Mind you you're kind of hard to miss, so perhaps you're right.
I'm glad she met a friendly face first thing, then. You should swing by, bring the lady. You'd both like her.
[There's a slight pause — he assumes they will, because he likes her, and because their actual first impression of her was a horror show gone haywire and nothing indicative of peronality. Delicately now:]
Just don't bring up that whole walk through memory lane. I'm getting around to talking things through with her.
[Maybe not-Boxer was just like, really short. Or stuck in a giant glowing pen to be mightier than the sword. We'll never know. Anyway.]
Mum's the word.
[Knowing that the nice lady from the Station and the redhead from the nightmare visions of Tozier-past were one and the same doesn't come as a huge surprise, all things considered. Still...good to know. He wasn't planning on dredging it up, anyway. Feels like a pretty gross invasion of privacy as it is, as he's known Rich a while, now. Can't imagine it'd feel any different for her.]
[Bit of a resemblance. That's a laugh. Richie takes some time to write a few scratch drafts of what he'd like to say, but skips on most of them in the end.]
I'll fill her in soon. You're good people, you and Red both. I don't want you feeling like I don't respect you but there's a hell of a lot of strings attached to this mess. The less people I have to tangle up with us, the better.
[Kind of a pot and kettle situation if he dares to judge, lets be real. Past a little initial rockiness, Richie's been more than patient with their own brand of bullcrap. So, carefully—]
Your call to make. Figure you'd tell me if I needed to know.
[Can't help but be curious, at this juncture. But he gets it. Playing things close to spare the good people the trouble that comes with the knowing. Sounds pretty serious. (Ignorance isn't the same as safety, necessarily. He'd made that mistake before. But he's not in a position to make that judgment for Richie, either.)
If nothing else, odds are they've got time. The few bright sides to leaving everything you'd known to get swallowed up in the Storm or salvaged into the Station. He likes Rich enough to assume that his judgment call on it isn't putting them in a bad spot in the meantime.
[When the time comes. For the friendly faces. All of the above. He'd ask what It really is, but. Y'know. He just agreed to wait on it. Besides, after the bog, and the flashbacks...he can start to make a pretty firm assumption or two. A well-educated guess. There's a beat on his end. It's a long shot, but—]
No chance the Storm's just taken care of it for you?
Boxy, Boxy, Boxy: haven't you learned to expect no favors from the cosmos? I've been checking on the pod every two weeks since I've got here.
[He has yet to be caught sneaking to or from his home to make the trip. Not that it couldn't have been passed off for making routine visits to the pals, a lot of people did that. It just felt safer going unnoticed anyhow.
But he's not the only one with a big, bad, and ugly jack-in-the-box waiting to spring. Though his is undoubtedly the ugliest.]
Is your band of bad brothers stuck up in stasis too?
[Look, it's worth asking. Maybe someone, somewhere has gotten lucky on that account.
That someone isn't either of them, from the beat between responses. There's a particular kind of pause that already foretells an its complicated and a don't need the trouble. But Rich has seen their faces, now. The Camerata.
So it's yes, and no, and yes. The Process was left behind with what was left of Cloudbank, far as they can tell. The Camerata, most of them, are up in those pods, for all they'd been done for, before. Even Sybil, as far gone as she'd been, at the end. And Royce—
By way of an answer, slowly—]
Haven't crossed paths with a man named Bracket, have you?
[They cut ties with Royce months ago. Hadn't gone searching him out, since. But—]
[In all likelihood, if he'd seen any of the four in person he would have said so straight away. There was the murky mystery surrounding the phones and the network, allowing folks to skate by on cryptic letters and disembodied voices alone. An easy way to skirt showing your cards.
Not so comforting to a man who had already been watching the world dip into terrifying, alienating, empty territories.]
I would have remembered if someone introduced themselves with a name like that.
I haven't seen any of that gang before but I'll keep an eye out now. You think they'd be out to finish the job?
