?"
Eduardo pauses. "There is a reflection that must be broken I believe."
Eduardo says "A false reflection."
Pat falls silent long enough to turn a corner. "A false reflection. Have you spoken with
Blandine's?"
<
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Eduardo shakes his head. The pause is slight, but noticable. Then he goes, "I just received the
message, Mazpatiel. My Lady came to me from my coffee."
Eduardo says "I have not had time."
Pat says "It is my understanding that there was some...issue, with Hell's involvement in
dreamscapes. A loose connection, true, but possibly valid."
Eduardo says "Valefor. Or an impersonator of Janus?"
Pat purses his lips. "If so, I've heard nothing in that direction."
Eduardo says "I will find Aron. The first is more likely, perhaps."
Eduardo says "And I have others looking for a corporeal fire."
Pat says "There was no action specified for the fire?"
Eduardo says "I will know."
Pat says "Hm. Keep an eye open then, I assume."
Eduardo says "I was planning to."
Pat says "Alright."
Eduardo says "You will call me if you hear anything."
Pat says "Of course. I would expect nothing less."
Eduardo says "And I will return the favour. If you see Aron, ask him to get in touch."
Eduardo says "Godspeed."
Pat says "Godspeed, Edward."
Eduardo hangs up the phone and settles into his car, before heading off to the Octagon
House.
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This apartment is in a nice, friendly-looking apartment block. The stairs and lifts are clean, and
smell clean, if not brilliantly decorated. The apartment is on the fourth floor.
Sarah looks about approvingly, at least at the lifts.
Daimon says "It looks clean, at least. It's not a sty."
Sepharmouse peeks out and squeaks approvingly.
Pat says "Mm. Were we supposed to meet the manager anywhere in particular?"
Daimon says "Fourth floor."
Sarah says "Shall we, then?"
Daimon says "Sure!"
Daimon bounds along.
Pat says "I can't see why not."
Pat paces Daimon to the lift.
Daimon - full of pep and vigor. A man who knows where his pitchpipes are.
Nobody attempts to jump out at them. Someone has stuck a poster on one wall. "CUBA -
WHERE THE BANANAS COME FROM!"
Daimon blithely ignores the poster on the way to the apartment.
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Sarah eyes the poster suspiciously, but does not deface it.
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Pat regards the poster with a shake of his head, and steps into the lift.
The lift ascends smoothly.
The lift door opens with a *clink* on the fourth floor. The apartment you want is the second on
the right down the hall, conveniently close.
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Pat looks up and down the hallway, stepping out.
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The corridor is wood-floored, and has walls in a nice deep cream. The doors are in a solid dark
wood.
Daimon bounces along. Life is about as normal as it ever gets, bananas withstanding.
Sarah checks the hallway as well, just to make sure. Daimon bouncing is making her just mildly
worried.
Daimon might have had too much caffeine today, too.
The hall seems nice and quiet and undisturbed.
Pat looks expectantly at Daimon.
Sarah thinks Daimon definitely had too much sugar, if possibly also too much caffeine. Perhaps,
however, the crystals will approve.
<
Daimon goes down to the door and knocks.
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There is a pause for a few seconds, then the door clicks open a couple of inches on a chain. A
woman perhaps five foot tall peers up at Daimon, black hair pinned into a tight knot atop her
head, in silk tunic and pants.
The young woman says, "You would be?"
Daimon says "Hi, my name is Daimon Lightner. I called about an hour ago about an
apartment?"
<
The young woman glances at Pat and Sarah behind him. "And these are the friends you
mentioned?"
Daimon says "You betcha."
Daimon gives a big friendly smile.
Sarah gives a polite smile, in contrast to Daimon's big friendly one.
Pat nods to the woman. "Ma'am."
The young woman says, "Okay. My name's Avril Duquesne. Come on in." She undoes the chain,
and holds the door open.
Daimon goes in. "Hi!"
The room beyond is a lounge of some sort, decorated in grey and violet. There's a tape of
something that sounds vaguely Tibetan playing.
There are a couple of big squishy sofas upholstered in dove-grey velvet.
Pat takes off his hat as he steps in, looking around the room.
Sepharmouse listens to the tape with the odd ear for the subliminals it's been listening to on the
other tape.
