Fuck off, then.

William
So, after a few days, it would seem that the young blond man makes use of the phone number.

It would have probably been easier to send her a text message but, instead, he had actually called Margot. Asked if she wanted to go have lunch and talk about modern artistic movements and the potential for parallel planes of existence. He might have been joking, he might have been serious, but who cared because there was stuff to be done and discussions to be had.

William isn't entirely sure why she said yes, or even if she was going to show up at all but he was prepared otherwise.

He was at some place that served artisan grilled cheese sandwiches and craft beer and duck fat french fries. Truth be told, he was usually just drinking when he showed up at this particular restaurant- which opened and closed pretty regularly so today it was artisan grilled cheese and next week who knew/cared what it would be because the beer list always stayed the same. But there was a beer at his table and a messenger bag full of books. Say what one will about the Order, it's made William a lot more of an avid reader.

There's paper in front of him, notes are in French. He looks comfortable- khakis, shirt, vest. Same bracelets as before, and same necklace he can't bring himself to cut off.



Grace
Elijah has recently become the Mayor of a tiny restaurant in the arts district. It's really the only reason why Grace keeps Foursquare around -- is to keep tabs on him. "Chilling on the patio" it says. Yep, that is him.

There are some things he should know. And again, she might want to warn him not to fucking broadcast his location on social media. It's just... no, Elijah. No.

William. Ugh, his name is William now, and that is never going to be not-weird. Whatever.

She rocks up in jeans, sneakers, and her springtime grey turtleneck jacket -- not comfortable at all. Restless. Looking for someone. Looking for...

"El... William. Dude," she says, stepping over the little fence the restaurant had up to cordon off the patio.

Margot
[Aware?]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 5, 6) ( success x 1 )

Margot
There was surprise in the young witch's voice when William had called her up.  She sounded worried (a trademark Margot sound, he would probably come to learn) when she answered-- usually people only called directly to ask for help or give bad news.  Lunch and philosophical debate about planes of existence?  There was some waffling (Oh, I don't know...) before she confessed to having nothing else going on.

"I could use a distraction anyways," she would've said at some point.  A time and place were set, and the call didn't linger much longer than that.

She pulled into the parking lot around the same time that Grace greeted him by name (correcting herself on habit of old name, switching to new).  Margot drove a little dark sedan, built to be entirely forgettable and okay on gas too.  When she climbed out of the driver's seat, she didn't carry with her a purse but instead tucked her wallet, phone, and keys into her sweater pockets before stepping up onto the sidewalk.

For imagery's sake, to spy Margot was to see a young woman (was she even old enough to drink?) of short stature and brunette hair to her shoulders, light skin and wide hazel eyes with a dark and expressive set of eyebrows above.  She had a silver hoop in her nostril and simple studs in her ears, but nothing more in the way of jewelry.  Black boots, a black zip-up hoodie, mustard-yellow jeans and a dark gray T-shirt.

She spied William soon enough, but hesitated and stood on the sidewalk with a furrow of doubt in her brow when the lady with dark hair rolled up to the table.  Margot was pretty sure that she sensed something, and had really only met William the one time before.  Unsure if she was trusting of Magickal Friends of Acquaintances just yet, she stood on the sidewalk and frowned doubtfully with her keys in her fist, perhaps considering whether she should heed the siren in her mind yelling bail! bail! bail!

William
He is the Mayor of this particular establishment. And a 24 hour pho place. And a laundromat in a part of town that nobody actually wants to go to, which is a weird thing to be proud of but he has all but warded the shit out of that location saying this is mine and you can just deal. He lives a very loud life. He lives a very loud, very public life. Instagram followers he's never met. Twitter followers and a Facebook feed that is so full of fucking notifications that he's turned them off in his email.

Every detail of his life seems to be for plain view so it's a wonder he has privacy at all. It's a wonder he has secrets at all.

Grace has probably noticed him checking in to some strange places as of late. He spent a couple days in New Mexico. A layover in Kansas. Pictures with some redhead from Boston who referred to him as a brother-in-arms at a bar that was supposedly in Antarctica.

And, yes, he's checked in to Antarctica twice. GPS position said so any everything. He's practicing, you see. Putting things together with that very public life and inserting the ridiculous; give him a few months and he'll learn to fuck with the GPS features on his phone a little more regularly. "Someone gave you the run down," he told Grace, looked up from his notes and his beer at her with her restless posture, "who told you?"

William Charles Faolán Holmes. Not Elijah Renee Poirot.