[Therein lies the problem. Considering the way he'd fucked off to Fairview, Royce is, definitely, the type to sequester himself off for extended periods of study and communicate via networks and proxies...if at all. They haven't seen hide nor hair since winter, and there are several things it could mean. Even if most of him is in no hurry to question providence, the more realistic part of him has to wonder.
Still—good to know. He chews on Richie's question, then—]
Little late for that. Guess it's hard to say. If nothing else...
[No Cloudbank for them to reshape, not anymore. (Red was, in their eyes, an acceptable sacrifice in the service of the city. Boxer was just collateral damage, never supposed to be there in the first place. As far as they were concerned, it wasn't at all personal. Except, of course, for Sybil. But even then—she'd gotten what she'd wanted in the end. Sort of.)
There are no Process here, far as they can tell. Just Luna. Still, not something he's willing to stake Red's safety on. So that isn't to say he wouldn't appreciate the head's up, if Sybil were to wake. Or Grant, or Asher. Some warning is better than none.]
...made off with something of theirs before the Storm hit. Got a feeling they might still want it back.
[It hardly takes three guesses. A thing that looked that intricate can't come too cheap, and from the look of things it was much more than a mere murder weapon. He hasn't forgotten the cryptic mumblings in the mausoleum.
How many souls were stuck inside? "Downloaded", like bits and bytes off a banking account, like the shit off their profiles in the network. It's chilling to imagine.]
Well if the dandy pack wants it, they'll have to kiss my ass first. And make it a wet one.
[The vehement vulgarity on his behalf is heartwarming, honestly. You're a standup guy, Rich.]
Wish I could hear you tell 'em that, myself.
[The Transistor—would they want it back? They dedicated a lot of time and energy and lives to it, all for their machinations to tear the city apart before the Storm even had a chance at it. There's every possibility it's useless to them, here. But. Can't say he trusts a one of them as far as he could throw them to quit. (Sybil, on the other hand...is a more complicated and concerning matter. But not one that's his story to tell.)
Still, in seriousness—]
Can't ask you to stick your neck out. The extra pair of eyes is plenty.
[he tries, really. just like a really ferocious terrier.]
I'd jump at the chance but I'll still pray it doesn't have to happen.
Same for goes for you and Red. Just don't engage if you see the damn thing, it doesn't take hits like your regular creep. Run like hell and give me and Bev the heads up soon as you can.
Anything I should know in the meantime if I come across your pals?
Creep strikes a funny kind of chord. The kind that has his smile slanting ironically, for all the good it'll do over text.]
I'll pass it along.
[Odds are the warning won't fall on deaf ears on the other end of this matched set, but...everything is situational. Red isn't stupid, but she is...Red. Never was much he could do about that.
He hesitates, just a second.]
Not much that's my place to say. Rather you didn't mention Red or myself, but figure that goes without saying. I'd suggest you keep a distance for your own sake, too.
[Seems about standard. Good to know they understand each other. Though, after a moment's consideration—]
The lady, Sybil...she's good at palling up to people, when she wants. I'd say don't give her a reason to get her claws in you. Or...to want to, anyway.
Just not as much as the kids do. They're the ones who need to stay out of it completely — but they're also the ones at the biggest risk. Richie just can't go triggering those vigilante sensibilities. They'd all go doing something stupid and their blood would be square on his hands.]
Fear not, I can repel a lady with ease. If I hear she's getting chummy with other folks I'll see what I can do to shake them loose.
[Richie and Boxer question their life decisions and their overzealous acquaintances: the thread.
Anyway, the self deprecating humor, he can relate to. But, in an uncharacteristically edgy sort of way—]
She's bad news, Rich. I mean it.
[Not because he doesn't think Richie could handle himself—but he can't say even he was able to see Sybil's true colors coming until it was too late. They'd had nothing in common except for Red—and how much she'd mattered. They'd never seen eye to eye on anything else. But keeping a distance, trying not to rock the boat...(Aloof, the Transistor had claimed. From her perspective.)—maybe that's why he never would have guessed that it all made him worth killing to her. Maybe that's why he wasn't able to see what was coming in time to stop it from converging on Red, onstage.