The woman points to a dark and twisted hatstand. "Just stick it there, mister. Your coats too, you
all, if you want."
Pat smiles slightly. "Thank you." He makes sure his suitcoat is buttoned, then hangs his coat and
hat before offering to take Sarah's and Daimon's.
Sarah comes in, likewise looking about; pleasant manner, as she slips off her coat, hands it politely
to Pat. Crisp blouse, as neat as Pat isn't.
Daimon doesn't take off his leather jacket, for it contains a SepharMouse.
Daimon has managed to look rumpled. And he hasn't even done anything today.
The young woman perches on a stool, waving the angels towards the squishy sofas.
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Daimon is enwaved to a squishy sofa, where he sits.
Sarah seats herself at one end of the sofa, with the vague hope of putting Daimon between herself
and Pat.
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Pat sits wherever there is space left, which likely means Sarah gets her wish.
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The young woman says, "Okay, Mr Lightner. I understand you're interested in the apartment. I
hold it freehold, and I can either sell it straight or rent it to you."
Daimon says "What's your monthly payments like?"
The young woman quotes a figure which, while high, is not unreasonable.
Daimon says "As in, how much is left on your mortgage?"
The woman says, "It's all paid off." She grins.
Daimon says "You're kidding me. A place like this, here? You'd have to be 80 to pay this place
off."
Daimon says "So you want us to sublet this place, then? We're renting from you, or we can
buy?"
Daimon says "How much are you asking for sale?"
Avril taps her heel against the stool, and quotes a painfully high amount - though not entirely
unreasonable.
Daimon wonders how much he can get out of his place in California.
Pat lifts an eyebrow.
Avril says, "Look, you'd be getting it freehold. For the situation, and the neighbourhood, and the
flat, it's worth it."
Daimon says "So either we rent from you and are in hock forever, or we buy, which means a 20%
down paument. I'd rather buy, to tell you the truth, and owe the bank rather then pay you forever.
But I have to look at the place first. I need to know about your energy bills, your water bills - I
need to know what crime is like and I want you to make a point of selling it to me."
Daimon goes into Lilim dickering mode.
Pat, perhaps idly, resonates on Avril.
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Daimon says "Besides, you get the nice tax break on a mortgate. You get squat on renting come
tax time."
Avril laughs. "I'll show you round and I'll tell you about the heating and lighting and power and
water and stuff, and even the crime."
Daimon says "Excellent. I want the hard sell."
Daimon grins.
Avril says, "Selling's not that urgent. Money isn't the most important thing here. I need to feel that
you'd treat the flat well."
Daimon says "Who us? We're three clean cut young Americans."
Avril says, "Humphrey Bogart, Lana Turner, and Gene Kelley?"
<
Daimon says "More like Groucho, Chico and Harpo."
Sarah covers a smile.
Avril laughs, slipping off her stool.
Pat glances sidelong at Daimon.
Daimon nods to Pat. "He's the silent one."
Avril says, "Okay, funny boy. This place has the lounge here, which leads into that bit there which
you can use for dining, and the kitchen's behind it."
Avril says, "There are two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a small spare room that you can use for
whatever. I use it for meditation."
Daimon says "How many bedrooms?"
Pat says "Is it large enough to serve as an office?"
Daimon amends that with, "Do the bedrooms have connecting doors to the bathroom, or is the
bathroom just in the hall?"
Avril looks thoughtful. She says, to Pat, "Possibly, but it'd be a small one." To Daimon, "The
bathroom's off the hall, I'm afraid. It has a good deep bath installed, though."
Daimon says "Can we take a walk around?"
Avril says, "Sure," slipping off her stool. "What do you want to see first?"
Sarah rises. "Perhaps the spare room, if you're not protective of it?"
Daimon says "The kitchen, if I could."
Sarah amends, "Or the kitchen," with a smile to Daimon.
Pat stands up, chuckling quietly.
Avril says, "Okay, kitchen, then spare room - though I'd prefer it if you just looked and didn't
come in - and then the bedrooms and bathroom." She walks to the right-hand end of the
lounge.
Avril gestures at an arch in the wall. "Kitchen's through here, and you can use this end of the
lounge for dining, if you have guests."
Pat says "Hopefully, that won't be an everyday occurrence."
