Grace drove.
It was reasonable to say that Grace drove because River had no clue where they were going and had been relying on her friend Farrah for a ride before she had decided that she was going to be enjoying a second margarita. There had been discussion of laser tag and the inevitable spiral downward into finding out that people trusted her and she was just going to have to deal with that because she very obviously was not a technocratic marauder-turned-nephandus bent on forcing corporate sponsorships on everyone or whatever it was that could be worse than technocrats.
So, she was getting out of the car, piled in the back seat if people would let her and the shoes click in her purse as she gets out. She's got a To-Go box in one hand, fairly intent on making sure the car did not smell like tacos and leftovers. She was not, however, so lucky as to have not transferred some glitter to the upholstery of the vehicle.
Sorry about the craft herpes, Grace.
Grace
Grace's car is a little dinky red thing that's a few years too old. She drives up to a place that seems similarly old and 'functional' from the outside. Two buildings, one a little shorter than the other. The taller one is a warehouse, the other is a two-story office building. Faded paint on the warehouse's side in the general shape of a cow makes it seem like this was once a dairy.
It's not a dairy.
She shuts off the car, steps out onto the asphalt of the driveway, and gives River one of her crazy-smiles. "Okay, we're here!"
As if 'here' were more awesome than it really appears...
She then strides over to the imposing, steel door in front of the office building, and slips her hand under a plate. Getting the doors unlocked here isn't so simple as a key. It pops unlocked with a metal thunk.
River
"What do you do with all of the space?" she asks. booping the car door shut with one of her hips. She walks on over with Grace, taking in her surroundings and trying to determine whether or not this was the kind of place that she was going to have to worry about being a random missing person that Farrah reads about on her twitter feed.
These people trusted her, yes, and she was relatively certain that Grace was not a deranged killer. And, you know, if Elliott was she could probably take him, right? Uh... that is not comforting. She's heard a lot of stories about the various ways that strippers go missing and visited strangers in a warehouse was one of them.
"... that is a really intense lock."
Grace
"Kalen's really concerned about safety. Something something end of the world, you know. This place is intended to be a safe spot for those who need it," she says, and swings the door open.
The other side of the door is so much more... Hermetic. Kalen's decorated the place, as Grace doesn't quite understand the purpose behind decoration. So, it is with stained cherry wood that the crown molding is made of, the rugs on the floors are Persian and wilder, more modern things that still appear to have been hand-made. Old maps that hang on the walls are framed in gold-gilt, and all the walls are painted in vivid colors.
She doesn't seem to even grasp River's hesitance about the place -- that it might be somewhere not-so-great. To Grace, it's just home.
"Where do you want to go first? We've got the library, and the laser tag arena in here... We could get coffee, if you want?"
River
"Kalen like his business card says, and not Elliott?"
This is how this looks thus far- she has exited her comfort zone in a strange but pleasant land to find people who shared the same tendency to break reality. This is not always a good things, as River Vasquez has found. She continues along inside to the place, past the door to take in the crown molding and the rugs and the vivid walls and-
She just takes a second. Then another. The young woman looked at the box in her hands-
"Can we go to the place with a fridge?" she laughed,m a little nervous, "what is your favorite part about the tour?"
Grace
"Yeah. Kalen's got a lot of names. Hermetics tend to do that," she says, lets the door shut behind her. "Sure, we can go to the kitchen. I think there's room enough in the fridge for another box!"
And thus, she takes the stairs. Kitchen is on the second floor. They're nice stairs -- wooden, with little grippy things on the steps so you don't fall. The wood was Kalen's idea, the rubber grips Grace's. The style and the function, you see?
River has attracted another friend, with her box of food. A large, sleek domestic cat with a spotted coat seems to be saying 'feed me' with his eyes as he pads up to her.
River
"Ohhhh..." she says, "so... he's not an axe murderer with really pretty eyes, he's just a Hermetic."
She looks down and at that moment she is distracted by the very presence of a very, very pettable-looking cat. She puts her hand out cautiously, then gives it a tentative pet behind the ears, down the back, settling to scratch at a place by the shoulders.
"How long have you been here?"
It's hard to tell if she's talking to Grace or the cat. River looks excited for a second, looking at the cat and then remembers she's talking to another human.
"After this can we go see... whatever is furthest from the exit, we can work out way back?"
Grace
"Hah! Kalen isn't an ax murderer. He's not got the muscle for that," she says, making a light-hearted jab at her friend. She doesn't mention that he has other ways to murder. But they all deserved it. Most were monsters, unsavable things.