Technically, neither of these things, just facets of a larger whole that ke keeps to himself. For someone who lives so privately, he does keep some secrets. Catches a look at Margot with her furrowed brow of doubt, raises a hand and waves. Smiles like he's genuinely pleased to see her.

It's probably real.

"I'm meeting a girl here, are you gonna be my wing man here?" as if William needed Grace to be his wingman.

Grace
"Kalen, although it's weird. I mean, you are Elijah to me still," she says, shakes her head.

He says he's meeting a girl here, and her eyebrows go up. There was a time when Grace wouldn't have felt the need to leave him and a girl alone at lunch -- when she wouldn't have totally understood the concept. But now? Well. She would want to have a private lunch with Mike, wouldn't she? Space to be weird with each other?

"Oh. I'll make this quick then. I don't know what a wingman is. But really, that's... There's some things you need to know, man. Alex has been captured by the Techs. I don't know if you know that."

William
[I am one stone-faced and unshockable motherfucker. Manip+sub]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 5, 7, 7, 10, 10) ( success x 5 ) [WP]

Margot
William had waved to gesture the girl he was meeting on over, so Grace was going to make it quick.  Perhaps there was quick glance over her shoulder in Margot's direction to pick up the small wave in return, but no recognition or reason to do anything more than just that-- a quick glance.  She had to fill William in about Alex and the Technocracy.

She didn't reach the table in time to hear what Grace had said, but came within earshot as she finished and William did the Worlds Most Commendable Job in not looking ready to shit his pants with the news he just received.  So, of course, she had no idea what the subject was or how grim it could be when she approached the table with a hair of uncertainty that almost imperceptibly tipped her body away from Grace's direction.  Like a subconscious lean to make room for a wingspan that wasn't actually there.

"Hey," she greeted with the originality of the young.  Looked cautiously at Grace, but pulled her mouth into a polite smile to greet her as well.

Hey, we can't all be social butterflies.  Surely a techie would get that.

Grace
[Awareness!]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (6, 6, 7, 8, 10) ( success x 5 )

William
"I mean, she's right there, and she's cool," said in the fashion that one would say when exchanging questionable materials and implying that Margot is not, in fact, an undercover cop that is going to bust him for peddling occult knowledge over beer.

But Grace gives him the run down, and he looks at her, stays calm and unflappable to the point that one has to wonder if he actually understands the entirety of what Grace said. If he truly grasped the gravity of it all and understood how horrible this was and How Incredibly Fucked they must all be.

Exhales, looks at his paper and puts his pen down. "Okay," he starts, takes a look around, "I'd love to keep talking about this but given that it's a matter of city security we're going to need for people to give precisely zero fucks about the fact that we're talking about it here. Can you make that happen?"

Because a master of Mind William is not.

"Hey, Margot," he then addresses once she's there, stands up because it's polite to stand even if it is kind of antiquated, "this is my friend Grace, she's cool. Grace? This is Margot, Reader of Things, Seeker of Knowledge, Keeper of Bad Company." Grins just a little, as though the bad company was an obvious reference to himself.

A second, "I promise, I'm really not trying to spring the entire weird world on you. It just kinda happens."

Grace
Grace has watched a man melt from the outside in. There is a rather sudden reminder of that horrible memory, just as Margot arrives, says a greeting. Grace can't help but imagine the young woman's lips being torn away from her face, such is the strength with which she's sixth-sensing today.

"Hey," she says back to Margot, looks a bit... unnerved? The things she brings to mind are not pleasant ones.

"I might be able to... keep the noise down," Grace says, to William's complaint. Pulls her phone out of her pocket, and starts Working.

[Forces 2 -- Cone of Silence. Diff 5 - 1 = taking time]

Dice: 3 d10 TN4 (1, 6, 9) ( success x 2 )

Margot
While one stood and smiled to greet her (William, the boy that paradoxically reminded her of a massive storm and a sunshiney beach at the same time), the other almost seemed to recoil from her in return.  There was a particular look in Grace's eyes when she offered up the greeting that Margot would learn to recognize and understand well enough to ignore but for now appeared a little puzzled by it.

It was understandable, though, Grace's reaction.  Margot was like hanging out under hanging cages with the recently dead and nearly dead rattling pained bones within them.  Or like cleaning up a butcher house.

"Grace?"  She asked the name like she was going to follow up with another question, but was sidetracked by the number of titles she was given.  That had her blinking at William for a second, hovering someplace between bewildered, impressed, and unsure.