Daimon gets up to look at the kitchen, and eye it with the eye of a man who lived another life in
another time in Italy - looking at counter space, storage space, the appliances.
Daimon thinks that anything is probably better then Pat's sneeze of a kitchen.
The kitchen is decorated in dark grey and plain white. It has plenty of storage space, counter
space, and Avril is clearly fond of doing painful things to vegetables and adding many spices to
them before stir-frying in a wok. Or so deduction runs.
Daimon grins, and pokes his head into cupboards and closets and checks out the appliances. "Do
these come with the place?"
Avril looks thoughtful. "Within reason. You can't have my ginsu knives or stuff like that."
Daimon says "I meant the stove and the fridge."
Avril says, "Oh, yes, those come with this place."
Daimon says "Okay, keen. Bedrooms then?"
Avril nods. She leads them out the other side of the kitchen, into a corridor off which are several
doors.
Avril points. "That's my bedroom, that's the bathroom, that's the spare bedroom, and that's the
spare room. The other door there's a storage closet, and it's small inside."
Daimon pokes his head into everything, making non-committal noises.
Sephar peeks into the storage closet.
The closet is stacked with linen, sheets and towels and spare pillows and stuff.
Pat gives the spare room the once-over, checking for windows.
Avril stops Pat entering the spare room.
Avril says, "Sorry. You can look, but don't go in."
Pat remains at the threshold. "I heard, yes."
<
Inside, it can be seen that the floor is swept absolutely clean. Crystals are laid out in a complicated
pattern on it, and hang in threads from the ceiling, and in a mobile against the window. The room
is large enough for a small office, just about.
The spare bedroom is decorated in grey and grey, with apricot cushions, and is comfortable if
bare.
Daimon peers over Pat's shoulder. "Woah, keen."
Avril's own bedroom is all in jewel-tones, with a large bed, duvet, multiple pillows, silk scarves
looped on the wall around hammered metal masks, the walls being unpainted dark wood.
Avril says modestly, if a touch uncomfortably, "Thanks."
Sarah lingers at the door of the small room, looking over Pat's other shoulder; she gives a small
bow toward it before looking over the other rooms.
The bathroom is comfortably large. The bath is big enough to hold two. There is a shower also,
and the room is tiled in grey with violet patterning.
Daimon suitably impressed.
Daimon notes that the bath can hold two. :)
Pat says "Ms. Duquesne, can you tell us about the neighbors?"
Avril says, "They're all quite nice people. I don't bother them much. A lot of them are rather older
than I am, but part of what we all enjoy round here is a relatively quiet block."
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Pat smiles. "I can certainly understand the desire for peace and quiet."
Daimon nods, listening.
Avril grins. "So go on, let me guess what you three do. You run a newspaper?"
Sarah covers a slight smile again, eyes warm.
Daimon says, completely offhandedly, "Who us? We're actually a clown troupe."
Avril says, "No, but seriously."
Sepharmouse peeks out.
Avril eyes the mouse, eyes drawn to it nervously.
Pat says "I'm in the legal business. A friend of the court."
Avril says, "No rats."
Daimon says "SepharMouse is more of a person than a rat."
Sepharmouse nods gently at what Daimon says.
Sarah answers, with infinite calm in the face of Daimon and mouse, "I restore books and put up
with Mr. Lightner."
Avril pauses.
Avril folds her hands and bows to the mouse, then to Daimon. "I apologise for offending your
spirit guide."
<
Daimon says "No problem. Sephar gets me through some hard times."
Sepharmouse bows gently back to Avril and twitches whiskers up at Daimon.
Avril says, "Anyhow. Like some purified water?"
Daimon says "Sure."
Avril leads the way back round to the kitchen.
Avril finds some sapphire-coloured glasses, and fills them with water carefully poured from a
purifier unit.
Daimon takes a glass of water and drinks it. Woo hoo.
Pat accepts the glass with a quiet thanks.
Avril fills a brandy-glass with water, putting it on the surface near Daimon, and glances at
Sephar.
Daimon shares the water with SepharMouse.
Avril sips from her own glass of water.
Sephar pads out and sips from water offered.
Sarah sips likewise; says, "Thank you for permitting the intrusion."
Avril says, "It's no problem."
Avril says, "I guess I should ask if you're still interested."