"I think it's been... a couple years for me," she says, not noticing or caring about the fact that River could be talking to Persimmon.
At the top of the stairs, Grace wanders her way down the hall to a door like any other in the place, and swings it open to reveal the kind of kitchen that a person with a lot of money might buy for themselves and promptly never use. The appliances are brushed-steel, and very clean -- like the only thing that people use the stove for here is to boil water.
"The grand kitchen! Help yourself to whatever. We have to get rid of the cupcakes. If you want coffee, there's some cold-brew I made in the fridge.
River
Eyes widen and she immediately abandons her food (and her purse, which falls with a thunk and the shoes inside clink together) and she is immediately going over the kitchen in quiet awe. yes, they had a library. Yes, they also had a shooting range and they had a laser tag arena and they probably had any number of other things in this particular warehouse, but on the second floor the only thing that River determined actually mattered was the kitchen.
Food is abandoned, probably much to the joy of Persimmon, and River is immediately going over the range like she actually knows her way around and how to use these strange foreign implements of food torture.
"At some point. Soon. I am making you tamales," she tells Grace, "who is the chef here?"
Grace
"Hah, chef? Nobody. I could burn water," Grace says, and she could. Has. "We usually just rely on Kalen bringing massive amounts of take-out and living on that for a while."
It doesn't go without notice that Persimmon has followed the duo upstairs, and the pupils in his eyes have blown wide with the prospect of tacos from heaven. He's about to be disappointed.
"Persimmon! No! Not for kitties!" Grace says, and swoops in to pick up the taco box. Persimmon looks downright aghast. Those tacos were his tacos.
River
She makes a face a little like she had just smelled something that was particularly unpleasant. She puts a hand up, shakes her head-
"Nonono, if I've been invited to use the facilities, as it were, I would be more than willing to keep you rolling in home cooked food. My parents own a restaurant in Chula Vista," she says casually. "I may be inviting myself over more than you wanted, but? Consider it bribery? Maybe?"
"I never get to bribe people. Es la verdad." Sad nod, though Persimmon gets the look of utter sympathy, "awww, Persimmon. So mistreated, it's terrible."
Grace
Grace gives the cat a squinty-eyed smirk. He squints back, not to be out-squinted. So, she takes the tacos and puts them away in the fridge, but comes back with a little sack that has his eyes wide open again.
"Give him some treats. He'll be your friend forever," she says, and hands the sack to River. Persimmon's eyes follow the sack.
"Also, if you want to come over and cook, I will not say no. We will get you all the ingredients you could want."
River
"My evil plan to endear myself to the magical community of Denver is one step closer to fruition. One bundt cake away from global domination," she doesn't quite whip out her maniacal laughter yet.
It was a fact, River had actually practiced her evil villain laugh in her younger years, having been given enough shit by her older brother that she was very awkwardly Wicked Witch-esque (he'd said her nose and her chin were too pointy, enough that she's still a little self conscious about the prospect of seeming stereotypically witchy. We digress) She had perfected it to a fine art, just enough that in the event that River ever was a woman built on world domination, she would have her unhinged death goddess laugh down.
She holds the treat in her hand, crouches down and holds out her hand, palm up and a little far out from her body like she isn't quite sure if the cat is going to try and eat her fingers or not.
"What sold you on Denver as a place to be? You said you have been here for a few years..."
Grace
"Cake! Yes to cake. Always yes to cake," says Grace, who digs in the fridge for her carafe of coffee.
Listen, River, if you start making food here, everyone will love you. Grace seems enraptured by the idea, at least.
"I came here for school, actually. I was here before I Awakened, and I just haven't in me to leave. There's good people here, River."
River
"What were you studying?" she asks, doesn't seem quite ready to question whether or not there are good people here. Seems to accept this-
Seems. Seems is the appropriate word because she seems hesitant, too. Reticent to venture forth into that. There's good people here, and where does she fit in, exactly? She does open the oven, peeks her head in and lets out a big, happy sigh. She shut the oven again and just beamed at Grace.
"So I guess the people who live here are pretty consistent? I've seen places that are a revolving door."
Grace
"Computer science," she says, pulls out her coffee, and shuts the fridge door. Next stop -- a glass to pour it in. "I'm a Mercurial Elite, surprise surprise."
Persimmon loves River. It's the kind of true love that can only be bought with food. He snaps eagerly at the treat in her hand, without any hesitation that she's new and therefore might eat him.
"People come and people go. Some people stay. It's the way of most places," she says.
River
"My microwave still blinks twelve," she tells Grace, "I am awed by your ability to actually... technology..."