Anyways.

"Have you met Dr. Sepulveda?"  She expected this may be the same woman Ned was telling her about a short while ago.  And then, easing herself into a seat and looking all the more uncertain once she realized the woman was Working on that device, she looked to William.  "Um, is everything okay?"

Grace
A quality of the air changes, in a tight seam around them all. It stills, along the boundary. The vibrations caused by everything take a bit more to have an effect, like the outside is muted to them (and the inside muted to everything else).

It feels, almost as if those wings that Margot tried to give room to, have descended over the table -- are shielding them all in feathery silence.

"I have met Dr. Sepúlveda," she says, making a good attempt at actually getting his name right, inflections and all. "And uh... not really okay? I was just telling Eli... William about how one of our friends was kidnapped. So."

She sighs into the phone, checking to make sure everything's going well.

"Also, don't call Ginger, and don't come by the Office. Both are compromised. I'm using Ginger as basically just a misinformation feed at this point."

Margot
"Oh.  The Brandt Man."

Apparently Margot was already aware of this-- word traveled fast.  She sat at the table with her knees together and hands in her hoodie pockets, looking curiously around as the world around them muted out.  She's been in circles of silence cast about her once before, but it felt different that time.  Like icy mist separated her from the world then.  Now it seemed almost... feathery.  Was this woman associated with angels somehow?

Don't call Ginger...  She supposed it was a good thing that she didn't know what that was in the first place.  This was noted all the same.  That information, as well as 'The Office', wherever that may be.

"....How much longer could he possibly last there?  With Them?  He's been missing."

William
"Ginger was a mass-messaging system that was set up so people could relay information across the city in a  more secure fashion," he explains for Margot's sake. Still seems calm, still seems unshaken by the news he's received because of course he's going to be calm. Why wouldn't he be? Either feckless and irreverent or actually aware and competent. It's hard to tell, could be the former or the latter or a combination.

"Alexander is pretty stalwart, I think he could last awhile. People are actually going to do something about it, right?" he asked, looked at Grace and it was almost pointed, almost insistent because... well, who knew why. He was doing a good job of keeping it close to his chest.

"Do we need an army?"

He's not joking.

Grace
How much longer could he possibly last there? It's a question Grace has been asking herself, lately. But at least, she has a glimmer of hope that he will. She sighs at Margot. Remember -- this man was their friend.

"I hacked into their systems a few days ago," she says. "He's being kept in a really intense prison cell, so that's good. They're still afraid of him. He's also suffered some, physically, but they went to a great deal of effort to keep him alive and functioning, so that's good too.

"William, of course there's plans. And if we brought an army, that would mean out-and-out war. Nobody wants that."

She looks down and sighs again, lots of sighing these days.

"We're trying to see if we can't either get some help on the inside, or go infiltrating, or something. We're not going to leave him to rot. There's a sweet spot here in a few days -- a moment of weakness you might say. We're sending in a team."

Margot
"A team."

Surprisingly, Margot's response sounded like a scoff.  There was bitterness there, a tinge of it just right at the tip of the tongue.  "Doc told me it's him and one other person they're planning to send in.  I don't know if I'd call that much of a team either."

She wasn't looking directly at Grace or William now.  Not challenging the plan Grace spoke of with fire in her eyes and the righteousness of the young that know better.  Rather, she was looking at the tabletop with a light scowl that was well-practiced.  It was the frown of somebody who was smart beyond her age and inexperience but already knew that input or advice she may have would be shelved.  Perspective may be considered, because who didn't like fresh eyes, but actual plans or suggestions would certainly not float alone.

"Has anybody stopped to wonder what happens after Brandt's been rescued?  You say you don't want a war, but do you suppose the Technocracy will just snap their fingers and stop on their hats over losing their captive but nothing else?  Have we considered their return strike?"

William
"William, of course there's plans. And if we brought an army, that would mean out-and-out war. Nobody wants that." Grace says.
"Any act of infiltration is going to be seen as out-and-out war, nobody wants it but it's going to happen. Things are already there in Boston and in some other, larger cities. Denver is a potential hotspot as is because of the presence of Amaranthine labs."

Because he does seem to know what is going on in this regard. Will reaches for his beer, pulls it to his lips and takes a drink, possibly an indication that he does, in fact, have feelings on this and isn't a complete ball of calm and rational like he's presenting because he downs about a fourth of the damned thing before he puts it back down and exhales.

