Participants:
| Scene Title | Spinning |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | What goes up must come down / Spinnin' wheel got to go 'round / Talkin' 'bout your troubles it's a cryin' sin / Ride a painted pony let the spinnin' wheel spin |
| Date | July 7, 2021 |
A shadow eases from the rooftop to perch on the waist high ledge that marks its perimeter, maybe twelve or eighteen feet above the night darkened street. Nearby, barely an arm’s length away, a band of pigeons hardly give their new neighbor a look. It's quiet and doesn't disturb their roosting. The shadow crouches, in careful movements, to sit like a gargoyle — a very small gargoyle in a dark colored hooded jacket and jeans — as it watches and listens to the two people talking outside the building below.
Above the streets of New Chicago
Squeaks holds herself as still as stone. If she doesn't move, she maybe won't be noticed. The air feels chilly and damp from all the drizzle earlier, but she can ignore that. It's warm in her jacket, so she won't be shivering. And she can sit on her heels, on the roof ledge, for hours easy. Or at least until Elliot and Nathalie stop talking and go on their own separate ways.
From beneath her hood, blue eyes follow the pair's movements as easily as her ears track their conversation. It wasn't on purpose that the teenager found herself eavesdropping. However, it was on purpose that she followed Elliot without him knowing. But the listening in… that was just sort of more an accidental coincidence that she kind of decided to take advantage of. It's good practice, anyway.
Her heart skips a beat when Elliot starts looking around. She’s above and behind him and, she’s pretty sure, not easily seen. But a little thrill of panic races from her stomach to her throat just the same. It’s replaced a whole half second later with cool relief when the man finds himself a seat opposite Nathalie. She rolls her eyes at herself and gives the smallest huff. She’s a known sneak and spy, if she gets caught she’ll own it like she meant to be seen. Just like always.
When the two on the street finally settle down for talking, Squeaks lets herself relax just a little bit more. At least she starts to relax, thinking it’s just another getting-to-know-you thing. Those are interesting, just kind of in the same way the back of a cereal box is interesting. There’s things to learn about, but unless you're separating the iron from the cheerios it's all pretty basic. But then, the concept of shared history gets mentioned and that definitely tickles her interest. Shared history means… not just from the same time-place?
The little gargoyle doesn’t exactly move, not very much anyway. But she sort of leans forward the teeniest tiny bit and listens harder than she might have otherwise.
From the start, most of all of what’s said makes no sense at all. Numbers and things, project stuff, First Lock and Gates, whatever that is. It’s all interesting and curious. She presses her teeth into her bottom lip, wondering about the connections. What does any and all of it mean? Questions fizz like a freshly opened bottle of root beer, but Squeaks stays put and keeps quiet. Those will have to wait for some other later time.
Squeaks’ head tilts slightly at mention of Bastian. She’s heard some things about this other kid, sad things mostly, and worser than she knows by what’s said just now. Worser, like things in the Wasteland. Her eyebrows knit a little bit and she looks at her hands tucked around her knees. Worser…
Before she can get too far in feeling sad and angry, something new tugs at the girl’s attention. Some parts of what Nathalie and Elliot said following bringing up Bastian are missed, but one flashed like a signal light. Her mouth feels out Ghost of Christmas World War One with not even enough breath to make a whisper. The pained furrow of her brow turns curious and her eyes go to the two below.
Even though it's more of the same that make little sense without context, Squeaks pays closer attention. She can guess at some things and wonder about some dots that were revealed earlier being connected now. All of the new questions, added to her earlier wonderings, fill her like an unopened Coca-cola that's been shaken.
Thankfully a little bit of relief is revealed. A seance. Of course that's how you talk to ghosts. And somehow Squeaks is going to make sure she's there to see it.
While Elliot and Nathalie keep talking, Squeaks starts pondering how she's going to see the ghosts. Is it like with candles and things, people sitting around a table? She still listens, close enough she could probably recall a lot of the conversation, pinning odd bits that reach for her attention for later examination, but she places more of her focus on planning. Ghosts like presences, so more people and she could be one.
That's better than spying any day.