Daimon says "Oh, sure, if you'll barter a little on the price."
Avril says, "I'm prepared to give and take a bit."
Avril says, "Look, I'll give you the scoop."
Daimon listens.
Avril says, "I'm okay on the money front anyhow, which is why I've _got_ this place. Now I've
been left a place out in the UK that's got possibilities."
<
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Avril says, "I don't want this place to go to a yuppie who'll strip it and do it all up in Modern
Scandinavian."
Daimon says "You're moving across the ocean? You'll get killed on taxes."
Sepharmouse sits and listens and washes its ears and face quietly.
Avril says, "No, no, I'm not moving over there, but I'm going to have to travel, and probably
rebase a bit."
Avril says, "I work in textiles."
Avril says, "I won't be able to keep this place up _as well_."
Daimon waves a hand. "I guarentee you that we're too weird to be yuppies and we're too weird
to do it modern Scandanavia. Probably throw pillows and lava lamps."
Daimon says "Ah."
Avril says, "But I can afford not to do _that_ well on the deal, which is why I've got you lot
listening."
Daimon says "Will you come down in price if I can come up with your 20% on the pricetag in
cash? It's going to take me a while to liquidate my real estate on the West Coast, but I've got
money in the bank that can cover it. Then we can go down to the bank, you can travel on your
equity that you've made on the condo, and we can move into a better neighborhood."
Avril looks thoughtful.
Daimon says "How long have you been living here?"
Avril says, "Will you give me five minutes to think it over in private? I'll be in the spare room, but
knock if you're coming in.
Avril says, "Oh, five years now."
Daimon says "And you're paid off? You'll make a mint off of us."
Avril says, "What can I say? The crystals guide me."
Daimon says "Cool."
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Avril nods to the angels, and heads back down the corridor to go into the spare room. The door
closes behind her.
<
Pat says "Hm."
Daimon says "It's a nice place."
Pat says "It is."
Daimon says "It's going to kill me in the wallet."
Pat says "Are you sure that's what you want to do?"
Daimon says "We want to buy, Pat. I've got well over 15K sitting in the bank, and that's liquid
money. This does not include my stocks and mutual funds and bonds sitting in a locked box in a
bank. I'm a long way from poor."
Pat says "True."
Daimon says "We'll get out of your place, and there will be two people paying mortgage on this,
not just me."
Daimon says "Worse comes to worse, we own real estate in DC. You know that as long as
property values keep going up, we'll make out on this deal one way or another."
Daimon says "Even if we're someone else in 10 years, we'll still make money."
Pat says "I don't normally give much thought to profit, Daimon."
Daimon quirks an eyebrow.
Pat looks blandly back.
Daimon says "You want me to get rewired or something? I'm bred for profit, Pat."
Pat says "I'm entirely aware of that. All I was saying is that the thought hadn't crossed my
mind."
Sepharmouse just watches back and foorth.
Daimon says "It has mine, and it's nice to hold property in a transferable name in case, you know,
you find that the property needs to be transfered."
Daimon says "You come around again on the big Wheel of Reincarnation, and you make a mint
off your last life, man."
Pat says "This is my first life."
Sepharmouse chuckles.
Daimon says "Not mine. At least, not this century. I've had to do this twice in the last 80 years.
It's much easier if you have some good solid real estate and some stocks to leave to yourself."
Pat says "I don't doubt it"
Daimon says "If you have to provide for yourself, you learn how to provide for yourself. Besides,
my kind doesn't like to be poor."
<
Pat nods. "So you've explained."
<
Daimon says "This is a learning experience for all of us."
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Pat nods, draining his water glass.
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Avril emerges from the spare room, looking refreshed.
Avril says, "I'm interested, if you're interested."
Sarah sips at her water, and looks to Daimon and Pat.
Daimon says "I'm interested if you bring down the price a few grand."
Avril considers.
<
Avril says, "How much of the furniture are you expecting to keep? I'm prepared to leave some
of the heavier stuff.
Daimon says "We do have furniture, although we lack one bedroom set."
Avril says, "I can leave you the spare bed, possibly, and just take my own."
Daimon says "Other then that, we own furniture, more or less."
Avril considers. "All right. I'll take it down five grand, and leave you the second bedroom set.