She is busy petting Persimmon, or else there would be awkward hand motions indicating precisely how useless she was with technology. As if Grace couldn't figure it out by the fact that it actually took her both hands to get her cell phone off the unlock screen and her actively paying attention to it.
"So, there's nothing that's urging people to not stay? No... misguided marauders? Children of the Corn scenarios?"
Grace
"I am awed by people's ability to avoid technology. It must take a lot of effort," she says, pouring herself a glass of cold coffee, and returning the carafe to the fridge. She's not going to push any on River, she'll have to get her own.
Persimmon rubs himself on River's hand in the fashion of a cat who desperately wants more
"I wouldn't say that. There are always things encouraging people to not stay. We get our share of apocalyptic horror. I hear, though, it's pretty much the same everywhere. I'd say Antarctica, but they have research stations down there. I'm sure it's actually crawling with robots or something."
River
"I was homeschooled? I got a computer when I went to college. The restaurant still runs on paper tickets," how River wrote any of her research papers is probably an astonishing feat because... well... River sucks at using technology. She is proficient with text messages but most of that has to do with a very well adapted voice-to-text system.
"No more," she whispers to Persimmon, shows both sides of her hands but goes back to petting the cat anyway because it was a soft
A beat.
"Didn't Lovecraft write about Antarctica? At the Mountains of Madness?" she quirked her head to the side, "so long as Denver stays Shoggoth free I think we have a win?"
River stood up, making herself at home and retrieving a glass after having searched for one for a bit and filling it up with tap water.
Grace
"Well, we did once have an Umbral spirit of terror visit the city, it was kind of like a Shoggoth?" she says. As much as she talks the city up, she's not going to lie to River. It can suck here.
"This is why we have impressive doors. And a pantry full of dry goods, and a locker full of ammo. Preparing for... eventualities."
To her glass of cold coffee, Grace adds some cream, and then closes the door to the fridge. Persimmon seems to have forgiven River for not giving him any more treats, because behind-the-ear-scratches are nice too.
River
"So is this... the base of operations here? How many of us are there?" she sounds astounded, curious. They're prepared for eventualities and she leans back against the counter. River is an experienced cat-petter though, and can carry on the conversation with Grace while still going about her business as though she is not at all preoccupied with an incredibly soft purry kitty.
"Just need to know in case there is some kind of standing apocalypse protocol I need to know about."
Grace
"This is... nothing official," she says, and the way she says it makes it seem as though she likes things that way. "There is a Chantry out in Morrison, if you want the true base of operations here. There's... uh... Well, in the teens of us? Not all of whom regularly hang out in this place."
Which is a shame. Persimmon would get more treats that way.
"I should get you hooked up with Ginger, if you're staying."
River
"Who's Ginger?"
Grace
"Ginger is our digital information drop. It's the way we keep tabs on whatever horrible or great thing is going on. I would need your phone for a bit, but if you're okay with that..." Then jump on in, River.
Grace's coffee and cream make a swirling mix in her glass, that she watches absentmindedly. Like, in the absence of another person in the room, she would just be happy with this.
River
"Ohhhhh..." there's this awkward moment where she isn't sure about this, drains the glass and eventually gives up on betting the cat in favor of going and retrieving her phone from her purse. It's of a fairly decent quality, but realistically the only thing River knows about her phone is that the camera is nice.
She hasn't updated her instagram since she was on the road, though. Kind of a waste of a really good camera.
She hands the phone over to Grace, held out far from her body like the phone might be a foreign body that she wasn't entirely sure wasn't secretly a bomb.
"So, is it... named after Ginger Rogers?"
Grace
"No. Named after the phone sex operator who provided the voice," she says, and her attention peels off her glass of coffee. She takes the phone, a little sheepishly. "I, uh, should probably explain a bit more."
"It was the idea of an old friend of mine. We've got to be careful what we say over the phone and stuff, because Technocrats could always be watching, right? So my friend suggested that we hack into a phone sex line and use it to store messages to each other. Sort of, a secret hiding spot, right? So when you use Ginger, it'll show up in your phone records as you really enjoying 1-800-FAT-GRLS"
She's sorry about that, really.
"But it's a lot safer than talking to people about things in the open. I'm not going to say it's perfectly safe, because it's not. Just, a lot of security thought has gone into this system, right? It's better than nothing."
River
"Well, I do prefer larger women," she says, shrugs it off because she should be embarrassed but her brain was, instead, trying it piece together whether or not this Ginger person was real and, if so, was she getting paid by the minute for the number of mages who were calling and leaving her dirty deviant voicemails.
