That was almost a disaster, part II.

[Kage] Last Time: "Edgy makes your feet bleed. I'll take the computer." Agreement. Then Kage sits (.witchess.) in Wellington's large chair. Large chair for a large man. Large, large chair. Large, large man. The computer takes a second to turn on; once it does, there is a password, but Kage remembers her boss's password after a moment's serious thought. The moment went like this: her elbows, on the desk; her fingers, pressed against her temple. There is something supernatural in Kage; there is something eldritch and quick; it beats at her veins and sings. She swallows, and begins to search, in relative quiet. Her concentration is not quite total, and she keeps two fingers pressed against her temple as if she had a headache. "He liked printing carbon copies," she says, after a minute or three pass, when Adam's in the filing cabinet. She'd tossed the keys back at him, too -- tossed low, like a girl, but a girl who knew how to throw things across offices. "He said that it was less likely he could be plagiarized or 'snookered into bamboozlement' if he kept most of his information in hard copy." Now, let's talk about Adam. Adam is sharp, and clever, and he understands how to separate a lie from the truth: why? Maybe because that's the devil's job, and what's a greater thrill than dancing with the devil? He is sharp, and clever, and once he's in Wellington's office he intuits that something about the picture is false. There's something wrong, something off, things have been moved and things have been changed. There is real conviction, too. What's been changed? What's off? The file cabinets have been moved. Recently. The couch -- there's a couch -- has been moved, recently, and so have some of Wellington's books. They've been put back in their normal places, so that they look innocuous. But Adam's getting anything but an innocuous vibe. And cold pockets, of course. [Kage] Last Time: [Adam Compton] "Does this place look strange to you?" He casts the question of his shoulder at Kage as he starts a slow turn about the room. Astute eyes flicker from one photo to another. From the couch, to the rug. From one book shelf to another as he stands at one end of the recently moved couch and turns where he stands. "Like... just off? Like things were moved maybe?" He looks pointedly at Kage where she sits behind the computer, a brow raised. "You've been here before right? Does anything look different?" [Kage] Now: "Mm?" The redhead raised an eyebrow and, only after a second, glanced up at Adam; widened her glance to take in the rest of the room. Dreamy dark eyes. Kage resettled, so that she was leaning even closer to the desk, her left wrist against the edge and her right elbow on the surface, chin cupped in the palm of her hand. She looked around, but she didn't see whatever it was that Adam saw [sensed] as off. "It's been a year, at least," she says, and then he can see the frown that kisses her mouth echo in her eyes. Kage hates excuses, and she doesn't like it when she gives them herself. A moment, and she is on edge, on edge, because she knows that something is at work here. Or was. Then she says, "It looks fine. But Mr. Compton, I think we should really hurry. The guard will be wondering after us, and - " Lights out. The room goes as black as the pitch scraped from the devil's ass. [Adam Compton] "It's Adam." His voice floats from where he stands beside the book shelves, his back turned to her as a hand reaches out to drifts over the book bindings and shelving. "Or counsellor if you prefer. Anything but Mr. Compton." That's his fathers name. He looks through the darkness in the general direction of the door, hoping there is some light creeping in from the hallway beyond. Maybe the light burnt out? Taking a tentative step as he reaches out in the pitch black with his arms ahead of him. The way a blind man might move about a strange room without his cane. "It doesn't matter about the guard anyway. I've still got the warrant." The performance downstairs was just for fun afterall. "Oh... hold up." Stopping where he stands he rifles through a suit pocket, and then another. "Ah... there you are." The rustle of clothing being misplaced and swept back into place and then a faint metallic click as a flame ignites in the palm of his hand... or rather. A zippo lighter illuminates his position in the room. [Kage] The Ghost Can Move Things With Its MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIND roll. Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 5, 5, 6, 6, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6) [Kage] "This is a laptop," she says, calm. As calm as water, untouched by wind. So calm, indeed, that Adam might not immediately get that there is a query there; a spot of bother. Adrenaline, indeed. Because in the event of a power outage a laptop's battery should kick in, and the computer screen should not immediately go down into dark. He can hear the sound of Kage standing up, the leather whispering against her pants. His zippo flicks to life, sends strange shadows scudding across the planes of his face -- really, makes Adam over into a devil from Kage's perspective. Kage, standing, fingertips pressed together, steepled, and pressed to her mouth -- still just a shadow in the dark. She starts to come around the desk, and that is when Adam feels it . . . Pressure on his hand. A grip, strong and solid. Trying to turn the wrist that holds the zippo so he's holding it horizontally, so that his thumb is disturbed and the light goes out again. The thing is: this grip is certainly not Kage; her hands are small. She's by the desk, he can hear her. "I think there might be an emergency kit in the bar," she says, unaware (well, not precisely aware) of what's on with the charming lawyer-boy. "There should still be some candles." [Adam Compton] Something grips his hand, and while he's staring in confused shock at his own hand in the pool of flame light, the lights go out again and Adam pulls back sharply away from whatever is gripping his wrists. He mutters a muffled curse as he spills backward over a chair, or some other similarly upholstered piece of furniture. The zippo flies out of his grip as his arms pinwheel backward in search of something... anything to break his fall. His elbow finds the corner of a table, and another not so muffled curse fills the room on the tail of a sharp thud as first his elbow hits the table, and then his ass hits the floor. "Fuck me." The annoyance is tinged with a healthy amount of confused fear as he shuffles backward on the rug and grips the table edge to pull himself upward again. "We aren't alone in here Kage." His gray blue eyes search the darkness briefly, his heart pounding in his chest. Fuel enough to fan the flames of his magick. With a slow swallow he clenches his jaw tight, his brow furrowing as he scans the room and hallway beyond. (mind, correspondence scan) [Anyone else in the room or hall? If so... where you at?] Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 2, 8 (Failure at target 6) [Adam Compton] (same roll, different diff.) Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 4, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 4) [Kage] (spirit 1) Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 5, 5 (Success x 2 at target 3) [Kage] The Ghost Is So Tired Of Other People Being STUPID! Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 3, 3, 7, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6) [Kage] He goes down. Hard. "Adam? What happened?" This is when he says, We aren't alone in here Kage. Her voice rides right over his; "Are you okay?" The woman comes around the corner of the desk, moving in the direction Adam's voice is coming from; it's still too dark to see, and she hasn't opened her mind yet and adjusted to the change. Still, there's an arrogant sureness to Kage; she won't trip over anything. And she doesn't, yet. A moment, and then the import of what he's alleging strikes home. Kage frowns again, and she can feel the energetic smear of magickal fingerprints getting all over everything, touch, touch, touch. There is noone in the room except for Kage, and Kage is afraid; Kage has also ardently curious, and hopes Adam's not down for the count. Because what if - Kage believes in ghosts, and demons, and spirits. Which is why, while Adam's sense of who's where travels outside the room, into the hall, even into some of the other rooms on the floor if he so desires, she bites the cuticle at her thumb and peels, sucks until she tastes copper, then presses her thumb against her eyelids. Try something different, this time, see if it works - and it does. She looks around, and then she inhales. Long, long, deep, deep, and holds her breath. "A ghost," she says. And ah. There is, actually, someone else on the floor. There is someone by the stairs, someone who's just done something to the elevator; someone who knows that Adam and Kage are in the office. Someone who knows their names, someone who's trailed them; someone who's just hitting the stairwell, satisfied. Satisfied that all the chips are falling into place. Whereas the man in the stairwell is satisfied, someone else is most unsatisfied. His name was Wellington. He doesn't remember that, really. Not all the time. But he remembers Kage, not her name, but that he should remember her; he remembers Adam, too. Not his name, but that he should remember him. And he is frustrated enough, full enough of bitter longing, that after watching them mess up his papers, bumble through his computer files, ignore the VERY OBVIOUS