"The Order had talked about setting up a secondary location and dealing with the potential for heavy conflict, but given that the Office is compromised and we weren't aware that Alexander was gone at the time, it kinda throws some kinks in our brainstorming there,"  he replies, "but I was out making friends by the time Sera had the meeting."

Reduces all the prepwork for potential conflict and building of allies to bolster the presence of questionable resources in Denver to just making friends.

"What happened there? I'm missing some pretty vital shit here."


Grace
Grace squints at Margot. "Well, Kiara -- the other half of their team -- has faced down a Nephandus Adept and lived. Walking into a Technocratic laboratory is not the worst thing she's ever had to do. As for 'Doc' well. He does know how to talk science."

That may be the only thing he has in his favor, from Grace's perspective.

"And, I guess, he was very willing. I don't stand in the way of other people doing what they want."

So. Not quite as confident in him.

And not even very confident in William either. Her sharp gaze turns on him, next. "Going to happen? How sure are you of that? We know the Technocrats here in Denver are divided. A lot of them don't want war. We're counting on that modicum of sense they have not to start shit -- hoping that the one guy who attacked Alex might be in trouble for what he did? The other piece to the plan is finding a sympathizer on the inside who will help us pull this off."

Margot
When William spoke up, Margot turned her gaze upon him and looked pleasantly surprised and relieved all at once.  "Thank you," she told him.  Then the conversation moved on around her.

There was a lot of new information to take in, so the petite young lady sat silently in her chair.  Hazel-colored eyes were half-focused and lost somewhere on the surface of the table while she listened in, taking notes in her mind (wishing she could just take out a notebook and start scrawling down-- so much to know!).

When she did speak up again, it was in a quiet tone (for Margot was a relatively soft-spoken thing [speak softly; carry a big stick]).  Directed at the both of them, since they both seemed to have a firm grasp on the State Of Things.

"If many of them do not want war, then why would they kidnap one of us and torment them in the first place?  That says one of two things:  this was an official operation and the majority of them do want to Start Some Shit, in which case Shit will still Go  Down when the dominoes continue to tip.  Perhaps the sympathizers side with us and we do get Brandt back, but then what?  That question's still hanging.

"Or, otherwise, this was a splinter operation itself, happening without the help of the Technocracy officially.  But it's happening at a location that seems to have a lot of official activity, so that's doubtful."

Her brow furrowed.  They didn't realize it, but she was channeling a particular smothering presence that she was in a would-be cabal with, being so blunt.

"So.  What plans are made for after the rescue?"

William
"You are walking into a secured facility, taking one guy that they have taken precautions to not lose. You hacked their systems and took classified data-" he stops himself. William runs his hands through his hair and picks up his pen. "I'm not helping right now, and it's irrelevant for me to argue about the potential for aggression when we very clearly have bigger, concrete issues to actually tackle right now."

"At the meeting, did people discuss what the exit strategy was and how we're going to handle this. The reason that the chantry in Morrison stayed safe the first time all of this went down was because it did a very good job of staying off the radar and bringing a person of interest there will necessitate a huge bump in security.

"Do you want my help with the aftermath of all of this, and do you want help with the planning for what we are going to do next?"

Grace
She again stares down William. "Of course we want your help. We need everyone's help," she says, rubs her eyes.

Was he planning on abandoning them just because they weren't keen on doing things exactly his way? When he didn't even show up to the meeting to make his case?

"Look. Maybe I'm not in the best of mindframes right now to argue with people. I don't think anybody, especially Alex, has the time for us to call another meeting. The bullets are in the air. It's too late now to worry about aiming. You want to help, you help. You don't, you get out. I can't help you decide that."

With that, she turns to Margot, with all her worries, her fears the ones of Apprentices. They always have such fear, don't they? "What happens when we get Brandt back, we'll take care of him. We'll find him a safe place to stay. We'll protect him if he wants it, give him money and accept him, even if he's a total wreck. That's what we do."

Margot
"No," said Margot to Grace, and it was her turn to reach up to her face.  She didn't exactly mirror the older woman and rub her eyes, but she did pinch the corners of them and rub.

"No, I'm not worried about him.  I'm worried about everyone else."

William
[This is my willpower. Look at my willpower]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 9, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )

William
He isn't phased by her staring. Isn't cowed by her obvious displeasure, isn't shaking in his boots and clamoring to apologize or tuck his tail between his legs. No, William is sitting straight, looks her in the eyes, and doesn't waver when he speaks.

It may be a ruse. It may be something that hides the fact that he does have feelings about this but whatever very unmagickal facade he put up, it is fucking believable.