Her imagination takes another turn, and this does make her blush because she suddenly realizes that she has, in fact, discussed metaphysical theories with someone as a means of flirtation. That she had gone home with her feathers somewhat rumpled and she had been very insistent I need to study prime now.
She should be blushing, but she waves it off, smiles some chipper smile, "that's incredibly clever! It certainly beats leaving people psychic post it notes."
"Do I need a handle? Do I use my name? Is this like a forum?"
Grace
"It is kind of like a forum. You can leave your name, or use a handle, your choice. I would use a handle..."
Because, if it ever were to get knocked over, having a trove of names available would be less than ideal...
"I guess that means you're still wanting to jump in on this Ginger thing?"
She finally takes a drink of her coffee, and the pleasure of that caffeine hit should not be lost on River.
River
"Oh! Yes," she nods again, "I give my full consent to be let into the secret sex line phone forum... thing."
She looks at Grace with an uncertain smile. Not at the concept, but rather that the technology might be something that goes right over her head.
Grace
"That's the spirit," Grace says, and promptly exits the kitchen.
Whatever, okay? She trusts River with a kitchen and a cat by herself. She also doesn't explain where she's taking River's phone, or how long she will be. It just doesn't occur to her.
If River's content to stay in the kitchen, she can. There's also nothing stopping her from chasing after Grace.
River
River opens her mouth, as if she isn't sure what it is that Grace is doing to her phone.
Closes her mouth again and sloooowly puts her water glass down.
"... okay, Persimmon, we're... um.... Mrph."
She goes to the fridge to try and find more cat treats. And to be a little nosy, what did they have in this fridge.
"Grace is not bugging your phone, she is a well-meaning Mercurial Elite who is not going to post your questionable selfies online without your permission."
Grace
Grace is not bugging River's phone. She comes back quite soon carrying a laptop and a cord that she's connected between laptop and phone. "Gotta install some software," she explains, as she sets up on the kitchen table.
Their fridge contains many boxes, River. Some couple of take-out runs decorate the shelves, along with some staples of cream, milk, butter, and Grace's carafe of cold-brewed coffee. Absent are many items that could reasonably be used to create a meal.
Grace will let River watch if she likes, to ensure that she's not riffling through private information as she works. River doesn't know yet, but Grace has strict internal regulations about not violating the privacy of people who have yet to constitute a threat.
River
Instead of watching Grace, which she does do for a moment, she instead spends her time trying to teach Persimmon how to high five with strategically placed pieces of taco meat.
"How long did this take to set up originally? This had to be an ordeal to undertake, I don't think we had anything like this in San Diego." And, if they did, River was conveniently out of the loop. The awakened community figured out very early that River was not tech savvy and, realistically, just going and telling her something was probably the best way to actually communicate with her.
Besides, she usually found things out pretty quickly anyway. She was friendly, and she kept the company of well-connected people. Not quite the same here, but she seems to be working on it.
Grace
River is going to break Kalen's cat. He's brimming with the excitement of new food. And he loves her. He loves her. Doesn't quite understand this whole high-five thing, but give it time -- Bengal's are smart cats.
"A night of hacking," Grace says, reminiscing on Operation Ginger, and a pizza well-won. Those were good days.
"Planning was a bit more than that," she continues.
It doesn't take her long, before she's handing River her phone back.
River
River is getting her phone back, but the cat did something that was remotely trying to acknowledge the fact that she had hands, so Persimmon gets the rest of the taco meat. Scratchings on the head, a bright smile from the woman who feels like a literal ray of sunshine.
"Hacking isn't like it is in the movies, is it?" Almost disappointed.
Grace
"Oh fuck no," Grace says, laughs like that's the most hilarious thing ever. "Movie hacking gets everything wrong."
She smiles at Persimmon, who has conned another human into giving him food. You think you're training him, River?
"But yeah. Anyway. Ginger's pretty easy to use. There's a new contact in your contacts list named Ginger. Call that number, and say the passphrase 'Hello, Ginger' and you're in. It's got a number menu thingy for how to use it."
River
"Just so we're clear, hacking does involve computers?" feigns cluelessness.
She nods at the Ginger instructions, looks at her phone and... uh... realizes she doesn't have any pockets so the phone goes tucked away safely into her bra. Disappears without any further mention, as though she had a bra of holding. River is, after all, a woman. Women can do all sorts of things with a bra.
"So, on with the tour? Before Persimmon figures out that I don't have any more taco meat?"
River
(and fade!)
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