You pay twenty per cent, and the rest as and when. How's that?"
Daimon says "We'll go to the bank tomorrow. You need to bring an appraisal for the price and
your stated price, and I need to get a mortgage on this place approved. I'll move my money
around, and we'll deal with this in a nice legal manner."
Avril says, "Sounds good to me. How soon after that do you want to move?"
<
Pat says "Shortly thereafter. The neighborhood we're in now is rapidly going downhill."
Daimon says "We'll see how many days it will take to close the deal, and then move in."
Avril nods.
Daimon says "That's our general game plan."
Avril says, "Very good, then. I'll wait for you to contact me with the word on the money."
Daimon says "Shouldn't take very long."
Sephar chirrrps to Daimon and then pads back into the Daimon pocket.
Daimon reaches down to pet SepharMouse.
Avril nods again.
Daimon says "So, are we done?"
Avril says, "I think so. I'll look forward to hearing from you again."
Daimon says "Certainly. Likely tomorrow. Oh, do I have your number....."
Daimon pats around in his pockets.
Avril says, "Well, you rang me earlier, so I hope so."
Daimon finds it. "Huzzah! A minor miracle."
Sarah extends her hand to Daimon, wordlessly.
Avril laughs.
Daimon leans over to Avril and whispers, "It's my guardian angel. You know, they're always
near."
Daimon leans back, pats his gold cross, and takes Sarah's hand.
Sarah gently removes the paper with Avril's number from Daimon's hand.
Pat chuckles quietly, and sets about fetching coats and hats and such things.
Sarah says "Shall I look after this for you, do you think?"
Daimon says "It'll probably get eaten by my coat again, so you better."
Avril says, "You don't need both a guardian angel and a spirit guide, Mr Lightner. One should be
enough." She smiles.
<
Daimon says "Not for me. I'm a basketcase."
Sepharmouse chuckles, muffled, likely, but it chuckles.
Pat says "Not for him, Ms. Duquesne. He needs as many as he can get."
Pat smiles a bit, offering Sarah her coat.
Sarah simply smiles a touch, warmly.
Sarah accepts her coat from Pat, thanking him solemnly.
Avril shakes her head, sadly.
Avril waits by the door.
Daimon makes his way out of there, bouncing along.
Pat pulls his coat on, nodding to Avril again as he steps out the door.
Avril smiles, then closes the door behind them.
Daimon says "Not bad. Not bad."
Pat says "Not bad at all. Do we want to look at the other?"
Daimon peers at his watch.
Sarah leans and kisses Daimon's cheek. "Not bad at all."
It is now past the time when you were supposed to be over at the other. It is now, in fact, early
evening.
Daimon says "It's waaay too late."
Daimon says "It's grocery time."
Pat says "Alright. But you're cooking."
Sarah says "I hear no objection to that."
Daimon says "Yes, I am cooking. Because my scientific experimentation for the last week tells
me that Elohim cannot cook anything other then objective food of bean curd and tofu."
Daimon says "Nutritious, yet bland."
Daimon says "Why, much like you, Pat!"
Daimon grins.
Pat says "This would be why I don't cook very often."
Sarah murmurs, "I'll guard the shopping against invasions of maddened fruits."
Daimon says "I'll break you in and give you the colorful outlook on life you need yet, Pat."
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While Daimon is freshening up, he notices - well, it could just be a trick of the light or of memory
or whatever, but his hairbrush is oddly clean and tidy.
Daimon peers at the hairbrush, then searches the bathroom.
There are no hidden bombs in the bathroom, or any other hidden thingies.
Daimon hmms, and comes out of the bathroom. "Pat, someone's been in here. Search the
place."
Pat sighs, rising to his feet. "How do you know?"
Daimon says "My hairbrush was devoid of Daimonhairs."
Pat says "Wonderful."
Pat starts going over the house.
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Daimon also starts going over the house.
There are no signs of anybody having disturbed things, or gone through papers, and there is
nothing left behind.
Pat says "I don't see anything unusual, Daimon."
Sarah asks, while helping search, "Why would someone take your hair in the first place,
Daimon?"
Daimon says "Maybe I've finally gotten around to going mad."
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Daimon says "Oh SHIT."
Daimon says "Son of a BITCH."