"I asked if you wanted my help because, over the course of the last couple of years, you've made it abundantly clear that you do not view me as competent nor do you respect me in matters both mundane and magickal. In other matters of city wide importance, you've asked that I not get involved and I've come to respect that because I look at you as an actual leader in Denver. I have a history of reckless behavior and I am asking you this because I do not want to jeopardize a mission either because those involved can't trust me or because there is too much of an inherent risk for there to be an abundance of moving parts."

He seems, for a second, like he might say more but he inhales again, and continues on.

"If we need a plan to maintain a place of safety for both Alexander and the rest of the city, we set him up with a new identity as well as teach him the appropriate rotes to mask his resonance and his physical presence. City wide, we set up warded safe houses and see who we can get ahold of for emergency escape routes in the event that we get raided.

"Guard our locations, keep on the move, and for the love of all things Holy don't act like we're cowering in fucking holes and let the prospect of an out-and-out war steal our autonomy and tinge everything we build here with fear."

Grace
Okay. Now, both of these people are starting to royally piss her off. Margot's being new doesn't exactly protect her. Maybe she's taking asshole lessons from Doctor Sepúlveda?

"Fuck off, then. I'm worried about him," she says, her voice cracking.

"That sounds good, Elijah," she says, eyes going to the sky, not willing to say anything else about his other statements. The lack of self-confidence, the seeing her as a leader, all that emotional bullshit. "I just can't, right now."

They can go and do whatever. Grace doesn't have the will to sit here and deal with them -- the warmongering and the self-serving. She pushes her chair out and turns, automaton-like, to go hop the fence around the patio.

[No, literally, she doesn't have the will. I think it's at 2 right now]

Margot
While William spoke calm, cool as a cucumber, and at length, Margot again fell to silence.  He caught a sideways glance at the reference of reckless behavior, but she sure wasn't going to interrupt.

She saw the woman's willingness to put up with them any longer crumble, crumble, cave.  When told to fuck off, Margot raised her eyebrows in mild surprise.  She supposed that she'd earned that to a degree, she hadn't been the most patient in correcting on what her question was after all.  But the situation itself didn't really breed patience in anyone, did it?

When Grace stood and hopped the patio fence to leave, Margot stared after her for a moment.  If she were somebody else she may have called her closing statement at the retreating woman's back, but there was something to be learned about pissing Witches and Shamans and other Workers off.  Instead, she held her tongue and watched Grace go.  When a few moments had passed and the woman had time to get some distance between herself and the restaurant, the little witch turned her attention back to William and looked at him with a kind of muted wonder.  As pointed out before, she just had a lot of information to take in.

"So.... I've picked a really good time to join the club, haven't I?"

William
[Per+empathy: what's the thought process, Grace? +1 because of a short look]

Dice: 7 d10 TN7 (2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7) ( success x 2 ) [WP]

Grace
[These are the things that William already knows: that Grace recently hacked a Technocratic server, dealt with Ginger, and has been, presumably, doing legwork in tracking down everyone who needs to know these things and telling them, because Ginger is down. After all, this meeting was no accident. She has been, essentially, putting her all into this plan. She has appeared worn thin throughout this entire talk.

And now that the plan is fully underway, with little chance of changing its course, she feels she is being used as a target upon which to vent Margot and William's frustrations in how things are going down.]

William
She calls him Elijah, and he doesn't correct her.

"Can I call you later," he says, doesn't realize that she's changed her number. Doesn't realize that he's not going to be able to get ahold of her later without magickal intervention and some practice. "Or if you want to come by my apartment. I think we have some things to work out, and I actually do want to work them out."

Still an offer, still calm and collected and put together. But he looks down at his paper, picks up the pen and starts doodling something in the margins. Maybe he was talking about the state of affairs, maybe he was talking about the fact that they have some serious emotional baggage to sort through.

There's a moment of silence, and he doesn't let the facade drop. Doesn't let a crack show in the social armor. He looks at Margot and grins, doesn't quite have the fervor that it had when they first met; the world is heavier, and while he feels gravity he is not necessarily bound by it. Virium. Essentiae. They are creatures prone to explosions and flight.

"Nah," William replies, "but you're probably not going to get the new member care package."

Grace
She stalls in her walk out, mutters "Okay," to the street. Keeps on going.

Grace
[And she's out!]