CLUES, he has had enough. The door jams. And the bookshelf? All those books? They fling themselves off, open their wings (spines, crack) as they fly across the room, taking out -- well, whatever gets in the way. [Adam Compton] "Shit!" Books start flying through the air, just as Adam is getting wrapped up in the unsettling vibe he'd gotten from the man in the stairwell. His brow had started to furrow, and as he sat propped against the sofa on the dark floor of the office, he'd been toying with the idea of digging deeper into that mans mind. He knew where he was now, it wouldn't be that hard... and then the spine of a book catches him in the temple and he's jarred out of his reverie. Kage is groping her way through the dark room... well, alright. Not so much groping in the sense that she flounders, but groping in the sense that she's been here before and she knows where most of the furniture is. As she touches the arm of the sofa Adam's hand grips hers in the dark and pulls her down with him. "Get down!" Because you don't want to take a book in the forehead. Ask Adam. It hurts. "Wellington." Adam breaths in a whisper of sound as books continue to fly. "He's pissed." [Kage] A book almost gets her head, knicks her ear, a paper cut, so sharp it feels like cold. A hand in the dark, and adrenaline is as sharp as a fiddle note played by the devil, the way it coils through Kage's shoulders; up her spine. He pulls Kage down, and Kage goes down; lifts her arms to protect her head, and this is what is called a huddle. The sofa is an impromptu shelter, and in the dark air, just that sound: pages shaking, flapping, thundrous, then the whump, whump whump as they hit the ground or other things. How in the world is this going to be explained? Does Adam's warrant cover this kind of destruction? Probably not. "I thought you said that he died of natural causes," she says, subdued, to Adam. She turns her head, following what she can see if Wellington's current shape -- man-like, but not precisely a man; he doesn't remember himself exactly, so he doesn't exactly have a shape. He isn't by the bookshelves, he's by the door, an angry, angry presence. It would be like walking through a cloud of bees, she thinks. Bees that sting. [Adam Compton] "Well I guess he wasn't around to ask the real story." Mild frustration, as he lifts an arm to shield his face from the onslaught of prose. "Autopsy said heart attack." He ducks lower as he hears a book whiz past one ear, an act that brings him comfortably close to Kage in the darkness. If there weren't a storm of anthropology texts and biographies flying past their heads... there just might be opportunity for a moment here. [Kage] Adam is closer, and there could be a moment, if only books weren't on the attack. If only the room wasn't numbing cold. If only. "Wait a moment," she whispers in his ear, when he's ducked all close. The storm of books is beginning to stop; Kage puts her hand down on the carpet. Braces herself. Then she pokes her head up, slow, cautious, deer-just-lifting-its-head-to-scan-for-predators, leads with her chin, uses Adam and the couch to steady herself: she isn't standing, but she wants a good look at the ghost. The ghost isn't looking at her, and the ghost isn't looking at Adam; the ghost is looking at the office. Instead of eyes, it has dark holes -- for a moment, its face is familiar; the moment passes. And it's just anger, again; just anger, exasperation and better-than-thou arrogance. Kage bites her lower lip, then ducks down again -- quickly! -- when it looks as if the ghost were turnng its head. She says, "You knew him too. You're a silvertongued lawyer, aren't you? Maybe you can talk him into remembering himself. He - I don't think he does. Or at least into remembering us. Well, perhaps into remembering you." [Adam Compton] He would eye her with a doubtful cast to his blue gray gaze, if the room weren't pitch black. His brow furrows, and after a moment his shoulders roll in a slow shrug. He'll give it a try. But if she thinks he's going to stand up and take another book in the head to do it... she's got another thing coming. "Welly." He uses Kage's pet name for the man in a hope that the familiarity will jar something in the spirit. He doesn't know if it's something people called him to his face, or if it's something they only said behind his back. Either way. It's something, and it seems to get his attention as a book zips past Adam's right side and thuds into the sofa back only to bounce off and peg the lawyer in the back of the head. He grits his teeth, breathing frustration and the pain of the goose egg he'll have through his nostrils. When he speaks again, his voice is strained for a fraction of a second before he levels it out. Smooths it. Becomes smooth. "Mr. Wellington. It's Adam