Pat says "What."
Sarah says mildly, "Daimon?"
Daimon starts swearing.
Daimon says "Someone with Affinity got my hair."
Sarah says calmly, "Then I'll simply have to stay close."
Pat frowns.
Daimon says "I am, as they say, unamused. The banana thing is annoying. This is much
worse."
Pat walks over to the front of the apartment, peeking out the windows. "It's not like they don't
know where we are."
Daimon says "True. I know."
Daimon says "I'm gonna go make dinner."
Pat says "Alright."
Daimon drifts into the kitchen to cook pasta.
Sarah says aloud, accompanying Daimon as far as the edge of the kitchen, "I wish we knew how
many they's there were."
Daimon says "A whole hell full of them. Demons just suck."
Sarah says "I was wondering how many factions, actually, but I suppose that's an equally pointless
question."
Daimon says "Who knows. Enough people want me dead that it doesn't make a difference.
Therefore, I will thwart them all and make pasta."
Sarah says "A most wise decision."
The doorbell rings.
Daimon says "Hold on a sec."
Daimon wipes his hands off on a rag, puts down the onion he was chopping, and heads to the
front door to look out the peephole.
There is a young woman standing outside, yellow bikini vivid against her black skin, trenchcoat
dumped next to her, wearing a _huge_ hat with bananas all over it. She has a big gleaming
grin.
Daimon closes his eyes, sighs, and tries to resonate through the peephole.
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Daimon pulls out the Eli Squirt Gun tucked into the back of his wasteband, and opens the door
a crack, so it hits against the chain. "Can I help you?"
Pat draws his own weapon, and waits just out of line of sight.
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The woman grins, and goes into a dance routine. "Hello hello hello, it's a happy day today! And
here is your bananagram, to help you work and play!"
Daimon frowns, unamused.
The woman finishes by striking a pose, pulling a banana from her hat, and offering it.
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Daimon looks at the banana.
Sarah acquires the most amazingly skeptical expression, watching all this.
It looks like a normal banana. The woman maintains a professional smile.
Daimon shuts the door enough that he can slip the chain, and opens the door, gun _very clearly_
in view.
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Pat lowers his gun to keep it out of sight, and steps to where he can see the woman.
Pat then resonates.
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The woman maintains a professional smile, but withdraws the banana carefully, eyeing the
gun.
Daimon holds out his hand for the banana.
Daimon says "I want to hear whatever it is he has to tell me."
The woman says, "What?"
Daimon says "Whatever message you've got to deliver? I want to hear it."
The woman says, "I don't have no message. This is a job, right? Gotta say it's easier than a
birthday cake."
Daimon blinks.
Pat says "Just a banana."
Daimon says "I don't get it."
The woman says, "You know. I jump out of birthday cakes and do that sort of thing."
Daimon says "Oh."
Daimon says "Make good money?"
The woman says, "Bananagrams are new on me, but that's what the guy on the phone said he
wanted."
Pat says "You've got to be cold. Come in for a moment, please?"
The woman shrugs. "It does okay for a part-time job."
The woman looks at the gun, then at Pat.
Daimon slips the gun away, and opens the door all the way.
The woman says, "You gotta be joking."
The woman says, "I'm getting the hell out of here."
Daimon says "Ah. Hell. Yes. That's part of it."
Pat tucks his own gun away. "I'd rather you didn't do that."
She reaches down for her trenchcoat, keeping an eye on the two men in the door, and begins to
back away.
Daimon says "We're relatively harmless. Really."
She says, "Yeah, yeah, sure, and you always come to the door with a gun."
Pat says "We're perfectly harmless, actually. I'd just like to know who requested the
bananagram."
Daimon says "We'd like to send a return message."
She says, "His name was Kerry, right? Jack Kerry."
Daimon blinks. You have got to be kidding.
Daimon says "Was he a manic red haired man?"
She says, "Got no idea, mister." She's picked up her trenchcoat by this time. "He did the order on
the telephone, though he did sound kind of jazzed up."
Pat says "Did he leave a return number?"
Daimon says "I'd really like to send him a return message."
She shakes her head. "He just ordered it and paid on Visa."
Daimon says "Ah, well, thank you then."
Pat pulls out his wallet, flashing his liscence at the young woman. "I'd like that number,
please."