Margot
The grin was not returned.  William was a social thing, so much so in fact that he did relations specifically for his Tradition.  Margot, on the other hand, was not the most social of creatures.  She was accustomed to not spending much time around other people-- most of her life had been dedicated to reading and studying and she had two friends in school and that was pretty much it.  She didn't do so good of a job at pretending that she wasn't bothered by the topics they'd just discussed.

Well, perhaps not exactly bothered.  But she was certainly taking it seriously.

"Unless that care package includes a set of wards and ready-to-go spells that I can't cast yet, I think I'll be okay.  I have a mentor, some friends, some books.  I'm gradually getting it figured out."

She'd glanced briefly after Grace, then looked to William again.  "So she's in charge.  Or one of the people who are.  There's an actual hierarchy?  Because I was under the impression that the Traditions were all pretty split."

William
[WP: not going to say that.]

Dice: 5 d10 TN7 (2, 3, 5, 6, 9) ( success x 1 )

William
"Grace is kind of de-facto leader because Grace gets in, gathers information, and disseminates it pretty well and is passionate about staying on top of things. Mercurial Elite- which is a kind of computer... science... ie code-based, the-world-can-be-manipulated-because-it-is-data-ish kind of people. If there's shit going down anywhere, Grace is in the middle of it and working on it.

"There's not necessarily a pecking order for the intertraditional relations in Denver. Not based on rank, and it tends to lead towards people who have proven they can get shit done being at the forefront of... well... everything."

"In Denver, outside of someone's individual tradition and the social constructs there, everybody is on even playing ground. Kinda like you're all laid out on a cookie sheet. In theory," he says, "in practice, people who have a lot of magickal weight to throw around- like people who have figured out how to teleport and read minds and go from zero to Jean Grey's Phoenix in four point two seconds- tend to be the ones people flock to.

"You get a little more leeway as an apprentice here because people want to include you," inhales slowly and reaches to take a drink of his beer. Doesn't say anything after that even though there is a hitch, even though he doesn't have to stay on his A game necessarily.

Margot
"That sounds about right.  A structureless structure is usually built on ability and worth instead of elections."  She sounded a bit relieved to hear that, whatever her relief on such matters was worth.  The bit at the end about being an apprentice had her huffing a little, the sound displeased.

"Include and recruit aren't mutually exclusive in that sense, though."

A beat.  She felt the need to qualify that statement, and so she did.

"To be fair I have met a few that don't seem interested in trying to bend me into a Tradition where I won't fit, though.  It just sounds like that isn't really the norm..."

Margot
Another beat, then she added as a tack-on thought, to change the subject and turn it back around.

"Did you say that you're proven reckless?"

William
She says her peace on inclusion versus recruitment, which gets him to give her the little finger gun point and make a clicking noise. He may as well have screamed bingo! But this was probably slightly less embarrassing for him.

As for reckless?
"Yeah. I had a friend whose dad got taken by the technocracy, and I was a fucking asshole who spread her personal information about on Ginger because I was worried and wasn't thinking. It was bullshit, and it was wrong, and I should have asked her if I could do that but I didn't. I also tried to actually figure out information about the Technocracy because nobody would tell me anything about them in my apprenticeship times beyond technocrats bad, here's an anecdotal horror story because I don't believe in blindly accepting what people tell me as fact, especially when it comes to boogeyman stories.

"I didn't cover my tracks terribly well, got a message from a guy that was essentially dude, kid, don't poke the technocratic bear from someone we're pretty sure was a technocrat.

"I did research on a human hybrid that killed a couple people after it tried to eat my friend's head when we probably shouldn't have--"

he stops.

"I don't always think before I do something, and sometimes people get hurt. I quit being the golden child apprentice after the shit with my friend and the technocracy and it went downhill from there. You want people to quit trying to recruit you? Show that you're a human being who makes mistakes, tends to make them stop pretty fast."


Margot
A laundry list of mistakes was provided.  Spreading personal information about a friend who didn't want it shared, researching the Technocracy to the point of presumably being contacted by the Technocracy and being told to stop.  Attacks from a human hybrid thing...

It seemed there was quite a lot of misadventure and trouble when you crossed over into the realm of Mages, especially after you started talking to them instead of hiding under rocks in the shadows of ignorance and seclusion.  The advice that he left her with, though, had her scowling softly and shaking her head.

"I can't accept advice to be middling.  I mean, I'm not really a human anymore, am I?"

There.  Finally.  A goddamn grin.

William
"To the eternal pursuit of perfection," a grin, something pleased as he raises his beer glass. It would seem that all is, in fact, right with the world.