(No otherwordly entity, no immortal ghost. Just a woman scorned and spiteful and smart enough to take advantage when she had a chance. Still...an understandable amount of overreaction, probably. Considering what had come of it.)]
Figure you'll have to make that call yourself. [If it's worth getting involved, if the time comes. Though—] Got to say, I'd prefer it if you didn't.
[Sybil can just stay far and away for as long as the Natha see fit, as far as he's concerned.]
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Mind you you're kind of hard to miss, so perhaps you're right.
I'm glad she met a friendly face first thing, then. You should swing by, bring the lady. You'd both like her.
[There's a slight pause — he assumes they will, because he likes her, and because their actual first impression of her was a horror show gone haywire and nothing indicative of peronality. Delicately now:]
Just don't bring up that whole walk through memory lane. I'm getting around to talking things through with her.
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Mum's the word.
[Knowing that the nice lady from the Station and the redhead from the nightmare visions of Tozier-past were one and the same doesn't come as a huge surprise, all things considered. Still...good to know. He wasn't planning on dredging it up, anyway. Feels like a pretty gross invasion of privacy as it is, as he's known Rich a while, now. Can't imagine it'd feel any different for her.]
Thought I caught a bit of a resemblance.
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I'll fill her in soon. You're good people, you and Red both. I don't want you feeling like I don't respect you but there's a hell of a lot of strings attached to this mess. The less people I have to tangle up with us, the better.
You understand me, right?
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Your call to make. Figure you'd tell me if I needed to know.
[Can't help but be curious, at this juncture. But he gets it. Playing things close to spare the good people the trouble that comes with the knowing. Sounds pretty serious. (Ignorance isn't the same as safety, necessarily. He'd made that mistake before. But he's not in a position to make that judgment for Richie, either.)
If nothing else, odds are they've got time. The few bright sides to leaving everything you'd known to get swallowed up in the Storm or salvaged into the Station. He likes Rich enough to assume that his judgment call on it isn't putting them in a bad spot in the meantime.
Speaking of the meantime—]
Anything we can do to help her settle in?
[You know.]
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[And as for the rest...]
It'll be sooner rather than later. I don't want to wait for It to wake up.
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[When the time comes. For the friendly faces. All of the above. He'd ask what It really is, but. Y'know. He just agreed to wait on it. Besides, after the bog, and the flashbacks...he can start to make a pretty firm assumption or two. A well-educated guess. There's a beat on his end. It's a long shot, but—]
No chance the Storm's just taken care of it for you?
[That sounds a lot like a when and not an if.]
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[He has yet to be caught sneaking to or from his home to make the trip. Not that it couldn't have been passed off for making routine visits to the pals, a lot of people did that. It just felt safer going unnoticed anyhow.
But he's not the only one with a big, bad, and ugly jack-in-the-box waiting to spring. Though his is undoubtedly the ugliest.]
Is your band of bad brothers stuck up in stasis too?
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That someone isn't either of them, from the beat between responses. There's a particular kind of pause that already foretells an its complicated and a don't need the trouble. But Rich has seen their faces, now. The Camerata.
So it's yes, and no, and yes. The Process was left behind with what was left of Cloudbank, far as they can tell. The Camerata, most of them, are up in those pods, for all they'd been done for, before. Even Sybil, as far gone as she'd been, at the end. And Royce—
By way of an answer, slowly—]
Haven't crossed paths with a man named Bracket, have you?
[They cut ties with Royce months ago. Hadn't gone searching him out, since. But—]
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Not so comforting to a man who had already been watching the world dip into terrifying, alienating, empty territories.]
I would have remembered if someone introduced themselves with a name like that.
I haven't seen any of that gang before but I'll keep an eye out now. You think they'd be out to finish the job?
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Still—good to know. He chews on Richie's question, then—]
Little late for that. Guess it's hard to say. If nothing else...