Compton.... District Attorney extraordinaire.... remember?" He pauses for a moment as a magazine flutter past it's pages flapping like a flock of birds. "You were working with me on the voodoo case... I've got Kage here. Kage Jakes? She used to work with you... you remember? She's good, cause I know you only work with the best. But it'd be great to have you. I mean... why settle for the assistant when you could have the scholar right?" Flattery. They say it will get you nowhere... but that's a lie. (manipulation + expression) Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 3, 3, 6, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1 [Kage] ooc: holy damn. [Kage] The corner of Kage's mouth quirks when the book pegs Adam in the back of the head. Shouldn't. Wasn't funny. This is a serious situation: and yet, still. Then Adam begins to talk, and truly, he is persuasive; truly, his tongue is silver. Even Kage finds herself believing Adam, and giving him a wry sidelong look, which is luckily for her pride swallowed up by the dark. Then she peers over the edge of the couch again, and watches. What she watches is a transformation, because an appeal to Wellington's vanity is an appeal straigh to the heart of that man. The ghost remembers its features; the ghost remembers that it is more than a shadow. As Kage watches, and forgets to blink, as her knuckles whiten, the ghost takes on a familiar shape, dark skin, bright eyes, round nose, full broad lips, arrogant, arrogant, those expressive eyebrows . . . He doesn't sport any murder wounds. And he's smiling, crooked and with an air of Oh-really-young-man that none-the-less manages to be completely taken in. "It's working," Kage says. "Rather well. He looks like himself again." [Kage] The Ghost Would Like To Communicate How Nice It Is To Be Recognized As A Genius Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 5, 7, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6) [Adam Compton] Good. It'd better be working, because he's used up his wealth spring of suave for the week or a ghost. "We didn't mean to mess things up here." He keeps talking, because it's what he does best. Talking, and tentatively moving. The rain of books has ceased and becoming little more than the pitter patter of aftermath as books fall from shelves, and precarious perches on furnishings where they'd landed during the storm. "We needed some information that only you would have." He rises to his full height, his hands held out before him like a man caught mid-crime by the police. I mean no harm. I come in peace. That sort of thing. "I'm glad you're here. Because we'd have looked all night and probably come away empty handed." He glances down at Kage. Or rather, where he thinks Kage might be in the darkness, then toward the ghost. Or rather, toward where he thinks the ghost might be in the darkness. "Did you do the thing with the lights? Man, that was nice. Scared the hell out of us... but it'd be great if you wouldn't mind flicking them back on for a bit. I've already got a few bruises from falling around in the dark if you know what I mean...." [Kage] I'll oblige you, Adam, Wellington says, in a voice like paper-shuffling; it is more like a sensation than an actual voice. But words made where no throat is are words that shouldn't be. You're right about the girl, of course. Not as good, although of course invaluable; I'd be glad to have her on any project of mine, as long as she'd just -- but we spoke of this before. What information is that? The lights flick on. [Kage] And what do they illuminate? The office is a mess. There are books everywhere, of course. But the books took out other things. Some standing lamps, for instance. Kage looks distinctly ruffled; her hair is wildfire, spilling in loops and tangles down. Her collar is disordered. Adam cannot see the look Wellington gives her, part concern, part tsktsk; Adam cannot see that Wellington's eyes are human, that Wellington looks tired, for all his bluster. But Kage can, and she could pretend that he was alive. Shakily, Kage stands up and fixes one of the lamps. Shakily, you see. Her fingers. Let Adam handle this one, for now. [Adam Compton] The lights flicker on and Adam lifts a hand as though to shield his eyes from it and blinks madly to clear his vision. "The La Fluer case. Madeline La Fluer. Voodoo." His lifted hand lowers to gingerly poke at the goose egg on the back of his head, and he winces at the sharp pain that rifles through him as he does. "Ow." "I'm building a case to disprove her authenticity in court. She's been fraudulently practicing an art that she knows nothing about. Your words... remember?" [Kage] There is no reply, but the lights stay on. "He nods," Kage says, helpfully. She is a little appalled at the wreckage. She is a little appalled at the whole thing. I know I nod, Wellington snaps, but manages to imbue the four words with a sense of amusement. Larger-than-life, the amusement. The voice is just a tinny echo, too pale. But why the hell do you need me for that? Any fool who knows anything about the Voudon culture'll know, just you - ah. You need my notes on the case, don't you. Nothing'll stick without invoking my name. Well, well, well. Being dead has not impaired his ability to gloat. In fact, Kage has to say, "Being dead hasn't impaired your ability go gloat," under her breath. That's right. What will you two do for me if I tell you where they are? Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6) [Kage] ooc: er, the dice roll should've been: The Ghost Wants To Still Communicate His Awesome. [Adam Compton] Adam looks simply... boggled. He looks at Kage, his shoulders rising in a shrug. He mouths soundless words in the now glaringly bright room. What do we do for him? His gaze searching the room. He doesn't see Wellington. He doesn't know the man beyond a professional stand point, and he's beginning to think that's a good thing. Nobody likes a pompous ass. "I don't know Mr. Wellington." He casts and imploring look at Kage again, another brisk shrug cast in her direction. Because... if he can't see the ghost, then the ghost can't see him right? "What is it that you want?" [Kage] The Ghost Wants To Keep Communicating, But It Is After All Hard Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6) [Kage] I want ... What does any man want? To live well. To die well. To cast a shadow when he's gone and thereby live forever. Wellington's voice disappears entirely, then. Adam is giving Kage looks. Adam is boggled, and Kage puts her hand over her mouth. Then she says, "We could try and make certain your last papers are published, Welly. We could give somebody a last message. We could - " I'm dead, Wellington says, slowly. Slowly. By Jove, we could do something with that. A pause, and then he answers himself, sounding crotchety as all get-out, No. That won't do. That won't do at all. Nobody'd believe you, and everything of mine you ever touched would turn to ash and rubble once your pot was cracked. No. That just won't do. But perhaps ... you could find the woman who killed me. Did you know, Kage, that magick was real? I'd never experienced it before, but - As he starts to get excited, his voice starts to break-up - the lights dim a little. Kage looks at Adam. [Adam Compton] She looks at Adam, and he shrugs again almost comically. Like he knows what's going on. "Mr. Wellington? Do you know who killed you?" His eyes dart around the room, not wanting this spirit to slip away just yet. Things were just getting interesting. "Whoa..." He pauses then, and looks at Kage. His eyes wide with sudden realization. "There was a man in the stairwell when the lights went out. He was tampering with the elevator." A dark blond brow arches and he looks in... well, the direction that he thinks the ghost is. Kage's gaze is a good indicator. "Did that guy have anything to do with your death?" [Kage] A man in the stairwell . . . I don't remember a man in the stairwell. Unfortunately, Wellington's helpfulness on this point is nil. He's only just remembered himself, after all. How do you know there was a man on the stairwell when the lights went out? Sharp, Wellington is sharp. . . Kage says, "Welly, we'll definitely try our hardest. But you're getting fainter; you must be tired. You know that a yemaya can't ride for ever, and you're not even riding; would you tell us where the notes are, just in case you disappear?" They're ... for fuck's sake, you two did make a mess, didn't you? A pause, then, I'm sorry. They're in the safe. The code is the date the library of Alexandria burned. [Adam Compton] Adam studied law. Not history. He looks at Kage, hopeful that the research geek.... Err.. the research assistant will have the answer to that little riddle. "Thanks Mr. Wellington. We'll do our best to put the woman who killed you behind bars." He says it because it's what people expect a D.A. to say. Not because he has any real belief that they'll be able to. [Kage] This should be the moment that Wellington disappears. But it isn't. He stays there, resolute; still in shape. Then he looks at Kage, looks at Adam, and walks through the door -- walks through the crack of the door and the dooframe. The lack of his presence is a relief, even if he'd turned the lights back on; it begins to warm. And Kage closes her eyes for a long, long moment. Then she opens them again: "Well, Mr Compt - Adam. We have your notes. How is it you know there was someone in the stairwell? And should we clean the place?" The truth is, Kage is ... well, Kage is upset. And there's suddenly more work to do than there was before.