The woman eyes the licence. "Hey, you a cop?"
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Pat says "I'm a detective, miss. And it's much easier for everyone involved if you could give us
the information without any fuss. There's nothing you need to worry about."
The woman says, nervously, "Okay." She rattles off the Visa number, edging further away.
Pat nods. "Thank you."
The woman nods again, nervously, and makes tracks down the street for the subway station.
Daimon closes the door.
The woman had dropped the banana by the door.
Daimon opens the door, picks up the banana, and closes it again.
Pat walks to his desk, writing the Visa number quickly. "Who is Jack Kerry?"
Daimon says "If I track down that sycophant, maniacal, junky, moronic son of a bitch, he's gonna
WISH he was back in Hell."
Sarah says "Vehement, but not particularly helpful."
Pat mms, turning on his computer. "You can thank me later for accepting credit cards from my
clients."
Daimon says "Jack is a Malakite chew toy."
Daimon says "He's an old friend."
Daimon says "Getting pissed at him is like a national pasttime."
Daimon checks out the banana.
Pat starts a standard customer credit check on the Visa number. "How old?"
Daimon says "Almost ten decades."
Little brown spots on the outside of the banana begin to squirm together, to form a word.
Pat says "One of Kobal's, I take it?"
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The card is registered to a Mr Jack Kerry, current address in California.
Daimon says, as he stares at the banana, "Keros is a member of the Crew."
Sarah glances to the banana, and tenses.
The brown spots form the word, "Kiddo."
Pat says "The Crew. Would you care to speak to him, or should I?"
Pat writes down the address.
Daimon says "I'll speak to him."
Daimon watches the banana and waits.
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The spots squirm into a formation of, "Come on down."
Pat then pulls a collection of Things out of a desk drawer, and hooks up a second headset and a
tape recorder to the telephone.
Daimon wonders if it says anything else.
Daimon wonders, how can he NOT know?
Sarah's fingers hook, miming claws.
Daimon says "Can I use the phone yet?"
The spots dissolve, leaving the banana plain yellow.
Pat gestures to the phone. "Feel free." He slips the monitoring headset on and starts
recording.
Daimon suddenly looks utterly confused. How can he _not_ know?
Sarah says mildly, "May I deal with this while the two of you are on the telephone?"
Daimon puts the banana down and picks up the headset. He dials the number from memory.
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Sarah picks up the banana between two fingers.
Pat looks over at Sarah and nods.
There are a couple of rings, then the phone answers. A man's voice - Jack's voice - says, "Yeah?"
to a background of two tones of feminine giggling.
Daimon says "This time I hurt you, Jack."
Pat lights a cigarette, listening.
Jack's voice says, "Hey, Daimon! Come on over!"
Pat then offers one to Daimon.
Daimon says "I'm in DC, you moron."
Jack says, "Yeah, so, what you do is, you take a bottle of whiskey, and you get on a bus, and you
get a girl, and you show her how to drink the whiskey."
Daimon says "I'm holding your Visa Gold card number in my hand. Think of the possibilities,
Jack."
Jack giggles manically. "You wouldn't do a thing like that to an old friend."
Daimon says "Think of the possibilities. Consider it a threat. Answer some questions, and I burn
it."
Jack says, "Fuck, yeah! I love it when you talk dirty."
Pat whispers, "He's a lunatic."
Daimon says "If you don't, I will promptly walk out my door, and charge $5000 in Psychic
Friends Network to your card."
Jack says, "You bitch. Still. I've always had a soft spot for you. Go on, ask away, you know you
want to really."
There is more female giggling over the phone, and the sound of some sort of soft, regular body
contact. And heavy breathing.
Daimon says "Why did someone with a bananagram just show up at my door with your visa
number?"
Daimon says "And is Elymius there? Your sane half?"
Jack says, "I've got a cat and two chicks, so I don't need Elymius."
Jack says, "Yeah, I sent a bananagram. Funny, wasn't it?" He giggles again.
Daimon says "Did the Boss put you up to it?"
Jack says, "Course he did."
Daimon says "What did he tell you, Jack."
Jack says, "He told me it was the way of the Great K... uhhh... oh god..." There is a brief pause,
and more noises.