[No Cloudbank for them to reshape, not anymore. (Red was, in their eyes, an acceptable sacrifice in the service of the city. Boxer was just collateral damage, never supposed to be there in the first place. As far as they were concerned, it wasn't at all personal. Except, of course, for Sybil. But even then—she'd gotten what she'd wanted in the end. Sort of.)
There are no Process here, far as they can tell. Just Luna. Still, not something he's willing to stake Red's safety on. So that isn't to say he wouldn't appreciate the head's up, if Sybil were to wake. Or Grant, or Asher. Some warning is better than none.]
...made off with something of theirs before the Storm hit. Got a feeling they might still want it back.
[Three guesses what.]
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[It hardly takes three guesses. A thing that looked that intricate can't come too cheap, and from the look of things it was much more than a mere murder weapon. He hasn't forgotten the cryptic mumblings in the mausoleum.
How many souls were stuck inside? "Downloaded", like bits and bytes off a banking account, like the shit off their profiles in the network. It's chilling to imagine.]
Well if the dandy pack wants it, they'll have to kiss my ass first. And make it a wet one.
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Wish I could hear you tell 'em that, myself.
[The Transistor—would they want it back? They dedicated a lot of time and energy and lives to it, all for their machinations to tear the city apart before the Storm even had a chance at it. There's every possibility it's useless to them, here. But. Can't say he trusts a one of them as far as he could throw them to quit. (Sybil, on the other hand...is a more complicated and concerning matter. But not one that's his story to tell.)
Still, in seriousness—]
Can't ask you to stick your neck out. The extra pair of eyes is plenty.
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I'd jump at the chance but I'll still pray it doesn't have to happen.
Same for goes for you and Red. Just don't engage if you see the damn thing, it doesn't take hits like your regular creep. Run like hell and give me and Bev the heads up soon as you can.
Anything I should know in the meantime if I come across your pals?
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Creep strikes a funny kind of chord. The kind that has his smile slanting ironically, for all the good it'll do over text.]
I'll pass it along.
[Odds are the warning won't fall on deaf ears on the other end of this matched set, but...everything is situational. Red isn't stupid, but she is...Red. Never was much he could do about that.
He hesitates, just a second.]
Not much that's my place to say. Rather you didn't mention Red or myself, but figure that goes without saying. I'd suggest you keep a distance for your own sake, too.
[Seems about standard. Good to know they understand each other. Though, after a moment's consideration—]
The lady, Sybil...she's good at palling up to people, when she wants. I'd say don't give her a reason to get her claws in you. Or...to want to, anyway.
[In particular.]
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Just not as much as the kids do. They're the ones who need to stay out of it completely — but they're also the ones at the biggest risk. Richie just can't go triggering those vigilante sensibilities. They'd all go doing something stupid and their blood would be square on his hands.]
Fear not, I can repel a lady with ease. If I hear she's getting chummy with other folks I'll see what I can do to shake them loose.
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Anyway, the self deprecating humor, he can relate to. But, in an uncharacteristically edgy sort of way—]
She's bad news, Rich. I mean it.
[Not because he doesn't think Richie could handle himself—but he can't say even he was able to see Sybil's true colors coming until it was too late. They'd had nothing in common except for Red—and how much she'd mattered. They'd never seen eye to eye on anything else. But keeping a distance, trying not to rock the boat...(Aloof, the Transistor had claimed. From her perspective.)—maybe that's why he never would have guessed that it all made him worth killing to her. Maybe that's why he wasn't able to see what was coming in time to stop it from converging on Red, onstage.
(No otherwordly entity, no immortal ghost. Just a woman scorned and spiteful and smart enough to take advantage when she had a chance. Still...an understandable amount of overreaction, probably. Considering what had come of it.)]
Figure you'll have to make that call yourself. [If it's worth getting involved, if the time comes. Though—] Got to say, I'd prefer it if you didn't.
[Sybil can just stay far and away for as long as the Natha see fit, as far as he's concerned.]