Daimon says "Will you finish your goddamn orgasm and talk to me? This is serious for once."
Jack says, after a minute, "Shit, I don't know what you're so pissed off about. All I know is that
the Boss said you were having this holiday cause you'd done a good job on your previous
thing."
Jack says, "He just told me to send you something to do with bananas to remind you that, like,
he wants you back on the stage real soon."
Daimon says "Jack, have I ever taken a vacation?"
Jack says, "Oh, yeah, honey, right there... I don't know, Niqui, you expect me to keep a diary of
your fucking life?"
Daimon says "Who else has the Boss talked to about me? Do you know?"
Jack says, "No idea."
Pat frowns around his cigarette.
Daimon says "Look, don't send me anything else. I'm deep undercover, and your little stunt could
have brought the Game to my door."
Jack says, "You, kid? You undercover? Covers, sure, but cover?"
Daimon says "It's true. I'm still working on what I was working on before. The business isn't done
yet. Yeah, the Boss is free, but it's not over."
Jack says, "Fuck. And to think I was just starting to ... uhhh ... relax. Yeah."
Daimon says "Starting to what?"
Jack says, "I'm just being Funny, kid. You know old Terry Jackson, always on the lookout for
talent like... yeah, baby... like these two babes here."
Daimon says "What did Terry tell you, Jack."
Pat frowns more.
Pat begins inspecting his gun.
Jack says, "He didn't tell me nothing, kid. I _am_ Terry Jackson." He giggles some more.
Daimon says "Terry is out here and he's up to no good and I need to know what it _is_. It's very
important."
Daimon sighs.
There are more feminine giggles on the other end of the line.
Jack says, "Look, kid, he's your friend. Personally I couldn't give a rat's ass about him."
Daimon says "Okay, go back to your humans."
Daimon says "Have fun, Jack."
Jack says, "Oh, hey, and call me "Producer" when you speak to me." He giggles.
Jack says, "Bye bye, undercover man." The phone clicks off.
Daimon says "Goodbye, Jack."
Daimon hangs up the phone. And then dials Terry.
Pat keeps the headset on and the tape running.
Terry answers. "Hello?"
Daimon says to Pat, "That's about as sane as any of them ever-"
Daimon says "Terry, you stinking son of a bitch, what are you doing to me?"
Terry says, "What?"
Terry says, "What are you talking about, Daimie?"
Daimon says "What the fuck are you doing to me, Terry?"
Daimon starts getting out the Scale and slipping it on.
Terry says, "I'm trying to get you a video tape and stuff, what do you think?"
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Daimon says "Terry, I'm being plagued with fucking bananas right now. He's got my friends after
me. And Jack was babbling something about YOU and Producing."
Terry says, "Don't tell me that moronic halfwit who for some reason you like is pulling his idiot
stunt about impersonating me and telling girls they'll get into the movies again?"
Daimon closes his eyes and sighs heavily.
Daimon says "Terry, I've got Kobal problems up the ass."
Terry says, "Look, Daimie, just who is the millenia old snake here? I'll have that tape for you
tomorrow. Hang onto yourself, kid."
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Daimon says "If you know something, tell me. Because I'm going into paranoia city."
Terry's voice is soothing. "Look, baby, I don't know what Kobal's up to. Capisce? But I want to
keep you alive. Capisce?"
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Daimon says "He wants me to come home."
Terry says, "Yeah, well, kid, at least he's not sending the guys with custard guns after you
yet."
Daimon says "No, just bananas. Everywhere."
Daimon says "And the last one had a message. 'Kiddo, come home'."
Terry says, "So he wants you back. So?"
Daimon says "Yeah, well, that's the problem."
Terry says, "Look, baby, I can do a lot, but I can't talk a Prince into stuff."
Pat looks up at Daimon, and nods once, his finger hovering over the button to turn on his
microphone.
Terry says, "Okay, perhaps I could."
Terry says, "But they get kind of dangerous."
Daimon says "Don't even try it, man."
Daimon nods.
Daimon sighs.
Daimon says "Terry."
Terry says, "Yeah?"
Daimon says "Terry, I don't know how to tell you this."
Terry says, "Tell me what?"
Daimon says "What do you think?"
Terry says, "You're pregnant?"
Daimon says "How the fuck can I be pregnant?"
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